#thehonoredwon

[drippingheart]

Firm fortitude. Malleable mind. Nothing was truly set in stone, for even the stone itself eroded and became weathered over time. What's done is done — the attitude of a child, of a toddler, who knew neither tears nor wishes could bring back the dead and create happy days out of nothing. If wishes came true, the world would truly be a wonderful place; children would be with their parents, and children would be with their siblings. Wake up, wake up, wake up. No, Fushiguro Megumi was not wishing for such a thing was futile, wasted breath — he was merely talking to his sister.

Fushiguro Tsumiki was the strongest person he knew, genuinely. Stronger than even the revered six eyes and limitless user for her smiles and hers alone were brimming with unflinching compassion and positivity even after all that happened to her, to them. Megumi was nothing without Tsumiki. The last thread of familial bond was wound so tightly upon his digit yet became thin and strained with time. Red thread connecting people's lives, sharing the crimson qualities of blood. Blood. Already bruised from the conclusion of another school fight, the tender flesh gave way with ease under the ministrations of a curse.

He knew well of the origin of curses having been taught thoroughly by none other than Gojō Satoru, yet it seemed the thunderous clouds hanging above the teenager's head attracted the the very same creatures who were birthed from foul feelings. It was good. Megumi needed it. The two curses which found him were nothing which warranted a call to his benefactor @thehonoredwon, and they were rather simple to exorcise despite the abrasions to his flesh and the uncomfortable trickle of blood. Drip, drip. It followed the curve of philtrum, over his cupid's bow, and dripped down to stain the tips of digits scarlet.

The red thread connecting people. As if transfixed, malachite eyes did not move away from the sight of the droplets marring his flesh and dripping further to mark the concrete ground with macabre breadcrumbs. People, rightfully, ignored the sight of what appeared to be a mere student delinquent. No one wanted to help him, and Megumi certainly did not want any of their help . . including that of the strange sorcerer with fox-like eyes. Though if Megumi really thought about it, the sorcerer had not outright offered any help save for obscure words. Getō Suguru had lost two curses.

Two curses which he had plucked away from the heads of two frightened children who had appeared at his temple, along with their guardians, much in a way a physician would clinically remove a wart. Quick and painless. The children were certainly overjoyed, and what did the parents give him? Nothing but a few thousand yen as offering. Pathetic. The little cockroaches had served their purpose, and the weak curses had served theirs as well. Everything serves a grand purpose such as the words with rolled from tongue and lips with great care.

── ❛ What a familiar face you have. Most sorcerers do come from prominent lineages of families. ❜

The casual air of voice matched that of appearance. Suguru purposefully forwent with the typical flair of his gojo-gesa and geta, instead he donned plain civilian clothes matching more of the style of his teenager years than a man in his prime. It seemed fitting at the moment. All Megumi knew was it was a strange encounter from someone who what? wished to be friends with another sorcerer despite their age differences? Forming connections with people was certainly not Megumi's forte, but he was not entirely dense nor thought himself alien compared to humans and sorcerers. He simply . . did not care for it. The man's words continued to echo about inside the teenager's mind though.

── ❛ Fushiguro Toji! Ah, that's right. It's all clicking in my head. I knew him once, yes. Gojō Satoru was acquainted with him as well . . ❜

It couldn't have been. He never heard of him. Didn't know that name; didn't remember what his father looked like outside of the old sketches he used to produce as a toddler . . just dark scribbles of a man with onyx hair walking away. Megumi knew boredom, frustration, anger, and peace ( with his shikigami ), but heart-lurching surprise caught him by surprise. With blood beginning to drip down from his nose, a million thoughts ran through the child's mind while Suguru watched, quite pleased with himself. Megumi knew those devious eyes were hiding something.

No person approached another with such nonchalance for nothing. Despite the calm expression and even calmer posture of the stranger, Megumi felt he was being trapped. Trapped for what? Ensnared and injured. Satoru built him up to his one of his strongest allies what with the ten shadows technique, but at that moment, with heart hammering in his heart, he genuinely felt his age. And Suguru left him like that, feigning important business to tend to as a means to leave, but not leaving without a —

── ❛ Sorcerers should stick together. Maybe we'll cross paths and chat more in the future~ ❜

Megumi's belly was coiled snaked. Acid bubbling up. The snare was wound around his ankle and perhaps that too was crimson coloured. Threads upon threads. With frustration, the teenager elevated the sleeve of his uniform to scrub against his nose. It didn't matter; his uniform was already a mess from fighting, and he was bound to get suspended anyway. He snapped his eyes away from the sight of the blood and continued the lonely march home to an apartment barren of life. Once inside, shoes were kicked off and not placed neatly on the shoe rack.

His sling bag was discarded, too, without much a care by the door. Alone, he stripped himself of his soiled uniform and dumped the fabric into the washing machine. In the shower he scrubbed himself red and raw until the scrapes of his flesh screamed as if he could erase the strange encounter with the unknown man. He could not. The words and those eyes stayed with him throughout the night as he spent the afternoon and night in the tiny apartment he shared with Tsumiki, completely drowned in darkness. They stayed with him the next day, and the day after, until Megumi finally bothered to retrieve his mobile device and shot an SMS message to his benefactor: 'can we talk about Tsumiki?'.

[drippingheart]

A smile was donned — charismatic and light with just a hint of a playful edge just as it had been when he was alive, just how it always lived eternally in Gojō Satoru's @thehonoredwon memory. The hundreds slain by his hands and by his curses were not enough to tarnish that image of understanding smiles, compassionate smiles, smiles of triumph when Getō Suguru finally bested his best friend in an arcade game of Street Fighter or in training. Abandonment nor crimes did not destroy that smile, and even at the moment Suguru took his final breath, a smile remained on his face.

It was entirely different from the expression shared when the two sorcerers met as children for the first time, yet the gleeful twist of lips made the greatest impression. After all, it was what Satoru imagined on the brink of his own death. Their classmates and principal engaged in banter of their own as they roamed the airport's terminal, background information that Satoru deemed necessary, apparently. Suguru supposed to aided in bringing an ambiance of normalcy to the entire experience of death, then again . . Suguru supposed it was just Satoru's imagination which made Suguru suppose in the first place. Ahem.

Whatever the case, Suguru was more thankful to share a few intimate words just between them. The strongest of sorcerers. The strongest of friends. Every human boasted of the uniqueness of their own friendship, however if they knew anything Satoru and Suguru — their relationships would look like shit in comparison. Two souls who were utterly lonely before finding themselves in each other's lives. Two souls who either composed their counterpart's moral compass or completely shattered their heart. The strongest people on Earth until one snuffed out the other's life.

Suguru knocked his shoulder against Satoru's before brushing past him like a cat greeting its owner. He chose to face his one and only face-to-face with back pressed against the smudge-free glass of the window overlooking the departing planes. Head leaned back until the bun of his high ponytail cushioned his skull against the cool glass and watched the blue of the exterior sky reflect in Satoru's sunglasses.

── ❛ Could have been better. Could have been worse, right? I think you regret not defeating Sukuna more than anything, or you regret that I wasn't there in the crowd like an adoring fan. I'm glad I died when I did; I couldn't tolerate watching you be cut piece by piece. I . . ❜

The onyx haired teenager chuckled. It was too strange hearing the things he was saying, seeing Satoru as he was in a teenager, and holding this memory of being both alive and dead. It was all too much. He pushed himself away from the window and loosely wrapped his arms around Satoru's shoulders.

── ❛ I 'm sick of watching sorcerers die and feeling miserable, so let's get out of here. Just you and me, my one and only. ❜

Where they were going? Satoru's imagination was the limit. The last piece of freedom and respite provided to him on his date of death. Their little piece of heaven. Eternally.

[drippingheart]

For all the ego of the renown sorcerer, emotional complexity was a subject he failed. In truth, there were many failures trailing behind Gojō Satoru. Whether each instance of failure acted like the kind of anchor which halted movement completed or only proved only a slight hinderance was entirely up to the man himself. Like every other aspect in his life, Gojō Satoru bent the world to his desires or . . was it the world bent to his desires because he was Gojō Satoru @thehonoredwon. Observers of weak spines may have been blind to the vast imperfections ( or chose to ignore it in favour of worship ), but Getō Suguru had never been neither blind nor woefully ignorant.

It, these malfunctions everyone swept under the rug, had irritated Suguru to great ends, however it had been love which proved the stronger force, enough to dominate annoyance before it transformed into hatred. Maybe he should have been rougher with Satoru. The prodigal sorcerer had learned plentiful while interacting with actual members of society, those who did not bow nose to floor, yet Suguru should have been more forceful with pounding the aspects of humanity into such a deprived soul. Had the years of crushing loneliness finally been the teacher Satoru required or was there someone else in his life offering the role of emotional tutor? Suguru was intrigued.

Despite the machinations of a perfectionist's mind, he did not stalk his former one and only; wild conjectures were made just as all of Jujutsu society made of Suguru. He loathed assumptions and being hypocritical, but there really had been no justification to keep tabs on Satoru. So when the ivory haired sorcerer finally spoke honest and raw, Suguru could only assume things as curiosity and shock flooded his system. Why spy on a person who did not even bother to see the red flags? Why spy on a person who had been at his peak of power since his teenage years? Why . . break years of silence with a touch of the hand and a taste of the lips?

Shit, this really brought him back to the day they parted ways — they would see each other again, certainly, but it had been the good-bye of their friendship. Those halcyon no more. Suguru's strong fingers had gripped those ivory hairs, and their lives were forced to interconnect once more. The monster of the Jujutsu world was at fault. But more than a single night of desperate pleasure, he craved to see his former best friend display real emotional. It was addicting, and his younger self felt vindicated too — you finally learned what it is to suffer and feel, mm, Satoru?

Had he been open with his feelings and communicative so long ago, only the gods know how things may have changed. May have. Maybe Suguru had always been cursed to fail because he felt so much, and Satoru, in turn, cursed to win because he felt so little. What did all the power in the world mean if one just ended up miserable. His crying teenager self would have gained pleasure in the knowledge. At the current instance, Suguru wants to drink up Satoru's vulnerability.

── ❛ Why would it mean anything? We're enemies. You're bound to kill me. Our time as friends, the closest in the world, meant nothing so why would last night mean anything, Satoru~? ❜

Suguru abused his own hair with rough treatments, scraping his scalp as he pushed his silken hair out of his face. It was dreadfully hot in Tokyo. So much he desired to pull his hairs back in a bun, yet it was too reminiscent of his youth. The sickness and the migraines he experienced it was like all of his emotional capacity had been held back by a single hair tie.

── ❛ I wanted to see if you could display something more than arrogance, and you . . Well I don't know, wanted to go back to those schools day when I dotted on our friendship like an ignorant little dog? You're going to have to kill me one day, you know that, don't you? Won't it make it easier for you if I say it meant nothing? ❜

[limitlessscion]

❛  it's just a dream, a stupid dream.  ❜

There was something weird about having someone over at his apartment; so few people have crossed the threshold of his door in the last half decade and even fewer had set foot into the long unused guest room. He'd taken the kid out on a late mission, and his apartment was much closer than campus; it'd been a practical choice at the time. But as he laid awake in his own bed, he became keenly aware of the presence that had become invisible to him but surely must stick out so brightly to a fellow bearer of the six eyes.

The smell of tobacco clung to the walls, the blackout curtains, the rug; long strands of hair hid in the creases of the mattress, behind the trinkets on the cabinet, static-stuck to the screen of the TV; two sets of chopsticks and soup spoons standing by the stovetop, a second toothbrush on the washroom counter, a second both towel hung in the closet; residuals that pooled like smoke across the floor of the apartment, seeping beneath closed doors, claiming this space as Suguru's. This space had been made into a sanctuary reserved for two, and Tai's presence felt like an invasion.

Shuichi decided that first thing in the morning, he's taking Tai out for soufflé pancakes; they were definitely not going to linger here any longer than they had to. With that course of action decided, and at least a small handful of hours left before the sun would make its rude entrance, He attempted to sleep.

There was commotion in the next room over; whatever drowsiness he had managed to claim evaporated instantly and he gave a weary sigh as reality snapped into unfortunate sharp wakefulness. He could swear he'd never had a single full night's rest in his life from such sensitivity. Tai was awake. Shuichi had sensed it all through the wall; the tossing and turning, the sweating, and the way sleep had left his body not with a violent jolt but with the resignation Shuichi himself felt just then as to the futility of sleep.

Within a minute he was in the doorway of the guest bedroom ( of course he hadn't knocked ) leaning casually against the frame.

it's just a dream, a stupid dream. 

He held his curiosity; Shuichi understood too well the need to hide perceived weaknesses, to stamp them out and give them no room to take root, but he did hold his curiosity. Shuichi had never been one to be plagued by nighttime terrors —none that he could remember— and he could not think of what might be haunting the kid enough to disturb his rest.

"Too worked up after that missions huh?" He offered the excuse for an out with flippant ease. "I'm craving Oshiruko; up for an early morning snack run?"

[drippingheart]

Now, in front of him, Gojō Satoru looked the same as he did at fifteen. Instead of donning quirky smiles and brushing past obvious social cues however, he was attentive on an intellectual and emotional level — was this the first time this had occurred? It certainly was the first time Getō Suguru was witnessing. The appearance of a teenager and the growth of an adult Suguru had not lived long enough to witness. Suguru felt . . fuzzy in the mind. He remembered that he should have been angry by Satoru's words, that he should have perhaps been upset ( something of too little too late ), yet in the present he was not chained down by what he should or should not feel and act upon.

The smile Suguru wore was kind, one of intellectual intelligence, and it contrasted the teenage mannerism of shrugging his shoulders. Just as Satoru @thehonoredwon looked like a teenager, Suguru, too, looked as he did at fifteen. Slimmer build, healthy skin, and donning his Jujutsu uniform. The wood beneath him felt like the traditional flooring inside the Tokyo school campus, but when he attempted to focus his gaze on the familiar garden and buildings, he couldn't quite make out the shapes. It was bright outside. However when he looked at Satoru, the boy appeared in perfect shape and focus. Black hair was tucked high into his bun, and the gentlest and most refreshing of breezes stirred his bangs out of place. Upon tucking them over the curl of his ear, the summer breeze displaced them once again, and Suguru chuckled merrily.

── ❛ Ahh. What's done is done. Honestly, I was hoping I wouldn't have to say anything; that you would know something was wrong. We both made mistakes. I'm sorry, too. ❜

Thighs were spread comfortable, hands lied flat against the wooden floors behind his back, and his feet swung around amiably over the edge of the walkway. It wasn't hot nor warm. It was just . . comfortable. A wistful sigh left Suguru's mouth, but his smile remained bright, and his eyes were even more bright . . hopeful. He didn't notice how completely void of actual noise they had been in until the faintest twinkle of a voice called him from the distance. Papa! Papa! There was no urgency in the two different voices. There would be plenty of time. Suguru drummed his fingertips against the floor only then realizing their hands were several centimeters away; he made no motion to initiate contact though.

── ❛ Let's stay here. Just a few more minutes, Satoru. ❜

[limitlessscion]

Wait- Tai

Inbox open always for anything in my prompts tag

The sudden responsibility that came with watching over Tai and Yamato had to come with some perks, and Shuichi was shameless about taking advantage of his counterpart's presence where he could. It was fair recompense for the added layer of complexity that had been added to his already too-busy life.

There had been a spring to his step since the morning of the Friday, and the most perceptive of his students may have noticed there was a spring to their sensei's steps that was even more vibrant than the usual cheerful persona he kept up so often around the school.

The reason for such was revealed as the final class of the week ended and Shuichi pulled his young counterpart aside to his office, a wicked grin on his face as he handed the boy a folder that would be a familiar sight: mission briefings.

"Time to earn your keep around here! This was my share for the weekend, and now they're yours."

Getting multiple days off in a row was a near impossibility for Shuichi; something always seemed to come up that no one else could handle whether it was missions or meetings. He was near giddy at the prospect of freeing up an entire weekend and he gave Tai no room to protest.

"Take your partner with you, things are rough out there lately, especially compared to where you came from. I'm sure he'd appreciate having a shot at some of these curses too. Ijichi and Imai are the two supervisors you'll be working with, they already have your contact. Don't give Imai any trouble, trust me it's not worth pissing her off."

He pulled out a packed suitcase left in the corner of the office, quickly changing out of his work uniform into something more casual as he talked. He undid the wrappings around his eyes and replaced them with blackout glasses.

"See you on Monday!"

Shuichi tensed up at the grip at wrist, but he did stop at the gesture.

This is why he'd dropped it all the last minute, why he'd avoided letting anyone know that he'd planned for this weekend to be free; to be with Hiei. He'd avoided the way Shoko's silence would judge him more harshly than any sharp words and he'd avoided some petty rescheduling just to ruin his happiness; but at the very last moment, he could not avoid the judgement of his younger self.

But if anyone would understand...

"...have you ever had this feeling like... you make all these choices, all the time, but it doesn't even feel like you're the one who made it?" Shuichi's voice softened, the previous glee melting away into something almost vulnerable.

"Being with him is the only time I feel real." He tugs his wrist free then, his pace slower as he resumed his trip out the door. "It's enough for me. So please, just let me have this, alright?"

[limitlessscion]

@thehonoredwon continued from [x]

Despite what many might think, Shuichi did not enjoy lording his power over others. He did not shy away from doing so, flaunted it when it suited him, but there was no pleasure in the way his younger self was so completely and utterly helpless in his grasp. There was some emptiness at how easy this was, highlighting the gap between who he was and who he is and for a moment he grieved that distance as Tai desperately took his hand in surrender.

As the vow finalized with both their cursed energy and wills, Shuichi stepped back roughly and allowed the younger to simply drop down to his feet. He should have done something like this from the start, protected Hiei properly when the kid knew too much and understood too little. After this little spectacle, he's going to have to have a little productive "chat" with the other dimension hopper too.

"You've got some sense at least," Shuichi seemed deathly calm again, but to someone with the Six Eyes his aura trembled imperceptibly with rage; not a slip of control, but a deliberate warning to the other. He had exactly how much control over his emotions that he needed to, and he intended for Tai to know that the danger has not yet fully passed.

"Start talking, since you seem to be very good at that. How much have you told the old bastards?"

[drippingheart]

The line of communication opened — finally — after nearly a decade of secrets and repressed emotions. Fushiguro Tsumiki and the world as a whole would have cheered if not for the girl being in the coma and the world being generally ignorant of their existence. What would Gojō Satoru @thehonoredwon actually do if Fushiguro Megumi went to the fox-eyed and mischievous sorcerer, and, more importantly, what did going with him even entail? Channels of communication were opened, but that included miscommunication and assumptions. Megumi, who had spent too much time mulling in his deep thoughts of the shadows of his chimera garden, stared at his benefactor with a dour and judgmental expression. If Megumi was standoffish before the truth came to light, his gaze was smoldering in the present.

── ❛ What does that even mean, go with him? I don't trust him, but I don't trust you for that matter. What do you think I'll do, join the Curse Users and not attend Jujutsu Tech? ❜

Unsatisfied with his own emotions and whatever assumptions Satoru was making, Megumi gathered small belongings from his bedroom. He was not intending to be dramatic nor was he intending to leave the home that had become his and Tsumiki's, but he still needed space. That's all he really knew for certain.