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Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice (A JJK x reader fic)
Warnings: Descriptions of generational trauma, Gojo being Gojo. Mentions of violence and descriptions of injuries, use of curse techniques, descriptions of smoking (Let me know if I missed any)
Author's Note: Hey guys, wow, second chapter. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. We really get to see the beginnings of everyone's friendship, but especially Gojo and Reader's. We also get to see a bit of the reader's CT. Which I will explain in a future post, so as not to really confuse everyone. I hope you all enjoy!
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April 2005
It was amazing the amount of time you could waste staring at a ceiling. You frowned. Waste. Nah, you didn't like that word. Spend was a better term. After all, you were carefully choosing not to get out of bed, put on that uniform, and head to class like you were supposed to. But that didn't matter much to you. The hidden designs of delirium within the ceiling were calling to you. And besides, you had all the time in the world before the consequences of your actions would catch up to you. Well, a seemingly infinite amount of bunches of ten seconds, you corrected yourself, hesitating on the infinite. You weren't really sure how many groups of ten seconds you could manipulate, really only stopping around 4.44 minutes total when things started to get fuzzy. Yeah, it was that precise.
It was around that four minute mark of freezing time for ten seconds, that you groaned. You still had 44 seconds of extra time you could use, but chose to save it for later. After all you never knew when you needed more time.
Rolling over, you preemptively shut off your alarm before it had time to screech its oh-so-lovely tune. God you needed to change that. Throwing back the quilts on your bed, your feet flopped to the floor. You dragged yourself to the closet, changed into your uniform, and snuck out of the room. You had been lucky enough to have the communal bathroom right beside your dorm room. You knocked on the door as a courtesy. No one answered and so you entered. You winced as the light blared to life. Squinting you absently went through your routine: teeth brushed, face washed, hair combed. Once your eyes adjusted, you barely took a second glance at your appearance before shuffling out the door.
Despite having a brief and direct tour of the school a few days prior, the long hallways and many turns and entryways really began to blend together. It was like everything was copied and pasted with no sign of any update in the system. You at least expected some sign technology and modern design came into play, but there was none.
Reaching down to the waist band of your pants, you gently pulled on the gold chain. The metal tugged and chimed as the pocket watch at the end emerged from one of your many pockets. It was a feature you requested on your uniform: a bazillion pockets—real ones, pants and a shirt but with detachable legs/sleeves. You remember the very brief, possibly vague description you wrote. Despite the lack of details, they uniform makers seemed to perfect capture what you were asking for. Honestly, it was the one thing about this who situation that brought a smile to your face.
It was something solely you, not what your family chose for you. Numerous rules were to be followed, leaving you like a blank slate. You understood why. Being a Jujustu sorcerer was dangerous in the United States. It was better to be unseen and blend in than risk exposure. However, long had passed since the time your family needed to hide, still the fear lingered like a shadow accompanying you where ever you went. When you were told, you were being sent to Japan to study Jujustu sorcery you were confused. Why when your whole life they told you to keep hidden were they now telling you to break from that box. It didn't take long to realize it had something to do with a certain Gojo Satoru. He was strong. Strong is what your family needed if you were going to survive. The chance to get close to him, to learn about his technique, was slim to none. It was worth giving up their heir for three years, worth letting you out of their terrified clutches.
Scoffing, you clicked open the watch. As if you gave two shits about Gojo Satoru. As if you gave any shits about a guy who haunts your family name. Quiet ticks filled the air as the second passed by the numbers. One by one they were left behind. Your eyes followed the small hand as it got closer and closer to the hour. Suddenly, everything around you froze. Your fingers clicked the watch three times. 10 seconds. You glanced around trying to find the classroom you were supposed to meet in.
9…
You turned down the hallway.
8…
The area around you started to become familiar as numbers appeared beside the doors. Class room numbers. Which one were you supposed to go to again? 114? or was it 214?
7…
You reached 114. The door was locked. 214 it was.
6…
Leisurely, you paced down the hallway, taking a turn Yaga-sensei had led you before.
5…
You quickly read the signs besides the doors. 205, 206…
4…
Stopping just outside 214, you saw the reflections of life. They weren't moving, but there were shapes. Frozen in time as light created still shadows.
3…
You smiled, glancing down at the pocket watch. You flicked the case closed. Inserting the watch back into your pocket. The chain jingled. Still your finger traced the top button.
2…
You reached for the door handle. Not quite pushing it open, just waiting.
1…
Taking in a deep breath, you released your watch. The dull weight bounced in your pocket. You slid the door open.
0…
Wide eyes met yours as you stood in the door way. A half-way finished sentence spurred from Yaga's mouth. Your entrance cutting him short.
"You're late, (L/N)-san," he said.
You shook your head, pointing to the clock above the chalkboard. "I'm not late, nor am I early. I arrive exactly when I mean to."
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Tsk.
Gojo Satoru. The Strongest. Hell, he’d heard them all, but here he was waiting. Gojo hated waiting. If anything, others should be waiting for him. Did being the strongest mean nothing?
As Gojo stared at the clock above the chalkboard, his eyes rolled back into his skull. Each painfully long click of the minute hand ticked by. The harder and longer Gojo stared at the damned thing, he realized one thing. He’d never wait again. Everyone would wait for him. It’s the least they could do to make him wait for them all.
Finally, a veil of cursed energy approached the door as if by divine intervention. Gojo tilted his head, observing the energy. It was a dark purple, and he had only seen the finest and oldest wines. He was never allowed to partake of it, but still, he longed to try it. The cursed energy was rich with dark hints that alluded to something more, something hidden. Whoever the user was, they were strong. Gojo smiled. Maybe he’d find an equal of sorts in this classmate. Not that anyone could be as strong as him.
Once the door for the classroom had slid open, Gojo had already assumed the position: calm, collected, and one that screamed, “I’m the best.” There was one final detail. A smug smile. But it never appeared. A head of dark hair towered over Gojo’s sitting figure. Maybe I should have been standing. Gojo’s eyes trailed over his classmate. Their uniform was well-fitted and prim, without a wrinkle plaguing the cloth. Gojo watched as his classmate offered him a small smile before plopping into the seat beside him.
In silence, Gojo directed his attention away from his new companion and towards the window. The sun was peeking through the clouds that littered the sky, hiding away the clean blue that eased everyone’s day.
“I guess we’re both here early,” his classmate noted, slightly leaning over his desk.
“Tsk,” Gojo muttered, pulling his chair back to rest his feet on his desk. His long, bony legs lay like twine blowing through the wind. His hands were cinched together behind his head to offer his neck support. “I arrive when I want to.”
Gojo felt the dark purple eyes of his classmate watching his every move. With an inhale, they sat up and extended their hand. “I’m Suguru Getou.” Gojo only itched his nose, returning to his position. He knew he needed no introduction.
The clock above the board chimed one o’clock, the allotted meeting time. As the minute brushed past the hour hand, a pattering of footsteps echoed through the hall. Two pairs. Gojo turned his head towards the door: one familiar, the other not. The dark brown, almost green, cursed energy belonged to Yaga-sensei. The second cursed energy, alongside Yaga’s, was a yellowish green, bright and blaring. Gojo scrunched his nose, and his tongue tensed. Sour.
First stepped in Yaga-sensei, stern and stiff. Following behind him was a small girl. Her hair was a warm brown that barely brushed her shoulders. Her dark and bright eyes scanned the room, spotting the remaining two empty seats. She beamed at her classmates before hopping in the seat next to Suguru. Gojo sighed. She was weak.
Yaga-sensei placed his materials on the large wooden desk in the front of the room. His stern eyes scanned the classroom, stopping on the empty chair beside Shoko. Slowly, he looked down at his watch. The furrow between his brows grew with each passing minute.
Gojo internally groaned. What was Yaga sensei waiting for?
Suddenly, a burst of warmth enveloped his senses. The door slammed open. A warmth melted over him like chocolate on his tongue. Sweet. It had been so welcomed that Gojo was startled as a figure darted past and ran into the classroom. Cocking his brow, Gojo leaned over his desk to look at her–the final classmate. She stood confidently pointing to the clock as she conversed with Yaga on whether or not she was tardy. Gojo cocked his head to the side. Why did he only sense her right as she appeared? He carefully watched her as she found a seat beside Shoko. Did she have an accent? Why was he paying so much attention to her— Gojo shook his head, forcing himself to look away from the pecularity. He declared to himself he'd not think about her anymore. Nothing weaker than him was worth his time. She—he bit his lip. Stop thinking about her.
“I suggest we get class start, Yaga-sensei” she stated, slinking into the seat beside Shoko. Yaga sighed, and for a moment, Gojo thought he’d scold the girl, but it never came.
Instead, Yaga-sensei cleared his throat and stood up straighter than before, announcing, “Now that you’re all here. Let your first year begin.”
Suddenly, the classroom door burst open. Gojo groaned as the apparent trend grew before his eyes. This was getting bothersome. “Yaga, the principal needs a word with you,” one of the other teachers huffed.
Yaga’s jaw clenched. “Why–fine, I’m coming. You four,” he turned his attention back to the class. “Introduce yourselves. I’ll be back.” Without another word, he left the room to their own devices. For a moment, none of them spoke. Gojo made no move to begin. There was no need for introductions. He was the Gojo Satoru. The strongest, and everyone knew it.
“Geto Suguru,” Suguru smiled, looking at his classmates, finally breaking the silence between them all. “I’m a cursed manipulation user and currently a special grade.” Gojo’s ears twitched with intrigue. His six eyes were right. Glancing around the room, Suguru’s violet gaze landed on Shoko, who introduced herself next.
"Shoko Ieiri," she absently muttered, reaching into her pocket she pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "You think I can smoke?" She asked to no one in particular. Before anyone could answer, the cigarette had been lit and a puff of air snuck out her mouth. "That's better. Oh—I'm a user of reversed curse technique."
Everyone's eyebrows raised in intrigue. Gojo half-dismissed the weak allegations. Reverse curse technique was a rarity in the jujustu sorcerer world. Not quite as rare as him though, but still something to be acknowledged.
Then, last came the one-he-shall-not-think-about. One by one, they all leaned either forwards of back to get a sight of you. It seemed you could careless about who they all were. Instead spending your time and attention on your watch. Gojo frowned. Only old-geezers had watches like that.
Peeking up from her watch, she clicked it shut. "I'm guessing by the silence it's my turn?" she said. Geto nodded. “Ah, right. I'm L/N Y/N, the exchange student, and…”Gojo frowned. There was an exchange student. No wonder your Japanese had an accent.
"Where from?" Shoko wondered.
"Uh…," she seemed hesitant to respond, before shrugging off what ever obstacle seemed to stop you. "The U.S." Shoko's eyebrow quirked up.
"What's your curse technique?" Gojo found himself asking, quickly changing the tone to something between smug and I could care less.
For the first time since she entered the room she looked right at Gojo. He felt his cheek warm as he hid behind his shades. Scrunching his nose, he frowned, in turn glaring right back at you. Nothing about your curse energy seemed powerful like Geto's or even his own, but still something about it unnerved him.
"I 'm a Tenfold Pendulum user," she grinned. Everyone in the room mirrored each other's look of puzzlement. All of them wanted to ask her to explain further. They had never heard of the technique but based on the name it's been around for a while.
“What grade are you?”
“What does your technique do?” Suguru and Shoko exclaimed at the same time.
“Um…,” pulling out her student ID, she read, “ I’m a grade two? Yeah, grade two.” Gojo scoffed and slouched deeper into his seat. “As for my technique, I'll let you guys figure that one out. Keep some mystery–” Gojo’s laugh interrupted her, stealing her attention. Instead of a stunned reaction, like Gojo was expecting, she only smiled. “Sorry, I forgot I’m not the last to introduce myself.” Then, turning the floor to Gojo, she asked, “Who are you?”The tone in her voice was not one of sincerity. God, he wanted to wipe that smile off her face.
The classroom fell deathly silent as eyes bulged and gasps were stolen. Gojo blinked and then blinked again. “That’s Goj–,” Suguru tried to explain, but the sound of Gojo’s chair screeching cut him off.
Within an instant, Gojo stood above her, eyes casting down upon her. She peered at him, taking in his pure white hair and sparkling eyes. “It makes sense that a weakling like you wouldn’t know who I am.” Her eyes narrowed at his comment, making a smile twitch onto his face. “I’m Gojo Satoru–the strongest.”
"So they say."
“The strongest?” She scoffed. “Wanna bet?” Behind them, Suguru and Shoko insistently shook their heads, begging her to abandon her vendetta.
“You’re on,” Gojo gleefully grinned.
It was surprisingly easy for four students to slip out of the classroom unnoticed by the staff. Gojo and his challenger marched onward to the training field. Behind them lagged Shoko and Suguru. Shoko wriggled her fingers and wrists. Worry grew in her stomach at the thought of the upcoming fight. Knowing Gojo’s reputation, she’d have to break out her reversed curse technique sooner than she hoped. She just hoped Gojo would leave something of her classmate to heal.
By the time Suguru and Shoko reached the outskirts of the training field, Gojo and L/N stood on opposite ends of the field. They watched as Gojo tilted his head side to side, emitting a sharp crack from his neck. Taking a deep breath, Gojo couldn’t help but laugh at his opponent. He knew that the battle would be over before she could even exhale. He was the strongest, and she was weak.
“Oi!” Gojo commanded. “Give us our mark, Suguru!” Suguru sighed before hesitantly raising his hand in the air. His violet eyes glanced over at L/N. She stood confidently, unaware. Innocent and peaceful. The complete opposite of Gojo, who practically itched to put her in her place. With reluctance, he swiftly brought his hand down. The battle has commenced.
But before Gojo could even flick on infinity, even more from his spot on the opposite end of the field, she was in front of him. A smile was plastered onto her face. Why was she smiling? Suddenly, the smooth darkness of her cursed energy fluttered around him. She raised her fist and—
POW!
When Gojo came to, his face was in the dirt. His uniform was covered in dust. His cheek hurt. Groaning, he rubbed his eyes as his cursed energy slowly returned to him. Something wet trickled down his face, running down his nose. Was that blood?
Beyond the yard stood Suguru, his back straight as he stood in shock. Shoko’s stood in a similar manner. Her eyes wide, and mouth open. The cigarette she started was nowhere to be seen. They couldn't believe what had happened. Last thing they saw was Geto's hand fall and then Gojo was on the ground.
Standing above Gojo, was her. The winner. Gojo scowled as he glared up at her. The weak one. His classmate. Still she smiled at him. Her cursed energy glowed an ethereal light around her. Then he heard it. Her voice echoed over the silence of the chaos as if she were whispering in his ear.
“Looks like I beat you, Gojo.” Then, as if all time had slowed, her eyes blinked closed, and she collapsed to the ground.
It was only when Yaga-sensei stepped outside to hunt down his students that reality came crashing back down, hitting Gojo a million miles per second.
“Alright, what's going on?” Yaga-sensei tensed, and Gojo could swear he saw a vein in his teacher’s head bulge. Weakly, Suguru and Shoko raised their arms and pointed their fingers. Yaga followed the direction of their fingers and honed in on the culprit. “Gojo…” Yaga sensei growled.
Great, just great.
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Detention for two weeks. Not the worst way to start your first year, but not the best. Despite the hours of reprimanding Yaga-sensei had already given you and Gojo, it seemed Yaga-sensei would continue for the next few more.
Glancing over at the white-haired boy next to you, your pounding head drowned out the words of your teacher. You sank deeper into your seat eyeing the tissues shoved into his nose to stop the bleeding. A patch of dark purple began to form on his nose, spilling onto his cheek. Your nose twitched at the sight, maybe you should've held back a bit. However Gojo, sensing your eyes on him, glared back at you before he gracefully stuck out his tongue. You scowled, taking back your previous thought. You had hit Gojo just hard enough.
Yaga sighed, droping his head into his hands. "You two are excused—" Gojo was already out the door. His seat falling down to the ground the from speed and force of his escape. Slowly, you stood up, a hand reaching to your head as the headache from the overuse of your technique forced pain deeper into your skull.
"L/N-san," Yaga sensei called out. You turned to look back at him. "May I have a word with you?" You contorted your face to emit the biggest groan in your life, before Yaga stopped you. "It won't take long."
"Fine," you muttered sitting back down in the seat in front of his desk.
"I have been informed of the reasons behind your study here with us—"
"You mean my family's stupid fear over a guy who's been dead for—" you did some quick mental math. "Maybe not dead, but super old. But he's probably dead. Old people tend to do that."
"A fear that is well-founded," Yaga noted. "What happened to the Jujustu sorcerers who immigrated to America was…" He paused, trying to find the most reverent and respectful word to fill in the blanks. "Was horrific."
"That puts it lightly," You mumbled. Recalling all the stories your grandparents told you over the years. Instead of fairytales, you got horror stories. "But it's over. And they're still scared to death of a boogeyman."
A sharp intake of air entered Yaga's lungs. You saw the patience in the stoic man wearing thin.
"L/N-san. You are here—"
"To make connections? Befriend Gojo Satoru? Get stronger? All so I can hide when I get back?" You grumbled, brushing a hair out of your face. "They sent me here to learn about my technique but expect me to never use it again when I come home. Why—I just," you cut yourself off feeling years of residual anger and confusion at your family's insistence you hide something that was as much a part of you as the air needed to fill your lungs. Too much emotion was packed into your body, emotions not even belonging to you but that were passed down like heirlooms.
"That may be why your family sent you, something you may be adverse to, but you have a choice. You can grumble and fight, making your life difficult for the next few years, or…you can give it a try." You fought the urge to roll your eyes at Yaga's words. "You don't have to accomplish anything your family desires of you, but at least try to experience life for yourself. Who knows, you may be surprised."
Despite the cliche nature of his words, they hit you hard. Quietly, you resigned your armor and shield, not fully exposing yourself but loosening the straps that held them close to you. "I'll give it a chance, I guess." At that Yaga, let out a small smile, well a semblance of a smile, before dismissing you.
After a quick stop at the nurse's office for some pain meds, you found yourself wandering the halls of the school. The best way to know where you were going was to get lost and find your own way back, at least that is what you told yourself when you couldn't find your dorm room. It was a way to make you feel less horrible about having no sense of direction. Fatigue seeped into your bones, making your very existence heavy. You took a few more steps, before resigning to sleep on the floor.
Tucking your knees in close to your chest, you let out a long breath. It was mid-spring. Which meant the days were warm but the nights still cold. The remaining heat that clung to everything during the day now felt like a gentle hug as the cold began to seep in. The most comfortable place you found to lay was against the railing. The wooden bars, held you up as you glanced towards the sky. It was clear night. Stars littered the vast blackness. You squeezed your knees closer.
The stars, brighter from when you'd observe them back home, were still the same.
"Really? I guess I wouldn't know. I've only ever stayed in Japan," a warm voice replied.
You hadn't realized you had spoken aloud your thoughts. Turning towards the voice you saw Gote, or was is Geto? You had a hard time remembering. The headache was messing with your brain. God, you internally groaned while you made a mental note to limit sleep in time. Sensing your discomfort, Geto presented a cool drink. The wet tin can brushed your temple. Relief flooded your senses as the cold eased your pain.
"Here, drink." He said, taking a seat beside you. Not to close to invade, but just enough so you didn't have to squint to see his face. "Hydrating helps with headaches." He nodded to the drink in your hand, before revealing his own. With a hiss, it popped open and he took a gulp. You watched as his throat bobbed up and down. His hand lowered before the free one wiped away the residual drink from his lips.
It took you a moment to realize you were staring. Feeling your cheeks grow warm you were grateful it was dark out. You turned away peering at the drink now nestled in between your palms. "I'm pretty sure it's water that you're supposed to drink. Not apple soda," you noted.
Geto chuckled. "I guess, but there's gotta be some water in there, or at least a liquid."
You smiled, before shrugging your shoulders. "You make a good point," You said as you opened your drink and took a sip. The bubbles of carbonation rippled through your throat. The flavors of sugary apples weaved around your taste buds. Geto watched as you swallowed the drink, watching for any sign of dislike.
"Wasn't sure what you liked, so—" he began, but you cut him off with a wave of your hand.
"It's great. Thanks," you paused, listening to the crackles of carbonation echo in the can. "You didn't have to, you know, get me a drink. I'm sure Yaga wasn't easy on you and Shoko for going along with my…antics."
A snort of air left Geto's nose as he began to grin from amusement. "Eh, we only got a few words compared to yours and Gojo's scolding. Two weeks of detention? Or so I've heard."
You groaned, your heading dropping in between your knees. "Don't remind me." You perked back up, making eye contact with Geto and for a moment you paused. The moon had snuck up higher in the sky illuminating his features. Those dark eyes of his reflected every star in the sky. Your stomach felt bubbly. You glanced down at the drink, taking another sip to confirm the funny feeling was from the drink and not…you didn't want to finish that thought. It was too early to even be thinking about crushes. You wanted to crumple into yourself.
"You alright?" Geto asked, concerned at your sudden silence.
You sat up again. "Yep!" Your response came to quickly. You had to find a cover quickly. "I mean, sort of. Two weeks isn't bad if it was just me, but I have to do it with him. God, he's so infuriating." You mimicked a motion of strangulation, before sinking into your shoulders. You peeked over your shoulder and found Geto amused at your frustration. "Are you laughing?" You questioned.
Geto shook his head. "No—"
You eyed him. "You are. You think this is funny?"
"Kind of," He replied. You tried to scowl at him. "I mean, its just so human."
"Huh?"
"You know, Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer. I'd heard about him, but it was like an idea on a pedestal. After you punched him, I don't know, he just got real. Human. You did that. I saw he was just like us and…it's just funny how you seem to hate him."
"I'm not sure I'm following," you confessed, finding yourself shifting closer to Geto.
"Gojo Satoru is something I was told to revere. But you don't care."
"And let me guess, that makes him human," You finished.
Geto nodded. "Yeah, we all are. You know, I talked with him. He's cool. Granted he's overtly cocky, but he's just like you with your dissonance. It's a guard—"
"Are you psycho-analyzing me, Geto?" You questioned.
"Maybe I'm just good at reading people," he admitted, "but give him a chance."
You scoffed at the irony. "Funnily enough, Yaga-sensei told me the exact same thing. To give it a chance." You eyed Geto, getting lost in his eyes. "Fine, I'll give him ONE chance," you emphasized. "But I doubt he'd give one."
Geto hummed as he absorbed your words. "Well," he took a sip of his drink, "An apology might be a start."
"An apology?" You gasped. "He started it."
"But you punched him," Geto explained. "And hurt his ego, but I'm not sure you need to apologize for that." You chuckled.
A gentle silence fell over the two of you as you continued to nurse your drinks. The evening birds chirped. Their final song echoed throughout the night, providing a soothing melody to your silence. Geto finished his drink first. His hands were wet from the remaining condensation on his drink. You watched him wipe away the rest of the water as you finished your drink.
"Shall we?" Geto asked, standing up. He extended a hand to help you up.
You took his hand, coming to a stand. You muttered a quick thanks before following after him. Quietly, you trailed behind him with your hands clutching your empty drink behind your back. The bird's song grew quieter and quieter as the two of you navigated deeper into campus. Soon, you began to recognize the path to the dorms. Relief, flooded your muscles, grateful you didn't have to sleep on hard floors.
Suddenly, you bumped into Geto. Apologizing, you realized you were at your room. "Thanks," you muttered, reaching for the door knob.
Geto nodded, stepping back to let you open your door. "Goodnight, L/N-san."
"Y/N," You blurted. "Just call me Y/N. We're gonna be classmates for the next three years, so…"
"Goodnight, Y/N."
Your cheeks warmed. "Night, Geto."
"Suguru." You paused, looking at him. "It's only fair if you call me by name as well."
"Okay, night, Suguru." You briefly watched him as he walked towards his room, before shutting your door. You leaned back against the door, before flopping against your bed. The mattress sprung to adjust to your sudden weight. Snuggling one of your pillows close to your chest, you pondered the day. The medicine had kicked in easing the pain from your headache, but a new ache had arisen. It was deep in your chest nestled between your lungs and heart. Maybe you could give it a chance. Maybe you could figure out how to live for yourself instead of under the roof of fear.
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Warnings: Descriptions violence, child abuse, unhealthy family dynamics. Reader's Grandfather is not nice. Mentions of violence (Let me know if I missed any)
Author's Note: Hey guys, here's the first chapter. Sorry, no Gojo or the gang yet...but they'll be here soon. I hope you enjoy.
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April 2005
"Again."
The command echoed through the dojo before the strike arrived.
You slammed face first into the mat. The impact rattled through your skull. Your cheek scraped against eh rough woven mats. Blood already started to trickle from your nose, spilling over your lips. Or was it the cut on your cheek. Reopened from the last training session. It was getting hard to tell with all the beatings.
Training. That's what your grandfather called it. Necessary training for the next Tenfold-pendulum user. Peeling yourself off the tatami mats, you bit back a groan. Arms shook violently beneath your weight, threatening to give our. Still you swallowed every cry. Any sound, any complaint and it'd get worse. He always assured you of that. The first time you complained, he'd broken a rib. The second time, he'd left you laying on the dojo floor until sunrise. You learned by then. Even if your skin was vacant of all the purplish and blue markings of years past, its still ached. Everything did.
Across the room stood your grandfather. His stern gaze glared down at you from his pedstal of perfect posture. Not a bead of sweat had broken above his brow despite the hours you had already spent sparring. His navy robs barely stirred. The cotton fabric a dark navy blue swallowed the afternoon light. His wrinkled fingers twitched, gripping the handle of his katana tighter.
You hated how your body reacted before your mind did. The slightest twitch of his fingers made you flinch. The sheathed blade swung down once more. This time the blade froze.
One.
Eyes shot open as you rolled out of the way. The trajectory pre-written, or so you hoped. Every muscle in your body screamed of soreness to come.
Two.
A hefty breath filled your lungs. Your hands red from the coarse surface of the mat.
Three—
Your side clenched. A ripple of pain swept over you. Time resumed. The blade came down on your back. With a crack, you gasped, choking up spit. Your vision blurred. his foot burried into your stomach, flipping you over. You couldn't breath. Your lungs deciding to forget years of experience in the presence of him. Of pain.
Come on. You screamed at yourself. Fingers clawed at your throat, trying to force breath in.
"Tsk." Your grandfather scowled. Eyes reflected your trembling form as you scrambled to breath. "Again."
"Grandfather, ple—" You forced yourself onto one elbow.
The next strike silenced you. Somewhere beyond the dojo walls, the rest of the house had gone silent; holding its breath as you met the floor once more. They were listening. You knew they heard when they pretended not to. Years ago your mother had tried to stop him. When gentleness and compassion was all she knew. Your father even stood between you and him once. Neither had tried again.
"They'd rather you die in the field than suffer in this room." All for the sake of survival. That was how he justified it. "So she has a chance," he say before going back to beat you to the ground once more.
"Hold it for longer." WHACK. "Concentrate." WHACK. "He won't stop." WHACK. "Curses do not pity weakness."
A cry slipped out of your lips at the final swing. A crack echoed throughout your body. Your grandfather sighed as though you'd inconvenienced him.He crouched beside you, wiping your blood from the lacquered sheath with a pristine white cloth.Even your blood wasn't allowed to stain his belongings. His heavy steps walked over you leaving you behind.
"Fix it yourself." He uttered over his shoulder. ""If you cannot repair your own body, then you have no business calling yourself the next Tenfold Pendulum user." His footsteps moved towards the door. "And clean yourself. I won't have you sully my meal."
All you heard next was the slamming of the door and his footsteps receeded. Every second you laid there would make it harder. Laying squished into the mat, you resigned yourself to sneaking to the kitchens later. Maybe an apple or two wouldn't be missed. After a few moments catching your breath, you sat up. Your knees still shook, unable to stand. You wiped your nose.
"Shit!" you hissed. Your fingers were thickly coated in red. Not just a bloody nose. The old man had broken it. You closed your eyes. Focused, the world faded into darkness.
Your technique answered. The light in the room began to dance around you. Shadows shifted slightly from side to side. A drop of blood rose from the floor. Another climbed your chin.
Again and again you counted. Back and back. The ached inside your ribs lessened. Eyes closed you could focus better. Eyes closed. He'd beat you for that, but he wasn't here now. Dust motes sparkled as they rose back up. Then came a crack.
"Agh." Your nose snapped back into place. Then you collapsed back onto the floor. Your eyes grew heavy as the seconds returned to you. Cold sweat coated your skin. Every successful reversal felt like dragging your body through a stormy sea. People imagined time as something graceful. Ever flowing and elegant. How wrong they were. Time fought back. Every second resisted being rewritten, even if you were changing one thing. Controlling one variable.
Freezing it was easier. Holding a single moment still. Suspending movement. Pausing pain. You could do that for longer. Going forward? Your grandfather insisted it was possible. The future could be borrowed. But no one in the clan mastered every aspect of the Tenfold Pendulum. Perhaps that's why they were so desperate. Why your grandfather looked at you like an un-sharpened weapon than a granddaughter.
Eventually, you crawled from the dojo. Blood dried against your face. Your muscles screamed with every movement. No one stopped you to ask if you were alright. Servants quietly lowered their heads as you passed. Your mother watched from the end of the hallway. For a second it seemed like she'd reach out. Bandage you as she had once done years ago. When the trainings first started. When they first discovered your gift. Then she looked away, leaving you to drag yourself to your room.
The sun had fallen by the time you entered your room. You didn't bother changing clothes.You simply fell onto the bed. Sleep came slowly. As you wished sleep to visit, you dreamt. Not the kind with your eyes closed. The kind with your eyes wide open, willing reality away. You dreamed of tomorrow. Where you'd wake up and go to school. Classrooms. Friends. Memories. Futures where no ever said "again."
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The kimono was too tight. You tugged uselessly at the sleeves before giving up. Someone had spent over an hour arranging your hair into an elaborate style, decorating it with silver hairpins that pinched every time you moved. Your grandfather only dressed you like this when appearances mattered. Thoughts filled your head as you waited outside his room. Voice rumbled from behind the doors. Three of which you could make out. One was your mothers. Gentle and quiet, her voice a whisper compared to your father's hoarse voice. Their voices merged in harmony with your grandfathers. Another voice, more electric joined in. A call. It had to be. Then why did he have you dress up?
"...Gojo..."
The name slipped through the door.
"...arrangements..."
"...accepted..."
Your heartbeat quickened, fighting the urge to approach the doors. You'd be invited in when ready. Stay still until they called and there wouldn't be extra training. Although, you figured there wouldn't be any tonight since he had you dolled up. Something that only happened once in a blue moon.
"They're ready for you, Lady L/N."
You shot up in your seat. Walking into the room, you were greeted by your parents, kneeling opposite your grandfather. There was no smiles or greetings. Beside your grandfather rested a telephone. The device now hung low, back on the hook.
"Y/N," your grandfather called you over with an unusually gentle tone. Unease swept through your body. You couldn't help but gulp.
Bowing your head, you responded. "Grandfather."
"I have wonderful news." You couldn't remember the last time he had used that word. Less so for something you considered the same.
"You're parents and I have been discussing. An opportunity like no other has presented itself." You kept your head down as he continued to speak. "An old acquaintance of mine has offered you a place to come study."
Your eyes shot wide. "Study?" You couldn't help but ask. The word escaped, barely louder than a whisper. For years you begged to go to school. You wanted classmates. Teachers. Memories. To be normal. To not hide. Anything outside these walls was better. But every request was denied. It kept you safe. The family safe. Far from his eyes. And your grandfather could ensure you became a true L/N sorcerer. Now here he was offering it freely.
"It would be a great opportunity to train," your mother added. You offered her a half-hearted smile. She smiled in return. Small and practiced. You began to frown as your grandfather spoke once more.
"Tokyo Jujustu High." Your shoulders fell as your grandfather's smile grew wider. "You will study alongside the Gojo heir."
Satoru Gojo. You knew of him. There wasn't anyone in the Jujutsu Sorcerer world who didn't. The strongest sorcerer born in generations. There wasn't anyone alive who hadn't heard his name whispered with equal parts admiration and fear. Of course he'd want you to get close. Of course it wasn't about your education. About giving you what you wanted. It never had been.
Your grandfather cleared his throat. "You'll leave by the end of the week."
"What—?! I haven't even—" You exclaimed.
"You're going," Your grandfather snapped. Your mouth shut. It was an order."You will get to know the boy. Ensure the Gojo clan remains favorable toward ours."
You lowered your gaze. Not in respect or obedience. You did it to hide. The anger and hurt that rumbled beneath your skin. This wasn't freedom. You were leverage. A tool.
Your father cleared his throat. "It may also strengthen our position if…" he hesitated, eying his father. "…if the Warden ever returns."
"When will you ever admit that he's dead. The Warden—"
"Do not speak his name!" Your Grandfather chastised.
You snapped back. "No one has heard or seen from him since the war!" Your chest heaved, the hairpins coming loose from their position in your hair. "It's been years. How long are we supposed to live in fear of one man? Why can't—"
SLAP.
Your cheek burned. Fingers ghosted the surface of your cheek. Pain bloomed from where he had struck you. Slowly, you looked towards your parents. Neither of them met your eyes. Instead, adjusting the hems of their kimonos. Eyes far from acknowledging his treatment.
A shadow swallowed your figure. Your grandfather stepped closer. "You leave by the end of the week." Your fists clenched the inside of your sleeves. "You will befriend the Gojo boy. Ensure he is our ally. Ensure the future of the L/N clan." His voice became ice. Eyes bored into yours. "Understood?"
Your eyes clenched shut as your nails dug into your palms. The fabric of your kimono did little to create a barrier to your skin."Understood." The words felt foreign as they left your lips. Obedience wasn't a stranger. Just like the fear that cast a shadow over your whole family. A fear that was now forced onto you.
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Warnings: Descriptions of kidnapping, violence, littering, smoking, nod to sketchy U.S history, creepy man, mentions of bodies (not dead) (Let me know if I missed any)
Author's Note: Hey guys, as you may have noticed, this is new. Well, sort of. This is a story I once worked on, and then life and fanfic curses got to me, but I'm back and more determined than ever to continue. If you read the series before, A LOT has changed. I've added new things that I think will make the series more intriguing for the readers, but also for me as the writer. I can't wait to hear what you all think. Also, thank you for the support.
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1944 - California, United States of America
Night. A time children are taught to fear. In the dark things are not what they seem. Shadows merge with the tangible creating horrors in the mind. The others struck in the day. Made things more visible and brought the horrors to light. Not him. The whispers were louder at night. The fear more intoxicating. He wondered how much he get tonight. The terror on their faces when he—
A dark cloud of smoke oozed out from the man's mouth. He wore a sharp black uniform adorned with a few medals that glowed in the cigarette light. Glancing over at the flickering street light across from him, he inhaled the intoxicating smoke. The light flickered once. The fainting buzzing hummed as it fought to stay bright. It flickered two more times before letting the darkness of night swallow it.
A sigh left his mouth as he tapped the cigarette butt. The ashes falling outside the window, piling up on the road beneath the unmarked car. He took in one last puff before releasing the cigarette.
"You shouldn't litter—" a voice muttered. It was a woman. Her voice was gentle but trembling.
A smile crept onto the man's face, as the door to the car opened up. He climbed out letting it click shut behind him. Adjusting his uniform, he smashed the burning cigarette underneath his polished shoes. His eyes never left the woman. The street light hummed back to life, but he didn't need the illumanace to see her.
That's why he liked night best. All those things children were taught to fear, were just truths hidden by ignorance. In the darkness, one's true character showed. In the cover of night, the monsters were revealed.
"Pardon me, I am just waiting for a—" he paused eyeing how her fingers tightly clutched the sleeves of her cardigan. The grocery bag in her hand crinkled in the light breeze that began to pick up. "a friend of mine." He finished with a cool calculation. "Won't happen again."
The woman nodded. Her almond eyes darted down to the small pile of ashes at his feet. "Good. I don't want the children getting into that. There's many young ones on this street you know."
The man's grin grew colder. "I am well aware, Uta-sama. " The woman froze. The street grew quieter. The light began to flicker in and out again. The man's eyes trailed down her figure, stopping to watch the fear she tried to swallow. "However, I think there are more dangerous things on this street than," he lifted up his shoes, dusting off the cigarette ashes. "let's say a pile of ashes."
Slowly, the woman began to back away. His name but a whisper on her lips. A key flashed under the dying street lamp. The man tsked, prowling closer to Uta-sama. "Now, no need to run. I believe you know why I am here, and if so, then you know its best to cooperate." He raised his hands adjusting his leather gloves.
Uta-sama didn't give the man a second glance before running towards a nearby house. The street light went out. A high pitched scream filled the air. The light returned. The woman lay inches from her door step. The man towering over her unconscious figure as a new power surged through him. Dark whisps of energy visible to only a special eye whirled around him. Slowly, he blinked and a hellish glow filled his pupils.
Lifting her up, the man carried her towards his car. Sliding back the door, he barely glanced at the other small bodies pilled on top of the other, before throwing Uta-sama down with her unconscious children. Wiping his hands off, he slid the door closed with a disguist on his face. Removing his gloves, he leaned against the car door, and lit another cigarette before reaching into his uniform pocket. He pulled out a small notebook. Flipping through the well-worn pages, he flicked his finger, stopping on the page he needed. Like a claw, he dragged down the list of names, all crossed out, except for two.
"Uta Family - California - Sweet Dream Cursed User," it read. Carefully, he took a pen, crossing out the family name alongside all the names who belonged to the bodies in the car. Clicking his tongue, he smiled. "One left." His finger tapped beside a the remaining name.
"L/N Family - ? - Tenfold Pendulum Cursed User."
Snapping the book shut, he returned it to his pocket, slid into the drivers seat of the car, and started the ignition. Taking one last deep breath of his cigarette, he dropped it out the window. The street light flicker one last time, before leaving the street darker than it had been before.
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This isn't a chapter update, but instead a series update for Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice.
Life got crazy, I broke an ankle and tore all my ligaments... and I slowly found the motivation to write slipping from my fingers. But here I am with news. I am rewriting the series/what I have so far, and changing quite a bit of information. I think that it'll be more fun and intriguing from here on out. My plan is to get at least a four-chapter head start before I post the updated first chapter. So if any of you are interested in reading that, I'd love your support. If not, thanks for being here. I loved having you along for the journey.
You were a sorcerer once, a student at Tokyo Jujutsu High alongside Gojo, Geto, and Shoko. Then you died.
Years later, you come back—alive, but not unchanged. Everyone has questions, and you don’t have the answers. What lingers is quieter, harder to name: the shadow of your family’s legacy, the weight of generational scars you never truly outran.
OR
You begin your studies at Tokyo Jujutsu High. Just another student learning to fight curses, forge friendships, and find their place. But even then, something about you carried a heaviness others noticed but couldn’t define. And though the past seems distant now, a darker threat waits just ahead—one that will prove your death was only the beginning.
:)
Chapter Index: 2/?
* (I'm not sure how long this fic will be, but I'll update as I go.)
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Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two: Coming Soon!
Chapter Three: Coming Soon!
Chapter Four: Coming Soon!
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