#I'd been hoping to at least get to yuuta this chapter

[cursedvibes]

Where is this story going?? What is happening

I really hope kenjaku isn’t actually dead

I hope so too because that would be very dissapointing. All it took was to distract Kenjaku and cut off their head? I would've accepted it (kinda) if it was Takaba who killed them. Given Kenjaku's words, they would've preferred that too, expected it even to some degree, but having Yuuta barge in there and do it is so anti-climactic. He never had any real connection to Kenjaku that would give this move any meaning and the way he did it there was no way to form one either. Anyone could've stood in his place and done it, there's nothing special to it.

All the possibilities for how Kenjaku could "survive" don't seem very good to me either. Cursed Spirit makes no sense because Yuuta is right there, he could just destroy it again, stomp their brain to mush. Plus it would remove a lot of nuance from Kenjaku. Other option is that Kenjaku's CT reforms them somewhere else. The theory that more of their original body is left could be true and they come back through that somehow. Don't like that either because that version of Kenjaku would inevitably be different from the Kenjaku we knew before and I just don't like there being multiple versions around. The character development of the last chapters would've been for nothing. Even if the new Kenjaku is the exact same with the same memories (despite the brain not being the same or even missing? or can Kenjaku create little parasite brains that activate when the main one dies?) I don't like the implications for their cursed technique. Why take on vessels at all if they can regrow? I'd need a very good explanation to believe that.

Last option would be someone else finishes Kenjaku's plan, but I don't know who. Sukuna would feel weird because he has no passion for it at all, although at least he has a connection to Tengen. Yuuji being some sort of sleeper agent would be weird too and take what little agency he has away. He doesn't care about Kenjaku or their plans at all, so that would be very out of nowhere. I'd like Yuuji to step in Kenjaku's footsteps, but only if he does it consciously and I'd also like some actual conversation between them before all that happens. Could also be that Tengen gets freed now that Geto's body is dead for good and spreads chaos. Probably the option I like most? Because that means at least something came of that.

My main problem is that as far as I can see there will be no meaningful connection to Yuuji. They won't meet and they won't talk. With the positive development through Takaba I could've seen Kenjaku be more open and honest about their intentions with Yuuji, but Yuuta's actions ruined all that. Instead Kenjaku dies somewhere far away, while Yuuji is busy with Sukuna and doesn't spare a second thought about it. He wasn't even at the meeting discussing the plan for how to kill Kenjaku. No struggle of what being complicit in matricide would mean to him, he doesn't have to face his last close family member at all, doesn't have to deal with all his family issues and more importantly doesn't even get one good conversation with the person who is responsible for all his suffering. Sukuna hurt him more directly, but Kenjaku is the reason Sukuna is even here and used to be inside Yuuji. They birthed him just to be a vessel, an experiment. They dehumanized him and while they do care about him, Yuuji doesn't know that. That would've been very important to make his thoughts on Kenjaku more meaningful. To him they're just some person he met once, who attacked him with centipedes, told him confusing stories and then dipped with the Prison Realm in hand. Just some mad scientist he abstractly knows is responsible for his trauma and what his half-siblings went through. Plus a weird dream he once had and that he seems to want to forget.

He could still find out more about Kenjaku and their intentions and past (through Sasaki for example), but that will mean a whole lot less without Kenjaku actually being around.

Idk, maybe I'm looking at it too pessimistic, but I don't see a whole lot of good coming from this. We got proof that Kenjaku is capable of caring about people, even now, even ones they haven't known for very long, and it all seems to become meaningless. Giving them depth just to cut them off when it becomes most important is such a weird decision. Depending on how Kenjaku's "will" manifests in the future, I might change my mind, but right now it just saps a lot of tension from the story. All they need to do is kill Sukuna and that's it? Well I guess they still need to stop the Culling Game somehow because with "Geto" dead the conditions for it to end won't be fulfilled. They could destroy the prime barriers Tengen erected, which will also destroy jujutsu society as is, but...idk Kenjaku succeeds in a way, but if that really is the end for them that makes this even more unsatisfying.

Anyway, we'll see...

[voxofthevoid]

Do you think Nobara is dead? Or is Yuuji considered an unreliable narrator?

Unfortunately, I do think she's dead. At the very least, I think there's no longer any space for her in the narrative.

Yuuji's perception is pretty clear. Ever since he reunited with Megumi after Shibuya, he's believed Nobara is dead.

I understand why there's a question of whether that perception is reliable. Gege went out of their way to build up ambiguity around Nobara's survival, both in the Shibuya Incident and in (the prelude to) Perfect Preparation. Introducing Arata seemed to be solely for the sake of creating hope about her survival; by typical shonen logic, this is guaranteed survival. And later, we don't get verbal confirmation from Megumi, only an expression and Yuuji's reaction.

Taking just those into consideration, I'd also assumed Nobara may survive.

But after a point, specifically the conversation Yuuji and Megumi have about Hana replacing Nobara, I started to think that the ambiguity was just Gege initially leaving themselves room for both options: Nobara surviving or not. Their recent discussion about how they wing a lot of the storyline only cemented that for me.

I do think Gege wasn't sure when writing the Shibuya arc whether Nobara would survive. But now, the space for her return has come and gone. You could still pull something like they did for Tōdō, which would only make sense if her CT has a place in some plan against Sukuna that they kept from Yuuji, like with Tōdō's involvement and Yuuta's plan to use Gojou's body. But narratively, it'd fall so damn flat, with all the emotional impact of a summer breeze. It doesn't help that she's been such a nonentity even during the time skip—no mentions, like with Nanami, and no flashbacks until the latest chapter (265).

With Gege, you never know, especially given their tendency to drop bombshells and explain them afterward, but I'm at the point where I'd rather she stay dead than return in a lackluster manner that makes a mockery of her death and Yuuji's (and our) mourning in the narrative.

[aimfor-theheart]

Hi there Cielo :) May I say the latest chapter of Godmaker was a stunning addition to the rest .. You put so much foreshadowing into the story and it's definitely paying off now - it was so suspenseful!

"He wanted to be human. Mortal. Man." I can't stress enough how much I loved this line .. Gojo's humanity (or lack thereof) is one of the most important and interesting things to explore about his character (definitely my favorite) and you've been dealing with this concept in such a meaningful and intense way :).

One thing I didn't mention in the last comment I left is how well you've portrayed all the other "side" characters, especially Nanami .. He's still so young yet he already feels so tired 😖 .. The family scenes feel so bittersweet and nostalgic, and this chapter was no exception! And Tsumiki - given the way the last three manga chapters have evolved (big sigh) the scenes that involved her and Megumi gained an extra layer of intensity.

Second to last, the desperation in reader's words when Yuta made his appearance .. Knowing his arrival is when things start to seriously unfold in JJK made the moment even more dramatic (I don't know if that made sense 😂).

And last but not least, can I just say .. the very last passage! With what I've said about Gojo's character in mind .. I think it's the best part of it! The way everything slid in place, his painful realization, and both the past and future implications of it ..

I'm as always in awe :,) Thank you so much again for spending your time to work on this and for sharing it with us .. I really mean it! I hope you have a great day :)

oh gosh im sorry im getting to this a few days late!! its been sitting in my asks and i've been rereading it 💕

first of all, thank you AGAIN for taking the time to read and then come into my inbox to share your thoughts 😩😩💕 as always, it means the world to me!!

i think gojo has a...human complex lol. i've seen it go around the dash recently but it was something i'd thought/had been the basis of godmaker for a long time which is that gojo doesn't have a god complex because he just is a god. and he wants to be human. or he wants another god. he doesn't want to be alone anymore. and i took it the next level in godmaker LMAO

god the tsumiki bomb dropped on me and i went SHIT. bc i was not planning on THAT. and then megumi...oh megumi. either way. i had to continue godmaker despite whatever akutami is putting out lol. but im glad you're enjoying the side characters! i actually love writing nanami always. even if he's a tough nut.

it makes total sense!! that's what i intended for it to be! i do feel like yuuta marks the beginning of the end, in the reader's mind. she'll get to meet him next chapter and she. kinda sees him as a bad omen in her life lol.

but gosh THANK YOU! i really really really appreciate you taking the time to send this message and share your thoughts! honestly one of my fav parts of posting on here is when i get to do this!!

thank you again and sorry this is late!! i hope you're doing well friend 💕💕

[sabraeal]

Seven Swipes for Shirayuki, Chapter 1

Prologue

Obiyuki AU Bingo Medical Drama AU

Here it is guys, the modern AU version of Seven Suitors for Shirayuki that you all asked for and I thought I would never really write. Obviously the chapters for this will not be 1:1 with parallel content-- I think we ALL would like to avoid another Chapter 6-- but here at least is the beginning of what I’m sure will be a stupidly long journey.

Plink. Plink. Plink plink plink--

“You know.” Shirayuki sets her hands flat against the keyboard, the surest way to keep them from becoming fists. “I really don’t think the janitorial staff will appreciate having to get those down.”

Obi turns wide eyes on her, striving for an air of innocence she doubts he’s possessed since long before his voice dropped. “What do you men, Miss?”

He twirls a pen between his long fingers-- cheap ones, little blue Bics that hardly scratch out a solid line since the hospital cut down on frivolous spending-- and flicks his wrist. It flies unerringly upward, lodging itself firmly in the particleboard of the ceiling.

At least it won’t be lonely with all its friends to keep it company. “They can’t just leave those up there, Obi. It’s probably a fire hazard.”

At least, she thinks so. Considering how EHS feels about anything being on the floor besides furniture and feet, she can only imagine they have strong opinions on ceilings too.

Obi scoffs, languidly kicking his legs over the arm of his chair. Anyone else would look ridiculous, but with his long limbs and cunningly tailored suit, Obi just looks dangerous, like a panther behind glass.

“Don’t worry, Miss.” Another projectile unerringly hits its mark. “They’ll come down on their own.”

Her mouth flirts heavily with a frown. “So I can look forward to a pile of pens on my floor next Monday?”

“Nah.” Teeth flash between his lips. “It’ll be all cleaned up before you get here.”

Shirayuki stifles a sigh, turning her attention back to her notes. Exasperation only encourages him. “I’ll be done soon. If you want you can wait in the hall--”

“Miss.” He presses a hand to his chest, affronted. “Would I ever leave your side? What if something happened to you while there was this one, flimsy door between us? What would Master--”

“Don’t let Zen catch you calling him that.”

“--even do to me if some terrible fate befell you while I turned away for just one moment?” He blinks, far too innocent to be earnest. “You wound me, Miss.”

She lets out a huff, flyaways fanning out around her face. “Considering how many bags of Funyuns you’ve fished out of the vending machine the past year, I think it’s safe to say that nothing will happen to me if you choose to harass Higata down at the nurse’s station instead of me.”

His smile sits stiffly on his lips, pen stilling between his fingers. “It did happen, once.”

Her heart gives a single, loud pound in her chest. “Obi--”

“Anyway.” His smile slides into a smirk, sitting more comfortably on his face. “We’re back on days after this, aren’t we?”

Her fingers roll back into their rhythm, keys tacking pleasantly beneath them. “For a little while at least. Why, do you have exciting plans?”

“Miss.” His expression wilts like a plant left in the maintenance closet. “That’s what I’m asking you.”

She blinks. The answer is simple: lounge around in her scrubs-turned-lounge wear and catch up on The Great British Baking Show while eating a staggering amount of Thai food. But he should know that; it’s what she does every weekend after she’s been on nights, and he’s usually right there beside her, making inappropriate comments about Paul Hollywood’s piercing eyes and speculating if he comes by the last name honestly or whether he had a stint in the adult film industry.

(”It’s the future, you know.” She waggles his smart phone; hers is still in her bedroom. As nice a gesture as it was from Zen, she’s never quite gotten used to keeping it on her. “We could just google it.”

“No.” He turns to her, affronted. “I appreciate the thought, Miss, but there are some things you don’t google.”

She arches a brow, tucking her feet under his butt on the cushion. He lets out a put-upon grunt, but allows it. “You just don’t want to find out it’s some old, perfectly respectable English last name.”

“It’s not that,” he snips as Netflix rolls through to the next episode, promising nun-shaped pastries. “Knowing things ruins the mystique.”)

“I mean,” he sighs, “are you going out with the boss?”

“Oh!” She stares, helpless. “I don’t...know? He hasn’t said anything to me.” She gives the keyboard a few cursory pecks before asking, “Has he said anything to you?”

His expression only falls flatter. “Has he said anything to me about your theoretical romantic plans?”

Her cheeks prickle, the sure sign that a blush is starting to dawn. “Well, you usually know before me!”

“I...wish I could say that isn’t true,” he sighs, rolling until he’s sitting properly in his seat-- or at least, as properly as Obi ever does, slouched so low that his chin is level with the ankle crossed over his knee. “But it is. And no, I haven’t...heard of any plans.”

“There you have it.” She waves a hand and turns back to her work. “No plans. Just us, some Thai, and a bunch of decorative but delicious meat pies.”

“And Paul Hollywood’s piercing eyes,” he says with more relish than anyone should. “But you’re all right with that?”

“What? Of course.” She shrugs, clicking down to the last field. “He’ll call if he has time. And if not, there’s always next week.”

Obi arches an undeservedly dubious brow, in her opinion. “Next week?”

“Sure.” She barely pauses as she says, “Zen’s a busy man. And I’m a busy lady! I don’t need to see him every weekend. Or every week!”

“Right,” he huffs, “but you, you know, presumably would want to see him more than you did when we lived three thousand miles away.”

“Obi.” Shirayuki shoots him a warning look. “We see each other plenty, and certainly more than every six months--”

“Ten months.”

“Fine, ten months.” She shrugs, gazing fixing back onto her screen. “Still. We saw each other just last week.”

He blinks. “Last week?”

“Yes, last Saturday.” She tilts her chin up, chuffed she’s remembered it. “We went to the Getty Center to see the Monet exhibit.”

“Miss.” His mouth twitches. “That was three weeks ago, and you were bored out of your mind.”

Her jaw drops. “I-- I was not!”

“You kept calling him Manet, blamed it on your Portland ‘accent’--” Obi does some vigorous finger quotes she does not appreciate-- “when the curator corrected you, excused yourself halfway through and then speculated whether drowning was a peaceful death while we stared out at the Pacific.”

Her lips pull thin, and she pointedly shifts her attention back to the screen. “I need to finish this.”

Obi raises his brows, rucking up the silvery slash above his eye. “You were bored.”

“I’m not the biggest fan of art, no.” Her fingers hesitate above the keys. “Three weeks?”

He nods. “Three weeks.”

She grimaces. “All right, let me just get the notes for this discharge written up for Garrack, and we can head out.”

“Oh, the discharge?” Obi’s looking far too pleased with himself. “You mean the ultrasound girl?”

“Yes?” His sudden interest is unnerving, to say the least. “Third trimester pregnancy, lots of blood and cramping, thought she was losing the baby, ended up just having a ruptured luteal cyst.” She stares at him, brows drawing down in confusion. “Did Ryuu tell you about it?”

“Mm-hm.” If it was possible to look like those little mischievous kitty emojis he sends her, he’d be doing it now. “And that you held her hand through the whole sonogram dealie.”

“Well, yes. No one was with her.” The girl had been so pale she nearly matched the sheets. “I wasn’t going to let her find out she had a stillbirth by herself. That’s just cruel.”

His eyes melt from gold to amber. “Of course you wouldn’t, Miss.” In a breath that softness is gone, replaced by his Cheshire Cat grin. “But are you sure that’s all?”

“W-what else would it be?”

“Ryuu said you were very interested in that baby on the screen.”

“I’m an obstetrician, Obi--”

“No need to deny it, Miss,” he assures her. “I understand completely. After all, some of that may be in the cards for you, soon.”

Shirayuki stares at him. “A luteal cyst?”

Obi heaves a sigh. “No, Miss! Maybe you have--” he waggles his narrow brows-- “baby fever.”

“What?”

“It’s only to be expected, after all,” he says with a shrug, as if this were a done deal. “You and Master have been together for six years.”

Shirayuki nearly balks, nearly suggests that he takes a walk down to the pediatrics ward and ask to check out their number line--

Until she does some mental math of her own. It has been six years. “But I-- but we-- we haven’t--”

Obi’s brows lift in a terrible cross between amusement and curiosity. “You have talked about this, haven’t you?”

They most definitely have not, which didn’t seem like an oversight until just this moment, and now--

“Shirayuki.”

She jumps, eyes darting to the door. “Dr Gazalt! I didn’t-- I didn’t expect you.”

Garrack blinks, brows raising. “Yes, me. The one who is waiting for your shift notes. Higata tells me there’s a discharge I have to sign for?”

“Oh, yes. I--” she glances at the empty notes field-- “I’ll get that done right away. I was just, ah, finishing up now.”

“Hm,” Garrack grunts, gaze shifting to where Obi is contorted in his chair. “I can’t imagine what’s keeping you.”

“Why, Chief,” he gasps, pressing a hand to his chest. “You can’t possibly think I was being anything but the most helpful for Doctor--”

“Oh, I know what you were being.” There’s a twitch at the corner of her mouth, and a spark in her eye as she reveals, “A nuisance.”

“Chief.”

“I’ll be done in a minute!” Shirayuki interjects, too shrill. Both of them turn to her, brows raised mildly, and she adds, “Just, ah, give me some quiet.”

“You heard the lady, big boy.” Garrack grins. “Looks like you’ll be shadowing me.”

Obi’s expression rings with alarm. “Oh, I think I’m supposed to--”

“Oh no, you’re not escaping this time.” She reaches in, getting a good grip on his tie, and tugs. “I got some heavy things that need to be lifted.”

save me pls Miss

I’m almost done

Miss she wants me to help rearrange the stock room PLS hurry

Five minutes

im wasting away i can feel the life leaving my body

We’ll get breakfast This will go faster if you stop interrupting me

the angels are calling me home theres a light at the end of the tunnel Miss

Walk towards it This is probably your only chance at heaven

M I S S

It’s no use, Obi. I may be an optimist, but I’ve seen your search history

Touche

It’s not until she’s in the elevator that it hits her: she’s forgotten something.

Her brain is, as usual, coy with the rest of the information. Did she forget something important on her report? Did she leave her keys back on her desk? Does she have some appointment this evening that will keep her from getting confused every time someone says biscuit in the tent?

Nothing comes to mind, the answer hanging frustratingly out of reach. She’d have better luck trying to get Obi to talk about his past than she will trying to brute force this memory.

Shirayuki sighs. Time to check everything.

She’s wearing clothes-- check. They’re not her scrubs-- also check. Shoes match-- double check.

Her hand sweeps into her purse. Keys-- ouch, yep, check. Wallet-- check. Phone--

Buzzes hard against her palm.

Shirayuki blinks. It’s quick, only lasting a beat before it stops. Just a text, but-- it’s eight in the morning. Even with all her early-rising, day-shift doctor friends, this is well before their first morning coffee has kicked in. This is--

Weird. Worryingly weird. She drags the phone out of her bag, waking the screen to be greeted with 12 MISSED CALLS.

Shirayuki stares. That can’t be right. She’s kept her phone on her all shift, only tossing it into her bag when she’d stopped by her office to log her notes. There’s no way she’s had that many calls in an hour. And texts--

Well, that number is staggering. Her screen shows only the last one, a very cheerful, ill kill him and hide the body so well hell get famous as cold case from Yuzuri. She grimaces. Whatever Suzu’s done now, he’ll spend the whole day regretting it.

Well, that’s not exactly fair. It could be Kazaha, or even Shidan if he’d made her work down in the pharmacy hard enough. But...

It’s definitely Suzu.

She traces the appropriate squiggle onto her phone to open it and her homescreen unfurls before her. Her thumb hovers right above the little speech bubble--

A bright ding lets her know she’s arrived at ground level, and the entirely unamused bodyguard leaning against the doors lets her know that she’s late.

“Well,” she says, tipping the phone back into her bag. “You’re looking...hale?”

“I was promised breakfast,” he reminds her in a pleasant, if displeased rumble. “This is a thing that is happening.”

She makes sure to infuse some extra bounce into her step as she exits the elevator, earning a weary scowl. “Doctor Gazalt must have worked you hard.”

“Doctor Gazalt has some definite opinions about how her office should be arranged.” He raises a hand, rubbing pointedly at his neck. “What do they make the furniture out of here? Bricks?”

“Concrete, probably,” she agrees. “Pancho’s?”

He nods. “Spicy sauce. Extra spicy sauce. I’ll get the car.”

She grins. “Sounds like a deal. Meet me out font in ten?”

He lets out a huff. “I’ll meet you out front whenever I manage to lug my broken body across the parking garage and into the driver’s seat.”

“You poor baby,” she deadpans, patting his arm.

“I’ve suffered,” he tells her, affronted. “And don’t forget! Extra Spicy!”

The hospital is a cool cocoon, it’s temperature scrupulously maintained for the benefit of the labs and supplies inside, and so when Shirayuki emerges into the bright, May morning--

The heat hits her like a wall.

The air is oppressive; with each step it weighs her down, like a body laying across her back, and oh, she cannot wait until Obi gets here with the towncar, because there is no way she can last more than ten minutes without air conditioning.

Shirayuki has to laugh at that as she trudges down the granite stairs. She, who had spent her summers in a stuffy attic of an old Victorian house with only a single circular window to allow air in, happily devouring book after book as she laid on her bed with little more than underwear on, to whom air conditioning was a ridiculous luxury--

And now she can’t live without it. Probably couldn’t bear to sleep in a tiny twin bed either, with a mattress last changed out when she stopped wetting the bed. Not now that she’s experienced queen size and memory foam. Zen’s truly made sure she can never go home again.

Not that it was an option, anyway.

She oozes onto the pavement, taking a moment to really feel how sweaty twenty steps and thirty seconds can make her, and turns, goal blessedly in sight. Pancho’s lime green paint glistens in the morning sun, and the smell of meat cooking on the griddle inspires her to make the last three yard push. Well, that and she’s absolutely sure that Obi won’t let her in the car empty handed, not after he had to move Garrack’s desk.

“Good morning!” Shirayuki manages. “Two breakfast burritos. One...al pastor...extra spicy. The other...veggie? Mild.”

The vendor peers down from the counter-- it’s the dark-haired one, Shiira. Good. He won’t scream if she passes out in front of him. “Doing okay there, ma’am?”

“Never better,” she assures him, knuckles white where she grips the metal. It’s the only thing keeping her upright “I love heat. So much.”

His mouth curves into a faint smile, ringing up her order. “Boston thinned your blood, did it?”

“I’ll get used to it.” It’s been a year, sure, but it will happen at some point. It has to. “I did it before.”

He barks out a laugh, mouth opening to say more until his gaze catches over her shoulder. “Oh, can I take your order, sir?”

Shirayuki steps off to the side, her shoulder bumping hard into the magazine rack hanging off the window. It wibbles hard, metal banging against metal as it vibrates against the side of the truck. She catches it with a grimace, stilling it before it can make more of a racket, and glimpses the name WISTERIA on the front page. Her hand hovers, ready to grab it--

And catches the National Enquirer above it. Her hand jerks back like it’s been scalded. She doesn’t need to see any of that, thank you. Probably just more articles about Izana’s philandering ways.

She huffs out a laugh. Anyone who wrote about his wife crying in bed, unable to stand from grief has clearly never met her. Yuzuri’s probably read it already, with bullet points ready to bitch about, and--

Oh! Yuzuri. She digs into her bag, fishing out her phone. 12 MISSED CALLS sits bright on her welcome screen, nagging at her. As much as she wants to know just what ridiculous scheme has gotten Suzu in trouble now, she can always catch up later.

With a flick of her thumb she summons her call screen, and there it is, twelve calls missed, and all of them--

All of them are from Yuzuri.

Her heart pounds loud in her ears, the sound of the street around her muted. The screen won’t stay still, making words blur as if she’s trying to read in a dream, as if any moment they’ll drip off the page.

But it’s no dream. She’s had twelve calls from Yuzuri in the past hour, and her hands are trembling.

Something must have happened. Suzu’s hurt, or Kirito’s sick, or-- or--

What had her text said? She swipes a thumb, ready to find out, but--

Her phone buzzes, right in her hand. Shirayuki stares at it, dumb. She must have forgotten to turn on the ringer.

YUZURI it reads, and her heart skips a beat.

“Is everything okay?” she breathes the moment the call connects, one hand clenched in her collar.

“No, nothing is okay,” Yuzuri snaps, voice crackling in that way that means both danger and most probably homicide. “I will fly out there and help you hide the body. There are lye pits everywhere, Yuki.”

She blinks, head jerking back from the whiplash. “Excuse me?”

“Or I’ll do the job myself, if you want,” she continues, undaunted. “I’m sure a rich kid like him has a lot of enemies. We’ll never get caught.”

“Yuzuri.” She shakes her head. “Who on earth are you talking about?”

“Wha--? Zen!” she says, exasperated. “You mean he hasn’t even told you?”

“Told me what?”

“Oh my god,” Yuzuri breathes. “I can’t-- you haven’t even seen the news?”

“I was on nights.” She turns to the rack behind her, riffling through the magazines. “I didn’t really have time to-- oh. Oh my.”

WISTERIA WEDDING BELLS TO RING AGAIN! the tabloid boasts, showing Zen right on the front, his hair tousled as he steps down from the private jet. She’d laugh it off, just like she always does-- she’d lost count of the number of times they reported his engagement to Kiki before she got married, and Obi made a habit of buying anything that reported them having an affair so he could snapchat it to Kiki at his leisure-- but this-- this--

(”Is everything all right?” She picks her head up from his shoulder, but beneath her palm she can still feel his heart racing. The movie keeps playing on the screen, something fraught and in French, and when he stares down at her, she can see the white all around his eyes, shining in the dark.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” His arm wraps tighter around her, and he gives her a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. She’s never realized how much he looks like Izana until now.

She raises a brow. “You seem tense.”

“Ah.” he shifts beneath her, gaze flicking back to the TV. “Yeah, I just-- have a project I have to finish up next week. Just...starting to really feel the deadline. You know how it is.”

A line carves a chasm between his eyebrows, worn by the inexorabe waters of worry. There’s never much she can do for him, the man who wears the weight of the world on his back, but-- but she can do this, sitting back on her knees, fiddling with the watch around her wrist.

“Here,” she says, pulling it tight around his.

He stares down at it, confused, and she smiles. There’s something perversely gratifying to giving a man who has everything something so second-hand it still has the heat from her body. “What--?”

“My lucky watch.”

He tilts his eyes up to watch her, so blue in the dim. “Is this the one I gave to you?”

“After I broke yours?” She nods, smile tilting ruefully. “And now I’m lending this to you. Bring it back safe.”

His fingers brush it, almost reverent. Zen may not let her bear any of his burden, but she can make it feel lighter, even if only for a while. “I...will.”)

Her watch gleams from beneath the cuff of his blazer, visible as he holds out an arm to help a pair of shapely legs behind him. The cover creases in her hands, cracking under her grip, and--

“Are you going to buy that too?” Shiira asks, somehow both pointed and concerned.

Shirayuki shakes herself. The tabloids are always quick to speculate, slapping fiancée over any woman he shared air with for more than a minute. This doesn’t have to mean anything.

And it wouldn’t, not if she hadn’t already thought--

“Shirayuki?” Yuzuri prompts, alarm ringing through every syllable. “Are you--?”

“I’m fine.” It’s not a lie if she doesn’t know whether or it’s true. “I just have to-- I’ll have to call you back.”

She hangs up with Yuzuri mid-breath, doubtlessly gearing up to give her an earful of opinions. It’s rude, yes, but she can hardly think past the next name on her list, scrolling until ZEN WISTERIA lights up on the screen.

It’s a mistake, it has to be. It’s just some picture, out of context, slapped right onto the page like it means something.

Two foil-wrapped packages slide toward her. “That will be seven forty--”

You’ve reached the voice mail of Zen. Wisteria. Please leave a message at--

“This too,” she says, slapping the rag on the counter.

Shiira stares at her, wide-eyed.

She coughs, arranging it with slightly more care. “And, um, a horchata. Please.”

You’ve reached the voice mail of Zen. Wisteria. Please leave a message at the tone.

Shirayuki shifts her load to the crook of her elbow, nibbling at a cuticle. “Hi. It’s, um, me again. I just got off shift, and I--” she takes a long, hard breath, and switches tack-- “just call me. Whenever you can. I’ll keep my ringer on.”

A black sedan slips up to the curb, the passenger side door stopping right at her toes. The window scrolls down with a soft hum, and Obi stretches across the seat, his mouth rucking up in a smirk. “Come on, Miss, we don’t have all--”

His whole body stiffens, the warm amber of his eyes fixed to her face. “Miss,” he breathes, lips hardly moving, knuckles white where he grips the console. “Miss, what’s wrong. Are you--?”

She shoves the magazine through the window, crumpling it into his hands. “Miss, what--?”

He stares. Obi might not recognize the watch-- might not even know she had given it away-- but oh, he can recognize the ring.

“That’s Mrs Wisteria’s--”

“Yes.” She can’t even bear to hear it spoke. “Yeah.”

His brow furrows. “There has to be some explanation. You know how these rags like to come up with--”

“He won’t pick up.” Her voice cracks, but she can’t-- she can’t do this here, right on the sidewalk. Not in front of her hospital. His hospital. “Or Mitsuhide. Or Kiki. I don’t...”

Know what to believe. her lips catch the words before they slip out. If she doesn’t say it, it can’t be true, it can’t be real, this can’t be happening.

“We’ll figure it out,” Obi tells her, but his voice wavers, and his hands clench tight on her seat. “Just get in and we’ll--”

Her phone cuts him off. She jumps to answer it, glancing down at the screen to see--

Oh. Oh no.

IZANA WISTERIA, it reads.

“Oh,” Obi breathes. “Shit.”

[jgnico]

preach to your post about gojo's portrayal within the fandom and his mischaracterization when shipping him with other characters!! i'm white myself so i don't think it's my place to speak about this, just going to add my my thoughts because your text brushed on this as well and hope it's not offensive somehow because it isn't my intention but it also bothers me quite a bit that fanartists usually draw anime characters as white by default (or at least the artists I have been in contact with that have a more realistic art style). especially when they don't have dark hair, dark eyes or those japanese/asian common characteristics, that's kind of used as an excuse to not draw these characters with the traces from their actual ethnicity. as if these stories aren't fictional and they can't have made up features or ones that just simply aren't as common. and gojo is one of the characters where this is really evident, even nanami who gets pictured this way solely because he has blonde hair. do you think, for example, the way noses or faces are drawn in manga and anime is a reason for typically white features in fanart? (genuine question) in general I think only black anime characters tend to have very obvious features and the line between asian, white or any other categories also tends to get blurry. but most of us also aren't kids and we understand (or should) the context of these stories and the identity of these characters. and in jjk we see very prominent characteristics of the japanese culture in every character so there doesn't seem to be an excuse, really. so yeah would love to hear what your thoughts are

So there's two things that I just wanna throw out there at the beginning of this answer.

1. Of the 7 billion people in the world, 2/3rds of our global population live in Asian countries.

2. There are around 125.8 million people in Japan alone, which puts it in 11th place out of 195 total countries when it comes to population size.

Asian features are in no way uncommon. People just tend to stick to the features that they're familiar and comfortable with when they draw and everyone has their own personal art-style. Manga and anime also has a very specific art-style, but you can almost always tell when a character isn't Japanese or at least mixed. The mangaka will make it pretty obvious, so genuinely, no, its not a matter of lines being blurred between white and Asian characters when it comes to features.

African Americans being portrayed in anime and manga is also a pretty sore subject because of this. We tend to have a lot of harmful stereotypes and depictions perpetuated when it comes to our ethnic characteristics (big lips, unflattering brow-lines, wide noses, etc) that only just recently started being combatted by more positive and genuine approaches to conveying our features in that medium. Bleach actually did a fantastic job of this, but if you want to stick to JJK, I'd urge you to compare Yuuta's bully in the first chapter of Volume 0 to what Yaga and Hakari look like in Gege's later work. They're all Black (or at least Blasian) characters, but Gege's original drawings of those kind of features weren't kind or tactful.

Another thing that poses a big issue is colorism. Historically (and currently) almost every poc and non-poc community that I know of has an issue with this because the world spent such a long time being told that lighter skin is more desirable. For white dominated countries, this often translates to white features (straight hair, light eyes, light skin) being considered more attractive than poc features, but I know that the Asian community goes through this kind of bias as well.

Going back to JJK, Nanami is part-Danish (1/4ths) so he'll obviously have different features than characters like Gojo or Geto, and if you actually look for those features, they're easy to spot.

Nanami has a wide and prominent browbone that extends out from his face before dipping into a long and straight nose ridge. He also has a more square jawline and a rounded chin that doesn't end in any kind of point. These are features that are more common among white people, as most Asian faces tend to be smaller and rounder.

In comparison, Gojo has a pointed chin and an angled jawline, which gives him a shorter, more compact face. His nose is also shorter and smaller (a button nose, if you will) with a browbone that curves softly into his nose ridge instead of angling out from his face.

For Geto, he still keeps that soft brow and short nose, but his face is wider and his eyes are have a more hooded almond shape, which gives me the impression that he has a mixed (most likely Chinese) ancestry. His face is also longer than Gojo's, but shorter than Nanami's with an angled jaw and a soft, rounded chin that isn't as square as Nanami's or as pointed as Gojo's.

All that being said, if artists are trying to portray the characters respectfully and accurately, even within their own art-style, these are the features that they'd want to pay attention to. It doesn't all just boil down to skin tone, which is something that they should be depicting accurately anyways.

Note: Asian people will have a warmer skin tone with a red or yellow undertone, while white people will have a cooler skin tone with a pink or neutral undertone.

If an artist is having a difficult time with portraying these differences in features in more realistic art-styles, then I'd suggest that they look into resources for drawing Asian (specifically East Asian) people and incorporate that into how they approach making fanart.