#reader-insert

Leon is the newest recruit to the RPD and always indulges you in more than simple greetings. He asks you about your classes, your friends, your family, and you return his interest with your own. Your nighttime chats have become such a regular occurrence that Leon now waits for you with a snack and drink on his desk. Always something nice from the deli, not some cheap convenience store or vending machine food. He sometimes follows you around and helps when he can, even throws some teasing remarks your way.

"Missed a spot."

"You're scrubbing that mirror like it stole your lunch money."

You retaliate by splashing him with soapy water and the two of you end up laughing together every time.

Sometimes, after your shift, if you have any energy left inside you, you sit with him in the West Office and listen to music together. You take turns with selecting the music, bringing in your favorite tapes and CDs for each other to try.

And, through the months of late-night chats, laughter, food, music, and companionship, you find yourself falling for Leon Kennedy.

-----

Six months in, and Leon suddenly stops appearing at night shifts. The first night he's a no-show, you brush it off. Maybe he's sick or on vacation. Life happens.

The second week has you feeling nervous.

After another month, you feel your heart break. He must've been reassigned, leaving you without your trusted companion, the only bright spot during these godawful shifts. You contemplate going into the station during business hours to see him, but you push that idea away. You don't want to embarrass him by showing up at his place of work unexpected, especially since you had no inclination if he felt even a fraction of the affection you felt.

You listen to the music he gave you as you work and reminisce on all the good times you had with him. Still, the hallways feel ominous again, and the time passes slowly, slowly, slowly…

Life goes on.

-----

You run into Leon Kennedy again under horrible circumstances.

Someone, or a group of someones, broke into your apartment building and looted several of the units, including yours. When the cops come, you see him step out of the cruiser with one of his colleagues and your breath gets caught in your throat. You watch the two of them walk into the building from your spot on one of the lobby's godawful chairs and you feel the weeks of loneliness bubbling forth. However, this is not the time, and you tamp down your emotions as best you can.

But when Leon catches sight of you, his eyes go wide in shock before a broad grin stretches across his face and your heart bursts at the sight of it. He gives you a wave and gestures for you to stay put. You nod. You're pretty sure your legs will give out if you try to stand anyway, your nerves are so fried between your apartment being robbed and seeing him again. You watch him as he and his colleague split up and question the other tenants, a smile pulling at your lips when Leon works your side of the lobby, leaving you for last.

When he stands in front of you, you know everything is going to be ok.

"Hi," you breathe.

"Hey there," he replies, "How you holding up?"

"Better, now," you admit.

I missed you.

"I have some questions about the incident, if you're ready?"

He's professional as he gets what he needs and you do your best to answer as thoroughly as possible. All the while, you can only think about how much you want to kiss him. When he's done he flips to another page of his notepad and scribbles something down before handing it to you with a smile and… a blush?

"Here. Someone should be coming soon to take photos."

"Oh, alright. Thank you, Leon. For everything."

He smiles and looks like he wants to say something more but is called away by his colleague. He gives you one last look before walking off. You watch him talk to his colleague for a moment before looking at the slip of paper in your hand.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

I've missed our late-night snacks, but how about a date instead?

—Leon

You grin.

Yeah, everything's going to be alright.

4. SNOW STORM

5. BLIND DATE

6.PANCAKES

7. CAREER DAY

+

Headcannons

Berzattos and Schemmentis

The passage of time only brought the two of you closer together, strengthening your friendship and bond across life events—like your birthday, trips to nearby places, and the start of a new school year. 

All the while, neither of you ever seemed to notice how much the world was watching. Waiting, even, to see what would come of this seemingly unshakeable connection between the Morisato and Gojo clans. 

Try as your eldest sister might, Satoru never respected many of the limits she tried to enforce when it came to the two of you. Though that was to be expected, given who and what he was. Sometimes, she suspected he pushed against appropriate behavior with you out of spite toward her. But deep down, she knew it wasn't the real reason—which was worse in hindsight.

Why? 

Because it meant all of his less-than-subtle and increasingly frequent gestures were leading down a path that might not be the best for you. 

Especially since you'd told her once before that you had considered leaving the country when you were older.

Maybe that would be better. For you to leave this world behind, and all the misplaced esteems and expectations of the clan's elders.  

At least one Morisato deserved to be away from all of this darkness, this complicated life in the shadows. 

And as long as you were happy, safe and free, she and all of your other siblings would support your decision. Monetarily, even. 

Satoru Gojo, on the other hand… she was more than sure would not be so keen to let you go. He wouldn't be able to follow if you left permanently, which was a simple, undeniable truth that even he couldn't fight against. 

She knew you were smart enough not to tell him about your potential plan. But if he ever found out… what might that insufferable idiot do to keep you here?

And the answer to that hypothetical question was what worried her most.

But perhaps this move to Tokyo for Gojo would help build a healthier level of separation between the two of you. At least, she hoped that would be the case… for your sake.   

⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂𐀔

August 14, 2004. 

The Nara Tokae Lantern Festival.

The seasons passed in what felt like the blink of an eye, and before you knew it, you found yourself preparing for the local Nara festival your family had been a part of for years. The event ran from August 5th to the 14th.

As usual, the entire Morisato clan was formally set to attend on the final day, along with extended family members. Among them now included Harunobu Kamo—Hana’s fiancé. He’d proposed to her only a month ago, so it was a relatively new addition. 

But you’d watched your sister’s year-long courtship, seen when they met and how they slowly fell in love. It was sweet. Genuine. Mutual.

Mixed with your happiness for her was a quiet envy for fear you might never get to experience a fairytale romance of your own one day—like in all the films you'd forced Satoru to watch or grown up seeing with Hana and Mitsuki. 

Enchanted love stories were one of the only interests you and your sisters seemed to share when you were a child. Thankfully, that had changed over the years, and you’d grown quite close with both of them.  But even before that, you'd always idolized Hana. 

And now with this, too… how could you ever live up to everything your eldest sister was? She was perfect in your eyes. 

Satoru had made a joke of it when you’d told him the news, stating something borderline offensive that made it very clear how sorry he felt for the man. It’d made you laugh before you reprimanded him for being so rude and mean to your eldest sister. Though his reaction shouldn’t have come as a surprise—Hana and Satoru had a tendency to butt heads, even over the smallest of things, but especially anything that involved you. 

Like Satoru wanting to match the pattern on his yukata with yours for the festival, for instance. 

Hana had been firmly against it, later telling you in private that doing so might imply something more. You didn’t go against her advice, choosing not to tell him despite his insistent pestering. Unfortunately, Satoru still managed to figure it out—going so far as to seek out the seamstress your family had nearly employed for every request and event in the past decade.

This revelation was only sprung upon you and your family the day of the festival, when it was far too late for you to change into anything else.

“You’d think they’re the ones engaged with how well-matched they look.” Hana sighed, walking alongside her fiancé.

“I don’t think he can help it,” Haru replied gently. “He seems smitten with your sister even if he doesn’t quite realize it yet. And I can’t blame him,” he stopped, gently caressing Hana's cheek with his hand as he finished his statement, “because I went through the same feelings with you.”

“Don’t try to get them out of trouble by being so sweet with me,” Hana murmured, smiling as she tucked herself closer to his side and rested her head against his shoulder. “I'm still not happy about the way it looks, but I’ll let them be until tomorrow.”

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Satoru Gojo was not one to share—especially not when it came to you and your undivided attention. 

So he couldn’t quite hide his disappointment when he realized he had to do just that today, not only with your family, but with your friends, too. 

He felt a flicker of annoyance watching as you laughed and talked along with your group, all six of them. Some of whom you’d known your whole life, which he envied to no end.    

It wasn’t until someone suggested feeding the deer around Nara Park and he'd observed your face light up at the idea that his mood shifted in a more positive direction. If only slightly.

The deer were already roaming freely, unbothered by the crowds as lantern lights flickered softly between open fields, stone staircases, and the trees.

Trying to show off a bit, he purchased several bundles of deer treats to share with you. For once, you'd just let him pay without protest. He figured it was because you didn't want to make a fuss in front of your other friends. And that was fine by him, but it also bothered him that you were acting a little different than usual.

You crouched near one of the deer, holding a cracker out carefully between your fingers. It accepted it with surprising gentleness, its nose brushing your hand as it chewed. You smiled, delighted, already reaching for another.

That was when a second deer approached. Then a third.

Within moments, the calm curiosity turned into eager persistence. Soft snorts and impatient nudges pressed in as more deer caught on, noses bumping at your sleeves and the hem of your yukata.

“Okay- hey- wait,” you tittered, trying to step back as one tugged lightly at your sleeve. He'd laughed at your lack of control before stepping in to rescue you, offering his own treats to redirect their attention. 

“Thanks, Satoru,” you said, smiling at him kindly. 

“Try not to get eaten before the rest of the festivities, yeah?” he teased.

You scoffed playfully. “I'm not trying to. I didn’t expect them to zero in on me like that so quickly.”

Without looking, he noted Keiko and Seiji approaching, offering their own set of crackers to the deer that had initially surrounded you. Their help eased the chaos further, and he didn’t mind it—out of everyone in your group, they were the ones he tolerated the most.

Keiko was your cousin, after all, so there was no getting rid of her. And Seiji, as you’d told him more than once, was like a bonus older brother you'd grown up with because of his family’s long-standing relationship to yours. 

“I'll never understand how you still manage to get swarmed by the deer after living here our entire lives,” Keiko said, laughing and poking fun.  

Seiji chuckled along, feeding one doe at a time. “It’s a talent the way you attract trouble at this point, Y/n.”

Satoru smirked, thinking to himself that Seiji's assessment hadn't been entirely wrong—especially after that fiasco with you and that kid in the alley. Though, as long as he was around, he'd always find a way to get you out of whatever trouble you landed in.  

“I can't help that the deer have good taste and always prefer me over you two,” you shrugged, handing off another treat to a baby deer. 

Satoru laughed under his breath in response, clearly amused as he watched you handle their teasing with ease—that was one type of problem he never had to help you with. 

Before they could reply, Rin called out to the four of you from across the way. 

“Hey everyone, look over here. I'm going to take your picture!”

Click. Shutter. Flash.

“Let's do one more. And this time get closer together.”

To no one's surprise, he'd followed her instructions without hesitation, getting closer to you in an instant before the second flash went off.

⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂𐀔

“Are you sure you want to row the whole time, Toru? I feel bad not helping.”

“Please. This is nothing. I’m still enjoying everything with you from here,” he responded, guiding the small boat in a slow arc across the pond with every dip of the oars.

“If you say so,” you shook your head, knowing there was no point in trying further. Instead, you turned your attention to the beautiful display of lanterns surrounding Sagi-ike pond. No matter how many times you'd attended, it always looked so magical during the festival. 

“We need to light our lanterns before the fireworks start later,” you murmured, still mesmerized by the scenes around you.

“Don’t worry, we still have time,” he said. “And I figured out the perfect spot for us to watch them from.”

“Just us?” you asked, holding onto the edge of the boat with one hand as it drifted, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah. Why wouldn't it be?” he grumbled. 

It was obvious he wasn’t fond of your other friends since the day you'd introduced him to them. You chalked it up to his upbringing, knowing from your friendship and time together how selfish he could be. But in some ways, you didn’t mind it. It helped keep the two worlds you were a part of separate, something you’d slowly realized was a blessing of sorts. Jujutsu society and all that it encompassed were often suffocating, and your non-jujutsu-related life came as a much-needed relief.

Nonetheless, it might do Satoru some good to interact with that side of your life more before he leaves for Jujutsu High in Tokyo.  

“If you gave them a chance, you’d see they’re not so bad, you know?” you replied.

“Haven’t I?” he asked, looking away and feigning ignorance as he continued to row. 

“Keiko and Seiji don’t count.”

“They’re fine,” he said after a beat. “I just don’t see why I have to like every one of your friends.”

“I guess that’s fair,” you sighed softly. “But… don’t forget they’re the type of normies you’ll be protecting as a sorcerer later.”

He didn’t answer, just dipped the oars into the water again and watched as the ripples spread across the pond.

You decided to change the subject, not wanting to sour the happy mood of the festival.

“By the way, how’d you get Mrs. Toshino to tell you what I’d be wearing?”

You watched as his eyes lit up, a mischievous grin carving itself across his face. 

“Promised her my family’s business for the foreseeable future.”

You snorted. “What?” then continued laughing as you asked, “are you serious?” 

“My elders were pissed.”

“I bet they were,” you shook your head, smiling and once again admiring all the other delights around you before continuing. 

“You’re lucky Kamo was here to calm Hana down.” 

It was his turn to laugh. “The look on her face was worth it.”

“You’re terrible. Stop being mean to my big sister.”

He scoffed in feigned offense. “She’s the one who’s been mean to me from the start.” 

“And whose fault is that?”

“Excuses, butterfly. Cheap excuses.”

You huffed out a giggle. “You know you probably got me in trouble with your stunt.”

“Nah, I’ll take the blame for it and tell her myself that you weren’t involved.”

You rolled your eyes before adding, “well, that’s the least you can do, Toru. But I have a feeling she won’t believe that I kept it from you.”

“Hmph. She can ask Mrs. Toshino or my family if she doesn't believe us.”

While he spoke, you found yourself looking up at the sky, drawn to how much darker it had become, the stars now sparkling brighter than when you’d first gotten into the rowboat with Satoru.

“The stars are already out,” you commented, almost absently going off topic.

“Like the ones in my eyes? I remember you said something like that the first time we met,” he said, glancing up and then back at you. 

You softly bumped your knee against his as you corrected him. “Galaxies. I said I saw galaxies in your eyes, so these aren't enough stars.”

“Do you still think that?” he asked, tilting his head as he gazed at you from across the boat.

You reached out briefly, brushing strands of hair away from his face to get a better view. “Your eyes haven’t changed, Toru. So the galaxies are still there.” 

He smiled, and you smiled back at him. It felt like an eternity as you looked at each other, until a yell from the Ukimido pavilion that rested over the pond broke the moment.

Your two brothers were waving you both down. And you excitedly waved back with Satoru doing the same beside you, though with far less enthusiasm.

“We should head back to shore,” he said after returning his attention to you. “Don’t want us to miss anything.”

You nodded, letting the moment pass as he rowed the two of you back to the dock and festivities.

 ⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂𐀔

No matter how hard he tried to focus on the task at hand, on the steady rhythm he’d set for himself, the moment that had just transpired refused to leave his mind. 

He couldn't shake the feeling of your fingers brushing his hair away from his face or the sweet smile you’d given him from across the boat.

If he didn’t know better, it could’ve passed for a scene out of one of those silly romance films you’d force him to watch—right before the first kiss happened between star-crossed lovers. 

But, no. 

That was wrong.

This was you and him he was thinking about.

Not romantic partners in a stupid movie.

‘Stop being weird, you idiot,’ he told himself, tightening his grip on the oars as the boat bumped gently against the dock.

He exited first, lending a hand to help you up and out of the rowboat. The wood creaked softly beneath your feet as you climbed out after him. Now back on solid ground, the two of you began walking towards your family in the pavilion. 

Matching your stride, he couldn’t help but steal a glance at you from the corner of his eye. 

Geez. Were you always this beautiful?

“Hey- we got you both a lantern,” Rento shared, interrupting his thoughts as your brother passed one to you and him. “Let’s go light them at our usual spot by the Kōfuku-ji Temple, Y/n.”

“What about Hana and Suki?” He heard you ask.

To which your brother replied, “we saw them earlier and they're heading that way too. So let's catch up to them.”

Satoru followed a step behind, listening to the easy, familiar chatter between you and your siblings while quietly wrestling with emotions he hoped no one could read on his face.

Once the group reached the spot your brother had spoken of, he lit his lantern and placed it beside yours without comment. The two seemed to glow softly together among all the others—though maybe that was just his imagination.  

He watched as you closed your eyes, praying quietly alongside your brothers and sisters near the temple’s shrine. 

And despite himself, he briefly wondered if maybe, just maybe… any of your prayers might include him. 

Was this just a passing thought? Or wishful thinking?

He wasn’t sure of the answer as he, too, shut his eyes and prayed for clarity.  

 ⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂𐀔

While everyone gathered for the firework display, he’d quietly grabbed hold of your hand and snuck you away from your friends and family, weaving through the thinning crowd toward a private spot he’d refused to share with you until now. 

He couldn’t risk you telling your friends about it beforehand.

The sounds of laughter and chatter faded behind you with each step uphill, replaced by the soft brush of grass beneath your sandals.

“Slow down a little,” you called out, tightening your grip on his hand. “It’s hard to walk uphill in these.”

He glanced back to make sure you were still moving ahead steadily, his hold on you firm but careful. 

“Just a little more, butterfly,” he reassured, slowing slightly for your sake despite his hurry. “We’re almost there. I don’t want us to miss them.”

Finally, after what felt like forever, the two of you reached the top of the hill—just as the first fireworks soared into the sky, erupting above you in brilliant arrays of color and light. The sharp crack echoed across the open space, the glow reflecting off his pale hair and painting your surroundings in fleeting hues of red and gold, then purple and blue. For a moment, the world below seemed to disappear, leaving only the thunder of each illumination overhead and the warmth of his hand still interlaced with yours.

The two of you watched as one burst followed another in steady succession. But his attention wasn’t solely on the sky anymore. It kept drifting back to you. He lingered on the way your eyes lit up with pure joy and the unguarded smile on your face. Everything about you was making his heart race.

And just like before in the rowboat, it felt like a scene lifted straight out of a fairytale as you turned toward him, beaming brightly like you always did—like this was just another shared moment between friends.

He smiled back, taking in every detail of the moment—even the way your cursed energy seemed to be bursting with delight. 

So many times, he'd hated that his eyes forced him to see the cursed energy in the people around him.

Yours, though?

He'd become addicted to it.

“Look at that one, Toru,” you exclaimed in excitement, tugging at his arm. “It’s so pretty.”

“Yeah,” he answered as the truth crashed into him all at once, his voice dropping under the cover of the fireworks, “you are.”   

This whole time, all the things he’d felt—needing to be near you as often as possible, pushing himself to get stronger to protect you, thinking about kissing you, desperately wanting you to come with him to Tokyo—had been pointing to this. 

Damn it.  

How had he not realized what this gnawing tension in his chest meant sooner? 

He liked you.

He really, really liked you.

Now what the hell was he supposed to do about it? 

He gripped your hand tighter, contemplating whether he should confess his feelings to you here, right now. 

The moment was perfect for it.

But… what if you didn’t feel the same way?

The idea made him feel dizzy, his pulse pounding so loudly in his ears that he could hardly hear the fireworks anymore. 

Could he live with that, if it were true?

Yes, he could… right? 

No… damn it. 

No, he couldn't. 

And he’d be lying to himself and you if he said otherwise because… just picturing you with someone else, some other sorcerer your family might set you up with, had his blood boiling.

“You alright, Toru? Are the fireworks too much for your eyes?” you interrupted his thoughts with your concerned remarks. 

Had his emotions been too obvious? At least you’d given him an out. 

“A little,” he admitted falsely, forcing himself to give you a small, grimacing smile. “But I’ll be fine. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world right now, butterfly.”

And that was the only truth he had decided to share with you for the time being.

⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂𐀔

The walk back down felt shorter than the climb, but not by much. The grass still brushed at your sandals, and the lantern light grew brighter the closer you got to the main paths. Below, the festival had already regained its rhythm, as if the fireworks had never paused it at all.

Your fingers were still warm from holding Satoru’s hand for so long during the display.

In your distracted excitement, you’d forgotten to let go. And judging by the way his grip had remained unhurried, it didn’t seem like your best friend had minded at all. But something about him almost felt different on the way back down. Maybe you’d ask him about it later. 

The moment the two of you came back into view near the lantern-lit path that led towards the food stalls, Keiko’s head snapped in your direction like she’d been waiting for the exact second you’d reappear in the crowd.

“There you are,” she called, dragging out the words with unmistakable suspicion.

Seiji looked up from where he stood beside her, expression more amused than surprised, already taking in the sight of the two of you together. Rin hovered nearby as well, fingers hooked through her camera strap as though she’d been snapping photos of everything that caught her eye. A few steps back, Asami lingered with Toma and Shu, the three of them mid-conversation until they noticed Keiko’s sudden interest shift.

Keiko’s eyes quickly flicked between you and Satoru. Then she smiled before continuing.

“So,” she said sweetly, “where did you two disappear to?”

“Somewhere with a better view,” Satoru answered before you had a chance to. 

“And you couldn’t have shared that with us, huh?” she asked with a smirk, already looping her arm through yours and stealing you away from him. “Well, since you’re back, we were about to hit the food stalls. Want to join us?”

“Yeah, let's go,” you cheerily replied. 

The crowd thickened as you were pulled toward the food stalls. The air buzzed with voices and laughter, layered with the unmistakable smells of frying batter, grilled meat, and something sweet caramelizing.

Keiko wasted no time.

“I’m starving,” she announced, scanning the stalls like she was on a mission.

Rin’s eyes had already locked onto a stall piled high with cotton candy and candied fruit, glossy tanghulu skewers catching the light.

“Oh,” she breathed. “They have the shiny strawberries.”

Asami, on the other hand, lingered near a stall flipping hashimaki on a griddle, arms crossed as she read the handwritten menu. “This is the one for me,” she said, lining up.

Satoru stayed close at your side as the group spread out, his presence easy but deliberate. The smell of takoyaki drifted past, followed by grilled squid sizzling over open flame, and he leaned slightly toward you.

“Anything you want?” he asked casually. “I’m buying, but just for us.”

You huffed at his clarification, eyes bouncing from stall to stall. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start sweet,” Rin declared, already halfway back toward you with a candied apple in hand. “Then salty. Then sweet again.”

Satoru clicked his tongue in agreement. “Her system isn’t half bad. I’ll go with that.”

He disappeared briefly, reemerging moments later with two skewers of tanghulu, the hardened sugar shell cracking softly as he handed one to you.

“Careful,” he said lightly. “They’re kind of sticky.”

You thanked him, holding on to the skewer carefully as you took your first bite, the sweetness exploding on your taste buds. “Mmm,” you murmured as he laughed at your reaction. 

Nearby, Toma and Shuichi had gravitated toward the yakisoba stall, watching noodles fly through the air as the vendor worked.

“Fig sauce yakisoba?” Shu read aloud, skeptical.

Toma shrugged. “Festivals are for trying different things.”

Keiko returned with a sausage on a stick, mustard already dripping dangerously close to her hand, eyes flicking briefly to where Satoru still stood at your side, tasting the snack he’d just bought.

Keiko took a bite, hummed approvingly, then gestured with the stick toward a nearby stall where a small crowd had gathered.

“Oh- look,” she said. “They’ve got one of those shooting games.”

Seiji followed her gaze, a grin spreading across his face. “I’ll win you something, Kei.” He paused, looking at you for a second before extending the invitation. “Want to try it out, Gojo?”

Since Seiji was one of the few friends in your group Satoru could actually stand, you’d asked him to make more of an effort to include Satoru when everyone was together. You silently thanked Seiji with a quick smile, taking another delicious bite of your shiny fruit after.

Satoru glanced at the stall, then at the prizes lined across. You watched as his eyes flicked briefly to you before he shrugged. 

“Sure,” he said. “I'm game.”

Before long, Shu and Toma had joined in too, drawn by the promise of competition and bragging rights. Boys really were simple creatures. 

The vendor slid a wooden rifle across the counter, followed by a small tray of cork bullets.

“Five shots each,” he said. “You knock it off the stand, you keep it.”

Keiko leaned forward, squinting at some of the prizes that were balanced on narrow wooden blocks.

“So it’s not about hitting it,” she muttered. “You have to knock it down.”

“Exactly,” the vendor replied. “Let’s do two at a time, yeah?”

By the time the last cork bullet clattered to the ground, Seiji and Toma had already claimed their rewards—but it was Satoru who drew the small crowd’s attention when his final shot hit the biggest prize, wobbling it once before it finally toppled cleanly from its stand.

He thanked the vendor and then passed on the prize to you without hesitation, much like Seiji had done with Keiko. 

“It’s so cute,” you commented, turning the plush over in your hands. “You sure you don’t want it, Toru?”

“Nah. I won it for you, butterfly.”

“Why?”

“So you don’t forget me when I leave to Tokyo,” he teased, poking your cheek with his finger.

“Still with that?” you replied, rubbing the area he had touched with a huff. “As if anyone could forget you, Toru.”

He smiled at you, clearly pleased by your words, when a familiar face approached. It was Mr. Fukase, the photographer your family had been hiring for years for the festival.

“Miss Morisato, would you and your friends like some pictures taken together?” he asked kindly. 

“Oh—yes, please, Mr. Fukase,” you happily replied. “That would be amazing, thank you.”

“Then follow me, please.” 

⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂𐀔

After taking several pictures of your entire group, Mr. Fukase had saved Satoru the trouble of asking for one with just the two of you, pointing out your matching outfits as the reason.

“Ready? One… Two… Three…”

Click. Shutter. Flash. 

The first image was more formal, proper. Both of you were standing at an appropriate distance from one another. Hana and the Gojo clan would approve of it. That's the one he'd let your family keep. 

“Could we get another one, Mr. Fukase?” he asked before you could walk away.

“Of course.”

“C’mere, let’s do a fun one,” he said, tugging at your sleeve.

You smiled and nodded as he wrapped an arm around you, his hand on your shoulder as the two of you put up your fingers in a peace sign. 

It was innocent enough, but rather more intimate compared to the first. Hana and the Gojo clan would not have approved, making it the picture he preferred. That one was his to keep. 

Afterwards, he had approached Mr. Fukase alone to ask if he could have the second picture rather than the Morisatos. Besides wanting it for himself, he also wasn’t looking to get you in more trouble. Luckily, Mr. Fukase agreed to honor his request after a little bribe. 

“What was that about?” you asked when he returned to your group. 

“Nothing. Just wanted to make sure I got a copy of our pictures,” he replied with a knowing grin. 

⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂𐀔

Once the festival came to a close, Satoru naturally followed you home, staying over at your house for the night after informing the Gojos of his plan. 

You left him for a moment to change out of your yukata into your pajamas, and he did the same in the guest room he usually slept in.

It was late, so you really only came to say goodnight to him afterward. He thought you looked so cute with your messy hair and tired eyes, the soft smile you gave him making something in his chest tighten.

“Hope you had fun today,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes and stifling a yawn behind your hand. 

“I did,” he replied, watching every one of your sleepy movements. “We should do this again next year.”

“Yeah, that would be nice,” you agreed, giving him a final smile and wave as you began walking away. “G’night, Toru.” 

“Night, butterfly,” he replied, staring at you until you were out of the room. 

Alone now, he tried to fall asleep to no avail. He kept tossing and turning, trying desperately to quiet his mind. But it wouldn't stop. The realization of his feelings during the fireworks display was keeping him awake. 

And all he could think about was you, you, YOU. 

It felt like he was spiraling when he suddenly sat up in bed, a dangerous idea forming in his head.

Maybe he could just go watch you sleep for a little while. It would be harmless, right? And that just might calm him down enough to get some sleep after. 

He could do it quietly. Get in, get out without anyone knowing. 

Yeah. That's what he'd do. 

Using his technique, he quickly and silently slipped into your room with ease—something he noted distantly as concerning, but useful in the moment. Maybe he’d have to bring that to your attention later, somehow.  

He stood at the edge of your bed, watching your chest rise and fall as your head rested on several plush pillows.

You looked so perfect lying there, only a few inches out of his reach. Your calm cursed energy settling something restless inside him.

He'd been enjoying his view, considering getting even closer, when you suddenly stirred and opened your eyes, noticing him. 

Thinking nothing malicious of his presence in your room, you groggily asked “Satoru?” 

You sat up slowly, blinking your eyes several times while adding, “mm, did- did you need help with something?”

“J-just a blanket,” you heard him stammer. “D'you have an extra one?” 

‘Man he must really be cold,’ you innocently thought. 

Looking over to the left, you grabbed the blanket at your side that you hadn't been using for the night.

“Is this one okay?”

“Y-yeah,” he replied, reaching over and accepting it from you, his fingers lightly brushing against yours. “Thanks, butterfly.”

“Welcome,” you murmured, closing your eyes and getting comfortable underneath your sheets again. “Sweet dreams, Toru.”

And that was the last thing you said before sleep pulled you under once more.

‘Damn. That was close,’ he thought to himself, heart racing as he stared at you for a bit longer. 

While he would’ve preferred you not catching him at all, it was… comforting, knowing you trusted him enough to be this vulnerable around him.

He sighed, eventually and reluctantly moving out of your room just as quietly as before.

Back in the guest room, he flopped onto the bed and covered himself with the blanket, reveling in the fact that it was yours as he breathed in the faint scent of you that still clung to it.

Yeah. 

He might be in trouble.

⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂𐀔

September 4, 2004. 

The Gojo-tax. 

That's what your friends had called it ever since primary school. 

Whenever he'd come by and steal you away during the school day or an event, you had to add an I-O-U to the Gojo-tax box.

Basically, it was their way of poking fun at your friendship and evening the odds, given the leeway the school gave you whenever he randomly showed up. Not like your teachers or administrators could complain, though—you were an excellent student otherwise. Plus, your family's long-standing presence in Nara, along with their monetary contributions to the school, was more than enough motivation for them to turn a blind eye.

Your classmates and friends, however, were not so understanding. They didn't think it was fair, and you knew it wasn't. 

Thus, since its start, you accepted their conditions willingly, living with whatever the Gojo-tax required of you.

Oftentimes it led to you taking on additional after-school chores or class assignments that no one else wanted to cover. 

And privately, when they piled up past a certain number… you had to throw a sort of party or gathering for your six friends at home.

It was the only time you really ever deliberately avoided and excluded Satoru from something, deciding it was better he didn’t know about the tax.

Why?

Because you worried he would dislike your friends even more than he already did. Knowing his character well, you also believed he'd have tried to bribe your way out of the chores or tasks, too. Or worse, threaten your classmates for ever instating such a thing against you. And him doing either would've made things… complicated, to say the least.  

This was one of those days where you owed your close friends a party.

Luckily, your parents were out of town, and your siblings were off “camping” in the forest near Higashiyoshino—at least, that’s what you had to call it in front of your non-sorcerer friends.

In reality, they were ridding the area of cursed spirits.

Having the house to yourself, you were actually excited to host your usual, close group of friends. You had movies, games, and food ready for them even before they arrived.

The evening passed in a blur of laughter and overlapping conversations.

You started with games—video games first, then a few rounds of board games when the group grew too competitive for the screen. There were constant arguments over rules, playful accusations of cheating, and more than one dramatic complaint when someone lost.

Dinner followed not long after, with a hot pot set in the center of the table that had everyone gathered close as ingredients were tossed in and claimed just as quickly. Between that and the steady stream of snacks you’d laid out beforehand, no one could really complain about going hungry.

By the time you moved on to movies—ones you’d rented earlier in the week—everyone had settled into a more relaxed rhythm, spread out across the living room with blankets and pillows, talking just as much as they watched.

It was easy. Normal. Fun.

You almost wished Satoru were here—until you remembered exactly why he couldn’t be… and why that was for the best.

“Kinda crazy, we’re not gonna have the Gojo tax anymore,” Shu suddenly commented, popping a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Seriously,” Rin added from where she was sprawled across the floor. “It's going to be weird actually seeing you every day at school, Y/n.”

Everyone laughed.

“When's Gojo supposed to leave anyway?” Asami asked you.

“Sometime in February next year,” you replied, reaching for your glass of water and taking a sip.

“That’s not even that far away,” Rin said, frowning slightly. “It sucks that Nara's losing its cutest eye candy.”

“Guess we don't count for much to you, huh?” Shu added, rolling his eyes at Rin before continuing. "That's like… what, a few months?”

“Four,” Seiji said absentmindedly. “Give or take.”

“Are you two going to be okay?” Asami asked, nudging your shoulder softly, her expression turning more thoughtful. “I mean… you’ve basically been attached at the hip ever since you met.”

The question caught you off guard more than you expected. Before you could come up with a response, your cousin Keiko replied for you.

“Oh, they'll be fine,” she emphasized. “Pretty sure Gojo’s gonna be calling the house all the time—and he’ll visit her, too.” 

“Or we'll end up in Tokyo more often,” Seiji added with a smirk. 

“And who says Gojo would invite you Sej?” Toma joked. “He just wants to see Y/nnn…”

You watched as a few of them quickly exchanged looks, already knowing what was coming before they started with their teasing.

“His butterfly,” they echoed together, drawing out the nickname in exaggerated unison before bursting into shared laughter.

“Oh, shut up,” you shot back, rolling your eyes and waving them off. But even though you had grown accustomed to their teasing, you could still feel the warmth creeping up your neck anyway.

“You know he's got it bad for you, right Y/n?” Shu added, staring at you from across the room. “He's almost worse than Seiji is with Kei.”

“Hey- why am I being dragged into this?” Seiji retorted. “Leave me out of it.”

“Says the guy who folds every time Kei looks at him,” Shu replied to Seiji as you huffed quietly and reached for another piece of popcorn just to give yourself something to do before replying.

“You guys read way too much into everything,” you said, shrugging as you brought a kernel to your mouth. “We're best friends. That’s just how he’s always been with me.”

“Maybe that's how you see it,” Asami offered with a comforting smile. “But—I don't know, Y/n. We all think he's crushing on you. Especially after the way he acted at the festival.” 

“If I were you, I'd have already gone for it,” Rin playfully interjected—likely to lighten the mood of the conversation for your sake. 

“We know you would, but Y/n isn't boy-crazy like you, Rin,” Keiko taunted. 

Everyone laughed again. Even you. Only yours was more quiet as you took in the implication of their observations.

After a pause, you decided to say something that would hopefully put an end to the conversation and topic.

“Maybe all of you are right, but I don't see him that way,” you admitted simply. “And crushes come and go. So he’ll get over it at some point.”

“Yeah ‘cause that works,” Toma said dryly. 

“Better than ending a friendship, I guess,” Shu retorted, shrugging. 

“Damn, Y/n's totally going to break Gojo's heart,” Rin offered.  

“Oh, shut up. It won't kill him,” Keiko countered. “Don't guilt trip her over nothing.”

Rather than ending the topic, it seemed you’d only started a debate. 

You sighed to yourself, leaning back slightly to stare up and away from your friends. 

Suddenly, over all the opinions and noise, you heard Seiji's voice. 

“Hey- Y/n, want to do a snack run? Looks like we're running low on chips already.”

You were so grateful for the reprieve, even if the excuse had been a lie. There were more snacks in the pantry, and Seiji knew this. Still, he had a habit of stepping in when you needed it. It was one of the many reasons you saw him as something like an older brother.

On the walk to the store, Seiji had tried to reassure you that things would eventually work themselves out with Satoru and not to dwell on what everyone else was saying. 

“All that stuff is between you and Gojo. Just try to set boundaries if he ever crosses a line. I don’t think he'd risk never seeing you again over a crush anyway.”

“Aren't you the worst example with Kei, though?” you'd replied. 

“Nah, that's different,” he'd said, waving you off. “We're soulmates.”

“Not according to that fortune teller we convinced my grandparents to hire that one year,” you murmured. 

“Yeah… that was not our best idea. Was it?”

The two of you laughed, reminiscing about times before Satoru Gojo ever entered your life for the rest of the trip. 

Thankfully, after the two of you returned with chips and everything else requested, the remaining conversations of the evening no longer centered around you or Gojo.

It was quite late when your friends began to leave, but overall, it was a fun time, and you were glad to have hosted it. 

The front door slid open a while later as you cleaned up, followed by the familiar sounds of your siblings returning—voices overlapping, footsteps heavier than usual, the faint rustle of clothing and gear being set aside.

You greeted them cheerfully, relieved to see they’d all made it back safe and sound. Only by then, you were already tired, so you excused yourself for the night not long after they arrived.

Before you walked away from them completely, Mitsuki asked if she could come sleep in your room later. You agreed without a second thought.

She always had nightmares after assignments, especially the heavier ones. 

For whatever reason, your presence helped keep them at bay—even the worst ones where she'd wake up crying.

And though you didn't understand why she found someone as average as you comforting, you were more than happy and willing to help your dear sister. 

⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂𐀔

Your four battle-worn siblings gathered around the dining table, enjoying the leftovers you'd saved specifically for them. 

Their clothes still carried the faint scent of smoke and damp earth, hair slightly disheveled from the long journey back from their assignment. 

There was a heaviness to them tonight, and it wasn’t just from exhaustion.

They had also recently lost someone.

Takahiro—once a classmate, a friend, and a fellow jujutsu sorcerer.

His death was a reminder of their mortality, and how they too might end up the same way one day—devoured or killed by a cursed spirit on a mission gone wrong. 

It was a morbid truth that every jujutsu sorcerer had to face and come to terms with. 

Still, Hana, ever the eldest, refused to let the night sink entirely into mourning.

She reached for a bottle of sake from the pantry and poured each of them a cup without asking.

“Just one,” she said, though it was clear by the look in her eyes that she wasn’t planning on stopping there.

Ren accepted his quietly, offering no protest. 

Bo leaned back as he took his, while Mitsuki hesitated only a moment before following suit. Neither of them were of age to be drinking, but Hana allowed the exception without comment. It was just for the night.

“For Takahiro,” Hana said softly, lifting her cup. “May they be at peace.”

The others followed.

“For Takahiro.”

Porcelain met porcelain with a quiet clink before they all drank.

Silence settled briefly at the table.

Then, gradually, the tension eased as the sake continued to flow and stories of memories followed—some fond, some bitter, some ending in quiet laughter that didn’t quite reach their eyes.

And eventually, as it always seemed to, the conversation drifted to their youngest sister—you.

“You know what I realized?” Bo started, tipping his cup idly as he glanced toward the now-empty living room. “She never invites Gojo to these things.”

Ren let out a short breath through his nose. “You’re just noticing that now?”

“No, but she invites him to everything else, except this stuff with her normie friends?” Bo continued. “Doesn't make sense.”

Hana’s gaze lifted slightly at that, her expression sharpening with pointed amusement.

“Maybe she just needs a break from him sometimes,” she commented. “I know I would.”

Mitsuki hummed softly, resting her cheek against her hand as the world began to swirl around her. “We know you would. Y/n isa’nother story.”

“Think she’s upset with him?” Bo offered.

“Upset?” Ren echoed, pouring himself another glass. “About what? I've never seen them argue about anything.”

“I have but it was trivial stuff,” Hana said, trying to think straight, fingers tapping lightly against the table.

“Wait- what if its ‘cause Gojo doesn't like her friends?” Mitsuki slurred. 

“Pfft, you're probably right,” Bo laughed. “He's gotta be jealous of them or something.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if that’s true about us too,” Ren snorted. “He didn't look happy when we interrupted their boat ride at the festival.”

“It's kinda cute the way he dotes on her,” Mitsuki smiled, cheeks ablaze from the sake.

“It's not,” Hana curtly interjected, annoyed. 

“Okay, then maybe she jus’ doesn't want him to feel bad,” Mitsuki continued. 

“Or maybe she got sick and tired of being called a butterfly all the damn time,” Hana countered with a drunken frown, even surprising herself from her lack of usual decorum. 

The ridiculousness of the idea combined with the level of sake consumed by all four of your siblings led to them bursting out in a bout of uncontrollable laughter.

And all at Gojo's expense. 

But it was a much needed outlet after what they'd endured that horrific week. 

They'd never forget this night, raising a final glass of sake to their little sister and your seemingly infinite patience for Satoru Gojo, the most annoying person alive according to your eldest sister.

⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂𐀔

November 20, 2004. 

Hana was the most radiant, beautiful bride in your eyes. Draped in layers of pristine white silk, her shiromuku was embroidered with delicate cranes and flowing patterns that shimmered softly with every movement. A traditional watabōshi veil rested over her head, giving her an almost ethereal presence as she stood beside Haru. They both looked so happy throughout the entire celebration.

Seeing it all on full display brought you and your siblings so much joy.

Your elders looked so annoyingly proud throughout the event, as if this union with one of the big three clans had been their doing—or due to the Morisato name alone. 

It wasn't either, but you were sure they'd find a way to claim and spread that it was.

The whole ceremony was wrapped in tradition, with some typical practices and others that were exclusive to sorcerer families, including several that were secret to the world and followed only by the Kamo clan. 

It was part of the reason Satoru Gojo was not allowed to attend. 

Hana and Keiko were overjoyed by this fact, knowing your attention would have been pulled away from the festivities if he'd been around. You had remained neutral while he sulked. 

And given that the Kamo clan was one of the three big families, Satoru was unable to bully, weasel, or buy his way into the small, intimate familial affair. 

To appease his incessant whining and indignation, you had agreed to meet up with him afterwards at the Gojo estate since the ceremony had taken place somewhere private in Kyoto.

It was around 4:26pm by the time you arrived, having stayed in your attire to avoid further delay. You already knew he was going to complain anyway.  

“What took you so long?” he announced before looking in your direction from the couch in one of his personal rooms. 

“Sorry, my sister getting married took so long, young master,” you teased, bowing as you rounded the corner and stood in front of his view of the newer television he’d forced the Gojo clan to purchase. 

He seemed almost stunned to see you. Was it the outfit?

“What’re you looking at?” you asked, slightly confused.

“N-nothing. I just thought you’d have changed before coming over.”

“I would’ve gotten here later if I did that,” you replied, sitting down next to him. “And you were already complaining when I walked in.”

“Yeah, okay, that’s on me. But what wedding takes six hours?”

“Turns out a Kamo clan one. Though that also included the meal after.” 

“How was it anyway?”

“It was perfect. Hana looked beautiful, and they were both so happy,” you turned to look at him. “The food was so good, too. You would’ve loved the desserts.”

He pouted, brows furrowing in annoyance. “And you’re cruelly dangling that information in my face.”

“Maybe,” you replied, laughing at his expense. 

“Think I could get away with having only sweets at mine?” he mused. 

“Everyone would be sick by the end of it,” you said, shaking your head. “But I’m sure you could get your family to agree. Maybe not your bride’s side though.”

“If she cares about me, she’ll agree to it. But you’re definitely not getting any after taunting me today.”

“Keeping your best friend from the only food at your wedding isn’t very nice, Satoru,” you shot back.

He huffed, muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t quite understand.

“What was that?” you asked, nudging his shoulder as he turned and looked at you with a grin.

“Nothing you need to know yet, butterfly.”

You rolled your eyes at his attempt to be mysterious. 

“Well, whatever you said, people are going to think the Gojos are cheap just having desserts.”

He snorted. “Let them. I don’t think I’ll care in the moment.”

“But how could you live with yourself if jujutsu society thought so lowly of you?” you replied, mimicking your grandfather’s unmistakable tone. 

“Okay, Mr. Morisato, you can go home now,” he said, poking your sides. “Can I talk to my br- best friend again?”

You giggled, hunching over as you enjoyed the moment, not noticing Satoru's slip of the tongue.  

Once the two of you settled down again, he rested his head on your shoulder.

“Did you want to do something today?” you asked him.

“Can you do anything fun in that thing?” he replied, idly brushing his fingers against the fabric of your kimono.

“Fair point.”

He remained quiet for a moment before speaking up. “I could get you clothes, if you want to go explore Kyoto or walk around the estate. Just need to ask.”

“You’re not going to let me pay you back if I do, though.”

“Hmm. Not a chance,” he replied.

“Guess we’re stuck here with the TV, then.”

He moved away from your shoulder almost immediately, standing up and heading towards the sliding door, where he called out for someone.

“Could you get something for Y/n to wear, Yui? She didn’t get a chance to change because of me, so I feel responsible.”

“Of course, young master. I’ll be back as quickly as possible,” she replied. 

“You know you’re crazy, right?” you asked him after Yui left. “She doesn’t even know my size.”      

“I talked to your family's seamstress, remember? She knows your size.”

“My family still can’t believe that you won Mrs. Toshino over. Like she was even raving about you the last time she came by the house.”

He smiled as he sat back down beside you. “Yeah, I bet. With how prudish she was at first, she reminded me of Hana.”

You kicked his foot with your own. “Rude jerk.”

“So, arcade, movies, or shopping?” he asked, unfazed and setting the previous conversation to rest.

“Doesn’t that depend on how long it takes to get the clothes?” you answered with a question.

“Nah, the Gojo estate isn’t that big.”

“What are you talking about?” you looked over at him, confused

“I figured you’d need clothes here eventually, so she just has to go get them from storage. Guess I forgot to mention that.”

You blinked at him in surprise before allowing yourself to fall back on the couch. “Yup, you’re totally crazy.”

“Oh, c’mon, butterfly. How many sane sorcerers do you know?” he countered. 

“Zero now,” you answered with a grin. “You were my last hope.”

 ⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂𐀔

Nighttime, November 20, 2004. 

Each time he closed his eyes, all he could picture was you in that kimono. The colors had been so vibrant, so perfectly suited to your bright smile, that he’d almost forgotten how to breathe when you stepped into his line of sight.

You’d looked like Spring in the middle of Fall.

And the worst part was knowing everyone else had gotten to see you like that too. It had made him especially envious of all the guests at Hana's wedding. 

But what stung even more was hearing you refer to yourself as a simple guest at his hypothetical wedding when you were the only person he’d ever want standing beside him. As the bride and nothing else. 

He'd almost spoken that truth out loud by mistake while joking around. Thankfully, you hadn't noticed, but he was dead serious. 

Should he start thinking about talking to your family before leaving for Tokyo? 

Or was it too soon for arranging that? 

Would you hate him if he did? 

He didn't exactly want to force you into it just yet… honestly, he'd prefer if the feelings were mutual. 

But what if they tried to bind you to someone else after he was gone? 

Should he risk that? Risk losing you? 

The thought alone was almost unbearable, and he'd never be able to handle it if it actually happened. 

Hell, he might even make the unlucky bastard and his entire lineage disappear if it did. 

No… not might. 

He knew he would, either with the Gojo's influence, money, or other, more permanent means if necessary.

What did that say about him? About his feelings for you…

He sighed, turning onto his side and staring at the picture frame he had on his nightstand—the one holding the more “inappropriate” image from the festival with the two of you.

Looking at you smiling beside him in the photo, he realized he didn’t care what these extreme thoughts and sentiments meant for himself. 

He just knew he wanted you in his life.

And that wasn’t something he planned on giving up on.

 ⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂𐀔

December 7, 2004.

Somehow, he’d managed to convince both his family and yours to allow you to spend the night at the estate for his 15th birthday. 

Hana, now preoccupied with her husband and the Kamo clan, had not been around to object. And with her absence from the Morisato household, there was little standing in the way of the arrangement.

Unfortunately, it was only permitted under Yui's supervision—and on the condition that Keiko and Seiji join the sleepover as well.  He knew their presence was meant to stave off rumors of a possible “engagement” between the two of you. Such news, real or not, would've been ideal to have spread throughout jujutsu society before he left for Tokyo soon. 

But, much to his disappointment, his elders had stood their ground on this matter.

Even so, having you around had been his only wish for the occasion, so he had been more than willing to deal with the requirements rather than let the opportunity slip away. He was sure there would still be some talk about it anyway. 

The day had been filled with an almost carefree kind of joy. 

One that started with a snowball fight along the stone pathways in the garden between the four of you, with Yui watching from the hallway. She was delighted to see Satoru enjoying himself alongside you, noting how he lingered close—always finding some excuse to brush against you, to pull you behind him, to intercept anything thrown your way. 

She found herself wondering if you could ever imagine just how much of a fuss you'd caused within the Gojo clan already. 

Whole meetings had been held to discuss the possibility of an alliance with the Morisatos without the young master's knowledge—otherwise, he might have taken that as permission to ask for your hand. 

Throughout such discussions, they weighed both the positives and negatives of such a union, taking into account your family's history, your shortcomings in jujutsu sorcery, and other factors. You weren't their first choice, nor their second or third, really. Honestly, they never would have considered you an option for the Gojo clan heir. 

But… seeing the way he was with you had changed that opinion for many. 

You were at the top of their list now. Or rather, you were the only one on it, per Satoru's wishes. 

As such, it could not be ignored that you'd given him motivations to seek additional strength and power. Though less important to some in the clan, it was also undeniable how happy you made him. Both of those circumstances worked in your favor. 

Further, they realized it did not particularly matter that you weren't a strong sorcerer either. With Satoru around, no one else would be born with the Limitless technique or the Six Eyes, and whatever children that resulted from the union would undoubtedly be special anyway. So, in the end, they had found no reason strong enough to prevent him from pursuing what he so clearly wanted for his future.

And your family, of course, would be of no issue. 

Thus, the only obstacle he might face in his pursuit of that desire would be… you. 

A sharp burst of laughter rang out across the garden, followed by the soft thud of packed snow hitting fabric.

Lifted from her thoughts by the commotion, Yui watched as a snowball meant for him never quite made it. And it wasn't his Limitless technique that had prevented the hit. No, you’d stepped in first, laughing as it burst harmlessly against your sleeve instead.

“I can protect you too, Toru,” you'd shouted, throwing snowballs back at Seiji and your cousin, Keiko, who quickly returned with an onslaught of their own.

“You don't have to do that—I can handle everything,” he'd called back, despite the grin on his face as he took the hits for you now instead, turning his back to shield you while wrapping his arms around you to guide you both toward cover.

“So what if you can?” you shot back, laughter still in your voice. “I still want to.”

Yui stilled, her eyes widening slightly before a quiet warmth settled in her chest as she looked away.

Perhaps… this was not as one-sided as she had believed.

⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂𐀔

Eventually, the cold drove you all back inside, where you'd crowded around the television as Satoru insisted on winning every round of whatever video game you were playing. Neither you nor Seiji allowed that to happen often, much to his dismay.  

Afterwards, a grand meal with all of Satoru’s favorite dishes had been prepared by the Gojo estate. They truly did spoil him rotten when it came to occasions like this. 

There had also been a strawberry creme cake, of course, with fifteen candles, singing, and many gifts. 

And through it all, he’d stayed close to you, like he always did.

But, while the day had been filled with nothing but merriment, there was a bittersweet feeling lingering beneath it too—as if the world itself knew these moments between the two of you were coming to an end.

⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂𐀔

That night, he broke the rules—sneaking into the room you were staying in and stealing you away from your cousin for a few hours.

He’d come prepared, of course, with a coat in hand and proper footwear for you tucked under his arm, already anticipating your quiet protests about the cold. You couldn't tell him no after seeing that.

The two of you ended up at your usual spot in the forest, where he'd also already prepared a small fire near the pile of rocks to keep you both warm. He’d even dragged over a dried tree trunk earlier in the day, setting it up like a makeshift bench for you both to use. The setup made it painfully obvious that he had planned to ignore the conditions of your stay from the start.

The low temperature and camp-like fire were the perfect excuses to huddle together under a blanket he'd also brought along. Taking full advantage of the circumstances, he'd wrapped one of his arms around you, pulling you against his shoulder to keep warm. 

The night sky, along with all its stars, was so visible from here. He'd caught you looking up in awe several times before you finally spoke.

“This reminds me of when I'd go camping with my brothers and sisters near Higashiyoshino.”

“The area your family is in charge of purging?”

“Yeah.”

“I'm surprised they let you go.”

“I wasn't. I snuck off after them. No one realized until it was too late to take me back home.” 

“Now I get it,” he sighed, secretly impressed by your stubbornness. “Guess I'm not the only person you act reckless around.”

You smiled. “I couldn't help it. I grew up seeing my family go up there. I was impatient to be a part of it.”

“How old were you then?”

“Maybe 6? I still thought I was going to be a sorcerer like them,” you replied as the fire crackled.“But anyway, did you enjoy your birthday?”

“Yeah. ‘Cause they didn’t drag me through another one of those formal dinners like last year.” He nudged a stick into the fire with his free hand, watching the embers shift. “And I wasn't almost bored to death by old geezers before getting to hang out with you.”

“You're never going to let me forget that, huh?”

“Never.”

You pouted. “But aren't they doing that for your coming of age ceremony next month?”

“Ugh. I told them I didn't want that.”

“Well, they already told us about it, sooo I don't think you're getting a choice, Toru.”

“That means you'll be there, right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “We all should be.”

“Then I guess it won't be too terrible,” he replied, still staring at the fire. “Just don't ask me to sit away from you this time.”

You sighed, your breath visible in the cold air. “I don't think that'll be allowed…”

He groaned, looking over at you now. “Seriously? Why does it even matter?”

“If it helps, Haru and Hana might be closer to you this time.”

“You think you're so funny, don't you?” he joked, pulling you closer to his side. 

“Maybe I do,” you teased, pushing back. “But it's the truth.”

“Then find an excuse to come sit with her,” he said, frowning. “Or I'll shout across the room to talk to you if I have to.”

“They'll be mad at both of us if you do that, Toru,” you reminded him.

“Tsk. I'll talk to them tomorrow,” he murmured, feeling you shiver slightly. He knew he couldn't keep you out here much longer. 

After more conversation, laughter, and maybe another thirty minutes out in the cold night, the two of you returned to the estate. He quietly helped you back to your room before going to his own, happy to have gotten some time alone with you.  

In the morning, he spoke with several of his elders about the ceremony. Threatening that he wouldn't attend if they arranged seating by hierarchy like on his birthday last year.

They fought him on it for all official proceedings—like the ceremony itself—but ultimately allowed for you to sit with your sister and brother-in-law as a guise during the dinner. That was better than nothing, he supposed.  

‘Guess Hana marrying into the big three had its advantages.’ He'd thought as he sensed you around the corner, excited to share the update with you. 

⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂𐀔

December 27, 2004.

After his birthday, Satoru had almost been visiting your home on a daily basis, even if only for a few hours.  

It should've been considered inappropriate… but your elders had been quite happy about it when they were told.

They'd gone as far as to encourage you, not too subtly suggesting to secure some kind of binding promise from him before he left for Tokyo in the coming months.

You thought their intentions were disgusting. Shameless. Wrong.

And their pushiness had only reinforced your feelings from before. You'd never give them what they wanted most, power and influence in the jujutsu world through a marriage like this.

Which meant you refused to let yourself see Satoru as anything more than a friend.

Even if… no.

You couldn't. Wouldn't.

‘He'd get over that eventually, right?’ You thought as you watched him unbox the package he'd received in the mail. ‘You were just a stupid, childhood crush he'd eventually forget about when he met someone else, someone better,’ you quietly reassured yourself.  

“Oh, it's my uniforms,” he finally said, stealing you away from your thoughts. “Should I try it on for you, butterfly?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” you replied, faking a smile.

“Be right back, then.”

Satoru hadn't expected tears, but here you were crying on his shoulder as he rubbed circles onto your back. Normally he would’ve been ecstatic for an excuse to hold you like this, but not now. 

“Butterfly. What's wrong? Aren't you the one who said we're going to be fine?”

“I know and we will,” you mumbled, voice muffled against his shirt. “But it's going to be so weird not having you around, too.”

Were you just realizing that? 

“Just come with me then,” he replied, desperation slipping into his voice. “I can still talk to your family and Jujutsu High. I won't let either tell me no.”

“Toru… I can't.”

Fuck. Why did it feel like you were breaking up with him right now? It didn't make any sense. You weren't even “a thing” yet. Why did it feel like this was killing him?

“I'm sorry,” you started, moving away from him while wiping at your eyes. “It just hit me all at once seeing you in this. I'll stop…”

He was about to force the issue when your mother walked into the room with a tray of snacks. She'd just set it on the coffee table when you quickly spoke up. 

“Look, Mom. Satoru got his uniform today,” you said, trying to play it off. “Doesn't it remind you of Ren and Bo?”

She smiled at you and then him before she agreed. “It is quite similar to your brothers. They used to complain about how stiff they were at first. Make sure you break it in properly, or you’ll be uncomfortable during assignments.”

“I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, Mrs. Morisato.”

He watched your mother place her palms together before she continued. “The house is going to feel even quieter without your visits,” she said gently. “But you’ll always be welcome here, Gojo.”

“He knows that,” you added softly, smiling at him sincerely this time. He returned it with a yearning you probably couldn't read. 

Should he just come out and ask your mother right now if he could steal you away? Would you forgive him if he did? And what if she said no? There were too many unknowns, damn it. He knew he couldn't. Not yet at least.

“Then I hope you also know how all of us, including my eldest daughter, are proud of you for taking this on. It's not easy being a sorcerer, though given your abilities I'm certain you'll be just fine.”

“I doubt Hana is, but I appreciate the support of most Morisatos,” he replied, huffing out a bit of a dry laugh.

Your mother smiled in response, looking over at you as she responded. “She has her reasons for being protective. Anyway, I'll let you two get back to your movies. Let me know if you need anything else, sweetheart.” 

“Thanks, mom.” 

She nodded back at you before exiting the room. 

“You okay?” he asked almost immediately, nudging your leg with his own.

You leaned back and tilted your head on the couch in his direction.

“I’m fiiiiiine,” you replied, stretching out the word. It was obvious you didn't want to talk about it. 

“That’s not convincing.”

You stretched out your hand towards him then. “Is a pinky promise good enough?”

“For a kid, maybe,” he answered, staring at your hand.

“Hey, I’m still fourteen, so I can act as childish as I want,” you continued, still holding out your pinky. “Final offer.”

“Only because it’s you,” he said under his breath as he intertwined his pinky with yours.

“See,” you laughed sweetly despite your earlier tears. “We’re fine.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved you off before standing up. “I’m going to change out of these, and then we can start our marathon.”

“‘Kay, Toru.”

For your sake, he hadn't dwelled on the matter. Making you cry again wasn’t something he wanted to do anyway.  

Even so, he had really wanted to ask you more. 

Was it just that you'd miss him when he was gone? That you'd worry?

Or could it be that you might… reciprocate his feelings?

No. 

Save for today and unlike him, you hadn't given signs of that. As much as he wished you had. What’s more, you treated your other friends the same way you treated him, with genuine kindness, laughter, and warmth. That was part of the reason he couldn’t stand them.

But… that didn't mean he couldn't change your mind eventually.

And he wouldn't let this separation keep him from trying. 

Already he'd come up with a way to make sure he'd still be present in your day-to-day life. 

Technology. Cellphones. 

He'd planned on going to get a pair with Yui later and would ask your parents for permission to cover all the resulting, ongoing expenses today before he left. 

After watching movies with you for hours, he was finally heading back to Kyoto with Yui. 

However, without you knowing, he had made sure to speak with your parents about the cellphones idea privately on his way out. 

They'd been resistant at first, stating that they couldn't possibly impose on or allow the Gojo clan to purchase and pay for such a thing. 

But eventually, they’d given him permission after respectfully insisting that his family had already given him the ‘okay’ to do so. Yui had supported his claim, despite it being a lie at the time—not like he'd give the Gojo clan much of a choice in the matter anyway. 

This would likely be his final gift to you before he left, and he was going to make it count. 

⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂𐀔

January 10, 2005.

The Genpuku. 

The Coming of Age Ceremony.

In the weeks leading up to it, preparations moved quietly through the Gojo estate. Formal rooms were restored, ceremonial garments prepared, and invitations sent to the other major clans and select members of the Jujutsu Council. Nothing about the event had been left to chance. Not when Satoru Gojo’s name alone carried as much weight as it did.

On the surface, it was like any other traditional rite.

A formal acknowledgment that the Gojo clan heir had reached a level of maturity where he would no longer be regarded as merely a gifted child, but as a young man expected to stand as a representative of both his family and their power within jujutsu society.

But in truth, it was much more than that. 

Save for you, very few knew that Satoru had made it clear to the Gojo clan that he intended to attend Tokyo Jujutsu High, even if it meant severing ties with them completely. That would have cost them their leverage and place within jujutsu society—which is why the Gojo clan had eventually compromised and allowed his wishes, but not without some terms. This ceremony was one of them. 

And what else was this public display of unity supposed to mean?

That even if Satoru Gojo left home for Jujutsu High and strayed from his intended role as future head of the clan, the family was still together. Harmonious.

As the morning progressed, formal attire replaced his usual preferences, every layer chosen for him with care to showcase the Gojos' wealth and standing within the Jujutsu community.  

Words were spoken by the officials of the ceremony, reaffirming roles and responsibilities while offering congratulations to the “new adults” and their families and friends. 

To those who cared, his place within the clan, and by extension the structure of jujutsu society itself, was made unmistakably clear as he stood among the crowd of other emerging adults.

Overall, the entire affair was elegant.

Seamless.

And somewhat suffocating.

By the time it was over, very little had changed on the surface.

He would still leave for Tokyo soon.

But now there would be no mistaking what the Gojo clan intended that departure to mean.

⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂𐀔

You’d caught him glancing at you several times throughout the procession of the Genpuku ceremony.

He looked annoyed, standing in a crowd of strangers that were mostly non-sorcerers. 

What else could you do but smile at him in reassurance?

Just like the Gojos had done for Satoru, your family had dressed you quite elegantly for the occasion. So much so, that you felt like an ornate decoration meant to be admired—gawked at, even. You hated it. But unfortunately, given the significance of the event, you couldn't refuse their choice of attire for you. 

Looking away from Satoru, you caught someone else glancing in your direction as well. You didn’t recognize him per se, but you were aware of the family he belonged to—the Zen’in. Both Satoru and others you trusted had warned you to stay away from that clan. They were not kind to women, nor particularly honorable in any regard from the stories you'd heard.  

You wondered briefly why he might be staring at you—though, given how you’d been dressed, perhaps it wasn’t so surprising—before your attention returned to Satoru, whose eyes had already found their way back to you.

You smiled again, giving him a small wink that earned a faint grin in return.

The two of you continued this quiet exchange until the ceremony came to a close, and the Gojo's guests began making their way to the estate.

You didn’t get to speak to him properly until the official, celebratory dinner. Even then, it was only through brief, superficial exchanges around other people.

Just as Satoru had told you, you'd been seated by your sister Hana and her husband, Haru Kamo. Though your sister’s position at the front of the table kept you from looking entirely out of place, you still felt it.

Worse, you finally understood why Satoru was bored half to death by these conversations. So much so, you planned to apologize for last year whenever the two of you were alone.

Either way, you listened politely, offering the appropriate reactions and expected commentary of a young lady from the Morisato clan—just as you'd been taught to do. 

When the meal was over, representatives from each family began presenting Satoru with congratulatory gifts. You could see his patience wearing thin the longer it dragged on.

Finally, he was able to peel himself away from formalities and quickly made his way to your side while you sat among your three other siblings—Hana was busy with your parents. They’d offered him their own congratulations and genuine advice for the next chapter of his life as a jujutsu sorcerer. 

You could tell he was relieved to be talking to people who weren't here to win favor. It made you proud that your brothers and sisters could give him that. 

Not long after, the two of you had snuck out to your usual spot at the Gojo estate—far from prying eyes and ears. 

“I owe you an apology, Satoru,” you started, sighing as you leaned back against the familiar stack of stones. “That really felt like torture.”

“Oh, now you believe me?” he said, approaching you and bracing his arm just above your head as he leaned in.

“Yes, and I'm sincerely sorry,” you replied, slightly bowing with your head.  

The two of you laughed together then, like you always did—right before he surprised you with something bolder.

He pulled you forward and away from the stones, resting his forehead against your shoulder as his arms wrapped loosely around you, his weight slumping just slightly into your space.

“You okay?” You asked quietly, internally wrestling with the thought to politely push him away. 

This felt too romantically charged, and you shouldn’t have been allowing it given what you’d decided before, but... it was difficult to set boundaries with Satoru.  

“Just exhausted,” he groaned.

“You know, I could leave so you could really rest, right?”

“Hah! Screw that,” he answered quickly, moving back from you with a frown on his face. “I barely got to speak to you today.”

You shrugged, quietly grateful for the distance he’d put between you again. “I'd be a bad friend if I didn't offer.”

He rolled his eyes. “You got it backwards. Leaving me after putting up with fake people all day would make you the worst best friend.” 

You laughed before replying. “I guess you've got a point.”

“Like my haircut, by the way?” he asked, running a hand through it, showing it off. 

“Mmm, it's not bad,” you hummed, moving away from the rocks and sitting down on the tree trunk Satoru had previously brought over on the night of his birthday a few weeks ago. “But I think longer hair suits you better.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, joining you. “Don't worry, I plan on growing it out again.”

“Was I supposed to worry you wouldn't?” you asked, sarcastically.

“Maybe,” he smirked, looking over at you. 

“I must've missed that requirement on the invitation, then.”

He chuckled dryly, nudging your knee with his own as he changed the subject.

“You look very pretty today. Forgot to tell you that earlier.”

“I think it's a little too much,” you disagreed. “Felt like a peacock showing off its feathers at some point.” 

“Mm, except the ones with the pretty feathers are guys.”

You turned and looked at him, catching the teasing look across his face. Narrowing your eyes slightly, you matched his all-too-pleased smirk with a grin. “You know what I mean, jerk.”

He poked your cheek with his finger. “I actually don't, so please explain.”

“You weren't the only person looking at me at the ceremony and I'm sure it was because of this,” you answered, gesturing towards your kimono. 

“Oh yeah? Was some dumb normie staring at you?”

“No, some Zen'in clan kid. But I don't know his name...”

You swore the air felt thinner around you after you'd said that. 

He curled one of his hands into a tight fist, away from your sight in a feeble attempt to hide how angry he was at the revelation. 

“What did he look like?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, voice quieter than before.

“I couldn't tell you,” you mumbled, running a hand over the silk of your kimono. “Didn't stare back long enough to notice. I was mostly looking at you, remember?” 

Almost instantly, he felt his body relax at your words, fist unfurling slowly at his side. 

“Yeah…”

He was glad that he'd been your main focus, but it was still concerning that a piece of trash Zen'in was looking at you.

Were there talks going on between your family and the Zen'in, maybe? He hadn't heard anything from Yui or his other sources… but it was always possible with those bastards.

Before he could stop himself he sighed and blurted out, “Listen, Y/n. There's something we need to talk about.”

“O-okay,” he heard you stutter, watching you look down at the ground rather than up at him.

“Are you- do you- ugh,” he started and stopped twice, unable to decide what words to use so as not to sound too insane. 

“When I’m gone… they’re not going to try to marry you off, are they?”

You remained quiet for a moment. The seconds felt like an eternity for him.

Damn it. Why weren't you answering the question?

“I don't know Satoru… But Hana-”

He'd stopped listening after you'd muttered the first three words. 

“You can’t let them do that,” he said, more firmly than he meant to, cutting you off as he panicked.

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair before continuing, still not realizing he hadn’t let you speak.

“If they try anything like that… just say no. Refuse and use my name if you need to. Hell—use the clan if it comes down to it.”

“Satoru-” you tried to say, but he was still too busy spiraling. 

“The Gojos will back you up if I say so. They wouldn’t risk this whole bullshit ‘unity’ charade and-”

Suddenly, you clapped your hands in front of his face, snapping him out of his trance-like rambling as you said his full name. “Satoru Gojo!”

Heat crept up from his neck to his cheeks as he immediately stopped, looking down at you as you sighed. He knew he'd gone overboard. 

“Sorry… butterfly,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head as he tried to do damage control. “I just worry about you, and what might happen if I'm not here to help with your family's annoying marriage fixation.” 

“I appreciate it, Toru. But that's not your problem,” he watched as you started fumbling with your hands while you spoke. “And I don't want you worrying about that in Tokyo or on assignments.”

He listened to you sigh again, more deeply than before. “I'm not really supposed to tell anyone this, specifically you. But Hana’s already working on using her status as a Kamo to keep them from doing anything until I’m older.” 

“So, things will be okay here even after you're gone… You just focus on staying safe over there, please? As a favor for your best friend.” You smiled at him then so brightly, so sweetly that he felt tears threatening to form at the corners of his eyes from the reassurance.

He reached for you before he could convince himself not to, pulling you into a tight embrace while you were still seated beside him. He felt you relax into his arms, albeit slowly. 

“Pinky promise?” he murmured against your ear.

“I thought you said pinky promises were childish, Toru,” you whispered back. 

“Yeah, well, right now I want one.” 

“Pinky promise,” you replied, leaning away from his weight and offering up your hand.

He moved his arms back reluctantly and intertwined his pinky with yours as you both smiled at each other.

You were so annoyingly cute, he could stare into your eyes forever right now. Damn, maybe he should try to kiss—

“Young master! Miss Morisato!” The two of you suddenly heard Yui calling out into the forest.

He grumbled, knowing all too well that it meant your family was likely leaving and you had to follow suit.

“Can I come over tomorrow?” he asked as the two of you stood up and started along the path back.

You nodded, adding a slight laugh as you asked, “you can, but since when do you ask for permission? You never have before.”

Because he wanted to hear you say yes—so he could pretend, even for a second, that he was already… courting you? Dating you?

Geez, you were really turning him into one of those delusional guys in all those sappy romance films without trying.

Whatever the case, he obviously couldn’t tell you that.

“I'm an adult now, so I've got to act more responsibly,” he lied. 

You shoved his shoulder lightly, scoffing as you quickened your pace just enough to move ahead of him. “Oh, please. I'll know the world's ending if you ever take something too seriously.”

Laughing at your words, he caught up and reached for your hand, instinctively threading his fingers through yours—only to feel you hesitate with a small twitch beneath his touch.

Had you almost pulled your hand away just now? The movement had been so subtle… but enough for him to still notice.

He slowed slightly, glancing over at you as he muttered a seemingly innocent, “what?”

You slowed as well, your gaze flickering down to your hands before tightening your grip—this time holding onto him just as warmly as he was you.

“Nothing,” you said after a beat. “But if Hana scolds us about this…”

You lifted your joined hands, swinging them lightly between you. 

“Just say I almost fell and you're helping me or something.”

He grinned—devilish and entirely unapologetic as a wicked idea passed through his mind. 

“You make it sound like we have something to hide,” he teased, stretching the last word with just enough emphasis to make your stomach flip. “When I’m just being a good host to my younger guest.”

You huffed, squeezing his hand gently as the two of you continued along the path.

“This whole ‘I’m an adult now’ thing is going to get old before you even leave.”

Ouch.

He knew you'd meant it as a joke, but it still landed harder than it should have. Trying to hide the sting it left behind also proved impossible.

“Well, don't sound so eager for my move either,” he pouted, tugging at your arm, unable to hide the hurt in his voice. “At least pretend like you’ll miss me a little.” 

“I'm not eager-” you started, faltering as your eyes flickered away from him. He swore he saw a faint blush on your cheeks, too, but maybe it was just the cold air. “You already know I'm really going to miss you, Toru...” 

“Yeah, but…” he said, pausing as his attention was pulled to Yui, who was standing by the grand garden's gate ahead. “It's still good to hear you say it.”

⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂𐀔

February 12, 2005.

Satoru would be leaving in one week. 

It almost didn't seem real that in a few days, your friend would be miles and miles away. 

While he had been busy preparing and sending things of his to Jujutsu High, you'd been occupied working with Mrs. Toshino making a gift of sorts for him.

An omamori.

One partly embroidered by you, though you weren't the best at it. You’d made mistakes—crooked stitching here, uneven spacing there—but you figured Satoru would appreciate the effort more than perfection. He might even prefer it that way, actually. 

The fabric itself was a deep navy, rich and dark enough to make the lighter embroidery stand out.

On the front, you’d tried to carefully stitch a butterfly in soft shades of pale blue and gold, its wings outlined just enough to catch the light against the darker fabric. At the top, there was a thick, gold braided cord looped into an intricate knot that secured the charm closed.

After finishing the pouch, you’d taken it to a nearby shrine while offering a quiet prayer for Satoru with it in your hands. 

It was meant to bring him luck and protection during his first year at Jujutsu High.

You'd decided to give it to him when you saw him later today, along with some other gifts you and your family had prepared for him. 

It'd be better this way. He'd likely be very busy the closer his departure date got. You might not even be able to see him by then… but maybe that was for the best. Or at least, that’s what you had told yourself. 

You heard him exchanging pleasantries with your parents before walking into the kitchen as you were finishing up a recipe. 

“Hey Toru,” you started, not looking away from your stirring. “Just gimme a bit, I'm almost done here.”

You felt his arms wrap around your waist from behind, his head dipping to the side to see what you were doing. It surprised you so much, you felt yourself jolt. He noticed.  

“Did I scare you?” He laughed, loosening his hold and placing one of his hands on the counter. 

“A little,” you were honest. 

“Sorry, my bad. What're you making today?”

He might’ve said that, but he didn’t look all that sorry to you. 

“Sweet curry with my own twist on it,” you answered, giving him a side-eye. “You'll be one of the first to try it.”

He smiled. “Oh yeah?”

“Mmhm,” you hummed. “I added a bit of honey and apples this time—so it'll be a little different.”

“Can't wait to taste it then,” he said before adding, "anything I can help with in the meantime?”

“Wanna chop some veggies?” you replied, tipping your head towards the washed vegetables you had yet to get to. 

“Sure.”

The meal came together easily after that.

Between the two of you, the kitchen filled with the warm, comforting scent of curry, your earlier nerves settling into something softer, more familiar. By the time everything was plated on the dining table, your parents and Mitsuki had already gathered around.

Unfortunately, your brothers were away on assignments, and Hana now lived with her husband, which left the house even emptier than usual.

Satoru took the seat beside you without hesitation, but that was to be expected.  

He was surprisingly well-behaved throughout the meal.

Polite when speaking to your parents, attentive when they addressed him, even offering to help clear the table and wash dishes after—though you suspected that had more to do with staying close to you than anything else.

Still, he played the part well.

And when he wasn’t speaking, he leaned just slightly into your space, close enough that you could feel his presence without it being too obvious to anyone else. 

“This is really good,” he said after the first bite, glancing at you with something softer than his usual teasing. “You might have to make this for me again before I leave.”

Your parents agreed, complimenting both the dish and your added twist, while Mitsuki happily went back for seconds.

You smiled to yourself, happy and relieved that everything had turned out the way you'd hoped.

When the meal began to wind down, you turned to your parents.

“Would it be alright if Satoru and I went out for a bit?” you asked, politely. “There’s a new arcade that just opened in town that we wanted to visit.”

Your mother exchanged a brief look with your father before nodding.

“Just don’t stay out too late,” she replied with a smile.

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The arcade was loud that evening, filled with flashing lights and overlapping sounds of machines chiming, coins clinking, and distant cheers from other players. 

It didn’t take long for the two of you to find something to your liking—challenging each other from one game to the next.

“You’re cheating,” you accused, narrowing your eyes as Satoru effortlessly beat your score again.

“Nah, I’ve just gotten better,” he shot back with a grin, not even looking away from the screen.

“Better at being annoying, maybe.”

He laughed at that, stepping away as the arcade game flashed his high score across it.

“C’mon, don’t be a sore loser. I’ll let you win the next one.”

“That’s even worse,” you huffed, though you followed him anyway. “I miss when I used to beat you more often.”

It wasn’t until after a few rounds of games that Satoru pulled something from his pocket.

“Oh—almost forgot to show you. Look what I got.”

You glanced over, curiosity piqued as he held up a sleek flip phone, its gold-colored surface catching the glow of the arcade lights.

“This is how I’ll be calling you,” he added casually, though there was something a little too intentional in the way he said it.

“That’s really cool, Toru,” you beamed as he flipped it open and handed it over for you to see. 

“It's supposed to be the newest model with the best camera out right now,” he continued, pointing at the button with the corresponding symbol. “Press this and it’ll start it up.”

You clicked it, and immediately the arcade floor came into view on the small screen.

“Come stand next to me so we can try it out,” he directed, reaching his hand out. You passed it back to him as you moved to his side like he’d said. 

He wrapped an arm over your shoulder, tugging you a little closer than necessary as you put up a peace sign.

The first photo came out crooked, his aim quite a bit off from the lack of practice. 

The second was a bit better but blurry, catching the two of you mid-laugh because your face had been mostly cut off in the first image.

The third, fourth, and fifth were finally what you sweetly called “cute” as he tapped through the photos next to you. 

Without asking and in your full view, he clicked to set his favorite of the three as his homescreen.

“Satoru, what’d you do that for?”

“Just showing you how customizable it is,” he replied, grinning before adding, “remind me to give you my number when we get back to your place later, yeah?”

You nodded, deciding to change the subject slightly. 

“I will if you promise to take pictures of all the places you go to in Tokyo,” you said. “So you can show me when we see each other.”

“Already planned on it, butterfly.” 

You smiled up at him, something soft settling in your chest at his words before remembering that you meant to give him gifts today as well. 

“Want to head to a café for a bit? I have some things I want to give you.”

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After ordering drinks, the two of you settled into a booth at the nearby cafe. Thankfully, it wasn’t too busy so you both received the items rather quickly. 

He watched you pull a wrapped package from your bag as he finished up his treat.

“This is from the Morisato family,” you said as you slid it over to him on the table.

“Can I open it here?” 

“Yeah, and I'll put the stuff back in my bag so you don’t have to carry it after.”

He began unwrapping the package to find several stationery items a student would need. It was boring stuff really, but he didn’t want to seem ungrateful in front of you even though he wasn’t fond of the elders from your family. 

“These seem great,” he commented. “I’ll make sure to tell them thanks when we get back.”

You laughed. “It’s okay, I know you wouldn’t be too excited about that one.”

“But I have my own to give you that you should like better…” you continued, bringing out your personal gifts for him and passing them over. 

Once more, he tore away the wrapping and opened up the box to find a portable gaming device and a few games, too—including Digimon and Pokémon among them.

He chuckled, turning the Pokémon game over to you as he said, “really?”

“Yeah, really, and you better catch a Butterfree in my honor when you play it.”

“‘Course I will, but these gifts are kinda sending mixed signals,” he teased. “One side of the family gives me stationery to study and the other an excuse to slack off.”

“It is not!” you nudged his leg with your own underneath the table. “My brothers use stuff like that to pass the time when they have to travel for assignments.”  

“I’m kidding,” he said, chuckling. “I love the gift.”

“There’s one more thing in there for you,” you replied, tilting your head to the side as you took a sip from your tea.

After a moment, he pulled out the navy blue omamori with the pale blue and gold butterfly. He traced his fingers along the design, able to tell it wasn’t entirely constructed by a professional.

Had you made this for him yourself?   

“I know it's not the best embroidery, but I tried,” you admitted, smiling a little as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, warmth creeping into your cheeks. “But don’t worry, Mrs. Toshino helped make sure it wouldn’t fall apart on you.”

“It’s my way of wishing you luck and protection during your first year, Toru,” you continued.  

“I’ll keep it on me always. Thank you, Y/n,” he said, beaming with pride before adding, “I think the design’s my favorite part.” 

“Yeah? I thought you might like that. This way you’ll still have a butterfly bothering you in Tokyo,” you teased lightly.  

“Well, I wouldn’t need this if you just came with me,” he pointed at it, playfully complaining despite the truth in the statement. 

“Not this again, Satoru,” you waved him off before he dwelled on the topic. “Are your parents joining you at the train station, by the way?”

“Pfft, those two strangers?” he scoffed. “No way.” 

Wait, why were you asking him that to begin with?

“Why do you ask?”

“I just figured they’d want to be there. Or I guess if not your parents, someone else from the Gojo clan? Maybe Yui?”

“Huh?” he asked, confused. “Who else would I want there but you, butterfly?”

He could tell that his words had caught you off guard.

“Oh… I actually expected us to say goodbye today,” you replied after a pause. 

“W-what? Why?”

“Well, I thought you’d be too busy preparing to leave. Was I wrong to think so?”

“Sorry to disappoint, but you’re still stuck with me this week,” he said, pouting in your direction. “Here I was trying to finish everything early so we could have this last week to ourselves, and this is the thanks I get?”

“Ah- but you never told me that,” you countered, slightly annoyed and amused at the same time. “How could I have known otherwise?”

He exaggeratedly sighed. “Well, you made some pretty horrible assumptions, but I guess you’re right.” He glanced at you, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You still have to make it up to me though.”

You laughed under your breath, accepting his childish antics despite the whole coming of age ceremony. “And how am I supposed to do that?” 

“Don’t worry,” he grinned. “I’ll think of something by the end of the week.”    

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Midday, February 19, 2005.

And just like that, the week had come and gone, leaving the two of you only with a hard goodbye. 

Yui had accompanied you both to Shinkansen station in Kyoto as instructed, but she remained behind near the gates. You had thought that was where you’d say your final farewell, but Satoru had other plans. Somewhat crazy ones, in fact, but it had worked. 

He’d wanted you with him until the very last second, so he’d gone as far as reserving two seats just to get you through to the platform where he would board the train. 

It was selfish of you, but you almost wished you weren’t here with him today. Why? Because it was proving difficult not to show how sad you actually were after initially meeting him at the Gojo estate.

He’d been a bit down too, despite the brave smile he was wearing here, sitting next to you on a bench on the platform. You could tell he was giving this performance for your sake. 

“It almost feels like one of your stupid movies,” he suddenly said, filling the silence between the two of you. “Where the guy goes off to war and leaves his wife behind at a train station.”

“How in the world does that apply right now?” you countered, eyes growing wide with unfiltered disbelief as you glanced at him briefly before looking at the ground. 

“Well, I am going off to fight cursed spirits sooo,” he pointed out, playfully leaning towards you to whisper, backpack hanging over one of his shoulders. “That counts as a war. One that never ends either.”

Despite knowing he was right about the first half of his earlier statement, you rolled your eyes at him. “Mm, okay fair. Except I’m your best friend, not your wife, remember?” 

He laughed, poking your cheek. “Yeah, but don’t people say that they should be the same person?” 

You blinked at him, genuinely at a loss for words at his boldness right before his departure. Were you really going to have to tell him that you didn’t want anything other than friendship right now? Put boundaries in place? Of all times?

“Calm down, I’m just messing with you,” he said when you failed to reply quickly enough. “Though, I would be a pretty good husband with all the money I’m about to earn, I’d definitely be able to spoil you.”

“Says the person who’s already rich and spoiled," you added, laughing somewhat nervously, still uncomfortable with the topic despite his reassurance. It was best to just deflect and ignore whatever it was that he was doing, right? He was leaving in a few minutes anyway… why ruin anything now?

“Speaking of,” he started, placing the backpack on the ground as he unzipped it and pulled out a gift bag. “This is for you. It’s an early birthday gift since I won’t be around for the actual day.”

“You didn’t have to do this, Toru,” you mumbled as he handed it over to you, carefully placing it on your lap. 

“I wanted to,” he replied. “You can’t open it till later, though.”

“I’ll wait till my birthday then,” you said. 

“Nah, you can open it sooner, just not right now.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you asked, puzzled.

“You'll know when, trust me.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, already accepting that your pushy best friend would always be something of a mystery. “Well, thank you. Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it.”

“You better,” he added, nudging your leg with his own. 

Just then, a soft chime echoed through the platform, followed by an announcement for the arriving train—Satoru's train.    

“Guess that’s my cue,” he said, zipping up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder again before turning back to you.

“I’m going to miss you so much, Y/n,” he said, the sincerity in his voice breaking straight through the composure you’d been trying so hard to hold onto as he stood up. “C’mere.”

Your vision blurred behind tears as you quickly stood, nearly fumbling with the gift bag in your hands before he pulled you into a tight embrace, arms wrapped closely around you. Instead of fighting against it like you should, you held him just as warmly. Maybe this was your own parting gift to him…

This was nothing like any of the times before. It felt like more—too much more. You forced yourself to ignore it.  

“I meant what I said about using my name if you ever need something to get your elders to back off,” he murmured into your hair. “Even if it isn’t about marriage. I’m always going to be on your side, so use me as an excuse as much as you want.”

He felt you nod before he continued. 

“And no matter what they try to tell you, you’re something special. To me,” he paused, like that alone should’ve been enough. He only went on for your sake. “...to your stupid friends I can’t stand… and your annoyingly cool siblings, too. Even Hana.”

You let out a soft, broken laugh against his chest.  

He pulled back just enough to look at you then, gently wiping away the tears that had slipped free. “Hey, stop crying or you’re going to make me cry.”  

“M’sorry,” you smiled up at him through the tears, his hand still on your cheek. “If it isn’t obvious, I’m going to miss you, too.”

The two of you laughed softly, the sound tinged with something heavier in the moment. Was it sadness? Or maybe something more akin to grief… loss.

Another soft chime echoed through the platform, followed by a final boarding call that warned of only one hundred seconds remaining. He had to let you go now, as much as it hurt to do so. 

“Please take things seriously and be careful out there, Toru,” you said quietly, removing your hands from his back. “And call me if you can, when you get to Tokyo.”

“I will,” he promised, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before stepping back from you for the final time. “I’ll catch you later, butterfly.”

“Bye, Toru,” you replied, waving as you watched him board the train.

Only a few seconds later, you heard a noise coming from the bag in your hand. It was a jingle of sorts. You tried to ignore it, but…

Why did it sound like Satoru's phone? 

Your heart jumped as the doors closed to the train. Did he accidentally leave it behind while packing your gift?

Quickly reaching into the bag, you pulled out a cellphone. It looked identical to his, except for the color.

The one in your hands now was pastel blue, with a small floral and butterfly charm hanging from the side.

You flipped it open to see “Satoru Gojo” flashing across the screen, the motion answering the call. 

Putting it up to your ear, you said, “Hello?”     

“See, I told ya you’d know when,” he said, staring at you through the window as the train started to move away. 

“Now about that favor you still owe me…” he continued, a grin tugging at his lips. “Think you can keep me company for two hours? I already miss you too much.”

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Tag list: @ms-aman, @ilyannailyanna, @mel-vaz, @cursedadoration, @chiefsandwichcrown, @b-e-d-o-m, @s1sc1pl1n3, @sakura666777, @fingwh0r3, @juneburrow, @problematicthinker, @itskimsara (let me know if you'd like to be tagged as well <3)

The belt left lines on your wrists. He'll kiss them better later. For now, Satoru collects your clothes and heels from the floor, placing them on the desk. He helps you reclasp your bra, runs his fingers on your arms when you finish buttoning your blouse. It's a quiet affair. Every so often, he'd catch your eyes. You don't let yourself linger for long. Satoru finds that a little cute. 

You say nothing when he wraps an arm around your waist, guiding you out of his office. Maybe you're still dazed, still gathering yourself back up, because you don't struggle as much as he predicted. You try to leave his grip when the two of you reach the lobby. He's quick to stop you. 

"Where, do you think you're goin'?" He grips your wrist when you take a step away. 

You look at him, eyes shimmering like water. 

You swallow. "My apartment. I—I need to go back—" 

He clicks his tongue, bringing you back in. 

"We can get your stuff later." He tells you with a grin. "let's just go home, tonight. I'm exhausted." 

You open your mouth. Satoru waits. You say nothing, and he thinks you're starting to get it. 

The moon is a dusky red tonight. Satoru thinks it's an ugly color. 

☾

If Satoru could describe you in one word, it would be: predicatable. 

Normal, boring, a speck in the crowd—none of these are bad things. Just like how much of the universe is nothing, you're an empty void, too. Not everyone can be like him. From the minute he was born, Satoru was destined for greatness—a prodigy, heir to a millionaire conglomerate, the Sun itself. His life isn't written on his forehead for everyone to read. 

You are the exact opposite. Completely unassuming. He practically knows everything about you without even having to ask. 

Like how Satoru can instantly tell you've never been over to a boy's room before. 

You've probably never even been in a relationship before him, either. Even before he managed to corral you into his arms, you were always so annoying about the other things like school and friends. Though, you don't really have much of the latter anymore. His fault, Suguru never fails to remind him. 

He watches as your eyes linger over his shelf: the numerous trophies and awards. You're still standing meekly in the corner, still garbed in your school uniform, clutching your backpack. He has to roll his eyes at how obviously you're trying not to look at him. 

"What're you waitin' for?" He finally asks. You jump, eyes flitting over to find him before you find the floor. He resists the urge to roll his eyes again.

It's not like you two haven't done shit before. You sucked him off twice now, and he's finger fucked you against the bleachers. You should really stop being such a prude. 

"C'mere, pretty girl." 

You comply, dropping your bag, making your way to the bed. When you look at him from beneath your lashes, warily expectant, Satoru feels a thrill rushing through his body. 

He's always been impatient. It's in his nature to take. He nips at your mouth, eager to taste your soul from your soft lips. Soft. Everything about you is so soft—Malleable beneath his fingers. 

Satoru didn't explicitly say what his plan was, but you aren't stupid. He can tell you know what's about to happen when you stiffen in his hold, turn to stone within his grip. He would've allowed it if you hadn't gripped onto his shirt, pulling yourself away from his feasting. 

"Satoru?" You whisper, still leaning away. "The door...?" 

Annoyed, he glances over. His room is open. It shouldn't really matter. 

"It's fine." Satoru tells you. "No one's here." No one's ever here. 

You still look panicked, hands gripping his shirt. Satoru finds that adorably pathetic. How helpless you are. How that's all because of him.

He's sure to make a big show of it. Satoru gives a dramatic sigh, slumps his shoulders, but eventually pushes himself off the mattress to push at the door. He even clicks it shut. He's too nice, sometimes. 

"Happy?" You nod, you don't look very relaxed but your shoulders have dropped a bit. 

Satoru doesn't feel too guilty pushing you down, not when you're already in his bed. He isn't known for his patience. He tastes your skin, leaving marks when he can: teeth bites. He pushes you down down down down so he can sink his teeth into your flesh.

You're asleep and under the covers by the time he's done. The moon's out too. Satoru watches it, largely unimpressed. It's so tiny, a sliver of glowing white. 

And then you shift, turning ever so slightly, enough to catch his attention. He should probably kick you out and send you home. That's what he usually does. When he gets into bed with you, draping his arms around your limp body, he convinces himself it's because he's tired and waking you up would be too much of an effort. 

He lets himself enjoy your warmth; it's nothing like the cold glow of the moon. 

☾

Sometimes, even Gojo Satoru wonders if he's dreaming. 

Sometimes, life is too perfect for him to realize it is real. Everything falls perfectly in place, fitting together like those jigsaw puzzles his caretakers used to distract him with halfheartedly. 

You're in his kitchen, chopping vegetables. 

It had already been a few weeks, but he still wasn't used to this. You, being in his home, in his kitchen, in his bed. Satoru thinks he's masking it well, but his mind is still reeling, it's a difficult adjustment. 

Not a bad one. 

It's like he's been drowning for years and he can suddenly breathe when he sees your toothbrush next to his. It's like he's been stabbed and waking up to your sleeping face is the aloe. It's like he's been suffering through a blizzard, and you cooking in his kitchen, humming a song he doesn't know, is the warm sunny day. 

Things have changed since he brought you home. His home doesn't feel incomplete anymore. As though the apartment itself has agreed that this is where you belong. There are more clothes in his closet, more shoes by the door. The space is ever so slightly less empty and it fills him with tangible relief. He can cook a meal, but it's still nice coming home to something warm already made. 

It makes Satoru wonder what things could have been like, had it not been taken away from him. 

You flinch when he wraps his hands around your waist, nestling into the space in your shoulder. You hadn't heard him come in, apparently. Regardless, you don't linger, fingers hesitating before resuming your task. He finds this part of you adorable. Ignoring the thing that makes your heart race, as though he'll just fade away into the shadows. 

It's his ego that makes him slink into your warm skin, making sure you know he isn't going anywhere. 

"Smells good," he says. 

You nod, pushing away the bell peppers in favor of the onions. Unlike him, you acclimated extremely well. It'd taken nothing to lightly push you to add more and more stuff from your apartment to his. You quietly moved from one setting to another. He remembered this trait of yours from high school. Go with the flow. 

Though, perhaps, it was less out of genuine apathy. Satoru doesn't have to say what will happen to you if you refuse him. He doesn't have to throw lectures about his family and the influence he has on you. He likes that you aren't stupidly brave. He likes that you're meeker, quieter. You pick your battles. 

But he thinks he'd like to see you crack, just one more time. 

"Hey," he says, "let's go out for dinner tomorrow night. There's this restaurant just out of town that has great shrimp cutlet." 

He expects you to nod, like you always do whenever he decides to do something impulsive and meaningless. Instead, you bite your lip. 

"I can't." You mutter after a minute of silence. "I have work. Mr. Higuruma just closed a deal and—and I think I'll be coming home later and later this week." 

Home. It's enough to make his heart flutter. It's the first time you've called the apartment that. Your words almost make him forget about the second thing you said.

Higuruma. The lawyer guy with dead eyes. Satoru remembers him. He always looked at Satoru like he was a child, too stupid to do anything. He never liked how the guy looked at you. Besides, he was way too old for you, never mind that you were taken. You were always taken.

"Oh, right." Satoru gives an exaggerated sigh, fully leaning on you. "Work. What a shame." 

You nod, clearly thinking the conversation is done with. Satoru wasn't so charitable. 

"Y'know, you don't really have to work. Not anymore, pretty girl." His grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly as he pulls you towards his chest. Your hands freeze. The knife glints in your fingers. 

"I make plenty of money. You should just stay home. That way, you don't have to work shitty hours." 

You stiffen underneath his fingertips. He's disappointed when your skin turns frigid. When he peeks over your shoulder, intent to look at your face, there's a nervous smile twitching on your lips. 

"I don't think that's a good idea..." you trail off hesitantly. 

"Hm?" He tilts his head with faux confusion. "Why not?" 

The knife moves up and down, as though you can't decide whether to place it back on the cutting board. Satoru realizes it's your way of fidgeting. 

"It...it would just be unprofessional to leave when everything is so hectic." You finally decide on. 

Satoru scoffs. "So? Who cares. I'm sure everything will work itself out. Just rely on me, pretty girl." 

You don't like the answer, but you don't make a comment on it. Satoru just watches you rotate the knife in your hands. He wonders if you want to use it on him. Slice at his neck, leave him out to bleed on the pretty tile floor. Cut straight through his heart, ending it quickly. 

Or would you like to carve out his eye and keep it as a souvenir? He thinks he'd happily let you. It sounds romantic.

You don't do anything. Instead, you pull back your shoulders as if you're physically ready for war. 

"'Toru," you say gently, softly, and it works in his eyes, "I...can't let you support me like this. It's not right. It's not like we're married or anything." You laugh, like it's a joke. Satoru doesn't cave. 

"I mean, not yet." Satoru rocks you back and forth in his hold. "But gimme' some time to shop for a ring, okay? It needs to be perfect for my perfect girl." 

You follow his movements. He can see your mouth twitch out of the corner of his eye. Your eyes get glassy. 

He knows he's terrible, but he really wants you to crack. 

"You're right, Satoru." You say, "I'll put in my two weeks tomorrow." He grins in delight. 

"That's a great idea, baby." Satoru kisses you on the cheek.

Right, you pick your battles. 

☾

Satoru tells you he loves you, and you're gone, not even three days later. 

He breaks and shatters into pieces he'll never be able to put back. Each day without you is torture. He feels like a corpse, just going through the motions. His clothes feel looser. His skin doesn't feel like his own anymore. Every time he looks in the mirror, he sees someone he barely even recognizes. 

It's like you left with his heart. 

No, you ran away with his soul. 

One day, you were Satoru's, safely tucked underneath his arm...the next, you just weren't. 

His parents don't acknowledge it beyond casual disgust. Every time Suguru talks to him, Satoru can barely comprehend it. Days pass by. Everything reminds him of you. His bed feels emptier; he hates it when he reaches out to the space you used to take up and finds it cold. Your locker remains untouched. Nothing is ever the same. 

Satoru tries looking for you, but you're untraceable. No social media, no friends left to tell where you went, not even your fucking parents know where you are. 

You left him. 

You left him to rot. 

Denial comes first. It can't be. You wouldn't. You wouldn't fucking dare. Anger seeps in the next. For weeks, Satoru can only imagine what he'll do when he finds you. He'll break your legs this time. He'll squeeze your neck so hard that your head pops. He'll kill you over and over again until your corpse is begging to be forgiven. And he won't ever stop, because you're Satoru's. 

That doesn't stay for long. He feels himself get weaker day by day. Food tastes like dirt on his tongue. Any of his earlier vices are gone. 

He misses you. 

Why wouldn't he? You were his everything. 

Like all things, it passes. You aren't there to fuel the flames, so the fire wanes in his chest. The ache in his heart gets smaller and smaller. Things keep him busy. College. Then, his new position in the office. 

Ten years pass. He’s forgotten what you look like. But he remembers parts. Every so often, he sees a flicker of you within someone else. Your eyes are on another woman’s face. Your lips on a girl's smile. It irritates him to no end. It’s even worse when he starts seeking them out, keeping those parts of them for just the night. 

Sometimes, if he closes his eyes, he can still hear your voice—what he thinks is your voice—soft, needy Toru Toru Toru. 

“Gojo, sir?” 

He blinks. Ijichi stands in front of him. Satoru looks down at the meticulously crafted pages. 

“Mr. Higuruma needed you to sign this,” Ijichi lifts a paper filled with bureaucratic bullshit he pays other people to understand.

Why did Suguru take off now? 

“Sure sure,” Satoru says, “I’ll get it done.” 

Ijichi shifts nervously. “Well, it’d be best to finish it right now, Sir. His paralegal is just about to leave the building.” 

Oh, right. The lawyer’s assistant. Gojo could never get a good look at that person, but the assistant resembled a shaking deer to him at most times. He’s not even sure if they’ve ever talked to each other, but he always found the other a bit odd. Big eyes. A shaky expression. 

It was a little annoying to look at. 

☾

Some executive was throwing an office gala, and since he is Gojo Satoru, he needed to come along. 

And since you are Satoru's, you're dragged along too. 

Honestly, the only upside to this is you and that new dress he bought you. A velvet turquoise dress that he can't take his eyes off of. The gold jewelry draped across your neck makes you even more delectable. But his favorite part of the outfit is the shimmering diamond ring. 

The ceremony hadn't been anything extravagant. He'd just booked out one of his favorite restaurants, ordering lobster and sweet wine. He remembered hearing his heartbeat when he bent down on one knee, opening the elegant ringbox, like an oyster revealing its pearl. Looking back, he didn't know why he was so nervous: it's not like you'd say no. 

"What do you think of it?" He asked when you were back in his bed, bare from everything except that glistening ring. 

"It's pretty." You spoke, perfectly nestled in his chest. 

He feels in his heart when he hugs you, a small kiss in your hair. You say something, but he can't hear it; he is too preoccupied with feeling you in his arms. It's still so new, even after all these weeks. It's the anxiety, knowing at any second you could leave and he'd be nothing. He won't allow that, he can't. 

"I thought about something else, y'know?" He speaks quietly in your hair. "Ropes, chains, maybe. I could keep you here, forever. But—but then I realized how sad you'd get. I couldn't go through with it." 

You give no reaction. When he tilts your chin up to get a better look at you, your eyes are glassy. 

"You get that, right?" 

You nod. He's really too nice, sometimes. 

He spends the entire evening with you, tucked away in a corner, away from prying eyes. Just because he has to be there doesn't mean he has to be sociable. Every time someone walks up to him and you, a drink in one hand, he resists the urge to bite their head off, feigning politeness. He complains about their lack of decorum to you multiple times throughout the night, his head resting on your shoulder. You pliantly sit there, listening and nodding. 

About ten minutes after the last board member left, someone else walks up. By then, Satoru's patience has mostly declined. He peers over with disdain before he can really process who he's seeing. 

"Suguru!" He waves over. 

You stiffen, and Satoru remembers you haven't seen him in ten years. 

Suguru walks over with an easy smile on his face. He's nicely tanned, and Satoru is reminded of the pictures he sent over of the Maldives. Maybe that's where the honeymoon should be. 

"Had fun slacking?" Satoru asks with a grin; Suguru shrugs. 

When his eyes meet yours, he feigns delighted surprise. Suguru speaks your name with practiced shock. It's imperfect, only Satoru can see the amusement dripping from his fangs. 

"Long time, no see!" Effortlessly, Suguru corrals you into a hug. You follow, giving into the cold touch of affection before pulling away back to him. 

"Hello, Geto." You say when you're rightfully by his side again. "It's nice to see you again." 

Suguru laughs, light and airy. "You as well!" He looks at your hands, tilts his head. "Oh? Congratulations, you two! When's the date?" 

"Eh, we'll figure that out later." Satoru gives a quick kiss on your cheek. "Everything happened so fast, y'know? Us reuniting and everything: It feels like fate." Suguru's eyes flash. "Let's not rush this. We'll take our time." 

Suguru nods along thoughtfully. He's looking right at you, and you stare right back. Not used to feeling left out, Satoru is quick to intervene. 

The conversation is light, two long-time friends reuniting after a long spell. You stay quiet like decor, settling into Satoru's side. Suguru doesn't acknowledge you after that. 

"We gotta' go. It's getting late." He eventually says, tugging you along. 

Suguru gives a pleasant smile. "Of course, of course. We should catch up sometime." He directs this at you. You give a strained smile before Satoru leads you off. 

"Suguru." The man turns. Satoru grins. 

"I loved my gift. Thanks, man." 

Suguru's smile is catlike. 

"You kids have fun." He calls out right when Satoru's dragging you away all over again. 

You're silent. Not in the way you usually are, pliant and cute. You're thinking. He gives you a nudge. 

"What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours?" 

You shake your head. "Nothing." And then you say, "He's changed." 

From your view, Satoru supposed that's true, but really—

"Nah." Gojo shakes his head. "He's just dropped his act." 

Satoru's hand was wrapped around your waist when you two ran into him. You hadn't noticed him yet, eyes fixed on the floor. The lawyer hadn't changed since the last time Satoru saw him. That dead expression, those creepy eyes. Higuruma's eyes flit over your figure, before he finds Satoru's. 

He stares. Satoru stares right back. Something gives, and the lawyer calls out your name. 

"How are you?" His tone is cool, and this is another reason why Satoru can't stand him. The guy has no tells. He's just a talking robot. 

Unlike you, fidgeting by his side, practically vibrating with nerves. 

"I'm fine, sir." Your smile gets more painful to look at by the second. 

Your voice earns you a tired smile, a mild pinch of humor. Higuruma shakes his head, waving you off. 

"No need for formalities. We aren't at work." His smile drops just a bit, as he watches you for a bit more, eyes flickering to your hand. "I was...surprised when I saw the announcement. I didn't know you and Mr. Gojo were involved." 

Satoru grins, making himself known like a shark in the water. His grip on you tightens. 

"Oh, you didn't tell your boss 'bout us, baby?" He looks down at you with cruel mirth, pinching your cheek. You wilt. "We go way back—highschool sweethearts. Lost contact for a couple years. It's actually thanks to you we were able to find each other again. We'll send you the invites." He presses a kiss to your hairline. 

Higuruma hums at that. Satoru expected jealousy in his eyes; he's even more upset when he finds none. 

"I'll be sure to save the date." 

Then he shuts Satoru down completely. 

"I heard about your resignation. It's sad to see you go," Higuruma says. 

You nod, but you don't look at him. "Satoru and I talked about it, and we decided it's best if I focused on other things." 

"Very, very busy, this one nowadays." Satoru interrupts. "Between wedding plannin' and all that."

"Is that so?" Higuruma says dismissively, "in any case, you already knew this, but I've begun preparations to start a new firm." He reaches into his wallet, pulling out a card. "I always thought you were good at what you do. If you ever want to get back into the industry, call me." 

You take the laminate slip with a quiet thank you. Satoru feels blue turn into red. 

When Higuruma slips into the party, Satoru tightens his grip on you a little harsher than necessary. He's dragging you through the halls. Behind him, he can hear you stumbling over your heels, begging him to slow down. He knows he should care, but he doesn't. That damn lawyer. Those dead eyes. Mocking him. 

"Did you fuck him?" He asks when his anger has reached a high enough peak that he presses you against the wall. 

Your eyes are wild, flitting back and forth. He'd your expression a little cute if he wasn't feeling like a furnace, at the moment. 

"No. I—we never." You say. "Mr. Higuruma was my boss. And—and he's married—" 

"Really? 'cause you're precious 'Mr. Higuruma' was eyeing you up and down like he's already seen what's underneath." 

"'Toru." You plead. "Let's—let's just talk about this at home. Please? Let's just go home." Home. You said that word again. If he were a better man, he'd melt, but he's not. 

"Shut up." He spits out. "Hike up your dress." 

You stare at him. Then, you try to smile, like he's making a shitty joke. It wavers on your lips. 

"It's...we're still in public." You whisper and it's so cute you think he'd actually care about that. "We—we can't...we shouldn't—" 

"Baby." His voice drops, as he licks at your neck. "Pull up your dress, get rid of those panties. Otherwise, I'm just gonna take it off myself." 

He doesn't need to explain anything further. You already get what he's saying. Right now, Satoru doesn't care if you leave this building with your clothes intact. 

He thinks the worst part is that he knows he's being unreasonable. He's backing you into a corner where you'll have no choice but to surrender, and he knows that, but he keeps thinking about those man's eyes and how he looked at you and it was just all so much. 

He'll apologize to you later, with flowers and shiny gold earrings. He'd give you the world; just be good for him now. 

He just needs his fix. So just be good for him now.

☾

When Satoru discovers it's been you all along, he feels like an idiot. 

In a pathetic way of defending himself, he convinces himself there's no way he could have recognized you. You're so different compared to your high-school self. 18-years old, fresh-eyed, naive. The you now is all grown up: a mature voice, a new hairstyle, clothes he'd never even think you'd wear. 

It also didn't help that he couldn't even see your face since you turned away every time he looked at you. 

Embarrassing. He's just glad Suguru wasn't here to call his blunder. 

He thought about it a lot. He spent an hour in his office, pacing around, doing nothing but thinking and thinking and thinking. Part of him wants to corner you already. He can already feel your rabbit heartbeat on his fingertips, the look you always had in your eyes when he was right in front of you. Part of him wants to ruin your life the same way you ruined his. He wants to tear you apart, piece by piece. Leave you in tattered pieces. 

But he can't do that. Satoru still loves you. 

You left him a hollow shell. Broken. Tainted. There are pieces of him he still can't find. He should hurt you. He's hurt other people for doing less. But they weren't you. Even after all those years, he's never quite stopped loving you. 

But he wants to sate his bloodlust, just a tiny bit. 

His perfect opportunity comes where he, the lawyer, and you are all sitting in one of the waiting rooms. The lawyers explaining something, possibly about the ongoing case. Satoru doesn't really care. Besides, this is what Ijichi's here for. 

He waits until everyone is quiet. You're unassuming. By then, your shoulders have lowered, like you think you've gotten away with it 

"Hey," he says, "do we know each other?" 

The other two don't bother, but you stop completely. The pen in your grip shakes. Satoru resists the urge to laugh. 

You timidly glance up like you're still delusional enough to think there's a fifth person he's talking to. Satoru has always been told his eyes are like two suns: bright and intense. He lowers his glasses. You wilt under the solar flares. 

"Hm?" He prods, enjoying the way you shrivel. "Have we?" 

You swallow, glassy eyes flicking from side to side. Finally, you clear your throat. 

"No." You mutter, voice barely a whisper. "I don't think we have." 

"Are you sure?" To intensify the magnifying glass, he leans closer, like he's examining you. "'cause you look really familiar." 

To his delight, you chew on your bottom lip. He can imagine biting it until it's bloody and raw. He stops just when you're about to shatter completely. Breaking you too soon would take the fun out of it. 

"Oh, wait. I don't think that was you." He relents, pulling back and he can see the relief ooze over your face. "I think I got you mixed up with someone who interviewed here a couple months ago. My bad. Maybe you have one of those faces." 

You nod, eager to take the out. 

"Yes," you quickly say, "one of those faces." 

How adorable. You haven't changed since high school. 

He's usually not this obvious, but Suguru isn't here to berate him about it and it's not like anyone else will get on his ass. The women he brings in are his usuals: tall models with full lips and perfect bodies. Satoru parades them around like expensive jewelry. He wants to see you seethe in envy, stew in it. He wants you to see what you abandoned. 

But you don't do any of that. You just sit there, like the dutiful little workbee you are, right by your boss's side.

And then, you give one of them your jacket. Satoru can't stand it wrapped around her waist like she fucking owns it—own you. She wears it so flagrantly, like any token from you shouldn't be worshipped and coveted. He hates it. He hates it. 

"I've never done this in an office before." She squeals when she shuts the door behind her. "So, how do you—" 

"Get out." 

The girl pauses. What was her name again? Satou was too pissed to give a single shit. 

"Um, what?" 

"What, you deaf or something?" He waves her off as if he weren't seething. "Get out." 

"Oh," she says, blinks, and then she takes a step back. 

"Wait." Satoru stops her. 

"Take that off." He points to your jacket. She does it with zero complaints. When he tells her to drop it on the chair, she follows that too. Reluctant expectation. Kind of like you. Maybe that's why he was initially invested in her. 

He only takes the fabric after she's gone. It's soft underneath his fingertips. Nothing designer, but good quality. When you're finally underneath him again, he'll buy you better clothes, all the jackets you want. 

He needs you. He can't wait anymore. 

He needs you, whether you want him or not. 

☾

Satoru wakes up to something crashing. 

It's faint, obviously coming from the bathroom. Not the best way to be woken up. He remembers the first few nights he brought you home. He'd hear you crying in your sleep, choking on tiny sobs. It was the sweetest little thing, like a whimpering puppy. 

These noises are a little more concerning. 

He yawns, sliding out of bed. You didn't bother locking the door. You didn't even close it all the way, either. A sliver of light comes from the crack before he pushes it open. 

"Baby?" He calls. You don't answer. 

You had knocked over a caddy. Toothbrushes, hairclips, soap dispensers, perfume bottles were scattered all over the floor. You're curled up in the corner of the bathroom, huddled right next to the tub. You seem physically okay, no blood, no bruising, but he can't see your face. And you're shivering. 

Satoru's about to call out to you, when he steps on something. He looks down at the tiles. 

A positive pregnancy test. 

"I'm not keeping it." Your voice is hoarse, like you've been crying for hours. "I'm not keeping it." 

"Pretty girl." He coos, trying his best to keep the glee out of his voice and failing. "Let's not worry 'bout that, right now. C'mon, let's get you off the floor." He reaches for your hand. You smack it away. It stung. 

When you look at him, eyes bloodshot and brimming with angry tears, Satoru's heart skips a beat. He feels like he just trapped a wild animal, making it pace in a corner. Any wrong move could result in his hand getting bit off. It's scary. 

He's finally cracked you. 

"Fuck you." Your voice shakes and wobbles, but it's loud and you're clear. "Fuck you. You're a sick, twisted man-child. You ruined everything. You ruined my entire life and—and now you—" 

You're cut off by his giggling. It sounds psychotic even to his ears. He's beyond caring. You flinch when lifts your face up, forcing you to look into his eyes. He's smiling so hard it hurts. 

"Yeah, I did that. I ruined you. I ruined your entire fucking life. For me." He stresses, squeezing your face so hard you try to pull away. "But I had to. You—you wouldn't be here if I didn't." He sighs, pressing your body to his. "I need you."

You're both huddled on the bathroom floor, captive and lover. He's clutching you to his chest, smiling, nestling his face in your hair. You don't say anything for a while. 

"I'm not keeping it." You whisper. "I'm not. I wouldn't stand it if it ended up like you." 

It's spiteful. You're still in that phase where you think your venom can hurt him, as though he'd see your blows as anything but blessings. Satoru thinks to his own childhood. Where he was given everything, lathered in gold and silver. Yet, the house was always cold. But you were always so warm. 

"That won't happen." He tells you. "'cause you're here." 

Your anger has dwindled to smoke. Maybe you've finally realized how crazy he was for you. 

"Please let me go." It's not a beg. It's not even a request. 

"I can't," he honestly says. 

"You won't." You correct him. 

He smiles in your hair. 

"No baby," he says, "I can't." 

If you ran away again, if you escaped his claws, he'd probably die. Drop dead, rot on the floor. He needs you. Even more than he needs food, water, and oxygen. You won't understand that. You've never been in love before. 

You don't fight him. If anything, you sink into his hold. He's there to catch you, heart soaring. You lean into his chest 

"I hate you." You whisper. His heart beats a little faster. It's probably the first time you've ever been so honest with him. 

God, he loves you. 

"I hope our baby has your eyes," he says. 

"I hope our baby looks exactly like you." 

You say nothing, but when he leans down to kiss you, you finally kiss back. You're cracked, and your essence is ready to be molded in his image, just like he's always wanted you to be. 

Because the thing is – the thing is- you’re not an idiot. You’ve worked in here long enough to know that any whiff of romance and the Seven and it’s promptly pounced on and exploited for all its worth for clicks and views. It’s not the only time someone from the Seven has dated an employee, you remember rumours about Translucent being a menace towards interns back when he was still around, or Queen Maeve having some fling, and they don’t often last long once the relationship inevitably fizzles out. You wouldn’t be that sad to be fired from Vought – as a makeup artist, you can easily use your talents elsewhere and you’d probably be asked to leave with a pretty generous severance package in the bargain.

But the idea of going on a date with The Homelander is terrifying, and not just because he has superpowers and a temper. Nor is it that you don’t find him attractive, because as infamously prone to being an asshole as he is, he’s never been directly horrible to you and you’d be a liar if you said your stomach didn’t tighten at the sight of those piercing blue eyes or when you heard that smooth, velvety voice of his.

But how could you explain your stage fright to Homelander, a man who has been in the limelight with that megawatt, all American boy gleam for as long as you can remember. And more importantly, how could you agree to going on a date with him without all the pomp and circumstance that would take your natural awkwardness and drag it into the forefront in the worst way?

Homelander was watching you intently and he gave a little chuckle when you trailed off mid-sentence.

“’Well’, what?” he said, his tone light and playful. “Out with it. Are you busy or something?”

There was a faint mocking lilt to the words, like he couldn’t fathom you might have plans more important than entertaining him – he’s never been one for seeing Vought employees like people with rich inner lives. You press your lips together for a moment, unsure of how he’s going to take this, but you might as well say it now you’ve gotten this far.

“Well, we could go out.” You say, haltingly. “But…maybe something a bit more casual than a…dinner?”

Homelander looks somewhat surprised. Whatever he’d been waiting for you to say, it wasn’t that. His arms lower and now he’s studying you more closely, the little smirk on his face replaced with confusion and that faint glimmer of curiosity. His voice is both a challenge and a question when he asks;

“What did you have in mind?”

~

So, to indulge you, because he was amused that you’d suggest to The Homelander to do something lowkey – he didn’t really do lowkey in general – he’d acquiesed to your suggestion for him to pick you up at an agreed location. The whimsy of it was at least a change from the usual monotony of his routine, of the sea of insects scuttling around trying to arrange this, that and the other, of the heads of Vought trying to maneuver him around like a chess piece and Ashley hovering around him like an irksome little fly in a horribly tacky suit.

He wasn’t expecting you to be waiting on the street already, holding…a takeout bag?

But you had been, and as per your request, Homelander had appeared and, after picking you up in his arms without so much as a hint that he was carrying an entire adult, flew up to a randomly chosen rooftop. To his astonishment, you’d straightened up when he set you down, walked over to a little platform that sat on this particular roof, and made yourself comfortable.

Homelander blinks once, his brain whirring.

Good god, you were serious.

“I’m glad it’s not as cold out as it was a few weeks ago,” you remark happily, sitting down on a ledge and placing the takeout bag beside you, opening it up where heat rises from the freshly-made food and you pull out two milkshakes that are nestled in their little cardboard container. “So it should be fine to sit up here for a bit.”

Homelander stares at you like he’s waiting for the punchline, his head cocked. Really? You just wanted to sit on top of a building and eat fucking cheeseburgers? (He knows it’s a cheeseburger and fries without having to use his X-ray vision – he can smell them as clearly as if you were waving them under his nose). Non-supes were weird little creatures.

After a couple of seconds, you glance up when you notice Homelander has not sat down to join you. His face is one of blank confusion and while it’s a relief to see he isn’t doing that technically-a-smile expression he does when he’s annoyed, you feel a wave of uneasiness anyway – what if he thinks you’re taking the piss?

“Is this okay?” you ask him, hands hovering over the bag.

“Is…what okay?” he says, turning his body this way and that like he’s looking for the source of an unknown voice. (You can’t help but think he looks like an action figure when he does that, like when little kids make them ‘walk’ by rotating them). He flicks a wrist at you and the takeout bag. “What is this?”

“Up here, it’s private,” you explain. “I wouldn’t have been able to get up here without you, so this way, we can just…talk. Nobody will bother us up here, and once we’re finished I can always just climb down the fire escape if you have to be somewhere.”

You swallow when you’re done, anxiousness swirling in your stomach, but his body language starts to shift as he realises that you’re not messing around – this is your idea of a date. Slowly, Homelander twirls his cape up behind him like a lady in an old movie does so as not to sit on her dress and perches on the ledge next to you, the takeout bag sitting inbetween you. His back is rigid, like he’s been ordered to sit up straight and he’s looking at you out of the corner of his eye with suspicion. Still, the fact he sat down at all is an encouraging sign.

"And… this is what you want to do?" Homelander says, his voice soaked in incredulity. “Just sit here?”

“Uh-huh. I told you, somewhere expensive would just make me feel uncomfortable and things wouldn’t really go anywhere. I’d be too busy worrying if the waiter was judging me or if the paparazzi were going to appear from behind a bush or something.”

Homelander looks baffled, like he can’t fathom why this would bother you. You suppose he wouldn’t get it – he doesn’t care what some random peon paid to serve him might think of two assholes hogging an entire restaurant to themselves and he’s accustomed enough to the paparazzi that he doesn’t think twice about their presence anymore. They were background noise and flashing lights to him. Besides, if they showed up when he didn’t want him there, it’s not like they’d ever be able to sneak up on him unawares.

You tilt your head, wondering if this was all an extremely stupid idea. You know he’s humouring you, like you would a skittish animal you’re looking to tame, but maybe this is too much out of his comfort zone. You honestly hadn’t considered that, and you feel a little guilty.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” you say, hurriedly. “I’m sorry, maybe this was dumb. I just thought, you know, nobody would be able to see us up here and it wouldn’t take any time or advanced preparation. And it could be fun – something you haven’t experienced before.”

Something in Homelander’s expression shifts as you speak. It’s the very last thing you said – because of course, Homelander could have any restaurant in the country cleared out for his own personal use if he wanted to, so he thinks nothing of doing it. It’s not special to him. It was in fact what he was going to do before you suggested he go along with your weird little idea instead. But…the earnestness of the suggestion, the fact you were thinking of him, of giving him a taste of something outside of his sphere of reference…that changes things. At first, he thought you were kidding, or that you were recommending something so odd and yet mundane at the same time was you purposefully trying to be different and quirky to impress him. (What’s it called in movies? Psycho Fairy Girlfriend or some shit?) But no – it’s because you were trying to find something you’d be comfortable with but also something he might find novelty in.

People don’t often think of that. Of something he might enjoy.

“Well,” he says, with a rueful smile that instantly soothes the nervousness swelling in your chest, and he turns to you properly now, his smile quirking his lip just enough to reveal a sliver of fang. “I did promise to try your way, didn’t I?”

You smile in return, relieved.

“Come on. I’m sure we can think of enough to say to each other to fill the duration of eating a cheeseburger. I promise I’m not that bad of a conversationalist.”

That makes him laugh and it’s a wonderful sound – rich and not fake like he does in TV interviews sometimes (you’ve seen enough of them to know the difference). Relieved, you laugh as well, pulling open the bag fully and tugging out a portion of fries and a cheeseburger, still piping hot since Homelander just lifted you up onto a nearby rooftop. You didn’t even have to walk home to eat.

After that, you start talking about the new movie about the Seven Vought wants them to do. Homelander eases into it quickly and starts ranting about how he hated the last-minute changes they kept doing to the script of the third movie, that the writers didn’t know a pen from their own dicks and that a fucking braindead monkey could’ve done better. You decide not to admit to him you’ve never bothered to watch any of the Seven movies – you’ve seen clips of them, but why would you need to watch a film about the Seven? You literally see them in person every day and they don’t have horrendously cheesy dialogue to sit through.

“You know, I came up with the idea for the end scene where I drag the submarine back to the harbour,” Homelander rants, gesticulating with his arm. “Me. And it worked way better than their idiotic plan of The Deep raising his dolphin army or whatever the fuck it was gonna be. How’s anybody going to believe that? That scene was all the critics talked about when it came out, but did they bother asking me how we should end the fourth one? No, of course not!”

“Oh yeah, now you mention it, there was that random line from The Deep how ‘he had a little help’ and it never made any sense.” You say, vaguely recalling the bit Homelander’s talking about – you remember it mostly because he was dripping wet in that particular scene and his hair looked all sexy and messy. He really should wear it like that more often instead of slicking it back so aggressively. “Though even if you’ve got the context of the original ending, it’s still a stupid line. Especially that dumbass face he makes when he says it.”

Oops, you probably shouldn’t mock one of Homelander’s colleagues to his face, even if it is The Deep, but he seems highly amused by the assessment.

“Exactly!” he grins, pointing at you. “The fucker can never remember his goddamn lines, so he’s always so proud when he does. It’s like a fucking five year old showing you his finger painting.”

You snort and he grins, pausing for a sec as he spots somebody shifting their curtains in the building across from the rooftop you’re on, but they aren’t peeking on the date – perhaps it’s a cat playing with them or something.

You swallow your comment about how Queen Maeve looked like she had a poker thrust somewhere uncomfortable during the movie too and instead take a second to observe Homelander. This has gone much better than you’d expected despite his initial surprise, and a thought occurs to you.

Does he ever just…hang out? With people?

Somehow, you doubted it. As far as you know, Homelander doesn't seem to have a family - the official story is his parents died a while ago and he has no siblings or grandparents or anything else, apparently. He has the Seven, but you've noticed he's never seen hanging out with them outside of press releases or movie premieres or anything. The Supes are entitled to their private lives, of course, but Homelander has long been a bit of a mystery in that regard because nobody has ever seen him out of that suit of his. Other Supes always have people crawling out of the woodwork, complaining that so-and-so gave them a wedgie in high school or such-and-such acted like an asshole at a bar. But nobody has ever showed up claiming to know a pre-Seven Homelander. You wonder how Homelander spends his downtime when he isn't working, he's certainly never photographed anywhere compromising like some Supes have and he famously doesn't drink or do drugs. He doesn't even smoke.

A mysterious man for sure.

Despite how baffled Homelander clearly is by all this, he's adapting remarkably quickly. His body language speaks volumes - he's not so stiff anymore, instead leaning back to stretch out better. He's even eating his cheeseburger without complaint.

"So? Isn't that one of the best fucking cheeseburgers you've ever had?" you ask him with a smile, and to your delight, he smiles back.

"The best," he says throatily, taking such a hearty bite of cheeseburger that it's almost lascivious in its intensity.

“I got fries too,” you say, and he waves a hand in a gesture you take to mean ‘maybe later’. Fine, more fries for you anyway.

“You know,” you say as you finish swallowing. “I heard they want to do a Homelander: Origins movie as well.”

“Oh, that.” Homelander says distractedly, and you’re surprised to notice he’s already finished eating. Either he’s a naturally fast eater, doesn’t like to eat in front of others so made sure to consume the rest of the cheeseburger when you weren’t looking, or he simply isn’t as slow as you are. “Yeah, it was in the pipeline, but I shot that shit down. Too hokey for an hour and a half, nobody would go for it – who wants to see some whining kid all scared of using his superpowers when they can see the man in action?”

“Well, that and…” you say before you have time to actually think about what you’re saying. Hurriedly you shut up, but it’s too late. Homelander turns to look at you.

“What?”

“Nothing, forget it.” you say, reaching for more fries so you can occupy your mouth with something else, but his hand shoots out and grabs your wrist. It’s not painful – he knows how to mind his strength – but the undeniably firmness of his grip lets you know you’re not going to get away with distracting him. You raise your eyes to his and there’s an unwavering stare ready to meet you.

“Say it,” he orders softly, and your tongue nervously swipes across your bottom lip."It's just that I heard a rumour it's not true. None of it."

Infinitesimally, Homelander stiffens. Memories of that fucking farmhouse, canned smiles and rehearsing over and over, lines about baseballs games and apple pie, while memories of blinding white lights, beeping monitors and that cold, harsh scent of disinfectant flashed through his brain. Hips lips twitch and a gasp of mirthless laughter whooshes from his lungs. He lets go of your wrist before his grip reflexively tightens and you pull your arm to yourself protectively.

“Where’d you hear that?” he demands in a clipped tone and you could kick yourself for your stupidity, of just blurting out whatever you want without remembering who he is. What he can do.

“Just somewhere online,” you reply vaguely – you’re not lying, it was a while ago, but the user posited a pretty convincing hypothesis about why they were sure the whole farmboy routine was fake and you’ve been walking around convinced of it ever since. You just never realised how sure you were until right now.

Homelander scoffs but doesn’t press you for more details, probably because he knows the random speculation of a few basement-dwellers on the internet means nothing. Instead, he has a more pressing concern.

"What do you think?" he says and though there's a challenge in his tone, you can plainly hear something else beneath it - an unease, almost anxiousness. He wants a confirmation.

"Well," you say, and he can tell you're measuring your words, taking care with what you say but staying honest. He appreciates that - not many people are so direct with him, but you're not using honesty to be a bitch either. A lot of people think they can get away with that until he corrects them. Sometimes people want to be put in their place, he’s found. "I don't know anything for definite, obviously, but it does seem pretty unlikely all of it's true. Nobody's life is that perfect."

Homelander presses his lips together, but he's nodding before he even makes a decision to do it. He can't tell you the whole truth, of course, but since you already have reasonable suspicions, he doesn't have to correct them. You’re not a reporter or anyone important at Vought – you’re simply telling him what you’ve heard.

"No," he says, his voice coming out husky, like he's forgotten how to talk. He clears his throat and tries again. "It wasn't."

He braces himself for further questions, sharp deterrents lingering on his tongue, like a hidden knife, but you don't ask him anything else. Instead, you take another thoughtful bite of cheeseburger, glancing down at the view from your rooftop perch.

“I didn’t think so.” You say in a quieter voice.

“Well, what about you?” Homelander says, and there’s a bite of challenge in his voice, his lips pressed together in what’s meant to be a smile but it looks more like he’s resisting the urge to bite you. “What about when you were growing up, huh? Was that all peachy fucking keen?”

“Oh, well, it’s probably going to sound pretty boring.” You shrug, deciding to ignore the vein of sarcasm running through his words. Homelander arches an eyebrow, but the needling quality fades from his voice.

“Try me.”

So you talk for a little bit about where you grew up, how you ended up at Vought, that kind of thing. You try to keep it relatively light instead of moaning on about your personal problems, friends who screwed you over and disappointing dates. You do this because you don’t want to bore him, but also because you’re expecting him to do that thing men do where they zone out when you talk and it would hurt a lot more if he did that, but he isn’t. He’s listening with rapt attention, like you’re delivering a plan for a tactical military operation or something. It’s…flattering.

You abruptly break off, unable to hold back a laugh of disbelief. His lips twitch as well, like he wants to laugh but isn’t willing to commit to it until he knows why.

“What?” he says.

“No, it’s just…you’re not exactly what I expected.” You say.

“And…what does that mean?” he prompts, leaning forwards slightly and the eagle epaulettes glint in the early evening sunlight.

“I mean…I never thought you’d agree to this,” you reply, waving a hand at the general space around you, the grey rooftops, people moving around in the streets below like ants, the vents spewing pale grey smoke that rises into the darkening sky. “When you asked me out, I thought you were just fucking with me.”

“Well, hopefully the fucking comes later.” He smirks and you groan and playfully shove his arm.

“Shut up.” You say, trying and failing to hold in a giggle, and he looks delighted at the undeniably flirty contact. “My point is, that you’re The Homelander and I’m…”

You struggle to think of something to sum it up without sounding pathetic.

“…a staff member.” You eventually come up with, flustered.

Homelander hums in acknowledgement of the fact. He’s heard this before, of course. The people he rescues often just can’t believe their luck, that The Homelander had come to save them from whatever silly peril they’d gotten themselves into. Sometimes they hug him or babble an endless stream of praise or cry. It’s both annoying and ratifying – they should be thankful he’s bothering to save their pitiful little lives, of course, but it’s good to have their adulation nevertheless. But you’re not grovelling at his feet, you’re merely stating facts.

“Well, maybe that’s why I did,” he says, his voice quieter than before, a hint of a purr in his voice. “Maybe I liked what I saw.”

You smile shyly and glance at him.

“Well, that’s why I said yes.” You admit, because it seems pointless to act otherwise.

You fish out a straw from the bag and stab it through the hole of your drink, taking a deep gulp of thick, sweet milkshake. Combined with the greasiness of the fries and burger, it’s exactly what you need. You do the same with the other one – you vaguely remember him saying in an interview once he was a sucker for ol’ fashioned vanilla, so that’s what you pass him.

“Here. They’re surprisingly good for fast food shakes.” you say.

Homelander quirks an eyebrow but he takes the shake and sips on it, like he’s just humouring you even though he already admitted the rest of the food was good. But once he gets a taste, his eyes slide shut like he’s receiving a message from a higher power, throat twitching as he gulps down long, languorous sucks of milkshake. You’re glad his eyes are closed because the way he’s slurping it makes you a little…excited. You cross your legs and glance away, hoping that you look suitably nonchalant. You’ve noticed Homelander is good at picking up on little weaknesses of people and exploiting them – you don’t want to make yours so obvious.

“Damn.” Homelander mutters when he finally lets the milkshake go for a minute. His bottom lip is shiny. “How’d you know what flavour I like?”

“I told you, I just ordered two of the same thing.” you reply, but he smirks and points at you.

“Ah-ah, I can see you blushing.” he says in a teasing drawl and you scoff and swat at his arm, which probably feels like being lightly flicked with a piece of paper from his perspective.

By now it’s gotten darker, the streetlights flickering on, the wail of a siren somewhere in the distance. You’re surprised to realise that you’ve been on this rooftop for a couple of hours now, a lot longer than you’d anticipated. You’d assumed he either wouldn’t show up at all, or he’d label you as completely weird and ditch you.

You glance down to realise you’ve finished all your food too – you’ve been so distracted by Homelander you weren’t paying much attention. You crumple up all the wrappings and stuff them inside the bag – there’s no bins anywhere but you feel a little bad for littering so this seems a good compromise. Homelander watches this with palpable amusement.

“So. This was…fun.” he says, like he’s testing out the word for the first time.

“It really was,” you say, and you mean it. Aside from him getting understandably a bit touchy when you mentioned his childhood, it was nice just chilling out and talking. He wasn’t performing for a crowd or being primped for any cameras. Really, this is probably the most relaxed you’ve ever seen Homelander. “But I should probably get home soon. S’dark out.”

“Well, I can’t just let you walk home with all those…unsavoury types wandering around,” Homelander says with a smirk, rising to his feet. He turns to you with a little smile, like he’s got a secret he’s dying to tell you. He opens his arms as though he’s bracing to catch you, and you recognise the gesture – he means he’ll fly you home, if you want him to. “How about it? Or is that breaking your date rules?”

You pause. You know what he’s asking, and he knows it as well. But you’re glad he’s at least asking, that he didn’t just swoop you up the moment you finished eating and assume he was going to get some action out of this. And to tell the truth, even if being under the full beam of his attention is overwhelming…there’s something about it that’s undeniably exciting too.

You’re not ready for it to end yet.

“Well, I don’t usually fuck on a first date,” you say matter-of-factly, and you love the way his eyes light up as you speak, his eyes flickering to your mouth as it shapes the word ‘fuck’, his lips curving in a devilish smile. “But I guess I can make an exception.”

~

And when you do get home and Homelander makes effortless work of undressing you, peeling off your leggings and tossing you on your bed in one smooth movement, the giddiness in you ratchets higher and higher. The feeling of being cradled in his arms was exhilarating, the wind whipping at your hair, the solidness of his chest like an anchor in the skies…but him hunkering down inbetween your legs feels even more like a freefall.

“Now,” Homelander says in a rumbling purr, his fingers toying with the crotch of your panties. “That cheeseburger was, I admit, pretty good…but I’m still hungry.”

The line is so cheesy, but you find you don’t care – not when he yanks your underwear down so quickly you’d swear he almost gave you friction burns, and he dives right in, easily holding your thighs apart like he’s simply parting curtains. You cry out as his tongue laves over your cunt, his breath hot on your skin.

“Fuck…fuck, Homelander!” you ramble, his name tripping off your tongue. “Oh god!”

His back arches at the praise and he goes in with more vigour, tongue thrusting deep inside you to make you keen and you twine your fingers in his hair, tugging a bit – you know it won’t hurt him and since thinking about that movie, you want to see it all messy again. He shoots you a quick, devious little grin from between your legs before returning to the task at hand. You’ll give him credit – he knows how to put his back into it when he wants results.

He pushes you relentlessly towards that soaring peak, heat and fizzing, delirious lust surges through your system, your core pulsing with it and his lewd snarls and moans filling the air. He’s like a wild animal, focused only on what’s in front of him, lost in a haze of taste and scent and carnal pleasures. As you arch your back and moan his name into the darkness of your room, you recall hazily Homelander never gave you a proper answer about why he picked you to ask out, but you’re glad he did. Glad that you said yes. As he pulls you down to him by the ankle, you giving a bitten-off giggle, his hands undoing his belt, you smile to yourself.