#answer my question

You dressed in quiet haste. Your heartbeat felt calm, too calm. As if the storm had passed and taken part of you with it. You tried not to think about the emptiness where the bond had been.

You didn’t miss it. You didn’t miss him. That would’ve been foolish. Desperate. Weak.

You stepped into the street, sunlight fractured against obsidian walls, and for a moment, the world seemed to settle.

Then the pain hit.

It wasn’t physical, not at first. It was as if something inside you was collapsing. Like your blood remembered something your mind refused to learn. Your knees buckled. The air vanished from your lungs. And then, like a thread yanked tight across miles, you felt him.

Satoru. He was in danger.

You didn’t want to move. You didn’t want to care. But your body betrayed you. Something surged, senses narrowing, instinct overriding thought. You ran. Through the alleyways. Past merchants. Past guards. An invisible thread guided you, pulling you toward him. The crowd blurred around you like smudged ink, and you could taste blood on the wind.

You found him in the southern quarter. Surrounded.

Five of them. Hooded and armed. Purebloods? Rebels? Assassins? You didn’t know. You didn’t care.

He fought like shadow incarnate, blade flashing, body moving like liquid death but even he wasn’t fast enough to see the sixth one behind him.

You didn’t think.

You lunged just as the blade came down.

It sank into you instead. Deep and under your ribs and then, everything changed.

Your knees hit the stone floor, but you didn’t fall. Not all the way.

The pain didn’t just cut. It opened something. Something ripped through your skin like smoke laced with flame, and the air around you turned violent. Shadows coiled. The wind screamed in your ears. Something stirred in your blood.

You screamed.

It wasn’t just pain. It was a transformation. Your heart seized, then beat again. Too fast and too hard. Your mouth burned. Your throat felt dry, like cotton balls shoved under your tongue. Hot coal churned in your belly. Your skin felt like it was dying, shredding, melting.

You saw him turn to you, eyes wide but through the red haze he didn't look concerned, not even scared. It looked like recognition.

He caught you before you collapsed.

“Drink, Y/N” he muttered. Not halfblood, not human, not even liar; just your name that sounded a lot like an apology.

Your blood soaked his hands. You could feel it leaking from your soul.

“She’s transitioning,” someone muttered. You didn’t see who. “Too fast. Too soon.”

“Her body can’t take it,” another said. “It’s rejecting itself.”

He didn’t speak.

You clutched his shirt, breath ragged, lips cracked. “Make it stop…”

He looked down at you, jaw clenched tight. Something in his expression cracked for just a heartbeat.

“There’s only one thing that can,” a voice said. You didn’t know whose, but it felt like the sky itself was speaking.

He hesitated.

“No,” he whispered to himself. “She's not ready. She doesn't even—”

“She’ll die, Satoru.”

The silence stretched. That cursed pause. Then you felt his hand at the back of your neck, the other tilting your chin.

“Fuck. Don’t look at me,” he muttered. “Just drink.”

You couldn’t see his face, but you felt his wrist press to your lips. It tasted like warmth and power, but it felt all-encompassing.

It hit like wildfire down your throat, thick and ancient. It wasn’t sweet. It was sharp, metallic, but God it felt endless. It tasted like secrets no one should know. It burned like holy things turned blasphemous.

Your body convulsed. It fought. Accepted. Then, stillness. You collapsed into him, eyes half-lidded, breathing shallow. But how your veins fucking sang.

But you hated it. Hated that you needed him to save you. Hated that you’d tasted his fucking blood. Hated that something in you liked it.

He held you. He stayed silent, unmoving. The others disappeared. You didn’t hear them leave. Only him. Only his breath. Only his heartbeat.

Then he spoke. “Now you owe me,” he said softly. Cruel again. Sharp again. “And I always collect.”

You looked up at him, weak but defiant. “You’d think this makes us even, considering I ran the whole way thinking you were going to perish.”

He leaned closer. You could smell his blood on your lips, still warm. “No,” he said. “This makes you mine.”

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Taglist: (my soul-mates)

@sharp0teeth

@holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni

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Someone tell me why those individuals fighting Gojo decided to stop and commentate?

I think I want to put out more chapters at a faster rate. I have ALL done. Literally all. I want to post as many as I can coz tbh I feel like we've moved nowhere with the story. SO MUCH happens and so many new characters come in.