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ā gojo satoruāoneshot ā FROM THE SUBWAY TRAIN.
SYNOPSIS āā The blue spring of their youthsāand everything after it ends. Your story told from the perspective of your closest friend since childhood, Shoko Ieiri.
PAIRING. āā gojo satoru x reader
TAGS. canon jjk timeline, (or at least as accurate as possible) coming of age, sorcerer!reader, angst, fluff, slice of life, mutual pining, friends to lovers, nostalgia, hidden inventory timeline, the tokyo five plus you, emotional vulnerability, dreams and nightmares, missing scenes, domestic fluff, megumi and tsumiki / dad!gojo dynamic, we love and adore shoko ieiri on this blog
WARNINGS. ! manga spoilers ! depictions of grief & loss, canon typical violence (described but not in detail), use of cigarettes and smoking, character deaths
WORD COUNT. 13.2k
mae's note. my debut work !! thank u for all the support on 'of love & lesson plans', the first chapter will be out by tomorrow hehee but i wanted to share a project i've been working on for over a year now <3 i also PINKY PROMISE my other fics won't be this sad jsjdjskd but i love u all and i'm so sorry in advanced ... but likes and reposts are much loved mwah mwah mwah
inspired by āŖ from the subway train, vansire š¤£.š„§.š”¼.ā āā ao3 version. playlist. header art twt/@5booosa. dividers by @cafekitsune
The air in December tastes like endings, bitter like smoke and cold enough to hurt.
Shoko stands alone beneath the harsh fluorescent glow of a streetlamp, cigarette trembling faintly between gloved fingers, the embers burning quietly, steadily, a small star of comfort in between her fingertips. Snow falls in careless spirals, catching in her hair, dusting her eyelashes, melting against her skin.
She watches her breath leave her body, a faint cloud in the chill, and thinks about how strange it isāhow terribly quiet the world becomes when thereās nothing left but memory.
She swears it wasnāt always this cold.
i. november, 1989
You were both born in early November, five days apart.
Shoko firstāsmall, silent, blue around the lips. Her mother would later tell her she hadnāt cried, not even once. She just blinked up at the ceiling, like sheād already seen too much of the world. You had come days afterāred-faced and furious, shrieking like youād already been wronged.
Balance, their clanhead called it. One to make, one to unmake.
They grew up in a quiet prefecture, tucked between the mountains, where fog collected on windows in the morning and everything smelled like pine and old rain. Their family was not a traditional jujutsu clanānot in the way the Zenins or the Gojos wereābut they still had blood that remembered power, blood that ran strangely cold.
Shoko discovered her technique earlyāreversed cursed energy, delicate and warm, the ability to stitch together what others could only destroy. It made her quiet, made her thoughtful, made her feel too responsible for things she didnāt understand. You, on the other hand, were all forward motion and fury, manifesting offensive cursed techniques with raw instinct and terrifying precision.
You burned. Shoko cooled. A soldier and a healer.
It wasn't rivalry. It wasn't even contrast, really. It was rhythmātwo halves of a heart, orbiting each other, moving through childhood in tandem. You protected her from bullies, from curses, from the dark under the bed. Shoko bandaged your scraped knees, held your hair back with her small hands when you threw up after manifesting your cursed technique for the first time, whispered questions into your shoulder late at night about whether theyād ever be normal.
Neither of you wanted normal. Not really.
So when your mothers had suggested both of you for Jujutsu Techāyou didnāt hesitate. It is the slight chill that Spring of 2005 that Shoko remembers most. Fifteen years old, uniforms theyād taken customized to their liking just a month beforeāShoko, with her wide turtleneck and midi skirt. You, in a well-tailored blazer, and much to your motherās disapprovalāa short skirt.
Even after the arguments and bickering, their mothers had cried. Their fathers had barely nodded at them. The train took them away to Tokyo with petals sticking to the window, and their only belongings in duffle bags at their feet. Shokoās hands were cold where they held yours softly.
She was afraid. You werenāt.
You had always loved the idea of being chosen, and Shoko just didnāt want to be left behind.
And maybe thatās how it all beganānot with power, or fate, or bloodlines.
Two girls stepping onto a train together, one chasing strength, the other running away from a world sheād one day have to hold together with her hands.
ii. april, 2005
Jujutsu Tech was nothing like Shoko expected.
She thought it would be colder, older, more like the hospitals sheād passed on the trainātall and sterile and gray. But it was⦠soft. Vines curling around wooden buildings, laundry strung between windows, the hum of cicadas already testing their voices in the trees. It smelled like dirt and chalk and something faintly sweet, like sakura or summer air caught in the stairwells.
She didnāt talk much those first couple of days. Neither did Suguru Geto.
They met on their first day of class, standing awkwardly apart. Shoko was pressed against the wall, you beside her like a shield, when she noticed himāblack hair long just at his shoulder, eyes unreadable, hands folded neatly behind his back like he was waiting for something more important than small talk. He caught her looking, and they didnāt smile, but something passed between them anyway. A kind of shared silence.
Then came Gojo.
She had heard of him before, of course. The honored one, the destined boy of the Gojo Clan. He arrived like a stormāmessy white hair, too-tall frame stuffed into the uniform like it didnāt quite belong to him. He talked too much, laughed too loud, tripped over his own shoes, and still managed to radiate something untouchable. He was awkward, undeniably gifted, and absolutely convinced he had nothing to learn from anyone.
Shoko didnāt really like him.
You despised him worse, found him amusing. You would say he was infuriating, sureābut interesting.
āHe thinks heās better than everyone,ā you whispered one night, grimacing into your pillow. āBut his ears turn red every time I catch him staring.ā
Shoko rolled her eyes, gave you a half smile. āHeās insufferable.ā
āYou're just mad that he said you would look better if you grew out your hair.ā you teased.
āThat's not true. I like my hair.ā
āI like it too.ā
āThen why does it matter to me what he thinks?ā
But slowlyāso slowly it almost escaped her noticeāhe changed. He started making jokes with them. And regrettably, Shoko would sometimes laugh at something he said. He started sitting with them at lunch. Picked up Suguruās habit of folding napkins into strange little birds. Borrowed Shokoās pens and returned them. Awkwardly, with both hands and a muttered thanks.
He began learning them. Their rhythms. Their silences.
It was the end of summer when it started to feel like something real.
Missions were few and far between in those first months. They trained hard, sweat and bruises under the cherry blossoms, sparring on grass that still held morning dew. Shoko hated sparring. She wasnāt built for itānot the way you were, with your reckless cursed technique and even more reckless joy.
But she tried. Because she had to. Because she wouldnāt let herself be the weak link.
And Gojoāhe always held back when they fought. Even then, before he understood how to be gentle, he understood that she needed to win sometimes. Needed to prove that she could. He let her land hits, not because she needed help, but because he saw the way she looked at herself compared to the rest of them. She knew that Gojoāthe freak of nature he was with those blazing blue eyesāsaw her beneath her dry sarcasm and grins and tired eyes.
Suguru, on the other hand, never let her win. But he gave her pointers after. Explained why she slipped, what her stance betrayed. His feedback was quiet, clinical, never cruel. Always gave her a nod and a smile. Shoko trusted him for it.
Those were their blue springsātheir youth washed in cloudless skies and laughter and rain-soaked uniforms drying on sun-warmed rocks. Those were the days of early friendships, of discovering who they were becoming.
They took the train into Tokyo for missions, packed into cars half-asleep, heads knocking against windows. You would always take the window seat, with your far too expensive mp3 player and ratty wired earbuds. Youād hum under your breath, fingers tapping a beat on your thigh. Gojo sprawled across two seats, his head inevitably ending up in someoneās lap. Suguru read novels and pretended not to notice you and Gojoās helpless bickering.
ā
The first storm of the summer comes sudden, like most things that mattered back then. Sheets of water turning the courtyard into a lake, petals plastered to the stones.
Gojo didnāt run for cover. Of course he didn't. He stood in the middle of it all like some idiot, arms outstretched, hair plastered white against his forehead, laughing so loud it made the rain sound shy.
āYou'll catch a cold,ā Suguru called from the walkway, voice dry as the towel slung around his shoulders.
āColds are a myth,ā Gojo shot back, spinning in a circle, water flying from his sleeves. It wasn't rare back then for Gojo to turn off his infinity, especially for rain storms he used to practically bathe in.
Shoko watched from the step, dry under an awning with a cigarette between her fingers. Smoking was a new habit sheād picked up, in spite of the protests from her friends, in spite of the distaste and the mini interventions and scoldings youād given her. All these years later, she canāt really remember where it started from.
You had taken the cigarette from her fingers that day and threw it in the rain, leaving her a little frustrated. Then she watched as you tried not to smile, and bolted straight into the storm after Gojo, shoes kicking up water like wings.
The both of you were soaked in secondsāshrieking, colliding, uniforms clinging like second skin. Grinning too bright for the gray sky above them.
ā
They went on their first mission as a full team in late October.
A cursed spirit in a temple in the countrysideānothing particularly dangerous, but big enough to warrant the four of them. The four of you, as it turned out, had garnered somewhat of a reputation in the Jujutsu world by this point, even though it had only been a couple months into your first year. There was Gojo, being who he was, and then there were you and Geto, two special-grade hopefuls, and then Shoko, with her reverse cursed technique. It was hard not to hear the excitement, the chatter from your seniors and teachers and higher-ups and worse, the curses, as they marveled at what potential the four of you possessed.
On their first mission together they took the train, bundled in thin jackets, feet tangled under the seats. You sat next to Gojo this time, your knees knocking occasionally as the train curved through the mountains. You two didnāt talk much, just passed a packet of rice crackers back and forth, you opening them with your teeth and Gojo laughing, soft, like he couldnāt help it.
Suguru fell asleep with his head against the window. Shoko watched the landscape blur, temples and fields dissolving into dusk.
She remembers that October day clearly ā because the first time they saw a body together was on a bridge, the river swollen black beneath it, the cold gnawing at their ankles. The mission shouldnāt have had civilian casualties. It wasnāt supposed to be anything. Yet their world didnāt care about supposed to.
Shoko stood back as Suguru exorcised the curse, her hands clenching, heart banging against her ribs like it wanted out. When it was over, the corpse of the victim lay sprawled against the guardrail, mouth full of frozen air. A little girlāher hair so matted in blood Shoko couldnāt tell what color it was anymore.
Gojo tried to crack a joke, to distill the buzzing in the airāsomething stupid about ghosts haunting bridgesābut no one laughed, not even him. You touched Shoko's arm, light as breath, and for the first time Shoko wondered if maybe they werenāt weapons at all. Maybe they were just kids with blood under their nails and no way out.
It's that night she remembers all these years later, coming home from the mission. They stayed up talking until sunrise. They lay on futons in someoneās dorm room, the windows open, moths circling the lights.
āDo you ever think,ā you had asked, staring at the ceiling. āThat weāre not meant to survive this?ā
There's a quiet that fills the room, uncomfortable, like understanding the inevitable.
āDon't say that depressing shit,ā Gojo said sharply, but his voice still held a hint of something that couldāve been mistaken for vulnerability.
āI'm serious. We're weapons. Tools. They'll use us until we break.ā
āThen we donāt break,ā Suguru said quietly.
āOr we break together.āĀ Shoko said, so softly no one answered.
That first year, they were just kids. Cursed kids, sure. But kids.
And even though Shoko knew betterāeven though she could already see the shape of blood and bodies and burials in the futureāshe let herself believe in nights like those. The four of them sprawled on the floor, laughing at someoneās expense, playing cards and cheap candy wrappers littered on the floor.
In the way Gojo looked at you when he thought no one else saw.
In the way Suguru never raised his voice, but always listened.
In the way you gave your heart like the world hadnāt hurt you yet.
In the way they all leaned on each other like scaffolding, like maybe if they held tight enough, they wouldnāt fall.
iii. june, 2006
Summer in Tokyo hit different when you were sixteen and almost certain youād die before twenty.Ā
They werenāt supposed to go outāthey had curfews, missions stacked like bones at the start of their second yearācurses growing restless, schools asking for protection, strange whispers threading through reports about ancient prisons and shifting power balances. Still, they trained. Still, they laughed. Still, they stole naps on rooftops and dared each other to eat expired convenience store pudding.
Still, they were kids.
Gojo whined until Suguru sighed and gave in, and you had tugged Shoko by the wrist before she could protest.
The festival was a crush of lantern light and smoke, sweet batter curling through the air, fireworks cracking open the dark. You darted ahead, yukata swaying, hair pinned up with something glittering like starlight. Gojo stuck by your side, wolfing down skewers two at a time, Suguru following at a distance with his hands tucked in his sleeves, gaze flicking toward the crowd like a man always counting exits, but still roaring in laughter as Gojo almost chokes on his third kebab.
āTry this,ā Gojo said, shoving a stick of candied fruit under Shoko's nose.
āI donāt want your leftovers,ā she muttered, unimpressed. But after a bit of nagging she took it anyway, quietly unwrapping it and biting through the sugar shell and pretending it wasnāt goodājust to spite him.
Fireworks bloomed overheadāwhite, then red, then a scatter of gold that turned every face strange and beautiful. For a moment, Shoko saw them like strangers: Suguru haloed in crimson, Gojoās grin carved bright in the dark, and you tilting your head back to watch the sky like it would never fall.
The boom of the next firework swallowed her thoughts, and she let it.
ā
Shoko always thought the end would come like a fireworkāloud, blinding, impossible to ignore.
But it hadnāt. It came instead like fog. Slow, creeping, impossible to trace where it started.
By the time they noticed it was already over, the fog of it had already filled the room.
She thinks she can trace every lamentable moment of her life back to that August of 2006.Ā
Gojo, Geto, you and the star plasma vessel mission she hadnāt been a part of. When she thinks back on it, she canāt exactly understand what happened in that week to have changed the course of their entire lives. Was it before Gojo died in a bloody mess? Was it after he came back, blood-stained, eyes dark, buzzing with an energy that she acknowledgedāwith bated breathāhad finally crossed to godhood?
Gojo was stronger. Far stronger. Six eyes sharp as knives, his cursed technique threading into infinity like it had always been waiting for him to catch up. The elders watched him nowānot as a student, but as a threat. You noticed it too. Started staying closer to him, stepping between him and the higher-ups during briefings.
āThey're grooming him,ā you told Shoko once. āNot for leadership. For war.ā
Shoko looked at youāat the calluses on your hands, the scar on your jaw you hadnāt let Shoko heal.
āThey're grooming all of us.ā
You didnāt deny it anymore.
ā
There are softer things that year, where Shoko canāt remember the exact moment things changed.
Only that something had slowed, gone hazy. Like the last layer of frost on a windowpane, melting so gently it almost went unnoticed.
It felt like fall had come early. The leaves on the techās old trees went gold and red like theyād been waiting to burn. There were still wounds to be tended to, and there were still things they couldnāt talk about from the end of that summer.
But Gojo had grown taller over the summer, like his body had finally remembered he came from giants. His hair had grown shaggier, uniform didnāt fit right anymore, and he refused to ask for a new one. Shoko watched him adjust his cuffs every morning like it was some kind of ritual, then pretend not to notice when you offered him your spare hair tie for his sleeves. He took it without meeting your eyes, and wore it like armor.
Shoko noticed the shift in the air. Maybe it was the way that you had started lingering after training, towel around your neck, laughter caught in your throat like a secret. Or the way Gojo stood straighter when you walked into a room, blinking too slow, like he hadnāt meant to look. Maybe it was how the two of you had stopped fighting in that way you used toāloud, fast, like lightning cracking open the skyāand started teasing instead. Light, easy, ridiculous. Like you didnāt know how else to be near each other.
Shoko noticed it in the quiet, in the pauses between conversations, and in the way you touched your own wrist absentmindedly whenever Gojo spoke, like grounding yourself. She noticed how Gojoāalways so proud of his attention spanāstarted forgetting what he was saying mid-sentence if you laughed too loud.
āYou're obvious,ā Shoko told you one evening, as you stood in front of her dorm mirror brushing your teeth. It was practically your dorm now, too.
You spat into the sink. āHeās worse.ā
āYou're both insufferable.ā
āHeās insufferable. I'm charming.ā
āHe told Nanami you punched him in the throat during training.ā
āI did, so what? He totally deserved it.ā
āI just canāt believe he let you in the first place.ā Shoko shook her head, and thought of the infinity around Gojo, the invisible barrier between him and humanity. The thing that put him closer to godliness. A smile curling at her lips despite herself, understanding the implications of Gojo turning it off around you. āAnd yet you still gave him your last Milkis at lunch.ā
āIt was strawberry-flavored.ā a shrug. āI don't like strawberry.ā
Shoko didnāt say anything else. Didnāt point out the way you lingered when Gojo wasnāt around, or how your voice got quieter when you talked about him. Didnāt say that sheād seen Gojo staring out windows when he thought no one was watching, fingers tapping the rhythm of your laugh on his thigh.
There was something sacred about their closeness. Something fragile and half-formed, still soft at the edges. Shoko didnāt want to break it by naming it too soon.
She just watched. Just remembered.
Suguru was the only one who never commented.
He saw it tooāof course he didābut he never overtly teased, only gave a knowing smile quietly to Gojo who would glare back, but never really poked at the obvious tension between the two. Maybe because he understood it, or maybe because he was the kind of person who noticed things and let them be.
He grew quieter that fall, but not in a way that worried her yet. It was more like he was watching, gathering. She felt like something was shifting behind his eyes, too slow and too early to name yet. He still joked with Gojo, still helped Haibara with his footwork, still spent long evenings reading next to Shoko in the common room without saying a word.
But he didnāt smile as easily. And sometimes, when he thought no one was looking, he would close his eyes like the world was too loud.
Shoko didnāt ask. She didnāt know how.
Maybe she should have.
ā
It's late November and the mission went fine.
They exorcised the spirit, cleansed the space, burned the remains. But it was what happened after that stuck.
They stayed overnight in a small inn at the base of the mountain, just two roomsāboys in one, girls in the other. The floors were tatami, and the air smelled like cedar and sulfur from the hot springs nearby. it shouldāve been peaceful.
But Shoko couldnāt sleep.
You lay on your side, back to Shoko, eyes open in the dark. She listened to the wind outside, the drip of water from a leaky faucet, the quiet hum of something that felt like change.
And then, sometime past midnight, you slipped out of bed.
Shoko didnāt move, just watched the shadow cross the room, slide the door open, and vanish into the hallway.
It wasn't long before Gojo left too.
You werenāt subtle. Maybe you didnāt want to be.
Shoko waited a full minute before getting up. Her feet were cold on the floor. She didnāt know what she expectedāto interrupt them, to tease them. She heard echoes in the hallway, but couldnāt make out a word. Just the shuffling of feet, and the wind blowing against the door.
But when she found the two of you ā you werenāt touching.
You were standing in the snow-dusted garden outside the inn, facing each other, breathing visible in the cold. Your arms were folded tight across your chest. Gojo's hands were shoved deep into his coat pockets.
You werenāt saying anything, but she felt this air around you two. In your distance, in the heavy breathing and puffs of smoke between your lips, like you had run out of words to say.
Now, you were just looking.
And maybe that was worse. More intimate, somehow.
Shoko didnāt move. She stayed hidden by the shadows, her breath caught somewhere in her throat.
Then you reached forward.
Your hands touching Gojoās cheek, just barely.
He flinched.
Not away. Not exactly. Just ā startled. Like he hadnāt expected you to be real.
Shoko could see it thenāhow scared he was. Not of you, but of what it meant to want something in a world like theirs.
āYou donāt have to say anything,ā you said quietly.
Gojo looked at you. āI should.ā
āYou never say anything you donāt mean.ā
āI donāt know how to mean this.ā
A pause. Your breath hitched.
āJust donāt look away.ā
He didnāt.
And she watched as you leaned in, closing your eyes for your first kiss. How his lashes had brushed against your cheek as he let you pull him in, his hand finding its way to gently hold your waist.Ā
Shoko had left after that ā witnessing a moment so intimate she felt shivers just watching it, intruding in it. Or maybe it was the cold that got her. But, she waited to sleep until you went back inside. Waited until you crawled into bed beside her again, colder than before, but smiling softly into the dark.
Neither of you said a word.
Shoko stared at the ceiling and tried not to think about how everything had already started to change.
ā
The next few weeks felt warmer, somehow. Like something had opened in their group that wasnāt there before. Not just between Gojo and youābut all of them.
They trained harder. Laughed more. She wanted to believe they were healing the cracks from that August, that the feeling of finality sinking into her wasnāt real.
Even Suguru seemed lighter again. He stopped frowning at the radio when the news came on. Started humming again while he read. He taught Haibara about a complicated binding technique in the training yard one afternoon and let out a laugh when their junior tried it himself. There was a momentāa brief, impossible momentāwhere Shoko almost believed in forever.
They sat on the school rooftop one evening, all four of them, sky streaked violet and pink and gold. Someone had brought a speaker, and someone else had brought a bottles of various soda. Music played low. She noticed that you had rested your head on Gojo's shoulder, and he didnāt move, just leaned into it like gravity.
Suguru was telling a story about a curse he saw shaped like a crab. Shoko laughed. The wind was cool and sweet. The world didnāt feel like it was ending yet.
āYou ever think weāll get out of this?ā Suguru asked, voice low, cigarette between his lip.
āOut of what?ā you asked.
āThis. Jujutsu. Destruction and death and chaosāwhatever it is.ā
Gojo stared at the sky. āNo.ā
āMaybe,ā Shoko took the cigarette from Getoās lips, and took a puff. ābut not whole.ā
They sat in silence for a long time after that.
The sun set, and Shoko watched the light disappear behind Gojoās glasses, behind your smile, behind the quiet curve of Suguru's mouth.
It felt like a beginning.
But all she could think about was how beautiful things always seemed, right before they broke.
iv. march, 2007
Itās cruel to her, how the missions only seemed to get worse after that.
Higher-ranked, more volatile, more death. More nights in strange towns with blood on their hands. They started seeing each other less and less. After last August, in the aftermath of Riko Amaniās death, Gojo had been assigned onto more missions aloneāacknowledged for the first time in finality as the strongest. Started carrying all the mission files himself, memorizing them down to the street corners. Shoko started collecting more tools, more supplies, more sutures for the clinic at the tech, where she stayed more often than not now. She stopped wearing earrings because they got in the way of her face mask. You had learned how to kill without hesitation.
And she swore Suguru never complained about the missions he went on alone. But now he flinched when they passed playgrounds. Tensed when civilians asked for help. The curses he swallowed grew sharper, crueler. nastier, he had once told her late one night, the word leaving his tongue like he had coughed up bile.
āDon't let them suffer,ā he said once, without blinking. āFast is better.ā
Shoko nodded.
She didnāt ask what he meant.
ā
The last mission they took together was in the early spring of 2007, before the start of their third year.Ā
A cult in Hiraizumiādark rituals, civilian disappearances, cursed users hiding behind holy symbols and incense. They traveled light, only the four of them. It felt like the early days again, for a momentāsuitcases and jokes and Gojo making dumb puns as they checked into a cheap ryokan.
But the mission itself was ugly.
Children locked in closets. Blood on the temple floors. Curses formed from fear and starvation, clinging to walls like rot.
Suguru lost control halfway through.
Not of his technique. Not of his mind. But of his restraint.
He killed too quickly. Didnāt wait for surrender, and didnāt leave the last cursed user breathing long enough to answer questions.
Gojo grabbed him by the collar after.
āWhat the hell was that?ā
āThey were killing kids.ā
āThey were running away.ā
āAnd they wouldāve kept going.āĀ
Gojo's hand tightened. his voice dropped. āWe follow orders.ā
āDo we?ā
Suguru's eyes burnedāhotter than Shoko had ever seen. āWhose orders, Satoru?ā
Shoko watched you step between them. A hand on Gojo's chest. Your voice low. āNot here.ā
Gojo dropped his hand, and Suguru had turned and walked away, scoffing.
The two of them didnāt speak again the rest of the trip.
ā
Haibara died not long after.
He had been brightāsun-bright, laughter-bright, too-young-to-fall-bright. He said āgood morningā like it mattered. He addressed them all formally even when they told him to stop. He sparred with you like he was dancing, ate lunch with his mouth full, had dreams about being a sorcerer who saved people and meant it.
The mission was supposed to be simple.
Shoko remembers the call. A cursed womb, grade 3, nothing extraordinary. She remembers you saying, ātheyāre strong. Nanami'll be with him. theyāll be fine.ā
They werenāt.
What came back wasnāt a body, not really. It was a mess of limbs and red and something too silent to be the Haibara she had known.
Nanami carried him. Wouldnāt let go, even as his uniform soaked a darker shade from the blood.
Shoko stitched Haibara's body together with shaking handsānot to save him. Just so his mother could recognize his face.
You threw up in the courtyard after the funeral. Gojo didnāt speak. Suguru didnāt cry.
Grief had finally split the group like glass under pressureāfracture lines running between them, invisible until the light hit just right.
Gojo got louder. More obnoxious, more ridiculous. He made jokes during meetings, fell asleep in class, tripped over his own feet just to make you laugh.
And you did laugh. Loud and real and reckless. But there was something sharp underneath it. A glint in your voice. A kind of defiance.
Suguru got even quieter.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet, the kind that meant calm or ease.
This was the kind that clung to him. That narrowed his eyes when he passed civilians on the street. That curled his lip when they reported to elders who hadnāt lifted a hand in battle in years. That made him look at Haibaraās photo like it was a question that would never be answered.
Shoko felt it most at night.
Suguru used to accidentally fall asleep reading in the common room, head tilted back, glasses slipping. Now, he sat up long after everyone else had gone to bed, staring at nothing, fingers curled like he was still gripping a weapon.
She said something once. Tried to, at least.
āAre you okay?ā she asked quietly, as they stood in the hall one night. She canāt recall why, or where, but she remembers this moment because there has never been a part of her that hadnāt wished she had pushed back harder.
Suguru looked at her.
His smile was soft, fake. āYeah.ā
By then she knew he was gone.
ā
A couple weeks later, in the midst of an August heatwave ā Suguru Geto disappears.
He left a note on the dorm kitchen table and a photo of the four of them.
Just one sentence: I can't do this anymore.
The rest was silence.
Shoko found it first. She read it twice, then sat down at the table and stared at the handwriting until you walked in and asked where everyone was.
Gojo didnāt say anything after meeting with Yaga. Didnāt come out of his room for the rest of the morning.
Though itās the last time she sees Suguru, she understands this is it.
She had heard, just a little after reading his final note, what heād done. A town massacred, burned to the ground and cursed residuals that couldnāt have been anyoneās but the man next to her ā his own mother and father killed by their only sonās hands.Ā
Yet here he was, lighting her cigarette for her and laughing. At least she could pretend for a moment that this didnāt have to be over.
She gives Gojo a call and waits with Suguru for his best friend to arrive and she wonders if Gojo could change the outcome of this. If Gojo Satoru could save Suguru Geto from himself. But another glance up at him, long hair disheveled, the purpled skin under his eyes deeper than sheās ever seen, and the emptiness behind his smile, that she realizes she doesnāt know the man next to her. Not anymore. Maybe not at all.
So he waves goodbye, and she nods and lets the smoke cloud her lungs.
And she never spoke to him again.
ā
That winter, the sky felt heavier. The air full of ghosts.
You stopped wearing bright colors. Started sleeping in your uniform, like you expected to be called into battle at any second. Gojo trained until his hands bled, and didnāt let Shoko bandage them.
āWhat if heās right?ā he asked her once. His voice barely audible. āWhat if weāre just killing things to delay the inevitable?ā
Shoko didnāt answer, because she didnāt know. (Because something in her still wanted to believe.)
But by the end of that year she had found herself alone more often.
In the morgue. On the roof. In the silence between patrols. She smoked less, not because she wanted to live longer. Just because it didnāt feel worth the taste anymore.
You had stopped talking about the future.
Gojo stopped calling himself the strongest.
They were eighteen then. Too young to have seen so much. Too old to unsee any of it.
v. 2008
The years felt blurry after.
Like the sky after a firework show, after the beauty of it wears and you are left with the remains. Of the sky billowed in smoke, and the ground covered in ash. Shoko remembers the firework show during the summer festival in their second year, how she had watched the lights change your faces. How when she thinks of Suguru, she remembers him back then, hair in a half bun, wearing a yukata, his profile cast under the red glow of fireworks.
Mission after mission. Report after report. Half-empty dorm rooms. Birthdays that passed unnoticed. Names that became numbers. More curses. More blood. Fewer friends.
By then she had stopped smoking entirely, not because she wanted to live. But because you had always hated the smell.
And for a long time after Suguru left, Shoko couldnāt sleep without dreaming of the morgue.
The lights were always too bright. The steel trays too cold. Her gloves slick with blood that would never dry. In the dream, you always walked in firstāwhole, alive, laughing. And Shoko would reach for you. Call your name. But you would just smile, step onto the autopsy table, and lie down.
āYou're early,ā Shoko would whisper.
āI know.ā you would say.
Then the door would swing open, and Suguru would walk in next. But his face would be hollowed out, eyes dark like tunnels. He'd sit beside your body, light a cigarette, and say nothing at all.
Shoko always woke up with her hands clenched tight around the sheets, fingers aching.
ā
Gojo never talked about Suguru.
Not once.
Not even on that day all those years ago when he came back from the confrontation in Shinjuku with blood in his nails and grief in his eyes.
He got stronger. Faster. Untouchable.
The elders stopped looking at him like a student and started looking at him like their greatest tool. He didnāt flinch, just started smiling bigger, make louder jokes, wore sunglasses indoors, and flirted and teased and deflected.
Shoko could see it, thought. In the slump of his shoulders, or the way his laugh caught wrong in his throat.
He was grieving like a dam breaking. Slowly and inevitably.
But never where anyone could see.
You stayed close to him after that. Stopped being fire and became gravity. Quiet and steady. The only thing that could bring him back when he started spinning too fast. You were the one who waited outside meetings. The one who kicked open his door and pulled him out of bed on the days he refused to get up, muttering, āIf you donāt move, I'll set your curtains on fire.ā
He always moved. Shoko thinks that itās less because he believed in your vague threats, and more because he just believed in you.
Shoko watched it all from the edge.
The way you stopped waiting for him to say how he felt. The way you just stood thereāopen, unwaveringāuntil he stopped running.
The two of you never made it official. Not with labels. Not with grand declarations or anything, But Gojo started showing up late to meetings because he walked you home.
Shoko didnāt know if it was healing, but for a while, it was peace.
vi. april, 2009
Around this time, the Fushiguroās arrived.
Megumi. Six years old. Too serious. Too quiet. walked around everyone like he was ready to hit, or be hit. His older sister, Tsumiki. Not older by much, just eight years old, but she was sunshine, warm and motherly beyond her years. Shoko saw that you took to her instantly, buying her hair clips and braiding her hair ā showing her how to throw a punch if she ever needed to.
Gojo brought them to the school with a box of takeout and a stubborn glint in his eye. "Don't say anything weird,ā he told you and shook. āHe already thinks Iām an idiot.ā
āHe's not wrong,ā you smiled, and Gojo pouted at you.
Shoko bent down to meet the boyās eyes, unsure of what to say. āHmm. Whatās something you like?ā
He shrugged, and gave her an unimpressed look. āI like dogs.ā
āMe too,ā she said. āTheyāre honest.ā
That night, they all sat in the common room eating cold noodles. Gojo told a story about a cursed tanuki that stole his left shoe. Megumi didnāt laugh, but he leaned into his sister when she did. Shoko watched as he leaned by Gojo's side as the lights went out.
You and Gojo had opened your arms and made space for the two of them.
Or maybe you had filled in the spaces left behind.
ā
Gojo cooked more, and wasn't great on his first try, surprisingly. Shoko had to supervise so he didnāt poison anyone, and you wouldāve eaten anything Gojo cooked, regardless.
Shoko watched as the four of them fell into something like a rhythm. Not a family. Not quite.
But something softer than she had become used to.
The kids brought color back to the halls when they came to visit. Laughter that didnāt feel borrowed. It wasn't like beforeābut nothing ever was.
Gojo had bought an apartment for Megumi and Tsumiki, and the two of you stopped by almost everyday that year. You and Gojo made bento boxes. You went on grocery runs. You argued over what show to watch on Saturday nights. When Shoko would come over, Tsumiki would beg to paint Shokoās nails, and once she had given in with her nails painted badly in rainbow and glitter, and you and Gojo had made fun of her for weeks when Shoko didnāt wipe it off.
You stopped wearing your uniform outside missions. Started wearing sweaters with loose sleeves, earrings again, mismatched socks.
You started reading books and magazines and things that werenāt just mission reports. Bought a plant for their windowsill. Put post-it notes on the fridge.
Shoko found one once that said, āSatoru, if you forget to buy me dorayaki again, I swear to God.ā
He forgot anyway, but he came back late that night with flowers.
Shoko watched from the couch as you opened the door, just to see you blinking down at the bouquet like it had grown a second head.
āThey didnāt have dorayaki,ā he said, sheepish. āBut they had these.ā
You didnāt speakājust grabbed the collar of his coat and stepped into the apartment hallway with him, shutting the door without looking.
Shoko looked away, and gave them the evening. She hung out with the kids, because they were cooler, and let them sleep on the couch watching movies.
Itās after they had fallen asleep, and you and Gojo were nowhere to be seen, that she sat on the balcony and watched the city lights flicker, listening to the hum of traffic into the night.
For the first time in months, she felt⦠full.
Not happy. Not yet healed.
But full, like maybe all her pieces had stopped rattling.
Just for now.
ā
She still worked long hours, because the clinic never slept.
New students. New injuries. New names she tried not to memorize.
She stitched and cut and stabilized and cleaned. Practiced her technique until it no longer felt like a gift but a reflex.
She stopped praying, though she had never been good at it anyway.
But every time a body came in, not yet cold, not yet gone, she held her breath.
Please, not them.
ā
They didnāt talk about the past. At least not often.
But sometimes, when you had already fallen asleep and the wind whistled through the hallways, Gojo would sit next to her on the balcony and say things in a tone older than his twenty years.
āHe liked soba more than ramen. I never knew that.ā
And Shoko would nod.
āHe read faster than anyone,ā sheād add. āeven me.ā
āHe believed in this more than we did.ā
āYeah.ā
Then silence.
Then the night.
Then the world turning, regardless.
ā
Shoko isnāt sure what time it is now, but it feels like a bit past midnight. In here, itās just the two of you on the couch with the weight of exhaustion like a second blanket. The balcony door is half-open, and the September chill is blowing in softly. Thereās a glass of wine balanced precariously on the edge of the coffee table, that she keeps forgetting to drink, and youāve got your legs tucked underneath you, hair damp from a shower, wearing one of those shirts thatās probably his ā though neither of you ever acknowledges it out loud.
Shoko tips her head against the back of the couch, eyes tracing the ceiling like itāll tell her the future, and mutters, āI feel so old.ā
You laugh, soft, incredulous. āWeāre twenty-one.ā
āExactly. And yet my back feels like Iām fifty.ā You give her a side glance, smiling.
āMy back feels perfectly fine, granny.ā
āThatās because you have two little minions who give you back massages whenever you ask. And they canāt say no because you house and feed them.ā
You nudge her knee with your own, half-amused, half-affectionate. āTheyād starve if it wasnāt for us.ā
āTheyād at least learn how to cook instant ramen properly,ā she fires back, though her tone is fond. She knows it as well as you doāhow Megumi sometimes falls asleep at the kitchen table with his homework still out, how Tsumiki always insists on washing the dishes even when her fingers are pruned from her bath. How the apartment has begun to feel not just like a place to sleep, but like the kind of home you were never supposed to have.
It makes her chest ache.
She glances at you again, more carefully this time. āYouāre happy, right?ā
You blink at her, then tilt your head like you donāt quite understand the weight of the question. āHappy?ā
āYou know what I mean.ā Shoko shrugs, too casual. āWith all this ā and with him.ā
There it is. Not accusatory, just curious, like sheās been holding this thought in her mouth for months, letting it turn over until it smoothed into something she could say without breaking it.
Youāre quiet for a moment, your gaze lowering to the glass of wine you still havenāt touched. āItās not simple.ā
āNothing ever is with him.ā She huffs a small laugh, but she doesnāt look away from you.
āSometimes,ā you admit, your voice softer, āit feels like weāre still kids, sneaking out after curfew, daring each other to jump rooftops. And then sometimes I look at him and I feel likeāā You break off, shaking your head as though itās too fragile to name.
āLike what?ā
You exhale slowly. āLike he already belongs to the world, and Iām just borrowing him for a while.ā
That hits Shoko harder than she expects. She shifts on the couch, watching the way your fingers worry at the hem of your sleeve. Thereās something unguarded in the way you say it, something that makes her throat tighten.
Shoko leans her head against the couch cushion, her glass dangling loosely from her fingers. āYou talk like heās a library book or something. Checked out, due back in three weeks.ā
You laugh, though itās small and tired. āMaybe thatās all love really is. Borrowing someone for as long as theyāll let you keep them.ā
āMorbid.ā
āHonest.ā You glance at her, and your smile is crooked, fond. āYou know him. Heās⦠a hurricane in human form. Everyone wants a piece of him, and half the time I feel like Iām just holding on, hoping he doesnāt blow past me.ā
Shoko hums, noncommittal, but her eyes are sharp. āAnd yet youāve been holding on for who knows how long. Most people canāt even last five minutes with him in a room.ā
āDonāt remind me,ā you mutter, though your lips curve. āHe still leaves his socks everywhere. Still eats candy for breakfast if I donāt stop him. And heāā You pause, and the softness of your voice betrays you. āHe still looks at me the same way he did when we were sixteen. Like he canāt believe Iām real.ā
Shoko conceals her smile, and masks it with a sip of wine. āHeād be an idiot not to.ā
āI think about it sometimes,ā you admit. āIf we hadnāt met so young. If we hadnāt been thrown together in that pressure cooker of a school ā would it have still been him? Would he have still found me?ā
Shoko stretches her legs out, her gaze slipping toward the ceiling. āI think he was always going to be yours, you know. Some things just⦠fix themselves in place before you even notice.ā
You fall quiet, staring at the wine in your glass, watching the way the light fractures against it. When you speak again, itās hushed. āIām scared, Shoko. Iā I think Iām scared of losing him. Of the day the world asks for more than he can give, and I have to watch him walk toward it anyway.ā
Shoko doesnāt answer right away. She looks at you ā really looks ā the girl who grew up at her side, who always chose kindness even when it cost you. You, who Gojo has loved since he was growing into his height, awkward and half-feral with grief and brilliance. You, who still look at him like heās worth the trouble.
Finally, she says, āYou know, when we were teenagers, I used to wonder if youād grow tired of him. If one day youād realize it was too much.ā
You blink at her, startled. āAnd now?ā
Shoko shrugs, her expression softening. āNow I think ā if anyone was ever built to love him, it was you. Stubborn, patient, stupidly brave. Heās impossible, but youāve always made the impossible look easy.ā
Your laugh catches in your throat, trembling somewhere between joy and sorrow. āDonāt make me cry, Shoko.ā
āWouldnāt dream of it.ā She lifts her glass in a lazy toast. āTo you and him. To sixteen and twenty-one, and however long you can keep borrowing each other.ā
You tap your glass gently against hers, the sound ringing low and warm. āTo growing older.ā
Shoko watches the way your face lights up at the thought, and takes a long sip from her glass. She tries for levity, though it comes out a little rough. āWell, if he breaks your heart, I get to kill him. Thatās the rule.ā
You laughāreally laugh this time, the kind that crinkles your eyes and warms the air between you. āYouād have to fight him first.ā
āPlease,ā she scoffs. āHeās all bark. Iād win.ā
āYouāre funny, Shoko.ā You smile a little sleepily, and lean your head against her shoulder, the way you used to when you were girls hiding from the elders in the back hallways of the clan compound. She doesnāt move, just lets you settle there, the weight of you a reminder that some things never change.
Thereās a long stretch of silence, broken only by the city hum outside. Then, almost shyly, Shoko says, āWell, I hope he loves growing old with you as much as I loved growing up with you.ā
You still against her, then let out a breath that sounds dangerously close to a sob. She doesnāt look at you, doesnāt push. Thatās never been your language. Instead, she reaches for her wine, takes another sip, and adds, almost casually, āAnd if he doesnāt, then screw him. Youāll still have me.ā
You laugh again, watery this time, and lean closer. āAlways.ā
ā
In the mornings, she drank coffee alone.
In the evenings, she liked to come to your apartment to the sound of laughter, and nonsense on the TV. To the smell of your cooking, which had gotten better than Gojoās after a couple months. To Tsumiki and her hands that grabbed Shokoās wrists and led her to the dining table. To Megumi, who Gojo tried so hard to make smile at his awful jokes.
Sometimes, she let herself believe it could last.
Sometimes, she let herself want more.
That was enough.
vii. 1997
When they were seven, you and Shoko built a grave for a bird.
Theyād found it after a storm ā a small thing, all bones and feathers, collapsed in the mud beneath a persimmon tree in the compoundās garden. You crouched beside it, poked it with a stick. āIs it sleeping?ā
āNo,ā shoko said. āIt's dead.ā
āHow do you know?ā
āIts chest isnāt moving.ā
āHow do you know?ā
Shoko didnāt answer. Just knelt down, tiny hands damp with soil, and began to dig.
They buried it beneath a square stone, lined the edges with pebbles. You picked wildflowers and bundled it with twine from the kitchen. Shoko pressed her fingers to the earth and whispered something she didnāt really understand ā a wish, maybe, or a prayer.
They sat there until the wind died down, until your mother called them in, until the sky turned the color of ash.
āWe shouldāve saved it,ā you whispered, wiping your nose with your sleeve.
Shoko didnāt say it, but she knew it then: sometimes youāre too late.
ā
january, 2014
The call comes at 2:19 in the afternoon, a higher-upās voice, clipped and formal.
āSheās been recovered. Weāre bringing you the body now.ā
The world doesnāt spin, it just stills. Though Shoko sits at her desk for a long time after, the phone silent in her lap, her hands empty.
Shoko doesnāt ask whose, because thereās only one person left.
She's already standing.
Her coatās already on.
Her teaās gone cold. The light in the infirmary has gone muddled and slanted, painting long shadows over everything like a warning.
Her hands move automatically. Clipboard.Pen. Gloves.
The air starts to feel static.
The mission was supposed to be easy. āA clean-up.ā A second sweep.She repeats, and repeats. Yet how many other times has she thought this?
You werenāt supposed to go alone, but someone backed out last minute, and you were never one to wait around.
Grade one curse. Warehouse District.
Shoko remembers the briefing because she was in the room. Because you had smiled ā tilted your head, chewing gum, loose-limbed and tired. āIāll be home quick.ā
But when she sees the body, it doesnāt feel like you.
Not you. Born five days apart. The soldier to her healer. Balance, the clanheads had once called them. One to make and unmake.
Not the same girl who used to share her shampoo, or talk in her sleep. Not the girl who burned bright and reckless and kissed Gojo Satoru like it was the only truth left in the world.
The word balance keeps running through her head as she stares at your face. So still.
No, it wasnāt you. This body is cold, and broken in ways Shoko doesnāt have the words for.
Her gloves are on. Her cursed energy thrums at her fingertips.
But itās all useless.
The wounds are clean. Carved into you like declarations. Chest collapsed, Ribs fractured inward. Shoko's already cataloging the report in her head. Trachea crushed. Internal hemorrhaging. Cursed lacerations across the sternum.
Then she moves.
Like a surgeon. like a healer with something to prove, even if thereās no one left to prove it to.
She doesnāt try to bring you back. Not really. She's seen too many bodies to believe in resurrection.
She stitches muscle back together like itāll matter. Seals split skin. Brushes blood from your scalp. A ritual, maybe. or penance. And as she runs her fingers through the ends of your hair, she thinks of being five years old when you had taught her how to braid it.
When she feels her vision blur she whispers, ādonāt be stupid,ā just like you used to.
Her voice doesnāt tremble until the end.
Too late, she thinks, and she sees a dead bird cupped in your small hands. Wildflowers wrapped in twine.
Too late, too late, too late.
She writes the report with mechanical precision.
Her handwriting doesnāt shake.
She signs it, and place it on top of the clipboard.
Then folds your arms across your chest, straightens your uniform collar, uses a towel to wipe a smudge from your chin, and the drawer of the morgue clicks shut with a hollow finality.
And she finally lets herself cry.
Just once.
Quietly.
Like a confession.
ā
Shoko takes the train without really knowing why sheās chosen this route over the school car. After she explained what she was doing, Ijichi had told her he could drive her with a solemn look in his eyes, always so insistent. She had declined, so now she sits by the window, forehead pressed to the cold glass, the tunnel lights strobing against her reflection until her own face starts to look like a strangerās.
She's still in her work clothes, still smells faintly of antiseptic and smoke, and the folder in her lap feels heavier than it should. She keeps one hand pressed flat to its cover like sheās holding a wound closed.
People filter in and out of the train at each stop, their chatter muted, just faint shapes moving through her periphery.
She doesnāt meet anyoneās eyes. The only thing she lets herself look at is the glass, and the snow on the other side of itāeach flake blurring against the motion of the city, small and perfect and already gone.
Yaga had told her, after, that Satoru wasnāt told yet, but she wonders if he already knows. If some part of himāwhatever raw, uncanny instinct makes him the strongestāregistered it the moment your heart stopped. Maybe he felt it like an earthquake deep in his bones, the sudden, wrong absence in the air. Maybe he was sitting on their couch, turning toward the door without knowing why.
Her mind drifts, unspooling memory:
Summer afternoons, the four of them sitting on the roof with drinks to cool the sweat on them. Your hair tangled from the wind. Gojo leaning back on his palms, his sunglasses pushed to the top of his head so she could clearly see the way his gaze snagged on you like he didnāt even notice he was staring. The quiet shift over months from banter to something slower, gentler, like theyād started speaking a language that Shoko didnāt know but could still recognize in the spaces between words.
A late night after a mission, all of them exhausted, half asleep in the common room. Shoko had woken to see them leaning together on the couch, your head on his shoulder, his hand resting loosely on yours. The kind of touch that wasnāt accidental.
There had been other momentsāquieter, private ones she hadnāt meant to seeāthat told her this was the thing that had changed him. He'd always been brilliant, unbearable, untouchable. but with you, his edges softened. He laughed differently. He listened.
Now she wonders how much of that sheās about to take from him in a single sentence.
The train slows into her stop, brakes screeching. She rises, folder in hand. She doesnāt know why she carries the hardcopyāmaybe it makes it feel more real, more final, more like evidence of something she already failed to prevent.
She had stopped by a gas station and bought a pack of cigarettes and a small black lighter for the first time in almost six years. Thereās now a cigarette clamped between her teeth, though she hasnāt lit it.
Snow is falling.
It catches in her hair, her sleeves, her lashes.
When she reaches their apartment building, she stops at the bottom of the stairs and thinks about turning around. But she doesnāt. She climbs each step like sheās approaching a grave.
The lightās on under the door.
She raises her hand.
And knocks.
ā
The door opens almost immediately.
And for a second ā just one, flickering, incandescent second ā Shoko sees the look on his face.
Gojo Satoru opens the door like he expects you to be behind it. Not Shoko. Not grief incarnate. But you. The woman he loves. The only thing in the world that could quiet his mind and hold his entire future in her palms.
He opens the door like someone in love. Like someone relieved. Like someone who still dares to hope.
And then he sees Shoko.
And everything stops.
His face doesnāt fall.
It freezes.
She watches the hope die in his expression. It doesnāt vanish ā it dies. Like something physically collapsing inside of him. A structure caving in, silently, under its own weight.
His shoulders lock, and she watches his jaw tense. He doesnāt move aside to let her in, doesnāt say a word.
Just stares.
He looks at her like he had known this would be how it ended all along, but still ā still, deep down, some piece of him had been holding on. Had left the light on. Had made her side of the bed. Had waited.
Shoko clears her throat.
The words donāt want to come.
"Iām sorryāsheās gone.ā
That's all it takes.
Gojo doesnāt flinch.
But she sees it in the way his hand clenches around the edge of the door. The way his breath leaves him ā sharp, shallow, wrong. The way he looks past her, like heās trying to reframe the hallway, the scene, the moment.
Like maybe he can rewind it.
Undo it.
See you behind her, scolding her for delivering bad news so bluntly.
But Shoko is alone, and the silence is loud.
He steps back, and turns.
Walks into the apartment like everything inside was knocked over.
Shoko follows and shuts the door behind her.
The apartment is dim. Bathed in soft warm light. The heater hums gently in the corner, and there are two mugs on the table, one empty and one half-drunk. Your sweater is still hanging over the back of the couch, sleeves inside out. Your boots are by the door. The windows are covered by sheer white curtains, but the shade of blue that appears just after sunset peeks through, framing the room the same color as melancholy.
Shoko wants to scream.
Instead, she places the folder on the table.
Neither of them look at it.
She taps the folder once, not to push him, but to make its presence undeniable.
āAre you going to read it?ā
His back is still to her. She can see the angle of his spine through the thin cotton of his shirt, every muscle tight, like heās bracing for impact.
With no hesitation, āNo.ā
Shoko expected that answer, but she still feels something drop in her chest.
āYou sure? Itās not⦠itās not just medical jargon. I kept it clean. No gore.ā
He turns his head just enough for her to see one sharp eye over his shoulder.
āYou want me to read the autopsy for the love of my life?ā
She pauses, feeling herself hold her breath.
āI want you to know what happened,ā she says, voice level. āExactly what happened. Without the stories youāll tell yourself later.ā
He scoffsāa sound halfway between disbelief and exhaustionāand shakes his head.
āThe story I want is that youāre lying.ā
Silence.
He pushes away from the counter, crosses to the table. His height makes the space between them smaller without him even trying. He puts a hand on the folder like he might open itāthumb brushing the edge, fingers curling.
And then he just⦠freezes.
Shoko watches him, and for the first time she sees itānot the usual walls, the sarcasm, the easy dismissal. This is different. This is a man standing at the edge of a cliff, staring down, knowing thereās nothing but rocks and cold water below.
āI can't,ā he says finally, and itās not defiance. It's quiet. almost gentle.
āWhy?ā
he swallows, eyes still on the folder.
āBecause the second I read it, itās over. She's gone in ink. In numbers. In your handwriting.ā he glances up at her, and thereās no shield in his expression now. āIf I don't read it, sheās just⦠late coming home.ā
Shoko's throat tightens.
For a moment, she wants to tell him she understands. That sheās done the sameātaken certain pages out because the words make her feel sick. But she doesnāt. She just nods, takes the folder back, tucks it under her arm again.
He exhales like heās been holding his breath the whole time.
Heās not moving.
Not breathing, maybe.
His hand rests on the counter like itās the only thing keeping him upright and she watches his shoulders shake.
Once.
Then still again.
His face is unreadable.
But his eyes ā god, his eyes.
Shoko has known him for more than a decade, has seen him bloodied and laughing and blind with pain and victory. But she has never seen him like this.
Not even after Suguru.
Not even after Toji.
This isnāt rage.
This isnāt despair.
This is something else.
Something jagged. Something bottomless.
He looks at her like sheās the executioner. Like she didnāt just bring the news ā but she made it true. But maybe, in some way, heās right to feel that way.
āYouāre sure that sheāsā?ā he asks, voice quiet. She couldāve mistaken his tone for desperation.
Shoko nods.
That's when it happens.
He laughs.
Short, ugly, and bitter.
An instinct, like flinching.
He runs a hand through his hair. Leans back against the counter.
The quiet settles like dust.
Shoko sits down on the couch. something crackles beneath her ā one of your notebooks. She picks it up, flips it open without thinking.
The last page is filled with sketches. a little cartoon version of Gojo, grinning, speech bubble saying āhave you seen my honey?ā
Her throat tightens.
She doesnāt speak.
āI thought I had more time,ā he says. Shoko doesnāt have it in her to speak.
āI wanted to take her to Okinawa again. Not for a mission this time. Just because.ā
He closes his eyes.
āShe never got to see it in winter. She wouldāve liked the cold.ā
And she stays the night on their couch. Like old times, except there is no wine and no laughter and your warmth isnāt beside her. Shoko never really registered that sheāll never see you again. Even now, it feels like youāll call her at any moment and ask her if she wants a drink.
But that first night without you, she doesnāt think she could really fall asleep.
And he doesnāt really cry.
But in the morning, he makes coffee with hands that wonāt stop shaking.
She drinks hers cold, and so does he. But she watches him press your mug to his lips and set it down again, like it burned him.
ā
august, 2014
Gojo is twenty four, and heās older than he was meant to be. More tired than he lets on, and somehow still waiting for something that already ended.
Sometimes, when itās late, and the city is loud, and the stars donāt show themselvesāShoko catches him leaning against the doorway of his apartment balcony, looking at the buildings and cars and passerbys like heās trying to remember the shape of your face.
And that, she thinks, is love.
Not flowers.
Not vows.
Not even the waiting.
But the remembering.
The carrying.
The way his world stopped. The way he never quite leaves the doorway, just in case you might still come home to him.
viii. 2015
Grief, when it lingers long enough, becomes routine.
Shoko wakes the same way every morning: early, cold. the city a dull hum outside her window. The kettle clicks on. She measures out coffee. Drinks it black, because thatās how you liked it, and then cooks konnyaku because you hated it.
The irony keeps her company.
The mornings are always quiet now. The kind of quiet that settles into your bones and stays.
And Nanami leaves the Jujutsu world around that time.
Quietly. Respectfully. Without fuss.
He came to her clinic on a Tuesday, knocked once, sat down across from her, and said, "I'm leaving.ā
She didnāt ask why, because she felt like she already knew.
He was twenty three and already looked like heād seen the end of the world twice.
āYou'll be good,ā she said softly. āToo good for this place.ā
Nanami looked away. āI just want to live like a person.ā
She envied him for thinking it was still possible.
Before he left, he placed a small paper-wrapped gift on her desk.
Inside was a lighter, clean, silver, unused.
She held it in her palm for a long time that night.
But she didnāt smoke.
Not yet.
ā
She sees Gojo more often these days.
Not because they talk more, and not because they seek each other out. Just because thereās no one else left.
They donāt need to make plans anymore. They just end up in the same places. The clinic. The faculty room. The convenience store on that street with the broken traffic light.
Sometimes he brings her canned coffee. Never says anything when he hands it to her.
She drinks it anyway.
Itās the only thing he offers that she can still take.
And he laughs a little more now, but itās not the same.
When he does, itās wrong. Jagged. Like something trying to escape from under his skin. It reminds her that heās still grieving, even when he tells her āheās over it.ā
The students adore him. Still think heās invincible, and think the blindfolds and wit and charm are who he really is.
Ā But Shoko knows better.
ā
december, 2017
Suguru's death didnāt come like she expected, though to her, Suguru Geto had died the August they were seventeen.
From the outside, he went out in flame and fury.
But then again, it feels like he went out quietly. Gently. By Gojoās own hands.
Because, in the end, that was the only way it couldāve happened.
Not in hatred or vengeance, but in recognition of what theyād been. Of what theyād lost. Of the thin line between who you are and who you become when the world stops making sense.
āIt was quick,ā Gojo told her afterward, his voice steady, eyes blown wide with something far beyond pain.
Shoko believed him. Not because she trusted the words, but because she trusted the silence between them.
ā
She thinks of Suguru now more than she admits.
Remembers how he used to hum under his breath while taking notes. How heād hand her highlighters during meetings without looking. How he used to let them braid his hair on missions just to make them smile.
Remembers the way he stood the last time she saw him, on the night of the cursed paradeāback straight, curses curling around him like smoke, eyes tired in a way that made her want to scream.Ā
He broke long before he died.
Shoko knows this.
She also knows he wouldāve been a wonderful teacher.
If the world had been kinder, and if someone had stopped to tell him that softness wasnāt weakness. That wanting to save people didnāt make him naĆÆve.
That watching them die wasnāt his fault.
ā
Gojo comes to dinner sometimes.
Not often or predictably. Sometimes he just knocks, steps inside, doesnāt take his shoes off properly, and drops onto her couch like he owns the place.
She used to yell at him for that, but now she just lets him.
He eats whatever she makes. Doesnāt complain, even when itās instant ramen or cold rice or nothing at all.
They donāt talk much during those nights.
But sometimes, he falls asleep.
And sometimes, she covers him with the old blanket you used to use when you were over ā just because. Just to remember what it felt like to care for someone who was still breathing.
There's one night that she remembers, after a long day of treating a couple injured sorcerers in the midst of a mission, that she finds him already waiting.
In the kitchen, cutting vegetables.
āWhat are you doing?ā she asks, flatly.
āTrying to give you a break,ā he says.
āBy mutilating my carrots?ā
āThey fought back.ā
She puffs a breath from her nose and smiles.
Itās the closest sheās come to laughing in days.
He makes curry. It's too spicy. The rice is slightly undercooked ā but itās not half bad.
She eats every bite, and doesnāt thank him for showing up.
Theyāre not close, not in the way people imagine. They donāt tell each other secrets. They donāt hug. They donāt reminisce out loud. Their bond lies in the memory of what it meant to be sixteen and still whole. Of how it felt watching the strongest boy in the room slowly learn how to be gentle. Of seeing him break and build and break again.
Of surviving the wreckage together.
He keeps her from vanishing. She keeps him from shattering.
They exist near each other.
Orbiting.
Keeping each other tethered.
ā
Shoko's the only one who doesnāt have a grave.
Not really.
Haibara's is now marked in a clean Kyoto cemetery. Suguru's ashes were never recovered, but thereās a stone for him outside his old temple. You have a simple plaque under the oak tree they used to study beneath.
Shoko visits them all, but she doesnāt linger.
Because itās not the places that hold them.
Itās the way she still turns her head when someone says āGetoā in a briefing. Itās the way she keeps chopsticks in her drawer for four, not one. It's the way she wakes from a dream, disoriented and reaching for an image of herself, of when her hair was cut to her chin and she is surrounded by people who were once her home ā before she remembers that no oneās coming.
Though, there's a new photo on her desk now.
Four teenagers. Uniforms on and grins wide.
Gojo has his eyes closed. Suguru is pretending to look annoyed. Youāre flipping off the camera. Shoko is mid-laugh, mouth open, eyes crinkled.
She doesnāt remember who took it.
Doesnāt remember what they were laughing at.
But she leaves it there.
Next to the medical files and the pills and the list of new students.
Itās a reminder ā not of who they were, but that they were. That at one point in time, the four of them had existed together. That at some point, that was all that mattered.
ix. december 24, 2018
The first snow falls unceremoniously. No warning and no wind to carry it.
Just flakes, slow and fat, drifting sideways over the rooftops of Shinjuku like ash from something thatās already burned.
Shoko watches it from the roof.
She doesnāt move.
Not yet.
It's the holidays, and she hates this time of year. Thereās too much pretending, too many bright windows, too many mouths grinning like the world hasnāt ended five times already.
This year, the snow comes early.
And with itāhim.
She thinks the city is strange under snow. Not soft. Not pretty. Just muffled, hollowed out. Sirens echo longer. Footsteps vanish quicker. The skyline dissolves behind a white veil, lights blurring like bruises.
She walks through it alone. Past vending machines glazed in frost and power lines sagging beneath the weight. There are paper lanterns swaying over shuttered storefronts, their glow smudged and dim.
Her boots crunch the snow like something brittle and alive. She isnāt wearing gloves. She likes the cold biting at her skin. It feels honest.
She finds him in the square.
Tall. Unmovable. Eyes like winter distilled into glass.
He's facing Sukuna, and thereās no backup. No panic. No speeches or horns sounding in the dark. Just two gods standing where no man should be.
She doesnāt call his name or break the silence. Only stands at the edge of it all, smoke slipping from her mouth, her eyes dry as bone.
He knows sheās there.
He doesnāt turn.
But he tilts his chin, barely, like a gesture carved out of stone.
And she understands, like she did all those years ago in August, when Suguru Geto had lit her cigarette. When he smiled and waved and she had turned away, for the last time.
That this is the end.
Not just of him. Not just of this fight.
But of everything that tethered them to a time when living felt possible.
Springtime in Jujutsu Tech. Sunlight tangled in white hair. You, singing too loudly, Suguru sighing like the world rested in his lungs. Sandos split in half. Train cars rattling at dusk. Leaves falling as soft as promises they never kept.
All of it.
Ending here.
Under a sky in a city stripped down to bone.
He burns too bright, even now. Bends space like a god, cuts air like a blade, shoulders the infinite and makes it look like art. And stillāSukuna is cruel. patient. inevitable.
Shoko watches as it begins: sharp, merciless, a brilliance that blinds and dies just as quickly.
She sees him hold and hold and holdāuntil he doesnāt.
He doesnāt scream.
He just folds.
Quietly.
Finally.
And the moment he hits the ground, the world doesnāt shatter.
But something in her does.
Everything slows.
The air thickens. Her breath fogs in front of her. Her hands are shaking, not from fear, but because sheās remembering. Nostalgia has always had its way of killing her, of creeping up on her and leaving her feeling sick. There is nothing left to reminisce now, as the last remaining part of her youth lies split in half in the show.
ā
The lab smells like steel and antiseptic, like every failure sheās ever catalogued. Fluorescent lights hum above her, sickly and bright, making her want to tear them out of the ceiling. She doesnāt. She just sets the instruments in place, lines up scalpels with the precision of someone who cannot afford to think.
Yuta lies unconscious on the table, his chest rising shallow, his pulse steady under her fingers. Now, she moves over to the drawer, where she placed Satoruās body after stitching it back together. When she pulls back the sheets, she touches his hair once, brushes it off his forehead the way she remembers you used to when he was too stubborn to sleep.
Now she stands over him, and for the first time in years, her hands shake.
Not from inexperience. Not from fear of failure.
But from knowing that if she succeeds, it wonāt really be him. And if she fails, she will have killed the last piece of her friendās legacy with her own two hands.
Her cursed technique hums, steady, inexorable. Flesh unravels, rewrites. Neurons glimmer under her touch like constellations in a dark sky. She threads them carefully, patient as a weaver, until she feels something spark. Until she feels him.
Not Yuta, not exactly.
But not Satoru either.
Something between.
A gasp, sharp and wet, tears through the air. fingers twitch. The body arches against restraints she swore she wouldnāt use, but had to.
And thenāeyes.
Too blue. Too familiar.
Her knees nearly buckle.
Because for an instant it feels like the dorms again and being a teenager. Then for an instant, she is twenty two again, and she watches Gojo lean down to talk to Tsumiki and Megumi, to give them reassurance, to protect their youth.
But then the boy blinks, coughs, chokes on his first words, staring at his hands. and Yuta is suddenly speaking to her, from Satoru Gojoās lips.
And itās not him.
Itās not him.
She forces her hands steady, swallows down the tremor in her throat. āWell, it worked.ā She says, clinical, detached. Like she didnāt just carve open time and stitch it into something monstrous.
The snow keeps falling outside.
ā
Later, they ask her what happened. after transferring Yuta back to his own body, after dismantling Satoru, pieces lying on a table in her clinic ā while Yuta walks, unscathed.
She gives them the facts. stripped bare, like bone. No softness. No poetry.
āGojo fought. He fell. He's dead.ā
Nothing more, because she refuses to let them dress it in glory, refuses to let them write a hymn where there was only silence.
He was tired.
He died.
And thereās nothing beautiful about that.
ā
She cremates him herself. In the same furnace that once took you. Her gloves are soaked by the end of it, dark and slick, but she doesnāt take them off. Doesnāt cry either. Not this time.
x. éę„
Tokyo feels different after. Like the city is holding its breath, waiting for something that will never come.
That evening, she stops beneath a streetlamp outside the school. Cigarette trembling faintly between gloved fingers. Snow catching in her hair, turning her into something ghostlike. Embers glow like memories in the dark.
For the first time in forever, she speaks. Not to anyone. Just to the cold, to the shadows that linger in her bones.
āYou win.ā she whispers.
The lamp above her flickers once, then dies.
And Shoko stands alone in the dark. Utterly. Finally. Completely.
Yet that night, she finds herself dreaming in color that she thought had left her vision over a decade ago now.
Dreams not of blood. Not of battle, or of bodies in a morgue, or the harsh December air.
But of summer. The old apartment bathed in sunlight. Then, youāre next to her, seated cross-legged, fingers deftly braiding Tsumikiās hair. Gojo at the table, laughing, trying to pry the cap off a bottle of soda with his teeth while Suguru shakes his head, pretending not to smile at him. Somewhere on your balcony, Haibaraās voice rings out, bright with Nanamiās deeper murmur tucked inside it.
Shoko feels a weight in her hands, and forces herself to look down for just a moment just to see that she is holding a camera. She lifts it. Frames them in her viewfinder ā her whole heart in one room. Click.
A still life. A stolen moment that no one else notices.
Theyāre too busy being alive.
(ēµćć) END.
When August comes, I donāt count the days
Transitory views from the subway train
How strange, when life unfolds this way
In the drift less zone, skyās prone to stay off-gray
Clouds are omens too, fading at the rate
That most pleasant memories do
mae's note. first chapter of "of love & lesson plans" out tomorrow, and i pinky promise it won't be this sad </3 likes + reposts are appreciated, thank you soso much for reading
i loved ur writing about how the hashiras deal with not being able to protect you in the infinity castle!! what about a sequel where you finally reunite with them and itās like very fluffy (or not š„² cough cough) i think it would be cute! no pressure tho, love ur work!! <3
ĖĖ˳ā InfinityĖĖ˳ā
The first parts to this one are here and here!!
Reuniting with them after the infinity castle
Already behind on asks but if anyone knows me then you know that was bound to happen. Woops. ANYWAYS Iām gonna have to memorize what all happens during the finale cuz itās been a bitā¦but oh well!! Thanks so much for the ask!!
Also some people will not be involved due to..the unfortunate truth that you would not be able to reunite with many of them
Warnings: SPOILERS for infinity castle and all that comes after it (so both manga AND anime spoilers)
Includes: Giyuu, Sanemi, Tengen
Giyuu Tomioka
Giyuuās sword arm throbbed after he slumped against the rubble of what used to be a building
The kakushi were hauling Tanjiro off, the sun was blazing down whoever was still alive
He reached for his sword, but a splitting pain shocked his shoulder, he tried flexing his fingers butā
The pain in his right arm was so relevant and real that he clearly forgot it was ripped clean out of its socket
He sighed as his head slumped, his one good ear still muffling the sounds around him.
It wasnāt until he saw the flash of a certain haori that he suddenly felt rejuvenated
He was certaināno, he was devastatingly sure that you had left this world
Thatās what his luck always gives him, heās always failed to protect the ones he cares about
But there you were, with injuries of your own, but your eyes held life in them, your chest rose and fell with breath
He used whatever remaining strength he had to get to his weak legs
It took longer than heād ever like to admit, but despite the situation his body and yours was in, he truly didnāt care
āY/Nāā he rasped out as he slung his left arm around your neck, feeling the warmth of your body alongside the sun
This was it
This was the life Sabito and Urokodaki wanted for him
This was the life he couldnāt give to so many people
A life where thereās no fear, no fighting, and no monsters that thrive at night
He believed himself weak, and even if you were speaking to him, he couldnāt hear you with how badly his ears were ringing
But he knew he was sobbing into your shoulder, because finally, he was with you
And thatās all he wanted
Sanemi Shinazugawa
With the little strength Sanemi had left, he used it to grip the deep violet vest that belonged to Genya
He felt virtually nothing as the kakushi wrapped bandages around his abdomen
āDonāt..make it..so damn..tight..ā he huffed towards them, but he could hardly hear himself over the constant ringing in his ears
Thereās a part of him that hates just laying here, but thatās all his body is allowing him to do
And whatās worse than the vest he was gripping was the fact that he couldnāt remember if you were dead or not
Did a crow scream your name? He was so busy with Kokushibo and Muzan that he had blocked out all other things
He almost made himself sick thinking about it, but that was all that was running through his mind
In the time of your death, he wasnāt even paying attention to it
And then he begins to hallucinate, if things couldnāt get any worse
He sees your body being laid next to his, with injuries he hadnāt seen you have before
He stared at you through blurry eyes for a long while until he realized you werenāt in fact dead
And he couldnāt tell if his vision was blurry due to damage or due to the many tears that were sliding down his face but oh well
With the hand closest to you he reached out and gripped the nearest clothing on you he could find, trying to tug at it
Whatever came out of his mouth was incoherent
But all he could think about was how heād much rather Genya be here instead of him, for Genya would weep and smile like an idiot because you were alive
Or perhaps, somewhere, his little brother is happiest knowing the two people he loves most are okay
Uzui Tengen
Uzui has been listening to the crows all night and all morning
Itās like he hasnāt breathed since he last said his farewells to you
And what he didnāt find flashy at all was how final those goodbyes sounded
And how unfair would it be for him to sit her idly while you might be out there bleeding out, or worse
When the spark of day finally rose and the crows were screeching that Muzan was dead, he practically sprinted to the scene
He saw familiar faces on stretchers, and he just prayed that the ones with their eyes closed were simply that way due to exhaustion
He wouldnāt know how to function if you were one of the ones with your eyes permanently closed
He thinks of how devastated Suma, Makio, and Hinatsuru would be
He thinks of them, because if he thinks about himself heāll drive himself crazyā
He sees a flash of skin that he knows all too well
Before he knows it heās by your side, checking the injuries and definitely getting in the kakushiās way
But HE gets on THEM for being in HIS way
He keeps promising you things frantically
How heās going to make sure you get the best meals, the flashiest clothes, heāll help you bathe in the nicest hot spring he can find
Tengen isnāt a desperate person, he simply works towards what he wants
But never had he ever felt such relief
Heād rather relive the moments in which he was embarrassingly dying over and over again than ever wait in the unknown to know if youāre alright
I always wonder if the majority of kny fans are anime only or if they have read the mangaā¦because personally the manga makes fanfic so much more interesting
Includes: Tanjiro, Zenitsu, Inosuke
Kamado Tanjiro
Tanjiro has had to grow up very quickly, causing him to become very emotionally mature
And that is, quite honestly, one of the best things in your relationship that holds the two of you together
Heās extremely considerate of your feelings and thoughts, and always reaches out and actually wants to hear those kinds of things
Heās also extremely affectionate, both vocally and physically!!
Heās always holding your hand, or when heās talking directly to you, heāll grab both of your hands in his and hold them in between you both
Heās also really big on permission
Before he kisses you he asks very nicely if heās able, as if he doesnāt already know the answer will be yes
Playing with your hair is also something he does often
If itās long enough, heāll braid it gently and intricately as you conversate
He sometimes likes taking the traditionally āfeminineā side of the relationship
He simply like pampering you, and he doesnāt find it embarrassing like some young men might
If youāre a slayer, he insists on taking at least SOME missions with you
Not only as a way to be sure youāre protected, but also to gather information about your strength
He just wants to know everything about you, because he believes thatās what makes a strong bond between two people!
And I firmly believe thatās what the both of you have
A strong, unbreakable, and loving bond
And heāll hold onto you for the rest of his life
Zenitsu Agatsuma
Zenitsu saw you and instantly knew you were the one for him
He was going to cling to you until the day you died, even if thatās mortally embarrassing
But actually, he feels no embarrassment when he clings to you, because thatās when he feels the most safe
He feels secure and stable when heās with youābut also heās not afraid to show the side of himself thatās more cowardly
Because heās never really had someone who loves his whole self unapologetically
And he takes full advantage of it
He loves to openly beg for attention by tugging on your arm or rubbing his cheek against you like a cat
Overall heās just very physically affectionate
He also sees you as an anchoring point, youāre the home he comes back to
āOkay, if I just help kill this guy, I can go home and see the love of my life!ā ā¦And thoughts similar to this run through his mind
Heās also the kind of guy to chatter his teeth in his sleep, your voice sleeping out groggily as he dreams
If you tell him you heard it, expect a very whiny and very clingy Zenitsu wrapped around you like a koala
Oh..thatās just him all the time
Haha good luck!
Inosuke Hashibira
Your name is the only name thatās cemented into his memory
Heās spent lots of time with a calligraphy brush attempting to write your name
Thatās Inosukeās way of showing that he loves you, by doing things to/for you that he wouldnāt do for anyone else
For example, when eating together, heāll begrudgingly place one of his shrimps into your bowl
He also loves to show off for you
Anything that fuels his ego in front of you is a kind of love language for his
Itās very uniquely Inosuke, Iām sure you know what I mean, haha
For the most part, he doesnāt even know what dating or courting really is
He doesnāt exactly know what emotions heās feeling when heās around you
Therefore, youāll likely have to teach him
Youāll have to teach him lots of things
However! Although he is very very stubborn, he doesnāt feel reprimanded or scolded when being taught by you
Zenitsu had scolded him about how to properly court you, so donāt be shocked if Insouke randomly gives you rocks he found
He thinks physical affection is odd, or at least, heās not used to it
But he likes it a lot when you kiss his hands, and it makes his stomach feel funny
The way he views you is just the person he wants to surround himself with
How the hashira prepare for the infinity castleā¦and with the idea they may lose you or themselves
This is part two!! So happy the first one was so well received, I havenāt written for demon slayer in literal years so itās nice that everyone seems pretty content with it!
Includes: Sanemi, Obanai, Mitsuri, Muichiro
Sanemi Shinuzugawa
Sanemiās chest is filled with an anger that extends beyond anything heās ever felt
Itās almost akin to the night his own hands took his motherās life, but he couldnāt differ the two emotions
His mind was driven and setāhe had to find Muzan and kill him
An upper moonās death would give him pleasure too, but it was Muzan that was truly his target
He watched out of the corner of his eye as a clearly mizunoto ranked slayer was devoured by a weak entity
And suddenly his mind snapped back into action
He couldnāt protect Ubuyashiki, and currently, he has no way of protecting you
He has no idea where you are in this endless labyrinth, and it makes that anger boil in his chest even more
He tells himself that you are as capable as he is, maybe even more so, but he feels his eyelid twitch whenever he thinks of you encountering an upper moon without him
Sanemi has absolutely no intention of dying
And although God had never answered any of his prayers, he prays to whatever or whoever will listen
You must stay safe, so that the two of you can walk in the sun once more without any fear
Iguro Obanai
Iguro pities those who live a domestic life
For those who live ordinary, long, eventless lives will never feel the absolute horror that strikes your bones when someone close to you is destroyed by Kibutsuji Muzan
Those who have no expectations, no worries, no idea of the terrors that stalk the night and fear to walk in the day
As he slithers quickly through the infinity castle, all he thinks about are civilians
āNormalā people, who have no idea whatās currently happening, who are asleep in their beds as their bodies rest
And for some reason, his mind begins to wander
What if heāwhat if the both of youāwere normal people, with normal lives, living normal days
Heād have no scars slitting his cheeks, no swordsmanship, no fear of intimacy
And heād have you, who was unaware of the existence of demons
He allows himself to push the boundaries of his imagination, something he rarely does
What if that is the very life you both could lead after Muzan is killed?
Heās so sure Muzan will be, with such capable hands holding such strong blades against him
He does not believe in praying,
but something deep in his cynical heart yearns and begs that you make it out of this alive
And live a boring, long, uneventful lifeā¦
Beside him
Mitsuri Kanroji
Mitsuri is already deeply afraid and affected by the death of Master Ubuyashiki
What does this mean for the Slayer Corps? For the world?
She whips her sword around the necks of weaker demons, her eyes wide as she looked for you
If there was something she wanted more than anything, it was for you to be safe
Where were you?? Were you doing alright?
She placed her hand on her chest, and she felt her heart going a million beats in a minute
It was so funny to her, how come the heart beat quickened in both moments of passion and moments of panic?
She remembers seeing you for the first time, and her heart felt just like this
Sheās just praying to anyone who will listen that the last time she saw you wasnāt the last time
She wouldnāt know what to do with herself
So in order to comfort herself, she speaks allowed to no one but her
Everyone will kill all the demons, everything will be okay, and then sheāll be your bride and live happily ever after!
You have to!
You have to.
Muichiro Tokito
Muichiro has a hard time processing emotions
Some could say heās emotionally detachedāor absent completely
You and Master Ubuyashiki were the only ones who saw otherwise
And when he lost Ubuyashiki, a part of his soul crumbled with him
So now that heās rushing inside of this castle that is never ending,
What will he do if that other part of him, you, crumbles too?
The person who taught him that he can feel, that he can love and be loved
His mind blanks, and he begins to disassociate from that idea
He shuts you out of his mind, believing that if he focuses too hard on you, heāll slip up and hurt himself
But you keep appearing in his head
Where are you right now? Are you alright? How are you handling yourself?
He knows of your capabilities, but what if something became too much? If you were ambushed or taken by surprise?
He thinks back to clouds, filling his head with a fog that erased any worries from his mind
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I got this idea while writing my previous headcanon fic that I will make another part to but had to get this outā¦I love making characters human and flawed and ugh
Includes: All hashira
Giyuu Tomioka
Giyuu would be very insecure within a relationship
He needs constant reassurance, to the point where it can become kind of exhausting
Heāll become very distant and cold quite randomly, and he wonāt communicate why, he simply expects you to know and proceed to reassure him
But heāll always be doubtful, and heāll never feel like heās enough
Which, in turn, makes it seem like youāll never be enough
I also feel like he would be extremely overprotectiveāin a way thatās sometimes suffocating
Again, it comes from an insecurity, and the fear that heāll lose another person he loves
Sometimes it comes across that heās doubtful you could protect yourself on your own
Shinobu Kocho
Everything and anything will annoy or anger her
Sheās incredibly passive aggressive, so much so that it becomes very hard to know if sheās being genuine or not
Sheās bad at communication, and does not share what sheās feeling openly
Sometimes it feels like you can do nothing right, for she wonāt tell you if something hurts her feelings or rubs her the wrong way
She simply leaves the situation and lets it marinate in your mind
Vulnerability with someone is just so strange to her, itās a concept thatās not even in her mind
So it takes her a long time to ever open up to you
And she doesnāt like feeling weak or unsure of whatās going on in any given situation
Kyojuro Rengoku
Similar to Giyuu, thereās an insecurity that bubbles in his chest
But itās not that he feels like heās not worth you, itās just that he strives to be perfect in every way
Heās an overachiever in every sense of the word, and he pushes himself to his absolute limit to be the absolute best for you
In a way, it becomes incredibly overwhelming
Not only that, but it makes you feel like you arenāt going above and beyond like he always is
He holds himself to the highest possible expectations, which is simply the way he was raised
To live up to his motherās wishes, by being the eldest son, to not disappoint his father
It all comes into account with him
Gyomei Himejima
Gyomei is extremely driven and pushes towards his goals in a way that may be destructive to himself or you
Not that heās not cautiousābut if there is a mission in sight he will stop at nothing to achieve it
Heās also extremely overprotective
Not only is he over protective, but he places your needs and wants before his own
That on paper seems like a good thing, but it comes back to hurt him in the end
He will place you on a sort of pedestal
Heās very caring and takes your feelings into a count, but he wonāt believe his feelings are of any importance
If something is upsetting him, if something harms his pride, he will not come to you and communicate it
He doesnāt want you to ever feel guilt or like youāve done something wrong
He believes that is the only way to keep the peace between the two of you.
Uzui Tengen
Uzui does not like vulnerability or being open with you
Perhaps itās the way he was raised as a shinobi, but I also think itās because of his pride and flamboyance
Becoming a weaker version of himself would injure the pride he has for himself
His flashiness becomes more and more of a performance than it is just expressive
When it comes to anytime heās in a bad mood, there is absolutely nothing you can do about it
He will not become vulnerable in any way, especially not to you, who is someone he holds to a high status
Mitsuri Kanroji
Mitsuri has been practically rejected by everyone who had mattered, so thereās a deep fear that you will be the same
Sheās terribly afraid that sheās too much for you
So sheāll water down reactions, the way she acts, how openly loving she is towards you
Thereās forever a fear that youāll up and leave her
So sheās incredibly insecure
Which, isnāt a bad thing, itās alright to be insecure
But it gets to the point where it rises doubt in your relationship
Does she have no trust in you?
Sheāll reassure you that itās not the case, but sometimes thatās really how it feels
Iguro Obanai
Because of Iguroās past, he is absolutely uncomfortable with affection
Not just physical, but vocal too
Physical is way worse, though. Anything more than hand holding is a lot for him
And he becomes very abrasive if you cross that line
I just donāt think heās ever learned how to handle it, or how to accept that it isnāt vile
His past is always present in his mind, and his fight or flight activates any time it occurs
He either lashes out because of it or completely shuts down, both interactions differing depending on how intimate the action is
Again, it doesnāt inherently mean sexual intimacy, though that too is very off limits
Tokito Muichiro
Muichiro is very young, and not only that, but he doesnāt know how to handle a relationship
He is very detached as a person, but also emotionally detached
He will not treat you differently than anyone else, or at least, thatās how it feels sometimes
It will more than likely make you feel like he either doesnāt care for you, or he doesnāt see you as a significant other
That couldnāt be further from the truth in his mindābut that is how it comes across
I do think, unlike some of the others, there are genuine moments of vulnerability with him
But they are still very very rare
Sanemi Shinuzugawa
Sanemi has sort of made you his outlet
He takes out his frustrations and anger onto you and expects you to take it
Although you know he doesnāt really mean most of the things he says
Itās really hard not to take it personally
I donāt believe it comes from a place of hatred or dislike, no, quite the opposite
I believe it comes from a place of deeply rooted fear
He cares about you too much to lose you, if he keeps his distance, perhaps the ache would be softer if such a terrible thing were to ever happen
However, when you do in fact begin to distance yourself because of how abrasive he is
He regrets every moment
But he would never ever admit that to you or himself
How the hashira prepare for the infinity castleā¦and with the idea they may lose you or themselves
I remember when the kny manga came out weekly and a friend of mine from Japan would send me the volumes. I spent hours trying to translate it because I was so excited to find out what was happening. Thatās the girl who was watching the Infinity Train movie last night, and she kinda awakened inside of me lmao
Includes: Giyuu, Shinobu, Tengen, Gyomei
Link to part two: here!!
Giyuu Tomioka
There are many frantic thoughts running through Giyuuās mind
Which is very unusual for him, for he knows a frantic mind makes frantic and uncontrolled movement
He was separated from you when the infinity castleās wretched and always moving walls pulled the hashira inside
It was disorienting to navigate, but not impossible
He reunited with Tanjiroāand at the very least that brought him some comfort
But his eyes kept looking for you
A flash of your haori, the glint of your blade, anything
He never in a thousand years believed the end of demon kind would be so reachable
He could almost feel the wisps of liberation at his fingertips
But would it be liberation if you didnāt make it?
What would he do if that cawing crow screamed of your demise?
Would any of this be worth it?
He tries to focus on the task at hand: find Muzan. Protect Tanjiro. Thatās what you would have reminded him to do.
So he grits his teeth and holds his composure tight
He knows of your strength and capability, so heās very aware that you can hold your own
But if he loses you, if you die before the world finally knows nighttime without the constant threats of demons
He doesnāt know if heāll be able to live in such a world
So heāll fight until his body wonāt allow him anymore
For the world that you deserve
Shinobu Kocho
The moment she was separated from you, a blaze of fury bubbled in her chest cavity
It almost made her sick, as if she could taste bile on her tongue
But she swallowed her anger, focused on one goal and one goal only
To kill the bastard demon that killed Kanae
But something was nagging her, there was something about your absence that made her incredibly on edge
If you perished, if you were devoured, if you somehow died in the hands of an upper moonā¦how would she know?
Would it be like Kanae, where she learns from the piercing cries of a kasugai crow when itās much too late?
She approaches this ornate temple thatās surrounded by unrippling water and she can feel in her gut that an upper moon resides here
She thinks deeply about her own weakness, how she would be much better off supporting and fighting alongside you
If sheās being honest with herself, she doesnāt know if her poison will even be effective against an upper moon
And if that hypothesis of failure is true, what then?
Her promise to you to keep herself safe, to come out of this fight alive would be broken.
But at the same time, if she dies in pursuit of killing an upper moon, in pursuit of a safer world for you and her younger sisters to live in
A death so noble wouldnāt be frowned upon
She tells herself those words in your voice, just to convince herself theyāre true
Tengen Uzui
As he sits and guards the Ubuyashiki manor, there are two voices clashing in his mind
One tells him this is an honor
As an honorable and strong Shinobi, he and Shinjuro Rengoku are the last defenses if things go terribly wrong and not according to plan
The other argues that this was the only position he was useful in, because he is useless otherwise
Both losing a limb and half of his sight, he would be hopeless helping the others destroy Muzan
Hopeless..helping you
Thereās nothing he can do but sit and wait
Which, luckily, is an art that he would say he has mastered
But it was a new sensation entirely when his imagination bombarded his mind with thoughts of your demise
Especially because, if such a terrible thing were to happen, he would be powerless to do anything
He would simply have to sit and wait.
And what torture would that be?
His fingers twitch as his eye gazes down towards his blade
He should be taking action, going off to find you and fight by your side nobly
But no
What heās forced to do is sit and wait.
He resides beside the father of the man he trusted most, waiting for the hellacious creator of all demons to come crawling out of his hole in the ground
Hopefully you are heroically behind him, your blade forcing him to the sun
Thatās how he desires to see you next
But again, all he can do is sit and wait and pray to gods that never seem to listen
Gyomei Himejima
Gyomeiās spiked flail and axe rampage through demons endlessly
Heās aware that Muzan is trying to overwhelm them, to tire out their bodies to make them weaker when they finally find him
He uses his acute senses to navigate such a complex labyrinth thatās always changing
He is very driven, and his tears streak down his face as he rushes forward and onward
He tries not to let his mind wander, for he knows better than anyone that one slip could mean creating a sink hole in this plan
However, the sound of your voice keeps infiltrating his ears
He swore long ago to you that you and him would create a world where you could live freely and comfortably
He knows how capable you are of being on your own, but what if something catches you off guard?
What if the last thing he ever hears from you is the cawing of a forsaken crow screaming that youāre dead?
Perhaps he would find some comfort in it, praying that you went swiftly and without pain-
But he canāt think like that. Not now. Not ever.
Kibutsuji Muzan will die tonight, and every life thatās been taken by his claws will be avenged
could you do headcanons for shuichi saihara dating kaede's sibling/twin/relative or something like that? like, what would the dynamic be like?
thank you <3
āŖRhythmāŖ
Shuichi with an s/o who is Kaedeās sibling
Hi hi!! Thanks so much for the ask! Actually something thatās been nice is because the fandom is kind of dead I havenāt felt so overwhelmed with asks like Iām used to. This is a cute request, I hope u like it!
Includes: Shuichi Saihara
Warnings/Notes: Spoilers for DV3, canon character death mentioned
Shuichi Saihara
You first told Kaede about your feelings for Shuichi in the first week of being in this killing game
Kaede can read you like an open book, so it wasnāt hard for her to guess
And it wasnāt only you, because Shuichi was making it embarrassingly obvious that he had something going on as well
Kaede makes it her personal mission to be both of your guysā wingman
You tell her thatās completely mortifying but hey,
It worked, so who can complain?
The three of you become a sort of trio, with Kaede as the āthird wheelā
Which, usually, is a negative thing, but with her it really isnāt
Shuichi talks to Kaede when theyāre alone together, asking things about you he was too embarrassed to talk about with you face-to-face
He appreciates having Kaede around, because he gets to know more about you from another source
And eventually he works up enough courage to just talk to you (lol)
If the two of you are alone, Kaede always somehow manages to sneak up on you both
Shuichi knows Kaede can read his mind when youāre around, so heās built up the habit of hiding behind the rim of his cap
Thereās a very innocent relationship in development with you and Shuichi, with Kaede as your biggest cheerleader
That is, until despair finally struck
After Kaede was horrifically executed, the both of you couldnāt really speak to one another
There was a rift between you that simply wasnāt there before
He felt guilty, like this was all somehow his fault
And now that she was gone, would either of you ever come together again?
It seemed unlikely until he found you looking out at one of the boarded-up windows of the school
Even the light shining through it seemed dim
The two of you shared a look, a breath, and a release
And you smiled at him
Thatās when he knew it was going to be okay, that for Kaede, the both of you would escape this prison and would live to see a day of true freedom
How they handle physical touch/general fluff headcanons
The THH cast is the easiest cast for me to write, but the V3 and SDR2 cast are my favorite. As the games go on you could argue the characters get more complex and therefore harder to write, so if any of these seem out of characterā¦thatās full my bad. But thereās gotta be a first time for everything!! (I also really hope there isnāt any blatant favoritism on my endā¦oopsā¦)
Includes: Shuichi, Rantaro, and Korekiyo
Shuichi Saihara
Shuichi, above all things, is loyal
If there is anything that he regards as the most important thing in a relationship, it would be loyalty
Heās not one to get jealous or feel possessive over you, because if he trusts you, he trusts that you would never do anything with/for anyone else
Because thatās the standard he holds himself to
I also feel like public displays of affection are new for him
Not that he wouldnāt do it, because I think he would, but to an extent
Youād probably have to initiate most things, to tell the little doubtful voice in his head that itās okay
For example, if you hold his hand one day around the others, something clicks and tells him, āoh! I can do that!!ā
Nights in his or your dorm are where heās the most physically vulnerable
He likes to cling and curl in his sleep, his arms wrapped around you, or his hands holding yours
I like to think that he opens up physically when it comes sleeping/resting, because as I said before, he really trusts you
And when someone is asleep, arguably that is when they are most vulnerable
So itās his way of showing you he cares about you and he has his trust in you
Especially during such a dire and scary time
Youāre like the light in such a dark place, youāre what he has to lose
Rantaro Amami
I am a firm believer that Rantaro is a big sweetheart
He may seem like a player to some people, but I am not of that persuasion
Rantaro is incredibly caring, and all he wants is for you and the others to be safe and make it out of here alive
Together.
Heās pretty good with any kind of public displays of affection, I think heāll go with whatever youāre most comfortable with
One thing about Rantaro is he can read you like a book
Heās extremely observant, and sometimes you swear he may be the ultimate mind reader
He knows when something is up with you, and that can be both extremely heartwarming and annoying
He likes playing with your hands, I think
Holding them, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb, fidgeting with them, placing his rings on your fingers
He doesnāt really have a reason as to why he enjoys that so much, but he does
He also likes lending things to you, he just wants to be helpful
Clothes, jewelry, food, and everyday items
His biggest love language is acts of service, so he works hard for you to know heās willing to do a lot for you
He also tends to sling his arm around your shoulders if you two are sitting together
Itās not really a play of power or possession, he just likes the feeling of you being in his arms
What a nice guy hope nothing bad happens to him
He also is very strangely obsessed with getting you out of the killing game and surviving
You donāt know why, but you feel as though he knows something you donāt
And anytime you bring it up, he shuts it down with something suave
That might just be the absolute only thing Rantaro has never told you
Korekiyo Shinguji
Korekiyo is an extremely interesting case
He proceeds with this relationship simply out of curiosity for your mind and why itās reacting the way it is
āSisterā tells him itās not a smart idea, but his inquisitiveness gets in the way of that
Why is it, that during what should be the most terrifying experience of your (and everyoneās) life, you cling to something like love?
Is it for comfort? Thrill? Lust? Inexperience? He is digging for that answer
And along the way, he begins to questions his own mentality
Why is it, that everytime heās around you, there is this odd ache in his chest?
Like thereās some feeling of doubt or regret?
Well, if Sister claims itās nothing, then itās nothing.
That doesnāt stop him from continuing his research with you, however
He likes speaking with you about his studies in anthropology, the way you seem genuinely interested strikes joy inside him
Youāve gone for many hours at a time simply talking to one another
He doesnāt partake in much PDA, however, he does do it in his own way
In public settings, he likes to stand a little bit behind you, placing his hand on the small of your back, keeping it there as you walk
Itās his way of making sure youāre guided, and is somewhat a display of possession if you want to dive deeper into it
He will not request it on his own at first, but he throughly enjoys when you comb his hair or brush your fingers through it
It sends a shiver down his spine that he finds very pleasurable
He, of course, does the same with you, and you can tell his hands are very practiced
Youāve asked about him taking the bandages off, which after seeing other people speak to him about his bodily coverings, you assumed he would shut it down
But instead he said,
āIn due time.ā
So that was a very new and unexpected development
All I can say is, donāt expect to āfixā himābut the changes he feels deep in his body and soul when he is around you are very real
So much so, that you are the first person he has met that he does not want his beloved sister to become acquainted with.
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Hello! Could I request headcanons Byakuya x reader who is a musician and/or in a band please? Thank you ^^
ā¼Cadenceā¼
Byakuya with a musician reader
Thanks so much for the ask! Hope you like it
Includes: Byakuya Togami
Warnings/Notes: gender neutral reader
Byakuya Togami
I am extremely certain that Byakuya is musically inclined in some way
You just canāt convince me heās not
I like to imagine he can play the piano fairly well, if not very well
I can also see him being taken to the opera often as a child and adolescent
So with that all being said, Iām sure if you are musically inclined, (with your ultimate talent, the most musically inclined) he is easily drawn to you
I would like to add that it depends on what you do exactly
If you were in a band before this killing game began, what kind of music did you make?
If itās anything like rock or metal, heāll tell you that you wasted your time learning āheadache musicā
Though in the library when youāre together, he doesnāt mind your humming or whispered singing while heās reading
He embarrassingly catches himself doing the same when bathing one night and swears to never do it again
He still hasnāt told you that detail
When the music room opens up on the fourth floor, he accompanies you when you ask to go
He kind of migrates there, bringing whatever book heās reading and a drink
And just listens
Thatās whatās nice about Byakuya, he may be insufferable sometimes because he always needs to be in control
But heās a very good listener
Especially to your music, and eventually, he finds copies of sheet music heād like for you to look at
He tells you itās because this is better music than āwhatever youāre playingā
But itās really just him trying to witness that talent of yours himself
Heās impressed with you, but will never admit that
Hi. Can I request a Leon x reader fluff set inside of the killing game? If you need/want more details, I can provide that too.
ā¤ļø Optimismā¤ļø
Fluff headcanons with Leon Kuwata
Youāre my first Danganronpa request! Iām actually really glad to see that this fandom isnāt completely dead, lol, as Iāve gotten a few others as well. Hope you like it!!
Includes: Leon Kuwata
Warnings/notes: gender neutral reader
Leon Kuwata
Leon is a very flashy and eye-catching person, and I think heād still be that way in a relationship
Public displays of affection are big for him, he likes people knowing how youāre his and vice versa
Heās like that with most things, he wants everyone in the room to know what heās thinking and how he feels
Which leads me to believe that heād be very open in a relationship
He tells you just about everythingāheās not one to keep secrets from you
Would definitely spend the most if not all of his time with you
This includes nighttime, he only respects Celesteās unofficial rule about not going out at night because he can just spend all of his time with you in his dorm
Would 100% lend you articles of his clothing or jewelry
He hopes that someone asks you where you got it from to which you can reply with, āItās Leonās.ā
Please compliment and play with his hair
If you do, heās always saying something like, āSee? You couldnāt do this if it was buzzed, could ya?ā
Likes to save any coins he finds laying around in order to go to the MonoMono machine with you
Thereās not a lot of entertainment in this prison that disguises itself as a school, so he takes what he can get
Leon plays the role of the cool guy, but heās really a sucker under all of that
What I mean by this is that he could be on a very passionate and very loud rant about something
And a single kiss on the cheek can shut him up and turn his the same color as his hair
The best way to get Leon flustered is to catch him off guard
Heās an observant guy, despite seeming pretty loose
So being caught unawares is when he feels the most vulnerable
But if itās you, thatās a different kind of vulnerable
Itās nice with you
If thereās ever a shot of getting out of here, he hopes you two can stay together
Even in this horrible situation, at least a good thing came out of it
I wonder how many people actually desire Danganronpa content these days? I used to be obsessed back in 2020 and fics were pumping out every second. Maybe I could help revive the fandomā¦
Includes: Makoto Naegi, Byakuya Togami, and Leon Kuwata (separate)
Warnings/Notes: gender neutral reader
Makoto Naegi
Heās pretty clueless when it comes to physical affection and how to express it
The idea of someone even dating him is enough of a stretch (in his mind), so when it actually happens he doesnāt really know how to handle it
He secretly goes through the magazines in the rec room to find āTop Ten things your partner would LOVEā
Discreetly places them back so that nobody will noticeā¦
He tests the waters to see what you like and donāt like
When walking in the hallway, he randomly reached out and holds your hand, his eyes focused forward trying to act nonchalantly about it
Or when you all meet in the dining hall, he places his foot right up against yours
It becomes less and less about what he thinks youāll like and justā¦what he does naturally
I like to think he just gravitates towards physical touch
When he thinks about what heās doing, he becomes flustered and incredibly self aware
But when he just does it without thinking, itās quite apparent how touchy he really is
When it comes to more intimate acts like kissing, heād rather do that in private
There are exceptions to everything, though
He wouldnāt mind a kiss on the cheek every morning
Just expect to get a very red Makoto for a solid two minutes
Byakuya Togami
Byakuya isnāt fond of physical touch
I believe he would find it as a sign of weakness. To be physical with someone is to be vulnerable, and Byakuya Togami is not a vulnerable man
He would make that extremely clear when the two of you begin to develop a relationship
Public displays of affection are an absolute no, as well
All of this being said, I donāt think Byakuya lacks affection, I just think he portrays it in different ways
You fell asleep in the library one night, your head in your arms
And the next morning when you woke up, a very familiar and expensive blazer was set on your shoulders that smelled of cologne
On the table in front of you was a note:
āDonāt be so careless next time. You donāt know what others are planning. -B.Tā
He also finds himself wanting to spoil you
If he doesnāt show off with physical acts, he does through gifts
Expensive jewelry, clothing items, watches, etc..
So that everyone knows who and where you got it from
So that everyone knows youāre his
Leon Kuwata
Leon does not āhandleā physical affection, no
He owns it
I believe Leon to be a very possessive person
He knows what he wants, and he does everything in his power to get it (whatever that may be)
He likes drawing attention to himself, despite him always speaking lowly of his fame from his baseball daysābeing a rebel in itself is very eye catching
So you best believe he is taking pda to the next level
No matter where you two are, his hands are always on you in some way
Whether that be intertwined with yours, an arm around your shoulder, a hand in your back pocket (if you have one)
Heās not afraid to kiss you in front of people, but heāll need to know if you donāt like that
Leon is very stubborn, but he likes you enough to know he wouldnāt ever want to overdo anything
All in all, he is incredibly touchy, no matter whoās looking
In which they confess their feelings for you for the first time
Decided to make a second part to my other half of this prompt! Itās so nice to write again after so longā¦If you want the male version of this, click here!!
Includes: entire female cast of Trigger Happy Havoc
Warnings/notes: I do not include genocide Jack, Junko or Mukuro!
Kyoko Kirigiri
Kyoko prides herself in figuring things out
After all, thatās what she does best
So imagine her surprise when the one thing she cannot figure out in the slightest happens to be you
She wouldnāt blame you if you think she hates you
Because quite honestly, she keeps her distance from you
She chooses to stand away from you when there are gatherings in the dining hall, or giving you one word responses when you try to strike conversation
Because she wants to understand how you managed to make her feel this way
She can figure out many things, puzzles were something she was gifted at solving
But you were the first to stump her
When you would smile at her in the hallway, why was it difficult to look you in the eye?
And, when she did make eye contact, why did it make her face heat up so much?
She found the predicament incredibly interesting, and was dead set on solving it
During the free hours one day, she actually responded to you when you asked to spend time with her
As you engaged in conversation, she found herself slightly hypnotized by the way your lips moved as you spoke, or the way your voice sounded
And she knew she had to do this again, because this feeling was rather addicting
However, she hid this excruciatingly well, to the point where you still felt like there was a layer of indifference and disinterest when it came to you
After many more hours of conversation and discussion, you noticed her close off even more
It wasnāt until you said something about it that made her slip her cover
āI wasnāt aware I came off that way, for I feel quite the opposite.ā
When she saw your expression, she blinked rather aloofly, before continuing
āI enjoy your presence more than anyone elseā¦.The simple answer to your confused expression is that I quite like you.ā
She blinked
āā¦.a lot.ā
Celestia Ludenberg
Celeste always acts for her own personal gain, that is the way she has always lived and will continue to do so
She was an actress, using her silver tongue to web lies so that others got caught
But why did she feel the need to be soā¦truthful with you?
There was something about you that made her inherently angry
Why did her perfectly crafted, never faltering mask that she had so perfectly created nearly fail her every time you were around?
There were times late at night, when she would imagine your voice speaking her name
Not Celesteā¦but Taeko
How would Taeko sound coming from your lips?
Suddenly, there was a part of her that wasnāt so selfish
She was so desperate to escape this school, despite lying to the others and commanding them to adapt
But then your face would come to mind
Perhaps there was a way, a loophole, to escape not just by yourself, but with someone?
There were always loopholes in things, Celeste knew that better than anyone with her knowledge of gambling
When sharing a cup of tea one afternoon, her red eyes couldnāt leave you
For the first time, she told you about her ultimate dream
A gothic castle, where she could dress in the finest lace and be treated like a queen by vampiric-like butlers
You didnāt scoff or laugh at her idea, which made her smile strengthen as she leaned in closer to you
āTell me, mon beau, do you wish to share this dream with me?ā
Aoi Asahina
Aoi knew she always liked you
You were fun to be around, and she knew if she wanted to be around someone, you were the go-to
But once the killing game started, like, really started
Thatās when things changed
Suddenly she was too afraid to do most things alone, and even she wasnāt alone, could she really trust who she was with?
Thatās why she suddenly became so infatuated with you
For some reason, she felt safe with you
When she wanted to have a good, needed cry, it was your shoulder that she wished to do it upon
Quite suddenly, she didnāt feel so alone anymore
You gave her a reason to smile in moments where she didnāt feel like she could
It was one night that you were spending in her room, having laid out your mattress and pillows on the floor beside her bed
You had been talking for a few hours before you both decided to sneak off into the dining hall to get some donuts
Despite it not being an official rule that you couldnāt be outside the dorms at night, both of you decided to treat it like a stealth mission
Quiet giggles and loud shushes were emitted from the two of you until you reached the dining hall
And thatās when it hit her
You were the only person she wanted to be around
You were the most important person to her in this entire school
If she was forced to spend the rest of her life in here, she wouldnāt mind spending that time with you
Alongside that, if everyone found a way to escapeā¦sheād definitely want to go out
As you began to alert your donut, thatās when she broke off from your previous conversation
āY/Nā¦if we make it out of here..could we go out? Like, on a date?ā
She suddenly bit into her donut so that she would have an excuse as to not speak if your reaction was bad
But when you said something along the lines of, āwhy wait?ā She only smiled
She quickly swallowed, linking her arm with yours and laughing
āThen this shall be our first super official awesome date!ā She spoke loudly before taking another bite
Toko Fukawa
Toko was convinced you hated her
Why did you feel the need to smile so much at her? Why did you feel the need to talk to her like she was a friend?
Did you pity her? Feel bad for her?
She concluded that it had to be either of those two options
But more and more she decided to despise those options
To hell with the rest of the students, they could hate her all they wanted
But you? The idea of you even disliking her a little bitā¦
It wasnāt a fun feeling.
She paced her room and chewed at her fingernails, rambling to herself
What about you was so gravitating? Did you really like to be around her or were you faking it?
It wasnāt until you both were in the library one day, where she slouched over the table and watched you as you talked
You were trying to ask her about her books. What they were about, why she started writing, which ones were her favoriteā¦
She told herself it was because you wanted information to embarrass her with
And when she gave you that information under her breath,
You smiled and asked her more questions
Were you genuinely interested in what she was saying?
Whenever she would say something that was perhaps slightly perverted or sexual, she would curse at herself, expecting you to look at her in disgust
But you just never did
Why the hell were you so nice?!
She picked at her cuticles before speaking in a grumble, the words spilling out almost involuntarily
āCa-Can you just tell me if-if you like me? Be-because I like you s-so much and..uhm.. I-I just want you to..to just go ahead and disa-disappoint me!ā
Sakura Oogami
From the day this killing game started, Sakura felt very protective of you
She treated everyone with respect, and she viewed everyone as a friend
But for some reason unbeknownst to her, she was drawn to you
Until it finally clicked for her
When you introduced yourself for the first time, you made eye contact with her
This, despite it not seeming like a large deal to many, was a big deal to her
Many people when meeting Sakura avoided her gaze
Whether that be out of fear, judgement, insecurity, confusionā¦you name it
But you smiled and listened to her as she introduced herself to you
Not once did you seem to be intimidated by her appearance, instead, she would see a glint of awe in your eyes
She enjoyed greeting you in the mornings, smiling at you as you passed one another in the hallways, or engaging in conversation
It wasnāt long before she felt her heart quicken as soon as she would see you
Once the killing game began to take place, and true threats were beginning to rise, she found that it was her desire to keep you safe
To keep that smile on your lips despite the dire situation everyone was in
When in her room one evening, she hummed as she listened to you explain your worries and fears
It wasnāt long before she placed a large hand on your shoulder, the strength and stability that exuded from the touch deeply comforting
āY/Nā¦you are incredibly important to me. I promise to keep you safe. I understand if you do not feel the sameā¦ā her voice faltered a bit, as if she were quietly begging for that to not be true, āknow that I will keep my promise.ā
Sayaka Maizono
Sayaka found it incredibly hard to trust anyone
She wanted to be home, she wanted her friends and family to be alright, she wanted this whole āgameā to stop
But it seemed as if that wish wasnāt in her power to grant, so she needed to make the best of it
She became relatively friendly with everyone, not wanting to be on anyoneās bad side
(Particularly the strong, scary people)
But she was instantly drawn to you
You seemed to be someone she could trust, someone to confide in
Someone she wouldnāt mind being stuck in here with
She loved spending time with you, no matter what it was
Because ultimately with you, the killing game seemed to leave her mind
One of her favorite moments was when the two of you were in your dorm, and she taught you some of her choreography that she did as a pop star
Needless to say, it seemed impossible to dance and sing at the same time, but she laughed and encouraged you
It was mindless fun, the kind of fun that distracts you from all of your worries
And when you both decided to wind down for the night, thatās when she realized
She had to tell you how she felt, otherwise when would she?
Besidesā¦tonight seemed perfect enough, she was going to stay with you in your dorm for the rest of the night
She hugged your pillow, sitting criss-cross on your bed
āY/N? Could I ask you something? And you have to promise not to laugh!ā
When she got confirmation, she swallowed a lump in her throat and continued
āI justā¦I like you a lot. Well..more than just ālikeā. Do you, maybe, feel the same?ā
P.S: when you eventually confirmed your feelings, she let out a sigh she didnāt know she was holding onto. She giggled and claimed she knew you had felt the same way. Why? āBecause Iām physic,ā she claimed, ājust kidding!ā
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In which they confess their feelings for you for the first time
Hey guys! Itās been a hot minute lolā¦just thought Iād get back into the pattern of writing because Iāve missed it so much. Iāve missed you guys!! Friendly reminder that requests are open once again! This is/will not be the usual for my Danganronpa fics, just wanted to get something ambitious out there for the first one. Refer to my rules if you want to request! If you want the female version, click here!!
Includes: Male cast of Danganronpa:Trigger Happy Havoc
Notes/Warnings: Hifumi not included (I think heās too loyal to 2D, guysā¦) Most if not all of my fics will take place within the killing game, gender neutral reader, mentions of canon character death/spoilers
Makoto Naegi:
Heās never been romantically involved with anyone before
Even if he was lucky enough to have someone crush on him or confess their feelings to him, he had no idea how to handle that kind of situation ļæ¼
So never in his seventeen years did he think, that during a literal killing game he would find himself falling for someone
He found himself naturally gravitating towards you in every situation
Any free time he had, he would look for you
In that damned elevator before a class trial, he would look for you
When he needed just someone to talk to and feel normalcy with, he went to you
It wasnāt until after the fourth class trial he truly realized he might be feeling something deep for you
The idea of staying in this imprisoned school for the rest of his lifeā¦
Well, it wasnāt a fun thought, but he would have you!
And that was bearable enough to think positively
So not long after finding out there was supposedly another student by the name of Mukuro in this school,
He decided to shoot his shot
Maybe he could live up to the title of āUltimate Lucky Studentā and things would go according to plan
He found you in the hallways of the school, and it was normal enough for him to strike a conversation
But you could tell he was nervous with the way he was fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie
Heās the kind of person who wouldnāt know how to produce the proper words for this kind of conversation
Would definitely say something inherently flustering
āI kinda like you. W-Wait not kinda likeālike..I like like you!ā
Byakuya Togami:
I am of the firm belief that Byakuya would not openly confess to you
No, I think he would sit and wait for you to inevitably understand that he treats you differently than everyone else in this environment
Heās honestly quite stumped about how he got himself in this predicament
Everyone that he has ever met has been controlled by him in his so-called āgame of lifeā
His peers in this killing game are nothing but pawns for him to toy with
But you? Something in his mind will simply not allow him to see you as simply a pawn
No..no, you are more useful to him than that
He finds that his eye is naturally drawn to you, as if you are a puzzle he is desperately trying to solve
Like I said before, he is going to simply scheme and wait for you to confess your feelings, or admit that youāve noticed his behavioral differences when it comes to you
But then thereās another fork in the road
Does he have the desire to coldly turn you down? He certainly doesnāt think so
Does he want to openly accept your confession, or admit that heās been waiting for it? Thats also out of the question.
It isnāt until one day in the library that you two are having your normal get-togethers
You question him, why does he treat you differently than everyone else?
Surely there must be a reason
Itās these words and ideas of yours that make him close whatever book heās reading and scoff
āMy God, are you blind? Surely you are not slow enough to have made this connection just now.ā
Chihiro Fujisaki
Chihiro feels deeply fulfilled after he tells Mondo that heās actually a man
It gets a certain weight off his shoulders that he was desperately wishing to get rid of
But thereās still a person he needs to tell, a person who he arguably admires more than Mondo
You.
Not only does he believe itās right for you to know his secret of being a male, but thereās another secret thatās been gnawing at his chest and mindā¦
..The fact that he has definitely developed feelings for you
You both are walking in the hallways when he tells you, having mustered up enough courage after talking to Mondo about telling you that heās a man
And of course, it goes much better than he expected
Because how could he expect anything bad to come from you? You, who has been nothing but kind and considerate towards him since the first day everyone woke up in this school
But now there was the second and somehow more difficult secret to tellā¦
And he decided to do it the next morning in the dining hall, a day before he and Mondo were to exercise together
He came up to you, and puffed out his chest
āI-I know this isnāt a great time, but I really really like you, Y/N!ā
And the fact that he was able to say those words to you?
That made him feel more like a man than any amount of exercise could
Kiyotaka Ishimaru:
Taka held a respect for you that he only reserved for a few people
Yes, he saw Mondo as a brother, and held him to the highest regard
But you were different, he felt a heat in his face and chest that didnāt occur with anyone else
When you were around, you made his palms sweat, which only ever happened when he was taking a particularly hard test
So he didnāt see it as a good thing at first, and it wasnāt until Mondo said something about it that he began to process those emotions
āFuck, bro..youāve totally got the hots for them.ā Mondo told him one afternoon
And Takaās mind went completely berserk after that
Surely, romantic feelings of any sort were inappropriate for him to be feeling
This was a school setting, after all!
Quite honestly, he had buried all thoughts related to you away completely
Until Mondo was killed.
It was suddenly like he couldnāt think for himself anymore
Every word, every thought, every emotionā¦it just left him
There was nothing left, Kiyotaka Ishimaru might as well have been dead
But you didnāt think so, and thatās what set you apart from everyone else
Suddenly, a part of his mind opened for you
He hadnāt spoken since it happened, and the first time he did was when everyone had left the dining hall in the morning, but you stayed behind with him
You felt as if you were invading his space, perhaps he really did just want to be alone?
But when you went to leave, you felt a shaky hand grasp your arm.
āStayā¦ā
The word was barely audible, until his eyes finally met yours for the first time in days
āStā¦stay with me, please.ā
Leon Kuwata
The moment Leon laid eyes on you for the first time, he knew he liked you
Maybe it was the way you looked, the way you spoke, the way you moved
But he liked you
And it wasnāt until he began talking to you more that he finally understood why
You were the most patient person he had ever met
It honestly made him a little anxious, because Leon was a quick thinker, and his words usually came out at the same rate of speed his thoughts did
He didnāt feel the need to shout or become abrasive with you, because you never gave him a reason to
You just seemed to understand everything he said
When he told you he hated baseball, he was expecting the usual:
āWhat do you mean? The ultimate baseball star hating baseball? How does that make sense?ā
To which he would go on his usual rant about how that picture he detests of him with buzzed hair swinging a bat with all of his strength is actually the worst photo ever taken, and that he actually has no passion for baseball whatsoever, and that itās the worst sport ever and the worst thing ever invented and blah blah blahā¦.you get the idea
But he didnāt need to do any of that with you
And whatās weirder, if he really felt like he needed to say all of those things, thereās something that makes him believe you would let him
Talking with you ended up being one of his favorite past times
And one day, when you two were hanging out in his dorm room, it kind of just spilled out of his mouth
āIf we werenāt in a killing game right now, Iād totally ask you out.ā
He didnāt realize he said it at first, opting to just continue on with his words, but when he saw the look on your face he swore under his breath
But that knowing grin youād grown accustomed to suddenly lifted his lips
āHell, thereās no time like the present, huh? Whaddya say?ā
Mondo Owada
You were one of the first and only people Mondo grew to trust
He liked that you kept your word, no matter what, he felt like you kept your promises
And slowly but surely, he felt a certain protectiveness over you
When everyone would meet in the dining hall every morning, he waited patiently for you to enter the room
He found that he always wanted to know where you were, unless he was spending time with you himself
After the first two deaths, that feeling only became worse
That funny feeling in his stomach when you were around
How his voice naturally was at a quieter volume, as if not wanting to scare you away
Or when he was trying to sleep, late at night, he couldnāt get your face out of his head
He thought back to a conversation with his brother when he was younger,
Daiya had turned down many women. Being the leader of the most powerful biking gang, he had his pick of the litter
But he never wavered for anyone
Mondo was confused by this, his brother could have any person he desired, so why not take one?
āThatās easy,ā Mondo remembers him saying, āI just havenāt found the one yet.ā
āHow do you know when youāve found the one?ā
When the motives came out, and Mondo read that little slip of paper over and over
He knew he had to do something, say somethingāanything to you
If he was going to do something stupid, if he really was going to have more blood on his hands, he was going to at least tell you how he felt first
You both were in his dorm, where you usually spent your time
His long and rather extravagant coat was folded on his bed, so he already felt more vulnerable
and after a moment of uncomfortable silence, he decided to say something
With his hand scratching the back of his neck, he started
āY/N?ā¦you know..fuck this.ā He crossed his large arms over his chest, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance with himself. How was he supposed to do this? Thatās one thing his brother never taught him
After you encouraging him and more senseless rambling from his foul-mouthed tongue, he finally gave in
āI just like you a shit-ton. More than anyone else. There, I fucking said it. You happy?ā
Yasuhiro Hagakure
Hiro was into you since the very beginning
He claims he knew you in a past life, thatās how you guys know each other so well and get along
Hiro liked being with you because you actually seemed to care about what he had to say
Not that people not caring really bothered him, but seeing your eyes actually be attentive as he spoke was a nice shift from what he was used to
He offered you free palm readings and other clairvoyant services
(But thatās secret, he charges everyone else)
Even if you think his āseerā abilities were a complete joke, he was happy to see you laugh
āDamn, youāre gonna die in a fire or stomped on by an elephant within fourteen hoursā¦..nahh, just kidding. Maybeā¦ā
He finds that the sound of your laugh is what makes him the happiest in these dire times
Especially after the first two deaths, when this suddenly hits him as reality
Whenever he feels himself getting too worried or anxious about it, he simply goes to you and suddenly itās all better
He never really had someone like that, someone who justā¦makes him feel better
Thatās when he knew he was into you
He had it all planned out, how he would tell you, how it would all go down
And when he foresaw the future, he knew it was at least 20% guarantee you would feel the same way
He liked those odds
So when giving you your daily palm reading, he gasped and his grip on your hand tightened
āIn your future..I see us going out together!ā
He suddenly feels very foolish, so he decides to play it off
āNah, nah. Iām just kidding.ā
But he didnāt like that, Hiro was many things, but he wasnāt a liar
Hey, can I request a break up with Nanami, Gojo, and Geto? I'm in a mood for angst :')
āBreakupā
Woah okay first time Iāve ever written smth like this so Iām excited! Thanks for the ask, have a good day/night!
Warnings: ummm breaking up with someone is sad yāall
Included: Nanami Kento, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru
G.Satoru:
Fights or arguments donāt really happen with Gojo
Because he doesnāt let them happen
When things get even the slightest bit heated, he avoids them
He erases them with clinginess and jokes, always brushing it off when he should definitely be serious
And this is one of many things that drew your relationship to its inevitable end
Not only was it his lack of ability to read the room, but also his dangerous job
With the privilege of being considered the āstrongestā, that means the strongest enemies are after him as well
You cannot begin to count the amount of times he said heād leave for a three day mission, only to be gone for an entire week with no further communication
Thereās a large risk at hand with being even so much as associated with Gojo
Let alone being his romantic partner
A certain bounty has been placed on your head too, youāre sure.
And that is just dusting against the surface of the cracks that eventually took control of your relationship
And to be honest, he doesnāt take the break up that serious either
Not until you stop returning your calls and havenāt come home for a few hours
Maybe itāll make him realize, but who knows?
N.Kento:
Nanami is tricker than Gojo.
But in some regards, I believe heās very similar
For Nanami is perceived, at least, to be a āsimpleā man
For someone who hates work, who would much rather go on a long vacation,
He takes his occupation extremely seriously
Both his normal income job and his sorcerer work
And sometimes you truly felt he held his job before you, his partner
And sometimes, he would openly admit to taking priority elsewhere than with you
Which, in some cases understandable, still hurts
One time, later in your relationship, he has forgotten your anniversary
Well, he hadnāt forgotten it fully
But he didnāt celebrate in anyway, needing his hours at work
Nor did he intend to celebrate in anyway, even though much earlier to the date you told him you would like to
Unlike Gojo, the breakup is rather smooth
He simply and utterly refuses to leave on a bad note
And he will not only leave in good terms, but he wants to leave respectfully
But he will be in shock for a very long time afterwards
And he doubts the feeling of deep regret will leave anytime soonā¦
G.Suguru:
I donāt think people really recognize how others are affected when someone begins to spiral
Not only is the person who is going through the hard time hurting and being drained, the person helping is drained too
And unfortunately, this is what happened to yours and Getoās relationship
Seeing someone you care for so deeply begin this downward trajectory is hard
And you swore to be by his side through it all..
Until he began to do some things you didnāt exactly approve of
Once the count of dead began rising by his hand, you found yourself losing sympathy bit by bit
Itās a hard pill to swallow, itās a difficult thing to accept
And itās an even worse thing to end
To hang on to the hope that the old Suguru is simply trapped behind a mask of pain would be futile
Itās either accept unfortunate route his travelled down, or follow in your own beliefs
And even though you once thought you could help him wash his hands clean of blood,
There will always be a spot left unattended
And spots only grow until you no longer see skin
Only red.
He doesnāt actually believe you at first when you bring up leaving him
In fact, he says to your face he doesnāt believe you
Like Gojo, he assumes that after you calm down youāll be running back to him
But you donāt
And thereās very few times heās felt regret.
He has done everything in his power to make sure the word isnāt even in his vocabulary
But thereās that sting in his heart and that dizziness in his head