he gets extremely territorial of you. unlike a casual form of petty jealousy, jason ! kuna wants to drive an axe into the head of any man who thinks they have a chance with you. if a guy even talks to you, jason ! kuna is there snarling behind him with his machete in hand. later that night, he fucks you like he’s reclaiming you again, having a knife pressed against your throat, (flat end pressed against you with the tip pressing lightly to your clavicle). his other hand holds your jaw and mouths 'mine' while you cum underneath him.

if you're upset the price will be paid by everyone you've come in contact within the past couple hours. if you cry, he's gone, and you wake up later to the news that your ex has been found in a lake. your boss that grabbed you and yelled at you now has MISSING headlines on tv. a guy that perved on you at a bar? found in pieces. and sukuna walks in later, leaning down into your face and tilting his head innocently as if asking; “better now?” he huffs a laugh through his nose at your pouty face, covered in blood and smelling like smoke.

if the reason you're upset is because of him, he gets moody and sits in your room, watching you with a scowl on your face and expects you to forgive him. usually, if it's for something like biting you too hard during sex or tearing one of your pretty panties, you'll forgive him and let him eat you out all night as part of his apology.

but if it's for something more serious, like... well, murder, he'll get annoyed that you're mad he's protecting you and will either: disappear on you for several days in your shithole of a city so you don't have the comfort of his protection (he's secretly watching you the whole time, but you don't know that because it wouldn't work if you did) or he'll kidnap you, take you to his secret cabin and make you spend as long as it takes for you to forgive him in that house, imposing his presence onto you. when you do forgive him, he fucks you to celebrate!

sex is quite dramatic for him. he'll grab your face mid-fuck and mimes a camera click, he'll tie your wrists with whatever he can find, push your thighs open with his gloves still on. fucks you in front of a mirror just so he can point and sneer at how wrecked you look.

he plays games with you in bed too. his personal favorite is getting you so wet that his cock practically slips between your folds, then rubs his cock along your pussy and asshole and pushes his dick into whichever hole his tip catches on. he also likes to see how hard he can push you, whether its by fucking you until you're nearly unconscious from exhaustion, or choking you till your vision sparkles, or shoving his fingers or cock into your mouth as far as they go before you gag. he notes your limits in mind and is masterful in pushing you right till your brink every time.

he's quite mocking in bed, but his favorite form of it is to mimic your moans. you’ll be breathy and desperate like, “mmn! sukuna, please slow down- it's fuck- too big!” and he’ll mouth back your high pitched whines and babbling back at you in a ridiculous, over-the-top porn sounds just to mess with you. then he’ll immediately flip you over and rail you so hard the mattress slides. you can't walk properly the next day.

see more in my jjk masterlist

your steps are slow as you waddle from one corner of the shop onto the next, making your way to the back. everything's been set up for the workers coming in the morning, every last plate and cup washed, and yet, your eyes still scan around the place to see if everything's accounted for.

you're already a liability enough as it is, the last thing you need is nanami coming over to you with any complaints.

but everything's checked off, you come to realize upon further inspection. it's only then that you do quick work of untying your apron, a quiet sigh of relief leaving your lips at undoing the tight knot. it's quickly shoved into your locker, replaced instead by the cozy fleece sweater you'd worn on your way here.

a cold gust of air hits your face as soon as you step out of the warmth of the coffee shop, breaths coming out in little wisps. the door's handle's freezing underneath your fingertips, leaving you fumbling and trembling to try to get it locked. it takes you a minute to get it done, keys threatening to slip from your grasp, but you manage to get it done.

it's not far enough into the year yet to have snow filling up the streets, white flurries fluttering through the air in a dance, but it's still cold.

sukuna's leaning against the passenger seat of the car by the time you've finally finished locking up, holding the door open. "thanks for coming to pick me up," you greet when you're close enough, teeth chattering against each other.

"told you i'd be here when you needed me," sukuna merely shrugged, ushering you inside.

you step inside the car, immediately welcomed by a blasting heater and the noise of cocomelon blasting from the backseat. a little kid's up on a car seat, you come to realize upon looking back, sticky fingers swiping across the screen of his tablet. he hasn't even noticed you come in yet, or if he has, he hasn't made any move to acknowledge you just yet.

his eyes are glued down to the screen next to him, lips parted as he mouths the song playing at all volume. you find your gaze lingering onto the kid—wondering if that's what your little girl would look like. if she'd have sukuna's bright pink hair, if she'd look the same as this little kid sitting in the backseat.

"so uh…" you take a pause at that moment, trying to figure out how to word your question. how to figure out if your daughter had any other siblings you should keep in mind. "how many kids do you have scattered around?"

the air in the car settles tense. sukuna's fingers tighten against the steering wheel, knuckles a ghastly white. even the little boy's tablet buffers at the sudden loss of connection, everything completely quiet. you can hear yourself gulp. "the fuck are you going on about?" you feel a shiver go down your spine.

you quickly realize how the question sounds, a nervous laugh leaving your lips, "i mean i'm not judging, y'know, i'm sure you have money to provide and stuff," you quickly jump to explain, "just wondering, is all. how many kids you've.. umm… had and how many siblings our baby has."

in your defense, it was difficult to think otherwise, to be fair. the little boy in the back bore a striking resemblance to the man behind the wheel. from the pink spiky tufts of hair down to the same mannerisms, the way that his smile stretches from one cheek to the other.

"yuuji's not my kid." you mentally face palm at the realization, sinking into the leather seat. "he's my brother's. i'm stuck with babysitting duty while he's out on a date." despite stating it as a duty, it seems like anything but.

"oh, uh, i see." you settle for being quiet for the rest of the ride, lips tightly pressed together. the conversation runs through your mind in repeat, unrelenting as if your own brain took amusement in your embarrassment. a grimace settles on your face, your gaze focused out on the window.

the highway, much like the previous rides you've shared with sukuna around this time of night, is quiet. especially now that the temperature's starting to drop, leaves blowing in the wind and cold air seeping in through the windows despite the heater. it's a calm drive in spite of how awkward you're still feeling: sukuna's letting people cut him off without throwing a tantrum, he's going the speed limit, while yuuji's—moving to the front?

"uncle kuna!" the little boy piped up, tablet immediately tossed on the carpet underneath his feet. the song continues in the background while yuuji's head pops into the front, pointing a chubby finger at one of the many fluorescent restaurant banners lining up the edge of the highway, "i'm hungry!"

an exasperated huff escapes the man next to you, lowering the child's finger with his own. "just passed the exit," he muttered, speeding past the array of restaurants. they were quickly replaced by a gas station on every corner, prices nearly making your eyes pop out.

"but i'm starvinggggg," the little boy drawls out, face contorted into one of agony, "please uncle kuna, i could eat a horseeee," he continues to whine, pounding his little fists against the leather next to him.

"you ate a pack of cookies before we got here," sukuna deadpanned, making no effort to move any closer to get off the highway.

"please, please, please, ple-” yuuji gets about halfway into it before sukuna relents (either that or he simply gets tired of yuuji blabbering in his ear), "fine!"

the little boy takes what he can gets, a victorious smile immediately replacing his earlier frown. he picks up his tablet and goes back to swinging his feet as if nothing happened in the first place.

sukuna turns to look over at you, "what d'you feel like eating? burgers, pizza, wings? pho?" he lists off, slowing down as he approaches the ramp.

"i don't get paid until next week, i'll just eat something at home," you shrug off his concern, even if the idea of reheating a bowl of instant ramen was less than appetizing. you want him to leave the subject alone, and yet you're betrayed at that very moment. by your own belly, no less.

"im not asking if you have money to pay. i'm asking what you want to eat," he continues to press on, merging with ease into the empty street to turn right.

"i could go for a burger then."

"good, i know just the place then."

the diner's parking lot is deserted when sukuna pulls into the parking lot, the inside of the place even more so. only a few servers run around the back, trying to wait out their shift while a couple stragglers still cling onto the last hour before closing time. music plays off a rundown jukebox in the corner,

yuuji scampered off the leather seats once the doors were open, running across the parking lot over to the entrance. "damn brat's gonna make me go grey at twenty," he grumbled to himself, following after the kid. a bell dings loudly once the three of you step foot into the place, one of the waitresses looking over.

the inside feels more cozy than you expect, red leather seats worn down with age, peeling at the sides, a couple black and white photographs decorating the walls. the smell of coffee is still prominent at this time of night, drops pitter pattering as a fresh batch brews into the jug. the few people that are inside share a drink, talking amongst themselves and laughing.

"yuuji, hi pumpkin!" a blonde haired woman approaches from behind the counter, a bright smile on her face as she skates in your direction.

"yuki!" he beams up, sprinting in her direction at full speed. an 'oof' escapes from her lips, barely managing to stay standing as the boy tosses himself onto her. yuji wraps his arms around her legs, "i made a new friend today!"

"yeah?" yuuji nods his head like a malfunctioning bobble head, eager to talk about the little girl he'd met at the playground. "she's bossy but she's nice and she's got this hammer! it's amazing and and and…."

yuki leads the three of you over to a booth in the back, lights dimmed down for what seemed to be a romantic atmosphere, away from any of the other patrons. she's quick at dispersing menus on the table before pulling out a notepad and a pen. "alright, what can i get you started with?"

"juice! and chicky nuggies!" yuuji beams up, a toothy grin on his face.

"water." sukuna speaks up at nearly the same time, the little boy's grin fading just as quickly as it came. he clears his throat, looking over at a smiling yuki, "watered down juice."

"i'll take a water and the first burger, please," you speak up, handing the menu back once she jotted it down. sukuna orders a coke for himself along with a bacon burger, passing the menu back.

not even a minute passes by after yuki's left that sukuna's phone starts ringing in his pocket. at first, he ignores it. chalking it up to one of his frat brothers asking him to take some beer after they ran out. then, it rings again. attracting the attention of the patrons nearby.

he decides to pick up on the third time the call picks up again, immediately greeted with jin's scolding as soon as he did. you barely pick up on a, "he's not at a fucking party, trust me," before sukuna's standing up, making his way across to talk in private.

you're stuck with a very obvious yuuji trying to pretend like he's not listening in, the little boy inching closer and closer up until he was at the far edge of the booth. he barely manages to catch himself before he ends up falling, his fingers gripping onto the table in front of him.

"so, yuuji, what grade are you in?" you almost cringe at how old the question makes you seem, at how predictable it makes you. it's not enough to distract him completely, but at least, he's turned back to look at you.

"i'm in kindergarten, teach says i'm one of the fastest boys she's seen!" luckily enough for you, yuki decides to bring your food over in that moment. if there's something you've learned in these past twenty minutes, yuuji itadori doesn't play when it comes to his food—immediately scarfing down his fries.

sukuna looks tense as he speaks to whoever it is on the other side of the line, his shoulders hunched across his back. one hand holds the phone tightly against his ear, knuckles turning white from how hard his grip is, while the other is vividly flying in mid air. slowly growing more and more annoyed as the conversation progresses.

"are you uncle kuna's girlfriend?" the question makes you nearly choke on your burger, tears in your eyes from how hard you're coughing. sukuna even turns away from his phone call to look over at the commotion, a brow raised. you shrug it off, waiting for him to turn back around before you answered yuuji.

"no, i'm not his girlfriend," you sputter out, taking a large sip of water to clear your throat. wiping the tears away from your eyes, you notice yuuji's expression drop for half a second, "you're really pretty though. you should date him!"

if only if it was that easy. "yeah, we'll see about that."

you look up from your burger to see sukuna approaching, watching him shove his phone back into his jeans with more force than you deemed necessary. should you say something? or should you stay quiet? before you can think much of it, you finish chewing the last bit of your burger and ask, "everything okay?"

"everything's good, just some shit with my brother," he shrugs, reaching over to grab his burger off the table. it's not your place to push, you know that. but still, you can't bring yourself to completely ignore the edge in his voice. sukuna takes a large bite, tomatoes and lettuce flying onto the plate underneath. sauces splatter and smear across his lips, quickly wiped away with a napkin though.

"you sure?" you're prodding now, but sukuna doesnt comment on that. doesn't comment on the way yuuji's stopped tapping away at his tablet too.

"mhm. all good." any other protests were cut off by him saying these were the best burgers in town, that yuki's failed hopes and dreams were the best seasoning to be offered. you couldn't exactly disagree, the burger was pretty damn good. even if it sounded just slightly depressing.

he leaned over, wiping off a drop of ketchup clinging onto your lower lip with the pad of his thumb. his touch is gentle as it swipes across, collecting every last smidge before he brings his thumb up to his mouth. all the while, he doesn't quit staring at you, lips wrapped around his thumb. it tastes like artificial tomatoes and your lip gloss.

the air between the two of you feels more charged, much more intimate. you hate that you're the one to look away first, the one to give him any sign that he's affecting you. a stupid smile forms on his face but he doesn't comment on it, opting to eat his fries instead.

"so, what'd the baby end up being?" oh that's right. in between the mess with satoru and the previous months you spent ghosting prioritizing your mental health, he'd been left completely out of the loop.

"oh, i don't think i ever told you that you were right, baby turned out to be a girl," you mention casually, like you're talking about nothing more than just the weather. you take a large sip of your coke, slurping on the last drops clinging onto the bottom of the glass.

however, for sukuna, it came as something more than casual. he'd been halfway into dipping a fry into ketchup, the fry in question now submerged while he took in the news. the ketchup traveled up his finger the longer he stood still. "and how's she doing? everythin' all good?"

"she's doing good, doc's said she's growing past her percentile, which is a given, considering you know…" you vaguely gesture to the massive man in front of you. sukuna merely lets out a hum, proud of that newfound information.

"you got any pics of her?" did you ever. your collection of ultrasounds had been growing steadily since your first appointment, each one showing just how much your little girl had been growing in between. she's up to the size of a pineapple by now, more active than she's ever been and her heartbeat at 165.

sliding out the printed ultrasounds you had tucked away in your purse, you hand them over. she didn't look like anything other than a blob, really, at the beginning. anything other than a simple dot in your uterus. slowly and slowly growing into her surroundings as the weeks went by, each ultrasound showing something a new development.

from her facial features starting to take place to her fingers and toes taking shape.

you were lucky enough not to have any complications as of yet, to not have to worry about anything other than trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in. it was a relief, a surge of luck that you didn't take for granted with each appointment you went for.

"want anything else? they got brownies, ice cream, sha—”

"i'll take an ice cream," you're quick to chime in before he recites the menu, mouth almost salivating at the taste. it's been a while since you've allowed yourself to indulge in anything sweet, even giving up your precious coffee in favor of keeping the baby safe. it wouldn't hurt to do it this once, right?

little yuuji takes the opportunity to steal a couple spoonfuls from your ice cream, smearing it all over his face in the process.

"come on, your dad's asking me to take you home." sukuna does quick work of putting yuji in the car, ensuring that his seatbelt's put on before opening the door up for you. his earlier anger's dissipated if only the slightest bit, less tense in the way he walks back to the driver's seat.

the little boy looks disappointed that his night out's coming to an end, arms tightly wound across his chest. "you promised i'd spend the night," he pouted, sending his leg flying across the seat, nearly pushing sukuna halfway onto the wheel. the man nearly scowled that a boy half his size pushed him that far, quickly readjusting in his seat. "choso promised he'd play guitar."

"choso can promise a lot of shit," sukuna mutters under his breath, looking over to be met with a glare from your direction. yuuji only pouts even harder if that's possible, bottom lip sticking out like he's holding back a river of tears.

"maybe next time you'll get to have choso play for you," you speak up, voice soft as you speak to the child. the assurance makes him sniffle, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand. the sight tugs at your heartstrings. sukuna knows better by now.

"don't promise him anything. he's gotta be raised to know life's full of disappointments," his response comes out a scoff, completely serious. you almost can't believe you're having a kid with him.

"sukuna, he's five," you deadpan, eyes narrowed as you stare at him.

"so?"

you roll your eyes, turning to look back at yuuji. lightly placing a hand on his knee, trying to keep in mind he still didn't know you all too well. "you'll get to see choso again and you can ask him then."

yuuji doesn't stay dejected for long, nodding his head. "yeah, and we'll get to play mario kart and beat uncle kuna's grump butt!"

a reflection of sukuna (well, without the various tattoos across his face) stands at the door, arms folded across his chest. he's a lot smaller, less bulky than his brother, and wearing a green cardigan. the man pushes up his thin wire frame glasses with his pointer, a ragged sigh of relief leaving his lips.

it's as if sukuna had suddenly decided to step a library and decide to take the part, dressing up like an orientation guide. yuuji makes a show of putting on his shoes at a turtle's pace, slowlyy shoving them back on before getting out of the car.

sukuna steps out right after, hands pushed deep into the pockets of his jeans. you figure it's not your place to intrude. you stay in the car. yuuji’s feet trudge over to where his father’s standing, the two men getting into conversation that only lasts for a minute or so.

yuuji begrudgingly gives sukuna a small wave, a frown adorning his features. "bye, nice lady!" he calls out, giving you a wave as well. you return the gesture, watching his father lead him inside. sukuna doesn't take off until the door slams shut, until he's certain yuuji's safe inside.

the drive back to your dorm is one he's recognized by now, maneuvering through each street with ease. a couple students stumble across the lot, despite the harsh winter winds blowing against their skin and rattling the tree branches. he pulls up into an available spot, switching the gear onto park. you don't shift away from your spot.

and he doesn't make a move to unlock the doors just yet. "it was nice going out with you," sukuna speaks up, breaking through the silence. you wanted to argue that it wasn't a date, but you figured for a guy who was probably used to 'coffee and study dates' as a prelude, this was practically a michelin star restaurant type of dinner date.

even if he'd spent most of it talking on the phone.

sukuna didn't do nervous, didn't do this type of asking out. wasn't sure if he asked someone out since middle school and even then, it'd been to play a joke on some girl in the courtyard. "and i want to get to know you and shit, at your pace," he continues, eyes directly locked in on yours.

you didn't know him. he didn't know you. the most you knew was what he sounded like when he'd cum, that he struggled with calculus, what kind of reputation he carried himself throughout campus with, but when it came to what kind of coffee he'd drink in the mornings, what kind of music he preferred when he wasn't blasting the frat's party playlist, that kind of knowledge was lost on you.

once again, not exactly the ideal person you thought you'd be having a kid with. the two of you were essentially strangers tied by one night of passion. (if you could even call it that much)

you bit down on your lip, avoiding his gaze. the effort that he was putting into being a good dad wasn't a detail that you missed, an effort into trying to be a better person from who he was. but you still didn't know how to see him as anything other than the man who so coldly told you to get rid of it. sukuna can practically his heartbeat pounding against his chest like a drum, thump thump thump, with each second you stay quiet.

your gaze drifts downwards, attention pinned down on one cookie crumb scattered on the car's carpet. "you didn't want anything to do with me." it doesn't come with an edge, doesn't come hurtful, it just comes out as a simple fact.

the look of disgust on his face at the mere notion of even having a connection to you just months back still haunted you, still made you feel like a fool for even considering his words. "i just don't know what made you change your mind. why we can't just be strangers and simply.. cooperate on parenting."

that would be the best solution, wouldn't it? never talk to each other unless it was about your daughter's well-being, never having to see each other unless it was for a designated pick-up. but sukuna's never been known to be a selfless man. "then let me prove it to you," "let me prove i'm being serious about all this shit, we can take it as slow, as fast as you want. just give me a chance." if you didn't know any better, you'd almost think he was begging.

"….fine."

“Why are you looking at?” you murmured, facing him, face against the pillows.

“I just don’t get it.” Choso tilted his head, dark strands of his loose hair falling. A hoarse hum echoed the room.

He shifted closer, mattress dipping down his weight. He reached out, movements of a clumsy predator, not sure what’s going to hunt in the first place. His fingers tainted with a story of violence throughout the years, touched the crook of your neck, pressing his pads.

“Understand what?” Your eyes followed that trace of his fingers, your breath hitching.

“Whatever is this.” He mapped every expression of your face, didn’t matter if it was subtle. “The way your eyes dilate, the faster your heart beats when I touch. Despite all the things I’ve done, defies reason.”

He pressed closer. The scent of blood and something distinct, earthly, clinged to him. He was a creature of instincts, and that instinct demanded him to pull you closer and cage you in his arms, consuming the space between the two of you.

“Maybe it’s not supposed to make sense, Choso.” You breathed as your fingers intertwined in his hair.

The human part of him craved for warmth, pushing away the cold and calculated ways of a curse. He pressed his lips to the spot of your neck, where your pulse beats the hardest, entirely mesmerized by the enchant of human biology.

He didn’t know how to be gentle. All he knows is how to attack with no mercy. His lips caressed the soft skin and the hands that previously were used merely for violence, were cautious, as if he was touching a glass of water.

But the longer he stayed, the longer the logic became blurrier.

The touch of his lips, reached the cotton tank top. His hands, touched from beneath the cloth your flesh, palpitating. He pulled it up, seeing the naked bosom, in the middle, where is your heart, he got closer to the erected nipple. His opened his mouth, clumsily, took all of your breast inside.

“Choso…” The whisper is barely audible.

When his lips met yours, there was nothing hesitating about it. He met your eyes to the kiss you desperate. The broad palms, grabbed you by the hair, to indulge to your mouth even deeper.

The heat radiating down his cock was immense. The bulge pressed against your pussy.

“You make me forget everything else.” He groaned.

The logical part of your brain turned off the moment Cho’s shifted all his weight over you. Not only his weight was the one overwhelming you, it was the heat. Choso freed the bulge, slowly. All the blood going down there. The shaft aching in yearning on your thigh, pulsating. Your clit begged for the friction.

Your cunt begged for the frantic, thrumming pressure of his shaft.

“You’re shaking.” His breath hit against your skin. Your toes curled.

You couldn’t formulate a response. Needing an anchor, your hands flew up, latching onto his broad shoulders. You arched your back, lookin desperately the touch of his hips.

When your bodies slotted together, a ragged grasp came out of your throat. Your cunt, swallowing the thick cock. In one moment, Choso shifted his weight, pinning your legs against your chest, grip tight.

You were drowning in his crushing as he begin to grind against your swollen, damp walls. Every single nerve of your body was concentrating in the simmer, tortuous, peace with each thrust, pinning you down, focused on the pressure he was applying.

you blinked, swinging the door open and motioning inside. “yes, get in here.”

it was true, that hiromi higuruma would rarely ask for help. hell, he was the top student in ever institution he attended—and even as a jujutsu sorcerer did he rarely ask for help. he was a damn genius.

a genius in academics and harnessing skill, that is. not so much when it comes to managing time and communicating within his marriage to you (another lawyer…and the only love of his life).

but when kusakabe asked him to defeat some sketchy curse by the shinjuku train station, and got hit by a type of aphrodisiac pollen that radiated from said curse, he just had to ask you for help. you lived near and maybe… just maybe..? you were definitely smarter than him, but for old time’s sake?

he knows he shouldn't expect you to say yes, to help him. because look at the state of your marriage—or rather former marriage. the two of you led stressful lives as attornies, with hiromi being a criminal defense attorney and yourself being legal counsel for a major bank downtown. however, even despite being together for years and being friends with each other for longer, time only made the two of you distant.

and before he knew it, he found himself in court for himself, signing away his marriage and you. then came the case with oe, his sudden jujutsu abilities and the culling games, and now?

he didn’t realize how much he missed you—fucking needed you—until he was in the face of one of the—if not, the, most terrifying sorceror of all time.

but one thing’s for sure: hiromi was surely out of his goddamn mind the moment his body moved and made a beeline to your apartment. he still loves you. he still wants to wake up to see you every morning… he misses you so much and regrets how much he wasn’t selfish for once and lost you because of it.

now here he was, utterly intoxicated from the aphrodisiac ability the curse had, and minutes away from rutting into the damn couch.

you held him by the arm of his blazer, and sat him down in your couch. hiromi’s eyes traveled all over your body; you wore some loungewear, an oversized shirt he’s pretty sure was his, with no bra, and realllll pretty shorts that make your thighs look so good. your hair and skin were damp, and you smelled fucking divine.

was that the vanilla he liked? the nice vanilla body oil you’d lather on your perfect smooth skin every night before bed, the same oil he could get drunk off of every time the two of you slept together.

god, and your tits? your cute breasts bouncing with every step you took and your nipples protruding from the cotton of your shirt. it took everything in him not to pounce on you, despite being a 36-year-old man with a job, responsibilities, and such. but he sure as hell missed laying his head on your chest when he finished a long day of work.

was it the pollen that was making him act this way? potentially. he’s not one to be that much of a pervert (when it comes to you, at least).

but fuck, you looked ravishing… and hiromi felt like a horny college boy again. it was damn embarrassing but you’re the only person who’d be the most understanding… considering his current circumstance.

“are you okay?”

“i’m fine…”

you narrowed your eyes and tapped your foot on the floor. your apartment was dim—lit by the ecofriendly lamps you got accustomed to using since hiromi was enthusiastic about eco-conscious appliances. you felt your face go hot—embarrassed and nervous. so much so that you felt your heartbeat fasten.

“how’s work?” you winced, wondering if it was really valid to ask about that considering hiromi looked absolutely ruined.

“fine. how’s life? how’s mochi?” mochi was the cat you both raised until you gained custody of said cat.

you exhaled sharply. “she’s fine…i’m fine. she's being watched by a friend of mine today.”

it was silent between the both of you before the two of you decided to suddenly speak. to cut the suffocating silence before you could impulsively kick him out for invading your ‘me-time’.

“what’s going on?” “w-were you doing anything?”

fuck.

your eyebrows pinched together and your lips pursed. “what? hiromi?”

he hummed, breath shaky. “i’m—hahh—just curious. you looked like you were potentially busy lounging around considering—“ he eyed your body and nodded, blinking furiously.

it felt awkward; the tension could be cut with a damn chainsaw from how loud the silence between the two of you was, so to speak. it was heavy, and it was killing you.

before, you’d have conversations for hours stemming from the most mundane things and now you can’t even acknowledge the fact that your ex-husband looks out of his goddamn mind and has an evident tent in his slacks that’s practically arousing your interest.

“are you saying that ‘cause of my clothes..?” you paused, glancing at him, whose eyes were stuck on your breasts. “or something else?”

you weren’t one to have your eyes linger but jesus—hiromi’s fucking bulge couldn’t be more damn obvious. his hands were fidgety and he was biting his lower lip. not to mention, his presence felt stronger than when you last saw him a few months ago for your alimony court hearing.

“look…i—”

you grimaced. “hiro, i’m worried. you come into my apartment at random; you look fucking insane right now, and not to mention… you seem to have a bit of a problem. what the hell is going on with you? is everything okay?”

his breathing was labored and he looked pathetic. like he was injured... or rather, aroused.

hiromi blinked rapidly. he couldn’t lie to you…not now. he’s already in deep enough shit with you considering you’re divorced in the first place.

“i—i’m fine…” he mentally smacked himself…why—how could he lie to you?

“you’re full of shit, hiromi.”

so he decided to pivot. hiromi remembers how in the early years of your relationship, you poked fun at your superstitious grandmother’s tales of ‘jujutsu sorcerers’… unaware that he’d become one over 15 years later.

“s-so you k-know how…that urban legend? jujutsu?”

you narrowed your eyes at him, crossing your arms. “yeah, my grandmother would talk about it all the time… what about it?”

hiromi leaned against the couch and sighed. “i—uh… long story short, some jujutsu curse effected me. i—"

"you're...sure?" he looked up at your expression, all serious. you believed him..? “can’t you—uh—reverse curse it? or something—i forgot what the old lady said…”

he shook his head—voice all shaky, which practically sent you over the edge to see your stern, enigmatic ex-husband of several years on the point of breaking down over a simple little curse. “no…trust me, i’ve tried…”

hiromi suddenly leaned towards you, with what appeared to be tears in his eyes on the borderline of slipping down his eyes. "please...y/n. i have no one else to fucking t-tell...please... i—“

he looked away as if he was embarrassed.

you stared at him blankly, lips pressed to a fine line and crossed your legs. "what type of curse do you think it was?"

"an aphrodisiac one of sorts...f-fuck...please, i need your help y/n. i know we're on not so good terms.”

hiromi felt fucking pathetic—his voice just cracked in front of you and he felt like a hot, horny, stupid mess…so much for wanting to win you back. “i can’t do it if it’s not with you…”

you stayed quiet for a moment and looked away, like you were contemplating.

“okay.”

"i'll help you," you said, standing up. you held his hand as he stood up from the couch, walking with you to your bedroom where you suddenly pushed him on the mattress and stood facing the wall.

"now strip."

hiromi’s known you since the two of you were in high school. he knows how you bite your lip when you’re embarrassed and twiddle your fingers when you’re shy…and you were doing just that.

"really? you're really h-helping me?"

you exhaled, sighing deeply. "they do say time makes the heart grow fonder..."

"rea-"

"hiro, just do what i asked you to do, yeah?"

hiromi took off his shirt, unbuckled his pants and slid them down. his eyes followed you as you crawled onto the bed, eyeing his rock-hard cock that laid above his tummy, already leaking pre-cum.

“jesus christ… you weren’t kidding.” you hummed, looking at bit too amused at your husband’s current state. you planted your knees on each side of his thighs and stroked his cock, all stiff and twitching in your hand.

you glanced at his upper torso and your eyes widened; he no longer had that soft body you liked—slightly plush tummy and firm arms, no… hiromi was lean now, like he was actively working out. your chest tightened; was he trying to look good for another bitch?

you began licking the sides of his cock, tracing his veins with your tongue as you licked it like a lolly if the lolly was running out of flavor.

“ohhh—hahhh…fuckkkkkk…” he breathed out, composure all disheveled.

you had forgotten how much you missed your husband’s pretty cock; all nice and large, veiny, and certainly girthy. so much so, you could feel your panties getting wet at the memory of how well he stretched you out every time you two had sex.

your tongue swirled around his weeping shaft while your hand worked at the base of his cock, stroking it. the taste of his salty-sweet cum in your mouth made you feel almost needy for more as you took him whole. your thighs tightened around his legs, and you could feel your cunt practically throb in anticipation.

tears began brimming at your eyes as you looked up at him, eyes closed and lips parted as he kept letting out quiet groans at the feeling of you suctioning around his cock. hiromi’s breathing became more jagged and his forehead gleamed with sweat already, a string of curses leaving his lips. 

“mmm…shit…” he squeezed his eyes shut as your tongue teased his cock slightly, giving him butterfly kisses until you took him whole again.

you slurped on his cock further, as hiromi’s hands gripped on your hair as you did so, his voice cracking with every whine, and you’ve never felt more aroused. his cock twitched, with his creamy load splurting in your mouth.

you wiped the corners of your lips and swallowed.

“please—y/n, fuck me...”

your widened doe eyes looked up at him, still on your knees. hiromi blinked, lips pursed, and face all flushed. he was clearly embarrassed at his sheer state of depravity and desperation. you lifted yourself up, where you were chest to chest with him, and grabbed his cock from the small space between the two of you.

you stroked him slowly, giving it a few pumps given the fact he got hard as soon as he came in your mouth. your hips bucked up as you aligned the tip of his cock to your puffy, wet slit, your cunt gleaming from your arousal, and with your panties to the side.

“just a moment, sweetheart,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck as you slowly adjusted yourself.

you moved your hips to side to side and shifted your weight on your knees as you went up and down his cock.

"hahhhh, fuckkkk..." you could feel every pulsating vein and how lengthy yet filling his cock was in your pussy. you missed him...you missed his dick.

“move. fuck me. please.” you said it in such a manner that your voice cracks and whiny tone almost unlocked something in him. his slow touches on your ass became rougher, with more weight and force.

hiromi's hips went at a damn near animalistic pace, rutting into you with vigor as his hands maneuvered your ass up and down on his dick. the pitter-patter sound of your soaked thighs meeting his echoed through the bedroom loudly, and that alone made you whine, feeling the sticky and hot skin with every move of the hips.

it felt almost nostalgic that you could cry—sheer memory or the fact you're taking him now, take your pick.

"god...you're so fucking tight, my beautiful girl..." he breathed out, slapping your ass and holding the plush fat in his palm.

“nghhh—oh my godddd—fuckkkk-!” you whined, scratching at his tan-toned biceps; they were so defined, strong. your face was buried in the crook of his neck as you felt him pant against your warm skin.

hiromi had pressed your body closer to his, your perky breasts against his toned chest while he fucked you with such vigor, it made your head spin.

“don’t stop, please. please, baby,” he groaned, the raspy sound of his voice leaving you with butterflies in your stomach and your pussy fluttering around his cock.

“fuckfuckfuckfuck—y/n…” he closed his eyes and held you tighter, the sensation of him emptying his load only had you squeezing your eyes shut and knees bucking against his sides.

“i missed you… so damn much.”

that tight feeling in your lower tummy felt as if it released, a warm buzzing feeling washing over your body.

“hahhh—nghhh—h-hiro—! mmmmm…” you threw your head back, your hips moving in a figure-8 motion before gasping.

hiromi lifted you from your waist, wrapping his surprisingly strong arms around your waist and turning you around so that your back met his chest (his also surprisingly lean chest…).

“look at yourself, all beautiful…” he sounded like he was damn intoxicated, a stupid smile on his face while he looked at your appearance in the mirror before the two of you, facing the bed.

you looked a mess; your hair was a mess and a sleek sheen of sweat covered your body. your lips were swollen and your cunt was glazed with your mixed arousals.

"oh my fucking—!" you cried out, with hiromi slamming you on his cock over and over torturously fast.

“unghh—fuuuckk…” hiromi rolled his hips, the sound of his load sloshing inside your cunt becoming noticeable. you threw your head back into his shoulder and winced at the pace he took.

“why the hell did we even divorce…?” he huffed, lifting your hips further. his gaze was glued onto the mirror—observing the faces of pleasure you were making and the way your eyes rolled every time his cockhead kissed your cute little cervix so nicely.

you choked, hips rolling and maw slack. he really hit all those deliciously pleasurable spots that made you cry. you chanted hiromi’s name as if it was a prayer, feeling your cunt twitch against his cock and your skin becoming feverish and slippery the more you moved yourself on him. his wet thrusts became sloppier—more erotic. a scream escaping your lips as your arousal gushed out around his cock as ropes of his cum filled you after, again.

“hnghh—i—hic!—don’t fucking know!” your brain was fucking scrambled from how deep his thick cock was pistoning in you, still.

hiromi panted against your skin, slowly lifting you. “i think the pollen effect wore off so—"

and before he could even pull back, you squeezed his arm and attempted to get closer to him.

you turned your head, catching your own breath and making eye contact with his own crazed look. “how—hahhh—about 1 more time? yeah? old times' sake."

.

.

.

notes: lol, one can say that i really do hc higuruma having a wife/partner who is also an attorney, but specifically a private practice legal counsel (bc it does introduce that nuance in their relationship and their difference in ideals... hear me out). anyways happy 3k! i'm so happy with the new moots i've gotten to interact with. thank you guys very much for supporting my silly fics <333. i hope the characterization here was decent-ish despite the trope in the fic. btw #unedited idk how to feel abt the smut 😭

“The situation has developed, not necessary to Japan’s advantage…”

He didn’t want the sun to see his sorrow.

God himself turned into a broken, tiny voice, in the shape of shame and a radio. The emperor didn’t even dared to look at his people in the eyes. An ordinary man just stripped off his facade of divinity and was reduced to a fragile voice.

His throat was made a knot trying to hold back tears. His cheeks were a mix full of dirt and mud due the sweat of August heat.

He dug his bruised knuckles into the dry dirt. The laments of neighbors were an orchestra to an end they never saw coming but was inevitable. Despite bombs being thrown miles away from him, the countless lives that had been lost throughout the war, the cities made into ashy graveyards, the crushing silence of the sky didn’t need him to sacrifice for the emperor nor to bring glory to his clan.

As the interlocutor explained in simple words for the peasants, his worse tremors turned into a disturbing peace he wasn’t supposed to live.

All a thread of lies.

.

At 4:50 a.m, Toji contemplates the yellowish ceiling of his bedroom, courtesy of the cigarettes he promised a long time ago to quit, not succeding. The cold air traps de essence of stale smoke. From the next ten minutes, it was just time to wait so it could finally be 5:00 a.m.

When the clock struck five, Toji dragged himself out of the futon. He doesn’t bother to fold it neatly, just opens the closet and throws into the tangle of clothes and bedsheets. The dim light of the dawn is enough to guide him to grab his Ike jacket, a plain, white shirt and khaki pants, enough to not being recognized by the radical students.

After 20 minutes, the thumps of barefoot on the ground don’t surprise him. The sound of a kettle and the stove turning on mean Megumi is getting ready for school. Right away, he knelt to grab some crumpled money of whatever year was that thankfully didn’t change for coins to use for pachinko and saved it in his pocket.

When he slid the door, the dim lightbulb embraced the whole room. Megumi was already there. He stood at the counter in his black middle school uniform, not bothered by his father presence. His eyes were instead pierced in the kettle.

The pigstay of his room and the rest of the house on the other side of the threshold was pristine — Megumi managed to keep a sacred place for his peace of mind or else, a headache will start to grow, forcing him to rub his temples because he has to get rid of this dirty side of his father.

Toji dug into his pockets for the money. His knuckles were extremely bruised, to the point skin split over his joints the previous day shift at the barricade. He pulled it out and tossed it onto the wooden table.

“Dinner.” Toji grunted. His voice was rough.

Megumi didn’t look at him. He only took a quick blink to the money. “You won a bet.”

“The things I gotta do so we can eat.” The man opened a drawer beside the door and pulled out a cigarette and struck a match. He inhaled deeply. “Stay out of Shinjuku today. The college brats are whining about western culture and all of that shit.” Smoke exhaled as the words were spoken.

Megumi took off the stove the kettle. “Not interested in yelling like an idiot in the streets. I’m going with Yuji an Nobara to see a trash movie Yuji wants to see.” Expression entirely neutral.

Toji let out a short sigh that might have been a laugh. “Good.” He states as he opened the door and walked out home. “Ideals will get your skull crushed.” He waved at him, turning his back.

He knows what he’s talking about.

.

The gentle noise of Tokyo city was observed by Toji from the distance, being only separated by the wagon train that was taking him to Shinjuku. The city moving with every station reached.

People took distance from him the moment they put a step inside the subway. He contemplates his thoughts, reflected on the window to notice people lowered their heads.

How he managed to survive all these years? If the bliss to die happily for a cause was taken away from him, it meant he had to live a regular lifestyle — to born, to live, to breed, and to die. Expected die to be the second one. With no plan in life, what was next? The picture of kids running around the room, to have a normal job, to provide… Not really an enthusiastic.

He met his wife right after the emperor surrendered to the western. Love blossomed and after all, fate has strange ways to prove a point. Even had a kid with her and changed his last name. Wasn’t bad, honestly. Though God demonstrated to be solely a human a long time ago, the kid and his late wife were a blessing. Megumi honored the name — the boy turned out to be a peaceful, quiet kid who didn’t cause any trouble.

His heart clenched. The dainty and gentle figure of Kimiko, the kind smile, tranquil. What he would never be. Losing her equal losing the last hope of being a better person or to finally move to the next page.

Though uncle Ogi despised his father and considered that fraction of the Zenin clan a stain, the abilities Toji possessed in brute force (courtesy of the inhuman training in the tokkōtai), after Kimiko died, and as a favor he owed Toji’s father, he got him a place in Kidōtai riot unit.

He never got to fulfill his only purpose to bring glory to the decaying family. His honorable death was destinated to be a new beginning by the Zenin

“There’s nothing you have to worry about, lately things been peaceful. You just have to wait, do some paperwork and only protect politicians time to time.” The old man explained. An eerie tranquil

Peaceful my balls.

At the begging it was — these last couple of days, it all turned into a shit bag. All of his days from now on, were full of tear gas, cocktail bombs and blood baths.

First thing he did when he arrived the changing room was taking off his clothes. Big scars and bruises around his torso wandered like streams through his imposing, broad body. A silhouette of a beast no doubt. Whispers of other colleagues act like ghosts, not a surprise what they are talking about. Even them rather avoid him at all cost.

The metallic sound of lockers opening and closing were the every day symphony. The thick fabric of the Kidōtai uniform suffocated him with a heavy burden. At last, this is the closer he can get of what was his main purpose when he was a child.

A bit of antiseptic in the fresh flesh and that would be enough for the day to get started.

.

The air outside the university gates tasted like burnt rubber.

It was noon and hasn’t eaten a damn thing yet. His boots were melting in the asphalt, standing up there in line. The Zenkyōtō students voices echoed revolutionary consigns, chanting in roar of enthusiastic defiance. They wore painted helmets and carried wooden poles — a proper indignation of the youth.

Suddenly, the sky painted in white smoke of gas. Their lungs started to burn and their eyes water. The bodies of the younger officers were shaking and some of them gulped. The sweat also suffocated them. In this position, no one would’ve guessed it was a demonstration.

Near the center line, rocks were thrown at them like pouring rain. The rookie next to him covered with his shield. Toji never flinched for a second, he rolled his broad shoulders instead.

The line dissolved and chaos erupted. Rain of heavy rocks and pebbles cracked against the shields and the line dispersed. A student with a red scarf approached with effusive rage towards Toji, bringing a heavy wooden staff in sweeping impact.

He didn’t stumble, he just stepped into the kid’s guard.

With a horrific speed, Toji drove the shield up, catching the boy under the chin with a dry crack. The boy’s eyes rolled up but before he could fall on the ground, Toji’s right hand whipped him out. Other protester’s ribs were broken by the keibō and the young man bended and gasped in choking agony.

“Throwing rocks doesn’t make you a revolutionary, y’know?” Calmly, he grabbed the boy by the collar and lifted him from the ground. From the other side, a student lunged himself. Toji punched his face, not even looking at him.

“Fucking facist pig. We’re ready for die for this country” The boy spit the mix of blood and saliva on his cheek.

With no reaction, the sunny August in which they lost war opened him a window from the boy’s eyes — an open wound. A dark grin tugged at the corner of his scarred mouth.

“Oh, you wanna die for a cause. I can help you with that.” With no more left to say, he slammed his face into the asphalt.

Not passion nor anger was found by his movements. It was merely brute force and proficiency. He let go the young man as an inexpert punch of another student hit his back. He turned to see him. It was barely older than Megumi.

“Hit harder, kid. The other ones at least made the effort.” Each word clinged in the smoky air. Each step Toji took made the boy walk backwards.

Lucky boy had to be thankful Toji didn’t get to finish his lesson. Nanami stared at him, waiting so he can notice he was in front of him. The neat suit he was wearing contrasted the messy and dirty riot, like God was going to take him and tell him he was taking him to hell.

He was being pull out of the line.

.

An hour later, the burning and stifling heat of Shinjuku crowd was replaced by the Keishichō washroom. Toji was scrubbing the dirt and blood from his nails in the porcelain, cracked sink from the unit.

“I told my wife I need to be home at six.” Nanami’s voice echoed through the other side of the room.

“Should’ve picked a better career, man.” He didn’t look up, reaching for a piece of paper towel.

Kento appeared on the doorframe, looking at his wristwatch with a profound betrayal of the sacred pact both shared about shifting out on time.

“I had a better career as an accountant.” Nanami sighed, the weight of today’s world upon his shoulders. ”We went to Kuantan with the kids last year. Beautiful beaches. I was happy. And now, I’m standing in the restroom watching you wash off the teeth and blood of college students out of your knuckles while I’m underpaid.”

“And you telling me about being underpaid.” He scoffed, throwing the lapel tower and getting lit a cigarette he had in the back of his ear. “Anyway, why you pulled me out? You know usually we wait for the barricades to get clean or if I broke someone’s ribs. Oh, and make it quick, also my shift is almost over.

“We found a body.”

“What does that have to do with me?” He crossed arms and leaned against the wall.

“We need someone like you as a shield and connection to the underworld.”

“And what does make you think I…”

“You’re miserable enough to not flinch enough to lose you mind. I won’t delve into details because something you have to see with your eyes.” Kento disappeared, waiting for Toji to following him. He always knows how to keep him suspenseful. Perhaps a little extra money would be needed for the kid.

Toji pushed of the wall and grabbed his jacket and morbid curiosity flickered inside his chest, following his partner from behind.

.

The neon lights of Kabukicho painted the asphalt in sickly shades of red and purple.

“The media right now it’s occupied with the young protesters, but I don’t how much time we need to drag away their attention.” Hiromi Higuruma said, steps before going to the crime scene.

Kento adjusted the cuffs of his immaculate suit. His polished leather shoes step in a puddle of stale beer.

In front of them, a Love Hotel, the crime scene was cordoned off. The two cops in charge were being intimidated by three low-level chinpira — just stupid street thugs.

“The local precinct is useless, isn’t it? Can’t even secure a crime scene without asking permission from the local syndicate.” His voice complained in disdain.

Toji just got closer. No need to scream or to make a fuss. Dragging his heavy boots, he lit a cigarette and stood in front of the thug.

“Police, man.” He didn’t show a badge. Blowing the thick fog of gray smoke to his face, he was in his personal space. His eyes dropped into his cheap tattoo he might’ve got thanks to a promo of 2 tattoos for 4,000 yen. He got closer. “Move away, Kenji or I’ll tell your boss what happened with the shipment that mysteriously vanished a month ago.” Toji grunted in a low whisper.

More than enough for the thug to go pale. He put his hands inside his pockets and made a head sign to the other friends. Higuruma and Nanami sighed in relief and Toji just tresspased the yellow tape.

Higuruma rolled his sleeve as a faint grin marked on his lips. “I knew it was the best decision to bring you here. Only you could be able to read the shitty trash of Kabukicho.”

Toji threw the cigarette butt on the welcome mat. Nanami, on the other hand, pinched a handkerchief on his nose.

They reached Room 204. Toji pushed the door open, his heavy duralumin baton clinking against his thigh. He expected the usual mess of the slums — broken glass, blood splattered on cheap floral wallpaper, the heavy stench of copper and panic.

Instead, the sharp, overwhelming scent of industrial bleach and lavender hit the back of his throat.

The room was pristine. And in the center of the mattress lay a middle-aged man, his skin the color of old parchment.

“He’s empty,” Higuruma murmured, his dark eyes locked on the corpse. “Not a drop of blood left in him. Fushiguro, you know the underground clinics around here. The back-alley doctors who patch up gunshot wounds.”

Toji stepped closer, leaning over the bed. He stared at the two neat incisions on the inner thigh, stitched shut with bright red silk thread. The absurd level of cleanliness reminded him entirely too much of Megumi scrubbing their cramped apartment.

“I know the butchers,” Toji muttered, his jaw tight. “This is too clean. Whoever did this has a lot of free time and these dudes don’t have the time to play pretentious shitty games.”

His eyes haven’t even reached the worst part. This degenerated had the time to draw a naked woman. Her head thrown back in ecstasy or pleasure or suffering. It was hard to tell, whatever the murderer wanted to convey. The strokes were bold, raw and frantic. The blood was turning into an iron-brown crust already.

“Theatrical, don’t you think?” Higuruma muttered in disbelief. He took a hand out of his pant pocket. His finger traced the lines of the woman’s throat. “This seems to be a kind of manifesto.”

Nanami, still disgusted, pulled his handkerchief enough to see his silver wristwatch. 6:05. With profound exhaustion, he sighed. “I am officially out of duty.” He stated with flat voice, turning his back to the perturbing mural painting. “Let’s let the forensics take out the body. Higuruma, you can run the silk thread by your underground informants for tomorrow. I am going with my wife.

Higuruma nodded, also turning towards the door. “Nothing more to glean here without stepping the lock detectives toes away, right Fushiguro?”

Lighting a cigarette, the smoke was already fuming from the hallway. “Paperwork is all yours.”

“Don’t even dare to ask me to take you home.” Nanami knew the request right away.

.

Toji kicked off his boots in the genkan. The dim, yellow light of the entryway caught something out of place. Shoved against the wall was a pair of scuffed, heavy-duty leather combat boots. Where she might’ve taken out those without Ogi noticing? At the side, a silk kimono with detailed sews made a ball.

He slid the screen door open. The air in the small living room was thick with the smell of cheap instant ramen and the electric hum of the television.

Megumi didn’t flinch, his eyes glued to a textbook, a pen twirling rhythmically between his fingers. The other two, however, froze.

Itadori Yuji mid-slurp, noodles dangling from his mouth. Kugisaki Nobara with her hand frozen halfway into a bag of shrimp chips. They stared at the towering, bruised mass of a man filling the doorway. Toji’s knuckles were split raw.

“You brought your stray dogs inside.” Toji rasped, scratching the back of his neck. He didn’t bother to look at them, stepping past them to open the fridge. Yuji swallowed his noodles with a painful gulp. Nobara shrank slightly, crossing her arms defensively.

“We're studying.” Megumi said, not looking up from his calculus notes.

“You’re studying. Your dumbass friends are eating my food,” Toji corrected, grabbing a half-empty bottle of cheap beer. He cracked it open on the edge of the counter, then pointed the entryway. “The brat is here again?”

“Maki is staying the night,” Megumi confirmed, finally flipping a page. “She went out.”

“Out? With who? Since when does she have friends outside her sister?”

“Okkotsu,” Megumi replied, his voice flat.

Toji raised a dark eyebrow. “Who the hell is that?”

“Her boyfriend,” Megumi answered smoothly. “She won’t admit it, though. They went to the park nearby.”

Nobara leaned over to Megumi, her voice a frantic, poorly-concealed whisper. “Are you crazy? You talk to your old man like that? He looks like he just murdered someone with his bare hands!”

“He’s just annoyed he didn’t get to gamble today,”Megumi replied at normal volume, “Ignore him.”

Yuji let out a nervous, high-pitched chuckle, eyeing Toji's hulking silhouette. Toji simply scoffed, leaning against the kitchen frame. The fact that the kid didn’t cower was the only reason he tolerated him.

“Whatever,” Toji grunted, crushing the empty beer bottle into the trash bin. He turned toward the dark hallway leading to his room, his muscles screaming for a mattress. “Just leave me the leftovers.”

He didn’t wait for a response, the screen door sliding shut behind him, leaving the three teenagers in the suffocating silence.

.

The thick steam clinged onto the traditional tiles and condensed into thick droplets of water. The aroma’s of jazmin perfume, wooden cedar and iron blood hung suffocating on the air.

The water from the ofuro bubbled simmering. Inside, half of the chest of the Minister was underwater. Now, his immense political power dissolved in the hot, boiling water.

His wide open bloodshot eyes traced your movements with fright. The thiopental sodium was doing wonders. The man was confined in his own body — as hard as a statue but heart and mind conscious of his torture and working perfectly.

You moved like a mystic priestess around the room, wearing a transparent vinyl apron, body blurried due to the steam of the room, which also was covered in transparent rubber sheets. On a lacquered wooden try, your instrument laid immaculately.

Taking the first glass jar you turn it lightly in your hand, making sure that the layer of heparin covered the inner walls. Needed for the blood to flow.

You kneeled beside the ofuro. Your delicate fingers caressed the minister cheek with gelid touch. The pathetic pleadings he tried to make remained trapped inside his throat, dying inside his paralyzed vocal chords.

“Shhh…” You consoled. Your fingers trailed from his jawline to the erratic pulse of his neck. “You’re going to be part of something beautiful and majestic. You are going to be useful for the first time in your life.

With a clinical touch and 14 gauge needle, you pinched his thick skin to reach his carotid artery. Pure concentration, there was no place for mistakes or to be ruled over by emotions. The minister had involuntary spams and a barely perceptive tic in the eye while the plastic tube filled the glass jar. The man’s heart did all the job.

Bun….

Fascinated, you observed the glasses being full one by one — the crimson blood mixing with the anticoagulant, keeping a vermilion vibrant color. The ideal one for your next masterpiece.

At this point, the thin man’s lips were tainted with a sickening blue. He wasn’t dead though his life was slowly withering.

To finally finish, you opened his wrist, so the hot water created perfect clods of blood and to be washed away by drainage and you sewed them back again with a red silk thread.