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mononijikayu · 5 months

Text

present.

It had been a long while since Genmei had set foot in this room, and she couldn't help but let her gaze wander, her eyes tracing the contours of the space. The memories of years gone by resurfaced, casting a warm, nostalgic light on her thoughts. The armchair in which she now reclined seemed as much a part of the room as the air and light that filled it, a fixture of comfort and familiarity that had stood the test of time.

GENRE: pre - hidden inventory arc to shibuya arc (1990s to 2010s);

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

LISTEN: present by khalid

NOTE: i rewrote this and made the two of them have more fun because, being married to gojo satoru for almost ten years changes you as a person. genmei certainly isn't all zenin anymore and gakuganji hates that. anyway enjoy this <333

masterlist

u s and t h e m

[ Hiromi Shrine, June 2018; Tokyo Prefecture ]

THROUGHOUT THE YEARS, THE SMELL OF INCENSE HAD BECOME A COMFORT. Throughout the passing years, the fragrance of incense had transformed into a source of solace. Just as the presence of the kamis in front of her, the smell of incense had become the means to find a safe zone. In her tender years, that aroma had often left her feeling queasy, prompting her to seek refuge behind her father's hakama, where she'd bury her face in its fabric.

The scent that emanated from her father's garment was a symphony of sweetness and tenderness, akin to the delicate fragrance of cherry blossoms in spring. That memory remained etched in her mind. Yet now, as she stood in the autumn of her life, Genmei found herself far removed from her childhood self. The scent was not as disagreeable as it once appeared; in fact, she dared to admit that she rather enjoyed it.

The sun's rays filtered through the dense canopy of leaves, casting golden lattices upon the moss-covered path. Birds sang sweetly, the gentle breeze whispered secrets of the forest, and a hush fell upon the world, as if nature itself held its breath in anticipation. Today was a beautiful day, she could admit.

The past few days were obtused by such gray clouds, though it did not rain. That perhaps relieved Genmei, for she would have to take the train rather than being able to walk. She after all enjoyed being able to walk. Though, had Satoru come with her, she was certain he would complain too much about it. He had always been like that.

An elder miko smiled when she caught sight of the young woman, dropping her broom as Genmei greeted her in return. Genmei could not help panic, but she could not stop the older woman as she led her body down into an elegant bow. A flush of red rushed through her, sweat palmed face. One of these days, Genmei wished that she wasn’t as well known as she was.

A long time ago, Genmei would have eaten the glory of being known. Yet these days, the attention is not warranted. However, it is beyond unavoidable. She purses her lips, sighing. Perhaps it might have been better had she convinced Satoru to come with her. Satoru would eat this attention to its bones, she was certain.

One can call it bad luck, he’s too saddled with missions.

But knowing the man, he was already sight–seeing.

Genmei sighed.

“It is good to see you, my lady.” The elder miko grins, standing upwards. Her hands clasped in a formal fold.

Genmei hastily bowed in return. “I am glad to be here. But you need not bow to me, you know? I am not a higher ranking priestess than you.”

The elderly woman shakes her head. “That is not true, my lady. You are a descendant, after all. You are touched by the sacred. To have you here with us, it is an honor.”

The young woman felt her mouth turn into a short line, the reminder of notoriety that she knew she will never be free from. The connection of the blood was what mattered in all clans. The thought of being from the direct echo of the founder, it is as though the founder touches you. It was almost like a blessing from kami. Genmei had never understood that.

She did not like it either.

The thought had made her feel like she was more alien than human.

A moment of glum echoes her aura.

“Are you here to pray, my lady?” The older woman’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

Genmei nodded. “Before I pray my respects to the ancestral hall, yes.”

The woman led Genmei towards the inside.

Genmei moved with a grace and reverence that seemed almost as ancient as the shrine itself. When she could, she followed the ritual that had been passed down through generations with unwavering devotion. With her offering carefully placed in the big red box, she stood before the honden, the heart of the sacred place. As the sun's gentle rays filtered through the ancient cedars, casting a warm glow on the shrine, Genmei reached for the thick rope that hung beside the entrance.

The sound of the bell reverberated through the tranquil forest, a call that resonated with the spirits of the land. Bowing twice, she paid her respects to the deity, clapping her hands twice to signal her presence. In the sacred silence that followed, she felt the ancient energies embrace her, and her heart swelled with a profound sense of connection. With one final, deep bow, she conveyed her gratitude and reverence.

Her sand colored hair quivered against her back as she raised her body slightly. Genmei meets the golden eyes of the kami. She lowered her head, her lilac eyes closed. Genmei is feeling the waves of the kami whisper to her, unable to move for what seemed like hours. It was as though the kami was pulling her body downwards, to force her to submit. Her knuckles buck and close.

A huff of pained breath leaves her lips laboriously. There was always an expectation to submit an offering. To this kami, the cursed energy within her was the best one. It protected the dwelling of the holy abode, after all. From long ago, that had been the practice.

Lilac eyes shone against the kami’s face.

Sweat pears against her porcelain face.

Genmei sighed, exhausted in the fight.

‘You truly are a bitter one, aren’t you?’ The voice laughs, sending shivers down her spine.

‘I hate you.’ Genmei hisses back.

The voice merely continued laughing. ‘You’re far more interesting to tease.’

‘I am not lighting an incense for you.’

‘You’d do it anyway,’ The voice snickers dismissively.

Genmei snarls, knowing the voice was right. Genmei tried to stand up, but failed for a moment. A frustrated gleam in her eyes as her legs took ground. Whenever she visited the kami’s shrine, there was always such entitlement to her body. She could not fight a kami, that she knew. Her cursed energy was drained, but once she took some rest she knew she would be better again. Still, she was glad it was only at his altars where must feel this way. A small price to pay, the words of her ancestor a thousand years ago writes.

‘When has it ever been worth it to serve the powerful?’

‘Gojo Satoru isn’t powerful?’

She shakes her head. ‘I’m not his servant.’

‘As you say.’

Once she was able to gather enough strength, she took to walking. Despite the pain, she knew she could not look weak in front of the elder miko. The woman bowed to her once more, as Genmei moved gracefully, her steps echoing the rhythm of the shrine's ancient stones. The sound of the bamboo fountain ringing in her ears. Her light cerulean blue kimono danced against the white shawl covering her arms.

The elder miko led the way, all the while telling her of the shrine’s condition while they walked. Genmei could not speak, her strength only starting to return to her. Genmei sighed, slowly taking out the incense from her kimono’s safety. In her hands, she carried a bundle of fragrant incense sticks, each carefully chosen for their purity and significance.

As she reached the sacred courtyard, Genmei paused to bow deeply in respect.She stared at the bountiful piles upon the table. She approached timidly the offering table, a wooden structure adorned with offerings of rice, fruits, and flowers. The shrine seems to have offered it on her behalf. The estate must have told them in advance.

At its center lay an intricately carved incense burner, ancient and weathered, its beauty only deepened by time. Her mother had told her that they were the same ones from when the parent clan still existed in its power. Genmei carefully touched it. Memories were inside them, sealed tightly. She was sure. There was such energy in them. Genmei turned to the elder miko, but she did not speak. The woman merely kept her head down.

Genmei did not press the matter further.

Genmei started to hum as she turned towards the small clay pot where fire danced. The way it danced mesmerized her, its every essence alive in its willfulness. Genmei lit the incense sticks, their delicate tips blossoming into tendrils of smoke, fragrant and wispy. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to be swept up in the gentle dance of the smoke as it curled and swirled, an ethereal waltz of devotion.

The world around her faded away as she began her sacred ritual. Holding the incense aloft, she first offered it to the kami, the spirits of the shrine, seeking their blessings and protection. Her whispers were soft, a heart's longing transformed into silent words carried by the fragrant smoke.

"O venerable spirits, o venerable kami, guardians of this sacred world, accept this humble offering! A symbol of my gratitude and reverence. May you watch over this land and its people, as you have done for countless generations. Guide us, protect us, and let your wisdom flow through us like the waters of a serene stream."

The incense smoke swirled and danced, ascending like a bridge between the earthly and the divine, a communion of souls.

Genmei then turned her attention to her own hopes and dreams. With each additional incense stick she offered, she silently whispered her aspirations to the spirits. It was a sacred dialogue, a conversation between her heart and the universe, a moment of pure connection.

With the final incense stick offered, she bowed deeply once more, her spirit lightened and her heart touched by a profound sense of peace. The incense continued to burn, its fragrant tendrils rising toward the heavens, carrying her intentions to the ether.

Once more, Genmei bows.

She stands and turns to the elder miko.

Genmei smiles.

Metallic scarlet pours from her hakui.

The miko’s eyes widened slightly.

“Lead me to the ancestral hall, please.”

One can call it bad luck, he’s too saddled with missions.

But knowing the man, he was already sight–seeing.

Genmei sighed.

“It is good to see you, my lady.” The elder miko grins, standing upwards. Her hands clasped in a formal fold.

Genmei hastily bowed in return. “I am glad to be here. But you need not bow to me, you know? I am not a higher ranking priestess than you.”

The elderly woman shakes her head. “That is not true, my lady. You are a descendant, after all. You are touched by the sacred. To have you here with us, it is an honor.”

She did not like it either.

The thought had made her feel like she was more alien than human.

A moment of glum echoes her aura.

“Are you here to pray, my lady?” The older woman’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

Genmei nodded. “Before I pray my respects to the ancestral hall, yes.”

The woman led Genmei towards the inside.

Lilac eyes shone against the kami’s face.

Sweat pears against her porcelain face.

Genmei sighed, exhausted in the fight.

‘You truly are a bitter one, aren’t you?’ The voice laughs, sending shivers down her spine.

‘I hate you.’ Genmei hisses back.

The voice merely continued laughing. ‘You’re far more interesting to tease.’

‘I am not lighting an incense for you.’

‘You’d do it anyway,’ The voice snickers dismissively.

‘When has it ever been worth it to serve the powerful?’

‘Gojo Satoru isn’t powerful?’

She shakes her head. ‘I’m not his servant.’

‘As you say.’

Genmei did not press the matter further.

The incense smoke swirled and danced, ascending like a bridge between the earthly and the divine, a communion of souls.

Once more, Genmei bows.

She stands and turns to the elder miko.

Genmei smiles.

Metallic scarlet pours from her hakui.

The miko’s eyes widened slightly.

“Lead me to the ancestral hall, please.”

THE DAY ENDED BEFORE GENMEI KNEW IT. The day had not felt real, but perhaps its all that will ever be reality for her. She shifts, careful with her side. The wound could reopen once more. There were no healers in the temple that day, most off aiding in missions elsewhere. The elder miko was more learned in stopping bleeding than restoring the flesh to what it was.

But it would be enough, until perhaps tomorrow. Shoko should be there by then. All she had to do now was make sure that Satoru doesn't notice. But Genmei was certain that he'd be home in a few days. She was certain he'd get distracted by his sight - seeing again. A small sigh releases from her dried lips. That she supposes is levity. Otherwise, he'd dig into her and never shut up.

Genmei was beyond exhausted, she just wanted to crawl to her bed and let herself rest for the day. The usage of cursed energy beyond her minimum was stupid. But with the knowledge that there was a special grade curse that appeared among the grade one curses, Genmei knew that her cursed weapons would not be enough.

As she stepped out of the shrine's sacred grounds, she tried to bow to the elder miko and the other servants of the temple. They had gathered to say goodbye to her. Genmei gives a small smile, whispering a reminder about the weapons she would be leaving behind. They need repair. Only a Mikoto would be able to do that for her, after all. By the time Ichiji arrived, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows that stretched across the forest path. The world around her had transitioned from the vibrant hues of daylight to the cool, serene tones of twilight.

Genmei sighed as she got into the back of the car, its leather seats welcoming her with a comfortable embrace. She gave a small greeting, he greeted her back. The engine purred to life once more, and the vehicle began its journey back to the bustling city beyond the tranquil forest. The drive was a stark contrast to the stillness and tranquility she had experienced at the shrine. The city's lights came to life, and the sounds of life returned with a bustling energy.

Her thoughts drifted back to the day's visit, the rituals, the ancient spirits, and the connection she felt with the kami. It was moments like these that reminded her of the sacred lineage she bore, a responsibility she couldn't escape but had grown to appreciate. The scent of the incense still lingered in her senses, bringing her a sense of calm and clarity. The serene whisper of the Kyoto countryside began to fade away as she closed her eyes. She didn’t get much sleep last night, she supposed.

‘She was in my dreams again.’ Her eyes narrowed, thoughts of a smile far away flooding her for a moment. She shakes her head. ‘Haunting me too much, I fear.’

Before it was too late, she found darkness.

When she opened her eyes, Genmei found herself fighting against the beam of the city lights. Outside, the city buzzed with activity and life. and Genmei couldn't help but feel a disconnect from the urban chaos. For a moment, she wished she had stayed the night. Genmei had forgotten how busy the streets get when it's near the week’s end. For a moment, she found solace in the memories of the shrine, the serene forest, and the guidance of the spirits. As the car navigated the crowded streets, her thoughts remained anchored in the tranquil world she had just left behind.

“You must have been weary, Genmei-san.” The voice of her junior, Kiyotaka Ichiji, rings from the front of the vehicle. There was some concern in his eyes for her. Genmei sits up with a low groan. She could feel her hakui pristine against the movement of her body. “You immediately fell asleep.”

She sends him a reassuring smile. “I am well, Ichiji. Truly.”

“I heard Gakuganji–san sent you on a special grade mission.” A hint of concern in his voice. She couldn’t fault him. It has been much too long since she’s been in the field. "But there seemed to be more information unknown about it. It would have been much better if I postponed it until at least some observers were there to confirm more about it."

Genmei shook her head, yawning slightly. Her hands gently rested on her wide hakama. "Old man always did that to us when we were kids too. He used to leave out details. It's to see how well we'd do in unfamiliar territory."

Ichiji frowned. "Genmei-san, that's still not proper."

"It's fine." She snickers, waving her hand about. "That old fart is going to expect a long report on this. He'd berate me if I leave anything out."

"I still can't understand how it decided to stay that long in that abandoned shrine."

"Well, people still live in the town and they still have fears." Genmei huffs. "It was a perfect ground for growth. It adapted to the environment and grew stronger. And it was just waiting to be found. Observers couldn't have known how truly strong it truly was. Old fart was good to keep the information away. The observers would panic."

"Then I'm glad its dealt with, without you being injured."

"It got a scratch in, but that's not really a concern━"

Ichiji’s eyes widened slightly. “Genmei–san, you're wounded?"

“There’s nothing to worry about, Ichiji!” Genmei waves it off, giving a reassuring smile. “i''ve healed it up. Don't worry."

'How easily can you lie?'

'Shut up.'

'I'll talk how I like.'

‘I was just careless, is all.’

The voice snickers. ‘Careless? You were trying to be a hero.’

Her features hardened. ‘Can you leave me be?’

Another laugh. ‘Where’s the fun in that?’

“I’ll bring you to Shoko–san, right away!”

She shook her head. “Ichiji, there’s no need. Shoko should be heading home now, she needs rest—"

The moment stops when Ichiji’s phone rings.

Genmei purses her lips, a small contempt.

‘Gojo Satoru is calling.’

Genmei glares at Ichiji, her piercing lilac haunting him.

“Don’t tell him a word.”

‘She was in my dreams again.’ Her eyes narrowed, thoughts of a smile far away flooding her for a moment. She shakes her head. ‘Haunting me too much, I fear.’

Before it was too late, she found darkness.

She sends him a reassuring smile. “I am well, Ichiji. Truly.”

Ichiji frowned. "Genmei-san, that's still not proper."

"It's fine." She snickers, waving her hand about. "That old fart is going to expect a long report on this. He'd berate me if I leave anything out."

"I still can't understand how it decided to stay that long in that abandoned shrine."

"Then I'm glad its dealt with, without you being injured."

"It got a scratch in, but that's not really a concern━"

Ichiji’s eyes widened slightly. “Genmei–san, you're wounded?"

“There’s nothing to worry about, Ichiji!” Genmei waves it off, giving a reassuring smile. “i''ve healed it up. Don't worry."

'How easily can you lie?'

'Shut up.'

'I'll talk how I like.'

‘I was just careless, is all.’

The voice snickers. ‘Careless? You were trying to be a hero.’

Her features hardened. ‘Can you leave me be?’

Another laugh. ‘Where’s the fun in that?’

“I’ll bring you to Shoko–san, right away!”

She shook her head. “Ichiji, there’s no need. Shoko should be heading home now, she needs rest—"

The moment stops when Ichiji’s phone rings.

Genmei purses her lips, a small contempt.

‘Gojo Satoru is calling.’

Genmei glares at Ichiji, her piercing lilac haunting him.

“Don’t tell him a word.”

WHEN SHE SAW SATORU, SHE KNEW HE COULD TELL. But he did not speak it out loud. Instead, he smiled prettily at her as he gently placed the pink-haired boy into the front seat. The young figure appeared to be nothing more than a teenage boy, or so the young woman guessed.

Genmei pursed her lips into a flat line, recognizing that Satoru had found someone that peaked his interest. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that this meant something had happened. A sigh releases from her lips, Genmei was certain that she would have to look through the report Megumi would write. The elders would surely use this against them, more so with Satoru. There was so much they needed to discuss when they find the time to be alone, as she had no doubt he had much to share as well.

Satoru quietly exchanged a few words with Ichiji as he carefully fastened the seat belt around the young boy. The car door opened on her side, and her dark hair echoed against her lilac eyes as she shifted slightly, fighting the urge to groan from the pain that seared through her. Her gaze met Megumi's eyes, which glistened and blinked with a mixture of relief and concern. Genmei's heart ached as she took in the cuts that marred his youthful face and body. He was so young, she thought, yet here he was, willingly thrust into the front lines of danger.

Genmei exchanged a knowing look with Megumi as the car door clicked shut, enveloping them in poignant silence as the unspoken worry and tension festered. Had it not been for the gravity of their situation, she might have snickered at the familiarity of it all. She could vividly remember the way Toji nii-sama's eyes beamed with the same shine.

Toji nii-sama used to be that way when he would train with her father, after being knocked down a couple of times. Her father would egg on the younger man, but he would try not to show much of it loss after loss. He would have a silent scowl on his face, but he would make sure it was tender enough to go unnoticed. Just to avoid the worry. Genmei was certain that Megumi was indeed Toji nii-sama's son. He was a true Zenin, a boy who's carrying the weight of that name in his back.

Megumi nodded at her as he entered the car and settled in on her left. She watched him place a shopping bag down and make himself comfortable, closing the door. The car's engine roared to life once more, and they left behind the destruction that marked their world. Genmei was certain that Yaga would scold Satoru for his reckless actions, but as she observed Satoru's demeanor, he seemed untroubled by it.

But Genmei knew better.

She sighed and leaned back, her mind drifting to Gojo Satoru. He was a man of many words, but when he fell silent, it held a different weight. In a way, even his silence spoke volumes, and if they had been alone, she knew words would be flying between them by now. But she understood the need to let things unravel at their own pace, and she didn't want to push the issue. Megumi, sitting beside her, seemed to share that sentiment.

Genmei turned her attention to the young boy sleeping in the front seat. He must have been quite impressive, she thought, to have captured the attention and care of the most powerful sorcerer of their generation. Satoru thrived on excitement, and Genmei knew that all too well. Yet it was his unmatched skill that set him apart. His eyes held a depth of knowledge that had not failed them thus far.

As the vehicle navigated through the city streets, Genmei gently reached over and placed a comforting hand on the pink-haired boy's shoulder. The boy stirred slightly in his sleep, reacting to the warmth and reassurance of her touch. For a moment, Genmei saw her own youth reflected in his vulnerability. Her voice carried a soothing tone as she whispered, "Don't worry. You're safe now."

The pink-haired boy, whose name remained a mystery to them, shifted slightly, feeling the safety of her presence. Genmei couldn't help but let out a small, reassuring breath. He was just a boy, perhaps yet to experience much of life. Despite the pain that gnawed at her, she felt a profound sense of responsibility towards this newcomer.

She knew that the path of an sorcerer was perilous, and here he was, a teenager thrust into the frontline of a battle against the supernatural. It was a harsh reality they all had to confront. A bitter pit of worry gnawed at her, wondering how much of his youth would remain intact in a world defined by danger and darkness.

The rhythmic hum of the car's engine provided a backdrop to their thoughts as they continued on their journey. Genmei's gaze remained fixed on the sleeping boy in the front seat, her hand resting gently on his shoulder, offering silent reassurance. It was a fragile moment in the midst of a storm, a reminder of the innocence that could still exist in a world plagued by darkness.

As the cityscape gradually gave way to the open road, Genmei couldn't help but reflect on their shared responsibility. They were a motley crew of sorcerers, each carrying their own burdens, their own scars, both seen and unseen. The pain etched on Megumi's face and the heavy silence that hung between them were testament to the trials they had faced.

Yet they pressed forward, driven by a common purpose, a shared duty to protect the world from malevolent forces. Genmei knew that the path of an sorcerer was one of sacrifice and hardship, but it was also a path of honor. They were the defenders of humanity, standing between the known and the supernatural, often bearing the weight of the world on their shoulders.

The young boy in the front seat stirred once more, and Genmei's grip on his shoulder tightened, offering a sense of security in a world that offered so little. She knew that their journey was far from over, that they would face challenges and dangers beyond their imagination. With Satoru, she knew to expect that always. No matter the cost, he'd have his way. He'd do what would be right.

The car carried them further into the unknown, leaving behind the wreckage of their world, and into a future fraught with uncertainty.

Genmei knew that their fate was uncertain.

But one thing had always been clear to her.

They would face the front of danger together.

For bitter or worse, she stands with Satoru.

IT WAS LATE WHEN THEY ARRIVED. A yawn, like a whispered secret, escaped Genmei's lips as they arrived at Jujutsu High. The long journey had taken its toll, and her thoughts were now consumed by the sweet embrace of sleep. With great effort, she straightened herself, a soundless groan escaping her lips as she opened the car door. Her eyes followed Satoru as he carefully lifted the slumbering boy onto his shoulder, Megumi trailing closely behind, still clutching the shopping bag.

Satoru offered some words to Ichiji, a playful grin dancing upon his lips as he closed the car door from the front. Judging by some of the reaction of the younger man, Genmei thinks he seemed afraid. More than usual, she would like to say. Genmei knew that Satoru now knows what happened to her. It was unusual for Satoru to forgo the speed of the bullet train, given his impatience, but circumstances had led them to this shared journey. Genmei had grown accustomed to Satoru's preference for her company, even during the most mundane of tasks.

Satoru, with the sleeping boy still nestled on his shoulder, bestowed a parting grin upon Ichiji, sealing their gratitude with an unspoken promise of returning the favor. The car door closed with a muted thud, and the vehicle moved away, leaving them standing on the threshold of their responsibilities.

"Is that his souvenirs again?" Genmei inquired, nodding towards the shopping bag.

Megumi confirmed with a nod, "He asked me to hold it earlier."

"Give it to me," Genmei insisted, extending her hand. "We'll go together. You can rest."

A faint crease formed on Megumi's brow as he hesitated for a brief moment, "But the kid—"

"We'll take care of him," Genmei reassured him, reaching for the shopping bag. She smiled warmly, her hand lightly touching his shoulder. "You've worked hard all day, Megumi-kun. Satoru put you to work again, didn't he?"

Satoru interjected with a mock complaint, "It wasn't as bad as you think, Genmei. Megumi's doing his job, you know?"

Ignoring Satoru's pleas for attention, Genmei's gaze remained on Megumi, her smile unwavering. "Go, Megumi. I'll share some of the moon cookies I got from the temple with you once we wrap up here, okay?"

"Genmeiiiiiii, don't ignore me!" Satoru's melodramatic whining was met with a roll of Genmei's eyes, and she returned her focus to Megumi.

The mention of the delectable moon cookies brought a sparkle to Megumi's eyes. He had always enjoyed those temple treats. He nodded in agreement and handed her the shopping bag. Genmei took a peek inside, spotting two, maybe three boxes neatly arranged within. The scent of Kikufuku mochi wafted from the bag, the confections still fresh from Satoru's purchase. Genmei couldn't help but wonder how Satoru managed to sustain himself with his insatiable sweet tooth. She shook her head, her amusement evident, and then turned to Megumi.

Her grip on his shoulder was gentle but carried a profound warmth. Silver-blue energy emanated from her being, transferring from her to Megumi, who felt the tension in his body begin to ease. The radiant energy seemed to coax his wounds into closing, a soothing balm to his injuries. It was a moment of respite.

"I don't think my energy is sufficient at the moment to heal you," Genmei offered an apologetic smile to the young boy. "But it should give you some comfort until you see Shoko tomorrow, hm?"

Megumi nodded in appreciation.

Genmei smiles, satisfied.

She pats his head. “Good job, kid. Get cleaned up and sleep.”

As Megumi Fushiguro looked away, his cheeks tinged with a subtle blush, it was a reminder of the gentle, introspective nature that Genmei had always noticed in him, even when he was just a small boy. Yet, like so many, he struggled to openly acknowledge it. There was no denying the traces of his father's influence in his character, a shadow that he couldn't fully escape. It brought to mind her own memories of youth, of the times when her elder cousin had looked down on her with an understanding gaze.

Megumi mumbled a quick "good night" and awkwardly thrust his hands into his pockets, quickly walking away. Genmei couldn't help but giggle as she watched his retreating figure.

"He's definitely Toji's son," she murmured to herself, a hint of amusement in her voice. She could see the man he was in the young boy, yet she could truly see how different they were. Megumi was truly warm, the seeping lake in the mellow sunrise. Genmei adored him, cherished him as though he was her own. One day, Genmei knew he would be the Zenin heir. Yet Genmei wished he could just be like this, a boy forever. Just be himself, just be Megumi.

The night sky, an exquisite canvas painted with countless stars, bore witness to their parting. Each twinkling light seemed to applaud their resolve and the bonds that bound them together, whether through blood or shared purpose.

With Megumi's departure, husband and wife continued on their path, the night shrouding them in a blanket of tranquility. The air was cool and soothing, a gentle caress that carried with it the secrets of countless nights. They walked side by side, their steps synchronized like a well-practiced dance, the weight of their shared duty and their unspoken understanding guiding them toward the staff dormitories.

In the quiet stillness of the dormitories, Satoru gently laid the sleeping boy with fuchsia hair on his own bed, tucking him in with the care of a guardian. The boy slumbered on, undisturbed by the transition. Genmei, her steps soft and deliberate, placed the shopping bag on the languid coffee table, her movements a testament to the exhaustion that gnawed at her.

In the quiet embrace of the night, the room came alive with a certain timeless charm. In a way, Genmei could only register the familiarity of it all. The moonlight, filtered through heavy curtains, spilled a silvery glow across the space, casting delicate shadows that danced across the wooden floor like spectral memories of the past. The room seemed to sigh in relief, as if exhaling the accumulated history of years long gone by.

The walls, adorned with faded floral wallpaper, bore the gentle marks of age, their colors muted by time, yet still holding an elegant grace that whispered of another era. A framed painting hung proudly on one wall, its vibrant hues rendered in soft, dreamy strokes, a portal to an artist's vision and a journey through the artist's imagination. The painting was a window into a world of serenity, offering an escape from the everyday.

A wooden bookshelf, standing tall against the far wall, cradled the stories of countless lives within its shelves. Dusty leather-bound tomes, dog-eared paperbacks, and well-worn classics leaned on each other for support, a testament to the voracious appetite of the room's owner for knowledge and escapism. Genmei's fingers absentmindedly brushed against the spines of these volumes, and the faint scent of old pages filled the air, a fragrance that spoke of endless adventures.

The armchair where Genmei reclined was a sanctuary of comfort. Its upholstery, once a rich burgundy, had faded over time, yet its cushions still bore the imprint of countless sitters, each one leaving behind a bit of their history. The soft creaking of the chair's aged wood echoed like a soothing lullaby as Genmei settled into its embrace, feeling its warmth and familiarity envelope her.

The room's windows, adorned with lace curtains, framed a view of the night outside. The silver moonlight bathed the world beyond, revealing the serenity of the garden below. In the distance, a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of old trees, their branches swaying in silent celebration of the night.

As Genmei closed her eyes and breathed in the room's distinctive scent, she felt a profound connection to the past. This room, with its muted colors, worn but cherished furniture, and the hushed symphony of memories, had become a sanctuary, a place where time flowed in a different rhythm, and where the whispers of the past intertwined with the peace of the night, creating a space that was both familiar and forever new.

She lets her fingers graze the edges of the chair, a hint of lilac gleam in her eyes transformed into a shade of reminiscing sorrow. She couldn't help but recall the days when the chair belonged to someone else, to two people who had made this room their own. It had been Satoru and another, someone whose memory lingered in the very fabric of the armchair.

‘Wasn't this his? Suguru liked this type of fabric.’ Genmei mused softly to herself, her thoughts tinged with a touch of melancholy. ‘Satoru kept this all this time, huh?’

Satoru, his characteristic cheekiness undiminished, settled on the edge of the armchair, leaning in close. He’s removed his blindfold. "You're definitely making yourself comfortable."

"Of course," Genmei replied with a snicker. "I'm exhausted, Satoru. I worked hard."

Satoru pouted playfully, his bright eyes dancing with mischief. "You're saying this as if I don't work hard too, darling. I worked hard today too, just like Megumi did."

A small laugh escaped her lips as she retorted, "Hm, yet to be seen."

However, the levity of their conversation was interrupted by a subtle pang of pain in Genmei's chest, which didn't go unnoticed by Satoru.

"The boy, Satoru."

"What about the boy?" Satoru inquired nonchalantly.

Genmei's brows furrowed, and her lilac eyes darkened with concern. "What about him? Is someone who you think could aid in your current project? The fingers?”

Satoru sighed, his playful expression betraying a hint of weariness. "You're making it seem like I'm doing a bad thing, darling."

Genmei shook her head. A somber look on her face. "I don't think its a bad thing. I just worry. He's just a boy. He's just like Megumi."

"Him being in our world is expected." Satoru sighed, looking at the sleeping boy's figure from where he was. "Well, especially with his interaction with the finger. He makes the perfect vesdel.

"I felt something when I touched him earlier," Genmei revealed to him, her voice tinged with worry. "Did he actually eat one of the fingers?”

“He admitted to eating it, Megumi saw it.” Satoru leaned back into the modest armchair, his playful demeanor shifting to one of contemplation. "Megumi has no reason to lie, doesn't he? Besides, I saw it for myself. The king of curses."

Genmei’s face fell. “So that’s why when I touched him—"

His gaze fixed on her face, his fingers drumming softly on the armrest. He looked intrigued. Having known the history, he would know why. He slyly smiled. “You felt the layers of his soul?”

Genmei nodded. “But his soul, it’s still more dominant. I’m not sure, Satoru, but as long as he could control it, there’s a chance that the king of curses wouldn’t over take him.”

“I gave Sukuna ten seconds before the boy took over.” he murmured, a stern look creasing his features. "I've got a feeling this boy's a lot more complex and interesting than what he appears to be. No one has been able to cage Sukuna as a vessel before. Well, not that anyone’s tried, really.”

“This is going to be a mess.” Genmei purses her lips. “We’ll have to deal with this, Satoru.”

Satoru nodded in agreement, his gaze fixed on the sleeping boy in the adjacent bed. “We will, you have my word on that.”

Silence engulfed them for a moment.

Satoru let out a low whistle, his bright blue eyes reflecting a mixture of curiosity. "You really think he's connected to one of my 'projects,' as you put it?"

"Your projects and that boy don’t correlate." Genmei shakes her head, lips locked. "He just bumped into your project and now is forced to participate in our world. Like a cog in the machine, like the rest of us."

Satoru laughed, “You make it sound so scientifical, y’know!”

Genmei gave him a look. “The higher ups already complained about losing the item, Satoru. I got the message from your mother."

“And now there’s someone who can may be able to control it. Well, we still have to teach him.” Satoru retorts snidely, waving his hand at her. His eyes darted to the bed. He rubs the back of his neck. His eyes turned serious. “He’s going to be a target now, that’s for certain.”

Genmei hummed in agreement, her fingers slowly traced the top of his hand. Infinity is always off when they’re together. “We have to protect him, Satoru. We can't let him be in harm's way. No matter what. He's still just a boy."

He watched as his free hand rested upon her arm. “You don’t think I could protect him?”

With a fond smile, Genmei leaned back into the armchair, her fingers now wrapping against his own. "I do, Satoru. My faith in you is unwavering. I just hope you're not biting off more than you can chew. I don't want all of this to overwhelm you. You're threading a thin rope, Satoru. I just worry, as always."

Satoru's grin returned, laced with a hint of mischief. “I can deal with all of it. Especially those old geezers. Don’t worry about me.”

“I know you can,” Genmei fondly whispers back, slowly leaning her figure against his. “I worry too much, don’t I?”

“It’s not wrong to worry about people you love.” He says, lilac and cerulean meeting in a warm gaze. His hand squeezes her own. “We’re in this together, hm?”

The room was filled with a comfortable silence, the knowledge that they had each other's backs acting as a reassuring presence in the midst of their enigmatic circumstances.

Genmei finally let out a contented sigh, nodding. “I’ll talk to Gakuganji myself, if need be.”

“You really wanna waste more time with the old fart than be with me?” He pouts at her, causing Genmei to laugh.

“Do you wanna spend time with the old fart?”

Satoru looks away. “No way.”

Genmei laughs again, shaking her head. “In any case, they’ll not say no to me, you know this .”

Gojo Satoru knew that too well. Genmei was, after all, the pride of Kyoto Jujutsu High. Even during her student days, legends of her prowess and dedication had spread far and wide across the Jujutsu society. A proud scion of the most ancient bloodline, she was the embodiment of a world that Satoru couldn't fully grasp—a world steeped in tradition, a world where honor and duty ran deep in the veins of those who belonged to it.

Genmei carried that world within her like a precious heirloom, a living relic of ancient traditions and noble heritage. Her very presence, from the graceful way she moved to the dignified tone of her voice, was a reflection of the centuries of wisdom and responsibility that coursed through her veins. Her actions resonated with the echoes of a lineage that had shaped her into the formidable woman she had become.

It wasn't just her bloodline that set her apart; it was her unwavering dedication to upholding the values and honor of that world. Even as she had chosen to diverge from the path that had been laid out for her, she had done so with the utmost respect for her roots.

In the world of Jujutsu sorcery, her name carried weight and reverence, a testament to her skill, her knowledge, and her unyielding commitment. Yaga–sensei used to say that a Jujutsu sorcerer was deep inside, truly so alone. Yet despite it all, Genmei chose to be with him. Her loneliness matched his own, formed something beyond it.

It was a testament to her strength, her resolve, and her unwavering belief in the path they had chosen. She believed in his cause, to change their world into something more. Gojo Satoru couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for having her by his side, for her unwavering loyalty was a force to be reckoned with, one that strengthened their alliance in the face of all odds.

After all these years, she still chose him. Even when it caused her the world, she still chose him. She had become his most ardent constant. Pride swells in his heart, as it always did, when it comes to her.

Satoru's gaze softened as he examined her, finally letting his eyes fall upon the side of her stomach. "You got injured, didn't you?"

Genmei met his concern with a defiant look, attempting to downplay her condition. "Not a big deal."

At least Genmei thinks so. When she had been less experienced, injuries were normal. She knew it wouldn't change when she became a more experienced sorcerer. Still. she supposed Satoru expected more from her. She was after all like him, a special grade sorcerer. But it had been years. Sorcerery was the farthest thing from her mind. Training was the farthest thing from her mind.

She had been rusty from years of not being in the field like Satoru. Much too much had happened in the past ten years.

Genmei herself thinks that she was needed elsewhere. There was other ways to expel curses, there were other ways of supporting Satoru. Moreover, Megumi and Tsumiki needed her. Satoru needed her. Her family needed her. Who else would be there if not her? Still she can't help but think about the mistakes that had gotten her injured.

In the shadowed underbelly of an ancient, forgotten shrine, the air was thick with malevolence—a breeding ground for curses long stewed in bitterness and resentment. Gojo Genmei, her posture as sharp as the blade she wielded, moved with calculated precision through the dimly lit corridors. Her cursed weapon, a yari, gleamed with a sinister light, its shaft adorned with subtle engravings that whispered of old battles and victories.

The mission was clear: eliminate the special grade curse that had taken refuge here, a malevolent spirit that had grown too powerful, feeding off the stray emotions and dark histories embedded in the shrine's walls. Genmei, though usually unflappable in the face of danger, felt an unusual heaviness in her chest—a residual ache from recent emotional turmoil that she couldn’t shake off.

As she advanced, her yari pulsed with heavy cursed energy, drawing from her own reserves to manifest its deadly efficacy. She channeled her energy into the weapon, feeling the familiar tug at her core—a drain that she was well accustomed to managing during combat. The tip of the yari vibrated with the intensity of the power flowing through it, ready to strike down the corrupted soul that lurked ahead.

Suddenly, the air shifted, a cold gust brushing against her neck. It was a warning, a whisper of imminent danger. Genmei tensed, her instincts screaming for her to dodge. She pivoted on her heel, swinging the yari in a wide arc. The blade sliced through the air, meeting resistance in the form of a dark, amorphous shape that materialized from the shadows.

The curse, a grotesque amalgamation of despair and fury, howled in anger as the blade cut through it, dispersing part of its form into black mist. Genmei readied herself for another strike, her eyes narrowing as she searched for the core of the curse—the source of its power.

But in that moment, a flicker of distraction shattered her focus. A sharp, stabbing pain in her chest—an echo of the emotional wound that had not yet healed—pierced her concentration. It was a fleeting second of weakness, but it was all the curse needed.

With a vile screech, the curse reformed, lunging forward faster than shadows flee from light. Genmei attempted to react, to raise her yari in defense, but she was a fraction too slow. The curse’s appendage, sharp and oozing malice, struck, piercing her side. The pain was immediate and searing, a fire that spread rapidly through her veins, as the cursed energy of the entity invaded her system.

'Are you going to lose to this?' The voice in her head snickered at her. 'You call yourself a descendant of Hiromi?'

"You better shut up!" Genmei hissed back in pain.

Genmei staggered back, her hand clamping over the wound that now marred her side. The fabric of her kimono darkened with blood, warm and wet against her skin. Breathing heavily, she gritted her teeth against the pain, her mind racing to assess the situation.

The curse hovered before her, its form swirling with triumph. But Genmei, descendant of the Zenin clan, was not one to falter in the face of defeat. With a grunt of effort, she straightened up, her grip on her yari tightening. She could feel her cursed energy waning from the injury, each pulse of power now mixed with stabs of pain, but her resolve hardened.

Summoning the last reserves of her strength, Genmei whispered a vow through clenched teeth, a promise borne of pain and determination. "Not today," she hissed, her eyes blazing with a fierce, indomitable will.

With that, she lunged forward, her movement fueled by a mix of desperation and skilled precision. The yari sang through the air as it burst through with a dangerous amount of cursed energy. Genmei aimed for the heart of the curse, determined to end this here and now. Her pain became a distant echo, her focus narrowing to the point of her weapon and the dark core before her.

She will win.

Triumphant yet gravely wounded, Genmei had pushed her body and spirit to their limits. The final thrust of her yari had vanquished the special grade curse, a fleeting moment of victory that came at a steep cost. As the adrenaline that fueled her through the battle ebbed away, so too did her strength, leaving her exhausted and bleeding heavily.

She managed to staunch the worst of the bleeding using rudimentary first aid techniques she’d honed over years of combat, but healing her wounds completely was beyond her current capability. Overcome by fatigue and blood loss, she collapsed, the world around her fading into darkness.

When she awoke, the sharp sting of her wounds was a harsh reminder of the battle’s toll. Ichiji, a fellow sorcerer who had been searching for her after she missed their planned rendezvous, found her by the pond. Genmei had managed to clean much of the blood from her kimono and had temporarily stopped the bleeding, but her pale complexion and the grimace of pain that flickered across her face spoke volumes about her condition.

"I should take you back," Ichiji suggested with concern, eyeing her warily as she struggled to maintain her composure.

Genmei shook her head stubbornly, her voice a whisper of determination. "No, there’s a shrine nearby. I need to... to perform some duties there," she insisted, pushing herself to stand despite Ichiji’s protests.

"You need to rest, Genmei-san. You’ve done enough for today," Ichiji countered, but he knew arguing with her when her mind was set was as effective as trying to calm a storm with words.

She managed a weak smile, her usual resolve flickering in her tired eyes. "I promised Satoru I'd head home after the mission, but this... this is something I need to do."

Ichiji sighed, recognizing the stubborn set of her jaw, the same determination that had made her a legendary sorcerer. "He’s going to notice, you know. You can’t hide this from him forever. And then he would get angry at me━"

Genmei laughs. "It'll be fine. Don't worry too much. Just go and drive."

"Genmei-san━"

"Ichiji Kiyotaka━"

"Yes, yes, I'll do it!" She could see the panic on his face as he started to drive.

Genmei thinks that her request was reasonable.

Her husband's lips curl into a frown, he's displeased.

But she knows it's not how she had imposed her will.

"Ichiji told me you passed out the moment you got in the car," he countered, his voice laced with worry. Genmei's eyes hardened, and she turned her head to the side. "You should at least have told him about the injury and tell him to contact Shoko."

Genmei looked away, with almost a guilty face.

"I did tell him about the injury."

"You didn't tell him the whole story."

"You didn't have to scare him." Genmei grumbled back.

"It's beyond a big deal," he insisted.

"I just had a tiring day—"

"Genmei," Satoru interrupted her, his eyes locking onto hers. The intensity of his gaze made her pause, and she refrained from arguing further. "Give me your hand."

Genmei hesitated, reluctant to accept his help, but Satoru reached for her hand, gently taking it into his own. She watched him warily as Gojo Satoru allowed his cursed energy to flow from his body and into her own. In that moment, she could feel her entire being being rejuvenated as his power surged through her. When he was finished, he smiled at her, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He places a small kiss on her palm as she pulls away, horrified.

Genmei smacked his hand, agitated. "You didn't have to do that," she replied, hitting his arm. He chuckled, not taking her outburst too seriously.

"You wasted your cursed energy on me. This is stupid—"

Satoru didn't respond with words. Instead, he seized her wrist again, pulling her closer to him, their bodies pressed together. Genmei's lips formed a thin line, and her eyes met his, a mix of flustered emotions beyond understanding. It was a dance they had engaged in for years, the ebb and flow of their relationship, with Satoru knowing full well the power he held over her. Despite the time that had passed, he remained endlessly fascinated by her, intrigued by the depths of his connection to her, and enchanted by the mystery of their bond.

"I'd do anything for you," Satoru whispered against her cheek, his voice a gentle caress that sent shivers down her spine. "Anything."

Genmei couldn't help but smile, the weight of their shared history and the depth of their connection settling around them like a warm embrace. She leaned into his touch, savoring the closeness, the reassurance that they would always be there for each other in a world fraught with danger and uncertainty.

"You're insufferable, you know that?" she whispered to him, her fingers lightly tracing the lines of his face.

Satoru grinned, his cerulean eyes dancing with mirth. "I’m glad to hear that, darling.”

In the quiet of that room, a sanctuary within the bustling storm of their lives, the night unfurled its velvety tapestry to envelop them. The world beyond the walls faded into obscurity, its clamor and chaos drowned out by the serenity they shared. It was in these moments, when all was hushed, that they discovered the solace they had long sought in each other's presence.

Their bond, forged through trials and tribulations, was a testament to the resilience of their long standing marriage. Time and circumstance had woven their stories together, threading their lives with the unbreakable ties of camaraderie and loyalty. It was a bond that had been tested in the crucible of adversity and had emerged stronger, like tempered steel. No one could ever impede on it. Not even if they tried.

As they sat together, bathed in the soft glow of the room's lighting, their gazes met, reflecting the depth of their partnership. Theirs was a connection that transcended words, an unspoken understanding that needed no affirmation. It was a source of strength that anchored them in the face of an ever-uncertain world, providing them with the courage to confront the unknown, side by side.

Genmei thinks that she would finally have a good sleep.

But as the clock turns and drifts, nothing did ever change.

She leans towards Satoru's chest, taking a deep breath.

At the very least, the present is fine because Satoru's in it.

facts about the chapter

genmei hasn't partook in missions for near seven, eight years. she's been as inactive as tsukomo yuki, whom she's fond of.

genmei is one of the five special grade sorcerers. genmei herself was classified as such since entering kyoto jujutsu high.

genmei started hearing voices since her cursed technique manifested at six years old. the cursed technique she has was from her maternal line.

gakuganji was very strict with all his students, but most especially on genmei because her father was his favorite student. she always got the most dangerous cases because of gakuganji.

genmei was very close to toji and considered him her elder brother.

genmei is an only child and was very close to both her parents.

moon cookies is a reference to half-moon cookies. they're butter cookies and they're really good. the mikoto clan just adores said cookies and gives them out to little kids who go to the mikoto shrines.

genmei and satoru are megumi and tsumiki's adoptive parents. she's megumi's second cousin, making satoru a in law of megumi.

ichiji considers gojo satoru his primary source of stress, but because genmei is almost like satoru now, her anger is also very scary to him and can cause him stress when it does happen.

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takeyourcyanide · 4 months

Text

Woeful

AO3

I would just like to say that I think this may or may not have gone completely off the rails. But that’s fine. Because so does Soul Eater. I have also never written smut before in my life, so I hope it’s not a complete dumpster fire! I think it started out fine, and then just plummeted and diverged haha. We’ll see. This is a very experimental fic for me. This might’ve ended up out of character. Whoopsies.

CWs: Porn, implied emotional manipulation and neglect, jealousy issues on both Stein and Kami’s end, internalized misogyny (a little) on Kami’s end, mentions of Stein’s experimenting on Spirit, infidelity, underage alcoholism, teen pregnancy, consensual underage sex, slight physical abuse (?) near the end, toxic relationships

Fandom: Soul Eater

Character(s): Spirit Albarn, Kami (Maka’s mother), Franken Stein, brief mentions of Marie Mjolnir and Joe Buttataki

Word count: 10 192

Tags: hurt/comfort, underage drinking, porn with plot, men crying, verbal humiliation, teen romance, teen angst, teen pregnancy, drinking to cope, angst and porn, praise kink, sadism, masochism, emotional manipulation, resolved sexual tension, infidelity, slapping (Kami slaps Spirit), sexual content, not beta read, etc.

Summary: Kami tells Spirit that she’s pregnant. There’s another thing that she’s also been keeping from him, however, that sends him spiraling into drinking and infidelity with his ex-partner.

Notes: I began with the idea that I’d explore teen pregnancy and its effects on teenagers, Spirit and Kami in this case, as well as how their immaturity, irresponsibility, and vices might effect them during such a trying time. This may or may not have became something entirely different. Oops. It’s a bit of everything, from toxic relationships to alcoholism. So, here, hope you like over 10k words of pure angst. And smut. I made Spirit extremely pathetic in this one. I simultaneously hate this and love it. It’s horrible. LMAOOO. I can never stick to one goddamn thing because I’m tangential. It’s everything. I really need to learn how to. But I’ve written over ten thousand words and I’m not putting that to waste.

Spirit gripped the edges of Kami’s marble countertop with a fervor he was not aware that he possessed; his knuckles just as white as the petals of a daisy, his fingertips vermillion. As he stared down into the sink, not daring to face himself in the bathroom mirror, he forced the bile rising in his throat back down, a stirring cocktail of trepidation, consternation, excitement, joy, shame, and grief falling upon him all at once.

“Spirit… I’m pregnant,” the words screamed repeatedly within the confines of his shaken skull, the perturbation in his lover’s voice still just as apparent as it had been mere moments ago.

He had given his whole life away for the sake of one night of pleasure and passion. Or multiple nights. There was no telling when and where the growing fetus was conceived if he was being entirely honest with himself.

Albarn threw his head back and forth, a repetitive motion, as his nose scrunched, his eyebrows furrowing in terror. His mouth opened and closed, searching for anything at all to respond with.

“Ar… Are you sure?” He began, lifting his slouched figure from the cool and comforting, sturdy rigidity of the counter, looking Kami up and down, his eyes scanning each and every atom surrounding him, panicking. “I mean - how many tests did you take?!”

“Four! I took four, Spirit! Four different pregnancy tests!” She shook her own head in mild disbelief, as though it was completely inconceivable that the results flashed before her eyes on the stick could ever be potentially false. “And they all said ‘positive’!” Kami slapped her hands together, her eyes bugging out of her head, her lips pursed.

“Fuck,” Spirit ran a stressed hand through his crimson hair, deeply swallowing whatever so much as desired to escape from his mouth.

“So, what? You’re not gonna run away and become a deadbeat, are you?” Her voice trembled, her lips quivering, as she forced down the welling and unwelcome tears.

“Death, no! No, no, no, Kami… I know I’m an asshole, but come on,” the scythe rushed over to her, gripping her shoulders, a more sympathetic expression on his countenance than before. “I’d never do that, I promise you. I will love you and this baby, it’s just… Shit…”

“I know, we’re both young..”

“Young and fucking stupid, clearly! We’re seventeen, Kami!” He released a troubled and disquieted chuckle. “I thought you were on birth control?!”

“I lied…”

Her flushed, timorous face left him reeling, as the revelation of the very fact that yet another person he put all of his trust into demonstrably lied to him smacked him upside his gullible, naive head.

“Kami…” Spirit stood, stiff and still, as he simply stared at the meister with wide, alert, and betrayed eyes.

“I thought you wouldn’t want to do anything if I made you wear a condom, or something,” she rushed out in a frenzy, her tone bashful and ashamed, as one stray tear finally spilled.

“Are you kidding me?” His voice was hoarse, hushed. It was evident to anyone purely based upon his expression and shock-induced stupor how thrown for a loop he’d been. He could no longer raise his mortified and stunned voice, resorting to just staring continuously down at the bright tiles underneath him.

“I’m sorry… I know it was dumb, okay?” More and more tears bolted down her cheeks, her hands coming up to her swelling eyes, rubbing them in a harsh and disorganized manner.

Albarn raised his gaze to meet his lover’s, a sudden surge of guilt and empathy swirling inside of him, mixing with the rage and resentment he thought he’d never be able to feel towards Kami.

“Please don’t cry, I hate it when you cry… I want to be fucking mad at you, shit,” he suppressed the tears he felt creeping up on him, emerging from his eyes.

Spirit outstretched his arms, wrapping them around her shuddering form, Kami burying her sodden face into his chest, the thumping of his heart audible.

Listening to his heartbeat was typically something she found rather soothing, but with how rapidly it was banging against his sternum, it only served as a reminder of how monstrously she’d screwed up.

“It’s okay.. It’ll all be okay, baby,” he murmured, lips against her hair as he sappily kissed her. “We can do this..”

“You sure? Our lives just started, Spirit, are they already over?” Albarn placed the palm of his hand on her scalp, his lithe fingers gently scratching, as he mulled everything over, unable to process the newfound information.

“They’re not over.. And even if they are, it’s because a new one’s begun, right? Yeah?” Whether Spirit wanted to admit it or not, he was attempting to convince himself more so than Kami.

🥃

They had long since exited the incandescent bathroom, now both perched upon their leather sofa, entirely silent, all that was left unspoken speaking cacophonous volumes.

Spirit held a book in his hands, of which had been sitting on the side table for weeks, Kami’s tired head resting upon his shoulder, as he merely stared blankly at the words, poorly feigning focus, each and every letter blurring together and forming into one large amalgamation of ink, not even putting in the effort to turn a page once in a while.

Kami simply fiddled with her phone - too, pretending to be impressively engrossed by whatever social media she was scrolling endlessly through.

Neither of them spared so much as a curious glance at the other.

That is, until Kami tossed her cellphone to the side, the device delicately plopping on the cushion beside her.

“Spirit?” Her voice possessed a solemn and chilling timbre, as she spoke under her breath.

“What is it?” He shut his book, returning it to its former place on the side table, his full and undivided attention on his meister upon hearing the tone she quietly used, his own voice gravelly in a way that reflected his seething acrimony.

The sheer tension in the room could be cut with a knife… Or perhaps one of his former meister’s scalpels.

Speaking of which…

Should he tell him that they were having a baby?

“Should we get an abortion?” The scythe peered over at her, utterly taken aback despite the question not truly being unexpected, visage sincerely concerned and almost sorrowfully pained at the notion, his eyes large and hurt.

Kami shifted as to face her boyfriend, tilting her head off to the side in commiseration.

“I know… It’s not that I don’t want it, it’s more so that we’re not ready for a baby at all right now….”

Spirit released a melodramatically elongated and pensive exhale, his abdomen and his chest stuttering up and down.

“I get that.. You’re right, we’re not exactly ‘ready.’ This came way too soon. But I really wanna try, Kami. I think we’d be great parents, even despite… this,” he placed his palm on the top of her hand, languidly intertwining her fingers with his, as he gazed deep within her eyes, practically reading and analyzing every cavernous depth of her soul despite only being a weapon. “Don’t you want to try at the very least? Just try? And not to mention… Is anyone really ‘ready’ to raise another human being? Is there a right time? Don’t you want to-“

“Spirit, a child isn’t something you can just ‘try’ on-“

“A child is the least you can give me after what you did!” His fingers lost their grip on hers, as he shouted, his eyes narrow in pure, unbridled indignation. “You.. You dangle this shit in front of me as if you didn’t already know I wanted a baby one day!”

“Well, fuck, man, for one, you acted like you were ready to run off and join the circus earlier, and second of all, it’s my goddamn body, Spirit! I don’t owe you jack-shit! I’m not ‘dangling’ anything, stop being so dramatic! That’s just flat-out lying!”

The two of them rose from their seats, just as their mutual anger was; it was all clenching jaws and the grinding of aggravated teeth, as they butted heads with each other.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure you’d know a thing or two about that, now, wouldn’t you?” He quipped, cheeks beet-red.

Spirit trudged off, stomping his wrathful feet, yanking his suit jacket from off of their coatrack, and flinging the front door completely open.

“Where are you going?!” Kami yelled out, rushing over to meet him where he agitatedly stood.

“I’m leaving before I say something I’ll really regret.”

And with that, a glacial-like gust of wind blew her hair in every direction upon the weapon’s slamming of the door in her face, as she flinched at the strident, grating sound.

She angrily walked back over to the couch, slamming herself down onto the cushion shoved between the two others, staring daggers into the door, her arms crossed tautly over her chest, lying in wait for his imminent return.

Her brows were pinched, a frown present on her countenance, as she grimaced, allowing for an outraged tear to slide downwards.

Kami never considered herself to be prone to tears, but what else can one do but weep when they aren’t allowed to simply willy-nilly bludgeon someone else to death.

And when the bastard was to make his grand return, she was more than certain that he’d come back reeking of liquor and some other whore’s cheap-ass perfume.

And she, too, was sure that she’d end up being the one to hold his hair back as he evicted every last content irritating his stomach, since god-forbid he ever put the bottle down when it’s time to stop.

🥃

The snickering crescent moon cascaded beautifully and classily down onto the dingy liquor store, a little bell chiming as he pushed the door open, alerting the staff of his morose presence.

“Mr. Albarn, it’s been a while,” a familiar face warmly spoke, beaming. Spirit gave a friendly smile and nod in return.

Kami hadn’t allowed him to purchase anything with a trace of alcohol in it in a fairly long time, as she viewed him as some sort of “alcoholic” who’d surely end up on the streets one day if he didn’t nip his vice in the bud.

But for just one night, whatever Kami wanted didn’t matter. It could all be about whatever he wanted, and he wanted to drink.

He quickly managed to find the aisle holding the strongest vodka he’d ever drank, wasting no time perusing, smirking as he held the bottle in his hand, inspecting the way in which the fluorescent lighting bounced off of the glass. He took one short step outside of the aisle, before deciding to grab his favorite whiskey, setting both bottles on the counter with a soft ‘clank.’

“Somethin’ happen, sir?” The brunette cashier curiously prodded, one eyebrow raised, as she scanned the two needed barcodes.

“You could say that,” Albarn shrugged his shoulders, his hand diving into his left pocket, fishing for his wallet.

He handed the woman the one-hundred dollar bill he found, watching as she leisurely gathered his change, having already bagged the alcohol.

“Aw, I’m sorry.. I hope whatever you’re going through gets better,” she placed a few bills in his hands, along with a couple of quarters and pennies.

“Thanks,” the cashier handed him the beverage-filled paper bag, Spirit finding his way right back out into the crisp air of the night.

‘Where am I supposed to go? I can’t just sit down on the dirty sidewalks and drink,’ he pondered to himself, suppressing an annoyed groan. ‘I could go to Chupa Cabra’s… But I don’t want to deal with the kindness they’re paid to give me.. Or Kami’s whining about it.. Not to mention, if I were to get too wasted there and said a little too much… If word were to get out about what happened, who knows what would happen to our careers? And I already bought my own alcohol.’

There was only one place he could go.. Only one place where he knew wouldn’t be judged.. Where he knew the individual was tight-lipped… And it was an apartment he didn’t think he’d ever return to.. Not after what happened and how infuriated Kami was about it.

It was his and Stein’s formerly shared apartment - now only inhabited by Stein himself.

‘I think I’d rather Kami think I went to Chupa Cabra’s and hit on some girl…’

Spirit kicked the abundance of pebbles around on the cobblestone sidewalks, begrudgingly finding that his legs seemed to move on their own, leading him right back to Stein, despite the therapy-worthy trauma he put him through.

Their souls would forever be connected.. interlinked… There didn’t seem to be any chance of their wavelengths ever truly going off-balance.

And truthfully, he’d be lying if he said something about that didn’t make him feel… almost pleased.. It was as though their relationship just felt worthwhile, or like an accomplishment - a victory. Their ability to resonate was wholly effortless, and always had been. With Kami, it had always been a struggle despite the pair working decently well with one another on the battlefield.

Sometimes Spirit could still feel deeply within his own soul the calamity and rapid teetering back and forth of Stein’s own soul. It kept him up at night with a genuine and disturbing amount of worry. He still felt responsible for him to a degree, like his little guard dog… And also as his friend. He was still his friend, at least their souls were still intertweaved as thought they were.. And he didn’t want him to just.. completely lose it. He wanted to be a rock for him, though he’d vehemently deny it..

It always made Kami so jealous - their relationship.. She was always so jealous. Could she seriously not understand the history they have together? There was no severing their ties, or getting rid of that - no matter what.

Spirit balled his hand into a fist, having entered one of the apartment buildings commonly occupied by academy students, knocking on the door he sort of felt as though he’d abandoned in some ways.

“Spirit?” Stein spoke in a voice more stunned than the weapon had ever heard come out of him, his eyes bulging out from their sockets.

The scythe held the bag of alcohol upwards, tilting his head to the side questioningly, as if to say, “Can we put everything aside just for one night?”

“You want to come inside? Seriously?” He squinted his eyes in suspicion.

“Yeah.. There’s some really fucked up shit that just happened and… There is no one else in all of Death City as uncaring and willing to keep a secret as you.”

“All right, then,” he held the door open for the redhead apprehensively, and frankly, rather confusedly.

🥃

“So.. What do you have there?” Franken pointed towards the alcohol that had been taken out from the bag and placed onto the coffee table, Spirit running to fetch a few glasses from the cabinets.

“Vodka and whiskey..”

“Straight? Not mixing either with anything?”

“God, no… Not on a night like tonight. I’ll tell you in a second.. But you can look at the bottles if you want, of course. Just don’t lace the drinks with any experimental drug, or whatever,” he paused briefly after opening the cabinet door he expected the glasses and cups to be in. “You still keep them in the same place?”

“Never had any incentive to move them.”

Albarn nostalgically chuckled to himself in response, holding both shot glasses and two plastic cups in his hands, letting them rest against his arms and chest, adoringly looking over them.

He set the cups and glasses onto the table, neatly beside the bottles, sitting almost uncomfortably close to Stein given their… past, though the meister made no moves to force him farther away, nor did the weapon. Franken merely observed soundlessly as the male to his right fiddled with the bottles and such, pouring the vodka into the little shot glasses, filling the cups halfway with whiskey.

“You ready to take a shot?” Spirit smirked smugly.

“Are you going to tell me what you came here to vent about afterwards?”

“Yeah, obviously. Shots first, questions later,” he halfheartedly scowled, raising the glass to his mouth, Stein following suit.

And with one swift swoop, both men were left suppressing grimaces as the liquid burned on its way down their throats, their noses scrunching as they giggled synchronously at their own reactions.

“How’d Kami feel about you coming here? Not great, I presume?” He put his glass back down onto the table, dissecting the whirlwind of emotions within the ginger’s soul, as he stared concurrently expectantly and blankly at him.

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” he filled the glasses once more. “But what I didn’t fucking know - despite being a blessing - may or may not affect my ability to become a death scythe.”

“Blessing, huh? What, did you knock her up?” Stein began to laugh, snickering just as the moon was and still is.

“Well, actually, yes,” Spirit gave a sarcastic, frustrated, and small grin, downing whatever he could from the tiny glass.

“Oh, shit,” he delivered rather plainly, clearly unbothered, as he raised his shot glass into the air, teasing with, “A toast to the fact that most know how to properly make use of contraceptives.”

Albarn pushed him by his mocking arm, slapping it, causing the vodka to fly and roll speedily down Franken’s neck as he guzzled it down, sinking into his prominent collarbones, and disappearing down his habitually grey shirt, leaving a wet stream in its wake.

His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed, leaving Spirit fuzzily scrambling to remember the earlier offense he had taken to his little comment, as well as what he wanted to say back, for some odd and unknown reason, his body slowly heating.

“Seriously, Spirit, I thought you were smarter than that. After all the women you’ve-“

“I get it, I get it,” he flung his hands up in defeat after returning to the world he had been momentarily kicked out of, having been brought back by the realization of what the meister was going to say, stopping Stein before he could embarrass him even more so than he already was. “Actually, Kami lied to me about taking birth control.”

“You know what? That doesn’t surprise me,” Stein fetched the cup of neglected and idle whiskey, taking a swig of it, noticing Spirit doing the same from his peripheral vision. “But you still should have worn a condom, dipshit.”

“I know, I know… I’m an idiot. And I know you’ve always hated her,” the scythe shook his head both playfully and retrospectively disappointedly after finishing off the cup.

The longer time went on, the longer their conversation went on, the more light and pleasurably woozy he began to feel, his problems suddenly seeming more humorous than… whatever word might be appropriate… Appalling, perhaps? Shocking? Distressing?

Stein tittered, quickly catching up with Spirit in terms of his whiskey, before saying, “Well, yeah, she took my greatest experiment from me.”

“Greatest?” He choked out, delightfully perplexed despite the obvious dehumanization.

“Why, yes, of course.. But that’s not why I said that. I could just see her trying to trap you into a relationship, or.. I don’t even know. I could, frankly, just see her being the type to lie in such a way,” he threw his arm up onto the top of the couch, his hand resting right behind Spirit’s dazed head.

The both of them filled their cups up once more, gulping every last bit of the dizzying liquid down.

A vivid blush dusted across both of their cheeks, the entirety of their faces tinted. It was only a matter of time before they began babbling nonsensically to one another.

“Why’s that?” Spirit slammed the cup back down onto the coffee table, more alcohol cascading into it, as he wiped his lips off with his sleeve.

“She’s just… To me, she’s just obnoxious and conniving and thieving.. and..”

“You really don’t like her, huh..?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little biased,” he confessed.

Spirit laid his head against the hand behind it, an unconscious decision, after they both finished yet another cup, Stein licking the remaining whiskey from off of his lips, which did not go unnoticed by Albarn.

“Y’know,” the redhead drawled almost seductively. “She was always so jealous of you.”

“I could tell,” his typical sadistic and self-congratulatory smirk appeared on his face, an expression that both unnerved and seemed to turn on Spirit over the years, though he suppressed it. “How come? Did she think you were cheating with me of all people, or something?”

“Dunno… I guess so.. Or I thought she was all jealous because of our close friendship.. Maybe it’s that? Or both?

“I don’t know what her problem is, but she forgets that I was here first. You were my experiment first,” Stein’s countenance distorted into one of minor petulance. “She’s a bitch.”

The weapon’s mouth stretched into a shit-eating grin as he listened to his former partner ramble on, practically nuzzling further into the meister’s freezing hand.

“So.. Is that your way of saying you’re the jealous type, too?” He chuckled. “I never expected you out of everyone to be so possessive..”

“Well, she stole my test subject… I wasn’t done with you yet,” he admitted, the both of them inching closer to one another.

Stein grabbed the entire bottle of vodka, leaning his head back onto the couch, his eyes closed, downing a third of the bottle. Spirit felt as even more blood rushed to his face, as he crossed his legs at the sight of Franken’s cheeks hollowing around the neck of the bottle.

He discarded the alcohol, unthinkingly plonking it onto the side table, his gaze moving down towards exactly what was sticking out like a sore thumb, what Albarn was failing to conceal.

“Now, it’s normal to actively seek and desire any kind of affection, attention, and distraction from others when going through a rough patch… There’s no shame in it,” his smirk grew impossibly larger, as he snickered at the muscles of the weapon’s thighs tightening around each other, as he averted his flustered eyes from Stein’s own.

“Don’t. fucking. tease me,” he sucked cool air in through his teeth, pouty and teary-eyed. “This is embarrassing enough as it is…”

“Aw, the baby’s so sensitive… You were always my cutest test subject, too, y’know,” he chuckled at the furrow in his brows. “But there’s no reason to be so shy about it.. I’ll give you what you want, Spirit.”

“Really?” The ginger whipped his head around, his tone a little too hopeful and giddy, even for his own ears.

Franken laughed at how antsy he was, leaning closer, muttering, “Of course. Take that jacket of yours off, lay down and I’ll make you feel better than that alcohol ever could. I’ll make you forget about everything..”

Spirit thoughtlessly obeyed, the suit jacket being deserted someplace on the floor, lying down on his back, voice already breathy as he questioned, “I didn’t think you were the type to…”

“What? Fuck?” Stein wrapped his fingers around the male’s smaller wrists after removing his glasses, pinning him down to the sofa, both of their gazes half-lidded, Spirit nodding in agreement. “I’m not usually. But you know how I like to experiment. Especially with the most fascinating ones..”

He leaned down, breath fanning against Albarn’s neck, as he chastely pecked the skin, searching for any signs of objection from the reactive man. When he noticed none, he latched onto the flesh, directly above his carotid artery, with his teeth, biting and gently sucking at the skin, feeling pleased with himself as purple and red marks began to blossom.

Stein moved one hand away from his wrist, bringing it slowly down to the buttons of his collared dress shirt, meddling with them until he could feel the warmth and smoothness of skin underneath his fingertips, the weapon’s body becoming his to toy with.

A mortifyingly loud and dramatically long whine escaped Spirit’s mouth, as he felt Franken rub and twist his nipples with his free-hand, hissing when the meister bit down particularly hard into his neck, Stein basking in his noises.

“I’m gonna show this bitch exactly whose scythe you really are,” he growled, rutting his hips desperately into Spirit’s.

“You,” Albarn began in between not-so-hushed moans. “You said you think I’m cute? And fascinating?”

“Mhm,” he hummed in response, shifting to straddle his weapon, still grinding down against the other male’s throbbing erection, whilst shuffling out of his shirt after Spirit’s constant and irritated fussing with its hem, snickering, “You’re so needy.”

“You really think so? Uhm- the cute thing, I mean,” he panted out, biting down onto his lip in a mixture of nervousness and delightful overstimulation.

Stein ceased his movements entirely, squinting his eyes as to analyze Spirit, grinning in the most simultaneously grandiose, doting, and cruel way imaginable.

“Aww… You like that, don’t you? You want me to call you cute? You want me to praise you, huh?” Spirit whimpered, covering his face with his newly freed hand, demurely and sheepishly nodding.

Stein moved to sit further down on the weapon’s thighs, reaching down to unbuckle his belt. He lifted his hips up, helping the scientist to take his pants off.

“Does Kami not compliment you, lovely? Is she neglecting you? I don’t think she realizes how delicate you are,” he cooed, already having drug down the scythe’s ruined boxers, dragging a hand up and down his length, lightly squeezing the shaft, running his thumb over the sopping tip, and using Spirit’s pitifully abundant slick as a lubricant. “You need to be taken care of.”

Given the way in which Franken was speaking, it was clear as day to even Spirit’s fogged mind that he was deriving pleasure from affectionately mocking him and his fragility, from the idea of his weapon being vulnerable - a needy guinea pig for him to play with. He was always a sadist, after all. But Spirit didn’t mind - not when, underneath the clear sardonic tone, he was being praised for the same emotionality his actual lover often shamed and chided him for.

The redhead whined, whimpering as the moistness in his eyes spilled over, bucking his hips up to meet Stein’s quickening hand.

“You’re so adorable when you cry.. So pretty… I’ve always loved how much of a crybaby you are. It’s fucking beautiful,” he said, leaning his head down to kiss the head of his cock, licking an unhurried stripe from the base, upward. “Does she not let you cry either, baby? Because I would. And I have. I think you belong in a museum with the rest of the world’s best and most magnificent art.”

Shocks of pleasure ran up and down the weapon’s spine, his mouth hanging lustfully wide open, his eyes rolling repetitiously back into his skull.

“Please… More, Stein.. Please,” He pleaded in between moans, Franken grunting almost noiselessly at the sight, his own disregarded dick straining against the prison-like confines of his pants. “‘M getting close..”

“God, you should really beg more often,” Stein said in a low, raspy voice, pumping gradually faster, clasping a hand over his own crotch, leisurely palming himself. “You’re truly gorgeous inside and out, and believe me.. I’d know.”

Something about his latter statement, strangely enough, wasn’t a turn-off. He had seen not only the deepest recesses of his soul, but his body - his innards. And he liked what he saw. If only he could tell whether or not Kami did, too.

“You have the prettiest insides I’ve ever seen. I still remember them vividly.. You’re even prettier when you’re stitched up, scarred, and bleeding than when you’re not,” Stein reminisced in the most horny way Spirit had ever seen. “I wan to cut you up again. I want to steal you back. You’d be so much better off with me. I can be gentle. I can take better care of you, sweetheart.”

The combination of the dark glint in Stein’s eyes, the uncharacteristic amount of kind praise and pet names, his hand which seemed to expertly pick up the pace, and how perfectly in tune he was with his needs had him arching his back in no time, his head tilting backwards, a prolonged whine of “fuck” leaving his lips, his muscles contracting rapidly.

Franken grabbed the throw blanket lying over the arm of the couch behind him, cleaning both his hand and Spirit off with whatever he could find.

“Still want me to fuck your brains out?” He asked slightly jokingly.

Spirit’s chest bumped up and down as he caught his breath, his overheated skin perspiring, his hair disheveled, tear tracks staining his bright cheeks.

“Uh-huh,” was all he managed to produce, the back of his hand resting on top of his sweat-slicked forehead.

“Are you sure? You look recked and all I did was give you a handjob. Is Kami that horrible in bed?” Franken laughed, his pants dropping to his ankles, as he gave his weapon the once-over.

“I always do all the work,” he huffed. “Haven’t had anything really done specifically to me in a long time.”

“Oh, so, she IS neglectful?” He tossed his boxer shorts onto the floor, positioning himself above Spirit once more. “As I’ve said, I can take good care of you… better care of you,” Stein held his chin in between his index finger and his thumb, tilting his head back down to face him properly.

“Yeah, but that’s just so you’ll get to dissect me and shit,” he placed his hands onto Stein’s shoulders, of which possessed the same sturdiness that Kami’s stupid marble countertop had, as well.

“You know me so well,” he maliciously smiled.

Spirit wrapped his arms around the meister’s neck, pulling him abruptly down, passionately locking lips with the startled male.

After recovering from the initial shock, Stein kissed him back, taking the lead, as he bit softly down onto Albarn’s bottom lip, earning a soft groan from him. He seized the opportunity, prodding his tongue into the other’s mouth while he was too distracted to continue chasing after the tender eroticism of the kiss as a whole.

He moved an already wandering hand down, his pointer and middle finger flush with his hole, as he gradually and diligently pushed them past the first ring of muscle.

Spirit gasped, his previously closed eyes shooting open at the discomfort. Stein was quick to shush him, continuing to kiss him, moving his other hand to, once again, toy with his nipples as some sort of distraction.

“The pain will subside in a moment, I promise,” he soothed as he took a breath, leaning away from Albarn’s lips.

“If you say so,” Spirit grimaced. “….Can I tell you something?”

“Go ahead,” he said, slowly beginning to thrust his lengthy fingers inwards and outwards according to his weapon’s expressions and body language.

“I’ve been fantasizing about this for a while now,” he ashamedly divulged.

“Oh, really?” The redhead nodded. “Can I tell *you* something?”

“What is it?”

“I already knew that.”

He rammed his two fingers experimentally into him, all the way in, curling them and dragging them against his walls. Spirit dug his fingers into Stein’s arms, jumping a little out of his skin at the odd sensation.

“This feels weird,” he whined in a childish manner. It wasn’t exactly a complaint, but it wasn’t exactly not a complaint either.

Stein laughed, continuing his search for Albarn’s prostate. The least he could do was make the experience as a whole even remotely pleasurable.

“I know it’s not the best feeling, but it’s necessary if you’d like to lessen the pain later. And just give me a second, I think I can make it better for you.”

Spirit shoved his head into the crook of Stein’s neck, having tugged on his shoulders as to tell him to move closer, wrapping both his arms and legs around him tightly.

“Is she not physically affectionate enough for you either?”

“Is it that obvious?” He pursed his bitten lips.

Embracing another warm body seemed to give him a rush.. One of which he was unable to truly describe, other than it made him want to latch onto Stein and never let go - which was only exacerbated by the fact that he even decided to take the time to prep him at all. He was really going the extra mile trying to convince him to return to being his little lab rat.

“Go-god!” He had the wind absolutely and utterly knocked out of him the moment Franken found his g-spot, his fingernails stabbing into the poor man’s back as he groaned out in minor pain.

“Feeling good now?” Stein spoke in a strained voice, his face tensing as he felt the weapon’s nails dig and drag further into and over his spine.

“Thi-this is much better than before,” The scientist added another finger, much to the satisfaction of Spirit.

“Good.. Tell me when you think you’re ready to-“

“Now,” he interrupted restlessly, already achingly hard again. “Now, please.”

“Someone’s impatient,” he smirked, removing his fingers from the other, wiping them off on the soiled blanket.

“Of course, I am! You’ve already said it yourself, sort of!”

“What? That she doesn’t fuck you as much as you fuck her, if at all, and that’s not something you’re exactly handling well?”

“Yeah…”

Stein grabbed ahold of his dick, pumping it a few times before lining it up with Spirit’s hole, pushing into him little by little.

“You okay?” He asked, observing his face attentively. He had removed his hands begrudgingly from Stein, nearly tearing holes into the couch cushion with his nails.

“Yeah,” he took a few deep breaths. “Just stings.”

“Patience is a virtue. Remember that next time,” Spirit shot the meister a glare, watching him sink and disappear into him with rapture. “Tell me when you’re ready for me to move.”

He brought his hands back up to Stein, petting the red markings he’d left up and down his back as an apology, feeling the sigh the man released reverberating within him.

“Why’re you bein’ so nice?” Albarn stared into Franken’s curious and intrigued eyes, a certain glimmer in them he couldn’t quite place, one of which he’d never seen in him before.

“Is this not how you’re supposed to treat someone during sex? Am I doing something wrong? I didn’t know whether or not you were into being treated roughly, but you responded so well to being treated gently-“

“No, no, it’s fine, don’t worry. You’re doing perfectly, I was just wondering. I was halfway expecting you to hack me open,” he chuckled, beginning to wiggle around hastily.

“Well, this was an impulsive decision and I didn’t grab a scalpel.”

“True,” he continued to writhe. “Can you move now, please?”

“Of course,” he concurred, thrusting in deeper, hips flush with Spirit’s, beginning to move in and out. “You wanna start out slow, right?”

“Actually.. No.. I give you free reigns to treat me like a fucking slut now,” he giggled, cringing internally at his own embarrassing words and shrugged his shoulders the best he could in his current position.

“Ah.. Is that so?”

“Yeah, why not?”

Stein pulled nearly entirely out, slamming himself back into Spirit, the scythe’s head coming dangerously close to hitting against the arm of the sofa, as he grinded repeatedly inside of him, causing Albarn’s jaw to go completely slack, his eyes about to burst out of his skull, loud moans and grunts pouring out of him.

He grasped one large hand around the weapon’s neck, his fingers curling around its thickness and squeezing, the redhead wheezing and whining in response.

“Stein,” he panted. “You’re so… quiet. I wanna hear you.”

He leaned much farther down, mouth right beside Spirit’s ear, increasing the speed and impact of his thrusts, as he released low whimpers and groans where he knew he’d be able to hear him best.

Spirit turned his head to the side, fully intending to watch each and every twitch of Stein’s facial muscles. And he was met with a sight more grand than anything else he’d ever seen before.

His eyes had rolled stunningly for a second, his lips wide apart, as pleasant noises and pants escaped him. His cheeks were as vermillion as Spirit’s fingers had been hours ago, his bangs mussed down, sticking to his forehead.

His grip on his neck began to falter, only to tighten once again as he succumbed more and more to the pleasure, murmuring, “I could fuck you like this everyday if you’d just stay mine and obey me like a good mutt should.”

Spirit himself whimpered and moaned, more pangs of pleasure shooting all throughout him like electric shocks, forming an enjoyable pressure and tingling in his lower body.

“Oh, yeah? You like that? You want to be my good mutt? My good dog?” Stein moved his head away from the male’s ear, staring dead at him, his hand leaving his throat and making its way to squeeze his cock, the brilliantly pinkish, reddish tip dripping with pre-cum.

Spirit’s back arched, lifting from off of the cushions below him, as he nodded fervently up and down.

“Then be MY weapon, MY scythe. Not hers. Mine,” he pumped his hand rigorously up and down, grinding as hard as he possibly could into him.

“I am yours, Stein, I swear. You can do whatever you want to me, I don’t care anymore,” he couldn’t remember how to breathe. He could only remember how to meet each and every one of his meister’s desperately libidinous movements.

“Good boy,” he quickened his hand, his hips. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours..”

“Again,” he ordered once more, rubbing at his sensitive tip.

“I’m.. I’m your weapon, I’ve never been hers!” He exclaimed, as streams of white spurted out from him, landing on both his and Stein’s abdomens, his legs quivering.

“Good. Fucking. Boy,” his hips stuttered violently forward, one hand by Spirit’s head, the other lying on his thigh, as he came inside of him, collapsing onto the male.

“That was wonderful,” Albarn sucked in whatever oxygen he could, feeling utterly doused in an unfortunate pool of sweat.

Stein rose from Spirit, his body having been against his, his face having laid momentarily in his blood-red hair.

“Where’re you going?” He whined out in complaint as the scientist stood, walking away from him, leaving him.

“I’m just getting a rag, so we don’t have to use that blanket, Spirit. You can come if you’d like,” he offered, picking his glasses up from off of the side table.

“I’m not sure if I can walk.. I’m tipsy and my legs feel wobbly,” he turned, watching as Stein picked their clothing up off of the floor, throwing it onto the side of the couch opposite to the sulky and clingy scythe. “You should carry me.”

“It’d be quicker for me to just run and get a rag,” the weapon’s expression sank the moment he processed his words.

With a sigh, Stein conceded, “How about this, I’ll put my entire self aside and cuddle you to sleep?”

“Deal,” he yelled gleefully out, the other exhaustedly moving towards the bathroom.

“Oh, and if it provides you any sort of solace or anything, I don’t usually want to fuck my test subjects, Spirit. Remember that. You’re the exception. You’re my favorite.”

🥃

The sun’s morning rays bled through the covered window of the living room, shaking Spirit awake as it flooded into his vision.

It felt as though pins and needles had been dug into his eyes, his temples ready to explode, disorientated and muzzy, as he attempted to lift himself from off of an oddly warm and fleshy mattress.

He looked sleepily to his side, the sight of a pile of clothes scattered across one side of the.. sofa? And a bottle of vodka over beside the clothes on a small table.. And those aforementioned clothes happened to be his and what looked to be.. Stein’s…

Wait a minute… Where was he?

“Look who’s awake,” a sonorous and groggy voice startled him, as he immediately whipped his head downwards in the direction of the sound, only to be met with a nude Stein.

A nude Stein? What?

His eyes tripled in size as he scanned the room, scanned his own apparently mostly naked body, being only covered by his unbuttoned shirt, and scanned what precisely he was perched upon, causing sudden bursts of the previous night to come back to him.

“Oh, God.. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God,” he rushed out in a panic, scrambling to clothe himself as he stood up and away from Stein, of whom had his arms crossed behind his head, his eyes half-lidded and dull, as nonchalant as ever, all of him out on display.

“Remembering everything now?” He grinned, sitting up and leaning over towards where his pants had been left astray, digging into the pockets and retrieving a cigarette.

“What are we going to do, Stein?” Spirit held his face in his hands, running up and down each side of his head, and through his unkempt hair.

“Laugh,” he said in between self-satisfied chuckles, lighting the end of his cigarette, taking a long drag of it. “That was an impressively interesting way to come out to me, there, Spirit.”

“Oh, Shut up, Stein,” he snarled. “And.. God… she’s pregnant! And what if she finds out?! What if she leaves me?! I.. What have I done? No, no, no, no…”

“Probably shouldn’t have thought with the wrong head, huh?” He blew smoke in the direction opposite of Albarn.

“You’re such an asshole,” he sniveled, wiping away quickly falling tears in humiliation and shame, his shirt still unbuttoned, his pants not zipped up.

Franken sighed, standing and trudging over to the blubbering scythe, placing his cigarette in between his lips and allowing it to hang, zipping his pants up, buckling his belt, and buttoning his dress shirt for him.

This is how he’s always been when hungover. Those of whom viewed him as being overly emotional or even downright theatrical before seeing him the morning after too many drinks had no clue what they were talking about. He’d become a different version of himself when hungover. He’d cry at the slightest change in tone when hungover.

And to be frank, Stein didn’t really blame him. His own head was pounding, every little photon made him want to gouge his eyes out, and his stomach was beginning to churn with nausea, so it’s not as though he himself wasn’t ready to break down sobbing along with him.

Franken took one last inhale of the cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray he’d left on the far end of the coffee table, setting it down inside of it before placing a placid and serene hand on the back of Albarn’s head, pulling him in and comforting him the way he’d learned how to over the years.

He wasn’t typically the type to soothe anyone, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t gain a certain level of sadistic enjoyment from the fact that Spirit was moldeable putty in his hands.. It wasn’t something he was exactly proud of, though he was not ashamed of it either. And, of course, observing the male’s reactions towards his affectionate gestures was truly fascinating.

“It’s going to be okay, Spirit. There’s no use in crying over it. What’s done is done. I can help you cover the hickeys up,” he brushed sweetly up and down his scalp, and up and down his spine.

“You can?” Spirit peered up at the scientist, chin resting on his chest.

“Yeah, all I need to do is put a little makeup on you,” he brushed his cheek with his thumb, tenderly sliding it back and forth against the skin.

“You have makeup?” He gawked at him, Stein being the person he’d expected the least to own any sort of makeup.

“Oh, only a little. I like to do SFX when I get bored, sometimes,” Franken gave the touchy-feely man a touchy-feely kiss on the forehead, analyzing the way in which he fought melting into him. “I’ll just use some concealer and foundation and shit, and it should go all right, unless you turn out to have a drastically different skin tone than me. You’re a bit tanner. But we’ll paint up your face and such, too. I’m sure it’ll be believable given your current predicament.”

“Thank you,” he gratefully smiled. “But what if she notices the foundation? She knows what foundation looks like when applied, Stein..”

“Well, it’s worth a shot, is it not?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he sullenly pouted.

“The makeup’s in the bathroom.. I’ll have to turn the light on, though,” they both groaned in unison.

“Whatever it takes.. Plus, we’re both probably gonna end up throwing up anyway, might as well already be in there,” they separated from one another, walking side by side to the godforsaken bathroom with its godforsaken lights.

🥃

“Were you being serious last night?” Stein asked, padding against Spirit’s neck with a foundation-covered beauty blender, his eyes remaining solely on the overt markings he’d left behind.

“About what?” The weapon was sat on top of the countertop, a black bag filled with makeup, face-paint, and fake blood sitting on the other side of the sink, Franken standing in between his spread legs.

“…About being my weapon and not hers.”

Spirit narrowed his eyes in thought for a moment, both out of genuine consideration and an attempt to remember at what precise point in time he uttered such words, blushing furiously when it came back to him.

“I… Uhm..”

“It’s okay if not. I only want an honest answer,” thought he spoke in his usual monotone, the scythe couldn’t help but feel the heavy weight of disappointment radiating from Stein.

“No, no.. It’s not that.. I was being honest, but..”

“I know you love her. It’s fine if you prefer her, or would prefer to stay with her. That’s what I expected,” he finished with applying the foundation, fetching some sort of powder and brush to dab onto the area.

Spirit felt more guilty than he ever had before at how ‘used to it’ the meister sounded, being reminded of how he had effectively abandoned the former life he had.

“At the end of the day, I am aware of what I did and what I may or may not continue to do,” he placed the brush down onto the counter, looking closely over the redhead’s skin as to compare and contrast how differently the foundation appeared against his true skin color. “I think I might need to apply it all over your neck and face.. Perhaps even your hands, too..”

“Stein… It’s not that I don’t want to stay with you.. I’m conflicted,” he twiddled his culpability-ridden thumbs.

“You don’t have to force yourself to like me, Spirit. Don’t feel obligated to be nice. You know I prefer bluntness,” he spread the concealer and foundation and such over the rest of his counterpart’s neck, smoothing it into the skin underneath his chin.

“No, I *do* like you! It’s just that I like Kami, too, and she said she’d leave me if I didn’t become and stay her weapon.. She said that’s how she’d know that I love her, and that was, like, the perfect turnout for any couple, and it was romantic, or some shit like that,” he began elucidating, honestly a little frantic to assure Stein he wasn’t just going to give up on him like everyone else seemed to, and that he did, in fact, like him and his… eccentric personality.

Franken paused, ceasing his movements entirely, the blender and brush sitting beside each other as he placed his hands on the counter, both next to Spirit’s thighs.

“Don’t you think it’d be better to leave someone who consistently threatens you, and makes you feel as though you need to measure up? I’m no expert when it comes to any relationships, obviously, but is that not textbook emotional manipulation?” The scientist pointed out precisely what Albarn did not want to accept. “You’re clearly not good for each other. You just cheated on her with me, and she’s.. She’s Kami. Based purely upon the evidence, emotional manipulation and cheating doesn’t tend to have a great effect on the human psyche - unless mental deterioration is your goal, of course.”

The world around him, including the male standing patiently in front of him, blurred and swirled as tears brimmed in his eyes again, spilling out and falling down despite his best efforts.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, Stein… I don’t want to leave her.. And I’m not so great to her either,” he wiped his running nose with the back of his hand, Franken handing him a roll of toilet paper as he did as such.

“What do you mean? The getting fucked by your ex-partner?” He suppressed an amused chuckle.

“Well, yeah… But it’s not just that,” little droplets beaded on Spirit’s long eyelashes, becoming steadily more apparent the harder he wept and the more he tilted his head downwards in yet another burst of shame. “I said something to her.. and I’m mad at myself for it.”

“What’d you say?” Stein moved the makeup utensils farther away from the crybaby, temporarily shuffling them back into the bag.

“I.. All she did was bring up a valid point - that we’re not ready, and she brought up abortion.. And I snapped at her and told her she owed me the baby after lying, and it pissed her off,” he sniffled, blowing his nose cartoonishly into one of the multitude of fuzzy, paper squares.

“That was the best way you could’ve put it,” he sarcastically grinned, Spirit frowning in response, annoyed and fed up with Stein’s teasing. “Hey, I’m just trying to lighten the mood a little.. Here,” he brought the weapon’s head back to his chest, patting him gently on the back as he whimpered sadly.

“‘M sorry I cry so much,” he choked on a pitiful sob.

“Oh, this is pretty interesting to me, so there’s no need to apologize. And you cry a lot less when you’re not hungover and just generally not feeling like complete and total shit,” he reassured in a quiet voice, one of which seemed to soothe Spirit like a lullaby. “I’m not your obnoxious girlfriend. There’s no reason to be insecure about it.”

“Clearly,” he snuffled out in agreement, finding that his extremities were gradually becoming more and more jello-like under the touch of the same man who repeatedly and non-consensually ripped him open. It was as though Stein was two similar, yet distinctive people at times.

“I know it will be difficult for someone such as yourself, especially given her sudden and unprecedented pregnancy, but it’d be best for the both of you to leave one another. You should break up with her. And remember; if you two do end up going through with having the baby, you can always visit the child if it doesn’t happen to live with you,” he brushed the ginger’s hair from out of his eyes and he stared up at him, running guiding and grounding fingers across his forehead, as he tucked the strands behind his ear.

“I know, but I love her…”

“….Truly, it’s your decision to make, Spirit. That’s just my personal opinion,” Franken thumbed away the continuously rolling tears, one hands smoothing over the wrinkles in the back of his shirt.

“Thank you,” he hiccuped.

“Mhm… Now, the foundation isn’t too bad of a match.. But I do still think it could use some work.. Would you like me to use it on your face, as well?”

“Sure… But let me throw up first..”

🥃

Spirit stepped into his shoes, of which had been sat right beside Stein’s, just like old times. It was sickeningly domestic in a sense, as well as wistful.

And with a whisper of “goodbye,” a profound bidding of adieu holding much more than what meets the eye, he trudged out of the apartment, and out of the complex itself, dreading the conversation that was to come, and ignoring the unpleasantly cake-y texture lathered on his face.

He tried to distract himself with the beauty of the nature surrounding him as he walked, only to be hit with constant reminders of his problems, as he lowered his gaze away from the young children skipping along, hand-in-hand with their parents, giggling and acting overly jovial.

He was beginning to think that the universe had it out for him.

He anxiously strolled under a few weeping willows, something of which he found rather ironic given how much he himself had been weeping, and gave that thought a small chuckle.

Unfortunately, however, any and all humor was sucked straight out of him by the soul-crushing black hole that was the coming discussion, as he retrieved the key to his and Kami’s apartment door, slowly turning it within the knob, terrified of being too loud and alerting his girlfriend. Though she’d most likely be waiting for him the moment he pushed the door open.

And that she was.

She was sat down on the very center of the couch, staring at him with what he could only describe as being something mixed between bloodlust and sorrow.

“Look, I’m sor-“

“Spirit,” she abruptly interrupted, evidently not willing to hear any apology he had to give. “Why were you out all night? Where were you? And why do you smell like both liquor and cigarette smoke? Don’t tell me you’re drinking and smoking again.”

Shit. Cigarette smoke. The one thing neither of them thought to account for.

“So, what if I am? I can make my own decisions. And please, just let me-“

“Why can’t you just be more responsible? We’re having a baby, are we not? Given that you won’t even consider abortion.”

Spirit moved closer to Kami, sighing and shoving his keys back into his pocket, and standing in front of her, their round coffee table in between them.

“I think you forget that we’re both seventeen, Kami. I think you forget that we are BOTH pretty irresponsible. Need I remind you of the lie that lead us to this moment?” He crossed his arms over his sternum, looking directly into her self-serving eyes, as he bit into his tongue.

She glowered intensely at him, pursing her lips for a brief moment, as she questioned once more, “Where were you, Spirit?”

His thoughts raced, his mind twisting and turning trying to come up with some decently elaborate, yet not too elaborate lie.

“I went to the liquor store. I went to the tobacco store. I went to Marie’s house. I got drunk, I smoked, and I talked to Marie and Joe.”

“Oh, great, you rattled off to them about me, didn’t you? I bet you tried to fuck her, too,” Kami accusingly stated, standing up, now face-to-face with Spirit, minus the table.

“For one, I believe I just mentioned Joe being there, and he was there the whole time. Secondly, I don’t fuck anyone who’s already with someone else. Thanks for showing how little you think of me.”

“Oh, but you’d fuck any other slut who happened to come onto you, right? So long as they didn’t belong to anyone?” Kami marched on over to Albarn, getting up close and personal, squinting her eyes in suspicion as she got a good look at him. “What the hell’s on your face? Is that foundation? Is that why you look so damn pale? Why are you wearing… Wait a minute..” She touched around his face, his neck, even more anger effervescently bubbling within her.

“Why would you be wearing makeup? Are you trying to hide something, like, I don’t know, a hickey, maybe?”

“Who says I can’t just like makeup?”

“Don’t play dumb, Spirit.”

“Fine. I’m hiding hickeys,” he owned up to his infidelity despite the anxiety that came with it, not desiring in any way, shape, or form to be anything like Kami; a raging liar.

Kami raised her hand, slapping him across his face, her hand leaving a stinging sensation in its wake. He held the cheek her hand collided with delicately and soothingly, fighting back even more tears, not wanting to look weak.

“Who. did. you. fuck. Spirit? It better not have been Marie.”

“You wanna know? You really want to know?” The weapon’s nose was nearly touching hers, as he bared his teeth.

“Yes, I want to fucking know!” She screamed, clenching her fists.

“It was Stein! Are you pleased to no it wasn’t Marie? It was Stein! I never went over to Marie’s place! And he fucked me better than you ever could. It was the best sex I’ve ever had. Do you want to hear exactly what he did to me? Huh?”

“You did what?” Kami took a few detesting steps backwards, beginning to shake her head back and forth in disbelief, similar, yet different to how she had in the bathroom. “I can’t believe you,” she huffed out a laugh. “I expected you to cheat but with STEIN? With HIM? With another MAN? Holy shit…”

“Welp, since it’s already out in the open, is this a good time to tell you I’m bisexual?” He threw his arms in the air, only for them to fall and smack noisily against his thighs.

“God, I just… Why? Why did you do that? And why didn’t you tell me that a long time ago?” She continued to shake her head.

“Well, I got drunk and shit happens. And Of course I didn’t tell you, I figured you’d judge me for it just like you judge me for everything else!”

“Seriously?! You’re so fucking dramatic! And you’re seriously going to try to just dismiss you fucking someone else?!”

“And there you go again! You always say that, any time I’ve ever brought anything up! And no, I’m not trying to make it seem less serious or whatever, I’m just saying, I was wasted and shit happens!” His eyes moistened, his headache surely progressing into a migraine, the tingling and burning of his cheek proving to be a bothersome disturbance.

“You’re a whiny, annoying, cheating piece of shit,” she insulted him, reaching beside him and yanking her purse from off of the coffee table, the strap swinging around her arm and resting on her shoulder. “I’m fucking done with you.“

“Wait! What about the baby?!” He worriedly shouted, watching as Kami swung the door open just as he had.

“You know what, Spirit?” She turned her head and body to the side to face him. “I’ll keep it. I’ll keep the baby. But only so I can take pleasure in the fact that you’ll live in constant agony knowing your child is somewhere, living without a father.. Or at the very least, living without you.”

The door slammed, ringing in Spirit’s shaken ears. And once again, that moistness poured out from his eyes as abundantly as the whiskey had poured from the bottle.

He wouldn’t get to see his baby grow up.

He kneeled down, sitting languidly down onto the floor, still processing what just happened.

Kami was gone. And he wouldn’t get to see his baby grow up. The baby he’d always wanted, unexpected or not.

His chest tightened, feeling as though a boa was wrapping around his heart, constricting and squeezing until the organ was to burst. He coughed out anguished sobs, gasping for air as his hand came to land against his abdomen, his stomach being wrung in and out, his skin boiling.

Should he call someone? Should he call Stein? Should he try to get in his pants again as a distraction? Would Stein even allow for that? Should he drink?

His torso fell forward, as he landed on his hands and knees briefly, his body caving in to the turmoil, soon finding himself lying on the floor and struggling to breathe.

He needed to call someone. He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted comfort. He wanted the comfort Stein gave him, even if he knew the meister only gave it to him as some sort of experiment, for his own selfish reasons.

He dug into his pockets, bringing his cellphone up to his face, dialing Stein’s number from memory, as Kami forced him to both block and delete his number over a year ago.

“Hello?” The scientist’s voice boomed through the speakers.

“St.. Stein?” He called brokenly out in between pathetic sobs.

“Yeah? What happened?”

He could no longer see, could no longer breathe, could no longer properly move; a soul-sucking, alcoholism-inducing depression swaddling him like he’d never be able to do with his baby.

“Can you come over? Kami’s gone.”

“Gone?”

“Gone.”

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