teaser ── after being forced into an arranged marriage, you're expected to have heirs, with a husband who hates you! will a honeymoon that leaves you stuck with him in a snowy cabin for a week filled with awkward moments and charged tension change that? or will it reveal the harsh reality of the cold, loveless marriage you've been forced into?
content ── fem!reader, angsty ending, spitting, degrading, rough fucking, hate sex, forced proximity, masturbation, fingering, breeding kink, oral (fem!recieving), teasing, pregnancy, mention of cheating, thigh fucking, pussy slapping, slight misogyny, name-calling, one bed troupe, accidental indecency, enemies-to-lovers
count ── 8k
PART I
heirs.
the word lingers in your mind as the banquet ends, as you walk out in your too-tight wedding dress, even as the carriage comes that was to take you to your honeymoon.
it wasn't fair.
they had never told you that this was expectation.
not only had the monarchy stolen your life, your future, your dreams, but now they were forcing you into a mother?
your face darkens, shadowed by the veil, as you walk beside your husband, the send-off for the honeymoon commencing.
"long live the king!"
"may the crown forever be bound upon your brows!"
"may god bless you with a fruitful womb!"
next to you, satoru's jaw tightens ever so slightly, his haunting silence, coupled with his formal white robes sweeping behind him giving him a ghost-like illusion.
you didn't know what he was thinking, but at least you knew he had been out of the loop too, judging by his cold expression.
from the sounds and looks everyone around you were giving however, you knew that they were assuming you were both just itching to rip off each other's clothes and consummate the marriage, but you didn't even know if you could stomach to look at him let alone touch him, and from the storm brewing in his cerulean blue eyes, glinting with something dangerous that warned not to be messed with, you sensed he felt much of the same.
you're snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of hoofbeats and a heavy, latched door creaking open halfway, revealing the mode of transportation you were to take.
and oh, was it a sight to behold.
fully decked out in lace, satiny curtains draping over the windows, it was painted a pinkish rose gold and pearly white hue, adorned with golden wheels that seemed to swell under the light of the fading twilight sky.
it was a love carriage, meant to bring feelings of romance and tension into the air, perfect for a couple heading to their honeymoon.
but unfortunately for you, however, this arrangement was anything but romantic.
the terse quietness between the two of you only thickens tenfold once the doors slam shut behind you, the loud clapping and cheering of the people watching you two abruptly cutting off as you're left alone together for the first time that night.
and for a long moment, no one speaks.
but just as you think you’re in the clear, starting to relax into the seat, you hear satoru's hollow voice, tinged with bitterness as he continues looking straight ahead. "did you know?"
you quickly turn to face him, shock creeping its way into your words. "how could i have known? i told you that i didn't want this either but you seem to believe it's all my fault."
“i never said that.” he says dryly.
you both lapse into silence once more, your hands curled into neat fists in your lap while satoru sits stiffly, back straight as a board.
the nerve of this man. for him to assume you wanted this marriage, that you wanted his kids, that you even wanted to be queen.
you shook slightly beside him, infuriated and wondering how you were ever going to get through this cursed honeymoon.
from the bits and pieces of this arrangement you had been made aware of, it was to take place in a distant, secluded cabin, decked out with a master suite and hot tub, in a mountainous taiga.
when you thought of an ideal honeymoon, you had always dreamed of going somewhere faraway and warm, a nice contrast to your own dreary kingdom with its blustery weather and snowcapped peaks. but that, along with everything else in your life, had been stolen from you, snatched out of your control and decided for you.
just like him.
you look over to satoru again, only to find him as far from you as possible, sulking while he stares out the window pointedly. his arms are folded across his silky white monarch robes, the contrast between his royal lineage and childish antics almost jolting.
finally, a couple hours later, you arrive at your secluded honeymoon estate: a big wooden framed cabin with high cobblestone chimneys, with a roof topped in powdery white, and heavy log walls awaiting you both.
the idea was to have a completely deserted, isolated cottage in the middle of the woods all to yourselves so you can focus on.. indulging in each other, and sealing the marriage forevermore so to speak.
and it was half working so far because the second the carriage set off again back the way it came, it was just you and satoru.
alone.
together.
"i.." you begin uncertainly, but he quickly interrupts, voice brisk and cold.
"you take the left side rooms, and i’ll remain on the right. over the duration of this week you are not to bother me, until i decide fit." he says crisply, before walking away from you toward the estate, his robes swishing behind him.
oh. so that was how it was going to be?
you stare after him for a moment, hurt creeping into your senses for a brief second before you shake it off. just when you had thought you two were finally getting to have an understanding of each other...
⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ ── DAY ONE ── ۫ ׅ ✧ ⊰
on first sight, the cabin looks large, at least enough to fit two people and still be spacious, but the truth was the inside was tiny. cramped, even.
the second you enter, you’re instantly slapped in the face with the heady scent of loud, sensual perfume and rose petals making a pathway across the planked wooden floor.
irritatedly, satoru ducks his head through the doorway. he was too tall to even fit!
“well.” his gaze sweeps around, making mental notes of what your arrangements would be. “it seems to be.. smaller than i imagined.”
it was a three-room cabin to be exact, with a bed, a bathroom, and a cramped kitchen. the only saving grace was the bubbling, frothing hot tub outside with more rose petals decorating the top along with two flutes of champagne set beside it romantically.
“let’s see how big the bed is..” his broad frame disappears into the room, with you following suit as you take in the obnoxiously overdone romantic setting.
there’s candles, dimmed lights, the works. it was like they were begging you to fuck each other.
the bedroom was even worse.
a king size, with curtains draping over everything dramatically, it was a sight in itself, maroon red covers highlighting the seductiveness of the room.
“looks like we’re sharing a bed again.” you come behind him, trying to suppress the scorn in your voice unsuccessfully, watching as his shoulders tense in agitation.
“they told me it was bigger..” he mumbles, eyebrows furrowing with a scowl.
with a small sigh, you flop onto the bed, your overly exuberant wedding dress you were still wearing billowing around you, and lifting up slightly.
you didn’t realize how much however, until you hear satoru’s soft inhale of breath and look down to see your delicate lace garter exposed, wrapped on your plush thigh with a pretty white bow.
you had forgotten your wedding dressers had made you wear one for the purposes of tradition, and you had relented solely because of the fact you were certain that, garter or no garter, satoru would not touch you either way.
noticing his visible reaction, you can’t help the urge to sling your leg further upward to reveal more of your tantalizing skin, his eyes devouring every inch you offer him.
before you can go any further however, he reaches for you, warm calloused hands skimming across your skin, and igniting a fire low in your stomach as he pulls the poofy tulle of your skirt down to cover you again. his hands linger for a moment longer than necessary before he draws back, a firm little scowl gracing his pink lips.
“it's not ladylike to showcase yourself off like a slut, princess. didn’t your kingdom teach you that?”
he spits 'kingdom' out like a foul tasting word, not giving you the chance to respond before departing again, the bathroom door slamming closed behind him.
the second he leaves, you let out a breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding, the ghost of his searing touch still fresh in your mind as you lay back against the covers, eyes wide.
later, as you're tucking yourself into bed after changing out of your stuffy wedding clothes, satoru finally reappears.
his hair is sticking up in wet little spikes, and he’s wearing a baggy shirt and sweatpants. leaning against the doorway with his hands folded across his chest, he's the epitome of effortless beauty.
"god, so eager to be in bed with me already, hm?" he tilts his head at you, sharp blue eyes boring into yours, his tone cruel and mocking.
you scoff, turning on your side to face away from him. "yeah, you wish."
he hums softly in disagreement, before the mattress dips under his weight as he slides in to bed next to you.
with all the lights off, and flickering candles casting the room in a warm glow, the moment becomes more intimate, the press of his body to your back causing you to become sleepy beneath the covers.
pathetic, you think to yourself ruefully.
you should hate the man for everything he had said and done, but all you seem to do is just let him have his way, complying like the good little wifey you’ve been reduced to.
but before you have time to further evaluate and let shame overwhelm you, you begin to drift off, the promise of dark surrender claiming you.
⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ ── DAY TWO ── ۫ ׅ ✧ ⊰
when you wake up in the morning, the bed is empty with nothing but rumpled sheets left in satoru's place, and after eating some breakfast, you decide now is as good a time as any to take some time to yourself, and try out the hot, new bubbling jacuzzi in all its glory, before he gets back.
luckily, along with the cottage you were staying at, clothes and swimsuits had been provided, curtesy of the royal family, and should be in the drawer right.. there!
"aha!" triumphantly, your fingers feel the stretchy elastic texture of a bathing suit, pulling it out only for your eyes to practically pop out of your head at the sight before you; a matching white tiny tube bikini top, paired with minuscule thong bottoms.
"no no.." you murmur under your breath, quickly rifling through the drawer for other options, but of course, that's the only bikini there is.
you sigh to yourself. naturally, your tits were going to be popping out of this top, and your ass would be exposed, but you would just have to make it work.
squeezing into it proved to be a bit of a challenge as they obviously hadn't taken your sizing into consideration, but you manage to do it with minimal cleavage being pushed up though more than you would like.
and finally, finally, you get inside the jacuzzi, the water steaming hot and bubbling, your head lolling back with pleasure as the jets do their work.
"ughh, this is just what i needed after.. satoru?"
you startle as you see the familiar white-haired man standing in front of you, widened azure eyes taking in the way you're sprawled in the hot tub, foam surrounding you in your skimpy little bikini and leaving practically nothing to the imagination.
instinctively, you slink down into the water, hoping he can't see you too well.
"can’t a girl enjoy herself alone? i’m trying out the jacuzzi."
his eyes rove over you intensely, expression unreadable. "your tits are out."
after a moment of silence where you clear your throat awkwardly and shift, he doesn't get the hint, brazenly going on. "hah.. but you knew that, right? you probably want me to look at you, yeah? show off those pretty breasts because they're all you have to offer.."
"oh just shut up! leave for god's sake!" you growl, teeth gritted so tight you're surprised they don't crack.
but instead of relenting, his brows furrow, as if contemplating something.
“hold on, i think i have a swimsuit too..”
that led to a few minutes later when a very shirtless satoru, wearing swim trunks that look a size too tight, slides in beside you.
you try to look anywhere but his muscular chest, but it proves difficult with the way his arms reach up around his head, biceps prominent and pale pink nipples tantalizingly close to your face.
instantly as he gets in, his shorts plaster themselves like a second skin to his muscular thighs, revealing a very big bulge straining against the fabric, the sight so erotic your cheeks flush as you look away.
he sighs softly while the steaming hot water laps around his body, tilting his head to look at you. “so about that swimsuit.. is skimpy the look you're going for, or do you enjoy whoring yourself out..?"
you wave him off with a scoff. “yeah, yeah. you're the one wearing speedos.”
satoru moves slightly at that, shifting into a manspread, with his hips lifting up and his cock so noticeably outlined, you can’t help it when naturally your eyes are drawn toward him, mouth going dry at his pure size. you only manage to tear yourself away when you hear his soft hum of amusement next to you.
"well clearly you like it, you dirty little slut."
guiltily, you glance up, about to stutter for a response when his eyes search yours, heat swirling in them for a second as his lips hover over yours.
just a little closer and..
“are your nipples always this hard or is it just for me?” smugly, he glowers at you and with a horrified glance down, you find he’s right, your nipples pebbled and standing at attention, almost see-through in your flimsy excuse of a swimsuit.
you quickly get up, water rolling off your sheened body, glaring daggers at satoru. screaming out a “shut up perv!” before disappearing back into the house, satoru watching your ass jiggle in the tiny microthong you had on with curved lips and a growing boner.
⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ ── DAY THREE ── ۫ ׅ ✧ ⊰
after yesterday’s disaster of a tranquil time in the jacuzzi, you decided today that you would take advantage of the wintry landscape you had become stranded in, and hike through the taiga trees alone.
it hadn’t seemed like a bad idea at first, it’d do you good to get out of the house and away from that royal pain-in-the ass, but now two miles in, frozen cold, shivering, and more than a little lost, the idea wasn’t as appealing.
"f-fuck.." you shudder, blowing on your hands and rubbing them together while peering around at the haze of trees, each so similar you can't tell if you've been walking in circles this whole time or not. "s-so c-cold.."
and then, just as you go to step, twigs cracking underfoot, your ankle twists, your heart dropping as you hear a snap! before pain washes over your entire leg, and you tumble down onto the icy ground, everything going black.
── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・
when you regain consciousness again, you feel yourself being jerked and jostled around, still heavily disoriented.
you're moving, you realize, and someone is holding you, a toned chest radiating heat pressed firmly against you, along with arms looped underneath your legs, carrying you bridal style.
he huffs softly in your ear, and instantly, you recognize his breathing patterns from the nights you had spent in the same bed.
satoru.
for a second, you let yourself slump into his tight grip, your leg aching, and eyes half-closed, but then the hand he's using to support underneath your legs tightens, squeezing you, and you feel your breath stutter.
“i know you’re awake.”
dropping the act, you blink your eyes open to stare at his looming figure. how did he find you? when you hadn’t returned, had he been worried about.. you?
“don’t read too much into it.” he says gruffly, shifting you in his arms as he opens the door to the cabin, and carries you to the bedroom to lay you gently down.
“now where does it hurt?”
you sniffle, trying to sit up to show him, but quickly he pushes you back to lay down, his hand splaying across your chest and shoving roughly, the action almost provocative.
“words.”
“m-my ankle. i think i twisted it, and when i fell, i heard a snap.”
his gaze is focused on your foot, and he nods, before holding it up to examine.
“it doesn’t look broken. i’ll get some ice and wrap it, but it’s probably just a sprain.”
he stands up, but before he can leave, you grip onto his sleeve, stopping him. he looks back, eyes raking over your face.
“hey. thank you, for saving me.”
his eyes linger on your lips for a second before he turns back around. “it was nothing.”
⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ ── DAY FOUR ── ۫ ׅ ✧ ⊰
with your sore ankle, you hadn’t been able to move around as much, and as a result, had been cooped up in the stuffy cabin with satoru, his habits getting increasingly more and more annoying as the hours went on.
"sa-toru! put the fuckin' toilet seat down, damnit!"
you hear his voice lilted with mockery as he calls back, "oh my, what a filthy mouth you’ve got on you.."
you want to slap him. you're going to slap him.
in an effort to calm yourself, and keep yourself occupied, you decide to take a bath, thinking the hot water will soothe your violent urges, and your achey ankle.
a few minutes pass, with you wallowing in tepid water, cold and wet, and with a frustrated groan, you get up, realizing this isn’t helping. silken droplets roll off you in beads, as you prepare to grab a towel when suddenly..
creeeeak!
"you wanna take a little longer? c’mon some of us gotta..”
satoru stops in his tracks, head poking through the door when he spots you, completely naked, your body dripping wet and glistening. his blue eyes immediately rake up n’ down, and you swear his pants grow bigger, heat rising to his cheeks.
“satoru! i’m.. get out!”
your hands fly to cover yourself, while he’s left checking you out shamelessly, practically drooling as he eyes you like a dog in heat.
“get! ouuuut!” you slam the door in his face before slumping down, staring in disbelief as your hands slowly fall to your sides.
oh. my. god.
this man really was going to kill you.
── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・
you realized that in your marriage, you would have to see each other intimately eventually, especially now that you were expected to have heirs, but it was still so unexpected for him to barge in on you like that..
you cover your face with your hands in embarrassment at the memory as you lie in bed, waiting for satoru to come to your shared room, and poke fun at you.
but.. the moment never comes as seconds stretch into minutes and then to hours, and darkness steadily overtakes the room.
maybe he had finally decided to sleep on the couch..
huh. you turn over, eyes beginning to droop in the quietness of night. oh well. at least you had the bed to yourself!
⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ ── DAY FIVE ── ۫ ׅ ✧ ⊰
two big, calloused hands come to your plush thighs, pushing them apart with a soft sigh, already fucked out just by the sight of your drenched pussy, glistening with strings of your slick arousal running down between your legs.
he murmurs something too low for you to hear, before two thick fingers come to glide over the slippery sheen of your cunt, causing your hips to buck up instinctively, the space between your thighs widening. he obediently lowers his head before nuzzling it between you, and staring up at you with big azure eyes that practically beg for you to let him eat your pussy.
“toru..” you manage to breathe out through small heaves, and that’s all it takes for his hot, slithery tongue to run up your folds before beginning to lap sloppily at your pulsing core, uncaring of the pools of spit and drool he’s leaving in his wake.
“hah.. s-shit, slow down..” you whine, eyes scrunched closed tightly at the foreign feeling, and building heat in your abdomen. no one had ever touched you like this before.
encouraged, his head presses further into you, soft mussed hair tickling you as his nose bumps your clit with every kitten lick on your throbbing nub, until you feel hot all over, and a weird sensation fluttering around in your stomach.
you feel satoru moan into you, hands coming to your hips to press you harder into his eager mouth as you grind your pussy sloppily on his face, chasing the feeling of the very tips of white pleasure starting to blacken the edges of your vision.
your walls clench as his tongue pushes in to you, before he pulls back, smacking his lips together and taking your puffy bud into his mouth and sucking hard, groaning out at your sweet candied taste.
your mouth drops open, a hoarse moan spilling out as your legs tighten around his head, and then you’re cumming harder than you ever have.
── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・
you tear your covers off, body covered in a glistening sheen of sweat, and panting heavily, your panties absolutely soaked through.
a wet dream. you had just had a wet dream about satoru.
fuck.
you slowly swing your feet from the bed, placing them down gingerly on the creaking floorboards, praying he wasn’t up.
you needed to clean yourself up after the embarrassing mess you had just made, so you head to the bathroom, being as quiet as possible.
and just when you think you're in the clear, pushing the slightly ajar bathroom door to open wider..
plap! plap! plap!
satoru, in all his glory stands before the mirror, head tilted back and panting softly with his tongue lolling out of his mouth and a hand wrapped tightly around his cock, stroking himself off furiously.
and the first thing you think is that he’s huung. absolutely enormous, his reddened length twitching and oozing with sheens of glossy precum dripping all over his hand and down his wrist, veins thump thumping! an erratic tempo as you watch his throat bob in a swallow.
he must already be close, judging by the soft grunts he's letting out and the increasingly filthy noises his hot, pulsing member makes as his hips thrust in and out of his hand, fat cock just weeping with syrupy slick.
schlick! schlick!
in fact, he's juuust about to cum, his breath picking up speed as his thrusts get sloppier, squeezing his veiny base hard when you finally speak.
“satoru.”
that single breath of his name is all it takes to finally snap his attention toward where you’re staring at him, his cerulean eyes widening as his hand instantly stills.
but it’s too late.
his drooling slit is already gushing ribbons n' ribbons of hot, sweltering seed, oozing out in creamy little pulses as he shudders, trying to fight it even as his eyes roll back and his hips twitch pathetically.
his half-lidded eyes make their way over to you, and the sight of him is almost pornographic: muscular hulking frame with splatterings of cum pooling all over his abdominals, and seemingly endless spurts of his load continuously spilling out of the reddish divot on his thickened tip.
it's then that you're finally able to make yourself move, tearing yourself out of your trance as you slam the door hard, sprinting away to anywhere but where he is.
── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・
you don’t see satoru for the whole rest of the day.
at least, not until it starts snowing, and snowing hard.
a blizzard, would be the only way to describe it, as flurries of icy white swirl around in frenzies, the snow on your door piling up inch by inch, until at least a foot blocks the doorway.
of course, satoru finally reappears right before the snowing worsens, and the weather condition becomes severe.
you swallow thickly, looking up at his impassable face, wondering what you're going to say to break the silent tension before suddenly..
BZZZT!
the lights flicker, before shutting off entirely, leaving you both in utter pitch-black with the snowfall steadily increasing outside, raging against your windows with growing intensity.
the electricity.
“shit..” you breathe, the darkness discombobulating you as you try to find yourself, hands waving around only to encounter something thick and hot, jumping beneath your touch, and an involuntary noise caught between a groan and a whimper leaving satoru’s mouth.
oh god.
“that was my-”
“yep got it..”
before he can say more, you start walking away, cheeks burning and glad that he at least couldn’t see your face in the dark.
you needed to fix the electricity before you could worry about satoru, and so you try to make your way toward where you knew the power box was located, stumbling and tripping as minimally as you could manage.
just as you think you’re about to make it though, your head knocks hard against someone else’s, practically rattling your teeth with the force of it.
“oh my god, try and be a little more careful, why don’t you? fuck.” comes a slightly raspy baritone, as familiar as it was infuriating.
“satoru? uungh ow..” you rub your head sorely for a few seconds, before starting to place your hands around to locate the circuit breaker.
“what do you think you're doing?” his hands brush yours for a second as he reaches across you to start fiddling with the panel you had just found.
“fixing our electricity, how about you?”
he chuckles, the sound condescending. “just back up, let me take care of this. it’s a man’s job after all. you probably don’t even know what a fuse looks like.”
your jaw drops open. “you misogynistic fucker. you’re saying that because i’m a woman, i can’t do it?”
“no, i’m saying that a prissy little bimbo like you can’t do it. that has nothing to do with women.” he opens the panel with ease, arms casually stretched around you as he works.
you’re practically shaking with anger now at his almost constant undermining remarks of your stature and capabilities. it was all getting to be too much.
unaware of your oncoming rage, his hand feels around inside before you hear the soft flick! of a switch, and the lights turn back on.
satoru turns to you, mouth smugly curved up as he mock-dusts his hands. “easy-peasy.”
you’re on him in a heartbeat, face inches from his as you curl your hand around the collar of his shirt, pushing him hard against the wiry boxes and circuits littering the walls. “why are you so determined to treat me like some commonplace whore who can’t even separate her right hand from her left? why can’t you treat me like a person? i’m your wife for god’s sake, you’re supposed to have heirs with me and lead this kingdom to prosperity at my side, and you can’t even let me flick a goddamn switch?!”
he pauses, and it surprises you when you feel his chest shaking beneath your palms, mouth wide and laughing, almost maniacally. “god. why does everyone keep talking about heirs?”
you swallow, watching him go on, giggling with hysterics, the sound almost chilling.
his head slowly falls back, looking at you then, crystalline eyes wide with something dangerous and rough glinting in his pupils.
“they want heirs, huh? let’s give it to them then, sweetheart.”
you gasp as in an instant, he has you against a table, flipping you effortlessly as his hot, pulsing cock presses up against your ass, his hips rolling forward with a small groan.
you can’t help the way you buck back into him, body begging for more as your breathing increases and your core pulses with need.
“you like that, huh? heh.. fighting so hard to say you’re not a whore yet you melt at the slightest touch..”
“oh s-shut up.” you grit out as his grinding increases, clearly getting more n’ more worked up by your arguing. “you’re the one who.. ah.. was jerking off.. ngh.”
he growls at that, forcing your head back with a sharp tug to your hair. “that’s just a natural physical form of release. was just a bit.. hnngh.. pent up, is all.”
you arch your back and tantalizingly begin to sway your ass against his throbbing boner, his head tipping back with a hoarse grunt. "you're sure it wasn't a coincidence that you just happened to see me naked before that?"
his hot breath huffs against you as he humps into you with fervor, grabby hands making their way to your hips to pull you harshly against him, forcing you to bend over more as his fat cock nestles into your clothed cunt. "j-just shut up, and take off your pants.."
without wasting another second, your fingers hook in the waistband, shoving them off you as you let clothing pool to the ground before shifting to widen your legs.
“fuck, you’re dripping princess..” he moans softly as his thick fingers come to dip inside your panties, smearing globs of your sloshing slick around.
you whine, trying to move yourself back into him for more but he quickly pulls his slender digits out, popping them into his mouth and sucking your essence off with a groan.
“oh c’mon, just fuck me already!” you pant, getting impatient as you curl your fists tightly around the edge of the table.
“stupid.. hah.. kingdom forcing me to marry a fuckin’ brat..”
you mewl then as you feel him coming to wedge his hot, weighty shaft pulsing and throbbing against you bare, his soft breaths becoming sharper in your ear as he slathers his oozing, slippery sheens of glossy precum on you.
“they wan’ a heir so bad, i’ll give ‘em a heir.. now, open those slutty legs..” he whispers roughly, sounding strained and desperate as his hand snakes between your thighs to part them enough to slide his cock in between, slowly fucking into your tantalizingly plush skin.
and then, you’re gasping for breath, your body feverish as his thickened, angry mushroom head is bumpin’ hard against your pussy, causing you to clench around nothing.
chuckling hoarsely, he grips his weeping length tightly before roughly slapping it against your cunt, again n’ again until you’re practically sobbing, “please, sa-toru! god, ngh.. put it in, put it in..!”
teasingly, he swipes his thickened cock head against your entrance, collecting your generous slick, before pushing juuust the tip in, enough for your walls to tighten harshly in an attempt to suck him in further but to no avail.
“you ready to give the crown a baby? yeah?” his hand comes to wrap tightly around your throat, almost choking you as he purrs into your ear. “gonna be all pregnant swollen up with my kid? these pretty tits filled with milk?”
for emphasis, his other hand roughly grabs at your breast, squeezing tightly, and making you cry out, bucking back into him.
"yes! just.. give it to me 'toru fuck!"
he snickers, and then, in one harsh, ruthless thrust, buries himself to the hilt deep inside you, until his tip is pressed up right against your cervix, and heavy, twitchy balls slap your ass with his sheer force.
your tight, gummy walls instantly clamp hard around him in welcome as you practically scream, clawing at the table desperately.
"yeahh sweetheart, milk me dry.. you want this fuckin' baby, don'tcha?" he reels back his hips, before harshly plowing into you, the slap! of skin against skin echoing as his brutal pace makes your mind go blank, eyes half-lidded and jaw slacken with drool seeping from the corners. you were already cock-drunk!
his nasty hips only grow rockier as you pant out a dazed, "toru.. hnngh!" and he quickly reaches a hand to pull back your head, tapping on your cheek meanly. "open."
you do, and his eyes flicker before he leans forward to spit a heavy wad of hot, pooling saliva into your awaiting mouth, watching with satisfaction as you swallow instinctively.
you feel his hands reach down, both of them curling around your stomach to hold you steady, as he heaves out a, "ohh-h, i'm.. ah.. allll the way in here."
his palm slides to your abdominals, just above your belly button, where the veiny outline of his girthy cock is barely visible, disappearing and reappearing obscenely with every punctuated thrust.
his curved dick hits directly into your cushy, sweet spot and you can't help but squeal, trying to both grind on him and move away from the huge, twitching member absolutely ruining your insides.
"stop.. hnngh.. squirming!" satoru's eyes are rolled all the way back in his head as he continues to hit even deeper into your poor, abused cunt, landing a sharp smack! on your twitchy clit, your pouty sheened lips opening in a small o'.
he rocks himself steadily into you, before you're sobbing out so brokenly, your tummy knotting tighter n' tighter until achingly you register the way you're cumming and cumming hard, so much slick gushing out of you, the force of it pushes satoru's cock back a few inches, small heaving gasps coming from you as your vision turns black and spotty.
he groans then, cerulean eyes peering so hazily at the messy sight laid before him as sloppily, his pace is increasing with an almost primal kind of need, his textured, washboard abs bumping against your back while he mashes his thickened tip into your cervix repeatedly.
and then, you feel him shudder behind you, dragging his hefty, swollen cock languidly deeper into your pulsating walls, as loads n' loads of sweltering hot, glossy white seed are oozing steadily into you, so much of it that it's pooling below you, your overspilling cunt gaping as it trickles down between your thighs.
"take it, take it all.." he's heaving out from behind you, hands coming to splay out on the table in front of you as he pushes his hips experimentally forward, watching the way more creamy filth instantly sloshes down your legs.
and then, he's spinning you around and lifting you by the hips to lay flat against the table, roughly shoving your legs up by your head, heavy cock still oh so hard and swollen inside of you.
growling a sultry, "damn kingdom wants me to fuck a baby into you so bad then that's what they're gonna get.."
⊱ ׅ ۫ ׅ✧ ── DAY SIX ── ۫ ׅ ✧ ⊰
the next morning, you wake up so sore and battered from the night before you can barely move.
after going for several rounds, satoru taking you in every position imaginable, you both had collapsed onto the bed in a tangled heap of arms and legs, your sweaty bodies molded together stickily, and now with morning sunlight filtering through the window to shine brightly onto your face, you open your hazy eyes to find satoru's face nuzzled into your neck, snoring softly.
because even after all that rough sex and hate-fucking as he spat on you, degraded you, and cooed at you mockingly while you struggled to take all of his monstrous cock on your own, he was still cuddled up to you like a sleepy puppy, his soft white hair tickling you as his arms wrap around you, holding you tighter.
"satoruu.." you poke his cheek, shifting in his arms.
he only lets out a small whine of protest before moving his pale freckled face away from you in irritation.
oh for fuck's sake. you manage to free both hands from where his heavy body has you pinned, before shoving on his chest as hard as you can.
thump!
he groans, cerulean blue eyes instantly opening to glare up at you as you peek over the edge of the bed at him.
"fuck was that for?" he demands, toned back and muscles rippling tantalizingly. he was still naked from last night.
you blink at him innocently, tender doe-eyed gaze growing even more sickly sweet. "need you to get up. i want a bath."
he grumbles, rubbing a hand over his face in annoyance. "yeah? why can't you do it yourself?"
you pout at him, glossy lips sticking out dramatically. "you were the one who made me all messy n' sticky! s' only fair!"
"well who said they wanted me to cum all over her t-"
he's cut off as a soft pillow comes sailing in the air toward him, hitting him straight in the head with a small "oomph!".
"shut up, and make me a bath." you say plainly.
he grabs you so quick you can only squeal as he stands and grips the soft skin of your hips tightly, pulling you toward him and pinning you while his mouth huffs above yours.
"wanna say that again? i don't take demands from naughty princesses like you." his eyes narrow, flickering with heat. "and what you did last night was naughty."
you try and push his broad frame off you, but when that doesn't work, decide to instead try another tactic. "yeah? help me remember, was it when i rode you just like this..?"
you make an effort to squirm and grind your body under him, adding a few overexaggerated moans for effect, watching as his eyes turn half-lidded, his breathing coming in faster pants.
"orrr was it when i sucked your cock so good, you were almost in tears..?" teasingly, you let your eyes roll back, mock-gagging while faintly bobbing your head.
he swallows thickly, and you look down to see his length, leaky and hard, pulsating to life right before you.
"oh oh! i know! was it when i.."
quickly, he slaps a hand over your mouth, groaning out a, "fuck just shut up!" before his mouth is on yours, and he's claiming your tongue in a hot, sloppy kiss, as his hands find their way dragging down your body lower n' lower until his heated kisses and rough touches are all you can remember, teasing and mocking long-forgotten.
⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ ── DAY SEVEN ── ۫ ׅ ✧ ⊰
today was the day that you both would return to the kingdom, escorted by horse-drawn carriages, and royal banners waving in the air, welcomed to the palace as official monarchs.
it was a big day, and you tucked your lip between your teeth nervously as you laced your corset up, fluffy tulle skirt sweeping around you.
after today, you would be queen of the gojo clan, forever dutiful to the throne up until the day you died.
you swallow thickly, making some last minute adjustments to yourself in the mirror when suddenly you feel a sharp, stinging smack! to your ass.
before you can react, satoru is already sidling up behind you, pressing his front flush against you, thick girthy outline prodded into your back as he whispers, “that dress is so tight on you.”
“toru, you pervert!” you wheel around, scowling firmly as you push him back, trying not to reveal how dizzy his touch makes you, watching him stumble back with mouth curved in a smirk, his eyes heavy and lustful.
“quickie before we go?” he steps forward again to close the distance, hand wrapping around your waist as his hips roll forward temptingly, causing you to suck in a breath, restraining yourself.
“no! they’re close, i can see the carriages in the distance!”
it was true. faintly outlined in the horizon, a whole army of royal steeds were quickly approaching, trumpets distantly playing with the stamp of the gojo clan drawn up high.
“fine.” he huffs, dragging you to him to spin you around and catch you in a dip. “how ‘bout a kiss?”
your eyes narrow on him suspiciously but you relent nonetheless, his glossy, candied lips crashing onto yours in a craze as he takes much more than a kiss from you.
he sucks your top lip into his mouth loudly, groaning softly at your taste before his tongue lewdly tangles with yours, pools of hot saliva mixing together.
in fact, you’re so caught up in him, you don’t even realize he’s moving you both until he slams you against the wall, one hefty thigh slotting its way between your legs to hold all of your weight, never breaking the kiss.
“toru.. mmph!” you try to break away to speak but he doesn’t let you, fervent mouth sliding against yours as he slowly lifts his leg higher, until he’s applying pressure directly to your pulsating core, an instinctive moan drifting its way out of your mouth.
you drag yourself along his thigh urgently, grinding back n’ forth and letting out small whimpers into his mouth, but suddenly, he stops, breaking the kiss with strings of saliva stretching between your lips as he peers at you, panting softly.
the moment turns more intimate as he hesitates, hand coming to caress your cheek almost softly, his eyes studying you with something you can’t quite decipher. “you know things are going to be different once we return to the kingdom, right?”
you hesitate. “different..?”
at the furrow that appears between your eyebrows, your eyes drifting to the fast-approaching carriage, he kisses you on the lips, this time softer, gentler, as if he’s apologizing for something you don’t know about, his hands drifting around your waist to press you firmer into him. “come, my queen.”
and with that, his hand comes to curl at the small of your back like he hadn't said anything, ushering you out the door and toward the carriages awaiting you, leaving your mind to spin with a complicated mess of emotions.
a few weeks go by following you and satoru's arrival to the kingdom, and you had slowly begun to see him less and less, as the demand for his presence steadily increases, his duties causing him to be away from the palace almost constantly.
and though you hated to admit it to yourself, the times he would come home, hurried and barely sparing you a glance before being rushed away, something different and unexpectedly warm would blossom up into your chest at the sight of him.
sometimes, he would sneak away to find you in your room, his eyes heated and low as he quickly pinned down your plush body, his chubbed cock already grinding against the softness of your stomach while he would kiss you tenderly like there wasn't anyone else in the world but you.
and, in the deep, achey recesses of your heart, that longed for something resembling affection without ever truly receiving it before, it felt like making love.
always by the time you woke up in the morning though, he'd be gone, nothing but rumpled sheets left in his place and the clinging scent of his cologne.
and as time passes, he appears less and less, until you never saw him at all, stuck lording over a lonely castle with nothing but the servants to keep you company, as even then your mind was clouded with thoughts of that familiar, infuriating smirk and enchanting blue eyes.
until one fateful day, it happened.
you had woken up, your head pounding and more than a little dizzy, feeling acid rush to your throat and fill your mouth, running to the toilet to gag over it, before slumping back down defeatedly.
you had been feeling sick lately, a little out of sorts with your body, and had also noticed how you were beginning to grow softer in some parts, more plush and chubby where you had once been less so.
and as you sat, with your head in your hands, leaned over the ceramic toilet bowl, you felt it.
a kick.
just barely, but you knew then, that you were with child.
you felt tears beginning to prick at your lashes, the joy of life setting in as you imagined how satoru would react, hoping that this would at least mean he could stay home more frequently, caring for you and cooing over your belly with a fatherly smile on his lips.
as soon as you're done cleaning yourself up in fact, putting on a sheer silk gossamer that showed off your tummy's newfound plumpness, you're already sending the servants off to retrieve satoru at once, sitting primly on the bed as you wait, with thoughts of his face when he found out already running through your head fondly.
finally, you hear the tell-tale creak of the door, and then rapid footsteps approaching as a slightly rumpled satoru appears, running his hands through messy white hair, looking as beautiful as ever.
“sorry, was busy.” his eyes dip down to what you’re wearing before flicking away, seeming almost distracted and out of it. “did you need something?”
you shift, smile slightly dimming. “yes, actually, i was just going to tell you.. well.. i’m expecting.”
he doesn’t even react to your words, nodding briskly like this was planned all along as he turns to leave again. “good, now that we have the heir, it’ll make a lot of things easier.”
he’s halfway out the door when you pull him back by the sleeve, eyes searching his.
“you aren’t going to stay with me?”
he sighs, turning back as if talking to a confused child. “of course not, i have kingly duties that need immediate attending. you will stay with the child, until its of an independent age to be comfortable on its own.”
your eyes narrow on him. “why are you treating this like a business transaction? i’m your wife, your queen, and i’m carrying your future child. don’t you care about that more than your kingdom?”
he rolls bored, blue eyes, the conversation obviously too dull for his tastes.
“i told you this was never going to be anything more than a marriage of convenience.” he moves to leave again, but you block the door, tears starting to brim in your eyes.
“so all of this meant nothing?”
he stares at you hard then, his next words ones you would repeat to yourself for the rest of your life. “it never was something to begin with.”
in a final attempt to get him to stay, you whisper hoarsely, “i-i love you, doesn’t that mean something?”
his cold, mountainous eyes that have never been more distant from you turn mean then, into something harsh, something angry. “you don’t get to fucking say that. not after everything you’ve done to ruin my life.”
you shove him slightly then, tears starting to spill down your cheeks. “what have i ever done to you besides be your wife?”
he looks away, swallowing angrily. “before you came along, i had a wife. a very pregnant wife. she wasn’t royalty but she was mine. and then my stupid father found out about us, and arranged a marriage immediately in place of her, to avoid scandal and protect the gojo clan name. bringing you.”
you can do nothing but stare, eyes wide as your body seems to cower before him. “w-what? you have another woman?”
he rubs a hand over his face in frustration at his inability to get through to you. “don’t you get it? you’re the other woman. this..”he gestures between you wildly. “.. is nothing more than publicity and a cover-up.”
you sniffle softly, as he roughly pushes past you to get out the door.
With the political crisis your kingdom is in, your father arranges you into an unwanted marriage with the notorious Prince Gojo—an elegant solution to keep two powerful kingdoms from tearing each other apart. Despite your hopes for the kind of love you’ve always dreamt of, Prince Gojo is everything the rumors said he was: lustful, untouchable, and emotionally closed off in ways you couldn’t begin to fathom. And when the suffocation of court life finally drives you beyond ballroom walls and polished smiles—you find yourself wandering in the palace gardens. It is there in those gardens, that you find your true salvation in a man who looks at you in the way you’ve always craved—like a human being rather than a title.
pairings: suguru geto x princess!reader x prince!gojo
content/warnings: renaissance au, arranged marriages, toxic relationships, angst, tension tension tension, patriarchy, love triangle, infidelity, morally grey characters, lots of political drama, fluff, deception, not super accurate to the renaissance era
notes: I’m so so excited for this! I’m not sure how many chapters this series will include. This is my first fic on here, so please be kind! I’m open to any advice. I’ll be posting the masterlist soon after I post this. Sorry for any cliches
୨・──── TELL ME I’M A LITTLE ANGEL, SWEETHEART OF YOUR CITY ────・୧
pairing ⸺ satoru gojo x reader
teaser ⸺ as a child, you were taken in by the powerful gojo clan and raised alongside their heir, gojo satoru — but never as his sibling. now, at an elite school, your fragile bond is tested when an actual noble woman enters the picture, bringing in a marriage proposal.
FIRST IN ARRANGED. [GOJO SATORU X READER]
READ PART II HERE
content ⸺ fluff, reader is an academic achiever and has a good handwriting, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, cliff hanger ending, human auctions, implied slavery, jealousy, implied torture, shoko talks about using medical tools for torture (lol), blood, implied abuse, implied grape (not at reader), magic!au, historic!au, the ages of reader and gojo throughout the story: 3, 10, 12, 15, 17
count ⸺ 22k
author’s note ⸺ thank you to everyone for waiting patiently! this is just the part one, i hope it does well to give me enough motivation to write a part two. i have so soo many ideas i’m hoping to incorporate.
🎧 ao3 wattpad
You sat next to the man, bowing deeply with him at some figure you couldn’t care less about. It had to be someone important obviously, and you knew now was the time you were going to get kicked out of a place for the tenth time in your life, unwittingly dragging this poor man with you as well. He had seemed kind enough when he had bought you off at that auction.
He wasn’t anything like you had feared. You had met other girls bonding with each other inside the cage; girls older and prettier than you, getting sold off one by one to old and creepy men who looked like they couldn’t keep it in their pants. You had dreaded meeting the same fate as them. That was, until the man who kept increasing his offer for you looked younger and stronger.
He was probably like one of those army officers you had seen at your mother’s house, who would stand guard outside your small room each night she and her happy family went out to lavish parties, to make sure you didn’t escape. Well, even if you did, you thought that was what they would have wanted, but they kept saying that they didn’t want anyone noticing your existence. Not that they didn’t have a good reason.
In your mind, you had hoped the man would win, and when he had, the triumphant look on his face made you sigh in relief; at least now you were sure you wouldn’t be used as a hole for life. But were you, though? Because the thoughts kept creeping back; the looks on the other girls’ faces when they were taken away by their new masters. But the mysterious man had made you sit on his pretty horse, taking you somewhere, away from the horrifying auctions that represented the worst atrocities made by humans.
You peered from under your hands, still in your bowing position. The person had now risen. He had dark hair and vivid blue eyes. He seemed to peer at you in as much curiosity as you were at him. That was, until a crisp voice had cut through the silence, knocking you out of your bow when it addressed your saviour to “pack his things and leave”.
“I understand, madam,” he said smoothly, getting up to leave, not before giving another curt nod. Then he turned to you. “This is where my job ends, little one. You’ll be much happier here,” he whispered, nodding at you and standing up. You almost wanted to stop him before you remembered you were told several times that you didn’t possess any human emotions. So you watched him leave, wondering how he was so sure this wouldn’t be another one of your previous houses.
“As for the child,” you snapped your head back to the dark-haired man in front of you who seemed to be giving commands, “we must decide which family keeps her. From the looks of it, she needs to be tended to,” he eyed your wounds from previous struggles you wished to forget about.
You stared at the people he was questioning, and they all looked away. This seemed like a meeting room, and the people were lined up sitting parallel to each other. Some were glaring at you like you had come to raid their houses, fuck their wives and drink their blood. None of them seemed to realize you were only a child of ten. Nervous under all the gazes, you wished to find another person you could bow to, just to avoid all the staring you were receiving.
“We will,” said the same voice you had heard earlier, and you finally looked at its source.
She had long, white hair that seemed to reach till the floor. Her eyes were light, and she looked pretty. She had a cold look on her face that made her seem frightening, though, and that was probably why you saw that none of the others could even muster enough courage to look at her eyes when she said those words.
“Well, it’s decided then,” the man said in a final tone, as if he had only bargained about the price of a few watermelons from his local vendor. “Love, if you will.”
Love? Oh, maybe they were married.
The woman stood up and everyone bowed at her again. You were about to sink back into the position before she crouched down in front of you, caressing your hair with a touch that made you look back at her.
“Come with me, daughter.”
──── ୨ৎ ────
“I have a sister now?”
“Shh, and don’t call her that. I’ve already told you, she’s not your sister—”
“Does she know how to ride horses?”
“Do you ever do anything else?”
“She should know how to ride horses.”
“You can teach her.”
“Oh, wow, really?”
You scrambled away from the door at the sounds of footsteps returning and sunk back into the expensive bed the woman had had prepared for you. The ‘woman’ who asked you to call her ‘mom’, somehow losing the twinkle in her eye when commanding maids around, which she seemed to regain every time you spoke something.
You knew it was a trap though. If she really ‘adopted’ you and wanted you to call her ‘mom’, wouldn’t that mean you were the sister to whatever child she already had? Yet here you were, all cleaned up and changed, almost believing the charade before realizing the child was being advised not to consider you as their sister.
You bit your lip, trying not to cry. At least you weren’t at your old house thinking of ways to poison your family, or in that cage counting down for when it was your turn, or lying dead in some creep’s backyard. Maybe you could enjoy this while it lasted.
“May I come in?” A polite, boyish voice rang out from behind your door. A hushed whisper of an older woman seemed to reprimand him for not knocking, and the two started to argue.
“Yes?” You didn’t quite know how to respond professionally to the request, so your answer came off more as a question. You sure hoped the man wouldn’t scold you for your manners as well.
A boy stepped forward, and you immediately knew he was the son of the two clan leaders. Not because of his clothes, but because of his face. He had the same white hair as his mother, and the blue eyes he got from his father. Maybe blue eyes were a thing of the clan?
“Hi,” he said awkwardly, and the door closed behind him. “Mother sent me here for ‘bonding time’.” You kept staring at him, not realizing you were staring. He looked up at you and flushed. Only then did you realize, chuckling awkwardly and scratching your wrists, trying to get used to the expensive scents the maids had covered you with.
“Can I… uh,” he trailed off, staring at you, and you blinked back at him, not knowing what he was going to say.
“...sit on the bed?” You offered, and he raised an eyebrow before climbing on it, sitting in the most formal position you had ever seen.
“Do you like horse riding?”
“What?”
He flushed even more. “Mother said we should ask each other questions to get to know the other better.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
There was another silence.
“So it’s my turn to ask a question now?” You asked.
“Yeah.”
“Do you like potatoes?”
“What?” He processed your question for a solid five seconds before bursting into laughter. You kept staring at him as if he was stupid. Did you say something stupid?
“I like you!” He said in between giggles, his old formal, uptight position long lost. It was your turn to flush now. No one had ever said they even wanted you alive, let alone say that. Well, no one except for three people in the past few hours, and now this guy. You had a feeling you might prefer this over anything else for now.
──── ୨ৎ ────
The soft hum of celebration still lingered in the air. Lanterns flickered outside glowing warmly across your room. You sat on the edge of your bed, staring at the wrapped gifts and trinkets the Gojo family had insisted on presenting you earlier. It had been strange, the idea of sharing a birthday with Satoru. You didn’t even know your real birthday, so his — no — your mother announced it would be shared.
Satoru had, of course, embraced the attention, dragging you along with him to cut the massive cake. You had never seen anything like this before, and it might have shown on your face, because he had held your wrist tightly as if annoyed you were taking so long, and cut the cake with you. That was what made it impossible to shun the feelings of belongingness.
Now, the house was quiet, and the festivities had faded. But just as you were about to pull the covers over yourself, the faint sound of your door creaking open made you pause.
“Hey,” Satoru’s voice whispered, followed by the soft padding of his feet. You turned your head to see him, still in the formal robes mother had fussed over earlier, though they were now slightly askew. His hair was a mess, his face flushed from excitement — or maybe all the sweets he’d devoured.
“Should you not knock?” you asked, folding your arms. You inwardly cringed at the noble accent you had unknowingly adopted from the Gojo family. “And what are you doing here?”
“Escaping,” he said, as if that explained everything. He plopped down without invitation beside you on the bed, leaning back on his hands and gazing at the ceiling. “Mother’s got the maids cleaning up. I was bored. Figured you’d be awake.”
You rolled your eyes, but he caught the faint smile tugging at your lips. “You’re going to get us in trouble. Again.”
“What’s the point of having a birthday if you can’t even cause some trouble now?” He shot you a grin, then leaned closer to the window. “Let’s go outside.”
“What? No.”
“Please, please, pretty please?”
“I am not letting my first birthday become my death day,” you scoffed at him. Taking one look at the pout on his face, which seemed to stretch all the way down to his neck, you sighed, and he knew he won. “Fine. But we’re only looking outside.”
“What!? But what’s the fun in that?”
“Then go alone.”
He pouted again, but you merely looked away trying to shield yourself from his cuteness. Soon after though, Satoru relented. He slid the window open and climbed onto the ledge, grumbling for you to follow. You joined him, settling beside him as the smell of night air filled your room. The stars were brilliant tonight, like silver dust across an ink-black canvas.
“They’re so bright,” you murmured. “It’s almost… too much.”
Satoru snorted. “That’s the problem with you. You overthink everything. Just look at them — they’re pretty, that’s all there is to it.”
You rolled your eyes again but couldn’t suppress a small laugh. “Fine. They’re beautiful. Happy now?”
“Very,” he said, grinning. Then he tilted his head, closing his eyes and mumbling something to himself. He opened his eyes, looking at you expectantly. “Now it’s your turn. Make a wish.”
“What?” You frowned.
“A wish! Like for your birthday. I know we already made some during the cake thing, but this one’s private. Just for us.”
You hesitated, unsure of what to wish for, before finally closing your eyes. Satoru watched you intently as if trying to guess your wish, but when you opened your eyes again, he pretended to be fascinated by the sky.
“Oh, done already? What did you wish for?” he asked after a moment.
“You said it was private,” you shot back. “What did you wish for?”
“Not telling,” he replied smugly, crossing his arms. “What if you laugh?”
“Why would I laugh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Because you’re you.”
“And you’re stupid.”
The two of you fell into another argument, but when it finally died down, it was followed by a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional sound of distant crickets. Then, out of nowhere, Satoru blurted out, “Do you think the stars can hear us?”
“What?” You stared at him.
“The stars,” he said seriously, pointing upward. “Do you think they grant wishes, like gods or something?”
“That’s stupid,” you muttered, but you couldn’t hide the faint curl of amusement on your lips. “They’re just balls of gas.”
“Well, maybe those gas balls are listening,” he said, sticking his tongue out. “You don’t know everything. Maybe they are hearing us right now.”
You opened your mouth to retort but froze. A memory seemed to resurface…
“I still don’t know why you decided to keep the child!” a deep voice was screeching at another, soft one.
“I don’t know what came over me, I swear!”“It is the spawn of Satan himself! I respect you for what you have been through, but it is time to dispose of her.”
“Dispose? You don’t mean—”
Large hands came your way to muffle the screams from your mouth.
Your fingers clenched the windowsill.
“They didn’t hear me before,” you said quietly, almost to yourself.
“What?” Satoru noticed the change in your tone, and turned to look at you, his brow furrowing. “Who? The balls?”
You shook your head quickly. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
But Satoru wasn’t one to let things go. “Hey,” he said softly. “You can tell me. I mean, if you want.”
His sincerity made your chest tighten. Normally, after the word ‘balls’, he would have made a bad joke about male anatomy. But he seemed to have read the room enough to shut up. You looked at him, his bright blue eyes watching you with genuine concern. For a moment, you thought about telling him. But then, the weight of it all felt too heavy to share. He was too young, too shielded from the horrors of the world to be able to handle any of it anyway.
“It’s nothing,” you muttered. “Just something dumb I used to believe.”
Satoru opened his mouth to argue, then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he smiled gently and nudged your shoulder. “Okay. But if you ever want to talk about dumb things, I’m here. You know, I’m dumb, so…” he tried making the joke you always did.
You didn’t know how to respond to that, so you simply nodded. The two of you sat in silence for a little while longer, watching the stars. Finally, Satoru stretched and hopped down from the ledge.
“Goodnight,” he said, giving you a lopsided grin. “And happy birthday.”
You blinked at him, caught off guard by the warmth in his voice. “You too,” you said softly.
As he closed the door as softly as he could behind him, you stared out at the stars, wondering if maybe, just maybe, they had started listening after all.
──── ୨ৎ ────
The sound of hooves clattering against the cobblestone path filled the air as the royal carriage swayed gently on its way to the prestigious School of Royalty. The morning sun cast a golden glow on the lush green fields outside, but inside, the atmosphere was both tense and excited.
“You know,” Satoru began, leaning lazily against the plush velvet seat, “I heard there’s a whole batch of new exchange students joining today. Rumor is, one of them’s from the Silver Crescent Kingdom. Ever seen anyone from there? They’re supposed to have that, uh… ‘ethereal glow.’ You think that’s real, or just something people say?”
You barely glanced up from the notebook in your lap, furrowing your brows as you paused your incoherent babbling of equations. “If you spent half as much time studying for the exam as you do gossiping, maybe you wouldn’t need to cheat off me later.”
He smirked, unbothered. “Cheat? Me? I’m offended. I’m just naturally brilliant.”
“And naturally annoying,” you muttered, flipping to another page of hastily scribbled notes.
Satoru ignored the jab, his grin widening. At fifteen, he’d grown into someone who couldn’t step into a room without people swooning for his attention. You guessed it was just a Gojo thing he inherited from his mother. The girls adored him — some from afar, others more boldly (you still cringe remembering that one time a girl with a sorry excuse of a top was taken away by your guards for trying to get a kiss from him last year) — and the boys either envied or wanted to be him. The name “Satoru Gojo” seemed to be whispered wherever he went, and he couldn’t be happier.
You, on the other hand, had decided that the attention you receive at your house was enough to satisfy you for a lifetime, and you would rather spend your time learning something new — at least, that’s what you told your mother; that you would rather cry over your grades than guys, to which Satoru had cleverly remarked, “Why not both?” earning a glare from his mother. While you did have friends, and you did seem to be friendly with everyone around you, you would watch in dismay when most of these friends would recite their love stories, and you had nothing to share. The boys barely noticed you, too busy being gay over Satoru. But you had your books, your achievements, and the satisfaction of knowing you didn’t need anyone’s approval.
“And get this,” Satoru continued, his excitement growing. “I heard one of them’s some kind of prodigy. Like, they mastered advanced magic when they were ten. Can you imagine? Finally, someone who might be able to keep up with me. They’re a senior too, so I want to see the look on their face when they realize I’m better than them.”
“Mhm,” you replied distractedly, not bothering to look up. You were too busy with the definition of archaic spellcasting principles and the formulas for mana stabilization to muster a reply of more than a single syllable. The exam was in less than an hour, and the thought of failing even one question sent a jolt of anxiety through you.
Satoru leaned forward, peering at your notes upside down. “What’s that? Something about magic circles? You’re still on those? I mastered those ages ago.”
You snapped your notebook shut and shot him a glare. “You didn’t ‘master’ anything. You just wing it and hope for the best.”
“Hey, it works, doesn’t it?” He shrugged. “Besides, you’ll cover for me if I mess up. That’s what partners are for.”
“We’re not partners.”
“Sure we are,” he said breezily. “Partners in crime. Mischief-makers extraordinaire. The unbeatable duo.” He winked, and you rolled your eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t fall out of your head.
The carriage hit a bump, causing you to clutch your notes tighter. Satoru, unfazed, lounged back in his seat and stared out of the window. “You know, you should relax a little. Exams aren’t life or death.”
“For you, maybe. Some of us don’t have a safety net made of charm and raw talent.”
He laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. “Wow, you really think I’m charming and talented? Thanks, baby.”
You didn’t dignify that dumb statement with a response. Instead, you turned your attention back to your notes, determined to make use of every second you had left.
The carriage began to slow, signaling their arrival at the school gates. Satoru straightened, his excitement palpable. “Here we go. Time to make an impression. Think the exchange students are going to swoon over me?”
“Only if they have no taste,” you muttered, gathering your things.
He grinned, standing and offering you a hand as the carriage came to a stop. “Come on, don’t be such a poopy.”
You cringed again before taking his hand, letting him help you down. The moment your feet touched the ground, the buzz of the school grounds surrounded you. Students swarmed the entrance, chattering excitedly about everything from the new arrivals to last-minute cramming for the exam.
Satoru strode ahead confidently, while you lingered a step behind, clutching your notes tightly. He glanced at you, running back to catch up with you. “Where’s Kuro? He’s supposed to be part of the dramatic entrance I had planned.”
“I sent him away. He was annoying me with the confetti.”
“You— WHAT?”
You ignored him, continuing to walk up the stairs leading to your exam hall without looking up at anyone. Satoru jogged beside you.
“We haven’t met with any of the exchange students yet!”
“Satoru, if you want to, then leave.”
He pouted, planting your face in front of yours above your notes. “You know I won’t leave you.”
“Then stay quiet and let me study.”
“Alright, alright,” he said, sighing. He stared at you for a few moments, pacing around the hall with you while you muttered curses under your breath. He smiled. You always hated this one subject but felt the need to excel in it anyway. “Hey,” he said softly. “You’ll do great, you know.”
The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, but you masked it with a scoff. “You’d better hope so. If I fail, you’ll fail too.”
He laughed again, a sound as effortless as everything else about him. “That’s true. Can’t impress anyone with an F on the paper, can I?” The loud bell rang, and Satoru moved to cover your ears with the palms of his hands. “I’ve got you covered, princess. In return, you must guarantee that I pass.”
You smiled a genuine smile at him, something you had gotten quite used to doing in the past four years you had spent with your new family. “I can’t guarantee that. Let’s go, I’m done now.”
His eyes widened comically, “What do you mean you can’t guarantee that?” You laughed at him, and he snatched your notebook from your hands. “Give me that! Oh god. I’m doomed, aren’t I?”
“Yup, let’s go now.”
The exam hall echoed with the sound of faint murmurs and the occasional nervous coughs. While theory had been nerve-wracking, at least you had been able to cram for it. But the practicals? They were a whole different beast. No amount of late-night revisions could prepare you for actual spellwork.
You clutched your wand tightly, its polished surface cold and smooth against your clammy palms. The examiner called your name, and your stomach flipped. Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward. What were the steps again? Swing your wand, say the words, and hope for the best.
You stood before the enchanted apparatus. It was a simple magical round glass that would respond to the accuracy of your spell, changing its colour accordingly. The orb pulsed softly, steams of gas floating stilly in its interior, waiting. You were supposed to transfigure a cactus into a goblet full of water. The room was silent, dozens of eyes boring into your back.
Why did they have to make everyone do the practicals individually, and on stage?
You closed your eyes briefly, mustering every ounce of focus. With a flick of your wand and the carefully practiced words spilling from your lips, you executed the spell. Wand still in the air, you waited. And waited. And waited. Nothing happened. Then, the orb glowed a brilliant gold.
“Perfect!” The elderly professor cried, clasping her hands together. She really liked you. “Next, please.”
Relief washed over you, and you felt a disbelieving smile creep onto your face. Scooting off the stage, you climbed down the stairs to your seat. You caught Satoru’s eye and mouthed, Good luck. He was slouching on his chair, winking at you and giving you a lazy thumbs-up.
Just as you sat down, you noticed your gaze didn’t leave him. You kept looking at him, how effortlessly good he looked in his outfit, sunglasses perched languidly on his nose. He was looking straight ahead at the stage above, and you glanced at the front too. Shoko got a pale yellow glow from the orb, an easy B.
Your eyes wandered to the girl in line ahead of Satoru. You recognized her instantly, how could you not? Wavy chestnut hair that caught the light just so, impeccable posture, an air of confidence that bordered on smug, and her pink lips upright looking behind her. She was from one of the distant kingdoms—brilliant in class, annoyingly charming, and unfortunately, quite pretty. And right now, she seemed pretty happy about being positioned so close to Satoru.
It was the way she was smiling at Satoru that irritated you. Not the polite, fleeting kind of smile you’d give a classmate. No, this was different. She tilted her head slightly, her lips curved in a way that made even you highly uncomfortable. You saw her fingers brush a strand of hair behind her ear — twice, because apparently once wasn’t enough — and she leaned just a fraction closer to him.
You squinted. Was she flirting? She was flirting. Yuck. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, but your jaw tightened. Getting up sneakily from your seat, you joined the crowd they stood with to spy on the two.
“I hear the examiners this year are super strict,” she said, her voice soft and lilting. “Not that you need to worry. I’ve seen you in dueling practice — you’re incredible,” she sighed at him dramatically, eyes turned to hearts.
Satoru blinked at her, then scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, thanks? I guess?”
She laughed — too loud for a casual compliment. “You’re so modest! That’s so rare, you know.” Her eyes sparkled as she stared up at him, clearly hoping he’d reciprocate the energy.
He didn’t. “Modest? Me?” Satoru’s tone was laced with genuine confusion, his brow furrowing slightly. “You sure you’re talking about the right guy?”
You saw Geto, his best friend, stifle a laugh at that, but you didn’t find any of this funny. Geto caught your eye and immediately stopped laughing, trying to inch closer to Satoru to warn him of your incoming wrath.
But the girl kept blocking his way.
“Oh, absolutely,” she said smoothly, leaning in even closer. “I bet you’ll get top marks, as always. You must have so many admirers.”
Your grip on your wand tightened. You might not be as violent as Satoru when it came to dueling, but you couldn’t care less about that at the moment. Nor did you seem to notice the sheer number of students surrounding you.
Satoru, as usual, was utterly oblivious. “Admirers? I sure hope so,” he said with a shrug. “But thanks, I guess?”
You wanted to shake him. How could he not see what she was doing? The way her voice softened whenever she said his name, how her lashes fluttered just a bit too much when she looked at him — it was painfully obvious. And yet, Satoru treated her like he treated everyone else: polite, casual, and just detached enough to make it clear he wasn’t interested.
“Next!” called the examiner, and the girl’s name echoed through the hall.
She turned to Satoru with a dazzling smile. “Wish me luck?”
“Uh, good luck?” he said, scratching his head.
You were half a second away from gagging, Geto slipping from beside Satoru to join you, both of you dissing the situation in hushed whispers.
As she walked away, you muttered under your breath, “Unbelievable.”
Geto muttered, equally frustrated, but this was pointed towards Satoru, “Unbelievable indeed.”
Your eyes followed the movements of her wand, and you tried to calculate the exact angle by which she tilted her wand too high, the length by which her hand movement went wrong and the distance between her wrist and the cactus assigned to her. Geto shook his head at your overly focused expression.
A loud pop filled the air, followed by startled squeaks. Your eyes widened. The examiners scrambled around, now very much turned into rats! The girl froze, her wand dangling uselessly at her side as laughter rippled through the room.
You bit your lip. What were you supposed to be feeling right now? Secondhand embarrassment or vindication? Serves her right, you thought, though a small part of you almost pitied her. Almost.
The headmaster, who had been watching the whole ordeal with an amused expression, quickly restored order, probably glad he wasn’t turned into a mouse or something. He dismissed the rest of the students and awarded automatic A’s to those who hadn’t gone yet.
You groaned and Geto laughed at you, a grimacing Shoko dangling from his arm. Together, the three of you were about to leave the hall when Satoru caught up with you, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. “Wild. Best exam ever. I didn’t even have to do anything!”
You shot him a sideways glance, your mood souring again. “Yeah, lucky you.”
“Wait, are you mad?” he asked, peering at you. “You’re mad. Why are you mad?”
“I’m not mad,” you said shortly, walking faster, waving goodbye to Geto, who was now left alone to deal with a hungry kitten, Shoko.
“You’re definitely mad,” he teased, catching up. “What, is it because I got an A without lifting a finger? Don’t worry, you’ll get to cheat off my usual genius self next time. Maybe you’ll even get an A+++++++ because of me… or whatever the highest grade is.”
“Right,” you said, rolling your eyes. “You’re so modest,” you mimicked the girl from earlier, but he didn’t get the reference.
At break, you sat under the shade of a tree, quietly eating your snack and watching the courtyard buzz with post-exam chatter. Across the lawn, the girl was crying into her boyfriend’s shoulder, her wails loud enough to carry. You frowned, unsure whether to feel sorry for or annoyed at her.
Her boyfriend, a tall, broad-shouldered guy from her kingdom, seemed to be comforting her, rubbing her back and murmuring reassurances. Weird, you thought. He doesn’t even know he’s worse than Satoru in her eyes.
The suspension had been swift: four months for reckless and dangerous spellcasting. Watching her now, you couldn’t muster much sympathy. It was one thing to fail; it was another to fail so dramatically. It’s what she deserves.
Satoru plopped down beside you, unwrapping a burger he’d somehow acquired (probably chased after Shoko to steal her food). “Hey, isn’t that, uh... Britney? No, wait, Bridget? Or... Burger?”
You raised an eyebrow. “Burger?”
“Yeah, burger,” he said, taking a huge bite and gesturing vaguely in her direction. “She’s got layers, y’know? Like a burger.”
“You’re ridiculous,” you said, shaking your head.
“C’mon, you gotta admit it’s funny,” he said, his grin widening. “She tries to turn on the charm, and bam! Instant ratification.”
You groaned at the pun, but laughter bubbled up anyway. Satoru’s dumb humor always had a way of disarming you.
“Heyyyyyyyy!” A voice dragged out, and you were met with a flash of dark blue hair before you were hugged tightly. “I heard your exam went great, but then, of course it did.” She patted your head. “Well done.”
“Thanks, Utahime.”
“No need to thank me,” Utahime pulled out your favourite chips from her bag and handed them to you.
“Hey, nothing for me?” Satoru wailed.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Rude.”
She ignored him and turned back to you. “Anyway, did you see any of the new exchange students? They’re good-looking.”
“So?” You munched on your chips.
“So,” she said loudly, shooing Satoru off to sit in his place next to you, “we can finally get you a boyfriend.”
Satoru snorted. “Boyfriend? Why does she need a boyfriend?”
“And,” she stepped on his foot with her heel and he skipped away across the courtyard, foot in his hand and muttering curses under his breath. “There’s that prodigy guy. You two could have been academic rivals if he was in your grade. Ugh, this is so annoying. Couldn’t he repeat a few classes? Dumbass.”
“Uh, I’m not interes—”
“Yes, you are,” she looked at you with a wide, crazy smile as if daring you to disagree, and you gulped.“No wasting time watching couples break up,” she pointed at the girl in front of you, whose boyfriend seemed to have heard of the real reason she messed up her spell. Utahime lifted you by one arm and practically flew the yards to reach the main hall, where your assembly would take place to welcome the exchange students.
The assembly hall buzzed with anticipation, the crowd of students shifting restlessly as they filled the rows of wooden benches. Your arm still ached from Utahime dragging you all the way here. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but feel drained—physically and emotionally.
The morning’s drama was still fresh in your mind, particularly the girl’s humiliating display. The idea of someone so brazenly cozying up to Satoru still gnawed at you. And now, you had to sit through an assembly to greet some mysterious prodigies who probably thought they were better than everyone else. Perfect.
“Sit here,” Utahime ordered, pointing to a spot near the front. “I need a good view.”
“Of what?” you asked, dropping onto the bench with a huff.
“Duh, the new guys. Maybe one of them will be your destined academic rival-slash-love interest,” she said dramatically, clasping her hands like a cheesy romance novel heroine.
You rolled your eyes. “I’m fine without one, thanks.”
“Oh, don’t be boring,” she said, plopping down beside you. “You need some excitement in your life. Besides, I heard some of the new guys are supposed to be really good-looking,” she whispered, leaning in as if discussing a conspiracy theory involving the Monarchy of Mars. “Like, model good-looking.”
You let out a noncommittal hum, tracing the edge of the seat in front of you with a finger. Utahime nudged you. “Don’t you care? Come on, aren’t you curious?”
“Not really,” you lied.
Utahime rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Sure, sure. But if someone walks in here looking like a movie star, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Your gaze wandered to the double doors at the front of the hall, where the new students were supposed to enter. You didn’t care much about the guys. But what if there were girls? Pretty girls. The kind with perfect skin and perfect hair and that effortless grace you always seemed to lack.
Your stomach churned. Why were you even thinking about that?
You glanced at Utahime, still chattering away about rumors she’d heard excitedly. She was bouncing slightly in her seat, her eyes scanning the room like a hawk. But you couldn’t shake the thought — what if everyone thought the other girls were prettier? You could almost smell the break up stories your dozen friends would fetch for you because the new girls seemed hotter to the dung-nosed guys of your school.
“For the next few months, I will be stuck amidst boy troubles,” you muttered, glancing across the hall. Satoru had finally joined the crowd, sauntering in late as usual. He spotted you almost immediately and shot you a wink before sliding into a seat with Geto and Shoko.
Your stomach did an involuntary flip, but you shoved the feeling down. He was just being Satoru like always. That’s all it was.
Right?
The headmaster’s booming voice filled the hall. “Welcome, students, to this year’s exchange program orientation!”
The crowd settled as the headmaster launched into a long-winded speech about tradition, excellence, and the importance of collaboration between kingdoms. You zoned out almost immediately, your eyes drifting back to Satoru.
He was whispering something to Geto, who smirked and nudged him in the ribs. Shoko looked utterly disinterested, flipping through a medical journal she’d smuggled in. Typical.
You pulled your eyes away from them. The last time you had zoned out in class because of him, your mood had been soured for the whole following hour. The sound of applause gave you an excuse out of your reverie. The exchange students were being introduced now, stepping onto the stage one by one. They were all polished, confident, and, admittedly, quite impressive.
Utahime elbowed you sharply. “Look at that one!” she hissed, nodding toward a tall boy with striking blond hair and piercing brown eyes.
You blinked. “Looks like he walked out of a painting.”
“Exactly,” she said, smirking. “He’s perfect for you.”
You groaned. “Can we not do this right now?”
Utahime ignored you entirely, listing off reasons why he’d make a great boyfriend: “Smart, handsome, probably good at magic—”
“Definitely better at cactus transfiguration,” you muttered, earning a snort of laughter from her.
Meanwhile, Satoru had twisted around in his seat, craning his neck to see what the commotion was about. When his eyes landed on you and Utahime, his expression soured slightly. He didn’t like being left out, and it was written all over his face.
“Who’s better at cactus transfiguration?” He suddenly appeared behind you.
“None of your business,” Utahime shot back, sticking her tongue out.
“Wow, mature,” Satoru deadpanned.
The assembly droned on, with each exchange student introducing themselves in turn. You tried to pay attention, really, but your mind kept wandering. Utahime’s ridiculous matchmaking schemes. Satoru’s infuriatingly perfect smile. The girl’s earlier meltdown. It was all swirling together into a chaotic mess of emotions you didn’t have the energy to untangle.
Finally, the headmaster wrapped up his speech with a flourish. “Let’s give our guests a warm welcome!” he declared, prompting another round of applause.
As the crowd began to disperse, Utahime grabbed your arm again. “Come on, let’s go talk to him!”
“To who?” you asked, bewildered.
“The blond-haired guy, obviously!”
“Absolutely not,” you said, digging your heels into the ground.
But before you could argue further, a familiar voice interrupted.
“Leaving without saying hi? Rude.”
You turned to find Satoru standing behind you still, his trademark grin firmly in place.
Utahime groaned. “Go away, Gojo.”
“Can’t. I’m here to rescue my friend from your matchmaking madness,” he said, draping an arm over your shoulder.
You tried to shrug him off, but he held on tight, his presence annoyingly comforting.
“Why do you care?” Utahime shot back.
Satoru’s grin widened, but his tone was surprisingly serious. “Because she doesn’t need some random guy when she’s got me.”
He tugged you away, leaving Utahime fuming in his wake.
“Thanks for the save,” you mumbled once you were out of earshot.
“Anytime,” Satoru said lightly, though there was an edge to his voice you couldn’t quite place. “And besides, didn’t want you to end up with an annoying mother—”
You raised an eyebrow at him. Did he forget he was in a royal school where all the students and teachers were high-class nobles and the mere mention of vocabulary outside of the poshed-up ones exclusively for the rich would make him an infamous wreck in everyone’s eyes?
He caught your eye and continued, “—trucker.”
──── ୨ৎ ────
The dining table was as extravagant as ever, its polished surface reflecting the golden glow of the chandelier overhead. Plates were neatly arranged, and bowls of steaming food were placed in a perfect line down the centre. Mother sat at the head of the table, her posture so upright it made your back ache just looking at her. Across from her sat Father, whose stern expression was an almost permanent fixture at meals.
You occupied your usual spot, tucked between Satoru and his mother, a position that felt both safe and stifling. Satoru, of course, lounged in his chair as if it were a throne, pushing peas around his plate with one chopstick, clearly uninterested in the discussion at hand. It was peaceful and calm. But as soon as Satoru’s father set down his chopsticks, you knew this tranquillity wouldn’t last.
“Satoru,” his father began.
Satoru didn’t even look up, lazily poking at his food. “Uh oh. Here we go.”
“Don’t start,” his mother said sharply, and Satoru sighed dramatically, dropping his chopsticks like they were too heavy to hold.
“Fine. What is it this time? Did someone see me napping in class? Because, for the record, I was listening with my eyes closed.”
“Your instructor tells me your theoretical scores are excellent, as expected,” Satoru’s mother began, her sharp gaze sweeping across the table to land on him. “But your duel with Suguru during last week’s practice was... undisciplined.”
Satoru shrugged, not bothering to look up. “It’s not my fault Suguru got cocky.”
His father’s goblet hit the plate with a sharp clink. “And whose fault is it that you refuse to follow proper form? You’re not dueling for fun, Satoru. These exercises are meant to sharpen your skills for real combat.”
You could feel the tension grow, so you instinctively focused on the rice in your bowl. Satoru, however, leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed.
“Real combat isn’t about sticking to the rulebook,” he said lazily, resting an arm on the back of your chair. “It’s about adaptability.”
“That is not an excuse to showboat,” his mother snapped. “You might think you’re untouchable, but arrogance will get you killed one day.”
For a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes — irritation, maybe, or defiance — but he masked it with a grin. “Not likely.”
“Only because you’re naturally talented,” his mother interjected coldly. “Talent will only carry you so far, Satoru. You lack discipline, respect, and—”
“Manners,” his father finished, glaring at him.
His mother pinched the bridge of her nose. “All we’re trying to make you understand is, this isn’t a joke, Satoru. You’re supposed to be the strongest, and yet you’re constantly underperforming. Meanwhile, look at her.” She gestured to you, and your heart sank.
“Oh no,” you muttered under your breath.
“Look at her,” his mother repeated. “Top marks in every subject, excellent dueling reports, and the teachers can’t stop praising. Why can’t you be more like her?”
Satoru threw up his hands. “Because she’s a robot! Have you seen her handwriting? It’s terrifying!”
“I just have neat handwriting,” you mumbled defensively.
“Neat? It’s like a calligraphy competition on every page,” Satoru said, jabbing a chopstick at you. “She probably practices writing spells for fun.”
“She’s perfect,” his father said firmly, as if it were an unshakable fact of the universe.
“Exactly my point!” Satoru exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air. “How am I supposed to compete with that?!”
“You’ve been doing wonderfully,” his mother interrupted warmly, and you almost choked on your water. She reached to kiss your forehead and you felt fuzzy all over.
“Really?” you said hopefully.
“Yes,” his father agreed, nodding. “We’re very impressed with your progress. And your last dueling performance was flawless. Keep it up.”
Satoru’s jaw dropped. “What? That’s it? No lecture about being even better? No existential guilt trip?”
“She doesn’t need one,” his mother said simply.
“She’s already self-motivated,” his father added.
Satoru gawked at them, then at you. “Wait, are you seriously not going to roast her? Not even a little?”
His mother held up a hand to silence the banter. “Enough. We’re not here to discuss her. We’re here to discuss you and your inability to take anything seriously.”
“I take plenty of things seriously!” Satoru protested.
“Name one,” his father challenged.
Satoru opened his mouth, paused, then pointed to you. “Her.”
You nearly choked on your rice. “What?!”
“See? I take her academic success very seriously,” he continued smoothly. “She’s basically my tutor at this point. Without her, I’d probably be failing food transfiguration.”
“Food transfiguration is not the metric for success,” his father said dryly, but his lips twitched like he was trying not to laugh.
“And yet, it’s a class!” Satoru shot back. “A class I pass, thanks to her.”
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Please stop talking.”
“Never,” Satoru said cheerfully, ruffling your hair like you were a pet.
The room went silent for a beat, and then his father muttered, “Pass the rice.”
You couldn’t help but snort, quickly covering your mouth to stifle your laughter. Satoru’s grin widened, clearly taking your reaction as a victory.
“I’m serious about the food transfiguration, though,” he whispered to you as the conversation shifted. “You saved me from flunking that one.”
“By telling you to stop turning the chicken into a dinosaur?” you whispered back, rolling your eyes.
“Exactly. Genius advice.” Satoru sighed, slumping dramatically. "I swear, if I weren’t so charming, I’d be useless."
“You are,” you replied, teasing him with a grin.
──── ୨ৎ ────
The foreign exchange students filed into the classroom. You hadn’t met any of them yet, but the instant you saw a giggling pack of girls, dressed in a way that clearly screamed “I’m a tourist, please give me attention,” take seats scattered around the room, you knew this would be a long class. They were chatting loudly, condescending smiles on their faces and prissy postures to back it up. One of them locked eyes with you and stood up.
The girl scanned the room, perhaps trying to find something to shift the attention of the bustling and noisy class to her. Sitting beside you, Geto didn’t even flinch as the girl cleared her throat loudly. You could feel it. She was about to open her mouth.
And open it she did.
“Do you guys feel,” she addressed her fellow exchange people, “that the culture here is a bit… Well, I don’t know what you'd call it. Primitive, I guess? It’s like they just dug it up from some ancient ruins," she said, waving a hand dismissively, as if she were talking about a dusty artefact. “This whole— uhm— ‘honour’ thing? So outdated. I didn’t find any such codes on how to behave in the culture of the South, or the West, or the South-West. Maybe it is because the people here still need to be taught manners, I suppose.”
The other students, contrary to what she had hoped, didn’t pay any attention to her. They didn’t seem to have heard her, because if they had… well, all of them were from noble clans, of course they would have a problem with it.
The girl didn’t seem to notice. Or care.
“You there!” She screeched at you, coming to a halt in front of your desk after pacing around like she was delivering an important lecture. “I heard you’re the top student. Representative, or something, they told me. Like—” she turned to face you more directly, suddenly noticing the lack of a surname on your badge “—wow, you don’t even have a last name. I heard you were from the Gojo clan. But, I mean, you don’t even have their surname? Were you picked up from some ditch or something?”
You flushed. Most of the students were tactful enough to not point that out to you, and if they did, they would return with a bruise soon after, credit to Satoru. But Satoru was in the hospital wing right now, and thankfully so, because you didn’t want him making a scene here in the middle of your Charms class. Geto’s fingers brushed lightly against your arm; he was trying to calm you down. He didn’t need to say anything; you already knew what he was thinking.
Shoko, sitting in front of you, shifted in her seat. Her fingers twitched toward her coat pocket, and you could swear you felt a chill run down your spine at the look she had on her face. Shoko’s glare was murderous, and her hand slowly moved to her doctor’s tools — just a few inches away from hurling them at the girl’s smug face.
“Don’t bother,” Geto murmured under his breath. “Let her go on. She’s not worth the energy.” His eyes never left you as he spoke, a detached smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Ignore her, Shoko.”
The girl leaned on your desk as you continued to determinedly stare at a spot on your notebook
“Oh, but wait,” she continued haughtily, “you must’ve been a mistake. I mean, the Gojo clan leaders, right? They couldn’t possibly have any sense of judgement, could they? Considering who their son is, who he’s raised by. They probably just took in anyone, huh? Just to fill the numbers. I bet they didn’t even care to see if you had any real worth.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Geto interrupted her calmly, his smile widening, a maddenned look in his eyes. “If you don’t stop right now, you might have to deal with a curse or two, because I’m not exactly one to be afraid of duelling in front of teachers.”
Alina was unfazed, leaning back in her chair with a smirk plastered across her face. “Oh, I so do. You can’t silence me. The Gojo clan is only famous because they have money and influence — nothing more.” She leaned forward again, her eyes narrowing. “And the leaders? They’re a joke. All that power, and they still let their precious son — what’s his name? Satoru? —play around like the child he is. Tell me, do you ever wonder if he’s actually good for anything besides being the ‘chosen one?’ Or is it just another piece of their precious family’s empire?”
No.
That was it.
You snapped. Your body moved before your brain could catch up. Pulling out your wand from your pocket, you let the cold tip touch her throat. The girl immediately shut up, caught off guard and not having the time to reach her own wand, which was kept on the table her friends were sitting at.
“What’s wrong? Can’t speak? I’d love to hear more from that croak of a voice you possess. Please, go on with your pathetic guesses about my lineage.”
“Don’t,” Geto warned, but you were too blinded by the ringing echo of her words about your family. Shoko was already gripping the side of her desk, looking like she wanted to step in.
“You want me to speak more?” The girl said. “I can speak more. Because I know what you are. I would have felt sorry for you if you weren’t so stuck up though. As they say, no power, no future.”
Before you could retort, or even say a quick charm to freeze her throat so it snapped in half, the door flew open, and a voice interrupted your anger.
"Both of you, in my office. Now."
It was the teacher, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, clearly fed up. Without missing a beat, you spun on your heel, flicking a glance at Geto and Shoko.
──── ୨ৎ ────
It was oddly quiet in the headmaster’s office. You sat alone at the desk, gloves pulled snug over your hands, a rag in one and a half-polished trophy in the other. The cleaning did little to distract you from the frustration you felt.
The headmaster’s words still rang in your ears: “Detention builds character, and perhaps a lesson in self-control will serve you well.”
Self-control. As if it was your fault someone had insulted your family.
The soft creak of the door interrupted your thoughts. You stilled, expecting the headmaster to return and scold you for slacking off. Instead, a familiar white head of hair peeked around the doorframe.
"What the—" you hissed. "Are you insane? If someone catches you here—"
“Wow. You, of all people, getting detention?”
Satoru leaned casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed and a lazy smirk on his face.
“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.
“Came to pick you up,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Kuro was freaking out because he didn’t know why we weren’t at the gates, so I told him to head home without us.”
“You didn’t have to—”
“Relax. He’s used to me pulling stuff like this.” Satoru strolled into the room, glancing around with mild interest before his eyes landed on the pile of trophies waiting to be polished. “So... what’s the story? Did you finally snap and hex someone?”
You rolled your eyes, turning back to the trophy in front of you. “Shouldn’t you be hiding somewhere? I mean, you’re not supposed to be here after school.”
“Oh, I’m cutting it. I figured detention with you would be more fun.”
You ignored him, hoping he’d get bored and leave, but Satoru was never one to take a hint. He perched on the edge of the desk beside you.
“Come on,” he said, nudging your arm lightly. “Tell me what happened.”
You bit the inside of your cheek, refusing to look at him. “Nothing. Just... a disagreement.”
“A disagreement?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “That’s all you’re giving me?”
You stayed silent, scrubbing furiously at a nonexistent smudge on the trophy. But your hands were shaking slightly, and he noticed.
His teasing expression softened. “Hey,” he said quietly, leaning closer and nuzzling your hair. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” you said quickly, but the crack in your voice betrayed you. You cursed under your breath, setting the trophy down harder than you intended.
“Right,” Satoru said dryly. “You know lying is a sin, right?”
Before you could stop him, he reached out and plucked the rag from your hand. You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off with a firm look.
“Enough,” he said, tossing the rag onto the desk. He grabbed your hands, tugging the gloves off gently, his touch warm and steady against your cold fingers.
“Satoru, what are you—”
“Helping,” he said simply.
You stared at him, your breath hitching slightly as he held your hands in his. His grip was firm but gentle, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles.
“You shouldn’t have done it,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “Gotten detention, I mean.”
Your throat tightened, and you looked away. “I didn’t even do much. I just threatened her, ‘s all—”
“I know,” he said. “But you didn’t have to stand up for me like that.”
“Yes, I did.” The words came out sharper than you intended, but you didn’t care. “She had no right to talk about your family like that. Or mine,” you added quietly.
Satoru’s expression softened, and he sighed, letting go of your hands only to pull you into a hug. Your breath stopped. It was so sudden and unexpected, but his arms around you were so warm and secure, and for a moment, you forgot just how cold the office was.
“Thank you,” he murmured against your hair. “For putting us first.”
You swallowed hard, your face pressed against his shoulder. You could feel his heartbeat. His vanilla scent filled your nostrils, and you couldn’t help but sigh at the sensation.
Just what were you feeling?
He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. The gesture was so gentle, so unexpected, that it sent a shiver down your spine. Goosebumps prickled along your arms, and your breath caught in your throat. Eyes widening on his chest.
Satoru pulled back slightly, his hands still resting lightly on your shoulders. He studied your face for a moment, his gaze searching, before giving you a small, crooked smile.
“Alright there?” he asked softly.
You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. His smile widened, and he gave your shoulders a reassuring squeeze before stepping back.
“Good,” he said, picking up your gloves and the rag you had abandoned. “Because I think it’s my turn to polish these things. You’ve done enough.”
You blinked at him, confused. “You can’t just—”
“Too late.” He waved the rag dramatically, grinning. “Go sit down and relax. Perfect students need to take a break to be imperfect once in a while.”
Despite yourself, a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He waved you off, already humming to himself as he began scrubbing.
──── ୨ৎ ────
You sat with your detention homework in your garden after the headmaster had insisted on giving you some more ‘punishments’ for letting Satoru in his office. On the stone bench, you glared at the crumpled detention slip in your hands. The words from earlier still rang in your ears.
Wow, you don’t even have a last name. I heard you were from the Gojo clan. But, I mean, you don’t even have their surname? Were you picked up from some ditch or something?
You must've been a mistake
The nerve of that girl, whatever her name was. She had no right to talk like that. But as much as you hated to admit it, her words dug deep. Why didn’t you have the surname? Why were you even here?
You sighed, staring down at your hands, throwing the slip away and watching it skid between bushes. The gate creaked, pulling you from your thoughts. Satoru’s mother stepped into the garden. She always seemed to know when something was wrong.
She smiled warmly as she approached. “Trouble at school?”
You let out a small huff, tossing the detention homework onto the bench. “Some girl decided to remind me I don’t belong here,” you muttered. “She’s not wrong. I mean, I don’t even have your family name. I’m just... here.”
Her expression softened, and she sat down beside you. “Suguru told me it was someone from the Kamo clan. She said that, did she?”
You nodded. “She made it sound like I’m just some random stray you all picked up out of pity.”
A shadow flickered across her face, but she stayed silent for a moment, as if weighing her words carefully. Then she sighed softly and folded her hands neatly in her lap. “You don’t carry the Gojo surname yet because... you aren’t meant to. One day, you will.”
You were confused. “One day? What are you talking about?”
Her gaze softened further, and she reached for your hand. “You’re not here because of pity. You’re here because I care for you deeply. You’re family to me. And... well, you’re engaged, my dear. To Satoru.”
The words hit you like a thunderclap. “Engaged?” you whispered.
She nodded gently. “It was my decision. Not to strengthen ties or fulfill some tradition — I couldn’t bear the thought of marrying you off to anyone else. You’re important to me, and to this family. No one else would cherish you the way you deserve. No one else would love you the way I know he can.”
Your head was spinning. Engaged? To Satoru? The same Satoru who stole your dessert, teased you relentlessly, and drove you up the wall with his arrogance?
“Does he know?” you managed to ask.
A small, amused smile tugged at her lips. “Not yet. I’m waiting for the right time to tell him. You know how he is — he’d probably react with some ridiculous joke or dismiss it entirely without thinking it through.”
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “You mean I’m supposed to sit on this bombshell while he’s running around like an overgrown child?”
She chuckled softly, reaching over to pat your shoulder. “It’s not so bad. You’ve already grown close to him, haven’t you?”
Close. You couldn’t deny it. In the past few years, you had gone from tolerating his antics to — well, something. The butterflies in your stomach betrayed you every time he smiled or stood too close.
But this? This was too much.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you asked weakly, peeking through your fingers.
“I wanted you to have time to figure out your feelings without the weight of this hanging over you,” she admitted. “And... I wasn’t entirely sure when you’d be ready to hear it. But seeing you upset, questioning your place here, I couldn’t keep it from you any longer. Forgive me, darling.” She stood then. “You’re exactly where you’re meant to be,” she said gently. “Never let anyone make you doubt that.”
And with that, she disappeared back into the house, leaving you alone with the truth.
Engaged. To Satoru.
The butterflies in your stomach weren’t just fluttering now—they were staging a full-on rebellion. You let out a groan, slumping back against the bench.
──── ୨ৎ ────
Over a year had passed. The two of you were turning seventeen the next year, and with the increase in your age, the load of schoolwork increased too. The School of Royalty had seen so many changes. They were rebuilding the duelling grounds and organising even more clubs than before. Girls were mysteriously beginning to drop out of school, and you didn’t want to know why. There were less than ten girls in your class of fifty, and you figured this number would reduce even more as women in nobility were hurriedly married off to distant kingdoms, forced to give up their education to serve as a showpiece for the men to flaunt.
You were thankful the Gojo clan saw you as more than that, or you wouldn’t have been in the same class as your friends this year. You couldn’t bear not seeing Utahime, Shoko, Suguru and of course, Satoru.
Satoru.
The one you had realized you didn’t want if he wasn’t looking at you at all times, if he wasn’t talking to you at all times, or cracking jokes to you at all times. The one you had realized you wanted more of, more than what the two of you are now, more than what you two have ever been, more than friends, more than best friends; you wanted him more than anything in the world. Him, him, him, him. You wanted his eyes on you, his hands on you. You wanted everything about him. Everything. Every single thing—
“Hey, you alive?” His voice snapped you back to reality.
“Huh? Oh yeah.”
“I was saying,” he pulled a girl towards him by her hands and she landed on his chest with a dull thump. “This is Alina.”
You stared at her. Triumphant looking face, lips giggling into the broad layer of his front.
Wait.Wasn’t she—?
“You might remember her,” Satoru pressed. You did. Vividly.
Oh.
“She needs some duelling practice apparently, so she’s gonna be watching us from there,” he points at the stands. “Hope you don’t mind.”
“Oh, yeah, it’s okay,” you said in a voice you didn’t know you owned. The words felt so heavy on your tongue, as if it was an entirely different person speaking them.
“Great, thanks,” he ushered the girl back to the stands and leaned down to kiss the top of your forehead again. You blinked.
Oh, no, he didn’t see it like that at all.To him, it was just a gesture he had grown used to doing. Yeah.
You stood across from him on the training field, your stance ready and tense. The sunlight was bright today, almost too bright, and you didn’t know if it was the heat or the sudden emptiness you felt. Satoru smiled at you, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“You ready?” he asked, voice nonchalant. It wasn’t the usual teasing edge. The spark was missing.
You nodded.
“I’ve got you today, Gojo,” you tried making the dumb jokes he used to make. You weren’t sure if it was working, but you tried anyway.
The sparring session started, but something felt wrong. Satoru’s movements were slower than usual, his focus elsewhere. He kept glancing at the stands from time to time, as if trying to see if she was watching him. He didn’t block your attack in time, letting you knock him down with ease.
“You alright?” You bent down to help him up, but he just waved you off, a tight smile on his face.
“Yeah, yeah. Just… tired, I guess,” he shrugged, avoiding your eyes.
Alina came running down the stands, her hands clutched on her chest, fussing over him while he waved her off too, getting up.
“Another one?”
“No, thank you.”
That was the first time you had ever said no to him.
──── ୨ৎ ────
Later that week, you walked into the cafeteria, hoping to find Utahime and grab a quick meal before your History class. You were halfway into the queue before you realized Utahime had Charms class right now. After all, she was a senior of yours; she would have more schoolwork than you. So you were about to take the tray you got to one of the empty tables alone, hoping to find someone else.
And you did find someone. Satoru sat across from Alina as comfortable as ever. They looked like they were on a date. Was this why he had skipped a class he had with you?
“Oh, hey,” he greeted you when you approached, but his voice lacked its usual warmth. There was a coolness in it, like he wasn’t really there.
The girl’s voice broke into the silence, bright and too eager. “I was just telling Satoru about how I’m finally starting to get the hang of wand control now. I know he’s been busy with other stuff, but he’s still managed to help me out.”
You felt the hairs on your neck prickle.
“That's great,” you said, keeping your tone neutral. “I'm sure Satoru is happy to help.”
You tried to keep your expression even as you sat down on their table. Wrong choice. Satoru, oblivious or indifferent, didn’t seem to notice any sort of tension in the air. He smiled, nodding along to whatever the girl was saying, while you forced a smile and picked at your food.
You felt like an outsider.
──── ୨ৎ ────
That same week, after a banquet of the noble families held at the Gojo clan’s immaculate residence, you were walking alone towards the girls’ dorms when you overheard two voices seemingly arguing calmly. You pressed an ear onto the door hiding the people.
“You don’t seem to realize your Alina is the same girl who was insulting your own family,” Suguru was saying. “She got us into trouble too. You weren’t there so you don’t know how bad she talked about—”
“I know she’s not like how she was before,” Satoru interrupted loudly. “And I know you guys still have a problem with her, but you’ve got to trust me, okay? She’s changed.”
Your heart sank. “Changed?” Suguru repeated bitterly. “Really? After everything she said about the Gojo clan?”
He didn’t reply right away, but when he finally spoke, it was with that soft, almost apologetic tone.
“I get it. I really do. But she’s… trying, okay? She’s not the same person.”
You clenched your jaw, your hands trembling slightly at your sides. You felt numb all over. Uprooting one leg from your position, you walked backwards, away from your heartbreak.
“I don’t know if I can believe that, Satoru. Not after everything she did.”
“I know, but please. Try, for me?”
Your back hit the pillar and you stopped. Slowly lifting feet one after the other, you walked. You didn’t know where you were walking to, but you just walked. You didn’t know what hurt more: the fact that he was asking you to trust her, or the fact that you wanted to — because you trusted him so much.
“There you are!” Utahime caught up to you. “Where did you go? How can you get lost in your own house—” You lifted your face up to her, and she looked taken aback. She inhaled, wiping tears you never realized started falling after stinging your eyes so bad, and she asked in an uncharacteristically soft voice. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
“Utahime—” your voice broke.
──── ୨ৎ ────
You were walking down the school halls, your mind preoccupied with your own thoughts as you made your way to the classroom. The noise of chatter and the shuffle of students faded into the background, making you realize you were starting to zone out again. You seemed to do that a lot these days.
“And I just know it will be you!” Alina’s voice cut through, syrupy, too sweet to be sincere. You froze, stopping behind a pillar. They were standing conveniently near the same path you had to cross to get to your class. Great. Now you had to bite back any snide remarks you had because poor Satoru would be upset if you didn’t.
You peeked out. Alina was leaning against the wall, her laughter light and airy as she spoke to Satoru, who was right beside her, looking at her with that familiar, careless smile he used to reserve for you, one that you had now grown to hate.
You could hear her complimenting him, the way she laughed too loudly at every word of his. “Oh, Satoru, your technique today was amazing, as always! I honestly don’t know just how you do it.” Her tone was sugary, and you cringed. You wanted to look away, but something held you in place, as if some invisible force was gripping you to that spot, making you watch the scene in front of you with red eyes and darkness underneath them.
Then you heard his voice. “Come on, Alina, you’re making me blush,” he chuckled playfully. He was oblivious, as usual (or maybe he wasn’t, and he truly trusted this woman more than his friends). But you weren’t. You noticed how her hands lingered on his arm a little too long, how her fingers curled around his sleeve possessively.
You couldn’t breathe.
You turned, hoping to slip past unnoticed, but of course, she caught sight of you. There was a flicker of something dark in her eyes before she forced a smile onto her face, calling out in that voice that made your skin crawl.
“Oh, hey!” she chirped, calling out your name. “You don’t mind sharing, do you?”
The words hit you like a slap. You were caught between disbelief and anger. How dare she speak to you like that? You glanced at Satoru, hoping he would interject, but he didn’t. He was too busy focusing his attention on her like a complete idiot.
You looked down at the floor, clenching your teeth. “You can have him,” you muttered. You didn’t want to show her how much it hurt, but it was all too clear in your voice and actions.
Alina’s smile faltered for a split second, her eyes narrowing. “Oh, are you sure?” she said, “I’m sure Satoru wouldn’t mind at all. He’s such a generous guy.”
You could hear her subtle challenge, the way she was almost daring you to react. But you didn’t give her the satisfaction. Instead, you straightened up, forcing the words out with a calmness you didn’t feel.
“I’m sure,” you said simply. Not waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and walked away as quickly as you could, your heart pounding in your chest.
Behind you, you could feel her eyes on your back, but you refused to turn around.
You hated her. You hated the way she acted so confident. You hated how she was so entitled. And you hated how Satoru, in all his charm and glory, refused to hear a word against her; how he couldn’t see the way she was trying to wedge herself between not only the two of you but also your entire friend group.
It was always this way, wasn’t it? The more you wanted him, the farther he seemed to slip out of reach.
──── ୨ৎ ────
After a three hour long soak in your bathtub, you decided it was time to go back into your room without anyone noticing. You spent most of your time hiding away from everyone; your parents, your servants, and him anyway, so you doubted anyone would miss you. With a sigh, you wore your nightdress and pushed your bedroom door open.
Satoru was sitting on your bed, his chin in his palms as he stared at the floor, clearly deep in thought and waiting for you to return. The moment you walked in, his gaze snapped to you, and the tension in the room tripled.
“You’re back,” he said. There was something in his voice — you couldn’t point out what exactly it was, but you didn’t like how it made you feel.
“What are you doing in my room?” The words came out harsher than you had intended them to be.
He didn’t answer right away; just sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face before standing up and facing you fully. “Why are you always so mean to her?” His voice was quieter now, more frustrated than usual.
You blinked, taken aback. "Mean to whom?" you asked, trying to play dumb.
“Alina,” he said. “Why do you always treat her like that?”
You controlled the urge to roll your eyes, though you knew Satoru expected you to. You wanted to scream, but you held it back, just barely. “Oh, you mean the girl who’s been constantly hovering around you? The one who acts like she owns you?” You crossed your arms defensively. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was supposed to cheer her on and clap for every little thing she does.”
Satoru scoffed, taking his face in his hands before looking up again. “You don’t have to be so cold all the time! Can’t you just try to get along with her? She’s changed. Why can’t you just see that?”
“Changed?” You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at his innocence. “She’s the same girl who insulted your family. She insulted everything you stand for, everything you care about, and you think she’s changed? Are you seriously that blind?”
His eyes darkened, and he gritted his teeth. “You’re always so hung up on the past! Why can’t you just move on?”
You shot him a look, disbelief swirling in your chest. “Move on?” Your voice was shaking with the effort of holding back everything you wanted to say. “Why is it that you’re the only person who sees that she has changed? Why is it that everyone else around you swears she hasn’t?”
Satoru didn’t respond right away. Then, he took a deep breath in, as if it was taking every bone in his body to control his emotions to hit you at that very moment. “Why do you care so much? Why can’t you just give her a chance?” he asked, almost pleading with you.
You stared at him for a moment too long. “Because,” you bit back, “She’s using you. And you’re too caught up in your own world to even see it.”
He took a step toward you, voice rising now. “That’s not true! She’s not using me! She—”
You threw your hands up in frustration. “You don’t get it, do you?” You were shouting now. “She is using you, Satoru! And I’m the one who’s supposed to stand here and watch while you defend her? While you act like she’s some saint who’s done nothing wrong?”
Satoru’s patience snapped, and his expression hardened. He couldn’t stand anymore of you making assumptions about her anymore. “You don’t even belong in this house! Why do you think you have a say in anything I’m doing? You’re not even part of this!” He took a step toward you, his eyes dark with anger, a final insult.
The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. The blood drained from your face as everything came crashing down around you.
“Oh,” was all you managed to say, your voice barely a whisper as your eyes filled with tears. You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t even look at him. You felt your heart shatter into a thousand pieces in your chest.
Satoru’s expression faltered, but it was too late now.
“Leave,” you whispered through gritted teeth.
He hesitated for a second, looking like he wanted to say something more. But he didn’t. With a sharp breath, he turned and walked toward the door.
The second the door slammed shut behind him, you collapsed onto your bed, your hands clutching at the sheets as sobs wracked your body. You cried harder than you ever had before — louder, deeper, until you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your chest ached with every gasp, every sob, the pain of his words echoing in your mind.
You don’t even belong in this house!
He was right.
You don’t even have their surname? Were you picked up from some ditch?
She was right.
It is the spawn of Satan himself!
They were all right, all absolutely right, weren’t they?
Come with me, daughter.
It was a lie.
You know I won’t leave you.
Lie.
She doesn’t need some random guy when she’s got me.
Lie, lie, lie!
You know lying is a sin, right?
You clutched your chest hard. You didn’t know how long you cried, but when the tears finally stopped, all that remained was emptiness. A hollow space where something you had always held onto seemed to disappear.
──── ୨ৎ ────
“What are you doing here?” you asked coldly.
He shrugged, his usual smirk flickering to life. “Just passing by.”
“Passing by my room?” you shot back, though your voice was devoid of any emotion.
He rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost sheepish. “Maybe… I wanted to talk.”
“What do you want?”
He hesitated, just for a moment, before forcing a laugh. “I don’t know. How are the studies? Still out to prove you’re the best in the room?”
Your expression didn’t change, and the awkwardness between you grew even more.
“Also,” he chuckled nervously, “what did you say to Utahime? I was almost killed thrice in the last two days.”
“If you don’t have anything important to say, Gojo, move.” You stepped past him, unlocking your door. You had begun locking it since the incident that night, to avoid him sneaking in when you were away and to avoid anyone walking in on you bawling your eyes out, trying to drown the repetitive voices in your head with theories about spells and charms.
“Why are you being like this?” His voice stopped you. He paused, watching you fiddle with the lock, clearly taking the hesitating actions as a cue to continue. “Like… like you don’t care.” His eyes finally met yours, and for a moment, they weren’t the Satoru you knew. There was no smugness, no teasing — just guilt.
You bit the inside of your cheek to keep your voice steady. “You’re imagining things,” you said, pushing the door open.
“Am I?” His tone sharpened, and he took a step closer. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks. You won’t even look at me.”
“Maybe I have nothing to say to you,” you replied, turning to him to see his expression one last time before sorrow overtook your senses again.
His shoulders were stiffened, and for the first time this night, he couldn’t meet your gaze.
“That’s what I thought,” you said, your voice quieter now. “You know exactly why, Satoru. You just don’t want to admit it.”
He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “I didn’t mean it,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Goodnight, Satoru,” you said, slamming the door in his face before he could say anything else.
The silence that followed was deafening, and on the other side of the door, he lingered. You waited, holding your breath as you leaned against the wood, but no sound came.
And just like that, the distance between you grew wider.
──── ୨ৎ ────
Your school year was nearing the end, and summer was around the corner. The days before that had been a blur. You had avoided Satoru like the plague, throwing yourself deeper into your books and classes. Even your classmates had noticed the change, though none dared to bring it up to your face.
Except for Shoko.
“Are you okay?” she asked one afternoon, cornering you in the library.
“I’m fine,” you lied, not looking up from your Curses: A Guide to Identify the Weakness book.
“No, you’re not.” She pulled up a chair, crossing her arms as she stared at you. “You’re avoiding him, he’s avoiding everyone, and the rest of us are stuck in the middle of whatever this is.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said flatly.
She groaned, leaning back in her chair. “You’re lucky this is me and not Utahime. Just so you know, he sent a message.”
That caught your attention. Slowly, you closed your book and looked at her. “What message?”
“He said he’s done with Alina,” Shoko said softly. “Said he wouldn’t talk to her anymore.”
“Why are you telling me this?” you asked quietly.
“Because,” Shoko said, standing up, “you’re both being stupid. And I’m sick of watching my friends tear themselves apart over something that could be fixed with one honest conversation.”
“Honest conversation?” you repeated bitterly. “What’s there to say? He made his priorities clear, Shoko.”
“Did he?” She raised an eyebrow, leaning closer. “Or did you just decide that for him because you’re too scared to hear what he actually thinks?”
Your jaw tightened. “You weren’t there, Shoko. You didn’t hear the things he said.”
“You’re right, I wasn’t. But I’ve seen how miserable he’s been these past few weeks,” she countered. “He won’t say it, but he’s been beating himself up about it. He knows he messed up.”
“And what about me?!” you snapped, your voice harsher than you intended. “I’m supposed to just forget everything? Pretend like I wasn’t the one he hurt?”
Shoko sighed, her expression softening. “No. But you’re not giving him a chance to make it right. He’s been trying to talk to you — hell, he even took all the hits heroically when Utahime nearly ripped him apart.”
You blinked, caught off guard. “Utahime — what?”
“Oh, yeah,” Shoko said. “She had a few choice words for him. Might’ve included running him over by her carriage horses. Not my place to repeat them, but let’s just say she wasn’t thrilled with how he handled things.”
Despite yourself, a small, bitter smile tugged at your lips. “Good for her.”
“Look,” Shoko said, softening her tone again, “you don’t have to forgive him right away. But at least talk to him. He’s done with Alina, and it’s obvious you’re not over him. Don’t let this thing between you two fester any longer.”
You stared at her for a long moment, her words sinking in despite the stubborn walls you’d built around yourself. “I’ll think about it,” you said finally.
“Good,” Shoko said with a satisfied nod. “Just… don’t take too long. We’re not kids forever, you know.”
──── ୨ৎ ────
The knock on Satoru’s bedroom door felt louder than you intended. You had rehearsed this moment in your mind a dozen times already. What were you supposed to say again?
Hey. It’s me. Haha.
No no no. Hey, how have you been?
No, ugh. Hey, nice weather?
Still, when the door opened and his bright blue eyes met yours, every word you had prepared seemed to vanish. The two of you only stared at each other, he in surprise and you in embarrassment.
“Hey,” he said, trying to break the silence.
“Hey,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.
The silence stretched between you for a moment before he stepped aside, gesturing for you to come in. You did, though your fingers fidgeted nervously at your sides.
The room looked messy. The bedsheets were sprawled around as if he had been tossing and turning all night earlier. The curtains were closed so the room was in utter darkness. Yet, you needed no amount of light to see the look of sleep-deprivation he carried on his face.
Was it because of you? Because you had acted this way? Was it because he was regretting what he said to you earlier (he should, a voice in your head said, but you pushed it away)? Or was he failing his classes again? His stream was different from yours so you couldn’t meet him in school either. Or was it perhaps because of—
“I was—” you both started at the same time, cutting each other off awkwardly.
You let out a breathy laugh, and for the first time in weeks, his lips pulled upward, a glimmer of the boy you knew. “You first,” he offered, stepping closer.
“I was going to say that I…” Your words faltered as he reached for your hand. His fingers, warm and tentative, brushed yours before interlocking gently. “Oh. Wow.” He smiled at you, pulling you closer to kiss the top of your head. “I missed this,” you admitted finally, your voice breaking slightly.
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, softer than you had expected him to be. “For everything. For being such a—”
A sudden knock interrupted him, and a servant’s voice called from the hall. “Young Master, Miss — Madam requests your presence in the meeting room immediately.”
Satoru groaned under his breath, but you let go of his hand, smiling as well now. “We’ll talk later,” you murmured, turning to leave.
The Gojo clan’s meeting room was one thing, but the Gojo family’s meeting room felt even more imposing. High ceilings, ornate woodwork, and an air of superiority — that was the only way anyone could describe it. Mother and Father sat at the head of the low table, their expressions unreadable.
“You’re here,” his father said. He gestured for you and Satoru to sit, and you did, sitting in a formal position with your hands on your knees, feet touching the soft pillow under you. His mother only nodded at both of you. “We’ve received an invitation from the Kamo Clan.”
Kamo Clan? You had read about a legend of theirs in your history class. A man who had dropped himself to the bottom of the hells indulging with curses to create powerful heirs. The Kamo Clan had an awful reputation — ancient, powerful, and, if rumours were to be believed, sinister.
Beside you, you felt Satoru stiffen, and whisper only one word.
“Alina?”
Of course! How could you have forgotten that? The girl who had been plaguing your school ever since she set foot in it was Kamo Alina. Suddenly, what his father said didn’t matter anymore. The way his mother was staring between you and him didn’t matter anymore. What was about to happen in his room that time didn’t matter.
“The banquet,” Satoru’s father continued, and it took a lot of effort from you to keep listening, “is an exclusive gathering of noble families from across the globe. It will take place in the south, and attendance is mandatory for representatives of our house.”
You gathered the courage to steal a glance at Satoru’s expression. The look on his face was enough to tell you he wasn’t surprised by the connection. He knew. He had known it all this time. Your hands curled into fists under the table, your nails biting into your palms, probably leaving marks too.
His mother’s voice said coolly. “Prepare yourselves. You’ll leave at the end of the week. Dismissed.”
You didn’t wait for Satoru as you stood abruptly, your pillow gliding across the floor. You made your way back to your room, trying not to look back at his face, but you didn’t make it far before he caught up with you.
“Wait!” He grabbed your arm, spinning you around to face him. “It’s not what you think.”
You yanked your arm free, glaring at him. “It’s not what I think? Really, Gojo? Because I think you lied to me.”
“I didn’t—”
“You said you weren’t in contact with her!” you snapped.
“I’m not! This isn’t me — it’s her family. They’re the ones—”
“Oh, so her family conveniently sends in an invitation to us to attend their stupid gathering at somehow the right time?”
“I don’t know? Look,” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, not at you, no, but at that darn family. “I told you, I’m not in contact with her. That is the truth. I haven’t spoken to her since—”
“Since when?” you interrupted, stepping closer. “Since you told Shoko you were done? Or since you got caught? Because it feels like right now, I’m finding out the actual truth.”
“That is not the truth, please just list—”
“Stop,” you cut him off. You had had enough. “It’s okay. I don’t know why you think I even care. I ‘don’t belong here’, remember?”
“That’s not what I meant!” he shouted, his voice echoing in the empty hallway.
You stepped back, shaking your head with a sigh. “Don’t follow me.”
“Please,” he pleaded, his voice softer now, desperate. But you didn’t look back as you turned and headed for the courtyard, away from him and his stupid, stupid noble traditions.
──── ୨ৎ ────
The journey to the Southern estate was agonisingly long, but then again, you were from the East, and crossing entire landmarks took more than weeks by unruly waters. After the travel on the Gojo estate’s huge ship, your family was met with a stout, snotty man representing the Kamo clan, in charge of dropping you to their estate by comfortable carriages. The carriage rocked back and forth, and the countryside unfolded before you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to appreciate any of it. Your focus remained on the window, your reflection glaring back at you. Anything to avoid looking at him.
Satoru sat beside you, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently against the carriage floor. The silence was so oppressive it practically screamed at both of you to make up already. His mother sat across from you, but her usual composed expression faltered slightly as she glanced between you and her son.
After what felt like an eternity, Satoru let out an exaggerated sigh, his head lolling back against the seat. "Are you seriously going to do this the whole trip?"
You didn’t move. “Do what?”
“This,” he said, waving a hand vaguely in your direction. “Acting like I don’t exist.”
“I’m not acting,” you replied coldly. “You’re still breathing, aren’t you?”
He bristled at your tone, his foot tapping faster. “Wow. Real mature.”
You didn’t dignify that with a response, instead shifting slightly in your seat to angle yourself even farther away from him. The silence returned, heavier now, and his mother finally cleared her throat, breaking it.
“Is everything all right?” she asked delicately, her eyes lingering on you longer.
“Yes,” you answered quickly, too quickly. “Everything’s fine.”
Her brow lifted slightly, but she said nothing, her gaze darting to her son. He sat rigid, his jaw clenched as he poked his head out of his own window, refusing to meet her eyes.
“Fine,” Satoru muttered after a beat, as if to echo you. His tone was harsh, though he didn’t look at either of you.
His mother’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t press further. The realisation seemed to dawn on her that her carefully curated plans for her son’s life — whatever they might be — were starting to crack at the seams.
Satoru’s foot finally stilled, but his irritation hadn’t seemed to disappear yet. After another stretch of unbearable silence, he tried again, his voice softer this time. "Look, I’m not going to apologize for something I didn’t do.”
“Good thing I’m not expecting one, then.”
He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Can you at least try to meet me halfway here? This is ridiculous.”
You finally turned to look at him. “What’s ridiculous is pretending any of this matters. I shouldn’t even be here, right? So why don’t you just—”
“That’s enough,” his mother cut in, her tone sharper than you had ever heard it. Her gaze pinned you both in place. “We’re almost there. I suggest you both compose yourselves before we arrive.”
You bit the inside of your cheek, retreating back into silence, but not before catching the slight smirk on Satoru’s face. It wasn’t amusement, though — it was frustration barely held in check. He didn’t say another word, leaning back against the seat and staring resolutely at the ceiling as the carriage rocked along. You pressed your lips together and turned back to the window.
That was when you saw it.
The estate loomed in the distance, its dark silhouette framed against the dusky sky. It wasn’t grand in the way the Gojo mansion was. No, this place had an oddly familiar air of foreboding. Its high walls and shadowed towers looked like they were whispering secrets and things long forgotten in history. The closer you got, the more a strange chill settled over you, prickling the back of your neck.
Goosebumps ran down your arms as the carriage rolled closer. The gates opened with an almost eerie slowness. There was billowing mist surrounding the entire area, and it made the scene even more creepy. You couldn’t explain it, but something about this place just felt… wrong. It wasn’t just the estate’s imposing presence or the way the evening light seemed to bend around it — it was something you couldn’t place at all.
You felt like something bad, really bad was going to happen here, or perhaps had already happened. A chill ran down your spine when you recalled the pages of absolute horror you had seen attached to the restricted books in your library, and their vibes seemed to match that of this place.
Beside you, Satoru shifted uncomfortably. You glanced at him for a moment and saw that his confident facade had slipped. His eyes lingered on the estate, as if trying to figure out just what it was that made the place seem so uncanny and unreal, like it was something straight out of a horror novel.
As the carriage came to a stop, his mother stepped out first, poised as ever. She didn’t seem fazed by the oppressive air of the place, but then again, she rarely showed any cracks in her demeanour.
You followed, your legs unsteady as they hit the gravel path. The chill hadn’t left you, clung to your skin. Satoru came last, his usual swagger dimmed.
“Remember,” his mother murmured as the servants approached, her voice low and pointed, “appearances are everything. Do try not to embarrass the family.”
You nodded stiffly, but deep down, all you could think about was how much you wanted to leave this place. Sighing and ignoring the tremble of your gut, you held your own hands and entered the estate.
The estate’s grand entrance hall was vast, its high ceilings decorated with intricate wooden carvings that spiralled into ominous shapes. A line of servants stood on either side, their heads bowed low in synchronised precision. “Welcome to the Kamo estate,” they chanted together, their voices echoing.
A servant stepped forward, addressing Satoru’s father (and not batting an eye to his mother) with an apologetic tone. “We regret to inform you that our — that is, the Kamo clan’s — leaders could not greet you in person. Urgent matters required their immediate attention, but they send their sincerest apologies and look forward to meeting you tomorrow.”
Satoru’s father met his wife’s eyes, and she nodded curtly, and the servant's eyes widened as if he realised the error he made by ignoring her and addressing only the male leader in your group. “It is of no consequence,” she replied coolly.
As the servants moved to escort you all further inside, you couldn’t help but glance around. The estate was undeniably grand, but there was something cold and uninviting about it. The polished marble floors gleamed under flickering chandeliers, and the thick, musty air clung to your skin. It felt more like a mausoleum than a home.
The servants led you through endless corridors, the silence broken only by the sound of footsteps on stone. Every now and then, you passed ornate doors or shadowy alcoves, each one looking more foreboding than the last. You tried to shake the feeling of being watched, but the creeping sensation never left.
Eventually, they stopped in front of a door, and the servant gestured to it with a bow. “This will be your room,” he said before retreating with the others.
You stepped inside hesitantly. The room was smaller, far removed from where they were escorting Satoru now, and you had a feeling his would be uncomfortably close to Alina’s. The room was smaller, colder, and had an air of neglect, as if it hadn’t been opened in years. Dust coated the surfaces, and the faint scent of damp wood lingered in the air. There were faint scratches on the walls as if someone had clawed at them long ago. The wallpaper had started peeling in places, and the furniture looked untouched, as though someone had decided only yesterday to disturb the fifteen year old cobwebs. The architecture, the layout, even the faint smell of mildew — it was unsettlingly familiar, though you couldn’t quite place why.
Satoru’s mother appeared behind you. She took one look around the room, and her eyebrows twitched into a carefully concealed scowl. “Well,” she said. “This is... quaint, to say the least.”
You turned to face her, unsure of how to respond. She gestured vaguely at the room, the bare walls, the dull, muted colours. “If you find this unsuitable, arrangements can be made. I’m sure a clan as proud as Kamo wouldn’t want their guests to feel...” She paused, her lips curling in distaste, “uncomfortable.”
You swallowed hard, shaking your head. “No, mother,” you said, forcing a polite smile. “This is fine.”
Her brow arched, as though she didn’t quite believe you, but she didn’t press. “As you wish,” she said softly, turning on her heel and leaving without another word.
The door closed behind her with a heavy thud, and the silence of the room enveloped you. You exhaled slowly, taking in the sparse furnishings, the musty air. You hated the idea of being a burden, but now, as you sat on the bed, watching it creak loudly, you wondered if you had made a mistake.
Late that night, you lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to get yourself to sleep.
“One sheep, two sheep, three sheep—”
What would he be doing right now? Was he still upset?
“Fuck, lost count again.” You sighed loudly. This was probably the sixth time you had tried but failed to sleep. All because of him. You closed your eyes tightly to try again.
“One sheep, two sh—”
Shit. Nature’s call.
You widened your eyes and glanced at the door, dreading the thought of stepping out into the pitch-black halls of the manor. Your room didn’t even have a washroom, which seemed absurd for a house of this size and considering who it belonged to. Clenching your jaw, you tried to distract yourself from the pressure in your bladder by examining the room, but there was nothing to look at. No paintings, no books, no trinkets — just plain walls and dull furniture.
With a sigh, you finally pushed yourself up, deciding to find a maid to help you find the washroom. You lit a candelabrum sitting next to your bed to help you navigate the area. The hallway was dimly lit, the flickering lights casting eerie shadows across the walls. You tried to stay calm, but every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet made you jump.
You walked, and walked, and walked. The layout of the house was like a maze in itself, and every turn seemed to lead to another identical hallway. Within the span of minutes, you found yourself descending a set of stairs you didn’t remember seeing before.
The air grew colder. The scent of damp stone and decay was thick in your nostrils. You paused at the bottom of the staircase, realizing with a jolt of horror that you were in what looked like the basement of the manor. The little light coming from your candles barely illuminated the space.
A wave of nausea hit you. The place smelled like dead rats, but somehow, despite your lack of sight in the room, a lot of scenes seemed to cross your mind. Shadows in the halls. Muffled screams. The overwhelming fear of being dragged into this very basement to be punished for something you couldn’t understand. Your eyes caught on the walls, and you lifted your candelabrum up and stepped closer. There were faint marks carved into the stone. Tally marks. Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds.
Your hand reached out, trembling, brushing against the ridges. A flash of a memory hit you — your hand gripping a piece of stone fully covered in blood, dragging it across a surface, one line after another. But where had it been? In a classroom, on the board? No — this was something else, something darker. Your stomach twisted, and you stumbled back, the nausea overwhelming.
“Miss?” A voice shattered the silence, and you whipped around to see a maid standing at the top of the staircase. Her face was pale, her brows furrowed, as if you had offended every fibre of her body by stepping down into this basement. “What are you doing down here?”
You opened your mouth to answer, but no words came out. The smell of the basement, the tally marks, the scenes — they clung to you, and you could only shake your head.
“Let me escort you back to your room. You shouldn’t ever be here”
You nodded mutely, following her up the stairs. She led you back through the winding halls. By the time you reached your room, the trembling in your legs had mostly subsided, though the chill of the basement still remained. She opened the door for you, offering a rigid nod before disappearing back into the dark hallways. You stepped inside, closing the door behind you, and exhaled shakily.
Your hands were still trembling slightly as you sat on the edge of the bed, trying to steady your breathing. The scenes — fragmented, disjointed — played on a loop in your mind. What were they? Forgotten memories? Flashbacks? The tally marks, the muffled screams. They were just like something out of your worst nightmares. You buried your face in your hands, feeling the sting of tears prickling at your eyes.
A soft knock at the door startled you. You hastily wiped your eyes, rising to your feet. When you opened it, Satoru’s mother stood there. Her expression softened slightly when she saw you.
“You’ve been crying,” she said matter-of-factly.
“I’m fine,” you said quickly, stepping aside to let her in.
She swept into the room, her gaze flickering briefly to the empty, barren space. “This room is unacceptable,” she said bluntly. But then, as she turned to face you, something in her eyes looked gentler, almost human — something she had always carried around you. “You should have asked for it to be changed, darling.”
You shook your head. “I didn’t want to be a bother. It’s fine, really.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, she studied you. Then, to your surprise, she stepped closer, her hands resting lightly on your shoulders. “You’re far too used to accepting the minimal,” she said quietly. “That’s not what you deserve.”
You blinked, startled by the tenderness in her tone. Before you could respond, she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, her cool hand lingering briefly against your cheek. The gesture was so unexpected, so maternal, that your throat tightened with emotion.
“I will speak to the servants in the morning,” she said, straightening but not pulling away. “And if you ever feel uncomfortable — ever — you will tell me. Do you understand?”
You nodded wordlessly, unable to trust your voice.
“Good.” She adjusted the edge of your sleeve with a small, practised motion, as if tidying you was a second nature for her. “Get some rest. You look exhausted.”
She turned to leave but paused at the door, glancing back over her shoulder. “And whatever it is that has you so unsettled tonight... I will see to it. Do not let it weigh on your mind. The past has a way of creeping into the present, but you are stronger than it.”
The door closed softly behind her, leaving you standing in the middle of the room.
For the first time since you had arrived at the estate, you felt a sliver of comfort.
──── ୨ৎ ────
Over the next week, your efforts to blend in with the household paid off in more ways than one. Most of the maids, initially wary of you as a noble guest, had warmed up to your presence. They appreciated your willingness to help with menial tasks and often joked that you were more reliable than some of their own peers. Soon enough, their dislike for the Kamo family began to slip into their conversations.
It started one evening when you were helping two maids, Haru and Tomoko, carry water from the wells. They spoke in hushed voices, glancing around nervously as though the courtyard’s walls themselves might eavesdrop.
“I’ve always said the Kamo family has skeletons in their closet,” Haru muttered. “Well, in this case, they’re probably in the basement. You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”
You nodded. “I have. It’s disturbing. What were those tally marks on the walls?”
Tomoko sighed, setting her bucket down with a huff. “No one really knows for sure. Some say it’s the number of people tortured down there. Others think it’s the number of people who died. Either way, nothing good ever happened in that place.”
Before you could press further, another maid, Aoi, cut in sharply. She was older, sharper, and rigid. Yet you had watched her pull the buckets back up from the walls with such brute force that it was no wonder she was still working for the clan despite her age. “Enough! You shouldn’t fill her head with stories. She’s a noblewoman; this isn’t her concern.” Her eyes avoided yours, fixed firmly on the stone path.
Haru rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, relax, Ms Aoi. She’s not like the rest of them. She’s helped us more than half the family ever has. Why shouldn’t she know what’s really going on?”
Tomoko nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly! And she’s already seen the basement. It’s not like we’re revealing some great hidden treasure. Besides, it’s about time someone outside this house knew what the Kamo family is really like.”
Aoi crossed her arms, her frown deepening. “And what good will it do her to know? The Kamo family isn’t to be trifled with. You’re putting her in danger — and yourselves, too, for that matter.”
You cut in gently, trying to defuse the tension. “I appreciate the concern, Ms Aoi, truly. But if the Kamo family has nothing to hide, then why should talking about it be dangerous?”
Haru smirked. “See? She gets it.”
Tomoko leaned closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Do you want to know what I heard? Years ago, when the punishments in the basement were still happening, the head of the house would personally oversee them. And sometimes…” she trembled visibly. “Sometimes, they weren’t even punishing people who broke the law. Just anyone they didn’t like. Servants who fell out of favour. Merchants who got on their bad side.”
Haru shuddered. “They say the screams would echo up through the floorboards. That’s why most of the older staff refuse to even talk about it. Too many bad memories. There is also the ghost of that little girl—”
“That’s enough!” Aoi snapped. “The girl doesn’t need every grisly detail.”
“Oh, come on, Aoi. You hate them as much as we do. Don’t act like you’re above this.”
“Whether I hate them or not is irrelevant,” Aoi huffed. “You’re still being reckless. If anyone hears about this...”
Tomoko grinned mischievously. “And who’s going to tell them? You?”
Aoi gave an exasperated sigh but said nothing.
That night, you wrote letters to Shoko and Utahime, recounting the strange conversation and the haunting basement. You might have mentioned a glimpse of Satoru, too, though your thoughts on him were far more conflicted.
Shoko’s reply was predictably blunt.
Sounds grim. Torture rooms, tally marks, mysterious deaths — real classic Kamo vibes. Maybe they’re compensating for their family’s lack of charm. But, you know, not my circus, not my corpses. Still, were they tortured with surgical precision? If so, let me know which tools were involved. I’ve got a scalpel set if you want to reenact it. Besides, I’ve always wanted to see how far someone could go with a bone saw and no anaesthetic. For science, of course. Stay alive. Bye.
PS: If you find any good booze down there, bring some back for me.
Utahime’s letter was far less chill.
That two-timing bastard is probably off doing handstands to impress some girl who can't tell her right from left. Honestly, I’m waiting for your mother to tell him the truth already. If he doesn’t start acting like your fiance, I’m going to come over there and bury him in that damn basement myself. If I had to spend more than two breaths in his company, I’d kill him. Actually, I’d kill him for free. Just say the word.
PS: If I didn’t love you, I would’ve told you to go into that basement again just for fun. But I do love you, so stay safe.
The Kamo clan leaders remained an enigma. Somehow, their presence was so secretive that their portraits were absent from every book and document in the library. You wondered if even the servants themselves had seen these people. “Maybe they’re so ugly they’re too ashamed to show their faces?” Shoko had suggested in one letter, and you still snorted remembering that.
From all your time in the estate’s library, you could only find their names — Kamo Daijiro and Kamo Akane. Creepy. You also learned they had two daughters: Alina, the eldest, and her twin who had married into another prestigious family and no longer lived at the estate.
You still hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of Daijiro or Akane, but that would change soon. A grand gathering was scheduled for the following night, and the maids were already preparing for their arrival in the estate.
──── ୨ৎ ────
The Kamo maids worked on you, dabbing floral scents to your neck and pulling a corsage on your hands. Behind you, Aoi’s hands deftly pulled at the laces of the corset you were reluctantly being tied into. Earlier, an unexpected scuffle had broken out between the Gojo clan maids and the Kamo maids when the latter had shown up, intending to tend to you.
“She’s our priority,” one of the Gojo maids had sniffed, her arms crossed.
“Not anymore,” retorted Tomoko. “She is living in the Kamo residence right now. Your loyalty isn’t required here.”
“Well, she’s from the Gojo clan!” snapped another maid, her tone haughty.
“Yes, and?” Haru shot back. The Gojo maids had given up after a reassuring smile from you, muttering about how they are only leaving because “the Lady asked so”.
Now, Aoi was tugging the corset strings tighter. The conversation had shifted from the petty bickering of maids to something far darker.
“You wouldn’t believe the stories this house holds,” one of the younger maids murmured, a shiver in her voice. “Do you know about the little girl?”
“What girl?” you asked. You hadn’t seen the story of any little girl mentioned in the books you had read, but you had distinctly remember a mention of her story in an earlier conversation with these maids.
“Ms Aoi knows about it best!” Haru exclaimed.
Aoi’s face darkened as she let out a long sigh. “It happened about a decade ago,” she began. “A child had appeared on the doorstep, barely an year old, mind you. The family had taken her in, but of course, they did not treat her like a daughter. They had left her in the care of us servants. I was like her mother,” she said proudly. “She had turned three, I still remember, it was her birthday that night. She spilled a glass of expensive red wine on Lady Akane’s dress. It wasn’t even the girl’s fault. She was just a baby, carrying a tray too big for her tiny hands. But Sir Daijiro… he doesn’t forgive mistakes.”
The other maids exchanged uneasy glances as Aoi huffed loudly, pausing her hands on your laces to wipe stray tears. “The girl was dragged to the basement, where they lock away the disobedient. She… she never came out.”
Your breath caught in your throat. “She was… killed?”
“Yes,” whispered one of the younger maids, her voice trembling. “It’s said her ghost still lingers. Sometimes we hear her cries late at night. And the mist that hangs over the estate? They say it’s her curse — her anger at the clan.”
Aoi nodded grimly. “I was here. I wasn’t much younger than I am now, but I couldn’t do anything to save her. All I could do was sneak her scraps of food and try to mend her torn dresses after… after the punishments.”
You were horrified. “Punishments? For a child?”
Aoi’s tears couldn’t be held back anymore. “She was just a baby,” she croaked thickly. “I’d hear her cry at night, calling for her mother. And when… when…” Haru handed Aoi a cloth to wipe her face. “When she died… it was the moment I stopped believing the Kamo family had any humanity left.”
The room fell silent for a moment, save for the sound of Aoi’s sniffling and your shallow breathing. “How can someone be so cruel?” you murmured.
“That’s why we’re all so terrified,” Tomoko confessed. “If they could do that to a child, what chance do we have? Everyone here walks on eggshells, afraid to make even the smallest mistake. The leaders haven’t changed. They’re still the same people who let that little girl die.”
Aoi’s hands resumed their work, tying the last knot on the corset. The maids stepped back. You glanced at the mirror, seeing not just your reflection but the haunted expressions of the women around you.
The little girl’s story stuck with you, her cries echoing in your mind. If the Kamo clan could be so ruthless to a defenceless child, what horrors could they unleash on those who dared to cross them?
──── ୨ৎ ────
The grand gathering was suffocating. The air was thick with the scent of incense and expensive perfumes, the soft hum of conversation occasionally punctuated by bursts of laughter. You had probably sent about fifty letters in all to Shoko, Utahime and even Geto asking them if they would come to the South, and they all had replied with repetitive no’s. You had tried to keep your head down, avoiding the heavy gazes of the Kamo guests. But you were glad to see that Satoru, for once, was sticking close to you, uncharacteristically quiet. He hadn’t so much as glanced at Alina all evening, and perhaps even all this time during the visit if you were lucky. Not that you cared, of course.
Earlier, when you had overheard his mother asking him to keep his distance from “that Kamo girl”, and you remembered how he had rolled his eyes so hard you thought they would have gotten stuck.
“Fine,” he had said with mock drama. “But only because I’m such an understanding guy. And because I want you to stop looking like you’re ready to shank me with a chopstick.”
Now, true to his word, his focus was entirely on you. Every time you caught him looking elsewhere, it was never in her direction. He had even waved off her attempts to engage him, subtly turning his back to her as though she didn’t exist.
“See?” he murmured, leaning down to your ear. “Haven’t even looked her way. You believe me now, right?”
You arched a brow, unimpressed. “You don’t get points for doing the bare minimum, Gojo.”
“Bare minimum?” he gasped, and you smiled a little. His response reminded you of the ‘old times’, as they were now. “This is maximum effort for me! Have you met me?”
“Hush now, both of you,” his father interrupted. “They’re here.”
The Kamo clan heads arrived, and the air shifted. The room quieted, all eyes turning to the doors as Daijiro and Akane Kamo entered. Their presence was magnetic, commanding. As they moved through the crowd, the guests bowed slightly, parting to make way. You moved your eyes to the carpeted floor. You didn’t want to introduce yourself to someone who would torture a little girl to death, for God’s sake.
But then curiosity overtook your senses. You had been thinking of what they would look like for ages. They were like a mystery you had been picking apart ever since you stepped foot into that basement. Now was finally the moment you would get to see the leaders who hid from newspapers, books and even their own servants. You finally looked up. And the moment you saw their faces, the world seemed to tilt.
Sharp cheekbones. Piercing eyes. Their very presence struck a chord you hadn’t felt in years. Distantly, hauntingly familiar…
Your parents.
“Hush, little baby, everything you need is right here,” your mother cooed, and you walked to where he was leading you. “Yes, that’s it. There are your favourite snacks here, and all your favourite toys. Come on. Go there.”
But you found something else to interest you. Aoi, the maid, was standing right there, watching everything, and you wanted to walk to where she was instead of your bad mother.
“Stupid girl, where are you going?” your father pushed you from behind into the basement, and you fell over its many steps. Falling, falling, falling. By the time you reached the bottom, your face felt hot with some weird liquid.
“This is your new house — for now,” your mother said finally, walking down the steps. “You have given me enough trouble. From the moment I was cornered in that dark alley, alone and frightened, till now — you have been nothing but trouble. You are a constant reminder of what happened to me that night. You shall die, die!”
“There, there, now, Akie,” you watched your father cradle your mother’s head in his chest. You tilted your head, and the force almost made you fall back to the ground. “The child will no longer remain here. I have the most secretive merchants arriving from the North to here. They will be taking this… thing away from us, away from you. And then you shall finally be free.”
The realisation hit like a crashing wave, pulling the air from your lungs. Your vision blurred, and your chest tightened. It was too much. Too much. It was unbearable.
Without thinking, you reached out, your trembling hand finding Satoru’s mother instead of him. Her warm, steady grasp grounded you back to reality, and she turned to you immediately in concern. She studied you for just half a second before realising something was wrong, horribly wrong.
“Come,” she said softly, guiding you out of the hall without a moment’s hesitation.
Satoru’s voice trailed behind you, confused. “Where are you—”
“Stay with your father,” his mother ordered firmly over her shoulder.
Once outside, the cool night air hit your face, and it made you realise the warm wetness flooding your cheeks and stinging at your eyes. She led you to a quiet corner of the garden, still holding you as tightly as possible.
“What’s wrong?” she asked gently, her eyes scanning your face. “Are you unwell?”
The words tumbled out before you could stop them. “They’re my parents.”
Her brow furrowed. “Who are?”
“Them.” You swallowed hard, finally breaking down. “They! They left me. They sold me. I didn’t know their names but… I’ve seen them. They’re…”
Her expression shifted from confusion to horror. You looked at her face. You had never seen a look like that on her ever before. She released your hand only to pull you into a tight embrace.
“You poor thing,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I had no idea. But I swear to you, they’ll never hurt you again. Not while I’m here.”
You cried on her shoulder loudly, and you could feel she was crying softly too. “Why? Am I not worth raising… Mom?” She pulled back slightly, cupping your face in her hands. “Why didn’t they come back for me?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care what their reasons were. You will be a Gojo soon. It is only a matter of time now. And you will forever, forever, be a part of our family. I will not let the Kamos stain your history, ever.”
You sniffled. From somewhere in the hall, you could hear Satoru’s loud voice, probably causing some kind of scene.
“See?” his mother said softly, trying to distract you. “He hasn’t looked at their girl once, just like he promised. That boy might be infuriating, but when it comes to you, he’s surprisingly reliable.”
A faint smile tugged at your lips.
Satoru’s mother stood behind you. Her fingers were combing through your hair softly, as if to sooth your emotions with her caring rhythm. She adjusted your corset strings next, pulling them tighter, not harshly, but enough to make you focus on the present instead of the roaring panic threatening to take over.
Beyond the ornate doors of the gathering, voices rose and fell. You strained your ears to pick out the words, leaning slightly toward the source. And then you heard it.
A deep, booming voice. The same voice from your nightmares. The one that haunted your memories. Your breath hitched. It felt as though the walls were closing in to suffocate you.
Satoru’s mother’s hands immediately moved to your shoulders to steady you. “Breathe, darling,” she said firmly. “I’m here, am I not? You are safe.”
You nodded, though tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “I’m trying,” you whisper, clutching the fabric of her dress tightly.
And then, the voice spoke words that made your blood run cold.
“…a marriage between Kamo Alina and Gojo Satoru.”
You froze. Your heart seemed to have stopped. The room seemed to have crashed down onto you. You tried to process what you had just heard. Satoru’s mother stiffened behind you, her hands pausing mid-movement.
“What did they just say?” you whispered.
She didn’t respond, though her head tilted slightly as she listened intently to the conversation happening inside the room. You caught snippets of whispers as noble families exchanged their astonishment at the bold proposal.
Surely, Satoru’s father knows. He knows that Satoru is supposed to be engaged to you.Right?
But then you heard him speak. His voice seemed proud and approving. “An excellent proposal, Daijiro Kamo. This alliance shall strengthen both our families. I accept.”
The words hit you like a slap. Your stomach churned, and for a moment, you thought you might be sick.
“Mom?” you whispered and turned to Satoru’s mother. “Why…?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “That moron,” she hissed under her breath. Her hands fell away from your shoulders furiously. “He didn’t consult me. He didn’t consult anyone except Daijiro. Of course, he didn’t. Men like to think their decisions are final simply because they made them.”
The applause from the other side of the door grew louder. The sound vibrated in your ears as the nobles toasted the ‘union’. Your panic surged again. “What do we do?” you asked desperately.
When she threw the doors open roughly, the room fell silent. The silence following her entrance was not mere courtesy; it was submission. Her presence demanded it. Yet Kamo Daijiro, standing near the center with a goblet of red wine in his hand, immediately stepped forward with a smug smile. “Ah, my lady Gojo,” he began, his voice filled with condescension. “I was just about to inform you of the wonderful arrangement your husband and I have come to. My daughter, Alina, will—”
“Will do nothing,” she cut him off coldly.
Daijiro blinked, clearly taken aback by the interruption. “I beg your pardon?” he said with mock-politeness.
“You heard me,” she said, stepping further into the room. Every eye in the room was on her. “You dare discuss an engagement for my son without consulting me?”
Daijiro’s lips curled into a patronizing smile. “With all due respect, Lady Gojo, this is a matter for the men to decide. Your husband and I both agree that this alliance is mutually beneficial. Surely you trust your husband’s judgment.”
She laughed humorlessly. “Trust his judgment? You think I’m going to stand by while you play politics with my son’s life?”
She turned to glare at her husband. Satoru’s father cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable under her piercing gaze, but Daijiro waved him off. “Lady Gojo, your anger is misplaced. This is a matter of strategy. You may oversee the household, but these are decisions of power — something women cannot fully comprehend.”
The room grew deadly quiet now, and Alina seemed to have understood that what her father just said had been a mistake. Satoru’s jaw tightened at the insult at his mother, but he did not say anything yet. You were still frozen in the doorway, but you could feel that he was about to snap at any moment now.
Satoru’s mother’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Women cannot comprehend power?” Every word was pronounced clearly, and she took a single step closer. “You’re standing in my authority. Under my presence. Having begged for my appearance at this folly of an event. And you think I don’t comprehend power?”
“But this is an alliance—” Daijiro started.
“An alliance that disregards my authority,” she interrupted sharply. “An alliance that treats my son like a pawn in your political game of blind chess,” Her eyes flicked briefly to Satoru, who watched the exchange with a furrowed brow.
The room erupted in whispers. The many noble families exchanged shocked glances. Even Satoru’s father looked uncomfortable now, though he didn't dare interrupt.
Daijiro straightened, his tone hardening. “Lady Gojo, I understand you may feel... emotional about this. But this is for the good of both our families. Surely you don’t mean to disrupt an agreement between two patriarchs.”
Her expression darkened further. Without breaking eye contact, she reached for a glass of wine from a nearby tray. In one swift motion, she threw it to the ground, and the crystal shattered into thousands of shards. The sound echoed in the silence.
“The marriage is off,” she declared, her voice unwavering. “Because Satoru already has a fiancee.” She turned and gestured to you, standing awkwardly in the doorway having followed her from outside. “My future daughter-in-law, her.”
The room erupted into chaos. Gasps and furious whispers filled the air. Kamo Daijiro’s face turned a deep shade of red. The Kamo clan, the maids (who were standing outside, peering through the gates you left open, having not been allowed to enter the prestigious ceremony) and leaders alike, looked mortified at her words.
“You cannot be serious,” Akane said through gritted teeth.
“I’ve never been more serious,” she countered.
“You have humiliated my family!” Daijiro growled, stepping closer threateningly.
At this, Satoru stood up, his sword in his hand as he placed himself between his mother and Kamo Daijiro. He tilted the weapon slightly to make sure the threat of blood was sent across to Daijiro, and blocked the way to his mother. Her eyes softened at his action, and she straightened. “This discussion is over. Take your child and leave, Kamo. I will take mine. There is no alliance to be forged here. Gojo clan!” She called to the maids, soldiers and workers of the Gojo clan who had come along with them on the journey. “We shall set off back home right now. Prepare.”
Daijiro stared at her with rage and humiliation. But when he glanced at the sea of judgmental eyes surrounding him, he knew he lost. With a barely concealed snarl, he turned on his heel, motioning for his family to follow.
Satoru fixed his sword back into its scabbard. His mother turned to you, softening again. She rested a hand lightly on your shoulder. “Come. We shall leave this place now, for good this time.”
She led you out of the hall, her grip steady and reassuring, even as the whispers behind you grew louder.
──── ୨ৎ ────
The journey back home felt strangely fast compared to the painstaking crawl southward. Perhaps it was Satoru’s mother’s fiery words that had lit a spark of patriotism among the servants, and maybe even the horses. Whatever the case, you arrived at the Gojo estate far sooner than expected.
You barely had time to set foot inside when Satoru found you. He cornered you in one of the quieter hallways. The first thing you noticed was his face; his usual, easygoing expression was clouded with something you had never seen before.
“Did you know?” he asked.
You blinked, thrown off by the abruptness. “Did I know what?”
“That you’re my fiancee.” The words came out bitter and flat, as if he couldn’t believe he was saying them aloud.
Your breath caught in your throat. You had been bracing for this conversation, but not so soon. Not like this. “Yes,” you admitted after a moment.
He reeled back, as though the admission had physically struck him. “You knew?” His voice rose, echoing off the corridor walls. “How long? How long have you known?”
“A year,” you said hesitantly, feeling guilt rise up in your throat. “I mean… last year, your mother—”
“A year?” His voice cracked, and he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “You’ve known for an entire year, and you didn’t think to tell me?”
“I thought she would tell you,” you stammered. “She said she’d handle it.”
“Well, clearly, she didn’t!” he snapped, spinning to face you again. “So what, you were just going to wait until the wedding invitations went out?”
“That’s not what I meant!” you shot back. “I didn’t even agree to this in the first place. I was just as blindsided as you when she told me!”
“But she did tell you, and you did know,” he repeated coldly. “And you didn’t think I had a right to know?”
“You’re acting like I had a choice!” you said, your voice rising to match his.
“That doesn’t excuse keeping it from me!” he shouted too. “You and my mom — both of you — went behind my back. You made me feel like an idiot standing in that room today.”
“Oh, we made you look like an idiot?” you scoffed. “Why? Because you were actually planning to agree to her proposal? Because you wanted to marry that witch of a woman?”
His eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you serious? I barely even looked at her if I didn’t have to!”
“That was because mother had told you not to!” you countered. “Don’t stand there and question me when you’ve been acting like you have other options.”
“I didn’t know I didn’t have other options!” he shouted. “Because no one told me! The two people I trust the most in this world, you both kept me in the dark!”
You sighed. “Satoru—”
“No,” he cut you off. “Do you have any idea what this feels like? To know that the people you rely on the most didn’t think you were worth the truth?”
“That’s not fair,” you said softly, trying to find the right words. “I was just obeying mother—”
“Obeying mother?” he laughed incredulously. “By lying to me?”
“I didn’t lie!” you snapped. “I just… didn’t know how to tell you.”
“Well, you should have figured it out,” he said bitterly. “Because now, all I can think about is how little I actually know about you. About us. About… anything.”
The air between you felt heavy, suffocating. You wanted to say something, anything to fix the look of betrayal in his eyes, but your mind was blank.
Finally, he shook his head, his voice dropping to a strained whisper. “Look… I’ve never thought of you that way before, okay? You’re… you’re pretty, but you’re like a sister to me. That’s how I’ve always seen you. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
Oh.
Of course.
“I need space,” he muttered, stepping back. “I need time to think.”
his death rocked the country , you could still hear the coroner's voice announce his death , his mother weeping next to his father who was keeping his composure , you. were. crushed. not to mention his death was completely unusual , yes , it was well known around the castle that gojo wasn't on his best behavior when he was alive. he was cocky and stuck-up , and acted out like a toddler which earned him some enemies in the castle.
you were always quick to defend his actions and stay on his side which also made you earn some enemies , but gojo wasn't always like that! he was young , like you , so you and him could relate on certain topics.
"gojo was just one misunderstood kid!" you said. "he just needed someone to listen to him!" you said. everyone brushed you off as some "whore" and "slut" for him.
your feelings were hurt but you payed no attention to harsh words , you knew gojo better than anyone in this whole establishment.
it was less than a week after his death and no seemed to shed a single tear , except for you of course. it almost appeared that everyone was happy that he was gone , no more snarky remarks , being a immature man , being selfish. it was sickening to you.
"did you hear? that maiden defends his actions!"
"are you serious? them?"
"yes! rumor has it , they had a secret relationship! and the king and queen never knew!"
"well no wonder , he acted like a puppy around them!"
you tried to tune out the gossiping but anger was engulfing you quickly.
"but did ya hear? apparently his death was suspicious! you didn't hear this from me...but I might of slipped in something–"
"oh stop it!"
the other maidens laughed while you silently and angrily scrubbed dishes before slamming them down and dashing out of the kitchen area whilst hiding your tears.
then it happened , you fell to your knees on the carpet leaning forward with their head down and one arm outstretched along the floor , sobbing profusely.
how? how could they talk about him like that? it was disgusting and disrespectful , they wouldn't talk about him if the king was standing there! it was cruel and unjust.
"my maiden , are you okay?" you heard a familiar voice in front of you.
"oh geto...how could they talk about him like that? he's not a bad person!" you croaked more tears.
geto was a royal knight who roamed the castle for protection , it was obvious that him and gojo shared the same popularity but obviously for different reasons.
you learned that , as children , gojo and geto were best friends but that changed when they started to grow up.
"i know. i know , it's-it's hard but you have to understand that everyone has experienced their own version of gojo , you have had a good experience with him but what about his fashion designer? or his hair stylist or his butler? i miss him just as much as you do...." geto pulled you off the carpet and pulled you in for a hug.
afterwards , you headed towards your quarters to rest after this messy day , slipping into your night gown then flopping into bed letting a exhausted sigh but your eyes refused to close because usually gojo would sneak you outside and talking until dawn rises but sometimes things have to come to an end.
slumber washed over the castle , it was quieter than usual with gojo , you would do anything in the world to bring him back , even if he wasn't the same , just having him alive and breathing would mean the world to you.
you felt too relaxed and relieved. something didn't feel right , you opened your eyes and arisen to glanced upon a field of flowers , they emitted a blue glow in the nightly sky. they were beautiful and the aura put you at ease. you stood up and began to wonder in the field that stretch beyond , your fingertips traveled against the soft petals which swayed and giggled?
your head snapped , were you going crazy? you touched the flower again and it sure enough it giggled but that... sounded familiar to you...
"go..jo? is that you?" you questioned the field.
"took you long enough." he smugly laughed.
you flinch at his echoing voice and the flowers matching up.
"what...happened to you?" you knelt down.
"when i died , i was met with a council of demons that put me on trial for my actions on earth , they came to a decision to curse me or i could come back as human but lose my royal status...you can obviously see which one i picked." he chuckled softly.
"but , what are you exactly? i've never seen flowers this beautiful before." you asked gojo.
"nemophila , it represents love , romance and pure love...but–" gojo's breath hitched , although you couldn't physically see him , you noticed that the flowers suddenly has dew drops on them. "it also means... i forgive you." he croaked softly.
"but you haven't done anything wrong to me–"
"i know but... i'm sorry for everything that i've caused to everyone especially to you and geto...you two are tge only people that understood me and now since i'm dead i can't gain that relationship back...i'm sorry..." gojo sniffled through tears.
"gojo , i'll defend you whether it's heaven or hell , you don't deserve this! h-h-how do i bring you back!?" you said scurrying in the field , trying to find answers.
"you...you can't , i'm stuck like this and i'm not sure who else can access this domain but for now tell how life back at the castle!" gojo's voice got cheerful again which brought a smile to you.
you laid back on the flowers as they surrounded your body , explained all the events after his passing including the festival of his passing of life and how his parents are coping , he listened and joked on every detail you explained to him but there was something else that wondered your mind.
"gojo...how did you die exactly?" you asked him.
"well , i'm glad you asked! i have no idea! hahaha!" he childishly laughed.
"gojo , i'm serious! i heard that your death was suspicious!" you voice changed to worry.
"hmmp...since you wanna know so badly , i have a mission for you then." gojo proposed. "i want you kill anyone that has done me wrong" his voice was grim and caused you to jolt upwards in shock "what?"
"you heard me , why'd you think i forgave you in the first place? you always had my back! defending me whenever someone was badmouthing me! why are you so hesitant now?" he growled.
you felt small as his voice was slightly revamped amd louder "g-gojo! it's-it's murder! i can't murder anyone!"
"not without me... i've been watching your for a while , i've seen the rage on your face whenever the other maidens talk shit about me. don't you want revenge? don't you want to avenge me?" gojo whispered.
you thought about it , gojo was everything to you but his death was so sudden and off-guard that nothing felt right afterwards then...that joke popped back in your head.
"so, what's your decision? are you stay silent or do something for once..."
"gojo...i'll do it..." you agreed with grim intent.
gojo chuckled slightly in compliance. "this is gonna be fun..."
synopsis: The bells are silent, the paint is cracked, and for the first time in years, the kingdom's favourite punchline is allowed to just be.
pairing: Prince!Gojo x F!Jester!Reader
word count: 2.0k
a/n: cuz we need a female jester. thanks to kotianosaurus. fav chaman fr. not proofread :p
The great hall of the royal castle rang with laughter that evening, the kind that bounced off marble walls and made the chandeliers tremble. You spun in the center of it all, bells on your motley hat jingling like tiny golden laughs. Red, blue,purple, and gold—your costume flashed under the torchlight as you flipped backward, landed feather light on the balls of your feet, and launched straight into the night’s routine. First came the exaggerated imitation of the visiting duke’s stiff walk, complete with a wobbling mustache you’d fashioned from a scrap of black ribbon. The court howled. Then you pivoted into a razor-sharp roast of his wife’s latest hat—something that looked like a dead bird had crash-landed on her head. The nobles clutched their sides, stamping their feet on the stone floor. Even the king slapped his knee, wine sloshing from his goblet.
You kept the momentum going, juggling three colored balls while firing off one-liners about the baron’s terrible singing voice from last week’s feast. Sweat beaded under the heavy collar of your motley, but you never let it show. Your smile stayed locked in place—wide, bright, painted to perfection. Every twirl, every cartwheel, every perfectly timed punchline was another layer of armor. The crowd saw the jester: chaotic, fearless, endlessly entertaining. They didn’t see the way your ribs ached from forcing the laughs, or how your cheeks burned from holding the expression long after the joke had died.
And through it all, Prince Satoru Gojo lounged on the dais with one long leg slung over the arm of his throne, smirking behind his fingers like he was the only one who got the real joke. His white hair caught the firelight, eyes hidden behind the usual half-lidded stare, but you felt them anyway. Always did. They lingered a second too long every time you landed a flip or tossed a barb his way. He reached into his pocket and tossed you a small velvet pouch—his “tip,” he called it every time. Inside, always something small and expensive: tonight, a delicate silver hairpin shaped like a crescent moon, glinting as it sailed through the air. You caught the pouch mid-twirl, bowed with exaggerated flair, and the hall exploded again. The applause crashed over you like a wave, but inside it felt like nothing. Just noise. Just another performance to survive.
No one saw the way your smile stayed painted on long after the music stopped.
Later, when the torches burned low and the last noble staggered off to bed, you slipped through the quieter passages toward your private quarters. As the king's favored fool, you'd been granted a small but comfortable chamber high in the keep, not far from the royal apartments—close enough to be summoned at any hour, yet tucked away for a measure of peace. The room was warm from the low fire in the stone hearth, a thick woolen rug softening the flagstones underfoot. A well sized bed stood against one wall, draped in good linens and a heavy embroidered coverlet (perks of high-table favor). A sturdy oak table held a polished silver mirror—no cracks here—and shelves lined with the trinkets you'd collected: colorful ribbons, a few jeweled pins from admirers, and the growing collection of velvet pouches from the prince himself. A single arched window let in moonlight, framed by heavy curtains to keep out drafts. It was no noble's suite, but it was worlds better than the common servants' dormitories—secure, private, a quiet reflection of your standing.
You closed the heavy door softly behind you. The bells on your hat clinked once as you pulled it off and set it carefully on the table. No dramatic drop tonight; even in solitude, some habits lingered.
The painted smile cracked the second the latch clicked.
You sank onto the edge of the bed, elbows on your knees, face in your hands. The room was too quiet despite its comforts. No audience. No applause. Just the soft crackle of the dying fire and the hollow echo of every laugh you’d forced today, every clever line you’d sharpened to keep them from noticing how heavy your chest felt. How long had it been since someone asked how you were, not how funny you could be? Weeks? Months? Years, maybe. The court jester didn’t get to be tired. The court jester performed until the curtain fell, then vanished behind it like the joke was the only thing that mattered.
You stared at the rug, thoughts spiraling the same way they always did in this silence. What am I outside the bells? The question gnawed at you every night now. You remembered being a kid, running around the village with actual friends who laughed with you, not at you. Then the king’s scouts saw your flips and your quick tongue, and suddenly you were “the fool.” Useful. Entertaining. Never just… you. These days the grievances piled up like stones in your gut: the way nobles patted your head like a pet after a good show, the way maids whispered that you were “lucky” to have the prince’s attention, the way even your reflection in the polished mirror looked like a stranger wearing your face. You gave them joy, distraction, relief from their boring lives—and in return you got trinkets and empty praise. No one stayed after the lights went out. No one asked if the jester ever wanted to stop smiling. You were the entertainment, the fool, the bright spot in their dull world. And every day it chipped away at whatever was left of the real you until you barely recognized the person under the paint.
A soft scrape at the door made your head snap up.
It opened without a knock—because of course it did. Prince Gojo never knocked on anything he felt like entering. He stepped in wearing a loose white tunic and dark breeches, no crown, no royal swagger for once. Just another small velvet pouch in one hand. His eyes—those ridiculous bright blue ones—flicked around the dim, firelit room before landing on you.
“Thought I’d drop off another one of these you pretend not to keep,” he started, voice light, teasing like always, dangling the pouch. “You were on fire tonight, fool. That bit about the duke’s wife’s hat—priceless. Had the whole hall eating out of your hand. You always know exactly how to—“
He stopped. Really looked.
You weren’t smiling. No bells. No sparkle. Just you, in the chemise you wore under the costume, eyes red-rimmed and tired in a way makeup couldn’t hide anymore.
Gojo’s smirk faltered. “...What’s with the face?”
You laughed once. Bitter, short. “The face I’m paid for is in the court, Your Highness. This one’s not for show.”
He set the pouch down on the table beside your hat, crossed his arms. Cocky tilt to his head still there, but smaller now. “C’mon. You’re the one who makes me laugh when the rest of these idiots can’t. Don’t tell me the great court jester’s gone all gloomy on me. Shake it off. Do that little flip thing you do. Always cheers everyone up.”
You stood up with the same elegance as your tricks, the bed creaking under you. “Gloomy? That’s what you call it?” Your voice cracked higher than you wanted. “I spend every single day twisting myself into knots so the court forgets their own miserable lives for five minutes—flipping, juggling, roasting people to their faces while they clap like trained seals. And the second I stop performing you act like I broke some sacred rule. Like I owe you the act even when no one’s watching. Like the only version of me that matters is the one in bells and paint.”
Gojo’s brows drew together, that princely arrogance flashing for a second. “I never said you owed me anything. I just figured… you’re always the one who can handle it. The one who never cracks. That’s why I–” He cut himself off, jaw tight.
You took a step closer, chest tight, words spilling out faster now. “You figured? You throw expensive little toys at me like I’m a performing dog and then act surprised when the dog gets tired of the tricks. You watch every flip, every joke, but you never once asked what it costs me. I’m tired, Satoru. I’m so fucking tired of being the only one who doesn’t get to be real. Tired of waking up every morning knowing the second I step out that door I have to be ‘on’ or I’m useless. Tired of hearing people say ‘the jester’s in a mood’ like it’s a crime instead of… instead of me just being a person who’s drowning and no one even notices because all they want is the next laugh.”
The air went still. You’d never used his name like that. Never dropped the “Your Highness” in private. It hung between you, sharp as a blade.
He opened his mouth, probably some half-cocked joke to deflect—but nothing came out. For once, the strongest, most untouchable prince in the realm looked… lost. The cockiness fizzled out like the fire in the hearth.
You felt the break coming before it hit. Your shoulders started to shake. “I don’t even remember what I sound like when I’m not joking anymore. Every morning I paint the smile on because if I don’t, who am I? Just some girl in a colorful costume who stopped being useful the second the performance ends. I’m nothing when the bells stop. Nothing but the emptiness I’ve been carrying around for years while everyone else gets to be real.”
The room blurred with hot tears.
Then arms—warm, solid, stronger than they had any right to be—wrapped around you. Gojo pulled you in without asking, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other pressing between your shoulder blades like he could hold all the pieces together by sheer will. You stiffened for half a second, then folded completely. Face buried in the clean linen of his tunic, you finally let it go. All the months, all the years of pretending. The tears came hot and fast, soaking the fabric, and he just… held on. No teasing. No princely commands. Just quiet breathing and the faint scent of night air clinging to him.
He exhaled slowly against your hair, the sound almost a sigh of defeat. “Gods above,” he murmured after a long minute, voice low and rough, edged with something close to pain. “I did not know. I believed… I believed your laughter was genuine. That you were ever this…..radiant, unbreakable, a light no shadow could touch.”
You hiccuped against his chest, fists still clenched in his shirt. “You’re an idiot.”
“Yeah,” he agreed softly, a tiny, self-deprecating laugh in it. “The greatest fool in the kingdom, perhaps. Hiding behind the crown the same way you hide behind the bells.” He pulled back just enough to tilt your chin up with careful fingers. His thumbs brushed the tears off your cheeks—gentle, almost reverent, like he was afraid you’d shatter if he pressed too hard. “I like the real you. The one who’s tired. The one who doesn’t have to be funny. Keep her around more, yeah? I’ll… I’ll make sure no one bothers you when you need the quiet. Even if it’s me barging in. Especially then.”
You stared at him, eyes still wet, heart doing something stupid and warm in your chest for the first time in forever. The cocky smirk was gone. Just Satoru now. Blue eyes soft in the firelight, white hair falling messily across his forehead.
He pressed his lips to your forehead, quick and light, like a promise he didn’t know how to say out loud yet. “Stay like this as long as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”
You didn’t answer with words. Just leaned back into him, letting the weight of his arms settle around you like the first real thing you’d felt in years. The bells lay forgotten on the table. For once, the room didn’t feel empty.
Outside, the castle slept on. Inside your quiet, favored quarters, the prince and his jester stayed tangled in the silence, masks finally off.
syn: just a few small thoughts about a fantasy au ft. prince satoru gojo!! also am planning to turn this into a bigger series at some point…if you enjoy this, check out my other jjk works here <3
thinking about prince!gojo who is the only heir and is known to be a wild child. his parents, who don’t believe he’ll ever find a spouse, arrange a marriage for him.
prince!gojo who doesn’t approve of the marriage at all and doesn’t want to be married or tied down but doesn’t have a choice when his parents present you as his future wife.
prince!gojo who laughs as sweet as the sun but is cold towards you when you first meet. not because he dislikes you, maybe a little, but to spite his parents.
prince!gojo who ends up not wanting to be around you but somehow always finds himself bumping into you.
you sweetly ask prince!gojo if he’d like to take a walk with you one day, end up having a sweet picnic in a field of wild flowers.
prince!gojo who watches as your eyes light up at seeing the valley of flowers. he feels his heart skip a beat but tries his best to ignore it because no, he couldn’t fall for you. he had to continue to upset his parents by remaining single.
prince!gojo who ends up sending you a large bouquet of wild flowers the next day. has the gardeners plant plenty of pretty flowers for you to see every day you take a walk in the grounds.
when you ask prince!gojo why he would do that, he claims you looked a little sad and figured the gardens would help cheer you up. not because he likes you but because he “disliked seeing you upset”.
prince!gojo who ends up falling so in love with you. he tries his hardest to deny every time anyone makes it a point, whether it be him staring at you from across a room or asking for your hand at a dance.
his eyes stare solely at you and even if he tries to keep his distance, it will fail. for prince!gojo knows you have his heart.
