Your Love, Like Birth and Death
cw. jjk faerie au, banshee!reader (she/her pronouns, afab), seelie prince!gojou, mutual pining but gojou's love is heavier, descriptions of blood and injuries
pairing. gojou x reader
notes. i should be working on the unseelie lord toji fic but this concept is still wracking my brain so y'all are getting this right now instead. lovesick faerie prince gojou for you, you and you! (also, spot the furuba and mirai nikki references lol.)
This Court is dyed in the colors of Life, you note this particular morning.
Of course, this is something youâve noted every morning since youâd been brought to this palace nearly a month ago. Yet you arenât tired of noting it.
The Court you have found yourself in is beautiful. From the ledge you lean against, it almost feels like you can see everything in Faerie.
You see the royal gardens, a mass of long grasses and moss dotted by colorful wild blooms. Overgrown and yet each flower seems right where it is supposed to be.
Beyond the walls of the castle, you see stretches and stretches of blue spruces and just beyond that a lake that almost seems purple. If this were a palace in Unseelie territory, you might have thought a kelpie lived in it.
Across the courtyard, souls living and deceased move as if in a dance. The living with their duties for the day, unaware of their ghoulish companions drifting about. Some have the ever permanent dribble of poisoned wines falling from their lips, others' have blood seeping into their clothes from their torsos and others are missing limbs although they find no difficult in moving.
The sight of death faeries is one that gruesome. A mixture of life and death, the path you folk walk on until you return to nothing.
Neat yet unkempt, wild yet tame, expected yet unexpected ăŒ that is the beauty of Faerie youâve grown accustomed to in the centuries since your creation.
A beauty you rarely have the opportunity to appreciate when you often find yourself in the realm of humans, heralding death.
You wonder how much time has passed there since youâve come to the Court of Reckoning. All while the skies have lost the traces of violet, peach and marigold that painted the dawn skies and have begun settling into a lovely shade of pastel blue.Â
âI see Iâve finally found you,â when you look over your shoulder, itâs one of the princeâs advisors that greets you. The one with the long raven-black hair and brown eyes that remind you of humus-rich soil. You see the makings of a black tail with a tuft of fur peeking from his cloak and believe him to be some sort of phouka. âI almost thought for a moment our honored guest had disappeared,â his voice is light and airy, but he seems relieved to an extent. âIâm glad my concerns were proven untrue. Satoru would be quite unmanageable if that were the case.â
You shake your head, smiling politely, âI enjoy watching dawn turn into morning.â You look at the large bouquet in the phoukaâs hands ăŒ an assortment of lavender roses, babyâs breath and ferns.
âOur prince is too busy to deliver these himself this morning,â Suguru explains once theyâve caught your eye. You make sure to not let your fingers brush against one another when you reach for the blooms carefully. âLove at first sight, purity and fascination it is supposed to symbolize,â the advisor recounts the meaning of each bloom dutifully. Heâs exasperated, you can tell. âDo you like them?â
âYes, theyâre quite lovely,â you believe so truly. Everyday since your arrival to the palace, the prince has had bouquet after bouquet gifted to you. Even if he cannot deliver them himself. âAs were the rest Iâve received.â
âIâve never seen Satoru so smitten,â you avoid the phoukaâs gaze. âYou should have met him when we were younger. He was adamant that heâd never be besotted with anyone lest he become a fool.â Thereâs a light pause as Suguru recalls the evening Satoru brought you to this palace. You who are cloaked in death and all of her colors. âLook at him now. Heâs certainly caused a stir in his insistence youâll be his queen. Heâs a charming fool, though, I am sure.â
You prefer to think of the prince as a ridiculous fool but you cannot deny that he is charming. Dangerously so. If you hadnât known better, you would have thought him to be a gancanagh, a love-talker.
âPlease marry me,â came the soft request as sky blue eyes stared into your very being. âAnd Iâll love you more faithfully than any man, fae or otherwise.â
You try not to remember the way your chest clenched in surprise. How you were so surprised it almost felt like your skin had warmed. Itâs best not to focus on that memory at all.
Itâs a ridiculous notion, a seelie prince in love with a banshee.
âThe prince is simply confusing gratitude with love,â you return Suguruâs gaze with a polite smile. You hope he believes you. âHeâll realize that soon and I will leave this place.â You know that will bring palace staff a great sense of peace. If there is one thing youâve learned in your long life as a banshee it is that even if the Folk spurn mortals and their blink-of-an-eye lifespans, there are many things faeries and humans have in common.
A fear of death is certainly one of them.
As such, to the vast majority of faeriekind, Death Folk like yourself are not looked upon favorably. Banshee and dullahans alike, youâre more like pests in their eyes.Â
You banshee women who scream and keen if death is near.Â
The dullahans who hear those screams and arrive when that final hour has approached.
Yes, you know how death fae are viewed. Youâve heard the whispers in the palace, how you are an omen of malevolence to come. That your kind are like roaches. Should one appear, others will soon follow suit.
This is why youâve come to appreciate this private ledge on the castle walls that receives less foot traffic than the rest. Youâd rather the staff of the palace have peace of mind in your absence while you live in the palace even if their prince insists you can venture the halls as much as youâd like.
Once the promised revel he hopes to throw in your honor comes to pass, you know the prince will lose his interest in you. Then you will leave and continue about your existence until you fade into nothing but a vague memory in his subconscious.
That's what you truly hope when you see the prince in question later on in the day for lunch in the garden.
How his eyes light up and he stands to his feet as Cypress, a lovely pixie tasked with being your attendant, announces your arrival. How he doesn't even wait for you to reach the table before he comes to meet you. You are unused to being treated like royalty and yet their prince insists that you are. "You won't believe how the old hags go on and on," he sighs, remnants of annoyance dancing in his tone but his voice is soft with you. Cypress takes the dismissal in stride. "I couldn't even come see you for breakfast. Did you like the flowers?"
He wraps your hands in his own large palms, seemingly unaffected by your corpse-cold skin, as he has done every time you've met since your arrival. "Yes, they were beautiful," your smile is small and doesn't quite reach your eyes. You hope this ridiculous yet charming fool realizes that loving one such as yourself is more trouble than good. That his love truly is just misplaced gratitude. "You really don't have to send me flowers every morning."
The prince disregards your words the way water rolls off the back of a duck, "next time I'll bring you the flowers myself." He guides you to the table filled to the brim with food you aren't accustomed to eating. "Will you tell me your favorites finally? I've been going out on a limb with my guesses."
"My tastes in flowers are unique, to say the least," maybe it's your nature, but your favorites tend to circle around the prevailing theme of your kind. Lavender to give the dead peace in passing on, calendula for blessing and love. Dandelions in the seed head stage were quite popular with ghost children, still finding them just as amusing as they did when they were alive. "The flowers you send me are more than enough." The prince pouts but he decides to let you skirt around his request once more. You bring focus back to the spread, "it looks like you've demanded everything in the kitchen."
There are strawberry-and-whipped cream filled pastries, cold cut platters and buttery biscuits to name a few things. The tip of the iceberg of everything on the table.
"I wanted to make sure our bases were covered," the prince grins, teeth as white as his hair. "I hope you like lavender chamomile, that's today's tea. I've never had it before." He drops cube after cube of sugar into his cup, drizzles the contents with honey before finally pouring in a splash of cream.
You take your tea plain and enjoy the gentle fragrance. Lavender buds are just barely visible below the tea's surface. You close your eyes as the flavor hits your tongue. It tastes as wonderful as it smells. "Yes, this is quite nice. I really like it."
"Should we have it for tomorrow as well?" He's too eager to curry your favor.
You open your eyes to dissuade him but your attention is instead drawn to a headless hob nearing your table. You've seen this hob before, skirting about the palace bitterly as he carries his head in his hands much like a dullahan. He's old, even by fae standards, with a long beard. There's no question as to how the man died, beheading. You hope it was quick.
His beady eyes glare at you with a quiet rage similar to how most fae spirits do. You wonder how long he has been like this, refusing to board the carriage of any dullahan that may come to collect him and bring him to the Otherworld.
You personally believe that faeries leave behind ghosts more than humans do.
It's why you've often seen ghosts from a distance at revels, dancing from dawn til dusk even if they will not be perceived by the living. Even if they can no longer don the fancy dresswear they were able to dress in.
Time and time again, they will do this. Staunchly refusing death even after they're already in its hold.
"Oh, is there a ghost with us?" The prince notes how your eyes dart between him and the space he perceives as empty. "What's it saying?"
"Tell this lout that I sooner hope his rule is contemptuous and brings the Court to ruin!" The hob's head seethes. "That his many days are fraught with danger! Gakuganji is my name and this is the curse I cast upon him!"
Folk can't lie, but you you prefer not to relay the bitter message. "He hopes your rule is one that is," you lick your lips and raise your cup to your lips. "Filled with exciting thrills," not an exact lie. Perhaps to this radical prince, those sorts of threats are exciting. "He says his name is Gakuganji."
"Exciting thrills, you say?" The prince barks in amusement, shoulders shaking with his laughter. "That doesn't sound like the traitorous scoundrel I know. You don't have to lie, he's probably cursing me and my bloodline for generations to come as we speak." The hob growls at the lackadaisical nonchalance of the elf. But it seems he has had his fill as he stomps off before he can hear more insult to his person.
"Gakuganji has lost his touch even in death," the prince's amused chuckles turn into light sighs "You wouldn't have liked him very much when he was alive," you're sure you can agree with that much of the prince's words. Gakuganji, as you now know him, has been one of the more unpleasant spirits in the palace. "He was very stuck in his ways. What's it like, seeing ghosts all the time?"
Normal?
You can't quite remember what it was like when you were a newly-made banshee and everything was new. Nor can you remember the life you once led as a human. You simply remember your death was a terrible, terrible thing. "It's as normal to me as it's normal for you not to see them," you set your cup down. "If someone asked you what's it like to see the blue sky everyday, it would be a strange question, correct?"
The prince takes in your words thoughtfully, not slighted in the least. "I guess that's true," he nods to himself. "I just wondered if it was something that took some getting used to." The prince removes his darkened spectacles from the bridge of his nose. "I told you before I have pretty good eyes. I'm able to perceive a lot of things no one else can from mana to the shape of one's soul. But the spirits of the deceased are exceptions to my eyes, it seems."
"Your Highness," you begin.
"Satoru," the prince corrects you swiftly.
"Your Highness," you insist. This boundary you won't cross for yourself. "I'm not sure it's really wise for you to tell me about your eyes. I'm not a member of this family or your closest allies."
"But you will be," he tells you as if he's simply remarking on how pleasant the weather is. "I will become king of this Court and you'll be by my side as my queen." You're quite sure that if his mother, the High Queen, has anything to say about it, she'd sooner relinquish her throne to a random nixie than allow a banshee to wed her son. "I trust you as much as I trust Suguru or Nanami."
You wish he wouldn't.
A Seelie prince and his banshee queen? That sounds like the start to a ballad meant to insult him.
It's misplaced gratitude, not love. That's what this prince feels for you. You tell him as such once again as you have everyday since you were brought here. "You'll realize that soon, maybe even before the revel you plan for me," you whisper ăŒ no, you pray. "There will be another you yearn for and you'll realize the difference."
The prince will fall deeply, truly, unapologetically in love with someone and he'll discover the truth.
Perhaps it will be a lake maiden of Spring whose dreadlocks drip with water droplets that fall onto dewy cinnamon-brown skin. Who sings of the beautiful red and pink of the roses and of love.
Or maybe it will be a selkie man who doesn't mind living far from the sea as he's brought a love as deep as the ocean along with him. Whose coat is donned in scars and scratches from battles past, a reflection of his form as a seal.
Or maybe he can grow enraptured with his phouka advisor whom he trusts more than anyone in this life.
Someone dyed in Life's colors.
Someone beautiful.
When that time comes, you'll be happy for him. Maybe then the ache that resonates through your heart and bones will end.
The prince isn't the only fool here, you admit reluctantly. You're just as much, if not more so. But this feeling will come to pass, "this is just gratitude. Fascination. Not love."
"You think I don't love you?" The prince asks quietly, resting his chin on his palm as he looks at you. He says he has good eyes, he wonder what you look like to him through them. You who once was dyed in Life's colors but have since become painted over by Death's brush.
Death folk with death folk.
Life folk with life folk.
"I know you don't," he can't. You can't allow either of yourselves to do so. "A banshee by your side as queen," you want it sound ridiculous to both of your ears. "It's absurd."
There are no rules that state your union is forbidden, this you know. But the laws of nature are simple. Life and Death co-exist separately, unable to exist without one another. But there has never been a tale where the two joined together as one.
Maybe you're just too scared to be the first.
"I want the woman that I love by my side as queen," the prince replies smoothly. "Your species is of little importance to me. All that matters is that my love is returned in full. Please, allow me to be yours," he reaches for your hand once more, stepping out of his chair in favor of sitting on bended knee. "More than anyone has or ever will, I love you. This is an unwavering truth."
The blood of the love-talker must run through his veins. Why else do you feel like this? Your desire for this prince will eat away at you until you become undone and return to nothing. "You're a prince. It's the duty of the royal family to provide heirs," even the smallest sprite knows this to be fact. "Are you asking me to stay with you and have them?"
"Please have my children," azure stares seriously into your pale eyes that were once [color] when you were human.
Your skin feels warm at his unabashed request.
Gojou Satoru has no shame, that you have become sure of in the near month of knowing one another.
He had no shame when he asked you to be his bride when you first met.
There was no shame to be found when he insisted that you stay in the palace as an honored guest he owes his life to.
Nor is there any shame to be found in him now when he cups your cheek in his furnace hot hands to guide your lips down to his, long white lashes fluttering shut.
I shouldn't, your mind screeches at you. I shouldn't allow us to get even one millimeter closer. Yet you make no move to do so as your lips are just barely touching whenăŒ
"Your Highness, your mother is requesting you," Nanami's mild-mannered drawl saves you at the last minute.
You jerk back into your chair in relief, heart pounding. You aren't able to make eye contact with anyone, least of all the overworked horned elf-kobold hybrid brought to receive the Gojou heir.
The prince clicks his tongue in annoyance, glaring over his shoulder at the advisor, "she can't wait? We haven't even begun eating yet."
Nanami looks just as annoyed to be there, "the faster you heed her call, the quicker you can go back to fawning after the object of your desires." He tells his prince. "And the faster I can get back to resting."
The prince with snow-white hair clicks his tongue once more, but he doesn't argue against it. He turns to you regretfully, "I'll have to leave again. Perhaps we'll have more time together at dinner," you hope the wait for dinner is longer still. You know the prince hopes the time passes as quickly as he can blink.
Warm lips press against the back of your hand, lingering for five seconds longer than they should.
The bones of your hands ache.
Extra:
Title comes from a Nizar Qabbani poem: [Your love / Oh you with fathomless eyes / Is extreme /mystic / holy / Your love, like birth and death / is impossible to repeat]
My favorite bit in this is having the reader refused to call Gojou by name even in the narrative dialogue, in a futile attempt to keep distance between you both. I hope you guys found that riveting as well
Part 2? Should there be one? Perhaps there should be... y'all let me know
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i cherish you, halcyon days (gojou satoru x reader)
âyouâre gonna die, kid. in the worst way possible. but because i like you so much, iâll let you ask three questions about it.â
youâre 15 years old when youâre told youâre going to die. youâre 17 when you realize who your killer will be. and youâre a day away from turning 18 when you make peace with the fact you wouldnât want it any other way.
tags: gn!reader, annoyance to friends to lovers, you and gojou share a birthday month and you're not amused, it's canon that jujutsu school curriculum last 4 years so don't say nothin' when i mention 4th year students
[2004. Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College ăŒ 1st year]
Do you like Gojou Satoru?
If someone were to ask you that, you would have to answer ânoâ. Youâd answer ânoâ even if no one asked. Gojou Satoru is impossible for you to like from his stupid sunglasses to his shit-eating grins. Even worse is his arrogance. Itâs only an additional sprinkle of salt in the wound when you found out later in the year that he was rich, part of some big name clan in the world of jujutsu you yourself were only scouted into.
I donât like him at all.
Youâre the odd man out in your class, though. Despite your less than stellar review of the boy, your classmates, Suguru and Shoko, got along just fine with him.
To spite you even further, it seemed the universe enjoyed pinning the two of you together as well.
It wasnât enough for the universe to have you both in the same school, year and class. No, you even shared a birthday month.
Gojouâs December 7th to your December 9th.
The week of your shared births, Gojou was especially intolerable. âYouâre the baby of the class,â heâd taunt gleefully like he wasnât only two days older than you.Â
To cut on time and effort, your teacher and classmates decided that from 1st year on, December 8th would be the day both of your birthdays were celebrated. And thus, December 8th was 'Satoru and [First] Day'. Your cake was his cake and present unwrapping was a joint activity.
By the gods, I wanna punch him so much.
At the very least, you can rest easy in knowing the fact that the feelings of dislike are mutual.
Gojou Satoru is strong, itâs an irrefutable fact no matter how much youâd like to deny it. Heâs strong and in turn, the strong are the only ones Gojou respects. You apparently donât make the cut.
And thatâs fine. Strength came in all sorts of ways. You disliked Gojou Satoru but you could live with the fact that, at the very least, you were going to be stuck together for four years. Because even if he was strong, life sometimes paid you back with small moments of grace where someone put the golden boy of the Gojou Clan in his place.
You thought it was one of those days when you met Takamatsu Akira. It was a week before your birthday when he told you were going to die.
You raise an eyebrow at the unfamiliar name, âwho?â Itâs lunch at Jujutsu Tech and youâre eating with your classmates when Shoko name dropped a person you never heard of. âNever heard of âem.â
âHeâs a sorcerer that can see glimpses of a personâs future when he looks at them,â Suguru answers in her stead over a sip of his oi ocha. âHeâs apparently at the school today for some sort of meeting.
"Hands off the goods," your eyes widen in amazement as you quickly smack away Gojouâs hand from your lunch. âReally? And itâs all accurate too?â
âHeâs a major asshole, though,â the white-haired boy hisses with a pout. You roll your eyes. Iâm not sure how reliable your words are if you of all people are calling someone an asshole. Your incredulousness must show on your face because Gojouâs next words are, âseriously! He only tells people he thinks have interesting futures anything about it.â
âAnd?â
âSatoruâs just mad because apparently his future isnât interesting,â Suguru smirks, smugly welcoming his best friendâs unamused side eye. âHe told me about mine though.â
You bite back a snort when your curiosity to know Suguru's fortune wins. âWhat did he say about it?â
Suguru touched his chin thoughtfully, recalling back the day he met the seer. âHe said that one day Iâll be stuck at a crossroads between two paths and make a life changing decision,â he pauses dramatically and you lean forward in anticipation. âThatâs all he told me though.â
Damn it.
The brown-eyed boy chuckles but he shoots you a look of amused sympathy, âhe never really tells you too much about it apparently. I was disappointed too.â
âDid he ever tell you anything about your future, Shoko?â You ask your classâ resident slacker.
Shoko shook her head, bob gently moving with her. âIâm one of the boring ones too,â she says with a lazy wave of her hand. âLike Gojou.â
âDonât worry, my friends,â Suguru places a hand over his chest and bows with far too much grace and humility. âI alone will shoulder the burden of having an interesting future. Unlike Satoru.â
You choke, unable to stop yourself from chortling this time. Whatever Gojou sputters in his self-defense, you donât hear it over the sound of your own laughter. âMaybe heâll tell me about my future too,â you sigh when your giggles subside. You sincerely doubt it, but itâs fun to think about the possibilities. I want an interesting life plot twist, like the reveal Iâm actually a long-lost member of some royal family he just wonât tell me which one.
âHeâll probably stop by because youâre here,â Shoko rests her chin on her palm. You were the newest in your class, starting a month later than the rest. âHe likes seeing if new students will have interesting futures ahead of them.â
âDonât get too excited, [First],â Gojou quickly rains on your parade with a lot of arrogance for someone whose future is apparently so boring a seer wonât even talk to him about it. âIâm the most interesting person in this place and he wonât even talk to me. So who knows what sort of reaction youâll get.â
âOh quit being bitter that your future is gonna be boring, asshole,â before any other quips and gripes can be exchanged, the class door slides open abruptly. You look over with a start, wondering if itâs your teacher when you see it isnât. The man is a bit younger than Yaga but his hair is already graying and his eyes are a deep green reminiscent of pine trees. You have a feeling you already know who it is and grin. âYou wouldnât happen to be Takamatsu Akira, would you? Gojou here was telling me about his boring future soăŒâ you stop yourself with a shudder when you blinked and realized that man was in front of your face and much too close for comfort.
âNow that is something,â the man blinks owlishly, eyes almost glowing in his amazement.
Your discomfort flies away faster than a seagull with someone elseâs lunch, âreally?â
The man leans back with a grin and a snap of his fingers, âreally, really.â
With that you look at Gojou and stick out your tongue and he sticks his tongue in return.Â
[First] 1, Gojou 0.Â
Suguru chuckles and Shoko grins and all the while, Gojou Satoru flicks your forehead too quickly for you to react. âLook, hater, it isnât my fault that your futureâs boring, quit trying to rain on my parade,â you snicker, batting your eyelashes. âMr. Takamatsu, Iâd really appreciate it if you could tell me about my future if you donât mind. Before the naysayers get more butthurt than they already are.â
âYouâre gonna die, kid.âÂ
With four words, your blood freezes and you find yourself blinking once, twice slowly. Itâs the matching looks of shock and surprise on your classmates' faces that tells you you heard Takamatsu correctly. Stiffly, you look back at the seer hoping for that revelation to be nothing but a joke, but instead you find yourself looking at a maniacal grin. That grin feels more like a knife in your gut. âIn the worst way possible.â
The knife sinks deeper into your flesh, twisting.
âHey,â out of the four of you, Gojou is the one who finds his voice first.
Takamatsu ignores the boy with snow white hair as if heâs nothing but a minor breeze, âBut,â he beams like heâs only told you that he found a discount at the convenience store. âBecause I like you so much, Iâll let you ask three questions about it.â
âO-okay,â you stammer almost instinctively. Like a zombie, you find yourself stumbling onto your feet and Takamatsu nods at the door. These answers will be for you and you alone. You arenât sure what expression you wear on your face as you exit, nor the expressions of your peers. You can't bring yourself to look at them as you follow the future-seeing sorcerer into the halls of your school.
Iâm going to die.
Iâm going to die.
In the worst way possible.
Itâs only once youâre relatively alone that the seer halts his walking in the middle of the hall to look at you. âFeel free to ask your questions,â he tells you. âYour classmates shouldnât be able to hear, even if they keep looking out the door. So ask away,â he reassures you, waving his hand nonchalantly.
You glance to your left and sure enough there are three heads leaning out of the door, staring straight at you both. You canât bring yourself to smile reassuringly before you return your gaze to the sorcerer in front of you.
Three questions.
Your first question can only be so obvious. âHowăŒ how do I die?â
Takamatsuâs amusement is sapped from his face at that question. âReally?â He yawns with a shake of his head. âThatâs what youâre going to ask? Thatâs quite boring.â
Boring? Boring?! Itâs my life! âYeah but-â
âYou know what, fine,â Takamatsu sighs, crossing his arms. He recalls his vision in his mind for a moment before he opens his lips. âYouâre going to be killed by someone precious to you. Ask me something more⊠riveting this time.â
You blink slowly.
Youâre going to be killed by someone you care about.
When do I die?
Was it an accident?
On purpose?
Why would they want to kill me?
You donât think those are questions Takamatsu will find intriguing in the slightest. In a panic, you ask the most original question that enters your brain. âDo I die⊠angry at them?â No. Fucking. Shit, me. âWait, that was dumb donât answer th-â
âNope, it counts,â Takamatsu clicks his tongue. Maybe itâs payback for your first question being so predictable and unoriginal. âAnd my answer for that is no. Your heart will surprisingly bear no anger towards the person who kills you.â A revelation that shakes you to the core. âWell, one question left to go, kid. No more mess ups, Iâll take it even if itâs something as a dumb as a repeat question.â
âOkay, okay,â you exhale nervously, biting your lip. I need to think.
You know yourself.
Youâre selfish at times, who isnât? If it really came down to it though, you know youâd always put someone elseâs life over your own. You can talk big, you can snort when you watch a movie and say âyeah sorry, theyâd be stuck on their own. Iâm not dying in a situation like that, Iâd wanna go homeâ. But you know yourself enough to know that despite thinking it, your feet would inevitably turn towards the other person. Maybe youâd die in the end but you know youâd try your damnedest to get them out.
Why else would you put yourself on the line fighting curses?
But Iâd like to think that in a life or death fight where itâs me or them, Iâd choose me. You shake your head pushing the thought to the side. You almost forgot the most important detail. Your killer will be someone who matters to you. But I wonât be mad about it. If it was life or death, Iâd choose me. I know that. Stranger on the street or a lifelong sworn enemy. And I know if I was killed by someone, Iâd definitely be bitter about it. Iâm not that forgiving.
Future you isnât in agreement. Your eyes turn to the ground.
Is it a life or death fight situation or an accident? You open your mouth briefly before closing it again.
Theyâre precious to me.
Theyâre someone I care about.
But I wonât be angry.
I mustnât have been trying that hard then, you wet your lips as a light bulb flickers deeply in the recesses of your mind. You couldnât have been. How else could your future selfâs lack of anger be justified? One day, there will be someone you care for so greatly that even in a life or death battle, youâd still choose them.
You raise your head to look into dark green eyes dancing with amusement, a grin accompanying them. The grin morphs from clear to distorted at the welling of tears in your eyes. I wasnât trying. âI must really love this person, donât I?â
Takamatsu's grin grows even wider, eyes flashing in pleasant surprise. âYeah,â he leans against the wall, crossing his arms. âIt seems like you do.â
Tears roll down your cheeks like streams into a river yet your arms hang loosely at your side. âThatâs three questions then,â you murmur, throat constricting. You inhale slowly, hold your breath and release before wiping your eyes. âThank you for answering my questions, Mr. Takamatsu. Lunch is gonna be over soon, so Iâm gonna go finish eating now.â
You bow before turning on your heel back to your class, your classmates are still there. You donât really care to receive their pity or empathy.
âIâm gonna die, itâs gonna suck and thatâs all he really told me,â you say before anyone can ask. You bite into your egg harshly.
.
Itâs hours after classes have ended for the day and youâre cooking in the communal kitchen when you see Gojou again.Â
âHey,â Gojou says and his tone is so serious it startles you. You set your knife down on the cutting board before looking at him. His face doesnât seem right to you and it dawns on you a second later itâs because heâs frowning and itâs not the usual childish frown youâre used to seeing. âDonât take what that guy said seriously. Like I said, heâs an asshole. He was probably saying all of that to freak you out.â Thereâs a pause and Gojou scratches the back of his head, looking uncomfortable in his skin. âSo donât, like, cry about it. Takamatsuâs a prick.â
âAre you,â you squint, looking Gojou over suspiciously. âTrying to make me feel better or something in your own weird Gojou way?â
âSomeone has to make sure the class baby isnât drowning in their sorrows,â Gojou returns to his usual brand of cocky, with a grin. His sunglasses slide down, revealing playful eyes.
âI donât want the comfort then,â you roll your eyes and return to chopping your vegetables. âBesides, I donât need it anyways, Iâm strongâ
âEeeeh.â
Asshole.
âThereâs different kinds of strong, you jackass,â you argue for argumentâs sake. You vaguely notice that in spite of your annoyance, your shoulders arenât stiff and your jaw is loose. Apparently Gojou is good for something, after all. âStrong looks different for different people. A kid is strong when they act tough after tripping. A grown man crying and being open with his emotions is strong,â you recount some of the ways youâve seen people be strong in your life. Youâve witnessed strength in various ways in your 15 years of living. â... Even just living despite how hard it can be is strong.â
Save for the sound of you cutting green celery and the light simmer of the pan, silence falls over the two of you.
âWhat did you guys talk about when he said you could ask him questions?â
â... nothing important.â
[2005. Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College ăŒ 2nd year]
Youâre 16 and youâre still alive and kicking.
Youâre an upperclassman now, not that it means anything when there are still two whole grades of jujutsu schooling ahead of you. Still, you welcome the newfound responsibilities and admiration you receive in going up a level. At least, one of your underclassmen seems to admire you. Haibara Yuu does, though youâre pretty sure he adores Suguru even more. Nanami Kento is nice though, albeit a bit reserved.
The three of them are like you, individuals scouted into the world of curses and sorcerers rather than born into it. Itâs nice to know youâre not alone in that sense.
Even if they werenât, however, youâre sure that Gojouâs presence would find a way to override any sort of 'being alone'. You canât be alone when heâs around even if you want to.
Gojou is just as annoying as he was when you were first years, but heâs surprisingly more tolerable.
He still bothers you whenever he has the chance and he still refers to you as the âclass babyâ. Youâd also be lying to yourself if you said his hubris has gone down since you first met. Heâs just as smug as heâs always been but itâs a bit easier seeing the charm in it in your second year compared to your first.
So maybe ăŒ in the absolute loosest sense of the word ăŒ the two of you have become friends. Something like it at least.
This is why you donât mind it when the boy plops his ass on your desk when youâre trying to read the recent volume of Fruits Basket to tell you about his newest feats he accomplished on his most recent mission. Nor do you mind it much when he follows you to the dorms to continue telling you what feels like an exaggerated tale, but you know Gojouâs abilities enough to know that 99% percent of it is true.
âSo yeah,â he finishes with an air of satisfaction, nose pointing towards the sky with pride. âYou could say that Suguru really didnât even need to come, I pretty much crushed it by myself.â
Youâre pretty sure if Suguru was here, Gojou would be in a headlock. âBetter not let your bestie catch you saying that,â you warn playfully.
âCome on, [First],â Gojou beams broadly with no care in the world. âIsnât this the part where youâre supposed to praise me?â
You shake your head in bemusement, smiling lightly. âI can admit it, Iâm impressed,â your words are genuine. With all the blessings he has in the world, being strong is the standard for your classmate. Heâs a natural talent to boot. Yet for all his nonchalance, you can give credit where credit is due. The guy works hard to perfect his techniques and heâs a perpetual motion machine when it comes to improvement. âGood job, Gojou, youâve worked really hard. Iâm happy youâre seeing the payoff.â
It takes you a second to realize that youâre walking by yourself and you turn around, eyebrow quirked. âWhatâs up?â Gojou doesnât respond immediately and you have no idea what his eyes look like beneath the sunglasses. âHey are you alright?â
The boy comes to at your prodding, sauntering after you lazily, ânothing, nothing,â Gojou replies smoothly with a grin. âI am pretty great, huh?â
âDonât ruin the moment, Gojou,â you give him a light shove that barely moves him an inch. Geez heâs a giant, you wonât be surprised if in the future heâs taller than even Yaga.
âSince Iâm working so hard, do you think you could make me a congratulatory lunch tomorrow?â Youâre pretty sure he isnât serious. Or at the very least youâre sure Gojou expects your answer to be negative. You never cook for him, the closest he ever gets is pilfering samples of it before you chase him out of the kitchen. âJust ki-â
âSure, what do you want?â
With near comedic timing, Gojouâs shades slide down the bridge of his nose and his eyes are wide in astonishment. âSeriously?â
Your grin widens, âI can change my mind if you-â
âNo, no, no! No take backs allowed, [First]!â Gojou covers your mouth with a large palm. âIâm putting in my special requests!â
You move his hand from your mouth with a sage nod, âthen please make your requests, young pupil, Iâll prepare you a feast of feasts!â Gojou opens his mouth promptly, giddy. âWithin reason.â
You snicker when he whines about the unfairness of your new stipulations.
It takes a week before lunch becomes dinner too.
Gojouâs nice sometimes, you can admit.
And maybe you can also admit that you are ăŒ in more than the loosest sense of the word ăŒ actually friends. A friend whose status as a special grade sorcerer is something you can be proud of rather than annoyed by. Heâs reckless and sometimes that recklessness gets him in trouble, but still you enjoy his company when you have it. Even if sometimes he gets you in trouble because of his shenanigans. Or even when he is annoying Utahime whom he is presently taunting in favor of saying her partner for this mission is stronger than she is.
âMei Mei,â you wave your fingers daintily at the strong partner in question. âFinally gonna let me take you out some time?â Youâre mostly joking. 5% at least. Beautiful as she is, Mei Mei isnât really your type.
The blue-haired sorcerer laughs lightly, crossing her arms, âIâll have to warn you that my dinners arenât cheap.â
âWorry not, Iâm an amazing cook,â youâre barely able to wink in the money-loving sorcererâs direction when Gojouâs lanky arm is thrown over your shoulder and he saunters over to a distressed Utahime. âWhat the heck!â
âCheck out how the path Utahime walked on is falling apart,â Gojou snickers.
âOh shut up,â Suguru looks far too pleased to actually mean his words though.
For Utahimeâs sake, you fight back the urge to giggle at their tomfoolery. You like Utahime, you bonded in your first year over finding Gojou Satoruâs presence an annoyance. Youâve sadly, however, become a bit of a traitor to your Hating Gojou Alliance, much to her dismay when you confessed months prior that you and Gojou had become chill.
âBy the way,â Mei Mei brings the conversation back to a reasonable plane. âWhereâs the veil?â
Gojouâs nice sometimes, you can admit. And maybe you can also admit that you are ăŒ in more than the loosest sense of the word ăŒ actually friends. A friend you can be proud of. A friend whose company you enjoy even if sometimes he gets you in trouble because of his shenanigans.
Like the fact you somehow forgot to put up the veil?! How the hell do you forget to put up the veil?! Nevermind the fact you technically forgot too, Gojou was the one who said heâd put it up. Thatâs why you have no problem pointing in his direction when Yaga sternly asks who was the Forget Futaba in your band.
âIs a veil that necessary in the first place,â Gojou whines in the gym later in the afternoon. âItâs not like it matters if normies see or not, right? They canât see cursed spirits or cursed techniques anyway.â
âPretty sure itâs for the best that normal people donât start seeing spontaneously exploding buildings on the regular, Gojou,â you watch with an impressed whistle at how your classmate tosses a basketball effortlessly to a hoop. Youâre sure if Suguru hadnât stopped it, the ball would have been a perfect three pointer.
âOf course itâs not good for them to see,â Suguru affirms your words resolutely. âThe strongest deterrent against the outbreak of cursed spirits is the mental calm of the populace.â It becomes a battle of the philosophies when Gojou steals the ball back with finesse.
âLooking out for the weak is so exhausting, honestly,â Gojou sighs and Suguru shoots back with narrowed eyes 'Survival of the Weakest'. âAssigning reasons and responsibility to strength is what those who are weak do.â
Should we� You glance at Shoko.
Yeah, we probably should. The brunette glances back.
âTime to dip,â Shoko sprints out of the gymnasium faster than youâve ever seen her.
âIâve got a pretty wild date with Battle Royale right now,â you skip after her in a hurry right as Suguru summons one of his cursed spirits like it's a pokemon.
The next time you see Gojou, he knocks and enters your room when you go âhuh?â âYo, Iâve got a mission.â
âAlready?â You raise an eyebrow. âWe just got back from the Mei Mei and Utahime thing.â
âYeah,â he sighs. â Teach says we have to protect the star plasma vessel.â
âThat information got leaked?â
âWait, you know what the star plasma vessel is?â
âTengen stuff is, like, the bare minimum of stuff we should have learned about in first year, Gojou.â
â... anyways, Suguru and I are heading out early tomorrow,â he says, like what you told him moments prior wasnât anything important.
You smile with pride, âwell, thatâs a pretty big mission for a couple of students to have,â it really is, honestly. If anything, thatâs something you think the adults should have. Itâs pretty cool that two of your classmates were chosen for it. âThatâs cool. You should be really proud of yourself, Gojou.â
Your words get his lips to morph into a smile a bit more authentic and veritable than his usual smug grins and confident jeers. âI am pretty cool, huh?â
You roll your eyes in good fun before looking at your book again. Your favorite character's dead but you at least wanna see who gets off this shitty island. âYâall not still fighting about earlier are you?â
âNah, weâre over it,â Gojou sits at a chair by your bedside desk, swirling in it. âItâs whatever in the end. Suguru can believe whatever he wants.â A silence somewhere between comfortable but hesitant falls over you briefly before Gojou asks, âyou believe that stuff he was saying too?â
âDunno, youâre probably asking the wrong person,â you turn the page with a shrug. Itâs been nearly a year since you met Takamatsu Akira. Nearly a year since you were told someone you loved would kill you in the worst way possible and yet youâd have no anger in your heart about it. The future is technically always changing. Itâs never stagnant. If you wanted, you could take what the seer said to heart and run with your tail between your legs. Yet here you were, laid on your stomach reading Battle Royale in your room located in Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College instead of elsewhere; living in perpetual paranoia about any relationship you have. âThe weakâs the majority, they need protection. It should be the duty of the strong to protect them. But⊠I can also get the exhaustion. If youâre the strongest, whoâs gonna protect you then?â
You close your mouth and purse your lips thoughtfully and vaguely you find it a bit amazing that Gojou hasnât made any sort of quip yet.
âBut⊠I guess I probably align myself more with Suguruâs line of thinking,â you decide after a heartbeat. âIâm the one whoâs gonna die in the most horrible way possible, remember? But here I am, still kickinâ it here with you guys. I should probably run while I have the chance, huh?â
âI already told you not to listen to that crap,â you look away from your book, surprised at the harshness in Gojouâs tone. Your eyes look into angry azure and you glance away just as quickly. âThat guyâs a prick. Thereâs no point in listening to him. So quit worrying your pretty little head about that. Youâre supposed to be strong, right?â
Your eyes skim over your book, not sure what else to settle your eyes on. âYeah,â you whisper. âIâm pretty strong, I guess.â
That appears to be the right answer. âExactly, so stop giving that stuff he said the time of day.â
You chuckle, âyeah youâre right, sorry,â âIâm always rightâ Gojou says flippantly and you find your head shaking with a warmth settling in your chest. âGrab me a souvenir or two while youâre gone, Mr. Special Grade.â
âIâm not leaving Tokyo, you know,â Gojou tosses a crumpled piece of paper at your head.Â
âSo?â You toss the paper back, watching as it bounced off his infinity. Cheater. âGrab me something extra nice anyways! I deserve it as payback for cooking for you all the time, you eat like a horse.â
The mission goes horribly wrong.
Shoko tells you over a phone call that the mission went horribly wrong in all the worst ways. Suguru was injured. Gojou was dead.
Parts of campus look like it was hit by a tornado when you get there, out of breath, lungs screaming but you still push through it to get Suguruâs room banging on the door. âSu-â
âSatoruâs okay,â is the first thing out of his mouth when he opens the door and your knees almost buckle in your relief. âHeâs alive. He was injured but heâs alive. Heâs in his room, right now.â
Heâs okay.
Heâs okay.
Your breath is shaky as you let your friendâs words permeate through your entire being. âThat,â you lick your lips, holding yourself. âThatâs good.â Itâs all you can say although it doesnât encompass even a tenth of the emotion you feel. âIâm glad youâre both alright.â The quiet is almost deafening; what do you say to ease the hurt when the mission went wrong in every way it could have? âIâm gonna start cooking in an hour or two. Iâll bring you something to eat later, any requests?â
âItâs okay,â Suguruâs smile is small but polite. âIâm not that hungry. Maybe Satoruâll eat something.â The door closes promptly before you can ask if your friend is sure he doesnât want anything. Iâll check on you again later, I promise.
Your nerves are frazzled when your eyes sweep over to the door that leads to Gojouâs room, hardly able to make yourself move towards it.
âHe was injured but heâs alive.â
How injured is injured?
Has he gone to see Shoko?
âGojou?â Your knock is barely audible.
You knock once more with a soft confidence.
âSatoru?â Your voice falters, just above being a whisper. âHey, itâs me. I know you probably donât want to talk right now but I just want you to know Iâm here and Iâm not going anywhere. If you wanna talk, Iâm just down the hall, okay?â You pause, ears straining to hear anything on the other side of the door. Youâre met with silence. âGet some rest. Iâll bring you dinner later, alright?â
With a sigh, you turn around to go to your room only for your heart to leap out of your chest when you realize someone is already in it. You jump, clutching your chest when you realize itâs Satoru, sitting on your bed with his back slumped against the wall.
He looks like hell and impossibly small wrapped in your blanket. Russet stains his white locks that are even messier than usual and his eyes have a chilling emptiness to them. He doesnât meet your eyes, you arenât sure if he has the will to. You donât have the will to say anything despite the thoughts running through your head.
Wordlessly, Satoru raises the blanket in an invitation. Like heâs welcoming you through a barrier.
So wordlessly, you sit on your bed and nestle beside him. You donât mind the scent of sweat, blood and dirt. Nor do you mind when the tall and lanky teen slumps against your side, resting his head atop yours. You simply find his hand and brush your fingers together, feeling the roughness of his callouses, before twining your fingers with his.
You clutch each otherâs hands almost painfully.
[2007. Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College ăŒ 3rd year]
Itâs you, isnât it?
You realize that one day Satoru is going to kill you on a rainy night in December in your room laying on your bed. The two of you had taken to sharing a space on nights you felt lonely since you were 16 and the star plasma vessel mission went wrong in every way possible. Last week, you both turned 17.
Another year has past and you're still alive and kicking.
Youâre facing each other, your head resting on your hand with your elbow angled to keep your head up.
âYou wonât leave too, right?â Satoru asks softly, fingers messing with a stray string on your shirt.
Suguruâs gone. So is Haibara.
Both are gone in different ways.
Death is what took Haibara, leaving Nanami Jujutsu Techâs sole second year.
Suguru was swallowed in madness and disillusionment, defecting to accomplish a new goal of creating a world with only jujutsu sorcerers.
It stings, but you know Satoru is hurt the most.
âItâs unfortunate to tell you but youâre pretty much stuck with me, Satoru,â you give him a weak nudge with your free hand.
âEven though Takamatsu said youâre going to die?â
âWeâre all gonna die someday,â you tell him easily. Itâs you. You arenât sure how youâre able to smile like you arenât having the worst realization in the world but you smile. âBesides, youâre the one who said not to worry about that, right? Because Iâm strong.â
âYeah,â Satoru whispers. âYouâre strong.â
âAnd youâre the strongest sorcerer in the world,â you remind him unnecessarily. It is an inherent fact of the world. Gojou Satoru, born only two days before you came into this world, shook the entire world when he was born.
âAnd because youâre the strongest, thatâs why I have to stay with you,â you run your fingers through his hair gently. When is he going to do it? When is everything going to go wrong? You want to remember every feature he has before you one day have no choice but to leave them behind. âWhoâs going to protect you otherwise?â
Satoru smiles for the first time that night, looking up at you almost dreamily from where he lays. âYouâre gonna protect me?â
âYeah,â you vow sincerely.
[2008. Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College ăŒ 4th year]
âHappy birthday to us, happy birthday to us,â Satoru sings crudely while you roll your eyes. Itâs technically neither of your birthdays. Itâs the 8th, the one day mid-point between your birthdays. The Official âSatoru-[First]â Birthday Bash Celebration. Contrast to your first year as a student at Jujutsu Tech, you find yourself in a more pleasant mood about it. âHappy birthday to the both of us, happy birthday to us!â
âIsnât it a bit too early to sing,â you shake your head with a chuckle.Â
âEarly shmurly,â Satoru shrugs off your nonchalant concern like water off a duckâs back. You canât bring yourself to scold him. âThey throw us a surprise party every year. Itâs not even a surprise if we know itâs coming. They always make us wait all day in class or tell us to leave campus though.â
âItâs part of the atmosphere, Satoru. Tradition!â You grin, giving his leg a light flick as he plops his ass right on top of your desk. âWe gotta wait and act completely oblivious to everything until someone tells us to head to the dorms.â
Itâs nice to see him smiling. Itâs his second birthday without his best friend. A fact that will always resonate through your reality like ripples through the water.
âYouâll like my gift the best by the way,â you tell him with a self-assured confidence.Â
âFunny, I was about to say that to you,â Satoru winks, leg swinging lazily. Heâs not wearing his sunglasses for onceăŒ theyâre off to the side resting on the teacherâs podium. âOf course, my gifts are always the best.â
A comfortable silence fills the room and you close your eyes.
Tomorrow you turn 18 and youâre still alive and kicking.
Moments like this make it hard to believe that one day you wonât be. Sometimes you wonder what would happen if you told Satoru the truth of everything Takamatsu told you that day. You consider telling him this very moment, eyes resting on his face. He's smiling gently to himself, thinking about something unknown to you.
Heâs so beautiful it makes you want to cry.
âHey,â you can barely hear yourself.
âHmm?â Satoru looks at you, lips upturned in a mellow, peaceful expression.
âWe should get married.â
One second passes,
two seconds.
âYeah, we should,â Satoru nods, seemingly enchanted.
You blink dumbly, âwhat?â
âLetâs do it,â Satoru repeats himself purposefully. âLetâs get married.â
â... Satoru, I was 60% joking when I said that,â you donât even know why thatâs what came out of your mouth.
In spite of your attempt to brush him off, Satoru stands to his feet all the more determined. His large hands cup yours gently as he pulls you into standing with him. âAnd Iâm being 100% serious,â he means it, you can see it in his eyes. Theyâre more clear than any lake youâve seen. âLetâs get married. We can go after your birthday.â
âSatoru, weâre high schoolers,â you try reasoning.
âWeâre old enough to get married in this country.â
Despite that fact, you shake your head again, âweâre not getting married in high school.â
âThen we can tie the knot after we graduate,â Satoru decides like thatâs the only issue at present.
âFresh out of high school?â
âFresh out of high school,â he affirms. âWe can have a big wedding just like in the movies. Whatever you want. Weâve already got the headstart on the kids with that Zenin kid and his sister.â
You find yourself laughing unexpectedly at the absurdity, at the certainty. âSatoru.â
â[First].â
âYour clan is not gonna be happy with you marrying some jujutsu nobody,â you tell him.
âLike I care what a bunch of old farts think.â
âIâm pretty sure your parents arenât gonna like me.â
âIâll love you enough to make up for it,â Satoru rests his forehead on yours. That motion alone damn near breaks your heart. âI wanna marry you, [First].â
âYeah,â you sniff. This boy who is quickly becoming a man in front of your very eyes is beautiful enough to make you cry. âLetâs get married.â
For a smile so small, it beams like a thousand suns, âRight after we graduate?â
âRight after we graduate.â
âEven if you think my parents arenât gonna like you?â
âScrew âem. Iâll love you more than enough to make up for it.â
One day Gojou Satoru is going to kill you.
You donât know what will lead you down the path of finding yourself on the opposing side of the boy youâve grown to love. You donât know whether it will be a death thatâs accidental or as intentional as Suguruâs defection from your organization.
So many unknowns, yet the fact remains the sameăŒ one day youâre going to die and itâs going to be Satoru that sends you to the other side. You let him kiss you despite that fact.
Itâs you.
You know it in your heart.
Because if someone were to ask you if Gojou Satoru was precious enough to you that you wouldnât bear any anger towards him for killing you, you knew what your answer would be in a heartbeat.
Yes, you kiss him tenderly, holding his face in your hands while your heart cupped the precious memories you shared. Memories you would never allow yourself to forget. The halcyon days of past, present and future. He is.
[20xx. kuzuivencdcsusahduvtaydr ăŒ ???? oayn]
Itâs snowing in Tokyo, a lot of it.
Thatâs not common for the area of Japan you live in.
Maybe Tokyo will see one or two days of light snowfall, but itâs almost never enough to cloak the city like this. Thatâs why itâs a perfect day for a snowball fight and it is perfect, save for the fact that Satoru is definitely cheating.
His tosses may be light but the jerk still has on his infinity, your snow dissipating in powdery puffs whenever it hits the barrier keeping him perpetually safe.
You canât stop yourself from giggling though, even as he pelts you with an unfair barrage of snow.
The laugh is barreling from your form even more when Satoru rushes you out of nowhere, the largest snowball youâve ever seen in his hands laughing like heâs five. Your fall is softened by the snow underneath you, barely even much of a drop, and Satoruâs on top of you with his legs on either side of your torso.
Heâs merciful enough not to slam dunk his snowball of fury into your face though.
âOkay, okay, you win!â You laugh good naturedly. âPlease, Gojou Satoru, I yield!â Despite your words, your hand is working quickly on the side to form a snowball. Heâs touching you, you can feel the warmth of his legs on either side of you. His infinityâs down then. You open your eyes mischievously, bracing yourself for a toss when you feel something warm fall onto your face.
One drop,
two drops.
Your breath falters.
âWhy are you crying, Satoru?âÂ
It occurs to you then in all your years of knowing him, youâve never seen Satoru cry. Yet there he is, right atop you, holding the worldâs largest snowball in his trembling arms. All the while, tears are running down his face, flowing from those beautiful eyes of his. Those eyes filled with a greater sadness than youâve ever seen as he looks at you.
The snowball you were clutching drops from your hand immediately in your concern, âhey whatâs wrong?â
Satoru doesnât answer you. Instead, the strongest sorcerer in the world drapes himself over you with body-wracking sobs. The snowball he was holding has disappeared to who knows where, his hands now clutching the front of your jacket tightly. Satoruâs only response is his body-wracking sobs, his knuckles painfully white. He sobs, sobs and sobs like youâve never seen before.
Slowly, you bring your arms up to hug him and nuzzle the top of his hair that matches the snow around you. âItâs okay,â you whisper to the boy crying in your arms. You smile softly and you close your eyes once more. âItâs okay,â you tell him again. âI'll protect you.â
i was inspired by chainsaw man with the idea of a future devil sorcerer and a reader who shares the same fate as aki
*bonus note: also in japan, the legal age marrying age for women is 16 and men is 18, i heard from a prof they're working on changing that but at least during the setting the time of the fic that is still the same so hence why you'd both be of marrying age despite still being students
*final note: i am a huge final fantasy nerd and the final chapter is written in al bhed, a language from final fantasy x. feel free to use this translator
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