AleBrasil

your oldest son gazing out the plane window and yuuji in the middle, watching a cartoon on the screen attached to the back of the seat in front of him.

papa!kento nanami who is the designated family photographer. whether it’s candids or shots you pose for, he rarely asks to be in the photos himself.

he likes to be the one capturing the moment. making sure it’s perfect, timeless, making sure when he looks back at it, everything is just right.

papa!kento nanami who eventually gets dragged into pictures by you. they usually result with you carrying yuuji, kento behind you and holding choso close to him.

papa!kento nanami who abandons his book and ends up watching you play with the boys in the shallow water. the hem of your dress soaked. choso’s nose reddened from the sun. the sand that mysteriously got all over yuuji.

papa!kento nanami who gratefully accepts the handful of shells yuuji dumps in his hands every few minutes and tucks them safely into his shirt.

when one of the shells yuuji picks up is actually a small crab, he screams so loud it catches the attention of others.

yuuji ducks behind your long, flowy skirt and watches intently as choso picks up the crab.

“yuuji, look,” choso cups it in both of his hands. you smile and card your fingers through yuuji’s hair.

“it’s fine, sweetheart.” you crouch and yuuji stands in between your knees, the material of your dress still balled up in his tiny little fists.

“papa!” choso exclaims and shoves his hands in kento’s face.

“this is what scared you, yuuji?” kento hums and yuuji nods, sniffling and wiping his nose.

“it’s okay, it’s okay,” you nuzzle his chubby cheek and kiss his temple.

“say bye, yuuji.” choso gently grins before placing it back in the sand. the crab quickly buries it’s way back underneath the waves and disappears.

“bye…” yuuji mutters.

papa!kento nanami who lets yuuji have ice cream before dinner.

papa!kento nanami who regrets it hours later when yuuji won’t go to sleep.

“papa…” kento turns at the sound of yuuji shuffling out the balcony door towards him in his little dinosaur pajamas.

“hey, buddy.” kento scoops the pink haired boy into his arms and lightly pinches his cheek. “can’t sleep?”

“no, come lay with us.” yuuji says, placing both hands on kento’s cheeks.

he looks back inside, where you and choso had dozed off on the couch, his head in your lap and a movie still playing in the background.

“okay.” kento smiles.

papa!kento nanami who would give the world to see you three happy.

dad!satoru gojo who is almost just as, if not even more excited than your children, tsumiki and megumi.

dad!satoru gojo who buys the three of you individual outfits and accessories to wear to tokyo disneyland based on your favorite disney characters.

dad!satoru gojo who dramatically tears up at the sight of little megumi with brown bear ears inspired by koda from brother bear.

dad!satoru gojo who smothers tsumiki in kisses when he sees her dressed up as cinderella in a baby blue dress and light blue mickey ears.

dad!satoru gojo who insists you two have to match and it has to be something that makes people turn heads.

“toru, no.” you glare at him, folding your arms over your chest.

“what???” satoru exclaims. “no, baby, please,” he wraps his arms around you and drags you towards him.

“i’m not carrying a lizard around the park.” you turn away from him and he rests his chin on top of your head.

“pascal is a chameleon!”

dad!satoru gojo who buys you mickey ears of decorated like princess rapunzel and buys himself flynn rider ears.

dad!satoru gojo who buys mickey shaped ice cream sandwich bars before lunch and earns a sharp glare from you.

“open wide.” satoru taps the cold treat on your lips and watches with a wide smile as you slowly part your lips.

“mommy, mommy!” tsumiki tugs on your hand and bounces on her heels. you look to where she’s pointing to see numerous disney characters walking around and waving.

“mickey! and minnie!” the little girl giggles, practically dragging the rest of you over to them.

“and look, gumi, the balloons!” megumi gazes up and his small hands wrapped around satoru’s slender fingers barely tighten.

dad!satoru gojo who places tsumiki on his shoulders, carries megumi on his hip, and holds your hand with his free one during the afternoon parade.

tsumiki screams in enthusiasm every time a character waves at her, and megumi softly smiles when a character points in his direction.

dad!satoru gojo who on the second day of the park coordinates an entire outfit for the family. you as princess ariel, him as eric, megumi as sebastian the crab and tsumiki as flounder the fish.

dad!satoru gojo who gets ridiculously jealous over an actor doing their job.

you four are eating dinner before the fireworks show in front of cinderella castle. megumi is quietly eating and swinging his feet above the ground while tsumiki’s minnie plushie she chose earlier rests in her lap.

tsumiki suddenly gasps and tugs on satoru’s sleeve. “dad, aladdin!” she smiles as the actor approaches your table.

“hey, little guy.” the aladdin actor kneels in between megumi’s and tsumiki’s chairs and grins at him.

“hi.” megumi mutters through his food and taps his spoon on his plate.

“are you two enjoying the park?” aladdin says, looking between the children.

“yes!” tsumiki practically vibrates in her seat.

“hmm, have you heard about what’s happening tonight?” aladdin hums and looks at you and satoru before going back to entertaining the two kids.

“what?” megumi asks, suddenly more interested in aladdin than his food.

“genie’s giving three wishes to any children in the park tonight,” aladdin mock whispers. “but only to those who are good for their parents.”

“i think they’ve been pretty good, right, megs?” satoru hums, ruffling his black hair that was already messy from the wind after riding the spinning teacups three times in a row.

“what’s one wish you’d make?” aladdin turns to tsumiki who immediately looks to you.

“i want… my mommy to..” she pauses to think and your smile widens at the idea of her immediately thinking of you.

“i want my mommy to go on a magic carpet ride with me.” tsumiki says.

aladdin turns to you and takes your hand. “really? would your mother like that?”

“that sounds like a good idea.” you catch satoru glaring at you two in your peripheral vision and try not to burst out in laughter.

“let’s see… you’re dressed as ariel, aren’t you?”

“and i’m eric. the one ariel is married to.” satoru grumbles.

“do you prefer being in the sky or underwater?” aladdin asks and you shrug.

“well, i am afraid of heights.”

“mommy held my hand really tight on the plane!” tsumiki announces and a light pink tint glazes over your cheeks in slight embarrassment.

“well, that’s fair,” aladdin then stands up and puts his hand’s on the back of megumi’s chair. “jasmine was a little scared the first time i took her flying.”

“now she loves it, right?” megumi asks, peering up at the actor.

“she does, little man.” aladdin flashes the children a toothy grin before walking off to the next table.

“i don’t think the characters are supposed to interact with guests that long.” satoru huffs and you reach over the table to grab his fingers.

“you’re a real big baby, you know?” you smile.

“but mommy, you almost cried on the plane.” megumi looks up at you and earns a nudge from satoru.

dad!satoru gojo who then sticks his tongue out at you like the big baby he is.

━✧˖° ʚ🌠ɞ ✧･ﾟ : *✧ ･ﾟ: *. ・ ･ﾟ: ೃ࿔ *:･ *·˚ ᝰ̟۟

Shoko, after all, was cautious by nature and certainly not the sort of person that one could easily fool. She would never accept a substitute standing in your place, telling her that you wanted to withdraw from everything and everyone, nor would she have accepted it—if Choso did allow you to meet with her instead—if your words sounded too rehearsed. You hoped that he was put in his place when he realised he couldn’t fool her so easily, because you wanted him above all to take a step back from all of this and leave you alone.

Then, your stomach dropped altogether as you rounded a corner, the sight of them both coming into view. By sheer chance, you happened upon two familiar figures in the distance that you could clearly recognise, but they were locked in a fight against each other. It was so messy that your mind could almost not comprehend what it was looking at, before you forced yourself to look again. There was Choso, yes, you could unfortunately recognise his silhouette well enough by now, but also Shoko, too, though her hair was everywhere, lightly concealing her face. Her head was caught in his grip, leaving you to finally understand that something urgent was happening.

God. Had you gone the other way—if you had taken any other turn before getting here—you would have left Shoko completely at his mercy—or lack thereof. Panic surged within you at the very thought, and without thinking it through, a sudden urge to intervene guided you closer towards them both. You ran at them from behind, throwing yourself into trying to wrench him off of her, and when that immediately failed, you next tried to wedge yourself in between them both to pry them apart.

Shoko’s eyes widened from the moment she saw you, looking all desperate and breathless from the effort of wrestling out of his grip. Choso, on the other hand, did not register you right away. He shoved you down as if you were a mere obstacle with a brutal throw, only understanding a moment later what he had done at all. He, too, had to take a second to process what he was seeing. For one, you were no longer in the van where he had left you, and somehow, by sheer coincidence, you managed to find him in a situation he did not want to be in to begin with.

The second he understood that he might have hurt you, his hands fell away from Shoko, who, despite herself, lurched to distance you from him altogether, dropping to her knees beside you and pulling you back with her.

Choso froze at the sight, his hands curling into fists as he tried to calm himself down.

“You’re okay?” Shoko asked you at once. “You’re not hurt anywhere?”

You were still trying to catch your breath as you replied, your stomach in pain from where his hand had connected, but also from the burst of adrenaline. “I’m fine,” you panted out. “Ar—Are you?”

Shoko nodded, and relief settled in you, but then you flinched at the looming figure still standing right beside you both, understanding all too well that this was not over just yet.

“You have to understand,” he started, trying to keep his voice as level as he could possibly manage, “I didn’t want to hurt anyone to begin with, but things have gotten very, very complicated.”

Shoko let out a strained laugh over the audacity of his reasoning. “Complicated?” she repeated. “You attacked me.”

“Because you were going to report me,” Choso reasoned, quick to justify himself. “I know what I’m doing is wrong, I’m not denying that, but I can’t help but—” he broke off, his hands now trembling at his sides. “I can’t help what I want, and it makes me act—”

“What you want?” you suddenly broke out, turning on him to cast a look that was almost pleading. “What about what I want?” you asked him, because with everything that had happened so far, you had been barely given a chance to fend for yourself at all, let alone get a word out that you weren’t interested in him in the same way he was with you. “I don’t want any of this, so why are you putting me through literal hell?”

Choso took a small step forward, and Shoko let out a sharp, defensive sound of protest as he did. She hated how helpless she felt, and you hated it too, because nothing seemed to be getting through to him.

“I can’t explain it well at all,” he continued, trying to make himself both look and sound less imposing, less threatening, “but it’s just… I really do want what’s best for you,” he insisted, his eyes fixed on yours. “I’m very bad at showing it, I won’t deny that, but if you just let me take care of you, then I can take you away from all of this… the stress, the obstacles, the—” he suddenly stopped, his expression falling from pleading to heartbroken when he saw the frightened look on your face. “Please don’t look at me like that. I’m serious. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You hesitated, but before you could reject him once more, Shoko misinterpreted your reaction as pity.

“Don’t you dare feel bad for him,” she hissed, yanking your arm back. “He’s unwell. Can’t you see that?”

“That’s not what I—” you gasped out.

Choso cut in at once, sending the opening while he still had it. “How about this, then? If you come with me without making even more of a scene, then your friend doesn’t have to die.”

That much worked to cease the bickering between you both, but in the worst possible way.

Shoko froze. “What?”

“W-wait, wait, what do you me—” you started as well, your words landing messily as panic gripped you.

“I’m sorry,” Choso stopped you both, shaking his head and looking genuinely pained by the whole thing. “I really am so sorry, but I can’t just let you go freely. You would alert the police, and I’ll be in even more trouble,” he sighed, considering his options. “But… I can let you go somewhere else. Where I decide.”

Shoko paused, not feeling too great about what Choso must have meant about somewhere else. She looked around her, shooting you a charged, desperate look. “Wait. There’s only one of him. Two of us. If we split up, then we can—”

Choso, however, did not seem at all interested in a chase. He wanted to do right by you, but in his attempt to do so, he had landed himself in a situation that was difficult to get out of. He needed to retake control and figure out how to put a lid on this whole mess without attracting even more unwanted attention. He ended up moving decisively to grab you, provoking Shoko to suddenly lunge forward in an attempt to keep you away from him, pulling you back, but he was still much stronger. He took you back as soon as he had a good hold on you, hauling you over his shoulder with one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady.

Then, as Shoko started to pull away, a soft whine of fear leaving her lips, he drove down to prevent her escape before she could get too far. He drove her down beneath his boot, crushing the air out of her lungs, then crouched down to reassume the chokehold, dragging you both back in the direction he arrived from. He didn’t care if there were witnesses or how horrible this must have looked because all he cared about right there and then was getting you both away and to a location where he could control the outcome.

“Don’t scream,” he muttered under his breath to you. “Don’t scream if you want her to live. You’ll stay quiet, okay?”

You tried to stifle your sobs as he spoke, but the tears kept on rolling anyway, making the swaying ground blur as he walked. Your breathing turned uneven as you tried to keep awake, but the panic rose too fast, and then you couldn’t help but pass out. Everything felt awful, stressed and scary; of course, you couldn’t handle it. Of course, you passed out.

~~~

When you next came around, you woke up to find yourself back in the van, but this time it was moving. It was the soft rattling sound that awoke you, but otherwise it was dark inside. The door was no longer as open as it had been before, and somewhere in the cramped space, you could hear a strained noise nearby.

As you blinked, you tilted your head up, coming to meet with Shoko from across you, lying on her side, tied up and gagged. Her dark eyes were fixed on yours, and she tried to shuffle forward, but it was almost impossible to do so given the bumpy ride.

All you could do was just lie in the pained silence otherwise, until, after what felt like far too long, the van gradually slowed down. Judging by the transition from a solid road onto a softer surface, and from the smell of salt drifting in through the narrow gap of the doors, you guessed you were by the sea. The ocean was nearby, and you could hear heavy waves crashing.

Once the van had stopped and Choso had gotten out, a cold sense of unease gripped you once more. His footsteps were muted, and it sounded as though sand was being kicked beneath his feet, which made sense given the location, but you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why he had brought you both here.

When he opened the doors, you could barely see him as it was now night. Choso could see you, though. He looked momentarily relieved to see you awake, but then, as his attention moved to Shoko, any softness in his eyes had hardened at once.

“You were unconscious, so I suppose you didn’t hear me before,” he started, his voice grim, “but the plan is to leave her somewhere around here.”

Choso looked around, leaning away from the van, keeping his hands curled around the doors. “Alive, of course,” he added softly, “but that won’t last long. Not if the tide is high tonight.”

His eyes moved sideways again, towards the beach. The sand there was already damp in places, still visible under the moonlight, but only time stood between that spot and the water. If he walked Shoko out pretty far into the coast, then the ocean could take her.

“If she manages to get loose, though, then I’ll respect it,” he continued.

You looked like you wanted to speak, and Choso paused, stepping into the van to let you try.

“There’s nobody out here,” he said, looking around again as he peeled away the tape from your skin. “I drove around twice to be sure. You can scream, but nobody will hear you.”

He then exhaled through his nose, sounding almost tired. “I… I really don’t like doing things like this, you know? I don’t like hurting people. I don’t like making them suffer because of what I’ve done,” he continued, his jaw tightening with each word. “I just… I just can’t help myself. I don’t know. I’ve never felt like this around anyone, so no, I can’t explain it, but… I just feel better when you’re around me. That’s all.”

You tried to repeat your earlier plea. “What about what I want?” you asked.

Choso looked at you, but he didn’t answer you, and instead, he stepped back, dragging Shoko out by the rope, his jaw set tight so he didn’t have to say anything else. He left you behind in the van, still tied up, then lowered her onto the sand, taking a brief look toward the horizon yet again.

“The temperatures get pretty low,” he spoke in a low murmur, more to himself than her, as if to justify the horror of what he was about to commit. “It’ll probably be the cold that gets to you first, but don’t worry, I read that it’s like… going to sleep. First, your body goes numb, and then the rest catches up.”

Shoko could only stare at him, her eyes wide.

As Choso looked at her, though, he started to get second thoughts about this whole thing. He considered untying her, but he thought better of it. The most he allowed himself to do was to also remove the tape from her lips, figuring that she at least deserved a few last words.

Shoko, however, was already straining against the bindings, close to wriggling free, but she knew better than to run away so soon. She had to do so when he thought she was gone, so she could save you both.

He shouldn’t have been so harsh, he realizes that now. Breakfast had been burnt to a crisp and ruined, sure, but nothing could compare to how he constantly ruins the one beautiful thing that has ever happened to him, who haphazardly spilled her smoothie on him when they first bumped into each other in Shinjuku just after he finally cashed in enough money with Shiu to get his laundry done.

Toji, whose senses have now been honed to pick up on the slightest of your sluggish movements and your pained and suppressed hisses, hears the bedsheets rustling and he instantly gets up before you could even force yourself out of bed. “Hey, hey, easy now.” He catches you before you could fall backwards onto the mattress, your skin appears cold and clammy, your thinning muscles stiff as a board — you must be having one of your episodes again. “What do you need?” he asks, his voice heartbreakingly gentle for the first time in months.

“Water.”

Your husband nods, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, hurriedly making his way to the dining table which was now kept in your bedroom so you aren’t forced to move around too much. The sound of water splashing into the glass fills the air and you feel another stabbing pain coarse through your joints.

Toji gingerly brings the glass of water to your lips and you sighed, an exasperated yet amused smile on your face. “I can do it, babe. Don’t worry.” Why did that sound like you were trying to convince not just Toji but yourself? You bring your bony hands to grip the glass and it takes everything out of your husband not to break into a fit of sobs when he sees your hand violently shaking with effort just to keep the glass steady.

His larger hands close around your defeated one. “I-I…I can do it, I did it yesterday. Y-you saw me.”

“Shhh, I know, it’s okay.”

You bite your lip to distract yourself from the anguish of realizing the truth behind the doctor’s words. Everything you feared was finally becoming your and Toji’s bleak reality.

“It’ll be a painful decline.”

Funny how you’re the one fighting to extend your life but Toji feels like he’s already gone ahead and passed on. Just a few minutes earlier, you were overjoyed to see him again. You didn’t think he’d see your text thinking that his new girlfriend must have asked him to block your number, and you most certainly didn’t expect him to arrive when you asked for him via a brief phone call to drive you to the hospital for your monthly checkup since he took the car with him when you separated. He made up a bullshit excuse when Yuko asked where he was going in such a hurry and he makes it to your old shared apartment to see you sitting on the driveway looking thinner and sicklier than ever — your eyes were sunken, and your cheeks were hollow.

Yet in spite of that, you gave him the brightest of smiles, waving shyly to him as he steps out of the driver’s seat. “Happy morning!” you smiled, greeting him with your signature good morning tagline which he used to happily wake up to everyday. There wasn’t a scintilla of resentfulness in your demeanor, and you genuinely looked so happy to see him for the first time since he moved out.

“How long?” Toji asked the doctor, his heart twisted into knots when he hears you happily humming in the MRI room as you put your clothes back on, oblivious to the solemn mood in the other room. You already knew what was going on, but you’ll just continue pretending that everything’s alright and that this is nothing more but a case of fatigue so as not to inconvenience Toji.

“A year, maybe even less.”

“And…you’re saying it’s best if she simply…doesn’t get the treatment?”

The doctor sighs heavily. She’s seen many cases like this before, but none as utterly hopeless as yours. Even if you did start the treatment, the lesions in your spinal cord have already entered the most severe stage, you were already exhibiting signs of autonomic nervous system distress — the tremors, the uncontrollable stuttering of your words, the growing loss of balance — and as if that wasn’t enough, the doctor also discovers that you were suffering from primary osteosarcoma.

There was no way to cure you now that it’s too late.

“I suggest we just focus on keeping her comfortable. The only thing left for us to do now is to bring her home. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re so fucking embarrassing. I can’t bring you anywhere.”

By some miracle, you and Toji went out one night around four months before the divorce proceedings. He went home that day, exhausted beyond all belief from another mission, but he was in a good mood. Yuko was out working late tonight, so, he decides to take you out to your and his favorite izakaya for some yakitori.

Some time during the night, after downing three full bottles of sake together, you excuse yourself to use the restroom. “I’ll be right back,” you told Toji, tipsily kissing him on the cheek as you hop off the bar stool in the direction of the women’s room.

You couldn’t tell if you were staggering from the copious amounts of alcohol you ingested, but your legs were beginning to feel heavy, and for some ominous reason, you were slowly losing all sensation in your left leg. You try to hold onto one of the izakaya’s shōji panel decor pieces to regain your balance, but it was a futile effort in the end. Your knees suddenly buckle, and a sickening crack tears through your tibia as you fall to the ground.

“Are you alright?!”

Toji picks up on the commotion instantly and he sees the izakaya patrons crowding around the hallway leading to the restroom. He quickly makes his way over and a look of disgust appears on his features when he sees you crumpled on the ground and the mortifying sight of you having relieved yourself on the floor, tears of embarrassment staining your cheeks at the thought of your body suddenly malfunctioning like this.

Muttering out an ignorant apology for his seemingly drunk wife, he roughly picks you up, growing increasingly infuriated with you when one izakaya employee offers him a damp cloth to dry out your urine with. It was funny how quickly other people came to your aid — people whose names you don’t even know — while your own husband seems very reluctant to even touch you right now. He doesn’t speak to you on the way home even as you apologize while he’s loading you into the car, grimacing when the leather seat gets wet. “Toji, I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened—“

“—Save it.”

What he should have said was: “Are you okay?”, “It’s alright.” or better yet, “I still love you.”.

At present, Toji decides on a whim to take you to Yokohama’s famed bayside today. It’s only a two hour drive from your place in Tokyo and Toji figures you must miss going on road trips by now with you cooped up at home all the time. “Toji, are you sure this is a good idea?” you murmured nervously as the car pulls to a stop by the bayside promenade. What happens if you can’t control yourself again? There doesn’t look to be a lot of public restrooms nearby.

Toji plants a reassuring kiss to your nose. “Babe, you remember what the doctor said, spending some time outdoors can do wonders for your health. Besides, didn’t you always love the coast?” He brings your hand to his scarred lips, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin before stepping out of the car to retrieve your wheelchair from the trunk.

“I know but what if I have another accident?” you said worriedly, rolling down the car windows so he could hear you. “What if I embarrass you again?”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about you.”

You’ve lost all control of your lower extremities three months ago, rendering you unable to walk and feel when you need to relieve yourself. Toji struggles with the wheelchair for a bit and a flash of sadness fills your heart when you see him take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He wasn’t angry, he was devastated. He looks wistfully at the boardwalk, a distant gaze trained on the sea. He remembers when you used to walk down this very lane, his hand protectively around your waist as you happily take selfies. He could still hear your fond giggles the last time the two of you went here.

“Why don’t you ever smile when I take pictures of you?”

Toji shoos away a pigeon from stealing a bite of his ice cream sandwich. He feigns an unamused look when you try to take another picture of him on your phone.

“Come on, I’ve been trying to get a shot of you all day! You still have to take pictures of me so I can post it on my Instagram feed!”

Your ever moody husband pinches off a small piece of bread and feeds it to the nosy pigeon. “You and your precious feed,” he bemoans jokingly.

“Please? Just one picture!“ you playfully nudged him. Truthfully, you just wanted to see him smile for once, a genuine one and not one of those lopsided smirks he usually gives you when he’s teasing you. “Please?” you pout knowing he can never say no to that adorable face you make when you really want him to do something or worse, buy something for you.

Sighing, he turns to look at your phone’s camera lens and you blush when a smile slowly illuminates his usually stoic face. Your thumb hovers over the stop recording function, not realizing you’re taking a video, but you can’t seem to press it. “What’s taking so long?” he holds the smile like he’s some cartoon character and you snap out of it.

“Oh shoot, it’s a video!” you laughed, and you begin to run down the boardwalk, eagerly getting away from Toji who demands that you delete it immediately. Of course, you’re no match for his borderline inhuman speed attributed to his athletic physique and he catches you by the waist, playfully swinging you over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes.

Now, your giggles have gone silent.

Toji realizes now he should have indulged you more over the course of your relationship and subsequent marriage. Had he known that you won’t even make it to your third wedding anniversary, he would have allowed you to take as many pictures and videos of him as you’d like, he’d swallow his pride and he’d give you the brightest of smiles so you could happily post him on your social media accounts with a heartwarming caption about him being your “smiley hubby”.

More than that though, he should have taken more photos of you, mostly stolen candid shots, of course. You can’t catch him being all soft on you now. He still has a reputation to live up to after all. But more than that, had he known that your illness was intent on stealing every scrap of you from him, he should have made more effort in preserving all these memories. He should have kept everything from those toll tickets on your late night drives together when the two of you just needed a quick escape from the world, to receipts from your trip to Tokyo Disney Sea on your first wedding anniversary, and even simple convenience store receipts.

Toji should have kept everything down to the smallest of memories knowing one day, that’s all he’ll have to remember you by.

He opens the passenger seat’s door and he effortlessly gathers you into his arms, being extra careful with your fragile form as he sits you down on the wheelchair. He opens the backseat and he pulls out two different colored blankets, one sea-foam green and the other, rose pink. “Take your pick,” he smiles at you and you chuckled softly, pointing to the rose pink one. He happily covers your legs with it to keep you warm, stroking your cheek when you whisper a bashful ‘thank you’.

Suddenly, the wind picks up and your hair-clip that’s holding your locks in a low bun comes loose, and your head turns in the direction of where it flew off to. Toji is quick to take out his phone and he snaps a quick burst shot of you, your hair blowing in the wind, under the coastal spring weather. You turn to look at him and your face falls when you see him burying his phone in his pocket. Since you fell ill, you’ve become insecure of your appearance, banning your husband from taking pictures and videos of you altogether. “Toji, I thought I said no pictures.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The next day, you serendipitously find your photo on your Instagram handle with the caption: “Y/N — Yokohama, Spring, 2024” and when you swipe left, another picture, well to be more accurate, a screenshot of the video clip you accidentally took of him captioned: “Toji — Yokohama, Summer, 2022”.

“You don’t have to stick around for me. Please just go, I’m sure Yuko must be looking for you right now.”

Yuko, his new fiancé, had been blowing up his phone the entire day with texts demanding to know where he is and if he’s going to make it to their date that night. It’s 7 PM now, and Toji still hasn’t shown up to confirm their restaurant reservations. The damn witch will surely cuss him out when they see each other again, but for some reason, even if he tries, he simply cannot bring himself to give a flying fuck. Your immunologist and oncologist stepped out for a bit to allow you two a brief moment of privacy which had now stretched to an expanse of five hours since your results came in.

The air in the room is thick and heavy, not a single sound can be heard. Inside however, underneath this tough exterior he was projecting, Toji is throwing a fit, screaming at the sky like those broken men in those shitty Netflix romance tragedies he used to callously make fun of.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner? You knew, didn’t you?”

Toji’s bites his cheek trying to keep a lid on his emotions. He knows the answer. He just wants to hear you say it out loud. You hated him. You wanted nothing to do with him after he cheated on you with some girl he met at a bar in uptown Shibuya. That’s why you didn’t tell him, he didn’t deserve to know. “Shit,” he whispers harshly, crumpling the medical abstract in his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? Was it because you hated me? Is that it? You didn’t think I’d worry about you?”

You screwed your eyes shut, shaking your head. You didn’t hate him, not even when you have every reason to. He abandoned you, left you to waste away and to die and yet, even now, you can’t bring yourself to resent him for the simple reason that he is the literal love of your life, the reason behind your smiles, your happy mornings and passionate midnight hours. “At first, I thought I was fine, maybe just fatigued or something.”

“Don’t lie. You knew something was going on and that something in your body was seriously fucked up.”

“And we weren’t married anymore so, I didn’t think it was right to tell you…I wanted to though, but I didn’t want to intrude on you and Yuko,” you said meekly. Even in your greatest hour of need, you were still thinking of him, putting him first even when he doesn’t deserve it. “I-I…I don’t hate you enough to worry you, to make you feel that you could have done something to prevent this. Because I’m telling you right now, regardless if you were faithful or not, I was bound to get sick anyway. You couldn’t have done anything to change that.”

“But I could have been there. I should have noticed. I shouldn’t have downplayed everything.” He says this as if he wants to shake this noble, self-sacrificing bullshit attitude out of your system. “I’m your husband. I should have been there.”

You flash him a heartbroken smile at his little slip-up, so, even now, he was still referring to himself as your husband, not your ex-husband. “To see me waste away? Babe, I don’t want you to see that.”

You begin to feel tears streaming down your face, the emotions you were experiencing now flowing like a free river after an entire dam is destroyed. Toji watches you unravel before his eyes and his bottom lip begins to tremble. What has he done? Dear god, what has he done to his poor, poor wife?

“I want you to remember me healthy, I want you to remember me as myself not this…sickly pitiful woman you’re unlucky to call your ex-wife…besides, after all this, I’ll only be a dream.” A mere passing second in his life. “And believe me, my life wasn’t so bad.”

He loses it at that.

“Just stop this, Y/N! Stop acting like you’re not scared shitless of dying, like you’re not gonna have regrets once all this is over! Stop pretending that things are gonna be alright one day because it won’t! Not when I’m now being forced to accept that you won’t get better, not when I’ve wasted so much time putting you through hell and back instead of taking care of you like a proper husband should, and certainly not when I’m suddenly supposed to learn to say goodbye and to live without you! Because fuck that, Y/N!”

You are left speechless at that.

Toji was never one to lose his cool, even during your worst arguments, he may slide a few snarky remarks here and there but Toji Fushiguro…never yells, and he doesn’t sob either.

You hesitantly stand up and walk over to him, crouching down in front of him as he covers his tear-stained eyes with his right hand while the other is crumpled around your medical abstract. Taking his left hand, you gently remove the medical abstract from his grip, and for the first time in so many months, you feel one another’s warm skin against each other. You press your forehead to his hand as you wept with him.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be a dream. I want you to be real.”

“Can’t you be bothered to clean up in here?!”

You wake up from your nap, you’ve been battling muscle and joint pain the entire day, the slightest of movement causing you to double over in agony and because of that, you weren’t able to clean the apartment today. You slowly get up from the couch, being extra cautious not to make any sudden movements. “Well?” Toji presses, his lips curled into a scowl.

“I’m sorry, I was feeling a little tired,” you sighed heavily, picking up a broom to sweep the living room floor despite the excruciating pain you were in. Toji rolls his eyes, handing you a Manila envelope. “What’s this?” you asked softly, peering inside.

“Divorce papers,” he shrugs nonchalantly. Everything stops, even the very rise and fall of your chest halts into an uneasy stasis. “I already signed them. I just need your signature then, I’ll move out by tomorrow.”

You must be dreaming. That’s the only logical explanation to all this. You’re asleep, in a deep REM sleep, utterly oblivious to the world. This wasn’t happening. But you could feel the rough surface of the brown envelope, and you could still feel the agonizing stabs of white hot pain throughout your body. Glancing at Toji, you see him texting someone with an eager look on his face that screams: “I’m free.”.

Instantly, it dawns on you.

“Will she make you happy?” you asked, putting down the broom to look around for a pen but Toji pulls one he stole from the law firm office out of his pocket.

“She will,” he answers simply.

And you are indeed grateful that he is completely upfront about finding another while the two of you are married. It would have hurt much more, you silently remind yourself, if he had just upped and left without another word leaving you to wonder what went wrong between the two of you. This was Toji’s final act of mercy in your marriage, and he’s not opposed to honesty and truthfulness either. Not once did he try to change his phone’s lock-screen passcode, nor did he try to conceal the identity of the woman who was texting him every night while you slept fitfully next to him. It was almost as if he wanted you to find out, like he wanted you to know so you could back off yourself.

But if there’s one thing Toji loves about you, it’s your unending faithfulness to your promises, to your marriage vows, and your willingness to endure anything he threw at you. You never checked his phone, you never brought up his affair, you never got angry with him. You just kept silent, simply content with giving and giving…and giving while he milked you dry by taking, and taking and taking, tearing you to pieces bit by bit without hearing a single complaint fall from your lips.

You were a devoted wife, through and through.

And it bored the hell out of him, on top of your recent mishaps, he was done. Done with everything, and done with you.

“Okay.”

Come morning, he takes everything he owns with him and promptly proposes to the girl he’s been seeing for the past year. Two weeks later, your divorce is received by the Tokyo Family Court and is summarily approved and finalized. From that moment on, you and Toji went on your separate ways never to look back, you were each other’s yesterdays, and the love that existed between the two of you was nullified in favor of acquaintanceship…or so you thought.

“Y/N, I’m home!” Toji calls into the house as he comes back from your neighborhood’s pharmacy. You look up from the book you were reading, smiling ever so slightly at your husband who seemed to have a wonderful sparkle in his eyes. “Hey, kid,” he kisses the top of your head when he reaches your wheelchair.

“You seem happy,” you remarked positively.

“Well, for one, they replenished their stocks today and I managed to get you your steroids and painkillers so you’ll be able to sleep easy tonight,” Toji smiles, taking out the items from the pharmacy’s paper bag. “And I got you this neat memory foam cushion for your wheelchair.” He fluffs it up as a form of demonstration before placing it behind your back.

When he sees you smile, a sense of relief washes over Toji. You reach towards him, and he pulls you into an embrace. “Thank you,” you said, pure sincerity dripping from your voice. “For everything you do.”

“Anything for you.” He suddenly moves back and reaches into the tote bag you lended him. “Oh, and wait, before I forget, I have another surprise.”

You laughed airily. “Another surprise? Now, you’re just spoiling me!”

He pulls out a piece of paper from the tote bag and he places it in your hands as your eyes quickly scan over the document. Your breath hitches in your throat when you realize what it is. Did Toji really—? You couldn’t believe it. “A marriage pre-registration,” you said in awe. You read it again just in case to make sure that this wasn’t a figment of your sick body’s imagination, that this was real, that Toji genuinely wants to make everything right again. Your fingers skim over your typewritten names. “It has our names…we’re really—“ You can’t even finish your sentence without bursting into happy tears. “Are we—?”

Toji nods, gazing into your eyes, and as emerald and (E/C) clash for what seems to be an eternity lost in one another, he plants a kiss to your temple, coming up to embrace you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“We are. The Tokyo Family Court, as far as I know, will approve our remarriage once we file this. So, you have to get stronger, okay?” He’s begging you at this point, despite your rapidly deteriorating condition. “Strong enough to see me fix everything. Strong enough to be there on our second wedding, strong enough to say our vows again.”

Your hand comes up to stroke his cheek from behind, and he nuzzles into your neck at your tender touch.

“I will. I promise.”

But you never really get to say your vows. Not comprehensibly anyway.

“Babe, can you say that again?”

Toji crouches by your bedside as you look at him apologetically. You were causing him trouble and pain again which is the last thing that you want to give him especially when’s fought and worked so hard to care for you, to keep prolonging this borrowed time you’re on. “To-ji. Toji.” You gaze at him apprehensibly, not really believing you can do it without crumbling.

“Come on, babe, you can do it. Say my name, please…Toji. I’m Toji.”

“Toooji-“ you slurred sadly. At this point, your Multiple Sclerosis has reached its end stage and has taken…everything from you: your ability to walk, your ability to control your muscle spasms and other bodily functions…and now, coupled with an unexpected stroke, your ability to speak. And you and Toji know that time is almost up, with you having come to accept it, while your husband still held onto hope. Your fingers gently graze over his face as best as your spasms and tremors allow you, starting from his forehead to his eyes, his nose, his cheek and finally, his lips, as if you’re memorizing it one last time. “Lo-ove you-“

Toji sniffles, and your fingers instinctively catch his warm tears. “I love you,” he whispers brokenly. “I do. I love you.”

You feel yourself tearing up as you’re forced to watch your beloved cry. And the worst part? You can’t do a thing about it. “D-oon’t c-cry—‘m okaay. Promi-miise…e’everyything ‘ill be okaaay.”

“Y-yeah,” he chuckles, trying to crack a joke even as hope dwindles. “You’ve been nothing but a fucking champ this entire time, you know? I’m so proud of you. So…so…proud that you’re still here.” He strokes your hair as you tread between the realms of the conscious and the unconscious. “Do you wanna go out today? The weather’s shit though. You’ll probably catch your death out there.” At the mention of the word ‘death’, Toji stops, falling into an uncomfortable silence.

You smile weakly at him. “Tiiredd—“

“You’re no fun,” Toji gently flicks your nose and you scrunch it up in displeasure. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding back an entire waterfall of tears. He knows it’s today. It has to be. You woke up today without your usual ‘happy morning’ greeting, and you refused to drink anything, much less eat anything. “You tired? Any pain?”

You shake your head. You’re as comfortable as you can be for the first time in months. Hospice nurses say humans are built to live the same way they are built to die, no person in this world has ever had the uncanny privilege of being able to look up ‘How to die?’ on a quick Google search and actually find a Wikihow on the morbid subject matter, nor is there anyone else who can teach another how it’s done. It’s just something humans know how to do without a manual, deeply ingrained in the very fabric of human existence is the fear of death, the fear of what comes after, the fear of a nothingness that could follow after living such a vibrant life. Your life was short, barely spanning thirty years, but you lived well: you fell in love, you got hurt, but you fell together again. Now it all has to come to an end, Toji will just have to take care of the rest.

And you weren’t scared.

Or at least you can’t look scared, if you were to be more accurate, you have to look strong and ready to accept the cards you’ve been dealt with for Toji’s sake. When he feels your hand start to slacken, Toji intakes a sharp, shaky breath of sheer panic. “Not yet, Y/N. Please. Not yet.”

He climbs into bed with you, bringing you closer to this desperate man you call yours. There was no getting better anymore, there was no miracle he could hang onto, no deity he could beg for death to spare you, no pill bottle he could pray to. He knew that from the start. But what he witnessed these past months, you’ve been the braver one between the two of you, you knew how to make the most of the rhythm this cruel world gave you and you graciously took him along to dance to the last song of the evening with you.

“There’s still hope. Just keep your eyes open. Just keep them open.” He presses his lips to your forehead, his delusion getting the better of him. “We’ll just keep trying…you can’t leave. You have to stay. You have to.”

“Thaank yoou—“ you softly told your Toji, your voice shrinking in decibels as you become a little drowsy, sinking into the warmth of the requiem of a life well spent.

Toji listens to you, his lips pursed, intent on making this final act of love — a love that is strong enough to say goodbye — a memorable one. And should the afterlife exist, he wishes to send you off with a smile, with the reassurance that he’ll be alright even if that was far from happening.

“Toji.”

roommate!nerd!cho babbles total filth to himself in a messy, breathless whimper as he pulls his pants down. he wraps your pink underwear tight around his shaft and starts jerking off. "oh my god—you smell so good," he groans, his glasses getting all foggy from his hot breath. "i'm so sorry—fuck—i'm such a disgusting freak... but haah—want you so bad." he strokes himself faster and faster while picturing your body, until he blows a huge, messy load right inside your underwear, completely ruining them.

roommate!nerd!cho realizes there is no way he can wash the sticky stains out without you finding out. shaking and sweaty, he hides his ruined prize in the very back of his desk drawer, tucked behind his computer parts where you'll never look.

roommate!nerd!cho gets totally hooked after that first time. doing laundry isn't a chore anymore; it’s his favorite part of the week. he starts offering to carry the baskets just to sneakily look through your clothes. soon, he steals a black silk thong, and then a pair of white boy-shorts with a tiny red bow on them.

roommate!nerd!cho gets greedy one weekend when you stay overnight at a friend's place. being all alone in the apartment makes him bold, and he steals two pairs at once: a sheer lavender mesh pair and some comfy grey cotton ones you usually wear to sleep.

roommate!nerd!cho uses both at the same time to get off. he wraps the tight lavender mesh around the bottom of his dick for friction, while keeping his face buried in the grey cotton. he actually licks the middle of the grey pair, trying to taste you, whimpering and begging for the real thing while he messes up another pair of your clothes.

roommate!nerd!cho starts worrying that you'll notice your underwear is missing. to keep you from getting suspicious, he carefully hand-washes the cleaner ones in his bathroom sink, dries them in his room, and sneaks them back into your clean basket. but he never gives back his favorites—especially the ones that smell the most like you.

“Shimizu.” It’s a warning.

“Higuruma.” It’s another push.

Hiromi gives her the look but she doesn’t stop.

Haibara and Kento watch from the side lines with beer in hand.

This stalemate is brutal.

“Oh c’mon! You’d have so much fun!”

“No, I would not.”

“Kento’s going!”

Hiromi’s face twists as he turns to the blonde seated next to him, the look plastered on the lawyer’s face is one of ‘Seriously?’

Kento shrugs at the older man “What can I say, these two are very convincing.” He nods in the direction of the intern and paralegal.

“They aren’t, you’re just weak.”

“Maybe I am.” Kento chuckles.

“See! Kento’s going! It would be so fun! You’re entering your late 30’s time to find a nice girl!” Shimizu pushes once again.

The looks Higuruma gives her is a lethal one.

“And you think I’m gonna find a nice girl at a speed dating event?” He asks slowly.

“Hey, you might.” Kento interjects.

“See!”

“Not helping, Nanami! Who’s side are you on?”

Kento chuckles, “No one’s.” 

Hiromi could beat him to death right about now.

“I should fire all of you.” Hiromi lets out an agitated sigh running a hand over his face.

“Sooo, you’re going, right?” Shimizu presses.

“Will you shut up if I say yes?”

“Probably.”

Hiromi rolls his tired eyes at his paralegal “Fine.”

🌻

“Wow….” You whispered, the papers in your hands felt heavy. 

In the best, most freeing way possible.

The divorce is finalized.

A whole year of fighting and now you're free.

Free from Satoru Gojo.

You’re free from the cheating, the lying and the stigma that came with the Gojo name.

You felt so giddy as you sauntered down the street away from the courthouse, you wondered what you should do now. It’s not like he held you captive but there was something about this that made you feel like you could do and say just about whatever you pleased now.

You were finally your own woman.

Getting home that night you laid on your newly purchased couch in your small quaint apartment, it wasn’t anything fancy but it was yours.

Phone in hand you almost downloaded tinder- but you quickly dropped that idea because it was the very same app that got you into this horrendous ordeal.

A year without a companion of any sort really had you feeling 7 different kinds of loneliness.

Some of it was deep seated in the need for sexual intimacy but a bigger part of it was missing having someone to tell anything to, to sit in silence with and just enjoy.

Though Satoru rarely if EVER gave you any of that, the off chance he did it was nice and you missed it.

Not him though.

Just the feeling of it.

Your phone buzzing in your hand twice brings you back to reality.

Two new messages.

Utahime.

And unfortunately.

Satoru.

You really could just block his number now, you didn’t ever have to speak to him again but the vindictive part of you, the one eager for revenge, wanted to see his desperate texts.

Even more, you wanted HIM to see that YOU left him on read, like he had done to you so many times before.

You smile to yourself and open his text first.

Satoru: Hey Listen, I know we finished things up today but I really just need to talk to you, please.

You pinch your brows upward “Really, dude.” You grumble before closing it and opening Utahime’s text.

Utahime: Hey! Word on the street is that you're a free woman now ;)

You giggle at this.

You: Sure am! I’m sure Satoru will make this everyone's problem at work so I apologize in advance.

Utahime: No need, HOWEVER, I have a proposition for you.

You: No, I do not wanna sleep with you.

Utahime: Shut Up.

Utahime: There is a speed dating event going on down at that one bar we like this friday, we should go ;)

Your eyes widen, you’ve never done anything like that before, you are a free woman now so to hell with it. Maybe you were finally ready for something or maybe you were going off the rails. 

You: I’m so in.

Utahime: Need dick that bad?

You: Not really…just want idk…a friend. Not sure how to explain it.

Utahime: You don’t have to explain, I was playing anyway. It starts at 8 on friday, dress cute ;)

You: Roger that Captain 🧑‍✈️🧍.

Utahime: you will never get a man.

Closing your phone and then your eyes exhaling a breath, Friday was two days away but you needed it to be here now. You wondered what would come out of this. You were hoping for something good but in reality you are sure it would end with nothing but a new experience and some free drinks if you played your cards right.

🌻

Friday arrived and normally Hiromi would be jumping from his chair and out the door, ready to go home and do absolutely nothing but lay in bed for two days.

Unfortunately, Shimizu had other plans.

“Alright! Get up, we gotta get out of here and get ready. It starts in 2 hours.” She started practically leaping out of her chair.

“Go ahead, I’ll make it there by 8.”

“Oh hell no.”

Hiromi’s head shot straight up at this. Fire erupts in his gut until he remembers who is talking to him. If it were anybody else he’d quickly make them regret speaking to him in such a way. 

She is lucky.

“Normally talking to your boss like that gets you fired.”

“Firstly, shut up, secondly, we both know that if I leave you here you will not show up!” 

Oh she is so very lucky. 

“That was the goal, yes.” He remains calm as ever. 

“Hiromi, you promised!” She shot him one of those looks, using her doe eyes to her advantage.

Thoes fucking eyes.

Yet he must remain strong.

“I didn’t promise you anything, I just needed you to shut up, no contract was exchanged."

“Get up. Now.” Her look went from doe eyed and sad to one that was lethal.

Now she is pushing it. The ice she is tap dancing on is getting thin, very thin.

He exhaled a heavy sigh making it quite audible and exaggerated. 

Shimizu will not tolerate anything less than him getting up and marching his ass down to that bar.

The argument continues for a good 15 minutes- only because he lets it and why he lets it he may never know. 

“Hiromi, why don’t you ever wanna do anything fun with me?” Her voice wavers.

Oh god, he thinks, please don’t do this.

“Shizu-“

“I feel like you do this every time, if you don’t wanna hang out with me just say it.” The cracks in her voice are getting bigger.

“Well that’s a bit dramatic, we wouldn’t even be hanging out with each other, we are effectively hanging out with complete strangers. At different tables, away from each other.” He sighs running his hands over his face. 

“So I’m dramatic now?” Doe eyes returning, watering at the edges “So I’m dramatic and you don’t wanna hang out with me, Hiromi? that’s fine I get it.”

Of course that’s what she took from that. 

For an aspiring lawyer she sure isn’t listening to the facts.

But in his heart of hearts he knows she is manipulating him right now so maybe on second thought she would make a great lawyer because it’s fucking working. 

“That’s not-“  he begins but then-

She sniffles.

His heart drops to his stomach.

God damn it.

“You know what, fine- yeah, I’ll go.”

He concedes. 

Getting up he reaches for his blazer on the back of the chair slipping it over his shoulders.

“I will not be staying long.”

“Yes you will.”

He walks out the door first grumbling and mumbling under his breath knowing very well he has been conned, swindled even. 

Shimizu follows suit, having seemingly recovered from her emotional breakdown.

Evil grin taking over her features.

Score:

Shimizu: 2663 Higuruma: maybe like 5.

🌻

You huff a little as you finish your makeup, it’s light, just some eyeliner and mascara, you never really did foundation or lipstick even though Satoru always insisted on it.

You make a face at the thought of him.

Tonight was all about you.

Utahime sends you a text that she is down stairs waiting on you.

You cannot help the smile coming to your lips or the tinge of anxiousness brewing in your stomach.

Grabbing your wallet and keys you catch yourself in the mirror.

Damn, you look good.

Outfit is simple but it hugs every part of you in the best way possible.

Simple jeans and a cute top.

The jeans are really doing your ass and thighs justice.

You’ve gained some weight but it's good, it meant you weren’t conforming to his idea of you, nor were you competing with his current sidepiece of the week.

Arriving at the bar you were quick to get at least two drinks in before the chaos started, a little liquid confidence never hurt anyone. 

The first few men were complete duds, dudes your age or younger that had nothing to offer. 

Most were sleezily ogling your chest or looking for the fastest way to get your number and an even faster way into your pants.

You were not impressed.

Until, Hiromi Higuruma sat in front of you. 

Tall, older, tired, definitely was forced into this. 

Fuck he is hot. Is all you can think. 

🌻

When Hiromi sat in front of you at the quaint little table his world stopped.

He had one word.

Gorgeous.

He felt like there was something wrong with him. 

He went from hating Shimizu for bringing him here to being indebted to her for life. 

“You gonna tell me your name Mr. Salary Man?” You giggle and it may have been the sweetest thing he had ever heard. 

He’s also an idiot.

“Higuruma, Hiromi.” 

“Like sunflowers, how beautiful.” You comment, then following up by giving your name. 

You said his name was beautiful but yours was otherworldly. The sweetest name he had ever heard and it belonged to the sweetest thing he had ever seen. 

“I’m 26, you?”

Oh fuck. 

12 years his junior.

“I’m- old.” God, he is fucking stupid. 

You almost die laughing.

“How old is old?”

“38.”

You scoff at him, “That is not old, when I think of old I think like 60.”

“38 feels like 60.” His bracketed mouth turned upward, smiling.

You huff a laugh, silence falls over you two and you scan him over once more. 

“Oh wow!” you exclaim, reaching across the small table, hand coming to scoop under the lapel of his blazer to get a better look at the pin attached, “A defense attorney.” 

He felt like he was going to go into cardiac arrest, he forgot to take his pin off.

“Yeah, I-“

“That’s amazing!” You beamed and it floored him.

Most people gave him somber looks when learning his profession, others looked at him in disgust. You, however, looked at him in awe.

Most had resigned him to nothing more than a money grubbing lawyer defending the evil and wicked for a paycheck. Because in the eyes of the public it’s guilty until proven innocent. 

“I’m no expert or anything, but in my opinion it takes nothing to be a prosecutor, especially here, but being a defense attorney takes so much and more, you’re amazing.”

He felt like he could not breathe. 

You thought that of him?

Your eyes then meet and something just clicks.

It’s not long before he’s asking you to move to a corner booth. 

You both are in agreement that you don’t need to see any more people.

🌻

Shimizu almost drops her drink. She cannot take her eyes off the sight. Reaching over blindly she smacks Kento in the shoulder multiple times to get his attention.

“Nanamin!”

“You know, words work just as well, Shizu.“  Kento grumbles as he follows her eyes to the corner booth. 

They both stare in awe, their nights had been a bust but Hiromi Higuruma’s had not been. 

Whilst not being able to hear any part of the conversation they could tell, their boss and this gorgeous woman were hitting it off. 

Hiromi Higuruma was smiling. Like an idiot. Shimizu makes a mental note to use this to her advantage later. 

“Holy shit.” Kento mumbled

“I know it’s insane- he bagged a girl-“ 

“No not that-“

Shimizu cocks her head at the accountant.

“That’s Satoru Gojo’s ex-wife.”

Hiromi was talking to the head of Gojo corporation’s ex-wife. 

“Wait, that's her?” Hiabara gaped, “Satoru Gojo was stepping out on that?!” 

Kento nods.

Haibara lets out a laugh “For a CEO that white haired freak sure is an idiot!”

“Agreed” Shimizu and Kento say in tandem. 

🌻

As your talking stills, you look for a way to tell Hiromi.

The night had been going so well you didn’t wanna ruin it by telling this wonderful man, you are already once divorced. 

Your father had filled your head with horror stories of men not wanting a “used” woman. In hindsight it was probably his selfish way of trying to keep you married to that rich horrid man that is now your ex, but nonetheless it scared you. 

“Hiromi, I’m having a great time- but I have to tell you something.” 

Hiromi felt his stomach fall to his ass.

Here it comes, he thinks, She’s about to tell me that I’m a really good guy, as a friend. 

“So I hope this isn’t a deal breaker but I’m already once divorced…finalized this week actually.” The last part comes out quiet. 

“Thank Christ.” 

You shot your head up at him, you almost wanted to laugh, "Excuse me?”

“Ah! no- I was just worried it was gonna be something else!” It’s either these drinks or you that’s making this man stupid, he decides it's probably both. 

“Like?”

“That you weren’t interested, rather that I was effectively getting friend zoned.” He sheepishly scratches the back of his head. 

“So you don’t care that I’m divorced?”

“No.” 

You laugh and it seems infectious as he does as well. 

Numbers are ultimately exchanged.

Going home that night you did the one thing you should have done long ago.

You block Satoru. 

🌻

It started as little coffee dates here and there. Soon came the stay at home dates, cuddling and watching movies on the couch, getting ‘terrible for you’ food delivered. 

You guys hadn’t put a name to it yet, you didn’t feel like you had too. You both knew that you were only interested in seeing each other. 

As for the other people in your lives, Hiromi’s coworkers knew, how could they not? They were there when you two met. Shimizu loves to make this known whenever she can.

Utahime knew and that was it, you could not have this get back to Satoru he hadn’t tried to contact you since blocking him 6 months ago and you did not need him thinking he had a reason to.

Now back to your sweet, tired lawyer.

This man was something else, you could count on one hand how many times Satoru had gotten you flowers and most were apology based. However with Hiromi, in the 6 month period of your relationship you had lost count. Sometimes a single flower he saw and picked for you or sometimes store bought bouquets. 

When you guys were apart he made sure to text you. Satoru could never. Small texts filled with care and kindness, making sure you ate, asking how you were doing, if you slept well. 

You think the thing you admired about him was that above all else: he listened.

Like really listened, he’d let you sit there and yap about an interest or vent about an annoyance. 

Gave input here and there, eyes on you the whole time like you were the most interesting thing on the planet. 

And in his mind you definitely were, you captivated him. Most days he woke up and thought of you and went to bed thinking of you. 

You had bathed the shades of grey he lived in with color. Shizu called it the honeymoon phase, maybe it was, but for the first time in a long time Hiromi Higuruma felt alive, like really alive. 

🌻

You’re perched in his lap, his hands gripping the plush fat of your thighs. Lips melded together in a very heated makeout session, movie long forgotten.

Making out and heavy petting was the farthest you two had gone. sometimes hands would drift down to each other's clothed sexes feeling and rubbing,you have made this poor man ruin several pairs of slacks but his fingers had also done the same to you but you two had done nothing past that. It was nice in a way, to go slow. 

He didn’t push, you felt he was there for your person not just for your body. 

Your fingers find their way into his dark brown hair, tugging and pulling. He gasps and you take that as an opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth.

Hands that gripped your thighs slide their way to your ass, he squeezes hard. The sound you make in response has him feeling absolutely feral. 

Pulling away for breath, he takes this as an opportunity to go for your neck. Soft feather light kisses pepper the soft skin, so sweet, until it’s not. Feather light kisses turn into harsh sucks and bites, you tilt your head back to give him more access. 

He finds a particularly sensitive spot and attacks it, biting and sucking. You mewl and rock your hips against his, he groans into your neck at the friction.

You two get a good rhythm going, clothed sexes rubbing and grinding against each other. You would both be ashamed to admit that you could cum from this. 

“Fuck-“ you curse.

You’ve had enough, you need this man. 

Your hands go for his belt, he adjusts his position allowing you access. 

Just as your hands undo the clasp of the cold metal-

Your phone rings- 

A very distinct ring tone.

It’s your brother; Suguru.

Panic surges through you as you pull back, Suguru never calls, only when it’s serious.

Hiromi sees your panic, “Go ahead sweetheart.”

You give him an apologetic look reaching for your phone, not wanting to leave Hiromi’s warmth you stay perched in his lap.

“Su? You okay?” 

Hiromi’s close proximity allows him to hear both sides.

“It’s not Suguru.”

Your blood runs cold.

It’s Satoru and he has your brother's phone. 

Of course, they are best friends, you should have taken this into account that eventually something like this would happen. 

Gojo probably spun some story and tugged at your brothers heart strings.

“Gojo- what the hell- you can’t just-“

Hiromi’s grip tightens on you, he feels the anger with you.

Hiromi knows all too much about your ex-husband.

The neglect, the manipulation and most of all the cheating. Walking out on a pretty little thing like you in his mind is punishable by death. The way this man played with you and hurt you over and over beyond repair had him seething.

If he could use one word to describe the man it would be: 

Vile.

“Listen, I know, I’m sorry, I know this is wrong-“

“Then why are you doing it?” You huff.

“I found something of yours, your mothers photo album-“

“Then give it to Sugu and leave me the hell alone.” 

Hiromi brings his hand to your face, you lean into his palm, eyes softening as they meet yours. His look is sympathetic for you but carries the heat of rage for the man on the other end of the phone.

“There is something else too and I can’t give it to Suguru.”

You scoff.

“Please, just meet me at our spot, tomorrow, at 5, then I will leave you alone forever.”

“No Satoru, just give the album to Suguru and throw whatever the other thing is away, I don’t want it.”

“I won’t give the album to him, just you” 

The look of despair that hits your face fills the attorney you are sat upon with rage. How dare this slimy man use a family heirloom as leverage. 

Your mothers photo album, your dead mothers photo album. 

Hiromi would end up in handcuffs if Satoru Gojo was in front of him right now. 

He would need to be physically restrained.

“Fine, tomorrow-“

Hiromi starts to say your name but you clamp a hand over his mouth in panic. 

“Who was that? Are you with someone?!” 

“No, just the TV- tomorrow at 5, you better have it and then after that I never wanna hear from you again.”

With a huff you hang up the phone tossing it back down on the couch. 

You remove your hand from Hiromi’s mouth and then wrap both arms around his neck.

“I’m sorry we were interrupted like that-“

“I do not like this.” He states bluntly.

“I don’t either Hiro- but that album, I thought I had it but I guess I didn’t.” The way you choke up when you say it is agony to the lawyer.

“You will not be going alone.” 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” You know what he’s implying.

“Permit me to be frank, but I’m not letting you meet your ex-husband in an undisclosed location alone.” He huffs and runs a hand over his face before continuing “because of my profession I’ve seen one too many of these “meetings” end…badly.” 

Your breath catches at the thought, would Satoru hurt you? 

You feel like you can’t leave it to chance

However, you are still verge on saying no, you don’t wanna drag this wonderful man into the depths of your past marriage. 

Hiromi sees your hesitation.

“I won’t say a thing, I promise, just let me be there.” He pleads “I won’t- I won’t even be close enough to hear anything, I just wanna be in the area, enough to see you, to make sure you’re safe.”

The lawyer actually pleads. The man who argues for a living is begging.

You nod.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“No, thank you Hiromi.” You murmur, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

🌻

The way your body went rigid at the sight of Satoru did not go unnoticed by Hiromi. Tightening his grip on your hand “We don’t have to do this.” 

The man had yet to notice you two, you could still turn back, write off the photo album as a loss. 

“I need too.” You whispered. 

“I understand.” 

You gave him a nod, stopping just short of the lamppost and entry way to the small bike path.

“Wait here please.”

“Just- be careful please, I’ll be right here if you need.” He squeezes your hand softly before letting go. 

You suck in a breath and walk towards the bench where your ex-husband sat. Sat next to him was indeed the very same album, he brought it, it wasn’t a lie after all.

His head shot up, he looked tired, somber even.

In just 6 months of the divorce being finalized the ever confident, egotistical Gojo family head looked- broken.

The evil part of your heart swelled. This is what he deserves for 6 years of hell he put you through. 

“Can I have the album, please?” You don’t recognize your own voice, it’s cold, heartless. 

Like you’re speaking to something subhuman.

He doesn’t say anything, just reaches the beside him, scooping the album up and handing it to you.

You go to turn and he panics. 

“Wait-“

Damn, though this would be easy, you think. 

“What?”

“I just- I want to talk.”

You scoff and snort “Really? Now? You wanna talk now?”

“I just I’ve had a lot time to think-“

“And you’ll have so much more, we are done here Gojo.”

He stands a little too quickly for your liking, you take two steps back.

“No, I just- I’m sorry, for everything, all of it.” 

This is fucking rich. 

“I appreciate that but it’s far too late.” 

He doesn’t say anything just looks you up and down. 

Oh how you’ve changed, you’ve gained weight, a healthy amount of it too. brighter, everything about you is brighter. 

Beautiful.

God, Satoru Gojo could weep. 

His gaze falls to your neck, eyes widening in abject horror. There’s a hickey, deep red and purple, recent, very recent.

“You’re seeing someone?”

Your hand goes to the spot on your neck, your hair having shifted enough for him to see it clear as day.

“Yes.”

“How long?”

A pause.

“6 months.” 

“What?! We’ve only been divorced that long!” His voice raises. 

“We were separated a year before that, Satoru.”

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT!”

You flinch at the volume.

Catching very, very unwanted attention. 

Well, unwanted for Satoru that is.

Hiromi is moving and moving fast.

Stopping just behind you. 

“Sweetheart, I think we should go.” The brunette says a hand coming to your shoulder. 

Satoru’s face twists up at the pet name, 

“Sweetheart? Are you serious? This guy is calling you sweetheart?” 

“Gojo stop.”

“Are we about to have a problem?” The voice from behind you is dangerous.

“Yeah, I think we are. Really? This guy? He looks like he’s 40!”

“Close, 38.” Hiromi corrects.

“We are done here.” You snap, turning to Hiromi fingers lacing with his.

Hiromi lets you lead him away. 

Gojo starts hurling insults every which way at the older man. 

One in particular has the lawyer stopping in his tracks. 

“Had to get yourself an old man with a limp dick so he wouldn’t step out on you, huh?” 

You watch Hiromi, he closes his eyes, breathes in deep, exhales and opens them again.

Self control. 

If it were different circumstances you would find this extremely hot- actually no you do find this extremely hot. 

“Hiromi-“

“I’m not- I’m a better man than that.”

You smile at him and you two began to walk away again. 

Gojo’s temper tantrum fading the further you got. 

🌻

He’s on you not even 2seconds after the door closes. Lips hot and bruising against yours, his grip like vice on your waist. It’s electric with the way your back meets the wall of the doorway.

Album having barely made it to the table next to the door.

Your hands fly to his already messy hair, one hand scratching the base of his neck while the other tangles in the short brunette strands. 

He growls at it, the sound does something to you that you don’t have brain power to analyze at the moment. 

You gasp when large hands slide up from your sides and over your breasts. Squeezing the fat, letting it overflow his fingers. The moan you give in return is swallowed by the opening of his mouth as he bullies his tongue into yours.

He pulls away only for the need to breathe.

“Stupid man.” He mumbled, pressing you hard between himself and the wall.

Pressing his forehead to yours

“Stupid boy.” He corrects “walking out on such a pretty thing like you and then getting upset when she moves on to a man.” 

The heat rushes to your core at the statement, the look in his eyes is low, dark, dangerous. 

“Please, sweetheart, let me show you what a real man is.”

Your eyes go wide and the wetness in your panties only increases.  

You intake a breath and nod embarrassingly enthusiastic. 

“Speak.” The command is in a cadence you have never heard from the man.

“Yes, I want this, want you.” Your hands fist in the lapels of his blazer. 

🌻

You don’t know how it happened so fast. The only items of clothing left between you two were his slacks and boxers, his slacks riding low on his narrow hips. 

Belt having long been discarded, zipper and button open, bulge fighting against the stretchy fabric of his Calvin Kliens. 

He had you completely bare and perched on the edge of the bed. 

You watch the man sink to his knees.

“I’m going to eat you out, and you’re gonna sit up and watch me the whole time.” 

Not asking but informing. 

The first contact of his tongue licking a wide fat strip from hole to clit already has you squirming. He dose this twice more before sucking your clit between his lips. Soft at first, careful, you couldn’t help but compare the two in the moments Satoru was never one to be the giver of oral and when he did it was rough and fast, uncaring, not listening for any sign of pleasure. 

Hiromi was methodical with it, applying experimental sucks and movements of his tongue. Looking for what you like, unashamed of exploring and learning what made you feel good.

It doesn’t take him long before he has the rhythm down, it’s devastating.

“Hah- Hiromi- so good.” You sound absolutely stupid. 

Combing your hands through his strands of brown locs, “Pull, hard.” Though the instruction is muffled by your mound you hear it loud and clear. 

Fisting his hair in between your fingers you pull, like you're trying to pull himself inside of you. The slight sting he feels in his scalp fuels the fire driving his tongue. He groans which sends vibrations through you. 

You grind yourself forward expirementally, clit catching the hook of his nose. You mewl at the contact doing it again and again. Effectively fucking his nose, a little embarrassing you think but the lawyer couldn’t disagree more. 

One of his hands moves from your thigh down his torso and into his boxers. He strokes himself at the same pace he is using on your clit. The notion that he is getting off on eating you out has you moaning his name. 

You’re getting close.

Very close.

“Hiromi, think I might cum soon.”

The increase in his pace is all the conformation you need, you let yourself get lost in the feeling. Chasing it.

“Hah- oh fuck- Hiro- never came like this before-“ you babble right as you hit your peak, pussy contracting around nothing.

He coasts you through it until you are over sensitive and pushing his head away. 

Panting,you let your body fall onto the mattress. The chuckle above your eyes tracking to the man in front of you. 

You trail his body and your soul almost leaves yours at the sight of him, lean but soft from age and  working in an office all day. Happy trail lead down to his cock, oh god his cock, he was big. 

You could tell through his pants every time you had palmed him through it that he was bigger than average but you didn’t know how truly hung he was. 

“My eyes are up here, you know.”

How long had you been gawking?

The sight of your cheeks turning red has him chuckling again.

Mean. 

He pumps himself a few times for show, thumb catching the bead of pre at the end of him. 

He crawls up your body, moving you and himself up the mattress until your head is comfortably rested on the pillows, hair splayed out on top of the soft fabric. 

“So pretty.” He murmurs before connecting his lips to yours. 

Soft, gentle, present.

Satoru was none of those things. Never would be. 

Forehead pressed against yours he reaches between you two, fisting his cock once more. Dragging the tip along your folds, collecting the ever growing amount of slick, coating himself. 

He teases you, letting his head stop just before your clit then going back down to just notch at you entrance. 

“Hiromi- please-“

“Please what?” He is absolutely evil with the smile that creeps on his features. 

“Fuck me- I need it- need you.” 

“Atta girl.” 

He sinks himself into you, slow, agonizingly so.

It steals the air from your lungs when he bottoms out, so big, almost too big. Again you find yourself comparing him to your ex, Satoru could never match up to this man. Hiromi is long, reaching depths you didn’t know you had, not as thick but with his length he didn’t need thickness. 

The slow rhythmic thrusts of his hips has you seeing stars, he kisses your cervix so nicely. You can’t help it when you rake your nails down his back as if to say faster in a silent language. 

He seems to understand and picks up the pacing until it’s almost brutal. Burying his face into your neck once more he groans as he sucks and bites harsh marks into your soft skin. He is very intent on giving you another mark to match the one on the other side of your neck. 

“Oh fuck- Hiro- so good, keep going.” 

Just as he moves to put your legs on his shoulders the vibration of you phone on the night stand halts him. 

“Ignore it, pr- probably just spam.” You grind you hips upward, he grunts at the friction. 

“It’s not, we both know that.” 

He is utterly sick and tired of this boy.

The man swipes your phone off the nightstand, inspecting the screen.

"Wow a new number, he is persistent.'

To your horror, Hiromi answers it, putting it on speaker too.

“She’s busy.” He grunts rocking into you hard. 

You open your mouth in a silent scream as he does it again and again. 

“No she isn’t, asshole, let me speak to MY wife.”

Hiromi barks out a laugh. 

“Your wife? She doesn’t look like your wife with the way she’s under me right now.” 

The gasp and string of curses on the other end of the line fills your stomach with fire, sweet, sweet revenge. 

You clench around him, Hiromi's possessiveness does nothing to quail the fire in your belly.

“Yeah right, let me speak to her, asshole.”

The evil grin plastered on Hiromi’s face is infectious with the way it’s spreading on to yours.

You choke out a moan as Hiromi starts to thrust harder. It’s not even exaggerated for show, he’s just devastating with the way he hits all the right spots. 

“Here you go Sweetheart, let him know you’re busy.”

"Don't fucking call her That!"

Hiromi chuckles, setting the phone down by your head, he goes to town on your poor pussy. Its brutal the way he hits your cervix over and over again, thick ring of cream forming at the base of his cock.

“Ah fuck- Hiro- slow down.” You cry. 

He only responds by folding you into a mean mating press. 

“See boy, she’s busy.” Hiromi grunts, pounding into you with so much force that you’re sure the wet plaps of skin on skin can be heard by Satoru on the other end. 

“You arrogant ass-“ Satoru is promptly cut off by your voice.

“Hah- deep Hiro, can feel you in my tummy.” You are absolutely gone, drunk off Hiromi and the revenge you’re taking out on your ex-husband. 

“Fuck- squeezing me pretty girl- not gonna last.”

“Close-“ is all you can respond with. 

“Seems you’re still here boy, haven’t learned yet have you? You know what, I think I’ll fill her up too. Just to really make it clear whose woman she is.” Only one word could the describe the man above you right now; Territorial.

With that the line goes dead. 

Satoru finally had enough. Hopefully forever.

You two exhale a laugh that is short lived by the pleasure enveloping you.

“Good, he doesn’t deserve to hear this anyway.”

Hiromi nuzzles his face into your neck, pacing becoming sloppy “Ah- sweetheart, can I?”

“Yes please, want it.” 

He groans coming apart when your own orgasm hits, squeezing and milking his cock of everything it has. 

Rutting and grinding his bulbous head against your poor abused cervix, he works you both through your highs. It might just be the hardest you have ever cum with the way your vision whites out at the edges, fingernails leaving crescent marks in the nape of his neck, ones of deep purple and blue. 

He lets your shoulders down gently, peppering kisses on your face, whispering sweet ‘Thank you’s with each press of his lips. 

He settles beside you pulling your back against his chest, rubbing soft circles on you shoulder.

“Hiro?”

He hums, eyes closed, on the edge of sleep.

“What are we?”

Eyes shoot open. He snorts. Loud. 

“Are you actually being serious right now?”

“Well I mean we never-“

“You are my girlfriend are you not? Have I been wrong this whole time?”

“Well, that’s presumptuous, considering you never asked me.”

“My bad, allow me to rectify this, will you be my girlfriend?”

“Hmmm, I’ll have to think about it.”

He pinches your arm.

“Hiro,ow, that’s mean, fine yes!” 

He soothes the spot on your arm and hums pleased with your answer.