#wheeeew

You’re not entirely sure whether to call this a cruel joke or a goddamn blessing, it may be too soon to tell as the both of you just stare at each other. In order to identify him, you were informed that your date would be wearing some metal band t-shirt. To ensure you weren’t being delusional, you glanced down to see that that was exactly what he had on, along with that same chain he’d worn the day you met. Matty looks like he’s doing the exact same thing, trying to figure out if this is some odd coincidence, or if you’d really been set up on a date together. There’s no question that when your eyes meet a second time, you both know it’s the latter. He approaches the table slowly, a charming smile of disbelief on his lips, like he’d run into an old friend. You’re pretty sure your expression is more one of shock and denial that you’re face to face with the man who’s already seen your tits and watched you cry when he pierced them. Together, those practically add up to third base. 

“Now, this is a surprise. I remember you, you came into the shop a few weeks back, yeah?” he says before cocking his head towards the empty seat in front of you, “May I?”

You’re silent for a couple of seconds like your mouth hasn’t caught up with your brain. Mentally kicking yourself, you shake your head quickly to get out of the haze. You motion for him to sit down, sputtering out a “Hi, yes, of course!”, likely sounding all too eager. He shoots an amused glance at you before settling in across from you, his eyes darting across the room for a few moments as a testament to his overactive mind. You feel an unexplainable rush when those gentle brown eyes finally settle on you, stifling any effort your brain was making to try and come up with something to say. Silence. Dry-mouthed, you land on: 

“... is this too awkward of a situation?”

“I dunno. It’s only awkward if you make it awkward,” he shrugs, but he seems equally unsure about how to navigate this, “I don’t think it’s awkward.”

Awkward is starting to no longer feel like a real word the more it’s said. 

“Right…” you trail off, your eyes starting to drift to the floor. 

Suddenly, Matty snaps his fingers, his eyes widening like he’s just gotten the best idea ever, making your gaze flick back to him with surprise.

“Okay, how’s this: we pretend we’ve never met and I’ve never seen your… erm, you get the idea. Right, ready?” he explains rapidly, now holding his hand out to you enthusiastically, “Hello, I’m Matty, it’s lovely to meet you, you look very nice.” 

You laugh with disbelief at his sudden burst of energy, tentatively reaching to hold his hand in return, giving it a firm shake. Maybe this won’t be so uncomfortable after all. 

“Hi Matty,” you smile, offering your name in return before letting go of his hand, feeling some of the tension melt away from your rigid posture. 

“Good, now that’s out of the way. I’d really like to know more about you if that’s okay, pretty stranger I’ve never met before,” he grins, leaning his head against his hand like he’s preparing to pay full attention to whatever you tell him. 

You do just that, and he nods along, interjecting occasionally with his own anecdotes. You learn a lot of things about Matty too over the course of the date. One of them is that when he really gets going about something, he stammers because he talks so fast. Little details that only make you find him more charming. It’s funny how quickly he turned from what felt like a figment of your imagination to something tangible. He’s no longer just the face of your fantasy, the depth of his personality is immense, you can tell just from the short time you’ve spent together. You find yourself more curious about him than anyone you’ve ever met. You want to tear him open. 

Conversations flow freely, there’s nothing strained about the date, you can tell he feels the same, his pretty brown eyes shining with mirth, crinkled at the corners when he laughs. The drinks you’d ordered are long finished and paid for (by him, at his insistence) by the time the lively chatting starts winding down into a comfortable quiet. 

“Y’know, I did kinda hope I’d see you again,” he says softly, almost shyly as he breaks the silence between you.

“Yeah, I did too. I’ve thought about it a little too much, probably,” you chuckle, your cheeks warming at his sentimental admission.

“Are we done pretending we’re strangers now?” he smiles, a toothy, boyish smile. 

“I think we are, yeah. If so, can I ask why you didn’t ask me out that day?” you ask, getting right to the heart of the matter. 

Matty looks up at the ceiling for a moment, his lips pressing together into a thin line as he tries to conjure an excuse but comes up blank, fidgeting with the silver chain around his neck. 

“I don’t really know. Well, I think part of it was that I was supposed to be takin’ care of you, in a way? Like, you were in my hands, I didn’t want to weird you out, be the creep that pierces your tits then asks you on a date. Especially cause you didn’t want a bloke piercing you in the first place, d’you know what I mean?” he rambles, making many big motions with his hands, “and… I dunno, you’re very pretty.” 

His voice lowers with a shrug on the last part like it’s a secret just between you and him, looking a little hesitant like he believes he’s just bared too much of himself to you. God, he’s fucking lovely.

“I get it, Matty,” you nod, reaching for one of his hands that’s resting on the table. 

Matty nods back at you slowly, seeming to be processing the way you’re not put off by his talkative tendencies. He turns his hand over to properly hold yours, giving it a squeeze to show his appreciation. He doesn’t say anything, but you can tell it means a lot to him that you listen to him. 

“Well,” he starts, clearing his throat, “I still ended up on a date with you anyway. Pretty fucking mint.” 

“Yeah, pretty fucking mint,” you repeat with a snort. 

Matty glances around the cafe, noticing the bustling of the staff cleaning tables and starting to put away the baked goods. Have you really been there that long? 

“I suppose they’re starting to close up…” he notes, sounding a little deflated that your date is coming to an end. 

“Looks like it,” you hum, fidgeting with your empty cup. 

“Can I walk you home, maybe?” he offers, a bit of hope sparking in his sleepy eyes. 

Your heart skips a beat at his proposition. It’s not much, but it’s certainly something that could lead to more. The chemistry between you is palpable, neither of you wants this to end; it’s a recipe for the best kind of trouble.

You leave the cafe together with Matty at your side, his hands shoved in his pockets as you lead the way. The walk is quiet, but you can tell his mind is racing with just a glance, he’s fidgeting with something in his pockets with slightly furrowed eyebrows. He’s so cool, but you’d never imagined him to be so hyperactive, it’s a wonder that he keeps his hands so steady when he works. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think it was endearing, finding yourself wondering what was going on in that head of his. Before you can even open your mouth to ask, he starts to tell you a story about his job, prattling on while including a bunch of technical piercing terms that you know nothing about. You just gaze up at him, infatuated as you reach to cling to his arm the whole way back. You need this man (and his rambling) terribly. 

“This is me,” you say when you stop in front of your home, motioning to the quaint apartment building. 

Your voice is almost hesitant, like you wish you lived a little further so you could keep chatting. You’re already internally debating inviting him up, remembering that your roommate should still be out for the day. How are you supposed to ask him that? You’re feeling a little out of practice with being smooth. 

“Right… well, this was really nice,” he nods, trying to keep his cool, but he’s smiling at you with such sweetness that he’s blowing his own cover. 

“Yeah, it was,” you agree, his smile so infectious that you can’t help but return it. 

There are a few moments of quiet, the sense that something else could happen lingers in the air as Matty toes at the pavement with his boot. You shatter the silence with a question you don’t really know how to phrase other than just spitting it out.

“Would you want to come up?” 

He blinks at you a few times before smiling, scratching the back of his neck as he tries not to appear too elated. 

“Yeah, I would.”

The moment you’re both inside your apartment, he’s reaching to cup your cheeks, backing you up against the door, getting so close that you can feel his warm breaths against your lips. Your eyes are lidded as you stare at his mouth, your cheeks prickling with heat at just the feeling of him holding your face. You feel like your skin is buzzing with anticipation as Matty swallows thickly, want is plastered all over his face.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks softly, always the gentleman. 

You nod quickly, your hands snaking up his chest to rest at the back of his neck, the tip of his mohawk tickling your fingers. Without another moment to spare, he leans in and presses his lips to yours, both of your eyes fluttering shut as the tension between you bursts, fizzling under your skin. The kiss starts slow as he slots his lips against yours, his thumb tentatively running over your cheek as he draws in deep breaths of you. Your lips begin to lock more eagerly within moments, you’re no longer looking to taste but to devour. The tip of Matty’s tongue drags along your bottom lip sensually and you allow him to lick into your mouth, swallowing up your gasp as need festers within you. Messily, you start shedding jackets and shoes while being unable to keep your hands off of each other. Rushed kisses are exchanged as Matty stumbles, leaning down to unlace his boots while his other hand grasps your waist. His shoes land on the floor with a clunk as he stands back up to his full height, pulling you flush against his body by your ass. The whole thing is awfully reminiscent of two horny teenagers dying to explore each other for the first time, the thought has you giddily smiling into the kiss. Matty doesn’t even know what you’re smiling about, but he’s doing it right back, giving your backside a playful squeeze just to hear you squeak against his mouth. 

You lead him by the hand to your room, it's dizzying how quickly making out has turned to you underneath him on your bed, the both of you topless with roaming hands. He makes quick work of snaking his hands around your back, unclasping your bra, and sliding it down your shoulders. 

“Fuck… there she is. Y’know, these are some of my best work, I’d say,” Matty muses proudly, reaching out to cup your breasts in his hands. 

It’s completely unlike when he’d touched you in the shop. He puts his whole bare hands on you keenly instead of only touching you when necessary, avoiding even brushing you with his knuckles. You sigh with relief, arching into his palms as your daydreams play out in real-time, it’s all so much better than you’d imagined. Matty stares down at your tits with a pleased smile, clearly happy to see your chest again. He massages them with his hands for a few moments before taking them off of you to get a good look at the piercings. Oh so gently, he splays his fingers out at your sides, settling his thumb over one of your nipples. You expect him to start to tweak and pull at it, but instead, he gently rolls the pad of his thumb against the bud, letting out a hum of satisfaction as you suck in a sharp breath. It’s so much yet so little at the same time.

“You’re teasing,” you accuse softly, your breath catching in your throat at just how much more sensitive to the touch your piercings have made you.

“Teasing? I’m just making sure they’re properly healed, don’t want it to hurt, sweetheart,” he reassures, an unmistakable glint of mischief in his eyes as he slowly runs his thumb in little feather-light swirls over the peak of your breast.

Finally, when he’s decided you’ve gone through enough torture by his hand, Matty begins to tweak the piercing, flicking the barbell with his thumb just to watch you squirm underneath him. Warmth flushes through your body like a thunderous wave, your toes curling reflexively. You gasp at the unfamiliarly strong sensation, your fingers curling to grasp his arms tighter as he toys with you.

“How’s that feeling?” he asks, his voice low, gravelly. 

“It’s good…” you mumble, your chest heaving slightly as you feel a harsh pang of need resounding through your body, between your legs.

“Good. And this?” he continues before suddenly pinching your nipple meanly between his thumb and forefinger. 

You jolt as he pulls a sharp moan from you, your back arching at the new rush of hot, tingly pain. You’ve never in your life felt a sensation so powerful, so mind-numbing from only your breasts, and it’s fucking incredible. You’re staring at Matty with wonderment like he’s some kind of deity, begging him to show you more of the potential of your own body. He’s guiding you through the storm, soothing the ache with two gentle fingers circling the hardened bud. Matty clicks his tongue, his darkened eyes burning into you.

“Asked you a question. Did you like that?” he chides, pinching your pierced nipple between his calloused fingers a second time. 

“Fuck! Yes, yes, I liked it!” you cry, your body writhing beneath his weight. 

“Atta girl… keep using your words for me, okay? Much better that way.”

It seems his silver tongue that day at the parlor wasn’t just a one-off, he’s talented with words and you’re dying to hear more. He leans in, pressing his lips to the valley between your breasts, trailing up until his lips are settled over your other, neglected nipple. Matty sticks his tongue out, tracing the peak of your breast with his tongue, flashing his tongue piercing to you in the process. Fucking obscene. 

“Was fuckin’ dreaming of doing this,” he mumbles before delving into you, licking a drawn-out stripe across your flesh. 

Your eyes widen as you feel the metal stud of his tongue piercing pass over your nipple, letting out a breathy moan as he maintains unwavering eye contact with you while doing it. He groans as if your skin is the best thing he’s ever tasted, continuing to tweak your other nipple while taking this one between his lips, sucking gently while flicking his pierced tongue against you. Your hips rock forward automatically, finding a slow, rolling pace in search of anything that will relieve the throbbing between your thighs. Matty smirks against your skin as you start to grind into him, allowing himself to meet your rhythm. His growing erection is pressing into your thigh now, the friction between you just made the room feel much hotter.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, not daring to break his gaze.

You thread your fingers into his fluffy mohawk, keeping a hold on his head as he continues to ravish you, his breath hot and fanning across your skin. His tongue piercing clashes against the barbell through your nipple, tugging at it amidst the wet warmth of his mouth. A harshness overcomes his features as he pulls away, dragging his tongue up the expanse of your chest to the column of your neck, his mouth right by the shell of your ear.

“You know, when you walked out of there, the only thing I could think was some fuckin’ dickhead who wouldn’t know how to treat you would get to touch these and not me. Drove me fucking mental,” he rasps lowly, his teeth baring as his upper lip twitches with irritation at the mere thought of it. 

He tugs at one of your piercings roughly, making your hips buck forward as you let out a sharp cry. Matty just smiles cockily, leaning down to kiss it better, pressing his lips to your breast apologetically.

“I don’t want anyone else to touch them,” you murmur, tightening your fingers in his hair, earning a little groan from him. 

“No? Just me?” he coos, reaching to grasp your jaw possessively, “you’re right, baby, I should be the only one who gets to appreciate my handiwork, don’t you think?”

You just nod obediently, feeling a strong pulse between your thighs as the heat continues to pool inside you. Your heart is beating out of your chest at the way he so easily weakens your resolve to nothing. You turn your cheek towards his thumb resting at your jaw, pressing a kiss to the digit while blinking up at him with your best “fuck me”-eyes. 

“You’re so damn pretty,” he sighs, running his thumb over your pliant bottom lip, “can I make you feel good, sweetheart?” 

“Yes, please touch me, Matty,” you whisper while he pulls at your bottom lip with his thumb. 

“God,” Matty groans, “this is going to be very fun if you keep talking like that.” 

He begins kissing his way down your body, mapping you out with his skilled lips and hands. His fingers settle at your hips, hooking under your legs so he has a better angle to get between them. Your breath hitches as you realize what he’s doing, something that most men only reluctantly offer. 

“You don’t have to-” you start to say, cut off by your breath hitching when he bites at your inner thigh. 

“No, I don’t have to,” he interjects, now licking over where he’d marked you with his teeth, “but I really, really want to.” 

With no protests from you, he leans down, pressing a kiss to your panties, right over where you’d soaked a damp spot into them. You squirm slightly as he drags his lips up to your clothed clit, making a show of looking up at you while he does so. You’re aching for him, there’s no doubt that he can feel the pulses between your legs against his mouth. Matty slowly hooks one of his fingers into the ruined fabric of your panties, pulling them to the side.

“Oh, baby…” he moans approvingly, his eyes lidded with lust. 

 You catch the way Matty grinds his hips down into the mattress at the sight of you, but just once, just enough to take the edge off with some friction against the straining in his pants. You can’t help but feel flattered at his eagerness, pride swelling in your chest. Wasting no time, Matty delves between your thighs, parting your honeyed folds with his tongue until he finds your clit. Immediately, he latches onto it with his lips, sucking and swirling the tip of his tongue around the swollen bud. You cry out, your hips arching off of the bed just for him to push them back down firmly. His tongue stud feels even better nudging against your clit than it did your nipples, that little silver ball stealing your breath from your lungs. Matty moans against your cunt, his eyes rolling back slightly as he eagerly laps between your legs, he’s eating you like he wants to drown in you. 

“Tastes fucking divine…” he murmurs, making your head spin with the languid circles of his tongue. 

You curse under your breath, clutching at his shoulder for dear life as your hips start to wantonly roll forward against his mouth. You’re hurtling towards release almost shamefully quickly, your thighs clamping around his head, and he doesn’t seem to mind one bit. It’s all gathering and tightening inside you quickly, compounding with every swipe of his practiced tongue. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, the flames lit and fanned by the man buried between your thighs.

“Matty- Matty, I’m close,” you warn, your nails digging into his shoulders with widened eyes. 

Matty rears back for a moment and shushes your whimpers of protest as he stares up at you, gathering saliva on his tongue before spitting on your pussy, then rubbing it into your clit with his thumb. You can’t help but moan at how filthy his little move was, watching in shock as he immediately goes back to ruining you with his mouth.

“Good fucking girl, c’mon, give it to me,” Matty rasps against you, his eyes lighting up with intensity as he watches you near the edge.

Your body writhes, you’re gasping for air amidst the sheer euphoria building to a high. Your orgasm rips through you like sparks exploding under your skin. Your hips lift from the mattress, stuttering and bucking while your mouth opens with a broken cry, his name like a mantra on your lips. Your cunt flutters and throbs, sensations emanating through you in electric waves. Matty watches you like it’s a damn privilege to watch you fall apart, his eyes trained on your every reaction as he eases you through your climax. He continues his ministrations until you whine, pushing his head away from between your trembling thighs. He smirks up at you with a glistening chin and lips, looking very happy with himself. 

“H-holy shit,” you gape, dazed as you chase your breath with a heaving chest, loosening your vice grip on him. 

“Mm, could do that all fuckin’ night with a cunt like that,” he sighs, wiping his face with the back of his hand. 

You shudder at his words, clambering to pull him back up and smash your lips to his, tasting your arousal that’s heavy on his lips and tongue. The high from your orgasm lingers, clouding your head pleasantly as Matty hums contently into the kiss, pushing damp, stray strands of hair behind your ear, his lips moving with equal fervency. You haven’t forgotten about his pleasure, not in the least, and how could you when he’s rock hard against your thigh? You’d like nothing more than to return the favor, and you have just the thing in mind. 

“Matty,” you whisper, pulling away from the kiss to cup his pretty face in your hands, “I know how much you like my tits. Do you think you’d like to… use them?” 

“Are you asking me to fuck your tits, sweetheart?” he grins breathlessly, his eyebrows shooting upwards with surprise.

You nod, chewing at your lip as you get flustered by your own suggestion. Matty groans lowly, his cock twitching in his baggy pants at your confirmation. He leans in, peppering little kisses all over your cheeks, forehead, and nose. 

“Shit, I think I’d love nothing more, actually. Can I really?” he asks between thankfully pressing his lips to your face.

“Yeah, please, want you to,” you smile, giggling at his pure excitement, wrapping your arms around his neck to toy with his hair. 

Giddily, he places one last kiss on the tip of your nose before getting up to undo his pants, fumbling with the zipper with how damn thrilled he is to get his hands on you. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears as anticipation blooms when he finally succeeds. Matty pushes them down his legs and flings them to the side, leaving him in just his briefs that leave nothing to the imagination. You swallow hard at the sight, the outline of his aching cock is clear beneath the dark fabric, damp spots of precum soaked into them near his tip. Clearly, he really enjoyed eating you out, and he’s not ashamed of it in the slightest. Slowly, he eases his thumbs under the elastic waistband, your eyes following the expanse of his V line, decorated with a colorful rose tattoo. Matty pulls his underwear the rest of the way down, knowing damn well that you’re going to like what you see. Heat rushes to your face, your thighs pressing together at how gorgeous he is, your reaction only heightening as he reaches to lazily stroke himself, hissing as he runs his thumb against the weeping tip to slick the surface of his shaft. He winks at you slyly, his ego sufficiently fluffed by the time he lets go of his cock to crawl over to you. He guides you down to your knees at the edge of the bed, him sitting before you with spread legs. Once he’s sure you’re comfortable, Matty flashes a little smile down at you, reaching to cup your cheek encouragingly. Your own smile wobbles with adoration as you lean in, letting his length rest between your tits before pushing them together, enveloping his cock. 

“Fuck, yeah, that’s it. Keep ‘em just like that, that’s my girl,” he praises, tossing his head back with how good your plush, full breasts feel around him.

He begins to buck his hips upward slowly, sighing out as you keep your tits pressed tightly between your hands, creating the perfect little space for him. Matty groans, watching as the tip of his cock drives between your perfect breasts, his precum spreading against your skin. He has to clench his fist hard into the sheets to prevent himself from bursting within the first fifteen seconds of glory, he’s going to make this last as long as he possibly can withstand. 

“How’s it feel that I’ve marked you for forever, hm? Hickeys fade, but these…” he pants, reaching to grab at one of your piercings, “these aren’t going anywhere, isn’t that right?” 

You whine as he pinches at the barbell, nodding at him dumbly while he talks.

“Mine,” he says pointedly, a wolfish grin spreading across his lips.

 The revelation of how he’s laid claim to you in a way no other lover ever can has your mind reeling as you begin to move in time with his thrusts, your tits bouncing with your combined efforts to get him off. Matty lets out a shuddering moan, running his thumb over your cheek as he goes faster now, snapping his hips up again and again, relentlessly chasing his high. 

“Dirty girl, lettin’ me use you like this, so good to me,” he murmurs through gritted teeth. 

He keeps going till he gets to the point where he can no longer stave off his orgasm, the view in front of him is simply too pornographic, he’s dying for relief. The bed creaks with Matty’s movements, his hips stuttering as he begins to lose his frankly impressive rhythm. He hisses out a string of curses, nearing his edge as he rakes his hand through his mohawk to keep it out of his eyes. The silver chain around his neck bounces against his chest with his body's rhythm.

“Getting close. You want me to finish all on your tits, angel? Paint those pretty piercings with my cum?” he asks, but he already knows the answer. 

You nod quickly, eyes wide and expectant. That’s all he needs to pull his dick out from between your breasts, hurriedly pumping himself with his lower lip caught between his teeth, moaning and shuddering as he fists his cock. Matty lets out one final, guttural sound as he spills across your chest, hot spurts of his milky cum adorning your skin. You gasp at how lewd it all is, feeling yourself getting soaked all over again as you take his release, all while he cups your face with juxtaposing sweetness.

“Fuuuuck, that was hot,” he drawls, letting go of his length to bend down and press a kiss to the top of your head, his nose buried in your hair as he breathes deeply.

When he sits back up, Matty reaches to gather some of the pearly ropes splayed across your chest on his fingers, holding them to your mouth. Obediently, you open, allowing his digits to press past your lips for you to clean. You swirl your tongue around his thick fingers with a whimper, sucking till every trace of his cum is down your throat. He hums, satisfied at your compliance as he withdraws them from your mouth, wiping your spit on his inner thigh. Then, Matty crooks his finger at you, motioning for you to get up off of your knees and come to him. You move without hesitation, standing to wrap your arms around him as he helps you straddle his waist. Both of your faces are flushed with a sheen of sweat, making you almost glow under the low light of your bedroom. Neither of you can remember the last time you felt so satisfied. He glances down at your breasts again, smirking like he’s admiring his masterpiece. 

“Now that’s a sight, innit?” he notes smugly. 

You just shove his shoulder playfully, which makes his bright laughter ring throughout the room, wrapping his arms around you for a tight embrace. He ruffles your hair gently, the both of you sharing a blissful come-down from the high. 

“You were so perfect,” he whispers, sounding a little in awe of you. 

“So were you,” you smile into his neck, running your fingers down his back, feeling each bone of his spine beneath his warm skin. 

You stay just like that for a bit longer, breathing each other in. Something about the intimacy of this moment tells you that this wasn’t just a one-time thing. Not with the way he holds you like he doesn’t want you to slip through his fingers. He runs his hands up your arms tenderly, leaning back to look you in the face before he speaks, making you ponder how long those sleepy-looking eyes might stay in your life. 

“Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?” 

—----------------------------- 

Tried to make the date lore accurate, bro loves to talk

While I don’t think there's more to the story, I could be convinced otherwise, perhaps! Either way, I'm sure there will be blurbs about him

Okay, this:

I always thought that conversation between Kenjaku and Mahito was interesting. The whole concept of their difference in beliefs based off of the proof they both experienced.

Mahito believes that the soul comes before the body because he can transform souls and have them do his bidding as long as he touches a body. It’s instant contact into the soul, and as soon as he alters the shape of the soul, the body changes because the soul takes precedence over the body.

Kenjaku on the other hand believes that the body is the soul and the soul is the body because in his thousand years, not one host body has ever fought him back the way Suguru did to try and save Satoru. He disagrees with Mahito, explaining that the host body’s memories wouldn’t be retained otherwise.

Let’s dissect this a bit.

If a host body was a blank slate and didn’t retain memories, Kenjaku would’ve agreed to Mahito’s conjecture. So, if Suguru had no reaction to Satoru, it would basically prove that once a soul leaves a body, it’s nothing but an empty shell.

But it doesn’t. Suguru does react to Satoru, somehow. Against quite literally all logic. It then challenges Mahito’s beliefs, because a piece of Suguru’s soul is still in the body. It’s not an empty shell. Suguru’s soul didn’t completely leave his body.

But Mahito, who has been through very different experiences, disagrees. He says that their techniques are what makes their perceptions on the matter different.

Kenjaku’s technique involves using his brain (carrier of a soul/consciousness) to take control of a host body. The swapping of souls inside a shell.

Mahito’s technique involves touching a body to take control of a soul. Only then when he changes the shape of a soul does the body change shape too. So to him, souls first, bodies second.

He tells Kenjaku their techniques separate them into two different worlds. Kenjaku replies with “so techniques dictate our worlds, I like that, it’s poetic.”

But the interesting thing is, I don’t actually think they’re disagreeing at all. In fact, I think they’re saying the same thing, just understanding it differently.

Mahito can only change the shape of a body if he touches the soul. That right there shows you that the soul and body are interconnected, like Kenjaku said. You’d think that if souls were completely separate from a body, Mahito’s technique wouldn’t involve the need to physically touch a body. (Even in his domain, where his own soul is all around the opponent, touching their body.)

Maybe the soul does inform the body, but it can never be without it. The body is the soul.

In a way, Satoru was able to replicate Mahito’s domain expansion without needing his cursed technique.

Because his soul could see through the bullshit. And it called out to Suguru. It touched Suguru. It moved him. Their souls somehow made contact.

And something else that I wanted to bring up while reading it.

“Technique dictate our worlds. It’s poetic.”

When I first read it, I was sort of like “…we were just talking about souls and bodies where did this come from?”

And then I thought about it.

How did their techniques affect Satoru and Suguru’s worlds?

At first it brought them together. They were both the strongest. Then it tore them apart.

Suguru’s technique involved him needing to absorb curses. He had to physically ingest them. He had no choice but to take in all of the grime of the world.

Satoru’s technique is the exact opposite. He has Infinity. Nothing can touch him. He’s impermeable. A flick of his finger and the curse is gone, no contact needed.

Is that what Kenjaku meant when he said it was poetic? Because his and Mahito’s techniques are really not all that different. They both use other people’s bodies to do their bidding and bend to their wills as they please. And for that, they work together. But Suguru and Satoru’s techniques were complete opposites and it eventually came between them. Suguru needing to give pieces of himself every time he used it and Satoru remaining untouchable.

It’s almost as if Kenjaku is saying, tauntingly, “maybe if you weren’t so different this situation would never have happened.”

Suguru’s feeble attempt to stop him is for naught. An arm trying to strangle him to no avail can’t do anything to save Satoru. He tried out of love.