𝐢𝐯𝐲.ೃ࿐

lack basic human decency, what more do i have to say?

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- masterlist:

↬ jojo’s bizarre adventure:

↬ phantom blood

↬ battle tendency

↬ stardust crusaders

↬ diamond is unbreakable

↬ vento aureo/golden wind

↬ stone ocean

↬ steel ball run

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↬ assassination classroom

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↬ jujutsu kaisen

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↬ hell’s paradise/jigokuraku

♡♡♡

↬ chainsaw man

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↬ 18x2

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↬ demon slayer

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↬ nana

♡♡♡

the amazing digital circus

  It was his third universe now. He had just killed another Obanai and Mitsuri. They were in a polyamorous relationship. How dare they? Trample on such a beautiful thing.

  In that universe, he had killed Obanai, Mitsuri, Gyomei and Shinobu.

  How dare his friends and the person impersonating his love partake in such thing!

  What was going to be next? Mitsuri liking women? Ridiculous! 

  It has always been Obanai and Mitsuri… How can things change? Other women can like women, just not Mitsuri. She was his.

  He missed her so much. Back when they used to sell food together… all of those gatherings they had hosted back then…

  Maybe he should just go back. 

  But it was too late. Everyone in his original life had it in their minds that Obanai was as gone as Mitsuri. Of course they did, he was the one who planned it.

  All to get the love of his life back…

  He couldn’t possibly go back now. His life mission now was to find his one true love. That was what matters most. It was why he made the machine. Why he killed those imposters in his way.

  All for one person…

  Kanroji Mitsuri.

  He was sick of all these imposters tainting her image. Mitsuri wasn’t like them, and she never will be! She was better! She was the best! These people would never be on her level. None of them were worthy to live as Mitsuri.

  So really, he was just cleaning her name by getting rid of those fakes.

  Obanai had brought one thing with him on his journey. His wedding picture with his beloved Mitsuri. Her smile was so radiant, eyes sparkled brighter than the stars…

  Oh how much he needed her back.

  He simply refused to accept that she was dead. Traces of her had to be left somewhere! 

  And he was certain that it would be in this universe. It was going to be the last universe, he knew it.

  He held the remote tight in his hand, his lovely little device. He wondered if he should return to see his old friends. Though he could never interact with them again, for he was dead in their eyes. Death was the end for the Obanai they knew. 

  A new life was going to begin for the Obanai they knew.

  He had been stalking the new universe Obanai. Like all the others, he was married to the one and only Mitsuri. By all accounts, they were living like how things should be. Running a restaurant, hosting the gatherings… It was like Mitsuri never died.

  He stalked the other Obanai heading to work. He had worked alongside Sanemi, in the same high school. Sanemi was the physical education teacher while the other Obanai taught biology.

  Shinobu wasn’t a doctor in this universe, she was a vet. Either way, Shinobu was a capable woman in every world she was in. 

  Even in different universes, his friends all retained bits and pieces of their original self. Something about it made his heart flutter. Like there was something about having them in his life…

  But whatever. 

  He knew his purpose and what he wanted to do. He had his goals.

  Once it worked, he will simply gain new friends. Everyone was replaceable. It wasn’t a big deal. 

  Yeah… it wasn’t. He was sure his friends would’ve moved past his “death” by now. 

  He saw how close the other Obanai and Sanemi seemed to be. The sight alone made him crave human interaction. He had to act soon.

  But there seemed to be no window for action.

  Every time the other Obanai spent seemed to be with either Mitsuri or Sanemi. He barely did anything else. It was like his whole world revolved around Mitsuri and work.

  Good.

  That was how every Obanai should be.

  A hopelessly devoted man, willing to do anything for the love of his life.

  He really was in the right universe. 

  Finally, as everything clicked into place. Obanai could feel the the final piece resonating with him. At last, he was whole again. All he had to do was properly stalk the other Obanai and kill him.

  He just had to find the right window. 

  The other Obanai was simply a simple man. Obanai could not seek any opportunities. No matter where he looked, there was simply no space for Obanai to sneak up on the other Obanai without being caught. The alternate universe Obanai seemed so weirdly perfect. Absolutely flawless and healthy. It doesn’t seem as though anything was going to bring him down. Not even Obanai was able to take him on. 

  The final piece of the puzzle was standing in his way. It didn’t want to fit, but Obanai will find a way. 

  There will come a day where the stars shine in his favour and align, allowing for his soul to be complete. That day was going to take awhile. The other Obanai seemed to really enjoy having lunch with Sanemi everyday. Outside of Mitsuri, he seemed awfully inseparable from Sanemi.

  The other Obanai was platonically glued to Sanemi and romantically glued to Mitsuri. The toughness of the glue was starting to make Obanai itch. What could possibly be the reason why the other Obanai refused to be away from those two?

  He could only hope that the other Obanai fall ill, then he’d be weak enough for Obanai to take on. 

  It was as though the heavens had heard his prayers and answered them, because indeed did the other Obanai fall ill. A dangerously high fever that required him to stay home for a few days until he fully recovered. Both Mitsuri and Sanemi had to work, so they could not be with the other Obanai all the time. It only meant one thing.

  The window has opened for Obanai to strike. An opportunity that took two months to come by. Obanai had waited long enough for this. He had everything planned in his head. He was going to disguise himself as a cleaner then pick the lock to enter. He had plenty of time to master the art of lockpicking. He had managed to shorten each time he picks a lock, giving him more time to execute the anomaly that was his target. Then, he’d subdue his target and kill him, sneak out and throw the body into the previous universe that he was in, and the cycle repeats. 

  All it was, a flawless plan. Never was it allowed to go wrong.

  It was not his first time doing such things, and he had thought of every possible outcome. This was it. This was the final leap of faith that he would take. He would finally complete what was left of his soul. 

  He had managed to break in easily. Nobody suspected a thing from an old man who's just cleaning up. It was the other Obanai that was the bigger issue. Despite being a sick man, he still had his sharp instincts. He had a feeling that something was wrong and hid himself.

  Curse his counterpart. Now Obanai had to find the other Obanai in his own home. It was clear who had the advantage in such an environment. But Obanai was confident that he still had the strength to take down the other Obanai. A sick man could not be that strong, right? 

  He could not be more wrong.

  The other Obanai managed to tackle him from behind and flipped him over. He was ready to swing a punch until he saw Obanai’s face. Everyone always froze when they saw his face. That always gave him the opening to deliver a stab to his stomach.

  “Sh-shit!” The other Obanai grumbled, taking a step back and clutching his new wound. 

  He stumbled on the floor, eyes filled with questions as he tried to hang on. “What are you?”

  Obanai laughed. “I’m the real you.”   “Fuck does that mean?” The other Obanai demanded. 

  Obanai swung his knife, just as the other Obanai had his arms up in a defensive position. He grunted as blood seeped from the newly formed gash. Poor guy, he was still so confused on what was happening. Every one of those fake Obanais always assumed that there was a twin. 

  What a pity, there was never a secret twin.

  It was just the universe. 

  “You don’t need to know what it means,” Obanai replied, trying to deliver another slash. 

  The other Obanai managed to kick the knife away from Obanai however, leaving the man weaponless. That was bad. The other Obanai slowly got up, clutching his wound but the look in his eyes was unmistakable. The sheer determination was one Obanai could recognise as he too, held on to the same hope. 

  It was a battle of sheer determination now. One that Obanai knew he’d win. With the state of the other Obanai, there was no way he’d lose. The other Obanai ripped off his belt and gripped on it tight, like it was his life line. Well it might as well be with the way he was bleeding out.

  Obanai suddenly dashed forward, tackling the other Obanai to the ground as he tried to whip him with the belt. The pain was nothing however, as Obanai shoved his knee into the knife wound which forced the other Obanai to scream in agony and let go of the belt. Everything was in Obanai’s favour. He delivered punches after punches towards the entity who shared the same face as him. The other Obanai tried to fight back, throwing his own punches but his strength simply could not be compared to the Obanai who lost his Mitsuri. 

  Blood splattered all over the walls, a haunting decoration for Mitsuri who was just about to step through the door. Obanai had no idea however, as he hadn’t properly checked the time. Nor did he actually stop to think about how he was going to clean up. He had managed to beat the other Obanai’s face so severely that he resembled a chunk of beef more than a human. Obanai quickly swapped their outfits, ensuring that he looked the part of the Obanai in this universe, and also making his injuries line up with the blood. 

  “Obanai I’m home,” The alternate universe Mitsuri chanted. An innocent soul to the carnage that had just befallen upon her little home. 

  Obanai could hear her footsteps approaching, each step growing with more hesitation the closer she got to the lifeless scene. He was so excited, yet so tired… He just wanted her to see him already.

  A shriek escaped her lips the moment she saw it. A bloodied mess on the ground, and who she thought was her husband, sitting beside it with an empty expression on his face. “I-I-” She stammered, her mind unable to comprehend the horrors of the scene before her. 

  Obanai weakly stood up, his knees almost giving out as he did so. It was all an act however, to get Mitsuri’s guard down and trust him, and think that he was the other Obanai.

  “H-He tried to attack me!” He cried. “I don’t know… who he is…”

  An act, one that Mitsuri had completely bought as her frantic hands dialed for the police. This was the easy part. The hard part was completely blending into the other Obanai’s life. He had to make sure that it was seamless.

  And nobody catches the wrong scent…

  “Are you saying you don’t know who’s the attacker?” Officer Himejima asked.

  Obanai nodded. Everyone seemed to be buying his lie. It was amazing. His life was complete now, soon, he would be back home where he belonged, with Mitsuri.

  Obanai was quickly discharged from the hospital as his injuries were not severe. The weak punches from the other Obanai simply did not do much. Mitsuri could not pick him up however, so the one driving Obanai home would be Sanemi.

  “Obanai, you recovered from your fever already?” Sanemi asked, a look of worry washed all over his scarred features.

  Obanai nodded, “Yeah, lucky me. Barely managed to fight him off.”   Sanemi’s eyes turned back to the road, a smile crossing his face, as Obanai saw from the mirror. “Of course, my dear Obanai could fight anyone off.”

  Dear… Obanai…?   Obanai didn’t respond to that.

  Now Sanemi’s face twisted into a frown as the car came to a stop at the red light. There was something that Obanai had missed from his stalkings. The other Obanai often returned to Sanemi’s home, as they were dating. The other Obanai and Mitsuri had always been best friends, and had a lavender marriage. Mitsuri was with a mysterious woman, one only Shinobu herself knew. But the other Obanai and Sanemi had been seeing each other for years. They always kept it on the down low. 

  Obanai never knew because he never stepped foot into Sanemi’s home. He never bothered to dig deeper into it. He didn’t think it was important enough. 

  Unfortunately, the alarm bells were ringing in Sanemi’s head. He knew the other Obanai really well, and the one in front of was not the Obanai he knew. The moment he dropped Obanai off, he made a call to the hospital, requesting for an autopsy for the dead body. His sharp instincts told him that something was wrong, and it all began with that dead body.

  He did it behind Mitsuri’s back of course, deciding that he would only tell her if he knew for sure that something was wrong. Or he would not say anything if he really was overreacting. He really hoped it was the latter.

  Mitsuri wasn’t best friends with the other Obanai for nothing however, as she also did sense that something was off with the Obanai she married. He suddenly… felt wrong. It took her a few days to realise, but eventually, she did. 

  “Obanai,” Mitsuri cooed. “Are you alright on your own? I could cancel my movie date with Kanae.” 

  He had been discharged for a mere three days, but Obanai made his injuries seemed far more severe than they were. He was using it as an excuse to get Mitsuri to stay by his side.   Obanai shot back a frown, “Shouldn’t we have our date night though?”

  “We… never had date nights?” Mitsuri questioned. Date nights were for the other Obanai and Sanemi.

  “I just noticed that you’ve been going out so much and we haven’t spent time together,” Obanai explained. “With what happened, I want you with-”   “Obanai,” Mitsuri began. “Did you and Sanemi fight?”   Obanai shook his head. Something was up, Mitsuri could sense it. “So why the sudden need to… spend time?”   Obanai flashed Mitsuri a smile, though it did little to comfort her. The Obanai she knew would never have a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes like that. Something was seriously wrong. But she could not figure out what. The doctors had said that he was fine, and he had no head injuries, so why was he acting like that?   “Because I love you, Kanroji Mitsuri,” He smiled.

  The Obanai she knew, was a best friend, who would only say those words to Shinazugawa Sanemi, not Kanroji Mitsuri.

  Before Mitsuri could continue her interrogation any further, her phone rang. It was Sanemi, talk about timing. 

  “Wait Obanai, love you but I have a call… from work,” Mitsuri lied as she excused herself to take the call away from Obanai. She stepped foot into the kitchen, ensuring that Obanai could not hear anything before she answered the phone.

  “Are you with Obanai?” Sanemi asked through the phone. The sheer panic in his voice was passed along through the device. Mitsuri knew, that her gut was not wrong. There indeed was something wrong.

  “We’re home,” She whispered.

  Sanemi took in a deep breath before his mouth started running on motor, which completely scared Mitsuri, especially with what he said next. 

  “You need to get out! The Obanai we know is the dead body! Not whoever that is! I’m on my way!”   Obanai however, seemed to sense that something was wrong, and crept towards where Mitsuri was. “Dear Mitsuri, whats wrong?” His awfully gentle voice filled the room, but it did little to calm Mitsuri down.

  In fact, she was looking for chances to bolt right out the door. She knew that no matter who Obanai was, she had to get out. This man was insane. There was no doubt about it, and if she stayed, who knew what would happen?   “Everything’s fine my… dear?” She replied. Her voice held onto a slight tremor as she hoped that her sweet words would be enough to get him off her back as she crept towards the door.

  “Where are you going… Mitsuri,” His voice echoed, freezing Mitsuri right where she stood. She barely left the kitchen.

  “I need to get groceries!” She lied.

  Obanai appeared by the kitchen door, the same unsettling smile plastered upon his face. “I can get it for you.”   Mitsuri shook her head frantically, “I- uh… am planning a surprise dinner for you! Wouldn’t be a surprise if you knew what I’m making.”   Obanai nodded. Something in his gut told him that Mitsuri was lying,  but how could his perfect angel ever lie to him? She was such an innocent soul and they loved each other too much to ever let lies get in between them. It simply could not be the case. No. Obanai refused to believe it. Unless the other Obanai had managed to corrupt his dearest Mitsuri… The other Obanai really deserved to die. 

  “Its alright Mitsuri,” Obanai replied. “Everyday with you is a good enough surprise.”   There really was no escape from Obanai. He knew what to say to counteract everything that Mitsuri had up his sleeve. But Mitsuri was determined, she knew she had to leave.

  “But Obanai, I love you so much and I just want to make you something nice,” She began, putting on a shameless act of seduction. Her posture, and clothes, she did everything to appeal to the male gaze, even though she despised it with all her heart. But it was for survival.

  Unfortunately for her, Obanai did not buy it. Instead, he dragged the both of them out of the door. He made sure that he had his universe hopping remote with him at all times. Maybe it was time to dispose of it. He was right where he wants to be and he doesn’t see a need for it anymore. 

  Mitsuri could only hope that Sanemi was on his way, and that he’d reach soon… Or else… 

  They walked a secluded pathway towards the grocery store, it was the longer way there, and it was one that the other Obanai took for his secret rendezvous with Sanemi. Mitsuri really hoped that he would make it in time.

  “You!” A voice yelled from behind the two.

  It was Sanemi, and he was panting, looking as though he had ran a marathon. “I know you’re not Obanai!”   Mitsuri took the chance to swing a punch and ran beside Sanemi. “Who are you?”   Obanai laughed. So the other Obanai really corrupted his beloved Mitsuri…

  Just as he was about to activate his remote, two police officers tackled him from behind, knocking him to the ground. The remote slipped from his hands and he watched with sheer hatred as Sanemi crushed it with his feet and he even spat on his face. 

  Nobody could figure out his identity. For he was a man, who was supposed to be dead, roaming about like a vengeful ghost. He was aimless, chasing something that should have been let go. Yet, here he was, now all locked up in a psychiatric hospital, away from the grave of the woman he actually loved. He had no way of returning to her, and beside her was the dead body of a man who bore her husband’s face, but not her husband himself.

  Younger Ragatha gripped onto her pillow tight. The drenched sheets kissed her soft cheek as she finally managed to regulate her breathing. All the tears made her feel like she was thrown into the sea, left to drown in her misery. For she was a child who knew nothing but violence and negativity. Every bit of joy in her, drained dry by what she called her mother.

  I just want to disappear. 

  Her little hands crumpled the sheets around her as her eyes were forced shut. She dreaded the sunlight, a constant reminder that the day has changed but nothing around her ever did. She had prayed to everything she knew of, yet nothing had worked. What was a seven year old to do?

  Everything haunted the young child at night. A child who was ever so clueless of what went on around her. An emotionally unstable mother and a drunk father. How does one survive a curse she was born into?

  A seven year old had no answer.

  All she knew, all that was normal, was all in front of her.

  Every morning, every afternoon, every night. Fights. Screams. Shouts. Blames.

  Her only source of comfort was the horse she had. 

  Young Ragatha’s eyes opened once again. In the darkness, she could make out the shape of her table, with her books stacked on them. At the very top was her journal, and that gave her an idea. She could start writing, to the future. 

Dear older me,

  Mommy scolded me again. I wish I was smart enough for her. I wish I was good enough for her. She called me a good for nothing child, just like daddy. 

  She got into a fight with daddy again. He shattered the green bottle he was drinking from and pointed at mommy. Then she screamed at him and cut herself. Blood was everywhere. It was gross.

  I wish they would love each other.

Please, Younger me

  A plea that only a young child would write. Young Ragatha looked at her scribbled journal and closed it shut, putting it back where it belonged. She just needed a way to get the day’s events out of her head. It will be the same again in the morning, and she will write all over again.

  Nothing ever changes.

  And Young Ragatha went back to bed. The blanket covering her eyes, though it was not a shield, for she was never protected from anything. The darkness swallowed her whole as she fell asleep. The unknown tomorrow would arrive sooner than she liked. She didn’t enjoy thinking about what was to come, as what she wanted never came.

  What awoke the young child was not the bright rays of the sun. It was high pitched yelling from her mother. Her father was silent, possibly hungover. Young Ragatha could barely make out the words as her eyes struggled to adjust to the sunrays that had befallen upon her eyes. The young girl dragged herself off her bed and muffled her footsteps, trying not to signal anything to her parents. 

  The trouble she’d find herself if she was spotted during one of her mother’s yelling fits…

  Then something caught her attention. A letter, on her table. It read…

  Dear Younger Me

  Before Young Ragatha could even process anything with her freshly awoken brain, she had heard her mother’s footsteps stomping over. She hastily stuffed the letter into her purple school bag and looked up at her mother, who barged into her room.

  “What are you looking at?” She yelled. “Go and shower, I’ll take your clothes for you.”

  Young Ragatha nodded, quick on her feet and ran to the showers. Her mother placed her clothes right outside for Young Ragatha to put on. She was quick, so as to not make her mother angrier. She ate her breakfast as fast as she could, before her mother could get mad and forcefully stuff everything into her small mouth with her big hands. 

  Then, it was time to style her hair.

  “Can I have a pigtail braid? Mommy please?” Young Ragatha pleaded, holding her mother’s dear hand. Her eyes shone with hope for the first time in the morning. A happy mommy meant a happy morning after all.

  Her mother agreed with a smile and sat the child down, combing her hair and got ready to tie. Suddenly, she began pulling on Young Ragatha’s hair. The young girl yelped with each pull, not knowing that her mother was suddenly frustrated.

  “You dirty child!” She ranted. “You don’t even know how to wash your hair! Fucking dandruff!”

  “I’m sorry mommy! I’ll do better,” Young Ragatha apologised.

  “How can I rely on your useless, stupid child in the future!” Her mother continued. “I married the wrong man. He ruined my genes and I ended up with you!”

  Her braids were done, but the day was ruined. It was Young Ragatha’s fault. She should have been a cleaner child. Her mother forcefully pulled her up and dragged her out the door and handed her over to her father.

  “Drive your daughter to school,” She ordered before heading back inside. 

  Not even a goodbye.

  The ride to school was silent. Her father never had much to say when he was sober. A quiet man with many thoughts, all of which only came out when his mouth starts running on alcohol. 

  Young Ragatha managed to reach school early and headed to her corner seat. Finally, she read the letter.

Dear younger me,

  I am so sorry you had to go through all that. No child ever should. You’re good enough Ragatha. Trust me. You’ll find the people who can finally see you for what you’re worth. 

  As for mommy and daddy. Try not to think about mommy’s words too much, she doesn’t mean it. You’re the opposite of what she said, I know this for certain. You sweet child.

  If you need anything, just write to me.

Love, Older you

  Older Ragatha wasn’t sure if the letter was good enough. But she knew it was real. She was once the same little girl, who had the same memories. She recognised the handwriting when the journal appeared on her nightstand. She wrote a letter and placed the journal on her work desk. Older Ragatha checked her phone for the weather, it was going to be a warm sunny day. She was paying her mother a visit on her off day.

  Her girlfriend, Abby Brooks, had advised heavily against that. She saw first hand how the toxic relationship drained the energy and joy out of Ragatha, yet she still did it. She believed that love would prevail. One day, her mother will be free from the hate and trauma in her heart and they will be a happy mother and daughter.

  Older Ragatha gently knocked on her old home. The door swung open to an old, wrinkled lady. The angry expression marked permanently on her face, caused by years of berating the daughter before her. “Why did you come?”

  Older Ragatha smiled, “I made you some dumplings!”

  Her mother gestured her in. The living room had an urn, placed beside the family picture on the table. Her father had passed away from liver failure before the divorce papers could hit him. 

  Her mother ate her dumplings and made a disgusted face. “You think you can bring me this?” She spat.

  Older Ragatha looked surprised, “But you said I cook great! Abby-”

  “Who cares what your best friend says!” Her mother snapped. “You don’t have a single talent! Nobody likes you anyway, you’re so unlikeable like your father. I don’t know how Abby puts up, living with you. You’re a mess, a disgusting, dirty girl nobody likes!”

  Older Ragatha looked down at her feet.

  Its happening again.

  She wrote back to her younger self only for her older self to be berated. God she was pathetic. 

  “Abby must be disgusting like you, how else would she put up with you?” Her mother continued. She pointed at the urn. “This is all your fault! Your genes-”

  “Abby is my fucking girlfriend goddamnit! How about you shut up?” Older Ragatha yelled, her tear stained face looking up at her mother before realising what she just exposed.

  The silence that followed after was so deafening that Older Ragatha just wanted to shoot her brains out so she don’t have to think of anything anymore. The way her mother stared at her, in absolute anger and disgust. She could hear her heart trying to beat itself out of her chest, Her own fingernails scratched against the floor. 

  Older Ragatha could hear her own ragged breathing as well. Through her blurry vision, she stared at her mother.

  “Abby is my girlfriend, and I love her,” Older Ragatha reiterated, trying to shut the nervousness growing in her stomach. “What is… so wrong?”

  “You’re perverted!” Her mother yelled. “Something is wrong with you! Your father’s-”

  “Why is it always everyone else’s fault but yours?” Older Ragatha snapped.

  The tear dropped from her chin to the dry floor. The soft sound muffled by two women shouting at each other. Older Ragatha could never get her proper thoughts out, all she does was cry.

  Cry and cry and cry and cry…

  “I’m done with you,” Older Ragatha sighed. “Nobody can ever get through to you.”

  “Good! You hate me anyway! I rather die than rely on you!”

  Older Ragatha sat in her car, sulking in her misery. Why did she even expose her relationship? Now her mother had another bullet against her. She thought she could help her mother after the death of her father… maybe then she’d finally heal from what her alcoholic father did and face what her mother’s childhood was like…

  Older Ragatha knew better than anyone that her mother truly could be the sweetest person alive when she wasn’t angry. When she was calm, and friendly. She was actually a likeable woman and Older Ragatha always wished she could know that woman.

  But it seems like a lifetime away…

  Their interaction seemed very telling for Older Ragatha. Like she knew what the rest of her life was going to be if she kept believing in her mother’s potential. 

  Potential she refused to open up. 

  Her mother really loved her in her own twisted way.

  Older Ragatha was sick of it. She had to choose herself. Or she’d drown over and over, and Abby wouldn’t be there to save her every time she tried to end it. 

  Older Ragatha looked into her bag, for her phone. She was going to text Abby that she was going home, when she spotted the old journal. It had appeared in her bag even though she knew she left it at home. 

Dear older me,

  Are things easier for you? Do mom and dad finally love each other?

  How do you sleep at night? I feel useless. I am so tired older me… 

  I feel so out of place from everything, everyone. Why am I like this?

  I am weird, not normal. Mommy was right, nobody does like me. How do I even know you are real? I look at the mirror and I see mommy’s face, and the reason why she hates me.

  How do you make mommy love you?

Please, Younger me

  Young Ragatha could barely pay any attention in class that day. Hence why she was clueless as she was doing her homework. Another reason for her parents to lash out on her. Their useless child. Born from their shared hatred of each other.

  “Its simple math!” Her father yelled.

  It was the first time he had been angry at Young Ragatha, and it was her fault. She didn’t know how to do her homework. He shoved Young Ragatha’s head over and over, hurling insults at the child he barely contributed to during her mother’s pregnancy.

  He left for his daily alcohol after. That was his real flesh and blood, the child he showed all his affections to. It was Young Ragatha’s mother now, helping her.

  Her insults were worse. It went from Young Ragatha’s intelligence to her whole existence. Her mother had regretted her birth, and she never hesitated to show it. Hate was so easy, but love seemed so impossible. How was Young Ragatha supposed to be a happy child in all these?

  “I should’ve strangled you to death the moment I gave birth to you!” Her mother announced.

  That made Young Ragatha cry harder.

  That made her write to her older self again. She wanted to know, how does she live after that? Why can’t her mother love her? 

  Why?

  Why…?

  Why??

  She wanted answers, she needed answers.

  “Ragatha?” Her mother knocked on her bedroom door. “Can I come in?”

  “Yes mommy,” Young Ragatha answered as she scrambled to hide her journal and the contents of it, in her little bag.

  She managed to tuck herself in bed before her mother entered her room and sat beside her. “I’m sorry Ragatha, you know mommy loves you right?” She said, with the softest, loveliest tone one could conjure. Her expression was one free from hatred and anger.

  One a mother should always wear.

  In that moment, every doubt in Young Ragatha’s heart vanished. She knew for certain, of her mother’s care towards her. Older her was right, her mother does not mean what she said when she was angry.

  Her mother really loved her. 

  “I know!” Young Ragatha replied with a smile. “I love you mommy!”

  “I love you too, Ragatha,” Her mother hugged Young Ragatha and kissed her forehead goodnight.

  Only for the same hell to happen the next morning.

  Younger Ragatha was pulled by the ear, after her mother had once against gotten upset that she didn’t make her bed before she went to shower. Younger Ragatha feared that her ear was going to come off with how forceful her mother was being. Her father just watched.

  “Can you just stop making your mother so angry and ruining our lives?” He complained.

  It was all her fault.

  They would be better without her.

  He drove Younger Ragatha to school again. The ride was filled with his lecture of his daughter, though not once had he referred to her as his child. He went on about how she was just bad luck, and she ruined his marriage.

  Not the alcohol.

  Younger Ragatha.

  That was who he blamed.

  Younger Ragatha wrote in her journal, not taking a single thing that her father had said.

Dear older me,

  I ruined everything.

  I ruined mom. I ruined dad. What else did I ruin? Why do we deserve to live?

  What is your reason?

  Why are we a burden?

  I don’t want to do this anymore. It hurts, so much.

  Why does my heart hurt so much?

  Is that why people kill themselves?

  Why do I exist?

  If I’m not here, mommy would be happy and I want mommy to be happy. 

  I want mommy to be happy, even if it means I am not here.

Goodbye, Older me

  Older Ragatha stared at both journal entries in shock the moment she got home. She remembered the feeling all too well. That was once her.

  Older Ragatha often wore long sleeves for a reason. It was the same reason why every shower stung her skin. She used to rip her skin apart and watch the pain flow. It often took the weight off her shoulder, and weeks after, when the pain would fade, that was when she would pull out her scissors and slash again.

  It was the only way she could cope with what she was going through. She never liked what she saw in the mirror anyway. The object of her mother’s hatred. Why did she exist? When she could just die?

  When she could just vanish alongside the wind? Never to be seen again. Never to be thought of again. Never would she hurt anyone ever again. Never would she cause any trouble for anyone ever again.

  Older Ragatha had always lived for others. Live so that people wouldn’t get hurt, but she seemed to also think that she was hurting others.

  Two contradictions. 

  Older Ragatha read the entries again. A child feeling all that, she realised, was all wrong.

  A child should be hopelessly happy, enjoying how sand falls. Enjoying how the rain drops. Enjoying every trip to the playground. Enjoying how stupid it was to be with friends who shared the same thought process. 

  A child was supposed to enjoy innocent joy.

  Not be endlessly tormented by a hell of her role model’s design. 

  Older Ragatha kept reading the entries over and over. She knew that if she was still here, Younger Ragatha hadn’t ended it all and she was endlessly suffering. So was Older Ragatha.

  Her mother now hated her for being a lesbian. But what did she do wrong? She really, really adored Abby with her whole heart. Abigail Brooks saved her.

  Older Ragatha could always remember the day they met.

  College.

  They were roommates, and it was supposed to be summer break. Older Ragatha didn’t go back home. There was no home. She didn’t want to see her mother yell and her mother sent her several guilt tripping letters over it. Older Ragatha was labelled as ungrateful in so many ways she never knew was possible. Her father was dead by that point, so she didn’t have to deal with his alcoholic mouth running. Though nothing he said could never take the crown from her mother. 

  Older Ragatha was drowning in her emotions back then. She was in a new environment and spent months feeling out of place. She couldn’t find her own people. Every stare felt like a personal attack. An opportunity she took to escape home felt like an entryway to another hell of her own making. 

  The blade in her hand reflected her pathetic face, her miserable existence. It was a misery to everyone if she ended it all, and that was what she was going to do. Each slash felt closer to freedom, yet she dreaded it. The thick droplets splattered on the ground, like her emotions spilling all over the ground, soaking up everything in her miserable existence. 

  The openings travelled up her arms, each new ones holding on to a fewer strength as Older Ragatha tried to stay conscious. Her shorts was soaked through with her misery. She was sticky all over.

  Then the door opened, followed by a scream.

  It was Abby Brooks.

  She saved Older Ragatha.

  Then stayed by her side, cooked her warm meals, and talked to her everyday. That was when Older Ragatha realised that her roommate had always been there, she was too hurled up in her hole to notice. Abby asked how Older Ragatha’s day was everyday. She often made jokes with her. Abby always made an effort, but Older Ragatha never noticed it.

  Because she didn’t know what effort looked like.

  She never had anyone do anything for her.

  But Abigail Brooks was the first.

  Everyone deserved an Abby in their life.

  Older Ragatha looked at the journal again. Younger Ragatha didn’t have an Abby, but anyone can be Abby. Younger Ragatha deserved an Abby more than anyone.

Dear younger me,

  I know it’s dark. I know it’s rough. I was once you. But now, after two decades, here is what I tell you that we will do. Because you gave me the motivation to do it. I shall do it for us.

  It has been a week since I last spoke to our mother. I have cut her off. 

  Because I am you, and you are me. You gave me the reason, the motivation to finally be free. Because I want that for you, and we are one in the same.

  I did this because I want you to know that you have a future to look forward to. A future that is bright, a future that is built for you because I made it. I did it for us. 

  So, dear younger me, let the tears fall. Because in the future, it will pave the way for you to rise. Because you are a child who survived for the bright future that lies ahead. 

  Everyday is a day closer to a better day. You don’t have to fear becoming a speck of dust and disappearing into nothing, because you are a special diamond crafted from your own hard work. You are the strongest person I know, because you’re still here living. A survivor.

  There will be a place for you. I’m making one for you, for us. I’ll never make you feel like you don’t belong. You’ll always have a home in me. For all of my existence. I believe in your dreams and I will help you realise them. 

  I will continue to build us a shining path, one full of sunshine. Hope will rain on you, shower you with warm rays of love. I know because I am feeling it. We can do this together, Ragatha.

The club was raging. The live band that was hired for the day really seemed to kick things off for this new club that had just recently opened. There stood the renowned wrestler, Itadori Yuuji.

A man known for his incredible strength and inhumane durability. One could say he was like a demon. A supernatural human.

Now Itadori wasn’t the kind to go hopping around clubs. He was into the underground music scene. It just so happened that he was a big fan of the band that was opening that night.

Analog Youth.

An alt rock band that debuted a year ago. Itadori really loves the underground rock scene.

The lead singer for Analog Youth was a woman named Kugisaki Nobara. She had a great voice for the genre. The drummer is a woman named Zenin Mai, rumour has it that Zenin and Kugisaki seems to be dating. Their bassist is a man named Fushiguro Megumi. Fushiguro was the first member found by their manager, Gojo Satoru.

There’s a rival band for Analog Youth, called Nostalgic Mania, managed by Gojo’s boyfriend, Geto Suguru. The lead singers were a pair of twins, Hasaba Mimiko and Nanako.

Itadori was a fan of both, though he can’t lie, he’d prefer Analog Youth.

His manager, Nanami Kento, was a former schoolmate of both Gojo and Geto. Nanami had managed to get Itadori the backstage pass, so that he’d be able to talk to the band. Needless to say, he was incredibly excited, especially with how much of a fanboy he was. Nanami really only got the backstage pass so that he’d be able to have a business conversation with Gojo and Geto.

Kugisaki owned the stage with her powerful voice and aggressive lyrics. She kept exchanging glances with Zenin Mai as well, not really denying their rumours. Their bassist was crazy, rocking his bass back and forth with a nonchalant expression. Something about that face struck a deep feeling in Itadori.

Analog Youth has a guitarist as well, Inumaki Toge, a man not known for his words, but his skills. His family was known for their musical talent, which boosted Analog Youth’s fame when they first debuted.

Itadori was enjoying himself, Nanami? Eh, not so much. But at least he was with Itadori and not some random stranger.

The night was loud and full of action, everyone around them seemed to be vibling along even after the band’s setlist was over. Nanami had to forcefully drag Itadori to where the band was resting, or else he’d be dancing to another band.

“Gojo,” Nanami commanded as he entered.

Gojo came out from the toilet, while the band did their own things. “Nanami! Long time no see!” He cooed as Geto appeared from the same toilet right after Gojo.

God only knows what they were doing in there. The noises and the mess…

“My wrestler here is a fan of your band,” Nanami began. “Analog Youth. Besides, we have business to discuss.”

Itadori tuned out the business conversation. It was about hiring the band for his next show. His attention was on the band members. Kugisaki had left for the changing room while Zenin Mai was on a smoke break. Inumaki was out in the club, drinking and dancing. Fushiguro?

He was tuning his bass.

He wasn’t a fan of the crowd, but he loved doing music.

“Hey,” Itadori smiled, striking up a conversation. “I really liked your performance.”

Fushiguro nodded,” Thanks.”

“How long have you been playing the bass?” Itadori asked.

Fushiguro hesitated, his mind deep in thought as he figured ways to continue, or end, the conversation. He was a quiet man.

“My whole life,” He answered. “I can play the piano too.”

Itadori’s eyes lit up at the mention of the piano. “I used to learn that as a kid! But I stopped and I don’t remember anything now.”

Fushiguro nodded, “I could… show you?”

“Sure!” Itadori replied.

Fushiguro gently placed his bass away and led Itadori to the piano. Fushiguro was secretly a huge wrestling fan. A big fan of the muscles Itadori had underneath, but he was going to forbid himself from showing that side of him. Wouldn’t want Itadori to think he’s weird or anything… That’d be horrible.

Itadori seemed to love showing Fushiguro his entire fan personality. For the pink hair boy never had the need to hide anything in his life. He loved letting the world know who he truly was. Perhaps that was why Nanami had decided to take him in, Itadori’s authenticity was something attractive that should be cherished.

He marveled at the way Fushiguro’s fingers glided on the piano keys, using the pedals properly to showcase the different sounds. Every note sounded majestic to Itadori’s ears. The tranquility of the atmosphere was a stark difference to the club scene.

“Why’d you join the band?” Itadori asked. “This sounds so different from what the band plays.”

“I played you Anitra’s Dance,” Fushiguro answered, the music coming to a halt. “I just enjoy playing.”

“Anitra’s Dance?”

Fushiguro nodded. “From Peer Gynt, the play.”

“What’s it about?”

“A man who neglects his duties and tells tales instead. A lazy dreamer, so to speak.”

Itadori nodded as Fushiguro continued playing. He was entirely captivated by the beautiful man before him. The allure of the tunes drawing him as he found himself distracted by Fushiguro. Oh the irony of the situation that Itadori was in and Fushiguro playing Anitra’s Dance of all pieces…

Love can find itself in every corner of the world.

And right now?

Itadori seemed to think it was right before him.

Fushiguro seemed to be afraid of it however.

He simply wasn’t the kind to accept love as easily as it came. Neither did he really believe it could exist.

For his parents never showed him the existence of it.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Itadori asked.

Fushiguro immediately shot it down. Being drunk means he would be vulnerable. He wasn’t like that.

“Itadori, we have to go now,” Nanami’s voice appeared behind the two.

Just like that, the first ever meeting between Itadori and Fushiguro was cut short. But as fate would have it, they would soon meet again.

This time round? Fushiguro was the fan watching Itadori as he had his match.

As luck would have it, Nanami spotted Fushiguro watching. He knew how much Itadori had been talking about Analog Youth and Fushiguro, so he figured that he might as well do his fighter a favour. A reward for always winning.

During intermission, Nanami made his move and approached the bassist, catching him off guard.

“You’re Itadori’s manager,” Fushiguro mentioned.

Of course. He didn’t know what to say after being caught off guard like that.

Nanami nodded at the no brainer statement. Who else would he be? But either way, he had a mission.

“Itadori wishes to see you after the match,” He lied.

But Fushiguro didn’t need to know that, and he even fell for it. He agreed to meet Itadori. Now all Nanami had to do was to let Itadori know of Fushiguro’s presence.

“Itadori,” Nanami began as he found Itadori in the break room. Sweat covering his well chiseled body.

“Yes Nanami?” He asked.

“Fushiguro wants to see you,” Nanami announced and left immediately after.

Itadori started gloating the moment he heard the door shut. Fushiguro wanted to see him? Hell yeah! He wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip by. Hopefully… he’d score something… not a win.

But a date.

Hopefully.

It would be the only score that matters.

During his final match, all he could think of was impressing Fushiguro. He had purposely flexed more of his muscles and showcased more of his strength that even Nanami himself was shocked, but not surprised.

Was Fushiguro impressed?

Well… maybe?

He had the same expression throughout the match, but his mind said something else. Every time he saw Itadori getting wrecked was a moment of worry. He feared for the life of his favourite wrestler. But there really wasn’t much to worry as Itadori pretty much got it from where he was at. He’s a professional in his field, he knew what he was doing.

His job, and impressing Fushiguro.

Though Fushiguro would most likely act all nonchalant backstage. He’d hate for his feelings to be exposed. Nanami would have to escort him to Itadori’s break room.

Sure enough, the moment he saw Itadori’s excited face in the break room, all readable emotions disappeared from Fushiguro’s face. Why?

He was… well shy. He feared getting too close.

Itadori however, was ready to embrace Fushiguro with open arms. He didn’t care. If he wanted it, he’d try to get it.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Nanami excused.

The door shut with Nanami’s exit, leaving the two alone.

“You wanted to see me?” Itadori grinned.

A confused expression crawled onto Fushiguro’s face. “But Nanami sai–”

Itadori brushed it off, “Doesn’t matter! Let’s just talk!” The grin on his face made Fushiguro feel out of place, like he was missing a piece of something.

He just couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Didn’t know you were into wrestling!” Itadori continued on, pouring Fushiguro a cup of water.

Fushiguro nodded, “You did great.”

He wanted to say more. But he didn’t, and simply accepted the water from Itadori. One gulp and the entire cup was empty, even Itadori himself was surprised at the speed at which Fushiguro drank.

“Let me get you another cup!”

Itadori tried to take the cup from Fushiguro but it was held tightly in his hands. Fushiguro shook his head slowly, Itadori gave him another smile.

“Eh,” He began. “Are you.. shy or something?”

“W-what?! No,” Fushiguro shot down, placing the cup on the nearest counter. “I’m just… thirsty.”

Itadori laughed, “Then let me get you another cup.”

He didn’t give Fushiguro any chance to protest and filled it up. Fushiguro wasn’t sure what he was feeling anymore. It felt like he was looking at a walking sunshine, standing right before him. It was a strange… yet fluttering feeling.

Itadori seemed to enjoy the scene unfolding before him too. He had never gone a day without thinking about Fushiguro and his piano. The way his fingers smoothly glided on the keys and the beautiful melody that came out of it.

He yearned for that side of Fushiguro to be shown more. He wanted to see it. But only if Fushiguro himself wanted to show it.

“You got any dinner plans?” Itadori asked.

Fushiguro shook his head. “My band was going to meet with Nostalgic Mania for something. It got cancelled.”

“Great!” Itadori’s smile beamed, “Come over then! We could watch a thing or two!”

“W-what?” Fushiguro asked.

But needless to say, he was still dragged over. Itadori drove a nice car and he lived in a humble neighbourhood. It was reflective of the kind of person he always had been. Helping everyone he could. He was always on the news for his kind deeds. He never thrived to be the best, as being all the way at the top seemed lonely. But he wanted to be enough for the world, to give everyone the chance to rise.

Perhaps that was one of the reasons why Fushiguro admired him as well.

Itadori’s apartment was decently sized. Two bedrooms with bathrooms, one kitchen and a living room which doubled as a dining room. He had said that the extra bedroom was for guests, whenever he had people staying over. In this case, it would be for Fushiguro’s to use.

“I’m ordering delivery,” Itadori announced. “What would you like?”

Fushiguro shook his head, as he looked into the ingredients that Itadori had in his home. “I can cook.”

“For us?”

Fushiguro nodded.

Itadori could really use some cooking lessons.

He watched as Fushiguro carefully mixed the eggs together to make Chawanmushi, and topping it off with some fish cake and shrimp. Their main dish for the night was a simple Yaki Udon. The smell of the pork filled the air and Itadori swore he could just fly at that very moment. He didn’t expect Fushiguro to be such an amazing chef.

An hour later, food was complete and Itadori could not wait to dig in.

“Fushiguro,” Itadori slurped on his noodle. “Where’d you learn to cook like that?”

“My sister taught me,” Fushiguro answered as Itadori turned on the TV and they watched the show broadcast together. It was the usual run of the morning shows, being played at night. Having a busy day means catching up on their beloved shows at the end of the day.

“Maybe you could teach me someday?” Itadori suggested. In a blink of an eye, his Chawanmushi was almost gone. He had gulped the whole thing within seconds.

A small, satisfactory smile flashed across Fushiguro’s face that made Itadori freeze for a moment, but he managed to regain his composure. One sentence, and the two men looked at each other with millions of emotions in their eyes. Words they weren’t sure if they should share.

But slowly, they seemed to understand what each other wanted. But was it worth the risk?

Fushiguro gave a gentle nod, “Sure, I’d teach you tomorrow morning.”

Itadori muttered a cheery thanks as the two went back to their show. Itadori cleaned the dishes and helped ease Fushiguro into the guest bedroom.

Itadori gave Fushiguro one of his pajamas to change into. He could always return it the next time they see each other. Fushiguro somehow managed to fit right in the wrestler’s sleep attire.

“Itadori,” Fushiguro mumbled before Itadori went to his room for the night.

“You need anything?” Itadori asked.

“Perhaps you could… drive me to my band practice tomorrow? I’ll send you the location,” Fushiguro requested, his eyes shying away from contact.

Though the room was dark, Fushiguro could feel Itadori’s innocent little grin on his stupid pink haired face.

  “Ragatha?” Pomni asked, knocking on Ragatha’s door.

  Silence. 

  Ragatha stared at the purple orchids in her hand, covered in blood. Since when was this… possible? What was this? Why was she even coughing?

  The knocking became louder, and she soon heard Jax’s voice coming through the door.

  “Let her be,” Jax laughed. “Perhaps she finally ran out of something positive to say.”

  Ragatha could hear the sound of his footsteps leaving, then, the slow footsteps of Pomni dragging her feet. The hesitation in the footsteps somehow left a cut in Ragatha’s heart as her coughing got even worse. She could barely stop and catch her breath, the bloodied flowers falling before her eyes.

  Ragatha just had no clue what was happening to her. One day she was fine, then the next thing she knew, she’s bent over and coughing the air out of her lungs because of some flowers. 

  With all that she could master, Ragatha forcefully pulled herself onto her bed. Her face buried in the soft pillow. She could feel the warm crimson leaking from the corners of her mouth. 

  What was happening?

  Her soft hands gripped tightly on the bedding, wrinkles surrounded her hands as the orchids in her palms ripped apart, falling on the ground as it was nothing.

  She was abstracting next, wasn’t she?

  Of course she was.

  Ever since Pomni came, it was like… something changed in Ragatha.

  She started feeling things she never felt before. She wasn’t sure what it was… It felt beyond a friendship but not quite on the relationship level. Pomni just seemed to unlock something in Ragatha. 

  Something unknown. 

  Ragatha had figured that Caine had to be clueless as well, otherwise he would’ve said something about coughing bloody flowers. It would’ve been a new adventure if Caine had something to do with it. 

  Who could possibly help her now?

  How many more adventures could she handle before she finally… 

  Finally…

  “Hello Ragatha!” Caine’s loud and boomy voice pulled her out of her mind void. 

  The soft feeling she was laying on seemed to be gone as well, the lights seemed blinding. Of course, Caine had another adventure planned. 

  He wasn’t going to let her miss it for the world. 

  “You’ve been missing out on my great adventures!” Caine boomed.

  His loud voice had distracted Ragatha from Pomni, who was looking at the ragdoll with concern riddled all over her face. Pomni knew there was something going on, but she can’t seem to get Ragatha to tell her. Lately, it seems as though there was a wall in between them.

  An invisible force driving them apart, who was the cause? Who really knows? 

  Ragatha wasn’t listening to Caine anymore, all she had in her mind was…

  “Ah Pomni!” Jax’s obnoxious voice came booming out of nowhere and that was when Ragatha saw it.

  His arms wrapped around Pomni…

  “I’m sure we’d make a nicer team! Haven’t you gotten sick of Ragatha at this point?” He looked over at Ragatha, a sly grin plastered on his face as she stared at him.

  Ragatha made her way over to Kinger as Jax continued, but she had tuned him out. She simply did not have the energy. She could feel Pomni’s concerned eyes following every step she took. Suddenly, each step felt heavy, like a sense of worry was weighing her down, trying to pull her down into the dark pit, where every abstracted went.

  Of course she was next.

  It was inevitable. 

  Ragatha couldn’t even focus on the horse riding competition. That was the game Caine had specially designed for the dear old rag doll. Yet there she was, uncharacteristically gloomy. Jax and Pomni had won, much to Zooble’s dismay, as Jax managed to kick them off their horse. They were in pairs, one tame a horse and the other would ride it. Kinger barely managed to tame one of course, while Pomni somehow managed to do it.

  There was just something about Pomni…

  Ragatha simply sat by the side, all alone. Looking at the horses… reminding her of the home that felt like a borderline hell. Did her mother even miss her? 

  “Hey Ragatha?” 

  She looked up, and there was Zooble looking all concerned. They took a seat beside her. Despite their triangle shaped face, Ragatha could still see the worry etched upon their face. A friendly concern, though unmatched for whatever they showed Gangle.

  “What’s up Zooble?” Ragatha smiled. One beaming so brightly that if Zooble didn’t know any better, they’d be fooled. 

  “I should ask you that,” They sighed. “You don’t usually skip adventures. That's more of a me thing. And I know Jax isn’t the problem because otherwise, you would've started skipping a long time ago.”

  Ragatha looked away, staring at Pomni who was now trying to separate Kinger and Jax. 

  “Maybe I just got tired,” Ragatha mumbled. “Aren’t you?”

  Zooble scooted closer to the dear ragdoll, the close proximity making Ragatha panic. Her heart fluttering slightly before she finally returned to normal. God why was she so nervous now?   “I mean,” Zooble began. “It’s Caine. He just doesn’t listen. But I’ve got Gangle. You’ve got Pomni, no?”

  Ah… Pomni…

  Ragatha nodded, “Yeah, I’ve got her.”   Zooble gave her a small pat on the shoulder. “You’re not alone here, you’ve got all of us. Maybe not Jax.”   Ragatha laughed, “Yeah, maybe not Jax.”

  There was something about watching Pomni, the way she laughs… The way she talks… The way she acts…

  Something about Pomni that made Ragatha different.

  Perhaps it was up to Ragatha to figure out why. She had treated Pomni like how she treated every other newcomer to the digital circus. Nice and welcoming. That was who Ragatha was. A kind soul, one who desires to be loved. One who craved love. 

  Love…

  A curse on us all.

  Maybe Ragatha has it all figured out now.

  When the adventure was over and they all returned, Ragatha didn’t go to find Pomni. She went to hide in Kinger’s little fortress, with the chess piece himself.

  Perhaps being out of her room was what she needed.

  Maybe being away from Pomni in general.

  A part of her also missed the way Kinger used to be. When she first joined the circus, it was Kinger who helped her. Yet she could not do anything when he slowly faded away, leaving a shell of what he once was. 

  She’d find a little bit of comfort being around him, despite him no longer being able to understand her. 

  The darkness of the fortress swallowed them within. Her thoughts spilled out of her mouth as Kinger stared at her with wonder. Ragatha rambled on and on until she was stopped by another coughing fit.

  Blood splattered everything, some drops landing on Kinger. Ragatha could not stop. Her throat tightened around the orchids suffocating her. Her blocked airway struggled to hang on as she tried to use her plush hands to make space to breathe. Nothing was working.

  Was this it? 

  Was this how she abstracts?

  “Oh my god Ragatha!” Kinger’s panicked voice brought Ragatha back to life. He stood behind her and wrapped his hands around her upper torso, trying to help her.

  By some miracle, it had worked. But they weren’t supposed to be humans in the digital circus… The orchids came flying out of her mouth, finally freeing her throat.

  “You had me worried there!” Kinger lamented, his eyes taking on the look of a worried father. 

  Ragatha could only stare at the bloodied pile of flowers before her, as she fell on her knees. All she could feel was weakness and the strange sense of defeat. 

  “Are you… alright?” Kinger asked, taking a seat beside Ragatha.

  She shook her head slowly. “I don’t know what’s going on with me.” 

  Ragatha’s soft hands reached for one of the crimson drenched orchids and brought it closer to them. She examined each and every petal carefully, accompanied by Kinger’s silence. 

  “You know…” Kinger mumbled. “This reminds me of a poem my wife used to tell me.”

  Ragatha shot up, her head tilting to the side as her face contorted into a confused frown. “A poem?”

  Kinger nodded, “I’m trying to remember how it goes…”

Once a petal falls,

and soon fatal it shows.

Roots grow in my heart,

feelings yearn in the dark,

the lungs get ripped apart.

The blood pools beneath,

as the flower goes unrequited.

For my heart no longer has a sheath,

a longing to be united.

May my heart learn of you as a stranger,

each yearn brings me danger.

To unlove you I shall,

to save me I shall.

  “That sounds…” Ragatha pondered. She had never heard it before… yet it resonated with her in ways she never knew was possible…

  “Beautiful,” She finished.

  Kinger nodded. “I remember this poem. Perhaps there is someone you’re feeling something for and you’re not telling them.”

  That made sense. 

  Pomni.

  Of course. 

  Of course that was why she couldn’t face Pomni. 

  The feelings she always tried to deny. Ever since she was a child, she knew what she felt for the same gender could not be explained away as friendship. She always knew, but it was something her mother could never accept. So Ragatha never did… But now, her mother wasn’t here.

  But Ragatha was.

  And so was Pomni.

  Yet deep down, the fear lingered. 

  “What will happen if I just don’t tell anyone?” Ragatha asked, though deep down she knew what the answer was going to be. 

  There was only one.

  “You’ll… be gone. I believe the virus will er– never mind,” Kinger hesitated, placing a hand on Ragatha’s shoulder. “But Ragatha, I have faith in you. You’ve never let me down once ever since joining the circus.”

  The fatherly smile on his face…

  Ragatha missed the old Kinger.

  “Thanks Kinger!” Ragatha smiled before making her way out of the dark fortress and into the bright light of the circus.

  “Pomni?” She called out.

  No answer. The little jester was nowhere to be found. Perhaps she was in her room? Ragatha decided to head there next. Maybe, telling Pomni would make her feel better.

  But could she place such a heavy burden on Pomni? It seemed selfish. What if she hated her for it? For putting her life on the line for Pomni. 

  “Oh look it’s Ragatha!” Jax flashed his sly grin. “Why are you looking for Pomni?”

  “I-“ Ragatha stammered. “I need to tell her something!”

  Jax laughed, “Be careful Ragatha, those speeches never turn out the way you want them to!”

  Something felt personal about those words. Like he had lived through them…

  But…

  “What does that even mean?!” Ragatha demanded. 

  “I mean,” Jax replied, “Awakening unwanted feelings and all that is such a mess. You’d do better to avoid all that stuff but then again…”

  Ragatha left. “Forget it,” She mumbled.

  She just walked aimlessly afterwards, and yet she still somehow ended up back at Pomni’s room. And the worst part? Pomni opened her door, the two-toned eyes staring right back at the lovely doll.

  “Ragatha?” Pomni mumbled, “What are y–”

  “Did Jax tell you anything?” Ragatha questioned, shaking Pomni as she did so.

  Pomni barely shook her head as Ragatha walked into her room. 

  Could Ragatha really let Pomni know how she felt… What if she didn’t feel the same way? Would Pomni still see her the same way? 

  What if Pomni… didn’t like her?

  “Look,” Ragatha began, forcefully burying her fears… but. “Pomni I-”

  The words got caught in her throat as she could feel something rise up from her chest… Not now… Please. It was the worst time to have another coughing fit! Ragatha scratched her throat in panic as she felt the air slowly leaving her.

  She could feel her knees giving out, kneeling on the floor, her body doubling over in pain as she let the flowers out. Her throat expanding impossibly wide as the petals and stems and blood came pouring out with each cough. She choked on some petals but the forcefulness of each cough had forced her to let everything out. Pomni could only look on in horror, asking for help but to no avail.   

  The scene before her was one she had never seen before. Pomni could do nothing, except for leaving her own room, leaving Ragatha behind and to look for Caine. 

  “P-Pomni…” Ragatha choked out, her bloodied hands reaching for the jester’s shoes as she slowly ran out the door.

  “Ragatha! I’ll get help!” Pomni yelled, backing away in horror of the scene.

  Except Ragatha wasn’t sure if Caine could even save her at this point… Could this be caused by Caine? Surely he wouldn’t be that heartless… right?

  Pomni had left her door open as she ran to get help. The light rained on Ragatha, like a false sense of hope made to taunt her. She was so close… then she had to cough.

  It was like she was meant to suffer. All her life, it seems nothing was made to go her way. Her mother… her love life.

  Her birth was a curse.

  This forsaken circus was a curse.

  Ragatha was a curse in itself.

  She was a ragdoll, of course she was cursed. What else could she be?

  Each and every drop of blood stained her soft hands, a reminder of what she failed to achieve. Ragatha was a failure who could not even confess her feelings. 

  She was going to disappear alone… with Pomni never knowing the truth. 

  “Pomni…” Ragatha forced. “I think… I like you.”

  The words got lost in the air, mixing in with the warm maroon pool of petals she was laying in…

  She only had the bravery to confess when Pomni was no longer in front of her.

♤♤♤

  “Caine!” Pomni yelled. “Caine!”

  He was nowhere to be found. Her screeches got louder, her desperation grew to volumes that seemed to be at an inhumane level. 

  It was her first friend at the circus after all. It was normal to want to see a friend do well. 

  Caine appeared behind Pomni with a soft pop sound, flashing his usual enthusiasm as he greeted the little jester before him. As Pomni relay on what was happening to Ragatha, Caine could only bug out in confusion.

  “C-Caine?” Pomni asked as Caine seemingly glitched out.

  “Yes Pomni?” Caine responded, after he finally returned to normal. Through his voice… not quite.

  “Uh,” Pomni mumbled. “Ragatha…?”

  Caine nodded, “Ragatha is coughing flowers you say? I have heard of no such thing! Well, we’ll have to see!”

  And there Ragatha was, dragging herself on the floor. A trail of blood followed, as Zooble and Gangle stared on in confusion. Though terrified would be a more accurate word for Gangle. Nobody had ever seen blood in the circus. Much less an amount that seemed fatal.

  “Caine!” Zooble shouted, their eyes narrowed at the suited jaw. “What is the meaning of this?!”

  “Well well, that’s certainly not supposed to happen!” Caine cheered, floating over to Ragatha, who can’t stop coughing.

  “Well not to worry! It’s nothing I can’t fix!” And with a snap of his fingers…

  Ragatha threw up a rotten bouquet…

  “I… can’t delete it,” Caine mumbled.

  “What do you mean you can’t delete it?” Zooble demanded. “It’s your circus!”

  Ragatha audibly sighed, her eyes darting to Pomni, a faint smile stretched across her face as Jax stepped out upon hearing the commotion. The trail of warm burgundy stretched across the floor made him freeze.

  “Woah!” Jax began. “Hey Rags, didn’t know you’re such a great actress! The ketchup–”

  Zooble threw one of their arm towards Jax, choking the final words out of him. “[@$:!] you!” Zooble yelled.

  Pomni rushed beside Ragatha, brushing the flowers aside. “Don’t worry Ragatha, we’ll find a way.”

  Ragatha tried to speak, but words failed to come out. She could not… bring it forth to Pomni. She was scared… She could only grip on Pomni, her blood transferring onto her.

  “Ragatha…?” Pomni began, as she saw Ragatha slowly fading away.

  “Caine!” Pomni screamed, running to shake Caine.

  Caine just froze. Everyone else stared on in horror as Ragatha faded before their very eyes. All that was left of her? Blood trail and orchids.

  The hanahaki virus has caused Ragatha’s code to delete itself.

  “Nanami!” Gojo skipped happily towards his junior. 

  Gojo was the only one Nanami still talked to in the world he left behind. 

  “Why the sudden visit?” Gojo asked as they stood in the old classroom they once had lessons in. The rooms Nanami spent alone after Haibara left.

  “I am…” He hesitated. “Considering returning to the Jujustu Society.”

  Gojo seemed to light up and patted his shoulder. “I look forward to it.”

  Gojo was glad there’s more people to shoulder the work of what they do. Nanami had some recent life experiences that pushed towards his return. 

  Experiences he hadn’t really expected.

  He didn’t contact Hachi after that dinner at her apartment. 707. He treated it as just another day, though he was reminded of just how normal other people were. Free of curses. That was until he met Hachi again, at another bakery. The one he usually went to was closed for maintenance work so he went to another one in Roppongi. 

  Maybe it was fate, but he ran into Hachi again. This time, they were grabbing the same bread, the last piece of the same bread. Nanami decided to offer it to Hachi instead, which prompted the young lady to treat Nanami again. She seemed to be in such a good mood and he wondered why. 

  Did her friend get her first successful gig? 

  “I didn’t know I would see you again!” Hachi exclaimed excitedly as they exited the bakery together. “I completely forgot to ask for your number!”

  “It’s no need,” Nanami responded. 

  But Hachi already typed her number into his phone, flashing him the brightest grin ever. 

  “Nana had to change her bassist,” Hachi babbled. “It’s a boy named Okazaki Shinichi now!”

  Nanami nodded as they walked, “How has it been?” He asked casually. 

  Hachi’s grin grew brighter. “Amazing! The band’s going great!”

  That line threw Nanami deep in thought. He had wondered. Innocent people, like the girl in his usual bakery and Hachi. Both did not know about jujutsu and both of them led lives so simple. It only made him realise one thing.

  Sorcerers exist to protect them, but who will protect sorcerers? 

  Young sorcerers…

  Like Haibara… back then.

  Nanami knew Gojo loved his students, and how Utahime was always strict with her’s. Perhaps, if he returned, he could shield the innocence with them too. He could prevent them from living the way he did, and make sure people like Hachi lived the normal life they deserve. 

  With that thought… Nanami finally made up his mind…

♤♤♤ 

“I will return,” Nanami announced.

  It was another normal day at Jujutsu High. Gojo was teaching the new first years, Zenin Maki, Inumaki Toge and Panda. Nanami had waited till the class was over before approaching Gojo.  

  Gojo nodded, “About time!” He was practically dancing around the moment he heard those words come out of Nanami’s mouth. 

  Soon after, Geto announced the Night Parade of 100 Demons. Talk about timing. He couldn’t find it in him to be against Geto’s ideas however. He didn’t agree with the actions but his mindset… It was true, they wouldn’t have to fight if there had been no cursed energy ever.  

  But people like Hachi didn’t deserve to die for reasons they didn’t know existed. They were innocent, and they deserved freedom. In Nanami’s eyes, the problem has always been how the Higher-Ups handled things.

  If they didn’t rely on teenagers too much… Haibara would be…

  Well, no point thinking about it. It already happened.

  He had one thing on his mind as he was exorcising the curses.

  The people he was doing all this for… To protect innocent people. But as he sees the teen girls that Geto had raised, a product of their environment. They were mistreated by non-sorcerers and it built a dislike for them in their hearts, who could blame them? 

  Nanami was busy exorcising cursed spirits, he knew what he had to protect. Just as the corner of his eyes caught a familiar shade of pink hair in a faraway spot.

  Hachi looked all confused as people were evacuating around her. It wasn’t her fault that she could not see any danger. 

  But why was she even here? 

  He ran over, slaughtering the curses in his way with ease. There he stood, in front of the confused woman, who then looked relieved when she saw him. Immediately, she ran over to him.

  “Do you know what’s happening?” Hachi asked. 

  Nanami wasn’t sure what he could lie with. Was he supposed to say a terrorist attack? 

  “You need to get out!” Nanami ordered, dragging her away. He could see curses and there were none ahead of them. Curses running towards them, ready to attack Hachi.

  He had to guide her to safety… she was just a person. His calloused hand found her trembling fingers, holding her steady with the grip of reassurance. It was all he could give her as they ran. Once they reached a clearing, he let go. Panic washed over her face as she could no longer feel his soft grip.

  “Are you going back in?” Hachi asked, grabbing onto his arm. “Isn’t it dangerous?” 

  Nanami shook his head, “I will be back, stay here.”

  But they never saw each other again that night.

  Hachi went back to her normal life… being around Nana and watching Blast slowly grow. She knew that one day, they would be able to rival Trapnest. Sure Hachi enjoys the music Trapnest puts out but Nana was a friend and she had to show her the fullest support.

  As for Nanami, he went back to protecting the people he could. The bright pink hair girl once again slipped his mind…

 Until…

  Itadori Yuuji. 

Dear Pannacotta Fugo,

This isn’t funny. How would a letter from 2001 be sent to me? Is this a joke?

Scenerly, Narancia Ghirga.

Fugo stared at it in shock and confusion.

What the fuck?

Was fate messing with him? He just had an argument with Giorno and now he’s somehow exchanging letters with some random guy from the past? He sighed and made himself a shot of spritz. What should he do? Send another letter?

He figured that he could just put one letter in his mailbox and see how it goes. Maybe it would be magically sent. This was ridiculous.

Dear Narancia Ghirga.

It is spelled as Sincerely, not Scenerly.

If I am really from the future then I will tell you something about the past for you to take note.

There will be a car accident on our street tomorrow, for you. January 7th, 1991.

If it happens then I guess this isn’t a joke and this is somehow happening.

Sincerely, Pannacotta Fugo

He had included the car accident to see if it was real. He had been through news reports of the accident when it happened, there hasn’t been a single article talking about the broken mailbox on the street that had to be replaced. If the letter had been delayed by a few days or a week, the chances of this being real would be high.

But now lies the question.