incantiori.

𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚢𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗 + 𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍a 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗮𝗻𝘁   ( 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴 )   𝘂𝘁𝗮𝗵𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗶𝗼𝗿𝗶 𝗼𝗳 𝗝𝗨𝗝𝗨𝗧𝗦𝗨 𝗞𝗔𝗜𝗦𝗘𝗡.   𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 + 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗮𝘁𝗲   𝟮𝟭+   𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝗯𝘆 𝘀𝘂𝗻𝗻𝘆 * 𝘀𝗵𝗲/𝗵𝗲𝗿 — #𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐢

( ━━━━ handbook. universes. journal. r18.

the grimace is one she can't hide. iori is protective of the students. if she could take every hit and ounce of strife to ensure their safety, she would. as principal now, her coddling instincts are to be put to rest. the next generation of sorcerers will need to adapt and evolve. curses are only getting stronger and they require the strongest to combat such a spread. still, it is unnerving to witness.

the sounds of grunts and impact of fists are audible even several feet away from where she stands on the bleachers. finally, she claps once to command the attention of the gymnasium. she looks off to the side, face scrunching up in distaste, " take 10 minutes to rehydrate, everyone. " her eyes focus them on the other man, " don't you think this is a bit excessive? "

it is not every day they get girl time. bar hopping is almost always a group ordeal. nearly everyone in this profession fails to go a weekend without a drink or four. it has basically become routine except today, iori is lucky enough to snag a rare solo outing and she could not be happier.

hand tugs at shoko's warm wrist, lips prattling on about flavored sake and sunday morning pedicures. utahime likes to fill their silence. whether that is because ieiri is a phenomenal listener or she simply does a sound job of tuning utahime out is up in the air. " you'll sleep over, won't you? the trains back to tokyo only run so late and we can make a morning of it! "

" i haven't seen you since we were children. " she does not typically approach people she knows. it almost always becomes a touchy feat. while it should not bother her to be seen as a waste in good and bad light, it does. shame and self perception are characteristics that she fails to rid herself of even at her most free.

still, a market is neutral territory. easy to blend into and harder to successfully cause a scene in. the basket in her hold contains fruits and a homemade jam. she sways it slightly to busy her hands, " forgive me if i am being presumptuous, but you do remember me, don't you? "

she misses mei. they haven't spoken since the older woman departed from the society and mei is exactly the kind of sorcerer who would know how to handle this. or better yet . . . even gojo. as much as iori despises the underclassmen, the strongest is more equipped to handle the strong. the pressure of monitoring to mentoring is a new and unfamiliar task for the freshly appointed sensei. her hands rest behind her back in a display of harmlessness. her smile is wobbly and unsure but does not falter even in the face of the unknown, " welcome. we are so honored to have you on the kyoto campus. "

nose crinkles, a sharp hand aggressively swatting away remnants of smoke from the air like an agitated cat. she doesn't necessarily want to be here by any means but utahime is nothing if not accommodating. especially in regards to her career. she's the darling of her group. prim, propper, poised. she comes from a traditional household and is a self taught singer and dancer. ( which is what works well with her particular marketing. ) wallflowers love her. soft spoken girls mimicking her hair style while introverted boys project the narrative she's the type to marry for love and retire when it reaches her.

all things utahime despises to high heavens but as the breadwinner of the iori family, some things can be tolerated. even that of a PR relationship. and twilight? he's perfect for her. he fits her brand to the t. to the public, they'd be a fairytail couple. only issue being, he's very different. more different than even she presents herself to be. lips curl downwards, head canting to the side as she watches him smoke down another stick, " did they not tell you i was coming? "

teeth nip the helix of his ear. she doesn't like when he's quiet for too long a time. while she could never read his mind or anticipate his next move, iori found solace in knowing his routine. and how wonderful is it to know someone's routine? to be able to know exactly when to get a meal ready in accordance to their waking up. to know just what program they put on the television before sun shifts into moon. to look at the clock at realize when they've technically overslept.

breakfast cools on the table, the radio plays advertisements on an upcoming science fiction film, and he has yet to emerge from the blankets. her form drapes over him, bangs tickling his temple and her fingernails lightly rake down the length of a bicep. utahime coos his name in a way she would not admit to doing outside the confines of her very bedroom, " you'll be late for your outing with the kids, you know? "

" it's fine. " reply is brisk. tone cold. a poor attempt at detachment, really because utahime cares. she feels deeply and it is a trait that has branded her a hysteric and prone to weakness. while some of her peers are kind enough to sugar coat the sentiment or avoid it all together, there are some who perhaps believe in a certain tough love. either way, to react in the way she would like to to have her tone warble and lip wobble, would only emphasize this unfortunate truth.

the walk to campus walls is a limping one. further attracting eyes and hushed whispers from peers. underclassmen and staff witnessing another IORI INCIDENT. the slash against her back throbs furiously, blood soaking through uniform fabric and leaving a trail of footprints in her wake.

his hunkering presence feels like concern. that is another wound to the ego she tries so desperately to maintain. inside, she slumps forward. forehead pressing against paneled walling as her hair descends like a curtain around pink flushed cherub cheeks. " i'm fine. "

the ink of the list is smudged. blue streaked against the side of right hand that makes her sigh audibly. she'd need to scrub her skin after finishing before heading out. the idea of it staining the fabric of her new blouse or the felt material of her purse is daunting. simple problems amidst the lifestyle of a young sorceress. as the oldest of her peers now, it is iori's responsibility to wrangle and support the underclassmen. mei always threw some sort of gathering for this reason. inspiring respect and forming bonds were important to utahime. even if not all her kohai were entirely committed to the idea.

his energy is felt before his presence. the hair at the nape of her neck standing alert and her own technique causing zings at her fingertips. his voice is what startles her though. nerves spasming in a way that makes limbs rigid and taut. her cheeks burn as they always do when she's embarrassed or flustered or angry and her voice is shrill caw, ❛  GOJO! ❜ a twist of form to face him, neck craned up high to glare at those stupidly wonderous eyes. gems she would wish to pop out of his sockets just to avoid their glimmer. utahime stops a sneaker clad foot down, pen's coloring smearing down lavender silk, ❛ I said don't do that! ❜