AleBrasil

“i fear for her safety,” he had told him, his tone uncharacteristically vulnerable. 

choso had only nodded, understanding. the king was aging and his daughter was his only heir. and with talks of an assassin roaming the capital animating taverns and tea parties, it was only natural for the land’s ruler to do anything in his power to keep you protected. 

and so, the large doors of the great hall opened and choso entered, head held high, suddenly feeling the hefty weight of the sword hanging on his hips. the sun rays slithered their way through colored glass, falling in strips across the floor, crossing the path he was walking. 

he took in the castle guards lining up the walls, the few, rare servants that were allowed to witness the ceremony. he could practically hear the inaudible whispers of the nobles, the lords and ladies murmuring between themselves as they questioned why this was occurring now of all times. at the foot of the dais stood his commander and the high priest, quietly observing the scene. 

choso stopped a few feet before them, standing straight, the breeze slipping through the open windows, stirring loose strands of overgrown dark hair around his face. carefully, he bent down to one knee, unsheathing his sword and placing it onto his open palms, offering it up to his king and princess.

the room remained silent for a few minutes, the only sound his ears could perceive being that of birds chirping, the squires training in the yard, the hustle and bustle of the town’s market.

“sir choso,” the king’s voice finally broke the stillness of the hall. “you have served the crown with great loyalty and even greater honor. i charge you now with a duty above all others and appoint you as my daughter’s – the princess – sworn protector. do you, sir choso, accept to guard her life with yours and let her safety be your oath?”

choso remained quiet, catching the sound of your heels clicking on the limestone, slow and steady as you walked down the stairs and stood before his kneeling form. 

slowly, he tilted his chin up, stray strands of his bangs falling over his face as he looked up at you.

“before the Lord, the king, and this court, i swear my sword and my life to the princess,” choso started, his mouth suddenly dry as his eyes met yours. 

choso has never wavered in his life. not once. 

and yet it was taking everything in him to maintain your gaze and deliver his oath. his tongue felt heavy in his mouth, his throat bobbing as he swallowed harshly and he momentarily wondered if his king didn’t specifically hand him this duty knowing how burdensome it was for him to be in your presence. wondered if his king knew how heavy his heart felt whenever he was around you.

“i swear to defend you with my blade, my body and blood,” he finally spoke up again, his voice low, almost reverent. “while i draw breath, no harm shall reach you.”

he didn’t look at the tiara resting on your head, didn’t glance at the throne where your father sat. the sun slipping through the windows caught onto his eyes and the glassiness of them, the slight tilt in his eyebrows, the way he parted his lips and closed them again. hesitant. 

and the way he looked up at you, dark pools glistening with something akin to longing. something close to veneration.

you nearly forgot the people standing around you, still watching. almost forgot to breathe in the moment. 

“this,” choso added, his tone raw at the edges, “i vow, on my honor as your knight and my soul before the heavens.”

you didn’t trust your voice. it was stupid, really. you were only supposed to accept his vows. and yet, no word came out of your mouth as you stood quietly before him, finding yourself unable to just look away and take a moment to gather your thoughts. 

instead, your hand slowly rose from your side, palm down as you brought it up to his face, knuckles brushing against the curve of his mouth.

his sword was placed on the ground and you noted how cold his fingers were as he gently wrapped them around your scorching skin. you noticed the surprise in his eyes before he complied. felt the slight tremble of his lips as they pressed against the back of your palm, feather-light. 

choso had always found that being a knight gave him a purpose and, for as far as he could remember, he’d dedicated his life to this path. even more so after the tragic death of his parents, leaving him as the sole heir of the kamo household, looking after all of his siblings who were far too young to understand why mother and father weren’t coming back. 

and, while growing up, although most of the nobles surrounding him looked at him with nothing but pity in their eyes, he’d never felt sorry for himself. never allowed himself to be. everything he’d do, he had decided, would be for his beloved brothers.

choso, however, found himself now questioning if knighthood was really meant for him. 

keeping his distance from you has always been easy. his duties, up until recently, mostly consisted of guarding the castle, going on expeditions or even escorting the king during his travels. sure, sometimes, he’d catch sight of you walking around the garden with your lady-in-waiting. or maybe he’d be assigned to accompany you to events you were required to attend. 

but it’s always felt like there was a gaping chasm between both your worlds. you’ve always felt so close, yet so, so far from him. 

even now, truth be told, he thought, staring at the wooden surface separating the both of you.

his duties for today were over. he knew that. after wishing you a restful night, he’d watched you go into your room alongside your handmaidens who closed the door behind you. he was supposed to leave. make his way downstairs and call up another knight to keep watch until the morning. 

despite fearing that he might succumb to his deeply buried desires, he couldn’t bring himself to turn around and go back to his quarters, his hand pressing against the door, ears catching the sound of your laughter behind it, albeit muffled. 

you’ve always sounded so bright. you’ve always been glowing in his eyes.

his world has been nothing but engulfed in a fog he couldn’t traverse, a tunnel he couldn’t find his way out of. he’s gotten accustomed to the blood on his hands and the grime on his face and the darkness slowly engulfing his soul. he could have almost found comfort in all of it if it weren’t for the small gleam of hope you hung over his head cruelly. 

choso wasn’t one to let his emotions lead him. and he certainly wasn’t one to be deluded. but God, was he almost sure that his feelings were returned. 

because there was no other explanation to the softness of your smile when you’d address him, far from the practiced, polite ones you’d offer most of the people surrounding you. nor was there any as to how you’d look at him, past all of his battles and the war waging in his mind and the grimness of his existence. 

because there had to be a meaning as to why you’d reserve some of your morning strolls to walk around the training ground and gaze at him while he’d teach his squire. or why you’d sneak to the kitchens in the midst of the same nights he’d be doing his rounds, claiming that you hadn’t eaten enough at dinner and asking him to not tell on you. 

and he’d oblige you, every time. how could he not, with the way you’d look up at him and the sheepish smile you’d give him and how your finger would press against your lips, having him promise that this would remain a secret between the both of you. 

how he wished he could share more of those with you. 

“sir choso?” 

the knight nearly jumped, the hand he had against your door falling to his side as your handmaidens hurried out of your room, leaving the both of you alone. the hallway fell silent, and all choso could do was stare like an idiot, eyes raking over the bareness of your face and the softness of your undone hair and the delicate fabric of your nightgown that cascaded down to your ankles. 

he wasn’t sure he was allowed to see you like this. he didn’t think he was. 

“weren’t you leaving for the night?” you asked him, startling him out of the trance he was in. 

clearing his throat, he stood straighter, suddenly feeling tense under your curious gaze. 

“my apologies, princess,” he started, the timbre of his voice lower. quieter. “i’d just feel more at ease if i stood guard for a little longer.”

choso knew his reasoning was stupid. all the knights that were assigned to ensure your protection were the most skilled ones in the kingdom. there was no reason for him to be worried. nor was there any for him to lie straight to your face. 

a small laugh was the only answer he got from you and something in his gaze shifted. something softened as he looked down at your tired features and the brightness of them. 

“i see,” you mused, taking a step back. “well, i know i’ll have a restful night now,” you teased the slightest bit before grabbing ahold of the handle. 

before you could slip back inside, before he could even think of what he was doing, choso stepped into the doorframe, hand resting against the surface as he pushed the door open again.

your head whipped up in surprise, eyes wide. your lips parted, trying and failing to think of something to say. but the words died in your throat at the bare sight of him and the way his head hung low, shadows casted over his face by his long bangs and a heaviness to his gaze you have been afraid to name for the longest time. 

choso wasn’t one to be led by his emotions. and he certainly wasn’t one to act on impulse. but God, was it getting harder and harder for him to keep all of his sorrows to himself. 

“i have served your father for as long as i could remember,” he spoke, his voice a mere whisper in the dead of the night. “and i have never once regretted my decision and yet–”

he cut himself off, fingers pushing his hair away from his face in a way that almost read as frustrated. you could almost read the conflict happening behind his eyes, could almost feel the weights he had carried this far, the flame of the candles illuminating the hallway casting a warm glow over his mournful gaze. 

“i have nothing to offer you,” choso tried again, his voice trembling as he took another step forward. 

you didn’t move away, tilting your chin up, letting him get closer to you. and it tore him apart, really, how you looked at him so concerned. so worried about him that he couldn’t help but hope that you’d feel the same as him. 

“i have no titles, no lands and no names,” he breathed out, like it cost him everything to even voice his thoughts out. “but i’d follow you wherever you’d go and i’d do whatever you’d command.”

his words were rushed, like the way he impulsively grabbed your hand and pressed it against his chest, right above his wildly beating his heart. 

“every breath i draw, every beat of my heart, i’ll hand them to you. if you’ll have them,” he nearly pleaded, lashes batting away tears he never imagine he could shed. 

“i’ll give you my soul. if you’ll have me. so please–”

choso couldn’t find it in him to finish. he couldn’t find anymore words suitable enough, couldn’t help the small cracks in his voice nor the way he immediately nuzzled into the hand you brought up to his cheek. his fingers wrapped around your wrist, keeping your hand against his face, holding onto you like a lifeline. 

gently, his lips pressed against your palm, trailing down the delicate expanse of your wrist. it felt like he was branding your skin, the heat traveling up your arm and forming a pool at the pit of your stomach. and you felt your heart jump out of its cage when your eyes met his half-lidded ones, finding nothing in them but a hunger he had suppressed for far too long. 

choso drew out a shaky breath, his hand dropping yours as he shook his head, realization slowly hitting him. he shouldn’t be here. he shouldn’t be doing this. but before he could turn around and before you could miss this chance, you called out to him again. 

“didn’t you say you were going to stay?” you asked him. 

choso knew better than to listen to you. he knew better than to be a slave to his desires. and yet, he found himself unable to refuse you or the pleading look in your eyes. 

he took another tentative step forward. you took one back, letting him into your space, letting him place a hand around the curve of your waist, letting him close the door behind him. your spacious bedchambers suddenly felt cramped, the chilly, summer breeze drawing goosebumps all over your skin. 

you didn’t speak, watching his eyebrows furrow and his eyes shut tight for a split second. his throat bobbed, mouth drying up. slowly, his head dipped, forehead pressing against yours, his thumb drawing warm circles over your flimsy nightgown. 

“tell me to stop,” he implored.

you couldn’t bring yourself to.

© mimi-sunny — all rights reserved. do not translate, plagiarize or feed into ai.

"no..i can't...anymore-" you said, a sharp gasp cutting you off as he pressed himself as deep as possible, you squeaked quietly as he grinded into you so the tip of his dick was kissing the deepest part of your cunt it could reach.

"you're doing a pretty good job to me." he said, grunting a bit as he felt your pussy clench around him again.

you propped yourself up a bit using your elbows, turning your head as best as you could to look back at him. the look on your face...your pouted lips still swollen from his kisses, the way your eyes looked at him so desperately...you meant for the look to convince him to show mercy on your poor pussy, but it only made him wanna fuck you harder. you were so beautiful to him.

"fuck...you can take it." he said under his breath, leaning down to kiss your lips again before starting to fuck you with the same brutal pace as before.

"just a little more..." he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

you pushed your face back down into the sheets, feeling your next orgasm building up until...

BUZZ BUZZ.

your phone that was resting on the bed not far from you was buzzing. you lifted your head up to see your husbands name flashing on your phone screen, he was calling. of course now of all times...

"shit..." you breathed out, reaching for your phone only for hiromi's hand to beat you to it.

he pressed the power button on the side of your phone twice, instantly declining the call.

"leave it." he said, his voice a bit more intense than soft like before.

before you could respond, your phone began ringing once more, you reached for it again,

"But, he might-"

he then grabbed your phone and tossed it somewhere across the room. your jaw dropped as you heard the dull thud of it making contact with something. you weren't sure if it broke or not, but the noise that sounded once it made impact with whatever object it hit definitely didn't seem good...

"i said leave it. you're busy." he said, as if he didn't literally just chuck your phone across the room...

"i doubt the man wants to hear how hard i'm fucking his wife."

and he left it at that.

you didn't have much time to complain before he started fucking you again.

hiromi never asked the cliche 'do i fuck you better than your husband?' during sex with you. he knows he does. besides, he didn't wanna bring him up at all if he could help it. he'd rather pretend like the guy doesn't exist for as long as his conscience allows.

after a few minutes, hiromi felt the feeling of his cock twitching from inside you. with how wet you were from being so turned on, and how your tight pussy seemed to be sucking him in, he knew he was done for. he couldn't last any much longer.

"gonna fill you up. fuck...that alright?" he asked, panting as his hips stuttered a bit, close to cumming in you right then and there but always wanting to ask you first (even thought the answer was always yes). You hummed and nodded, almost frantically,

"god- yes...please.." you said, not caring how pathetic you probably sounded, you just wanted to feel him cum inside you already.

just hearing your voice sounding like that pushed him over the edge.

he pressed his hips against your ass with a low groan, cursing under his breath. pleasure clouded his brain as his hot cum shot deep inside of you, you let out a shaky breath as you felt it.

he stayed like that for a few moments, swirling his hips ever so slightly as if making sure every drop of cum got into you, earning a quiet whine from you.

he eventually slowly pulled out of you, cum immediately spilling out and running down your legs.

"...fuck." he swore under his breath at the sight, leaning down to leave a few kisses down your bare sweaty back.

he gently patted your ass before collapsing next to you,

"good job."

you were both panting to catch your breath, the sheets practically sticking to both of your sweaty bodies.

as your mind cleared, you heard your phone buzzing from somewhere in the room in the direction that he had chucked it in. hiromi sighed, he had secretly hoped he threw that thing hard enough that it would break...

your husband always seemed to be bothering you. did that man have no shame? he was always calling you nonstop, it irked hiromi BAD. but hiromi supposed he couldn't blame your husband for wanting to know where you were all the time, you were actually cheating on him after all.

hiromi watched with a sigh as you got out of bed, expecting you to go looking for your phone to answer your husband's call, but instead you walked into the bathroom to clean up a bit.

when you emerged a few minutes later, you climbed back onto his bed, about to lay next to him before pausing a bit.

"...there's a dent in your wall now." you said, pointing to where the headboard was.

hiromi smiled a bit, not even concerned in the slightest about it.

"don't worry about it. come here."

you crawled over to him, settling yourself to lay right on top of him, leaning down and kissing him.

hiromi's arms slid around your waist, making sure to pull you closer so that your tits were squished against his chest. he liked the feeling.

when you broke the kiss, his tired eyes gazed up at you as if you were the most perfect being on earth.

"...stay the night." he said, tracing a finger up your back.

you smiled down at him, his heart fluttered. fuck...he was so whipped.

"i was already planning on it."

ughh higuruma i would cheat on my husband for you too...

He loves you as though you're woven into the very cycle of life, as though you're the atoms that make up the air in his lungs, as though you're the very cataclysmic explosion that gave birth to the universe.

And it's the most exhilarating thing he has ever felt.

(It's dying. It's living.

It's heaven. It's hell.)

"And you don't have to feel the same way," he smiles, eyes downcast. "I just wanted to let you know."

He can feel your eyes on him, shocked no doubt. To be fair, he didn't mean to spring this on you.

All you did was ask if he wanted to accompany you to the nearest convenience store and somehow the two of you ended up trapped in the awning of the store where there was a sudden downpour. You had laughed and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him headfirst into the rain ("Have some fun, Okkotsu!"), and you just looked so divine, laughing as the rain soaked your uniform and hair.

Now, here he was, pouring the oceans that are his feelings for you, waiting anxiously for your reply. It's been a while since he has laid out his chest bare and he feels the claws of anxiety sink into his skin. (He feels like Mr. Darcy—that was his name, yes?—in the pouring rain. Except he is no Mr. Darcy and you are a deity descended from the heavens.)

The only sounds are your heavy breathing and the pitter-patter of the rain on the pavement. With every passing silent moment, he wants to summon Rika and command her to kill him on the spot. His white uniform sticks to his body, the rain clinging to the strands of his dark hair.

(He looks like a martyr awaiting your judgment—head bowed and hands trembling at his side.)

"I—" you start, and his already tense shoulders tense up even more.

Please don't look at me with pity. Please don't say you're sorry. Please say we can still be friends. Please. Please—

"I like you too."

It seems as if he has been crucified and resurrected. His head snaps up, eyes wide, wet lashes framing the stunned disbelief on his face and you're standing there with your wet clothes and hair plastered on your forehead, a halo, a crown. (Is this what Mary felt when she saw Archangel Gabriel?). The rain has faded into the background and he wants to hear those words—his scripture—once again.

"What?" His voice cracks on the single syllable. Pathetic, yes, but he can't bring himself to care.

You step closer. You were already close from before but now you're close, close enough for him to feel the warmth that oozes out of you, close enough to feel your breath on his lips, close enough to be blessed by the Almighty.

"I said," you draw out the syllables, a hand coming to cup his face. "I like you, Okkotsu, keep up. I thought special grades were supposed to be quick on their feet?"

And then your mouths meet and he feels his body rejoice. The world ends and begins. There was light in the vast darkness. A supernova and the start of stellar evolution. Your lips are warm despite the rain's cold and you taste faintly of the soda you were drinking earlier—and his lungs collapse for a moment.

His hands hover awkwardly before they find solace in your waist, clutching your wet uniform. His grip is tight, anchoring himself before he starts floating towards the heavens from the overwhelming sense of euphoria that thuds against his ribcage.

You like him, you like him, you like him—!

When you pull away, a cry rips out of his throat and he immediately tries to chase after your lips, and you laugh—a small puff of breath that warms his cold lips. His cursed energy swirls around you in a frenzy—its wide expanse on the edge of swallowing you whole.

"Do you get it now?" you tease. "Was that so hard to comprehend?"

"I love you." A prayer, a hymn, a litany. "I love you, I love you, I love you—"

"Okay, okay," you hush him with an index finger to his lips but you're smiling. "I heard you the first time, Okkotsu."

He pulls you into his chest, his face buried into your crown. His hands wrap around you more tightly and you squeak in protest. The rain still kisses the ground and the convenience store in the distance emits tiny jingles from its automatic doors. The skies roar with a faint thunder.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he confesses, pulling away to see your heavenly face (but his grip is unrelenting). "Ever since you smiled at me in first year. I thought—"

"Shh." Your hands come around his back, fingers digging into the now-translucent material of his uniform. "You need to calm your cursed energy."

Who is he to disobey? It's supposed to be easy—he trained with Miguel for goodness sake but his cursed energy always goes out of control when you're near, but still he tries to keep it at bay. He presses a kiss to your hair, to your temple, to the shell of your ear—each touch a promise of his devotion to you.

God, Yuta loves you.

Okkotsu's sweet.

Like candy that'll melt on your tongue, the peach juice on a hot summer day, the pollen to a bee. Simple, quick and relieving. He's good on the eyes too, which is an added bonus.

But he kneels at an altar you didn't know you built. Every word an offering, every touch a devotion. You don't know how to feel—is he putting you on a pedestal or is this simply how he loves? But you don't get an answer, and you're not sure if you want to know.

"Itadori-kun, this looks really good." Your mouth waters at the sight of the lasagna the third-year has presented to you. You are not a huge fan of foreign food but, hey, if your underclassmen asked if you would like some food (ignoring the fact it's two in the morning and it's just you two alone in the kitchen), who are you to turn him down?

Itadori's cheeks match the pink of his hair at your praise. "Thanks, Yumeno-senpai!"

You take a seat next to Itadori on the counter and twirl your fork. "You know, you can just use my first name. We've known each other long enough."

Itadori scratches the back of his neck. "Ah, but Yumeno-senpai has a nice ring to it, don't you think? And it's way more respectful! You are a fourth year and my grandfather always told me to respect my upperclassmen."

You sling an arm around his shoulders. "Itadori-kun, you really are too nice for this world." You take a bite of the lasagna. "And a good cook! Wow, this is really good!"

"Really!?" His face lights up like you've told me he's just won the lottery. "I was worried about the seasoning. Kugisaki always tells me I never do it right and Gojo-sensei always says I need to add more salt."

"That man only eats sugar so never trust him with any food opinions," you say sagely. "Actually, don't trust any of the advice he sells as life-changing."

Itadori laughs and it's bright, easy.

The conversation flows easily after that. You understand why the other third years stick to him like glue. Itadori really is sunshine made manifest.

You talk about nothing and everything—his latest mission with Kugisaki and Megumi (apparently the girl almost exorcised the sea-urchin than the curse due to the similarities in looks), Maki throwing a cursed tool at Inumaki and Panda when they ate her portion for lunch, and apparently Itadori trying to bake because of wanting to "expand my range".

"You're going to make someone very happy someday," you say as you finish the last bite, letting out a contented sigh.

His face turns a tiny bit red. "Senpai!"

"What? It's true?" You ruffle his hair and he leans into the touch like a puppy (if Itadori ever turned into a puppy, you'd steal him away). "Any girl or guy would be lucky."

"Well. . ." He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly interested in the empty plate on his lap. "I don't really think about that stuff. There's too much going on, you know? With everything that has happened so far . . ."

Ah. You look at the younger boy and his tight expression and yours softens. You bump your shoulder with his. "Well, when you're ready, they'll be lucky."

Itadori smiles and it reaches his eyes this time. "Thanks, senpai."

The clock strikes three when you and Itadori finally part ways after washing the dishes. The fourth year dorm area is silent save for the distant humming for the vending machine and the buzzing of the cicadas.

You stop when you feel that familiar state of overwhelm bind your shoulders and slithers all around you, and at the end of the hallway. You stop and spot a figure you weren't supposed to see for another two days. Okkotsu.

The poor guy looks awful—his uniform is rumpled and the bags under his eyes seem even darker even with the dim lighting in the hallway. Yet when your gazes meet, his entire face transforms and the exhaustion melts away, and his eyes come back to life.

"Yumeno." He sounds relieved to be saying your name. He quickly makes his way to you, a gentle smile tugging on the edge of his lips. "What are you doing up at this hour? You should be asleep."

"I should be asking you that," you say, tilting his chin to inspect any damages. None. As expected from a special grade sorcerer. "You weren't supposed to be back until the end of the week. Gojo-sensei said it was a heavy mission."

"Finished early," he hums, his hands coming up to place it on his cheeks. "Wanted come back and see everyone. Wanted to see you."

Such a simple and honest yet loaded answer. That's Yuta Okkotsu for you.

Before you can give an answer, you hear footsteps behind you and feel Itadori's cursed energy (which you can describe as straightforward). You immediately drop your hands from Okkotsu's face.

"Yumeno-senpai! Wait—oh!" Itadori comes to a halt and you turn around to find him holding a phone. Your phone. "I think we swapped our phones while eating and doing the dishes. Mine has a Gintama keychain and this one has a—"

"Totoro charm," you finish, fishing out your pocket and, sure enough, Gintoki Sakata is hanging from the phone you just fished out. "Oops. Sorry about that."

"No worries." Itadori hands you your phone and seems to notice Okkotsu. "Oh! Okkotsu-senpai, you're back early. How was the mission?"

"It was alright." Okkotsu smiles at the underclassmen. His energy is infectious despite it being three in the morning. "Thank you for keeping Yumeno company, Itadori-kun."

Itadori, bless his oblivious heart, just waves him off with a shake of his head. "It was nothing. I just made some lasagna and she found me cooking so she ate it. She said she liked it though!"

"Huh. . ." Okkotsu's eyes wander back to you and you ignore his gaze, smiling at Itadori instead and bidding him a good night and to sleep well for training in the morning. The salmon-haired boy waves goodbye to you and Okkotsu before continuing down his merry way.

There's a moment of silence before you speak: "Your cursed energy is going haywire."

Okkotsu has the decency to look sheepish and you feel the oppressive weight of his cursed energy pacifies slightly—not fully when you're near.

"Sorry," he apologizes, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just . . . I—I wasn't expecting you to be with Itadori so late."

The implication isn't lost on you. You could address it, and ask why his cursed energy felt like it was about to blow up the entire dormitory building at the sight of you with the pink-haired underclassman.

You don't. You look the other way instead and start walking to your door and Okkotsu is hot on your heels.

The walk to your dorm is short but Okkotsu makes it feel like a pilgrimage. His long legs match your pace perfectly and his pinky is hooked around yours.

"You didn't have to come back so quickly," you say. "You could've stopped by some hotel instead of coming all the way back to Tokyo."

"I wanted to." He turns to look at you and his expression is soft, earnest. "There were a plethora of curses but it was nothing I couldn't handle. Miguel came by from Africa during the second day, and said my control is getting better."

"Yet I'm the exception."

His pale face tints with pink. "That's different."

"Really?"

He stops walking and you stop too, turning to face him. The moonlight that seeps from the window spills onto the angles of his face, highlighting the face you've come to admired all these past years. "You're different. You know why."

There is it again—the altar, the pedestal. You're not sure if you deserve to be placed on it.

(But you're also not sure if you want to come down from a high place.)

You say nothing and tug on his hand this time as you lead him to your room, ignoring the reverence in his words. You stop in front of your door and Okkotsu stands behind you like he's waiting to be dismissed.

"Okkotsu."

"Mm?"

"Why do you look at me like that?"

He has the audacity to blink and look confused. "Like what?"

You turn to face him, a deadpan expression on your face. Surely, he can't be this oblivious but you really don't want to be dealing with feelings at three in the morning when the person in front of you looks like he's going to pass out any second now.

"Never mind." You pull him down by the collar to your height and stare at all his pathetic, mighty glory. Okkotsu's eyes widen but he leans in closer.

"Yumeno—" he breathes your name as if it's something unspeakable.

You seal your lips with his.

Okkotsu makes a broken sound against your mouth and his hands find your waist immediately, gripping the fabric of your sleep shirt. His grasp is secure (you're the only thing keeping him from drowning yet he drowns into you). He guides you backward until your back hits the door, and the impact makes you gasp, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

His lips are chapped from the mission, no doubt from the cold wind, but they're so soft, they're so eager. He kisses you like he's terrified this will be the last time, he kisses you like he's trying to memorize what you feel against his lips, he kisses you like he's trying to fuse you two in one soul. (Maybe he is.)

Your fingers thread through the tresses of his dark hair and tug lightly. He says your name into your mouth and you feel his hands slide from your waist to your lower back, trying to eliminate every atom in existence that puts a distance between him and you.

One of your hands stays in his hair while the other traces the line of his jaw and he leans into the touch. Your mouth trails from his lips to the corner of his jaw and you feel him shudder against you. He gasps, murmuring your name as his head falls back to give you more access.

You pepper kisses against his pulse point and you feel it jump beneath your mouth before you bite on his pretty neck and he whines. Actually whines. The sound goes straight to you.

But you're both standing in the middle of the hallway and anyone could walk by and you know if Gojo-sensei would ever find out about this, the white haired nuisance won't let it go. You reluctantly pull back and the sight of Okkotsu is something you want burned into your retinas.

His dark hair is mussed from your fingers. His lips are swollen and slick with the spit you two just shared. His cheeks are flushed a pretty pink that trails all the way down to his neck. His eyes are half-lidded, dazed and looking at you like you're the answer in every prayer he has sent (to him, you are).

"You should rest," you say, voice steady despite the rendezvous you two just shared. "You just got back from a mission."

"I don't want to leave yet." His hands are still on your lower back, fingers slipping under your shirt to trace mindless patterns on your back. "Can I stay a little longer? Please?" His voice is a plea, a beg.

Really, you should say no. A good person would have told him to go back to his room and sleep and to take care of himself. That's what a good person should do.

But you're not a good person. Not really.

"Five minutes," you concede and his face lights up like you've gifted him the world.

He presses a kiss to your forehead and his lips linger there, his cursed energy settles into something akin to a weighted blanket wrapping around you like a second skin.

"Thank you," he whispers against your skin.

You don't know what he's thanking you for. The kiss? The five minutes? Existing? Knowing Okkotsu Yuta, it's probably all three. Without thinking, you unlock your door behind you and lead him inside not before connecting your lips with his sweet ones.

Okkotsu is sweet. Like cake fluffing itself inside your mouth, sugar dissolving in your mouth, the honey to a bear.

But there's only so much sweetness you can handle before you get sick of it.

The next morning, you find yourself in a three-way with Megumi and Maki.

Not like that.

It's more like getting your ass handed to you.

Maki's katana almost slices your ear off but you manage to duck and immediately have to narrowly avoid the shadow portal Megumi has summoned on the ground specifically for you. Megumi summons Rabbit Escape and you have to lead them back into the shadow he made before you get toppled over by a bunch of furry animals. Oh, you're so killing that asshat.

"You're getting sloppy, Yumeno!" Maki barks, spinning her katana for another strike.

"You try dodging a shikigami and a cursed tool at the same time," you mutter but you're grinning as you dodge another attack, the katana only grazing your cheek this time before you push Maki's solar plexus.

Megumi forms a hand sign. "Divine Dog: Totality."

"Megumi Fushiguro, you fucker—"

The dog (if you can even call it that) appears and growls before lunging at you and you have no choice but to run. Maki uses the distraction to grab you by the arm and slam you on the ground, the katana's tip pointed at your throat. The beast summons back into the shadows, and you groan.

"Yield," Maki says.

"I yield." You laugh as she removes the katana and you sit up, glaring at the sea-urchin. "You traitor. I taught you how to skip stones and this is how you repay me?"

He quirks an eyebrow. "You also threw me into a koi pond to see if I could summon my shikigami from drowning."

"Excuses, excuses. Show some respect for your upperclassmen."

Maki snorts, offering a hand. You take it, letting her pull you up before the three of you call it a truce. Megumi hands you a water bottle and you take it with a small bump on the shoulder. The morning sun spins happily and the cicadas have started their song.

"You were distracted," Maki says suddenly to you just as you were chugging down your water.

"I wasn't."

"You yielded. That usually doesn't happen."

"Well, it happened," you say, rolling your neck. "Besides, I didn't have a good sleep."

Maki hums, unconvinced but drops it. Megumi frowns and hands you a protein bar he had in his pocket. You smile at the younger boy and take it.

"You should take a nap before the briefing," he says. "Gojo will talk for hours before we can even know what we're dealing with."

"Jeez, for someone who is so stuck up his own ass all the time, you worry too much."

"I'm just—"

"I'm fine, Megumi.

He doesn't push and sighs. You grab his hand and give it a quick squeeze to reassure him. Maki sends Megumi to grab some towels from the nearby storage shed and it's just the two of you. She drinks her water, staring off into the distance with her sharp eyes. Maki has always been direct and impossible to bullshit. It's one of the many things you respect about her and it's also what makes conversations, sometimes, so tedious.

"So," she says, finally. "You and Yuta."

It's not really a question. Not when Maki knows the answer, but you humor your friend anyway. "What about him?"

"I saw him leave your room this morning."

Ah. Well, five minutes turned into five more and then another five more until you had to shove the special grade sorcerer out of your room. Maki's always been an early riser so of course she would've seen Okkotsu stumbling out of your door with mussed hair, a rumpled uniform and that stupid lovesick expression on his face.

"What about it?"

Her jaw tightens. It's not visible to most people but you've known her long enough to see her tiny tells.

"Are you dating?" she asks bluntly.

Straight to the point. That's the Maki you know and love.

You consider the question. Are you and Okkotsu dating? You let him kiss his whole life into your doorways and press his devotion against your skin. But dating implies something mutual. Something, dare you say, equal. But you're not sure if you're ready to give all of yourself to him just like how he readily handed his to you.

"No," you say, voice bored. "We're not. We're just friends."

Maki blinks, caught off-guard by your reply but then again you're not exactly a conventional person. "Friends. Right."

"We're not that close, Maki."

"You know how he feels about you," she says slowly. "Everyone knows."

"Okkotsu feels a lot of things," you laugh softly. "Look how he cursed his childhood friend. Besides, his feelings are not my responsibility."

(Another lie. Or maybe it's the only truth you've said to Maki today. You're not really sure. All you know is that Yuta Okkotsu loves you like a drowning man loves air, and you're standing on the shore watching him struggle, occasionally letting him breathe just to keep him alive.

It's cruel. You know it's cruel.)

Maki is quiet for a long moment before she nods, voice carefully steady. "I see."

You're not blind. You've seen the way Maki looks at Okkotsu like he's precious. She gets softer around him—sure, it's wrapped around her signature stiffness but you and the other fourth-years can detect it. You've seen the way she speaks around him—in a tone that goes beyond the simple border of friendship.

(And, yet, here you are, holding Okkotsu's heart in your hands, squeezing just hard enough to bruise. It's not your fault. He's the one who handed it to you on a silver platter.)

"I found the towels," comes Megumi's voice and he emerges into your view with a stack of towels. "Took longer because someone put it on the top shelf."

"That was probably Panda," Maki says.

You take a towel and press it in your face. The fabric smells like laundry detergent and o the times when you were just younger, before exorcising curses and the complexity that is your feelings. You push those thoughts away when your phone buzzes in your pocket. You fish it out to see a message from Gojo.

Gojo Satoru (DO NOT ANSWER!!): 🥰😍Mission briefing in twenty minutes! You AND Megumi! Come to my office! Don't be late or I'll tell everyone about the time you tripped and ate dog shit in front of a guy you found attractive. 💩💖💞

Megumi peers over your shoulder and you see the amusement settle into his pretty eyes when he reads your message.

"Don't laugh!" You put a hand on your hip and glare at the boy.

"I'm not."

"Sure, Megumi, and I haven't known you since we were kids."

A beat. Then, a barely perceptible twitch on the corner of his mouth. It's the closest thing to laughter you'll get from him in public, and you take it for what it is—he is yours in a way no one else is. Your best friend. Your shadow. The same idiot who called you by your surname for months just to piss you off because you spilled coffee on his favorite movie's CD.

"Well, I'll be going." Maki raises a hand. "Try not to let Gojo's idiocy affect you anymore, Yumeno."

"I'll try, my beautiful Maki-chan."

"Next time, I'll slice your head off."

"Aw, I love you too!"

She snorts. You laugh and bid the girl goodbye, watching her walk away. You catch the way her shoulders are just a little stiff, her grip on the katana a little too tight. Ah, you did that. You didn't really give her an honest conversation, but you really don't like talking about Okkotsu.

(He tastes like sugar on your tongue. The problem is you're not the only one tasting it, but unlike you, Maki would probably savor every last drop.)

Oh, well. You have more important matters to tend to. Such as Gojo's briefing. Despite the emojis he sent like the millennial that he is that made you not want to attend out of spite, you walk side-by-side with Megumi on the way to his office.

"Okkotsu-senpai was in the fourth year dorms last night," he says. "Itadori mentioned it."

"Megumi, he's a fourth year."

"Itadori said his cursed energy was all over the place."

"He was tired, he just got back from a mission. Cut the guy some slack."

Megumi looks at you and you turn to examine his face. There's a smudge of dirt on his cheek. On instinct, you reach up and wipe it away with your thumb without thinking. He doesn't flinch or pull back. He just lets you, the same way you've always done since you were a bright-eyed kid making fun of his hair. He catches your hand briefly when it drops from his face.

You don't pull away and let your fingers intertwine with his. The two of you walk like that in silence for a few more steps until Gojo's office door is right in front of you and Megumi releases your hand, his indifference masking his softness.

Gojo Satoru is sprawled across his desk when you two enter. He claps his hands together when he sees you both. "There you are ! You made me wait quite a while."

You and Megumi drop into a chair across from him and Gojo's blindfold crinkles with a smile as he looks between the two of you and the way Megumi doesn't shy away from the close proximity.

"Let's get straight to the point then," he says, tone a bit more serious but still have that happy-to-go-lucky undertone. "There is a cluster of curses detected in Saitama. It's grade two, maybe a little higher. I'm sending you both."

"Just us?" Megumi asks.

"Yep. You two work well together. And besides—" His grin turns teasing and you sigh. "—you're practically attached at the hip anyway. It'll be a breeze so I'm technically doing the world a favor."

You can feel Megumi roll his eyes without even looking at him.

"When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow morning. I already arranged the transport. Nitta will be driving you," Gojo props his chin on the palm of his hand. "It should be quick, considering the caliber of your strength, but if anything goes wrong, you call me. Understood?"

You and Megumi nod. Just as you two stand up, Gojo calls out to you, voice uncharacteristically soft. "Yumeno. A word before you go?"

Megumi glances at you but you give him a smile and nod. He nods in return and slips out of the office and the door clicks shut behind him and you turn to face your teacher. Gojo pulls off his blindfold, revealing those blue eyes that seem to pierce into your very soul. He studies you for a moment, his head tilted to the side.

He says your name. "You know I love you like you're my own, right?"

"Yes. . .?" You're unsure where this is going.

"So, don't do anything reckless. Not with Yuta-kun, not with anyone else. You tend to take more than you can handle."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Sure you don't."

You hold his gaze for a moment, your expression remains unmoved. Gojo stares at you for a long beat and then he laughs—bright, genuine with a touch of sadness.

"You look like your mother. You had her stubbornness too," he says with a nostalgic smile. "Like nothing in the world could touch her."

"And look where that got her."

The silence that follows is heavy with many unsaid things before Gojo waves a hand, shooing you towards the door. "Go on, sweetheart. Go pack. Megumi is probably waiting outside for you."

You do as you're told but when your hand lands on the knob, you pause. "Satoru."

"Yes?"

"Thank you." You flash him a soft smile. "For . . . everything."

He smiles back. "Anything for you, honey."

You step into the hallway and, sure enough, Megumi is waiting for you, scrolling through his phone. His head snaps up when he hears the door open and waits for you to start walking before he follows.

"So, Saitama," he says after a moment of silence.

"It'll be a trip down memory lane. We could go to that Mini Stop again. I wonder if they still have that sando . . ."

Megumi says your name and he looks at you, his gaze lingering.

You skid to a stop and tilt your head. He sighs and tucks a hair behind your ear and you catch his hand. "What, Megumi?"

"Never mind. I'll see you tomorrow."

He turns down the corridor towards the third year dorms and you watch him go, frowning. Sure, Megumi is emotionally constipated and would rather have his organs removed than talk about his feelings but he was always open to you than he was with anybody in this school.

You sigh and head towards your room. It looks exactly like it did in the morning—bed unmade and curtains drawn. Your phone buzzes with messages but you turn it off and toss it on your bed and you start packing.

The morning brings a grey overcast. You lean by the car door, watching Megumi by the trunk double-checking his supplies, the same meticulous focus you've always seen him display during missions and when trying to win his way out of Monopoly (Megumi still doesn't know how you're the only one who can beat him in Monopoly). Nitta is in the driver's seat with the engine idle.

"You'll forget your own head one day," you tease.

"You'll be there to remind me," he says, not looking up.

"Sadly."

"How unfortunate for you."

You're about to shoot a response when you feel it—that recognizable overwhelming cursed energy that wraps around your shoulders like an eager dog greeting their owner. You don't need to turn around to know who it is but you do, not before telling Megumi to wait for you.

"Yumeno!"

You walk towards the voice and immediately Okkotsu materializes in front of you, earnest and bright. He's breathless, he did just return from another mission. His uniform is rumpled, katana strapped to his back, and dark strands of his hair clinging to his forehead.

"You're back," you say, a smile tugging on your lips. "Miss me that much?"

"I did." Always so honest, always so sweet. He's close enough that you can see the faint scar on his cheek. The tiredness in his eyes melt the moment they stumble upon, parched he was. His hands twitch at his sides, unsure if you want him to touch you or not.

"You always come back so soon. Gojo's really working you to the bone, huh?"

"It's nothing special. Just a grade one." He waves a dismissive hand. "I heard you're going to Saitama with Fushiguro."

"Yep." You pop the p. "Just a small cluster of curses. Nothing we can't handle."

"I could come with you," he immediately offers, eager. "I just got back but I'm not really that tired, trust me. I could—"

"Okkotsu." You look at him, a ghost of a smile on your lips. "We'll be fine. It's grade two. You don't need to babysit me."

He hums, a hand reaching out to hold yours. "I just wanted to see you before I left."

So, so sweet.

"You're sweet, Okkotsu."

He gets red but his eyes are still on you. "I brought you something. From my mission. It's not much but I wanted to get it for you." He fumbles in his pockets, pulling out a small charm—an omamori, a token of protection, of luck and of thinking of you even when you're not here.

You take the omamori from his hand, fingers brushing and his breath catches in his throat before placing it inside your skirt pocket. "Thank you," you say. "It's cute."

An adoring smile tugs at the of his lips and he leans in. It's muscle memory at this point, the expectation of a kiss, the press of your lips against his, the oxygen he craves. You can practically taste the desperation that radiates from him, sweet and cloying.

You place your hand over his mouth and, expectedly, he freezes. His cursed energy stills.

"Ah, ah," you tut and shake your head, pushing his face back gently. "Nitta's waiting. We're on a schedule."

"Oh." His voice is muffled against your palm. You drop your hand and he stares at you with those wide and kicked, puppy-eyes. "Right. Sorry, I didn't mean too—"

You pat his cheek, once, twice. "Get some rest, Okkotsu. You look horrible."

"I just missed you." Like that explained everything (maybe it did, maybe it didn't).

"I know, Okkotsu, I know." That's the problem, isn't it?

You pull away and wave a goodbye before you make your way to the car. Megumi is now in the backseat, watching the whole exchange with his usual impassive expression. You settle down beside and shut the door.

"Let's go Nitta-san," you say. The car pulls away and through the window you can see Okkotsu standing in the pavement, his face a mix of desperation and adoration (they're so intertwined they might as well be one at this point). You watch him shrink away until the car makes a turn and he disappears.

You lean your head against the window, feeling the cool glass against your temple. Megumi's hands find yours on the seat between you two and his fingers lace through yours. It's grounding, you think. (Okkotsu's hold is desperate, Megumi's is steady.)

You don't let go for the rest of the drive.

The ryokan is traditional. That's the only description you can give. It reminds you of those movies you've dragged Megumi and Tsumiki to watch with you and you just watched their expressions the whole time. It's located in the outskirts of the city, just an hour of driving before Kawagoe.

The curse activity hahed been concentrated in an abandoned shrine behind the ryokan but the trail had gone cold when you and Megumi had arrived. Nitta had advised waiting until morning to track it properly.

"We'll head out in the morning," Megumi says, setting down your bags in the corner of the room while you come out of the bathroom in pajamas. "The curse attacks when it's at night so we can catch it off guard during the day. We'll have visibility."

"Aww, look at yourself, Megumi," you coo as you plop down on the shikubuton, spreading your arms wide. "I remember when you're an angry kid who wouldn't talk to anyone."

"I talked to you."

"You ignored me for five months straight because I used '-chan' instead of '-kun'."

"You were annoying for those five months. You would never leave me alone."

"God forbid I want a new friend and Tsumiki-chan was always talking about how nice you are."

"I am nice. I just don't show it to you."

"You don't show it to anyone."

But there's a smile on your lips as you recount your past memories with Megumi and Tsumiki. You've known him and his sister ever since you were ten years old and Gojo had borrowed you from your clan to make "new friends" and you'd met a literal angel and devil. You pestered poor Megumi for months, mostly it was just to see him get angry and show emotion but, somewhere, somehow, you became one of his closest friends and he you.

You watch the sea urchin settle on the second shikubuton the owner had laid next to yours. He turns off the light and darkness swallows you both. It's quiet and the only light is from the spilled moonlight. The owls have made their hoots and you can hear the distant buzzing of the fireflies.

You should sleep but your mind seems to be running at fifteen hundred miles per second. You turn on your side to find Megumi already facing your direction, eyes closed.

"Farm Tomita is beautiful this time the year," you say, apropos of nothing. "Remember that place?

Another pause then quietly: "You wanted to go so you could get inspiration when you become a florist."

The words hit you in the chest. It feels like a lifetime ago. Just two little kids nestled under the blankets while you showed him magazines of the farm, the only light source the flashlight he had held so you could read the contents to him properly. Those memories are hazy but it brings a sense of happiness.

"I did," you laugh. "I wanted to open a flower shop and argue back at rude customers like how those people did in the movies."

"You'd tell them they have the wrong opinion and just ignore them until they left."

"Best customer service. Five out of five, truly."

The silence that follows is comfortable and Megumi's cursed energy wraps over you like a warm blanket a mother pulls up to their child's chin. It's comforting.

"Do you still want to?" he asks eventually. "Go to Hokkaido?"

"Yeah," you breathe out. "Lavender East is fucking beautiful. It looks like it goes on forever. Maybe I could move there after graduation and really become a florist."

"You want to leave the jujutsu world," he says and it's not a question. You chuckle, Megumi has always been able to read you. The statement could've been passed off as a joke, some distant dream, but you've never escaped Megumi's radar.

"I'm tired, Megumi," you whisper. "After everything happened and having to watch people die and seeing you like that—" Your breath shudders and Megumi's shoulders stiffen but he doesn't look away from you. "I don't think I want to do this anymore. I never really wanted to anyways, it was just my technique."

He falls silent and the rain that has been waiting in the grey overcast finally falls, a soft patter against the roof tiles, filling the quiet between you two.

"I support you." Megumi's voice is sincere. "Whatever you decide. You can always come back to me."

You smile, it's small but genuine. "You and Tsumiki-chan could come visit when I finally open a shop in Hokkaido. She'd like that place, wouldn't she? The clean air is good for her."

"Tsumiki would like anywhere you are." A pause. "So would I."

You feel your chest tighten with tacit emotions and you reach across the space between your mattresses and he meets you halfway, fingers curling around each other. His hand is calloused but gentle and warm.

"What about you?" you ask. "Do you want to leave?"

Megumi falls silent for a long moment and you can hear the rain more clearly again. "I don't really see a point in being a sorcerer," he admits. "I don't have any grand philosophy or whatever. I never have."

"You have Tsumiki-chan."

"I do." His grip tightens. "And I almost lost her, more than once. I don't want that to happen again. If being a sorcerer is what it takes to protect her, then that's what I'll do even if it lasts my whole life. There's nothing else for me."

"There could be," you say softly. "If you wanted."

"Maybe." He isn't entirely convinced. "But not yet."

You squeeze his hand. "Whatever you want, whatever you choose—I'll be on your side."

He looks at you and for a moment, you're just two children, whispering and giggling under the covers, talking about dreams way too big and way too out of reach for a world so bloody such as yours. You'd give everything to go back to those times.

"And Okkotsu-senpai?" Megumi asks and the change is so sudden it almost gives you whiplash. "What are you going to do about him if you leave?"

You groan. "Do we really have to talk about this now?"

"You brought up leaving."

"I brought up flower farms."

"And leaving." He looks at you with an expression that toes the line of being accusatory. "Well? What are you going to do?"

You wave your free hand in a vague manner. "I don't know. Break up with him, I guess?"

"I thought you weren't together."

"Right. Well, that makes my job easier. I don't need to do anything."

Megumi reaches over to pinch your side, also with his free hand.

"Ow—Megumi!"

"You're cruel."

"I'm realistic."

"You're cruel," he repeats but there's no anger or reprimand behind it. Just a reminder. "He's been smitten with you, according to the students in your grade, since first year. Everyone knows, even Gojo and that idiot is oblivious to everything that isn't about himself."

"Gojo knows everything. That's, like, his whole thing with the Six Eyes."

"Don't go changing the subject now."

You sigh, turning to lay down on your back. Your hands are still linked between your shikibutons. "What do you want me to say, Megumi? That I love him and I'm going to marry him and have two kids with him and a white picket fence? Because we're not Americans and you out of all people should know that's not who I am or what I want."

"I just don't want you to become the bad guy when you eventually hurt him."

"Don't worry, he'll survive."

"Will he?"

To be frank, you don't know if Yuta Okkotsu would survive you leaving. You don't know if he'd shatter to a thousand pieces or find someone else to kneel to. And the worst part, the cruel part is that you're not sure you care either way. (You do care. You care enough to hate yourself but enough to throw away the feeling.)

The silence stretches between you two and Megumi's thumb starts to trace circles on the back of your hand.

You whisper his name. He whispers yours.

His eyes are half-lidded now, the exhaustion of the day (and the conversation you two shared) finally catching up to him. You watch his breathing even out, his grip loosening but never letting go.

You don't let go either. Fingers interlocked as the two of you drift off to other worlds.

The mission goes easier than expected. Megumi handles it with his shadows and shikigami and your technique delivers the finishing blow.

"That was anticlimactic," you say with a frown, watching the curse dissolve from thin wisps of air to eventually nothing. The birds have started singing their song now that the air is clear again.

"You're complaining about an easy mission?"

"It was boring." Megumi gives you an unimpressed look while you just shrug. You grab your phone and check the time. "Nitta won't be back for another two hours. Let's go somewhere."

"The Mini Stop?"

You smile. "The Mini Stop."

The Mini Stop hasn't changed when you two arrive. It's still tucked in the corner of a quiet street, a small distance away from Megumi's middle school. The automatic doors make a sound of distress when they open and the store still plays that pop song that you aren't sure if it's in Japanese or an entire made up language.

You grab two sandos and two sodas before Megumi could even say what he wanted. He sighs and pulls out his wallet.

"My treat," he grumbles.

"Megumi Fushiguro, are you actually being nice to me?"

"Be quiet."

You grin and drop the products onto the counter. Megumi pays and the two of you settle at a small and cramped table outside, just like years ago when Gojo dropped you off to socialize with the siblings but you just ended up talking with Tsumiki while her younger brother did homework in the background.

"I remember coming here to find you," you say as you unwrap your sandwich. "Only to find Tsumiki-chan and she would drag me to where you were beating the shit of those delinquents."

"I wasn't beating them up. I was just teaching them a lesson."

"Kind of the same thing. Let's not forget you sent three guys to the ER."

"They were picking on some kid."

"Ah, my knight in shining armor." You make kissy faces at him. "Defending the weak! How noble of you, my knight."

He gives you a flat look but his ears are pink. "Don't act like you didn't show up too. I thought you were going to get yourself killed."

"I just wanted to help!"

"You threw a shoe at one of them."

"It worked, didn't it? He was very confused."

"Your shoe didn't even reach him and he was confused because you were screaming the Sailor Moon theme song."

"I wanted to hype myself up!" But you're laughing at the memory. It's a good memory despite the blood and bruises. It's yours. Tucked away in the back of your mind, hoarded like precious treasure.

"Tsumiki-chan scolded us for that," you say with a wistful smile on your face. "Made us promise not to get into any fights. Until you broke it within, like, five days."

"He was calling you names."

"You really are my knight, Megumi!"

Megumi glares at you. He takes a bite of his sandwich and you finish the rest of yours, watching the occasional pedestrian pass by.

"Thanks for paying by the way," you say as the two of you finish the food and Megumi throws away the trash.

"I always pay."

"Because you're such a gentleman."

"Because you always "forget" your wallet."

"Details."

The ride back to Tokyo is quiet. Megumi dozes off somewhere in the twenty minute mark while you watch the Saitama landscape melt into Tokyo's suburbs. Nitta has the radio on a low volume, some announcers murmuring about the upcoming summer season.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. Once. Twice. Thrice. You don't bother to check it. You already know who it is anyways.

The sun has started to descend when you arrive. Megumi stirs awake beside you, blinking his eyes awake with groggy confusion. You laugh at his expression. "We're baaackk."

"I can see that."

"Did you have a nice sleep, princess?"

If looks could kill, Megumi would probably be put on trial right now with Nitta as the unfortunate witness. You grin and slide out of the car. The two of you thank Nitta with a polite bow and a promise of a mission report filed tomorrow.

"I'll handle the report," Megumi says as the two of you ascend towards the torii gates. "You're terrible at paperwork."

"Gee thanks. I'm not that terrible, though, I just have better things to do."

"You wrote 'curse go boom' with a crude drawing on an entire mission summary once."

"Gojo accepted it."

"Gojo accepts anything you give him."

Well, shit. You can't argue with that. "Whatever. Go to sleep, Megumi. You look like shit."

"So do you."

"Not possible. I always look beautiful."

He deadpans and you giggle as the two of you make your way inside the school. He raises a hand in farewell before he heads off to the third year dorms while you make a beeline towards the communal kitchen. It seems to be calling out your name after all.

The kitchen light spills onto the dimly lit hallway and you hear voices before you even reach the doorway—Okkotsu's gentle laugh and Maki's voice. Okkotsu is speaking and you can hear the sheepish smile in his voice while Maki replies with that same cutting edge, though this time it's less sharp. Hm, must be Okkotsu's effect.

You pause just before the threshold, peering in through the gap the door offers. Their backs are to you and something delicious is cooking on the stove—something that smells like omurice, must be Okkotsu's doing. Maki says something that you can't quite hear and Okkotsu laughs.

There's an ease between, a comfort you can't quite rival. Maki's shoulders are relaxed and Okkotsu's cursed energy isn't all over the place, calm and steady (like Megumi's). You thought you would feel some sort of jealousy but you don't feel an ounce of anything—jealousy implies some sort of level of attachment but you don't think you've given that to Okkotsu yet.

Maki has been looking at Okkotsu differently since first year and he deserves someone who can match his vast devotion drop for drop, ocean for ocean. You're a lake at best. Maki is the damn Pacific.

You smile and leave the two alone in their conversation and what else is blooming between them. You head for the common room which is also kind of dark, save for the glow of a TV screen where some horror movie is playing. Panda is sitting on the floor and Inumaki is on the armrest of the couch with a bag of chips on his lap.

"Kelp," Inumaki greets, spotting you in the doorway while Panda waves his paw.

"Hey, hey," you greet back, draping yourself over Panda's back. "Is the main character going to make the worst decision yet?"

"Salmon."

"Damn. That bad?"

"Salmon, salmon."

Panda rumbles beneath you and you bury your face deeper into his fur. Despite being warm, he smells like sunshine and is also ridiculously warm, like a heated blanket that also happens to be sentient. "He's going to the basement," he narrates. "To 'investigate' a noise."

"Tuna mayo," Inumaki adds.

"Mustard leaf?" you offer and Inumaki's head swivels toward you with narrowed eyes.

"Bonito flakes. Bonito flakes."

"Im pretty sure mustard leaf means "I'm very smart and I'm the best sorcerer in this room", actually."

"Bonito flakes!"

"See, he agrees," you tell Panda.

"I don't think that's what he's saying."

"You don't speak Inumaki."

"I've known him longer than you."

"Quality over quantity, Panda."

Inumaki shoves a chip into your mouth to shut you up and you accept it graciously, crunching loudly as the protagonist on the screen descends deeper into the basement like the absolute moron he is.

"Don't go any deeper!" you shout.

"Salmon!"

"She can't hear you," Panda points out.

"In spirit, in spirit. Oh my fuck, turn around—"

The three of you end up shouting curses at the main character and despite Inumaki's limited vocabulary, he's probably concocting the most devious swears in his head. By the time the main character trips over nothing while running from the killer, you're all in agreement that he had it coming.

"That's what you get for investigating 'strange noises'," Panda huffs.

"Salmon."

"Kelp, kelp," you say with a smile and Inumaki throws a chip at you which you catch with your mouth, munching happily at the free food promo you're getting. Maybe you should piss Inumaki off more. The door opens behind you three and you don't need to turn around to know who it is.

"There you are," Maki's voice says as she and Okkotsu make their way to where you are sitting. "We were wondering where you all went."

"Yumeno." Okkotsu's voice is soft and borders on being reverent (a prayer, a hymn). You tilt your head to look at him and he's already staring at you with those big, earnest eyes. "You're back. How was the mission?"

"Easy," you say dismissively. "Megumi and I handled it in, like, forty minutes. While waiting for Nitta-san, we just ate some food. Megumi was judging my life choices, I think. He had this look to him . . ."

"Salmon."

"Thank you, my darling Inumaki, I do make excellent life choices."

"Bonito flakes."

"Way to make a girl happy."

Maki rolls her eyes and drops into the armchair near the couch, a smile tugging on the end of her lips. Okkotsu hovers for a moment, uncertain, before settling on the couch beside Panda, which is to say, beside you.

"Did you eat already?" he asks. "Maki-san and I made omurice and there's still some left if you want—"

"I'm good," you say and then because his face does that thing where his expression falls before he can catch himself, you add: "But I'll heat it up for tomorrow, yeah?"

The smile that breaks across his face is worth the lie. "Of course. I'll heat it up for you."

"Thanks, Okkotsu. That's sweet."

He flushes pink and Panda makes a gagging sound beneath you. "You two are disgusting," he says with a shake of his head and and you roll your eyes, burying yourself deeper into his fur. "It's worse than watching those romcoms."

"Salmon."

You flip Inumaki off and the room dissolves into laughter before Panda and Maki choose the next movie. Okkotsu's hand finds yours tentatively and you glance at him but he's already looking with an eager expression that is also part terror as if you might disappear if he blinks.

"Come here," he whispers and you laugh when he pulls you from Panda's back into his arms.

You land against his chest with a small oof and his arms wrap around you immediately like muscle memory. He's warm too but less like a heated blanket and more of a sunlight beaming through a window. His chin is on top of your head and you can hear his heartbeat, strong and so fast.

"I missed you," he murmurs into your hair, quiet enough that only you can hair.

"You saw me before I left."

"Still missed you."

You laugh and he smiles at the sound, nuzzling into you deeper. For a few moments, you let yourself stay here and be held. His cursed energy wraps around you once more and he smells like the omurice he was cooking and something that's just him. It's nice. It's comfortable.

Eventually, you pat his chest and remove yourself from his arms. "Alright, I'm beat."

"Already?" There's that kicked puppy look again.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Night, everyone." You pat his head and he opens his mouth but you're already walking away. You ruffle Panda's fur as you puss, flick Inumaki's forehead when he shoots you a pointed look and squeeze Maki's shoulder briefly where she squeezes your hand in return.

You're barely ten steps down the hallway to the dorms when you hear footsteps behind you. You sigh when you turn around. "Okkotsu."

"I just wanted to . . ." He catches up to you, out of breath like he just ran a marathon and rubs the back of his neck. "I wanted to walk you to your room."

"I'm halfway there. There's no need."

"I know, I just . . . " He trails off and you raise an eyebrow. "I didn't get to say a proper goodnight back there with everyone."

"And, pray tell, what constitutes a 'proper' goodnight?"

His ears turn pink and spread down his neck, disappearing beneath his white shirt. "I—just—you know—"

"No, I don't know. You'll have to show me, Okkotsu."

He says your name, a plea and a prayer wrapped in one.

"You should really be spending time with the others," you say walking into his space and his hands find your waist. Muscle memory. "They're gonna think you don't like them when you keep running off."

"I like them. I just like you more. Is that so bad?"

"Maybe. Probably. You can't say things like that though."

"Why not? It's true."

"A romantic, aren't you?"

"For you," he agrees and kisses you. When your fingers curl into his hair and pull him closer, he melts. His hands wander from your waist, to your hips, to your spine, pulling you against him—always trying to eliminate even the smallest distance that separates him from you.

His lips move against yours with a desperation that borders on reverent he makes sound when your tongue grazes his bottom lip. Your name leaves his mouth and he whispers them like a mantra.

He shudders when you tug gently on his hair and his grip tightens. He pulls away to trail down kisses from the corner of your mouth, your jaw, the spot underneath your ear that has your fingers digging into his scalp.

"What the fuck?"

You both freeze.

Kugisaki stands at the end of the hallway, her phone on one hand and a bag of chips on the other, staring at the two of you with a scandalized expression. "When the fuck did this happen?"

Okkotsu makes a noise that sounds like a dying animal and tries to pull away but he hits the back hall so he just ends up looking cornered. His face is so red it's hard to tell where the color begins and where it ends. His cursed energy is going crazy too—spasming all over the place.

"Kugisaki!" you say brightly, stepping away from Okkotsu with more composure. "I haven't seen you forever. How are you, my favorite underclassman?"

"Don't sweet talk me—are you two dating?"

You don't answer that question and cross the distance between you and pull the younger girl in a hug. She sputters against your shoulder but hugs you automatically—old habits die hard. "I missed you. Did you get taller? I think you got taller."

"I did not get taller and you're not answering the question—"

"Your skin looks good. New moisturizer?"

"Thanks, it's the one you recommended, but we are not changing the subje—"

"Great!" You release her and pat her head twice. "Let's catch up properly sometime, yeah? I'm exhausted. Saitama mission. Very tiring. Goodnight, Kugisaki."

"Goodn—hey! Yume-senpai!"

But you're already walking away, grabbing Okkotsu's wrist and dragging him with you. He stumbles after you and you can hear Kugisaki's indignant sputtering as you finally stop in front of your door.

"I can't believe that just happened." He leans his head on your neck when you turn to look at him.

"It's not the end of the world. We just got caught making out."

"Yeah, but I don't really like getting interrupted."

"Wow, Okkotsu. How bold."

"I—" He buries his face deeper into your neck. "You know what I mean."

"I do." You pull his head away and cup his cheek, and he leans into the touch instantly, the tension melting away from his shoulders. "You're cute when embarrassed."

"Only when I'm embarrassed?"

"Don't push your luck."

He smiles and presses a kiss to your palm. "I love you," he says because of course he does (is that so bad? You suppose not).

You pull him down and kiss him, slow and deep, and his knees go weak and his cursed energy oozes like jazz. When you pull back, his pupils are dilated, lips slightly parted and he looks like he saw the pearly gates open just for him.

"Goodnight, Okkotsu." You push him away gently. "Spend time with the others. They're probably wondering where you are and what we're doing."

"One more?" he asks, so hopeful and so earnest that you roll your eyes and grant his wish of a peck on the lips.

"Now go."

He goes but he looks back at you three times with a smile that gets brighter than the last before he disappears when he turns the corner. Once he's out of sight, you slip into your room and close the door behind you.

Good God. You need a shower.

Yuta wouldn't really consider himself a jealous person. Jealousy is such a fickle thing and deities deserve nothing but grandiosity. But, alas, he is only a mere mortal so he is no exception to the green that coils around his chest, his lungs, his every fiber of his being when he sees you with Fushiguro.

He knows it's a sin. He shouldn't covet but what is there to covet? You aren't his. You bless him with your lips and descend your holy hands to touch his sullied skin, sure, but he has never heard the words that would tie you to him fall out of your mouth. But it's fine, he doesn't care for petty things such as labels.

Then again, he's reminded he's flesh and bones.

Fushiguro is a good kid—Yuta knows but do you really have to look at him like that? As far as anyone knows, you and Fushiguro knew each other before you both enrolled, taken under Gojo-sensei's wing. Ultimately, the question lingers—what does Fushiguro have that Yuta doesn't?

Silly question, human.

He has another life with you that Yuta doesn't have the access to. Key thrown away and only Fushiguro's robin can open the garden to you and the black-haired third year can enter—filled with two kids hanging to each other for dear life. All Yuta has is the years tainted with curses, blood, wars, and seeing dear friends almost lose their lives.

Sullied, sullied, sullied.

But he's determined to change that. He can't change you but he can add more. More pleasant things, more delightful sights. He'll be your greatest offering.

"Furano?" Gojo-sensei's hums, his blue eyes staring at Yuta with interest. "The curses there are around grade two to semi-grade one. I can send someone else other than you, Yuta-kun."

Yuta's expression doesn't waver. He keeps his posture straight and his hands tied behind his back. But beneath his ribs, his heart is pulling at its own strings—the thought of going to Furano . . .

"I'd like to go," he says, his voice a juxtaposition to how his cursed energy is swirling around the room. "Hokkaido has been seeing an influx of curses. They might be below my grade but hundreds of grade two curses still need the same attention as a single special grade. It would also be a good practice for adapting to unfamiliar terrain."

Gojo-sensei tilts his head and Yuta can feel the weight of his Six Eyes studying, peeling back the layers of his skin and bone to find blood cells singing your name.

"Adapting to unfamiliar terrain?" Gojo repeats, the corner of his mouth twitching with an amused smile. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

Yuta can feel his ears turn warm but he holds his ground. "I'm not sure what you mean, sensei."

A laugh—loud and knowing. Gojo leans back in his chair, crossing his long legs at the ankle. "Yuta-kun, Yuta-kun, you're a terrible liar sometimes," he chides, tapping a finger against his chin. "But I suppose it can't hurt. Hokkaido has been having a rise of curses in the past few weeks. The mission is direct enough and you're more than qualified." A pause. "And you want me to assign Yumeno as your partner?"

The sound of your name sends a ripple through Yuta's cursed energy but he reins it. "If possible. Yumeno's technique complements mine well."

"Is that so." His teacher's voice is light, teasing but carried with weight. "Yuta-kun, a piece of advice—free of charge." He leans forward. "There are some things even the strongest can't achieve by sheer force of will. Some rivers will only flow one way."

Yuta meets Gojo's blue eyes and he feels a bucket of cold water dump over him.

"I understand." Is the only response he can offer.

Gojo studies him for a long moment—Six Eyes prodding and poking at the molecules that make up his body before his grin returns. "Alright then! I'll assign you both to the mission. Can I ask why Furano, of all places?"

He thinks of the corridor—cursed energy concealed tight, something he had been practicing to last a full hour. He had seen you! And Fushiguro. Your phone shoved into his face and Fushiguro's eyes trained on the screen with the patience of someone who has endured this many times already.

"—and they go on forever! It's such a perfect purple."

Fushiguro's eyes traveled from the screen and you met his gaze easily, softness equal in all measures. "It's just flowers. You've shown me this before."

"Flowers?" You gasped, placing a hand on your hip with mock offense. "Just flowers, Fushiguro? You take that back. These are not just flowers, these are Lavandula angustifolia. They can reduce anxiety, you know—maybe you should roll around in them, might fix your shitty personality."

Fushiguro had rolled his eyes but then—a smile. A small, barely there smile but it reached his eyes and the irises glinted. "My personality is fine, thank you very much."

"That's still up for debate."

"I could just take you. Let's go after your graduation."

A ripple of shock had spread across your face. Your mouth opened, then closed. Your hand dropped to your side and for a single moment, you and Fushiguro were just staring at each other. Your defense, down. Invader? Damn Megumi Fushiguro.

"That's—" You faltered and your gaze skittered away from Fushiguro's, looking at your shoes. "You can't just say things like that, stupid."

"Like what?" Fushiguro's voice was calm. "I'm up for it. Let's go after your graduation. You wanted to, right? We'll bring Tsumiki too."

"You have responsibilities. You can't just drop everything to—to go look at flowers with me. You'll be a fourth year."

"I could drop it."

Yuta had seen the way you wouldn't meet Fushiguro's gaze, the way your beath came a fraction too fast, the way your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your skirt. By all accounts, you were flustered.

"You're so annoying," you finally managed, reaching to meet his eyes. "I hope you know that."

"You've been reminding me for the past eight years."

"Well. Good. 'Cause it's true." You shoved your phone back into your pocket. "You better not complain the whole time we're there. I wanna see every field and try the lavender ice cream and everything!"

"When have I complained?"

"Megumi, sweet cheeks or whatever, let me remind you of Okinaw—"

Fushiguro pinched your side and you laughed loudly. "Fine, no complaining. But I'm not paying for anything."

"Deal." (A lie. Megumi always buys everything for you). You nudged his shoulder. "Thanks, by the way. For wanting to go with me."

"Someone has to," he said simply. "Might as well be me."

You laughed then and gave Megumi a soft smile before dragging him away, saying something about draining Gojo-sensei's wallet to the point of bankruptcy.

Yuta felt the green coiled tighter tighter around his lungs, threatening to cut his oxygen supply. The feeling had only intensified when he found the magazine in your room—you had stepped away to grab some food from the kitchen. It was open to a two-page spread. Farm Tomita and Lavender East. The fields stretched across the beautiful paper in shades of unreal purple and around the location, drawn in ink, were hearts.

He had traced one of those hearts with the tip of his finger, examining the way the ink had bled at the edges, the dates you had circled for the blooming season, the little notes you had written at the margin—open 8:30 AM–5:30 PM, try the lavender ice cream!!, take Megumi here :).

Ah. Even here, on the page of your private dreams, Fushiguro had a place.

Yuta had pulled his hand back as your footsteps had approached. When you re-entered, his greedy hands found their way back home to your waist and he had re-sealed his devotion onto your holy cavern.

Yuta blinks and the office swims back into focus. Gojo-sensei is still looking at him with those blue eyes with something that might be pity.

He is mortal. He is flesh and bone and want and there are gardens he will never enter, keys he will never have the privilege of possessing but he can pull strings, call favors, and arrange everything into the shape of your happiness. He can walk beside you through the fields of never-ending purple and watch as you stand in the place you've dreamed of.

Fushiguro can have the past but Yuta will give you the present and future, offered at your altar with trembling hands and a million prayers for you to accept it. (Let him be Abel—favored by his Lord.)

So, why Furano?

"Nothing in particular," Yuta says, smiling gently. "I just thought it might be nice."

Gojo hums, a sound that suggests he doesn't believe a word of it but he doesn't press for a more honest person. "Alright then. I'll put you both on the mission. Try not to make googly eyes at each other, Yuta-kun."

The teasing lilt in his teacher's voice has Yuta's ears turn pink but he bows politely and exits the office before Gojo-sensei could tease him any further.

The corridor is bathed in sunlight and Yuta thinks of your smile—the rain after a long drought. He'll bring alms to your shrine to keep it coming, to keep your eyes on him longer.

He is mortal. He is flesh and bone and want. He is mortal and mortals want. He wants everything you have to offer. He wants everything you can offer.

Yuta Okkotsu is mortal and he wants you.

The curse takes two hours to exorcise. And in those two hours, Yuta's eyes are always flickering back to you—are you hurt? Do you need his help? Do you need him? It's suffocating (but devotion has never been quiet).

He had to unleash Rika twice because some stupid curse thought it was fun to dangle you by its slimy appendages. Paired with his katana, it didn't take long until those appendages were just writhing masses on the ground.

(No one is worthy of touching a divinity but Yuta is your keeper and he will try his best to be deserving of such role).

"Okkotsu, I'm fine," you laugh and the sound is a siren song, charming poor sailor Yuta Okkotsu (he'd fall into sea rocks for you).

His hands find your arm, trembling fingers pressing against the gash that flows from your elbow to your wrist. It's warm and it stains his skin—kisses his skin. (A blessing! A blessing! His heart sings. To have a god—your life force painting his palms. He wants to preserve it in amber, in resin.)

"You always say you're fine," he sighs, his reverse cursed technique flowing from his fingertips to kiss the hollow of your gash. The wound knits itself close, flesh becoming whole beneath his touch. A familiar ritual, he thinks. He has healed you so many times—even the smallest cuts don't escape his smothering.

"Because I am always fine." You poke the newly healed skin and then smile. "See? Good as new. You worry too much."

(He worries because you are worthy of worry. What follower would he be if he were not to clean your altar and make sure it's whole, pure? He worries because if something were to happen to you, the earth would stop spinning on its axis.)

Yuta offers a gentle smile. "Someone has to."

Fushiguro's words, spoken with such ease by someone who has a part of your heart he has no way of entering. ("Someone has to. Might as well be me.") Yuta feels the green rear its ugly head but he tucks it away, where it has made home in his heart where it bears witness to his worship (of you).

You're still breathing a little hard when you two make your way where the auxiliary manager is waiting with the car. There's a sheen of sweet glistening your skin like morning dew on marble (and he wants to press his mouth to your temple to taste the salt of your exertion—please, please, please).

"Okkotsu, I'm hungry," you announce, resting your head on your shoulder once you are seated inside. "Think they'll have good food at the airport?"

"Probably," he says. (He doesn't correct the use of his last name. He hoards every syllable, every drop of letters you grace him, a mere devout, even if the stairway to heaven happens increases in steps. Okkotsu, Okkotsu, Okkotsu. But you say it with a smile, and that is enough.)

The auxiliary manager starts the car and the vehicle roars to life. The manager drives away from the exorcism sight. Yuta watches you watch the landscape drift away to the suburbs and then the car makes a turn. And you frown.

"Wait," you say, sitting up as you press your face against the window. "The airport's the other way."

The auxiliary manager says nothing.

"We're not going to the airport," he says. "We're going to Nakafurano."

You turn to look at him and the surprise on your face is surreal. "Nakafurano? You mean—"

And here it is—the offering, the alms, the tithe, all arranged on your altar. (He thinks the sea of lavender and how he wants, no, needs to be the one standing beside you when you finally see them. No one else. Him.)

"Farm Tomita," Yuta confirms and he watches your surprise melt into shock, then wonder, then something radiant and all-consuming that Yuta's lungs collapse and start functioning again.

"No way. You're joking."

"I'm not."

"No but—"You turn to face him, hands on face and he leans into your touch in thanks. "How did you—I never told—Okkotsu,how did you know?"

He cannot tell you the truth. He cannot tell you that he overheard you and Fushiguro, making plans that didn't include him (selfish, greedy heart). He cannot tell you that he had looked through the magazine and had traced your doodles on a page about Farm Tomita. He cannot tell you that the sight of Megumi Fushiguro's name written in your inscription makes him want to carve his own name into your heart, into your bloody, beating heart.

He cannot tell you the whole truth so he shall give half instead. Half confessions are still confessions (he prays you'll forgive him of such sin. He is still a mortal with flesh).

"I saw the magazines in your room," he says instead. "There was a page about Farm Tomita and you had written about wanting to go in the corner so I thought you might want to see it . . ."

"Oh my god, Okkotsu." You laugh and your hands drop to cover your mouth. "This is insane. We're going to Farm Tomita with the lavender fields and the lavender ice cream?"

"Yes." And he can't himself (give the poor, greedy boy a chance) and he sneaks a kiss to your cheek and then eventually tickles you with kisses while you laugh happily. (The auxiliary manager averts their eyes and turns on the partition wall.)

"Megumi was supposed to bring me here after graduation," you say as Yuta rests his head against your neck. "We were going to bring his sister and everything."

The green roars to life and it tightens on his lungs. Fushiguro. It's always fucking Fushiguro. Even now, in this moment that's supposed to be between you and Yuta, the younger boy's name falls from your lips like honey so sweet (Yuta is supposed to be your sweet).

"I'm glad to see it before graduation though. And I'm glad—" You pause and for the first time he's known you, you look almost shy. "—I'm glad it's with you."

The green has been extinguished and his heart beats the tune of your name.

"Yeah?" His voice comes out rough (he needs your lips to cure his thirst).

"Yeah." You press a kiss to his forehead and turn back to the window, smiling. "Don't let it get to your head."

Too late.

Everything you say goes to his head, fills his lungs and floods his veins. He is drowning in you and he wants to reach the bottom and never be saved—air be damned.

The purple stretches in every direction, row after row of lavender swaying gentle in the breeze. The air dances with the scent of it, sweet and calming. Mount Tokachi rises in the distance, a silent witness to the offering of beauty sprawled at its feet. Tourists gasp and take pictures, the children laugh, but Yuta's eyes are trained on you.

You've gone quiet. The kind of quiet that his fingers start to fidget and he wonders if not consulting you beforehand was a mistake. You stand at the edge of the field, your back to him, and your shoulders are trembling.

Yuta calls out your name and he steps closer, panic already climbing up his throat. Did he do something wrong? Did he misread the magazine, the happiness in your voice, everything? "If you don't like it, we can leave. I'm sorry, I should have asked—"

You turn around and there are tears streaming down your face. His heart rips itself out from the inside out and stitches itself again before repeating the cycle.

"No, no, no." He closes the distance between you and his trembling hands cup your face. "What's wrong? We can go, we can leave right now, I'm so sorry, baby—"

You shake your head and through the years, you laugh. It's broken but it's the angels singing a choir.

"You didn't do anything wrong," you manage, voice hiccuping occasionally while Yuta continues to wipe the oncoming tears. "I'm not—I'm happy, Okkotsu. I'm so, so happy."

He stills, thumbs hovering your cheekbones. "Happy?"

You sniffle, nodding and pulling him into a hug, arms winding around his neck and your face pressed into his shoulder. Your tears soak the fabric of his uniform. Yuta's arms come around you instantly, caging you against his chest.

He holds you (like a chalice, a reliquary, like a goddess descending from her home in the heavens to give her devotee a gift and it's a gift he'll tuck away, protecting it with his life). His fingers threading your hair while his other hand presses flat against your spine, counting the bumps of your vertebrae—a prayer, a promise.

When you pull away, he wipes the tears away with his thumb while you laugh that song again and the tears spill over again. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you."

Each repeat is a nail in his coffin, a mark in his skin, a note in the psalm he will sing until his voice gives out. He would die hearing you thank him and he would rise again to earn it once more.

"Anything." A vow, a pledge. "Anything you want, anywhere you want to go—just tell me and I'll take you there."

You stare at him before smiling and press a kiss to the corner of his lips. (It's not on his lips, it's not a declaration but it's a kiss freely given and Yuta feels his knees go weak at the mercy you've bestowed upon him.)

You pull back and wipe your face with your sleeve and you take his hand, fingers slotting between his. Yuta stares at your joined hands, heart beating at such a nidicolous thing when his lips have met your chasm before, but you are holding hands with him.

(His manna from heaven, his burning bush, his water turning to wine.)

You tug him towards the sea of purple and he follows. The lavender swallows you both whole. Rows and rows of the lavender stretch towards the horizon and you walk through them like a deity observing how her devotees have treated the holy land you have blessed them with.

Your free hand reaches out to brush against the blooms and the petals release their fragrance as tribute, tainting the air with something sweet and clean. You tip your head and smile upon the sky, the sunlight painting your face in its warmth.

Yuta wants to die here.

He wants his bones to dissolve into the soil, to sink into earth and let it take root, to stretch towards the heavens and bloom purple. He wants to become the lavender that you brush your fingers against, to feel your touch on his corolla for the rest of eternity. He wants you to cup his bloom in your palms and inhale his scent, giving him a smile that would discard his need for the sun (your smile could rival the hot ball's miracles).

Let him be the flowers, let him the purple you love oh-so-much, let him be the field you have longed for years. Let him be anything, anything at all, as long as he is needed and he is something you reach for.

You let go of his hand and run towards the clusters of violet. The plants bow at your entrance and Yuta wants to kneel at your throne as long as he can gaze up at your divine form. He wants, wants, wants.

(He wants to taste the sweetness on your lips and the cold on your breath. He wants to press you into the nearest row of flowers and shower his worship with a medium that is mouth until you forget every name that isn't his.

It won't be enough. It will never be enough. He is greedy, starving and he will always, always want more.

After all, he is mortal. He is flesh and bone and want.

After all, he is mortal. He is flesh and bone and yours.)

Lavender seems to be singing your name these days. Or you're the one singing it. Either way, you watch yourself thinking about Farm Tomita way too often these days—the hymns of the sprigs, the fragrance sweetly wafting in the air and the purpe that spreads across the field. (Purple, purple, purple.)

Okkotsu is there—the hand on your waist, the lips on your skin, and the voice in your ear. A presence to remind you that memory is not yours alone, but he also has a hold of the reminiscences. He's not the center, you remind yourself. He has never been the center (that's the problem, isn't it? He kneels at his man-made altar and you have no choice but to watch from the clouds as he offers his worship).

Then you think of the lavender, and you think about the knot unraveling in your stomach and the way your shoulders dropped when you were blessed by the sight of the limitless purple. You think about the scent of flowers and how it loosened you a little—no copper tinging your nostrils, just sweet old Lavandula angustifolia. The sun had brought out your laugh and you want to laugh like that again.

You want to feel that way again. You want to feel that way always.

And then, in the dead, it hits you—eureka.

You sit up straight in your mattress that your head spins and you have to catch yourself for a moment. The word echoes in your skull like a door opening, a key turning in a lock—eureka, eureka, eureka.

You can't wait for graduation.

You don't have to wait for graduation.

It's terrifying. It's liberating. And it's the closest thing you felt that could measure up to Okkotsu's devotion. You can leave, you can enter Gojo's office and tell him you're finished and he'll listen and he might even expedite the process for you (because he's your father and he's always loved you like his own).

But there is always a first step to every plan.

And your first step is Megumi.

You dash out before you can rethink of your fed, bare feet padding against the cold wooden floor. Your heart is pounding a rhythm (eureka, eureka, eureka) when you reach the third years dorm areas and your fingers tremble as soon as you stop in front of Megumi's door.

You knock once, twice, thrice. But nothing. You knock harder and you hear a groan from inside, followed by a shuffle of footsteps. The door swings open and Megumi stands before you, a ratty t-shirt and sweatpants with his dark hair sticking up in different directions (a true sea urchin, you muse) and his eyes are narrowed with annoyance.

"It's three in the morning," he says flatly. "Someone better be dying."

"Morbid ass. No one's dying."

"Then go back to bed."

"I can't." You push past him and into his room without waiting for an invitation (when have you ever needed one?). It's sparse and neat, per usual, a few books stacked on his desk, uniform hung up for tomorrow, a picture of you, Tsumiki and him on his nightstand. (It's a comfort zone, a close second to your own dorm).

Megumi closes the door and leans against, crossing his arms as he quirkd an eyebrow at your frenzied state. "What's going on? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Or maybe I am the ghost." You spin around to face him with a smile that is too wide and too bright for three in the morning. "Megumi, I'm leaving."

His stare remains unreadable. "Leaving?"

"Yes, leaving, like, leaving. Like getting out. Graduating early.." And the words stumble out, an explosion and a beginning. "I don't have to wait until March. Hell, I don't have to wait until December. I can be gone before autumn ends and Gojo can help me expedite it because holy shit he's Gojo Satoru and he can do anything—"

"You're serious?"

You pause at Megumi's words before nodding. "Dead serious. I was just, like, trying to sleep when it hit me and I realized I don't have to wait. I've been waiting for graduation like it's some magical door that will open and solve everything and let me but I can just knock on Gojo's door and ask him to do the same."

"Are you going to Hokkaido once you do?"

"Maybe. I don't know." You flop down on his bed, eyes on the ceiling. "Maybe I'll go somewhere else, see where I can find myself really, really belonging. You know, see what's out there before I decide to settle down by myself. What matters is—" You sit up, staring at the sea urchin. "—I'm going. Like I'm actually going."

Megumi studies your face for a long moment and you wonder what he's seeing—hesitation, fear, or a reason to let you stay. (Will he find it? You hope not.)

"Okay," he says after the long silence.

"Okay? That's it?"

"What do you want me to do?" He sighs and sits down next to you. "If I try to convince you to stay, that would never change your stubborn mind. And I told you, I support whatever you decide—if you want to go, go."

"You really want me to go?"

"If I convinced you to stay, would it work?"

"No."

"There's your answer." He leans forwards, resting his hands on his thighs. "You've always wanted to leave and I'm not going to be the one who holds you back."

You feel your chest tighten (and you don't know why. But his words settle into something warm in your chest. This is your Megumi—he'll look for an exit just for you even if the party is still running.)

"You'll miss me though, right?"

"No. I can finally have some peace and quiet."

"Just admit it." You bump your shoulder with his. "Would it really kill you to say that?"

He sighs and rolls his eyes in exasperation and then his voice turns soft. "I'll miss you."

You can feel your face heat up. "See. Was that so hard?"

"Yes."

You laugh and lean your head against his shoulder, letting his hand find yours, fingers intertwining (muscle memory, you think, muscle memory from doing this a thousand times before). His cursed energy settles onto your shoulders—steady, warm and everything you want to ground you.

"What about Okkotsu-senpau?"

Ah. The other shoe waiting to drop.

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."

"Yumeno."

"Fushiguro."

"You know he's going to be devastated, right?"

"I know."

"And you're okay with that?"

The truth is complicated—it's a mess of affection, guilt, selfishness and everything you don't know how to unpack. Yuta Okkotsu loves you like you're the very oxygen in his lungs and letting him drown in you because it feels good to be wanted like that.

(But do you want to be drowned in him?)

"I don't know," you admit. "But I can't stay just because he loves me. That won't be fair to either of us."

Megumi doesn't argue. You really are stubborn. All he offers is a gentle squeeze of your hand and lets the silence speak for him.

"I love you," you say suddenly, turning to face him fully.

(And you do. You love Megumi, heart leaping out for chest to sing your heartbeat to his—such a traitorous thing, but you love Megumi. Like the how the sky loves the clouds and stars, like how the ocean loves the moon, like how—)

"Me too," he says quietly.

(—you love black coffee at three in the morning on your bed.)

You've barely slept.

Your mind was running in all directions, rehearsing what you were going to say to Gojo, too busy thinking about a life outside of this monstrous world that doesn't seem to out of reach anymore.

You don't knock when you enter Gojo's office. There he sits, devoid of the blindfold and writing over mission reports or whatever it is with a bored look. He must have come back from a mission.

"You're up early," he says, squinting his eyes at you suspiciously. "That means you want something."

You don't sit down. If you sit down, you'll lose your nerve. If you lose your nerve, you'll want to stay and you don't want to stay, you can't stay.

"I want to leave."

"Like go to the convenience store? Because I could really use some—"

"No. I want to leave, like, graduate early. Drop out or whatever you want to call it. I've been thinking about it for a long time and I don't want to wait until March anymore. I can leave now—open a shop somewhere far north, or south, I can start over, I can be happy."

The silence that follows is loud.

Gojo studies you before a smile spreads across his face. "Your mother had the same look in her eyes whenever she talked about her dreams."

"Did she get to live hers?"

"Some of them." He stands up and rounds the table before he's standing right in front of you. "But you will. I'll make sure of it."

"You'll really help me?"

"Of course. I'll expedite the paperwork, pull some strings, call in some favors, yadda, yadda." His grin turns into the same grin you've always known. "I am Gojo Satoru, after all."

You laugh and shake your head. "Thank you, Gojo-sensei."

"Don't thank me yet." He wrinkles his nose. "Yuta-kun is going to be heartbroken."

"He'll get over it. He has Maki." You smile. "They have each other."

Gojo hums, a knowing glint in his eyes. "You noticed that too, huh?"

"Hard not to. They're kind of obvious."

"And kind of oblivious, but they'll figure it out soon." He pulls you into a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I'm proud of you even if it's being selfish. It's the hardest thing a good sorcerer can do."

You bury your face into his chest and your tears soak his clothes. (He's right, he's right—you're selfish and greedy and you want to be loved but you want to choose instead of doing what's expected from you.) When you pull back, Gojo's eyes are suspiciously shiny but he's smiling.

"Okay," he says, clapping his hands together. "Enough emotions. Let's talk about logistics. I'm thinking we can have you officially graduated by the end of the month, like, a week before November. It'll give you enough time to pack your things."

"End of the month?"

"Too soon?"

"No." Your smile could rival the shine in his blue eyes. "It's perfect."

Okkotsu is calm around Maki. His cursed energy never spikes, never explodes outward—it's just vast and wide but never suffocating (unless he wants it to). Okkotsu is calm around Maki. It reminds you of Megumi's cursed energy when the sea urchin is around you, a soft blanket and a cup of black coffee.

Okkotsu is calm around Maki and you like calm (so let Maki have him, you scream. You wonder if it might be some cruel joke or a misreading on fate's part that Yuta's compass was pointing towards you and not Maki.)

The kitchen is warm when you step inside and Okkotsu is there (of course he is). He leans against the counter, Maki beside him, and he laughs—open and easy. The laugh belongs to Maki (he belongs to Maki), you think, his anchor, his mainstay (even if he doesn't know about it yet).

You watch them for a moment, unseen and cursed energy sealed tight. Okkotsu is listening earnestly to whatever Maki is saying, eyes soft and crinkled and smiling gently (this Okkotsu is not yours, and when has he ever been?). His cursed energy is an ocean at rest and Maki seems to float in it effortlessly.

He's so oblivious, you muse. Maki's gaze lingers on him for just a second too long, and her voice drops to a softer octave when she speaks to him (she's always softer around him. She's right there, the love of his life, and he can't even see it.

(Maybe that's not fair. Maybe Yuta Okkotsu sees what he exactly wants to see and what he wants to see is you. You don't know why when Maki is right there—steadfast, immovable, always abounding in his presence.

She wouldn't keep him at arms length, unlike you. She wouldn't make him beg for scraps of attention, unlike you. She'd meet him ocean for ocean, unlike you.

Unlike you, Maki is the perfect balance for Okkotsu's sweetness. Unlike you, she doesn't like her coffee black.)

Maki glances up and spots you. Her eyes flicker with something you don't bother naming (she'll have him soon) before she expresses it into something neutral. "Yumeno," she says, raising a hand in greeting. "You're up early."

Okkotsu turns and his cursed energy spikes, a supernova wrapping around your shoulders, your waist, your throat. Desperate, hungry and so, so eager. His face lights up at the sight of you—the first sunrise after being plunged in darkness for so long.

He says your name, a prayer, a hymn, a litany.

"Okkotsu," you greet, stepping fully into the kitchen and letting your cursed energy free. "Maki. You two are up early."

"I was just looking for instant ramen," Maki says, shrugging. "And Yuta offered to make breakfast."

"Pancakes," Okkotsu adds. "Maki-san said she wanted something sweet."

(Sweet, sweet, sweet. He is so sweet. So unbearably, achingly sweet that it hurts your teeth. So sweet that it makes you wonder why you decided to take a taste.)

"Itadori-kun taught me a few things, he's a much better cook than I am," he continues, a hand sliding to your waist once you take a close look at the stove.

"He burnt the first batch," Maki says bluntly and you laugh (Maki's eyes crinkle when you do).

"I didn't mean to," he insists, resting his head on top of yours. "It's better now, I promise. Have a bite, please?"

"Sure." Why not? This will be the last time you'll let him pull you under his sweetness. This will be the last time you'll be the sun, orbiting around his sea of planets that look to you for sustenance. "I'll eat it."

His cursed energy pulses wth joy. Maki meets your eyes and you can the patience and wanting beneath her green gaze. (She'd be good for him. She is good for him. Okkotsu's quiet after the storm. Everything Okkotsu needs in his life—he's too busy orbiting around you to notice.)

"What are you thinking?" Maki's voice is low enough that Okkotsu doesn't hear.

"About how sweet he is," you say.

"What?"

"Okkotsu. He's sweet."

"I guess that's one way to put it."

"It is."

Maki's eyes linger on you for a while before she nods. "I'll be back. Save me some pancakes, lovebirds." You quirk an eyebrow at her need to depart and don't question. Okkotsu frowns and tries to make her stay but she doesn't budge.

She leaves and it's just you and him now. He sighs and looks at you with a small smile. "Well, I really didn't want Maki-san to leave but I don't mind spending more time with you."

You just kiss him and he melts (like candy on your tongue).

Eventually, the pancakes are plated, fluffy and golden and topped with a drizzle of syrup. Okkotsu takes a small slice of the fluff and holds it out, an eager expression on his face. "Try it," he says. "Tell me if it's okay."

You take a bite. The pancake is soft, sweet and the syrup sticks to your upper lip and it's good, really good and you tell him so.

"Really?" His smile shines at you with its brilliance. "I'm so glad. I was so worried about the consistency. Itadori-kun said I should let the batter rest longer but Maki-san said it was fine and I really wasn't sure who to listen—"

"Okkotsu, it's perfect."

His rambling stops, eyes wide and attentive (and hanging to your every word like you're the next coming of a god).

"Really?" So full of hope.

"Really." And hope you shall give.

You take another bite and let the sweetness of the pancake coat the inside of your tongue and every single one of your senses. The syrup clings to your teeth, to your lips, to the roof of your mouth. It's cloying. It's perfect.

It's Yuta Okkotsu in edible form and you consume with the same reverence he gives you on a daily basis. Okkotsu's barrel of sweetness is endless and wide but there's only so much you can take.

So, you savor your last fill.

The train station is buzzing despite the early hour. You're early, a light bag packed with just essentials. All your other things will be shipped later or donated or left to gather dust inside a cardboard box—a goodbye to a room you'll never sleep in again.

Megumi had offered to accompany you to the station. You had turned him down, you had done your goodbyes to him (and him only) after all, hugging his steady chest and savoring his scent of black coffee while your body racked with sobs. He hadn't cried but his grip on your shoulders just had been a little too firm.

"You'll call?" he'd asked.

"Yes after I get settled."

You'd pulled back and he had closed his eyes when you pressed a kiss against his—

"I love you," you whispered.

"I know, I know."

And that was enough. (It is enough. With Megumi, it will always be enough).

Now, you're on the train and watching the platform, the few stragglers rushing to catch the train lest they be left behind. The train engine hums to life after a few minutes of waiting and you watch the landscape blur from the suburbs to the countryside.

Your phone buzzes. You almost don't answer it—you already know who it is. You've been dreading this call ever since you've stepped on the train but you answer anyway because you owe him that much (because you're a coward but you're not that much of a coward).

"Hello?"

His voice cracks on your first name and the panic is evident in his tone, bleeding and open. "Where are you? I just got off from my mission and I bought you something but you—Fushiguro said you left but no one will tell me—"

"Okkotsu, I—"

"Where are you? Please tell me you're still here, are you at the school? Is this some kind of joke—"

"I'm not at the school."

The silence is filled with the static.

"What?" A whisper. "I—what? What do you mean you're not at the school?"

"I'm leaving."

"Leaving? No, no, Yumeno—"

"I'm graduating early. I'm leaving this world behind. I'm—" You take a deep breath and anchor yourself. "I'm going to be happy, Okkotsu, and I'm going to find it somewhere else."

"But I thought—I—" His voice is wet, the start of the seams starting to be ripped apart. "I thought we were happy. You said—"

"I'm sorry, Okkotsu."

"Sorry?" He laughs, broken and hollow. "You're sorry? That's it? You're just—You're just leaving? You're leaving me?"

"Okkotsu—"

A sob on the other end cuts you off. You've seen him shed tears, seen him get too much into his feelings but you've never heard him cry like this. (Cruel, cruel, you are cruel. But you are also human.) You close your eyes. You can hear the others in the background, you can hear Maki in the background, trying to calm him down, trying to reach him.

But Yuta is inconsolable. His cursed energy is exploding outward again. You can almost feel it from here, the ocean's tsunami waves, desperate and drowning everyone in its midst.

"Where are you?" he asks, voice cracking on every syllable said. "Tell me, please. Please, please, baby, where are you? I'll come to you. Whatever you need, whatever you want. I—"

"Don't." Your voice is soft, a stack of feathers. "Please don't come after me, Yuta."

His sobs fill the call's static. The sound is a sharp blade and it cuts through you (but you can always patch yourself up on your own). "I love you so much. Please don't leave me. Please. I'll do anything, anything. Just tell me what you want and I'll do it, I'll be it—"

"Yuta."

"Please, please, please—"

"You know I can't do that to you."

The countryside is beautiful, a contrast to the ugly happening on your small device. His breathing gets ragged and wet and you can hear the other's worried words in the background trying to calm him down.

"Do you even love me?" Oh, just stab yourself, would you? "Even a little? Or did I just imagine everything?"

"Come on, Yuta, you know the answer to that."

You hear a crash on the other end—something breaking, maybe a chair, maybe the wall, maybe his control. Gojo's voice—"Yuta-kun, you need to calm down."

But Okkotsu doesn't calm down. He is drowning and you're on the shore watching him, cutting the oxygen.

"Please," he begs. "Where are you going? Just tell me. I won't come, I promise. I need to know, please, I need to know you're okay, baby, please tell me—"

"I can't."

"You can't or you won't?"

"I won't." You feel the pressure behind your eyes starting to build. "Yuta, I have to go now."

"No, no, no, no—!"

"The view is beautiful, Yuta. I could watch the sunset from here."

"Please, please—"

"I like you a lot." A sharp intake of breath. "I really do. And I wish—" You swallow the incoming tears. "I wish I could love you the way you loved me. I tried but I can't, Yuta. I'm sorry."

The silence is loud, static filling it once more.

"Maybe in another life," you continue, an olive branch. "Maybe we'd meet in a coffee shop and you'd buy me a drink and we'd have something simple. But not in this life, Yuta. Not in this one."

"Don't say that," he whispers. "Please don't say that. I—I can't—"

"Please don't look for me."

"Don't—"

"I'm sorry." And you are. You are selfish, you are greedy, you sucked every drop, but you're human and you are so, so sorry. "I really am."

His voice cracks on your name. "I love you—"

"Thank you for being so sweet to me, Yuta."

You end the call.

For a long moment, you just sit there with your phone tightly clutched in your hand, staring at the dark screen and your face staring back at you. Your thumb hovers the power button and you press it down.

You smile and you turn your gaze to the window. The countryside is a blur of green and blue. It's beautiful. You think of lavender fields stretching towards the heavens, the endless purple. You think of the way the flowers had felt against your fingers.

You think of Okkotsu.

He’s sweet, so sweet. Like candy that'll melt on your tongue, the peach juice on a hot summer day, the pollen to a bee. Simple, quick and reliving. He's sweet—so unbearably sweet that it hurts your teeth.

The problem is you've never really had much of a sweet tooth.

“i fear for her safety,” he had told him, his tone uncharacteristically vulnerable. 

choso had only nodded, understanding. the king was aging and his daughter was his only heir. and with talks of an assassin roaming the capital animating taverns and tea parties, it was only natural for the land’s ruler to do anything in his power to keep you protected. 

and so, the large doors of the great hall opened and choso entered, head held high, suddenly feeling the hefty weight of the sword hanging on his hips. the sun rays slithered their way through colored glass, falling in strips across the floor, crossing the path he was walking. 

he took in the castle guards lining up the walls, the few, rare servants that were allowed to witness the ceremony. he could practically hear the inaudible whispers of the nobles, the lords and ladies murmuring between themselves as they questioned why this was occurring now of all times. at the foot of the dais stood his commander and the high priest, quietly observing the scene. 

choso stopped a few feet before them, standing straight, the breeze slipping through the open windows, stirring loose strands of overgrown dark hair around his face. carefully, he bent down to one knee, unsheathing his sword and placing it onto his open palms, offering it up to his king and princess.

the room remained silent for a few minutes, the only sound his ears could perceive being that of birds chirping, the squires training in the yard, the hustle and bustle of the town’s market.

“sir choso,” the king’s voice finally broke the stillness of the hall. “you have served the crown with great loyalty and even greater honor. i charge you now with a duty above all others and appoint you as my daughter’s – the princess – sworn protector. do you, sir choso, accept to guard her life with yours and let her safety be your oath?”

choso remained quiet, catching the sound of your heels clicking on the limestone, slow and steady as you walked down the stairs and stood before his kneeling form. 

slowly, he tilted his chin up, stray strands of his bangs falling over his face as he looked up at you.

“before the Lord, the king, and this court, i swear my sword and my life to the princess,” choso started, his mouth suddenly dry as his eyes met yours. 

choso has never wavered in his life. not once. 

and yet it was taking everything in him to maintain your gaze and deliver his oath. his tongue felt heavy in his mouth, his throat bobbing as he swallowed harshly and he momentarily wondered if his king didn’t specifically hand him this duty knowing how burdensome it was for him to be in your presence. wondered if his king knew how heavy his heart felt whenever he was around you.

“i swear to defend you with my blade, my body and blood,” he finally spoke up again, his voice low, almost reverent. “while i draw breath, no harm shall reach you.”

he didn’t look at the tiara resting on your head, didn’t glance at the throne where your father sat. the sun slipping through the windows caught onto his eyes and the glassiness of them, the slight tilt in his eyebrows, the way he parted his lips and closed them again. hesitant. 

and the way he looked up at you, dark pools glistening with something akin to longing. something close to veneration.

you nearly forgot the people standing around you, still watching. almost forgot to breathe in the moment. 

“this,” choso added, his tone raw at the edges, “i vow, on my honor as your knight and my soul before the heavens.”

you didn’t trust your voice. it was stupid, really. you were only supposed to accept his vows. and yet, no word came out of your mouth as you stood quietly before him, finding yourself unable to just look away and take a moment to gather your thoughts. 

instead, your hand slowly rose from your side, palm down as you brought it up to his face, knuckles brushing against the curve of his mouth.

his sword was placed on the ground and you noted how cold his fingers were as he gently wrapped them around your scorching skin. you noticed the surprise in his eyes before he complied. felt the slight tremble of his lips as they pressed against the back of your palm, feather-light. 

choso had always found that being a knight gave him a purpose and, for as far as he could remember, he’d dedicated his life to this path. even more so after the tragic death of his parents, leaving him as the sole heir of the kamo household, looking after all of his siblings who were far too young to understand why mother and father weren’t coming back. 

and, while growing up, although most of the nobles surrounding him looked at him with nothing but pity in their eyes, he’d never felt sorry for himself. never allowed himself to be. everything he’d do, he had decided, would be for his beloved brothers.

choso, however, found himself now questioning if knighthood was really meant for him. 

keeping his distance from you has always been easy. his duties, up until recently, mostly consisted of guarding the castle, going on expeditions or even escorting the king during his travels. sure, sometimes, he’d catch sight of you walking around the garden with your lady-in-waiting. or maybe he’d be assigned to accompany you to events you were required to attend. 

but it’s always felt like there was a gaping chasm between both your worlds. you’ve always felt so close, yet so, so far from him. 

even now, truth be told, he thought, staring at the wooden surface separating the both of you.

his duties for today were over. he knew that. after wishing you a restful night, he’d watched you go into your room alongside your handmaidens who closed the door behind you. he was supposed to leave. make his way downstairs and call up another knight to keep watch until the morning. 

despite fearing that he might succumb to his deeply buried desires, he couldn’t bring himself to turn around and go back to his quarters, his hand pressing against the door, ears catching the sound of your laughter behind it, albeit muffled. 

you’ve always sounded so bright. you’ve always been glowing in his eyes.

his world has been nothing but engulfed in a fog he couldn’t traverse, a tunnel he couldn’t find his way out of. he’s gotten accustomed to the blood on his hands and the grime on his face and the darkness slowly engulfing his soul. he could have almost found comfort in all of it if it weren’t for the small gleam of hope you hung over his head cruelly. 

choso wasn’t one to let his emotions lead him. and he certainly wasn’t one to be deluded. but God, was he almost sure that his feelings were returned. 

because there was no other explanation to the softness of your smile when you’d address him, far from the practiced, polite ones you’d offer most of the people surrounding you. nor was there any as to how you’d look at him, past all of his battles and the war waging in his mind and the grimness of his existence. 

because there had to be a meaning as to why you’d reserve some of your morning strolls to walk around the training ground and gaze at him while he’d teach his squire. or why you’d sneak to the kitchens in the midst of the same nights he’d be doing his rounds, claiming that you hadn’t eaten enough at dinner and asking him to not tell on you. 

and he’d oblige you, every time. how could he not, with the way you’d look up at him and the sheepish smile you’d give him and how your finger would press against your lips, having him promise that this would remain a secret between the both of you. 

how he wished he could share more of those with you. 

“sir choso?” 

the knight nearly jumped, the hand he had against your door falling to his side as your handmaidens hurried out of your room, leaving the both of you alone. the hallway fell silent, and all choso could do was stare like an idiot, eyes raking over the bareness of your face and the softness of your undone hair and the delicate fabric of your nightgown that cascaded down to your ankles. 

he wasn’t sure he was allowed to see you like this. he didn’t think he was. 

“weren’t you leaving for the night?” you asked him, startling him out of the trance he was in. 

clearing his throat, he stood straighter, suddenly feeling tense under your curious gaze. 

“my apologies, princess,” he started, the timbre of his voice lower. quieter. “i’d just feel more at ease if i stood guard for a little longer.”

choso knew his reasoning was stupid. all the knights that were assigned to ensure your protection were the most skilled ones in the kingdom. there was no reason for him to be worried. nor was there any for him to lie straight to your face. 

a small laugh was the only answer he got from you and something in his gaze shifted. something softened as he looked down at your tired features and the brightness of them. 

“i see,” you mused, taking a step back. “well, i know i’ll have a restful night now,” you teased the slightest bit before grabbing ahold of the handle. 

before you could slip back inside, before he could even think of what he was doing, choso stepped into the doorframe, hand resting against the surface as he pushed the door open again.

your head whipped up in surprise, eyes wide. your lips parted, trying and failing to think of something to say. but the words died in your throat at the bare sight of him and the way his head hung low, shadows casted over his face by his long bangs and a heaviness to his gaze you have been afraid to name for the longest time. 

choso wasn’t one to be led by his emotions. and he certainly wasn’t one to act on impulse. but God, was it getting harder and harder for him to keep all of his sorrows to himself. 

“i have served your father for as long as i could remember,” he spoke, his voice a mere whisper in the dead of the night. “and i have never once regretted my decision and yet–”

he cut himself off, fingers pushing his hair away from his face in a way that almost read as frustrated. you could almost read the conflict happening behind his eyes, could almost feel the weights he had carried this far, the flame of the candles illuminating the hallway casting a warm glow over his mournful gaze. 

“i have nothing to offer you,” choso tried again, his voice trembling as he took another step forward. 

you didn’t move away, tilting your chin up, letting him get closer to you. and it tore him apart, really, how you looked at him so concerned. so worried about him that he couldn’t help but hope that you’d feel the same as him. 

“i have no titles, no lands and no names,” he breathed out, like it cost him everything to even voice his thoughts out. “but i’d follow you wherever you’d go and i’d do whatever you’d command.”

his words were rushed, like the way he impulsively grabbed your hand and pressed it against his chest, right above his wildly beating his heart. 

“every breath i draw, every beat of my heart, i’ll hand them to you. if you’ll have them,” he nearly pleaded, lashes batting away tears he never imagine he could shed. 

“i’ll give you my soul. if you’ll have me. so please–”

choso couldn’t find it in him to finish. he couldn’t find anymore words suitable enough, couldn’t help the small cracks in his voice nor the way he immediately nuzzled into the hand you brought up to his cheek. his fingers wrapped around your wrist, keeping your hand against his face, holding onto you like a lifeline. 

gently, his lips pressed against your palm, trailing down the delicate expanse of your wrist. it felt like he was branding your skin, the heat traveling up your arm and forming a pool at the pit of your stomach. and you felt your heart jump out of its cage when your eyes met his half-lidded ones, finding nothing in them but a hunger he had suppressed for far too long. 

choso drew out a shaky breath, his hand dropping yours as he shook his head, realization slowly hitting him. he shouldn’t be here. he shouldn’t be doing this. but before he could turn around and before you could miss this chance, you called out to him again. 

“didn’t you say you were going to stay?” you asked him. 

choso knew better than to listen to you. he knew better than to be a slave to his desires. and yet, he found himself unable to refuse you or the pleading look in your eyes. 

he took another tentative step forward. you took one back, letting him into your space, letting him place a hand around the curve of your waist, letting him close the door behind him. your spacious bedchambers suddenly felt cramped, the chilly, summer breeze drawing goosebumps all over your skin. 

you didn’t speak, watching his eyebrows furrow and his eyes shut tight for a split second. his throat bobbed, mouth drying up. slowly, his head dipped, forehead pressing against yours, his thumb drawing warm circles over your flimsy nightgown. 

“tell me to stop,” he implored.

you couldn’t bring yourself to.

© mimi-sunny — all rights reserved. do not translate, plagiarize or feed into ai.

the woman gives the man a smile, it’s obvious the other man saw it, and he decided to ignore it. pretend he didn’t see it. he watches as your smile drops, and you look down at your lap.

that wasn’t very nice.

he wanted to go over there and talk some sense into him, but that’s none of his business. besides, he’ll be labeled as a creep for even looking so closely.

he walks closer to you and the other man, just…. hoping to hear a conversation or two. he looks professional enough, no one would find him suspicious.

“i found a new piece to go in the living space! it’s neutral enough where you like it, but-”

your voice was like honey, so smooth and expressive.

“for the last time,” the man says your name, and hiromi keeps it in his mind, “i don’t care about the decorations for the house.”

his voice was degrading and deep. hiromi decided then and there, that he would be a better fit for you. he would always indulge in what you had to say.

he watches as you slouch in your seat, shutting your mouth. whatever glint you had in your eyes was gone.

the man across from you looks up to see your dejected gaze, he sighs heavily, “look, it’s not that i don’t care,” except you don’t because you just said you didn’t, “i just trust you. i know whatever you found will look good.”

he pats your head, not for praise, but it’s condescending. it’s clear you understood it too, because you offer a weak smile and nod.

you look around the place before spotting hiromi. unfortunately for him, he hasn’t taken his eyes off you once.

your eyes widened at the man staring at you. his eyes didn’t same when he was caught. it was a little funny, but also embarrassing that he had caught the moment with your husband.

hiromi wants to look away but he can’t. his heart nearly explodes when you raise your hand and wave awkwardly, the smile you offer wasn’t sad anymore.

your husband who just so happened to look at the wrong time, whips his head over to hiromi. he gives him a glare before looking at you, “you know him?” you shake you head politely.

“then why are you waving at him?”

you furrow your eyebrows, “because it’s friendly? i accidentally looked at him and he saw me. i didn’t want to be awkward or rude.”

you didn’t tell him the truth, you lied. you know for a fact he was already looking at you. he doesn’t know if you did it to protect him or yourself. either way, it was a bit of a red flag.

“i apologize if i caused harm.”

hiromi must’ve surprised you, because your eyes widened at his voice. your husband, who would rather yell at you than another man, replies, “all good man. just didn’t know,” he glares at you for a quick moment, “she had wandering eyes.”

hiromi didn’t like that, not one bit. especially when he saw your face drop.

“her eyes wandered, but that doesn’t make them wandering eyes. just curious ones.”

your husband furrowed his eyebrows, “if you say so. but she’s been like this for a while. always catching people’s attention and basking in it.”

“i’m confused. you’re blaming your wife for being beautiful? that’s not fair.”

your husband didn’t like that, he was pissed, “who do you think you are, huh? i thought you came to apologize, not hit on my wife.”

“i wasn’t hitting on her,” he was, “i wasn’t even speaking to her, i was speaking to you. you took it as flirty, i took it as an observation.”

you laugh quietly before coughing to try and cover it up. it’s too bad your husband heard.

“you think this is funny?” he grabs your wrist, “come on, we’re leaving.” he drags you from out of your seat towards the exit. hiromi could hear a small, “my books!”

he looked at the table to see two books. one of them seemed to be a fantasy novel, he imagines you read it to see yourself somewhere else.

the other is a self help book titled, ‘how to keep your depression away.’

he knows your husband saw these books, that bin in particular, so why not allow you to come back for it? his pride was more important than you receiving help apparently.

hiromi doesn’t know you. he doesn’t know where you live, what you like, your aspirations. but he does hope that you’re safe at home, and the next time he sees you, he wants to have a private chat.

when you got home, you knew what was coming. the blaming, the twisting of the situation, the lying, the yelling. it was always like this. you don’t know when your husband changed, maybe he was always like this and just put on a beautiful lie.

you couldn’t leave him, not when you had nothing. he convinced you to stay at home while he worked. it hadn’t really been fair, he knows you wanted to be a teacher.

he hadn’t made you sign a prenup, but it wouldn’t get you far, especially if you didn’t have much in your savings.

the yelling lasted all night. you were just happy the neighbors didn’t call the police again. he blamed you again, he couldn’t stand others looking at you. he changed the situation, saying you gave the man a seductive look. he lied, saying that you were always looking for someone new, that you were cheating on him.

and he yells. all he does is yell.

you can only hope to appease him by apologizing, telling him it will never happen again. you were constantly taking the blame. you wanted to leave him, once you find an opportunity to get away from him without his eyes on you, that’s when it will happen.

hiromi couldn’t stop thinking about you. it had been four days since the incident, and you were the only thing on his mind. you eyes were so kind, and all you energy was being drained by your husband.

so imagine his surprise when he sees you at the same book store, holding the books you couldn’t get last time.

he just stares, he wants to go up to you, but he fears your husband might be near.

your heads down, after officially marrying your husband, it was a habit you couldn’t seem to shake.

you could feel it, eyes on you. you never know if it’s good or bad, but something tells you to look, just this once.

you do. it’s the man from last time. he doesn’t give you a dirty look or scowl. he smiles at you, it wasn’t like the one he gave your husband, this one was kind.

you were shocked. didn’t he remember the way your husband spoke to him? maybe he pittied you, you mean, you were pretty sure he heard your husband talking condescendingly to you.

so imagine your surprise when he walks up to you.

when hiromi looks at you, he just wants to put his hands on your face and apologize. apologize for being to late, for allowing you to go so long with your husband.

“what a coincidence. i hope your husband wasn’t to upset from last time.”

your face showed disinterest, “his feelings are the last thing on my mind.”

he wasn’t expecting that, and his face shows it.

“i don’t mean to come off rude, but are you not happy with him?”

it was a little rude to ask a stranger such a personal question about their marriage, but it didn’t seem to faze you.

“everyone but him can see i’m not happy. i just do what i can to keep him content.”

you shrug walking away. hiromi couldn’t let you leave, not after the two of you found each other. it was clearly fate.

he follows after you like a lost puppy, “is leaving him not an option? do you fear for your safety?”

you offer a small laugh, “are you a cop? listen it’s fine, you don’t have to lose sleep over it.”

that’s exactly the issue. he is loosing sleep over it.

“not a cop, but a lawyer.”

your head snapped towards him, “a lawyer huh?”

and that was the beginning, you and hiromi would secretly meet up with each other. he would help you contact divorce lawyers in the area, while also helping you keep things discreet. he even offered to fund the lawyers.

“you can’t be serious.”

“as serious as a heart attack.”

“you shouldn’t joke like that. and i guess i’m just confused. i’m not really understanding why you’re so adamant on helping me.”

hiromi wanted to tell you so badly. he wanted to confess that the moment he saw you he wanted to be yours. he couldn’t, not now at least. you were still technically married, and not only that, he’s the one who is saving you from your marriage.

he would never confess when you’re so vulnerable. he also didn’t want you to feel obligated to like him back. that’s like a cop saving someone from a hostage confessing to the victim they saved.

he can’t tell you that the past couple of months solidified his feelings for you.

he can’t tell you that despite the situation, he’s so glad the two of you met.

he can’t tell you that you’re all he thinks about now a days.

and he really can’t tell you that he’d do anything to be yours. whether that means waiting a lifetime, or getting rid of your husband.

he can’t tell you this, so he smiles, “i’m a lawyer, so i have a strong sense of justice.”

even though he can’t confess, he revels in the big smile you give him. he also savors the way you say his name so sweetly, “thank you hiromi.”

he waited thirty years to meet you, he’ll wait thirty more if it means the two of you could be together.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

"Are you working on Saturday?"

"Yes, Nanami. Mr. Higuruma said he wants the entire team in the firm's meeting room. This case has become more complicated because of the prosecution."

"Wasn't your argument about the need for jobs at that factory good enough?"

"Mr. Higuruma said it was good, but new evidence came from somewhere else. I can't say anything more, Nanami."

"I see. Trials are very confidential, especially when two major companies are involved."

I took out the ring box, opened it, and placed it on the table in front of you.

"Let's get married."

"What?"

"Let's get married. Don't you want to?"

"Yes. Yes, I want to marry you. I just wasn't expecting you to ask me right now."

"Well... I know people usually do it differently, but we're busy with work, and this way we can be more practical."

I never thought a marriage that began like that would become an even greater disaster.

The honeymoon was postponed until we had more money.

Our schedules began drifting further and further apart.

Stress, routine, and going to bed every night thinking about Haibara's accident eventually led me to notice her one morning when I stopped, as usual, to buy coffee and croissants for breakfast.

"Good morning, Mr. Nanami. I saved the last two croissants for you."

It was obvious she had put on makeup.

Her hair was curled.

She was wearing nicer clothes, even if the apron hid most of them.

The blush on her cheeks.

The slight stutter.

It was easy to tell.

"Thank you. I was wondering if you were free tonight..."

"Uh... Yes. Yes, I am."

"What time do you finish work?"

"Eight p.m."

"I'll pick you up then."

I left after watching her heart race frantically.

Then I returned to work.

I worked.

I put up with my boss.

I did what I had been doing for years at that company.

That was where the affair began.

I wasn't interested.

I didn't like her.

Besides, she exhausted me because she kept insisting on going on dates.

You weren't there.

And then you disappeared completely.

The clothes hanging in the closet were things you no longer wore.

You hadn't changed your toothbrush in a long time, and it still looked brand new.

Your makeup case was no longer left open beside the sink.

Your shampoo, body wash, and creams looked untouched, as if they had just been bought.

When I woke up, you were in bed wearing your work clothes, and your side of the bed wasn't even messy.

You had probably gotten home only an hour earlier.

It didn't take me long to realize that, just like me, you had someone else.

I didn't even follow you.

I simply waited outside the law firm where you worked and invited you to dinner.

"Why did you order spicy ramen if you can't handle spicy food?"

"I thought..."

Your boss laughed while his hand rested on your waist.

"I wasn't thinking. I never thought the broth would come out through my nose."

"That was so disgusting."

You pulled away and playfully hit him on the shoulder.

"I'm never going out with you again."

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. I bet we'll have dinner together again tomorrow."

"Never again."

"You thought it was cute."

You shook your head.

"You thought it was a little cute."

"It was kind of cute when you looked surprised and embarrassed. I'll admit that."

You kissed each other.

Not a gentle kiss.

Not a brief peck, the kind we occasionally shared during those rare moments when we happened to be awake at the same time.

You kissed him with passion and love.

Right there in the middle of the street.

Without caring how badly people might judge it.

Over the following weeks, I became obsessed.

I noticed that you were coming home later.

And when I returned home, you had already taken another one of your essential belongings to his house.

We stopped being a married couple living like strangers.

We became two strangers living in the same place.

I searched your boss's name more than ten times a day.

Hiromi Higuruma.

Brilliant student from the University of Tokyo.

Top honors.

One of the highest scores on the bar exam.

It wounded my pride that my wife had chosen a man who could provide more than I could.

"Nanami, you need to revise all of these documents. And redo these financial reports. I also need you to prepare a detailed budget for the meeting I have after lunch."

"That means I'd have to skip lunch."

"Uh... yes, I know..."

My boss dropped the papers onto my desk.

"But isn't it great to work this much?"

"And do nothing else?"

I muttered under my breath as he walked away.

My wife was leaving me for someone else.

That someone else was better than me.

My best friend died because of me, and I blamed the only person who ever cared about me.

I worked more hours than I should.

I was never on vacation.

Those thoughts never stopped circling through my mind.

"Vacation..."

I stood up.

I picked up everything my boss had left on my desk.

I walked into his office without knocking.

I don't remember whether he looked surprised or not.

"Finished already?"

"Yes."

"That fast?"

He laughed loudly.

"You're a machine, Nanami."

"No. I'm a human being who has worked as your slave for years."

"Huh?"

He slammed a hand against the desk.

"Don't be so ungrateful! I'm the one paying for your family's meals. Do you think you deserve more money for overtime? It's the least you can do."

"No. I deserve a vacation."

I dropped the folders onto his desk.

"I quit."

"What?"

"I said I quit."

"You can't just quit like that. You still have work to do."

"No. I'm going on vacation with my wife."

I was about to leave, but suddenly felt the urge to throw all the folders I had just placed there.

I scattered the unfinished work across his office and walked away, leaving him shouting in anger behind me.

"Nanami?"

You asked from the other end of the line.

"Did something happen, Nanami? I don't know why you're calling me during work hours. You never do."

"I..."

I sighed as a waitress set down my black coffee.

"I missed you. That's all."

You gasped in surprise.

"You're calling because you missed me?"

"Yes. I just wanted to hear your voice. It's beautiful."

"I'm in the middle of a trial."

"I'm sorry, but... can't you talk for a little while?"

"Nanami... it's complicated."

"Please."

There was a brief silence.

Then you laughed.

I heard your heels clicking against the floor.

Then the sound of a heavy door closing.

"So what am I supposed to talk about?"

"I don't care. I just want to hear you speak, Y/N."

"Well... the inheritance case is going in our favor. I'm giving the closing argument."

"Not work, please."

"Well..."

You hesitated.

"I tried a new coffee shop. It's a really popular café in Shibuya... I think you'd like it. It's your kind of place."

"I'll take you there. I'll order whatever you liked so much."

"I have to go, Nanami. I'll have dinner with you tonight."

A small pause.

"I love you."

The call ended.

The last thing left in my mind was your declaration of love, while I sat there blushing like an idiot.

I glanced impatiently at my Rolex.

I took a sip of my black coffee.

Then clicked my tongue in annoyance.

I was supposed to meet Hanako at five o'clock.

I had already decided to end the affair.

That girl was always late, and I didn't want to waste any more time.

"Then it'll be over by text. That'll be easier."

I was ready to leave when the café door chimed.

I turned and saw Hanako.

She had dressed up.

A long summer linen dress complemented by a worn leather belt.

"Kento, I'm sorry I'm late."

I didn't look at her.

I simply sat back down.

I watched Hanako notice my wedding ring.

I almost never wore it.

Today, I did.

She sat down timidly and lowered her gaze.

"I missed you, Kento."

"It's Nanami."

I looked at her coldly.

"Taking liberties with strangers is rude."

"Well... we're not strangers."

"Yes. Yes, we are."

I gave her an icy stare.

"I don't know who you are, and I don't care. I'm not here for conversation. If I wanted that, I'd go play bingo."

"Did I do something wrong?"

Her voice trembled, tears already gathering in her eyes as I stopped being the gentleman she thought I was.

"Getting involved with a married man doesn't seem bad enough to you?"

"I didn't know. You never mentioned it."

"I'm not here to argue about whether I kept things from you or whether you only saw what you wanted to see."

I finished the last of my coffee.

"I'm married."

I held up the ring.

Y/N's name was engraved inside it in elegant lettering.

"My wife is at work right now. She'll get home earlier today and we'll have dinner together."

I paused.

"Maybe we'll have sex afterward. The truth is, I want to have children with her."

"Why are you telling me this now?"

Her voice broke.

"You're breaking my heart... I..."

I showed her my phone wallpaper.

A photo of Y/N smiling happily beside a deer.

I had taken it at Nara Park.

"This is the woman I'm hurting by being with you."

I looked at the photo for a moment.

"She doesn't deserve this."

Tears rolled down Hanako's cheeks.

I put my phone away, paid for my coffee, and stood up.

"Kento, don't."

She grabbed me.

I pulled away from her grip and left.

I just wanted to go home.

I wanted a reset button.

Or a time machine.

Anything that would let me undo all of these mistakes.

Over the years Higuruma never imagined he would spend his days in his imagination, dreaming of what it might be like to taste someone as sweet as you. Let alone touch you. Now that you're in college it's hard for him to still picture you being that innocent girl her remembers. Except everytime you came to visit and you would give him that stupid smile, looking up at him with those big eyes. He knew.

It wasn't hard to tell you were inexpierenced, clearly never being with a man with the way you blushed easily at little things.

Higuruma had never suggested or made any attempts at his newfound interest, hoping you wouldn't notice the way his gaze would stay fixed on you longer then intended, or the way his eyes drifted too low when having a conversation with you, hoping to get a glimpse of the cleavage you let show.

Fourth of July was right around the corner, The sun was beaming and the bees were buzzing. The pool was open and it was calling your name.

It didn't take long for you to find your favorite swimsuit, shades, and hop onto a float.

Typically, for summer break you'd be traveling with your friends. But this year you decided to come home, needing a break from reality for a bit. Your father was more than happy to hear you were staying with him for the summer.

You had arrived home yesterday afternoon, though you had crashed imidiatley after getting here, you recall your dad letting you know he wouldn't be back til later tonight. Something having to do with work?

Getting lost in thought, you didn't hear the screen door to the house slide open.

Higuruma ponders for a minute, enjoying the view you present. You lay flat on your back, one hand resting over your head and the other hanging loosely in the pool Surely his best friend wouldn't mind him examining his daughter with such disgrace. Deciding it's best be stop himself before he gets started Higuruma interrupts his dirty mind.

Higuruma lets out a low whistle, "Hey" an all too familiar gruff voice says.

You jump in shock, falling off of your float and into the water. The water splashes over you, taking you under into the cold before you push yourself back up, standing on your feet. You catch your breath, wiping the water out of your eyes.

Higuruma chuckles as he watches you struggle.

Finally looking up, you take in his features. Higuruma had always been attractive to you. His face was something you would see in a sculpture. A sharp jaw-line, even -yet clearly unkempt- eyebrows and an upturned nose that gave every smile a hint of mischief.

He was always serious, never really indulging in fun activities unless it had to do with your father's work. Of course, he gifted you small things on special occasions like your birthday, you never got to see an unserious side of him. However you did imagine.

Today higuruma wore a white fitted tank top with a pair of dark blue basketball shorts. In his hand he carried a cooler, and on this shoulder lay a towel.

"Higuruma" you damn near growl, fighting the urge to snap at him for scaring you like that.

"Sorry, princess." he mutters before walking towards the chairs.

The backyard wasn't enormous but it wasn't too small. The inground pool sat centered, surrounded by the wood of the deck and a single flower bed in the back. Two white pool chairs sat on either side, With a wooden fence enclosing the space together.

Higuruma walks to chair you sat your towel on. Sitting down on the other, he places the cooler down and begins to rummage through it, grabbing a beer.

You take this opportunity to get out of the pool and make your way to him, it never hurt to be nosey.

"whatcha got there~" you hum, poking your head out a bit more to tease him.

He looks up, slightly taken a back at how close you are to him. You stand about 10 inches away from him, looking down. Your bathing suit has veered further away from your chest as you bend down, giving him access to the goods.

His gaze lingers longer than it should have. jeans tightening all of a sudden as his cock grows, struggling for freedom. You notice his staring and suddenly your aware of your body, arms going up to cross over your chest. He quickly averts his gaze, cracking open the beer and taking a long swig.

You let out a huff, moving away to sit on the seat next to his. "not gonna offer me one?" you question, slightly pouting.

"I don't think your dad would appreciate me getting you drunk" Higuruma replies.

"pshh, it's just beer. And i've done way worse, I'm in college remember?" You shrug your shoulders, untangling your arms and putting them behind you, keeping your weight up with them.

Higuruma looks at you longer then intended, not liking how those words sounded. He hums before reaching into the cooler handing you a beer.

You crack it open, taking a small sip. Yea, you've drank alcohol plenty of times going to parties but you've never been drunk as you don't like the taste of liquor. Beer wasn't any better. The carbonation and bitter taste combination wasn't all that bad but wasn't great either.

"so what have you been up to, kid?" Higuruma questions, nudging your arm before taking another swig of his beer. He questions why he even asks, he already knows what you've been up to. Keeping tabs on you wasn't all that hard especially when you didn't do much in general, unless it was summer. Higuruma had friends, allies, everywhere who were willing to give up information for a little bit of change. Over the years he convinced himself it was normal, completley normal he was making sure his best friend's daughter was safe 24/7. While also making sure she hadn't given up the forbidden fruit he so desperatly craved.

The two of you hadn't noticed how much time had passed as you talked about nonsense. beer cans were scattered over the lawn and the sun was beginning to set.

The alcohol had started to get to you a while ago, cheeks burning with every swig you took and every sentenced spoke. Higuruma clearly handled his liquor way better then you as he wasn't swaying, though his cheeks did have a pinkish tint to them. You swayed in your chair a bit, now facing Higuruma.

The alcohol was influencing your actions, feeling a bit bold you figure it wouldn't hurt to confess your feelings.

"You know-" you start, words slurring slightly. "You have nice eyes" you mumble.

He exhales through his nose, eyebrow creasing slightly, "so I've been told."

"no" you shake your head and look up at him, "Like, really nice."

He doesn't say anything this time. Not even granting you a hum or an eyeroll, just side eyeing you as he sips his 4th beer. Higuruma isn't sure what to do, his mind is moving franticly trying to find a remark but nothing comes up.

"I've always had a crush on you" you smirk, turning away to down the rest of your can before tossing it away.

The world stills for a moment for Higuruma. He was shocked to say the least, hand moving to place his can on the rock below his seat. His heart was beating to fast for his liking, cheeks heating up at the thought of you truly being attracted to him. He had fantasized about this for years, never thinking it would actually happen.

Fixing his composure just as quickly as it left, he shifts and chuckles.

"i think-" he clears his throat before continuing, "...I think i've been in love with you for a while."

To say you were flushing would be an understatement. You looked to the ground, your cheeks were on fire, heart fluttering in your chest, and your stomach twisting in knots. Did he actually mean that?

The two of you weren't ever close, per say, but it was hard to ignore the way he look at you. Even though he thought u didn't notice, you did. Your mind is on a rampage trying to process his words.

Before your mind can ponder any longer Higuruma stands carefully, reaching his right hand to your chin, lifting your head up to face him.

"Don't hide that pretty face from me" he smirks, clearly enjoying the reactions he was getting out of you.

"I-I'm not" you mutter, looking up at him.

He makes the first move, bringing his left hand up to your cheek, he leans in and presses his lips against yours. Instinctively your hands move to his chest, feeling the broad muscle under his skimpy top. This kiss wasn't like one you've experienced before, it was rough yet passionate. By the time he pulled away you were gasping lightly for air.

Higuruma moves his right hand to your neck, softly running slow circles before beginning his trail on the side of your body, stopping at your waist.

Moving your hands to wrap around his neck to bring him closer, you bring him in for another kiss, this one much slower. His tongue begged for entrance and you didn't put up much of a fight, allowing him devour you.

You let out a small moan before he pulls away. your face was flustered and your eyes were coated with lust. Higuruma hums, looking down at you smirking.

"tell me," he mutters. "How many people have you been with?" he questions.

You ponder for a moment. "well dating wise ive had a couple boyfriends back in grade school" your look away, "but i've never... you know"

"No need to be shy, princess"

You let out a small squeak as Higuruma scoops you up abrubtly and sets you on the pool chair.

"I'm not gonna lose my-!" you start, before quietly saying, "virginity outside"

He gives you a confused look before chuckling and leaning down to whisper in your ear, "Of course not, pretty girl."

You shift as Higuruma begins placing small kisses down your neck, hand trailing down to your breasts. Sliding the fabric to the side, his hand moves so he can begin to caress your boob. squeezing and and toying with your mound. You moan under his touch, nipples becoming hard at the pressure. Your body was hot, a familiar feeling beginning to form between your legs.

You feel Higuruma smirk into your neck as he places another kiss. His hand finds its way to your nipple, fingers flicking over the sensitive nub. Your body squirms in enjoyment, wondering what else he has to offer.

"Should I keep going?" he questions, looking into your eyes, waiting for an answer. You nod your head. Higuruma shakes his head, displeased at your response. "you have a mouth. use it." he says in that serious tone you've grown to love.

"yes" you nod your head again, doe eyes looking up at him.

If Higuruma wasn't gone already, he for sure was now. He brings his head back down to continue littering your neck with kisses. His hand has now abandoned your boob, making his way towards your bathing suit bottoms.

Sliding his hand underneath the flimsy material, he slips a finger between your folds, feeling the water which await him. He lets out a groan into your neck.

"Didn't think you'd be this wet." he mumbles, placing his finger on your clit lightly. You let out a soft moan. "you know, considering were outside." he chuckles darkly against your skin before pulling away to look at you.

He adds another finger to explore your heat, index finger begininng to rub circles onto your bud while the middle felt between your folds.

"You're just a dirty girl, aren't you?" He muses, coming back up to place a small kiss on your lips.

Slowly, he inserts his thick middle finger into your wet hole, which gladly takes him in. He moves his finger at a steady pace, finding what you like most by hearing the noises you're making.

His kisses begin to get rougher, nose brushing against your skin. Goosebumps rise as he adds another finger.

"Fuck, baby" he groans in to your mouth. You return the gesture moaning underneath him. "You're so tight"

Higuruma gives you a second to adjust before he starts moving his fingers at a fast pace, curling them as he goes. His thumb starts rubbing harder against your nub, your moans continue to get louder.

He brings his free hand to your neck, wrapping his fingers around your soft skin but not gripping.

"Shh," he pulls away, looking at you with a dark gaze. "We don't want anyone to hear you enjoying a 40 something year old man touching you, would you?"

Higuruma was losing his control, his dick was aching in his shorts, he could already feel the precum beginning to leak from his tip. He lets out a low groan at the sight of you. How long could he control himself before he rips off your skimpy outfit you call a bathing suit? Sure he was a patient man but, he couldn't help the aching reminder twitching in his shorts.

Your body squirms under his touch, moving your hand into the rhythm of his, letting out quieter moans. You were almost there, body aching for that sweet release. Your legs spread wider for him, your wet cunt making squelching noises as Higuruma assaulted your poor pussy.

He grips your neck, slightly adding more pressure, and brings his head down to suck on your still visible breast. His tongue flicks and bites lightly, "mine" you swear you hear him mumble into your flesh.

His fingers were moving rapidly, you couldn't hold it anymore, legs shaking, you let out a muffled moan as you cum around his fingers.

Higuruma slows his pace, sliding his fingers out of your hole and onto assault your soar clit. You push his hand away and he moves it.

Bringing his head up to look at you, he places a kiss on your forehead.

Suddenly the back door slides open, the two of you snap your heads to the noise. Your father stood there, jaw dropped. He couldn't believe the sight.

"What the fuck!!" He yells.

You're face heated, hoping your dad hadn't seen much, you hurriedly you adjust your swimsuit and sit up, trying to cover yourself anymore then what the swim suit did.

Higuruma quickly moves to stand up and turn away, picking up his belongings.

Your mind was on a rampage, stomach doing flips. How would you ever be able to explain yourself to your father. He just witnessed his only friend, touching his little girl. How could he ever look at you two the same?

This isn't what you wanted, sure you knew the risk when it came to your actions but this wasn't how you pictured it happening. There was no way you would be able to live with yourself after. Your father would surely never speak to you or Higuruma again.

Y/N has never believed in such nonsense. Ever since she was a child, she has been fought over by two of the most powerful clans: the Gojo Clan and the Zen'in Clan. Growing up, she constantly felt the need to work harder in order to keep up with and surpass Gojo, while the abuse she suffered at the hands of the Zen'in Clan only grew worse with each passing day. After severing her ties with both clans and abandoning the methods imposed by jujutsu society, Y/N chooses to live life on her own terms and by her own rules.

Meanwhile, four months ago, Hiromi began having dreams of a past life in which he was a samurai during the Heian Era, shortly after awakening his cursed energy. As he learns more about jujutsu, he searches for Y/N, who in that previous life was the daughter of a feudal lord entrusted to his protection.

By a twist of fate, Y/N and Hiromi both find themselves in Saitama after receiving reports of a Special Grade Curse. However, this curse brings with it a threat connected to their past lives. Two souls, victims of a cruel destiny, reunite after centuries apart.

Will Y/N and Hiromi finally find their happy ending together, or will fate separate them once again?

⚠️ Warning ⚠️

This is a Reader Insert fanfiction; however, Y/N is given a physical description throughout the story. References to her appearance, body type, and other physical traits may appear in various chapters.

If you prefer reader inserts with a completely customizable appearance, please keep this in mind before reading.

⚠️ Content Warnings⚠️

This story contains or may contain the following themes:

Child abuse

Child neglect

Bullying and harassment

Emotional and psychological abuse

Self-harm

Suicide and double suicide

Murder and violence

Death and grief

Forced or arranged marriages / marriages of convenience

Trauma and traumatic memories

Past-life memories and reincarnation

Warfare and armed conflict

Injury, blood, and depictions of wounds

Social discrimination and mistreatment

References to feudal-era customs and practices that may be disturbing to modern audiences

Reader discretion 👀 is advised.

✨ Special thanks to @alebrasil0101 for the idea.

✨ Only on Tumblr.

✨ If you're interested in the fanfic, check the masterlist to find out when the episodes will be released.

when the sky would erupt in bursts of vibrant colors, ranging from hues of golden yellow to cherry red, crackling and glittering in their wake. 

the fourth of july was special—the one day people gathered around town to celebrate, with greasy fried foods, whipped cream on funnel cakes, and slamming back beers like water under the sun's unrelenting heat. 

and choso? well, he was a wreck. clammy palms he seemed to wipe off against the rough fabric of his jeans, each time you turned, a restless twitching leg, and nervous laughter when he missed what you said. 

today wasn’t special for him because of the town holiday. today was special because it was the day he finally gathered the guts to tell you how he felt. 

that is…if he went through with it. 

seven-plus years of friendship weren’t enough; he wanted more. wanted you to see him through a different lens other than the awkward, sensitive, nerdy boy you knew from seventh grade. the one who had braces and a bad mod cut his mom tried to talk him out of, but he never listened. the one you would dream big with at 3 am, sprawled on his harry potter sheets, panic! at the disco, vocals seeping from his cd player, as you daydreamed about parties. the thrill of sneaking out and losing your virginity to a special someone– all that would come with the transition to high school the following summer. 

now nineteen and in your second year of undergrad, he’d grown tired of waiting, of the rehearsed shower convos he had daily, of the scenarios in which you were already his. time was only passing, days into months, months into years, and his crush was only worsening. 

hand in hand through the park, the photobooth you took silly pictures using equally stupid faces, he already planned to add to the collection on his wall. in each strip, his eyes were on you, the undeniable look of love and pure adoration. which it seemed everyone could see, toji, suguru, hell–even sukuna noticed. your sheer obliviousness was almost admirable.

“are you two a…couple?” 

the ferris wheel worker asked if you were a couple when he spotted choso following you around like a lost puppy, heart-eyed, and utterly swooning. you both shied away, stumbling over your words to explain the dynamic between you, despite acting like a literal couple. so affectionate no one would’ve guessed. 

“wha—us???? pst…no way.” choso quickly came to the defense, his lie almost as bad as his acting. clearing his throat aggressively. 

“oh! no, just…friends,” you added, flushed. 

the worker just smirked disbelievingly, “uh huh…” shooting choso a knowing arched brow over your head, one that said ‘if you don’t do it now, someone else will come along without hesitation.’ 

that was the last bit of encouragement he needed. the thought of you with anyone else was a fate far more agonizing than death if you weren’t the one beside him. 

who else would hold your shopping bags as you tried on hundreds of clothes you wouldn’t buy? who would listen to you rant on and on, head in his lap, just listening and playing with your hair soothingly. who’d lie with you about your birthday to snag free pizookies, or laugh at the cringey vlogs you made in high school together? 

it had to be tonight. it had to be him.

it was 11:50 when the festival crowd rushed to the waterfront, buzzing with anticipation and excitement for the fireworks show. children babbling, girls squeaking, and the elderly already complaining about the noise in advance.

everyone was in their own circles, and yet again, his eyes went to you. always on you. watching the way your face lit up, how you talked with such happiness about the fireworks, how your nose did a cute twitch when you were cold.

he immediately shrugged off his jacket, helping you into it as it swallowed your frame. his arm pulling you into his side, hands reaching to rub your back for warmth. it was definitely more intimate than friendly…but you didn’t seem to mind. 

you never did. 

the countdown was happening now. screams and cheers of joy echoed the internal countdown now playing in his head. he had seconds left, eyes darting down to you again, seeing the way you were distracted, his body slowly turning to face yours. your attention shifted, giving him a confused look as he gently cupped your face. his cool skin against the softness of yours, 

thumbs swept gently over your cheekbones while he built the courage not to back out now. he couldn’t. 

the cheers quieted now, drowned out by the pace of his rapid beating heart, thumping in his eardrums like a timer. 

“will…” his lips paused; throat clenching, he swallowed–hard. catching the way you patiently waited, those damned beautiful eyes he often lost himself in, searching his. 

“listen,” he corrected, clearing his throat, the sound of the crowd’s countdown getting closer fading back in. 

“..ten..nine…eight…”

“i know, this is sorta sudden, but i can’t hold onto the weak promise of tomorrow’s courage any longer, and how each day i hold back is another i waste without you in my arms…”

you froze. eyes widening. 

“so…may you make me the happiest guy here, and give me the honor of being your boyfriend…?” he finished shakily, holding his breath. 

he didn’t have much time to react before you launched yourself at him, arms thrown around his neck with a happy laugh, “yes, cho! finally!”

you’d been…waiting???

“...three…two...one…!”

the fireworks shot off, creating echoing booms–his timing perfect, not even caring that you’d just admitted to knowing this entire time. his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he leaned down. capturing your lips in a slow, passionate kiss, like you were the only oxygen and celebration he needed that night.

smiling against your lips, Choso tilted your head, deepening the kiss further, the fireworks painting your dark silhouettes with the deep sapphires and emerald greens, the crowd cheering and shrieking around you, and gunpowder sprinkled over your clothes. but neither of you cared. or stopped. continuing to make out under the sparkling sky.

tonight marked the best fourth of july of his life.

tags:@wifichann @sunnyfieldsz @satorusonlygirl @bowiesprettieststar2 @neotoru @b-bitter @tchmiya @lillylovestoji92 @v4mpyyb4tzz+ join or in the comments