Prologue: Survival of the strongest (a glimpse)
The blood would not wash away.
Asahi scrubbed her hands once again, the soap lathering into a handful of bubbles before they also washed under the water like all the previous ones, leaving a red trail of blood diluted by water as it disappeared into the sink.
She had lost count of the times she had washed her hands by now; she couldn’t even tell at this point if the blood was her own or of the man who was lying on the blood soaked sheets right now. After all, all blood seemed the same when shed, though she wondered if the council would disagree. Her blood was probably a lot less precious than Satoru Gojo’s blood.
Wiping her hands on one of the grey towels, she mechanically made her way to the metal chair kept in the corner of the sterile room; she dragged it to his side before collapsing on it. Her cursed energy pulsed rhythmically before settling down when she briefly brushed his hand.
His hand was so cold. So, so cold.
Wiping her eyes with her fingers, she rested her forehead on her intertwined hands while leaning on her elbows. It was stupid, so, so stupid.
She was supposed to leave this world behind.
She had left this world behind, far, far behind.
She had vanished from it.
The Jujutsu world was not for her. She knew that with certainty in her bones, it had proven too many times in the past how cruel it can be. It had proven again and again that it does not matter how powerful her ability might be; it does not matter how much resilience she thinks she possess—it have a way to break all of it down and leave you shattered in the remains of yourself.
She couldn’t lose herself anymore.
That was why she had cut herself off from this world, this weird, selfish, cruel world of jujutsu sorcerers that force their young ones to die in the name of humanity and put all the burdens—let it be responsibilities, blame or guilt–on their strongest. That was why she had left this world, even if it meant leaving the people that she cared about, who cared about her.
And yet, fate had decided that the day when she had visited this world after eight years — not to come back, just to revisit places that were left unattended for too long — was the same day the strongest of this world had fallen.
It had been hours from the moment his body was teleported to Shoko’s abode; it had been hours since she had felt that deep sense of wrongness and despite all logic that crossed her mind had rushed there. It had taken hours with Shoko using her reversed cursed technique to heal his body to the best of her ability while Asahi's hands strained from stitching back his soul to his body — it was not a perfect bond.
It was imperfect, scarred and still a bit broken.
But that was all she could do in that mere time. Her ability — Threads of the Soul — took time to work. Severing the threads of someone’s soul didn’t take that much, but restitching them while taking care of the fact that one mistake may lead to that person’s death or insanity required a lot of patience and precision, weeks at least.
What she had done had to work, for now.
Rising her head back, she looked at the face of the man she had almost lost. His face was wiped of blood now, but the bruises and scars were still there. Shoko had healed them internally, but the superficial cuts would need to heal by themselves.
After all, Shoko had already exhausted herself to the bone trying to stitch his body back.
Pale eyelashes framed his cheeks; his silver hairs were still matted with blood. And in that moment, with his chest barely rising, Asahi could not see the strongest sorcerer in the world, nor the loud, arrogant boy she had admired years ago. She could not see the charm or confidence or the easy aura of greatness he always carried with himself –she remembered that years ago she had wondered if there would be any situation where Satoru Gojo would look vulnerable and defeated — this was the situation.
Because at this moment, he didn’t look like the head of Gojo clan or the famous sorcerer who everybody either envied or admired. He looked like Satoru, he looked achingly human.
And that left her more shattered than anything.
And at the same moment strengthened her belief about the jujutsu world she had left.
This world only knew how to take and take and take until you have nothing left to give.
Interested? Read the full story here :) -> https://www.wattpad.com/story/403638910
