#ch: kento nanami | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

osunism · 2 days

Text

Daughter of Disgrace

"Is there any place where Heaven's bastard daughters are welcome?"

Rating: Explicit [for explicit sexual content and graphic depictions of violence]. 🔞 Pairing[s]: Satoru + Sundari || Nadja + Sukuna Warning[s]: Explicit sexual situations, graphic depictions of violence, major character death[s], as well as some toxic relationship elements. Spoilers for the manga. Sukuna is his own warning but there is cannibalism, abuse, body horror, and mild torture in this fic. So canon-typical violence. Summary: In the aftermath of Satoru Gojo's sealing, Sundari must choose rebellion in order to free him. Lucky for them both, rebellion has always been her preferred modus operandi.

🪧 Be Advised: This is the sequel to Beast of No Nation. It's recommended that you read that fic first to get the context of this one.

𓃰 AO3 || OC Masterpost || Fic Masterpost 𓃰

𓃰 Chapter Nine: The Birthday Party

Jujutsu Tech, Tokyo Campus, December 7, 2018

For the first time, someone has woken up before Gojo Satoru, and it’s Sundari.

When she wakes up before dawn begins coloring the sky, and finds Satoru sound asleep beside her, she is surprised…and delighted. She decides that stillness is the only way to savor this moment. She shifts her lower eyes to look at him, and she cannot help the grin that spreads like a bloodstain across her face.

Satoru has a face that would move Botticelli to tears, and Sundari recalls with quiet amusement how she once hated how pretty he is, and how he has the nerve to be that good looking and funny. He makes her laugh in the most unconventional ways. She’s also seen him when he’s in the heat of a fight, eyes blazing like two stars in his pale face, a manic grin stretching his pretty mouth. He probably scares the shit out of his enemies. Not her, though. His bloodlust calls to her own in a way no one else has. He knows the hunger in her bones, the flame that powers her desire, and he knows how to feed it.

Right now, he is none of those things. Right now, he is at peace, and Sundari realizes she is witnessing a rarity. Not his unrivaled strength and power, but Gojo Satoru: the man.

Sundari allows herself a small, turning over to lay on her side and watching him. His hair falls like feathers of starlight over his face, his lashes cresting like waves on his cheeks, his full lips parted. There’s a light snore rumbling his chest, and she bites her lip. He’s boyish and handsome on any given day of the week, but here in this moment she doesn’t see a sorcerer. Just a man who needs a vacation.

“You should consider taking a picture for your phone wallpaper,” Satoru mumbles, not opening his eyes. Sundari chuckles. So much for a morning of quietly watching him sleep. Satoru finally opens his eyes and it’s like her own personal sunrise. She never gets tired of it, and she doesn’t think she ever will. She wants to spend the rest of her life waking up to the warmth of his gaze, bleary with sleep.

“I have no idea where my phone is, actually,” Sundari says, laughing as he reaches for her, and she obliges him, pulling her into his embrace and wrapping his arms and legs around her and burying his face in her hair.

“Good,” he mumbles. “I like when you’re mine in the morning.”

Sundari entertains the thought of biting him briefly, but ultimately decides to reward him with soft, lazy kisses to his neck. Satoru purrs in response, inhaling deeply, holding her tighter as if he’s afraid she’ll vanish if he lets her go. Sundari feels a twinge in her heartstrings at the thought and tightens her hold on him too.

“I have to train with Yuta again today,” Satoru murmurs. “He’s really determined to see this plan through.”

Sundari keeps her eyes shut, breathes in his scent.

“I know,” she mumbles. “I’m going to do some more training with Yuji. He’s a fast learner, does better with hands-on application than lectures.”

Satoru chuckles. “Sounds like you,” he says with a knowing smirk.

Sundari kisses his neck again, and this time Satoru moans. She’s using the tip of her tongue to trace over the curve of his Adam’s apple, ending in a saturated kiss. Instantly the mood shifts, and the two spend the next two hours making love, giggling and moaning like two newlyweds on their first night together.

It’s when he has her on her stomach, tugging her earlobe between his teeth, torturing her with long, slow strokes, that they both here the shuffle of footsteps and the chatter of voices beyond the door. Sundari bites a mouthful of her pillow to quiet herself, and Satoru grins, trailing soft, wet kisses along her neck and shoulder as he moves inside of her.

“I wanna come inside of you,” he whispers. Sundari whimpers in response as his cock twitches inside of her, lifting her lips involuntarily to bury him deeper. “Want you full of me all day.” The thought makes him nearly come on the spot. He can imagine Sundari, training in her tight workout gear, her panties full of his come, and his thrusts increase in speed and force, determined to make good on his promise.

“It’s my fuckin’—ngh—birthday, Sundari…” he growls, planting his hands on either side of her to give himself leverage. She’s keening, now, moans muffled as he fucks her hard with shallow, powerful thrusts. He delights in the sound of her nails digging into the sheets, threatening to tear them. He doesn’t give a shit; he’ll eat the fucking charge if it means he gets to have her like this…for the rest of his goddamn life if need be.

If she’ll have him.

His hips stutter at the thought, and he fights his own climax hard, but she’s pulling him in. Her cunt tightens around him like she doesn’t want to let him go, because she doesn’t, and Satoru’s hand finds its way around her slender throat, pulling her up and forcing her to let go of the pillow.

Sundari lets out a sound that is so obscene, Satoru forgets why he wants to choke her in the first place.

It doesn’t matter, because she’s spitting curses and moans into the air even as he adjusts his grip just enough to apply pressure. Sundari’s vision sparkles momentarily, and she comes harder than she’s ever felt in her life.

“Did you just—fuck…!” Satoru lets himself lose it, and soon he’s flooding her with liquid heat, burying his face in her neck and shoulder, growling her name into her sweat-slick skin, licking at the satin flesh like he wants to devour her.

For a long stretch of heartbeats, there is only the sound of their panting breaths cutting up the air, their bodies limp and languid as Satoru releases her, stretching his arm over hers to twine their fingers. She curls them, and he wraps his arms around her as he kisses her nape, nuzzling her with unabashed affection. Even when he is rough, Satoru shows that he is capable of an almost pure and shameless affection that makes Sundari flush warm in her cheeks, and makes her smile turn shy and flustered. Satoru kisses her temple.

“My favorite birthday present thus far,” he murmurs, his voice husky and slurred with residual pleasure. Sundari chuckles, a sound that drips down Satoru’s senses like warm honey.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she murmurs, even as his lips find a trail behind her ear, tugging at the soft velvet of her earlobe, making her giggle. “But you’ve got to go train and make sure Yuta can…you know…do what needs to be done. And I have to go beat up Yuji for a few hours.”

Satoru smirks. “What? No cake?” He pouts.

Sundari squirms beneath him, swatting at his infinity when he refuses to release her. She reaches blindly for the bedside table, grabs the conical birthday had and passes it to him.

“There,” she says as she turns over in his arms, forcing him to straddle her. “Put that on and wear it the rest of the day. I even made sure it matches your eyes.”

Satoru puts on the birthday hat. Sundari smiles up at him, and his eyes are bright with something that has little to do with the nature of their power. His smile is wide and pleased, and Sundari reaches up, deftly adjusting the birthday hat so that it sits slightly tilted on his head.

“Now you just need to not be naked and you’re good to go,” Sundari says. He flicks her forehead affectionately.

Later, Sundari makes her way to the training field with Yuji. He seems less tense, and even excited. He has clashed with Sundari before, and because she reminds him so much of Sukuna, he considers her the best training partner aside from Maki.

“Hikmat-san, do you think we can practice with more cursed energy this time around?” He asks brightly, grinning with an eagerness Sundari finds endearing, if a little shortsighted.

“Maybe,” she says. “I know you’re durable, and Sukuna’s cursed energy has reinforced you, but I don’t want to beat you within an inch of your life, Itadori.”

Yuji rubs the back of his head sheepishly, laughing at his own shortsightedness, but undaunted in his determination to get stronger. Sundari has also been training, learning to control her transformation at will, rather than only accessing it in the heat of battle. The nature of the binding vow placed on herself to be able to do so is one she undertook to maintain a sense of normalcy in public. While she has come to accept herself as Sukuna’s daughter, she knows her appearance can be off-putting to her more conservative—and admittedly, traumatized—allies.

Yuji is not one of those allies. If anything, he accepts Sundari unabashedly as herself and was one of the first in jujutsu society aside from Satoru himself to treat her as a friend rather than an aberration that needed to be dealt with. She supposes Yuji had more than enough reason to be friendly, being her father’s vessel and all. Still, it is nice to have a friend, even if he’s not always agreeable with her methods.

And aside from Satoru, Yuji, Maki, and Todo are the only fighters who can keep up with her.

“Ready?” Sundari slides into an easy stance, light on the balls of her feet, and Yuji does the same, bouncing from one foot to the other in an effortless motion that could see him springing in any direction. Sundari narrows her eyes, and Yuji’s gaze never wavers. Sundari’s second set of arms roll out from her shoulder blades, her cursed tattoos shifting to accommodate her true form, the toned muscle of her belly splitting open to reveal a grinning maw with a tattooed tongue. Yuji has seen the transformation often enough that it no longer startles him, but she sees the slight tension in his jaw as he faces her. Four arms, four eyes, and the strength of her monstrous father. Sundari readies herself.

The spar begins.

Sundari loves Yuji’s unpredictability. He moves like a slip of fabric caught in crosswinds, bouncing from one point to the next. And always he keeps his feet under him, not unlike the tiger he was nicknamed after. Sundari tests the strength of his guard, finding him fast and loose with his openings, moving with a speed that reminds her of her father. But of course, since the first time she fought “Yuji” it had been Sukuna controlling his body.

It’s almost like that, but Yuji has something about him that’s different. A strange, and youthful tenacity that makes it hard to keep him down. Sundari lands her hits, sends him flying, and yet Yuji comes back, fighting just as fiercely as before, if not more so. It matters not if there is blood, or missing teeth, or even ruptured organs. If he can stand, if he can run, if he can move, he will fight.

Sundari learns a lesson in tenacity this day, and the sun crawls across the sky as they fight, at times engaged in such close quarters that it looks like a dance; one made more beautiful when they choreograph it together. Sundari learns how Yuji moves, makes a note to practice using his more acrobatic techniques. She has the power and build for it, and she loves to move fast. Fighting with Satoru taught her that.

In the end, though, Yuji ends up being taken down, and Sundari grapples him with her arms, pulling him hard against her body and lifting him off the ground. Yuji uses his core to draw his legs up, locking his arms within hers before he bursts into motion, dragging her off-balance. As soon as Yuji’s red shoes hit the ground he tumbles forward, lifting Sundari up over his shoulder, and tossing her ass over tea kettle into the dirt.

“Holy shit!” It’s Maki’s voice that cuts through the tension as Yuji stands over Sundari, hands poised for what would be a killing blow. Sundari is staring up at him, wide-eyed.

“Holy shit, indeed,” Satoru says, joining Maki and Inumaki.

“Did I…” Yuji’s not quite sure he believes it yet. “Did I just win?”

Sundari’s mouth opens, then closes.

“I think you did,” she says softly. “Good job, Itadori, you might just be able to beat my father’s ass, after all.”

Yuji blinks his big brown eyes, and then a grin of pure triumph split his face, cheeks rounding and shutting his eyes as he laughs. He holds out a hand, helping Sundari to her feet.

“Just bear in mind my dad probably weighs twice as much as I do when he’s…” Sundari says, and gestures to her extra arms and mouth. Yuji nods, understanding. He’s only ever seen Sukuna wearing his face and now Megumi’s. The thought alone twists his gut with guilt. Sundari places a hand on his shoulder as if she knows where his thoughts have led him. Yuji shares a look with her, nodding in understanding. He can’t let himself give into guilt and despair. If Megumi is alive, there’s still time. There’s still hope.

“How’s it feel getting your ass handed to you by a teenager?” Satoru asks in a teasing voice. Sundari smirks at him, saying nothing, and then leans up to whisper something in his ear.

Satoru’s eyes go wide and there’s a flush in his ears that has everything to do with the sway of Sundari’s hips as she walks away. Her extra arms have receded and vanished, but Satoru doesn’t have to turn his head to watch her walk away. He can see her clearly. God he can even see the dampness of her sweat on her skin, a bead chasing a path down the length of her spine.

“Gojo-sensei are you alright?” Yuji asks.

“I think she broke him,” Maki says smugly.

“Shake shake,” Inumaki agrees.

Satoru coughs. “Well, I know you guys have birthday plans for me and I’ve got to go run a very important errand.”

He doesn’t wait for them to ask questions, and they exchange looks realizing that he’s expecting some kind of party or celebration, and none of them have actually planned anything.

Well, not entirely true. Yuji and Inumaki went on a very dangerous mission earlier in the week for a very special delivery to be made on their sensei’s birthday.

And then there was the big surprise, of course.

“We should probably hope Okkotsu-senpai is holding up his end of the deal, right?” Yuji asks. Inumaki makes a grunt of agreement.

Sundari takes her time in the showers after her training with Yuji is done. She scrubs herself clean and washes her hair. It’s not lost on her that the black dye of her curls has begun to wash out, giving way to roots the color of soft rosy blush. She has been dying her hair black for as long as she can remember, and now that her memories are restored, she knows what she looked like before her sealing.

She does not redye her hair.

As she’s toweling dry and changing into her comfortable leisurewear, she checks her phone on the off chance anything interesting pops up. She’s got a ton of missed calls, mostly from people who knew her as an ordinary mortal girl, always down to party and have fun. She doesn’t even know how to connect with those people anymore. What is there to talk about? That entire life had been a fabrication to obfuscate what she was. Who she was, in fact.

Then there’s messages from shady contacts—unsaved numbers with dead-end voicemails that haven’t been setup yet. Yakuza, of course. In the aftermath of the Culling Games’ announcement, the yakuza gangs had taken note of their own curse users on retainer to protect their interests. Naturally, they’d wanted some of their best muscle to herd into the colonies and break shit. Sundari doesn’t know how to connect with these people either. Any curse user they have on retainer either perished in her domain or were killed by other sorcerers in the Culling Game. And she’s more powerful than all of them combined at this rate.

Sundari tosses her phone back into her bag. Everyone she cares to talk to is here, now, in her new life.

New…life.

Sundari smiles to herself, changing into a black sweatsuit that’s clearly too big for her. She laces up a pair of red and black sneakers and ties her black and pink curls on top of her head. As she steps into the hallway, she spots Satoru who smiles at her as if he’s just been the first downstairs on Christmas morning.

“Goddess,” he greets and Sundari rolls all four of her eyes, as is customary. He comes to her, noting the baggy sweatsuit and the stylish sneakers. He adores how sexy she can be even dressed down like this and takes her into his arms in a warm embrace.

“Honored One,” she greets, kissing him with an amused laugh. “Why aren’t you with Yuta?”

Satoru sighs. “Why are you all trying to pretend I don’t know you’re planning something?”

Sundari says nothing for a moment, pursing her lips.

“You are so annoying,” she says at last. Satoru’s eyes look guileless even as he pouts. “Can you at least pretend to be surprised?”

Satoru grins. “Will that make you happy?”

Sundari hesitates, momentarily caught off-guard. She hadn’t been expecting that. Satoru knows this, and his grin stays, his eyes asking, seeking…

“Yeah,” she says softly. “The kids are excited, and it would make them happy if you were too. Speaking of which, come with me.”

She takes his hand, tugs him along through the hall. He keeps up with her easily, and Sundari’s cheeks bloom with a rush of heat as she realizes they are walking side-by-side, hand-in-hand. Satoru looks as content as if he has always been by her side as if there is nowhere else he’d rather be. Sundari swallows to wet her suddenly parched throat. She almost forgets she’s the one leading when she comes back from her surprise and pulls him toward the infirmary.

“Are you throwing my party in the clinic?” Satoru asks. “Is this your way of telling me you’re pregnant?”

Sundari’s eyes go wide. “What? No! Satoru, why the fuck would you think that?”

Satoru shrugs. “I don’t know! I can’t think of what could possibly be worth celebrating in the—”

For the second time in as many months, Satoru is left speechless. Sundari is still clasping his hand, and startles when his grip tightens on hers almost painfully. His expression is one of intense focus, Six Eyes reading the ebb and flow of cursed energy to ensure what he is seeing is what his eyes are telling him is there.

Standing in the infirmary, albeit supported by a cane and attended by a very solicitous Shoko, is Nanami Kento. He looks almost the same as before, save for the left half of his body which is a sea of scars left behind by Shoko’s reverse cursed technique. Wrapped around his left eye is a soft eyepatch reinforced by leather. Satoru’s eyes tell him the patch is woven with cursed energy, charms of enhancement that will allow Nanami to increase his perception and make up for the lost senses and damaged ocular nerves.

More than that, Satoru can see Nanami’s cursed energy has increased.

“Gojo,” Nanami greets, and there is a slight rasp in his voice as he speaks around the scar tissue of his damaged vocal cords. “It’s good to see you freed. It would have been terribly inconvenient if we’d lost you for good in Shibuya.”

Satoru still cannot speak, and all assembled see for the first time as tears form in the Honored One’s eyes.

Satoru spends some time with Nanami following the surprise that his old friend survived the disaster of Shibuya. He learns from Nanami what all he missed during that time, and silently sends a thank you to Nadja for sending his friend to receive medical care rather than throwing his life away to continue the fight.

He’s tired of seeing his colleagues fall like fodder to the endless surge of curses. He’s tired of curse users—wretched individuals who waste their gifts being parasites and threats to humanity rather than shamans as they were born to be.

Satoru puts those ill-thoughts in the back of his mind and focuses on the matter at hand. For now, it is enough for him that Nanami is alive and well. It’s enough that he and Shoko will not have to bear the weight of memory and remembrance alone.

He doesn’t think he has it in him to bury another friend from his youth.

Sundari and Shoko are engaged in conversation some distance away while he and Nanami talk. Nanami watches him with his one, brown eye, pensive as always. Like his friend, he does not bother to cover his sight anymore. He will look curses full in the face without fear for he has endured the worst, and he will endure a whole lot more.

It is why Satoru hates that he must be the one to tell Nanami that his role in this fight is over.

“You’ve done enough,” Satoru says, and there’s none of the usual teasing or playfulness in his voice. “You can rest, my friend. You’ve done enough.”

All his life, Nanami has done only what was required of him, no more, no less. He made the decision to come back to jujutsu because it was something he was good at, and something he saw could make an immediate difference in the lives of the people around him, and those charged to his care. Now, as injured as he is, he wonders again what he has to offer this world.

Satoru tells him he doesn’t need to offer anything. His existence is proof enough of his purpose.

“Let that spunky kid…Takoma? Inoue?”

“Ino Takuma,” Nanami corrects wryly. “I was going to recommend him for Grade 1.”

“As you should!” Satoru agrees with a grin that Nanami decides is a little too manic for his comfort. He turns his gaze toward Sundari and Shoko, pensive.

“Sukuna’s daughter…” he says, his tone thoughtful and a tad mystified. Unfortunately, he’s never met her until he woke up from his coma not scant days ago. He heard from Yuji and others how well she acquitted herself in Shibuya, protecting civilians and staving off Sukuna himself for a time.

“Yeah,” Satoru says, his tone just a tad too dreamy as his gaze settles on Sundari. Where Nanami sees a tall, bold, and animated young woman, Satoru sees so much more. He’ll always see her as bold, vibrant, and animated. He’ll always cherish her laughter, the way her garnet eyes sparkle when she’s cooking up a wicked idea. He’ll also remember what his name sounds like when she moans and screams, when she whispers it like a delicious secret, or shapes it like a scold. He can see the brightness of her cursed energy, a steady and wickless flame, controlled by her hard-won discipline. He thinks, if he looks hard enough, he can even see the shape of her soul; that brightness in her that—

“You’re in love with her,” Nanami says flatly. Satoru seems to startle out of some sort of reverie, blinking incredulously at his friend.

“What? What do you mean?” He asks, feigning confusion.

“Don’t play coy, Gojo,” Nanami grouses. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for the last minute and a half. You’ve been staring at her like she plucked the stars from the sky. You’re in love with her. Sick in love, one might say.”

Satoru allows himself a lopsided grin.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Yeah, I am. So what?”

Nanami doesn’t have to say anything for Satoru to answer his own question. Instead, Satoru shrugs and stretches, even as he keeps Sundari in his peripheral vision. She spots him with her lower set of eyes, and he sees her smile turn into a smirk briefly, just for him. Oh, he’s going to fuck her stupid later.

“Be careful,” Nanami says. “She may not be a threat to you, but eventually you’ll need a plan at the end of all of this.”

Satoru doesn’t say it, doesn’t feel he needs to say it. He does have a plan at the end of all of this. He’s going to break that divine vow and free her of from paying the price of her father’s destruction with her life.

Then, he’s going to ask her to marry him.

There’s cake. Of course there’s fucking cake.

Satoru marvels at the spread of desserts the students have put together to honor him: macarons, frozen fruit with whipped cream for dipping, a chocolate fountain, kikufuku from Sendai [a recent favorite and a hyperfixation of several weeks], an Indian dessert Sundari had introduced him to called gulab jamun, and the centerpiece of it all: a vanilla cake with buttercream frosting, with a chibi version of his face decorating the cake’s surface.

Planted within the cake are two numbered candles, as well as an approximation of what looks to be a mini-Satoru figurine posing between them holding a blue candle and a red candle. Satoru notes the candles are sparking.

And then there’s the birthday song: a terrible mishmash of differing pitches, threaded with nervous laughter as the group struggles to find the tune. Then they’re singing, clapping, laughing, and Satoru adjusts his silly conical birthday hat again, which is askew—just the way he and his goddess like it.

He blows out the candles in one puff of breath, and although he places no stock in wishes, he does place plenty in dreams, and so he combines the two as the flames flicker and gutter under his power…even the trick candles Sundari had cleverly planted go out, much to her exasperation.

He doesn’t tell anyone his wish, of course, but there’s cheers all around and for a moment, things seem normal.

Except he notices the negative space where Megumi should be, and Sundari feel the absence of her mother keenly. He can see the struggle of his remaining students, fighting off the grim melancholy to celebrate a life in defiance of impending death. Satoru knows that under the more conservative restrictions of jujutsu society, this sort of celebration would never be allowed, and he might have even let his birthday pass unremarked.

But he sees the smiles and laughter on their faces, these people who stand beside him, and witnesses a woman plucked from the ocean of time experiencing freedom of Self for the first time, and Satoru thinks maybe it’s okay to celebrate himself. After all, he’s done a lot of work!

But also, it feels nice to be cherished for existing. Today of all days, everyone around him is celebrate him being born, not because of his gifts, but because he exists.

Sundari catches his gaze, and he sees heat rush to her cheeks as the tender bend of her smile warms his blood. Shamelessly, he steps closer to her, wrapping an arm around her waist to draw her to him and kiss her. There are cheers and whistles from his students, and Sundari bites her lip, resisting the urge to bury her face in Satoru’s chest. Well, if it wasn’t clear where their hearts lay, it is now.

Later, when the sugar rush is over, and the fireworks are depleted, Satoru and Sundari take a moonlit stroll through the campus. Because of their combined presence, most cursed spirits have fled the area, and it leaves only the serene majesty of the dark mountains and forest, and two of the strongest sorcerers walking side by side.

“I hope you enjoyed your birthday,” Sundari says softly, grinning. “We scraped together what we could over the last few weeks. And Nanami waking up was a pleasant surprise.”

Satoru chuckles. “If I’m being honest, this was probably the best birthday I’ve had in a long time.”

Sundari’s eyes widen, looking somewhere between delighted and surprised.

“Really?” She asks. “Why?”

Satoru sighs, leaning his head back with his eyes closed. Sundari waits patiently as they walk in relative silence for a long stretch of minutes. When Satoru collects his thoughts, he opens his eyes slowly.

“Well,” he says. “Ever since I started working full time, life’s just kind of gotten away from me. I spend so much of my time teaching and traveling for missions and other assignments that it’s hard to slow down. And if I’m being honest? I don’t think I realized how much I was taking for granted until I got sealed.”

Sundari tilts her head, trying to understand. Satoru’s hand finds hers, lacing their fingers.

“In the Prison Realm, time doesn’t pass. It’s just one unending moment, like being stuck in the five minutes before it’s time to clock out phase. To keep from going mad, I did what I could in there.”

Sundari chuckles. “You beat the hell out of your dick, didn’t you?”

Satoru lets out a long, exasperated groan. “At least three to four times a day, god.”

They both laugh at that, because the absurdity of it is just as funny as the fact that Sundari knows he’s not remotely kidding about having done it. She would have done the same, were it her.

“But it also gave me time to think in a more focused state,” Satoru continues when their mirth subsides. “To plan for the future.”

Sundari looks at him, and for a moment it feels as if time has slowed for them alone. He reaches up, brushing her cheek with a knuckle, his smile tender and fond. Sundari returns it, all fangs and mischief.

“The future, hm?” She muses, and her arms reach up, twining about his neck. “The one where you mold young sorcerers into stronger versions of themselves?”

Satoru chuckles, leaning in closer. “Yeah, and the one where you’re by my side helping me.”

Sundari’s brows raise. “Oh? And what are you offering?”

Satoru leans in, captures her lips in a searing kiss. Sundari holds him close, feeling something in her heart whispering, urging her to keep this memory close. It is his turn to whisper in her ear, dripping honeyed words of promise that make her eyes go wide and her pulse race. She pulls back to look at him, scarce believing what he’s said.

“Truly?” She asks softly.

Satoru’s smile is answer enough but he knows she wants to hear him say it.

“Only if you want,” he says. Sundari bites her lip. Satoru reaches up to run an unhurried thumb over her lower lip. “No rush. We have time, but I know I do want you by my side, Sundari. You deserve to share in this future as much as anyone.”

Sundari wants to hate his compassion, but she can’t. His heart is molten gold, unburdened by pessimism, and buoyed by determination and a clear goal. She admires that in him and bows her head in respect.

“You honor me,” she says. “And I’ve done precious little to deserve it. But I have my vow to consider, Satoru. I don’t think…”

Satoru tilts his head, his smile secretive and knowing. Sundari snorts and shakes her head. Of course he’s thought of everything. She has to trust him.

“Come on,” he says. “Our walk’s not done.”

And then, he takes her by the waist, holding her close as they begin to ascend into the air. Sundari clings to him as the wind blows, but he envelopes them both in infinity and suddenly the wind no longer chills her skin, no longer touches her at all. They are safe in the cocoon of forever, for now.

“Satoru,” Sundari whispers. “Do you know how beloved you are?”

Two blue eyes widen in surprise. It’s not what he expected her to say, suspended over Jujutsu Tech’s campus like this.

“I’ve never really thought about it,” he murmurs. “I’ve been so focused on my mission, it’s hard to look up and see what’s passing me by sometimes.”

Sundari chuckles. “You looked up today, though,” she says. “What did you see?”

Satoru thinks for a moment, making a face where his tongue pokes out of his mouth, and his white brows pinch in a mock pensive expression.

“I saw my friends, colleagues, and students…and the woman I love, celebrating my existence.” The realization comes to him and his cheeks flush with warmth.

Sundari pulls him into a tight hug. “Because you’re worth celebrating, Satoru. You’ve changed so many lives and saved many more. Including mine. I’ll always be grateful for you, and those people down there will be too.” She pulls away, cupping his face in her hand and meeting that galactic blue gaze with her own glowing garnet one. He leans into her touch, placing his hand over hers. The infinity around them shimmers softly, gently distorting spacetime around them.

“Your life has meaning,” Sundari tells him. “Because you exist. You are remarkable to me, not just because of your power, or even your beauty. But this.” She places her hand over his heart. “I fell in love with this. The very soul of you. And seeing these people who look to you for leadership, for counsel, for companionship…I want that too. I want this future with you.”

Satoru’s eyes go wide. Is she saying?

Yes.

˚⊱🪷⊰˚ Masterpost || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter ⤳

© 2024 Hajara Asiri. Do NOT copy, translate, plagiarize, repost anywhere without permission [reblogging posts is okay]. I only upload on Tumblr, AO3, and FFN. Title and footer banners by me. Dividers and support by @cafekitsune.

#muse yaps #呪術廻戦 #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #muse writes #jjk x oc #jjk x black oc #oc: sundari hikmat #ch: gojo satoru #ch: itadori yuji #ch: zenin maki #ch: okkotsu yuta #ch: nanami kento

2 notes · View notes