#dani writes

Thump, thump, thump.

Sylus wondered if you could hear his heart beating out of his chest as he carried you to his room. Did you feel it fluttering under his skin as you pushed him onto the couch? As you mounted his lap, did you get a peek behind the mask he donned just for you that night? Sylus, who was cocky and confident by nature, felt as if he was about to come undone. He couldn't bear to show you how nervous he was and he hoped that he was still coming across as his normal, laidback self.

He had been on his best behavior since you left the N109 Zone after the auction. He realized, almost too late, that he was pushing you too far and too fast. As he watched you leave for Linkon, he made a pact with himself to let you set the pace. Sylus refused to let his own greed and desire get in the way of finally being with you again. He made his intentions clear with you whenever he could, never shying away from admitting how much he cared for you. But at the same time, he did his best to not pressure you into reciprocating those feelings. He was simply happy that you allowed his unabashed flirting. Sylus wanted to make it clear to you that if you were ever ready, he would be waiting for your with open arms. Now, he could finally admit to himself that his restraint had paid off. Despite his actions during your first trip to the N109 Zone, you were finally starting to trust him. Maybe even more than trust him, as evidenced by the fact that he was currently underneath you.

Before he had enough time to process his thoughts on the matter, you were pressing your lips to his. With that simple action, the mask that Sylus had worked so hard to keep in place that night shattered. His first instinct was that he must be dreaming, he was only ever lucky enough to kiss you in dreams, both in this life and his last. His second instinct was to devour you. Before he could act on this impulse, he was proud that he remembered his decision to let you set the pace. He refused to scare you off by being overzealous. He could've spent hours on that couch, hands roaming each other's bodies, only pulling away from the other's lips when one of you needed to breathe. And that was exactly what he planned to do. That is until you asked him to move to the bed.

Sylus decided, as you wrapped your legs around him and he carried you across the room, that his plan needed to change. He could no longer afford to be patient, he already knew how this could end and he still awoke from nightmares with a phantom pain in his chest to remind him. If Sylus could finally have you, and not in some twisted, soul-bound dream, he would do everything in his power to make the most of this moment. But as he laid you down on the bed, he couldn't help but retreat into his own paranoia. In the haze of your touch, he had forgotten the implications of you being with him. Your career, your freedom, everything you had worked for could be gone just by being with him here tonight. He had hurt you, kidnapped you, forced you to resonate. He could almost laugh at how incredulous it sounded, one of the top hunters in bed with the Association's most wanted criminal. If he was finally coming to this realization, he worried that you would follow suit. Could he really be this selfish? His hands were moving before his brain could overwhelm him with the guilt.

He did the only thing he could think to do: cover your eyes and tell you not to look. It seemed almost juvenile, like playing peek-a-boo with a child. But what other option did he have? Lest you open your eyes and see not your kindred spirit, but the monster this incarnation of you has come to know. He wouldn't survive the pain of you regretting this, couldn't live with the thought that you might change your mind. Sylus hoped that if he could just keep you from looking at him, you might not see all of his faults. The desire to feel his love reciprocated by you was drowning him. He made a valiant effort to keep his hands over your eyes until he was so drunk on the feeling of your body under him that he lost sight of his goal to keep you in the dark. As his hands finally got another chance to explore you, he felt his mask slip back into place, his smug demeanor finally back. It certainly helped when you made your own greed known. Sylus allowed himself permission to be greedy back, and with your consent, he was ready to swallow you whole.

His joy lasted for what felt like a millisecond, before he felt your hand on his chest, pushing him away. A voice in the back of his mind reared its ugly head and sneered, of course she would come to her senses, why would she want a monster like you. Bile rose in the back of his throat, but he pushed through. With his last breath before his mask broke yet again, he asked if you truly wanted to stop. To his disbelief and delight, you answered him by pulling him into another kiss. He spent the rest of the night worshipping you, taking every crumb that you gave him and savoring it like it was his last meal. For all he knew, it could have been.

In the morning, he woke to you in his arms and he didn't bother to hide his happiness. You stayed and that was all that mattered. After a quick shower to wash the last few hours off of him, Sylus had fully expected to crawl back in bed with you until he had to leave. Instead, he was greeted by a cold bed and an empty room. You were gone. He didn't know if you had finally decided that being with him was a mistake, or maybe you had just used him to blow off some steam. Whatever the reason, at least you weren't there to see him fall to his knees. It was almost a relief, really, that you finally comprehended just how ill-fated a relationship between the two of you would be. Sylus surely wasn't strong enough or selfless enough to let you go, even if that would have been best for you. He made peace with the fact that he would just have to beg you for any scrap of yourself that you could give him, if only so he would have a reason to stay by your side.

His downward spiral was interrupted by a car horn blaring outside of his window. He couldn't help but smile as he peered through the glass and saw you waiting outside in the car. When he made his way outside, he certainly couldn't hide his surprise when you made your intentions to stand by his side clear. It was almost pathetic, how quickly you could change his mood. He was like a puppy, when you called he came running. Maybe he could've tried harder to stop himself from kissing you right then and there, but what would be the point? He was sure you could hear his heart confessing to you on his behalf anyway, with its incessant thump, thump, thump.

Satoru hardly sleeps. So, in the rare moments he does, I try not to disturb him. Even if I am suffering from insomnia, I lay motionless by his side, listening to his soft exhales and watching the subtle motion of his eyes behind their closed lids as he dreams. His slumber is always short lived: a few hours here and there, dozing for a couple of minutes before he jolts awake. But there are nights where he sleeps deeply; when his eyes and his mind are so tired from the constant bombardment of information entering his brain. His weariness pulls him into a heavy slumber, whether he wants it to or not. For a moment, Satoru Gojo can find tranquility in rest.

Sometimes, his peace makes me drowsy again, my eyelids growing heavy and my mind settled now that Satoru’s is. If he can rest, then so can I. Other times, I feel an overwhelming surge of protectiveness come over me. He is at his most vulnerable in slumber, especially if he is tired enough to let his Infinity completely drop (which is very, very rare). I keep watch, eyeing the shadows with suspicion; alert to every sound beyond our sheltered walls. I vow to protect him, and hope that I’m able to from any threat that might present itself.

Tonight, I’m feeling restless, various anxieties jumbling my thoughts, souring my sleep entirely. Satoru lightly dozes beside me, the silver light of the moon threading itself into the snowy strands of his hair, making them almost glow. Visits with the Higher Ups always exhaust him, a feeling I understand all too well. How many times have I been called in to be reprimanded by them? And each time, I want to spend the rest of my day in the comfort of my bed. He hasn’t had a chance to tell me what they said to him, but it is never anything good.

The sorcerer emits a small whimper, twitching in what I imagine to be one of the many nightmares that plague his already troubled sleep. I inch closer, and somehow, he senses my presence, his Infinity slipping long enough for me to begin feathering kisses against his cheekbones while quietly hushing reassurances that he’s safe. Softly, I card my fingers through his hair, nails grazing his scalp. His distress gradually dissipates, quick breaths slowing and heart rate calming to an even thrum again. After a moment, Satoru stirs, cracking an eyelid open, blazing azure beneath pale lashes. I hope he’s had enough of a chance to give his Six Eyes somewhat of a rest; though even in sleep, they remain ever watching.

“You were dreaming,” I whisper to a groggy Satoru, who looks around slightly confused. Weary still, he presses closer to me, draping an arm over my chest and drawing me in.

“Did it sound like a good dream?” he questions. I smile ruefully, keeping silent and answering his question by ghosting my lips against the corner of his mouth. Satoru turns his head slightly, deepening our kiss. His mouth is warm, and his hands search for purchase on my hips before he pulls me into him. My fingers tangle in his hair, feathery strands soft as silk. The world falls away, leaving Satoru and I in the shelter of my living quarters, sequestered at the back of the school, with only the moon and the stars to witness us. I ache for quiet moments like this; moments that are increasingly becoming few and far between. It’s through no fault of our own. There’s just too much happening in the jujutsu world. If Satoru isn’t busy with our students, he’s traveling for work. And if I’m not teaching, I’m out in the field. Hence, our cherished, clandestine rendezvous like this.

We lay in silence for a while, and it feels like a secret I get to share: Satoru’s contemplative silence. Suguru is one of the few others in the world to experience this quiet; but- that was a long time ago now.

Sometimes, I’m afraid to speak; like the Higher Ups might hear us and learn of our relationship. They know we are close, and I’m sure they’ve suspected just how close Satoru and I are. But I don’t need anything or anyone confirming it to them. It will no doubt spell trouble. So, in the stillness, Satoru and I gaze at one another, tracing constellations of freckles on each other’s skin or making love with hands covering mouths or teeth clenching pillows. Tonight, we observe silently, faces centimeters from one another’s, memorizing each other’s features in fear of one day forgetting them.

“They still want to execute Yuta,” Satoru blurts, his voice barely above a whisper. My fingers freeze where they’ve been caressing the nape of Satoru’s neck and I lean back to fully gaze at him. I am met with a grave expression, white brows furrowed and blue eyes filled with sorrow. Sorrow and unmistakable anger. It is an expression I find myself matching. I know all too well the threat of execution by the Higher Ups.

“Why?” I breathe, my tone incredulous.

“Rika at the elementary school,” is all Satoru has to say for me to understand.

“What did you say to them?” I venture after a moment. Satoru’s tongue is sharp, so I know he is likely to have angered the Higher Ups. Not that I can blame him for talking back to the elderly prudes.

“That I was on Yuta’s side,” Satoru responds, proving my suspicions correct. It makes me happy to hear him so open about protecting Yuta, as well. Satoru has always been a champion for the underdogs, but as a teenager, he never admitted it. Now, though, he’s not afraid to show his softer side. It’s hard to believe he was even more blustery back then than he is now.

“You have to wonder why the Higher Ups are so keen on issuing execution orders,” I put forth with a sardonic chuckle, recalling my own life being on the line in my teenage years.

“They’re old fuddy-duddies looking for a good show,” Satoru returns with a yawn, stretching his limbs and looking longer than ever, “They don’t get much action in their geriatric, sequestered lives.”

He snickers to himself, rolling back over and resting his head in the valley between my breasts.

“Well, if it wasn’t already obvious, I’m on Yuta’s side as well,” I confirm. Satoru’s response is muffled against my chest.

“Softie.”

“What does that make you, then?” I tease, glancing down and breathing in the scent of sandalwood trapped in Satoru’s hair. I receive a soft snore in response. It won’t be long before Satoru wakes again, but for now, I allow myself to drift off, comforted by his presence and happy to see he is comforted by mine.

***

“Mangeshkar,” the gruff voice sounds from behind one of the many doors set in a circle around me. I am suddenly fourteen again, trying desperately to hold my tears in and failing miserably. They roll down my cheeks in hot, fat drops, dripping onto my skirt and my clenched hands in my lap. I cannot bring myself to look up from the floor, shame and fear keeping me catatonic where I sit.

“Your threat to society and to the world as a whole has not gone unnoticed,” the voice continues, “Your- incident in America has brought you before us today. Yaga seems to think you have promise in the jujutsu world. We, however, do not see your situation as such.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, gritting my teeth, terrified of what will come next. Surely, this is my end. Fourteen years of not understanding myself; not understanding my own destructive power; of trying desperately to contain it. I hadn’t meant for anyone to get hurt. But the older I’ve gotten, the more difficult it’s become to control her; the other part of me that emerges when the rage takes over.

They were hurting my friends. What was I supposed to do? Stand back idly? No, I wanted to protect them. But I didn’t mean for it to go that far. I didn’t mean for anyone else to get hurt. I-

“Because Yaga is so convinced you are an asset, we will stay our order of execution,” another voice, just as menacing, speaks from a behind a door to my left, “But you are on a very tight leash, Mangeshkar-San.”

“Do not disappoint us.”

***

I wake with a start, painful recollection still lingering on the edges of my mind. It’s one that hasn’t visited my dreams in a long while. Yuta’s acceptance into Jujutsu High has started dragging up a number of memories I have tried hard to bury, perhaps foolishly. These memories will no doubt serve to help me be a better teacher for young Okkotsu. I shake off the discomfort left behind by my dream and resolve to use these recollections to my advantage. Yuta is not alone in his experience, and I should make sure he knows that.

Stretching, I lift myself from the bed. Satoru has long since gotten up, though he made sure to leave his usual note by my bedside. On a scrap of paper, he’s written, “Scoping out some training grounds for the students. See you when I see you. Don’t sleep too late, sleepyhead,” along with a tiny heart and a scribbled drawing of himself winking. I hold the note close to my heart before slipping it into the pocket of my uniform, which is hanging near my closet in preparation for my day. Satoru must have set that out, too, before he left.

It’s still early, sun barely creeping over the horizon, the pale blue light of dawn filtering through the open window behind my bed. Rain patters softly against my roof, sweet-smelling and cool. I had always thought of myself as an early riser, until I met Satoru. Although does it really count if you never sleep? Regardless, he almost invariably beats me to the start of the day. I wish, though, we could have one morning of lazing around; one morning where we can whittle the day away in bed, tangled in each other, lost in the hazy summer sun. Maybe someday, although that’s a dangerous thing to hope for. Inevitably, any wish you make as a sorcerer is stolen away from you- one way or another.

Begrudgingly and yearning for the warmth of both my bed and Satoru’s arms, I dress. I plan to spend the day going over drills with Maki, Panda, Inumaki, and Okkotsu while we await Satoru’s return. When we finish up with our training, I’ll likely meditate for a while. I think that is an activity Yuta would enjoy and something that may help him calm Rika. Or at least calm himself. I resolve to present that idea to him this afternoon.

As I go about my day, my earlier discomfort returns, likely from the memories being dredged up. But there is something else stirring in my heart: an uncertainty; a foreboding feeling. I can’t seem to shake the feeling that Yuta’s arrival marks the start of a larger change. Though what, I do not know nor can I even begin to speculate. All throughout sparring and drill work, I find myself trying to shake off the anxiety. I wish I could pinpoint it beyond a sinking feeling in my stomach or a vague sense of uneasiness.  

I catch Yuta’s eye and smile as he lands a strike on Panda.

“Good job!” I call out, receiving a proud beam in return. He’s improving every day, slowly but surely. Yuta’s confidence is growing, but I can still see his hesitance in the swing of his weapons and his nervous gait. His fear of what he houses inside him is all too familiar. But that fear will get him nowhere, or it will doom him to execution. If he can’t get control of Rika, if he allows his fear to rule him, the Higher Ups will have no problem removing Yuta. They see him as Rika, and Rika only. A threat.

I will not allow that to happen. And I know Satoru won’t either. Satoru never gave up on me, nor did Suguru or Shoko. I feel a swell of confidence, determined to help Yuta reach his full potential. It is both my duty and an honor. We are kindred spirits, after all.

Bonus!!!! I made a bingo card of all my writing quirks so people can have a fun game to play while they read! Please send me the results if you do choose to play bingo <333