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blessedbucky · 1 month ago

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ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕏𝕀

pairing: autistic!satoru x suguru x autistic!reader

word count: 16.7k (yapper of the year right here!)

summary: your first date with Satoru and onward

tags: autistic!reader, autistic!satoru, FLUFF! ROMANCE! with a lil bit of seriousness sprinkled here and there; two new guests join the cast! you'll never guess who they are; more awkward first times because not me having reader take suguru and satoru's virginities lol; giggly and sappy sex!

beautiful people who asked to be tagged 💕: @ichikanu, @iceheartsice, @anders-is-being-a-simp-again, @lexlibrary, @ziggy0stardust

author note: i've completely given up and accepted that i'm gonna do this year by year until the prologue/present which is 2012. it might be a little while before the next chapter because i promised myself and my MCU girlies that i'd get out the next chapter of my MCU trio story after i posted this. just as a reminder that you're more than welcome to send me messages on here, headcanons, questions, and prompts that maybe i can get to. feed my praise kink with reblogs and comments and likes please and thank ❤️

Story Masterlist

[2009]

“Things might be a little awkward when Satoru comes over,” you warn Suguru when Nanako and Mimiko are out of earshot. The three of them are helping you unpack things. Well, Suguru is. The girls are in the second bedroom with tape, their drawings, and other little knickknacks. You warned them that Tsumiki and Megumi would be sharing it, too, and potentially decorating it with their own things, but that didn’t deter the twins whatsoever.

Suguru, folding your clothes the way you like, stops to stare at you with wide, horrified eyes. “Oh, no. Did you reject him?”

“No, of course I didn’t! I said yes!” A minute passes, your brain processes, and you narrow your eyes at him. “Wait. Did you know he was going to ask me out on a date? How long has he been planning this?”

“I started actively encouraging him to go for it since that marriage proposal, but who knows how long he’s been wanting to do it before then.” Something about how…casually Suguru speaks about this…stings a little. It shouldn’t…right? What’s causing this twisting in your chest? “Don’t make that face at me. I think we were allowed to keep this one thing a secret from you.”

Right. Right, yeah, that’s what it is, isn’t it? You feel left out. That…still doesn’t feel right, but what else would it be? Suguru knows you better than yourself, sometimes. He’s always been able to put into words what you’re feeling. “I’m shocked he didn’t do it immediately after the proposal,” you say while trying to laugh off your discomfort. “You know Naoya set the date as his birthday on purpose.”

Suguru sighs wistfully. “I really wish I mauled that asshole with a curse when I had the chance.”

“Suguru,” you try to scold but end up giggling instead. “Don’t waste a good curse on that guy. Besides, turning down the proposal through a letter was more poetic, I think.”

“More offensive, you mean,” Suguru corrects with a smug smirk. “I’m so proud of you for standing your ground like that against your parents and those arrogant assholes.”

“I’m shocked they didn’t make some backroom deal behind my back, honestly.”

“I know this probably isn’t something you want to hear, but you get your stubbornness from your father. Satoru really dealt a huge blow to his ego with that implication that they were only in it for the money. He didn’t want to prove Satoru right,” Suguru hypothesizes.

You pause in your unpacking, blinking in disbelief because…he’s right. “That makes sense, actually,” you mumble. “Wow. It’s crazy how well you know my family.”

“It goes both ways. I overheard you and your mother, y’know.”

You stiffen before trying to relax your body in feigned nonchalance. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Suguru laughs. “You don’t have to pretend. I’m not upset.” You sigh in relief, immediately dropping your bravado. “You fold so easy, Squid,” he snickers. You throw a pair of pants at him, but he easily catches them. “I’m honestly not sure what I would’ve said to her if she asked me.”

The conversation in question had been when your parents stopped by at campus one more time before they went back to your hometown. Before he stalked off to talk with Satoru and Suguru, your father explained that he told the Zen’in clan you’d make your own decision and inform the clan in due time.

Privately, your mother told you that Suguru’s own parents had been over to your childhood home more and more frequently, practically begging your mother to get Suguru’s phone number from you so they could talk to him. Suguru’s mother had an accident in the field and can’t work. They’re on harder times than ever and your mother said that it would really cheer them up to hear from Suguru.

And like Suguru said, you know his parents as well as he knows yours. You saw through the bullshit but gave your mother the benefit of the doubt—even though she’s even bigger than your father on the belief that children should be responsible for taking care of their parents, no matter what.

So, they’re in trouble and need Suguru to bail them out, you translated when she was done with the sob story. You had absolutely zero sympathy for them. If he wants to talk to them, he knows how. You’d gotten petty with her, then. I’m not getting involved and you shouldn’t want to, either. That’s what you taught me, isn’t it? We don’t want to poke our noses in the business of other families.

“That’s stupid, isn’t it?” Suguru asks with a bitter smile. “Why would I say anything other than no? Last year, they were one of the first ones that I thought about…seeing…after we found Nanako and Mimiko…”

Seeing, he says, but he means killing, doesn’t he? You can’t say you blame him. If you’d had better control over your technique when you were younger, you’re not sure what you would’ve coerced spirits into doing to his parents. “I don’t think that’s silly,” you tell him honestly after thinking about it for a minute or two. “If Satoru didn’t step in, I was about to let my parents walk all over me. And…I don’t know…it’s complicated.” You sigh in aggravation over not being able to find the right feeling. “Maybe it’s just me, but you always want to try and see the best in people, especially your parents.”

“It might be just you. Maybe. I don’t think there’s much good to be seen in them. But I…they always make me feel small. Just your mother mentioning them made me feel that way. Your father wasn’t helping, either.”

Ah. That reminds you of something you forgot to ask. “What did he want with you?”

“I’m not sure it was me he even wanted. He probably wanted to lecture Satoru, but after he gave Satoru his card back, Satoru wouldn’t let him get a word in. I never thought I would see the day that the Gojo Satoru would have enough of a moral high ground to give someone else a lecture, but here we are.”

“No wonder he was so pissy when he came to collect mother…”

“Satoru’s protective, isn’t he?” Suguru ducks his head, smiling softly as he says that. It’s tinged with something, though.

“Why are you upset, Suguru?” It’s bitterness. Maybe sadness. His eyes widen, so you know you’re right. “Is it because you didn’t say something? You know you don’t have to feel guilty about that,” you rush to assure him. “You know the rule. Satoru doesn’t. Just because we’re technically adults now doesn’t mean our parents can’t still make our lives difficult. Mine, anyway. My father’s probably going to give me an earful when his pride has recovered a little.”

“It’s…a little bit of that,” Suguru says after a beat. It feels like a lie, though. His smile is still strained and it’s not reaching his eyes. “I wish I could protect you like Satoru can.”

“You do,” you insist.

“That’s why I told him to finally confess.” Suguru completely ignores your comment. “Satoru is as good for you as you are for him. He understands you in a way that I’ll never be able to.” You start shaking your head which makes him barrel on. “It’s the difference between sympathy and empathy. I’ll always be sympathetic for you, I can know your moods and the things you love and hate, but only Satoru can truly empathize with you.” He looks at you, expression softening, and rushes over to take you in his arms. “Squid, don’t look so devastated.”

You lift your arms up between your bodies, trying to wipe away the tears that are welling up in your eyes. “I don’t want you to feel left out.”

“You’re so silly. I’ve never felt like that before, I’m not going to start now.” You press your forehead against his chest, sniffling and trying to calm down before you really get going. “All I’m trying to say is that I want my two most favorite people to be happy and taken care of and I think the best person to do that for them is each other.”

“When you say that it makes it sound like you’re leaving us alone,” you admit.

“The way I feel about you two isn’t going to change, trust me.” He keeps rubbing your back soothingly. “This isn’t the right time, but this is really reassuring for me, y’know.” You tilt your head up, digging your chin against his chest, blinking up at him with watery eyes. He grins shyly. “I know I’m never going to be left behind.”

“Never,” you promise. “You’re our favorite person, too.”

Suguru cups your cheek, sighing softly. “You’re too sweet for someone like me, Squid.”

You miss his touch when he goes.

Date Day arrives.

You still haven’t decided on what the fuck you’re going to wear.

Shoko, who is way too invested in your love life, comes to your rescue, bright and early. The visit is disguised as helping you finish unpacking and settling into your new apartment, but it’s bullshit. She knows that you know it’s bullshit. First of all, she knows it’s Date Day. Secondly, the moment you shut the door behind her, she manhandles you back to the bedroom to help with your hair.

“There’s no need to do all this,” you mumble petulantly while watching both your reflections in the mirror she has you seated in front of. The previous tenant left one of those floor length mirrors on the back of the door. You’re cross-legged on the tatami mat with her on her knees behind you. “It’s just Satoru.”

“Oh yeah?” Shoko pointedly moves her gaze to the reflection of your bed and the clothes strewn across it. “If that’s the case, why are you so worried about your outfit?”

You harrumph and turn your head away, not wanting to admit she’s right. Only half-right, though! Because, in your head, there’s this pendulum that continually swings between this is just like any other normal day with Satoru and this is absolutely not a normal day with Satoru because he likes me, and this is a date. Giddiness and nervousness had you tossing and turning the whole night through. You’re desperately trying not to overthink everything and you’re proud to say that it’s mostly working.

“I don’t even know why you’re so excited about this,” you say as a deflection.

Shoko puts her hands on your temples, forcing your head back to position, before continuing with your hair. “I can’t be happy for my best friend?” You drop your eyes down to your lap, fiddling with the hem of your shirt, but it doesn’t stop the happy flutter in your tummy at being acknowledged as her best friend. It always does that when Shoko says best friend. You’d think you’d be over the novelty by now. “And I need to keep rubbing it in your face that I was right. The only thing as big as his ego is the crush he’s had on you. It’s been four years of pining, Duck.”

“It hasn’t been that long!” After a second of thinking, you doubt yourself. Clearly, you haven’t noticed the signs and were totally blindsided by his confession. Hesitantly, you ask, “…has it really?”

She laughs. “Yes, really. Halfway through second year, I started a betting pool on who’d confess first. Even Sensei put money down on it, but he made me swear to never tell anyone else.”

“You’re literally telling someone right now—” your brain finally catches up on what she just said, and you start sputtering. “Stop using my love life to make money!”

“Consider it financial compensation for all the ridiculous romantic tension.”

Where’s mine for the tension between you and Utahime, you think but refuse to speak aloud. The tension between them was so horribly awkward at graduation. Even Satoru didn’t pester Utahime like he usually does…but he might’ve been too nervous to do that with the planned confession and all. Anyway, Shoko remains resolute in her resolve to keep Utahime distant—not for a lack of trying on Utahime’s part to bridge the divide.

There’s some hope yet, though. Utahime brought gifts for you and Shoko. Yours was a set of new sketching pencils. Shoko’s was a new lighter. Shoko didn’t outright reject it. Instead, she left it behind in a classroom. You’d found Utahime with it, tears in her eyes and looking so miserable, so you took matters into your own hands. You pointedly left it by her pack of cigarettes when she was moving into her new apartment.

It’s the only lighter that Shoko uses now.

“Hair’s done,” Shoko announces. You awe over her work, careful not to touch it for fear of messing it up. She shoots you a smug smirk in the mirror. “I’m gonna go two-for-two and find you an outfit.”

Find you an outfit she does.

You swing your arms from side-to-side, watching as the pleats of your black pinafore dress swish with the movement. You’re wearing a simple long-sleeved white shirt under it. There’s even a cute little bow at the waist. It’s been sitting in the back of your closet ever since you got it back during your second year. You’d bought it during a shopping spree with Utahime in Kyoto. Your brain hasn’t let you wear it because you haven’t had any occasions it deems special enough.

Today is definitely a special enough occasion.

Shoko probably planned this, but she keeps you distracted in the chunk of time between when you’re done getting ready and when you’re buzzing Satoru in the building. She settles in with the new laptop that her parents bought her as a graduation gift, and you know she’s going to be spending the night. She says as much when you announce Satoru’s on his way. She needs to know how the date goes.

In the genkan, where Shoko can’t see you, you have to take deep breaths before opening the door for Satoru. And put a hand over your heart, like that’ll make it slow down. It’s just Satoru, it’s just Satoru, it’s just Satoru, you chant to yourself over and over inside your head.

It’s just Satoru and…he looks very handsome.

Oh, no.

This is like your second year all over again when your body decided it was time for a sexual awakening.

It’s not like you haven’t been aware that Satoru is attractive. But it always felt…forbidden, somehow, to think of him like that because he was your best friend. It’s easier now. You’re allowed to look because it’s you that’s doing it and Satoru likes it. He likes you. You can openly let your gaze roam over him in his denim jacket with the plain white shirt underneath, dropping down to his jeans and nice shoes.

And you think he likes when you look at him the way you are because he’s grinning when your eyes finally move back up to his face. “Like what you see?” Satoru asks with a waggle of his brows.

Knowing it’ll fluster him, you bluntly answer with, “Yeah.” It’s pleasing to see how red his cheeks get. As you’re slipping on your shoes, you call out to Shoko. “I’ll text you on my way back about what you want for dinner!”

“Okay!” Shoko calls back. “See you later!”

“What’s Shoko doing here?” Satoru asks after you close the door behind you, having recovered from your flustering him.

“If you asked her, she’d probably say something like we did girl things. If you ask me, she made me into her own personal little doll.” You pause to spread your arms out and do a little twirl. “How do I look?”

When you stop, he’s flushed but grinning. “Like the most beautiful little doll in the world. I can’t believe you got all dressed up just for me.”

The compliment has the back of your neck prickling with heat. “Jeez, you don’t have to lay it on so thick. I’m already here on the date with you.”

“It’s not laying it on thick,” he denies with that cute little scrunch of his nose. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met. Now, I’m allowed to tell you without it being weird. Get used to it.” He leans forward a little, getting all up in your space, poking at your cheek. “And if we’re on a date, what’s with that homewrecker in there getting to have dinner with you? What if I planned a whole day full of date stuff, huh?”

“I am not doing a whole day of public things.”

“Maybe I planned to cook you a four-course meal for dinner tonight.”

“Cooking for me implies you’ve completely unpacked. Last I checked, you were too busy putting your figurines in their designated places and eating takeout. Has that changed?” He crosses his arms over his chest, that scrunch in his nose only getting bigger. “That’s what I thought.”

“I regret this.”

“Watch it, Gojo. You’re being scored right now and it’s getting reported to Shoko when I get home.”

“Eh? Is that why she’s really at your place?” Satoru rolls his eyes. “Why can’t she worry about her love life?”

“Shoko wants to pretend there is no love life.” You sigh, your worry for Shoko blowing all the wind out of your sails. “I just really wish one of them would tell me what happened between them. In more detail, I mean. I know Shoko got too drunk and confessed and then Utahime rejected her, but…Shoko doesn’t seem like the one to hold a grudge about that.”

Satoru hums before oh-so-casually dropping, “Probably has something to do with Utahime not being out to her family.”

You’re so stunned by this piece of information coming from Satoru that you almost slam into a light post. It’s only because of him grabbing your upper arm and pulling you out of the way that you don’t. “What? Huh? How—” he blinks owlishly down at you, like he’s confused that you’re confused! “How do you know that? I don’t even know that!”

“I’ve known Utahime since we were kids. Have I not told you that?”

“What the hell? No!”

“Oh. Uh, well, surprise! She was always in my ear about how I needed to take my etiquette lessons seriously or else I’d be a shitty clan leader. Man, she could get downright nasty with her critique.” He’s back to pouting when he realizes, “Aw, c’mon, have you thought I’ve been a dick to her this whole time for literally no reason at all other than she’s weak? How lowly do you think of me, Sketch?”

“You tormented poor Kiyotaka mercilessly last year.”

“It was some very light bullying to get him the hell out of sorcery. That guy had one foot in the grave and—hey! You’re on first name basis with that guy already? What’s up with that?”

“Focus, Satoru, please.”

“Ugh. Fine. Whatever. Yeah, I’ve known her a long time. Her clan is super useful because of their technique, so they’re buddy-buddy with the big clans. Just like all the old clans, they’re traditional as hell, and she’s an only child. Eh, I think I heard a rumor that there’s an engagement in the works between her and a Kamo. Who knows the hell she’d raise if she threw that all away to live in sweet lesbian bliss with Shoko?”

Your brows furrow. “Shoko is actively making plans to cheat her way through medical school. Being the mistress might make her a little sore, but…she doesn’t seem like the type to have that be a dealbreaker. She really loves Utahime.”

“Yeah, it’s probably that Utahime is too noble to let Shoko be the mistress. She’s a goody-two-shoes like that.”

“Goody—” you scowl at him. “Don’t make fun of her for that!” The dynamic between Utahime and Satoru makes a lot more sense now. You understand why she always turns down your offers to make Satoru back down. She gives back as good as she gets, but this isn’t a time for him to make fun of her. “That is noble and kind of her!” You think of a way to make it more relatable to him, to help him really understand her plight. “That would be like you making Suguru be your dirty little secret while you’re married to me. Do you think Suguru deserves that?”

Satoru puts his hands over his heart, batting his lashes, gasping dramatically. “Talking about marriage already? I’m swooning, Miss Sketch!” You stare at him, deadpan, mentally begging him to take this a little more seriously. “What? That’s the only realistic part of that scenario! There’s no way that I’d keep you or Suguru a secret. It sucks that I couldn’t legally marry you both at the same time, but I’d definitely have a ring on both your fingers.”

“My hypothetical might’ve been flawed,” you mutter to yourself. “Imagine being engaged to Utahime, then.” You ignore his very loud ew! “You’re both an only child. The continuation of your clan’s bloodline rests on your shoulders. Personally, I don’t think she should care. Traditionalists love to preach about the survival of the fittest except when it’s things like this. Bloodlines come, bloodlines go, and the jujutsu world keeps spinning.”

“Exactly!” Satoru agrees. “But, my darling Sketch, there’s one more flaw in your logic—” he taps your nose playfully, “—both me and Utahime have cousins to carry on the bloodline. So, there’s honestly nothing holding her back. She’s making her life and Shoko’s difficult for no reason.”

“It’s not for no reason,” you argue. “Ignoring the fact that change is hard for everyone, Utahime getting cut off from her family is a lot different than you getting cut off from yours. You’re a Special Grade. You can easily make enough money to support yourself without your clan’s money. It’s different for her. And…other than their traditional ways, she does love her family. It’s hard to leave that all behind.”

Satoru sighs loudly. “Life is just easy mode when you’re Gojo Satoru, huh?”

“I have to agree. Other than having to fit your massive ego through doors, it’s easy going for you, isn’t it?”

“Mean!”

Satoru refuses to tell you what he has planned for your date. You know he’s proud of himself for what he’s picked out, so you’ll indulge him, and don’t push to ruin the surprise.

The train is packed.

He’d asked ahead of time if you’d be okay to use public transportation. He’s braver over text, so he admitted he wanted to spend as much time with you as possible, no warping if he can help it. Even Shoko, who was looking at your phone over your shoulder, gave an aww, that’s cute. Then, she’d ruined it with, he’s such a dork.

You don’t want to admit defeat and say you overestimated your ability to deal with crowds today. It’s the weekend before school starts, so you should’ve expected that families and teenagers would be out to enjoy their last moments of freedom. There’s no room to sit, so you’re left to stand alongside everyone else, sharing one of the dangling handles with Satoru because everyone else has one.

At the third bump of someone against your body, you try to reason with yourself that it’s only six stops until yours. Satoru gave you that much of a hint. You can handle it. You refuse to ruin this date because you’re too much of a baby to deal with a crowded train.

As the train nears the first stop of six, your body locks up, preparing for the rush of people who are going to touch you. You’re trying to not visibly grimace in front of Satoru. Trying not to be too obvious with your discomfort because you know he’ll ask if you want to go home. You don’t want to be babied. You want so badly to have a good day. To have your mind and body cooperate with you for once.

“Still up for me touching you?”

“Huh?” You blink out of your mental spiral and tilt your head up toward Satoru. He repeats the question. “Oh, yes, of course. As long as it’s you.”

“I’m gonna test something out.”

You tilt your head to the side. “What?”

Satoru shushes you. “It’s another surprise,” he whispers. Then, his big hand is slipping around and cupping the back of your head. He pulls you forward until your forehead bumps against his solid chest. His other arm moves around your shoulders. The unintentional…or maybe it’s intentional, actually. Anyway, because his arm is there, it’s kind of a barrier between you and the people who bump against you from the back.

Immediately, the tension bleeds from your body. This closeness to him, this being surrounded so wholly by his presence, is something to ground you. You can catch a hint of his body wash and bury your nose further against his chest, chasing the sweet smell. It’s subtle, like your own, because you both hate overwhelming smells. Even his deodorant isn’t powerful. No cologne or body spray—he learned his lesson after that buying that one American body spray when it was released in Japan.

You wrap your arms around his waist, sighing happily. You think that’s it, that he’s using his body to block people, but when the train comes to a stop, something happens.

There’s a little surge in his cursed energy before its shifting. It bleeds out, blanketing you. What happens next is hard for you to describe. It’s weird. The people around you both knock into you, but they also don’t. Your brain registers it, technically, but…it reminds you of magnets, almost. That subtle resistance of trying to push two of the same polarity together that only grows the closer you get the two magnets with each other.

It takes you a stupidly long amount of time, until the next stop, to realize that this is Infinity.

“I finally figured out how to do this,” Satoru murmurs in your ear when the noise of everyone filing in and out dies down. “It was by studying you, actually. It’s familiar, right? Does it feel like a blanket?”

“Yes,” you answer quietly, still in awe.

“Good. Now, if we’re ever out and you’re sick of all the bullshit, I can share this with you.”

And Satoru sounds so proud of himself for learning this. For you. There’s no other reason, tactically, that he would need to extend Infinity to someone else. What did he say last year? He’s been looking at you with his Six Eyes for four…no. It’s been five years now. He’s always been watching you, studying your idiosyncrasies, making note of your pleasures and aversions, and going even deeper to learn the flow of your cursed energy itself.

This twisting of your heart is almost unbearable, but you don’t want to be anywhere else right now other than in his arms. Such an odd feeling that has your body at odds. You breathe in, exhaling shakily. There’s a little wobble in your knees that makes you lean further against him…or maybe that’s just an excuse. You can’t hear his heart with the noise of the train on the tracks, but you feel the rapid thump of it against your cheek. Just as fast as yours.

Now, the counting down of the stops until yours makes you sadder rather than relieved. You don’t want to leave his embrace and not just because of Infinity. Ever since everyone’s gotten their own apartments, spending the night in the same bed has slowly dwindled down. You can’t even remember the last time that you and Satoru were together. You miss it. You want to go home now, only because you want to curl up with him in bed.

But that wouldn’t be very much fun for a date…

“Sorry,” you mumble embarrassedly when you’ve both finally gotten off at your stop. “I should be better at this by now.” You chew your bottom lip nervously. “I know it’s probably awkward for you, being with a grown adult that can’t handle public transportation.” Why are you suddenly so anxious right now?

Satoru squints at you. “When have I ever cared about how you act in public?”

“Um…” You cringe. “Never.”

“Right. And it hasn’t changed, by the way. So, did I do something to give you the wrong impression?”

“No! But I can’t remind you of how sorry I am?”

“Nope, because I don’t want your damn apology when there’s nothing to be sorry about. Jeez, you act like you’re making some big spectacle when all you’re doing is getting nervous.” In the middle of the station, like it’s no big deal, he hunches over to bump his forehead against yours hard enough that it leaves you yelping and clutching at that place. “What’d I say to you last year, huh? Every single part, Sketch.”

I want all the parts of you, even the ugliest ones.

Oh.

As Satoru snatches one of your hands to yank you into motion, leading you toward the exit of the station, the truth barrels into you as fast and hard as the train you’re leaving behind. It took five long years for you to finally catch up with reality, but you understand now. You get it. These declarations of his, all those private and precious moments with him, they’ve always made you feel a certain type of way. Sometimes, it feels painful with how your heart twists up inside your chest. An emotion that you’ve never been able to name always builds up inside you, leaving you jittery and restless because you have no idea what to do with all that pressure.

Finally, you can put a name to it.

And that’s what your massively stupid fucking heart decides to do. Out loud. You’re both stepping out under the sun when your mouth moves before literally any other part of your body, especially your brain, can catch up with it.

“I love you.”

You jerk your hand away from his slackening grip, slapping your hands over your mouth as if that’s going to turn back time and let you swallow back up that very heavy thing you just threw out there. Satoru heard. Oh, you wish he didn’t, but he definitely heard over all the noise because he’s slowly turning his head to look over his shoulder at you. Briefly, in his profile, you see his wide blue eyes.

Actually, he’s so shocked that his Infinity isn’t up because someone physically bumps into him and sends his sunglasses clattering on the ground because they were slipping down the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sorry!” It may be a cold day, but you’re burning from embarrassment. Balking under his heavy gaze, you rush to pick up his sunglasses and put them back on his face for him. But then you realize that’s a very intimate thing to do to another person, no matter how many times you’ve done it before, and almost drop them again. “Forget I said that!” You shake your hands, rocking from side to side because of all your buzzing anxiousness. “We…are we late for the date? We should hurry! Right?!”

Satoru’s mouth opens, closes, and the process repeats two more times before he squeaks, “Yeah!” He hesitates. Does the open-close mouth thing again and you’re terrified that you fucked everything up. Genuinely petrified. Then, so loudly that people start to stare, he announces, “Okay! Yeah! Nothing wrong here! Let’s go!”

Through Satoru’s nervous chattering, as he’s dragging you away, you hear an elderly woman sigh fondly and coo, “Ah, young love.”

“A cat café?”

Satoru cringes. “Do you hate it?”

“Are we here for me…or for you?”

He sputters, cheeks turning red. “I’ll have you know that I’m a dog person!”

“Yeah, but it fits your—” you gesture vaguely at him, “—vibe.”

He squints down at you. “I feel like I should be offended.”

Both of you resolutely not talking about the thing that happened, you now stand outside a new cat café—as announced by their little announcement board placed on the sidewalk. You remember when news spread of the first one opening in Osaka back in 2004, you think it was. The idea of it absolutely delighted you…and almost every other teenage girl, you suspect. Suguru hadn’t gotten the appeal of it, but that’s because his parents didn’t care if he interacted with the stray cats like your mother did.

With the hustle and bustle of high school, though, you kind of forgot the existed until now. You’ve never been to one. In an instant, your excitement for them is renewed and you grab Satoru’s hand, excitedly tugging him inside. You listen dutifully to the employee that greets you both for the appointment Satoru scheduled.

You never knew the logistics until now. For the most part, the cats are all free to pet and interact with. Don’t pressure the cats if they don’t want attention. There are signs scattered around detailing cat behaviors. The café is also an internet one, so there are usually salarymen and college students on their laptops working alongside the cats, but don’t be shocked if some of them decide to barge in on your keyboard. There are treats, both human and cat, available for purchase. The cats also have toys scattered around that you can use to play with them.

Just before you’re set free, you’re shown a wall with pictures of all the cats. “All of them are up for adoption,” the employee chirps. “Ah, but before you go in…well, we were wondering if we could use you as test subjects in exchange for unlimited access to the bakery and drinks.”

You’re not able to look at all the pictures, glancing over at the woman with a tilt of your head, curious about what kind of experiment a cat café can possibly have. “Test subjects?”

“A pair of cats were recently brought to us from the shelter. We’ve been trying to get them adjusted to human interaction—”

Satoru worriedly asks, “Are they dangerous?” You’ve got to hide your laugh as a cough, covering your mouth. There’s no way that he’s seriously asking that, right? Has Satoru forgotten that you’re both sorcerers? It’s as cute as it is perplexing.

“We think that one of them may have been abused, so he’s…cautious of humans. That’s only when he’s by himself, though! If his partner is with him then he’s usually okay! As of right now, they’re a package deal, but that makes adoption harder. We’ve been letting them adjust to human contact with a glass wall separating them from our guests. Since it’ll be only you two for the first half of the day, we thought this might be the perfect opportunity to introduce them to human contact again. This way, they won’t be immediately overwhelmed.”

“Half the day?” Satoru is pointedly not looking at you when you snap your head in his direction. Your eye twitches, but you bite your tongue because you’re both in public. But, oh, the lecture you’re going to give him later will be of epic proportions. Turning back to the employee, you force a smile while she’s blinking in confusion. “I’d love to meet them.”

After signing a waiver and another employee taking your drink orders, you’re finally allowed out into the larger area. There are a few cats that are there to immediately greet you, some weaving through your legs. The space is large but designed in a way to provide privacy if you need it. The cats themselves have so many cat trees and ledges to lounge on. There are even baskets hanging from the ceiling. There’s an area separated from guests for the cats to eat, drink, and sleep in that they access by way of pet doors.

As the employee is introducing you to some of the cats at your feet, Satoru is munching on a taiyaki. He dutifully holds yours when you pass it to him so you can bend down and start petting the cats with the employee. You’re listening intently as she’s introducing all the cats.

“Oi!”

Something thumps down on the floor next to you, grabbing your attention before you can whip your head around to check on Satoru. The cat that’s now next to you can best be described as a cotton ball. It’s so fluffy. The bright, blue eyes that it stares at you with are a little…unnerving. But you’re not really sure why you feel that way. Maybe it’s because you didn’t realize cats could have such an intense eye color?

“Toru!” The employee gasps.

At the same time, Satoru is snarling at the cat, “You little thief!”

“Huh,” you mumble to yourself.

As the employee is babbling apologies to Satoru, you pluck your sunglasses off the top of your head and hold them in the air. It isn’t near the cat, of course, because you don’t want to upset him by getting grabby. You angle them, though, so you can see what the cat would look like with them on. They’re not like Satoru’s at all, but they’re dark like his.

The cat isn’t even eating the taiyaki. He ignores the chastising employee and Satoru, drops the taiyaki, and approaches you to flop down in front of you and show his belly. Even his meows are demanding. And if you didn’t know better, you’d think he was staring Satoru dead in the eye with glee and defiance.

Oh, so that’s why you’re unnerved.

“The resemblance is uncanny,” you whisper in awe. Louder, to interrupt the employee and Satoru, you ask, “What characters do you use for his name?”

“To steal,” she explains with a sigh of resignation. “This is one half of the troubled pair.” Yes, you suspected as much. “It’s not that he doesn’t play well with other pets! He just…”

“Annoys them?”

“How did you know?”

“Just a lucky guess,” you answer deadpan while trying extremely hard not to look at Satoru.

“And, well…even his previous owner, a very kind elderly woman, admitted that she spoiled him too much when she was forced to turn him over to the shelter. She was in poor health and her daughter wouldn’t let her keep him. He loves treats. He steals them from the other cats. The behavior is improving, though! He shares…only with his friend…but it’s progress.”

You reach out to take his little paw between your fingers. All the stray cats in the village taught you that a cat showing their belly is almost always a trap. “Where’s the other—”

There’s a chirp before another cat is rubbing up against your thigh. “Right…there?”

The employee is baffled that her supposedly human-averse cat is greeting you willingly. You are baffled because…okay, this is just ridiculous! If there’s a god out there, they decided to give you the most blatantly obvious signs to adopt a pet today. This cat is as fluffy as his counterpart, but with black fur instead of white except for one spot. It has a patch of gray fur that falls over his eye like a scar…or a bang.

Before you can stop yourself, you reach down to rub one of his ears that, worryingly, has a hole in it. His hackles briefly raise, but he quickly leans into the touch. “You think he was abused?”

“The shelter said it could’ve happened in a fight with another cat,” the employee says while eyeing the cat with the same skepticism you do. “Fights with other animals usually end up with split ears or bits taken off the edge. Nothing like this.” The holes are jagged, yes, but only as if someone tried cutting a circle in too flexible material. Way too precise to be the result of another animal.

“Poor thing,” you coo while scratching him under his chin. He purrs. His counterpart, Toru, meows in offense before leaping right on the black cat’s belly. You’re quick to pull your hand away when they start tussling. “Are they, uh, brothers?”

“No. It’s shocking, considering they’re the same rare breed,” the employee answers with a chuckle. “They’re both Norwegian Forests! Toru came from the elderly woman and had been at the shelter before Gato got there—”

“Gato?” Both you and Satoru repeat at the same time with the same incredulity.

“Oh! Yes, that’s the other cat.” She points to the black cat, not knowing that that’s not what you and Satoru are really questioning here. “Gato means cat in Spanish and the person that saved him was a Brazilian exchange student. It’s a bit unoriginal, but the shelter thought it would be nice to honor the person that saved him.”

“Portuguese,” you correct.

She tilts her head. “Eh?”

“Brazil’s official language is Portuguese.”

Behind you, Satoru asks, “How do you know that?”

“I had a language learning phase in middle school. There’s a large Brazilian community in Japan.”

The employee gasps. “Oh, no! Did we give him the wrong name?”

You try to recall the basic words you’d learned. Portuguese and Spanish have a big overlap with each other. “No, I think Gato is still right.” She sighs in relief. “Um, if you don’t mind me saying…he doesn’t seem very…uh…human averse,” you remark as Gato, having escaped Toru’s shenanigans, slowly approaches you again for pets.

“Maybe all the work we’ve done is paying off,” the employee muses as she slowly reaches down to join you in stroking Gato’s fur. Two people at once must be pushing it because he hisses and swats at her hand before throwing himself right in your lap. He even tries climbing up your shirt, claws digging into the fabric. “Or not,” she adds while cradling her hand to her chest.

“How old are they?” They look full-grown but Gato’s shirt clinging behavior strikes you as kitten-like.

“We know for sure that Toru is a year old. Gato is a little harder to pinpoint down, but the shelter suspects he’s around the same age.”

“Is that…fully grown?”

“Hmm, well, that’s a little more subjective with cats. With smaller breeds, yes. A bigger breed like the American Maine Coon isn’t fully grown until they’re two. They’ve sexually matured, though, but just barely.” She giggles. “If you wanted the human age equivalent, they’re about fifteen.”

This poor employee must be so confused when you can’t take it anymore and burst out into laughter.

Satoru, though, understands. “Sketch, no,” he growls.

But you’ve already made your decision.

Shoko hasn’t stopped laughing since you returned home with Satoru and cat supplies in hand. You’re only a little embarrassed, but Satoru was the one to pay for the adoption fees, so he clearly wasn’t that upset with how the first half of your date day turned out.

The café was kind enough to keep the cats housed for another few days while you readied your apartment for them. You also have to notify your landlord so the pet fee can be added to your rent, but the office is closed on the weekend, so you’ve got to wait until Monday. You think the café will wait as long as possible because they were really worried that Toru and Gato wouldn’t ever be adopted. It’s hard to have someone adopt two cats at once, let alone one as hostile as Gato.

Satoru and you are back in your bedroom, cleaning up the explosion of open bags and packages from the cat tower and toys that you’ve spread around to greet the cats when you bring them home.

You’re shoving blankets inside the carriers to make them more comfortable when Satoru quietly asks, “Did you mean it?” It’s been silent for a few minutes so you’re not sure what he means. You turn to look at him, but his head is ducked down, watching his fingers that fiddle with the hem of his pants. “What you said when we got off the train,” he clarifies.

In all the excitement with the cats, you totally forgot how you almost blew the date before it even started.

You debate on whether to lie or not. You don’t want to do that to Satoru, no matter how soul-crushingly embarrassing this might be. It’s fine. He likes you. He’s said as much. As long as you clearly state that you don’t expect him to feel that way for you right now or ever, for that matter. Relationships, especially young ones, don’t always work out. Satoru would never be cruel to you just because he doesn’t feel the same way.

“Do you want me to? I don’t want to pressure you.”

Satoru is silent before quietly admitting, “I want to know if you feel the same way I feel about you.”

Your eyes slowly widen. “You…” It feels like the breath has been punched out of your lungs. “You…me…” The power of your brain must’ve gone to kick your heart into overdrive because you can’t even form coherent sentences now.

You’re not the only nervous one. Satoru’s normally cold hands aren’t a balm for your scalding hot cheeks today. No, his hands are definitely sweaty when he cups your cheeks. His face is red, too, but he’s brave. So brave. Staring at you with those sparkling blue eyes, he bluntly confesses, “I’m in love with you.”

The breath catches in your throat. “Really?”

He laughs shakily, knocking his forehead against yours. “I’ve been in love with you since I was seventeen years old.”

“I’m in love with you, too.” And you hold both his cheeks in your sweaty hands. “I don’t know how long, but I do. I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out.”

“It’s okay. I’m only in this for your banging body, anyway. It’s fine if you’re a space cadet.” You snort before breaking out in a fit of giggles. “There,” he breathes out. “That’s the ticket. You’re so pretty, Sketch. Can I kiss you now?”

“After you just called me stupid?” You’re the one to knock your forehead against his. “Yes. You can kiss me.”

Satoru does, even though the first part of it is just the both of you grinning against each other’s mouth. You’re in an awkward position, so you get up on your knees, turning your body toward him before you kiss him again. You didn’t know how much you missed this. His soft lips and sweet taste. He has no confidence in this and it’s endearing. It makes you feel special, that you get to learn with him.

“What was my date rating?” Satoru asks between kisses.

“You did pretty good,” you answer coyly.

“Good enough to be my girlfriend?”

“Okay, that was pretty smooth,” you concede with a laugh. “Yes, Satoru, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

“Girls, it’s time to go.”

Mimiko, with Toru cradled in her arms, appears in the kitchen doorway. “Just a little longer, Mister Geto? Please?”

After drying his hands off completely, Suguru settles them on his hips. It’s such a mother-like pose that you have to bite your lip to keep back the laughter bubbling up in your chest. “Everyone has school tomorrow, Mimiko. You’ve been with Miss Squid all weekend long. We should let her have some time alone.”

Nanako comes barreling into the kitchen, wildly throwing around her arm while insisting, “It’s not time! We always go home at six!” She points at her little pink plastic watch to emphasize the point, though she’s moving too fast for anyone to see.

Suguru sighs in irritation, throwing you a nasty look that has you smiling beatifically in response. You’re not apologizing for adopting two cats desperately in need of a home. Suguru and Satoru are simply biased because they think the cats are out to get them. Never mind that Satoru was there when the employee explained that Gato was abused so that’s why he has a hard time warming up to people.

It’s been a month now. There was a little delay where Gato had to warm up to the girls, but now that he has, it’s only a matter of time before the novelty of them will wear off.

“We’re leaving earlier because we’re walking Tsumiki and Megumi home,” Suguru explains patiently.

“But—”

“Girls,” you interrupt while mirroring Suguru’s hands on the hips. “Do you remember how you needed lots of alone time when you started living with Suguru?” Their little faces grow solemn, but you feel like this is an important enough lesson to instill in them. You’ve been noticing Gato hiding away more frequently as the weekend has stretched on. “Gato needs that alone time, too, okay?”

“Yes, Miss Squid,” they both answer. Thankfully, they have a determination in their eyes rather than lingering sadness. “Will you tell Gato we’re sorry if we made him made him scared?” Mimiko goes on to ask.

You smile. “Yes, I will.”

As the twins are collecting all their things, Tsumiki slips into the kitchen with you, shyly asking if she can help you as you make everyone a bento for tomorrow. It might take a little longer, but you happily accept the help. You’ve learned that she really loves to cook, and you want to foster that. You even bought some cookie cutters to cut vegetables into cute shapes. It’s cute to watch her little brows furrow in concentration and hear her grunt as she tries to force the cutter through vegetables and fruits.

“What happened to Nanako and Mimiko?”

“Hmm?”

“You said they needed lots of alone time. Was it because they were sad?”

“Ah. Well, it’s not really my place to say,” you explain gently. “You’d have to ask them.”

She pauses, shifts uncomfortably, before she quietly confesses, “I’m afraid to.”

“Why?”

“I know they don’t like me.”

You step away from the table enough to crouch down to Tsumiki’s level. She turns her body toward you, but keeps her head ducked down, as if she’s in trouble. “Have they said or done something to make you feel like they don’t like you?” It’s important that you know what they did so you can talk to their therapist about it. Their therapist used to be a sorcerer, so she’s been able to help them with their distrust of non-sorcerers more effectively than a regular therapist, but they’re not perfect.

“No!” Her head flies up, eyes wide, and she waves her hands nervously. “I mean…yes? No? I…” She struggles to explain herself. You wait patiently. “They…um…they’re better friends with Megumi. They don’t have things to talk about with me like him.” She wrings her hands in her dress. “It’s okay! It’s always like that. I know I’m really boring and plain. Everyone’s always liked him better. I know he’s really special. I’m…I’m really happy he has people now who are like him!”

Happy, you mentally repeat while watching her with a forced smile on her face and tears in her eyes. “Do you feel lonely, Tsumiki?” She shakes her head furiously. You reach out to take her hand in yours, squeezing as a show of comfort. “It’s okay to feel that way.”

“I have Megumi,” she argues with a trembling voice.

“I know you do. You can have all the people in the world around you and still feel lonely. You feeling lonely doesn’t mean you don’t love him any less.” You drop to the floor completely, crossing your legs. You take her other hand. “Do you want to know a secret?” You don’t wait for her to answer. “I’ve felt the same way as you do, all through my life. I still do, sometimes.”

“But you’re not like me at all!” Tsumiki protests. “You’re pretty and cool and so, so nice!”

“I am.” It’s taking a lot for you to not start crying yourself. Jeez, is this what it’s like for Suguru and Satoru being on the other side of your self-loathing? “Jiheishō—have you heard of it?” She shakes her head. You didn’t think so. “My brain works a lot different than everyone else. I was the only person in my village that had it. I had Suguru, but there were days when I still felt lonely. Satoru is like me, but he doesn’t…um…we feel it different ways. And he and Suguru are so strong.” You smile softly. “See? I know you’re not a sorcerer, but we’re still a lot alike, right?”

She nods while rubbing at her eyes. “I don’t want to make anyone feel bad.”

“I don’t, either. That’s why I didn’t talk about it for a long time. But it hurt Suguru and Satoru more that I felt so bad for so long without telling them about it.” She’s still conflicted. You empathize with her to the point of pain. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell anyone else right now if you’re not ready. I know about it now, so if you ever feel sad or left behind, you can talk to me.”

“It…it’s really okay for me to bother you?” Tsumiki asks hesitantly.

“It’s not a bother. You’re not a bother, Tsumiki.” For so long, you felt like a bother. On your bad days, you still do. A child should never have to feel that way, especially not one with as beautiful a soul as Tsumiki. “I really enjoy our time together. It’s fun to cook with you and I want to do it a lot more.”

She gives a wobbly smile through her sniffles. “I love to do arts and crafts with you and Mimiko and Nanako. I want to be as good at drawing as you are.”

“I’m excited to see how far you go,” you tell her honestly. “Would you like a hug before you go?”

“Yes, please.”

“Come smoke with me before I leave, Squid.”

Ugh. You know that he and Satoru definitely overheard the conversation with Tsumiki because they’re super nosy. There’s no way out of it. You’ll have to deal with them both. Might as well get over it. “Megumi,” you call out politely, “Can you help your sister finish up?”

“Sure,” Megumi answers from where he’s on the couch with a book.

Suguru goes ahead to the balcony, waiting until you’re outside and slid the door shut behind you to light a cigarette. “I’ll try to be better around her for you,” is the first thing he says.

Your eyes narrow. “Have you done something to make her feel unwelcome?”

“No…but I haven’t gone out of my way to make her feel included, either.”

You sigh. “If it’s too hard for you to be around her so much, I won’t bring them over to your place anymore.”

“No. I…I genuinely do want to try.” He breathes out a cloud of smoke. “I didn’t realize until listening to you with her that I had made so much of my identity sorcery. Part of the reason why I want to be a teacher is to make sure that students aren’t faceless cogs in a machine, but I’ve done that very thing to myself.”

“I get it.” You step beside him where he’s leaned against the railing. “I’ve done it, too. We worked so hard to make Satoru stop seeing himself as a weapon, but then we went and made ourselves feel like one.” He nods in agreement. “I didn’t realize that I was doing that with drawing. It became an extension of my technique, became a chore instead of a thing I love. It wasn’t until I saw the girls do it and love it themselves that I remembered why I’d even started doing it in the first place.”

“I want to buy a record player.” He laughs. “Remember the times we’d lay around and listen to the radio?”

You sigh nostalgically. “I miss that thing. It was one of the few times you actually doodled with me.”

“I’m not gifted with art like you are and I’m too much of a perfectionist. I hated that I wasn’t immediately good at it like you were.” He pauses, glancing off into the distance, pensive. “I like cooking. I love to provide for everyone.” It’s an olive branch, of sorts. Something for him to use to better connect with Tsumiki.

“The problem with jujutsu society,” you start slowly, “is that we’ve cut ourselves off from non-sorcerers. It’s easy to stay away from them. It’s hard to be close with people who can never know about this massive part of your life. We save them. They have no idea that we do which breeds resentment while, at the same time, causing us to feel superior to them. You and Satoru are perfect examples of the end result. Two side of the same coin—resentment and superiority.”

Suguru studies you for a few minutes, taking drags of his cigarette. Finally, he asks, “How do you do it?” You tilt your head to the side, confused. “How come you’ve never resented them?”

“I wouldn’t…exactly say that. Hmm, it’s not resentment, I guess. I definitely feel unappreciated, but I also understand why they can’t know.” You rock back and forth on your feet. “The truth is, I’ve walked hand-in-hand with resentment for my whole life. I’ve resented my mind. I envy people who can walk in their world without trouble, both sorcerer and not. But…I always had you. We connected as sorcerers, in a way that no one else in our village could understand. During our first year of high school, I met Satoru and connected with him in a way that you could never understand. That’s what it’s all about, I guess.”

“What? Connection?”

“Yeah. Sorcerers can pretend they’re not all they want, but we are all connected by the human experience. That’s the very least. I know that there’s going to always be something that connects me to another person, something that we can bond over. I’ve craved to be understood all my life, so why wouldn’t I try to understand another person—sorcerer or not?” You nod to yourself, satisfied with your conclusion. “Yeah. That’s it.”

“That’s it, she says, while giving some groundbreaking wisdom,” Suguru says with a huff of disbelief.

“You’re just being dramatic now.”

He sighs, snuffing his cigarette out in the tray that you bought specifically for him and Shoko. “No, you just never give yourself enough credit.” He smiles softly. “I promise to keep working at it.”

It’s a Sunday, almost three months into your relationship, when you wake before Satoru does.

Thank goodness, you groggily think. You’ve been worried about him. It’s the dead of summer now which means a rise in cursed spirit activity. It’s not until now that you realized how easy the higher-ups were taking it on you all in high school, even with both Satoru and Suguru at the Special Grade label. Headquarters no longer cares about Satoru’s status as a student. And now that it’s July and summer break for him, the higher-ups go even harder.

Over in the corner of the room, Gato and Toru are still curled up, asleep. They’ve become your little alarm clocks, but even they seem to want to sleep in today. It’s the right kind of idea. With a soft, happy sigh, you wiggle back to bury yourself further in Satoru’s arms. It’s only then that you suddenly become aware of something poking against your ass.

Satoru moans softly in his sleep before he starts unconsciously grinding against you.

You’re not totally clueless. You know that, usually, if someone has a dick, it gets hard in the morning. Actually, you’ve seen and felt it before with Suguru. Before your parents totally banned him from sleepovers, he’d roll over when you both woke up and you’d sometimes catch a peek of the tent in his shorts. When he started sneaking into your dorm room in high school, you’d feel it, too. You were always polite to just never bring attention to it.

But in all the years that you’ve slept in the same bed as Satoru, he has never gotten hard around you. That, paired with the fact that he was never hard when you two made out, and you’d assumed that he simply doesn’t feel sexually attracted to you. It was any easy thing to accept because you’d gone so many years without feeling it yourself. It wasn’t until you were in high school for the switch to your libido to turn on. Before these past three months when you think a little too hard about Satoru, you think the last time that you’d felt a hint of lust was that July afternoon when you and Suguru took each other’s virginities.

Bodies do what bodies do, though. Unless you’re thinking about Satoru, getting off feels like cleaning out the pipes. You figure that’s what’s probably going on here, but you don’t want to…you’re not actually sure what. For some reason, it feels wrong to let it happen without his knowledge. Natural bodily reaction or not. You think you should wake him up.

Satoru has already beaten you to the punch. Hips still moving, he sighs as happily as you did, softly murmuring your name. You wait for him to process the situation. You’ll follow his lead—not mention it unless he brings it up. “Mm, feels good,” he whispers as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

And that does it for you. It sends a shiver down your spine and has the place between your legs throbbing. “Good morning,” you greet hoarsely. At the sound of your voice, Satoru freezes. You crane your head to the side, trying to glance at him over your shoulder. He is, predictably, turning so red that you’re worried there’s going to be steam coming off him. “Don’t freak out,” you say ahead of time, trying to calm him down.

“I’m not!” Satoru shouts defensively, voice pitched high in distress. You’re not focused on that, though. Because suddenly, you stop feeling his dick against your ass. Which wouldn’t be a big deal if he had pulled away, but he hasn’t. While his hips are still pressed against the curve of you, you just…stop feeling the hardness of him.

“What the—” Satoru is faster than you, scrambling away while you’re rolling over on your other side. With narrowed eyes, you watch him as he’s now propped up against the headboard, covers carefully placed over his lap along with his hands. “What did you just do?”

“I’m going to go feed those little heathens.”

Oh, okay, you see how it is. He really wants to play this game, huh? Fine. “Okay. Go ahead.”

He hesitates before weakly suggesting, “You can go back to sleep now.”

“No. I’m awake now,” you reply coolly as you lean up on an elbow, holding your cheek in your hand.

He’s definitely starting to sweat now. “If you’re awake then you go do it.”

“They can wait.”

Satoru loses his patience at your insistence on not looking away. “Sketch.”

“Satoru.”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

He covers his face with his hands, groaning like he’s in agony. “Don’t make me talk about this.”

Hmm. What can you do to make him more comfortable? This is definitely a talk that you two need to have. You’ve been making assumptions when you should’ve just asked him up front if sex was going to be on the table or not. “If I roll over, will it be easier to talk to me?”

“Ugh, I don’t want to talk about it at all!” His cheeks puff out and he crosses his arms over his chest, clearly pouting, but he eventually relents. “Yeah, fine. Let’s just get it over with.”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” you remark as you move back to your original position. “It’s what your body does.” You pause, thinking of how to further reassure him. “If I’m not allowed to be embarrassed about my brain, you shouldn’t have to hide that from me. How are you hiding it, by the way?” Satoru mumbles something. You think you catch it, but you dryly request, “A little louder, please.”

“Infinity,” he answers, loud and bitchy.

It takes a lot to not turn back over, but you swore you’d stay. “You…were using your technique…to keep me from feeling it when you get hard,” you summarize. Just to confirm. You’re not going to laugh. You’re not going to laugh.

“Yes,” he mumbles.

Hmm, that seemed a little too easy for him to do. As if he had practice with doing it before. “How long have you been doing this?”

He’s reluctant to answer. “I worked on figuring it out after that day in our second year. The…the one on the field…when you were underneath me.”

“Wait one second!” You remember that day! It was where you two ended up in a compromising position and he’d accidentally pressed his knee against your pussy. You get tangled in the sheets temporarily in your rush to turn over and sit up, facing him directly. “Is that the reason you stole my sweatshirt?”

Satoru’s shoulders are slowly hunching up to his ears. “I couldn’t help it! You were so pretty, moving around almost like a dance! Then, I know it was because you got hurt from the fall, but my dick couldn’t tell the difference between a good moan or a bad moan! I panicked!”

You burst out into laughter despite your burning cheeks. He whines your name. You don’t want him to think you’re making fun of him, so you try to explain through your laughing, “I’m relieved that my plan worked. I hoped you thought it was because I hurt myself, but it was just because you turned me on when your knee bumped against my…y’know.” You motion toward your crotch.

“Seriously?!”

“Seriously,” you confirm as your laughter settles down. “Jeez, Satoru, this whole time…I thought you just weren’t into me that way.”

“Sketch, why would I ask you out if I wasn’t into you that way?”

You shrug. “You can still love someone without needing to have sex with them. I know everyone else assumes you have to do that when you’re a couple, but…I never really got turned on that much until that day, honestly. So, yeah, I think they’re two separate things.”

In an instant, Satoru has straightened up and watches you seriously. “Do you ever want to fuck?” He cringes, maybe at how crude that sounded. “In the future, I mean. We don’t have to. I liked you way before then, since we were first years. If you never wanna have sex, I still want to be with you.”

“Didn’t you hear me just say you turned me on?” You scoot toward him, reaching out to push his bangs away from his forehead, making him lift his eyes. “If you’re okay with it then, yes, I want to do that with you.” You pull your hand away, suddenly remembering that there’s something crucial you haven’t told him about. “Um…so…just full honesty here…uh, I’m…I’m not a virgin.”

Satoru snatches your wrist, eyes wild and desperate. “What?! Who—”

“Suguru,” you admit quietly while pulling your arm away from his grasp.

“Oh.” He exhales loudly as if he’s relieved and holds a hand above his heart. “Jeez, Sketch, you really scared me for a second there. Don’t ever do that again. I thought there was someone else.”

You tilt your head to the side, confused. “But…there…was someone else?”

“Someone that’s not Suguru,” he replies with a roll of the eyes. As if you’re silly for pointing that out. “If I trust anyone to take care of you, it’s him. Duh.” Oh. Well. That…went better than expected? Actually, you’re not sure how you thought he was going to respond. “But when’d that happen? How?”

“Oh. Uh…third year. The July before…everything.” You chew the inside of your cheek, debating on how much to tell him, but it’s not like Satoru doesn’t already know everything about you and Suguru, anyway. “I mean, originally, I came up with stupid idea that if we were virgins by the end of high school, we’d fix that for each other, and he agreed. I…honestly, I’d forgotten all about it until he brought it back up. And…” You sigh. “I wanted to make him happy.”

Satoru looks concerned. “You only did it for him?”

Yeah, you should’ve worded that better. You know how it must sound from his end. That you were appeasing Suguru, that it was all about him. “It wasn’t only him getting something out of it! He definitely took care of me. It felt really, really good! We—” you squirm uncomfortably. You have to be honest about how you were feeling at the time and that’s hard to do. “I can’t speak for him, but…I think he probably felt the same. I felt so out of control with everything that was happening. I felt like everyone and everything was slipping away, especially him. It made him happy, and it made me happy, too.”

His features soften, less worried now. “Have you…uh…talked about it since then?”

“No. You know what happened after. And it took us so long to start talking again. And by the time we were close to what we were before, you asked me out.” You fidget with the sheets. “Do…do you think I should talk to him? I don’t know what I’d even say.”

“You could ask him to join us?”

As always, Satoru brings levity to the situation. Snorting, you shove at him. “Be serious!”

“Who says I wasn’t, huh?” But he’s grinning, strained as it may be. “I don’t know. I guess you’re right. Suguru was the one who actively encouraged me to ask you out, so…I guess he’s not hung up on it.” That…stings, for some reason. Maybe it’s the timing of it all that makes it hurt. If things had gotten better…then what? What would you have done? That question makes your chest tight. “So, you wanna pop my cherry?”

He yanks you from the emotions welling up inside your chest. “Satoru!”

“That’s what I’m hearing, isn’t it?”

“You could be less crass about it!”

His smile comes a little easier. He lashes out, snatching your wrists, dragging you forward toward him. Giggling, you pretend to put up a fight. “You want me to be more poetic about it?” He gets you in his lap, hands braced on his shoulders. “Please, my dear Sketch, be my guide through the erotic arts.”

“That’s somehow worse,” you mutter. Then, you shake your head and sigh fondly. “We should probably take it slow since you won’t even let me feel your dick.”

“I’ll let you feel it right now!”

Toru and Gato decide, at that exact moment, that they’ve waited long enough for breakfast. Toru does his favorite thing when Satoru is around which is throw himself on top of Satoru’s head, white fluff on more white fluff. Gato likes Satoru more than Toru does and lovingly tries to slip under Satoru’s shirt, but he’s still yowling like he’s dying of starvation.

“Menaces to society,” Satoru complains.

“The cutest menaces to society,” you coo while reaching up to take Toru into your loving arms.

You should’ve expected that Satoru would plan to take things faster in regard to the whole sex thing. Suggesting taking it slow probably came off as you trying to take it easy on him which, of course, would not stand in his eyes and would have him seeing it as a challenge.

For the past two weeks since that morning, he’s been restless when you do have the chance to see him. Since the end of the college semester, you could count with your fingers how many times he’s actually been in his apartment. Even if it’s to crash in your bed while you’re at work, hoping to spend even a little time with you before he’s called away.

You’ve been seriously debating on spiking the coffee of one or two higher-ups in order to influence them to take it easier on him, but Satoru would be upset. That’s playing with fire. And he’s right, you suppose. You need to test the limits of your technique, refine it, see if it’s possible to make it untraceable. So, no use of your technique unless under dire circumstances.

Satoru texted you with a heads up that he’s napping in your bed and said he left some cash on your table to use to stock up your pantry with sweets since he’s been burning through them. You don’t feel like arguing with him over who pays, so you do as he asks this time. With Toru and Gato weaving through your legs and almost tripping you—their daily routine—you make your way to the kitchen, but the only thing there is his wallet.

“I knew I should’ve reminded him to get the cash out before he went to sleep,” you whisper to yourself and the stillness of your apartment. It still feels weird going through his wallet. “Should I wake him up?” It’s pondering out loud, but Toru answers with a chirrup. If he could talk, it’d probably be a resounding yes.

You decide against it. He needs actual sleep. Not Reverse Cursed Technique. That doesn’t remove emotional fatigue. Toru yowls in offense when you don’t leave the kitchen and instead pick up Satoru’s wallet. You flip it open, peeling it apart, and your brows raise to your hairline when you see what’s tucked away in there alongside his cash.

Shaking your head in disbelief, you take the bills, close his wallet, place it back where it was on the table, and you’re headed back out the door.

You don’t bring it up until after you’ve both had dinner together, you’ve showered, and you’re settling in for bed. His nap was enough to recharge his brain, so he’ll be playing the PlayStation 2 that appears to have taken up permanent residence in your bedroom. He’s cross-legged at the end of the bed, tongue poking out, and his eyes briefly dart over to you.

Then, he does a double-take and stares at you with wide eyes while you hear the telltale sound of the game’s death screen.

Oh, that’s definitely boosting your ego. Goes to show what simply taking off your sports bra can do. When it comes to Satoru, anyway. This only further cements how sheltered he truly was. But…your only point of reference is Suguru and you two literally grew up together. You were never totally naked around each other, but he never outright ogled when your nipples were showing through your shirt.

“You’re blushing,” you tease.

“I’m not!”

“How are we going to use that condom in your wallet if you can’t even look at me?” You laugh at the look of pure horror on his face. Like a deer caught in headlights. “Are you trying to speedrun sex?”

“No,” he lies. “But even if I was, it’s fine. I’m ready. You don’t have to treat me like I’m made of glass.”

Humming, you slowly approach him. He’s sitting on the edge of the mattress now, so you can stand between his open legs. “Do you ever stop to think about how much you keep Infinity up?” He’s even doing it right now. He doesn’t lower it quick enough, so your fingers meet resistance when going to card them through his hair. “Everything felt turned up to an eleven when I was doing it with Suguru. I can’t imagine what it’s going to feel like for you.”

“I can handle it,” he grumbles with a pout.

“Fine. Do you feel like fooling around right now?”

“Right now?” Satoru squeaks.

“Only if you’re up for it,” you say sweetly.

“Yes,” he breathes out. “Holy shit, yes. I am so ready,” he declares as he rubs his sweaty palms across his shorts.

It feels like you should feel more nervous than you do right now. Then again, you’ve slowly been learning that the littlest things about you turn him on. Letting him see you fully naked doesn’t seem so daunting when you know how attracted he already is to you.

You’re still standing between his legs when you slowly pull your shirt up and over your head, so your breasts are right there in his face when you toss the garment over in the corner of the room. He’s transfixed. There might even be a little drool at the corner of his mouth. But, despite what people may think, Gojo Satoru is a gentleman with his girlfriend and doesn’t touch. His fingers twitch, but he doesn’t move his hands.

“You’re really good when you wanna be, y’know,” you remark amusedly. Interestingly enough, his cheeks turn redder when you tell him that. “You can touch me.” You hear the click of his throat when he swallows. “Is it okay for me to touch you?” He nods silently. “Can I take off your shirt?”

Satoru, while yanking his shirt over his head, says, “How would it even work if I told you no?”

“Maybe you want me to keep my hands to myself while you explore my body!”

His metaphorical ears perk up. “Is that on the table?”

The truth is that you’ve been thinking about this since you found that condom in his wallet and decided to confront him. You wanted something to happen. Not that you’d try to pressure him if he wasn’t ready! But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t hoping this is how things would play out.

“As long as you let me touch you after.” He nods eagerly. You chuckle softly before turning around and flopping back on your mattress. “Okay, then. My body is all yours.”

There’s that panicked expression again. Also, he moves his arm to cover his crotch. “Um…maybe don’t say that again…”

“You know the whole point of this is us being turned on, right? You don’t have to hide it anymore.”

He sighs in defeat before admitting, “I don’t want to come fast and embarrass myself, okay?”

“If you come just from me talking to you then I feel like that’s a sign from the heavens to marry you.”

Your attempts at trying to ease his mind seem to be working because he grins at you when you say that. He closes the distance, putting his hands on either side of your head. “Wait. Keep going. I’m almost there.”

“You’re not really beating those allegations of being whipped that Shoko throws your way.”

“Sorry that I love my Sketch.” You instinctively turn your head away, overwhelmed by the emotions that build inside you when he says that. It was the wrong thing to do because he immediately pounces. “Eh?” He drops down on his elbows, lowering himself so his body presses against yours, and shifts to put his face right in front of yours. “You know the whole point of this is us being turned on, right?”

Figures that he’d throw your words back at you.

“It’s not me getting turned on,” you protest. “I…I’m not used to it yet! I’d react the same way if you said it in a non-sexual setting!”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” he sings. “I think it could totally be both. We should test it out!” And that smirk on his face spells nothing but trouble for your future. “Should I tell my Sketch how much I love her while I’m exploring her body?”

“I’ll give as good as I get,” you hiss. “I swear I’ll make you come so fast, Gojo Satoru!”

“But my Sketch wouldn’t make fun of me for that. She said so.” He’s still smirking smugly, putting his hand on your cheek to guide your head back toward the ceiling. “Because she’s so kind to me.” His face is above yours. “She’s as beautiful inside as she outside.” You squeeze your eyes shut. “All my dreams are coming true because of her.”

“Stop talking about me in the third person,” you stutter., betraying just how flustered you’re getting. “Just stop talking about me period!”

“Why?” One of his hands moves to your thigh, tentatively squeezing. “You like this, right? That’s why you’ve been squeezing your legs together.” You have been. You don’t want to admit it to yourself, but you’ve been trying to ease the pressure inside you, but his stupid waist is in the way.

This is infuriating—how your brain lights up like a firecracker at the praise yet somehow can’t handle it.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m doing it,” you explain slowly as a plan starts forming. You’ll just have to distract him. “Do you want to feel what you’ve been doing to me?”

He audibly gulps.

Satoru learns his lesson about rushing things. Your hunch about his sensitivity had been right. While he has his hand stuck down your shorts, having found a good rhythm after exploring that part of you, you’re on the cusp of orgasm and instinctively try to quiet your noises. Because of your height differences, your face is at his collarbones, so you give your mouth something to do by licking one of his nipples.

He tears you away from orgasm when he tears his hand away to grip at the covers. You pull your face away long enough to see him squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth, but his hips buck and he loses control. His groan is loud, almost sounding pained, but it felt like that for you, too, the first time you came from someone else’s touch.

“I forgot about the tongue piercing,” he wheezes when he’s come down from it.

You don’t remind him that he feels it every single time he kisses you with tongue. Mainly because he’s shoving said tongue back in your mouth as he kisses you roughly. You stop thinking when he shoves his hand back down your shorts and quickly sends you careening over the edge of orgasm soon after.

It happens on a random day in early November.

You’re meticulously going over all the details of a plan you’re going to propose to the higher-ups in a week. You’ve been buried in files, been forced to make potential recruitment calls, and test your math skills with someone from budgeting. You didn’t even know headquarters had a budgeting department. It’s been a test of your patience. No wonder nothing ever gets done. The higher-ups make it as painful as possible to even suggest a plan.

Shoko had dinner with you and Satoru. Though, it was more of a working one for you. Shoko demanded you leave the paperwork behind, but you primly reminded her that this is your apartment, and you’ll do what you want. And after you scarfed down your food, you were right back at the chabudai.

Shoko taps the chabudai, her fist in your field of vision. You glance up at her, blinking. She has her coat on and a cigarette hanging from her lips, ready to be lit and smoked as soon as she leaves. “I’m leaving,” she announces. “Please stop working for the night and entertain your idiotic boyfriend. He’s been watching you like a creep for the last ten minutes.”

Oh. You thought he’d sat down to play his Nintendo DS while you worked. It’s there, on the chabudai, but it’s off. Satoru has an elbow leaned on the table and, as Shoko said, is watching you with a grin. “He does that sometimes. He likes to watch my cursed energy.”

“And you actually believe that?” Shoko shoots back dryly.

“What else would it be?”

“Yeah, Shoko, what else would it be?” Satoru repeats in a mocking tone. “You don’t know me.”

“I do know you. You’re just openly doing the thing you’ve been doing since we were first years—looking at Duck like a lovesick puppy.”

You squint at Satoru who is having a stare down with Shoko. The flush high on his cheeks is a dead giveaway, though. “Well, it is his right,” you defend. “Be thankful we’re not in public.”

Shoko makes a noise of disgust. “He does it there, too.”

“I can’t control where or how he looks.”

“Ugh, I didn’t think it was possible for you to spoil him more.” Then, she throws her hands up in defeat and heads toward the door. “I’m leaving now before I’m sent into a sugar-induced coma by watching you two swoon over each other.”

“Bye!” Satoru and you both shout after her simultaneously.

“See you!” Shoko calls back before the door shuts, so she clearly isn’t that upset about the behavior if she’s not storming out without another word.

It’s too bad Shoko didn’t stick around because her complaint did do something good which is pull you away from work. You lean up to your full height, back popping from being hunched over for so long. Satoru sees this as the perfect opportunity to tackle you to the floor and start peppering your face with kisses.

“Maybe she’s right,” you say between kisses and laughter. “Maybe I am spoiling you.”

“No, you’ve been depriving me of love, actually,” he whines. “And you haven’t even told me what you’re working on.”

“Because I know you’d threaten the higher-ups to accept it.”

“I would not!” He flattens himself against you, digging his chin between the valley of your breasts, pouting up at you. “I’d give them just a little nudge in the right direction.”

You tilt your head back against the tatami. How many times do you have to explain this to him? “I need to earn their trust. Does it make me feel sleazy? Yes. But it has to be done. We need someone on the inside. The whole reason you wanted to teach was to make stronger allies, to get people on your side rather than throw your weight around and scare everyone.” You run your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly as his scalp. “Let me handle the bureaucratic bullshit, alright?”

“Fine,” he agrees with a huff. Clearly, he’s not very upset because he bats his lashes at you, bottom lip stuck out, trying to look as cute as possible. “I still think you should do something to make up for depriving me of girlfriend time.”

Girlfriend time—as if you actually go out that much. Most of the time, you both exist in the same room, doing things that you both love while occasionally bringing the other into it. “Yeah? What do you want for your so-called compensation?”

Then, cheery as anything, he chirps, “I think you should fuck me!”

The weight of the request compared to the silliness as he asks it has your brain stuttering. “Um…like…you want to get off together?”

“I mean—” he scratches the bridge of his nose, “—hopefully that happens in the process. I don’t really know how long I’ll last when I’m inside you, though. I’ll definitely go down on you if I come before you. Or before.” He waggles his brows. “I’d like something savory for dessert.”

Heat rushes across your body. You’re not sure if it’s from arousal or being flustered. “Ugh, don’t…don’t describe me like I’m food—”

“I can be more descriptive if you want?”

“More?”

He nods eagerly. “Oh, yeah. I could wax poetry about your pussy.”

The absurdity of this situation has you dropping your head back and bursting out into laughter. This is such a filthy conversation to have, absolutely ridiculous, but you’re simply overwhelmed with love for him. It’s just so…Satoru. And you don’t know how you got so lucky to have this perverted dork love you the way he does. So brash and blunt yet so considerate and caring, thinking of every detail ahead of time to make sure you’re taken care of and happy.

“Just…just don’t,” you beg through your laughter. “No waxing poetry is needed.”

“Eh? But I made a haiku and everything!”

The fact that you don’t know if he’s serious or not has you laughing harder. “You’re so stupid,” you breathe out while tugging him up so you can get your mouth on his. “I love you so much.” He grins against your mouth. “Let’s go to bed and finally put that condom in your wallet to use.”

By the time you’re back in your bedroom, your shirt and bra are already off. Satoru made a brief detour to the kitchen for his wallet, but he’s nothing if not efficient, so his shirt is also already off when he sprints back to the bedroom with you. Condom wrapper between his teeth, he’s already unbuttoning his pants, too. Chuckling, you close the distance between you two, fingers hooking in his waistband, taking over tugging down his pants for him.

You’re both naked when you fall back on your mattress together. You’re sprawled out, but Satoru is on his knees, bracketing your legs. He claps his hands together and bows his head a little, looking so goofy while doing all this with a hard dick. “Please be gentle with me, Senpai.”

You snort. “You’re literally the oldest here.”

He drops the pose, hunching over so his face is hovering over yours. “But you’re the senpai in sex!”

“I’ve only had sex once.”

“One more time than me.”

In the corner of your eye, you catch the movement of him rubbing his hands against your sheets. Not suspicious at all. You see this for what it is. “Hey,” you whisper as you reach out to touch his cheek. “Are you nervous?”

“Me?” He scoffs dismissively. “No.”

So…yes. You place your hands on his bare shoulders, sliding them around to thread your fingers through the soft, white hair at the base of his neck. “Hypothetically, if you were nervous, then why?”

“Hypothetically,” he stresses as the bravado slips away for something less confident, “I want this to be special for you, and I’m worried I’m not doing that.” He pauses. “Again, purely hypothetical.”

“Purely hypothetical,” you repeat wryly before sighing. “It’s already special because it’s you. There’s nothing more for you to do but be the person I love.”

“Smooth,” he compliments.

Trying to keep the playfulness going to ease his nerves, you shoot him a sly grin. “Don’t worry. Senpai will take care of you.”

“Ooh, we should get your uniform skirt out and get some knee-high socks for you. That’d be so sexy.”

You lean forward to shut him up with a kiss.

It goes like that for a while, the two of you trading sensual kisses as you roll around. At one point, you’re on top, straddling him, grinding to chase after the flickers of pleasure when his cock bumps against your clit. He doesn’t let that last long, rolling over to pin you back underneath him, and he starts sucking bruises into your skin while pinching a nipple between his fingers. You give a ragged breath and cradle the side of his face in a hand.

Slowly, he kisses his way down your body—neck, valley of your breasts, and pausing at your belly. “Now or after?”

You’d really love to come on his cock. Fooling around with Satoru has made you learn you like being full when you come, but you’ve only done this once two years ago. “It’s easier when I’m wet,” you mumble. “And you’re…big.”

Satoru doesn’t even preen at the compliment, too eager to get down to your pussy. You’re not sure what you expected Satoru to be like in bed, but he loves going down on you. The very first time, it turned him on so much that he came in his shorts only after a few thrusts against the bed. And…you love it, too. A lot. Sometimes, it’s been hard for you to get off because you’re so distracted by the callousness of his fingers against your clit, but you don’t feel that with his tongue. But you feel guilty because it takes longer for you to come than him.

It's his first time, though, you think blearily as he yanks you further down the bed so he can drop to his knees on the edge of the mattress. If this is what he wants, then this is what he gets. You gasp softly at the first swipe of his tongue, heart racing with a blend of nervousness and excitement. You instinctively move to bite at your fist to silence yourself—a leftover from the few times you tried getting off when living with your parents. Satoru grabs your wrists before you can, guiding them to clench at the sheets, greedily wanting to hear you.

“Fingers,” you demand breathlessly when your legs start trembling. “Get me ready for your cock.” He moans against your pussy, the vibration making you yelp and unthinkingly clutch at his hair. He moans again and your toes curl. “Fingers,” you insist. All the thoughts just leave his head when he’s got his mouth on you.

Satoru manages to slip three in you before you barrel over the edge. You knew you were excited and turned on, but jeez. Usually, when he licks inside you along with his fingers, that’s never quite enough to finish the job, but not tonight. You end up boxing his head in with your thighs, trembling and arching up from the mattress. You’re blinking stars out of your eyes when he grabs you by the hips and manhandles you back up the mattress so he’s kneeling over you again.

“Should I wait?” Satoru hesitantly asks.

Dazedly, you answer, “Go for it. Just don’t make me try to come.” You hear the crinkle of the condom and lean up on an elbow, watching him rip it open. “Want me to help?”

“I say this with nothing but love in my heart for you,” he starts with a strained smile, “but do not go anywhere near my dick right now. Don’t even look at me. I swear I’m about to bust at just the sight of you looking like that, I’m so serious. All fucked out and like…like an ethereal goddess…”

You flop back on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling with a laugh. “Fucked out, maybe. Ethereal goddess? Now, you’re the one that’s spoiling me.” You spread your legs wider when he touches the inside of your knees, shivering when you hear that little hitch in his breath at the sight of you. “Someone has to be humble in this relationship.”

Satoru says nothing, so you tilt your head up, watching him. Kneeled between your legs, he has one hand still on your knee, absentmindedly running his thumb over the skin. In his other hand, he’s got the condom on and is holding his dick. He’s staring at your pussy with a weird mix of…determination and anxiety?

As your mouth is opening to check on him, he lifts his eyes to meet yours before nervously blurting, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

There’s another reason that he’s more focused on your pleasure than his own. Like in your first year, he had issues with control over Infinity—only around you and Suguru. “Come here,” you beckon while reaching out your arms for him. He flattens himself against your body, putting his face in the crook of your neck. “You won’t hurt me. Your body doesn’t recognize me as a threat, remember?” Satoru has only ever trusted you and Suguru, so deeply that his body acknowledged this truth before Satoru himself figured it out. “But we don’t have to keep going.”

“I want to.” His lips drag across your skin. Intimate like this, your nerves are livewires, sparking at even the lightest touch. “I want to be with you,” he confesses while lacing his fingers through yours. “I want to give this to you.”

Haven’t you already given me everything? Love and trust, above all else. He’s told you that he’s stared at the shape of your soul, but you don’t need his eyes to be able to see his just as well. When you’re with each other, there are no masks. They’re dropped at the door. You are yourselves, true and unabashed. Sketch and Satoru. This is to be known. This is love.

Satoru doesn’t stretch you as much at the first time you did this, but he reaches so much deeper. You keep control of his pace with your nails dug into the skin of his hips, pushing when you need a second to breathe. Just when you think there can’t be much more left, there is. And when he’s buried to the hilt, trembling under your hands, you swear you can feel him in your throat. You gasp, tangling your legs with his.

“Not lasting long,” he warns through gritted teeth.

“Wanna stay there?” You reach down between your bodies, giving an experimental glide of your fingers over your clit. Sensitive, but doable. “I can go again, I think,” you admit breathlessly.

“Yeah?”

Oh, the sound of his voice, husky and seductive, makes you throb. You clutch at him tighter. “Yeah,” you confirm. “You feel so good.”

“Fuck, not as good as you.” He gives an experimental roll of his hips, and you feel the shudder roll through him. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. It feels so good, you have no idea. I never wanna leave your pussy. I wanna die here. This is heaven. Actual heaven.” Your fingers trail across his collarbone, the skin flushed and glistening with sweat. “Please,” he begs. You hum in question. “Please, don’t go near my nipples. Please. I need some of my pride left.”

“Don’t worry. You’re doing so well right now.”

“No, no, no, let’s not do that right now. That is not helping the way you think it is.”

So, the reassurance did not reassure. “Sorry,” you apologize without really feeling sorry. You’re going to tuck that little tidbit away for later. He’s already struggling enough as it is. “You know you can come, though, right? That’s sort of the point. I got mine already.”

“I refuse to be a one pump chump,” he says with a huff.

“I could be really mean right now,” you tease as your fingers glide dangerously close to a nipple. “Is this what it feels like to be the strongest? I think I’m experiencing a power trip right now.”

Satoru snorts. You giggle. Then, the both of you are laughing. “And here I was trying to be serious about all this,” he says through his giggling.

“I don’t want serious. I want Satoru.”

He sighs softly, arching his back to get his mouth on yours. “You’re so romantic,” he whispers against your mouth. “I love you so much, y’know?”

You touch his cheek, smiling shyly. “I love you, too.”

The silliness melts away, tenderness and love remaining. Your earlier plan goes out the window because you don’t want to stop holding his hands when he laces his fingers through yours again, keeping them up by your head. It takes three thrusts before he’s gripping your hands so tight, entire body going tense, and moaning in your ear as he comes. It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard and that is when you pull your hand away to rub at your clit. There’s no more burn of oversensitivity. You’re burning hot for him, and you come almost as fast as he does.

It's a quiet process afterward. He ties the condom off, easily tossing it in the little trashcan by your nightstand. You’re starting to doze when he shifts down on the mattress enough to place his head in the valley of your breasts. You card your fingers through his hair, eyes fluttering shut as you listen to his steady breaths.

“No Reverse Curse Technique tonight,” you mumble, halfway asleep. “Rest your brain.”

“Okay,” Satoru agrees as sleepily as you. “Phone off, too.”

“Good,” are the last words you remember being spoken before you’re drifting off.

#jjk fic #jjk fluff #jjk smut #gojo x reader #geto x reader #satosugu x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo smut #autistic reader #autistic gojo satoru #my fic

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blessedbucky · 1 month ago

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Lil sketch for Beneath the Silk, best fic I've read on Ao3 hands down.

#so anyway i’ve devoured 40 chapters in a day #i’m running on two hours of sleep #i’m obsessed #FERAL #fic rec

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blessedbucky · 1 month ago

Note

Hey! I have just binged your Steve x Bucky x reader series and was super glad to see that you’ve updated it as recently as last year! No rush obviously, just curious if you’re planning to come back to it/if you’ll follow canon up to Thunderbolts or change some stuff to suit the story? Hope you’re having a good time whatever you’re up to, the trio has been keeping me sane for the last few days 😅

Funny thing is that watching Thunderbolts kicked MCU back to the front of my brain and I’ve been working on the next chapter! I’m closer to finishing the next JJK (an anime) chapter so I’m gonna get that out soon then dedicate myself fully to the Civil War update!

As for where the story is headed, I’m planning on the trio’s journey ending at Endgame. But slice of life updates or AUs can always happen after the main story is finished😈

#big plans for the trio hehehehehe #thank you so much for reading and being patient #depression is too real 😔#not the standard unit #taylor answers magical people

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blessedbucky · 2 months ago

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if you don’t think i won’t sit here and spend more time force closing and reopening your app to ignore the ad than the actual ad itself takes to play then you’re sorely mistaken

#if i’m lucky i’ll just rage quit the app #i was born of spite and it fuels my existence #yeah it makes no sense but it doesn’t have to #ads #capitalism #games #apps

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blessedbucky · 3 months ago

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you know you're good at your job when every single person tells you "thank god you're back"

#literally had people CRYING when i was leaving my old position #C R Y I N G #it was an ego boost for sure #my old boss called me a month later secretly bc she needed help with a process #and yes i’m reading and writing fanfic on the clock #reblog

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blessedbucky · 3 months ago

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𝕃𝕚𝕗𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕤 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕞𝕖𝕕 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟.

𝕐𝕠𝕦'𝕣𝕖 𝕗𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕙𝕤 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕒𝕟 𝕦𝕟𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕘𝕟𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕪 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙 𝕤𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕝 𝕤𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥, 𝔾𝕠𝕛𝕠 𝕊𝕒𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕦, (𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕚𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕙𝕦𝕤𝕓𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕒𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕘𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕟 𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕓𝕪 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕪 𝕪𝕠𝕦).

𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕊𝕒𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕦 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕕 𝕖𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕠𝕗 𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝔾𝕖𝕥𝕠 𝕊𝕦𝕘𝕦𝕣𝕦.

𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕥𝕨𝕠 𝕤𝕨𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥, 𝕓𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕟𝕕 𝕠𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕘𝕟𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕪, 𝕪𝕠𝕦'𝕝𝕝 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕗𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕙𝕚𝕞.

𝔸𝕂𝔸, 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕊𝕒𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕦 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕘𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕫𝕫 𝕊𝕦𝕘𝕦𝕣𝕦 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕖 '𝕥𝕚𝕤𝕞.

𝔸𝕆𝟛 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕜

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤

[𝕀.] 𝕟𝕠 𝕓𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕠𝕗 𝕞𝕖 𝕚 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 [𝕀𝕀.] 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕣, 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕚’𝕞 𝕤𝕦𝕡𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖? [𝕀𝕀𝕀.] 𝕚 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕤 𝕒 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕡𝕚𝕠𝕟 [𝕀𝕍.] '𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖, 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕒𝕞 𝕚, 𝕚𝕗 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕖𝕩𝕡𝕝𝕠𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕕? (𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟙/𝟚) [𝕍.] 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖'𝕤 𝕞𝕪 𝕗𝕦𝕔𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞? (𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟚/𝟚) [𝕍𝕀.] 𝕪𝕠𝕦'𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕖 (𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟙/𝟛) [𝕍𝕀𝕀.] 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕒𝕝𝕤𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕖 (𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟚/𝟛) [𝕍𝕀𝕀𝕀.] 𝕗𝕝𝕖𝕖 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕞𝕖, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕚 (𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟛/𝟛) [𝕀𝕏.] 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕟'𝕥 𝕒𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕, 𝕚 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕘𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 [𝕏.] 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖'𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕪 𝕙𝕚𝕕𝕕𝕖𝕟 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕘𝕠𝕣𝕖 [𝕩𝕚.] 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪, 𝕓𝕖 𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕝𝕖, 𝕚𝕥’𝕤 𝕞𝕪 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖

𝔸𝕤𝕜𝕤

𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕒𝕕𝕕𝕖𝕕…

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔹𝕖𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕗𝕦𝕝 ℙ𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖

@ichikanu, @iceheartsice, @anders-is-being-a-simp-again, @lexlibrary, @ziggy0stardust, @svntsbunnie

#story masterlist #wttwggiwfu #my fic #jjk fic #satosugu x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #jjk gojo #jjk geto #gojo satoru #geto suguru #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jjk angst

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blessedbucky · 3 months ago

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ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕏

pairing: autistic!satoru x suguru x autistic!reader

word count: 11.7k

summary: here you are, your final year at tokyo metropolitan curse technical college

tags: autistic!reader, autistic!satoru, everyone is still mentally ill but we're making it through!, we're going through the five stages of grief, a marriage proposal? it's more likely than you think!, megumi and tsumiki make their entrance!, more of that good ole ableism (internal and external), and FLUFF!

beautiful people who asked to be tagged 💕: @ichikanu, @iceheartsice, @anders-is-being-a-simp-again, @lexlibrary, @ziggy0stardust

author note: i said, fuck it, i'm using the banner until i make a goddamn masterlist. at some point i'll have my life together. just like the past arc will be over at some point! it's flooding outside so i'm flooding your hearts in return! comments, like, and reblogs make me forget i live in america! c':

Story Masterlist

[YEAR FOUR]

“Can we talk?”

Famous last words.

It’s not like you didn’t know this would eventually happen.

Still, you’d been lulled into a false sense of security. It’s been months since the last time he refused to meet you at the door. He’s made small talk with you, and it doesn’t sound forced anymore. The last time that you saw him, he even invited you in for some tea with him and the twins. Damn it, you knew you should’ve forced yourself to accept his offer at the time, but you’d been so desperate for sleep. Had it been a test? Was it Suguru’s last-ditch effort to see if your friendship could recover?

It doesn’t matter. Someone like you doesn’t deserve friendship. You can’t do it right. The closer it gets to the start of the term, the more your dead friend haunts your dreams. The rest are pissed off at you. They’ve lost patience with you and your uncooperative body, your broken mind.

Wordlessly, you follow after Suguru.

Loneliness is your fate.

It’s hard when the park is so packed with other parties, but he manages to find a somewhat secluded spot. It’s on the edge of the massive pond that takes up the park. The ground isn’t as saturated with cherry blossom petals here. They still gently drift along the water. It’s pretty. Fleetingly, you think about drawing the scene, but that whim dies as quickly as it came. It’s enough of a feat to crawl out of bed, let alone pick up a pencil.

Suguru is nice enough to spread a blanket out for you two to sit on. He pulls it out of the backpack he brought along with him. It surprises you to see him pull out a notebook and pencil. Is…he going to draw with the girls later? Ah. He probably does it with them at home. Just another reminder of how disconnected you both are now. The string that binds you two is frayed. Today must be the day he’s finally cutting that last little bit hanging on for dear life.

“Here,” Suguru whispers as he offers you the notebook and pencil. You stare at it blankly, confused. You work your jaw, trying to prepare yourself to speak. You don’t want to. It’s hard. “Word are hard.” Your eyes widen as you stare at him. He cringes, shrinking in on himself a little, misreading your reaction as something negative when it’s…just shock. Pure shock because it’s like he plucked the thought right out of your head. “I’m sorry. Was I wrong? I…I know there are days where it’s hard for you to talk and…I thought…I’m sorry.”

You snatch the edge of the notebook before he can fully pull it away. He’s right. He’s right, he’s right, he’s right. Why does he have to know you so well? Can’t he sever the bond cleanly? Does he have to remind you of what you’re about to lose?

Your hands tremble, pages crinkling as you grip harder.

I don’t want to let you go.

Your vision blurs and your entire body trembles now. You hunch over the notebook, tears plopping against the pages, smearing the ink of the lined pages.

When a sob tears its way out of your chest, you drop the notebook and try to hide away. You’ve already done enough. You don’t need to embarrass him. But Suguru cups the back of your head, tugging you forward to press your forehead against his shoulder, limiting the physical contact because he knows you. He knows you. And you hate him. You miss him. You hate yourself. You miss him so fucking much.

“I’m sorry,” he’s whispering when you finally calm your sobbing down enough to hear. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I’ve been so selfish. I was selfish for so long. I know you’re hurting. You have been for so long, haven’t you?” Oh. He’s crying now, too. You feel the drops of his tears on the top of your head. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Forgive me for not being there for you when you needed me the most. I’m sorry for abandoning you.”

You pull your face away enough to breathe in fresh air. “S—” you have to beat your fist against your thigh. This is important. So important. You need to talk. After swallowing the lump that keeps forming in your throat, you manage a hoarse, “I’m sorry for not being stronger.”

Suguru chokes on his own words, trembling harder underneath you. “No,” he manages through his tears. “Squid, no, you’ve been so strong. You’ve had to be so strong for so long. You were giving so much to the rest of us, trying to keep everyone from falling apart, that you left nothing for yourself. I see it now. I’m sorry it took so long. You don’t have to be so strong now. I want to be with—” his grip at the back of your head tightens a little before relaxing. “I want to be back in your life.”

“I hurt you.”

“And I hurt you more.” He laughs wetly. “I forgive you. Is that what you want me to say? There’s nothing to forgive, but I’ll say it. I forgive you. I do. You sacrificed everything to keep me alive and I spat in your face. Thank you for everything you did to save me.”

“Can—” you swallow hard. “Can you believe it when I say it, too?” You realize that you haven’t said the words. Not out loud. It was in your actions, you thought, but you should know better. If there’s anyone who knows that words can get lost in actions, it’s you. “I forgive you, Suguru.”

A shudder ripples through his body. He digs his face harder against the crown of your head, trying to muffle his sob. “I want to get better with you.”

Something in your brain—your heart…it doesn’t want to get better. It rebels against the idea. It thinks you’d be better off going back to that forest, laying down, and sinking down into the ground where you belong. You’re chained to Suguru now, to life, and that festering thing resents him.

This is what Suguru felt like. Grief and guilt were eating away at him, and he was exhausted. He wanted to be swallowed whole because living hurts. It’s hard and it hurts like hell. Maybe he isn’t consciously aware of it, but he’s paying you back. You forced a reason to live on him and he’s doing it in return.

Living hurts, but misery loves company, and you don’t want that for Suguru.

You don’t want him to hurt anymore, but that won’t happen until you stop hurting, too.

What a manipulative asshole.

“I’m sorry.”

This is your last stop on the apology tour. By this point, you’re feeling a little defeated because Shoko and Kento didn’t accept your apology because they claimed there was no need for it in the first place. Shoko had just looked relieved which completely broke you. You didn’t think you had tears left in you after the park, but you were wrong. Then, because she’s nicer than she ever claims you to be, she tugged you forward by your shirt to bump her forehead against yours as a way to hug without much touching.

Satoru has the door to his room wide open, a pocky stick shoved in his mouth. The tilt of his head and squinting at you is a sure sign of confusion. “I’m sorry for being such a bitch,” you rush to explain. “You…you’ve been trying to take care of me…and I was…I’ve been really mean.”

Oh, no. The softening of his features is a bad sign. You can’t get off the hook this easy. Before you can remind him of more of your transgressions, he’s interrupting you. “What are you saying sorry for? Me breathing down your neck?” Your mouth opens, but he shuts you up by shoving a pocky right in your mouth—choco-banana. “I’d get pissed off, too. I know how much I am. I don’t know how you deal with me.”

“You’re not too much, Satoru,” you insist around your pocky. You yank it out before taking a step closer to him, eyes watering with fresh tears. “Please, let me apologize. I should’ve tried harder to talk. Worked harder to be okay for you. I saw how much you were worrying and…and I still let myself be like that—”

Satoru shoves another pocky in your mouth. The softness of his expression has hardened. “Stop hiding yourself from me,” he demands. “I don’t want an act. I want the real Sketch. I don’t want you to have to force yourself to do things that you don’t want to. If you never spoke again or let me touch you again, I’d be okay because that’d be the truest you.” Like almost everyone else today, he leans in, forehead to forehead. “I want every single part of you, even the ugliest ones.”

There’s a twist in your chest. The words are like a shot right through the heart. You don’t know what to do with yourself at his admission. It’s still so…foreign…to be wanted as you truly are. It’s hard for your brain to process that someone is staring at all the ugly, broken pieces of you and saying, I want that. I want it all.

“I want you, too,” you admit through a fresh batch of tears. You’re trying to rub them away, but they’re falling too fast. You’re a mess. He says he wants the ugliness, so he’s definitely getting it now. “I want all of you, too.”

Satoru bumps foreheads again, smiling. “Such a crybaby,” he teases. Gives another solid bump. “Don’t you know I’ll give you anything you want?”

“What did he do now?”

Satoru scoffs loudly as he leans back, tilting his chair backwards to balance on two legs of the chair. “Why’re you assuming I did something?”

Suguru’s head turning in the corner of your eye catches your attention enough to stop glaring at Satoru. Suguru’s lips twitch in amusement before he repeats, “What did he do now?”

The question has you glowering at Satoru again. The bastard sips at his ridiculously flavored soda like he doesn’t have a problem in the world. “He told Ijichi, and this is a direct quote, ‘Give up being a sorcerer. You’re useless. Get your driving license. Or I’ll slap you.’”

Suguru whistles lowly, brows raising. “That bad already, huh? It hasn’t been six months.”

Satoru drops his chair back on all four legs. “Yes!” He continues on, not giving you a chance to defend poor Ijichi. “He’s so bad that Sensei has Sketch on loan from the higher-ups to babysit him on all his missions!” He crosses his arms over his chest as he looks back at you. “You’ve bailed him out every single time. Don’t lie.”

You grimace because it’d be impossible to lie about that when Ijichi makes a public spectacle of giving you a gift as thanks for saving his life again. “He’s…just learning. Not everyone can be gifted like our class. Besides, you were bailing me out all the time during our first year!”

“Yeah, yeah, but you had potential,” Satoru asserts. “I mean, c’mon, that guy’s cursed energy levels are like a drop in the bucket compared to yours.”

Your brows furrow in confusion. He’s not the first to mention this to you. Shoko had said something similar at the start of your second year. “My levels aren’t that much higher than normal.”

“Nah, they actually are. Just as high as Suguru’s, if you wanna know.”

Okay, now he’s just blatantly lying. “Suguru can swallow Special Grade spirits. I think I’d know if my amount of cursed energy was that high.”

“I’m telling you—it is. I see it. You’re just too timid to let it all explode.”

You set the knife that you were using to cut vegetables on the table with a little too much force. “Stop trying to pretend that I’m strong like you all are,” you snap. “I’ve always been the weakest out of our class. You know it, I know it, it’s fine. At this point, pretending that I’m anything more is just you being cruel.”

Suguru senses your shifting mood before Satoru does. “Satoru, drop it—”

“Eh? Why should I? And what’s this about being cruel? I’ve been looking at you with my Six Eyes for four years now. You’re just scared of yourself—”

Finally, you understand the reason for your shifting mood. You know why it feels like something is getting shredded up inside you. You slam your hand on the table, sending food scattering and sauces tipping over. “Because if I was as strong as you say then I should’ve saved Yu! If I’m scared of myself for anything, it’s for being so weak and stupid!”

An uncomfortable silence follows. Too uncomfortable. You refuse to look at them because you know they’ll look at you like the pitiful little thing you are. You want to run. Slip under the covers of your bed. But you promised the twins that you’d have dinner with them tonight. Keeping your head ducked down and teeth gritted, you storm away from the table. There’s no better help to calm down than being around two little girls that are extremely sensitive to moods.

Tapping on Mimiko’s door as warning, you open it enough to poke your head in. They’re surrounded by a large number of plushies that, worryingly, keeps growing in size. You need to talk to Suguru and Satoru about that. The plushies are mostly circular, no limbs for Mimiko to accidentally activate her technique with. It was her technique that was the final straw to the villagers, so she’s terrified to use it now.

No wonder Satoru thought you should coach Mimiko through her fears.

“Can I play?”

Nanako brightens immediately and leaps over her circle of plushies to fling open the door for you. “Miss Squid! Yeah! Come play with us!”

You chuckle, glancing over at Mimiko. “We’re in your sister’s room. Shouldn’t we ask her if it’s okay, too?”

Nanako tries to wave off your words. “Mimiko always wants to play with you.”

“Mimiko does or you do?” You wiggle your wrist away from Nanako’s grasp, instead clasping her little hand in yours to focus her attention on you. “You always want to ask someone if they want to do a thing with you. That’s why I asked if I could play. I was asking you and Mimiko. Sometimes, people want to be alone. Or maybe Mimiko only feels good being around you for the day. That’s an okay thing to feel. We always want to ask to see how you’re feeling, okay?”

Her nose scrunches up. You’re worried that you made it too complicated, but she sighs dramatically. “I guess.” She puts her hands on her hips, scowling at the door. “But tell that to Satchan, too! He never asks if he can come inside! He pops in the kitchen and eats our snacks!”

Satoru might be doing it on purpose, you don’t tell her. He was very offended that you’re Miss Squid and Suguru is Mister Suguru while they gave him an informal Satchan. You don’t know where they came up with the nickname, but it’s stuck. You think it’s cute. Satoru thinks it’s too cute for a grown man.

“Okay. I’ll talk to him, too.” Finally, you look over at Mimiko, smiling gently at her. “Is it okay if I play with you?”

“Yes.” Mimiko hesitates before shyly adding, “Thank you for asking if it’s okay.”

Your smile grows and you walk over to sit down next to her.

Satoru doesn’t question your decision to spend the night. Before he leaves, he does look at you like a kicked puppy, but it doesn’t work on you. Not right now. You need time to put this back in the box you’ve slowly been constructing over the months. It’s still flimsy, easily torn open by something as small as what happened before dinner.

You’re on the couch and it’s one in the morning. You’re mindlessly flipping through channels, volume low, hoping there might be something interesting enough to keep your mind from straying. It’s not working out for you. Maybe you should’ve forced Satoru to hand over his Game Boy as compensation.

Behind you, a door quietly opens and closes. It’s not a surprise when Suguru settles down at the other end of the couch. You expected as much. You’re only surprised that he waited this long to get out of bed and come talk to you. Still flipping through channels, you wait for the cliché inspirational speech that he’s probably been trying to prepare. He might mix it up and give you sickly sweet words of comfort.

Instead of what you expected, Suguru leads with, “You have a really gentle heart, Squid.”

“You don’t have to remind me,” you whisper. “It would’ve been better if I just stayed behind in the village. I could’ve worked in the fields with my parents.” You sigh irritably, frustrated with yourself. “Vegetables can’t hurt my feelings.”

“I think your heart would’ve been wasted on vegetables.”

You look down at the space between you two when you hear the slide of something against fabric. His hand rests there, palm facing up. You turn your head back toward the television, wanting so badly to resist him. If this keeps going, you’ll cry, you know it. Not everything is back in the box.

In the end, you cave. You always do with Suguru.

And just like you predicted, your bottom lip starts to wobble when you thread your fingers through his and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

“I think it’s very brave and you have to be very strong to have a gentle heart in such an unkind world.”

“You might be the only person who thinks that way,” you reply through hitching breaths.

“Haibara thought that way.”

Suguru never plays fucking fair.

Late in summer, nearing the year anniversary of Haibara’s death and your subsequent near-death experience, Satoru is practically glued to the sides of you and Suguru. It’s gotten to the point where you were so worried about him stretching himself too thin between all the warping, worrying, and missions that you hijacked Nanako’s room so you and Suguru are, at least, in the same place now. It’s fine. Nanako ends up in Mimiko’s room most nights, anyway.

September comes and your mood, along with Suguru’s, starts to backslide. There was this American song that Satoru picked at karaoke during your first year to show off his English skills. You’re reminded of it now. Wake me up when September ends. If only. If fucking only.

Your misery is in company, though. More than you thought you’d have when the semester started. When you and Satoru never leave Suguru’s apartment during the first week of September, you think you both wordlessly decide that you’re going to spend the entire month there.

Briefly, you worry about Shoko, about Nanami, but they’re distracting themselves with Ijichi. They spend the month trying and succeeding in peer pressuring Ijichi into driving them around the city, into taking weekend trips. He’s working on his learner’s permit, so they reason with him that this is just more practice. He’s only supposed to practice in his driving class, but practice is practice, they say.

You theorize that Nanami is so invested in Ijichi because it’s keeping Ijichi from sorcerer work. Nanami never wants blood in his eyes again.

The week before Haibara’s death anniversary, your anxiety skyrockets. It’s never enough to be an attack, but it hits you out of nowhere. You’ll just be looking through some documents that your real estate agent sent you about apartments and your heart will start racing for no reason. Your brain will be on high alert. No threat but the paper on the table in front of you. You try to be quiet about it.

You don’t think you’re hiding it very well because Nanako takes up Satoru’s place beside you on the futon. Mimiko follows after her in the middle of the next night. It helps you keep your head on straight. You have to focus really hard on keeping your mind calm because you can’t start sobbing with two little bodies curled around the front and back of you. It would wake them up and put unnecessary weight on their shoulders.

On the night of the anniversary, while you’re helping bathe the girls, Mimiko shyly requests a bedtime story. It’s a request you’ve never heard out of them before. You thought you knew all their nightly routines, but maybe Suguru forgot to mention it? Worried that you’ve been disrupting their peace, you assure her you’ll get Suguru before bed.

“You,” Mimiko insists with a force you’ve never heard from her before. “I miss your voice,” she adds in a mumble. All that confidence from her goes as quickly as it came.

So, not subtle at all with your anxiety. You hadn’t even realized that you were talking less.

You’re not good at coming up with things like stories on the spot, but you have a compromise. When you three are settled on the futon, one head on your chest and the other on your stomach, you recount memories of your childhood with Suguru. You talk about the adventures you two would go on to find him spirits to swallow. They listen to it all. No complaints. And on the cusp of sleep, Mimiko makes you swear that you’ll take her to Osorezan.

Silence settles in after they drift off to sleep. Even the world outside seems muffled now. It is only you and the steady breaths of Mimiko and Nanako that lulls you into…a state of calm. Not peace, not rumination inside your head, just…calm. Time passes slowly with you waiting for something.

Something that you don’t realize you’re waiting for until Satoru’s cursed energy explodes in the middle of the apartment. You hear the creak of Suguru’s bedroom door as it opens, but it doesn’t close like it should. Suguru doesn’t like to sleep with his door open. A leftover of his childhood. An open door being closed bring too much attention to someone trying to hide from a raging father.

Before your phone blinks to life, you’re already debating doing it. Get in here, Satoru’s text reads. You chew at the inside of your cheek, struggling with your yearning to go to them and your guilt screaming at you that you don’t deserve such a thing. You wait too long because another text comes through. I know you’re awake.

Then, the nail in the coffin lights up your phone. Come here, Suguru demands.

Alright. Well, they’re insisting, so…

Very carefully, you peel yourself away from the girls. They stir when you gently move their heads down onto their pillows but quickly settle. You tiptoe out of the room, gliding down the hall to Suguru’s. Just a moment, you hesitate, but you step past the threshold.

You are so tired.

There is a space between their bodies that you crawl up on the bed to lie between. Surprisingly, Suguru is the one to make the first move. You don’t think he nudges you, but you end up on your side, his massive body pressing in behind yours. He draws his knees up in the bend of yours, pelvis pressed against your ass, arm wrapping around your waist, head perched on the top of your head.

Satoru slides forward, chest pressed to yours, knees bumping. The tips of his fingers, cold as ice, touch your cheek. His feet touch yours, as equally cold. A furnace behind you, a block of ice in front of you. It’s weird how they balance each other out. Even weirder that you’re not overwhelmed by being so crowded. Sometimes, you can’t help but think that they’re as familiar to you as your own body is and that’s why they can touch you so much more freely than anyone else.

As Satoru keeps petting your face, glinting blue eyes watching you as he does, your own slowly close. You find yourself drifting to that place you were in with the girls. You are both present and not—enough to not let your mind roam to places it doesn’t want to be but not enough that you’re overwhelmed. You feel like a blank slate, being chiseled away at to match what they want you to be right now. You mold yourself to their bodies and, at some point, your breathing matches theirs.

Or…maybe it’s you all are becoming one with each other. Pushing and pulling until there’s synchrony. Suguru is the one to curl around you. Satoru’s skin warms. As your breath matches theirs, their breaths match each other, match yours.

Before floating off completely, you remember last July.

Remember the softness of Suguru’s face as your naked bodies were pressed together, soaked in sweat yet satisfied. The morning after, the darkness under his eyes was a little lighter. You’d been a little less worried about him. It’d been nice. And you have that same thought now.

Yes, this is peaceful enough.

On the morning of the year anniversary of your near-death experience, you debate on whether to keep yourself scarce around Suguru or not. While you don’t want to remind him of what happened, if you stay away then that might give him the wrong impression. Either option poses a risk, but you decide to treat it like any other normal day. Maybe if you’re calm enough, it can radiate out to infect him.

Like any other day, you motivate yourself as you’re putting on clothes after your shower. After you dropped the girls off at therapy, you went on an assignment with Ijichi. The curse exploded, blood splattering all over you. Yes, you know the blood crumbles away, but it’s about knowing it was there, so you always try to shower after missions. It was relatively quick, so Suguru was still in bed when you came back.

There’s coffee on. That, combined with the shower running, you were sure that it’d wake Suguru up. Your hunger is getting close to the point of being painful. Yesterday, he said he’d take you out to breakfast. You’re worried that he’s still not up, so you go to his room, hesitantly knocking on the door.

“Sugu—”

What happens next is a whirlwind that makes your head spin. The door that you’re leaned against is flung open, making you lose your balance and tip forward. You don’t hit the ground because your wrist is snatched, and you’re tugged forward against a very solid chest. You don’t even have the chance to look at his face because he spins you around quickly, crowding you forward until the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress.

Sprawled out on the bed now, you try to lean up on an elbow, finally looking at Suguru. His eyes are wild with panic, just like his hands are when he straddles you on the bed and starts shoving your shirt up. You yelp at his insisting cold fingers and catch his hands. “Suguru!” You struggle to keep his hands still. He tilts his head up, moving his gaze away from your torso to stare at you directly. “Suguru,” you repeat his name. “What’s wrong?”

His breaths are tight, fast. “I need to see it’s not there,” he pleads. “I need to know you’re not hurt.”

“I’m not,” you insist while motioning toward your exposed torso. You understand what’s going on now. You can’t count how many times you’ve woken up, the smell of blood and flesh rotting in the hot sun in your nose. “See? There’s nothing.” You guide his hands to set them on your abdomen. Shoko made it in time to prevent scarring. He runs his fingers across your exposed, smooth skin. “I’m okay. It’s okay now. It’s over.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers hoarsely. He squeezes his eyes shut tight, but tears slip down his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve hurt you so much. Forgive me. Please, forgive me. I don’t deserve it, but I’m so sorry. Don’t leave me, please—”

You grab him by the shoulders, yanking him down until his chest smacks against yours. You slip an arm around his back, the other threading through his hair. “I’m not leaving,” you assure him. He’s so warm against you. “I forgive you. I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it. I forgive you.”

It’s the first week of October when Satoru announces, “I want to do something.”

Here’s the thing about Satoru—he’s brash and entitled. That’s just never going to change. It’s better than it was when you first met him. What happened last year with you seemed to really humble him. With all that said, he’s only the most considerate with you and Suguru and, even then, it’s more that he gives you a choice to come along with him. In the end, he’s still going to do whatever it is that he wants to do. These days, he’ll sometimes warn everyone what he’s doing, but most times, he doesn’t. He doesn’t know the meaning of the word permission.

You know whatever he wants to do right now is going to be bad. Really bad. It’s all about Satoru’s wording there. Saying that he wants to do a thing rather than he is going to do a thing. It’s almost as if he’s asking for your permission. And by asking for your permission, he’s also making you culpable.

Not like that matters anymore, you being an accessory to potential crimes and all. You’ve already lied to the higher-ups. You’ve already, for all intents and purposes, brainwashed the higher-ups. You’re not sure there’s a crime worse than that other than straight up slaughtering them all.

Alright, fine, you’re simply frustrated because these plans of his always end up with you having the most massive headache.

You sigh, resigned to your fate and already feeling drained. “What did you do now?”

“Nothing!” At your deadpan stare, he hunches in on himself, going on to defensively mutter, “Nothing yet. Jeez, cut me some slack, Sketch.”

Yeah, there it is. “Fine. What areyou going to do?”

“…adopt a kid.”

You promptly choke on the plum Fanta that he went out of his way to hunt down for you at two different konbini. In hindsight, you should’ve known he was trying to butter you up. No, no. You’re getting distracted. What did he just say to you? What the fuck did he say?

Satoru slaps you on the back to help clear your airway. Through your coughing, he rushes to explain. “Look, right before he died, Zen’in Toji told me he had a son that was going to be sold off to the Zen’in clan within a few years—”

Are you finally having that brain aneurysm? Words are coming out of his mouth, but they don’t make sense. “You…want to adopt the son of the man that almost killed you?” That did kill him, however briefly that death was, but you don’t say those words out loud.

Satoru rests his chin in the palm of his hand, watching you with a look that’s more curious than anything. “I didn’t expect you to be the type to hold the sins of their father against them.”

“It’s not—” you sigh irritably, not wanting to concede that he’s right. Your kneejerk reaction is somewhat because of that. But there’s more to it than that. “This isn’t like Nanako and Mimiko’s situation. We had to get them out of there. If they stayed there, they would’ve died. Why are you doing this? Just to stick it to the Zen’in clan? You can’t collect kids like one of your Digimon figurines.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, he pouts. Not exactly helping his case against your argument. You want to give him the benefit of the doubt, but you’re worried that he’s going about this all too fast, getting too impatient. He…he can be a little careless when it comes to other people. That’s not a good thing to be with a child.

Something about what you said to him strikes a nerve because he flatly says, “They’ve been alone for the last year.”

“They?”

“Fushiguro Megumi and his stepsister, Fushiguro Tsumiki. Zen’in Toji took his wife’s surname. Whoever the wife was, she ditched the kids along with him, if she’s even alive. I can’t imagine being married to that guy was safe.” How do you know all this? “I’ve had the clan watching them, poking around for information,” he answers before you can even ask the question.

“But how could they be alone? It’s been a year. Someone must’ve said something to the government by now—”

“How’d Nanako and Mimiko end up alone?” Right. He’s right. Sorcerer or not, people are always falling through the cracks. “I know the Zen’in have been sniffing around, too. Someone with their clan stops by once a week, making sure they’re fed. They’re probably trying to butter the kid up.”

He’s serious about this. Satoru is actually, genuinely serious about this. “Why are they so interested in this boy, anyway? I know that Zen’in Toji walked away from the clan, technically, but they didn’t chase after him. They didn’t want him. Why do they want his son now?”

“Zen’in Toji was an anomaly in the system. For as much as he hated them, though, he was still a Zen’in. Anyone with their blood has the potential to manifest the clan’s inherited technique. You remember it, right?” You nod. There are many techniques in the clan, but the Ten Shadows is coveted. Not many can match a Gojo with Limitless and the Six Eyes, but a fully realized sorcerer with the Ten Shadows? That’s dangerous for a Gojo. “The kid manifested that technique.”

“Shouldn’t he be with people who can teach him more about his technique?” You grimace as you ask the question.

He snorts. “You know what sucks about having a really famous technique that’s been in your clan for hundreds of years? It’s that everyone knows how it works. Same principle with all the other clans.” You’re still skeptical. It must show on your face. “How do you think that kid’s old man got the best of me?”

After all this back and forth with him, he still hasn’t answered the most important question. “Why are you doing this, Satoru?”

Satoru turns away from you, head tilting up to stare at the setting sun. “Fushiguro Megumi is going to be strong. He could be as strong as me. I want that. We need that if we’re going to tear down everything and start over.” He pauses. “But…it’s more than that. This kid should have a choice in what happens to his life. The Zen’in want a weapon. No one should live that way. I didn’t know how…” His brows furrow as he tries to properly articulate himself. “You looked me in the eye and told me I was stupid for believing I was only meant to be a weapon. All the money in the world couldn’t compare to how it felt when I heard you say my name,” he confesses. “This kid shouldn’t have to sit around and hope that one day he’ll meet someone like you.”

There’s that twist in your chest again. It leaves you breathless and shaky. Giddy and warm. It’s such a complicated thing. So big that it makes you want to run and hide from him when he makes such bold declarations like this about you. Once upon a time, you were convinced that you were a stupid, freakish hick from a village that would stick to your best friend’s side until he grew out of you. You still think that.

Why is someone as important as Satoru so insistent that you’re something special?

Am I really worth all this?

Satoru always answers yes.

Tears stinging the corners of your eyes, you give a shaky laugh. “How am I even supposed to respond to that?” Face warm, looking everywhere but him, you reach down to lace his fingers through yours. “Okay.” You’ve made your decision. “Okay, I’ll help you give this boy a chance.”

As if you were going to end up anywhere else.

A pair of brown eyes blink up at you.

Déjà vu.

This little girl hasn’t been physically beaten, at least, but you stop that line of thought as soon as it floats across your mind. The Fushiguro siblings and the Hasaba twins are each a side of the same coin. These siblings may not have any physical scars, but the mental scars are there. After all, to be willingly abandoned by the people meant to love and protect you…isn’t that another form of violence?

That same fierce protectiveness that you’d felt on the night you first saw the twins is pressing in again. You have to remind your body that there’s no physical threat here. There are only ghosts here now and the children haunted by them. You can’t speak to her brother, but Tsumiki reeks of loneliness. She’s worryingly trusting, happy to invite you in even before you introduce yourself as someone like her brother.

She insists on you sitting at the kitchen table while she makes tea. Tries to, anyway. “We haven’t gotten our groceries from Megumi’s family yet,” she explains apologetically. “You and your friend can have the last tea bags! If Megumi gets mad, don’t worry! I’ll make sure to take the blame!”

Satoru already explained the plan. He used the word adopt very loosely. If the siblings both agree to come under Satoru’s wing, under his protection, then a caretaker from the Gojo clan will come live with them. Is the Gojo caretaker in Tokyo yet? You don’t want to leave these children alone. It’s been less than ten minutes with Tsumiki and you’re already making plans on how to sneak her into your dorm room until you sign the lease on an apartment.

“Ah, Megumi’s home!” Tsumiki announces brightly after she throws open the window of their apartment.

Not even twenty-years-old and you’re going to be looking after four children.

What a weird little life you’ve come to have.

“Is there a reason we can’t celebrate here?”

Satoru is absolutely scandalized by the suggestion. If he had pearls, he’d be clutching at them tightly to his chest. How is this drama queen your best friend? “What kinda lame shit is that? Sketch, c’mon!”

Shoko takes a drag of her cigarette, blowing out smoke before she passes it on to a grateful Kento. After that trip they took in September, he came back a smoker. Not only has she passed the bad habit to Suguru, but now Kento! She ignores your scathing glare. Next to you, Suguru chuckles lowly, and then pulls out his own carton of cigarettes because he thinks he’s such a cheeky little bastard, doesn’t he?

“Oh, but celebrating with your stuffy clan is somehow less lame?” Shoko shakes her head. “Hard pass, Gojo. Why are we even here, anyway?” She gestures toward herself and Kento. “You’ve never invited us to your birthday before. It’s always Duck and Geto.”

“Oi, Nanamin likes my clan.”

Kento sighs, and he’s close enough to Satoru that the smoke gets in his face. Satoru gives an exaggerated cough. “I appreciated that they took things more seriously than you. That doesn’t mean I liked them. Now, please answer Ieiri’s question. Why am I even here?”

That’s also an answer you’d like to hear because Shoko is right, after all. Even when you and Suguru were fighting, you both put your pride aside to stay with Satoru at the Gojo estate. You’d both been painfully polite, things had been awkward, you’d hardly spoken, and you’d slept on a futon on the floor rather than in the bed, but you’d been there. That’s how it’s always been since you started high school.

“It’s our last year!” Satoru says with a pout. “Everyone is splitting up after we graduate!”

Everyone sighs in perfect unison which only makes Satoru huffier. “Satoru,” you start patiently, “have you forgotten that you’ll be in school with Suguru and Shoko?”

Satoru blinks. “What?” He looks at Shoko. “Since when? I thought you were going to medical school in Kyoto.”

“Oops,” is all Shoko says, clearly having forgotten to tell Satoru. Admittedly, you forgot, too. You’ve spent so much time with Satoru and Suguru this year that it’s hard to remember the days where you haven’t been with them. You assumed that he’d been part of that conversation.

Even Kento is surprised, watching her with raised brows. Respecting him more than Satoru, she explains her decision. “Tokyo has the better school.”

Suguru and you share a look, but you turn your head away, lips pursing. Shoko’s lying, but it’s not your place to correct her. Her business is her own—that’s what she’d snapped at you when she’d announced her plans, and you’d poked too much at her flimsy excuse. Things haven’t gotten better with Utahime. You’re the only one Utahime trusts to talk to casually to now, but neither she nor Shoko have told you what their blowout was truly over. It can’t be only about a rejection. There has to be more.

“More importantly,” Suguru speaks up in a wry tone, “I can’t leave the girls alone for a weekend.”

Satoru brightens. “We can bring them with us! They can finally meet Megumi and Tsumiki!” Another sigh from everyone. “Hey, what’s with this attitude? What’s wrong with that?”

“We’ve only been around them for two months,” you point out. “We shouldn’t overload them with new places and unfamiliar people.” He opens his mouth to protest. You stop him immediately because you’ve had this argument with him before. “They need stability.”

“Not everyone is as flippant as you,” Kento bluntly says. Satoru’s sputtering response is once again disregarded because Kento’s phone pings. Yours chimes not even a minute later, giving away who is on the other end. Kento doesn’t even look at the text. He turns toward you. “I’ll supervise Ijichi this time, Senpai.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to overwork yourself and you’re already at five missions in a row with him,” you fret.

“Gojo’s been more unbearable lately,” Kento deadpans.

Shoko and Suguru laugh at poor Satoru’s expense. “Good idea, Nanami,” Shoko praises. “Sucks I’m not allowed to be in active combat, or I’d do the same.” She pulls out her cell phone, glancing at the screen. “I’m getting lunch with Mei. Duck, Geto, talk some sense into Gojo before he scars these kids for life.” As she’s walking away, she says loudly enough, so you can all hear, “I can’t believe he wants to be a teacher. I worry for the future of any kids under him.”

“This counts as bullying, Ieiri!” Satoru shouts after her. When she’s out of sight, he puffs his cheeks out in indignation. “This is what I get for trying to be a nice guy. And neither of you defended me, either! I thought you’d be proud that I was trying to include everyone!”

“It wasn’t the most well-thought-out plan, but your heart was definitely in the right place,” you reassure him. You mean that, really. Suguru gives his own silent praise by gently stroking Satoru’s hair. Satoru leans into the touch, his metaphorical tail wagging. It’s cute. They’re cute. It should be criminal to be that cute.

Satoru has been on the bench this entire time. As soon as Suguru started stroking his hair, he leaned over to press himself against Suguru’s side. Because of the angle, Satoru can see what’s behind you. Suguru’s had his eyes on Satoru, expression soft, but he blinks to awareness when Satoru wonders aloud, “Who do you think the normies are?”

In that moment, someone else says your name.

Dread drops like a heavy stone in your belly.

You pray that in the time it takes you to turn around, the world will right itself. You hope that your brain is playing tricks on you and that that they won’t actually be standing there. You’re not that lucky, though. Unfortunately, you’re still as sane as ever, and they’re actually here.

You don’t know how or why, but your mother and father stand before you.

As soon as your mother has your attention, she throws herself forward to wrap her arms around you. You tense under the sudden contact. It feels…foreign now. Then again, it always did. You can’t even remember the last time your father hugged you. Your mother used to be more physically affectionate, but it tapered off. It was easier to just not touch you at all rather than deal with a potential tantrum if you were having a bad day.

“Hi, honey,” your mother whispers in your ear before kissing your temple.

“Hello, Mother,” you respond awkwardly.

Chin on her shoulder, you watch your father watch you, giving a nod of acknowledgement before glancing behind you. “Suguru,” he greets stiffly. Just as curtly, Suguru returns the greeting. Your father’s mouth thins the longer he keeps scrutinizing Suguru. “I hope you’re not smoking, too,” your father says to you, clearly disapproving of Suguru’s habit.

“You’re here to do the exact same thing,” you shoot back testily. He is, he’s pulling the carton out of his pocket right now. “What does it matter if it’s now or in three months after graduation?”

Your mother sighs softly before stepping away, pity on her face. “Are you having a bad day?”

And, ugh, the way that she asks it. To you, it’s always felt like your mother thinks you stopped aging on the day that you got your diagnosis. It hasn’t even been five minutes, and your nerves are already shot, being continually grated on by the presence of your parents. The tips of your ears are starting to burn in embarrassment. Suguru may be used to your parents, but Satoru has never met them. It’s almost an unspoken rule between the three of you to speak of your parents as little as possible.

Your father sighs your mother’s name, exasperated. “Don’t coddle her. She can’t act this way at the meeting.”

“Meeting?”

Your mother and father glance at each other then back to you. “Yes,” your father starts slowly. “On December seventh,” he goes on as if that’ll jog your memory of something you don’t know about. When he only receives the same blank stare, his brows raise in genuine surprise. “Did you not get the proposal?”

The dread in your stomach spreads, slithering through your veins like ice. “Proposal,” you repeat flatly. “What proposal?”

“Oh, wow,” your mother laughs nervously. “The messenger did say they liked to do things the old-fashioned way,” she reminds your father before turning back to you with a smile. “Okay, it’s fine. Everything is fine. Why don’t we discuss this with your boyfriend and his father? We’re staying with his clan right now.”

“Boyfriend?” You, Suguru, and Satoru repeat with the same high-pitched alarm.

Your parents are as perplexed as you three are. Your mother shrinks under the volume of your voices, so your father takes over, calling out your name. It’s spoken sharply, with that expression that means he won’t tolerate you getting hysterical. He’s always had little patience with a diagnosis he still refuses to believe in. Time away has given you little patience for him, too, and you need to know what the fuck he’s talking about.

“Father,” you snap back. “What are you talking about?”

“Zen’in Naoya is offering a marriage proposal,” your father finally clarifies. You wish he hadn’t. Panic is shooting through you faster than the dread. “They want to meet to discuss the details on December seventh. They’re housing us at their estate, so we don’t have to pay for a hotel in the city. They even offered to dress us for the important occasion.”

You’re positive your brain is broken because, out of all the things, your brain gets stuck on one detail. “I have plans on that day,” you blurt. “It’s Satoru’s birthday.”

Your mother’s head tilts to the side. “Satoru?”

“Mine and Suguru’s best friend,” you elaborate dumbly.

After lighting his cigarette and taking a few puffs, your father’s gaze slides back behind you. “Suguru, can you take your friend so we can speak to our daughter alone?”

As much as you’d like to run away with them from this conversation, you’re afraid of what will be done on your behalf if you don’t put your foot down. You look over your shoulder at them, nodding in agreement with your father. Suguru does what he’s always done around your parents—bite his tongue and grit his teeth. Same as you’d done with his. Someone getting involved in family affairs always made things worse.

Satoru clearly isn’t happy. His fists are clenched and he’s visibly angry, but Suguru takes him by the upper arm. Suguru leans in to whisper something quietly. You nod with whatever Suguru is saying. Satoru is still pissed off, but when Suguru starts pulling him away, he goes.

They don’t go far, though, because of course not. Enough to get out of sight but still be close enough to hear the conversation with your parents. Perks of being born a sorcerer is slightly enhanced senses. You can sense their cursed energy, lingering around the corner, fluctuating wildly with their emotions. You doubt yours is much better.

“Honey, can’t you just ask your friend to move around your plans?” Your mother takes your hand. You grit your teeth against the contact. “If he’s really your best friend, he’d want the best for you. This is your future we’re talking about.”

You shake your head, wrenching your hand away from hers. “I already have my future planned out,” you hiss. “I’m about to put an offer in on an apartment! I have a job lined up for when I graduate!” They’re both stunned. Good! You want them to be! You want them to see how far you’ve come! “I’m not getting married, especially not to Zen’in Naoya. He’s not my boyfriend. I’ve only met him once, actually, and he was the biggest asshole I’ve ever met!”

“You’re getting hysterical for no reason,” your father says dismissively. “I don’t know where your manners went in the last four years, but I know you did something right around the boy if he’s asking to marry you.”

“I’m allowed to be angry when I’m not even given the courtesy of knowing about my own marriage proposal,” you snarl.

Your father shrugs. “Marriage proposals traditionally go through the parents, you know that.”

“You shouldn’t base your opinion of someone after one meeting,” your mother tries to soothe. “But, honey, I need you to really think about your future. They’re a very wealthy clan. They offered the family a…large amount of money. We’re not only going to be taken care of, either. You will be, too. You need that.”

“I can take care of myself! I’ve been doing it for the last four years! Did I not just say that I’ll have my own apartment and a job soon?”

Your father scoffs. “Suguru needs to live his own life. He won’t be taking care of you anymore after graduation.”

“I know you’re doing good right now,” your mother starts while putting her hands on your shoulders. “And I’m so proud of you for that. But I don’t think you understand how much work it is to live on your own. How long before it all gets to be too much for you? I know how you are. You’re going to get overwhelmed. I really doubt that your new job is going to be accommodating to your condition.”

Why does she have to keep doing that? This has always been one of your biggest insecurities. Yes, you’re going to have bad days, but who doesn’t? Maybe you have a lot more than a normal person, but you’ve been doing fine until now. You…yeah, okay, you’ve had Shoko and Suguru to help you, but…you’re prepared! You have a notebook you plan to use to write down all the due dates for your bills when you’ve got the utilities set up.

You’re not helpless.

You…you’re not…

Your mother sees the doubt and keeps hammering it home. “We’re not expecting you to get married so soon, of course not. You should get to know him, though. If you married into this clan, you’d never have to work a day in your life. They have workers on their estate that do all the cleaning. The only thing that you’d have to be is a good wife. Nothing else. You could do your art, I’m sure, as long as it’s not those little drawings you used to do. That might be too much, but you could keep yourself busy with drawing something natural, right? I want you to be taken care of. That’s all your father and I want for you.”

“We’re meeting with them regardless,” your father declares with an air of finality. “They’ve paid for kimonos for you and your mother, a yukata for me, and they’re housing us. It’s the least you can do.”

“It’s going to be so nice,” your mother gushes. “The kimono are beautiful. I can’t wait for you to see the ofurisode that they got for you. Oh, and Naoya’s mother already let me have a peek at the menu. The main course is going to be grilled octopus with a ginger miso butter—”

“Seriously?!”

Satoru’s booming voice echoing in the air has you and your mother yelping. Your father’s eyes narrow at what’s behind you which you can only guess is Satoru stomping back over toward the three of you. His cursed energy is a frenzy, more unstable than you’ve ever seen from him before. You’re not trying to resonate with him, but his rage is palpable. You whip your head around so fast that it puts a crick in your neck, watching as Suguru tries to hold him back, but no one can stop Gojo Satoru when his mind is dead set on something.

“Satoru—” you start in a placating tone, only to be interrupted by him.

“Do you even give a shit about her?” Satoru demands to know of your parents. His stature and fury have your mother scurrying back to your father’s side. Stubborn until the end, your father doesn’t balk at Satoru’s anger. “Seriously? Have you paid any attention to her all these years? If you cared, even a little bit, you’d know that she can’t stand wearing an ofurisode! You’d know that she fucking hates octopus! These are basic facts about her!”

Your father remains indifferent. As a non-sorcerer, it’s not like he can feel Satoru’s cursed energy. And…you suppose that he’s gotten good at ignoring your breakdowns. He’s probably brushing Satoru off as hysterical, too. “Do you expect us to throw these things back in the Zen’in clan’s face?”

“Yes!” Satoru answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I know how loaded their clan is! Replacing a kimono is just a drop in the bucket! There’s two days to get them to change the menu to something she likes, but I bet you don’t even know what she likes to eat! You don’t know anything about her! Who the fuck do you think you are to show up and talk to her like this? You’re just bulldozing over everything she says, making her think that she’s some helpless maiden that can’t even lift a pinky without hurting herself or some shit!”

Your mother nervously tries to defend herself, “We want what’s—”

“Why are you really doing this?” Satoru continues, completely ignoring her. “Is it the money? Are you just whoring your kid out because they threw a bag of money at you? Because that’s what you’re doing! You can’t come into our world, acting like you know a goddamn thing when you don’t. My clan’s been in a pissing match with them for centuries. We know all their dirty little secrets and those guys would treat her like a glorified baby machine. That’s all women are good for in their eyes. Does that sound like the kinda place you’d want your daughter in?”

“Sounds like you’re biased, then,” your father remarks dryly. Satoru’s flush deepens as his anger only builds in response to your father’s apathy. Your father has that effect on people, yes. “I don’t know you. I don’t know your clan. If your clan has a sliver of the wealth that the Zen’in does, then you can never understand my family. Money is security. It’s freedom.”

“You’re trading her freedom for yours,” Satoru snarls. “You’d have her nail a mask on her face and dance for people that don’t love her and never will. The only ones that would fit in perfectly there are you. You’re all the same, making her feel terrible just because she doesn’t fit your bullshit definition of normal. If you want to be like them so bad, then here.” Satoru flings something directly at your father’s face. The sleek, black credit card that his family gave him when he left for school nails your father right between the eyes. “There’s your freedom. Spend as much as you want. It’s all chump change to me if it gets you to fuck off and get off her back.”

And that’s it. Satoru always makes sure to have the last word. He snatches your hand and you almost trip over your feet trying to keep up with his long, furious strides. Suguru’s parted mouth, probably a reflection of your own, snaps shut. He tries to dodge out of Satoru’s war path, but Satoru grabs Suguru’s hand, too. You can almost see the steam blowing out of his ears and he’s angrily muttering under his breath as he drags you both along behind him.

“Those are your parents, Sketch?” Satoru is disgusted and in disbelief. “How did someone like you come from people like that?”

“Uh…probably because I had Suguru?” He’s closing in on the torii gates. You are not going to let him drag you down those steps like this. It’d be incredibly embarrassing to be a sorcerer and die because you fell down some stairs. “Satoru, I know you’re upset but please calm down. I’m going to fall and break my neck.”

Suguru doesn’t even give Satoru the chance to stop himself. Suguru grabs you by the back of your collar to hold you steady as he forcibly stops and brings Satoru with him. Suguru drops his hold of your collar, big hand spreading out across the back of your neck, sliding down to the small of your back.

“Are you okay?” Suguru asks quietly.

Familiarity is such an odd thing, you realize suddenly. No, that’s not it. Because you spent more time with your parents than Satoru and Suguru, technically. So, what is it that makes their presence a comfort while such a brief encounter with your parents only brought dread and distress? It felt invasive when your mother hugged you so suddenly, but you crave more of Suguru’s touch. Just your mother so close had you on edge, but Satoru and Suguru both are pressed in close, and it just feels like home to you.

You want Satoru to warp you all back to Suguru’s apartment and curl up in Suguru’s bed with both of them against you. And you know that they’d do it. They’d be happy to exist with you, no expectations of you talking to them the rest of the night because they understand talking is hard for you when you’ve had a really bad day. It doesn’t bother them when you cry. They’d hold you if you asked them to or they’d busy themselves by reading or gaming if you didn’t want to be touched. They just get it. They get you.

This is what it feels to be known.

“Yes,” you answer breathlessly because your heart is so full up. “Just…tired. I think I want to nap until it’s time to pick the girls up from school.”

“I’m breaking out the PlayStation and playing Resident Evil Two while you do!” Satoru declares with a huff. “I need something to kill!”

You chuckle. “Just go blow up a curse.”

“Like I’m leaving you alone! Give me more credit than that!”

You knew it. You just really wanted to hear him say it.

Graduation is weird at Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College.

For everyone else in the country, the third year is supposed to be your last. And, technically, in the eyes of Japan, you have graduated. But in the jujutsu world, the official graduation ceremony happens in your fourth year. There’s an option to leave after the third year, for those who decide that sorcery isn’t for them or if they feel that they’re ready to walk the sorcerer path on their own. Those people don’t have a ceremony. They’re sent on their way with their diploma.

Most opt for the fourth year, obviously. It’s spent with steadily increasing assignments and slowly decreasing supervision. Not to mention that it gives you time to prepare for the life of an adult. Apartment hunting in Tokyo might be more difficult than actual sorcery, so you get a year to build up enough for a deposit while finding a place to live.

In the months leading up to your March graduation, it’s…actually been a relatively normal experience that you expect any other high schooler in Japan to go through.

Other than the deadly curses and marriage proposal thing.

That offer in December fell through. You’d been a little heartbroken about it, but you and Shoko kept at it, and each found your own apartment. Satoru, of course, already had something waiting for him courtesy of his clan. Out of your friend group, he’s the furthest away in terms of distance. No one can afford to live in his part of the city. You’re the closest to Shoko which Satoru and Suguru were not happy about. You and she are a walk away from each other while you’ve got to take a train to get to Suguru and Satoru.

Suguru, incredibly intelligent and having almost finished his third year before he dropped out, manages to get his high school diploma before it’s time for the university entrance exams. It’s still disorienting to think that he and Satoru are going to be teachers. All your best friends keep nudging you to go to school with them, get an art degree. You respectfully decline. Your high school diploma is doing you just fine. You’ve already met with headquarters to hash the details of your upcoming job.

Here you are, at the start of adulthood, and it’s a surreal experience.

The official ceremony is small and quick. There are only three of you, after all. All the higher-ups are in attendance and some other high-ranking sorcerers. Shoko’s parents, still in their scrubs, are in the little crowd. Satoru’s, too, and some of the other Gojo elders. In the back is Suguru and Utahime with a gaggle of children with them. They’re all still skittish around each other, so the twins stick to Suguru while Tsumiki and Megumi linger with Utahime until the ceremony is over and then they’re both at your side.

Between all the congratulations and the gift giving, you lose track of Satoru until he sends you a message asking you to meet him somewhere private.

The campus only has one cherry blossom tree, situated by a koi pond. It’s one of those spots on campus that are meant to promote meditation. No one spends much time at it, though, because…well, a group of friends hanging out at one tree is kind of lame. It’s also an excuse to go down into the city to have a cherry blossom viewing party.

For two people, though, this one tree is more than enough.

“Are you okay?” This is the umpteenth time today that you’ve asked him this question.

And, for the umpteenth time today, Satoru lies with a nervous, “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

That’s what you’d like to know, damn it. Satoru has been like this all day long. A bundle of nervous energy. Fidgeting and leg bouncing so fast that he rattles the tables he’s sitting at. He didn’t even make a scene during the graduation ceremony! It was a shock to everyone. Kento, who stuck around after receiving his diploma because he’s opting for early graduation, asked you and Shoko if Satoru was alright.

Frustratingly, you think that Shoko knows what’s up with him. She’s watched him with amused eyes, tracking his movements, and smirking if he ever catches her staring. They’ve had so many unspoken conversations with those looks. And she won’t spill the beans! She’s downright chipper! And when you told her that you were headed to talk to him, you swear that she’d been downright vibrating from excitement. It was, frankly, a little terrifying.

Since no one else is around, you feel like you can freely speak. “Satoru, even without my technique, you’re smothering everyone with your nervous energy.” His shoulders practically climb up to his reddening ears. “I don’t want to come off as pushy,” you quickly add. “I’m…worried, is all.”

“Just…gimme a second,” is all he says before he starts pacing.

You blink. Because wow. He is really nervous. Have you ever seen him this outwardly anxious before? Your mouth opens, closes, but you don’t know what to say. All you can settle on is, “Um…okay…”

Minutes pass by with it going like that—Satoru pacing back and forth, stopping occasionally to nervously run a hand through his hair. He’s not panting, per se, but his chest is rising and falling a little quicker than normally. You’re genuinely worried that he’s on the verge of a panic attack. The darkening of his cheeks and tips of his ears definitely don’t ease that concern, either. At around the five-minute mark, he yanks his sunglasses off, shoving them in his pocket, so you can outright see the nervous glances he shoots you.

This breaks you—even though you told yourself that you’d give him the time he asked for. Your nerves have reached their critical breaking point.

“Sa—”

Satoru puts his foot down. Literally. Stomps on the ground as he turns to face you with a shout that startles you. “I want to take you on a date!” His fists are clenched tight, and his chest is puffed out. The stance he takes is almost…aggressive. As if he’s about to attack you. Completely at odds with what he said before and what he says next. “A romantic date!”

To make sure that Satoru totally cements his seriousness in this matter, he practically rips the second button off his blazer, stomps forward, and shoves it into your hand. Blush now spreading to his entire face, he guides your fingers to close around the button, unable to meet your gaze as he does. Then, he carefully steps away, staring down at the ground, fists balling up again as he waits on you to reply.

Even someone like you, clueless about subtleties and social rules, understands what this signifies. The buttons of a student’s blazer are symbols. The top is the self. The third is your best friend. But the second, the one closest to the heart, is meant for the one you like the most. Romantically, like Satoru said.

Clutching the button against your chest, you quietly ask, “You…like me?” It’s important that you clarify this. You need to know that he understands what this second button and giving it away means. “You want to date me? Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Satoru whispers. “I…” He hesitates. Such a rare thing from him. “I really like you.” He glances away. “I get it…if you don’t like me in the same way. We…you’re still my best friend, even if you reject me. And…um…if you need more time to think about it—”

“Yes,” you blurt without a second thought. His head snaps up, eyes wide with shock. Before he can ask what that means, because his lips are already parting, you rush to clarify. “Yes, I want to go out on a date with you.” Your other hand flies up so both of them are keeping his given button pressed to your chest.

“You’re…you’re not doing it because it’s what you think I want…right?”

“No,” you answer softly after navigating your racing thoughts and feelings. “I really want to.”

Satoru takes a cautious step toward you. “Okay, but…but you’re allowed to change your mind!” It is both a heartwarming and bewildering experience, watching the blossoming hope in his eyes warring with his anxious mind. “And, uh, we’ll wait until after we move into our new places! If you get too…y’know…flustered seeing me then I don’t have to help you like I said! I can have some people from the Gojo estate—”

You’re hot all over, buzzing with a giddiness that you’ve never felt before. Are you sure you’re not the one that’s going to be too flustered, you want to ask him. You resist the urge. It took him a lot of courage. He’s absolutely been in his head all day long. His heart rate needs some time to recover after this. “As long as you’re okay with it, I still want you to help.”

Satoru collapses on the bench next to you, exhaling so loudly that it startles you. He hunches over, elbows on his knees, hanging his head. “Good,” he wheezes while doing a thumbs-up. “That’s awesome.”

“That’s awesome,” you agree as giggles burst free from your chest.

You never stop clutching that button to your chest.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fic #satosugu x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #jjk gojo #jjk geto #anime #gojo satoru #geto suguru #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk fanfic #my fic

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blessedbucky · 4 months ago

Text

ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕀𝕏

pairing: autistic!satoru x suguru x autistic!reader

word count: 6k (okay no THIS one is the shortest i've written to date yet it's gotta be)

summary: suguru doesn't know how to bridge the gap between you and him. haibara helps.

tags: autistic!reader, autistic!satoru, everyone in this is so traumatized and mentally ill get these teenagers some therapy and hugs!, how is this chapter suguru's pov but satoru is still yearner of the year?, suguru being absolutely depressed as fuck, reader is also definitely depressed as fuck and autistic, idk what else this is just a yap session

beautiful people who asked to be tagged 💕: @ichikanu, @iceheartsice, @anders-is-being-a-simp-again, @lexlibrary, @ziggy0stardust

author note: if satoru gets a chapter, it's only fair that suguru gets one. this is kinda more of an interlude (though @theskyisbrighthere says 6k is too long). i just didn't wanna go from the breakup in last chapter to everyone suddenly talking again y'know?

Story Masterlist

[DROPOUT]

It’s been four months and five days (18 weeks, 127 days, 3048 hours, 182880 minutes, 10972800 seconds) since that night.

Geto Suguru turns eighteen (216 months, 939 weeks, 6574 days, 157776 hours, 9466560 minutes, 567993600 seconds) today.

For the first time in nearly twelve years (144 months, 626 weeks, 4383 days, 105192 hours, 6311520 minutes, 378691200 seconds), he doesn’t hear your voice wish him a happy birthday.

Because you two haven’t exchanged words in exactly three weeks (21 days, 504 hours, 30240 minutes, 1814400 seconds).

Not that he’s counting.

Suguru pulls back the curtain to stare outside the window of his three-bedroom apartment. Nanako and Mimiko are sprawled out on their bellies, hunched over their sketchbooks, plucking from their boxes of crayons every now and then, staring intently at the trunk of the tree they’re under before coloring whatever it is that they see there. At the picnic table, Nanami and you are seated with sketchbooks of your own.

You don’t draw.

She doesn’t do that anymore, Satoru had whispered when he was sticking around after dropping the twins off from their weekly art session. He’d had his own sketchbook, flipping through it while he stared morosely at his terrible drawings. I draw and hope she will, too, but she doesn’t. She’ll work on something official, so the girls don’t get self-conscious, but she stops when they’re not looking anymore.

The park is right across the street. You always sit at that spot. After the first weekly art session, Nanako had informed him that you told her the shade offered by the tree is best for drawing because sunlight against white paper strains the eyes. He knows you actually just sit there so that Suguru doesn’t get anxious by the girls getting out of his sight.

You look gaunt.

Good to know you’re putting some weight back on along with the girls, Shoko had remarked when she brought the twins back from their appointment at the doctor. Just after he and the twins moved in, not even a month after they were saved, Shoko insisted on handling their medical care instead of Suguru. Having someone with medical knowledge, preparing to go to medical school, speak with the pediatrician got them healthier more effectively and much faster. Wish someone else around me would do the same. And he knew that she meant you.

You haven’t slept.

You rest your cheek against your palm and Suguru knows you’re going to fall asleep right there at the table. It happens almost every time that you’ve got another person with you for the day. He thinks that everyone around you has started to try to come with you for that specific purpose—because it’s one of the few times that you can sleep. You have perpetual bags under your eyes. He’s seen you knock back two cans of those awful American energy drinks in less than an hour.

On his worst days, he hates looking at you.

Just before it’s time for the girls to come home on those particular days, he’ll send you a clipped text saying that the door is open because he can’t stomach even looking at you. He’ll be overwhelmed with disgust over just how pathetic you’re looking, as if you’re doing it on purpose to make him feel guiltier. This is what you wanted, isn’t it, he’ll aggressively think as he watches you through the window. You forced him to live. You got everything your cruel little heart desired. Aren’t you supposed to be happy now? What right do you have to wither away like this?

Those days are few and far between now. It’s hard to think hard about much when he’s so busy. Between enrolling and preparing the twins for kindergarten, getting them to therapy appointments, and studying and attending night classes because he officially dropped out yet wants a degree still, he doesn’t have time to be mad anymore. That’s for the best. He’s learning that Nanako and Mimiko are extremely sensitive to his moods.

Suguru has been thinking about you a lot more lately, trying to untangle the complicated knots in that string that binds you two together in his heart. Even at his angriest, when the thread was surely fraying, it never totally snapped. He doesn’t think that he will ever stop loving you and, sometimes, that made him angrier. Cruelly, he thought to himself that you were the last curse he ever swallowed. It makes him guilty now, but he tried to convince himself that you were the same rot festering in his stomach. He knows better now.

The real curse is Suguru himself.

He became a vengeful spirit tethered to you. So many times, you tried to run, and he kept pulling you back in. He buried himself inside you—literally, at one point. Desperately, he clung to you, the purest thing left in the world, and it just infected you. He became the rot on your tongue. Like a smoker, you became addicted to the poison. Suguru finally realized he was killing you and tried to exorcise your curse.

Suguru has never had agency over his life—he understands that now. You always understood that, too, and always supported him however you could. This was supposed to be his final choice, and you took that away from him. Knowingly. Happily. All you had to do was tell the truth. Why couldn’t you just be angry at him for the right reasons? Justice demanded blood for blood. Why couldn’t you accept that?

There had been no remorse on your face, either. You’re wasting away right now because you miss him. Not because you regret how much you upset him. And, fuck, if he doesn’t miss you just as goddamn much. Sometimes, he aches so much that it keeps him up at night.

But Suguru doesn’t know how to bridge the gap.

And he shouldn’t.

He can’t.

You’re not good for each other anymore. Suguru’s hatred and resentment poisoned the well. He’s reminded of it every single time that he goes to class, seeing the cursed spirits skittering along the halls or clinging to the other adult students. Being surrounded by all those pathetic non-sorcerers…it never fails to remind him of that bitterness he holds towards you. Maybe you don’t feel that for him right now, but you will. It’s only a matter of time. He deserves it, too.

Soon, he convinces himself whenever he watches you now. Soon, your grief will turn to rage and that heat will cauterize your wounds. It won’t hurt as much to be separated from him. Your mind will clear. You’ll see that things are better without him in your life.

For so long, you wilted in the shadow that Suguru cast over you. Once upon a time, it was a shadow meant to protect you. It was because he loves you. But a shadow is a shadow, and you suffered for it. You’re in the sunlight now. It’s a shock to your system, but you’ll grow to love it.

Right before Suguru closes the curtains, he watches you slip on a pair of sunglasses.

It’s almost midnight when there’s a knock on the door. Suguru already knows it’s Satoru because he’s been aware of that massive amount of cursed energy steadily growing closer as he walks toward the apartment. That’s also how Suguru knows that Satoru is upset. If he knocks on the door like a normal person, there’s something really bothering him. Otherwise, he’d simply just pop up in the middle of the kitchen and start helping himself to snacks. Satoru uses walking as time to think and try to process what he’s feeling.

Satoru immediately goes for the couch, curling up at one end silently. Suguru is worried. Satoru didn’t even greet him or raid the cabinets for sweets. There’s also the late hour. Satoru hardly ever sleeps himself, of course, but he respects that other people need it. Actually, he tends to use spending the night with you or Suguru as time to catch up on missed sleep. So, why isn’t Satoru with you right now?

“Want to talk about it?” Suguru hesitantly asks.

“Doubt you want to,” Satoru mutters. “It’s about her.”

Suguru slowly sits down at the other end of the couch. Satoru has been surprisingly considerate of the rift between Suguru and you. He tries to bring you up as little as possible around Suguru and vice versa. Suguru thinks that Satoru is being patient in hopes that things will eventually heal if he stops rubbing salt in the wound. Or he doesn’t know how to put the broken pieces of you two back together so he’s just doing damage control.

“It’s okay. I know it must’ve been bad if you’re here.” Satoru has been patient with Suguru. It’s only fair that Suguru start giving back. “What happened?”

Satoru crosses his legs, tugging at the cuffs of his pants. “You’re gonna feel guilty.”

“I always feel that way, Satoru,” Suguru bluntly admits and shrugs when Satoru cringes. He’s accepted that this is now going to always be a part of him. No matter what emotion there at the forefront of his mind currently is, there will always be a layer of shame and guilt simmering underneath. It’s fouler than the taste of a curse, but he’s…adjusting. “Go ahead. I want to be your shoulder to lean on.”

Satoru’s face twists in bitterness. He doesn’t speak, at first, and stares at Suguru blankly instead. “You guys are too nice to me,” he says cryptically before quickly moving on. “We got into a fight.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I’m worried about her, man. Seriously worried.” He sighs in aggravation. “It’s different than it was after Haibara. It was like she was a zombie.” He bites his lip. “Now, she stretches herself thin. Pushes and pushes and I know she’s at her breaking point. She won’t let anyone touch her and she’s wearing sunglasses more than me. I…I thought she was doing better, but I don’t think she’s eating at all anymore. She doesn’t let me spend the night because she wakes up from nightmares puking her guts out. Oh, but that’s if she even sleeps at all. If she’s not forcing herself to go in public with the girls, she’s on missions or working on her technique.” All his worries spill out in a rush. “It’s what she was doing tonight. I couldn’t take it anymore. I tried talking to her about it, like she’d do with anyone else, but she snapped. It’s all she does if I worry about her. So…I blew up…and then she blew up…” There are actual tears in his eyes. Suguru can’t help but reach out and take his hand, sympathetic. “She’s never yelled at me before.”

Yeah, Suguru understands how awful that felt for Satoru. The sting of it went deeper with Suguru because of that shared history, having the knowledge that you have never yelled at another person. Raised your voice when arguing with your parents, maybe, but never shouting.

That day, in the showers, the crack in your voice had splintered him. He’s still never told Satoru about it. Another shameful act that hurt you. It was purposeful, too. He knew it’d hurt you and he’d wanted that until you started to back yourself into a corner, covering yourself, sobbing and trying to hide away like a wounded animal. That look on your face haunts him. Just as much as that night in September.

“I don’t know what to do, Suguru,” Satoru confesses hoarsely. “I can’t…I don’t know how to beat this…”

“Because this isn’t a fight, Satoru,” Suguru gently corrects him. “Emotions are too complex for you to box them up as a villain to be defeated. Listen to your own right now. It’s hard to make sense of the mess of them, right?” Satoru nods miserably. “Now, try to imagine how much bigger it is for her.” Satoru hunches over, putting his elbows on his knees, and covering his face with his hands. “You ran from her after your argument. It’s what she’s doing right now. It’s what she’s always done.”

“Can’t you just help her?” Satoru asks, voice muffled by his palms.

“I…” This is the first time that Satoru has confronted him about Suguru breaking his silence. “I always chased after her. I thought it was being a good friend, but I just made her dependent on me. She has to learn to live without me.”

Satoru raises his head, staring at Suguru with those eyes. They’ve never been so unnerving as they are now. “So, you want her to be reliant on me instead?” He shakes his head. “That’s bullshit, Suguru. No, you’re not choosing now, when she needs you the most, to cut your imaginary umbilical cord or whatever. Why won’t you just talk to her?”

“I’ve tried. Last week was the first birthday I’ve ever had without her since I was six. But I can’t pretend that everything is the same as it was. The words keep getting stuck in my throat. That was supposed to be my choice. My final choice. And I remember how she stood there, not an ounce of regret on her face, as she took it away from me.”

Satoru laughs bitterly. “You’re really something else, Suguru. Just a selfish piece of shit.” Suguru’s temper flares and he returns Satoru’s glare. “You can’t beg to be punished and then decide it’s not the right way. And you wanna talk about choices getting made for other people? You did it first. You just wouldn’t leave it be. You had to confess, knowing it was putting your life in her hands.”

“Call me a piece of shit all you want, but at least I’m not blind. What are those Six Eyes worth if you can’t see the truth? She had to say the words. That’s it. It was my own life. I hung the axe over my own head. You two keep acting like I was putting the axe in her hands.”

“I didn’t put a bullet through Amanai’s skull, but I still feel pretty fucking responsible for her death,” Satoru snarls before snapping his mouth shut so fast that his teeth clack together. He sits there, silently, fists on his knees clenched so tightly that his knuckles are turning white.

“I do, too,” Suguru agrees softly.

“Right. Like I said, you’re being selfish, then. Objectively, it wasn’t our fault. We got beat. He took his prize. We didn’t even know her but for three days. But we still feel guilty about it. You understand that. You feel that. But you suddenly forget all about that when you want Sketch to throw you under the bus?”

“It wasn’t about feelings. It was about justice. Amanai got hers. You blew a hole in Zen’in Toji.”

Then, all the emotion on Satoru’s face vanishes. It reminds Suguru too much of when he found Satoru, surrounded by all those clapping monkeys who celebrated the death of a teenage girl. “Justice,” he repeats flatly. “Who decides what true justice is? Is it the higher-ups? Because if we’re going by those standards, I should tell them about what she did.”

Suguru presses a thumb to the center of his forehead, frustrated. “You’re being purposely obtuse. You know it’s different. She’s not a threat to non-sorcerers.”

Satoru scoffs. “Don’t play dumb. Higher-ups don’t give a shit about the non-sorcerers. They never have. You know that. It’s always been about tradition and control with them. Sensei told us, right? Special Grade isn’t something to be proud of, no matter how much money higher-ups throw at us. It’s something to fear. We could demolish cities without breaking a sweat. And Sketch is one of us now.”

Gentle heart aside, there’s another obvious flaw in Satoru’s logic. “Her technique only works on those with cursed energy. And she doesn’t have enough cursed energy herself to control that many people.”

“Either you’re being the obtuse one now or you’re being super naïve.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you control the king, you don’t need to worry about the grunts. I don’t think I need to remind you that the two strongest people in the world are in love with her,” Satoru says slowly, as if Suguru isn’t painfully aware. “She’s a threat. I know you don’t wanna think about her that way, but she is. The only reason she isn’t an active one is because she’s scared of herself, bogged down by what other people tell her she is, and stupidly kind. If I was the good little weapon that I was raised to be…no. If I was smart, I’d kill her.”

“Stop,” Suguru demands harshly.

He hates that Satoru is right. Suguru doesn’t want to face the reality. You’ve always been his lighthouse, shining bright in the darkness plaguing his life. He doesn’t want to admit that his selfishness and carelessness is the reason your light dimmed. He doesn’t want you to be so hurt that you poison your own well, but you were. You are. You’re still hurting.

“I will. I’ll stop now because it’s you that’s asking, Suguru. If it’s you and her, I’ll listen,” Satoru whispers. “I know you don’t wanna talk about it, but that night…I’ve never felt as weak as I did then. Not even when there was a blade in my neck. And it wasn’t because of only her. You had been in pain for so long and I didn’t do anything about it. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry that I wasn’t there for you when you needed it.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Suguru pleads. He scoots over on the couch, putting his hand on Satoru’s knee. “I wouldn’t have talked about it.” Satoru flinches and Suguru mentally curses himself. That came out wrong. “Not because I don’t trust you. I just…how could I put another burden on your shoulders? You’re the strongest and you’re already carrying the world on your shoulders.”

“But I’m not,” Satoru protests. “I’m not the strongest. Not without you and Sketch. Don’t you get that?” He subtly rocks back and forth. His nervous habit, though Suguru rarely sees it. “You know jujutsu is all about balance. Something big is coming. Big enough that four Special Grade sorcerers were born around the same time. And they’ve said that ever since I was born, curses have been exploding in numbers. So…so, I want to think that you and Sketch were supposed to be born. I think we were meant to meet. Because we keep each other balanced.”

Suguru looks away, corners of his eyes stinging with tears. “You don’t need me.”

“I was never going to have a purpose without you two. I was only ever going to be a tool. And more would come after me. This system has to change. I see that now. I’m going to foster strong allies and we’re going to burn it all down before we build it back up. It might take a long time, but I swear that I’m going to make things better for you both.”

Kind, Suguru thinks as he tilts to the side, letting his forehead fall against Satoru’s shoulder. So, so kind. Through blurred vision, he watches his tears fall on Satoru’s shirt, the fabric darkening as it soaks them in. Can’t you see that I don’t deserve this much kindness? Satoru’s hesitant hand touches the top of Suguru’s head., petting him as he starts quietly sobbing. You’re breaking my heart.

Stop, Suguru’s heart weeps. He can’t open his mouth to speak. The words are lodged inside his throat. Just stop. Please. You, of all people, should be mad at me. Why can’t you curse me? It hurts. This all hurts. Anger would be so much easier to deal with than this gentleness. Oh. So, this is what they mean by killing with kindness, he thinks blearily. I guess this truly is the most fitting punishment for me.

A week before the start of what would’ve been his fourth year, Suguru is staring at his scowling reflection in the window of a konbini. He’s not sure what pisses him off more—that this torrential downpour seemed to come out of nowhere or the that the konbini is out of stock for umbrellas. They were probably all bought out because everyone else knew this was coming. You would’ve known this was coming. Suguru’s never had to look at the weather because he just shared an umbrella with you.

You, who always carried an umbrella ever since that day in kindergarten. Suguru hadn’t talked to you yet, but he remembers because it was the first time his mother made her distaste of you known. She’d muttered under how breath about how unruly a child you were after your feet got soaked in your too-tight school shoes and you had a breakdown. Everyone in class started to make fun of you after that.

You’ve never gone anywhere without an umbrella after that day. It’s why you carry a little backpack instead of a purse. Why you have an extra pair of socks along with the umbrella. Why you dance gracefully to avoid puddles that could potentially soak through your shoes.

It's been almost six months and after all the rainy days, Suguru still reaches for a backpack that isn’t there anymore. Good thing I watched the weather this morning, he waits to hear but those words never come. Not anymore.

You haven’t been to the apartment in two weeks.

Suguru is so fucking irritated.

Everything has gone wrong today. As soon as he woke up to Satoru’s text saying that there’d be no art today, he knew it’d be a terrible fucking day. It took everything in him to not send you a nasty, passive aggressive text after calming down two little heartbroken girls. Stupidly, Suguru thought that Shoko would be on his side when he demanded what you were so busy with the last two weeks when she showed up to babysit while he was at night classes.

She wasn’t.

(“Why do you care?”

“Because she doesn’t have to deal with the fallout. I do.”

“That’s on you, then. You know we’re about to start the year. You’re their guardian. You should’ve been preparing them to see her less.”

“She can’t just walk into their lives and then leave without a word.”

“She can, actually. She’s been doing it to everyone. The only time anyone’s heard her speak in the last two weeks is Nanami on a mission. You’re not special, Geto. This is her being dependent. That’s what you wanted, right? I don’t know what else you want from her.”)

Suguru had been so pissed off that he forgot his cigarettes. He’d been late to class because he needed to smoke before he forced himself to sit in a small room full of non-sorcerers. His teeth were gritted the entire time the teacher reprimanded him for his tardiness and his thoughts murderous. The auxiliary manager at the back of the class meant to watch over him was the only thing keeping him from tormenting someone with a curse.

Fuck, he hates rainy days.

“Geto?”

Suguru blinks away from his darkening thoughts. “Nanami?” His brows knit in confusion. “What are you doing here?” Nanami, deadpan, holds up the onigiri and drink between them as an obvious answer, but that’s not what Suguru was asking. “No. Why are you here? In this area?”

“I was meeting with enrollment at your night school. I told them I’m going to stick it out for my third year and apologized for wasting their time.” Nanami glances over Suguru’s shoulder, at the cashier. “I’m going to checkout now. Is it alright if I walk with you to your apartment? I won’t be long, but there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Suguru is still reeling over the fact that Nanami, straitlaced Nanami, was thinking about dropping out. “Uh…sure…”

“Would you like some tea?” Suguru asks as they’re toeing off their shoes in the genkan.

Shoko was there to meet them at the door, took one look at Nanami, and left without a word. It was suspicious. Had Suguru thinking that this was some kind of setup. Then, he decided that it didn’t matter if it was. Suguru will hear Nanami out. He respects his former junior too much to turn him away. Also, despite all his awkwardness, he’s been kind to the girls and tries to teach them sensible lessons.

“No. Like I said, I won’t take up too much of your time. Thank you, though.”

Nanami waits at the table while Suguru makes himself a cup of tea to warm up. He offers Nanami some of his clothes because their big bodies couldn’t totally fit under the umbrella they shared, but Nanami turns that down, too. Those will just get wet on his way back to campus. So, Suguru goes to change. He pokes his head in Nanako’s room, not surprised at all to see Mimiko curled up with her.

Once Suguru is seated across from him, sipping at his tea, Nanami stiffly explains his purpose. “I’m here to invite you to the cherry blossom viewing party. It’s three days from now, in our usual place. It goes without saying that Nanako and Mimiko are invited. The new student is going to be with us, too.”

Suguru tilts his head to the side, curious. “I appreciate you coming in person, but…why couldn’t Satoru just text me?”

“Senpai will be there. I’m here to ask you to stop being childish and talk to her.”

It’s so unlike Nanami to be defensive of anyone that it pulls a laugh of disbelief out of Suguru. “Childish?” Suguru repeats incredulously. Then, he remembers Shoko. “Did Shoko put you up to this? Satoru?”

“No. They don’t know I’m inviting you.”

Suguru tries to tamper down his annoyance. It’s not Nanami’s fault. He only knows the surface level of what happened that night, given the same half-truths as Yaga. You were hurt, Suguru felt so guilty that he tried to take the blame, but the higher-ups cleared him after their official investigation, and Suguru dropped out because he couldn’t handle the mental stress anymore. In the fallout of that night, Suguru and you stopped talking.

Out of all the upperclassmen, Nanami respects you the most. It’s why you’re the only one he calls senpai. Nanami is only trying to help you. Suguru can respect that. So, he doesn’t snap. He tries to be patient and carefully explain, “I appreciate your concern, but you don’t have all the details—”

“I do. Gojo told me what happened. Everything.” Suguru sets the cup down with more force than necessary. Nanami wears that same indifference. “Gojo didn’t tell me because he wanted me to stand in on her behalf. It was to help me understand why she’s been so…overbearing, to put it bluntly.”

“Overbearing?”

“I’m never alone. She requested to be my partner. I haven’t killed a cursed spirit in months because she’s forced them to destroy themselves by the time we make it to the scene. Gojo gave me his MP3 player to pretend to listen to music on the train or bus because, otherwise, she won’t use hers whether it’s a bad day for her or not. She asks if I’ve eaten or if I want to talk and dodges the questions when I ask the same.” Nanami takes a deep breath. It’s…a lot like how you were with him and Satoru after their failed escort mission. “I…just want her to stop. I want her to take care of herself. And…I snapped at her. I told her to leave me alone and…I think that’s why she hasn’t been talking much. So…I’m here to ask for your help. I think you’re the only person that can help her now.”

Suguru rubs his aching temple. “I’m the reason she’s in the shape she is.”

Nanami stares at Suguru in silence for an uncomfortably long time. Minutes pass and his gaze gets icier and icier. “Have you forgotten about Haibara?”

Suguru flinches with his whole body. The blood drains from his face, along with any lingering anger. “No. Of course not,” he says, quietly yet sincerely.

“And have you forgotten that she was there, too?”

“No.” It’s a half-truth.

When Nanami mentioned Haibara, Suguru immediately reprimanded himself for being so hostile so quickly when it’s only been over six months since Haibara’s death. But…fuck, Suguru is a selfish bastard. Somehow, his mind separated you from that day, assuming that his crime against you had somehow buried the trauma of Haibara’s death. But that’s not how trauma works.

The worst thing is that Suguru has always known that. Putting aside that the brutality of swallowing curses and witnessing the worst of the world that weighed him down until he snapped, there’s also his childhood. Did he magically forget the last beating when his father came with a new one? No. Suguru remembers them all.

Trauma piles up—more weight added to the crushing weight trying to bury you in the ground.

“I can’t know for sure, but I think she’s getting worse the closer we get to the start of the year. I’m going to be the only one in my class. She blames herself for that. She blames herself for it all. I’ve tried telling her that it’s not her fault, that she almost killed herself with the strain of her technique so there was nothing else she could’ve done, but she doesn’t believe that. She’s kind enough to not call me a hypocrite, at least. Because she says the same thing to me, and I don’t believe her. Neither of us can forgive ourselves.”

Suguru’s expression softens. “Haibara wouldn’t blame either of you.”

“Haibara is dead,” Nanami snaps back harshly. “And you’re angry that she saved your life.”

Suguru, cowed, fumbles for a response to that. He weakly tries with, “It’s more than that—”

“It’s not. You wanted to die for what you did.” Nanami’s mouth thins. “I have to be honest—I lost all respect for you when Gojo told me the truth. It’s for the best that you quit sorcery. This kind of work isn’t suited for cowards.”

“Takes one to know one.” Suguru can’t resist making the dig.

“I know. More times than I can count, I wish that it was me in his place, but it wasn’t, and we were all left behind to pick up the pieces. I have to live, knowing what it was like to get my friend’s blood in my eyes. Why can’t you do the same? That’s why I say you’re being childish. You think the world revolves around you, that no one else can understand how you feel when you’ve been surrounded by people who do know. One of those people, someone I know you cherish, was right there the whole time and you pushed her away.” Nanami takes a deep breath, steadying himself after his emotional outburst. “I want to do something kind for her as thanks before I leave sorcery behind at the end of the year, so please come to the party.”

Numbly, Suguru asks, “Have you told her?”

“No. Don’t tell her, please. I’m trying to figure out how to do it in my own way. I’m…stalling, but…I don’t want to disappoint her.”

Suguru laughs bitterly. “Nanami, I almost killed her and she’s not disappointed in me. You’ll be fine.”

“Logically, I know that’s true.” Nanami pauses. “I don’t want to admit it, but it’s my guilt that’s making me hesitate. I’m leaving her alone with the burden of Haibara’s final words.”

Suguru straightens. “Final words?”

Nanami, kindly, doesn’t ask the obvious she didn’t tell you? Suguru doesn’t need reminders that his relationship with you has been fractured for a very long time. Instead, Nanami nods. “Yes.” His voice cracks with emotion. “He looked right at us as he cursed us.”

Emotions get lodged in Suguru’s throat. He doesn’t want to know this, not really, but he feels as if there’s an obligation for him to know, so he asks, “What did he say?”

You take it from here.

It truly is a curse. The words have been on Suguru’s mind for the last three days. And you…you’ve been doomed to an obligation to Haibara. Suguru knew that Haibara wouldn’t be the type of person to say that maliciously. Even in the end, he wanted to be an encouragement. It was his way to tell you and Nanami not to dwell on his death, not to let it drag you down and keep you from fighting the good fight. It had the opposite effect with Nanami.

All your behavior in those two weeks between his death and Suguru hurting you makes sense now. Just like the bits and pieces he’s picked up from Shoko and Satoru over the months do, too. You’re desperately trying to do as Haibara asked, even if it burns you up in the process.

Suguru doesn’t think he’ll ever stop having nightmares about that night. He’ll never stop scrubbing under his nails a little harder, never stop feeling the phantom pain of your blood on his hands. But…you’re still here. You’re alive. Shoko made it in time. The same can’t be said for Haibara. A dead boy’s blood is on your hands, and he can’t imagine how maddening that must be for you, a person that never forgot the embarrassment of melting down in front of your elementary school classmates.

During second year, Suguru had gone with you to Kyoto’s campus. You’d needed to do some research, and Kyoto is practically the capital of jujutsu. The computers in their library were much nicer than those at the Tokyo branch because Kyoto’s always had a higher number of students. You and Suguru had done more playing on them than research—marveling over how much faster and efficient they were.

My brain is a Tokyo computer, you’d remarked when you’d gone back to your own campus. You wanted to know what it’s like, right, Suguru? This might be the best way I’ve ever explained it. Everyone else’s brain is a Kyoto computer. Mine is like this one here. You’d touched the monitor with that look on your face—the one where you’re frustrated being born the way you are. I’m just on a completely different operating system. Slow. Things hard to process. Buggy. Fickle…

The thing about your metaphor…Suguru has learned to operate it alongside you. He can never truly know what it’s like to be that system, but he’s learned the language, he thinks. He knows what conditions you work best in, that there are days where you’re more likely to stutter, that too much information can crash you completely. That’s happened. You’re broken. He abandoned you, leaving you behind with people who haven’t had enough time to navigate your crashing systems.

Suguru is out on the balcony, smoking, while the girls get their backpacks ready.

You take it from here.

That night, when Suguru snapped, it’d been Haibara’s face on his mind more than anyone else. He’d felt so righteous when he was summoning his curses. He was going to avenge Haibara. Non-sorcerers would never know about Haibara’s sacrifice and that just hadn’t felt fair. Blood for blood, that’s what he believed justice demanded. How many lives had Haibara saved while the non-sorcerers sat back, blissfully unaware?

Suguru hadn’t stopped to think that everyone was going to forget Haibara’s name—non-sorcerer and sorcerer.

Non-sorcerers breed curses, that’s true, but they aren’t the only problem. How can the problem of non-sorcerers be dealt with if jujutsu society is so inept, corrupt, and mismanaged? Sorcerers, specifically higher-ups and traditionalists, are as equally responsible for the things that sickened Suguru to his breaking point. Sorcerers hide in the shadows because they’re forced to do that. Children are sent to die by other sorcerers. Had Nanako and Mimiko been born into a sorcerer clan, there’s no way for him to know that they wouldn’t be treated the same or worse. It’s all broken. The whole system needs to go.

Sorry, Haibara, Suguru apologizes while staring up at the shifting clouds. It took me a while to get there, but I get it now. He snuffs out his cigarette. I get it.

If he’d gone through with slaughtering the village that night, he would’ve stained Haibara’s memory. Haibara knew he’d be another nameless casualty in this war. He didn’t care. The darkness of the world swallowed him whole, but he refused to stop shining until the very end. Saving people was the only thing he ever cared about. He died a hero. It should stay that way.

But there should never be another Haibara.

Suguru doesn’t know how he’ll fit into Satoru’s plan, but he’s going to help. Somehow. Because he wants to protect the future, too. If Satoru wants to make them strong enough to not break, then Suguru wants to remind them of their humanity. No one else should reduce themselves down to machine or weapon. They need to know that if they’re going to die then they’ll do it while being remembered.

It’s going to be a marathon game, there’s going to be more pain, but Haibara passed on the baton, so it’s time for Suguru to get running.

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