lou! @cloudylous - Tumblr Blog

Nov 29, 2025

spring into summer ᝰ gojo satoru

20k wds (cross posted on ao3 & wp!)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ⋮ gojo satoru x fem!reader, geto suguru & ieri shoko mentioned

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ⋮ a memorable childhood summer spent with Satoru at his estate & meeting him again years later

ᝰ

You had discovered a side to the white-haired boy hidden from the world. The obscure side that defined humanity, the muted fragility that anyone facing despair chases with fervor. A side that craves to confess, to scream to the world, that they are kind, and that they are hurting.

To you, he was so much more than the wielder of infinity and the six eyes. Gojo Satoru was the boy who loved sweets, the boy who made his first pinky promise with you, and the boy who led you to his favorite spot just to see the light of fireworks reflect awe in your eyes.

Holding a piece of his heart was more than you could ever ask for. Somewhere along the way, you became gentle to him. And at some indiscernible point, you and Satoru had become inseparable.

A colorful school of fish flits around through the water, splitting and rejoicing about when faced with disruption; each fin and scale reflecting such a unique tone and glint within the light that makes it impossible to distinguish where one ends and the next begins. And despite their limits, each being glides with grace, forming an impeccable union of sorts. Without a clear destination set aside, the swarm is confined to no law; every turn and rotation as turbulent and ephemeral as the human eye can follow. Such clarity of movement — just a fleeting moment in time — sparks magic in the crowd beyond the glass, where each tiny handprint connects a child of wonder to the realm of transience underwater.

Yet in an instant, the fleeting moment of peace between both sides of the glass is broken. A sudden flash of a camera, whether accidental or, worse, a deliberate misinterpretation of guidelines, creates an immediate reaction inside the tank. In the blink of an eye, a brilliant sunfish, dazed by the camera, flies to chase the light. The sickening crack of its head hitting the glass echoes through the dim space, eliciting murmurs of concern and accusation, before the dweller goes flaccid and turns, though torturously slow, so that its pale underside reflects ethereal rays of light from above.

When faced with death, you grieve the opportunities of life, or the potential, that could have been. And when a life ends by the hands of others, you argue for its morality as if your anger could restore what has been lost. For generations, the unspoken rules of life have prevailed without exception; birth creates life, and death greets those at the end of their journeys. So when you are born bearing hands that upset the very rules which govern existence, it is only natural for misfortunes to align with your future as divine punishment for your anomalous existence.

Soon after the heart-wrenching spectacle of the sunfish’s crash, a pair of hurried footsteps make their way to the scene. You, a young girl who could not have been more than eight years of age, stop to crouch by the water on the ledge exclusive to employees. Tears begin to line your eyes; with your empathy, it may as well have been you who hurt in place of the sunfish. With trembling hands and a shaky inhale, you gaze timidly at your mentor, Atsuko, as he relocates the pitiful creature to a recovery tank before calling you over. Inside the tank, the sunfish stays unmoving and disoriented, one side of its head bruised from the earlier contact.

“What should we do now, [Name]?”

The simple question should not give you as much stress as it does, yet you feel nothing but dread as you glance between the man and the fish. The worker sighs and runs a tired hand through his hair — white as snow — before bringing your attention back to himself.

“Hover your hands over the injured area — good. Now, what do you feel?” he directs gently, guiding your hands to interact with the fishy patient. “It’s lacking energy right now; what can you do to lend it some?”

You focus your hands over the head of the fish, concentrating, but no change occurs. Though this outcome is expected; after all, only a few individuals in jujutsu history could use their cursed energy to heal. Thus, Atsuko asks you to step aside and repeats the motions himself, allowing a small blue hue to engulf the sunfish before fading away. The fish jerks once, now back to life and free of its previous blemishes, before starting to explore the new water of the recovery tank. Your eyes follow the sunfish eagerly, now void of their previous despair.

Despite your young age, your heart swells with compassion for all of the animals in the aquarium.

“Let’s get back to work now, [Name],” he chides, now standing up and fixing his sleeves. Seeing as you failed to heal the fish personally, he feels the need to reassure your contributions. “We can call your parents tonight and tell them we saved a fish together today! I’m sure they’d be so proud of you.”

Of course, your parents are not aware of the jujutsu world. For all they know, their only daughter is spending her summer with a family friend in Kyoto while they travel around the world for work. However, your unusually high cursed energy has attracted the attention of sorcerers who are intrigued by your potential. And since living and shadowing with a high-ranking jujutsu sorcerer is a nearly foolproof form of safety, your situation has been orchestrated by the high council to monitor your abilities until your cursed technique manifests.

Fortunately, your new life with your sorcerer guardian is going well. Hand in hand, you walk through the downtown streets on your way home. Both of you carry a bag of kikufuku and a large smile, ready to share your adventures of the day in the aquarium.

The first time you entered the Gojo compound was a little over a month ago, and yet some things — or rather, people — never change.

For instance, it’s hard, even for the ignorance of a child, to mistake the sharp glances of passing clan members as anything other than contempt and strife. Though there’s never a clear reason for their distaste, the most logical may be the presence of an outsider within their midst. A highly-prided clan like the Gojo clan was sure to be selective with their kin.

But despite the clan’s widespread alienation, there has always been another pair of eyes on you filled with indifference and a minuscule hint of curiosity. They peer beyond corners at you, darting away just before you move to investigate with the skill of a practiced thief. Interestingly enough, these observances continue for a few days without arousing suspicion, but one interaction changes their nature completely.

“So this is where you were hiding.”

Startled, the shady figure jumps before turning to meet the speaker — you, the strange new girl in the clan compound. It’s a young boy who cannot be much older than you. Snow-white hair settles perfectly around his breathtaking eyes, which widen just enough to be noticed before looking away as his cheeks gain a rosy hue at being caught. His lips part, perhaps a feeble attempt to defend himself, but no sound comes out; at least, until he’s interrupted by another voice.

“Gojo-sama, your father wishes to see you.” A servant dressed in a humble kimono speaks, her voice breaking the nervous silence between you. Her eyes never lift from the ground, and her hands tremble as she clutches them against herself.

You glance curiously between the two, seeing as the ‘Gojo-sama’ is just a young boy your height. Your pondering is dispelled when the boy sighs and steps toward the servant. With one last piercing gaze at you, he allows the servant to lead him into the courtyard and away from the strange meeting.

You notice, however, that the eerie feeling of being stared at stops after meeting the boy. But you’re a child, and what defines a child more than curiosity? The boy with brilliant eyes enthralls you, and you’re determined to find out more. For the first time in your life, you feel inquisitive of someone else. His presence, you now realize, is heavy and powerful; no wonder the servant felt intimidated.

So it’s settled. You’re a detective, and the boy with ocean eyes is your next puzzle to solve.

Throughout the weeks after your first meeting, your paths cross in a peculiar number of instances. The first of which happens while you’re exploring the compound.

Quiet footsteps echo as you stroll across the wooden floors, running nimble fingertips across each decoration and doorframe. There’s no particular reason for your spontaneous decision to explore, but your mentor had left alongside many other clan members for a council meeting that day. Therefore, you had no training or shadowing to do for the day, causing a great amount of boredom.

Fortunately, this allows the usual bustling commotion to be absent as you continue on. It’s nice to finally move without receiving your usual share of suspicious glances and subdued but backhanded remarks.

Once you reach the end of the hallway, you lean over the railing and squint as the sun warms your face.

The Gojo compound features a large open courtyard in the center with an ancient red maple stretching its limbs over a small streambed. Compared to life in the city with your parents, your experience in the countryside complex of the elites has proved vastly different. Your hair catches the wind’s current as it swirls, scattering crimson leaves and afternoon sun across the estate. It’s quiet moments like these that make you truly happy.

Your eyes follow a fresh leaf drifting toward the ground as if you’re focusing through the lens of a camera. The light catches the leaf perfectly as it spins; the blurred background changing from blue, to red, to brown, to a hint of white—

Wait, a hint of white? Needless to say, the same white-haired boy from before lies under the maple, head against the roots and hand reaching for the sky. His face, though maintaining its usual demeanor, is relaxed. There’s no crease between his eyebrows, no agitation in his posture, and his gorgeous eyes remain half-lidded. It’s the most unguarded and childlike you’ve ever seen him.

Ironically enough, Gojo-sama is in fact a child, but his manner of self-presentation portrays a character well beyond his years.

His eyes trace the dark wood around him; from the trunk, to the branches, to the well-crafted roofs of his home. He recognizes you standing in the corner of the upper floor, of course, but makes no attempt to engage. Your eyes meet for a brief moment, a silent but mutual understanding passing between the two of you.

The day is beautiful, and I’m glad I’m sharing it with you.

As the weather grows warmer, the activity around the estate increases as well. The wooden halls are almost always reverberating with the footsteps of clan members; some hurried in preparation for their next mission or meeting, some leisurely enjoying the early spring air, and some light and bouncy in a spirit only a child could produce.

This day marks three full weeks of your stay at the Gojo residence, and you feel utterly suffocated by the permanent commotion outside your room. Your mentor, per usual, had been sent on a tedious mission with other well-respected kin. An immense urge to breathe free overtakes you, and you find yourself moving toward the garden where you last saw the snow-haired boy. Since then, you’ve crossed paths a plethora of times, though all limited to quick glances in the hallways.

You make your way downstairs, counting each step as you glance around the estate. Even now, nearly a month after your arrival, you’re still discovering new quirks in the infrastructure; last week it was a weathered statue at the back entrance, and today it’s the ornate seals carved into each doorframe. Your eyes alternate between the minuscule details and the route before you until you reach your destination.

Sliding open the door to the courtyard, you inhale — not in a calming way, but gulping in the fresh air like you’ve been drowning for the entirety of your stay. You’re undeniably homesick, but your pride inhibits you from confessing so. Only the red maple and your mentor bring comfort, though the latter is unavailable most days. Thus, your mood rises as you draw closer to the tree, marveling at its grandeur.

Unlike last time, there’s no white-haired boy inhabiting the roots of the mighty maple. You feel your lips twitch — was that disappointment? longing? — and settle down the same way he had. You imitate his actions by staring up the trunk of the tree and glancing toward the balcony where you had been that day. You observe the same red leaves, blue sky, and dark mahogany. The familiar scene was only missing his presence.

The light, early summer breeze ruffles through your hair, covering your complexion with strands of hair and leaves alike. It’s a slow day, like any other since moving in, but you enjoy the quiet and tranquility here in the private estate as you drift off under the shade of the ancient maple. In your unfettered state, however, you fail to sense the appearance of another figure.

“You’re in my spot.” A monotonous voice drifts through the air, yet you’re almost too far gone to process it. “Hey, are you listening? This is my spot.”

Seeing that your rest is being disturbed, you crack open one eye and squint until it finally focuses on the rude individual who ruined your nap. Light kimono, blue eyes, white hair; even while half asleep and fully sideways, you still recognize the clan’s pride and joy with ease. His tone remains calm, but his features betray his pettiness — brows furrowed, head tilted, and is that a pout on his lips? If you weren’t so disoriented, you could have laughed at his childishness. It seems to irk the boy more that he isn’t getting a response. After all, he’s used to being treated as royalty all his life. So why don’t you do the same?

If your eyes were on him right now, you would surely laugh from the sheer absurdity of his expression. With his bottom lip jutting out and his left eye twitching comically, the boy seems a second away from exploding. Seeing as the tension is ruining the peaceful day you hoped for, you raise a languid hand to rub your eyes and slowly rise to lean against the trunk. You peer at the boy with uneven eyes, now also semi-provoked due to his interruption.

Your accusatory gazes connect with a zap of cartoonish electricity as the world around you grows quiet, as if awaiting your next move.

Finally, you huff and glance away, more than aggravated by this whole interaction.

“Fine, I’ll leave then,” you roll your eyes. “Sorry for bothering you, your highness.”

If anything, this seems to bug the white-haired boy even more. Now his eyes are on the verge of bulging out of his head, and his next words come out louder than he means to.

“HAAH?! You just think you’re soooo much better than me, don’t you, you—” His voice trails off as he observes no reaction from you. You slouch against the tree, picking at your fingernails. He gulps and feels himself physically deflate at the sight. “I have a name, you know. It’s Satoru.”

You glance up toward the boy after he speaks, noting his dramatic and childish tendencies whenever he doesn’t get what he wants. You’ve seen these tantrums first-hand and heard about them since arriving at the estate. It’s to be expected, though, since he’s been spoiled by the entire jujutsu world since birth. Every individual in his life bends to his will, and now he doesn’t know how to react when a literal child his age defies him. His pride is totally crushed, and he may as well be withering away with the wind from pure embarrassment.

You sigh, deciding to take pity on the poor nepo baby.

“Okay, Satoru. I’m [Name].” You hold your chin high, one eyebrow raised as you await his next move.

In an instant, the boy bounces back to being his usual pretentious self. “[Name]? What kind of name is that?”

Now it’s your turn to be agitated. “HEY. My parents named me that. You’re mean and ugly, so pick a struggle.”

The childish bickering continues for a while, as neither of you will back down from the challenge. Empty threats and cheap insults are exchanged until both of you are left huffing and red-faced. Eventually, you’ve had enough. You turn without a word and leave in the direction from which you came, fully intending to retreat into your suffocating room. Anywhere would be better than here, you decide. Anywhere but with this spoiled jerk.

Satoru’s eyes trail you as you stomp away, crinkling at the corners with an indescribable expression. No one has ever dared to insult or even defy him, and yet you butt heads with him without a single fear.

[Name], huh. You’ve also captured his interest now.

And when Satoru fixates on something, he clings to it with a devotion so fierce it borders on ruin. When he learns to love you, a piece of his soul will fuse so passionately with yours that there will not exist a version of him without you. The very animals who feast upon his corpse will fail to differentiate what is him and what has been consumed by his love for you, as his love will have bound so deep into his marrow that decay itself cannot tell them apart.

ᝰ

By the time you and Atsuko returned from the aquarium, the sun was already peeking over the distant hills, shrouding the vast greenery of the estate in a golden dream. The guards at the gate parted the iron doors for the two of you, and servants ushered you inside without a moment to spare.

It had been a month since you’d begun living here, yet you still couldn’t stop marveling at the sheer size and influence of the Gojo estate. Everything about it stood in sharp contrast to your old life in a cramped Tokyo apartment, where the only trees you could see were twenty floors down and as gray as the days themselves. You still didn’t understand the true reason for your new living arrangement—or its significance—but you appreciated it nonetheless.

When nighttime came to the Gojo mansion, the hallways only seemed to grow busier. Atsuko led you into a room where you were gently seated on a mat, and almost immediately a flurry of maids rushed around, clutching makeup palettes and garments. They moved with dazzling speed, powders and brushes bringing your complexion to life in a whirl of practiced precision.

Amidst the frantic makeover, curiosity got the best of you, and you asked why everyone was in such a rush. The maids paused and looked at you blankly, making you shrink under their combined stare, before one of the older women finally said there was a festival that night—and you were expected to attend. Still confused, you let them fuss over you. Maybe it was your childish nature, but you didn’t mind being pampered like this. You giggled when a soft brush powdered your cheeks—it tickled—and squinted when the cool ink traced delicate lines around your eyes. It was your first time wearing makeup, and you loved it.

The maids finished with bright spots of blush on your cheeks. You glanced out the window as the moon began to brighten the clouds overhead. After admiring their work, one of the younger maids clapped excitedly and fetched the yukata you would wear that night. In an instant, the room was alive again, hands working deftly as layers of the garment were bound with ribbons and sashes. Before you knew it, you were being turned toward the mirror, and you could hardly believe you were the reflection staring back at you.

The kimono hugged your frame like it had been made just for you. Its fabric shimmered from winter blue to deep navy, handstitched blossoms curling along the hem in soft contrast to the pink that still lingered on your cheeks. You looked like a porcelain doll—the kind people kept behind glass, too delicate to touch. Overwhelmed by gratitude, you leapt toward the closest maid, wrapping her your arms around her frame. Squeezing firmly with a thousand unsaid thanks.

Atsuko met you at the door, his excitement brighter than you’d ever seen. Despite being almost a decade older, he felt more like an older brother than a mentor now. Over these short weeks, he had become family—a piece of stability in a life that had changed too quickly. And though the night was young, you couldn’t help but wonder if you would ever trade this strange new paradise for your old life back home.

At the compound gate, the chauffeur was already waiting. You waved at the maids seeing you off, sleeves of your kimono flaring awkwardly with every movement. They laughed, waving back, content to live vicariously through your joy since they couldn’t attend the summer festival themselves.

With a final adjustment to the rearview mirror and a burst of exhaust, you and Atsuko were off. You rolled the window down, letting the warm night wind kiss your face. Soft jazz floated through the car, mingling with the song of crickets in a serene harmony. Soon, your eyelids grew heavy, a gentle smile resting on your lips as you drifted into sleep.

“Is she still sleeping? Come on, let’s go look around.”

You slowly stirred, distubed by the noise. The hum of the car had disappeared; instead, the stillness of a parked vehicle and the hum of distant voices filled your ears. Blinking the drowsiness away, you resisted the urge to rub your eyes—your makeup was too pretty to ruin—and stepped into the light. The sight before you took your breath away.

The summer festival was unlike anything you had ever seen. Ribbons coiled up magnificent sakura trees, winding from branch to branch until they reached the rooftops. Lanterns hung everywhere, their amber glow turning the street into a river of light. Chatter, laughter, and the ringing of bells layered over one another like music, and the faint aroma of sweet batter and incense wafted through the air. Every corner pulsed with life, every sound and sight crashing into your senses in the most wonderful way.

Snapping out of your trance, you searched for Atsuko—and found him near a sweets booth. But he wasn’t alone. Beside him stood another boy with a head of snowy white hair, who, with complete lack of shame, was unhinging his jaw to consume half his cotton candy in a single bite. When he noticed your stare, he swallowed the whole thing with suspicious innocence and waved.

“Hey, you’re finally awake!” Satoru grinned. “I was starting to think you’d sleep through the whole thing. I was gonna wake you up, but someone stopped me.” He shot a petty side-eye toward Atsuko, who pretended not to notice. His mood dropped instantly, and the sight of his childish sulk made you laugh before you could help it. He must’ve remembered the time you ignored him under the courtyard tree in exactly the same way.

Apparently, your laugh wasn’t as quiet as you thought, because Satoru gawked at you in mock betrayal. He was trying to be nice—why were you still laughing at him? Atsuko, perhaps wisely, took that as his cue to leave, muttering something about exploring on his own. That left you and Satoru alone under the lantern light, both too awkward to meet each other’s gaze.

It was Satoru who broke the silence first.

“You look nice,” he said.

“Thanks, Satoru,” you replied, caught off guard.

You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks, though you hoped it wasn’t obvious under all the makeup. His tone was free of its usual teasing, his gaze steady and sincere.

“Come on,” he said suddenly, taking your wrist before weaving through the crowd. You barely had time to protest before you were out of the bustling street and standing atop a grassy hill overlooking the festival. Satoru plopped down onto the grass and gestured for you to join him.

“What was that for?” you asked, sitting beside him. When you turned to face him, he was already looking at you.

He huffed and looked away. “You looked overwhelmed back there. I get that too sometimes, so I brought you somewhere quieter. I usually hang out here during festivals anyway.”

A soft laugh escaped you. “Didn’t take you for the sentimental type, Satoru.” You smiled at him. “But thank you. Really.”

His grin widened, and then he landed onto his back, arms stretched wide. You watched him for a moment before doing the same, the two of you lying side by side in peaceful silence as the hum of the festival echoed faintly below.

He lifted one arm and began tracing constellations in the air, explaining them with exaggerated authority. You tried to follow along, but the calm of the moment lulled you toward sleep. He noticed, of course.

“Do you like your kimono?” he asked suddenly.

You yawned. “Yeah, I love it.”

“Good,” he said smugly. “Because I picked it out for you.”

Your eyes flew open. “You what—?”

He lay there with his eyes closed, a grin spreading across his face. “I thought it would look nice on you, so I got it.”

You could only laugh. “You know, I thought you were a creep at first.”

His eyes snapped open. “WHAT—”

“You were always lurking around and staring at me when I first came here.”

“I was curious! You were new, and I never get to see new people around.” His pout was genuine, his tone edged with playful bitterness.

“You don’t?”

He shook his head, plucking at a handful of grass. “I’m not allowed to leave the estate on my own. The elders think I’ll get kidnapped or something. Which is ridiculous because I’m the strongest.” His chest puffed up at the last line. “So, when you suddenly moved in, I wanted to know why. But no one would tell me anything. You’re like a mystery.”

You smiled. “Then I guess it’s up to you to find out.”

Silence settled again, warm and comfortable. You rose, brushing off your kimono, and held out your hand to him.

“Let’s go. I want to get food.”

He grinned, taking your hand and springing to his feet. “Okay.”

Then, he took off down the hill, turning around at the base to look back at the girl. [Name]’s breath caught in her throat, entranced by how the night reflected perfectly in his eyes. He gazed at her with the brilliance of a thousand stars, all encapsulated in his gorgeous eyes that seemed to glow on their own. They were clear as sunlight glittering in the endless sea; tempting her to dive in, to be part of the eternity within the perfect blue. At the bottom of the hill, he turned to glance back at you. The lanterns reflected in his eyes, brilliant blue like sunlight scattered over the sea.

For a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

Then, with a laugh, you skipped down the hill to join him, and together you ran toward the lights—hand in hand—while the crescent moon smiled upon the place where two souls had begun their story.

You and Satoru dragged each other through the festive streets, stumbling and laughing as you stuffed yourselves to the brim with foods and sweets alike. Hands and stomachs now filled with goods, the two of you strolled leisurely along the stone roads. You nudged your companion, pointing excitedly at anything that caught your interest.

“Look at that, Satoru! Wow, everyone looks so nice! This is the best day ever.” You rambled along with more incoherent nothings, and Satoru noticed how you spoke faster when excited. He always noticed the little things about you, like how your left brow furrowed before your right and how you perked immediately at anything floral. In fact, he would let you go on and on about anything in the world if it meant getting to see you smile. It filled him with a certain warmth that sprouted in his core and engulfed his entire being. It must be you, he concluded. You make him happy.

While Satoru was deep in thought, you had just concluded your observations on a particular decorative dragon.

“—and that’s why when I grow up, I’ll definitely have one of those ‘cause they’re just so cool! Like, could you imagine walking into my house and BOOM there’s just one of those…” Your voice trailed off as you sensed your companion’s subconscious disinterest. “Oh, am I boring you, Satoru?”

At the mention of his name, Satoru snapped out of his zone. “NO—” he said, a little too loudly. “No, you’re not boring me, I’m just… uh… lost in thought! Haha…” he laughed sheepishly.

You, ever the opportunist, took advantage of his hesitation — snatching the last stick of dango from him, clearing it, and shoving the empty stick back in his hands before he could close his mouth. Satoru’s mouth dropped open as anger rose within him, cartoonishly turning red from the neck up.

“You are so dead.” Both of you were gone in an instant, fueled by endless sugar and the joy of the night.

After a while, you slowed, wheezing as you rested with your hands on your knees. Behind you, Satoru had gotten blocked by a parade, giving you the time to sneak away. Since you knew that Satoru did not play about his sweets, you decided that a peace offering would save you from your death sentence. Thus, you quickly hurried to a stall, grabbing a few more sticks of candy — amezaiku — in the shape of brilliant koi.

And in perfect timing, Satoru’s presence appeared right behind you. You wasted no time shoving the new stick in his face and jumping away. A moment later, after opening your eyes and realizing you were still in the same festive night, you peeked at the white-haired boy — only to find him holding an empty stick, as if the candy had never been on it. Satoru’s face was no longer shrouded in doom and despair, but beamed with a brightness reserved for the sun. You sighed in relief.

“Was it good, Satoru?” you asked wearily. The boy nodded fervently, his mouth still full and puffed like a hamster. Satisfied, you resumed your walk down the street with him, the shrine coming into view in the distance.

“You mentioned coming here before. To the festival, I mean. How was it?” you wondered.

“Well, I thought it was amazing,” Satoru smiled. “I’m not allowed out of the house unless it’s for a meeting or training, so the festival is the only time I can be out on my own.”

You frowned, feeling bad for the boy. “Is that how you found the hill we were on?”

“Yeah. It was two, maybe three years ago? I snuck away from my cousin who was supposed to be watching me.”

“Didn’t you get in trouble then? Both you and your cousin?”

Satoru snorted. “Of course not. We have a deal; he lets me run around on festivals as long as I’m back before we leave, and I don’t snitch on what he’s doing during that time. You should know this — he let us leave earlier.” You stopped walking, deep in thought, before you finally pieced things together. Satoru’s cousin was your mentor, Atsuko; that’s why he left you both when you arrived. You almost facepalmed at the realization, only stopping when you remembered not to ruin your elaborate makeup for the night.

That idiot, you thought. Of course he would leave kids unattended to go ogle around.

At the end of the street, a traditional torii gate guarded by two stone lions opened a pathway into a forest of bamboo. Under the night sky, a series of torches guided you and Satoru into the mountain. The noises of the festival behind you grew quieter with each step, as if each gate you passed led you closer to the world in the heavens.

Occasionally, a dove would call out for its lover amidst the crickets’ persistent chirping, or a gentle sweep of wind would shower fallen blooms upon the shrine’s ornate visitors. Your legs began to ache after some time, yet Satoru showed no signs of fatigue and continued on leisurely.

Finally, the dense overgrowth cleared away to reveal the sky as the shrine came into view. Both of you stood in silence, blinded by the dazzling glow of the night. It was as if someone had shattered glass all over; from your perspective on the mountain’s peak, the pale shimmer of the stars seemed to mirror each lantern from the city below.

A city of stars, you thought. It was fitting for such a perfect night.

One by one, the people lined up at the shrine drew a fortune. Eventually, you and Satoru held one each.

“Ready? We’ll draw on the count of three,” you whispered, not daring to speak too loudly in fear of disturbing the people praying. You counted down, and you drew — Satoru got extreme good luck, while you got extreme bad luck. You gaped at the fortune, though you weren’t surprised. You had always lived a life of misfortune.

Satoru laughed beside you. “Wow, you got bad luck, haha—” he stopped when he saw your crestfallen expression. “Oh — It’s okay, [Name]! I’ll be your good luck!” He smiled at you, hoping to bring your mood back up. You turned, a hint of a smile on your lips.

“Okay then, Satoru,” you huffed. “You better be my good luck from now on then.”

You took a bite out of your amezaiku, preparing to leave the main shrine area, when it was suddenly knocked out of your hands.

A man’s deep voice rang out. “Hm. Tough luck.” He then turned and walked away. Satoru was livid, though you were frozen to your spot.

“Hey, you old geezer, at least apologize,” Satoru spat. The man gazed at him, disinterested. A small scar ran across his lip, and both of you felt a twinge of discomfort under his gaze. His presence was heavy and condemning, yet had no trace of cursed energy — strange, since usually, even non-sorcerer humans had a minuscule amount. You blinked and found the strange man gone. There was no trace of him left at the shrine, and the only evidence of his appearance was the half-eaten amezaiku on the ground.

“I don’t like him,” the white-haired boy said with an unnatural glint in his eyes. “But let’s go, it’s almost midnight and I have something to show you.” You nodded, and the two of you embarked on a hidden trail near the back of the shrine, descending the mountain. After walking in silence for a few minutes, you started to speak.

“This is my first festival, you know.”

Satoru raised an eyebrow but decided not to interject. “I’ve lived in the city my whole life. My parents run a business, so they’re always on trips. I lived by myself in the apartment most days, and moving to your house was the first time I’ve been out of the city.”

“What do you think so far? Of the estate and the countryside?”

A small laugh escaped your lips as you looked up at the stars past the bamboo leaves.

“It’s actually amazing. I love everything about it, except the people. Every time I go somewhere, the hallways are always crowded, and they say not nice things about me. But if that’s the price of living here, then it’s worth it; I wouldn’t trade my life now for anything.” You smiled, wistfulness gracing your youthful features. “And there’s also the tree, you know, the big one in the courtyard? I’ve never seen red leaves before. The ones in the city were always green when they had leaves. But yeah. I’m really grateful to be here.”

Satoru paused, taking in your words. “I think I’ve been taking my life for granted. You moving here must’ve been a huge change, but I think I’d love it in the city too. Just to get away from home for a while, you know? I want to explore the world and not just be under surveillance all the time.”

Smiling, you held up your hand, forming a fist but leaving your pinky straight out. Satoru stared in confusion.

“This is called a pinky promise. When two people make the promise, it just has to be kept, okay? This is the most serious of pacts,” you explained. Satoru nodded, fully serious, and hooked your pinky with his own.

“One day, when we are older, you and Satoru will travel the world together and go to all the cities and countrysides,” you declared. “Now we press thumbs to seal the deal.” You did so, holding your hands together for longer than necessary, as if those extra moments could strengthen the pact.

“Was that your first pinky promise, Satoru?” you asked, and he nodded. “Then I guess it’s extra special — and so it must come true.”

After another short distance of walking, Satoru pushed aside some overgrown bamboo to reveal a smaller, more obscure path. You trusted Satoru, and so you calmly followed him through the dim forest. When you finally came back into the open, you were so stunned that you could only stop and stare at the new location.

Satoru had led you to the side of the mountain, a good distance from the shrine. Angled plains stretched for a distance from the edge of the bamboo forest to a hanging cliff, dotted with wildflowers of all varieties. Similar to the peak, you were surrounded by light from both the lanterns and stars. It felt as if no one existed in the world except you and Satoru — the perfect moment captured in a snow globe of dreams.

Satoru tugged on your sleeve.

“Look,” he pointed to a distance ahead of and below you. “That’s the hill we were on earlier.”

And indeed, his observations were correct. You saw the same rolling hills past the festival, with a lake swallowing the sprinkled enchantments in the sky. Almost on cue, a tranquil summer night breeze swept through the area, rustling flowers and rippling the perfect reflection in the water. Sakura blossoms swept around you both, and the crescent moon smiled at you from above.

If this is my extremely bad luck, you thought, I could really live with this.

“Sit with me,” Satoru said quietly, his voice nearly swept away by the wind. But you heard him nonetheless, settling beside the boy on the cliffside so that your legs kicked together over the ledge. In any other scenario, you would never have gotten this close to a drop, but being around Satoru gave you a sense of safety — as if you could do anything in the world by his side.

He reached over, leaning his weight back on his other hand, and tucked a windswept strand of your hair back behind your ear. There was something intimate in the way his fingers ghosted over your cheeks, or how his eyes softened at the corners.

“Wow, Satoru. This is amazing,” you breathed. “Was this the surprise you mentioned—”

And before you could finish your sentence, thunderous explosions rang out around you. Pigment burst into the sky like paint splattered on a canvas, so ephemeral and vibrant that you felt your heart stop in excitement. One after another, fireworks launched into the air before bursting into sparks that outshone the stars. You watched how the sparks illuminated the waters below and the world around you, relishing in their brilliance, sitting so close that you could feel the heat and how time stopped with each explosion.

Satoru watched you, entranced by how each new burst of light painted your features. The way it shone in your pupils, the way it traced your cheekbones and the bridge of your nose, the way it made you glow like you were the sun and he was Icarus, flying so close he was burning with your wonder.

“Let’s both make a wish,” he whispered, lost within the brevity of each spark. “Just think it though; if you say it out loud, it won’t come true.”

“Okay,” you whispered back, releasing your current desire with the finale of the fireworks — the brightest one yet. You watched as the last sparks rained down from the heavens.

I wish to be by Gojo Satoru’s side forever and ever, even past the day that I die.

You sat in silence long after the last firework had faded, relishing in the gentle night and each other’s presence. Satoru plucked something from the ground, twisting it between his fingers before handing it to you.

“What’s this?” you inquired.

“It’s myosotis,” he replied. “My favorite flower that grows around here. For you.”

You held onto the flower, squinting at it in the dim lighting. Five sky-blue petals with a white center. You laughed, the soft sound traveling through the clearing.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, Satoru. This is just you as a flower. It’s fitting.”

Another silence fell between you, warm and comfortable. You spoke first.

“Thank you for tonight, Satoru. I had so much fun. And you’re actually pretty cool.”

“Is this to make up for telling me to ‘pick a struggle’ last week?” Satoru teased. You grinned.

“That was only because you interrupted my nap.”

“In my spot.”

“Your spot my bum, Satoru.”

“That’s not nice,” he said. Both of you were laughing now, lying among the flowers, facing the infinity in the stars. “But we may have to head back now, since it’s pretty late.”

“Do you know the time right now?” you asked, not wanting to get in trouble, and quickly stood up, preparing to make the journey back as soon as possible.

Satoru seemed unbothered, and stood slowly. “Probably a little past midnight, since that’s when the fireworks started. Give me your hand.”

You placed your hand in his. “What for? Don’t we need to head back now?”

“Yes. Right now, actually,” Satoru smirked, suddenly full of arrogance. Your eyebrow rose, but you barely had time to react before everything shifted in a split second. In that instant, you felt as though your being had been split apart atom by atom and reassembled—though with no pain.

When your eyes focused, you were shocked to find yourself back at the hill by the lake.

Satoru laughed harder at the shocked look on your face. “I teleported us, no big deal.” Your head swiveled from your surroundings up to the ledge where you had been a moment ago, trying to comprehend the situation. “It’s part of my cursed technique,” Satoru elaborated. “Convenient and saves a lot of time, I know.”

He then led you back toward the street — your hands still connected — to where you had split with his cousin, or rather, your mentor.

“Why couldn’t we have done this in the first place, then?” you asked, to which Satoru just laughed again.

“What’s the fun in that?” You stared at him in disbelief. “Fine. I wanted to spend some time with you, and I don’t regret it.”

“That’s sweet, Satoru.”

You spent the car ride back to the estate dozing off on Satoru’s shoulder, one hand in his and the other clutching the blue myosotis flower.

ᝰ

You and Satoru were both relatively busy during the next few days.

Between your tagging along to missions with your mentor and Satoru’s perpetual training schedule, the two of you rarely had the chance to hang out. Even when you could find the time to sit with each other, an interruption always cut the meeting short. Whether it was an errand to be completed or a summoning by an adult, one of you was whisked away with haste.

“Sorry,” Satoru would frown apologetically. “I’ll catch you later?”

You could only nod in response, not leaving your spot, knowing someone else would come fetch you before you could reach your room. And it would surely be another while before you crossed paths again. It was devastating for your childish mind — to have a night of connection with someone who understands, just to not be able to be near them.

It felt like constantly chasing after a mirage in the desert: one that would disappear and reappear a distance ahead the closer you got.

And the longer you stayed in the Gojo estate full of sorcerers, the more you questioned your own place among them. From previous knowledge and information from Satoru and your mentor, you knew that you were a sorcerer and that you were relocated here for safety and growth in jujutsu sorcery.

That said, you had limited experience in combat compared to Satoru, which was expected since he had the six-eyes and you had yet to discover your cursed technique. So, fueled by your curiosity, you proceeded to seek answers from scrolls in the clan’s inventory.

Whenever you were free, you sped to the library, reading anything relevant that you could get your hands on. Despite your lack of experience with jujutsu sorcery, you were blessed with intelligence and passion. You craved knowledge, ingesting more and more every day without fail. Thus, when it came time to explore cursed energy, you were ample prepared to perform; knowing about everything from binding contracts to clan techniques.

Curses form year-round, fueled by negative emotion and despair. Often seen in areas of collective negativity, such as schools or hospitals, these curses also vary in strength and number. In times associated with happiness, such as summertime, there is consistently a significant decrease in the severity of curses. And by default, sorcerers tend to have an easier time during these months as well, only being called on duty for low-grade curses and the occasional grade one. Given these conditions, the higher-ups considered this the perfect time to test out their new interest: you.

You sat alone under the crimson maple, absentmindedly tracing the path of each leaf through the air with half-closed eyes. You hadn’t seen Satoru all day — all week, actually — and were not expecting to.

You missed your friend and found solace in the places you’d been together. Your crestfallen mood was a vast contrast to the radiance and cheer you exhibited at the festival many nights ago. It was especially obvious to those close to you, especially your mentor.

He lingered just beyond sight behind a sliding door, sympathizing with you. He understood your loneliness well, since growing up in the Gojo clan guaranteed isolation. However, he wasn’t here to spy on you, but rather to fetch you for yet another mission.

His approaching footsteps alerted you, and the once peaceful day was plagued by impending tasks.

“Hey,” Atsuko softly said, prodding you with his finger.

“We have another mission today.”

You pouted, relaxing further into the roots of the tree as if it could swallow you whole with enough willpower.

“Can we not. At least today,” you finally grumbled. You opened your eyes regretfully and took the hand he offered, standing up with the enthusiasm of a pet going to the vet.

“Well on the bright side, you’re going to be fighting your first curse today!”

You stopped mid-stretch and stared at him with eyes wide as saucers.

“No way. No way no way nononono—”

But your mentor only laughed, making his way to the front entrance of the mansion with you in tow.

“Relax, it’s only a grade four. Plus, I’ll be there supervising, so I can promise you won’t die today,” he grinned.

“Not funny, Atsuko.”

“Okay, fine.” He snorted, having successfully gotten a reaction out of you. “It’s a simple mission with some flyheads in the countryside. Just follow your training and you’ll be fine.”

Sure enough, you had started training soon after your arrival. It started with basic stamina training, and later combined with basic cursed energy control. You were a fast learner and picked up cursed energy easily, but still lacked coordination during simulated combat. Fortunately, flyheads are simple enough to allow a beginner like you to learn. This would be your first time personally exorcising one, since you had only been observing your mentor prior.

During the car ride to the curses’ location, you and your mentor conversed about anything and everything. You were truly two peas in a pod, mischievousness and trust built over the weeks of companionship.

“Atsuko, what’s high school like?” you inquired as you traced powerlines along the road with your eyes.

“Do you learn cool things?”

“You don’t have to worry about high school yet, you’re still so young. But, I guess it’s pretty fun. My teacher is insane though,” he snickered.

“What do you mean insane?” you raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure it’s not you and your classmates? My teachers were always nice unless some kid was being weird. Which is probably you.”

The boy gasped in mock surrender, though he was internally laughing at your directness.

“Okay, you got me there. But it’s still fun to piss him off. High school is a chance for you to meet and have fun with new people.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met another sorcerer my age except Satoru.”

“I’d expect so, since sorcerers are so rare. Don’t worry though! You’ll both be going to the same school I’m at when you’re old enough.”

“Kyoto Jujutsu School?”

“Something like that.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, feeling the hot sun and bumps from the road. A blur of colors contrasting the trees and sky merged outside the bus windows, much like an impressionistic painting or the last moments of a fleeting dream.

Your eyes returned to the double lines dividing the road. They ran like soulmates who were bound in proximity but cursed to be forever apart; each striving for the same destination yet infinitely separated by nature. Eventually, one parted while the other continued to run along the car. You subconsciously tracked the former as the distance between you increased until the line disappeared behind the trees.

“Do you miss Satoru, [Name]?” Atsuko asked. You turned your attention back inside the car to see your mentor gazing outside his window.

“Yeah,” you bit the inside of your cheek, “I do miss him.” You were actively swallowing your pride to admit so, but it was the truth.

Atsuko smiled kindly, but his eyes never left the scenery.

“I figured. You two had a lot of fun at the festival, right?”

“He told you, didn’t he?”

“Sure did. Vividly, I may add. I’ve never seen him so excited before.”

You laughed. Of course he would do that.

“When?” You asked.

“The morning after the festival. Broke into my room and demanded I listen while he blabbered on and on about your adventures. I can’t believe you’ve never seen fireworks before, that’s so funny.”

You paused, relishing in the memories from that night.

“It was my first festival, after all. I’ve never seen so many flavors of dango! And everyone was dressed up, it was so cool!” You were ready to recount everything from your perspective to your mentor even more vividly than Satoru had.

“I heard he also took you to his cliff spot,” Atsuko interjected before you went on a tangent. “We found that spot a few years ago when we took a wrong turn through the mountain.”

“The one full of flowers, right? We watched the fireworks while sitting on the ledge. And,” you jumped excitedly, “he gave me a flower! Like a really pretty one!”

Atsuko was taken aback by your sudden shift in mood. It seemed that the topic of your festival experience was fond for both Satoru and you.

“What did it look like? You know that field had a lot of flowers,” he teased.

“It was blue. Five petals, white and yellow in the center. I pressed it when I got back, so it should still be in a textbook somewhere.”

“So I’m assuming you were reading again,” Atsuko joked. “Also, that sounds like every flower ever.”

“No, it was special,” you argued. “Satoru said it was his favorite.”

“Do you remember the name?”

Your mind blanked. “My— my? Sort? My sort is?”

Oh. That one. “Myosotis.”

“Yes!” you cheered.

“That one. I think it’s really pretty.”

“They’re also called forget-me-nots. Found basically everywhere around here, so you can always pick up a new one.”

“That one was special, though.”

“Because Satoru picked it for you?”

You huffed and looked back to the greenery outside your own window.

ᝰ

Gojo Satoru was no fool ignorant to his own potential.

His existence, by itself, could be considered no less than a miracle. At birth, he was already deemed omnipotent; with his lineage and status, Satoru was nothing less of a god on earth for the jujutsu world.

In battle, he always proved himself worthy of the praise. His movements remain fluid, dodging and retaliating in the time between strikes. The strikes could never hit, though; curses regardless of grade were incinerated without remorse.

Even at his young age, Gojo Satoru proved time and time again that he claimed the title of the honored one.

Power came to him as easily as breathing. His cursed energy functioned as an extension, a more perfect part of him. Every sorcerer crossing his path would shy away from his presence regardless of seniority or status. Gojo Satoru was accustomed to being royalty, being superior in every room and situation.

But all it took was the frantic whispering of clan members as the front gates opened to make his blood turn cold as ice.

The white-haired boy had never felt so powerless and diminished in his life.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, just couldn’t —

Who could’ve thought?

All it took to render Gojo Satoru — chosen one — utterly useless was the sight of you, languid and motionless.

You awoke to muted conversations between Atsuko and the driver. It must’ve been some time since you arrived at the mission, seeing as the landscape had changed to farmlands as wide as you could see.

Seeing as the two others were still busy, you take the time to exit the vehicle and stretch after the long journey. The sun shines high in the sky, unforgiving in its heat as it encompasses the land.

“—alright, that’ll do. We shouldn’t take more than an hour, so just meet us on the other side.”

You could hear Atsuko’s voice as he came around the car to meet you. You both bid goodbye to the driver and watch as the car disappears behind the rolling hills.

Your mentor turned to you with a cheshire grin stretching ear to ear. And you already knew what he was about to say.

“Are you re-a-a-a-dy,” he intentionally drew out the last word, “for your debut mission! I know I — hey, wait, come back!”

But you were already some distance away, ready to finish the mission and be home in true sorcerer fashion. Maybe even catch a certain boy while you’re at it. You speed up unconsciously, leaving a trail of dust and dirt on the country road.

Atsuko caught up to you in virtually no time, though he was irked that you had sped away.

“What’s got you so excited, [Name]?” He queried.

“I wanna go home.”

Your mentor deadpans at your clear lack of excitement, raising a hand to check his nonexistant watch.

“It’s just past one right now, so if we finish fast, we can catch Satoru’s break after his training session.”

Heat crawled up your neck. How did he know, you sweatdrop.

Atsuko shoots you a side glance with his signature rowdy smirk. You subsequently decide not to dig yourself into a larger hole and stay silent.

“So,” he continues, “we’re fine. Don’t be so stressed about being fast that you forget to appreciate the moment.”

You take a moment to appreciate his wisdom, but it’s clear that Atsuko is doing the same. He goes on several tangents about his “wise words of advice for the young.”

And with that being said, you slow your pace down to a normal walking speed. Atsuko was right, for once. Sorcerers tend to be so ridden with assignments that many fall apart not from curses, but from the constant stress.

So as insignificant as it sounds, learning to find leisure during missions is a valuable skill for you to learn for the long run.

However, appreciating the moment was rather hard when walking through endless fields of rice under the scorching midsummer sun. Without a single cloud or tree overhead for shade, you and Atsuko were doomed to an indefinite journey.

This may have been the first time you actually hoped to find a curse.

Before long, you were both drenched in sweat and fatigued with heat. Yes, you were overreacting.

“How much longer is this going to take,” you groan. The inside of your mouth feels dry, and the back of your sleeve was darkened from countless repeated swipes at your face.

Atsuko tries to stay positive, but his annoyance is clear too.

“Curses don’t usually form this far from civilization.” He glances back along the path. The spot where you got dropped off was still very visible.

Wow, you thought. We haven’t gotten far at all.

“—well, at least I can feel the curses now,” he adds.

True enough, the air became static with a faint hum the further you travel into the fields. You recognize it as the cursed energy of a curse, heavier in a way that cannot be human.

After what seemed like an eternity, you reached an edge of the field. A tall tree stood proud in the empty space, inviting you to rest in its shade. Overjoyed, you were just about to run to your savior before getting held back by your mentor.

“Wait,” he warned, before letting go of your wrist. “Feel your surroundings, [Name].”

True to his word, the once faint glimmer of a curse’s prescence now radiated in the space around them. Specifically, it pulsated in uneven intervals, staining the beautiful day with darkness and unease.

Atsuko raised an arm, aiming a loaded flick toward the tree. You caught onto his idea. He would blast the tree; not enough to gain suspicion from the curses, but enough to disrupt their hiding spot. He had taught you this trick before — funneling cursed energy into a pinpointed attack — but your limited control at the time proved detrimental to your success.

You watched as the shot flickered through the air like a meteor. It dented the trunk with a dull thud, sending a shudder up branches. Leaves fell around you like raindrops in a storm, creating a gentle breeze perfect for soothing the overbearing heat.

At first, there was no movement in the area. But one by one, small beings began to crawl out of miscellaneous crevices around the tree. You cringed as they came into view. Each of the curses resembled a mosquito the size of a small dog, complete with transparent wings and a straw-like beak.

“Ew,” Atsuko grimaced. “Okay, I think these are the flyheads in the report. Do your best.”

He shifted his weight to stand more comfortably and nudged you toward the curses.

You gulped, though you knew this was inevitable. The agreement with the elders was that you would stay at the Gojo residence in order to learn sorcery to fight curses. Sure, you had your fair share of training and study sessions about jujutsu, but it hadn’t felt like reality until now. Even when you tagged along with Atsuko on his higher ranking missions, you would be just watching from a safe distance or by his side.

This would be your first confrontation with a real curse, even if it were a grade four flyhead.

So, you turned your attention back to the matter at hand. Three flyheads languidly floated about the trees, with one being distanced from the two others. Perfect.

Now, you had to determine the method to exorcise the curse. As a grade four curse, each of the flyheads could be taken out by blunt force alone. However, you were currently eight years old and lacking the strength required to do so. You were also lacking a proper cursed weapon, only holding two blades disguised as fans that Atsuko had gifted you previously.

Thus, there was no other choice than to put your training in cursed energy to use.

You slowly approach the isolated flyhead, taking effort to lay low until you were ready to attack. Taking a deep breath, you call forth your cursed energy to surround your fans. A light blue aura ignites on your hands, spreading to coat your fans in a gentle glow. The addition of your cursed energy sharpened the edge of the fan blades.

You stopped a few feet from the floating curse. During one session at the clan’s archive, you had read about flyheads and their weak points. One of which was their eyesight, hence your ability to get so close. This wouldn’t be possible for any other curse, so you were glad to have a flyhead as your first target.

With a quick movement, you swing your arms at the curse, leaving a barrage of cuts embedded with cursed energy. The flyhead stays intact for a split second, glowing at the slices, before falling into pieces and disintegrating.

Behind you, Atsuko whooped. That sure was easy.

The two other curses, undeniably catching the shift in energy, begin to approach their fallen kin. You steady yourself once again, repeating the slicing sequence on both at the same time. When they both disintegrate like the first one, you let out a breath that you didn’t even realize you were holding.

“Yes, [Name]! You’re so amazing,” Atsuko boasts, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. You just laugh, relieved but satisfied with your performance.

“Are we done, then?” You eagerly ask. Your mentor sets you down and gazes at the sky, before leading the way back.

“It’s about three right now, so we’re pretty good on ti—“

He doesn’t get to finish.

In an instant, a putrid odor hits your nose and you stagger back, losing your balance. A disfigured, impish figure separates you from your mentor with its back facing you. Atsuko clutches his left arm, a noticeable bleeding gash where he had been struck by the curse’s landing.

Your eyes widen in a mixture of fear and surprise, paralyzing you just a short distance from the curse. Atsuko notices, and quickly blasts the curse away from the two of you. He needed to buy time to reach you.

“Shit,” he curses, “this is bad. This one has intelligence.” He blocks an attack from the curse while still speaking to you. “It used the flyheads as bait and hid its prescence.”

You finally regain your senses and begin to analyze the situation like any other mission. However, this specific curse seemed to be moving differently than other curses you’ve seen with Atsuko.

It moved with freakish accuracy, a stark contrast to the flyheads earlier. Purple hues of its cursed energy flared erratically as it danced with Atsuko effortlessly — as if it were merely toying with him.

“This was not supposed to be a part of our mission today,” you cautioned. “It’s definitely at least a grade one.”

Atsuko grunts in confirmation, now engaged in a close-range battle with the curse. You have no doubt in his abilities as a grade one sorcerer, but something in your gut twisted uncomfortably.

Sure enough, Atsuko uses the split second between clashes to direct you wth complete seriousness.

“[Name], I need you to go back and find our driver. Immediately, go!”

Despite his fervent tone, you hesitate. Atsuko had never asked you to leave his side during battle before. Now, he was injured and evenly matched with a curse he wasn’t prepared for. And it would be a long time before reinforcements would arrive.

Your blood ran cold. If he wanted you to leave him, then he was buying you time and safety. Not himself.

Atsuko’s summond shikigamis moved in tangent with him, attacks coordinated to maximize damage on the curse. His efforts were in vain though, seeing as the curse was regenerating faster than he could attack. As a last resort, he sent a giant hawk toward you for escape.

Climbing onto the shikigami, you observed a moment of ceasefire between Atsuko and the curse. And you were horrified at the least to see the curse expand and split for an identical duplicate.

The second humanoid figure snapped its neck to face you and grinned, two uncanny rows of rotten, sharpened teeth encased around a blackened tongue. With terrifying speed, it launched itself into the hawk with you on it.

And then you were falling. All air left your lungs as your body hit the ground, rolling twice before stopping on your back. You could just barely make out Atsuko’s cries of your name, dazed and disoriented from the large fall.

The second curse stood a distance from you, gauging your reaction. It clearly thought you were doomed with your injuries and would thus amuse itself with your last moments. Behind you, Atsuko was still caught in battle with the original curse. You grimly accepted that he would not be able to help you.

You rise shakily to your feet, ignoring the sting and angle of your left leg. It was undoubtedly broken from the fall, but you didn’t have the liberty to worry about that at the moment. With activated fans in your grasp, you stagger into a defensive stance.

The curse’s unnerving grin widens as it prepares to strike.

Oddly, you think back to the fortune you pulled. Extreme bad luck. Encountering a surprise high grade curse on a grade four mission in the middle of summer? The situation was almost laughable if you weren’t at the mercy of said curse. Where was your good luck when you needed it?

“It’s okay, I’ll be your good luck!”

“Okay then, Satoru, you better be my good luck from now on.”

Satoru.

That’s right.

You had to get back to him.

The first strike comes at your weakened left side. You block it with a fan, though the force of the attack breaks the blades clean off the handles. Taking advantage of the curse’s proxmity, you plunge the fan handle deep into its eye. It lets out an ear-piercing shriek followed by a barrage of charged attacks.

Adrenaline pumped through your blood as you retaliate with equal ferocity, leaving sizeable cuts and damage on the curse. But similar to Atsuko’s situation, the curse regenerated between strikes, leaving its body spotless. It eventually got bored of toying with you, and its smile faded.

With a single jab, the curse knocked the other fan out of your grasp, shattering the blades. It then pounced on you, hand around your neck to keep you pinned.

You let out a choked gasp and gritted your teeth, stretching your fingertips to grab a piece of the shattered fan’s blades. The sharp edges cut into your hand as you grip it, yet the pain was numb to you. Using strength you didnt know you had, you drive the broken blade into the curses’s other eye. It falters, temporarily blinded, and gives you the time to move away.

“ATSUKO,” you scream. His battle is far from over, and you notice the bodies of many shikigamis littering the ground. His attacks have gotten sloppier, and sweat lined his brow.

It wasn’t looking good for the two of you.

Your chances to escape away from the curse were disapparated by its sudden grasp on your right ankle, squeezing painfully hard until you heard a snap. The pain that followed was unbearable, and you could no longer move with injuries to both legs.

Tears welled in your eyes at the curse’s enraged shrieks. You could feel its turbulent energy bubbling with rage beside you in what you presumed to be your last moments.

As the curse rose its arm for the finishing blow, you closed your eyes. You harnessed all your remaining cursed energy in your hands in a last attempt to push away the curse.

I’m sorry, Atsuko.

You wouldn’t get to see his reaction to your death. He would live the rest of his life with the regret that comes from letting you die. From failing to protect you as his only job.

I’m sorry, mom, dad.

You wouldn’t get to see your parents after what was supposed to simply be a summer getaway. They would never learn the truth about your death nor the terror you felt in your final moments.

I’m sorry, Satoru.

You wouldn’t see Satoru again despite your pinky promise to travel the world together. He would find traces of you everywhere from the rustling wind to the distant moon.

No, you finally decide. This isn’t the end. It can’t be.

Maybe it was your sheer willpower to live and fight. Maybe it was the universe finally acknowledging your suffering. But by some miracle, you would survive here today.

A warm feeling spread through your body like a mother’s embrace, carrying you with strength and compassion. Your cursed energy, once blue, darkened to pitch black. It spread like wildfire from your hands onto the curse, which froze and turned dark as coal.

A gentle breeze swept through the clearing, and the frozen curse withered away as a cloud of dust.

Behind you, Atsuko shouted with surprise as his curse faced the same fate. Despite how battered and exhausted he was from the fight, he immediately ran to you, crouching just short of where you lay.

“No, no,” he muttered, heart sinking at your state. “Hey, [Name], stay with me. It’s okay, now.”

His panic grew as your eyes became unfocused. With deep, haggered breaths, his arms tightened around your body. Atsuko could feel you wince with every movement in your legs, each pained inhale a stab to his heart.

With the last of his cursed energy, Atsuko summoned a hawk shikigami to take you home. His legs threaten to give out with every step, but he pushed forward for your sake.

“I’m so sorry,” he lamented over and over, “this wasn’t supposed to happen. I should’ve been more aware, moved faster, anything.”

His apologies fell on deaf ears, as you were already dead weight — unconscious — in his arms.

ᝰ

Satoru felt the firm pressure of hands holding him up, but his mind was spinning out of control. He was completely numb, eyes unfocused and empty. His breaths came out short and shallow as if a serpent had yet to loosen its vice-like grip on his lungs.

“Hey, hey, breathe! I need some help here!”

His fate had been sealed since the moment he was given life. His first cry, as weak as it had been, had marked his debut into the world as a fighter. But now, Satoru wanted nothing more than lay amidst his sorrow until the earth reclaimed all of him.

“He’s going to pass out! Take him to —“

He could distantly make out the panicked voices of servants as they scrambled about, but it all came strangely distorted through the haze of his subconscious. With the whole world blurring around him, Satoru saw through a miniscule pinhole of clarity and in the center was you.

It felt like an eternity had passed before you returned to your body, feeling as heavy as though you were replaced with a molten cast of yourself. Or, rather, your right side was heavy. Hand clasped loosely within another, twitching just the slightest bit with each pulse. Opening your eyes was the hardest task you had ever done, but you were greeted with the familiar view of your room’s ceiling and the rest of your senses returning.

Early morning sunshine drifted through the thin windows beside you, casting light around the shadows of swaying branches. The melancholic tune of a mourning dove echoed through the chatter of songbirds. It was quiet like the silence after a storm when the earth returns to life after a long night.

Soft breaths fluttered rhythmically along your wrist as your hand remained pinned under a comforting and familiar weight. You smile, easily identifying the presence without needing to look. After all, you had long since memorized the way his hand molded to yours down to each ridge and scratch. You firmly believed that hands were made to be held, and something about Satoru makes you yearn to squeeze tight and never let go.

His messy hair spread over the side of your bed, surrounding him like a natural halo. He truly was blessed; even the universe knew to send light upon him, casting a glow so ethereal that he could declare himself an angel and you would wholeheartedly agree. You watch as the sun illuminates his face, highlighting soft features and his impossibly beautiful eyelashes. Each soft curl frames his face perfectly, moving gently in tandem with every exhale.

And now that he was so close, so vulnerable, you remembered just how much you missed him. Not the brief conversations between missions. Not the flashes of recognition when passing in the halls. Just him. The feeling of being around him made everything okay again.

So you sent him a small squeeze with your conjoined hands. A small greeting.

He stirs, still drunk with sleep, and squeezes back. It takes a moment for him to focus and notice that you were awake.

In this moment, to say Satoru was overjoyed was a vast understatement. Seeing you — smiling, alive — for the first time in days brought him hope without bounds, and there were tears gathering in his eyes before he knew it.

Satoru lunges toward you at once, childlishly burying his head deep in the crook of your neck as if you would disappear if he let go. You bring your arms around him with equal vigor until his tremors slow to hiccups. Every squeeze becomes a silent conversation between you.

Don’t leave me.

I’m here.

When he finally draws back, wiping the last tears away, you swear you have never seen anything more gorgeous.

“Hi,” you start. Your voice wobbles but doesn’t break, though noticeably quieter.

For an extended moment, you stare at each other, desperately trying to prove to yourselves that the other was real.

“Hi,” Satoru answers, his voice nasally and barely above a whisper. There’s fresh tears dotting his vision again, and he reaches up to pat them away. “How are you feeling, [Name]?”

Your limbs feel like wet cement, heavy and weak. Satoru seems to notice, standing up to smooth out his kimono wrinkled from sleep.

“I’m going to go get Atsuko. We got some healers last night from, you know, clan benefits, and they healed Atsuko enough to work on you together.”

Exhaustion is beyond prevalent in his voice and his shoulders sag with the invisible weight of stress that no child should have to endure. It greatly saddens you that he is no longer the carefree boy at the festival.

Satoru disappears behind the sliding screen and you are left alone to your thoughts once again.

Before long, you heard the unfamiliar footsteps of two clan members as they neared your room. But instead of coming in, they slow momentarily and move on. You strain your ears for their conversation but can only catch a few fragments.

“— new girl in there … broken everywhere —“

“— special grade curse, alone —“

You see their shadows behind your doors hesitate for a split second. Word had definitely gotten around the compound to no one’s surprise. It may not have been your fault, but the not-so-grade-four mission had brought you back as the mainstream gossip topic.

And though the mission was a success in the end, your mind continuously flickers back to the horrors of that curse. Its disfigured, humanoid smile, claws pressing into your throat — terrifying memories that felt so real. You still feel the increasing pressure on your windpipes and the dark presence of the curse as your breathing quickens. The shadows on the walls no longer reflect maple branches but instead project the face of the monster you thought you had escaped.

The sound of the sliding door opening is deafening to you, and you instinctively curl up and turn away from the motion. Your breath pushed shakily against the skin of your knees, which were still littered with cuts and bruises. Strong arms surrounded you, and a familiar warmth seemd to calm your nerves just the slightest bit.

“Hey, [Name]. You’re safe now, I’ve got you.”

A third hand reached for and found yours, squeezing a pattern gently but firmly with the same message. You squeeze back, a small grin threatening your features at Satoru’s actions. You pull back from Atsuko’s embrace and settle back into the sheets, now sitting up against the wall.

Atsuko’s irises are free of their usual tease, now reflecting concern and gratitude, as he scanned you head to toe. He had healed your legs by fixing the bones in your ankle and femur but couldn’t erase the smaller damage due to his limited energy after the fight.

Indeed, he immediately asks about your wellbeing. “Any pain at all? I brought some bandages and creams for you.”

“Nothing feels broken anymore, but I also have no strength in my legs now,” you croaked. Satoru hands you a glass of water, which you gratefully take. “I got up earlier but had to use the wall to get around.”

Atsuko nods, his expression lightening. “That doesn’t matter. Weak means you’re still surviving, which is enough. I’m really glad, [Name],” he adds, voice full of relief.

Beside you, Satoru looks like he could cry again. You reach for his hand again, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Atsuko. He thankfully doesn’t comment on it.

“I’m sorry for worrying you, Satoru,” you start. “I wanted to finish the mission faster so we could meet you after your training.”

Satoru shakes his head, his grip tightening. “No one told me you were going on your first mission today. I wanted to come with you but you were already gone by the time I heard. I was so excited,” his voice cracks, “ to see you back and happy and we could celebrate. But then, then —“

His voice trails off and your heart breaks, but he continues. “I was waiting at the gates for hours and you came back broken and drenched in blood.” He looked so defeated, so lost. Your other hand joins your clasp, hoping to soothe his distress. “I thought you died, [Name]. I made my first friend and had the best night of my life and then she’s, she’s…”

Satoru collapses into your embrace for the second time, and yet he holds you tightly with the same fear multiplied exponentially. Atsuko’s hand finds your back, moving in slow circles, and you’ve never felt more safe than now. Loved unconditionally by your true family.

“The clan’s been wary since we got back,” Atsuko starts. “You easily cleared your mission, which was to exorcise the grade four flyheads in the rice fields. Then, we were ambushed by a curse that knew to hide its presence and use other curses as bait. It had intelligence, and was therefore not part of your mission at all. You were right, [Name]. It was most definitely a high-grade curse.”

You feel Satoru stiffen in your arms. “That’s terrifying to think about. The highest supervised mission I’m allowed to take is a grade one.”

Atsuko nods. “This curse was responding to all of my attacks as if it had foresight. It killed every shikigami I summoned with ease and even split itself to go after you during your escape. Not to mention its instant regeneration abilities.”

You recalled the way it snapped its head directly to you when you were on the giant hawk. A second later, and you were plummeting to the ground. You flinch and lean your head against Satoru’s.

“It seemed like it was toying with both of us,” you continue, “it waited for me to get up into stance before attacking. Curses don’t do that.”

“I agree,” Satoru adds. “Both of your injuries were terrible. We had to summon two reversal users on short notice yesterday, and we don’t call even one unless someone is on the verge of death.”

Silence envelopes the three of you as the gentle morning wind greets the songbirds.

“I am a grade one sorcerer,” Atsuko sighed, “and my only task was to make sure [Name] is always safe.”

You knew where he was going with this, and turned to look him in the eyes. “But you still saved us. Otherwise we would’nt even be here right now.”

His eyes flicker down to the wooden floorboards. His voice was a whisper but echoed loudly in your ears.

“That wasn’t me, [Name]. You exorcised that curse. It turned black and brittle and basically disintegrated.”

Satoru leaned back in a flash to stare at Atsuko. “That was a special grade. You’re telling me [Name] exorcised a special grade with two broken legs?”

The older boy nodded wordlessly, turning back to face you. “This is your innate technique, [Name]. I’ve never seen a curse exorcised like this, especially a special grade that the elders had been trying to locate for weeks. You’re more powerful than you realize, and a lot of clan members are not able to accept that.”

You look down at your hands, seeing the same lines and callouses you’ve always had. You were just a kid, not even given a grade yet, and yet you exorcised a special grade curse?

“I know this is a lot to take in, but there will be big changes for you now.” Atsuko’s voice is pained, every word cutting into him like a knife. . “The higher-ups know of this and want me to monitor your abilities closer. And train you harder. And send you on more missions.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow, though he doesn’t lash out at his cousin. “That’s not fair.”

He knows the debilitating pressure from the elders firsthand, and the last thing he ever wants is for you to face the same fate.

“I know it isn’t. These are orders that I must follow, but I also have the freedom to carry them out however I choose. So [Name] will not be starting until she is fully healed and I will not be pushing her like they insist I do.” He ruffles your hair and grins when you knock him off with a scowl. “You’re both destined for great things, and I promise the elders won’t be able to control you once you are strong enough. We’ll replace them in a few years anyways — those goofy carcasses are decaying in their seats.”

You finally crack a smile as the conversation lightens. You sneak a glance at Satoru, who quickly averts his eyes to the corner. He was glad to finally see your smile come back and vowed to protect it.

“Can we go on missions together from now on, then?” Satoru asked cheekily. Atsuko raises an eyebrow but doesn’t deny his request.

“We’ll see. I guess I could request it as a field trip —”

He is interrupted as you tackle him in a hug. Satoru joins a second later, not wanting to be left out.

“Thank you for everything,” you mumble through the crook of his neck. Atsuko only laughs, messing up both your hair and Satoru’s simultaneously.

“Of course, [Name]. You deserve the world.”

ᝰ

Atsuko stayed true to his word, and you found yourself enjoying the time spent in bed rather than out training. Every morning was a quiet morning. You wake up to the warm mid-summer sun and the occasional chatter from outside. It was the most peaceful your life had ever been, and you wouldn’t ever take it for granted. Especially your newest friend who now seemed to be glued to your side.

Sometimes, Satoru would sit on your futon as you did your hair for the day, but you found each other for breakfast even on the days where he didn’t. The roots of the red oak housed you while you ate, listening in on your quiet but meaningful conversations before your friend had to leave for his tasks.

Each day, the sorcerers with reverse cursed energy hired by the clan would visit and work their magic on you. One of them would bring you into his domain filled with flowers and herbs, while the other would coat her hands in white energy and heal you with equal haste. They must be getting paid a substantial amount given the rarity of their abilities and the severity of your injuries. But their consistency did end up paying off.

On the fifth day after your first mission, your body felt better than ever. You woke up to constant animated knocks on your door, specifically coming from the lower half.

A quiet, understanding smile graced your lips.

“Come in, Satoru.” Then he was in your room before you could close your mouth, harboring a light in his eyes that you had greatly missed. You continued to tidy up your room as he strolled around. This was comfort; this was routine. Listening to him babble on as you folded your sheets, consistently sharing the space and early morning with each other.

When you first met Satoru, you accused him of being a stalker — a fraud that the clan enabled as their heir. Seeing him under the red maple that one day, however, slightly altered your opinion of him. The brief eye contact shared between you had communicated more than words ever would, and you had discovered a side to the white-haired boy hidden from the world. The obscure side that defined humanity, the muted fragility that anyone facing despair chases with fervor. A side that craves to confess, to scream to the world, that they are kind, and that they are hurting.

Even if you had never saw him that day, you still would have noticed his deep unhappiness as a young soul withstanding the pressure from a society that desired too much. Sure, he was transformed into the most intricate and prosperous diamond in the end, but you could distinctly recall the frequent instances his façade threatened to crack. It was present in the times he held himself with faux confidence after his relentless training sessions and meetings with high council. It was especially present when he would purposefully avoid you during those times, fearing you would see him as — god forbid — weak.

Then, there was also that unforgettable night you spent together at the summer festival. It was then that you truly saw him for who he was. Gojo Satoru was the boy who loved sweets, the boy who made his first pinky promise with you, and the boy who led you to his favorite spot just to see the light of fireworks reflect awe in your eyes. You, a common girl his age, granted him the kindness he had been denied his whole life in abundance. While the whole jujutsu world saw Gojo Satoru for his value, you saw him for his value.

To you, he was so much more than the wielder of infinity and the six eyes. He was just Satoru, just a beautiful boy your age, and most importantly — just your friend. Holding a piece of his heart was more than you could ever ask for. He was the first to take to your bedside when you were injured and the first to greet you when you woke up, even shedding tears because he couldn’t process his relief. Somewhere along the way, you became gentle to him. At some indiscernible point, you and Satoru had become inseparable.

“—llo? Earth to [Name]?” You return to the present, where Satoru was now prodding your cheek. “What were you thinking about, huh?” Satoru raises an eyebrow in suspicion, not halting his movements. “Nothing.”

“‘Nothing’ got you smilin’ like an idiot?”

He reaches out to pinch your cheek, but you lightly swat him away, already predicting his movements. He blinks, and you are already halfway out the door. Hallways fill with laughter and thudding footsteps as the two of you chase each other to the kitchen. At this point, no clansmen has the heart to reprimand this childish behavior. They recognize the positive change in their revered Gojo-sama, and that change was clearly you.

Two glasses and a hearty breakfast later, you and Satoru found yourselves sprawled on your backs under the familiar oak. A thin layer of red leaves littered the ground, mimicking vibrant splashes of blood across the estate’s perfect lawn. The position and tranquility brought back a pleasant memory of the festival night under the crescent moon. Satoru turned to face you, and you mirrored his movement. A windswept blade of grass tickled his nose, and you couldn’t help but laugh lighty as he sneezed.

“So,” you started, “what’s the plan for today?”

Satoru pretends not to hear you, still petty that you had just laughed at him. He notices the way your brows furrow when you don’t get a response.

Fine then. You will continue to pester him.

“O Great Gojo-sama.” You mimicked the stone-carved face of the oldest council member. “Please grace your humble companion with the planned contents for this beautious day.” You break character to peak at him with one eye, though his will holds strong.

Satoru merely side-eyes you, though the corners of his mouth threaten to twist upward. One look at your unimpressed face, however, and he nervously laughs.

“Okay, fine. Guess what day it is, [Name].” You ponder for a second, caught off guard by the question.

“Uhh.. Your birthday??”

He deadpans. “Not even close.”

“So what is it?” Satoru sits up, sliding back so his back leaned against the cool shaded trunk. A rare smile stretched across his face.

“It’s Sunday, silly. My day off.”

“Oh.” Well, that was anticlimatic. “So what are your plans again?”

He rises to his feet, holding out a hand for you. “Not sure yet. We could probably go exploring. You haven’t been around the compound much, right?”

You nodded, allowing Satoru to lead you away. Oak leaves swirled around as the two of you exited the courtyard.

“Is it okay for us to just leave like this?” You spoke after reaching the back entrance of the estate. All that separated you from nature now was a traditional brick wall, painted white and adorned with the clan’s signature roofing.

“Yes, it’s not a problem.” Satoru nods to two guards by the doors, who open the gates for you in sync. “They don’t like it when I leave unannounced, but it’s fine as long as I stay within the territory. This whole expanse belongs to the clan, by the way,” he adds, sensing your bewilderment.

“Don’t they need to know where we are, though?”

Your parents had always required you to disclose your intentions when you left the house. However, the difference now is that you are no longer in the city, but a significant distance away in the country.

Plus, the Gojo estate was so large due to their wealth that you could probably walk the whole day and still be on protected clan soil.

Satoru squeezes your hand twice, once for each of the promises you made to each other. It was a small gesture you started just a few days ago after your first mission, but Satoru had already made it a habit every time he sensed you were amiss. Funny enough, it seemed to ground him just as much as it grounded you.

One squeeze.

“It’s okay, I’ll be your good luck!”

“Okay then, Satoru, you better be my good luck from now on.”

And a second squeeze.

“One day when we are older, [Name] and Satoru will travel the world together and go to all the cities and countrysides.”

“Nothing will happen, [Name].” His tone was confident, and you already had a sense of what he would say next. “Because I’m the strongest! Wait, no — we’re the strongest! So there’s nothing we can’t face together.”

That was new, you thought. But you weren’t complaining. You just squeezed his hand back, twice, as you walked side-by-side along the stone path. The Gojo estate grew distant as you trekked along, feeling as though you could conquer the world hand-in-hand with your closest friend.

Soon enough, the scenery around you shifted from open fields into a dense but comfortable forest. The stone path became a dirt trail, worn down by travelers yet still blending seamlessly into nature. Sunlight filtered through the canopy above you, casting moving shadows against the trees as the wind spoke of its past. It was quiet, and you only heard the whistling breeze with occasional birdcalls and the rhythmical crunch of leaves under your feet.

“This is my favorite part of the compound,” Satoru declared.

“During the fall season, these leaves all turn red and orange and yellow. Like the courtyeard oak, but a whole forest.” His eyes glittered with admiration, and you couldn’t help but stare. The flickers of sun did wonders for his irises, exuding colors you would never find elsewhere.

“I’d love to see that,” you eventually responded. You shifted your conjoined hands so that only your pinkies remained together, hooked tightly as to not fall apart. “It’s part of the promise, obviously.”

“Okay, [Name].” Satoru sighed, though it wasn’t one of his usual brooding sighs. No wonder he was content here in this forest.

It was the only time he could be alone — though not today — and away from the rigid expectations imposed on him by jujutsu society. Here in the forest, he was just Satoru, a child full of love and wonder. You could see the difference in him. He was free.

“How are you, Satoru?”

He looks at you quizzically. “I’m fine.”

“No,” you state in a quieter voice. “Tell me the truth.”

You swing your linked arms back and forth as your eyes wandered about the treetops, bringing off the pressure to immediately answer. Satoru’s usual mask is still on, the one he wears around adults who view him as a deity rather than the fragile child that he is. You don’t want to see that mask and he knows it.

So when your gaze returns to your companion, you notice, truly, just how exhausted he is. His eyes, beautiful as they are, still harbored the morning sun. But there was something deeper within them, a hidden sadness that you wanted to eradicate and take for yourself, just so Satoru wouldn’t suffer anymore. Two thin, dark lines run outward from the inner corners of his eyes. He truly looked drained, and you instantly felt guilty for troubling him.

But Satoru also notices how your face falls during your realization.

“No, don’t do that,” he began.

“Do what.” Your eyes are downcast, looking anywhere but back at him.

“Blame yourself.” His grip tightens around your pinky. “It’s not your fault.”

And this is the part that really kills you inside. You were both the same — two children too naïve for the world — but one was born as a miracle to the world. One had to face imaginable hardships for the greed of power-hungry leders since the day he could wield jujutsu. Truly, it wasn’t your fault, or his, but you hated just how powerless you felt in the grand scheme of things. So you do what you have always done, which was to reach out and take his pain as your own. That’s what your mother always told you to do, anyways. Be the change you wish to see.

“Tell me, then. Let me help you.”

Satoru’s jaw tightens, a moment of conflict rising within as weighs the options he has. He could just tell you and let you in, but that means exposure. You would know. And nothing scares Gojo Satoru more than being seen. Yeah, that sounds better. He would keep to himself, even let himself rot from within, if it meant keeping your company. His own father told him so, anyways. Be strong. Stay strong. Emotions will get you killed.

But despite all his instincts screaming at him to stay concealed, to stay safe, he finds himself speaking.

“I’ve been having nightmares, [Name].” He paused, warily scanning the area. But there was no one, of course. No one but you. So, he pushes on, each word a cut to his throat. “Ever since that day.”

He doesn’t have to say more for you to understand. You open your mouth to respond, but he continues. “I would see the same image, night after night. It’s always you and Atsuko and the curse. I’m so sorry, [Name].” His voice drops to a whisper, apology almost taken by the wind.

You sync your steps with him as the forest darkens around you. The sun peeks out from behind a cloud, but the dense canopy restricts the once-abundant sunlight.

“What is there to apologize for? It’s not — “

“It is my fault.” Satoru cuts you off. “I accidently let a curse slip away during a mission a few months ago. No one knows it was me, but I still remember hearing it was a missing special grade and knew I could’ve stopped that from even happening. Imagine my horror, [Name],” his voice cracks, “when I find out that same curse almost killed you and Atsuko. And it wouldn’t even have been an issue if I had just done my job.”

You reach down and pick up a flower, inspecting it for imperfections before handing it to Satoru. It was a blue forget-me-not, almost identical to the one he had given you weeks ago. Satoru spins it between his fingers before depositing it for safekeeping in his pocket.

“It’s okay, really.” You slow your steps, making sure to step around any roots jutting into the path. “I’m still alive, aren’t I? Plus, that curse helped awaken my innate technique.” You realize the sheer absurdity of your words, but you had to enumerate the positives. “I’m still with you, Satoru. Everyone makes mistakes.”

“My mistake was about to cost you your life.” His guilt was prevalent in every word.

“But it didn’t.”

“But what if it did? I can’t live with the guilt knowing that I indirectly killed you.” You sigh, understanding his perspective and his fears perfectly. “I’ll be okay. As long as you’re here.”

And that seemed to calm him enough to even out his breathing. Satoru cared for you more than anything else, and your wellbeing was crucial to his own. Your grasp on his pinky tightens — once, twice — and he does the same back. The sun returns to its throne in the sky, illuminating the earth as it had done prior.

Though you wanted the day with Satoru to be happy and carefree, the nature of your lives as sorcerers meant constant pressure and fear of failure. But for now, in the forest, you two weren’t rising jujutsu sorcerers. You were two kids, [Name] and Satoru, who were going to spend the most out of their day off together.

The chance presented itself a few more minutes into the forest. On the left side of the main path, a smaller trail snaked its way into denser foliage. It may have just been the work of many generations of deer in the forest, but you were determined to follow it.

You tug Satoru in its direction, and his surprise is clear on his face when he notices the offside trail.

“I’ve never seen that before.” He states, and tries to drag you back along the main path. But you were stubborn, and continued to veer over. “We have time, so let’s go explore.”

“What if it’s dangerous?” Satoru was adament about not going on the creepy, seemingly abandoned trail.

“Then you can handle it, Gojo-sama.” You refute flawlessly. Satoru just sighs. You swear if his hair could turn any whiter, it would have.

Without further resistance, you lead him into the darker part of the forest. This trail is narrow and riddled with tree roots such that you had to walk single-file. Around you, the sounds of the forest diminish. You trip on a protruding root once or twice, and nervously laugh as Satoru stabilizes you. But soon enough, your exploration efforts had paid off. Light could be seen at the end of the suspicious trail with such brilliance that you had to use your other arm to shield your eyes. Sound seemed to return to the world, babbling and waning — was that water?

Stepping out of the forest trail was as if you had stepped into a whole new world. Directly ahead of you, a small stream wove itself around moss-covered rocks, curving perfectly between ridges like an artist’s master craft. Without wasting a second, you were pulling Satoru toward the glistening waters, laughing with pure wonder as a startled frog leapt away.

“Come on, let’s follow it!” You cheered, finally releasing his hand to skip ahead.

Satoru immediately feels the your absense, but the sight of you laughing and running along the brook was something he would commit to memory. He pats his pocket, ensuring the flower you had given him was still there, and takes off after you.

For a moment, you both cast the world aside. Nothing existed here — nothing but the two of you, fluttering and leaping about the stream like two newborn butterflies discovering their wings. There was something beautiful in your movements, graceful yet childlike, that captivated even the nature around you. A flood of sunshine chased after the two of you like the spotlight on a stage; a performance for no audience, yet it was the most authentic dance between two free souls.

“Slow down, [Name],” Satoru wheezed. But you kept running, kept moving as though you were light itself. So he would continue to chase after you. Satoru would chase after you for the rest of his life if he had to — even if it meant living in perpetual darkness — so long as he could see you shine.

ᝰ

Spring into summer, and the winter’s gone.

The moment Satoru wakes up, sweating but cold and bewildered, he lurches upright, grasping at his sheets. He stays that way for what felt like an eternity until he can breathe again, until his heart slows. A languid hand reaches up to rub the sleep from his eyes as he yawns, deciding he was finished with resting although specks of moonlight still danced around him.

Usually, he would be faced with nothing but darkness. If he were to turn on his bedside lamp — maybe to grab water or to go annoy a sleeping Suguru — he would see his simplistic, unremarkable room in the dorms at Tokyo Jujutsu High. Cheap, the clansmen at home would sneer, if they ever saw how their prized heir was living.

Minimal furniture was placed around the small room, like the standard desk with a lamp straight ahead and the wooden wardrobe right next to it. Random posters were spaced around the walls unevenly, an obvious lazy effort to cover the remaining white spaces.

This room was nothing like traditional layout in his clan’s estate. The only real ‘upgrade’ in this dorm would be his new bed, elevated off the floor just a few inches by a cheap wooden frame provided by the school.

“You should really decorate some more, Satoru,” his new friend had said on move-in day, leaning back dangerously far in the chair meant for his desk. “It’s like you’re living in an asylum.”

“Suguru’s right, y’know. Real bland in here.” Shoko took a big puff of her cigarette and flopped back onto his bed, watching the smoke wisp toward the ceiling as she slowly exhaled.

Satoru had only rolled his eyes, not caring much about his friends’ opinions of his room. It was just a place to live, like a house. Not a home.

His home had left him years ago.

Now, when Satoru glances around, still half covered by his blankets, he sees none of the familiar surroundings around him. Suguru isn’t in the room next to him, and Shoko isn’t in the room across from him. He’s not even in Tokyo anymore.

It’s summer break. He’s in his room at the Gojo estate, sleeping in the same room he grew up in. But it’s different now, and home had never felt really like home ever since.

I try to hold on to it, but the current’s too strong.

Because the truth is, you are gone. You have been gone for years, now traveling the world with your parents as they work. You could be in France, in Brazil, in Egypt — hell, Satoru would probably know if he checked the drawer where he’s been keeping your postcards.

The side with an image would be similar on each card: a beautiful sunset with a regional landmark. But on the other side, your handwriting would decorate the blank space.

When you left all those years ago, you had left with the promise to write to him from every new country you visited. And you kept your promise, because that’s just who you are.

At first, the scribbled messages were long and neatly packed into the available space, trailed by your signature and a small doodle. Satoru had to seek out a magnifying glass to decipher your words, which were typically a vivid description of every new city and quantifying how much you missed him.

Over time, though, the messages shrank in both length and detail. It was a very gradal change, one that could only be distinguished by a direct comparison. Yet as subtle as the differences may be, your eagerness in writing was beginning to fade.

Perhaps it was the distance finally getting to you.

A dark part of Satoru’s subconsciousness whispered that it’s because she’s forgetting you.

He doesn’t believe it, but then your image eventually starts to fade in his mind as well. In all the years you have been sending postcards to him, you have never once included a picture of yourself. So Satoru is left with only the hazy memory of you during that unforgettable summer.

Did you even have freckles, [Name]?

What hurt Satoru most was that he couldn’t even write back. By the time the postcard made it to you, your family would be long gone from the address to some other unreachable part of the world.

So you had urged him to not waste his time or money the night before you left, pinkies intertwined with the solemn swear to not forget you.

Satoru laughs, the clear sound a stark contrast to the turmoil within him. He remembers all too well.

If I could jump into the past, I’d only change one thing.

He remembers the morning you had broken the shared routine by leaving your room early. He remembers the dull expression on your face that day, all of the usual light and spirit gone from your eyes. He remembers your long talk with Atsuko behind closed doors and how you avoided him for the rest of the day, choosing to stay silent and deflecting every attempt at questioning. He remembers how it stung to find you missing from the compound at first, only to be sobbing like there was no tomorrow by the secret creek you two had discovered together.

And he remembers, all too well, too painfully well, how badly it hurt his heart to hold you tight as you cried into him. How hard it was for you to get your words out while choking on your own despair, and how those words had shattered his world just as much as it did yours.

Nobody knows what it’s like to be us.

“No. No,” Satoru had said. There had been no certainty nor waver in his voice, for he was fully numb in disbelief. “Tell me you’re lying, [Name].”

But you didn’t; you couldn’t. Not when you had listened to your parents on the phone and had the same reaction that Satoru was having now. Not when you finally realized the weight of their words and what it meant to your future.

The only thing you could tell Satoru was a string of apologies, muttered fast and frantic, maybe more so for yourself than for him.

“M’so sorry, Satoru, so sorry,” you slurred, drunk on your own tears. “I hate them so much. S’not fair,” you gripped him tighter, “that I have to leave the second I finally feel like I belong. When I finally feel like I’m someone. And they’ve never cared about me before, so why start now? It’s not fair, Satoru, I was happy, I was really happy.”

Satoru buried his face into your hair, though your usually comforting scent did nothing to soothe him. He felt like his chest was caving in with each of your cries, like the weight of the universe had finally become too much. The news that you’re leaving drove a dull knife into him and ripped him in two. He didn’t want to let them take you from the nook you carved into his heart in just one short summer.

“You can’t leave me, oh, what will I even do,” he breathed shakily. “What about the higher-ups, surely they can do something?”

You shook your head. “Already asked Atsuko. Said I’m still legally with my parents, so they can’t do anything.”

Satoru didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. Of course the higher-ups would fail to interfere when it actually mattered.

It crept up on him slowly, the sinking realization that what you’re saying was actually going to be reality. Even though you had only been at the Gojo estate for a few months, you had grown on him so gently yet tightly that you would undoubtedly take a part of him with you when you left.

“When do you leave?”

Your eyes squeezed shut tightly as you braced yourself to tell him. When you spoke, it was the quietest and the most broken he had ever heard you.

“Tomorrow at dawn.”

For a moment, Satoru swore his heart had stopped beating.

There was so much left for the two of you to do, promises to fulfill, places to explore. You haven’t even seen the red forest with snow yet. But come tomorrow’s sunrise, and you’ll be well on your way to somewhere so far even his six eyes cannot reach.

And lately, a strange parasite had began to rot within him. It grew every time you would smile at him, feasting on the new warmth spreading through his veins. He even told Atsuko how it dug its claws into him to see you cry, and his cousin couldn’t help but laugh.

“Tell her before it’s too late. She clearly means a lot to you, Satoru.”

Love you like I mean it, just because I can.

So he told you, even if he feared it was already too late. He whispered it to you as you were pressed into him, shaking slightly with hurt and pain and the regret of losing everything you have ever truly loved.

“You’re so unfair, Satoru.”

Without another word, you leaned up and pressed a slow kiss to his cheek. It made the ache in your heart worse, and you could not distinguish between your tears and Satoru’s. They ran across your cheeks like windswept rivers, salt corroding your heart straight through your skin.

The rest of the day was spent together in tender silences and quiet acknowledgement.

And when nighttime came, gently enveloping the land in its tender embrace, Satoru teleported the two of you to a familiar cliffside. It was on the mountain where you made your first pinky promise and watched as fireworks filled the sky.

That perfect night felt like an eternity ago, but it was a crude reminder that even eternities come to an end.

You hooked your pinky around his again and made one last pinky promise.

“I swear, to Satoru, that I will always write to him. And I will come back. No matter how long that takes.”

Though there weren’t any fireworks this time, the night still felt as special as the first time. You laid your head onto Satoru’s shoulder, silently watching the tranquil night view together under the same moon.

When Satoru woke up alone at noon the next day, half expecting to find you still asleep in your room, it was Atsuko that spoke first.

“She wanted the cliffside, a happy memory, to be the last one before she returns.”

He didn’t specify just how long it would be, but the unspoken answer lingered, heavy, in the air.

And yet it wasn’t until Satoru received the first postcard from you in Italy that he finally accepted the true distance between you.

You’re always going to be someone that I want.

Back in the present, Satoru decides to go for a morning run to pass the time.

The sunrise is a perfect mosaic of colors splashed together like paint on a canvas, and he wonders if you saw the same view when you left.

(Knowing you, there was no doubt you did so.)

He thinks of you all the time. Like how you should have been classmates and shared the title of ‘the strongest’ with him.

Since classes were not in session, Suguru sends a text suggesting the group going to try a new coffee shop that had opened in Shibuya. Shoko declines, saying something along the lines of “productive me time.”

But Satoru accepts, thinking a stroll would help keep his mind off of you.

So half an hour later, the two are physically off to the heart of Tokyo. Emotionally, though, one of them still wasn’t quite present.

Suguru’s expression, upon noticing his companion’s uncharacteristic blank gaze, shifts to one of slight concern.

“Hey, you’re off today. You sleep okay?”

“Huh — oh, I’m fine,” Satoru mumbles.

Suguru doesn’t buy his lie, but chooses not to call him out. He merely continues walking along, occasionally glancing back to check on him.

The truth was that for some reason, you — or the idea of you — had not left Satoru’s mind since he woke up hours ago in the middle of the night. Sure, he would entertain some quick thoughts about you every couple of days (or more frequently than that), but for you to take up his whole day was new.

Thinking of you is not necessarily a bad thing, but Satoru does feel a dull pain in his chest each time he does so, even years later.

“We’re almost there. Should be right across the street.” Suguru speaks calmly, eyes glued to his phone where a map directs them. “I see it. It’s the one with the girl sitting alone outside.”

Sure enough, there was a girl sitting alone with a coffee in front of the shop. She brings it up to her mouth and flinches comically, most likely due to the temperature. Satoru almost laughs, but then he recognized your face.

I’m always — forever — running back to you

“Wait,” Satoru realizes with a start, heart beginning to race. “WAIT, [NAME]!”

You looked older and your hair was different, but the girl with the coffee was unmistakably you.

“Who’s [Name]?” Suguru quizzes, but Satoru isn’t there to answer.

He had already taken off, bounding through traffic and people alike toward the coffee shop.

Suguru clicks his tongue before following him.

This idiot. He’d be Flatoru by now without his infinity.

If I turn around, you’re running back to me

You look up from your coffee at the call of your name. Although you don’t recognize the voice calling out, you feel familiarity in its tone.

The busy streets of Shibuya seem the same as ever, crowded and bustling with people always in a rush. You start to think you made it up, that your mind was playing tricks on you, because there was no way he would be here…

But then, out of the crowd, you spot a figure hurrying toward you.

Snow-white hair, navy jacket, and oh-so gorgeous eyes.

Oh, heavens, it truly was him.

Satoru is here.

Your Satoru.

And before you could even call out for him, he has you wrapped in his embrace, jerking you out of your chair so abruptly that you have to take a moment to recover your balance. His arms shake, gripping you so tightly that you can’t breathe, but you don’t mind nor seem to notice at all. It’s so comforting, so warm, so right — that you forget, momentarily, where you were.

No, that’s not true.

Despite being away for years, you melt instantly into Satoru’s arms, not just because you were overjoyed to see him, but because you were finally home.

A few steps away, Suguru finally catches up to his friend, seeing as he had finally stopped his wild sprint. But when he sees you and the delicate way Satoru holds you in both his arms and his gaze, he understands. Suguru turns and ducks into a crepe shop next door, deciding to give you privacy and get a treat as a reward.

Satoru’s hands linger on you as he pulls away, as if you would disappear if he let go. Now that you’re getting a good look at your childhood friend, you notice how much he’s truly changed in the years you’ve been apart.

Gone were the chubby cheeks you used to pull at, replaced by a slim jawline and perfect complexion. Satoru’s hair is longer, a cute fringe peeking over his dark sunglasses. He’s grown significantly taller and stronger and more handsome, but you still recognize traces of the boy you fell in love with years ago.

Meanwhile Satoru is admiring you too, seeing how you matured and grew and now radiate such warmth. You used to be the same height, but now he easily towered over you. Satoru notices how you have to tilt your head up and peek through your lashes to see him and gulps.

He tilts his head just the slightest angle, and suddenly the drifting sunlight reflects in his irises perfectly.

In a flash, you’re younger again, holding onto his hands as you run together, laughing, without a care in the world. You’re falling, again and again, lost in the eternity in his eyes, shining and perfect like liquid diamonds in the sky.

“[Name],” he murmurs, voice almost lost to the bustling city. But you hear him. You always do. He says your name with such care, such affection, pronouncing each syllable like he was crafting pearls with his tongue. “[Name], it’s really you.”

You laugh, the sound angelic to his ears. You don’t even realize you’re crying until he’s swiping under your eyes with his thumb. Each movement is loving and measured, slow and patient.

“I pinky promised you, Satoru.” Your voice is bright, but it wavers when you inhale slightly.

“Pinky promised me what?”

“That I would come back.”

To you.

You don’t say those two words, but the whole world pauses for the two of you. In fact, there is nothing in existence except for the two of you, magnets in a field inexplicable to science but nevertheless always drawn to each other. Everyone in Tokyo that day swears that right then, the morning sun had shined just a little bit brighter.

You were so, unbelievably thankful that a gut feeling told you to go get coffee from the new shop today. Must be your lucky day.

Cerulean eyes meet yours, both giddy and nervous at the same time. You almost pinch Satoru to make sure that this isn’t a dream.

“Are you free right now, [Name]?” Satoru’s entire body heats up, a stupidly cute smile growing on his face.

You nod, mirroring his expression like always.

“Let’s get something to eat, um,” he looks around, “coffee?”

“I just had coffee,” you tease.

Satoru looks down and sees your empty cup on the table, long forgotten since his arrival. He laughs sheepishly.

“What about crepes?”

You grin, though your nerves still flutter dangerously when you look at him. How could you not?

“Okay.”

“Okay!”

However, Satoru remains blissfully unaware that you saw his black-haired friend walk into the crepe shop earlier. He’s in for a surprise, you think, already up to no good.

So you walk, pinkies interlinked, with your childhood best friend down the streets of Tokyo. You may be more, but who knows? Labels are unnecessary for two souls so deeply intertwined that they may be seen as one.

But for now, you both bask in each other’s familiar presence, two sides of a puzzle finally merging into art.

—end.

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