#ddao

Suguru doesn’t even blink at your words. “Of course not,” he replies smoothly, expertly dicing carrots into small cubes on the cutting board. He finishes, puts the knife down, and looks at you reassuringly. “It was just a matter of propriety. I couldn’t just leave that girl waiting for hours on end for Satoru, now could I?”

You shake your head, smiling back. Of course he would. Because Suguru is a good person who would keep a girl company at a matchmaking ceremony that Satoru either refused to show up to or forgot. You aren’t surprised to hear it. Both the fact that Suguru spent his afternoon entertaining her, and that Satoru had neglected to go to it in the first place, or even mention it to you.

Marriage…

You think of white dresses, veils, shiromukus. Endless white fabrics. Black kimonos. Cups of Sake. You think of temples, the reception, the planning. All the different options for catering and flowers and wedding invitations. Your head spins. Weddings. Marriage. Abstract concepts to you. Foreign in their conventionality. You’ve never had the luxury of dwelling too long of what a hypothetical wedding would entail. You had no use for it, really. Though you did occasionally think about how Shoko would look on her wedding day. 

Suguru is calling your name.

You blink, regaining the smile on your lips, hoping he didn’t ask you a question you had not heard. “Y-yes?”

“Just keeping you with me,” he hums, getting started on the mushrooms and potatoes. “What were you thinking about?”

“Weddings are complicated,” you say seriously. But then you think of Shoko in a wedding dress, Suguru and Satoru in black kimonos, and decide that Shoko would make a lovely bride just as Satoru and Suguru would make lovely grooms. “I hope I get to see all of you married one day.”

Though the thought of Shoko getting married disturbs you. You think of seeing her even less than you usually do and frown. Twenty-two really is a bit too young, isn’t it? She hasn’t even finished medical school yet! You force yourself away from your thoughts, regarding Suguru brightly.

“What did the two of you talk about?” You ask eagerly. 

An amused glint flickers in his dark gaze. Almost teasingly. “Flowers.”

“Flowers?”

“Flowers.”

The girl had invited Suguru to see the sprawling garden at her estate and the special lotuses she tended to daily. He politely declined. You are slightly disappointed at this. You think of Satoru and Suguru’s wedding. You think of a faceless third, a potential bride that could handle Satoru and Suguru’s tempestuous natures. A calming, dignified force. You think she’ll be beautiful, befitting the two of them. 

“Was she pretty?”

Suguru stops, knife pressed to the cutting board, mushroom split in two. He lifts his gaze, returning to your expectant gaze with an unreadable one before his expression softens. “I suppose.”

You stare at him. He…supposes? Just what is that supposed to mean? Some new cryptic way of conveying his interest? Maybe he’s embarrassed. Maybe he doesn’t want to admit it.

The amused smile returns to his lips. “I was just a temporary fill in for Satoru, nothing more.”

He resumes cutting. Finishes. Heats up oil in a large pot and pushes the vegetables into it with a knife.

He’s too modest. You’re sure he’s downplaying himself. She had invited him to her estate for a second meet, hadn’t she? You guess Satoru and Suguru and yes, even Shoko are at an age most would consider eligible for marriage. They’ll get married soon, embark on the next adventure of their lives and you’ll…

You’ll be content.

“Have you thought about it?” He asks nonchalantly. “Marriage?”

You falter, a lapse in your thoughts at Suguru’s inquiring gaze. “Not at all,” you say truthfully. “I can’t even imagine it.” Someone loving you? The thought of someone finding something worthwhile in you makes you feel greatly disturbed when you decided long ago that romantic endeavors were useless in your case. But even that line of thinking is arrogant of you. Nobody has ever shown interest in you in the twenty-one years you’ve been alive, and you are sure that even the slightest interest in you would only end with disappointment.

There is something fundamentally wrong with you. You would rather the vulnerable truth of it all not be laid bare and dissected by a scorned lover you disappointed in some way, because you had not been able to live up to the expected standards of romantic love. You would say something wrong, do something wrong. You wouldn’t understand. You don't think you'd be recover, and even the thought of it makes you feel vaguely ill.

You’re not naive. You know that love doesn’t have to be a factor in marriage, but if marriage was a necessity, then what was wrong with hoping for love, romance, passion? You’ve seen the well bred women of jujutsu society, the ones whose last names hold importance on some level, cultivated for the singular purpose of being a wife, a mother, sheltered away in their estates awaiting the inevitable. You think these girls deserve far more respect for being able to flawlessly navigate jujutsu society than you do, as a working jujutsu sorcerer. 

You also think you want better for Satoru. You think he deserves love and everything else he’s found in Suguru. You’re happy for him. For Suguru. Because even someone like you knows how rare it is to find what the two of them have.

You exhale. “But nothing’s expected of me anyway." You've never even been kissed. "I don’t have a lover, or even parents. I’m nobody important. But you, Satoru, and Shoko…" A self deprecating smile. "It seems that I’ll have to learn to live without you guys soon.” You’d be lonely. But you at least had Megumi and Tsumiki, and even Mimiko and Nanako. You were sure they’d still need you for a few more years. And then…

You’ve never thought about the future. Not to this extent. You’re unsure of what your life would be without Suguru, Satoru, and Shoko. You’re unsure if you’d even exist. 

As long as you’re alive, you’d persist. Somehow. And if you died along the way, well. You suppose you wouldn’t have to put too much thought into the future then, would you?

You must look troubled. Suguru clears his throat. You look up, just as the smell of curry fills your nose. 

He lifts up an inviting spoonful of curry. “For you.”

It takes you a few seconds to completely pull out of your thoughts, and to register the spoon in his grip. You learn forward automatically, mumble ‘thank you for the food,’ and eat his offering. The curry is delicious, savory with a sweet note that can’t just be attributed to the apples you had seen him blending before to mix into the sauce. Your gaze drops to an opened packet on the counter.

“Dark chocolate?”

“A tip I got from some of the housewives in the complex,” Suguru replies, satisfied with your response. “They said that it’d add an additional note of flavor. I’m guessing it worked…?”

You nod vigorously. “It’s delicious!”

Of course Suguru’s made good with the housewives in the fancy apartment complex the two of them live in with the kids. Suguru wanted a big kitchen. Satoru wanted a view. The penthouse seemed to both their tastes.

It’s a lovely apartment, with a large sprawling living room that includes ceiling high bookshelves, an open kitchen with a long island, and stairs that spiral to a second floor. Accommodating two adults, four kids and more, easily. It brings a smile to your face to see traces of Satoru and Suguru, and all the kids all over the apartment. You’re sure the confetti and colored paper scraps on top of the kotatsu are from Mimiko and Nanako and Tsumiki. Some school project that involved copious amounts of glue and glitter. There’s a book you bought for Megumi on the couch. Just as the bookshelves are full of Suguru’s own books. The big jar of sugar in one of the upper cabinets of the kitchen (far away from the kids’ reach) is Satoru’s. To add into his cereal, tea and anything else accommodating his usual sugary diet. There’s an identical jar back at your apartment. Satoru’s sugar jar.

To Satoru and Suguru and the girls, Megumi, and Tsumiki, it’s home.

Suguru’s eyes crease with the curve of his lips, pleased. “I’m glad you like it.” 

“Everyone’s going to love it.” Especially the twins, you think. Chocolate in their curry seemed to be exactly the kind of thing they’d delight at, in the small bursts of childlike wonder they rediscovered after Suguru rescued them. They followed after Satoru with their sweet tooths. However, after Nanako had been found with a cavity, Suguru had been forced to put a hard limit on their sugar intake, much to their disappointment.

Suguru gives the curry a stir, almost absentmindedly, as if he’s pondering something.

“I think about it,” he says, after a small silence. “Getting married.”

Oh.

Of course Suguru has thought about marriage. What, with all the marriage talks and matchmaking ceremonies and lovely elegant women in their pretty kimonos, who probably knew all the perfect ways to serve tea and facilitate conversation in all matters of talk. Suguru would make a perfect husband. Anybody would be lucky to marry Suguru. Charming and kind and handsome. 

You’ve begun to formulate a question about whether or not anyone’s caught his or Satoru’s eye, when you hear a thundering of footsteps. 

“We’re backkkkkkk!” Nanako hollers, rushing into the open living space, pulling Mimiko along with her. “Papa, are you making curry? It smells good!”

Mimiko nods her agreement, tugging on Suguru’s apron. Suguru greets them with a smile, untying his apron and pulling her up into his arms, just Satoru strolls into the room, Tsumiki at his side, Megumi trailing a few steps behind them.

“I’m starved!” Satoru announces, peering over the stovetop at the boiling curry. When a hand sneaks for a piece of chocolate, Suguru slaps his hand away. 

Suguru takes the chocolate away and puts it into a drawer as Satoru gawks. “It’s not the kind you’d like anyway.”

“Tsumiki, Megumi,” you start. “How’s school?”

You have regrettably not been able to visit as much as you wish you could. Your studies kept you busy. Your missions kept you out of Tokyo. You hope your absence isn’t missed too much. You read that children should grow up in stable environments. Your schedule was the last thing from stable.

Tsumiki beams. “I’ve got a part in the school play. We’re putting on Hachikazuki-hime!”

You make a mental note to grab the date from Satoru so you can clear your schedule. Tsumiki would be graduating elementary school soon. Already onto middle school. Children grow up so quickly. You’d have to take as many pictures as you could to compile an elementary school picture book for all the kids.

“Is that why you guys were all at the school so late?”

She nods. “Ah, and Megumi hasn’t gotten into a fight in a month,” she says excitedly. “It’s a record!”

The aforementioned boy makes a face. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

You grin, ruffling the boy’s hair. “That is a record!” Satoru had taken care of an incident a month ago in which you had been called to the school over an altercation between Megumi and another male student. You hadn’t been able to make it. You didn’t ask what Satoru had done, but you have a suspicious inkling that it had been waved away with a twirl of Satoru’s trusty black card.

You catch a glimpse of the clock above the refrigerator and balk. You snatch up your bag from the floor and wrap Tsumiki and Megumi in your arms and squeeze.

“I have to go now! I’ll see you guys later.”

“You’re not staying for dinner?” Mimiko asks quietly, peering up at you through her black bangs.

A sheepish breath escapes you. “I have a lot of homework, unfortunately.” You’d get takeout from that new tempura restaurant that opened up a couple of blocks away from your apartment. Then it was back to the books for you.

Satoru frowns. “You can’t stay an hour?”

Nanako and Mimiko and even Tsumiki voice their agreement.

Even Suguru looks displeased. Though you suppose it’s your fault. It had been your intention to stay until…

Suguru wanted to get married. He was thinking of marriage. With Satoru, with some other faceless bride to be. All three of them. You had said it yourself, hadn’t you? You’d have to learn to live without them. 

All of this is just temporary. 

You turn to the kids. “Why don’t you guys wash up for dinner?”

One by one, they shuffle off to their rooms. Megumi gives you an inquiring stare, but you wave him off.

“I’ve got a lot more work than I thought…” you trail off underneath their twin scrutiny. “I think it’d be best for me to go home for today.”

“Home,” Satoru repeats. His lips twist, effectively staunching all the words that would undoubtedly tell you exactly what he thinks about your decaying one bedroom apartment that had become your home after you graduated. You were untethered after graduation. While it was an occasion, jujutsu tech had been your home for better or worse for four years. It was the first place you had truly thought of as a home. And to leave it…

Yaga had offered you your room on campus, if you wanted to stay. But it didn’t seem right. Not without Suguru, Satoru, and Shoko. You found your apartment off a flyer attached to a pinboard while at a public library. Shoko had visited the apartment with you, negotiated rent down with the landlord, and the lease had been signed with little fanfare. It was small enough that you wouldn’t feel too lonely. Big windows overlooking a courtyard in the back. She hadn’t been thrilled about it (Satoru and Suguru even less so), but it was clean with a well worn floor and chips in the wall adjacent to the kitchen from what you presumed was to measure a child’s height. It endeared you to the apartment immediately.

Your landlord had informed you that a single mother had lived in your apartment before vacating it. You thought that there must have been love in your apartment once. So much love that a child could grow up happily scribbling away on the same walls you woke up to everyday. Maybe, somehow, this love would make you feel less lonely.

Your apartment was home. 

“Then let me pack you—”

“It’s fine, it’s fine!” You say hurriedly, backing towards the foyer. “I’d hate to trouble you. I have food at home.”

“I’ll walk you.” Satoru says, grabbing his jacket off the counter.

“I’ll take a taxi from the lobby.” You refuse. You can’t hide your smile, touched by their concern. “You should all eat. As a family.”

Suguru stares at you, the weight of his dark gaze making your skin prickle. It makes you feel as if you’ve said something wrong.

“At least make Ijichi drive you home,” Satoru says, exasperated, gesturing to the ceiling length windows that detail the darkness that has set over Tokyo. “It’s dark out.”

You blink in disbelief. “Satoru…” He cocks his head to the side. “Are you still using Ijichi as your personal chauffeur…?”

“...”

You turn to Suguru who seems to suddenly find the potted flowers resting by the window interesting.

Your mouth drops. “Not you too, Suguru! For the last time, you two can’t make Ijichi drop everything he’s doing to drive you through Tokyo!”

You sigh, shaking your head. These two. You feel sympathy towards Ijichi’s plight. Maybe that was why he had looked so withered the other day while you had visited Shoko in the morgue at Jujustu tech. Shoko had made a joke about watering him like you’d water a plant. You, however, could not find the humor in the situation when your kouhai had truly looked to be in need of water. And sleep. And food.

Maybe you could treat him for a meal one of these days…

“Does Ijichi like yakitori…?” You wonder out loud.

“I wouldn’t know.” Suguru says lightly, despite the peeved expression on his face. You can tell that Suguru, really, could not care less about Ijichi’s tastes.

“I don’t care about that man,” Satoru deadpans. “Why are you talking about Ijichi right now?”

You are unimpressed by their responses. “Anyway,” you sigh out. “I’ll be going now.”

“I’m coming—”

“No you aren’t,” you’re already halfway out the door. “Eat Suguru’s delicious curry,” you tell them both. “Tell the kids I love them. Goodnight.”

You don’t take a taxi. You walk fifty minutes to your apartment in the brisk winter in an effort to clear your mind. It doesn’t work. Suguru wants to get married. Satoru too, maybe, despite his efforts to avoid all the matchmaking ceremonies and invitations to go back to the Gojo estate for more lectures on the importance of continuing the Gojo line with an heir. In the end if Suguru wanted it, Satoru would end up wanting it too, as that was the nature of things. The two of them reconfiguring themselves around the other, always in tandem. A girl would catch Satoru’s eye, or Suguru’s, or maybe both of their attentions. And if she made them happy, you would be happy.

It wasn’t as if Suguru and Satoru didn’t have prospects. There was no shortage of girls who would gladly offer themselves. They didn’t need any help in that aspect. Besides, you are sure you’d be of absolutely no help in matchmaking. You always found it difficult to talk to pretty women. Your mouth never quite worked right. They always smelled nice too…

What you can do…

You can keep your distance. Slowly disengage yourself from the tangle of their lives. You’d be relegated to watching from the sidelines. You’d be content. Maybe you could keep Shoko to yourself for a little bit longer. To your knowledge, she had no intention of getting married. You hoped. Yet anyway. 

You jam your keys into the door of your apartment, slightly lifting the weight of the door up and jiggling the keys to the right. When you walk into your apartment, you set down your bag. You had forgotten about the takeout. There’s no food in your apartment except for a rotting carrot in the fridge that you throw out, and Satoru’s big jar of sugar on the island. 

You listlessly play with the spread book in front of you, tugging at the corners of the page as you mindlessly stare at the text. Nothing is comprehended. After a few more minutes of trying to pull your concentration together, you give up. Pushing the book back, you lean back, bleary eyes fixed on the dark ceiling of the library, and sigh.

Your temples throb, and you squeeze your eyes shut. 

It's been a while since you’ve been pressed for sleep like you are now. You stay awake through the night, catching an hour or two of sleep when exhaustion overtakes you. Through it all, Go stays awake with you, and the two of you have taken to watching animal documentaries together.

The nights are long and constant, but you aren’t alone.

You’re thinking about getting another fruit shaped bed for Go and a few other enrichment activities, when a giggle draws your attention back to reality.

You blink.

Another giggle soon joins the fray. 

Smiling, you get to your feet and follow the badly stifled laughter. You finally peer around a tall stack of books to find Mimiko and Nanako crouching down, hands pressed to their mouths as giggles wrack their bodies.

You attempt some semblance at being stern. “Did you girls escape Yaga-sensei again?”

A wide, mischievous grin stretches Nanako’s lips. “We did!” She announces, delighted. “I bet the old man’s running around wondering where he lost us!”

She and Mimiko dissolve into giggles once more. 

The old man…

You can’t help but be fondly exasperated. Undoubtedly Satoru and Suguru’s influence. Their words rubbing off on their young, impressionable minds. You should expect better from Suguru, but you don’t.

You kneel down to face them. The delight on their faces is palpable. You can’t help but feel a little better, seeing them laugh like the children they are. If the two of them are here then that means…

They must have been dropped off in the morning. Your heart quickens at the thought of encountering them. They must be upset at you, over your nonsensical outburst, and at the thought of it all, apologies instinctively jump to your tongue. You bite them back.

Mimiko and Nanako exchange a glance. The motion makes you think of Satoru and Suguru, and for a sudden you think you’re seeing doubles.

Nanako momentarily lowers her gaze before speaking. “Are you and papa fighting?”

You blink at her. 

Nanako’s eyes are wide with a sadness that wouldn’t look out of place on a beaten dog. “Papa and Satoru are really sad you’re mad at them.”

Mad…

Your mouth is dry. “That’s…”

They stare at you, forlorn expressions matching. “That’s not it,” you force out. “It’s…a lot more…difficult to explain. I’m not mad.” Anger has always been a foreign emotion to you. You’ve never had the means to sustain something as ever permanent as anger. You’re ill suited to it. 

Nanako brightens immediately. “Really? When are you going to move into our apartment?”

Mimiko asks, “Are you going to have babies?”

“I want a younger brother!”

“And a sister…”

“That’s not…” your face vigorously heats. It seems you weren’t as discreet as you wished. You’d have to…talk to Satoru and Suguru about being more careful. After you build up the courage to face them. “We’re not…” You clear your throat. Better to clear up any misconceptions right now. “It’s true that something happened, but it’s not like that,” you say firmly. “I promise.”

The two of them go momentarily silent, understanding the weight of a promise from your lips.

Mimiko gazes at you discerningly, in a way that has always reminded you of Suguru, her quieter disposition making her no less of a force. “You don’t love papa?”

Nanako leans into you. “Or Satoru?”

“Of course I love them,” you answer truthfully, even though your stomach tightens.

“But…not like that?” Nanako leans in closer, gesturing for you to lend her your ear. You incline your head down. In your ear she whispers, “Nao-kun at school told Kana that he loves her and that they're going to get married. Do you love Papa and Satoru like that?”

You stare at her, eyes wide. The twins tilt their heads to the left in one synchronized movement you’re sure they aren’t even cognizant of. You feel sick all of a sudden, hands sweaty and head spinning. “It’s not like that,” you say quickly. It’s not like that. Not like that. You’d never…not with Satoru and Suguru. Never with Satoru and Suguru. You’re sure they’ve never entertained the idea either.

“If Satoru and Suguru got married to another woman, I’d support them,” you say plainly. You’re unsure how to articulate it any other way. “Because I love them. I want them to be happy.” Their happiness makes you happy. Despite it, you smile, reaching out to ruffle Mimiko’s hair, and then Nanako’s. They light up at your touch. “This is something for the adults to worry about, okay?”

They don’t look convinced. When Nanako, once more, opens her mouth, you hurriedly rush to change the topic. “Have you two eaten?” Suguru would’ve sent them off with breakfast, but it’s already nearing late afternoon. They must be hungry.

Mimiko nods. You notice that her long dark hair is styled with her pretty silver clip. Nanako's blonde hair is tied into a slightly curled ponytail, complete with a pink bow. Suguru must have done their hair this morning, just as he does most mornings. Both accessories must have been gifts from Suguru. He spoils them. The thought brings a smile to your lips.

“Alright,” You jump up. “Shall we go get lunch?”

Mimiko and Nanako stand, the two of them taking your hands on either side of you as you make your way to the cafeteria. Nanako is recounting her week at school and the messy love lives of her elementary classmates, including the three boys that had confessed their love for her and asked her to be her girlfriend to which she responded that no boy would be able to match her papa in any way. Mimiko nods seriously in agreement. 

You’re in the middle of asking which suitor suits her tastes the best when you hear your name from behind. You turn.

Sasaki is in a dark emerald kimono that reminds you of Megumi’s eyes. The delicate fabric is decorated with embroidered auspicious cranes, one of which spans the length and curve of her leg, silver colored, eye black.

“Sasaki-san,” you greet with a smile. Of all the places to see her, you didn’t think you’d see her at jujutsu tech. “It’s been a while.”

“Please,” she replies, “Call me Kumiko. It seems wrong to have a friend of Geto-sama and Gojo-sama’s to address me with formalities.”

“Kumiko then,” you agree. You look down at Mimiko and Nanako and lightly squeeze their hands. “I’m not sure if you’ve met, but these two are Mimiko and Nanako.”

“Hello,” Nanako says, gazing from Sasaki to you. When you smile encouragingly and nod, she says, “I’m Nanako, and this is my sister Mimiko.”

Mimiko stares at her quietly.

Sasaki beams. “I’ve heard of you two. Geto-sama’s wards.” She kneels down to their height. “My name is Kumiko. Please feel free to refer to me as such. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other more often from here on out.”

“We were just about to go to the cafeteria to get some food,” you say. “Would you like to join us?”

Sasaki brightens. “Of course.”

The short walk to the cafeteria is in silence, Nanako having fallen suspiciously quiet, and your attempts to get her to recount her story about Kouta-kun getting in trouble for not feeding the class fishes shut down.

“They’re a little shy around new people,” you explain as the girls have gone to get lunch, trays in hand. The cafeteria is empty, save for a few auxiliary managers milling around. “But they get over it quickly. When Nanako gets going she doesn’t stop.”

Sasaki is understanding. “Of course,” she says. “It’s only reasonable considering their…” something like sympathy dabs at her face, “history.”

History.

You suppose that’s what it is now. You can only hope the scars on their hearts have mostly healed, but you also know that sometimes they wake up in cold sweats, scrambling into Suguru’s arms and clutching him tightly. They love him. They adore him with a hero worship you’d be more worried about if you hadn’t known Suguru to be the good person he is. In their eyes, Suguru can do no wrong, so when he holds them close and tells them that the ghosts of their past are just that, ghosts, they believe him. 

But you also know some things never heal. 

They’re still young, you think. Unlike you. You never learned what it means to leave things in the past. They’ll learn from your mistakes.

“Are you here on business?” You ask.

“Oh my, the only business I’d ever be conducting here would be marriage talks,” she says goodnaturedly. “I’m with my elder brother. He’s here for a meeting with the elders that came in from Fukuoka. I was told to accompany him by my father, but I’m afraid even I cannot wait several hours with immunity,” she smiles, and you are once again taken by her good looks. She simply doesn’t look human, even more up close. “I was bored,” she states, mirthful. “I was hoping Geto-sama or even Gojo-sama would be here today.”

“I see…” you glance at the clock towards the entrance of the room. “If you wait until a little later, I’m sure you’ll catch them when they come to pick up the twins.”

She looks surprised. “They personally come to pick up the children?”

“On most days. Sometimes when Suguru and Satoru are busy, I drop them off. Or Shoko if she finishes a shift early. But usually either Satoru or Suguru try to make it.” Sometimes, when it was impossible for anyone, an auxiliary manager. But Suguru doesn't like the idea of strangers taking the twins home so often times than not Ijichi is made to drive the twins home. He doesn't mind it too much. You made sure to talk to him about it. In fact you'd say he's fond of the girls when they aren't tormenting him.

“Most men wouldn’t take the time out of their day.”

You can’t really speak to that, but you suppose the elites have always had their own way of doing things, far removed from your own experiences. Either way, you’ve always been alone. You don’t remember your father’s face. Not anymore. Only the hurt he left you with.

She studies you, dark eyes intentful. “Geto-sama is a kind man.” A light smile touches her lips. You can’t help but think it looks sad. “My brother was…” she hesitates, “not pleased when Gojo-sama did not come to the marriage talks our families arranged. If it weren’t for Geto-sama…” Clearing her throat, she forces a smile. “I thought he was lovely.”

You can’t help the pride blooming in your chest. Suguru is lovely, you think. The kindest and one of the best people you know. You shouldn’t have blown up at him, at Satoru. Your heart grows heavy.

“Suguru’s a good person,” you agree. “Satoru too.” Although people may not think it at first, too cowed by his presence.

“That’s…reassuring to hear,” she says. Her gaze turns contemplative. “The two of them make quite a pair…”

Before she can finish her train of thought, the twins return with bento boxes.

Nanako pushes a third box in your direction. “This one’s yours!”

“Oh, I’m fin—”

“Papa says it’s important to make sure you’re eating,” Mimiko says, opening hers. “He and Satoru say you always forget.”

“Is that right…” you say, exasperated. Luckily, there’s an extra chopstick inside. You offer a pair to Sasaki. “Hungry?”

“I’ve eaten,” she politely inclines her head. “Thank you for offering.”

As you start on your tempura, Sasaki asks the twins about school. “Do you enjoy it? School with civilians. It’s not…odd?” To be leading separate lives, she seems to say.

Nanako shrugs. “It’s just school. Megumi’s school seems more fun though. Megumi once beat up a sixth grader for picking on Tsumiki when he was in fifth grade! And the bully came back with middle schoolers, Megumi beat them up too!”

You sweat. You remember that particular incident, and the accusations of delinquency flying out of several mouths. Satoru and Suguru had shared a long laugh over it. In front of the principal, and the offending student’s father.

“The Zenin heir,” Sasaki mulls. You’re glad Megumi isn’t here to hear that. “The three of you don’t attend the same school?”

“I thought it better for Megumi and Tsumiki to stay at the school they were originally enrolled in. We enrolled the twins at a school closer to the apartment,” you say. “But you two want to get into Tsumiki’s middle school, right?”

They nod. Megumi didn’t care as much, something that chagrined Tsumiki. But to you, it only seemed natural he would follow his older sister. The three of them would easily test into the school. It wasn’t as much of a worry.

“Forgive me for being curious,” Sasaki says shyly. “I was only ever homeschooled so the likes of regular school is beyond me…”

You don’t think she missed much, but then again, your own memories of elementary and middle school don’t inspire any great, memorable feelings within you. 

Mimiko looks from you to Sasaki. “Are you two friends?”

You’d hate to presume. “Sasaki-san is much more a friend of Suguru’s than mine.”

Nanako perks up at Suguru’s name. “Papa’s?”

There’s a light blush on her face. “Oh,” she breathes out. “I would hate to be presumptuous…or take advantage of Geto-sama’s kindness…”

You smile. “That’s nothing, I wouldn’t be worried. Suguru’s a lot less formal than he seems.”

“I see…” a pleased expression settles on her face.

You feel someone approaching, and in your peripheral you see a man in a suit.

Sasaki straightens immediately as the man bends down to whisper into Sasaki’s ear. Expression formal, she stands. 

“I’m afraid my brother is calling for me,” she says apologetically. “I have to take my leave, but thank you for entertaining me.”

“Anytime,” you reply.

You can’t help but think her steps look heavy as she walks away, the man trailing after her.

When you turn back to the twins, you say, “What did you think of Sasaki-san?”

Nanako shrugs.

Mimiko eats her bento.

“It's important for you to meet new people,” you say softly. You wonder how you can phrase it in a way they can understand. “One day, there might be someone new in Suguru and Satoru’s life.”

Mimiko peers up at you. “Not…you?”

“Not me,” you agree. If not Sasaki-san then someone else, but you’re sure Suguru is fond of her. Maybe he’s playing coy. Satoru would endear himself to her soon enough. The three of them make an unearthly attractive couple. You think of married Meiko-san, an unhappy bride, and you wonder if marriage is even worth it after all. Love is enough, and to you, it’s always been enough. 

But Meiko-san too, you think, is beautiful in a way that wouldn’t look out of place at Satoru and Suguru’s side. You’ve never personally met one of Satoru and Suguru’s partners before, but suddenly it’s real. You wonder if they slid their hands over her body, if they held her, if they kissed the moans from her lips. Your face goes warm. And suddenly it feels all wrong, like you’ve done something you shouldn’t. Satoru and Suguru aren’t meant for you. You’re content just to watch them, to see them happy. A sudden feeling of shame washes over you at how you had faced Sasaki so brazenly, and innocently watched her face fill with joy at the mention of Suguru.

The food goes bitter in your mouth.

“No,” Nanako says plainly, lotus root caught between her chopsticks. “I don’t think so.”

You force yourself to smile, despite the horrible, sinking feeling in your chest. Maybe this would be an easier topic for Suguru to broach with the girls when it’s time. “Is Suguru picking you up today?”

Nanako nods eagerly, waving the screen of her lit phone. “Papa said he’d be here soon!”

Apprehension swirls in your gut.

“Mimiko! Nanako!” A deep voice exclaims from behind you.

The twins go suspiciously silent, looking anywhere but at the man behind you. 

You blink at him. “Yaga-sensei, there you are.” Your old sensei’s appearance is in unusual disarray, lips sternly pursed. You wonder what wild goose chase the girls had led him on. Well, you’d feel better leaving the kids in his care until Suguru came anyway. You're relieved. 

He straightens, crossing his arms in that imposing way that makes you feel as if you’re in high school again, seated in seiza, wondering what Satoru and Suguru had gotten up to that you were also getting punished.

“You didn’t think to call?” He asks gruffly, gaze imperceptible behind his sunglasses. “I thought the girls had run away.”

They had, you think. But it might not be in your best interests to mention that.

Call…

Ah. Right. You could’ve done that. You should’ve. You reach into your pocket for your phone and come out empty. Yaga-sensei stares at your hand.

He closes his eyes, thoroughly exasperated. “Some things…”

If you squint and turn your head, you could almost swear he looks fond.

As you walk away, you hear Yaga-sensei clear his throat. You recognize it as a precursor to a long lecture. 

You speed up. 

—

You are engrossed in a book on Heian deathbed rites when Shoko marches into the library. Your paper is on the Shoen system, but you had found a peculiar scroll — a first hand account written by a Gojo clan historian focusing on Gojo-specific funeral customs and before you knew it, you were nose deep into a whole new topic. 

“This is a kidnapping,” she says. “Get up, I’m taking you home.” 

Not really, you think. You’d follow Shoko anywhere, without much prompting at all. So you obediently close your book, tidy your paperwork, and pack up everything while Shoko watches with her arms folded. By the time you’re done, your eyes are blurry from the strain, and Shoko watches in dismay as you unsteadily walk over to her.

“What time is it?”

“Two in the morning,” she replies, as the two of you exit the campus and walk to the street where she’s called a taxi.

When she opens the door, you wordlessly get in. You must have slept on her shoulder, because a hand gently wakes you up soon after you think you closed your eyes. You blink dazedly, straightening, recognizing the apartment complex outside the taxi as Shoko’s.

You immediately think of Go.

“I have to go home to check—”

“I already sent someone over,” she says, opening the door. A bemused look on her face. “Your cat doesn’t seem to like men, you know that?”

You’re worried at once. Alert. “Did something happen?”

Shoko raises her phone in your face. You take her phone and scroll through the twenty pictures of a contented Go lying on a female auxiliary manager’s lap in your apartment. You breathe a sigh of relief. You don’t recognize her, but if Shoko sent her, then you trust her.

You give her phone back and wordlessly exit the car. You let Shoko lead you up the elevator and to her apartment. Standing in her chicly decorated apartment, you’re at a sudden loss of how to proceed.

“Shoko, why am I here?” Sometimes, oddly enough, you are overcome with a peculiar untethered feeling. You felt a little of it at Meiko’s wedding reception. A feeling in your gut saying you shouldn’t be here.

“We’re having a sleepover. Just like we used to.” She disappears down the hallway and returns with clothes. “You can borrow these.”

The knot in your stomach unravels, just enough that it becomes easier to breathe. Just like we used to. The two of you have been busy. You with your classes and assignments and missions and Satoru and Suguru. Her with medical school, her jujutsu duties, and everything the higher ups feel fit to assign to her as the resident medic. 

You stare at the bundle of clothes in your hands and will yourself not to cry, but you can feel your eyes become watery. Everything is easier when you’re with Shoko, you think, and everything for the last few months has been too hard.

You wonder where everything went wrong.

“Thanks,” you say hoarsely, unable to meet her eyes. You abruptly turn towards the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower.”

In the bathroom, you lift the bundle in your hands to your face. It’s soft and smells faintly of Shoko. Her clothes. You shower, wash up, and change.

You walk out back to the living room to find Shoko eating a tub of dark chocolate ice cream on her couch. Settling down next to her, she hands you a spoon and you take a large bite of it.

“I haven’t been seeing you around the campus much lately,” she says nonchalantly.

“I’ve been busy,” you reply, shooting her a weak smile. “Lots of work.”

There’s a glint of momentary suspicion in her gaze. It passes quickly as she answers, “I guess so. It’s Satoru’s birthday soon. Wonder what he’s going to ask of us this year.”

The reminder of it makes you internally wince. “A twelve tier birthday cake?”

“A life sized sugar sculpture.”

You smile. “All that and a long vacation.”

She snorts. “He’ll take you and Suguru and never come back.”

You go quiet, smile fading, and Shoko's gaze is on you.

You hold your breath, but Shoko only puts her ice cream and spoon on the coffee table, and settles back into the couch. “I haven’t met your cat yet. ‘Go’ was it?”

You might cry all over again. “He looks like Satoru,” you say. “White fur and blue eyes. I’m not sure what kind of cat he is, but he’s big.” You demonstrate how big he’s been getting with your hands, feeling your spirits lift as you tell her about how Go is the prettiest, most beautiful cat you’ve ever seen, all his habits and quirks, and how much you enjoy brushing his fur. You think he’s a little vain, gently butting at your hand until his fur is glistening and smooth to his liking, but you love that about him too. You tell her that he’ll love her as much as you do, and that she should visit when she has time.

You miss him, you realize. You’ve grown accustomed to expecting someone when you go home. You come back to your apartment and scoop him into your arms, and Go nuzzles into your neck like he’s welcoming you home.

Shoko smiles. “Next time you should bring him.”

You brighten. You think Go could do with a change of scenery. Sometimes you wonder if your apartment was too small for him. You don't want him bored. The other day you found him sleeping in one of your cabinets.

It’s been a while since you talked this much. You suppose without Satoru and Suguru, the amount of people you can confide in have dwindled. You don’t know many people, not like Satoru and Suguru and Shoko. You’ve never been good at conversing, or making friends.

The two of you talk about everything and anything. The classmate at medical school that asked her out for drinks after their exam next week. Med school relationship drama. One of the Gojo elders had approached her earlier in the week, asking for the reverse cursed user Ieiri-san, and had been disappointed upon the realization that Ieiri-san was the woman right in front of him. You tell her that it had been with Hideo that you chanced upon Go, about Haibara’s mistake, and seeing Sasaki-san at the school.

“I think Suguru likes her,” you say, thinking about Sasaki’s face softening at the mention of Suguru. “She really likes him.”

If she’s at all interested in the state of Suguru’s love life, she doesn’t show it. You don’t expect her to be. “Is that right.”

Your gaze falls to your hands. “I…” I messed up, you want to say. You had an outburst, spurred on by exhaustion and your own shame, but the words die on your tongue.

“They’ve been sulking, you know,” Shoko says plainly.

You blink, looking up at her.

“I’ve seen Satoru standing outside your library these last few days.” She gives you a look. “I saw him earlier today. He was there for over an hour looking like a pathetic, kicked dog.”

This is news to you. You thought Satoru had been in Kamakura today. “He…was…?”

You didn’t know Satoru had been anywhere near your vicinity.

“And Suguru,” she looks faintly amused, “has been just despondent in my office.”

You feel sick. “Really?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” She’s using her doctor tone, you think. Pragmatic, self assured, and confidently right. 

As awful as you feel, that brings a mirthless smile to your lips. “You don’t even know what I did.”

She raises an eyebrow, daring you to disagree. “I don’t need to.” Her hand reaches out to squeeze yours. Your eyes grow wet once again as you feel the weight of her gaze on you.

Meeting Suguru, Shoko, and Satoru had acquainted you with the discomfort of being seen. Before them, you had never felt particularly bothered by anyone’s opinions of you, not even when others complained to Yaga-sensei about the audaciousness of your gaze, your bluntness. But maybe that was because nobody had bothered to pay you any attention in the first place.

You didn’t understand back then, why it had even mattered in the first place. Why Satoru had thought you to be a challenge when you first met him. Maybe you still don’t. You still seem to say and do all the wrong things. Maybe you haven’t learned a single thing.

Now you can’t help but think the floor is a familiar sight to you.

You don’t want them to look at you. Maybe a part of you is afraid they’ll see you for who you really are. And Satoru and Suguru are nothing if not discerning. 

Shoko moves closer to you, and you let yourself lie down, rearranging yourself so that you and her are comfortably lying down, face to face.

A comfortable silence overtakes the two of you. Shoko presses closer to you, and you can feel her breath on your shoulder before she moves flat on her back.

“It’s okay to be a bother,” she says. “You’ve always been the type to keep everything to yourself.” 

You’ve never thought it necessary to burden others with your problems and mistakes. You hold them close to your heart, and hope they never hurt you again.

Shoko snorts at your silence. “You’re doing it again.”

Troubled, you say, “I’ve never really known what to say…”

“I know,” her voice goes soft. “It wouldn’t hurt to be more forthcoming with the things troubling you. I want to know, and I’m sure they want to too.”

Shoko wants to know about your problems. She wants you to talk to her. Your throat grows thick. And yet…

“It’s getting harder and harder to talk to…” Them.

You feel horrible as soon as the words leave your lips, it feels like a weight off your shoulders. You’re terrified, wanting, and self loathing. You don’t want to know how Satoru and Suguru feel about the new direction of your relationship. You don’t think you’d be able to come back from knowing they regret it. You’re already keenly aware of what you can offer them, and that already isn’t enough.

Maybe that’s why you feel choked by words every time you see them. They’re so far away from you. You’re not sure when the distance between you and them had grown into an insurmountable gap. But that’s okay. You’re content to watch them. 

Shoko sighs in a manner that reminds you how she breathes out cigarette smoke, bottom lip slightly jutted out. “Yeah, well, they’re idiots.” There’s something forlorn in her gaze. “They’ve never known how to handle fragile things.”

“I…I suppose…”

She rolls over on her side to face you. “Forget about them,” she says decisively. “You shouldn’t waste another second on those idiots.”

S-scathing…

Her lips twist. It almost looks like a smile. “But you won’t, will you?”

“...”

“I know it’s been hard for you these last few months.” She throws an arm over her face and groans. “They’ve been working me like a dog. I wish they’d at least keep me at Jujutsu High,” with you . “When we were in high school, they barely sent me out on missions.” A note of distaste enters her voice. “Those two are doing their jobs too well.”

You smile, always touched. There are so many things you could say. There are important people in need of her help, just like they need Satoru and Suguru’s help. Jujutsu society relies on her. You know she secretly enjoys the work, and helping people. That’s who Shoko is.

Instead you selfishly say: “Me too. I wish I could see you all the time.”

Her lips curl into a genuine smile. She scoots closer to you, resting her head in the space above your shoulder. The air becomes drowsy, almost dream-like in the low light of a lamp resting on a cabinet, next to a vase of flowers emanating your cursed energy.

“Shoko,” you say quietly, like you're releasing a secret into the night. “When I was in Nagoya…”

—

When you leave for your apartment the next day (sad to be leaving Shoko, excited to see Go), you are in high spirits. Light-hearted happiness for the first time in months.

You slow to a stop. There's someone waiting in front of your building.

You hadn’t realized it that day, at her wedding reception, or even at Satoru and Suguru’s apartment, just how long her hair is. Down, Meiko’s hair reaches her waist. It’s styled into neat waves today, instead of being tied up.

She smiles at you, bundled up in a brown trench coat, and waves. Long fur gloves adorn her hands. She looks wildly out of place in front of your decrepit apartment building.

“And here I thought I had been lied to,” she says cheerily as you approach. “You do live here!”

“That’s right,” you answer politely, curious about her sudden appearance. “Is there something you need of me?”

“Oh nothing so serious.” She waves an easy hand. “Just wanted to invite you out for dinner next week.”

“Me?” You think this may be Meiko’s roundabout way of asking you to also invite Satoru or Suguru to the dinner too. You aren’t sure why Meiko wouldn’t ask them herself since they already seem to be acquainted (in more ways than one), but why else would she invite you in the first place? There’s not much else than you can offer her. You’d have to make clear that the most you can do is float the suggestion. You’re sure she’s overestimating how much sway you hold over your friends in the first place.

Satoru and Suguru could be a little selfish in that way. 

“That’s right. How does six work?”

“Six works fine,” you pause. Next you settle on: “I’ll be sure to invite them.”

That’s as much as you can do anyway. You wonder if you’ve conveyed the sentiment well enough. If she pulls back the invitation, you wouldn’t embarrass her. You gauge her expression. 

She makes a face. “Oh no. Not them.”

You blink.

“Just you, thank you very much!”

“Just…me?”

“Just you.”

“Oh,” you say, a bit awed. You hadn’t expected that.

“Besides,” she huffs. “They’d only intrude on our time together.” She takes your hands with her gloved ones. This is the second time you’ve felt the warmth of her hands. Your throat goes dry. You can’t feel the brittle chill of the weather. She smiles. “I want you all to myself.”

You swallow, stomach flipping.

Your words come out breathlessly. “Me?”

“That’s right,” she hums. “You’ll come won’t you?”

“I will,” it sounds more eager than you intended. You draw back, slightly embarrassed. "If...if you want me."

"Of course I do," she answers without a hint of hesitation.

She squeezes your hands once, before dropping them and letting you go. You’re a little disappointed. You shake yourself out of it.

She tells you she’ll text you the restaurant name. You hadn’t noticed the unmarked car waiting by the road until it pulls up close. The driver gets out of the car to open the door for her. With a wave and a wink, she’s gone, leaving you wondering if you had imagined her.

The air is oppressively heavy at Jujutsu tech. You’re unsure what the occasion is, but it must be of the utmost importance if the private cars and suited men and robed elders tell you anything. From your vantage point on the balcony of the top floor of an unused storage building overlooking the main courtyard, you can see members of the upper echelons of jujutsu and civilian society crossing to the main building, gathering for some event or meeting. Did they come from Kyoto? 

Suguru and Satoru would know. The two of them are too important not to be involved somehow. A meeting discussing a wave of crimes perpetrated by the rise of curse users in Kyoto. Discussing the national security of Japan. Discussing the maintenance of Tengen-sama’s barriers. There are so many things the meetings could entail. You can expect Satoru, Suguru, and even Shoko’s schedules to be stacked for the rest of the week. Meeting after meeting after meeting. 

You feel for them. In your case, you had the perfunctory meeting here and there, involving Tokyo matters on a smaller scale. Your presence isn’t required. You usually blanked through them anyway, unless they were actually important in some way. In your opinion, you believed it was better than Satoru sleeping through his. 

Well, you wouldn’t be needed here. Not for the week anyway.

Your stomach is sore from your position pressed into the railing of the balcony. You figure you should head home. The clouds above you are darkening, and you can feel a storm coming on.

You straighten when you catch a glimpse of white. It’s Satoru. 

Satoru’s face looks distinctly annoyed in a fashion that reminds you of his high school petulance as he heads towards the direction of the Torii gates. You squint. There are two older and shorter men dressed in robes behind him struggling to keep up to his long strides, perhaps calling out to him. Satoru ignores them, but they end up catching up to him anyway. Your gaze is glued to the scene as the men try to stop Satoru from leaving, gesticulating wildly. 

That’s when you see Suguru calmly making his way to Satoru. He places a hand on his shoulder, and you see Satoru slightly relax.

Satoru raises his head. Your stomach plummets at once, and you drop to the floor, immediately erasing your cursed energy. You’re unsure if it worked. Satoru is excellent at sensing cursed energy and even better at controlling his own. Even at the distance you’re at, you’re sure he has an inkling. But you’ve always been good at knowing how to disappear. Your fine control over your own cursed energy isn’t something to casually disregard. 

You decide to leave. You crawl into the storage room and don’t bother shutting the door to the balcony. Then you stand, brushing yourself off. Waiting until you’re sure the courtyard has been evacuated, you walk down to the first floor.

It’s not that late, you think. You could still take the train home instead of calling a taxi. You wouldn’t mind the walk from the school down to the city. It would only be a mild inconvenience if it rained. The thought strikes you as you’ve already made your way down the long steps and the winded road to the main road. As you contemplate retracing your steps back to the campus to grab an umbrella, a long sleek black car pulls up to the road.

You don’t pay it much mind, ultimately deciding to brave the rain. No big deal. You’d have to take a shower and dry before indulging in your daily cuddle sessions with Go though. He’s not a big fan of water. You start on your path to the train station, passing the man who had gotten out of the car flanked by two men in suits. 

“You.”

You keep on walking.

“Woman.”

You stop, turning back to face an unfamiliar man. You blink. “Me?”

His nose crinkles, face easily conforming to a look of distaste. “Are you deaf?”

“No,” you reply. Not yet at least. Your eyesight might be a little impaired though. All those constant nights in the library haven’t done you any favors. If glasses are inevitable, Satoru is going to make fun of you. Suguru will be polite about it, but he and Satoru will laugh about it later. The thought both slightly depresses and tires you. 

Something about the look on his face tells you he wasn’t looking for a reply. Oh.

He replies with your full name. You blink.

“—Class of 2008.”

“Yes, that’s me.” You glance at the men behind him. You had noticed them as body guards before they had even left the car. Not jujutsu sorcerers. Enough control over their cursed energy to regulate their own, but not refined enough. A higher up? Someone from an important clan. You hope he’s not expecting you to recognize him. You’ve long given up on trying to memorize things like that.

The two of you stare at each other in silence. His face tightens. “Sasaki Ichiro.”

This must be Sasaki’s older brother. Now that you think about it, they share the same hazel gaze, and the fine slope of their noses…

However, his features are encompassed by a coldness not present on Sasaki’s own.

You wonder what he wants.

“Did you need something?” You are pressed by an urgent need to hold Go in your arms. Preferably as soon as you can. You’ll make him a nice dinner tonight, in the strawberry bowl you bought just for him the other day in a ceramics shop in Ginza.

“I don’t like your tone,” he clicks his tongue, eyes raking over you with a scrutinizing edge. He must not like what he sees because a frown digs at his lips. “Are you always this impertinent with those above your station?”

You thought you had been polite, but not enough evidently. For these types, it’s always better to keep quiet and let them talk. They like to talk.

He continues. “I was merely curious. I believed there were only two others in the esteemed Gojo head’s class.”

If you’re being honest, you would’ve preferred he kept on believing that. You hadn’t corrected people when they assumed you to be in Nanami and Haibara’s class. It happened in high school often, except Satoru had been deeply offended for no reason at all, and made it a point to introduce you as his classmate to every single higher up and elder and jujustu sorcerer the two of you chanced upon, forcing you forward with a rough hand that made you almost stumble over your feet.

What? You prefer Nanami and Haibara over us or somethin’? You’re ours.

“It seems there are exceptions to be made everywhere,” he says coolly. “The exception in an exceptional class.”

With that, he doesn’t spare you another glance as he turns on his heels towards the campus of jujutsu high.

Exceptional, huh.

You watch him disappear into the trees following the path to the school. You wonder if he’ll see Satoru or Suguru or Shoko later today. He’ll offer them his respect, and probably his deference with an expression that doesn’t look like he’d like to spit at their feet.

Oh well, better you than them.

You wonder if he’ll broach the idea of marrying Sasaki to them. You hope it’ll be at least to Suguru, not Satoru. You remember the softness of her gaze, the pink blush on her cheeks, the slight, shy curl of her lips when mentioning Suguru. A lovely flower you think, made even lovelier by love.

You’re not sure how Satoru and Suguru feel about flowers, but they’ve always kept the ones you’ve given them over the years. You think it might mean something.