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MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER ELEVEN

A RUNAWAY AND A DEADMAN

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, sci-fi, cosmology.

Words count: ~14k

⊲ previous

Under the concentrated puffing on the left, you tried to chop the chocolate bar as small as possible. Over the past couple of hours, you and Megumi have identified a not perfect, but decent recipe for chocolate muffins through trial and error. The boy slowly and methodically stirred the resulting dough with a whisk, trying to get rid of any lumps. When you reached for the bowl to taste the mixture for sugar, you received a resounding slap on the hand. You rolled your eyes and continued chopping the chocolate, trying to turn it to dust.

"Maybe we shouldn't be doing this," muttered Megumi absentmindedly, watching the batter drip off the whisk.

You had to strain your ears to hear what he was mumbling to himself. "What if ya add more flour?" you asked uncertainly, looking at the too-liquid consistency.

"I'm not talking about muffins," Megumi snapped. A chill immediately spread down his back, making the boy shiver – it was all the fault of the sharp sound of a knife sticking into a cutting board. With a sideways glance, Megumi caught sight of you leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over your chest and staring at him. "Sorry."

"If it's not the muffins, then what is it?" you asked, peering into the profile of the frowning face.

"I...," he began, hesitating. "I'm not sure if we should put up with her anymore."

"Has your love gone away, too?"

Megumi looked up sharply, and you could see the anxiety spreading across his young face. "Has it gone away for her?"

"How would I know?" you shrugged dryly. "Ya both sitting silently in your corners and ya seem to be hoping that it'll work itself out there somehow," Megumi took a whisk out of the bowl and pointed a finger at it meaningfully. You chuckled quietly. "Dany always loved chocolate muffins. Kudos for volunteering," you jokingly gave a bow of your head. "Still, that doesn't explain your hesitation."

"Well...," the boy started stirring the dough slowly again as if it was a ritual that brought tranquility. "It's just... Does it make sense?" asked Megumi weakly, and you only hummed thoughtfully. "In the end, it doesn't matter how many friends and loved ones we have. We die alone anyway," the fridge started humming twice as loud, except it was a distortion of Megumi's hearing. He could even hear his own heartbeat, annoying and fast, all from you being silent. He coughed and glimpsed at you, making sure you were still standing next to him. "You don't think so?" 

"To be honest, I, uh... I hadn't thought about that at all," you chuckled nervously. "I'm still a little confused... Ya mean that when ya die ya'll have no one around ya, or vice versa, that despite being surrounded by loving people, ya'll go into oblivion alone?"

"Is there a difference?" he asked warily, almost fearfully.

"Yeah, ya right, I guess. There's not much difference," you sighed, scratching your forehead. "Look, Megumi, if ya wanna live your whole life in some small house in the middle of nowhere alone that's fine. If ya wanna live your life surrounded by a bunch of friends that's fine. If ya wanna live your life with only one person that's fine too, but it's all okay only as long as it's your personal choice.

"Fear rarely leaves a choice," Megumi doubted quietly, dumping your previously chopped chocolate off the board into a bowl.

"That's what I'm telling ya," you said, grabbing the cutting board and putting it in the sink. "Ya'll probably have a brick fall on your head tomorrow, and ya'll be lying in a dark alley all dead and alone," even though the sound of water running and a washcloth rubbing against wood was beginning to echo through the kitchen, Megumi could hear you clearly. "Scared to go outside now?" slyly glancing at the boy and seeing him shake his head in the negative, you smirked contentedly. "Ya can be afraid, but don't let something so ephemeral stop ya from living your life the way ya want to. It'll be fun if at the very end all ya have time to think about is how stupid ya were, not that ya're alone. If ya make it at all, of course," you scrubbed the board clean, but Megumi remained silent. Your patience was wearing thin. You needed either confirmation or persuasion. "So," you chuckled snidely. "What are we deciding? No, no, wait, don't say anything!" you turned to him and waved your hands, stopping him. "Ya better do. I'm offering you a choice - either ya keep making muffins or ya can go cry in your room. I'll understand either way."  

Megumi gave you a glare that glinted angrily in the light of the kitchen garland. "You remind me of someone," he hissed, and continued kneading the chocolate into the dough with double zeal.

You watched his eagerness with satisfaction. "That's what I thought. Okay, philosophical musings are all well and good, but let's have a little talk about training and a plan of action," Megumi glowed when you said that. As much as he could, but you hadn't even noticed the change. "I think it's time for ya to learn regeneration."

"Wouldn't it be better to start with rel-"

He didn't get a chance to speak, for you pressed your palm sharply against his mouth. "Nah-uh," you said slowly, shaking your head and looking into his rounded eyes. You didn't immediately realize that you were clutching his shoulder tightly with your other hand. "Ugh," you exhaled, pulling your hands away from him. "For now, forget that word, do ya understand?" you made a grabbing motion with your palm as if taking the word from his vocabulary. Megumi, pressing his lips tightly together for a second, nodded. "Ya'll be relocate with me anyway, so that's not really important at first times, but the thing that will save your life more than once is running and regeneration. But mostly running, of course," you pointed out.         

"I'm used to standing to the last man," Megumi objected sullenly.

"Ya'll wean," you chirped carelessly. "We're not known for heroics."

"And what the hell do I need this training for then?" blurted Megumi in the way he usually did - though his appearance remained calm, steel rang in his voice. "To run away like a coward?"

"So ya won't die," you parried. "How many people will ya save by being in the grave?"

"Will I save many by running away?" he persisted.

"At least ya'll stay alive and learn your lesson," you reasoned, spreading your arms out to the sides. "And if ya learn it right, ya'll be stronger."

"At the cost of the lives of the people I left behind?" Megumi continued to snarl.

"Exactly," you snapped, and Megumi bit his lip without expecting it himself. He was used to you and your perpetually calm and cheerful tone, and the way it shifted at the snap made the hairs on the back of his neck stir. "Ya volunteered, and now ya're my apprentice. I don't care if ya want it or not, but you will obey me now," you spoke coldly and distinctly. Relaxing your clenched fists, you looked at Megumi. His body was still the same size, but it looked like he was shrinking. Taking a mug from the shelf, you started brewing coffee. "The rest of the voidrunners will start evacuating in a couple weeks, we will join them a little later," you announced, softening your tone. "Ya want coffee?"

"Tea."

"Okay," you said, pulling out a second mug.  

Megumi didn't give up trying to protest. "I can start along with them-"

"Ya can't," you replied dryly. "Ya'll only go on raids with me."

"Do you distrust others that much?" the boy asked, raising his eyebrows skeptically.

You shrugged idly. "It just makes me feel better."

"Isn't it the same thing?"

Letting his words pass your ears, you continued your admonition. "When we're in the void, just drop the bags of supplies and run to the nearest rift. If anything goes wrong and we get separated, don't trust anyone, don't look at anyone, don't talk to anyone," you sighed restlessly, pouring coffee into one mug and putting a tea bag in the other. "Ya'll never guess who's standing in front of ya there," you added quietly.

"Don't you...," Megumi's voice came up, hesitating. "Don't you know how to tell the difference?"

You, with a fussy chuckle, began pouring boiling water into cups.  "No, none of the hunters have built-in internal radar, only experience. And experience, as it goes, comes with the years."

"Too long," grumbled Megumi gloomily. "We don't have that much time."

You set the mug of freshly brewed tea next to him. "Ya wanted it all at once?" you teased him, smiling. "Ya gotta pay tribute to dioreacts. They've spent thousands of years learning how to act like humans. They learned not only how to stir tea or blink, but how to perceive our world in general," you circled the space with your hands for extra convincing. "The first dioreact didn't know that all the electromagnetic waves around them were just color to humans because that's exactly our interpretation of electromagnetic waves, and there is no color anywhere in the universe outside of the human brain. Perhaps the dioreacts even now don't know what color is, but just... Uh, I dunno, adjusted? Maybe they can see wavelengths and have memorized that that wave over there is green and that one over there is grayish brown. Hunters used to catch them at it a lot, but the more time the dioreacts spend among us, the more they learn about our perception."

"What else?" inquired Megumi impatiently. Your hand with the cup of coffee froze at your lips, and you stared at the boy warily. "Forewarned is forearmed, no?" he quipped.

You tapped your fingernail on the cup thoughtfully. "Frank used to tell me that hunters used to catch dioreacts at the 'where ya from?' question. The poor things would just freeze in place with their mouths open, unable to say anything. Probably because humans don't have a single word to describe their homelands because we can't have that knowledge," you sighed sadly without realizing it. "Now the dioreacts have learned, and if you ask, they'll tell ya about all the places on Earth they've been, and they'll tell you their family tree too. I'm exaggerating," you added, noticing Megumi squinting at you incredulously. "But ya," you pointed a finger at the boy. "Don't ya dare pry into anyone in the void with questions. If it's a demon, it'll know right away what ya're up to, so it'll either run away immediately or kill ya," you slid an assessing glance at the boy. "In your case, it's more likely the latter. No offense."

You nonchalantly continued sipping your coffee, hoping it didn't hurt him too much. It didn't occur to you that Megumi had gone through similar words and phrases many times before and he hardly paid attention to yours. Why did it seem to him right now that a previously unsuccessfully nurtured stimulus was faintly stirring inside him, though? "Y/N?" hesitantly Megumi turned to you.

"Hmm?" you hummed detachedly.

"Is Gojo okay with that? Well, that you're training me."

"Yeah," you sighed, setting the empty mug back in the sink. "He grumbled a little, though... But he couldn't just throw ya into the basement with chains with a shout 'I won't let anyone have you'."

"Well, actually he could," Megumi muttered, wrinkling his nose squeamishly.

"But he didn't," you quipped.

"Yeah, he didn't," the boy agreed with you. "Thank you for that."

"I had nothing to do with it."

"That's what you think," the unfamiliar slyness in his voice sent shivers down your spine. "I talked to others, so... You know, we've decided that if we ever move out, you can keep him."

"Thanks," you snickered, and Megumi was already grinning openly. "Go ahead and make the muffins. When ya're done, I'll go over to Dany's and then we'll practice tonight."

Megumi turned sharply toward you. "What?" he blurted out grumpily. "What do you mean 'I'll go over to Dany's'? What about me? Is this some kinda joke to you?" glaring angrily at you, he pointed at his clothes that were almost completely covered in chocolate mixture.

"Ya're not much of a diplomat," you teased, making a face at him. "I gotta feeling her out first, and then ya can talk without me. Now let's get to work," you nodded toward the bowl of dough. 

You stood under the boy's angry gaze for a few more seconds before he went back to making muffins in silence. It was a good thing Megumi was silent, because if he'd said a word, the laughter you were carefully suppressing would have burst out. 

It was a cute yet funny picture of Danielle weeding in the afternoon sun. The girl kept straightening the straw hat that had fallen off her head with her hands smeared in the ground – almost the same color as her bright sparkling hair.

You stood outside the backyard entrance, hesitant to open the wooden gate. Your hand clutched the package of homemade muffins - small but tasty - tighter to your chest, and the thought slipped into your head that if this treat won't help you, nothing would.

You opened the wicket with a deep breath, and Danielle reacted instantly, raising her head. Her hat flew off her head, and the girl, trying to steady it once again, stiffened in surprise. The hoe Dany was holding in her other hand fell to the ground along with the hat.

"Hey there, bun," you said, waving awkwardly at Danielle. "Before ya chase me away, I brought something in my defense," you informed jokingly, covering yourself with the treat package.

Maybe it was the physical exertion, but you wanted to believe that she did feel better. You wanted to squeeze her ruddy cheeks because in addition to the flushed red color, they had gotten a little chubbier. "Hey," you missed that kind tone and the way she was striding toward you to meet you. "I hope it's something edible," she whimpered, wrapping her arms around your shoulders.

Relief spread through your body as Danielle held out her arms to you. You gladly hugged her in return. "Like I don't know ya," you whispered into her hair and heard a soft giggle. "Let's sit down," you suggested and pulled Dany by the arm toward the garden bench that stood neatly against the wall of the house. Barely dragging her feet, Danielle made her way over to the bench, leaning her limp body against the wall. You sat down next to her and put the package on her lap, but she didn't move, half lying there with her eyelids closed. "Frank forced ya into?" you asked sympathetically.

"Yeah," Dany exhaled exhaustedly. "But there's an upside to it!" she braved it cheekily, as much as her strength allowed. "While ya're doing all this shit, all ya can think about is that ya can't wait for it to be over," Danielle said before she could finish - a laugh forming on her lips, and you chuckled in unison with her tired but still gleeful laughter as you admired her.

"He forced me too until I was about twelve," you smirked.

"How did ya get to escape this plantation?" inquired Danielle enviously.

"I rioted," you said belligerently, and the two of you giggled again. "I ripped up everything that was growing in the beds and stomped on it. Frank was so mad," you said, sucking in air through your teeth.

"How did ya even stay alive?" worried Danielle. 

"Shaya saved me," you said, getting nostalgic. "She hid me behind her while Frank threatened to whip me."

"And Shaya didn't do anything to ya?" asked Dany incredulously.

"Nope," you shook your head. "She took me to my room, and when I asked what she was gonna do to me, she said I'd already punished myself," you exhaled convulsively, wrapping your arms around yourself. "I spent the whole night agonizing and thinking about her words, trying to figure out what she meant. I didn't realize until this morning. I was the one sowing and weeding those damn beds," Dany opened her eyes slightly. She was watching you from under half-open eyelids - at the way your gaze roamed the garden across from you. The girl rarely heard the longing in your voice, and every such moment returned with an unaccustomedness in her heart that made it beat faster. "I want ya come back home with me," you asked quietly.

"I want it, too," Danielle muttered in embarrassment, closing her eyes again.

Her desire was reflected in your phone. Not a single call, not a single message. "Why don't I keep ya as a garden slave for a couple more weeks?" you blurted out indignantly. "It gives ya a zeal, I see."

With eyes already wide open, Dany jumped up. The box nearly flew off her lap. "No!" she begged, looking up at you and clutching the package back to her.

"If ya want something, you have to say it," you muttered indignantly. "Ya'd better open it," you said, nodding toward the box. "Ya were hungry, weren't ya?"

With a hesitant nod, Danielle slowly unwrapped the package. She didn't know whether it was the sight of the ridiculous chocolate muffins or the tart but sweet smell that clouded her mind faster. She grabbed one and swallowed it whole, oblivious to herself or her own name. You mentally thanked Megumi for his decision to take the smaller baking dish.

You coughed meaningfully, slyly examining your nails in the sunlight. "Ya know, I didn't actually make them."

"What?" she whimpered excitedly with her mouth full. "I said I'd come back, but I didn't say anything about a relationship with Megumi-"

"Yeah, yeah," you sarcastically interrupted her, carelessly waving her words away. "Sure."

[June 19, 2020; 01:23am; hunters' hq]

Feeling the warmth of the couch was all your back had been asking for lately, and you'd been obediently fulfilling your body's desire despite your own. Your head rested peacefully in Kyle's lap, your eyes roaming the news feed on your phone.

You didn't notice how restlessly you fidgeted with your legs from time to time, not even the annoying sound of the soft material rustling could quiet you. Every time you fidgeted, you felt a soft scratching at the back of your head as you turned from one side to the other.

"What's wrong?" asked Kyle puzzled as you rolled over once again, sighing irritably.

"Everything's fine," you waved it off indifferently.

"Ya have a disgruntled face," he remarked, grinning.

You pulled yourself up and sat down, leaning back against the couch. "Rach only brought out two people," you rambled worriedly. "Only two, Kyle," you shoved a hand in his face with your index and middle finger raised. "That's an incredibly bad start."

Kyle intercepted your palm and kissed the pad of your finger. "Oh, come on," he laughed, looking at your perplexed face and releasing your hand. "It's a good start. She brought your new acquaintance out with her, by the way," he reminded you reasonably. "And Issu might bring more people out with him."

You turned and stared at the infirmary door, remembering the way Doc had slammed it shut in front of you and Kyle. Doc was an irritable, taciturn man, but the thought of how much work he'd have to do in the next few weeks made you shiver.

"...to the previous news. The incident that occurred in April this year in the nightclub N..."

Even though you were in your own thoughts, your skin began to itch painfully in places. You wanted to catch a glimpse of Nora, or Rachel, or that old lady whose name you couldn't ask - the old woman who'd come out of the void unconscious and ended up in the infirmary.

"...contacting the police station. Now, the police have suspended the investigation for unspecified reasons. In the following footage you can see a protest organized near the police station by the parents of the missing as well as concerned people..."

"Hey," Kyle called softly, tugging gently on your earlobe. You stirred, tore your gaze away from the infirmary door and dropped your head back into his lap. "Don't distress yourself. It's gonna be okay."

"I know," you exhaled gloomily. "It's just that I'm freaking out about being banned from the void and there's no way I can check to see if everything's okay."

"Oh, what bad guys we are," Kyle drawled sarcastically, pinching you again. "Taking care of your health."

"That's not what I meant," you muttered, waving his hands away. "Ya remember what Rach said after she came out of the void?"

"Yeah," Kyle nodded briefly. "That people are afraid to come out. They don't even believe Jonah."

"Exactly," you said. "Do ya remember any of this ever happening?" you tried to speak calmly, but you were out of breath.

"I'll still go on the raid after Issu, and I promise ya, I'll figure it out," he assured you softly, stroking your forehead with his thumb. "Don't worry."

"...at least twenty people. To date, eighteen of the missing have been identified..."

From the TV screen, neither pictures nor photographs looked at you. Ghosts. They wandered, hovering around you, but they dared not touch you. Against your better judgment, you felt their presence, felt their stares, felt even their silence. It felt like a dark silent whisper on your skin as if the ghosts were breathing right next to you. "Twenty-three," you said in a mesmerized whisper, looking at another picture of familiar features on the screen.

Kyle glanced fearfully at your face. It seemed pale in the light from the TV. "What?" he asked perplexedly.

You lifted yourself up again and sat up, tucking your legs under you, but you didn't do it as quickly as you had the first time. "Kyle, I haven't told ya everything," you said, guiltily hiding your gaze from his. "I think there's a diomorphea in there."

A second long silence made you look up. "Why didn't ya... Why didn't ya tell me at once?" there wasn't an ounce of accusation in his voice. Rather, a genuine misunderstanding of your disbelief.

"I was afraid ya'd tell Rach," you justified, looking at him dejectedly and shaking your head. "Ya know her, she would have just stormed in there and god knows what would have happened. Either she'd be dead, or a bunch of demons and with them the ones we're trying to save. Or both of it. I'm sorry," you shook your head harder.

Gently wrapping his arms around your shoulders, Kyle pulled you against him. "What did I promise ya just now?" he asked, leading you to think.

You rested your head on his shoulder, but you didn't dare take your eyes off the pictures. "That ya'll figure it out," you exhaled. "Kyle, ya can't keep fixing our fuck-ups forever."

"I'm your big brother," he grinned, stroking your back. "That's my job."

Wrapped in a blanket of warmth from a loved one, you couldn't help yourself. These people were still here with you, even if they didn't realize it. They were staring at you, drilling you, making you grit your teeth. You couldn't even cover your eyes because you'd just thought the russet-haired girl looking at you from the screen had blinked.

[June 20, 2020, 20:01, Tokyo, Tokyo Prefecture]

As you made your way along the roads of the busy evening city, you kept looking at your phone, for only maps helped you not to get lost in the stone jungle. Even though there were signboards at every turn, all those bright colors combined with the abundance of symbols and running from side to side to avoid hitting anyone in the crowd of people made your head spin.

You couldn't count the number of crosswalks you'd crossed, you didn't want to think about how many of them you'd crossed for nothing. Your desperate attempt to find a nightclub had taken you to unfamiliar places, and you stopped and sighed disappointedly, staring at your phone again, completely oblivious to the people you might be interrupting.

Disappointment was immediately replaced by bewilderment when a name popped up on your phone instead of maps. "Yeah?" you said hesitantly, bringing the phone to your ear.

"I can't leave you alone even for a minute, huh?" resented Gojo. "Where did you go?"

"I...," you started in confusion, looking around. "Uh," you muttered, turning around the other way, looking for clues. "I think I'm somewhere in Tokyo's downtown, but I'm not quite sure."

An irritated tongue cluck was heard on the other end. "What do you see?"

"Hmm," you pondered, continuing on your way. "I see a dental clinic," you looked over the hospital sign and cast a glance back over your shoulder. "Behind me is the Minami Hotel, I guess?" puzzled, you stopped at a crossroad. "There's something else around the corner that looks like a park and playground-"   

Someone's arms went around your waist. "Boo!" they shouted in your ear, but you didn't even flinch, just squeezed your eyes shut at the loud sound. "Hey, you could at least look scared," came a cranky voice from behind you. 

You tilted your head up, and instead of an offended face, you were met with a bright smile. "What, in public?" you asked hesitantly.

Gojo rubbed his nose against your forehead. A brief gesture that sent warmth through your limbs. "I'm not shy about expressing my lo-"

"I mean about the teleport," you interrupted quickly.

With an irritated snort, he let you out of his arms and you moved forward. "So where are we going?"

"To a nightclub," you replied carelessly.

"At your age?" resented Gojo, wrinkling his nose. "It's a little too late for that." 

You paid no attention to his words, just continued to look around at the signs, completely oblivious to the fact that you now had a tour guide beside you. "Ya wouldn't happen to know anything about what happened at Nightclub N, would ya? It's still on the news, even though it happened back in April."

"Oh," stunned Gojo. "I was there day after, but no curses or cursed energy was there." 

"And ya didn't tell me?" you huffed, glaring at him judgmentally.

"I didn't even think about it," he admitted honestly, shrugging his shoulders. "And you weren't back then," Gojo glanced at you, and seeing no anger or disappointment on your face, he exhaled in relief. "So what are we doing?"

"It would be a good idea to start by talking," you reasoned, looking ahead. "I had Meg do some snooping, and she found out that it's not just visitors who've been hit, but employees too. One, at least."

"So-so information," he grudgingly opined.

"Maybe," you agreed. "Better than nothing, though."

Surprisingly, things did go faster with Gojo, and you didn't feel so lost in the dust of the big city. You'd been wandering around that nightclub all this time, but for some reason you'd ignored the turn into the courtyard. He took your hand in his and led you to the right place in a few minutes - the best guide ever. 

You pulled a wireless earphone out of the case and put it in your ear. "Meg, turn it off," you had only one answer to Gojo's questioning look. "Cameras," you explained with a shrug.

Nothing stands out - your first thought when you found yourself at the front doors. There weren't even any neon signs in this place - a simple gawker would easily miss a place like this in the night. While you pondered, Gojo walked to the door. Opening it, he gestured for you to come inside. 

The first thing you encountered as you walked down the hallway dotted with plastic vegetation was the hostess desk. A woman in a white dress seemed to be filling out something, paying no attention to you. "Ahem," you coughed quietly, stepping closer to the counter.

The girl raised her head. "I apologize," she said sincerely, bestowing a welcoming smile. Her gaze focused as if she had just been pulled out of her thoughts. You nodded understandingly in response.

The hostess stared at you for a second, then looked behind you. Her eyes widened in surprise for a moment, and a blush appeared on her snow-white cheeks. It was obvious without words who she was admiring. "I apologize," she repeated, barely moving her eyes to you. "We're only open from ten p.m. onwards. Would you like to make a reservation in the VIP area?" she handed you one of the sheets she'd just filled out. "You can look over the seating and choose the one that best suits you."

"That's not why we're here," you said quietly and the corners of the woman's lips slowly but surely crept down.

She glanced furtively toward the dance area, which was behind a decorative grid. The grid was covered with flowers, but you could see the bar, where someone was already standing and looking in your direction. "If you're journalists, just go away," she whispered anxiously.

You took the sheet from her hands, and began to pretend to consider the seating plan. "Ya misunderstand," you assured her. "I'm a private investigator, I was hired by one of the families of the missing," the hostess shifted a concerned yet questioning look to Gojo. "Don't worry, it's just my comp-"

"Her husband," he stated, putting his arm around your shoulders. "Just family business."

"Well, or so...," you muttered, sighing. 

"Mochi, have you already chosen where we're gonna sit?" his voice was already too ringing at times, but this time it was as if Gojo was deliberately speaking louder than usual. "Smile," he addressed the girl, and in contrast, his words sounded very quiet. You glimpsed again at the bars - it seemed that those who stood there had ceased to be interested in you.

She put on a duty smile. "Reservations are optional if you want to visit the dance area," she said in a minted but sweet tone.

You pretended to stroke Gojo's forearm that wrapped around your collarbones. In one deft motion, you pulled the picture from inside pocket, placing it under the sheet you were holding. Placing the paper on the counter, you tapped a random spot. "I think we'll sit here," you pushed the sheet away. "Do ya know her?" your quite question caused the girl's ribcage to begin to heave heavily when she saw the russet-haired girl. You mentally scolded her for potentially attracting unnecessary attention. "She worked here." 

"Did her parents hire you?" the hostess fought her inner emotions for an outward smile. "I don't know," she whispered fearfully, though she was still smiling full-mouth. "I really don't know anything," her eyes glittered dangerously, and you carefully covered the picture with the paper. "Please, go away."

"Thanks," you said loudly and cheerfully, backing away from the counter. "See ya later," you nodded her goodbye and took Gojo's hand, and you headed toward the exit. 

Barely waiting until you were on the other side of the glass doors, he stopped right in front of you. "So that's it?" he lamented. "We're just gonna leave like this?"

"No need to draw unnecessary attention. She was scared enough. I thought she was about to cry," you sighed doomfully. "But I left her phone number on the back of the picture."

"Okay," he drawled, smiling slyly. "Now what?"

After sneaking through a narrow alleyway and soiling your clothes in wet dust, you wandered around the back of the police station. Stopping at the wall of an adjacent building, you decided to exhale and think. Why was the hostess so scared? If it wasn't the employees at the bar, then who was standing there during off hours? Moreover, why did the girl only shake harder when she saw the picture?

From Gojo's perspective and in his opinion, you looked suspicious - two subjects loitering in the back of a police station. What was he supposed to do when he heard the back door click? Nothing but that - that's how he reassured himself as he pressed you against the wall. "Just play along, 'kay?" he whispered, facing your panicked incomprehension - you'd been pulled from your thoughts too abruptly. 

You nodded hesitantly, but you weren't reassured by his plan or his actions. For the moment Gojo cupped your cheek, you felt that his fingers trembled. "Have you ever kissed?" you couldn't hear the inherent curiosity in his voice, the only thing you could catch among the words he spoke was sincerity. "Take it off," he demanded, leaning his forehead against yours. "Take off your mask," his words and actions became more insistent - his hand pressed you against him with such force that it was physically hard to breathe. 

"Hey!" a sharp exclamation gave you the strength to push him away from you. "Girl, are you okay?" the police officer asked, flicking ash off his cigarette.

"Yeah," you assured him. "W-we just... Uh, we just forgot ourselves a little. I'm sorry," you said, taking another step away from Gojo.

"Kids...," the officer muttered. "You should go home and do this sort of thing," he admonished. Taking one last puff, the policeman put out the cigarette butt, tossed it in the trash can, and went inside.

"Uh, well," you sighed, making up for the lack of oxygen. Looking around the wall of the one-story police station, you noticed that there were two windowless passages - probably one of those rooms was what you needed.

Carefully making sure no one was looking in your direction from the windows, you moved closer to the wall, Gojo's confusion replaced in an instant by a prick of anger. He was immensely resilient, but even he was beginning to tire of your behavior. It was as if nothing had ever happened.

"And how would we get there?" you muttered to yourself, squinting at the brickwork.

Of course, he couldn't pass up the opportunity to tease you. It was beyond him. "What, are you out of energy because of your shaky legs?" he asked in a teasing tone, coming up behind you.

"No, it's just that I can't teleport to a point I haven't seen before," your seriousness made him roll his eyes so hard he could have sworn he saw his own brain. "There could be anything in there, after all. A box, another wall, or an iron pole. And I don't really wanna become a part of that."

"What a weakling you are," Gojo grimaced, grabbing you under the armpits and lifting you into the air. When he released you, you were already standing on the floor. Indoors.

It was dark here - not a single light bulb shone, but even so you could make out a bunch of metal lockers against the walls, a few long benches, and some scattered things. Locker room. No hits. Next room across the hall, then.

You went to the door and stood still, listening. There were no voices, no footsteps, no rustling. You gripped the knob and pulled gently, turning it. When the door wouldn't budge, you applied force and pulled a few more times. Nothing.

A tired, condescending sigh came from behind you. Gojo grabbed your shoulder and pulled you aside, then grabbed the handle of the door and opened it with a quiet crack.

In the darkness, you met only his arrogant smile. "Congratulations," you said sarcastically. "When they see this, everyone will realize someone's been loitering around here." 

"And this is your gratitude?" whispered Gojo indignantly. 

Instead of answering and bickering, you grabbed his hand and dragged him as quietly as possible down the hallway in the right direction. When you came to the next door, he moved you into the room without thinking or warning.

That's what it took to get to the evidence room, but it didn't look the way you'd imagined. The shelves were more for show, for there were boxes and packages scattered carelessly on them, just as there were on the floor.

Gojo picked up one of the clear bags, and after looking it over, handed it to you. You grinned approvingly when you saw the date and place written in black marker. 

You silently began to scour the shelves and floor in search of at least the year you needed. The place was a mess, but systematicity still seemed from around the corner, slyly peering at what you were doing. You had already made it to January, and not wanting to miss anything, you took your time. "What makes you think demons are involved here anyway?" asked Gojo, setting another box aside. 

"I saw them," you replied, scrutinizing the dates. "I saw those people right before I came out of the void."

"That's how," he replied, catching a glimpse of you. His tense shoulders relaxed every time he saw you start to put on weight. He'd already gone through almost the entire March, and after tossing aside a few more unwanted plastic bags, he got to the right one. "Hey," he quietly called out to you. "Is this it?"

You took the box in your hands.

#413091

April 6, 2020

Tokyo, Tokyo Prefecture, Nightclub N

Sealed

"It is," you answered without much joy. As you weighed the box in your hands, you looked up at Gojo with a puzzled look. "What kinda mockery is this?" you asked warily, setting the overly light box on the floor. Breaking the seal and opening it, you pursed your lips in frustration.

There was almost nothing, just a few cigarette butts with lipstick marks, a couple of bottles, a folding knife, bloody napkins, but, remarkably, one bag of white pills. "Not only did the police shut down the investigation, but the club was still working while the investigation was ongoing, now there's no evidence. Who's protecting them?" you wondered, reaching for the bag of pills.

"Probably the one who dragged people into the void," Gojo suggested, trying to find anything else on the bottom. 

"Well, or at least someone closely associated with them. It wouldn't be a bad idea to find the owner of the club," you considered the pills, but there was nothing remarkable on them. Just a pure white color. "If the owner is aware of what's going on and he isn't a fool, there's probably some subsidiary company attached to the club, followed by the parent company, and the real names in that holding company are no longer to be found," you opened the bag and held it up to your nose. Nothing. Frowning puzzled, you slipped the packet to Gojo. "Smell anything?"

As soon as he brought it to his face, he immediately pulled it away, pinching his nostrils. "God... The smell is nice, but it's so pungent that...," he stammered, wiping away the tears that came to his eyes. "Put that away," he said and threw the bag at you.

You caught him deftly, and you and the pills stared at each other. The gears of your mind whirred again. You knew of only one demon capable of such brazen machinations right in front of everyone's eyes. If the pills contained black orchid that didn't bode well because in small quantities it was like a drug that induced a state of euphoria, and judging by the number of pills, the demon was obviously not alone in that club.

You glanced at the broken seal - eventually they'd find out that someone had been digging around here. The question was whether they'd find out who it was. "Let's get out of here," you said to Gojo and was about to move towards the door, but with the edge of your thief eye you caught a shine. "O-oh, what do we have here," you drawled mesmerized, reaching for the sealed bag containing the necklace. 

"Are you crazy?" blustered Gojo, intercepting your hands. "We're not stealing evidence!" you snorted meekly but grudgingly, wrenching your hands free and quickly hiding them in your pockets, which made him squint his eyes suspiciously. "Empty your pockets," Gojo demanded in a commanding tone, to which you only flinched. "I said empty them!" he exclaimed, and despite your resistance, he did find what he was looking for, but not under the right conditions. A pair of gold rings. Gasping with indignation, he tossed them farther into a pile of boxes. "We're not stealing evidence! Geez, adults once told me not to get with the wrong crowd, but here I am," he whimpered, running a hand through his snow-white hair. 

As he lamented, you couldn't stop the process - thoughts raced, each one trying to overtake the other. You couldn't hear the key turning in the locks or the quiet footsteps because of the silent noise. "Hands up," you raised your head, only to be met with an unfamiliar face and a gun pointed in your direction. "I said hands up!"

"Hey, hey," you justifiably rambled, raising your hands. "We can explain-"

"We?" barked the police officer. "Girl, are you out of your mind?" You barely had time to turn your head back before you heard the safety click, but even that couldn't alarm you as much as the realization that there was no one behind you. "Face the wall," the officer ordered, muzzle pointing at the wall.

You went obediently to the wall, and when you were almost there, you were pushed against it. Holding you by the neck with one hand, the policeman snapped your arms, and there was a clinking sound. Handcuffs.

If someone asked you at the beginning of the day how you'd spend your evening, you could list a bunch of options - watching a TV show, meeting with insiders, chasing the next artifact, sitting around a campfire with Kyle or Rachel, having a cup of tea or even a glass of wine - but you'd never guess how you'd actually spend it.

Part of your evening consisted of traveling to the holding cell at gunpoint.

When your handcuffs were removed, your phone, belt and earrings were taken away, the bars slammed shut behind you with a deafening clang. You pressed your face between the steel bars. "Hey," you called out to the departing cop. "I'm entitled to one phone call."

"Why don't you get a lawyer, too?" snickered the duty officer.

"Preferably. But ya'll need it if ya don't let me call," you said nonchalantly, keeping a friendly attitude.

Of course, you could have vanished from the cell as soon as he left, but you didn't want to be known as a fugitive on news programs across the country.

The man paused for a moment, thinking about something, and then turned back to you. With his piercing gaze boring into you and his hand on his holster, he handed you the phone, and as soon as you picked it up, it rang.

You shrugged your shoulders and backed away from the bars to avoid having it taken from you. "That'll count as your call," the man warned you.

You brought the phone to your ear, mentally preparing yourself for what awaited you. "Say please," Gojo scoffed from the other side. "Come on," he coaxed, taunting you. "Say please and maybe I'll get you out." 

"I hope ya're pleased with yourself," were all the words that you could muster, stepping over your pride. "Please."

You heard neither confirmation nor another round of teasing; only short beeps. Despondently, you handed the phone to the officer, and as long as you had strength left, you clung to the iron bars and listened to every action that took place. The police officer seemed to be watching something, and every now and then, you heard the clatter of a mug against the table.

It seems like five minutes or fifteen have passed - you can't count in a cramped cell without a clock. The front door slammed, and loud footsteps sounded. "Please excuse my wife," a familiar chirp tickled your ears. "She's having a seasonal exacerbation."

***

You had already traveled a great distance, leaving the police station behind, but you hadn't said a word, which amused Gojo and worried him at the same time. Anyway, you still let him hold your hand, which meant you weren't that angry.

He was annoyed that he couldn't read your emotions because half of your face was hidden - it was like ripping half of a book out before he could read the rest of it. The question was no longer whether you were angry or hurt, but did you feel anything at all? "Well," he began slyly. "Are you gonna sulk like that?" 

"I can't believe it," you said reproachfully, shaking your head. "Ya left me. Ya left me, abandoned me, humiliated me-"

"Is that how you talk to the man who bailed you out?" laughing, he stopped and stood right in front of you.

"It was a bribe!" you retorted indignantly.

"I'd do it again," he admitted solemnly, looking haughtily and cheerfully into your eyes.

"I know," you whispered. "But I thought we were best friends," he didn't notice the triumph replaced by panic the first time he saw your wounded gaze.

"No, no," he rambled anxiously, gently cupping your cheeks. "It's just a joke, really, I was just kidding-"

"I would never do that to ya," you managed to say, swallowing the lump in your throat. You wrapped your palm around his - the one that pressed harder against your face. You bit your lip in frustration. "I would never leave ya," seeing the glint in your averted gaze made everything inside him flip - from his soul to his organs. That wasn't the kind of glint he wanted to see. "I know I don't act the way ya'd like me to sometimes, but- Oh," your face changed immediately, from sadness to pure curiosity, and you let go of his hands and stepped around him, heading somewhere.

He was one-step away from bursting into tears himself, but your actions have left him stumped. After a moment of standing as if you were still here, he turned around. You were striding briskly toward the huge red glowing sign that read 'Spicy Dumplings'.

One might have thought that this was not enough to stomp on his heart, but then, as luck would have it, he thought that it had become too light in his pocket. His purse were missing. "Seriously?" he sighed, throwing his head back and staring up at the night sky covered in light noise. "There are so many people in the world, why her?" the stars were hidden - the stars were silent.

Megumi had seen his reflection in the mirror countless times and just as many times he'd experienced nothing - a man like a man, a person who didn't stand out, but now, as Kyle walked around him in circles with a measuring tape around his neck and pins stuck in his shirt, the boy felt genuinely excited.

Even though Megumi felt like a mannequin being abused, occasionally getting needles under his skin by accident, he still thought it was worth it. Megumi glanced at the mask made for him. Even without filters, it looked heavy, but the precise curves of its rigid material made it somewhat dangerous.

The boy jerked when Kyle once again grazed the skin on his shoulder with the pin. "Sorry," Kyle muttered. "I'm not very good at this."

"Then why don't others do it?" grunted Megumi, staring at himself in the mirror again.

The man only chuckled - no offense intended. "May I remind ya," he began softly in between. "Ya don't have to do this."

"I know," Megumi replied stubbornly. "I don't know how to do anything else, though."

"Do ya?" wondered Kyle sincerely. "What, no hobbies?"

Megumi looked at Kyle as if he was hearing those words for the first time. The man pressed his lips together understandingly and continued his tailor's work. Seeing another section of loosely dangling fabric, he pinched it down the boy's body and secured it with a pin. "Ya know, when ya get back, we can go fishing with together," he suggested light-heartedly, pulling out the now unnecessary needle and, finding no better option, jammed it between his teeth. "Or I could teach ya how to play the guitar," as Kyle cheerfully enumerated, Megumi only frowned his eyebrows harder. "In a pinch, we can weave beaded bracelets with ya," he laughed and his soft, deep voice floated around the room. "Okay, well, try this on," Kyle said, handing him the mask.

The mask was a little heavier than it looked, and Megumi held it for a moment before taking a deep jagged breath and leaning it against his face. The mask, making a clicking sound, sat perfectly. "How's that? Fine?" inquired Kyle, not giving up on trying to get Megumi to talk.

"Yeah," Megumi replied indifferently, and his voice came strangled and mechanical, but Kyle was used to that. "Just hot in this uniform."

"That's what ya saying now," Kyle pointed out. "Ya'll thank me a hundred times in the void."

"You?" the boy asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

The room went up in flames in an instant as if everything was lit up in red flames, but barely had the flash subsided when Megumi saw that it was Kyle's hands that were burning. "Me," Kyle said cheekily but still jokingly. "I'm the one in charge of thermoregulation here."

Megumi stared mesmerized at the man's hands - a second ago, they were still burning, burning as bright and hot as his disheveled gut. "I want that, too," the boy muttered quietly.

"Too, huh?" Kyle smirked meaningfully. "So ya okay with everything else?" turning away in embarrassment, Megumi tried to pull the mask off, but it wouldn't budge. He kept tugging at it while Kyle watched his desperate attempts. "Lemme help ya, you're gonna rip your face off," the man offered. "There are buttons on the sides," he informed, pulling the mask off the boy.

"You couldn't tell me before, could you?" an indignant Megumi panted, rubbing the line of his chin.

"My bad. Sorry," Kyle couldn't help it - the smile wouldn't leave his face. "By the way, uh… How's it going... with Dany?"

Megumi hated it when someone poked their nose into his life, much less his personal life. Shutting down, withdrawing into himself was the first reaction brought on by years of building up an internal psychology, but now that Megumi saw the unfamiliar warm gaze, he was glad that there was at least one person who was genuinely interested in his inner state. "I don't know, she doesn't talk to me," the boy said sullenly. "It would be better if she just told me she doesn't like me anymore," he added quietly.

"And how is that better?"

"Then I'd know for sure I don't stand a chance anymore," Megumi despaired. "I've been trying to catch up to her in training, but she's even running faster than me. I can't look for her in these damn woods," Megumi muttered, pulling off the top of his uniform and handing the fabric to Kyle.

Kyle knew that he shouldn't laugh at problems - neither big ones, nor small ones, nor their description. He was trying his best to remain silent now, only nodding significantly. "Well...," he drawled. "So there's definitely motivation to train even harder now."

"People have their limits," Megumi frowned, tugging on his home t-shirt with a jerk. "I think I've reached mine."

"Ya'd best remember well what ya just said," the man said sternly. "Remember it well and forget it. Otherwise, if I hear ya say that again, we'll stop training ya."

"And I'll continue without you," Megumi stubbornly persisted. "I may not be in control of it yet, but with or without you, I can still walk into the void."

"And die," Kyle finished for him, though the boy's sentence didn't require it. "Ya know what that's called? Cut off nose to spite face," seeing Megumi's haggard face, Kyle softened. "Come on," he paternally patted the boy on the top of his head. "How about this. When ya get back, I'll set up a rendezvous for ya and Dany."

Megumi hummed incredulously, shifting from foot to foot. "Can you really make it?"

Kyle didn't know what he was signing up for. Persuading a stubborn girl and trying to change her mind was a deep hole that couldn't be climbed out of with walls or even a ladder, but when he saw the faint smile flash across Megumi's face, he knew it was worth it. "I'll try."

You were already cooing with the waiter when you'd been apart for a minute – that was what Gojo saw in his mind, distorted by an unknown feeling. When the corners of your eyes crinkled once more, he felt an unfamiliar tingle under his ribs. It was directed, burning. 

In two strides, he'd covered the distance from the front door to the table you were at and plopped down across from you. "Baby, could you not run away from me like that anymore?" shifting his gaze from you to the waiter, it went from soft to steely, all the blue was gone. The waiter was embarrassed by his direct gaze, and after glancing at you and seeing your nod, he hurriedly retreated to the kitchen. "So much for service," he muttered, looking after the waiter. "I didn't even order anything."

"I ordered ya mild shrimp dumplings and two cheesecakes," you said, looking at his profile - something in the air felt spicy from more than just the smell of the local sauce.

He didn't realize whether he liked it or not that you knew him well, the only thing that bothered and hurt him was that he didn't know you. Not even that. He knew something about you, but only from other people's words and among them was none of yours. "Well?" he inquired, finally turning in your direction. "What's next?" 

"Cholesterol plaques," you chirped in pleasant anticipation. "I've been eating nothing but soup and porridge for weeks now, one more day like this and I'll hang myself."

"I'd look at that," Gojo drawled detachedly.

"Is something wrong?" you worried. "It's like ya angry."

He was silent for a few more good moments, staring out the window and tapping his finger on his chin. "Frank told me you've been missing for three years. What have you been doing?" you swallowed all the words out of surprise and stared at him stunned. "What?" asked Gojo indifferently. "You know everything about me, I know nothing about you. That's not very fair." 

"It's not like I have a choice," you tried to gently remind him.

"Really?" his voice remained calm, but it still made you want to squirm in your seat. "My negligent students tied you up and made you listen to all the facts about me?"

"It's dif-"

"Different, yeah," he interrupted, shaking his head and leaning back in his chair - away from you. An inner voice yelled at him to shut his mouth, too bad Gojo was deaf at that moment. "Tell me, what does human meat taste like? I heard somewhere that it tastes like chicken, is that true?" your heart was definitely tied with fishing line and started to squeeze, and if not, why did you feel like blood was dripping off it? "Oh, come on," he laughed, seeing the subtle change on your face. "Well, you ate a couple people, who among us is not without sin?" 

You looked around, almost unable to see anything through the haze, but there didn't seem to be anyone near you. "If we don't shut this down, I'm gonna eat ya too," you tried to guffaw, keeping your face straight. "Alive."

"I'm just trying to get to know you better," Gojo stared at you, trying to catch everything he could - gestures, facial expressions, anything. Every time he caught something he wanted, satisfaction involuntarily spread through his body. Paradoxically, the thought of enjoying it made him sick, but he couldn't help it - your hypocrisy was wearing him down. You were the one who'd first said you'd never revisit the subject, and yet every day with every unspoken word, you reminded Gojo that you didn't trust him. "I get that you're trying to seem mysterious, but have you ever wondered how it looks?" he chuckled sarcastically. "You look like a wretched runaway," you sat up, listening and memorizing every word. "Maybe I should tell you what happens to people who don't open up to anyone?" he leaned closer to you as if he wanted to tell you a secret that was known only to him. "Let me better demonstrate, though," Gojo got up from the table, and still looking at you, distanced himself a couple steps away. "Look at that," he snapped his fingers, pointing to his now empty seat and grinned contentedly. "You're all alone."  

Gojo didn't try to get to know you better because then he could have asked you what your favorite color was, or movie, or music, but no. He got under your skin. Deliberately and painfully, choosing words that scratched and bit, and you didn't even have time to ask 'why' because his back, which had already disappeared behind the front door, would hardly have answered your question.   

[June 30, 2020, 23:14, hunters' hq]

[10:59pm] You: We are going on a raid in an hour

[10:59pm] You: Megumi will text ya when he gets back

This message, like the previous ones, remained delivered but unread. Looking at it again, you went back to your routine. Books, lots of medical supplies, and more dry rations were what lay on the table. You and Kyle spread it all out into gym bags as compactly as possible, good thing you could carry twice as much into the void this time - thanks to your new apprentice.

Worries and doubts scrabbled at your mind as you put another packet of ibuprofen in your bag - did you tell Megumi everything you wanted to? Had you conveyed everything to him? Did he understand everything? The only thing you knew for sure was that you couldn't let him out of your sight. The first few times, at least.

You never missed an opportunity to remind the boy that if anything went wrong, he should run and not look back, and each time you said it aloud, you caught an increasingly annoyed look in his eyes. You believed that at the right moment, your words would play an annoying song in Megumi's head and he would do what you wanted him to do, even if it was against his own will. "Okay," Kyle pulled you out of your thoughts. "I got rid of most of the wardens, but others could come, be careful," he admonished you for the umpteenth time. "Remember they have been abused badly, more so than the others have ever told us, that's why they so afraid to come in contact. But I've prepared the ground," he poked you quietly with his shoulder. "Since Rachel took out three people, Issu will probably take out as many more, which means there will be at least two more in the hut," he wasn't discouraged, and you hummed in response.  "Well," Kyle began in between, seeing your state of mind. "He still hasn't called?"

"Busy, I guess," at this point you ratted yourself out, for your brother didn't even give a name.

"I bet," Kyle muttered, pressing the contents of the bag to make some more room. "Why is your face long?"

"Not long, but focused," you brushed it off.

"Yeah, as ya say. Ya've been frowning for over a week. Even if I can't see it, I can feel it. And he hasn't been here in all that time," even though Kyle didn't like Gojo, there was a touch of sympathy in his voice. "What happened between ya two?" 

"Nothing happened," you retorted. "And nothing's gonna happen," you added, softening. "He just... Dunno, he just got mad all of a sudden. Maybe it's because I don't tell him anything about me or what happened to me," you sighed sadly, your actions becoming slower and moodier.

Kyle was angry. You'd never told anyone anything, not even your loved ones, so where did Gojo get this idea of his uniqueness? "He'll get over it," he muttered. "If he doesn't, the hell with him. Let him cling to someone else." 

"Ya'd be happy to," you said, grinning slyly. Maybe there was truth to Kyle's words, but you couldn't wash away that sticky acrid feeling with water or soap. Gojo must have felt the same way then. You were both disappointed in you. "We forgot the sugar," you said, going through the supplies on the table. "I'll get it." 

At your brother's concerned look, you walked out of the workroom, went up the stairs and down the hallway. You were already a foot away from the fridge, only the sickening feeling of suddenly soaked socks made you cringe. "What the...," you squeaked, taking a step back.

There was water under the refrigerator. In spite of the puddle, you walked over to it and jerked open the door - not even a light bulb on. "Great," you mumbled to the empty room, and jerked the door back shut.

As if you didn't have enough troubles already, now you had to buy a new fridge. You liked it, though. It might be red, it might have daisies on it, but you were too used to it. "How much longer ya gonna look for sugar?" Kyle asked rhetorically, leaning against the doorjamb and watching you search the drawers for a rag. "Come on," he walked over to you, putting his arm around your shoulders to ward off all the fuss. Kyle glanced first at the refrigerator and then at the puddle that had spread beneath it. "That thing was barely hanging on. I'll walk ya out, and then I'll clean this place up."

Something was pressing against your shoulders. It clearly wasn't Kyle's hands. They might have looked massive, but everyone close to him knew how gentle the man could be.

The door creaked open on the second floor. "Please don't go," a pleading voice made your heart clench. "Ya're not ready yet, ya've had too little practice," came the sound of footsteps - some hurried, others hesitant.

Everything fell into place when the two persons finally came down - Megumi and Daniel. She grabbed his sleeve, asking him to stop, but he didn't even look in her direction. Yanking his arm out of her weak grip, he stood beside you. "Y/N," the girl pleaded. "Please tell him he's not ready."

"But I already told him he's coming with me today."

"W-what?" she asked in a stammering voice, looking at you as if you'd plunged a dagger under her ribs. "No-no-no," she shook her head desperately. "Why didn't ya ask me?"

You raised an eyebrow uncomprehendingly. "Should I have?" you asked indifferently. "If ya'd given him a chance to talk to ya once, maybe ya would have found out sooner."

"Don't ya fucking dare put the blame on me!" she shouted, and the outburst made the tears she'd been holding back roll down her cheeks. "Ya owed it to me to tell me!" her ringing voice began to break. "Ya took my mother away from me," she muttered. "Y-ya took my father from me," she continued to squeeze the words out of her through all the pain and hardship. "Now ya want him too?"

"Dany, not in public-"

"Not in public?!" she yelled. "He could die out there and all ya're worried about is me telling about your sins?" she laughed bitterly, wiping her wet face with her hands.

"Megumi, go to the workroom," you said softly, nudging him toward the exit. The boy hesitated a few steps and stopped, but you weren't looking at him.

"Now ya wanna take my boyfriend too," it wasn't a question anymore. It was a statement. A weak, quiet assertion.

"Dany, please calm down," Kyle gently tried to reassure her, cautiously stepping closer to her. "Megumi's gonna be fine-"

"Back off," she pulled away sharply from Kyle.

"Should I mention that he's no longer your boyfriend?" if there had been thread in the room, you would have sewn your mouth shut. There weren't, though. "You dumped him, remember?"

Danielle's rage didn't disappear - it just became as quiet as the girl's tears. "I hate ya," the words were almost impossible to hear, but you understood everything from her barely moving lips. "I hate ya so much that not even your death will make me love ya again."

Before she turned away from you, you saw the helpless anger in her eyes. You watched in a daze as she went up to the second floor on weak legs and then disappeared from sight. "Dany," Kyle called out to her, forcing you out of your stupor.

You quickly followed her upstairs and sighed as you realized you hadn't made it in time - the door to her room had already slammed shut. You banged on it with all your might. "Dany, open up!" instead of the usual words or silence, you were met with a ragged sob. You and Kyle looked over at each other anxiously. "Danielle!" you groaned again. "If you don't open it, I'm gonna kick the fucking door down!" you warned.

Your eyes blurred as her sobs subsided.

There was a rustle of sheets followed by quiet footsteps. The lock of the door clicked.

You were greeted by your loved one's face, but it was very different from the one you'd seen in the kitchen. No more anger, no more rage - just disheveled blond hair, red puffy eyelids, and grief. "Dany, I-"

You were interrupted by your own phone, and you almost whimpered in frustration. You glanced at the screen, and the evening's call from that person didn't bode well. It was Rachel.

"Answer it," she said weakly. "It must be very important," you didn't get a word out before she closed the door quietly in your face. Kyle turned the knob with a barely perceptible movement to leave a small gap.

You pressed the screen with force, and only a miracle saved it from cracking. "Speak," you snapped into the phone.

"Ah- H-hey," even if Rachel hadn't stuttered, you'd have realized she was drunk. "I can't re- relocate. I can't catch a cab either. Get me out of here," she whined.

"Okay, Kyle will pick you up-"

"No!" she yelled into the phone. "If ya don't get me out of there, I swear ya will be no longer my fucking sister," Rachel hissed.

"Rach, I've got a raid-"

"I'm supposed to care about that?" she hiccupped angrily. "Kyle always has to do everything for ya, doesn't he? Kyle this, Kyle that- Hey! Hey, asshole!," she was still yelling, but her voice was muffled. "Ya blind? No? Then maybe I'm nothing to ya?"

You and Kyle looked at each other grimly - even from here, your brother could hear the mayhem going on at the other end of the phone. The crack of wood, broken glass, shouts, muffled thuds - you squinted your eyes at every sound. "Hey," Rachel's voice was back to ringing, distinct and drunken. "Anyway, pick me up already. I rarely see ya, I feel like I don't even have a sister."

You didn't get a chance to ask where she was. Rachel just dropped the call. "What kinda day is this," you whispered in a broken, shaky whisper, rubbing your hot forehead with the palm of your hand, still staring at the phone screen.

Kyle wrapped his fingers around your chin, forcing you to look up at him. "Go," he ordered, trying to ignore your glistening eyes. "It's okay, just go get Rachel."

"But what about-"

"Today was supposed to be my shift anyway," he reminded you, hugging you. "Ya'll just go after me."

"Alright, then tell Megumi we'll be leaving in three days," you nodded briefly, snuggling up to him.

"Nah, he's waited long enough," he laughed. "I can't stand the even more sullen face he has now," feeling you clinging to his t-shirt, he tried to reassure you as best he could and knew how. He pulled you even tighter against him and burrowed into your hair. "It's been so long," he whispered. "It's high time ya learned to believe in us."

"Okay," you exhaled raggedly, unable to tear yourself away from your brother. "Take care of him. Take care of yourself, too. Please," the glimpse of black streaks creeping up your fingers made you pull away from him. Kyle kissed your forehead briefly, but you felt his lips linger on your skin a little longer than usual.

You took a couple steps away from him, and after taking another look at him, you turned around and headed for the stairs. "Y/N?" he called out to you.

You were so expecting it that you turned to him again without thinking. "Yes?" you asked with hope in your voice.

He winked slyly. "See ya," he waved goodbye, and you caught the glint of his silver bracelet.

"See ya," you giggled, waving back at him.  

As you walked away, you tried to keep a confident gait, but some thing pressed on your shoulders again.

Half the bar was trashed, no customers, only one redheaded girl sitting on a stool with her head on the table, either asleep or unconscious. After leaving Kyle, you called her a dozen times, and on the millionth call, you were swearing at everyone and everything. After you'd gotten her on the phone through your despair, you'd gotten her address, and there you were, standing there, among the shards of mugs and chips from tables and chairs.

Under the wary gaze of the man in the black shirt, you walked over to Rachel and shook her by the shoulder. She mumbled inarticulately. "Do you know her?" he asked sternly.

"Yeah," you replied indifferently, still trying to rouse your sister.

"All right," said the manager. "Then I'm calling the police," he informed.

"Please don't get the police," you begged resignedly. "I'll pay for everything, just... Really, let's not do that. I'll leave you a phone number," you said, picking up one of the surviving napkins from the table and turning around to face the man. "Do you have a pen?"

He looked at you incredulously from head to toe, but your earrings seemed to convince him. He handed you a pen, and you quickly wrote your number on a napkin. "Here," you held out the phone number to him. "You can check it out."

Done. He dialed the number you had written, and your phone rang. "I'll send you the bill," the manager said formally. "Now get her out of here before she trashes the surviving half of the bar."

"Yeah, just...," you swallowed uncertainly. "I'll just bring her to her senses," the manager nodded, but didn't move. When you looked at your sister again, rage came over you, but remembering that you were in a public place, you immediately nipped it in the bud.

Grabbing Rachel by the scruff of her neck, you dragged her into the restroom. She struggled sluggishly and mumbled something, but you paid no attention. Kicking open the door, you tossed her right into the sink. "Did ya have fun, bitch?" with helplessness, your voice started to break again. You opened the faucet, and to your delight, ice-cold water came out of it.

You held Rachel's hair with your hand and tried to keep her head close to the stream, otherwise she'd just slide to the floor; with your other hand you scooped up the water and smeared it right over her drunken red face. "Do ya even remember ya have a son? Why aren't ya at his place?" you began to gasp along with her - she from the water, you from despair.

"I can't see him-" she stammered and choked, and you wondered if it was really the alcohol, the water, or her own words. "I-I'm gonna throw up," she practically forced the words out of her, choking on the water.

Whimpering, you pulled her hair and dragged her straight to the toilet stall. As soon as her head was bent over the toilet, everything started coming out of her. She coughed and spit, and you held her unruly hair back, even though the only thing you wanted to do right now was drown her in her own vomit. "Are ya having fun now? Do ya like living like this?"

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, and the sounds of vomiting were heard again. "I... I won't do it again."

You bit your lip, almost tearing it off - how many times had you heard those words, and there was no truth to them, like wandering through a dark forest without a light, looking for a path. It was the same thing over and over again. "Wait here," you said, not sure why - she couldn't have disappeared in her condition.

Leaping out of the restroom and grabbing the first whole glass you could find, you went back in and filled it with water. "Drink," you commanded, shoving the glass under your sister's nose.

"I don't wanna," she tried to push your hand away weakly.

"I said drink," you grabbed her hair again, forcing her face up. As the water poured into her open mouth, Rachel leaned over the toilet again, choking.

They didn't want to leave you alone, the ringing of the phone hit your ears again, making you grit your teeth. "Speak."

"Young lady, what kinda tone is that?" resented Frank. Your insides dropped as you felt Rachel was about to throw up again.

"Sorry, Frank, I didn't see who was calling," you said absently, turning away and putting the receiver away from the source of the noise. "Look, lemme call ya back in an hour, 'kay? We're just at the bar with Rachel, it's not really convenient to talk right now."

"One hour," the man snorted angrily and hung up.

"Thanks," Rach mumbled and as you watched this, you slid down the wall, falling to the cold tile. Looking at her sweaty face and the wet red strands sticking to it, you were furious that you couldn't do anything about it. But if you couldn't do anything about it, then why were you even bothering with it? "I kinda feel better," she mumbled more clearly already, wiping her lips. "Let's go home."

Sighing, you grabbed her under the armpits, forcing her to stand. Rachel leaned on you like a personal prop, and you waddled away from the bar to the judgmental stares. When you reached the alley, you pulled your sister tighter against you.

"Relocate."  

You fell onto the soft bed in your sister's room just as you'd been in the alley a second ago - tired, in dirty clothes and shoes. When you sensed something wrong, you moved Rach to the edge of the bed and rolled her onto her side, and went to the bathroom to get a basin, pour some water into a glass, and grab some micellar water.

Before Rachel threw up again, you managed to put the basin on the floor. Putting everything else on the nightstand, you began to undress her. Clumsily pulling off her sneakers, you couldn't lift her torso to pull down her pants. "Help me already," you groaned, tugging at her legs.

Grumbling to herself, Rachel lifted her hips, and you yanked off her jeans with. You realized you didn't have the energy for outerwear - let her sleep like that. Rach was still stirring restlessly, apparently never having fallen into slumber.

You sat down next to her, and after soaking a cotton ball in micellar water, you began to wash off her makeup. "Ya mad?" she asked weakly.

"Not really," you lied, trying not to take the anger out on her face.

You were smearing mascara and eyeliner all over her cheeks, and no one really knew how much absorbent cotton and micellar water it took you to wash it all off. Rachel was already breathing normally, though she was lying in an uncomfortable position - her right arm oddly bent over her face. But she seemed to be asleep.

You rolled her onto her side again, and praying that she would stay that way until morning and not choke on her own vomit, tried to crawl quietly off the bed. "Don't go," she begged quietly, grabbing at your sweater. "Lie with me for a while."

"Okay," you gave in to her helpless pleas and gently lay down on the other side of the bed.

Who knows how much strength it took for her to turn around to face you? "I miss ya," she sobbed.

You realized she wasn't talking to you at all. "I know. Go back to sleep."

There was nothing left in the room but your breathing. As she fell asleep, you knew that tomorrow Rachel would have a headache, and she would snap at everyone she met. You watched her face sink deeper and deeper into the pillow, her occasional smacking of her lips, her frown, and reassured yourself that maybe she was dreaming something good this time.

The warning signs were scattered around the kitchen. To be more precise, they were sitting there. Director Yaga stared in amazement at you coming down from the second floor, for he had been informed of your absence. "Mr. Director," you greeted him in a surprised but tired manner, glancing around at the others. There was Shoko, standing at the open window, blowing cigarette smoke, Yuji, who didn't look up from his desk, and Megumi, who had finally returned, alive and well. "Back?" you asked the boy, grinning approvingly. "Good. Go rest."

You probably said it to yourself - you were barely thinking. Automatically shuffling your feet, you headed for the workshop. "Y/N," a distressed voice stopped you.

Your face contorted instantly. Your eyes squeezed shut on their own and your lips pressed into a thin line against your will. 'Don't ya do this to me,' you begged silently someone who wasn't in this room.

Wiping the pain from your face with your hand, you took the only acceptable emotion you could muster. Benevolence. You turned around, and walking over to the table and standing in front of Megumi, you continued to pretend that everything was fine. "What is it?"

You refused to see the fear in Itadori's eyes, but you couldn't help but notice the fear in the black-haired boy's young features. Maybe if you hadn't looked so straight ahead, maybe if you'd known to look away, you wouldn't have seen the guilt.

Megumi refused to look you in the eyes - he was drilling a point near your neck, hiding his hands under the table. "I...," he began, but a gasp knotted his throat, and he clenched his teeth with such force that his tense jaw showed through his skin. "I'm... I'm- I'm so sorry," let it be his words - he was holding it together just fine, unlike Itadori. As soon as Megumi finished speaking, tears began to stream down Yuji's cheeks. It felt like molten metal had been poured into your lungs instead of air. It filled you from the inside out, rising higher and higher, coming up to your throat. "It's my fault," he admitted, reaching his hand out from under the table and handing you a silver bracelet.

You wanted to ask the boy a stupid but sincere question - whose bracelet was it? But as soon as you took it in your hand, you already knew the answer, for the size of the jewelry left no doubt as to who had once owned it.

"What...," you stammered, feeling the jewelry in your hands. It was warm, almost hot - apparently, Megumi had warmed it in his hands for a long time. "What happened?"

"Jonah brought more people to evacuate," the boy began in a trembling voice. "Kyle said we couldn't get everyone out at once. I insisted, though. I promised them I'd get them out," his eyes finally glistened, but not a single tear still fell. "I said I could take them out, but Kyle warned me that I couldn't take out six at a time. Then the people started... Th-they... They begged, begged me to take them out right now...," he sobbed, pressing himself harder against the back of the chair and lowering his gaze, hiding his face in his hand. "I convinced Kyle that I could do it. I really felt it," the boy pleaded, raising wet eyes to you. "He went to walk us to the rift, except...," he breathed intermittently and shallowly, swallowing thick saliva. "When we were close to the rift, it turned out they weren't people at all," he looked up at you, making sure you understood what he meant. "I wanted to stay, but he pushed me away, and I think I ripped it off him at that point," he glanced at the bracelet in your hands, licking his chapped lips. "First he pushed me away, then relocated me closer to the rift, and then I think he relocate himself, but...," stingy tears spilled from his eyes like begging atonement. "Before I went in, I turned around. They- They torn him ap-"

"I got it," you interrupted without listening to the rest of the story.

It was as if all the water had evaporated from your body - it was so dry it was hard to move your limbs, your eyes refused to blink, saliva pooled in your mouth as if you'd lost all your basic reflexes. "There's nothing ya can do now. Go to bed," you said blankly. Your gaze fell on the pack of cigarettes that was peering through the white robe of Shoko, who had approached you. Ieiri silently reached into the pocket, pulled out a cigarette and held it out to you, paired with a lighter. "Thanks."

It was a long walk to the window, for the floor underfoot was not parquet, but viscous glue. The phone rang for the umpteenth time, but you weren't angry or annoyed. You didn't care. That's what you thought, until you saw the name of the caller.

It was Frank.

You took a cigarette in your teeth and lit it, but you hesitated before answering the phone, your numb hands deliberately delaying the moment. The phone screen went out, but immediately lit up again. "Hey, Frank."

"It's been well over an hour," he sighed. "If ya can't call me back, at least send me a text so I don't worry-"

"Frank."

"Don't interrupt me, that's not what I taught ya," he frowned, reminding you of childhood admonitions. "How's Rachel doing? Have ya been watching her?"

"Frank," you tried again.

"Did she drink a lot?" the agitated man persisted. "She did something wrong, didn't she?"

"Frank!" you shouted into the phone. The silence was so empty and impersonal, only the waves crashing against the rocks reminded you what kind of world you were in. You took a puff for the first time in a long time. Your head was spinning, but you remained standing at the open panoramic window. "Kyle, he's... He's dead."

When you said it aloud, you brought it to life, bringing chaos not only to your soul, but to the souls of others as well. There was a long silence, and the sound of the waves began to subside along with the beating of the heart. It would have been better if Frank had never spoken, for instead of his words you heard only something mechanical, and the ringing in your ears made it impossible to make out what was said - past, future, anguish, joys, sorrows and moments of happiness - all merged together and seemed to sink into the bay before your eyes.

You threw away the burnt cigarette and pulled the silver bracelet out of your pocket; it was cool as it lost its warmth. There was no blood on it, no pieces of skin. You put it to your lips, hoping to feel Kyle again. It was no use. The jewelry gave off only your warmth.

You didn't immediately realize that Frank had gone silent. 'Yeah, okay,' you said on automatic. You seemed to hear the words 'Hopetown', 'funeral', 'two days'. Were 'two days' accurate? Did Frank say three? Did he say anything at all?

Before you could come to your senses and have time to ask again, Frank hung up. "Y/N," Principal Yaga's worried voice came from behind you. "Is there anything we can do for you?"

You lost your brother, and you are unlikely to ever see again those people who were first gifted with hope and then left in the void. "Yeah," you replied coldly, turning to look at those present. You were still desperately pressing the jewelry to your lips. "Your job."

Seeing the principal nod briefly, you walked past heading for the workroom, throwing all Kyle's hopes, plans, dreams, and silver bracelet into the trashcan.  

next ⊳

[thiniceofeternalyouth]

MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER TEN

MY BEST FRIEND

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, sci-fi, cosmology.

Words count: ~12k

⊲ previous

You'd been in the hot water so long that all the skin on your fingers had shriveled to look like old one, and even afterward you still felt haunted by that cold - your body shuddered every now and then.

Even though you'd asked Frank for a bunch of hygiene supplies, you'd only used shampoo and body wash because when you looked at your body and saw a bunch of small sores, you involuntarily swallowed, putting the scrub jar away.

Refusing to look at yourself in the mirror, you quickly pulled on clean clothes and grumbled grudgingly - you wanted something more substantial than a plain T-shirt. You opened the door ajar. "Frank," you shouted into the emptiness of the big house. "Where's your sweater?"

The rattle of tableware could be heard from downstairs. "What sweater?" he echoed your shout.

"Ya know, the white one that still survived the Paleozoic," your head was already fully out from behind the door, and you froze waiting for an answer.

An imposing figure appeared on the stairs. "Be quiet," the man hushed you. "Ya'll wake the kids."

"I'm sorry," you whispered in a panic. "So where am I supposed to find a sweater?"

"It's got more holes in it than threads," Frank said clearly angered by your choice of clothing.

You shrugged naively. "It's warm, though."

"I'll look for it," he patted you on the head. The hand was so heavy that you almost hit the floor. "Ya go on downstairs. I made some food."

Your stomach didn't rumble at the mention of food. Instead, it felt like a sticky, thick mass in your chest that you wanted to spit out. "Okay," you said swallowing hard.

When you went down to the kitchen, something delicious was waiting for you - a plate of creamy pasta and chicken, and a bowl of fresh vegetables next to it. As you sat down in front of the food, you felt incredibly stuffy. You put the blame for the overheated air on the stove, which still hadn't cooled down.

All you did was wrap spaghetti around your fork and unroll it, and if you were younger, you would have gotten a thousand reprimands for playing with meal. For the first time in your life, you could barely eat.

After the void, it was like this. Even in the same silence, there was room for background noise - all the ringing, beeping, rustling. You wanted to tell everyone what you'd found or to lock yourself in your room and never come out - at least not until the thoughts in your head was quieter.

You threw your fork into the plate disappointedly, and it clattered with such a clang that you involuntarily squeezed your eyes shut. The insistent rumbling sound was impossible to push away, and it only tightened the nauseous knot in your throat more. "... here?" someone's voice, like spokes, began to unravel the tangle of ringing thoughts. You jumped up before someone's hand was on your shoulder. 

Dany stood in front of you - all skinny and frightened. "Ya here?" she asked quietly, barely moving her lips. Her glistening gaze darted around haphazardly, scrutinizing your face as if trying to search for the truth. "It's really ya, isn't it?"

"Hey, bun," you said smiling involuntarily, and with all your remaining strength, you pulled the girl against you. Her gaunt figure responded easily to your actions - she collapsed helplessly in your embrace. "It's me."

Under her weight, your legs began to give way and shake. Holding Danielle by the waist, you pulled her to a chair and sat down beside her. She sat glaring at the table, but you noticed that she occasionally glanced at your plate. "Ya hungry?"

Danielle nodded uncertainly. "Just a little."

You rose from your seat. "Then wait a minute...," you were cut off at half a word by the squeak of a plate against the countertop. You stared in utter amazement at Dany who was already shoving a second forkful of pasta into her mouth. "Have ya not been fed here at all?" you blurted out dumbfounded, looking at her sudden appetite. "Uh, no, wait a minute...," you scratched your forehead thoughtfully, putting the mosaic together in your head. "What are ya even doing here?"

"Couldn't be in that house anymore," Danielle's voice was already weak, but her mouthful of food made it almost impossible to make out the words at all.

"Something wrong?" you alarmed.

You don't think you've ever seen that shade of red on her face before, though you've seen her embarrassed or flustered more than once. "Are ya kidding me?" she snapped angrily, throwing her fork on the table - the force she exerted caused it to fly off into the far corner of the kitchen. "Ya just disappeared!"

"Dany, but I'm back..." you started softly and reached out to her trying to wrap your arms around her shoulders.

Danielle straightened up sharply and pulled away avoiding your touch. "This isn't about ya right now!" she shouted. "I couldn't even breathe properly in that house, I-I broke up with Megumi because of it, I thought...," she sobbed and went silent for a second trying to quiet the growing pain in her throat. "I thought this would happen to me at some point too, I'd just disappear even though someone would wait for me," the girl mechanically began to shake her head from side to side as if denying everything that could happen to her.

You were taken aback by this outburst of emotion, and you blinked your eyes in confusion and tried to touch her again. "It's okay," you said quietly, wiping away a tear that had appeared on Dany's cheek. "Maybe it wasn't like that yesterday, but it's fine now. What did ya...," you fell silent for a second, rubbing your temple as if that might take away the approaching headache. "Ahem, what did ya say about Megumi? Did ya two really break up?"

"I didn't want the same fate for him," Danielle mumbled taking your hand away from her face - this time her movement was neither angry nor wary. Quite the opposite, she squeezed your palm in hers. "So... It'll be easier for both if us."

"Dany, if ya just don't like him anymore, that's one thing," you said smirking slightly.

"It's not like that!" she blurted out indignantly, and if her eagerness had been a fraction stronger, there was a chance your palm in her hand would have crunched. "I already explained that!"

"I don't doubt ya had noble goals in mind," you said nodding meaningfully. "But don't ya think it should be up to the two of ya to decide?" exhaling noisily through her nose, Dany frowned. "It's not like I even asked about it, though," you pointed out reasonably. "He agreed to break up with ya?"

Danielle faltered. "I, uh... I just confronted him with the accomplished fact."

"So mature of ya," you patted her hand condescendingly while smiling broadly - and even though Dany couldn't see it, she could clearly sense it in your voice.

"Everything's a joke to ya, isn't it?" she hissed, jumping up from her seat. "Though what was I even counting on?" she asked, grinning bitterly. "I doubt ya'll ever understand me. Ya and the topic of relationships are... well, ya know. Incompatible," she waved her hand disappointedly leaving your dialog behind and headed for the second floor.

You would have called out to her if it hadn't been for a impudent misunderstanding between you two. What upset her so much? What did you say wrong?

In this blind journey, the feelings of one person never reached the feelings of the other. All the words got lost and dissolved - you were silent. You were silent and watched her disappear into the darkness of the second floor.

"Ahem," Frank coughed pointedly, coming down the stairs just after Danielle left. "Here ya go," he said, holding out his old sweater to you.

You frantically pulled the sweater over you, catching your breath. Once your head was through the collar, you exhaled disappointedly. "Ya heard everything, didn't ya?"

"Not on purpose," Frank replied idly, picking up his fork from the floor. "Young lady, is this how I taught ya to act around food?" he said, turning his attention to the plate in which the disheveled spaghetti rested.

"I'm sorry," you pressed your lips together guiltily. "I didn't feel like I can eat anything, and Dany... Well, she just didn't finish it."

"Ya need to go to the doc. We’re leaving," Frank sternly retorted.

"Frank, it's late and-"

"I said we’re leaving!" he bellowed, slamming his fist down on the table - the tabletop was clearly not ready for such a thing. There was a pitiful cracking sound. You bit your tongue and your eyes widened for a moment - if you'd ever seen Frank like that, it was so long ago that you couldn't even remember.

"Frank, I'm fine," you said, choosing your words carefully. "I'll go see him tomorrow morning, 'kay?"

"Why in the morning?" he said warily, pushing back a chair and gesturing for you to sit down - the sweep of his hand somehow looked like an invitation to an execution.

After hesitating, you walked over and sat down - as instructed. "There's something I need to do. I don't think I can eat or even just sit still until I do."

"What exactly?"

"I really need to see the higher-ups," trepidation turned your voice into a squeak and you coughed, embarrassed at what you heard.

"Why?" Frank tapped his fingers harshly on the damaged tabletop.

You faltered, staring at your lap. "I want to see if there's someone else among them," you said so quietly that Frank could only understand your words when he read your lips.

"What?" he interrogated incredulously. "Ya really think there could have been some trash among them?"

"Yeah, I think so," you replied firmly. "Though no, I'm not sure. Not all the way through. It's just that I think so. God," you buried your face tiredly in the palm of your hand. "That's exactly why I want to check."

Frank was dumbfounded, for nothing like this had ever happened before in his memory, nor in the stories of his father and grandfather. "No, ya can't do that," he objected. "Think about it," noticing your skeptical expression, Frank switched to a conspiratorial whisper. "Ya can't just barge in and test them like that. What if the demon isn't among them? What if one of them die in the process? There'll be tons of witnesses that ya did it, and ya have to realize what'll happen. And even if ya do find a demon among them, what then? At best, ya'll have to fight it, and look at ya!" he said indignantly, grabbing your skinny hand. "And if ya're unlucky, ya'll just scare the bugger away. No, ya can't do that," he shook his head. "We have to be smarter, more cunning. Fish them out one at a time and check them out. If one doesn't make it and still dies, there'll be no witnesses.  I'll give ya an alibi. Ya were at my place tending the roses," he squeezed your palm gently. "Yeah, tending roses," the man nodded confidently. "To check on everyone, ya need to recover, though, so we're going to the dock. No arguments."

"I guess ya're right," you mumbled guiltily, then bit the inside of your cheeks for a moment - all out of frustration. "I'm just... I'm just in a hurry."

Frank ruffled your hair, smiling cordially. "What did I teach ya? It's just like eating, isn't it? If ya hurry, ya'll get indigestion," he said, standing up and putting the plate of pasta in the sink. "Besides...," he began tautly after a brief pause; the sound of the plate clattering against metal sent shivers down your spine. Since when did that sound become so creepy? "Food is supposed to be enjoyed."

You glimpsed the man, his face shrouded in shadows for a moment. "Frank," you began mundanely. "Ya said we goingto the doc? Ya going with me?

The shadows immediately dispersed as if by obedience to a lighted lantern. "Sure!" he exclaimed resolutely. "I must see to it myself."

"It's not like I'm a kindergartener," you whined.

Frank hummed skeptically and protractedly. "Maybe not, but to me ya're still a little pain in the ass."

You continued to whine. "I'll get there myself!" 

"No bickering," Frank ordered confidently but gently, raising his palm in the air - you were immediately silenced.

"Fine," you frowned, pouting your lips. "But can we still go in the morning? I'm too tired right now," you muttered, getting up from your chair, but only to get to the couch and flop down on it. "Can't we at least watch something?" you hissed angrily, waving your hand toward the TV. "Some stupid show, movie or series, whatever. I just really miss TV."

Frank sat down next to you. "Certainly we can," he said, turning on the TV.

Pictures appeared on the screen. Bright juicy images that made your eyes water, but you were glad of that because the color purple hadn't given you anything but a migraine in a long time. Frank switched channels until you saw something that looked interesting and watchable.

You settled down and stretched out on the couch to your full height, throwing your legs unceremoniously over Frank's lap. All your attention was on what was happening on the screen, so you didn't even notice how Frank smiled at first, and then, noticing the calluses and sores on your feet, swallowed worriedly. "Aren't ya expecting anyone?" you suddenly blurted out your question, shifting your gaze to the door.

Frank, taken aback, shook his head. "No," he drawled hesitantly. "I'm not expecting anyone. What's the matter?"

You glared at the door for a few more moments. "No, nothing," you muttered quietly, returning your attention to the television. "How long ago did Dany and Megumi break up?" you asked, gently poking the man's stomach with your foot.

He immediately exhaled sharply and irritably as if he'd been waiting for you to ask that question. "As soon as she moved here!" he spat out, clapping his hands. "This boy comes here almost every week to talk to her, and she doesn't even leave the room. She can't even tell me what's troubling her! Her wording is so vague... I just want to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she comes to her senses!" he slapped your leg with heat, and you hissed involuntarily. "Sorry!"

"It's okay," you said, though it felt like an electric shock was still shooting through your leg. "I'll try to talk to her, though ya heard it yourself... Maybe Kyle should be the one to ask. He's good at, well, uh, how to put it..."

"Support people?" finished the man for you.

"Yeah," you nodded. "Sorta."

"Yeah, he came by already, tried to," he waved his hand irritably. "It's like she can't hear anyone."

"We have to get her out of this state," you declared, fidgeting restlessly. "I don't want her to do anything stupid."

Frank squinted suspiciously, looking at you. "What kinda stupid thing is that?" you looked at him meaningfully, pursing your lips. "No," he said with a huff. "She wouldn't dare."

"She's a teenager," you remarked, sitting up and tucking your legs under you. "Teenagers have a rough time of it. First and most often unrequited love, adjustment, successful or not-so-successful socialization, misunderstanding from parents who devalue their problems-"

"Ya'll have to excuse me, but most of the time teenagers don't have real problems," Frank said, but noticing your nostrils starting to flare, added: "I said most of the time. Not always."

"Everyone judges the depth of a puddle based on their own height," you subdued the man with a look. "And they haven't grown up yet. They may brush it off or laugh about it in a dozen years, but right now it's a real problem for them," you burrowed deeper into the collar of your sweater as if hiding. "And it's all just about ordinary life. Now imagine what life is like for Dany in our world."     

"So maybe we should let her go?" suggested Frank quietly.

"That's for her to decide. And anyway, she has no mother or father left, where are we gonna let her go?" you objected. "I'll still try to talk to her again after a while. No, I'll at least try to get her out of the room first, and then I'll see how it goes."

Frank glanced over his shoulder, straight for the stairs. Nothing was heard - no fuss, no footsteps. "All right," he said. "But after what ya said, it makes me wanna take the door off its hinges in her room now."

"Ya're supposed to be improving her condition, not making it worse," you muttered unhappily.

Frank, to signify his defenselessness, threw up his hands. "I said what I wanted to do, not that I was really gonna do it."

Without answering anything, you were running through your head thinking that you wouldn't have taken the door off its hinges. You would have just installed cameras. At Frank's questioning look, you slapped yourself on the forehead for allowing such an idea. Frank hummed longingly as if your entire chain of reasoning was right there in plain sight and he'd followed it. "We're not gonna do anything like that!" you protested, jumping up on the spot.

"Honey, ya okay?" the man asked worriedly, grabbing your shoulder and bringing you back to your original position.

"Yeah, yeah," you nonchalantly waved it off, leaning back on the back of the couch. "Look, but guys... I mean, Kyle, Rachel, and Issu, they... they went on without me, right?"

"Sure," Frank confirmed, squeezing your shoulder. "They're responsible persons," you felt light. No doubt you'd felt it before, whether it was your lean body or your home surroundings, but this was a different feeling. Not lightness. Relief. Frank noticed the wrinkles in your forehead finally relax. "What is it?"

"Frank, I found a settlement."

The man, startled by what he heard, gave an amazed gasp. You felt a large hand scoop you up, and all you had time to do before you were pinned to his chest was squeak. "Oh," Frank chuckled nervously. "The darkest hour is nearest the dawn, yeah?"

Frank stroked your hair and seemed to be saying how good you were - the lack of oxygen in his arms made you dizzy, and you couldn't tell if he was saying it or if you were just imagining it. It felt good, though. "Uh-huh," you muffled out.

When the man finally loosened his grip a little, you were able to take a few full breaths and come to your senses. Your gaze automatically drifted to the front door again. "The fuck is this," you cursed, getting up from your seat. In one motion, you were at the door and opened it with a jerk. No one.

You ran out onto the porch, looking around - no one was lurking behind any bush or tree. You rushed out to the backyard. Still in your right mind and sneaking carefully between the beds so as not to damage anything, you hung over the low wooden fence and looked down - the path that led to your house was indeed someone running. Someone small and thin, probably a child. The last thing you saw before the child finally ran down the hill and disappeared behind the other house was something glinting on his hand.

"Who's there?" shouted Frank, standing at the beginning of the beds.

You looked once more at the house behind which the unknown guest had hidden. There was nothing to be seen. "I have no clue," you said, still keeping your eyes on that house and hoping someone would show up. "It looks like it was a kid."

Frank, resting his arms at his sides, snorted. "What kinda kid walks this late?" waiting a little while for you to level with him, he strode beside you back into the house. "Okay, ya stay here and I'll go and go around to everyone," he said, stepping over the threshold - only to grab his jacket. "Maybe one of the adults didn't look out. It's no case for a child to be out alone so late. Even in Hopetown," Frank kissed you on the top of the head and left you alone with the show on TV.

***

The series was interesting. You didn't even notice the morning had come when you were watching people who had survived a plane crash trying to survive on an island far away from civilization. Frank, who had returned in the middle of the night, had fallen asleep on the couch where you were sitting, muttering quietly to himself that no one had lost anyone.

The man slept so soundly that he was not disturbed by the birds whose beautiful singing in the morning seemed annoying, nor by the sound of the alarm clock on his phone, which pissed you off more. "Frank, turn it off," you muttered, but he didn't respond. You kicked him defiantly in the thigh, and only then did he perk up, jabbed something randomly at the phone screen, and his head fell back against the pillow. "Frank, the geese won't feed themselves," you said, climbing up and sitting down on the back of the couch. "Get up, ya sloth!" planting your feet on his back, you attempted to shove him off the couch. The man's body wouldn't budge, and the alarm clock rang again.

You were distracted from the action by a thin voice. "Y/N-ie?" there was Tris on the far step, clutching a tattered stuffed cat. Frank jumped up on the spot, and you tightened your lips skeptically - a tank shot wouldn't have woken him up, but a child's voice brought him to his senses.

"Ya woke her," you hissed, jumping off the couch. You walked over to Tris and squatted down in front of her. "Hey," as soon as you reached for her, she immediately pulled away and almost tripped on the step. "What's wrong?" you worried, frowning your eyebrows.

"You're ugly," the girl stared at you with frightened eyes and clutched the toy harder to her chest. "Don't touch me."

You opened your mouth, but closed it again. "She's not ugly," said Frank, scooping Tris up in his arms. "She just hasn't been eating enough. Now do ya see what happens to people who don't eat enough?" he questioned instructively, walking over to the fridge.

You should have spent more time with her. She rarely saw you, and this time you came home looking like that. You knew exactly why she'd acted the way she did, but you couldn't help the pang of annoyance.

You walked over to her, sitting meekly on Frank's arm and examining the contents of the refrigerator with him, and immediately intercepted the little girl - she immediately started kicking and squealing. "Let go! I don't wanna!"

You pulled her against you, ignoring the childish but precise blows of small fists against your body. "It's me, it's just me," you babbled, never losing your grip, though you cringed every time a fist hit your bulging spine. "That's me. Bun, look at me," just hearing the nickname startled Tris. She frowned at you, and though she still didn't trust you, she stopped whipping you.

"You used to come more often," tears could be heard in her voice. "Why did you stop coming? Y-you don't love me anymore?"

"What?" you blurted out in confusion. "No, no, of course not. I just got worked up. I'm sorry," you said, pulling her tighter against you.

If her tears had been silent before, now she burst into sobs. "S-so you love work more?"

"No, no, don't say that. I love you equally," came the clank of a plate and Frank turned around and looked at you so fiercely that you immediately realized your mistake. "That's not what I meant to say! Of course I love ya more. It's just... I need to make some money," you said quietly, shielding Tris from any other more detailed explanations as to why you were doing this.

Frank rustled the kitchen utensils harder, drawing attention to himself. "Honey," he addressed Tris, though you both raised your heads. "What do ya want for breakfast?"

Tris sniffed weakly through her reddened nose. "Omelet with cheese," she said quietly, and snuggled into your neck again.

Frank's phone rang again - you snorted irritably, thinking it was another alarm clock, but to your surprise, he tapped the screen and put the phone to his ear. Who's calling him this early? "Yes," he said into the receiver. "Yeah, she's here," he answered monosyllabically, giving you a glimpse. "Yeah, I got it," he dropped the call and stared dumbly at the screen for a few more seconds. Coughing, Frank slowly walked over to you. "Higher-ups are calling."

For some reason now, thinking about last night's strange guest made your insides boil - just like the water in a kettle, only this one had an automatic shutoff, but your insides continued to seethe. "What the hell?" you whispered angrily, looking up at the puzzled Frank.

As you walked along the tired road, ignoring the streetlights that had been there for a hundred years, you kept thinking about that child. Had they really fallen so low as to ask the child to watch you and, more importantly, what had the higher-ups offered them? Or did they take advantage of the little man's unselfishness?

The snow had melted and the masonry was still covered with fallen autumn leaves. Had it occurred to any of them to pick up a broom and clean up the mess? Out of frustration, you tried to kick one such leaf - it mockingly flew aside, and you almost fell. "Careful," Frank said, grabbing you under the arm.

Despite your condition, you tried to keep your posture as straight and your head as high as possible, even though it made you uncomfortable. As soon as you were distracted for a second, your body folded in on itself and your head fell back. "Did ya tell them?" you asked, realizing the absurdity of your question.

"No."

"I had to ask."

"I know," Frank said understandingly.

No matter how much you walked, it was as if the wide wooden doors were never coming closer. "Was it a good idea to leave Tris and Mike with Danielle?"

"I'm not sure," the man shook his head sadly. "But I couldn't send ya alone, either. And Danielle... Maybe she'll be distracted for at least an hour, who knows."

"Or maybe she needs some peace and quiet right now and we've only made things worse," you put forward a disappointing suggestion.

Frank's face turned stern, which foreshadowed the grumbling. "That's it, enough. We can't keep up everywhere and always do everything right."

"Is this about your cheese omelet?" you giggled.

Frank immediately exploded. "I did everything right!" he thundered. "Why didn't she like it?"

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a sly smile. "Tris told me that Gojo's was better," though Frank's face was covered by a thick mustache and beard, you could see that his face was turning red, and the increasing wheezing could be picked up even by a hearing impaired person. "Don't be so jealous," you encouraged him, shoving him lightly with your shoulder.

"Let your man cook for her now, then," he muttered unhappily.

You didn't blush, you didn't flinch or swallow your tongue - it all sounded like one big joke to you. "He's not my man," you dismissed.

The door seemed closer and closer. It was only three lanterns away. "For how long?" snorted Frank. "He even took Shaya's-"

"That's it, I'm going," you cut him off halfway through.

The man froze in place, and you stopped abruptly with him, for Frank still held you under his arm. "What does that mean? I'm coming with ya."

"No," you objected softly. "Just in case, I need ya out of the area of potential danger."

Frank jerked you to stand in front of him - he stared into your eyes, trying to find your plans in them. "I told ya not to do anything rash."

You squeezed his hand gently. "I won't. Just being reassuring."

He squeezed your palm in response. "Fine, but I'm gonna stand here. One more thing - if ya're not back in ten minutes, I'm coming after ya."

You giggled, childishly and shyly nodding. "Okay."

Without looking back, you made it the rest of the distance to the door much faster than you'd expected, and what surprised you even more was that it was closed. You leaned your forehead against the wooden surface - of course you would have liked to kick the door with your foot to secure your long-held opinion of yourself, but you could do nothing more than push. The door gave way with great difficulty, shuffling and scratching the floor - not for a moment did you feel as if you were moving a mountain, for you had done your best, and it had hardly moved an inch or two.

You pushed again, and the door gave way as easily as if it weighed nothing - it flew off with a bang, causing you to slam face down on the floor. "Eh...," you mumbled. There was no blood - but the sharp sensation in the bridge of your nose made you start to sniffle. You raised your head - five pairs of eyes were staring at you. All of them. "Howdy," you muttered, rising to your feet and shaking yourself off. "Couldn't ya open it?" you asked grudgingly, pointing behind you. "It's heavy."

Christian glanced at you from head to toe, slowly stroking his chin. Only Nathaniel greeted you with a nod of his head. Old Ellie sat next to him. You could see through the magnifying lenses of her glasses that her eyes were slipping shut. A couple, a man and a woman, who didn't even glance in your direction, but only continued to talk quietly about something, occupied the remaining two chairs on Christian's left hand. "Ooh," you drawled contentedly. "Even the married ones are here. Ravona, Yoichi, hey," you waved at them, and the woman finally graced you with a glance. You chuckled quietly as she raised her eyebrows haughtily and went back to cooing with her husband. "What can I do for ya?" you turned to Christian obligingly.

"A cockroach, indeed," Christian said absently, and he was no longer looking at you, but through you. "You came back last night."

"Yes-"

"It wasn't a question," Christian said, flailing his palm lightly in the air. "You should have come here right away," you bit your cheeks and lowered your head sharply, all because you felt a growing anger – like the anger a child feels when a parent scolds him for something as trivial as that. "You're aware of that, too, so you're not being as cheeky as you usually are."

"Yeah I just wanted to take a bath and rest for a while," you blurted out, splashing your hands dramatically at the injustice. "What's wrong with that?"

Christian barely audibly clucked his tongue. "People could have gotten hurt 'cause of your cravings," he stated, rising from his seat and carefully picking up the clerical shears from the stand with his fingers. "You know the terms under which we agreed to maintain neutrality, so if you'd be so kind...," he stepped close to you - so close that you could smell his breath mixed with the scent of minty mouthwash. "Hold still."

Christian raised one arm, the loose shiny fabric falling away, exposing his forearm. "What are you doing?" bellowed Nathaniel alarmed. "That's not protocol!"

"Silence!" Christian hissed loudly, throwing his scissor hand into the air. Nathaniel stopped abruptly and put his hand to his mouth - you could see from the corner of your eye that he was trying to separate his stitched lips with his fingers.

Something under your eye prickled. When you touched the pad of your finger to the sore spot and looked at it, you noticed blood, and then you turned your gaze to Christian, eyebrow raised disapprovingly. "I apologize," he said courteously, lowering the hand that was clutching the shears and bringing it to his bare forearm. "I was careless. It won't happen again. Now...," he ran the edge of the scissors across his skin without thinking, leaving a long deep cut that immediately began to bleed.

For everyone here, it started to flow. For you, it started to ooze. Breathing steadily, you tore your gaze away from the scarlet liquid and stared into Christian's eyes. No surprise, there was a condescending, barely perceptible smile on his face as usual. Saliva began to pool in your mouth, but you didn't dare swallow, not to let on that all you felt was dread hunger.

Dread hunger was always something unpleasant, even painful and unbearable, but you were in nothing but excruciating pain - as if every bone in your body were being broken in three places and all your nerves were being slowly pulled out from under your skin. For a second, you wished the man standing in front of you would turn into a mirror - just to make sure you were all right. In fact, Christian did reflect your condition because if anything had happened to you, his haughty smile would have turned into a nasty one.

Nathaniel rose from his seat again, drawing attention to himself. Christian reluctantly turned around, hardly taking his eyes off you. "That's enough. She's fine," Nathaniel said sharply, and you took advantage of the confusion to finally swallow the thick saliva that had accumulated.

"Well," Christian sighed, and after waiting for the wound on his forearm to heal, walked to his chair. "I won't keep you any longer," he said carelessly over his shoulder.

You couldn't even roll your eyes, and with the last shred of pride you could muster, you turned and walked away from the place. Your throat felt like it was churning, and it seemed to you that as soon as you opened your mouth, either vomit or blood would pour out.

You were beginning to forget your own language, so when you saw Frank on the horizon, you couldn't swear properly - even your thoughts were a mess of letters and sounds instead of the usual words. Your legs began to shake. The last thing you saw before you bent in half was Frank running toward you. "Honey," he whispered, picking you up by the waist. "Does it hurt too much?" he worried, trying to look into your face, but you didn't rise it. You didn't even hear him. "Let's get ya to the doc," the man said softly, scooping you up in his arms.

[May 30, 2020; 09:43 am; hunters' hq]

Your vision was so blurred that even the silhouettes were a mishmash of faded colors. You couldn't feel your own limbs, and you shook your head sluggishly as someone's hands tried to shove something into your mouth - the tip of your tongue picked out several small, smooth capsules, and then your mouth was filled with water; you coughed - someone instantly pressed their palm against your lips, forcing you to swallow it all.

Finally, the mess in your eyes began to blur - you saw a doc's coat disappear through the doorway, like a snow-white dove that had flown away. "Hey," the face leaning over you was nothing, though you caught a glimpse of green. "Sunshine, ya okay?"

Rolled onto your side, you squeezed your eyes shut a few times, and when you opened them, you saw Kyle in front of you. You wanted to jump up and pounce on him, but he hugged you faster. "Kyle!" you exclaimed in relief. "God, it's so good to see ya again!"

"Hey," he reached out softly, burrowing into the top of your head.

You squirmed impatiently. "Kyle, that was awful!" you complained. "I had to lie on the bare floor, my lower back hurts like hell, no hot water or food, no toothpaste, I'm ninety percent sand, my knees hurt, and my ears are still buzzing like there's a train coming!"

A chuckle escaped Kyle's lips - he was relieved at the sound of your confused babbling as confirmation that you were indeed back. "Easy," he grinned, laying you back down on the couch. "Ya still have a high fever, so don't jump up."

You snorted. "How many people do ya even know who died of high temperature?"

"Read about the Inquisition, that's fucked up," he joked, pulling the blanket over you and tucking the edges under your squirming legs.

You hesitated a little and watched the procession, your lips tightening uneasily and you pulled yourself to a sitting position again. "Look, Kyle... Out there in the void-"

He looked at you despondently. "Don't even start," he retorted grimly.

"We need to get back there as soon as possible-"

"Enough!" he bellowed angrily. "Ya just got back, and all ya doing now is complaining, snapping at me, and also claiming ya need to go back! Have ya even considered how I feel, no?" his voice broke on the last words, and it happened as suddenly as it did easily - as if someone had accidentally snapped a thin dry branch in two. "Don't ya dare," he panted, shaking his head tiredly.

"Kyle," you began softly. "I told ya I'm really happy to see ya-"

"It's a bare fucking minimum!" his broken voice turned to a shout, and as he gave you his disappointed stare, you discerned in the fluorescent light the redness of his eyes.

As you struggled to swallow the threads of resentment and injustice, you thought about the fact that maybe you deserved this kind of bias on his part, but that didn't give Kyle the right to interrupt you. "I just wanted to tell ya that I found a settlement, that's all," you muttered, playing with the edge of the blanket with your fingers.

"Oh, shit," Kyle marveled, and now without the veil of anger in his eyes, he sat down gently on the bed and wrapped his arms around you again. "I'm sorry," he mumbled guiltily. "I... I was just really worried, ya know."

"Screaming wasn't necessary," you mumbled grumpily into his shirt. "That's why I have to go back there, or show ya, so ya can at least start without me."

"I know, I know," Kyle said understandingly, stroking your head because he now shared your excitement with you. "But in order to show it, ya need to recover. Ya can't go into the void yet. Even if ya don't get broken in half, if Doc finds out about it, he-"

"Will cut off my legs," you finished for him doomfully. "I'm aware of that."

Kyle hummed thoughtfully. "Ya know what we should do? Why don't ya take a couple weeks off for now, and then ya can show me, where the settlement is" you grimaced irritably at the time he'd given you. "And I'll show Rach and Issu, and we'll start without ya. And when ya finally recovered, ya'll join us. Deal?"

"And what will ya do for those two weeks?" you sourly inquired.

"For now, we'll run like we ran, since raids can't be interrupted. I think we won't even run, but walk," he grinned. "Saving our strength. Maybe we'll come across another settlement," you didn't answer, only sighed disappointedly and longingly. "Stop sulking," Kyle gently tugged at your ear, and feeling you shudder, chuckled. "Lemme get my laptop and we will watch something, 'kay?"

"Okay," you replied, watching him get up from the couch. "Bring me a snack, too."

Kyle opened his mouth, and when he realized the words weren't coming out, he closed it back up. He glanced toward one of the bollards where something was lying on it. "Ya know...," he began carefully, afraid to see even a hint of tears in your eyes. "There are some problems with that."

You followed the direction of his gaze, and when you saw several bags of glucose for the IV, you despaired. "No," you exhaled bitterly. "No, no, no!" you banged your fists stubbornly on the bunk. "Don't do this to me, please. I'm gonna die, I'm gonna wither and die."

"Don't be dramatic," Kyle laughed, looking at your stricken face. "Doc said it's only for a couple days. Keep your cool, and I'll be right back," he said as he walked out the door, but stopped immediately. It was as if he was staring somewhere in the emptiness of the hallway, not blinking or averting his gaze. You gingerly threw back the blanket, and swung your legs over as quietly as you could, a pleasant chill traveling down your feet as they touched the floor. "Hey," you jerked back when Kyle spoke again. "What ya doing here?"

Megumi appeared in the doorway. "I... I'm sorry, I just heard you were back," he glimpsed at you. "I just... I wanted to talk, uh… About Dany, but I guess I choose wrong timing. Um... Are you feeling okay?"

"As you can see," you chirped, smiling, but all Megumi saw was a couple hundred bones held together by a thin layer of skin. "It's all good. So what's the deal with Dany-"

"I'll go," Megumi mumbled awkwardly, and turned on his heels and scurried away. You gave Kyle a puzzled look, and he returned you the same one, shrugging his shoulders.

[May 30, 2020; 4:53 pm; hunters' hq]

[04:51pm] Oldman: Ward seven on the left. She's not feeling well rn, so go easy on her

Gojo kept staring at the message, stroking the small scratch on his phone's screen - a scratch that had formed just recently, the moment he'd first read it. Standing in front of the door to the infirmary, he consciously made a fist and only unclenched it when the pain of his nails digging into his skin made it clear that he was awake.

Gojo finally entered the corridor of the infirmary and took a step. Then another step, and another, and another, and another, and another, each one faster than the last, and his mind was racing with the thought of not running. Why was he walking so fast? The ward was already so close, and he was afraid he wouldn't have time to quiet that excited yet aching feeling in his chest, lest he look like an immature teenager who couldn't control his feelings. 

He stopped in the doorway. He didn't just stop, he froze. How tired are you if you didn't even look at him? And if you didn't hear him at all, what happened to you?

You were sitting on the bed, staring at the phone - his ribs were stabbing. So you had a chance to send him a message, but you didn't.

Gojo tapped on the doorjamb to get your attention, and when you finally looked at him, he wanted to laugh. Your eyes did look three times as big against your gaunt face, but he didn't see you as just a skeleton covered in skin. Gojo thought only that you reminded him so much of a lemur. "You just got back," he grinned, looking at your clothes - a shapeless, holey sweater and pants that were three times your size, whether they were men's or whether you'd gotten so skinny that all your previous clothes hung on you like a sack. "And you've already had a clothes fight with some beggar?" 

The snow had long since melted, washing away all the winter moping and despair, and the spring drops had long since played their inspiring choruses, but he was still here. "Hey," you said softly with such a joyful exhalation that Gojo bit his lip, not knowing why, either to suppress a silly smile or to muffle a painful whimper.

Your husky voice should have dispelled all his doubts about the illusory nature of what was happening, but he still couldn't believe you were back.

His unfamiliarly warm gaze made you catch up to the very chimera and grab for it, but even holding it with both hands, you still couldn't believe he stayed.

"Hey," he echoed you, keeping the quiet motifs of the chamber. "You look awful." 

His words were hardly encouraging, but to you they sounded like a compliment. You watched Gojo approach the bed and sit awkwardly on the footboard, tucking his legs under him. He looked exactly the same as the first day you met him, though a mysterious blue under his eyes peeked through. "And ya're still beautiful." 

He grinned affectionately. "Shut up," he mumbled shyly, moving closer to you.

You had no idea how much courage it took for him to press his forehead against yours, for he did it without hesitation, confidently. However, you, for your part, looked down like a coward. "I...," you began excitedly, swallowing. "Honestly, I didn't think ya'd stay," a nervous chuckle escaped your lips - you wanted to color your words with indifference, but it came out the other way around.

You felt Gojo's arms around your waist. He would have pressed you against him for all he was worth, but due to your condition, he had to sacrifice his desires. "I know I've given you reasons not to trust me. It won't happen again," he whispered into your neck, and you knew what he meant. He stayed yesterday, he'll stay tomorrow.

He'll stay with you.

Even though he couldn't hold you tighter, he selfishly tried to pull you closer, even though there was no more space between you. When he unintentionally pressed his knee against one of the sore spots on your leg, your whole body tensed involuntarily. Sensing this, Gojo raised his head and stared at you. "What is it?" 

You shook your head, tucking your leg deeper under you. "It's okay," you declared, but the words came out through clenched teeth.

"What have you got there?" he asked worriedly, gently grabbing your ankle. "Let me see."

"It's not a pretty sight out there," you said, stubbornly trying to remove his hand. "Don't."

Your attempts were unsuccessful - if you could handle one of his hands, you couldn't handle two. Gojo pulled your leg out and rested it on his knee. "I actually exorcise curses," he announced smugly, rolling up your pant leg. "Do you have any idea how nasty they can look? I got one once, in the shape of a wormy di-"

"I got it!" you exclaimed, waving your free hand. "I got it, don't go on," you buried your face in your hand in embarrassment, and Gojo laughed softly. 

Nudging your shin, he examined it. The usual calluses and a few sores - Gojo didn't feel anything nasty or repulsive. "Well," he drawled thoughtfully, looking around the ward. Gently placing your foot on the couch, he stood up and began rummaging through the drawers. 

Even as you heard the sounds of searching, you couldn't move your hand away from your face. "What ya doing?" you mumbled in frustration.

The sounds and rumbling intensified - some things seemed to be flying to the floor. "Looking for ointment...," he muttered under his nose. A drawer door slammed. "Oh, found it!" you tried to disconnect from everything that was going on, but his hands, that once again encircled your shin and brought it back to his knee, stubbornly prevented you from doing so. "Hold still," if you didn't have your hands right now, you'd be staring at the ceiling. If you were forced to look, you'd be gouging your eyes out. You could feel Gojo gently circling certain places on your leg as if inspecting, and only then a cool sensation that dulled the pain. If the gel was so cold, why did you feel so warm?

You sighed in relief when he finally put your leg back on the bed, and you were about to pull your hand away from your face, but when Gojo started on the second one, you pressed your palm back with such force that you nearly evened the bridge of your nose with your eyes. 

He'd never thought or suspected that such a thing existed - that he could touch a person so easily, and even when he touched the affected areas of they skin, he wouldn't be disgusted. On the contrary, Gojo wished you had at least two more of them on your feet. 

You heard a smack. "What the hell?"

"A mosquito," he mumbled, rubbing his sore cheek and shaking his head as if to ward off that stupid thought in the form of that imaginary mosquito. "Uh, well...," he said quietly, slowly running his fingers down your calves from bottom to top, admiring the result. "I think that's it," despite the finished work, his palms, as if enchanted, couldn't get away from you.

Soft touches that dulled or took away all the pain, from blisters to days in the cold, godforsaken wasteland. You never knew that touches could be that gentle, and they could be like that fictitious pill that cured every disease - from slight to severe, from physical to mental, but no one had warned you about the side effects. Breathing became difficult, your lungs ached. 

The more he touched you, the quieter the days he spent in your workroom in the clutches of loneliness and agonizing waiting seemed. He could feel all the cold that had accumulated in you on his skin. He desperately tried to banish it with his hands. Neither curses, nor demons, nor the forces of nature dared to touch you – just him and him alone.

When Gojo's hands were under your kneecaps, you shrieked and jerked up, a sharp pain hitting your forehead. "Fuck," you whimpered, rubbing the sore spot and leaning back against the pillow.   

"Everyone in your family chooses violence, don't they?" he mumbled, and you immediately reacted to the sound, opening your eyes to find him sitting in front of you, his head tilted back and holding the bridge of his nose.

"God, I'm sorry!" you squeaked, but you didn't even have time to jump out of your seat, for he immediately plopped down beside you, throwing one arm over you, pinning you to the bed. "No blood? Lemme see," you rolled over onto your side in a way you regretted. Gojo's face was only a few inches away, and there wasn't even a hint of blood, though there was something red on his face. His cheeks. This state of affairs didn't suit him, so bringing his hand up to your face, he pinched your nose through your mask. "Hey, what for?" you muttered, sniffling quietly at the growing ticklish feeling.

"Wanted to," he snickered, and with a soft movement, he brushed the unruly strands of hair away from your face. Something tinkled, and you grabbed his arm. "Did ya get a new watch?" you asked, looking at it almost up close, not even noticing how his face was half sunk into the pillow in embarrassment, and Gojo was watching you with only one eye. You saw it, and that was enough for him. 

Hearing him mutter something in agreement under his breath, you hummed thoughtfully, which made him even more nervous. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"No, it's nothing," you kept looking at his wristwatch, but with a furrowed brow. "I just have a feeling I've seen them somewhere before."  

He pulled his hand away and hid it under the blanket. "Well!" he exclaimed. "That's a popular one, you know." 

Gojo didn't dare to ask you if you liked it, foolish though it was, for fear of causing your suspicions. Nevertheless, he hoped you thought it beautiful, for in his mind you were destined to wear them. "Um...," you muttered, averting your gaze. "Is there anything else I should know about?"

"No," he answered quietly but firmly. "Really. I won't hide anything from you ever again," he leaned his forehead against yours, his hand stroking your lower back as if he knew that was where you were hurting.

"Then ya can ask your question again."

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, but when he realized what you meant, he smiled in a way that made him look ten years younger. Even though you'd never seen him as a teenager, you felt like that's what he looked like in that bygone and almost forgotten time. "Do you wanna be my best friend?"

"I wanna be your best friend."

[June 1, 2020; 05:28am; hunters' hq, training field]

When it dawned, you realized what you had done. The entire area of grass in front of you had been torn up, but even that didn't make you spare the surviving blades of grass, and you glanced anxiously at your phone again. After you'd seen Kyle off, you sat down to wait for Rachel to return, but it was past five in the morning, and she was still gone.

What kept her so long? Knowing her character, you hoped she was all right, and memories of her combativeness turned your hope into faith. After all, you'd always thought that the more enemies she had around her, the stronger she'd become, but there was a rotten worm inside you, twisting and turning, reminding you that Rachel's fiery temper might someday fail her.

Unconsciously, you reached out to touch the grass and realized that all that was left was bare ground. You snorted irritably and moved a little to the side - there was still plenty of grass to torture, but as you reached out, you realized you couldn't see anything else.

You jumped to your feet and tried to open your eyes, but they closed back up as if in protest, trying to avoid the sharp pain. You turned from side to side, but you couldn't feel any danger, except for someone else's presence.

You rubbed your clenched eyelids with the back of your hands and tried to blink. You could see the silhouette, but more importantly, you could see a lock of red hair. It seemed you'd been thinking about something else, and you'd been so slow to catch the violet flash that you hadn't had time to cover your eyes, and you'd paid for it.

Wiping the tears from your lower eyelids, you tried to see your sister again. She was hobbling, her uniform cut and torn in places, and there was a huge laceration on her side. "Rach!" you alarmed, running closer to her. "Hey, hey," you picked up her falling head on your chest by the chin.

"Adoptee," she said softly, smiling with bloodstained teeth. "Ya alive, aren't ya?" your appearance seemed to give her a little strength - she smacked her forehead into the top of your head. "Ya've noticed too? There are too many loners," she gritted angrily through her teeth. "Look!" she raised her head and stared at you; there were tears in her eyes. "Look at that!" she sobbed, trying to reach her red tail with her hand and extend it in your direction. Part of it wasn't even cut off - it was torn off, like a bunch of old strings. "Look what those scums did to my hair!" she nervously and frantically tried to smooth her ponytail, but when she felt that all the strands were different lengths, she burst into tears. She didn't even seem to notice that there was some flesh missing from her side. "I'm gonna fucking kill 'em," she squeaked in a muffled voice. "And ya!" she tried to shove you away resentfully. "It's all 'cause of ya," she forced herself to say, wiping away nonstop tears with her hand. "If ya hadn't disappeared, I wouldn't be distracted by thoughts of ya, and none of this would be happening!"

You scooped her up by the waist, trying to stay out of the wound. "I know. I'm sorry," you mumbled guiltily, pulling her closer to the house. "Let's just go to the doc, 'kay?"   

"Shove your apologies up your ass," she bellowed, but her body went limp in your arms - it felt heavy, but despite her words, she still seemed to rely on you. 

***

You'd hoped that Rachel's injury would distract the doc for a while so he wouldn't harp on the fact that you should have stayed in the ward the whole time, and it had worked. Now you stood in front of the fridge, staring at the contents, trying to figure out what you could do to placate the big sister. Your stomach rumbled as you perused the bacon, shrimps, yogurt, and chocolate dragees. When you stopped your gaze at the fresh berries, you almost burst into tears. Maybe it was for the best that you couldn't eat them now - Rachel loved them, too.

You caught a glimpse of a silhouette sitting down at the dinner table. "Hey."

You glanced over your shoulder and noted the dark hair sticking out in all directions. "Hey," you greeted Megumi cheerfully. "Can't sleep?"

"Just used to getting up early," he said, shrugging indifferently. "Y/N?" he turned to you after a brief silence.

"Yeah?" you hummed, pulling out a package of berries.

"I... Um, I overheard that you found a settlement," he began awkwardly. You closed the refrigerator door abruptly - Megumi shuddered. You stopped in front of the boy, staring straight into his eyes. "I-I just thought, since I happen to be able to enter the void as well, maybe...," he fidgeted in his chair, trying to look away from you, but the bonds of your gaze were so strong that even a hunting knife wouldn't do the trick. "Maybe I can help you-"

"No," you replied sharply and headed for the infirmary door.

There was a rustling sound behind you and the sudden creaking of a chair. "I just wanna help. By taking me, you can carry more supplies for the people there," when you turned around, he was staring at the floor, but his fists were clenched. "I passed the isolation easily. Doesn't that prove I'm worth something?"  

"It was an accident," you replied coldly.

"Whatever," he went on stubbornly. "Even so, but doesn't that mean I'm worthy?"

You grinned sarcastically, squinting your eyes. "Worthy of what? Getting kicked around in the cold wasteland? Such an honor."

"Saving people," he whispered and finally looked at you, and in his eyes lurked the answer.

"Megumi, what are ya talking about?" you worriedly said. "Ya're already saving them-"

A chuckle or a sob escaped his lips. "Really? How many people did I save while Sukuna was walking around in my body?"

The answer was voiced, but you remained adamant. "I got ya, but ya're still a teenager and there's still a lot ya can accomplish. Ya'll still have time to make things right. So... No. Sorry, but no," hoping that would be enough, you tried to walk away again - both from the boy and the conversation.

Megumi knew what he was doing was dirty, but he realized there was nothing else he could do. "Do you have the right to refuse?" Megumi's voice was firm. "You're supposed to train anyone who asks. You have an obligation," he was still drilling his gaze into your back. "Am I wrong? There are only four of you left," what a miracle - the firm voice suddenly trembled.

What a familiar song. What a familiar, annoying, ear-splitting song. Your nostrils must have flared at that tone. Or the truth that had just burned your ears. You turned around. Along with the boy, you saw his inner core. You stared at each other for a few more moments. Both of you stubborn as hell. "I should call him," you surrendered, reaching into your pocket.

"Don't," Megumi said almost pleadingly. "I wanna decide for myself this time."

"He's your guardian," you reminded him.

Megumi grinned bitterly. "His guardianship began and ended when he took me from the Zenin clan."

"Oh, really?" you inquired, arching an ironic eyebrow. "I take it food and clothes have been falling out of the sky for ya all this time?"

"You may be right," he nodded briefly. "But you can't say he loved me much."

"And ya?" you nodded defiantly toward the boy. "Did ya love him much?" Megumi looked at you perplexed as if you were speaking to him in a foreign language. He opened his mouth but didn't say a word, and with a shake of his head, he immediately closed it back up. "Okay, well...," you scrunched your forehead. "At six in the morning, I expect ya on the practice field. Ya'll run until you spit out your own lungs," your tone made Megumi shiver - as if the temperature in the room had plummeted. "And ya know what? Ya're already late," you barked before finally disappearing behind the infirmary doors.

Ryan and Axel had already run away from you, and they'd done it so fast that they'd probably already made it around the Earth and back to the starting point, while you and Megumi had barely run about seven miles. Even such a run was hard on your recovering body, but it seemed to be harder on the boy as you glared at him from time to time. Sweat was pouring from Megumi's flushed face, and he was forgetting how to breathe properly for such exertion. Something was crunching. Maybe it was the branches under your feet, or maybe it was your knees.

You always tried to find solace in those jogs through the forest, but not now, you were worried about Megumi. Did he take your words so seriously? He was clearly unwell. His legs had already buckled for the fifth time. "Hey," you called out to him quietly. "I've got a calf cramp, let's take a little break," you said, grabbing his shoulder with one hand and your side with the other, trying to catch your breath. He nodded silently, and you moved off the path a little, sitting down by the roots of one of the trees. "Thirsty?" you asked courteously, taking your backpack off your shoulders.

"Yeah," Megumi replied on an exhale. He'd been trying to hold back his own inhalations and exhalations the whole time, so that you wouldn't hear that he'd been crying inside for the last two miles, but he'd only trapped himself more - the lack of oxygen made his body protest harder, and his vision began to darken.

Megumi took the bottle from your hands and took a couple sips, trying not to be greedy. "Now, time for a little breathing exercise," you chirped, taking a seat across from him. "Come on, right with the noise. Inhale," you sucked in air so loudly and forcefully that you scared away a squirrel that had snuck up and was interested in you. When Megumi repeated after you, you exhaled just as much, expecting him to repeat after you.

After doing this a few more times, you noticed that Megumi was feeling better - though he was still glistening with sweat, the redness on his face was starting to fade. "There ya go," you said enthusiastically, sitting down next to him again. "Much better, wouldn't ya say?" you nudged his shoulder softly with yours.

Megumi twirled the water bottle in his hands thoughtfully. "I apologize for speaking to you like that," he said guiltily. "I just didn't know how else to affect you."

"It's fine," you replied indifferently, waving it away. "I just don't understand why ya'd wanna do that anyway."

"The cursed world gave me nothing," he lied, not even realizing he was lying. Sure, the cursed world had given him, and given him a lot, except that Megumi would probably give it all back for free. "And the desire to save people hasn't gone away, and most likely never will," he would no longer be able to plunge into the routine of ordinary life knowing the other side of it - dark and mysterious, as cruel as it is elusive to ordinary people.

These were the kind of people Megumi wanted to protect, wishing that they would never know what lurked behind that door without a doorknob.

"I just...," he began reservedly. "I just don't wanna feel helpless anymore, 'cause if I feel that way, how can I help others?" his restraint immediately broke along with his voice. "When Sukuna took over my body, I just wanted to die."

"I understand," you replied quietly, swallowing.

He smirked wistfully. "I'm sorry, but I doubt that. I remember everything. I was hurt. I was sick. And there was nothing I could do about it," he buried his face in his hands as if the past appeared from behind one of the trees, and it appeared in a most unpleasant guise.

"Let's do this," you said, slapping yourself on your legs. "I promise I'll train ya for a while, and in return, ya promise me to think less about all the bad things that have happened to ya. Deal?" you rubbed the top of his head affectionately.

"Deal," mumbled Megumi into his palms. "Only why 'for a while'? I can handle intense training too."

"You offered to help us," you pointed out. "Not to become a voidrunner."

"But-"

"Let's go home. Ya've had enough for today."

***

You'd already opened the door to the workroom, but you couldn't help but cast one last sympathetic glance at the boy. He was sluggishly shuffling his feet up the stairs, and his torso was as still as if it had been separated from his lower body - arms dangling tiredly along his body, his torso tilted, his head slumped against his chest. "Megumi," you called out to him, and Megumi stopped, though he didn't seem to find the energy to even turn in your direction. "I'll meet ya at the same place tomorrow morning at six," his head twitched, and you took it as a nod. You were about to leave him alone, but you remembered something. "Ya know, let's get together a little early, though," you shouted after him as he opened the door. "Come to my workroom at five, I need to take your measurements!" the door that slammed shut sharply only answered you.     

When you finally entered the workroom, you froze like a dumbfounded deer before lights. Gojo was standing across from you, equally motionless and looking at you questioningly. "Ya're back already?" you inquired softly, watching his hand with the towel frozen at the back of his head - it looked like he'd just gotten out of the shower. "I, uh...," you swallowed nervously. "I can explain everything." 

You flinched when he moved, so much so he had resembled a statue before. "Oh, come on," he smiled carelessly, stepping closer to you. You exhaled as Gojo walked past you. "I knew you were a thief, didn't I," his muffled voice came from the bathroom. Getting rid of the towel, he appeared before you again, but he didn't even glance in your direction. "So it was only a matter of time before you got to my students, too." 

You watched helplessly as he passed by you and moved farther and farther away, and the doubt that it wasn't just about the growing distance between you in the workroom clenched and sought to explode in your soul. "Aren't you angry?"

"Me?" asked Gojo carelessly over his shoulder in your direction. "Angry. I'm so angry," he laughed softly, and you sat down on the edge of the bed, carefully making your way around the room. "At myself."

You waited for him to pay attention to you, and when you caught his gaze, you patted the spot next to you. Gojo hesitantly approached, and you unconsciously reached out to him, so relieved when you realized the distance between you was gone. He gently picked up your palm and sat down next to you. "So...," he began, hesitating. "Megumi has both cursed and dark energy now? That's how a generation grows up," he grinned wistfully, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. "That's what I wanted, isn't it? I wanted to raise a generation of strong sorcerers. The kind that would be on par with me. No, even stronger. So strong that one day they could leave me behind." 

"Why do ya say that?" you asked half-heartedly. "Why would they leave ya behind?"

"Why else do you think everyone needs me?" Gojo swallowed, looking at your intertwined hands. You were just now realizing how elaborate his ideas about human relationships were in his head, and if they were only there that would be half the problem, but something told you that there was a quiet but all-consuming chaos going on in his soul as well. "I screwed up even here, though. I was so consumed with realizing my own goal that I didn't even notice... No, rather, I forgot that my students were just kids. I was ready to kill anyone who would take their youth away from them, and I ended up taking it from them myself. I guess I really am a shitty teacher, so... Maybe Megumi would be better off with you," he unconsciously released your hand from his.

"Satoru, stop it," you commanded softly. "Ya are not your power. Ya're just a human being, and I think everyone realizes that."

"Oh, really?" snapped Gojo sarcastically. "You wanna say that if I didn't have this power, you'd let me strut around your workroom like this and you would put up with all my scattered stuff? Don't be ridiculous."

"But I've never seen your power," you whispered hurt. You'd heard rumors and stories like the ballads they write about heroes, but you'd only seen it once. In his fight with Sukuna, you'd only caught glimpses of tiny, evaporating drops of his power. Did he think you were holding on to something so ephemeral?

To be honest, he didn't think about it. He couldn't think of any other reason why you'd accepted him and why you'd tolerated him. Staying true to his habits, he couldn't say the words of apology out loud, but he relied on the touches - with any luck, they would say it all for him. "Ya said Megumi would be better off with me," you said into the top of his white hair as his hands tentatively held your waist. "But ya're wrong. He'll be better off with us."

The word 'us' made Gojo think of you and the other hunters, and he didn't even dare to get in between in those thoughts, but when your hands closed around his back, it was like opening all those doors he'd never been able to open. Behind those doors was a bright light, so vivid it hurt his eyes. He had no choice but to stay on one side of the door and burn with his regrets and unfulfilled hopes in that desperate flame, or to step forward and let it burn to the ground, but  without him.

Gojo stepped through. Beyond that door was his future and it existed, it glowed, and it was right beside him.  

next ⊳

[thiniceofeternalyouth]

MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER NINE

ROAD HOME

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, sci-fi, cosmology.

Words count: ~14k

⊲ previous

Standing in the alley between the huts, you had already nailed the last sheet to the wall, creating a small but hidden space. Inside, there were already a few water bottles, a bar of soap, and a makeshift stool. "There, all done," you chirped, admiring the result. You peeked out from behind the curtain. "Come in," you nodded, inviting Nora inside. Without raising her head, she strode past you in small, uncertain steps.

Feeling awkward, you averted your eyes and wanted to leave the makeshift shower, but you were stopped by a subtle touch of a hand. "Don't go," Nora mumbled softly.

"Uh?" you rambled, and your eyes rounded at the surprise of her request. The girl's head was still down, and her tangled hair covered her face.

"I...," Nora began, but immediately stopped. Her breathing became so ragged and loud as if she was beginning to choke. "I don't wanna be alone," her voice shook. "Don't go."

You gently grabbed Nora's chin and lifted her head, forcing her to look at you. "It's okay. Breathe," there wasn't panic or fear in her eyes, there was desperation in them. There was still no way Nora was going to calm down. "Come on. Inhale," you sucked in air with persistence and noise and waited for her to repeat after you. "Exhale," on your command, she exhaled so hard it flung strands of hair from your face. "Sit down," you moved the stool closer to her.

Nora sat down, and the stool creaked dangerously, but it didn't give up. The girl leaned her hands on her knees, and you could see her vertebrae protruding.

"Hands up," you tried to keep your voice as soft as possible, making the words sound more like a request than an order. She obediently raised her limbs, and you grabbed the edges of her shirt and pulled it off. You'd tried not to look at her injuries before, but there was little to look at now - some of the wounds had healed, others were almost invisible.

Nora took off her wide pants in a hurry for some reason - you didn't even squeak before they were on the ground. You gathered up her clothes and hung them on a rusty flimsy nail.

The girl froze. It seemed as if she had forgotten how to do ordinary household things because of everything that had happened. Sighing and trying not to look at her gaunt body, you moistened your hands with cool water and picked up the soap. As soon as you touched the girl, she jerked, making the stool rattle with renewed vigor. "Just... Cold," Nora mumbled guiltily to herself, dispelling any speculation you might have had in your head.

You did not answer, only silently continued to soap her skinny back, and Nora did not lag behind - you could see how she weakly washed the front of her body, now and then adding water.

You'd thrown her tangles over her shoulder so many times, and they'd come back as annoying as flies on a sweltering day. "Listen," you started as if in between. "Ya mind if I cut your hair a little?"

"Is it that bad?" she mumbled quietly.

It wasn't that bad. After a few rinses, a russet or brown color was even beginning to emerge behind the dirt, and judging by the length of her hair, she'd taken good care of it in her former life. However, there wasn't even a hairbrush in the place. "Nah," you shrugged mundanely, lathering and massaging the nape of her neck. "It's just more comfortable this way, don't ya think?"

Nora hasn't even given you an answer yet, and you've already tried on how much to cut. Shoulder blades? Shoulder length? Or maybe cut it all off? You doubted that you could do it like the heroines in the movies and video games - a couple of cuts and you'd have a professional model's haircut. "Lemme cut it somewhere at the level of your neck, 'kay?" you asked, not even noticing that she still hadn't agreed.

As soon as she nodded her head weakly, the dagger was in your hand. You squatted down, divided the hair into strands, and began to cut it off carefully, trying it on. The more you cut, the more Nora trembled, and she was no longer embarrassed to cry. All the tangles fell to the ground. Eventually, the dark sand will sweep them away, too.

The haircut was uneven, with hairs sticking out here and there, but you didn't dare touch them for fear of hurting Nora, for you couldn't stop her body from shuddering. You rested your head on her shoulder. "Don't cry like that," you said softly, parting her strands as gently as you could with your fingers. Nora pressed her face into her palms, making her sobs muffled and her tears invisible, only the pain seemed to remain unchanged. "It'll grow back."

To give her time to cry, you began to wash her hair. Gently, so as not to tangle it further, you massaged her scalp, rubbing in the foam from the laundry soap, and with each passing moment her body relaxed. She even yielded a little. Nora's wet body touching your clothes, her arms fell limp, her eyelids fluttering closed. Neither dark nor empty. Calm.

"..., hey," you gently shook her by the shoulders, and she immediately straightened her back. You picked up some relatively clean clothes and held them out to Nora. "We're done here. Come on, get dressed. Let's do some shenanigans."

She looked at you questioningly rather than suspiciously - but your head was already hidden behind the sheet and your fingers were tapping against the hut wall. Nora, wiping the water from her body and pulling on a stretch hoodie and wide pants, snuck under the sheet and stared in the same direction as you, trying to see what was wrong. "Pick one," your tone was preternaturally excitable, which made Nora frown. "That one over there," you nodded at the demon that stood on the roof of the far hut. "Or that one over there?" you pointed to another that stood nearby, seemingly cooing something to a young boy with blotchy cheeks sitting on the ground. There was something spread out on tattered sheets in front of him, and you could make out a few water bottles, a pair of old boots, and a flask.

Something seemed to boil above your ear. You turned around, and for good reason - Nora's gaze was on the second, and her face was contorted with anger. You smirked, but slightly covered it with your hand. Still, rage was much better and more productive than despair. "That one," the girl hissed, watching as the demon nearly buried its nose in the cheek of the boy who was trying unsuccessfully to distance himself from it. The demon was clearly whispering something, and anxiety and despair were becoming clearer and clearer on the boy's face.

"Okay," you agreed. "How about this. I'll distract him, and ya come up from behind and hit him right here," you poked between your collarbones.         

"What?" blurted out Nora in a panicked whisper, staring at you with big eyes. "You out of your mind? How could I... How could you...," she gasped and shook her head. "I don't even have a weapon!"

You impatiently began to tap the toe of your shoes against the ground, keeping your eyes on the one Nora pointed at. "If that's all ya care about, then hurry up," the girl gasped quietly as a dagger appeared in your outstretched hand. "Take it."

Nora tentatively reached for the dagger, and the haze that enveloped it enveloped her fingers. She found no reason to recoil, for the smoke was surprisingly soft and warm, though it had no physical form. The dagger seemed to lure her as people lure anyone with sweet promises - the most earthy or impossible, it didn't matter. For as soon as Nora grasped the hilt, each of them felt realizable to her. "Oh yes," you clapped your hands together playfully. "If ya don't kill him, he'll kill me. That's it, I gotta go!"

You waddled toward the boy, clutching your side desperately. "What I have to do?" you heard a worried whisper in behind, but you just waved your hand. You strained your throat and started coughing - until your throat was clammy. No one even noticed.

When you reached the boy, you bent over with difficulty and clung harder to your side. "Water!" you begged in a hoarse voice. "Please ... I can't pay ya anything, but... just a sip, please!"

The black eyes made it unclear where the demon was looking, but you didn't need to - as soon as you'd uttered your pleas, you felt a strong grip on your hair. "I guess no one taught manners to backstreet scum," he whispered the words so close you could feel the slimy teeth on your cheek. "It's not nice to interrupt," his grip only tightened, and for a moment, you felt like a naughty dog being pulled by the leash again. "You have to apologize," the demon's whisper drifted into the steel that bound his voice. "On your knees."

The last words weren't even out loud - they were a precise, invisible trickle that flowed into your mind, making your knees go weak. You, in turn, began to resist, not his order, but your own stubbornness. It didn't work. You remained standing, though you wiped the willfulness from your face.

As you tried to catch a glimpse of Nora moving quietly albeit clumsily behind his back, you received a resounding slap. "Look at me," the demon commanded, and tugged at your hair for persuasion. "Rebellious, aren't you?" he asked wryly, but the dark eyes reflected wariness. "I was just trying to have a good time with this young man," he nodded toward the kid who was huddled harder with his back against the hut wall. "You ruined the whole atmosphere, though. Kinda... romantic. That's what you call it, isn't it?" for a moment his eyes became normal - neither dark nor horrible, but the eyes of someone whose body had been taken away. "You have to compensate."

Everyone around him seemed to freeze, afraid to take a single step to the side. Nora stood at the demon's back literally a couple of feet away, clutching a trembling dagger with both hands right in front of her; whether it was from the girl's excitement or the lingering anticipation of the blade itself. When would she strike?

It was so quiet that you could hear the ringing of silence - the demon probably felt it, too. As soon as he wanted to raise his head, you immediately clutched at his clothes. "I just wanted water! Have mercy! Please!" your sobs grew louder and louder.

"Let the girl go!" came an uncertain but loud exclamation behind you, drawing attention.

"She didn't do anything wrong!" shouted an unfamiliar woman from a nearby hut. 

The hooting grew like a snowball of resentment and discontent. Those who didn't dare to shout glared angrily at the demon, and he could feel it, for you couldn't think of any other reason for the claws digging into your scalp. If Nora still didn't dare now, you'd have to take that opportunity away from her. "Thought we'd do this in private. Okay, that'll be a lesson to everyone," he hissed. "Get undressed."

The way you grabbed the edges of your shirt without thinking reminded you of why people left with demons without a lot of noise and desperate screams. Of course, they were restrained by fear or the grip of frozen horror, but that didn't happen silently; the reason lurked elsewhere - as soon as the demon said a single commanding word, any unprepared person became a puppet in the power of absolute obedience. Even the fact that not all of them possessed such an ability was no consolation.  

Something in your throat made you cough, but it didn't take long for your throat to sore. You looked up to see the black tip of a dagger sticking out of the scattered ashes, and then, when the shroud of the dead man had dissipated, Nora's terrified face. "Geez," you sighed in relief, throwing back your head. "Finally! I thought that prick was gonna rip my hair out!"

"I'm sorry," Nora said with trembling lips. "I'm sorry, I'm...," tears sprang from her swollen eyes again, and you could even feel how hot they felt on her cheeks.

You stood up and put your arm around her shoulder. "It's okay," you assured her, pulling her closer to you, and Nora's nose burrowed into your collarbone.

"I can't believe it," she still sounded confused, every nervous twitch in her voice audible. "I can't believe it!" she threw her head up and stared at you with big eyes, and the corners of your lips crept upward because it wasn't from fright at all, but from excitement. "Holy shit! I really killed him!" Nora's smile, like the morning sun, dispelled the fog of endless tears.

The people around you didn't make a sound, but they weren't in a hurry to leave, either - you could see them watching you from the huts. "I'm not sure whether or not I'm glad ya're talking about it in that way," you clicked your tongue softly, and pulled the girl closer to you. Nora, on the other hand, dazedly sucked in air and looked at you guiltily as the dagger disappeared from her hands. "Don't worry," you waved it away. "Let's go get something to eat before someone else comes running."

Nora's palm instantly flew up to her mouth, and she stared at you in utter shock. "What if... what if one of them saw all of this? Or someone tells them?"

You chuckled relaxedly, feeling her shoulders tense. "We'll figure it out," you assured her, not mentioning that in a case like that, beholders and snitches would have to be made dead.

Beep-beep.

The wind didn't rush in through the open window or make the curtains rustle, but it was cold in the room nonetheless. An unknown movie playing quietly on the laptop threw lights on the walls - smooth and faded, then so sharp and bright that you had to squint your eyes. The chair you were sitting in added to the discomfort - it was the same as yesterday, but you felt like you were sitting on a lumpy rock.

Beep-beep.

The quiet noises from the side were so annoying that every time they made you fake hope that they were coming from the person in the bunk, but no. It was Rachel, sitting on the other side of the bed. She shook her leg restlessly and kept hitting the metal stem, and you thought you could hear her chewing on her nails.

Beep-beep.

"Stupid movie," Rachel mumbled, still holding her finger to her lips. Her gaze was fixed on the laptop, but the images reflected clearly in her eyes, making them look glassy.

"Uh-huh," you muttered absently to yourself, trying unsuccessfully to rub your aching legs.

"He's stupid, too," Rachel nodded at Kyle, and this time it wasn't a mumble; the words were clearer, angrier. "And weak," you glanced at Kyle who was still unconscious, but his peacefully heaving chest and the heart monitor's steady heartbeat made it look like he was sound asleep. "I went right back to work after giving birth, and this asshole can't even get through isolation for the fifth time."

Beep-beep.

"In the seventh," you corrected.

"Who the fuck cares?" hissed Rachel angrily, and you begged, albeit reluctantly and disbelievingly, that her hissing wouldn't turn into screaming. "If he really cared about us, he'd forget about this whole thing! Why do we have to sit by this fucking bed every time," she kicked the metal bedpost with force. "And wonder if he'll make it this time?"

"No one's forcing ya to sit here," you shrugged, and though you kept your eyes on the laptop screen, you still caught a glimpse of Rachel standing up, her silhouette looming dangerously over the bed.

"Don't ya think ya should watch your mouth sometimes?" her voice grew threateningly closer.

You rolled your eyes involuntarily. "Ya know, Kyle may be weaker, but ya the one who's gonna take a fucking dirt nap first," you grumbled, reluctantly parting your lips, but it was in vain - you'd already fallen for the provocation. 

"What did ya just say?" she snapped back.

Beep-beep.

You jumped to your feet and mirrored her pose, resting your hands on the bed - you were breathing in each other's faces right over your brother's body. 

"I said," you started to say loud and clear. "Kyle may be weaker, but because of your shitty temper, ya'll die first," each word you said was louder than the last.

"Ya little bitch!" roared Rachel and grabbed your throat with her sharp nails, but there was no time to do anything - you were pushed against each other.

"Ouch," you whimpered quietly, rubbing your forehead and settling back into your seat.

"Both of ya!" a disgruntled husky voice yelled back at you. "What if I hadn't woken up?" Kyle tiredly plopped back onto the pillow. "Would ya have fought right on top of me?" 

"It's good to see ya awake," Rachel didn't hug him, didn't even look at him - just muttered wryly. "Maybe ya can set that brat straight," she pointed her finger in your direction, and even though Rachel was already in the doorway, you felt like she was poking you in the eye.

Rachel slammed the door shut with such force that you immediately looked at the hinges to make sure they were still in place.

Kyle exhaled and then sat up, giving you a warm look. "So, what's going on again?" he asked softly, giving you a gentle tap on the forehead. You pursed your lips and absent-mindedly threw up your hands - if you only knew. "Okay," he grinned, trying to get comfortable. "She'll be cool down by tomorrow."

"I...uh, I don't think so," you gulped, watching the sheets move due to Kyle's fidgeting.

"What ya talking about?" he raised his eyebrows skeptically. "Ya know her, she'll be back with snacks in maybe a couple hours, and she'll probably start nagging us about Rob putting the cotton swabs on the wrong shelf again."

Your limbs were unpleasantly numb - you couldn't move a finger. And before your voice went numb, you decided to ask the question that had put you in this state. "Kyle," you began cautiously. "What's the last thing ya remember? Ya know... Before I put ya into isolation."

He opened his mouth, but immediately shook his head thoughtfully, and closed it back. "Honestly... Hmm," Kyle tried to survey his surroundings and even himself in it - he examined his hands, his feet, everything his eyes could see without a mirror. "I think I taught ya this morning what cycle to wash your white sneakers on," that didn't tell you anything - you asked him that every time you started a load of laundry. "Also... I think Rob and I were supposed to take the kids to an amusement park tonight? Disney Sea or whatever..."

You were afraid your voice would go numb, but your heart did it instead, skipping a beat or two. You and your isolation ate up about a year of your brother's memories this time. It remains to be seen just how huge a piece of pie you ate this time.  "Kyle...," you exhaled convulsively, smearing the remnants of courage in your voice. "I think we went a little overboard this time. It's been a while."

"Well, the last time didn't pass without problems too, right?" he tried to cheer you up, but he didn't seem to have the right words. You reached out and took his hand, the one with the shimmering silver bracelet on it, and began to rub it slowly and methodically. "Y/N," he grinned nervously, watching you play with the bracelet you'd grown tired of. "What is it?"  

 "Rob...," you accidentally bit your tongue in frustration. "Rob's dead."

God knows you didn't want to look up, but your eyes did it themselves. It was the same picture as before - Kyle's pale, gaunt face. It was like he'd lost a quarter of his weight in a second.

Who had it harder? The person who felt like everyone had already been through it or the person who was put through it a second time?

"What about...," his glittering eyes darted from side to side. "What about Rachel? What about her and Rob's baby? Did something happen to them?" he was already starting to fidget to get out of bed, but you stopped him, pressing him back against the bunk with your hand.  

"Mike- uh, the baby's fine," you held your hand on Kyle's chest, trying to make sure he stayed in that position. "She's had the baby for two months now. It's a healthy baby boy. So...," you purposely stammered, trying to contain the rest of the memories within you, leaving them unspoken. "Yeah, it's fine."

The answer was immediate. "Got it," Kyle said soberly, but turning to you again, his voice was went softer. "I'll take a little break, recover, and we'll try again."

"Hmm?" you raised your head dumbfounded. "Again?" seeing that Kyle nodded, you started to shake your head. "Look, enough already. That was your seventh try, and ya only getting worse each time. It's probably time to... well, dunno. Get over it. Your body's conductivity isn't increasing, and ya still can't go into the void. Let's just leave it, 'kay?"

"Seventh, then... Wow," he chuckled, but he didn't see the shadow of a smile on your face. "Look, if Rob's gone, does that mean there are fewer voidrunners, too?" he quipped, and you clutched at his bracelet so tightly that it nearly broke. "No arguments. I'm not Rachel, and I'm not gonna yell or prove anything. Ya should know your place. After all... In our position, it's your job to lead anyone through isolation who's expressed a desire."

He was right, but what about your desires? Was it really so selfish to want to protect at least the people you love from danger?

You quit fiddling with the bracelet and carefully climbed onto the bunk and snuggled under the blanket. "Hey," Kyle chuckled softly, peeking under the blanket and meeting you face full of childish annoyance. "Come on out of there," and with that, he stretched out his hand on the pillow.

You shook your head stubbornly, which made him smile even more. "I'm sorry. I was really rude when I said that. If ya come on out of there, I won't do it again," Kyle said, and before he knew it, your head was on his forearm.

"Sometimes I do wanna be selfish," you muttered quietly through pouty lips. You could feel his calloused fingers stroking your arm as if trying to push the bitterness away.

"I know," Kyle kissed the top of your head. "Ya just wanna protect us, but... Y/N, we're all adults, and we make our own choices. You've warned us a hundred times about the consequences, so if something happens to us, it won't be your fault - we signed up for it ourselves."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" you raised your head and glared at your brother - your wrinkled nose made him chuckle, but apparently he was trying to restrain himself - all that came out was a squeezed sound through his nose. "Let's talk about something else," you muttered.

"Okay. What's more news?" he asked serenely, stroking your hair - the touch was so light, it was like Kyle was barely touching it.

"Well...," you drawled thoughtfully. "I used to think that I just didn't understand something or that it was just the dioreacts hiding so well, but I guess not. They don't have consciousness. Or maybe I'm just missing something after all. Dunno," hearing a dubious hum, you added. "I can't sense their consciousness in isolation."

"Otherwise it would be too easy for us...," Kyle snorted annoyed. "Will there be any good news?" he asked, spitting and puffing on your hair, which he'd, electrified himself.  

You peered slyly out from behind the hut's wall, watching Bjorn. The poor thing, unsuspecting of your return from the sortie, was sitting on the floor, counting his cigarettes, humming to himself in his overgrown beard. You quietly stepped inside, and involuntarily began to giggle. "Bjorn," you addressed to the man, smiling ridiculously, but only got an annoyed wave back. "Bjo-o-orn," you drawled mischievously, and the sound of clanking made him raise his head sharply.

You appeared before his eyes, holding a pair of shears - his fear. You deliberately made a couple or three more cutting motions, and Bjorn jumped up like a stung man. "Don't you dare!" he hissed, and saliva seemed to fly through the hole where the tooth should have been. The man as if in a fight between two predators began to circle around you, never turning his back on you - all to get closer to the exit. Keeping your eyes on him, you clanked your scissors threateningly again, cutting the air "I'll rip your arms off, witch," he growled, backing away.

You were in no hurry to catch up with him, but only wished he were in the opening. As soon as he was there, his back was against something huge. "Oter, seize him!" you shouted, and Oter, on command grabbed the man under the armpits, lifting him into the air, and only then did you begin to approach the writhing Bjorn - if it had not been for his weight you might have said that he looked one and all like a frightened ferret. 

"Conspiracy!" Bjorn yelled, but there was no escape from Oter's grip - his arms were so strong that Bjorn felt as if he were being squeezed by a golem. "They wanna kill me!" his voice had already reached its highest possible pitch when you were close to him and ran your hand through his beard.

"Stop squeaking," you tried to concentrate so you wouldn't cut off anything else including Bjorn's skin, but he was preventing it by shaking his head and body relentlessly in all directions. You glanced meaningfully at Oter who was as bald as a baby after the similar manipulations you'd done, and just as satisfied. Oter squeezed Bjorn harder, so hard that all the air went out of him.

"What's going on here?" came a panicked and panting voice from behind Oter's back, and he immediately let go or you could say dropped Bjorn to the floor. You immediately put the shears behind your back and skulked to the drawers, pretending to look for something.

"Those two...," Bjorn mumbled, trying to cough and crawling back into a corner. "Those two wanted to kill me!"

"That's not true!" you frowned immediately. "We just wanted to give ya a haircut!"

"Liar!" roared Bjorn, still clinging to his precious beard.

"Jonah!" you whined, stomping your foot. "Tell him!"

Jonah was still standing in the doorway, leaning his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. "You guys completely crazy? I thought someone was getting killed in here..."

"Right in front of you is the victim of a crime," Bjorn didn't relent.

"Shut up," Jonah muttered irritably, taking his backpack off his shoulders. "You really need a haircut. It's taking too much soap."

"It's natural thermoregulation!" he objected indignantly, spreading his arms apart.

You pouted and picked at the floor with your toe as deliberately as if you were convinced something precious was lurking there. "Lice's breeding ground," you muttered to yourself. "Where have ya been?" you asked Jonah, coming closer to the shelves.

"At the huckster's," Jonah replied, pulling bottles from his backpack. "With all your hygiene, there's no water to spare."

"Well...," you drawled meaningfully. "Just because we live in the middle of a dump doesn't mean we have to smell like one."

"Your moral compass is costing me too much," the man muttered, though he was glad he smelled like laundry soap instead of decaying flesh for the first time in a long time.

"Sorry," you said guiltily. "I'll make it up to ya. I was going back anyway."

"You know, I was sure you weren't a robot just because I saw your blood," Jonah grinned nervously. "Now I'm not sure of anything anymore. Why don't you get some rest, just for a little while?"

"I'll rest after this sortie," you sighed, and noticing how skeptical Jonah was staring at you, you added, putting your hand over your heart. "Promise."

"Relocate."

"Yeah, sure, why should we say goodbye..." sighed Jonah unhappily as he continued to arrange what he had bought into the crates.

***

When you first came into this room, you couldn't even take a step. All those piled towers of stuff covered with sheets stood so close together that you couldn't even squeeze between them - any movement you made would cause them to sway threateningly. Therefore, sortie after sortie, you cleared these debris, starting at the entrance.

The room looked different now, and though much of it was still unexplored and shrouded, it was now organized and everything you could get your hands on was boxed up for its intended purpose. You had boxes of bath supplies, expired medicines, clothes; you even had a little box where you put jewelry - as you searched you found everything from cheap costume jewelry to expensive one. 'Ya don't need it anymore, and I still have a dozen hungry mouths to feed,' you thought each time you put another ring in the makeshift jewelry box. There was even a box where you naively hoped to put the chargers, and every time you put a new one in there or just looked in it, you literally saw the evolution. They were all motley, some of them, judging by the connectors, were from the twentieth century. Only one of them fit your phone, and all it did was make you want to tear it up because you didn't even have a chance to check if it was working. There was no electricity.

Kicking the box of wires away, you threw the sheet off another pile of stuff and sat down to start sorting it all out. The monotonous work was soothing and even enjoyable as if you were getting into a routine, and it felt like you were closer to home.

You arranged the things you took out around you, mentally categorizing them. On the right - leisure, toys and surviving books, on the left - everything that could be thrown into the furnace (like old notebooks and other waste paper, and everything that was somehow made of wood), behind - jars, plates, bowls, knives, forks and spoons. Long story short, everything that would help you not to turn into pigs.

Remembering Nora, you kept thinking you'd find a hairbrush, and if you were lucky, maybe this time you'd find a nice shampoo to replace the tired bar of soap. You excitedly pulled out item after item, and if you thought it didn't fit anywhere, you tossed it to the far corner. It was like that until your palms hit something big, hard, and cold.

You tried to pull the object out, but either it was too heavy or you had lost all your strength. You furrowed your brows, buried your hands deeper and strained, trying to pull something out, but it only came out jerky as if you were trying to pull a stubborn carrot out of a bed.

The more strength you exerted, the more the object wobbled and moved away from the place it was stuck to, and with one more clumsy tug, you fell on your back. On top of that, the heavy object you were so desperately clinging to crushed your chest.

Your eyes met a metal box with housings, various levers and bolts. "Why the fuck do I need a carburetor for?" your voice broke with frustration, and you sounded so resentful as if the universe itself had wronged you. Putting the carburetor aside, you stared into the hole you'd made. It was almost impossible to see anything, but the thief's eye caught a fleeting glint.

Humming to yourself, you knelt down and tried to fumble for whatever it was that glinted so strongly in the depths of things. When it was in your hand, you pulled it out. It was copper wire. "Holy shit," you exhaled quietly and immediately put your palm to your mouth, a high-pitched squeak coming out of you. You felt like a mischievous five-year-old who'd rummaged through Santa's sack while he was harnessing the reindeer.

There was a whistling in your ears with such force it was like drinking five cups of coffee with already high blood pressure.

"It's just that as one of their punishments. Demons make us eat a pack of salt."

You already had electrolyte. The very packet of salt that no one had ever touched was still on the shelf in the hut. All you had to do was find iron. At least aluminum.

You jumped to your feet and started sharply tossing the sheets off, and your movements were sharp but unsure - you didn't know where to start. Before you knew it, the room was in the same condition as it had been at the beginning, with piles of scattered garbage piled tightly together, leaving no space.

Nevertheless, there was nothing here. Not a single piece of tinfoil.

Positive thought is always selfish - it fills all of a person's thoughts, leaving no room for anything else. Negative thought is so welcoming that it invites its 'friends' for a stroll through the mind, causing the person to jump frantically from one bad thought to another. They intertwine with each other until they form a tight knot of despair.

"You mean he made a deal with ya a year ago?"

You knew the first thing you'd do if you got out of here. You'd check out each and every one of those snakes that were crawling above. Whether or not they die in the process was not your problem.

Trying to suppress the trembling in your knees, you sat down right in the middle of the mess. Your foot, living a separate life, was tapping a fidgety nervous rhythm against the floor.

A sickening lump started to rise in your throat. Just a few moments ago, it was as if you'd been given a delicious Belgian chocolate to sniff, and as soon as you reached out to break off a piece, it was snatched away with an ugly laugh.

Your foot came to an abrupt stop. The last thought that ended the chaos in your head was about the chocolate bars.

***

It was getting harder and harder to relocate precisely - your body was letting you know about the overload, and sometimes it was even physically impossible to take a breath. Every day it became more and more painful. Therefore, you accidentally moved far away from the huts and ran to yours as fast as possible, with an overflowing backpack shaking behind your shoulders.

Once you were in the doorway, you couldn't quite make out those present through the joyful veil - it was enough that they were just there. "Bjorn!" you exclaimed running over to the shelf and starting to open your backpack - a huge amount of chocolates, a charger cable, copper wire, and a wristwatch flew out. "Where are all the bottles?"

"What do you mean? I sold them," the man said in a tone as if he were stating the most obvious thing in the world.

"Ya did what?" you asked disbelievingly, and the look on your face was as he hadn't sold a bunch of plastic, but your relative.

"Well, excuse me!" Bjorn apologized sarcastically, bowing. "I wanna smoke, and you can't even conjure up a cigarette!"

"Fine," you hissed, tearing the wrapper off the chocolate bar with a jerk; though annoyance had just boiled up inside you, you immediately softened and almost jumped on the spot - there was foil inside. "Now we're all gonna go rummage through the garbage."

"Why should I?" muttered Bjorn.

"What are you up to?" asked Jonah quietly, leaning against the shelf that held the chocolates.

"Ya wanna get out of this place?" you turned to him in a conspiratorial whisper, but the people behind you heard and immediately perked up their ears.

"Is this some kinda bad joke?" grinned Jonah nervously and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You're such a bullshitter!" bellowed Bjorn angrily, and seemed to toss something aside.

There was a satisfied mooing from the side, and you turned to see that Oter and Nora were sitting in the corner; the giant was teaching her how to handle a needle and thread. "I wanna," Nora whispered quietly, and Oter nodded vigorously. You glared at Nora, and grabbing your jackets from the forgotten nails in the wall, nodded your head toward the exit.

[April 29, 2020; 9:09 pm; Hopetown]

It is a truism that the spring air changes everything around people. Even the taste of tea on the tip of Frank's tongue felt different with the green grass, the buds in bloom, the flapping of migrating birds' wings. In spite of his imposing figure, he felt a lightness inside that only dimmed or disappeared when he thought of you, but he was careful to keep those thoughts out of his mind with the cares and chores of the household.

Frank had just finished examining the cattle, and had not forgotten to feed the smaller cattle as well - his legs were buzzing from such a seemingly small walk; the man scolded himself for this, for only a few years ago he might have undergone such exertions that people had doubts about his mortality.

As he sipped from his large mug, Frank looked out the window watching the children all the time. He'd never been able to catch the moment when he'd changed from the absentee father to the overprotective one, and no one could tell him which was the better of the two evils.

Noticing dusk approaching, Frank sighed, set his mug aside, and opened the window. "Mike! Tris! Get home now!" his voice was so booming that the mountain tops didn't shake thanks only to a miracle. It was only when two tiny silhouettes ran toward the hill that he calmed down and was about to close the sash, except that there was someone else on the horizon, and that someone else was also heading toward Frank's house.

Frank hastily replaced the sweat-soaked T-shirt with a clean one, for no matter what his guests' intentions were, they were to be greeted in a proper manner. He heard Tris and Mike rush in like a tornado, laughing as they swept through the girl's room.

Literally a minute later, there was a knock on the door.   

Though Frank had seen the figures through the window and could mentally make out who it really was, still a surprised interjection escaped him. "Oh," said Frank dully, flapping his eyes. "What a surprise," the man shifted his gaze from Gojo to Danielle.

"Hey," greeted Gojo, waving his hand carelessly. The girl stood beside him, huddled and not lifting her gaze from the floor. "Dany said she can't stand to stay in that house, so...," he scratched the shaved back of his head thoughtfully. "I brought her to you. What are you standing there for?" he shoved Danielle lightly in the back, intent on bringing her out of her stone statue state. "Come on in." 

Frank looked worriedly at the girl who was going up to the second floor. "Dany, what's the matter...," Frank muttered quietly, hesitating whether to follow her or not.

"I wanna be alone," she mumbled over her shoulder, after which she disappeared from sight.

"Uh," Gojo began, hiding his face in his high collar. "I hope you don't mind if Megumi shows up here too? He's on a mission right now, and when he gets back and won't see Danielle... He'll start making those nasty faces again."  

"No problem," Frank shrugged cordially. "Why don't ya come in?"

"Nah, it's fine," Gojo fussily waved his hands in protest. "Gotta go."

Frank looked him over meaningfully, dressed in his black uniform, and what was still new was the blindfold over his eyes. "Work, huh?" 

"Kinda," Gojo chirped into the fabric of his robes. He was already turning on his heels, waving at Frank one last time. "I'll bring souvenirs!" 

"Ya really think I'm just gonna buy that?" shouted Frank after him. "That ya just took off work to bring Danielle here? Kyle, Rachel, or even Doc could have done it," Frank watched with a kind of amusement as Gojo froze in place. "Since ya're here, come in. Have some tea at least after your journey." 

Gojo walked into the house to an elderly snicker - it gave him goosebumps. Of course, he suspected there would be only two possibilities: he would either be stopped or not, and both felt equally fatal to him. "Sit down," Frank nudged Gojo toward the couch with a heavy hand, and handed him a mug.

Gojo took a small sip and grimaced, setting the cup down on the coffee table.  There was no sugar in the tea. "Look at ya, picky," Frank chimed in, taking a seat beside Gojo. "Sugar's over there," he pointed to a beige sugar bowl on the kitchen counter. "Help yourself."   

"So welcoming," Gojo sarcastically remarked, clapping his hands and standing up from the couch. 

Frank watched as the man walked over to the kitchen counter and began to rummage around. "Well, tell me about it."

There was a reason Gojo had volunteered to accompany Danielle - Rachel wasn't home, and no one was bothering him with questions. But Kyle's hard and intrusive stare was hard to bear, and Gojo had the good sense to keep quiet or it would have ended in a little scuffle - in his mind, a fight that would have left the house a stone unturned. "I don't know how to say this."  

"As it is," Frank said, and Gojo really didn't want to go back there - to the couch where your protective father sat. He continued to pour sugar into the mug in silence with only the occasional tapping sound. 

Gojo didn't know if he was being mature or immature. Would it be honest to tell Frank or was he just going to turn the whole thing on Frank's head, absolving himself of all responsibility? 

His words were always ahead of his thoughts, and Gojo didn't consider that a disadvantage or an advantage - maybe it was always just for the best, so why now did he feel like his tongue had caught in his throat? 

So as not to arouse more suspicion and doubt, Gojo returned to the coffee table and seated beside Frank, but dared not look at him even through the piece of cloth over his eyes. He stared at his hands, but could see neither the mug they held, nor the coffee table, nor the rug beneath it. "Uh, here's the thing," Gojo chuckled nervously. "I kinda hovered around your daughter for a reason. At first," on the last word, he accentuated his index finger upward. "I... Well, how can I put this..." 

Frank gently took the mug from his hands and set it on the table. "Son, look at me," Frank asked in a soft baritone.

As soon as Gojo raised his head through his inner protests, he immediately felt a sharp pain between his eyes followed by an aching sensation in the bridge of his nose. His hand instantly flew to the sore spot, and he watched Frank involuntarily, fearing another punch.

Frank calmly walked over to the fridge, rummaged around in the freezer, and nonchalantly as if nothing had just happened walked over to Gojo and held a bag of frozen vegetables to his nose. "Put your head back."

"Well," Gojo muttered into his nose, cradling the bag with one hand and wiping the blood off his upper lip with the other. "I'd say it was deserved, but I didn't even finish the sentence." 

"Ya didn't have to," Frank muttered angrily, helping to wipe away the blood with absorbent cotton. "Now ya'd better say something in your own defense so I don't make ya fertilizer in my garden," Gojo wasn't afraid, but he activated infinity just in case, and Frank's arm was immediately thrown aside. In fact, the size of the pain he had just experienced was nothing compared to the size of the weight that had just fallen from his soul. "If ya think a trick like that is gonna stop me-" 

"They promised to bring someone back to me," Gojo said absently, tossing the bag of vegetables back on the table, and then stuffed the absorbent cotton deeper into his nostrils. Noticing Frank's look, he added: "Your higher-ups." 

"That's how it is," sighed Frank dejectedly. "Well, that's all right. I almost fell for a trick like that once myself."

"So it was a ruse after all," there was no sadness or despair in Gojo's voice - only complete understanding with humility read between the lines. 

"Dunno. I never agreed to it in the end," Frank said, stroking the watch on his hand gently, which didn't go unnoticed. "Maybe it was a bluff. I haven't met anyone with resurrection powers yet."

"You don't know all the abilities of your world?" blurted out Gojo his question suspiciously, yet indignantly.

"What about ya?" Frank began, squinting his eyes more and more and moving toward him. "Like ya know all these damn techniques yourself?" 

"Cursed," Gojo corrected Frank. As a reminder to keep his mouth shut, the pain in the bridge of his nose recoiled with a new throbbing.

"I said what I said, don't ya correct me," muttered Frank, and immediately pulled away.

"Well, actually you're right," Gojo said meekly and with a barely perceptible shrug. "I don't. What, then... Uh. Why did you refuse?" 

"Because the dead must stay dead," Frank retorted sharply, but when he heard such a boorish tone come from his lips, he softened at once. "Who knows what that might do?"

The image of Kenjaku still smiling at him immediately popped into Gojo's mind. Wasn't it a resurrection? Perhaps Frank was right, and the realization had come to Gojo a long time ago, but it formulated and took a clear image only now, when it came out of someone else's mouth. 

Frank quietly but unexpectedly broke the silence. "How's your nose? Lemme see."

"It's fine," Gojo waved it away and pulled out the bloody absorbent cotton and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, making sure it wasn't wobbling. "It's all healed now." 

"Not bad," hummed Frank approvingly

Gojo's face had a smug expression on it like a click. The only thing that remained unchanged was that he was still watching Frank's fingers run over the wristwatch strap. "So, uh... your wife, huh?"

"Son, ya either have a spare nose or a sense of tact," Frank noisily blew the air out of his nostrils, but the years of accumulated and unreleased grief immediately made itself known. His shoulders slumped and slouched, the mug in his hands shook, and who knows whether it was safer in his fingers with white knuckles or on the floor. "Yeah, wife."

Gojo had already put his foot on his leg in his customary manner, leaning back against the back of the sofa. He felt too strange. Like home. "And the watch? Her present?" 

"It was Shaya who asked me to marry her."

It was amusing to watch such a big man blush and see it all over his face - down to his ears, but that wasn't what made Gojo laugh out loud. "Look at you, you big, shy man. I wonder what kinda woman she was," he said wiping away a tear with his finger. 

"Hmm," Frank drawled slyly. "Actually, I was thinking of showing ya Y/N's childhood pictures, but since ya're acting like that," he watched out of the corner of his eye as Gojo stretched out of his previous position in a second. "And she's in there without a mask, eh..."

"I'll behave!" blurted out Gojo almost in the man's face.

"Oh, no-no, that's not the point," began Frank pathetically, rising up and rubbing his lower back. "I haven't got the carrot weeded yet, and with my back it takes a long time, ya know... Well, some other time-"

Gojo squirmed in place with even more vigor. "I'll do anything!"

"All right," Frank sighed, maintaining a distressed look with all his might. "Come on then, get the box from the top shelf," the man barely had time to point to the closet before Gojo was immediately beside it. "The black one." 

It wasn't hard to find - the box stood out against the background of old hats, mittens and scarves. But on his way back, Gojo overexcited and bumped the chair leg, and the entire contents of the box fell right into Frank's feet. 

Trying to calm him with a look, Frank began to pick up things from the floor; there weren't many of them, just a small scrapbook, three braided bracelets, and…

"Where's the watch?" murmured Frank anxiously, looking around at the few items put back in the box. "Where's the..."

Gojo, who until then had been standing nearby with a guilty look, noticed a velvet box rolled under the table. "You mean this?" he asked, picking it up from the floor. 

"Thank goodness!" blurted out Frank in relief taking the box, and after opening it and making sure the watch was in place, he put it away with everything else. "Sit down," he clapped the seat beside him, and as soon as Gojo sat down, Frank immediately froze, staring at him. "Get your rag off."

"What?" asked Gojo, confused by the swap of Frank's behavior.

"I said take your rag off your eyes," Frank hissed, and that voice, similar in sharpness to the end of an obsidian arrow, made Gojo's spine tingle.

He took off his blindfold, and as soon as Frank saw the blue eyes, he immediately assumed his usual good-natured look. "What," chuckled Gojo nervously. "You really thought I was one of those?" 

"Well, why?" shrugged Frank. "Ya come sniffing around here..."

"I just wanted to see a picture!"

"I know," Frank said, opening the album. "What should I show ya..."

"Can't we look at everything?" whined Gojo boyishly, trying to peer into the album Frank had opened. 

Frank immediately blocked the view with the lid of the box. "The deal was for one picture!" he reminded, and Gojo immediately flopped down resentfully and sank into the back of the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, ya can't actually see her here," Frank muttered, looking at the fishing picture - all he could see was the back of your head and the rod. "Here either," Frank looked at your back and the soldering iron in your hand - he'd taught you how to solder that day, having previously broken every silver chain in the house. "And here she's too far away," he said, turning the page and facing you who was hanging by one arm from some rock, looking at the camera and waving with your free hand. "And this one's not for ya to see yet," he quickly turned the page as there you were - swimming in the bathtub surrounded by ducklings. "And this one's okay... She's barely into puberty here, so she's a little different, though..." 

"Stop teasing me!" exclaimed Gojo, trying to pull the lid off the box, but Frank clutched it tightly.

"Well, ya ready?" Frank asked suddenly, taking his eyes off the album, and Gojo's breath caught in his throat - he wasn't ready. He realized it only now - would he really see your face? He wanted to ask Frank to pinch him, but his tongue refused to move. Gojo nodded silently and briefly, and Frank raised his eyebrows in surprise, but held out the photo.   

Gojo tried his best to defocus his vision and not look at the photo. He squeezed his eyes shut as hard as he could, holding it in his hands in front of him. It was so stupid of him to let you get any closer, even though you weren't even here. But he didn't blame himself for wanting to cross all your possible personal boundaries - you were already a part of his life, regardless of your presence.

Maybe he should have delayed this moment and waited for you to remove the mask yourself.

Maybe you were right when you said he was quite altruistic exactly as long as it didn't involve his selfish desires.

Maybe he wasn't ready. But he'd already started.

Gojo opened his eyes. All the precious things he had touched - whether it was the black rope, the inverted heaven spear, or the candy were immediately destroyed, but what he was holding in his hands now was priceless to him. 

It was you. You were wearing a yellow raincoat against an overcast, dark gray sky. Your wet strands falling from under the hood over your shoulders, and you were looking away, laughing. Your lips spread in a wide smile that bared your teeth, nose wrinkled, eyes half-open. Your features were soft - not childish, but you couldn't be called an adult. He could see someone's tanned hand reaching out to you in the shot, which was probably Rachel's. What did she do to make you laugh so hard? What did she say?

It seemed to Gojo - no, he was sure - that he had never held anything so carefully in his life. Where would he put this picture now? In a frame? In a purse? In his chest pocket, perhaps? "Random shot," Frank's satisfied voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "We were supposed to go to the river, and the forecast said it was only gonna be a drizzle, but I got called into work. When I got back, it was pouring... My kids were coming back from the river, and I had time to take a couple of pictures. Rachel came down with pneumonia..."  

"Do you think she'll come back?" asked Gojo quietly, stroking your cheek with the pad of his thumb. 

"I dunno how to answer that question, son," Frank echoed his muffled tone. "But I do know that she's been missing for a lot longer than that."

"What was the maximum?"

Frank started counting something on his fingers. "Hmm... A little over three years."

"What?" spat out Gojo indignantly, but immediately relented feeling that he had crumpled the picture a little. "I'm not getting any younger here, actually," he muttered to himself, looking directly at the image as if addressing you.

"Why should ya care?" resented Frank with his arms at his sides. "Ya're in your fourth decade, and ya look like a kid in his twenties!"

"You could use a drop of cream, too," he said, smiling cheekily. "When is your birthday, by the way?"

"Brat," groaned Frank menacingly, shifting his gaze from him to the photo.

Frank's gaze, as if reading his intentions, caused Gojo to clutch the picture to his chest and begin to slowly pull away. "You know what else I've noticed?" he was well aware of the danger of this, but the excitement could not be taken away. "You care so much about your wife's things, about her wedding present and her watch, but where is your wedding ring? Did you take it off? Or maybe you found someone?" Frank tried to grab him by the shirtfront, but his hands stopped a couple inches away. "He-he." 

The joy was gone at once. The man was suddenly so depressed that it was clear that it was hardly because he had failed to set Gojo straight again. "What a fool ya are," Frank mumbled, resting his elbows on his knees. The disheveled gray hair that had come loose from his ponytail covered his face. "The watch is that ring."

"What?" asked Gojo confusedly and almost helplessly, shifting his gaze to Frank's wristwatch. 

"That's how it is with hunters," Frank began, carefully adjusting the velvet box that rested in the black box. "I have no idea why. Probably because time is the most precious thing we have after all. And since they opened the entrance to the void, it has sacred significance for me personally, even though I've never been there. Dunno about the rest," Frank didn't sniffle, but Gojo noticed the man wiping something off his face with his sleeve. "It wasn't even a new watch that was valued, but one that the owner had worn for a long time before. Here, they say, 'I'll always wait for ya at home'."  

"It's just a watch. If it bothers you that much, you can just return it later."  

Gojo took the same pose as the man, while turning your picture. He was embarrassed to even look into your painted eyes. "Okay, I went a little overboard. I'm sorry," the apology may have come out through force, but it sounded sincere. "Would you mind... You know. Slap me on the back?" 

"Son, ya all right?" asked Frank worriedly, looking at Gojo's slumped figure.

"What if I told you I just need support?"

"Why didn't ya say it sooner!" exclaimed Frank, and slapped him on the back with such force that Gojo nearly hit his forehead on his knee. 

"Much better," he said, straightening up. There was a crunch in his vertebrae. "And, uh... Can I keep the picture?"

"Well," Frank drawled meaningfully. "I've still got some unfertilized roses standing out there..."

Gojo grinned while carefully tucking your picture into an inside pocket. "Got it."

There really was a lot of trash here. The only downside was that it was all piled up, guarded by those who had the nerve to keep the others away. "You brought water, what do you want with those bottles?" grumbled Bjorn, stepping behind you.

"We need the empty ones," you pointed out, eyeing a bigger pile of trash. "We only have four, and we'd need... Dunno, fifteen, I guess?"

Nora trotted along beside you, and you had to speed up because Oter was already kicking up your heels in his usual gait. When you stopped at one of the huts and looked through the fence netting, you noticed only two people who were looking through the local 'treasures'. They were so engrossed that they didn't even notice the five persons walking up to them. "Excuse me," you politely called attention to yourself, and the person who was sitting with their back to you flinched and turned around. It was a woman. She looked like everyone else - dirty and putrid. Her eyes widened with fright as she faced you, who smiled welcomingly, Nora, who drew your dagger in her direction with shaky hands, Bjorn, who stroked his stick of nails affectionately, Jonah, who tried his best to give himself a menacing look and glared at the woman, and, as the icing on the cake, Oter, who hovered over your backs. "Really need your dumpster. Just bottles, we won't take the extra," you stated cheerfully, noticing how she was backing away. The other man was nowhere to be seen.

"Get out of here," growled Bjorn, and spat thick saliva on the sand. "Or else I'll shove this stick in-"

"I think she gets it," you said through gritted teeth, shoving Bjorn's shoulder and continuing to smile. "No, honestly," you turned to the woman again, throwing up your hands. "Give us fifteen minutes," she nodded or shuddered in response, but began to move further and further away from you without turning her back. When the woman rounded the corner of the hut, she sat down and began to watch you, apparently not really thinking much about stealth. "Well, come on. Let's get to work," with that said, you started digging through the trash.

"Nah, you deal with it yourself," Bjorn muttered lazily, taking a seat and leaning against the hut wall. "I didn't sign up for this at all."

Nora glanced at him in disgust. "You sure you're a man?"

"Why?" he grinned, licking his lips greasily. "Want to check it out?"

"Hold your horses," you warned him, tossing either a rotted banana skin or a piece of flesh in his direction. "She's got a dagger in her hand now, and I might go blind for a couple minutes," you glimpsed Nora, but the muscles in her face seemed to be relaxed. "And ya can do whatever ya want," you added quietly, and she chuckled weakly.

Bjorn snorted irritably. "Women have never understood humor," you let that phrase pass your ears, but you were still worried about Nora, but she just kept digging through the junk.

"Here's the first one," Nora chirped contentedly, holding out the bottle to you, and you never seemed happier - it wasn't just a piece of slick plastic to you, it was a step forward.

***

You all sat in a circle as if to perform a ritual. You placed chocolates, salt and six bottles of water, a pile of empty bottles, a coil of copper wire, and the charger cable suitable for your phone on the floor. You sat across from all this wealth with your legs tucked under you and your clasped hands to your lips. Something kept you from starting. You tried to retain every slightest sense of that awe, and as you shifted your gaze from object to object, all you could think about was that you had never held such precious things in your hands before - no artifacts or jewelry could compare to them. "So... what's next?" Jonah's voice seemed unusually loud in this silence.  

"We should unpack all the chocolates," you muttered, nodding your head involuntarily. "Get the foil out and distribute chocolates. The quicker - the better. And make sure it gets eaten as fast as possible, because if the demons notice, we'll be in a lot of trouble."

"Okay," Jonah said and started unwrapping the chocolates, placing the foil next to you. He glanced at you every now and then, wondering and worrying why you were just sitting there.

"What are we even doing?" turned Nora conspiratorially to you

"There's such a thing as the electrochemical activity series of metals," you muttered, scratching your chin.

"Your black magic again," Bjorn snickered huskily, taking a bite of half a chocolate bar at a time.

You lazily and grudgingly clucked your tongue, and your eyes rolled back. "I won't go into details. I'll just say that if you put two pieces of different metals in an electrolyte, you can always get electricity."

"Come on, Bjorn," laughed Jonah, seeing the man begin to boil over. "It's just physics," Jonah pressed his lips together guiltily seeing Bjorn jump up. He grabbed a couple more bars of unwrapped chocolate and flew out of the hut, muttering something to himself. "Uh... What's electricity gonna do for us? We seem to have light anyway."

You pulled your phone out of your pocket. "With electricity, I'll be able to charge this thing, and this thing will in turn show me my date and time," your insides clenched painfully as you wondered for a moment how much time might have passed. "And I'll be able to get out. And get ya out of here, too." 

Oter gave a satisfied mumble, and it was clear from the way he waved his arms that he was getting attention. You looked at the way he poked at himself first, and then at the pile of stuff. "Grab the shears and start cutting the empty bottles exactly in the middle, 'kay? The edges aren't that important, they can be crooked too, so don't worry too much about it."

Oter nodded happily, and started doing what you had instructed him to do - he seemed so focused that he wanted to stick his tongue out, and only now did you notice that there was only half a tongue.

You and Nora began to cut the copper wire - exactly into such pieces that you could crumple a 'ball' out of a piece, and that one end of the piece of wire was sure to stick out.

Everyone did their things in silence and as carefully as possible as if a word or a sudden movement might break the magic that had entered the hut. There were fifteen bottles, so you had to measure by eye so that there were fifteen pieces of wire with the end sticking out. There was enough tinfoil already accumulated, that should have been enough too.

"Jonah, ya know...," you drawled, looking at the stack of chocolates. "I'll take one with me, though. As a souvenir," planning anything before it was even a possibility was presumptuous and usually a failure, but you couldn't deny yourself that.

He nodded briefly and noticed the look on your face - it wasn't focused or anticipatory at all, it was like you missed someone.

"Okay, good," you summarized, seeing everyone finishing up their business. "So now, we take the container," you slid half the bottle toward you. "And we cover the inside walls with foil. All the way around. Only beforehand, one end of the foil should be twisted into a bundle, and covered a container inside so that this bundle sticks out of the bottle," you carefully twisted one end of the foil into a bundle, covered the inside of the container with foil, trying not to tear the thin metal material, and put it on the floor in front of everyone. "Here, see? It's the same as the aluminum can, except this thing should be sticking out," you rubbed the flagellum with your finger.

"I don't know what's going on, but I like it," Nora squeaked excitedly, grabbing another container and foil.  

The corners of your lips crept upward when you heard such Nora. "Now... Jonah, do we have any old rags left? Any old rags that we can spare. Even my uniform will do."

"Yeah, sure," Jonah said and taking a nail opened one of the floorboards, whereupon he took out your form.

You tore it into pieces, after which you wrapped pre-prepared bundles of copper wire in separate scraps of cloth and placed them in a container so that the tip of the copper wire would stick out of the bottle on the pair with a flagellum of foil.

"You seriously tore your uniform for this?" asked dumbfounded Jonah, putting emphasis on the last word. 

"An insulator. It needs to keep the metals from touching each other or there won't be any current," you shrugged, correcting your creation. "Need electrolyte," you announced, picking up a packet of salt. You poured three big spoons of salt into each bottle of water and shaking everything well began pouring the solution into an aluminum foil-lined container. "Too bad there's no voltmeter...," you sighed, admiring your made battery. "In a thing like this, uh, I dunno… about half a volt? Anyway, the more we make batteries like this, the stronger the current will be."

"So what are we waiting for then?" blurted out Nora, hastily grabbing the next container and foil.

The room was filled with rustling and puffing. Jonah, as it happened, was doing everything very slowly, but you didn't blame him seeing how hard he was working and carefully covering the bottle with foil. Nora, on the contrary, was in such a hurry that she had torn several thin layers of aluminum, but you didn't make any remarks to her either, for you understood her zeal - you were burning with it too. Oter, as if afraid of breaking everything, only watched your actions mesmerized.

When it was done and you had fifteen identical batteries in front of you, Jonah slammed himself on his knees with particular enthusiasm. "So, what's next?"

"Let's connect," you suggested, and slid the three batteries toward you. "See, copper connects to aluminum," you explained, weaving the tip of the copper wire of the first container with the aluminum harness of the second. "And aluminum connects to copper," you wrapped the aluminum harness of the third container around the copper wire of the second. "No copper-to-copper or aluminum-to-aluminum, it won't work. We should end up with an open-circuit with the aluminum harness at the first container and the tip of the copper wire at the last."

It wasn't a difficult task, so why were your hands shaking so much?

When the open-circuit was finally complete, you cut the charger cable without thinking, plugged it into the phone and set it down in front of you. Oter and Jonah crawled over your back and peered out from behind your shoulder; Nora, however, watching such a picture, chuckled. "It's just a phone."  

You carefully removed the outer and inner sheaths from the cable, and four wires showed -white, green, red, and black. "Okay... If this is done to standard, then red is plus, black is minus."

"And the white and green?" asked Nora, laying her head on your shoulder and watching.

"They're kinda for data transmission," you pondered, trying to remove the insulators from the two wires. "So they're not really needed right now."

When the conductive strands of the red wire were bare, you intertwined them with the copper wire sticking out of the last container. The black wire was not so easy - unlike the thin copper wire, the aluminum harness of the first container was too thick and not so bendable, so you had to hold it by hand.

The conductive strands of both wires were finally connected to the battery. Your hand was shaking, and the black wire's core kept popping off the aluminum, so you put your other hand around your wrist, telling it not to move. "What do we do next?" whispered Jonah, peering out from behind your shoulder.

"Pray," you replied in a cracked voice.

Everyone looked at the phone with a heartbeat, but with each passing second, the rapid heartbeat normalized, bringing with it a taste of disappointment. You could hear Nora sighing heavily, you could hear Oter crawling back to his corner, and you could see Jonah drumming his fingers disappointedly on the floorboards.

If you were a believing person - you'd recite a hundred prayers in a second, if you were a non-believing person - you'd pray for the first time, but your phone screen lit up.

And then it went out.

"Oh my God," your chest constricted with exultation, but you couldn't say the words, only incoherent babble. You bent down and rested your forehead on the floor. "It's working! This shit is working!" A passing person might think you were praying to a deity, but it was just a phone in front of you.

Maybe your compass did break when you got stuck here, but it always stayed on autopilot.

Nora shook you by the shoulders forcing you off the floor, and when you lifted your body with a loud gasp, she hugged you as hard as she could. You giggled involuntarily as she nuzzled her nose into your cheek. "Okay, guys," you barely audibly said from behind Nora's tight embrace. "There won't be anything else interesting anyway, so go get some rest."

"And you?" anxiously threw up her head Nora.

"And I'll stay to hold the wires," you said taking the core in your hands and bringing it back up to the aluminum.

The charging was very slow, and the screen of the phone went out from time to time - it seemed that the current in the battery was dropping at times. The hand that held the wire was getting stiff so was the rest of your body, so you tried not to move too much. You sat there with your legs tucked under you. This was accompanied by a wonderful musical accompaniment in the form of Oter who had been snoring for a long time.

Every time the phone screen lit up again, you caught a glimpse of Nora looking in your direction, and if the first time her eyes were wide open, the tenth time they were already clumped together and her eyelashes were twitching.

Jonah was awake. He couldn't sleep - he didn't understand what you were doing, but he knew in his gut the importance of what was happening. You said this thing would help you get out of here, but why is that look on your face now as it always was in those moments when you thought no one was looking at you? "Hey," Jonah quietly called out to you, taking a seat next to you. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah, sure," you replied idly, keeping your eyes on your phone.

Jonah blanched, swallowing the confusion and shame. "What helped you not to give up?" the question sounded timid, almost inaudible. In fact, what helped you? You put it down to your temper or to the nature of the job, which didn't tolerate the weak-willed, or maybe because of the people you'd met here, or... "There's someone waiting for you out there?"

Why is it that the most common truths only come to people through other people's mouths? "I...," your voice broke as you realized for the first time what had been pushing you forward all this time. "I have no clue," you whispered quietly, pressing your chapped lips together. "But ya know what?" just as you'd been prepared for the inevitable failure of someone close to you to return one day, you'd also expected yourself to be lost one day and hoped that the others would take it the way you would - as a given and without much drama. "This is the first time I've really hoped so."

The first time he'd heard you speak like that, and trying to find words of encouragement or comfort, Jonah peered at you through the darkness of the hut. "Hey," he began warily. "What's wrong with your eyes-"

The door swung open with such force that it knocked all previous emotions experienced here recently out of the hut. "Hey, you fucking scientists," Bjorn said drunkenly, and seeing the bottle of cheap whiskey in his hand, you were already going over in your mind what he'd sold in exchange for alcohol this time. "They've brought in some newcomers, let's go see."

You glanced at your phone's screen - eighty-eight percent charge. "Newcomers?" you asked dumbly, frowning and tucking the gadget into your pocket.

There was no answer, but Bjorn walked back outside and flopped awkwardly on the porch. You and Jonah looked at each other. He shrugged embarrassedly and stood up, heading for the exit. You followed him.

When you were outside, you stepped outside the fence and rested your forearm on one of the flimsy fence posts, barely missing Bjorn's foot. Everyone had come out of the huts. A rumbling, tense whispering stung the back of your neck.

A column of people did appear at the beginning of the street. They were walking slowly and could be seen being pushed forward at times. The demon ahead of them was clearing the road of people lying motionless on it - with each careless sweep of his hand, their bodies flew into the fence with a loud clang, and some of them were left with only their internal organs which crumpled into the sand.

As the column neared you, your body tensed. Twenty-three people in all. What a strange thing -no different from the ones already here, except that they were clean, frightened but ruddy, all young - about the same age, with no visible defects, and their physiques were just right: neither fat nor dystrophic, and if you looked closely, you could even see that they had a toned bodies. "Holy shit," you blurted out with eyes widened with insight. These were the people for the merge.

Diomorphea is here.

You looked up sharply at the demon buildings, and then looked down at your bony hands, your lips curved in resentment. "Fuck!" you roared kicking a fence support, and it flew out of the sand. There was such bitterness in that action that if that beam had been human, it wouldn't have taken offense, but instead would have started to comfort you. "Why now?" 

That story about the elephant being afraid of the mouse was nonsense. You needed to get home and show the place to the others as soon as possible, and then you were ready to give the doc all the rights to manipulate your body just to get you back in shape. Let him pump you up with whatever he wanted, let him use his powers to rebuild every structure until your bones started to crack. You hadn't even gotten out of here yet, and you wanted to get back in here sooner. "Are you okay?" asked Jonah seeing you rubbing your forehead with your fingers as if your head were splitting.

You grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the hut. "I gotta go. So listen carefully," Jonah was so taken aback by what was happening that he couldn't get a word in edgewise. "Every three days, one of our people will come here and live with ya. Each time we will bring medicine, food, water, we will heal people whenever possible. Ya will recognize the others. They will be in the same uniform as me. We'll live in your hut. The most important thing is that we will start taking out two or three people with us, and your task is to decide whom we take out. I suggest ya start with those who are very sick. Lure them into your hut any way ya can, but don't say anything to anyone," you said the last four words as firmly as possible. "I don't want people to start whispering. Do ya understand?"

"W-why it supposed to be me?" Jonah began to stammer.

You looked at him as if he were a fool. "Who am I supposed to trust with this? Oter, who doesn't speak? Nora, who's still reeling from the trauma? Or maybe a drunk prick who pisses himself?" you shook him by the shoulders. "Pull yourself together," until recently Jonah never dared think he could get out of here, and now he's being told he has to decide who gets to go back to the old, familiar, and beloved world first. He looked at you, but saw nothing through the wet veil that covered his eyes. "It's okay. It's fine," seeing the grown man break down, you tried to reassure him. "I'm worried too," you took his fallen hand and leaned it against the artery in your neck. "Do ya trust me?"

He nodded weakly and turned away, wiping his wet cheeks with his sleeves. "S-sorry. I just..."

"It's okay," you gently splayed your hands. Deciding to give him some privacy, you decided to finally work up the courage to turn on your phone.

You pressed the power button quickly, but when the logo appeared, you wanted to throw the gadget into the sand and bury it as deep as possible. What if you'd been here too long? As long as you didn't know the date and time - everything seemed possible and fixable. You could just keep looking and keep letting yourself hope and wish. What kind of fool would agree to break it all with his own hands?

The logo disappeared. The lock screen lights up.

   08:31 PM

Friday, May 29, 2020

You pressed your lips together tightly, stopping a convulsive inhalation. People were probably hang out at a bar now, or shopping for food and goodies for the weekend; maybe someone was at an amusement park, or just watching their favorite show, sipping wine or soda pop.

What were the people you cared about doing? You bit the knuckle of your index finger, trying to suppress the squeak that came out. You could go out and see it for yourself. "Friday," you tossed over your shoulder, grinning.

It was as if Jonah had been pulled out of a long coma that resembled a dream mingled of joys and sorrows. "What?" he asked in confusion.

"It's Friday," you were already giggling stupidly, looking at the date.

Jonah stepped closer and stared at the screen with you - even an uneducated person could see what it said. "Nice stuff," he smiled, still sniffling.  

You took out the wristwatch you'd stolen from that room, and staring intently at the phone's screen, began to adjust it twisting the crown. When the times finally matched, you turned and handed it to Jonah. "Take care of it," you said, gazing into his flushed nose and swollen face, but he did look happy now. "I gotta go," you said quietly, not looking away.

Jonah smirked sadly, taking the watch and slipping it on his arm. "Aren't you going to say goodbye to the others?"

"They're asleep," you said, hoping he'd believe your good intentions. In reality, you just didn't know how to say goodbye.

"Wait a second, you forgot something."

He came back, holding the backpack in his hands. When you looked inside, you saw a chocolate bar lying there alone. "Thank ya," you whispered quietly, trying to calm the blush creeping up your cheeks with your mind. 

The air was knocked out of you as he pulled you against him in a bear grip. The hug was strong, but the surprise was stronger. You didn't feel like pushing him away, and disgust didn't burn your stomach, making nausea come up your throat. "Take care of yourself," he murmured into the top of your head, and loosening his grip a little rested his forehead against yours. "Run, girl."

Not daring to look the man in the eye, you nodded erratically and took a step back running your fingers along the line from your chin to your cheekbones. Jonah had already forgotten that you once wore that black thing on your face. "See ya," seeing him nod, you turned and rushed towards the nearest rift.

Even though you couldn't feel your legs, you kept running. As you got farther away from the settlement, the cold air, even without the wind, whipped harder and harder against your face. You could not get enough air in your lungs, but you would rather die than stop one-step away from the exit.

Sand between the toes of the naked feet, in the eyes and hair, in the mouth and even in your stomach. You ran through the void with nothing but guts and one chocolate bar on your shoulders in the backpack. You didn't even want to turn around and see if you were being chased. 

The rift was getting closer and closer, your hand reached forward on its own, and as your fingers disappeared in a purple glow and your lungs filled with oxygen, you fell.

[May 29, 2020; 8:57 pm; Hopetown]     

You were lying on the ground. It was the same place from which you had last entered the void, but now, barely conscious, you could feel that it was much warmer than it had been then. The forest didn't seem so scary anymore, the trees swayed serenely from side to side, lulling your already exhausted gut to sleep. Your hand tried to cling to the greening grass, but to no avail - as soon as you crossed the line, there was no strength left to pluck even a single blade of grass.

'Fine,' you thought resentfully, watching through half-closed eyelids as your fingers refused to move. The grass was soft like a bed, so you didn't mind lying there for a while longer.

You mumbled unhappily as your body suddenly began to levitate, an ability you'd never studied, so you had nothing to do with it. When your body flipped, you realized that you weren't just floating in the air - you were being held by someone's hands. A shade of gray hair glistened in the tired light of the nearly gone sun. "Hey, Frank," you greeted the man with a weak smile.

You felt like you were riding in a carriage over huge bumps. It was nauseating. "Hush," Frank held you tighter against his chest without slowing his stride. "Hush," he repeated, and only then did you hear his voice shake frantically.

"Frank," you mumbled rubbing the collar of his T-shirt. "Don't tell anyone I'm here yet. I really want a hot bath," the sound of your voice muffled against Frank's neck sounded weary and exhausted - the man couldn't stand that tune. "I want shampoo, I want conditioner, I want body wash, I want body scrub, I want moisturizer, I-

"I got it," it was no less than a God joke - Frank didn't cry even at his own wife's funeral, but when you started listing what hygiene supplies you wanted, tears themselves streamed down his face. "I'll get everything. Just be quiet already." You obediently fell silent, and a marvel swirled in your mind - indeed, nothing could destroy your desire for life.

next ⊳

[thiniceofeternalyouth]

Ao3 is archive of our own 🥲 it is a fanfiction site. have you really never heard of it? (Geninue question I'm not judging)

Its nothing, its just my first ff and im new to all of this. Anyway, i will try to make it on ao3 too

[thiniceofeternalyouth]

Would u make an ao3 :33

Im sorry im old grandma, whats that😅

[thiniceofeternalyouth]

MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER EIGHT

COLD WASTELAND

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, sci-fi, cosmology.

Words count: ~13k

(hey im still alive and i will release three more chapters next week)

⊲ previous

[December 6, 2019; 12:32 am; Hopetown].

All the possible scenery that Gojo could have seen on the way home was invisible to him - you and your grateful expression were in front of his eyes. There were no sounds of the surroundings and no one's voices for him – only words spoken aloud and those that never left his lips were rushing in his head.

One random tap on his shoulder was what made Gojo come to his senses. He was already standing in the middle of the living room, and the place was overly hectic, but it wasn't the kind of bustle that was inherent in the holidays. All the whispers and quiet conversations in the room spread across his back like someone's bony hands, leaving behind only an aching sensation and a chill. A single girlish sob made those hands pierce the flesh, running the cold deep beneath the skin. "What's going on here?" asked Gojo, confused, shifting his gaze from Frank to the crying Danielle.  

Frank fussily poured water into a glass. "Son, I'm sorry I pushed ya. Didn't even notice ya," he hurried over to the lump-like Danielle sitting on the couch and handed her the glass; the girl took it with trembling hands and took a couple of convulsive sips as Frank wrapped her tighter in the blanket. Pulling away from Danielle, Frank turned to Gojo. "Ya just don't worry too much. I don't know how it happened, but Megumi ended up in the void. I've already sent Kyle and Issu, now Rachel will be back too, I'll feed her quickly and send her back to search. Everything will be fine."

"I-" Danielle started, but was interrupted by her own sobs. "I-I don't know how it happened- We- We were just lying there, talking, a-and then all of a sudden- Oh my God," with each word she managed to say, the lump from the new tears coming up clenched her throat more and more, and when the limit was reached, she started crying again. "I don't know, I just saw a flash and he disappeared. I-I don't know," pressing the glass to her forehead she shook her head with such force that water spurted over the edge.

The bad news sounded absurd, but with each passing second, the tight feeling in his chest only grew. The single question knocked everything else out of Gojo's head and began to flit back and forth until it was on the tip of his tongue. "Is this some kinda joke?" 

"I'm afraid not, son," Frank clapped him on the shoulder, and at the same moment, a faint purple flash showed somewhere in the distance. "There's Rachel. Give us fifteen minutes," the man had already thrown on his jacket. "It'll be okay," he added quietly before heading out the door.

Gojo stayed in the room with Danielle, and he knew that if he couldn't let his emotions out in private, he had no right to do so in front of the child.

He walked over to the couch where Dany was sitting and clumsily plopped down. Gojo put his foot on the leg and glanced stealthily at the girl - she still sat shrunken and twitching. "You know," he said, smiling nonchalantly. "He is very much like his father. Not just in looks," the smile was replaced for a moment by a grimace of disgust. "Megumi's just as stubborn, and just as much of a pain in the ass. Also tenacious, to top it off," Gojo sighed and leaned his head back on the back of the couch, still keeping his eyes on Dany. "Trust me, if you knew his dad, you'd know what I'm talking about. So... He'll be fine," he added, but already addressing it himself more than Danielle.  

After a while, Danielle's sobs began to fade, but her sleepy restless sighs grew louder. She never changed her posture and fell into slumber in the same way she had cried, sitting up with her knees to her chest. 

Gojo tried his best to fall into the arms of Morpheus, but each time, at the boundary between sleep and vigor, he unconsciously raised his head and looked at his watch; time was indeed dragging for him in slow agonizing snatches. 

He was about to lay his head on the armrest in another desperate attempt to sleep, but he jumped up before anything could happen. Whether it was the violet light through the floorboards or the loud rumbling in the room above - before he could think which came first, he was running for the stairs.

Gojo opened the door to Megumi's room with such force that it nearly flew off its hinges. His student was lying on the floor, his limbs barely moving, his chest heaving, and though there was plenty of oxygen in the room, Megumi was pressing the ill-fitting mask to his face as hard as if his life depended on it. 

Gojo sat him down and leaned him against the wall in one motion, trying not to pay attention to the mask or ask hasty questions. He squeezed Megumi's cheeks with his hands and immediately grimaced – boy's skin was burning cold. "Oh, you cold as ice! Is the gut of your soul coming out?" Megumi shook his head weakly as if warding off an annoying fly. "Alright, let's go see Shoko. Better yet, to doc. It's kinda his thing."

"I'm fine," Megumi said weakly in a hoarse voice, and he even had the strength to shove Gojo's hands away from his face - a clumsy and careless movement. Something tinkled in Gojo's ear, and at that moment, something in his soul snapped. He tried not to notice, tried not to ask any questions, tried not to look around - all in vain. 

Megumi had seen all sorts of expressions on Gojo's face: happy, condescending, serious, mocking, disgusted, all of which made him want to punch that man as hard as possible. However, what was that expression now that he was examining the watch on his wrist, where was that frightened look coming from? "Megumi, where-" the voice was also barely recognizable; it was as if it was not his teacher, but his ghost that sat before him. "Where did you get that watch from?" 

[Timeless, void]

Your frostbitten skin was so tight that every slightest change in your facial expression created new bleeding cracks in your face. Even though they healed in minutes, new ones replaced them almost immediately.

Your running had long since changed to pacing, and you were dragging your feet without realizing what you were doing - everything was automatic. The feeling of sand in your shoes was so unpleasant that you thought: what if it had gotten under your skin? Everything inside creaked as if grains of sand were scraping against bones.

You climbed stubbornly up the next hill, but it was hardly a great climb; you were bent over, clinging to the surface with all your limbs. The sand kept seeping through your fingers, forcing you to dig your fingernails in even deeper until your hands sank to your elbows in the earth.

Once again, you pushed your palms into the ground with a little more force than necessary: your hands were in the sand, and your face was in the there too. You didn't immediately find the strength to raise your head, but you exhaled angrily.

How long have you been here? A week? Two? A month?

In the midst of all those thoughts, you didn't immediately notice that your numb limbs were tingling. You lifted your head and brought your hand closer to your face, trying to get a better look at it and make sure it wasn't another trick of this place. You twirled your palm, examining it. Other than the cracks, the hand looked perfectly normal. If it wasn't a trick, however…

Did that really mean it was getting warmer in this area?

You immediately snapped out of it - how long had it been warmer? Your arms began to work faster and harder, and you were no longer annoyed by your own mistakes and sliding down when you made them - you kept climbing anyway. You tried to keep your breath short: it was worth saving your strength, because if it got warmer, it could only mean one thing.

Somewhere nearby was a settlement.

The same horizon - but now its violet flames were even brighter - was still before your eyes, and you slid down the slope and breathed a sigh of relief that the path across the plain would be less thorny. Your hands were clutching at aching places - your sides, your right hip, and your left calf was cramping, and you stumbled through your own leg with every step.

Still you went forward, and the farther you went, the more immobilized bodies you saw: some of them were almost buried under the sand; some had hardly a dozen grains of sand on them. Here the rifts loomed up one after another, and each time you looked at them, your heart sank with longing - in space, you were barely a few dozen feet from home; in time, give or take infinity.

The closer you got to the settlement, the less the light cast glare, and everything began to appear just like a mirage: slow and smooth.

There was only one straight street, flanked by huts made of scrounged wood and scrap metal. The metal sheets were of different sizes and squeezed into various places in the dwellings - they looked like they were about to fall off. Some of the walls in the houses were replaced by welded mesh fences, and it was all askew as if it was tired of everything that was happening.

The houses didn't even have doors; like a mockery, they had ridiculous pieces of wood swinging on their hinges. There were no garbage cans, either; trash was piled in huge heaps in various corners. The finest thing was at the end of the street: as if showing their place among the humans, on a rise stood the buildings of demons, and they were not made of dying and outmoded materials. Everything looked solid and fancy, and in these buildings were mixed so many styles of architecture, which was not known even to the most enlightened person in this case. Even the parts that fell off the houses never really fell - they slowly and smoothly began to run in circles around the place, illuminating everything with a cold violet light as if without it not everyone here froze to the bone.

You dragged your feet along the street; from every side came the sound of sobbing noses and coughing, and it was of such force that you wondered whether the lungs of such a person were still there, or whether they had been spat out on the ground. People here either wandered from place to place or stayed in the huts, but some of them curled up in a ball or leaned their backs against the wall and sat motionless in the street.

You woke up from a push in your shoulder - a person was running past you, and they didn't seem to notice you as much as you didn't notice them. You couldn't see their face, it was hidden under a hood, but you guessed what you could see: a skinny face, huge black circles under their eyes (if they were there at all), sores on their skin. You glanced up to see where the person had retreated from, and at the same moment, you were skulking into the alley between the houses - the demon was chasing them; maybe the demon was running in their direction for a different reason, but you didn't want to stay in the front of the line.

You circled the huts and found yourself in the tentative backyard; luckily, a few of them had loopholes inside. There was no use thinking about which one to go into first - none of them would be any good, anyway - so you took a couple of steps and went into the nearest opening.

No matter how hard you squinted, it was dark in the shack, and there was only the rustle of activity to tell you that you were not alone. Before you could even take a step forward, a beam of light was shone in your face, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut and take a step back. "Who the fuck are you?" you only wanted to answer as you felt several cold pokes on your neck through the fabric of your uniform. Closing your watery eyes against the light, you looked down -  a stick with nails at your throat. As you tried to turn your head to try to see who was holding the melee weapon, it was immediately and violently pulled back to its previous position.  

You slowly raised your hands, the cold nails turning into teeth that dug harder into your skin. "Guys, I don't really want any trouble. We're kinda in the same boat."

"Oter, make sure she doesn't mess around," the man behind you, though he didn't take the stick from your throat, grabbed you by the hair and pulled your head back. The light from the lantern in the room flickered in different directions and was no longer aimed directly at your face - the man holding it was searching his pockets for something.

Footsteps sounded, and the man came closer and closer. He put his hand over your face, and you immediately felt the rough fingers and uncut nails - he tried to tear your mask off. It didn't work. "What is it?" it was no longer your voice; it was the voice of accumulated fatigue and hunger - mocking and arrogant. "Ya hands shaking or something?"

Your eyes were watering again - not from the light, but from the sharp pain in the bridge of your nose. Something warm and sticky dripped from your nose and down your lips. "Now you got the dangers of opening your mouth when you're not asked. Here," he barked and grabbed your forehead with the palm of his hand and pressed it into the man behind you. "Sniff," you felt something under your nose, but you couldn't see what it was. It didn't smell like anything. After a couple seconds, the man, seeing that you had no reaction, exploded with a roar. "I knew it, bitch! These things can't smell it! Youcan'tsmell it!"

"I just have a poor sense of smell," you sniffled, trying to suck back either the snot or the blood that was leaking out.

The man ran his hand up your cheeks, squeezing them. "And you're still being sassy? Didn't the previous time teach you anything?"

"Man," you whimpered in a voice strangled from behind puffed cheeks. "Have ya ever thought about the course of action? Ya broke my fucking nose. How am I supposed to feel anything?"

He babbled conspiratorially, his grip on your face weakening with each word. "Oter, we have to hand her over to them. Even if she's not one of them - look at the way she's dressed. She wasn't dragged here by force, and if they find her here, we are dead." 

"That's enough," you hissed, and slashed your dagger at the tendon of the hand that held the stick to your throat; the man behind you immediately dropping it and howling weakly. You saw the man in front of you raise his fist to strike; you grabbed him by the wrist of attacking hand, pulled him to you, and punched him twice in the bridge of his nose with the hand clutching the dagger. Eye for eye, and nose for nose.

The man grubbed his face and bent over - no time to waste, you and your seething anger grabbed him by the hair and dragged him over to the man who was desperately clutching his arm, trying to stop the blood. In the darkness, you could just make out the glint in the other man's panicked eyes, but if you weren't being treated kindly, there was no reason not to return the favor. Gathering your strength, you kicked him in the knee, and there was a crunch - it seemed that calcium was a rare part of the diet here. With a final breath, you slammed the head of the man floundering in your hand into the other man's head, and both of them fell to the floor, their hands pressed to sore spots. You had to hand it to them - they didn't even whimper, just sputtered quietly from time to time.

You felt like a pendulum in a clock, swinging from side to side. You saw some shelves and drawers in the darkness, and you went toward them; as you took a step, you tripped over the stick with the nails, and your body almost collapsed on the rotten boards. You kicked the wood irritably with your foot toward the men. "Pick up ya toothpick," you hissed and waddled back to the shelves.

You grabbed the handle of one of the lockers and pulled the door toward you; the handle was still in your hand, but the locker collapsed to the floor with a resounding thud. A heavy sigh involuntarily escaped your lips as you stared blankly at the mess you had made. "Ya have any water?" you glanced back over your shoulder.

The response was so immediate that for a second it felt like knives, not words, were coming at your back. "Fuck you," spat out the man - the one who'd probably been the instigator of the altercation.

"Well, ya need to take me on a date first," you drawled, inspecting whole shelves as carefully as you could, barely touching them. "I'm afraid that's not possible right now, though. Ya have to be patient."

There was a screech of a metal layer behind you as if it was being bent aside - you tried to turn around, but your head only spun more violently. "What's going on here?" the man's voice was so stern and set that you immediately wanted to straighten up.

"Legally, a criminal offense," you mumbled to yourself as you continued to open drawers. "In practice, a fucking circus."

There was a growing creak of floorboards behind you. The man was moving toward you, and the closer he got, the more you could see the violet color that lit up the room. You hated to admit that you were a cornered, wounded animal, but the words fell from your lips against your will. "If ya touch me, ya'll lose both hands."

"I'm not gonna hurt you," the voice sounded close, almost above your ear, and though it remained just as set, it was no longer harsh. On the contrary, the owner of the voice was trying to sound as soft as possible. "Calm down. You're not gonna find anything here anyway," hearing the soothing tone, you immediately gave up and leaned your back against the wall; you thought you had enough strength to stand like that for some more time, but you, against your will, started sliding down it. "Here, water. Drink some," the man pulled the bottle toward you.

"Didn't ya say there was nothing here?" you asked quietly but indignantly.

The man chuckled. "There really isn't anything here. I brought this water just now. The daily... Or weekly... Anyway, the regular dry rations the demons give us," he sat down beside you and set something on the floor that looked like a glass oil lamp, only inside it, instead of a flame, was a levitating little pebble that gave off a purple glow; it was like the ones that circled around the demon buildings.

The man opened the bottle for you; you nodded gratefully, took the bottle from his hands, and took a couple of sips.

"What are you fiddling with her for?" hissed one of the battered men from the far corner. "You know that she can't smell black orchid?"  

"No," replied the man in a cold tone, sitting next to you. "The only thing I can see is that you're jumping on a woman who can barely get her feet off the ground. Have you forgotten what it feels like?" the man in the corner immediately hushed. "Don't be cross," he turned to you, his voice changing as fast as if he had a switch somewhere. "In a place like this, people quickly become angry paranoid."

Despite the water you'd drunk, your parched lips were still struggling to open. "It's okay," you said, waving it off.

The man looked at you intently, not at you to be precise, but at your tattered but still durable uniform. "Uh...," he began, and an awkwardness hung in the air. "Where are you from?"

In a place like this, the question felt odd, and there was no way to answer it accurately. What did he want you to say? The place where you were born? The city you lived in now? The time you came from?

"From the height of my years, I can say that it was in the North that the first hunter appeared-"

"North," you said and were taken aback: the answer came off on its own, without your consent.

"Oh," the man said so cheerfully that you could almost hear the corners of his lips raised. "I didn't know hunters could come in here now," you were interested and it never faded, but you didn't have the energy to ask. The man noticed your surprised look. "My wife was a hunter. The powder that asshole shoved under your nose was just grinded black orchid. She's the one who gave it to me."   

"Powder?" you asked. "The extract's a little more potent, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry," the man apologized jokingly, shrugging his shoulders. "It's a lot easier to carry around powder than liquid," he hushed, and you could see him running his intertwined fingers over his hands. "Listen, you... maybe you know my wife? Her name is Olivia."

"Uh, it'll be a strange to ya, but... Do ya remember what year ya got here?"

The man scratched his frayed gray beard. "In 1935, I think."

An unpleasant feeling in your chest made you press your lips together. "I'm sorry, but I, uh... I don't think I know your wife."

"It's nothing," the man smiled, but his clouded gaze told you otherwise. Only now did you notice how deep the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes were. "I really didn't have much hope. Everyone you ask around here comes from a different time. If they even understand what you're asking them. The language barrier is the least of our problems, but sometimes it gets in the way. So... It's a good thing you didn't have that problem," he awkwardly shook his palms off his pants and held out his hand to you. "My name is Jonah."

Though weakly, you still shook his hand in return. "Y/N," you said shortly and then fell silent, but Jonah was in no hurry to say anything. You rarely felt shame, but right now it was choking you with such force that you immediately wanted to find a mirror and check your neck for brightly colored bruises. "Jonah, I'd love to justify your joy at the news that I'm a hunter, but I'm afraid I can't get ya out of here. Something's come up and... uh, I dunno," you wiped your face with your hands, trying to push away the rushing blood. "Hopefully ya have an extra dumpster here where I can stay."

"I'm sorry, we have some real slaughters going on here for trash," the man chuckled, rising to his feet. "But I can spare you a spot on the floor. You make yourself as comfortable as you can, and I'll find you some clothes," he headed for the entrance, and you could hear him in a quiet but warning tone instructing other men to behave, and something about saving the lantern. "One more thing. Y/N," he addressed you again. "Take the mask off. You're a little... stand out."

There was nothing to object to, so you nodded in response. With a firm hand, you pulled your phone out of your pocket and set it on the shelf, then moved closer to the lamp Jonah had left behind - at that point all your confidence was gone, eroded, drained away. You stared at yourself in the dark screen, and the more you looked at yourself, the more it began to itch under your skin. Able to challenge anyone, but unable to challenge yourself - that's what you were. A weakling, a coward, unable to look at your own face.

Slowly, you ran your fingers up to your ears and wanted to trace down the lines to your chin, but you couldn't. Your fingernails dug into the skin, and you didn't loosen your grip even when your fingers got wet and sticky. "I told you she was crazy," you heard a grunt from the corner of the room, but no one attacked.

It was just a mask, but why did it feel like you were ripping your skin off? You began to scratch your face where your nails had dug into it. There was only one thing you wanted to do right now - to keep the tears from running down your face with the blood. You exhaled sharply and ran your fingers along the line from your ears to your chin.

Something was staring at you from the phone screen, and it had a bloody face. However, here was the odd thing: the reflection had the most ordinary eyes, the most ordinary features, and it didn't look angry or cruel. If you ignored the oddity of the blood running down its face, it was a human.

[February 19, 2020; 05:56 am, hunters' hq]

Mission after mission, assignment after assignment, whether it was a powerful curse or a completely weak one, Gojo agreed to everything; but on his free days, the ones he now considered cursed, he was here in the workroom, even though he knew with his mind that he would be better off staying away from this place.

Every day there was less and less of you left in the workroom. All the things you'd left behind or scattered about had long since been either cleaned up or thrown away; your scent was long gone, and no matter how much Gojo pressed your pillow against his face, he felt nothing - it had been washed a dozen times since you'd disappeared. 

Gojo was desperately clinging to the specter of your vanishing presence, otherwise why did he jump up every time a notification sounded on his phone? Why did he check every time to see if his messages had reached you? Why did he still feel the unceremonious poke of your finger on his forehead when he ignored the alarm clock and why the hell was he so angry at the sleep that never came? After all, it was the only one who gave him the chance to hold you one more time.  

He hated himself just for thinking it, but he was so angry with you. You'd disappeared just when he'd given up on being alone.

It was as if Gojo could see himself through his clouded mind: he got out of bed, and with barely a shuffle of his feet, he went into the bathroom, and now he could see his reflection in the mirror, holding a brush in his hands. He'd long ago given up trying to get rid of the bags under his eyes - at the very least, he needed a good full night's sleep. All he could do was come up with more jokes on unnecessary questions about his well-being.

Each time he hoped that if he left the workroom, he would breathe easier, but each time the hope was false. Well, if sleep didn't come, maybe this time he'd get one bite of food down his throat.

Once in the kitchen, Gojo immediately noticed Rachel wobbling in her chair. He peered over her shoulder - she was staring at the screen of her phone, which had a picture of a man open. Why was she clutching the phone with such force that her knuckles even turned white? "Who is it?" he asked and Rachel twitched, but immediately locked the screen. "Another poor guy you plan to break the heart of?"  

"Back off, leech," Rachel barked and threw the phone on the table. Gojo shrugged and walked over to the fridge and opened it; it was full of food, but he didn't even want his favorite one. Leaning, he glared blankly at the contents - or looked through it. "If ya're not gonna eat, close the fucking fridge," Rachel mumbled drunkenly.

It was enough for him to finally snap; Gojo turned around sharply, snatched the unfinished bottle of wine off the table with a jerk and tilted it over the sink, glaring at Rachel, swinging the bottle mockingly.

"Don't ya dare," Rachel hissed, trying to rise from her chair, but barely making a couple movements, she abruptly put her hand over her mouth.

Gojo, trying to suppress his disgust, raised his eyebrows defiantly and tilted the bottle even more. It may have been an immature act, but what if all the despair, all the longing and bitterness poured out at that gurgling sound? 

Rachel leaned back in her chair and stared at him. "Why ya so mad?" she asked, confused in her words; his silhouette blurred in her eyes no matter how hard she focused.  

"Me? Mad? Wow," grinned Gojo, tossing the bottle into the trashcan. "Not one bit."

"Yeah? Well, then I was wrong. Your face just looks like ya've been drinking shit-"

"You know what I'm curious about?" snapped Gojo and his outburst, though expected, did not lessen its harshness. "Is this how it runs in your family? One of you goes missing and the rest of you live like nothing happened?" 

"That's it," Rachel lazily clucked her tongue. She pushed back closest chair and indicated for him to sit down with a drunken nod, but he only crossed his arms over his chest. "God, stop milling around and just sit down already. Otherwise I'm gonna throw up."

Gojo hated being lectured, and then they added the smell of alcohol and fume. The only reason he was willing to sit next to Rachel was that she was your sister. Maybe she had one word in her pantry that would calm him down. 

"I'm a little surprised," Rachel said and was about to reach for the glass, but when her hand grasped the air, she glared angrily at Gojo who already had it in his hand. "Ya of all people should know how everything ends for us. Sooner or later, it would have happened. And still, ya're freaking out," Rach was silent for a second, but then she chuckled. "Or ya just upset that ya never got to get into her panties?"  

In a different situation, Gojo would have been embarrassed by such a question, or would have winched or foolishly guffawed, but Rachel's timing was wrong: if before this question his anger had simply broken his bones, now it broke his years of trained restraint. "Would you rather be torn apart or be deprived of wine?" Gojo stood up, and sniffing the wine that was in glass, immediately grimaced and poured it all down the sink. "You've got three more bottles in the fridge-"  

"God," mumbled Rachel and a feeling of disgust made her wrinkle her nose. "It's that serious?"

Gojo did not say a word. It was all too fragile and so intimate for him that he dared not even discuss it with himself, let alone trust a drunken and talkative interlocutor.

"Oh, forget it," waved Rachel's hand. "Even if ya were serious, it would never work," she said, and he almost gave in to the provocation: he had to bite his tongue, and the word 'why' tasted very bitter.

Rachel was silent, her hand tracing wood patterns on the table, her eyes dimming with every movement of her finger. For some reason a heavy weight fell on his soul: this was why he'd never liked serious conversation, and in another situation he would have left without bowing. So why did he feel that his soul could take a hundred more such weights if such a conversation concerned you? "Ya know, adoptee...," Rachel began suddenly and quietly. "She's always done that. She'll say at parting 'I'll be back soon' or 'see ya' like she's gone to get some fucking bread, and then she is just... She disappears. And then," Rachel's voice began to break, and it happened as easily as if spring's thin ice was breaking underfoot. "Then this little piece of shit comes home, and it's like nothing happened. She didn't disappear anywhere, and she's acting normal. And whether she's really dumb and doesn't get it, or whether she just expects us to act like nothing happened either, I-I dunno," her voice was on the verge of breaking, and while Rachel was emotional, she also had enough experience and courage in her to keep the tears from rolling down her face. "That's what makes ya different from us. Ya just haven't lived with her enough yet to get used to this kinda thing."

If Rachel had been a child, perhaps Gojo could take her in his arms and shake her, or start mimicking her, parodying the pathetic whimpering that was the most he could do. He had no idea how to soothe a grown person. Rachel sniffed her nose, walked over to the refrigerator, and there was another bottle in her hand. "Haven't you had enough already?" asked Gojo irritably, trying to get her to put the wine back with a glare.  

There was no trace of that momentary sadness left on Rachel's face - just a slight drunken blush. "Ya know, I thought we just accepted the idea that she disappears from time to time," she dipped her lips to the bottle, but immediately grumbled - she'd forgotten to open it. Rachel started fumbling through the drawers in search of a corkscrew. "But no. We've probably accepted the fact that one day she won't come back," the clatter of cutlery was followed by a 'crack' and Rachel finally took a couple of sips. When she turned around, she nearly choked on her wine - whereas his skin had always been white and almost glowing, now it was as pale as a dead man's. "Geez, I'm just kidding," she put her arm around him drunkenly - he didn't even move. "Don't ya worry about it. We all don't really sweat it because ever since she went missing, we kept going into the void. And ya know what? Nothing's ever changed there, never flipped. We're right back where we left off. Ya see what I'm getting at?"

The answer followed immediately. "She still in the void?" he asked, and how amazing it was how hope could change a man's voice.

"And she's still alive," Rachel nodded contentedly, nearly hitting her head on the nearby fridge. "I'm telling ya, ya could care less about her. She is more tenacious than any cockroach," she said and pulled the bottle to her mouth again.

Nothing was impossible for Gojo, but no matter how much strength you had, and even if you could swap the poles of the Earth, he couldn't stop worrying about you. Perhaps only when he could touch you again would he be able to get rid of the lead in his heart, and the very thought that it would be easier for him to give it to you made him shy and flush.

"Stop drinking," Rachel still didn't understand why he mumbled the words so embarrassedly, but there was no time to speculate - he tried to take the bottle from her, but only woke Rachel up to the drunken berserker in her. "Why can't you go a day without a bottle?"

"Fuck off," Rachel snarled and pulled the bottle toward her. "Ya spill my wine again, and I swear to God, I'll put ya on the very bottle you poured it out of."

You were sitting on the porch of the very hut where you'd been sheltered; it was hardly a porch, really - just a dilapidated step that was more often tripped over than climbed. People wandered languidly from side to side - maybe they were just stretching their bones, or maybe sitting in one place was more painful for them.

The wardens glimmered among the men, but they disappeared as quickly as they came into view. What kind of order were they keeping here? What was not allowed and what was allowed? After all, a few moments ago one man had nearly beaten another to death, and no one had come to separate them.

"Regeneration."

You didn't look at the bloody body lying there. No matter the outcome, it was all you could do for him now, though you were barely regenerating yourself. "You awake?" came Jonah's voice from behind you. "I don't mean to lecture you, but you really should get some rest."

You let his words pass your ears, and he, instead of leaving, sat down next to you. "Do ya have a cigarette?" you asked.

Jonah grinned good-naturedly. "Actually, this is one of our local currencies, but I can give you one as a new one."

He handed you a crumpled cigarette; it looked like it would break at the base if you touched it. "Thanks," you mumbled and gently wrapped your fingers around the filter. "And the lighter?"

"And here's where the trouble starts," Jonah said, pulling a lighter from his pocket. "Oxygen is in short supply here, so you'll have to be patient," he looked at you warningly, and you clamped the cigarette between your lips and leaned over to cover the lighter with your palms.

There was no time to count, so it was hard to say how long Jonah had been pulling the wheel-cross. Maybe fifteen minutes, maybe an hour, but there it was - the edge of the cigarette finally colored orange, and you took a long-awaited puff. "You're welcome," Jonah said courteously. "How's your nose? Sorry, we don't even have anything to fix it with."

"It's okay," you said, exhaling smoke. "It'll heal quickly enough."

Jonah nodded in your direction. "What happened to your cheeks?" he continued curiously.

"A bad trip to the beautician."

There was obvious bewilderment in his eyes. "Who is that?" he asked, squinting his eyes.

A chuckle escaped you, and you choked on the smoke trapped in your lungs and coughed. "Just a 21st-century acquaintance," you wheezed.

Bewilderment turned to complete incomprehension, and Jonah decided to tactfully change the subject. "What's that thing?" he nodded at your hand.

You scrolled through the phone in your hand, trying to ignore the keychain jiggling on it. How could you answer that question to avoid an hour-long lecture about future technology? You thought about it for a moment. What was important - the phone still had the date on it. "It's...," you drawled uncertainly. "This thing is the only thing that connects me to the place I came from," you said, shrugging confusedly.

"So it's very important to you, then?" asked Jonah, rubbing his hands together anxiously.

"Aren't ya up to something already?" 

"No, you'd just save that thing. Better to hide it altogether," Jonah suggested, and once again he looked so simple - minded and guileless that you had no choice but to nod in agreement. "Uh... Sorry, I couldn't find better clothes for you. If only I'd known," you looked around in confusion at the wide, stained T-shirt that had probably been white before, and the pants that were clearly not your size; you had to tear the sleeve off your uniform and make a makeshift belt so they wouldn't fall off every second. There were still no shoes - you still had on your heavy boots, but they weren't visible under the wide pants. "If I'd known, I would have tried to find you some more closed clothing."

You furrowed your eyebrows. You didn't see any reason to apologize - the clothes, though a few sizes larger than yours, were proof of the kindness of the man sitting next to you. "What are ya talking about?"

"Well, you... You're so, uh," he stammered and scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. His chapped lips tightened and loosened as if searching for words.

"Well, what am I like?" you interrogated in a playful tone. "Pretty? Charming? Smart?" you listed merrily, watching the man's head sink further and further into his shoulders. "Oh, no, don't tell me, I know!" you waved your palms and almost dropped your cigarette. "Peerless!"

"You're all scarred," he said on an exhalation, and the itch in the back of his neck began again. He had seen your hands, and they were like an old unwanted canvas that had been used to rage against more than once - all torn and scarred; if no one cared about a forgotten painting, you had an inept but dedicated restorer - your own body - that had covered them with whitish paint. Jonah glanced furtively at your throat, and it hurt him to swallow.

"Oh," you exclaimed quietly, examining your hands. The look was as if you were seeing them for the first time in a long time - surprised and excited. "Thanks for reminding me of that," you smiled and nodded to Jonah.

He didn't hear a hint of reproach or resentment in your words; you sounded as if you had thanked him sincerely. Jonah immediately stifled the incipient pity he felt for you and buried his desire for further questions about what had happened. "So... What are our next plans?"

You took another puff and looked up at the demon buildings. "Even the animals in the slaughterhouses are better cared for, but still, it's important to the demons to keep ya fresh- uh, alive. So... I can probably find provisions or at least something useful in there somewhere. Do ya have a backpack or something?"

"You're not gonna go there, are you?" stammered Jonah fearfully, trying to get you to look at him. "No one's come back from there. You don't have to go." 

"Not that we have an alternative," you snuffed out the cigarette butt on the porch, and,\ digging a hole in the sand with the toe of your boot, chucked it in there. 

***

The light at the top of the settlement was brighter the closer you got to it, and you had to squint every now and then to keep the annoying glare off your eyes. You could see the first building in sight - you had to lift your head to see the top of it, and even then. you could hardly see anything. The walls were dark, and as you approached, it resonated more and more; once you were near one of the walls, you noticed that it wasn't solid material at all - it was millions of tiny particles reaching for each other but never coming together. You leaned your hand on it - nothing. It didn't sink, it wasn't pushed away; it was like touching ordinary concrete.

There was a faint crack, and a dozen grains of sand broke off from the spot your hand had just touched; they immediately flew upward, and you couldn't see what had happened to them, but there was a chance that they had landed on one of the glowing stones that were circling the buildings.

You walked carefully around the building; there were even some semblances of windows, though they looked more like an architectural mockery. They were arranged in an unstructured and incongruous way - there were even corner ones and all different shapes, though the most appropriate word for such windows was 'shapeless'.

You lurked under one of those windows, listening for every possible rustle and knock. When you heard nothing, you peered inside. Empty. So empty that there weren't even any demons, just four bare walls.

You clung to the ledge and climbed into the room, keeping silent with every step. As you crossed the room, you pressed your ear to the door - no sound. Opening the door, you found yourself in a long corridor and involuntarily wrinkled with indignation - the building was obviously bigger inside than outside. Where to go now?

Figuring out a route in an unfamiliar place is a lost cause. You should have started by exploring the area, so once you'd picked a side, you just moved forward.

The floor felt solid under your feet, but you couldn't shake the annoying feeling that it was about to split apart. No matter how long you walked, you couldn't see any doors, but you couldn't see the end of the corridor either.

The feeling of a trick never left; it seemed that not only your palms were sweating, but your insides were sweating too, but what was strange was that you felt no observation, heard no footsteps behind you, no one's presence nearby. It was as if the danger was coming from your very surroundings and for good reason - the particles beneath your feet began to quiver restlessly. You tried to lift your foot and take a step, and though they didn't touch you, they refused to lag behind. You accelerated, and the more steps you took, the more sand grains enveloped you. You hopelessly tried to shake them off, but they only stuck more. When you started to run, you didn't try to look down - who knows, they might have crawled up your stomach.

A sharp pain went tangentially across your back, something almost crushed your heel; after that or at the same time, there was a deafening rumble behind you that made the grains of sand fall down, and they did it as sharply as if each of them weighed a ton.

When you turned around, you nearly slammed your nose into the wall, and at the same moment, to the left, a passage opened with a similar rumble, revealing another corridor. Instead of cursing the place, you exhaled a sigh of relief - so that was the feeling.

Still, what did the grains of sand want you to do? After all, they weren't doing bad or good, but they seemed to be warning you about shifting and opening passages, and anything that helped you navigate was useful except for the aching back that had nearly been broken by one of those walls. It was as if the closer you got to the shift, the more the particles enveloped you.

After a few thousand steps, you were beginning to despair - was it really as empty as it seemed at first glance? Even if there were doors, there was nothing but disappointment behind them - just bare walls and suddenly the smell of corpses. It was so strong that it was as if the bodies were still here. When you opened the first door, you involuntarily held your nose against the sudden and pungent odor, but you hardly paid attention to it at the tenth door. What was important was that none of these rooms had windows so you had to move forward, if not for provisions, then at least to get out of here.

Coming here without rest was your main mistake. However, how was it possible to rest with a rumbling stomach that had long ago digested itself, and with a throat so dry that it wanted to drain the river?  

You went into one of the rooms and threw off a ridiculous backpack that was made of patches, and it wasn't zipped up - it was pinned together with pins. You fluffed it up like a pillow, laid your head on it, and closed your eyes. Your hand, as if separated from your body, with a will of its own reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone and something jingled against it. You opened your eyes slowly, and the keychain was dangling on the phone, swaying quietly from side to side.

What happened to you? You did not let this thought come to you for so long, but when you lay down alone, your soul turned into a flame - not the one that warms you gently, but the one that seeks to burn you to the ground. Moreover, why did that flame jump from the soul to the internal organs, making vomiting come up to your throat?

You told him you'd be back in three days, and even then you weren't sure he'd wait. So what now? You exhaled. Your eyes widened, and your hand flew to your mouth - why was your exhalation so convulsive?

Hastily putting the phone away and shaking your head, you closed your eyes as if ordering sleep to come, but it never obeyed anyone. On the contrary, it was rather a dream that submitted people, and its loyal subordinates in the form of a soft cool pillow and a warm blanket forced them to abandon all their affairs.

On the other side of your closed eyes, he was a scorched brand - neither to erase, nor to stop thinking. For such a flighty man, it was surprisingly calm around him, but as it was, it wasn't even worth allowing the possibility of hoping he was still out there. Even if he didn't plan on sticking to the treaty anymore, he didn't seem like the kind of man who could wait.

Your mind was foggy; thoughts came one after another, but you couldn't catch any of them. Your body shook restlessly; the only sound was the rustle of a tattered backpack under your head.

GET UP!     

You jumped up as quickly as if someone had grabbed you by the shirt front in an importuning grip and pulled you hard. You gasped for air, looking around the room with a haggard stare. No one. "Oh, come on...," you began, trying to regain your breath. "Fuck ya, asshole," you mumbled into your hands, which you used to try to wipe the tiredness from your face. It was the unknown that pissed you off the most - was it Rei who had gotten into your mind in some elaborate way, or had you just lost your mind?

As you tried to come to your senses, it took you a moment to hear a low murmur somewhere far behind the door. You stood up and listened: it sounded like voices. You pulled on the doorknob and looked around; a violet glow appeared at the end of the corridor, just as if someone on Earth had turned on a light in a room. You moved quietly in that direction, the voices growing closer.

Once you were near the door, you leaned your back against the wall. You could hear the sounds of smirks, swear words, some rustling and grunting, and you could even hear someone smacking their lips as they took another puff. "Bite me," someone said, and even without seeing his face, you could tell from his voice the expressiveness of his grin. "Straight flush," something slapped - most likely, someone throwing cards on the table.

"You think I'm gonna believe you, you fucking cheat?" howled the other, and something rumbled. "Show me what's under the table!"

"How about you learn how to lose?" the first demon grinned. "I've got nothing, look," even from here, you could hear the second one breathing heavily behind the incomprehensible fuss. "Convinced? Now to the betting. Remember what you promised me?"

"Take that whore," the other demon snapped, and you heard footsteps approaching. Your blood started to boil, and this bubbling seemed to give you strength - as soon as his face appeared in the doorway, you grabbed his cheeks and squeezed them so hard that he didn't make a sound. Before he could even squeak, he took two dagger blows between the collarbones and crumbled into eternal oblivion.

All the while, a desperate whining had been growing in the room, both painful and pleading. Before you even looked into the room, you knew what kind of show you were in for.

Swallowing thick saliva, you appeared in the doorway. The demon was standing half-turned toward you, and in front of him, on her knees, was sitting... A girl? A woman? Behind the dirt, blood, and torture it was hard to tell her age. What she was being forced to do, even the most foolish could tell - even now, her forward head movements and squelching sounds mixed with muffled screams spoke for themselves. The pain in your body intensified, making you grin.

You always tried to keep your own rage in check, but at times like this, the roles were reversed. "Hey," you called out quietly and surreptitiously to the demon. He immediately turned his head, but instead of meeting his black eyes, you first examined his clothes and glanced at the naked girl, and only then met his frantic gaze. "Your jacket is, uh... well, ya know. It's cool."

***

It was small and peculiar, but still a jackpot. You were already digging through one of the wooden crates, and there were a number of different canned goods - corn, sardines, tuna, there were even a few jars of peaches. Perhaps the search would have gone a lot faster if it hadn't been for the annoying white noise in the background. The girl's crying, though it had changed to a quiet whimpers, was still horrible to your eardrums. You'd already set her down in a chair, pulled a jacket over her, and set the water bottle you'd found in front of her - it was all you could do for her now.

You looked in a couple more crates - besides water and canned goods, there was even sugar, tea, and to your great surprise and happiness, chocolate bars.

You removed the pins from your backpack and began to put provisions in there, pressing bottles and canned goods as tightly as possible; there was even room for a pack of sugar, a pack of salt, and a pack of tea and collected playing cards.

You zipped up your backpack, pricking your fingers a couple times in the process, and looked at the girl. She was hiding her battered face in her hands, and she was doing it like if she couldn't see anything, nothing could see her either. Her body was shuddering, and every twitch looked agonizing as if it wasn't happening of her own free will.

The girl never touched the water bottle. "Get up. Let's go," you didn't intend for the words you said to sound like an order - it came out spontaneously. The girl only flinched even more, but did nothing, only burrowed harder into her arms.

You stood up against her. "Why don't ya drink water? Don't ya wanna live?" you asked, and you hardly sounded soft and soothing; it was as if there was a threat in your words. She refused to look at you and you squatted down, pulled her hands away and grabbed her chin. "Either ya drink it or I'll start pouring it down your throat. Got it?"  

Her sticky eyelashes made it impossible to catch her frightened look, but her body language spoke for itself. She grasped the bottle with difficulty as if the water in it were not cool, but boiling. She seemed about to drop it. You grabbed the bottle with her, unscrewed the cap, and brought it to her lips. You saw that she took the first sip, though with effort.

"Regeneration."

You didn't know if she was feeling better, but her sips didn't look as painful as before. She was now drinking water greedily, but for you it felt like the liquid she had just absorbed was coming out of her body through her tears.

The girl finished her drink and her fingers immediately unclenched, causing the bottle to fall to the floor. "That's good. Now let's go," you mumbled and wrapped your arms around her slumped body.

You had to hand it to the girl - maybe she was only doing it for looks, but she was still dragging her feet. You checked every room you could find for a window; you didn't care what part or how high up you were just as long as you got out of here.

When such a room was found, the girl stopped moving. You had to check her pulse, but as it turned out, she was even still conscious - when you put two fingers to her neck, she nodded weakly.

You sat her down on the floor and looked at her bare feet then looked at your own, and without further ado began to take off your boots. What appeared before you was a picture of once white elastic bandages that were now a dirty red color. "Completely unsanitary. I can't offer ya anything better, though," and with these words you began to pull your heavy boots on her. Suddenly, the girl became hysterical.

"Don't touch me!" she shrieked, and tried to shove you off with her foot, either accidentally or deliberately, but the impact was weak either way. "Don't fucking touch me!" her voice got louder, and the number of times her fists hit the floor increased.

You tried to ignore it and catch one of her wriggling legs. When you succeeded, the girl made a sound as if she had been grabbed not by your hand, but by a snake that had followed her for a long time, and that it was not your nails but the snake's fangs that were sinking into her skin. She pitched forward with all her might and hit you in the face with a clumsy movement. "Get your hands off me!" the plea was no longer pitiful and desperate; the girl hissed as if trying to mimic an enemy. 

There was a slap in the room, and everything went quiet. The girl looked at you as she had just come to her senses and leaned a hand on her cheek, began rubbing the sore spot. "Relax. I'm just tryin' to shoe ya." 

Not without adventures, but you still laced up your boots on her. The girl, even if she looked in your direction, did so with distrust, and there was as much of it as fatigue allowed to show.

"That's it, let's go," you said, tying the laces on the last knot. You picked her up again and walked over to the window. "Better get ready."

"Relocate."

When you were already in front of the familiar hut, you gripped the girl's waist tighter. She was no longer twitching, no longer wobbling, but only slumping. You stepped inside as quietly and carefully as you could, the violet light from the lamp Jonah had brought with him was hitting your eyes. How long does a lamp like that last?

You met with dumbfounded looks, but even those quickly changed to pitying ones, but none of them dared to ask a question.

"Holy shit," a whisper came to you from the corner of the room, followed by a whistle. "She's back."

Without paying attention, you laid the girl against one of the far walls - away from the people present. You were about to say a few words to her, but as soon as her body touched the floor, she shrank into a ball. Pressing your lips together, you decided to leave her alone. You walked over to one of the shelves, pulling your backpack off your shoulders. "How long have I been gone?" you asked Jonah who had been looking at you curiously and anxiously for a minute now, having given up trying to pick the rotten boards off the floor. There was a pile of smoldering but unburned wood in front of him.

"I have no clue," Jonah drawled, scratching his chin. "We slept about twice. How are you doing? You okay?"

"As much as I can be in a place like this," you said, smiling. You were already sorting through the contents of your backpack - canned goods appeared on the shelf like a magical click, a few bottles of water, and as you pulled out the salt, there was a meaningful cough behind you. "What?" you asked in surprise, looking behind you, but none of them made eye contact with you. "I thought it would be less bland to eat all this with salt."

"That's not the point," Jonah muttered, looking down. "It's just that as one of their punishments. Demons make us eat a pack of salt."

"Oh," a sympathetic interjection came out of you, and you quickly put the salt away in one of the drawers. "Got it. I won't be carrying that stuff around anymore, then."

"Are you planning to go there again?" came a startled gasp from behind you, and you turned around. The man who'd punched you in the nose was already standing in front of you, but he wasn't looking at you - he was trying to see what you'd brought. "Damn it, there's even peaches in here!" stunned at this insolence, you didn't react at all to how deftly and quickly he grabbed the canned fruit. He immediately took out a rusty nail and started picking at the jar. The man did look funny - he looked more like an overgrown and ungroomed bush with a hat on than a human being. "Uh...," he mumbled. It was obvious how focused he was - the man even stuck out his tongue, for the jar yielded with difficulty and creaking. "Sorry about your nose."

You chuckled. "Is that the price of trust? A can of peaches."

"It's not just peaches!" exclaimed the man angrily, and even a little resentfully. He finally got rid of the stubborn lid, and in spite of the sharp edges, stuck his fingers inside, and the peach slice was immediately in his mouth. The way he chewed it might have seemed disgusting, the slurping sounds seeming to reach as far as the next huts. However, for some reason it only whetted your appetite more. "Ah yes, where are my manners," the man said, and after wiping his fingers from the candied syrup on his clothes, he held out his hand to you, and you shook it. "My name is Bjorn. And that bulky guy in the corner over there is Oter," he nodded his head toward the man. "He's not a talker, but he's very emotional, so you'd better stay away from him when he tries to say something. He might slap you in the face."

"Whatever ya say," you said, trying to wipe your sticky fingers. "I've got something else here," you stuck your hand into the backpack, and when you pulled it out, the man almost choked. "Cards."

Oter mumbled excitedly and happily, getting up from his seat. When he came closer, you handed him the deck of cards without question. He looked into your eyes in disbelief, looking so naïve and childlike that it was at odds with his size. You nodded and brought the deck forward, and he, gently clasping it in his fingers, finally took it. "Who are you, warrior?" murmured Bjorn reverently, but he clearly wasn't expecting you to answer, too mesmerized by the deck of ordinary cards.

Jonah rose to his feet, abandoning all attempts to light the fire. "So, guys," he began cheerfully, putting his arm around both of their shoulders. "Poker?"

Your head instantly turned to the girl, but she was lying so still that you wondered if she was even alive. "If ya wanna play poker, go outside," you said quietly.

"Why?" asked Bjorn.

"I'll tell ya later. That's it, go on," you said, and the men looked at each other. Jonah nodded toward the girl, and then they all left the hut without question.

You weren't going to push her or pester her with questions - she wasn't going to answer any of them. Not now, anyway. You walked over to her quietly and sat down at her feet, leaning against the wall, and glimpsed at her. The girl seemed to sense your gaze, otherwise, why would she squirm even more? "Can ya at least tell me your name?"

You didn't expect an answer, but this silence felt too heavy. She'd rather be sobbing or even crying herself to sleep than burying herself quietly in the filth she'd been forced to go through. "Like it or not, I'm gonna get ya out of here," you said quietly but firmly and licked your parched lips. There was a scolding outside, but it was neither threatening nor dangerous. It was more like the kind of cursing that cronies usually exchanged. You lifted your head and looked through the holes in the metal roof: no stars or clouds in the sky, just an all-consuming void that had no end or edge. "And then... Then I'll kill everyone who did this to ya. Ya could do it yourself, but it would be a good idea to survive first. So... just live, 'kay?"

The girl didn't answer, and you didn't know what else to say. You rose from your seat and headed for the exit, but immediately turned around when you heard a barely audible wheeze. "Nora," she whimpered weakly. "My name is Nora."

"Well...," you sounded confused, as you didn't expect her to find the courage for even one word this day. "Nice to meet ya, Nora," after which you still went outside.

The men were sitting here, right on the sand; the cards were already laid out, the canned goods opened, and each had a bottle of water. You could forgive them for such wastefulness, but only for today.

Jonah raised his head and looked at you, and you saw the glint in his clouded eyes for the first time. "I take it we need to look for more clothes?"

"Sorta."

"Not now!" Bjorn hissed at you, not taking his eyes off his cards. "We'll play the rest of the game, and then you can do whatever you want. Come on, play with us."

"I dunno how to play poker," you said, shrugging absent-mindedly.

"Well, that's not a problem, is it?" said Bjorn. "We'll teach you, sit down," he tugged at your shirt, and it was no longer an invitation, but a demand.

While you were sitting as comfortably as possible on the cold sand, time seemed to slow down around you. You tried desperately to make sense of all the things they were explaining to you, but you kept getting confused by the Full houses, Royal flashes, Straights, and at some point, all those words came together for you. Oter was always mooing something unintelligible - you could hear the threat, the jeer, the joy, the sadness. Jonah would put his arm around your shoulder and shake you a little when you started to realize something obvious, and Bjorn would shout curses in a foreign language. Maybe they weren't swear words, but it was hardly the tone to praise a man. The atmosphere was as if you had not bottled water but apple cider, and instead of sardines, you had caviar sandwiches or even ordinary chips, even if they were in your least favorite flavor.

In the midst of this bustle you made a promise, albeit to yourself: to take these people out to where the star warms the horizon through the shroud of ozone.

[March 1, 2020; 7:01 pm; Tokyo Prefecture, Tokyo, Cafe Q]

"There you are," Mei-Mei purred, taking a seat at the table. "I haven't heard from you in a while," her voice was quiet, flirtatious and soothing at the same time, but the café was so deserted that Gojo could easily hear everything she was saying.

"Work," he replied briefly, without bestowing any greeting on her - he didn't even glance in her direction.

"I'm not gonna take up a lot of your time," Mei-Mei rolled her eyes. "I just want my share," Gojo finally looked at her over his glasses, and his eyes read the usual nonchalance, but there was something else lurking behind it as well. She shrugged. "The girl's dead," she barely said the words before she realized what lurked behind his supposed levity. A threat.

Gojo's finger was rubbing the edge of the napkin that lay on the table. "First of all," he began calmly. "She's not dead. Second, forget everything I told you about the treaty, and third, Mei-Mei, listen. This is the most important thing," he raised his index finger upward, as if he didn't realize that all her attention was already on him. "You don't look good in red lipstick. So wipe it off," he pushed the napkin toward her with the palm of his hand, remembering to smile sweetly.

Mei-Mei, smiling back, irritably crumpled the napkin. "If you want me to selectively lose my memory, it's not free."

"I didn't think you'd say it any other way," Gojo crossed his arms over his chest and lowered his head, trying to burrow into the collar of his uniform, completely oblivious to the fact that he was now wearing a shirt. "Just tell me how much you want."

"As much as they offered you," Mei-Mei replied instantly, and began coquettishly twirling a curl on her finger. "I'm not much interested in resurrection, though. Let me put it this way. I'll be satisfied with ten times the amount you paid me for a letter of recommendation to your students."

He didn't think over his answer for a second. "Okay," taking advantage of either the opportunity or her good mood, he added: "It'll be even better if you forget the way to their house."

"Fifteen times as much, then."

"Getting greedier every year," grinned Gojo at the thought that even the devil could be negotiated with. "Fine."

"God," she exhaled, and reached for his cheek; he immediately pulled away, leaning back in his chair. "I couldn't even imagine in my mind that you could ever look this pathetic."

"Mei-Mei," his voice remained as soft as a feather, but even that could make a human choke. "You're only still alive because I respect you as a colleague."

"Come on, don't be rude. I know how rude you can be, though. I don't even mind," she giggled, and without waiting for him to make at least one of his usual backhanded vulgar jokes, she sighed and mirrored his pose. "Anyway, I've been offered a job abroad anyway. I'm expecting the money within the week."

"What if I transfer them in eight days?" asked Gojo, and there was a distinct sneer in his voice.

"I don't know," Mei-Mei drawled, tapping a finger on her chin. "Does her big brother know why you stayed by her side in the first place?" she whispered conspiratorially, moving closer to him.

"You win," he threw his hands up in the air like a captured man. "Well, I hope we have a deal."

"The sweetest deal of my life," Mei-Mei chirped, rising from her chair. "But it might be even sweeter if you celebrated it with me," she hinted, expecting him to get up now, but he didn't move. She got the impression that he had missed her words altogether. This caused Mei-Mei to laugh uncontrollably. "Though, you know, I liked you better when you didn't have a heart. Okay, I hope to see you again," she said, and fluttered out of the café like a bird.

"I hope not," he exhaled quietly under his breath.

You'll be back, Gojo knew that for sure; all he needed to hold on to that thought was a few reassuring words from your sister. He didn't need to reach into the depths of his own soul to realize that you could handle this on your own, but if he had the slightest chance of keeping you safe, and especially if the price was money, he would gladly part with it. 

You were entering the hut in your own way, and if there had been a door, you'd probably have kicked it open. You could barely fit everything in your hands, but the only thing that was trying to slip out were the windbreakers you'd gotten. "Here I am!"

"Hey," Jonah responded, trying to make tea in the cold water. "Where did you get this?" he asked dazedly, looking at the clothes in your hands.

"We can sell that for a couple of packs of cigarettes!" exclaimed Bjorn hoarsely, quitting pounding the nails into the board. "Maybe even three."

"Actually, I didn't bring these for sale," you said, wrinkling your nose. "Ya'll be coughing your lungs out soon, so ya'd better put it on yourself," you turned to Bjorn and tossed him one of the windbreakers; you doubted you wouldn't see it tomorrow. "I found this place in the last building. I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. Honestly, I still can't believe it!" someone behind you pinched your shoulder hard, and you shuddered, grasping at the sore spot.

"Oter!" the men exclaimed in a chorus of indignation, and behind you there was a resentful grunting. You glanced over your shoulder at Oter; he sat down in the corner next to Bjorn like a guilty child.

"Let me help you," Jonah said, coming over to you and taking some of your things. He set them down on the floor, and Bjorn jumped up and started going through them at once - in addition to the jackets, there was thread and a needle, matches, a couple of plates with spoons and forks, a bar of soap and a tube of ointment.

"What about food?" grumbled Bjorn sadly, continuing to rummage through things.

"You always only think with your stomach?" asked Jonah indignantly, and began sorting through the shelves and drawers you had found, trying to establish some order.

"A natural need," Bjorn muttered under his breath and immediately went back to hammering nails into the wood.

You walked over to Jonah and shove him uncertainly with your shoulder. He looked at you questioningly, and you nodded your head at the girl lying in the corner. "How's Nora?" you asked in a whisper.

Jonah spoke in a low voice too. "Still not talking. She ate well today, though."

"Not bad," you clapped your hands approvingly, pleased with at least some progress.

You silently continued to put everything in its place, occasionally wondering where to put this or that thing. "You know," Jonah began quietly. "We had nothing to do here before you at all. Just sat in corners. Can't say that's a bad thing," the man chuckled nervously. "Because the ones who did get taken away by demons, we never saw again. And with you here...," he twirled a spool of thread in his hands and tossed it into the air, catching it deftly. "We can do at least some human things."

"It's just threads, Jonah," you tried to guffaw and immediately changed the subject. "I'm going in there again now. There's so much more there. I only caught a glimpse, but there was even climbing gear lying around."

"What do you think," Jonah began and was quiet for a moment. "What are these things?"

You faltered - you didn't feel like answering a question like that directly. "I think ya know."

"Yeah..." sighed Jonah, and the bar of soap he was trying to place on one of the shelves suddenly felt in his hand like a lump of all the souls that had died here - it became incredibly hard to hold.

"Anyway, they don't need these things anymore. But we do," you said firmly, taking the soap from his hanging hand and placing it on the shelf.

Jonah wasn't surprised at the cynicism - others didn't survive in places like this, he'd seen it more than once. "Why don't you take a break? One guy in the hut next door has a guitar. I could say we'll sit by the fire, but that's unlikely," he grinned sadly. "So, more like a handful of smoke-smelling wood."

"No, ya go ahead. Try to talk to Nora, It might be good for her," you said, but there wasn't much hope. Still, the attempt would be deliberately unsuccessful if nothing was done. "I'm gotta go, though. I'll see ya around."

"Relocate."

"Fucking dark wizard," Bjorn muttered as your silhouette disappeared from their sight, for which he received a hard poke in the shoulder and an angry mooing from Oter.

next ⊳

[thiniceofeternalyouth]

MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER SEVEN

WISH UPON A PAPER PLANE [2 pt.]

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, sci-fi, cosmology.

Chapter warning&tags : ooc, slight manga spoilers, profanity, mentions of alcohol, violence, murder;

Words count: ~11.5k

⊲ previous

Sitting on the bed, you stared blankly at the box that peeked out from behind the open closet door. The box was wrapped in purple paper and tied with a satin blue ribbon. Its night-lit edges reflected in your eyes, and the intrusive thoughts wouldn't come out of your head. You were frustrated. However, you weren't angry about why he'd stayed by your side or frightened that he might not change his mind, or if he did, why he hadn't told you. The only regret that settled in your chest was that you'd found out before December seventh.

The feeling didn't want to leave your chest, but you couldn't afford to sit still. As you walked to your closet and slammed the door shut, you glanced at your phone's screen and saw the low battery. You put it to charge and left the room.   

From downstairs, you could hear a lot of activity: creaking floorboards, rustling jackets, children running and squealing, Frank's low exclamations, the clinking of cutlery or the clinking of tongues. As you went down to the first floor, each wooden step beneath you made a pitiful creaking sound.

You were barely downstairs when you were nearly knocked over by a passing Mike (who didn't even look in your direction afterward), who was out the front door in two seconds.

"I see ya've got this under control, don't ya?" you asked a panting Frank who was trying to hold a wriggling Tris in his arms while trying to pull off her snow-wet woolen tights to replace them with dry ones. "Now," you squinted taking Tris in your arms. Lifting her into the air, you looked into her eyes. "Either change the tights or no paper planes this year," your words made her chubby cheeks puff up even more, but she immediately went limp and fell silent.

"Ya're not much of a carer," Frank shook his head and sat the little girl on his lap again. "Couldn't ya've been gentler?"

"Weren't ya the one who threatened little me to take away all my toys if I didn't go to bed at nine at night?"

"That was a long time ago and not true," Frank muttered and finally pulled the tights over a motionless Tris.

"Listen," you began squatting down in front of them and began to put warm pants on the girl. "Lock Nael out of town."

Frank raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I thought ya two were allies."

"He owes me, Frank," you said grudgingly, wrinkling your nose. "As soon as he gets the chance, he's gonna set my ass up."

"Watch your mouth," the man snorted and flicked you on the forehead. "I'll shut him out, but aren't ya afraid of further questioning?"

"I think he'll understand why," you waved it off, and not wanting to talk about the subject any further, you immediately moved it. "Are the others outside already?"

"Sent them out to hand out torches to people," Frank informed. "We're already behind schedule today, two hours up the cliff and it's dusk outside."  

"Then let's hurry up," you rushed them already pulling on your clothes yourself.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and wrapped the warm scarf around your neck. Even though Frank had assured you that you were fine after your bath that morning, you were still relieved that there wasn't a single blackened strand on your head, just your own hair color.

The steps creaked again, so prolonged and pitiful that they sounded as if they were about to fail, a sign that more than one person had went down the stairs.

Danielle appeared on the steps holding a folded paper plane in one hand and holding her side with the other. She struggled to move her feet, and on the next step, when she nearly stumbled and flew down, Megumi snorted irritably and picked her up.

He gave you a brief nod as he walked by and sat Dany on a stool near the entrance. He silently began to put her shoes on.

"Bun," you turned to the girl worriedly. "Wouldn't ya rather stay home?"

Megumi didn't even let Danielle utter the first word. "I already tried to talk her out of it," he muttered sullenly. "But she's just, she-" he stammered and clenched his teeth with such force that jowls showed on his face beneath his lower jaw. "I'd rather carry her in my arms than change her mind."

"Dany," you said in a quiet voice. "Why don't ya stay after all?" girl only shook her head.

You were just as quietly called out by Frank. "Hey," you turned around, and he gestured for you to come over to him. "I don't approve of her antics, but I think it's especially important for her right now," Frank whispered into your ear, and you kept your eyes on Danielle. "Besides, she has a caring young man. Oh, and I'll see to it, if anything."

You didn't say anything, but just accepted it. You couldn't just lock a fully self-aware and almost adult person in the room. "Whatever ya say. I'll go to others."

The door was right in front of you, but it seemed like a long way to get there: all from worry. What's going on with her? If she's sick, why not go to the doc? Why didn't she say she wasn't feeling well in the first place? She already told you it wasn't pregnancy (and you trusted her) - could it be that it's just some food poisoning? All these questions were beating against each other in your head forcing it to spin.

When you were finally outside the door, the frosty air finally brought you to your senses. You turned your head up into the clear night sky: at first you thought it was stargazing, but when you looked closer, you realized that the stars were the same glowing sparks Axel had shown you earlier. Unlike the stars, it weren't stationary: the sparks were moving from side to side, falling and rising, intertwining with each other as if dancing. One of them seemingly the boldest, flew right up to your face. You gingerly raised your hand and touched it with the tip of your index finger - the sparkle vibrated like a giggle and immediately flew back up into the sky.

It was good that there were no clouds in the sky, so there would be no precipitation that would soak the fragile paper planes. There was no headwind that would have prevented them from taking off. 

A loud clamor came from the side of the bridge. You couldn't see the bridge from the corner of the house, but you could see the main street that led to it - even there was a huge crowd. It would be no easy task to break through it and find the others, especially given the mood of the town now: everyone would try to stop you just for chatting or exchange mutual congratulations. That was the way it was done with absolutely everyone who passed by.

Burying your face deeper into your scarf, you avoided the slippery spots and started down the hill straight into the main street.

Nathaniel couldn't call himself a pedantic man, but every time he saw a hair or lint on his or someone else's clothes, he was tempted to brush it off, or when a corner of a piece of paper was knocked out of a stack of papers, he'd put it back in place in one motion. Now it was not the presence of an extra pair of shoes in his hallway that annoyed him, but the fact that they stood unevenly.

The man carefully moved one shoe to the other and exhaled in relief, but the next task was more difficult: to deal with the owner of the shoes. He did not hesitate and ignoring the dread hunger immediately went to the ajar door of his office.

At Nathaniel's desk sat a man whose black hair was braided into a tight black braid. He was filling out paperwork, and Nathaniel shuddered when the man licked his finger once more to loosen the sticking sheets.

"Ah, here you are," said Christian looking at him over his glasses. Without waiting for an answer, he buried his face in the papers again, and the room was filled with the sound of a pen squeaking.

"What are you doing in my house?" asked Nathaniel indifferently, clutching his palms together and hiding them in his wide sleeves.

Christian smirked skeptically, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Your job."

Keeping a calm expression on his face, Nathaniel didn't think to react to the barbed remark. "I don't receive guests at this hour. You should go."

"You know...," Christian said in his drawling voice, scratching his chin thoughtfully, and pulled an already-written sheet from the stack. "I had a terrible craving for peaches the other day. I wanted them so badly that I couldn't think of anything else. Big, juicy ones. I can't get those at the grocery store. It's all plastic," he held up two sheets of paper - the one he'd just filled out and the one he'd pulled from the stack. Christian held them up to his face, his eyes running from one sheet to the other as if comparing something. "A lot more of our people have been killed this year, haven't they?" the question was unexpected and clearly out of context. "Now, what am I talking about," Christian looked pensive. "Ah, yes. I had to go to the market. So, I wandered around looking for peaches," he put the sheets back down and swatting at them with his hands, slowly rose from his chair. "And I saw an old lady. Her counter was filled with seeds. Seeds of fruits, vegetables, and... flowers," he walked up close to Nathaniel and abruptly pulled something out of his pocket. Clasping a clear bag of creamy beige dust between his index and middle finger, Christian shook it right in front of Nathaniel's face. "Are you going to explain where a fucking huckster got the seeds of black orchid from?" he hissed, but broke off into a shout at the last word. "You don't have so many tasks and one of them is to just keep watch and buy up seeds, and if you don't want to do it yourself, you have people to assign it to!" yelled Christian, and Nathaniel phlegmatically brushed the saliva off his cheek with his hand. "What if the demons saw this? What would they do to her? Don't you feel sorry for granny?" he asked in a mocking tone.  

"If I remember correctly, we all have equal responsibilities. You have no right to show up at my house and hurl accusations. It's as much your fault as it is mine."

"Remind me who put you in the superior chair?" asked Christian in a low voice squinting his eyes contemptuously.

"Y/N did," Nathaniel replied, cocking his sharp chin. "And as you can see, I don't kneel at her feet. I'm not going to kneel at yours, either."

Christian's eyes widened with indignation, and his nostrils began to flare with rage. "You are out of line," despite his angry face, Christian spoke in as calm a voice as possible. "She may have helped you, but I could easily get rid of you."

Nathaniel raised his eyebrows defiantly. "Shall we call a council?" he inquired. "So let's do it. I think the rest of the higher-ups who unlike you have relatives and children living in Hopetown, would be very interested to know why you're trying so hard to sneak in.

Christian felt as if he'd been punched in the chest, and he immediately exhaled all the anger out of himself. "How are you-"

"You're not the only one with ears everywhere. Honestly, I don't care why you need to go there. I just want you to remember that just because you've been sitting a hole in a superior's chair longer doesn't make you more important."

Christian took a deep breath. Exhaled. Repeated. He backed up a few steps and leaned against the table. "I wonder why, of the five of us, only you have access to the town?" he asked and threw a bag of creamy beige dust in Nathaniel's face. He caught it with a deft movement.

"Probably because I don't act like an arrogant idiot," Nathaniel pointed out indifferently and tucked his hands back into his sleeves along with the bag. "You have two minutes to leave my house," Nathaniel said and turned on his heels and headed for the door. Pulling the handle toward him, he added: "The lad won't kill her. So leave the two of them alone," Nathaniel tossed over his shoulder.

Christian clutched his hand to his face as if he'd just been punched. "I need to...," he mumbled. "I just need to talk to someone who's doing their job properly. Or else my head's going to burst."

At the very path that began at the bridge, you silently pushed the empty crates aside. Your tongue ached from the endless congratulations, and your feet ached from being stepped on at least a dozen times as you made your way through the crowd.

You watched the people leaving the path, and the city seemed so empty now that you could hear the quiet hum of the golden sparks that hovered above it. Kyle's shout of 'torches overhead' was still ringing in your ears, and you shook your head trying to get rid of the sound.

Itadori fidgeted with the unlit torch; he glanced around at the rest of the people present. "Anyone have a lighter or matches?"

"Don't worry about it," you assured him shoving one of the few overflowing torch boxes toward the bridge, away from the path. "Ya'd better catch up with the others. And ya two too," you turned to Danielle and Megumi who was holding her shoulder.

You picked up your backpack from the ground and opened it; it contained a stack of blank sheets of paper and a few dozen pens, the conclusions drawn from past years when someone had either lost their paper plane or it was crumpled and, as a consequence, no longer able to carry fulfill  innermost dreams and wishes. "I think I've got everything," you muttered to yourself and slung your backpack over your shoulders.

At the same time, Megumi picked up a weak Danielle in her arms, but watching such a scene you weren't at peace with joy for them, only worry. She'd been holding up fine for a year, had she only just gotten down?

Gojo's voice pulled you out of your thoughts. His tone was childishly whiny, but no less demanding. "Can't we do the same?"

"Nope," you stretched watching their distant silhouettes. "I'm afraid I can't carry you far."

"Bully," Gojo muttered under his breath. "That's not what I meant," he added even more quietly.

You turned around to Kyle who was waiting just for the two of you. "What about ya? Going forward as usual?" Kyle remained silent glaring at the man who stood directly behind you. "Hey," you muttered crossly and snapped your fingers in front of his face. "If ya're gonna kill someone with a stare, do it more discreetly."

Gojo's arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to him. "Don't worry, big brother. I'll take care of her," he said, and smiling broadly, rested his head on the top of your head. Kyle didn't seem to care what he said - he was already vividly visualizing the scarlet trickles of blood coming out of Gojo's nose.

Barely escaping the clutches of his fantasies, Kyle finally turned his gaze to you and looked straight into your eyes - you only blinked slowly, your eyes squeezed shut letting him know that everything was okay. You were comfortable. "Okay, I'll go."

"So what?" you inquired indignantly, exasperated by his terseness. "Not even an annual tutorial?"

Kyle exhaled in relief, laughing softly as a cloud of steam covered his face for a second. "Ya know yourself. Keep an eye on the laggards, and keep an eye out so it's not like last year. I don't really wanna spend all night again looking for a kid in a snowy forest who just happened to fall asleep in his own bed before the procession. That's it, I'll go now."

"Aren't ya forgetting something?" you asked sternly, tapping your forehead lightly with your finger. Kyle gave you a quick peck on the forehead, and then, taking a step back and looking you in the eye, he turned the triangle he'd made with his fingers downward: lights came on the horizon. He hurried out onto the path afterward, and at the same time, the arms around your waist squeezed you as tightly as if they wanted to be one with you.

After standing like that for a moment, you tried to unhook his hands, but to no avail. "I heard from a reliable source that you wanna live in a dumpster."

"What did I do wrong?" he snorted irritably into your hair. You tried to tear his hands away from you, again without any chance of success. It was time for the forbidden moves - you pinched his nose. "Ouch!" he exclaimed quietly and his palm flew to the sore spot on automatic; you immediately jumped out of the embrace. "You know, you act like that and I'll turn on infinity and you'll never touch me again," he mumbled resentfully, rubbing his nose with his fingers.

"Is it worth mentioning that all this time ya've been the first to seek to touch me?" you rubbed your forehead thoughtfully, but when you saw his indignant look and the way he took a deep breath, gathering more air into his lungs, you immediately returned to the original topic. "Look," you began softly. "I know Kyle seems rude, but he just... um," you stammered trying to string the information together into something concise and blurry. "He has some trust issues. So please forgive him for this behavior, but ya... Could ya please not provoke him? At least on purpose."

It was noticeable how he frowned his eyebrows slightly, and the way he clasped his hands together across his chest gave him an even stranger serious look. "What do you mean? I didn't provoke him."

You opened your mouth, but closed it again. His lack of understanding confused you, and what made it even more confusing was that you couldn't tell if he was really serious right now or if it was just part of another joke. "I mean, 'I'll take care of her?' What was that for? There are tons of ways to piss him off, but ya chose this one-"

"Okay, cease," he stopped you, and put his hands on your shoulders for good measure. "Maybe I didn't really think about how it would sound to you from aside, but... ahem," you tried to look him in the eye, but he was trying too hard to avoid your gaze staring somewhere behind you. He kept hesitating to continue, biting his lip, and then opening his mouth again, trying to get a word out. "I just... I really meant it."

You chuckled nervously. "You can't even take care of yourself."

"It's because you spoil me!" he whined in a reproachful tone, and when he heard your impish laugh, he shook you gently by the shoulders. His reaction only made you laugh even more, and he started doing something weird - still holding onto your forearms, he started rocking you back and forth. You shook your head dazedly, drilling him with a questioning look. "What are you-" you didn't have time to say before he turned ninety degrees with you and shoved you into a snowdrift. 

You sank into it, but that didn't stop your laughter from spreading, now more like the whistling of a boiling kettle. "What is that-" you barely got it out in a choked voice, your chest refusing to take in air. "That-that's your whole revenge thing?"

"Not revenge," he hissed raking the snow that was on sides with his big hands and dumping it right on your face. "Justice!"

While you were floundering, he's already buried your legs in the snow. As soon as you were able to lift your body up, he shoved you back down.

"Ouch," you squeaked squeezing your head into your shoulders. "It seems I got snow down my back. It's cold!"

"What?" he exclaimed restlessly, immediately pulling you to him. He fussily but gently wiped the melted snow from your face with his palms, and when he reached under your scarf to wipe the back of your head, he felt that it was completely dry.

"Hey ya," you said quietly, squinting your eyes slyly. "The strongest sorcerer in the world as naive as a five-year-old."

He looked at you as if you'd stabbed him in the back with your dagger. Still sitting in the cold snow, he sighed dramatically and turned away from you, hand resting on his cheek. You knew it was just a joke - he'd pulled that trick more than once. Nevertheless, you crawled up behind him and rested your chin on his shoulder. He was lazily tracing patterns in the snow with his finger, not paying attention to you, and you had no choice but to rub your nose against his neck - once you did that, you looked at his profile again. "Some of us won't live to be old," he muttered turning his head slightly toward you. "Perhaps that someone is you. I'll kill you myself."

"Yeah," you said smiling. You started to pinch his sides: maybe it didn't have the same effect through the thick fabric of his jacket, but he started to smile - you could see the corners of his lips lift. "I know," you pulled away from him, but as always you didn't notice the way his gaze dimmed as you did so. "We should go." 

It was a joke. Just a joke.

To the tinkling music of the heavy chains sang someone's long painful whimper. The woman's hands dangled limply in the shackles, and almost all of her fingers were missing their nails - and the ones that were left had small, thin nails hammered under them. As she struggled to move her arms, she sobbed raggedly and then began to cough up choking on her own blood.

She tried once more to raise herself up, and once more she failed. She couldn't feel her legs at all, and through the shroud of tears and pus she tried to see if they were still there.

As a child, the captive was a decent girl - an obedient daughter, a diligent pupil, always trying not to upset her mother and father. As a teenager, she tried to ignore all of the attentions and was immersed in her studies - she was too concerned about her own future. Of course, she fell in love at university, but is that a sin? With that man, she had a happy marriage, though not without minor scrapes and quarrels, but she never betrayed her beloved husband. They had two wonderful children, to whom the woman tried to give everything, and if it was not enough material resources - she made up for it with all-consuming maternal love.

The captive didn't understand what she did wrong.

She used her willpower alone to force her weakened body to sway sideways - sitting still was much more painful. That made the chains rattle with renewed vigor, and the man who had been tirelessly correcting the painting on the wall before finally turned around. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" He walked over to her and gently cupped his fingers around her chin forcing her to look into his eyes. "Thirsty?" the woman nodded weakly, though it was as her head had just dropped from helplessness.

Pouring water from the carafe into a glass, the man cupped her cheeks and brought the glass to her mouth. Her swallowing reflex was almost non-existent as the water ran down her neck, washing away the fresh blood and soaking the old dried one. "Here ya go," he said softly, scrutinizing her face. "Feeling better?"

The woman only covered her eyes, and he immediately removed his hand from her; the captive's head collapsed back against her chest.

However, the man paid no further attention to her; he put the empty glass on the table and returned to painting. He circled the canvas with his hands, barely touching it - he wanted to feel every stroke of paint, but lacked the courage to apply more force. "One of the three studies of the crucifixion," he whispered reverently, unable to take his eyes off the painted bloody human body writhing on the bed. "Ya really don't know where the others are?"

The captive was silent.

The man exhaled quietly and clenched his teeth only to unclench them and smile again. He turned and walked over to the woman again and squatted down in front of her; the captive clenched into a ball, as tight as she could be with her chained limbs. "Ya're an honorary restorer at the Solomon Guggenheim Museum, did they really not tell ya where paintings were taken?" he gently tucked a strand of her dirty hair (what little was left of it) behind her ear, and the tone of his voice was so soft and enveloping that the woman nestled her cheek against his hand.

"Rei," a voice hit his eardrums, and it was so annoying that the man didn't hear the clinking of chains or the thump against a weakened and gaunt cheek, he only heard the whimpering of the cornered woman. "Not tired of sitting in the shadows yet?"

"Who am I hearing," Ray noted sardonically, getting to his feet and adjusting the collar of his suit. "Ya know I can see better from the shadows," he sat down tiredly on the couch directly across from the newly acquired painting, crossed his legs. "Unless ya wanna offer me something interesting."

"I know what you're getting at," noticed the voice. "No. You treat chances the same way you treat money. Wastefully."

"Oh, come on," Rei waved it off examining the blood painted on the picture. His whole skin itched with the urge to add the real thing to it. "I got too... over-excited that time. This time I'll just blow her head off."

"Blowing her head off won't be enough this time!" came a voice so loud that blood flowed from Ray's ears. He wiped the scarlet liquid away indifferently with the back of his hand. "And as far as your games have gone, that's as far as she's been able to go. It's your fault she's walking around our territory and besides... opening it up to others."

"How much longer ya gonna spray?" asked Rei through clenched teeth. The voice had no right to say things like that: somehow, they were part of the same whole. It was their fault.  "Just tell me what needs to be done."  

"Let's start with her rear," the voice suggested calmly. "Weaken it preferably, remove it as a priority."

"Be specific."

"Check out the redhead's habits. How she dresses, who she likes to socialize with, how much she sleeps, what she eats, what toothpaste she brushes her teeth with, down to what time and how often she goes to the bathroom."" 

"Where has our former majesty gone," Rei sighed staring blankly at one point. "If queens used to sit between our legs while kings licked our heels, now we have to watch some broad in the latrine."

The voice didn't answer.

The captive had long since gotten used to the man talking to himself from time to time, but what she couldn't get used to was his fits of rage right afterward. Each time, she hoped - no, not just hoped - prayed that in a fit of rage he would finally kill her.

She heard his footsteps approaching. Unable to lift her head, she began to sob quietly. An agonized and tearing moan escaped her chest as he grabbed the rest of her hair with a jerk. "So ya're not gonna tell me where the rest of the paintings are?" he bellowed in her face.

The woman wanted more than anything to shout 'I don't know, I don't know, I don't know!" but her voice had long since given up - the words wouldn't come, and she only had to shake her head from side to side. 

Rei's face contorted. He grabbed the woman's face squeezing her cheeks - and it was unclear whether it was his gray strands or his eyes that were turning black faster. He was breathing heavily, and the woman felt pain - his growing claws digging into her cheekbones. "Okay," he whispered softly.

A second ago, the room was filled with convulsive sobs, but because the rage was confined within the four walls, it was replaced by the sound of tearing mandibular ligaments. The woman let out one last loud gurgling wheeze, after which everything was replaced by the sounds of blood dripping to the floor and the final clanking of old iron chains.

In the cold December, there was no music more beautiful to Rei than this.

The fire seemed to be warming the frosty air and pushing the winter out of its glow, but it was not the only thing warming people now, they were warming each other themselves. Some of them were already walking with their arms around each other, drinking songs; some were stealthily taking a few sips of wine or something stronger from their flask fidgeting around. Tired children were already sitting in the arms of adults comfortably as it was possible; other children, more active, were running from side to side, playing catch-up under the concerned shouts of older ones. Every passing person left footprints in the white snow, there was no better proof than this that someone was here, and that someone was alive.    

It was a well-traveled and known road, but still the responsible adults led the younger ones by the hand, and the responsible younger ones led the older ones by the hand. Everyone was looking out for each other - everybody wanted to get to the cliff safely.

Frank had moved Tris from one hand to the other four times already, and she had refused to get off and walk on her own since the beginning of the trail. The man berated himself for it: just as he'd done with the three of you, he couldn't refuse Tris; he pestered himself with thoughts that she might grow up to be too spoiled, but if you hadn't, maybe this time it would be all right, too.

Frank never thought of himself as a good father. He kept going over in his head what he had given you and what more he could have given you, and it didn't seem enough, because he had missed the most important thing of all: your childhood. While you were growing up and trying to learn about the world getting bumps and scrapes, all he did was cut the throats of others. Higher-ups praised him a lot and often, but he hardly remembered it, but he sure remembered Rachel's delight at his first cooked breakfast, Kyle's brief but meaningful nod when Frank finally managed to explain to him how to use his ability of lighting, and your snide laugh when all the infant formula from the bottle he'd just fed Tris ended up on his shirt.

"Ya tired?" turned Frank to Itadori who had already been carrying Mike in his arms for about twenty minutes.

"No!" exclaimed Yuuji tossing the slumped Mike higher on his shoulder and grinning broadly. "I'm very resilient."

"Frank?" Yuta picked up the conversation peering out from behind Frank's big shoulder. "What happened to us? I mean... why did the sorcerers split up?"  

"Son, it's been over a couple or three thousand years," Frank chuckled and was about to pat the boy on the top of his head, but remembered his busy hands and snorted unhappily. "I'm not quite sure I can say exactly what it was about. Although... My grandpa used to tell me that it was all because of the promise system."

Yuta tried to catch up with Frank, whose stride could be compared to three steps of a normal person. "Promise system?"

"I think you've met something like that," Frank hummed shifting Tris from one hand to the other. "All of this filth trying to negotiate something one way or another," Itadori looked further away with each word he said. "Long time ago, when the demons started to realize they couldn't cope, they started to negotiate with the sorcerers. Of course, at first, for just a 'small favor' the demons promised mostly more powers. Some sorcerers thought that this is a great opportunity: the more they will have strength, the more people they can protect, and other sorcerers didn't like it, because there is no limit to human greed, and all this will not end well. So we parted ways. I dunno how it happened, and I can't say that we had nothing to do with it... But as time went on, the caste of sorcerers that had given up on the idea began to be covered with dirt, and rumors have two properties: they spread very quickly and in addition, they grow with details that come from nowhere... and years later you look at it and don't understand why it was necessary," Frank sighed heavily. "Ya boys," he nodded his head at Yuta and Itadori. "Ya don't even know what the promise system is at all, do ya? I don't think your older generation is aware of it either... Nor of the existence of demons in general. And we're all just a thing of the past. But be that as it may, and whatever happened between our ancestors... I'm glad we're back together."

Yuta and Itadori looked at each other in confusion.

"We're glad to have met you too," said Yuta, and smiling, got all flushed.

"Stop it," chuckled Frank, and he thought he pushed Yuta lightly with his shoulder, but boy didn't fly off into the snowy bushes only because of his intense training.     

"So how the promise system work?" blurted Itadori, and Frank raised an eyebrow in surprise at this unfamiliar pressure. "It's just..." he swallowed the thick saliva that rose in his throat like a cork. "Forewarned is forearmed."

"How-how... Unfairly it works," Frank spat in indignation. "Demons can watch ya for a long time, digging into your head for your most secret desires, and once they know... They come to a person and offer them a deal. If the terms aren't agreed upon onshore, the default is five years. I don't need to tell ya what happens if you don't fulfill the terms... If a person has done everything they were asked for within the specified period, they can also ask the demon to do something for them, and everything works the same way with deadlines. All this works in the opposite direction: a person can first come and ask for something. With one adjustment - the demon can pretty much say no."

"Can't a person refuse a promise?" queried Yuta confusedly.

"Son, ya think those bastards are gonna stick a piece of paper under your nose and ask ya to sign it?" Frank panted so hard that Tris wrapped her arms around his face. "All they need is your mental assent. They don't care what you say out loud. You can tell them fu- ahem, you can tell them no, but if they nailed, you're in trouble. You won't even know it. That's why... That's why hunters are taught not to want anything from childhood, and if they do, to keep it so deep inside that no bug can get to it."

"Why not turn this to your favor?" boiled Itadori. "Why not in return for their wants just ask that they all die?"

Frank marveled at the amount of stilted anger sitting in the pink-haired boy. "We tried," the man shrugged. "But we got the impression that the very concept of death itself was unfamiliar to them. The hunters tried different formulations: 'die' - only the body died, 'fade away' - only the body disappeared, 'burn in hell' - maybe they did burn, but they came back. Hunters tried to set impossible tasks, but if we take into account the fact that we want to keep humanity intact, there is no such thing. Ya can ask for the sun to go out, but there's no way to be sure they can't. But what if they could and would do it? Even if there was something impossible for them to do, all demon 'requests' result in a huge loss of human life, and it is too disproportionate and unfair that several human lives are taken in exchange for one demon life. I believe there is some formulation that will make them finally disappear, but so far, the hunters have not found one. The only two working methods now are judges and void killings. I hope you never fall for such a thing."

Amidst the chatter of all the people walking down the slope, only their voices were hushed - each buried in his own thoughts. Almost every minute each of them caught an occasional nudge on the shoulder and a loud apology as people hurried to the cliff.

Something - if intangible, but something to lean on - began to emerge in Itadori's memories. Their pact with Sukuna. The only thing he regretted now was that the curse had never learned how brightly human rage could burn. "Kid," Itadori yanked back so that Mike nearly fell out of his arms. Kyle, on the other hand, looked into his eyes searching for how he was feeling. "Everything okay?"

The anger in Yuji's eyes was immediately replaced by confusion, confusion replaced by awkward nods of the head. "Yeah," muttered Itadori. "Yeah, everything's fine. Kinda."

Kyle looked calm, but he still didn't relent and kept his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Why don't we wait a while," he pulled him aside and they stopped letting a group of cackling people pass by. Looking around, Kyle noticed that they were separated from the rest of the people by a few dozen feet. "No more bad thoughts popped into your head?"

Itadori's eyes became as round as two shiny coins. "No, no, of course not!" the boy rambled excitedly, and when Kyle was back on the path, Yuji scrambled up beside him.

"Look," Kyle began softly, choosing his words. "It's unlikely that I'll ever fully understand what ya've been through - it's not like I've ever had someone sitting inside me and controlling me intermittently. Besides, I can't promise you that the pain will ever diminish, but what I can guarantee ya for sure that time will change in size," Itadori noted to himself: the more times it was mentioned, the less pain he felt. Did repressed anger sit in him? Yes. Did grief sit in him? Perhaps. However, the pain flowed out of his body like water through the tiny openings of a huge sieve, or it still sat in him, but as a captive and overgrew the vines of a newfound hardness of character. "I know when the fruits of your labors are invisible to the eye, we can't help but wonder what it's all for. After all, the world would look the way it does now without us: calm, peaceful. We completely forget that it looks like this only because we had the courage to take on such a burden. Ya know what I mean?"

Itadori didn't dare blink, afraid that tears would come out of his eyes again, and tried not to sniffle, though his nose tickled unpleasantly. He nodded his head once not daring to answer, fearing that the brokenness in his voice might come out of his mouth.

"Cold today, huh?" asked Kyle casually, wiping his eyes with the palms of his hands. "Even my eyes are watering."

"Yeah," Itadori blurted out and began to wipe his eyes hastily with one hand. "True," he felt a sense of gratitude in his chest, and it came as sharply as the darkness of winter: just a blink, and there was darkness outside the window instead of sunshine.

They had been walking for a long time; the forest around them began to thin giving way to a landscape of bare rocks and cliffs covered with snow. The last turn showed on the horizon, and people along with their lights were turning and disappearing from sight. "I was talking to ya like a child," Kyle said. "Now I'll tell you like a man: you chose it for yourself. Get your balls up and take responsibility," Kyle was surprised at the harshness of his statement. They were already at the turnoff. "Still, there's something ya need to see. I hope that for you this day will be one of those memories that will generally justify living like this. Now look," they finally turned, and Kyle nodded toward the climb up to that very cliff.

Itadori stopped dead in his tracks, and he did it so suddenly that the people walking behind him crashed into his back.

However, he didn't feel it.

It was the third time the raven flew over your heads - Gojo kept throwing anxious glances at you, but you didn't seem to notice the bird, only stared ahead.

When the raven stopped silently circling over your heads and finally made a sound as if to attract attention, Gojo couldn't stand it, and behind his back - so that you couldn't see - he jerked his palm sharply, and the raven immediately began to fall straight into the crowns of trees. "Is it still far? " he asked diverting your attention and at the same time watching the bird's body fly downward.  

"We'll go around that corner and almost done. We'll just have to climb up."

"If we're almost there, why haven't I seen a single person coming back?"

"We throw them off a cliff," you replied indifferently, shrugging your shoulders. "An annual sacrifice," you continued to tease him, and as he watched not a single muscle on your face flinch, he squinted his eyes suspiciously. "It's just a joke," you chuckled and nudged him lightly with your shoulder. "There's another road back there. The first year we organized all this, we didn't think about the way back. The road got so crowded... So we had to build another one as a matter of urgency."

"We passed one turn into the woods, didn't we," he drawled thoughtfully. The raven just appeared just as you approached it. "You mean that way?"

There was no point in lying now: when you were on your way back, Gojo would realize this wasn't the right road. "Nope," you shook your head. "It's just a cutoff."

It was obvious to a fool that it wasn't a shortcut - there was nowhere to cut. He was about to launch into another joking drama about your mistrust, but he shrugged it off - maybe that was all he deserved.

The last light on the horizon had already gone out; you were inevitably approaching the turn as well. "If that doesn't capture ya spirit, I don't even know what will."

"What are you talking about?" he asked puzzled, flapping his eyes.

You took his hand intertwining your fingers with his and turning the corner, leading him onto the final path. "Look."

He always knew exactly what he was doing: saving lives. He hardly did it out of the goodness of his heart - though he certainly had one - but rather to gratify his ego once again and to feel the power that had been flowing through his body since birth. He'd never seen the result of his labors and he'd never been interested in it, and no one knew or praised his name outside the sorcery world - he hardly cared.

Nevertheless, what was there left to do now with the feeling that filled his gut as inevitably and irrevocably as the coming of tomorrow? That feeling was reflected by hundreds of lights in his glittering eyes.  

Those lights stretched and rose upward, and they did so as tenaciously as any hope can survive. What goes hand in hand with hope?

Every man could move a mountain long before he even knew he could do it. You just have to believe - if not in God or mythical creatures, if not in your relatives or science, then at least in yourself. For somewhere in the most secluded corner of the earth, faith kisses the hands of hope tenderly every time and assures it to go forward, no matter what.

What keeps them both going?

He unconsciously shifted his gaze to you - he was scrutinizing your half-hidden profile with an edge of his eye, and your eyes reflected the same lights as his. 

The answer held his hand.

"Did you…," he stammered hearing his voice hoarse, and coughed quietly. "Did you do all this?"

"We!" you exclaimed confidently. "We did it all," you added quietly, but still firmly, and exhaled the exhilarating feeling that made your heart beat faster. "Let's go, the only thing missing there is our light," you shook the torch quietly. "I hope ya made plane?"

"Of course I did," he replied trying to suppress a smile.

"Won't ya show me what ya've written?" you asked peering into blue eyes.

"Dream on!" he hissed indignantly, pressing his hand to his pocket.

When you came up, there were hardly two dozen people left on the cliff - all the others who had made a wish had already gone down to the town to drink wine, eat delicious food, warm themselves by the fire and tell stories.

Still holding Gojo's hand, you walked around the embracing couple, and then you led him over to the cliff and nodded ahead. He puckered his lips, but you'd never say it was from embarrassment - his face was already red from the biting cold.

He carefully pulled out a paper plane and noticing you somehow furtively peering out from behind his shoulder, he clutched it to his chest with childish stubbornness. "Turn away!" he commanded. You, on the other hand, made a helpless and begging look and tried to peek again. "I said turn away!" you snorted and turned away: for the first time It didn't work out.

There was a quiet rustle and then silence, even the wind was quiet. The silence was short-lived; a few seconds later you heard an indignant cry. "Hey! It's gone!" he turned back to you, and you could barely keep from laughing: that was the look on Tris's face when she found out the snow wasn't sweet at all.

You threw up your hands and shrugged. "They always disappear, there's nothing ya can do about it."

"I thought it was just me," he snorted puffing his cheeks, but there was relief in his voice. "Now it's your turn!"

"Then turn away," you mocked him. 

"How dare you!" exclaimed Gojo clutching at his heart.

"Turn away, or you'll leave poor me without wish," you sounded like you were about to cry, and without thinking he immediately turned away. He furrowed his eyebrows in bewilderment, realizing what he'd just done.

A small manipulator, that's who you was.

You turned slowly toward the cliff. You looked down at your empty hands and bit your lip so hard that you could taste the metal in your mouth.

"That's it," you squeezed out a cheery voice with the kind of difficulty that people use to squeeze the remnants of toothpaste out of an empty tube. "We can go."

"Can't we... Stay here a little longer?" he asked quietly. "I know you have a raid in a few hours, but still. I really want to hang out here with you."

"Sure."

Just as you were about to sit down on the edge of the cliff, an indignant shriek reached you. "Y/N!" Itadori was already running towards you at full speed with Mike in his arms, with Kyle running after the boy. "They're all missing, aren't they?" seeing the dumbfounded expression on your face, he added: "Planes! Everyone's missing them?"

"Uh?" you shifted your gaze from Kyle to Yuji confusedly. "I mean… Yes?"

"Thank goodness," Yuuji exhaled in relief.

"That's what I said," Kyle muttered quietly, wrinkling his nose annoyingly.

"Ya look like fucking yakuza. I wouldn't trust ya too," you wished you could say it to yourself; for under Kyle's gaze, your skin felt like it was starting to burn. "Itadori," you turned to the boy. "Ya okay?"

"I- Well, yeah... Yeah," he looked at you, and the way you regarded him made it all clear to him. "Did you... tell her?" he asked Kyle, and he sounded both embarrassed and ashamed at the same time.

"Just don't take offense to him, no one in our family knows how to keep their mouth shut, but it never gets any further," you assured Yuji. He looked at you, but didn't dare to look up at Gojo, afraid to see the disappointment in his sensei's eyes. "Alright, ya guys go have fun. We'll be here for a while," you patted Itadori on the top of his head, and with a glance you indicated Kyle to keep an eye on him. Your older brother seemed to accept your choice shoving his hands in his pockets and following Yuji out. 

There were no people left on the cliff at all - even the couple who had been hugging each other was gone. You were left alone, and now no one could stop you from sitting on the cliff.   

"What was that just now?" asked Gojo watching Itadori leave.

You knew what you were going to do. Break the reassurance given to the boy. "He kinda...uh, he tried to kill himself," you muttered quietly, looking down at your swaying legs. 

It was too rare to hear him like this, in utter confusion and denial. "What?"

"Didn't he tell ya?" you asked uncertainly. "Those events in Shibuya... Sukuna overran the control and slaughtered people, so Yuji blames himself. We only got there towards the end; we didn't have time to do anything. And besides, Itadori thinks Megumi became a vessel for Sukuna because of him too."

"He...," he couldn't speak normally because of the rising lump in his throat. "He was telling me, but it was so casually, and I really thought that it might bother him, but not that much."

"Ya thought wrong then," you mumbled not taking your eyes off the distant tree crowns. You could hardly see them from here, but you looked like they were the most interesting thing on earth.

Without realizing it, he was looking at you pleadingly, but you refused to even turn in his direction. "You too?" he asked so bitterly that you immediately looked up at him. "You think I'm a shitty teacher too? A shitty person? A selfish asshole who doesn't care about the feelings of others," the last phrase came out of his speech - it sounded like it was an assertion. 

"Satoru," you addressed him softly. The words you were about to say forced you to look away again. "I honestly have no idea if this will mean anything to ya, but... I'm proud of ya," you exhaled and without letting him get a word in edgewise, you began to jabber gesticulating vigorously. "I mean, ya've had so much strength since birth, and where strength is power, and power, it... it corrupts. But just look at ya. I don't care why exactly you're protecting people, but ya do. I don't think anyone taught ya the right thing to do either, so ya're probably just doing what ya can. Ya take custody of children, ya've even defended so many in front of your higher-ups, and most of the curses are sitting in corners shaking like mice just because ya exist, even though ya could have just tucked the world away and enjoyed it. But here ya are," you were so out of breath you had to take a pause. "Ya're here, and instead of burning some city to the ground, ya're throwing a paper plane. So yeah... I'm proud of ya."

You chuckled nervously; sometimes you just wanted to kill yourself for being so chatty. In the silence, you just wanted to tell him not to take it all in stride.

"Wanna be my best friend?" he blurted out and froze - his heart was racing too fast; he wanted to rip it out of his chest for a second so it wouldn't get in the way of hearing your answer.

"I...," you began confusedly. "Ya know, first... I have a question too."

Shut your mouth. Shut up, shut up, shut up.

"Yeah?"

Just be quiet. It's okay; everything was going well as it was, you don't need to break anything with your little hands.

"Is it true?" you asked calmly enough, despite your earlier excitement and equally emotional monologue. "Is your pact with Christian true?" your hand that was resting on the cliff twitched, and a pebble that had been resting under the snow flew down the cliff. Enough time passed for it to finally reach the ground, but Gojo still didn't say anything. "Gonna say something?"

What you heard made you round your eyes. It wasn't his words that surprised you, it was his voice. It trembled. "How long have you known?" 

You rubbed your forehead perplexed. Of all the answers he'd chosen, he'd chosen this one? "Yeah I'd love to say something like 'don't take me for an idiot, maybe I'm a fool, but I'm not stupid, and I knew about my position from the very beginning' and blah-blah-blah, but no. Nael told me this afternoon. I guess ya realized it yourself - I don't think ya ran into the storage all out of breath just because ya wanted to help."

His soul was a cloth of rubber threads, and with every word you said the threads snapped one by one. Where before Gojo had been able to sprawl on top of you without hesitation crushing you into the bed to your grumbling of displeasure, now he barely had the courage to put his palm over yours - you could feel that it wasn't just his voice that was trembling. "I-I can explain everything-"

"No doubt ya can," you said indifferently. "Ya must have been promised to be paid well. Maybe not even in money. Or not just money," you listed the options cheekily. "Or ya were simply told who I am and what I've done, and even a man like ya who has a few second chances scattered in his pockets for everyone decided it was best to get rid of me. Ya know what?" a chuckle escaped your lips. "I don't wanna know. I don't know what's worse."

Gojo wanted you to look at him at last. He wrapped his hands around your face and pulled you to his face. When you tried to break free of his grip, though without much enthusiasm, a painful whimper escaped from his lips. Why weren't you angry? He would have been so happy to take a slap from you, or a scream, or just a bucket of slop on his head. However, it was as if you didn't care. "I was so mad- I was so mad at you then. I was just angry, I didn't even know I could do that- And then you came in with those damn mochi and-"

"Enough," you said sternly, and he stopped talking. You struggled to pull his hands away from you - his grip was strong, but you could barely feel it on your face. "Ya've had a year to tell and now any explanation will look like an excuse," he kept looking at his hands and wondering why he missed you. You rose from your place and panic gripped him - he may not have had the right to touch you anymore, but he wouldn't be able to stand it if you disappeared from his life altogether. Still clutching at you desperately, Gojo jumped to his feet and stared into your eyes, shaking his head frantically, as if begging you not to leave. He was unable to say anything. He looked so confused and distressed that you had to soften your voice. "Ya know what we're gonna do? I'm going on a raid for three days, so ya'll have time to think it over," you said backing away from him a couple steps. "Think it over well. If you do stick to your agreement - leave, and if we meet again, we'll talk differently, but if you change your mind, then... just stay. Just stay and we'll never revisit this topic again."

"Okay," Gojo tried to sound as calm as possible, but here were his telltale hands still reaching for you. He barely lifted them, and then yanked back. "Can I... Can I at least hug you?"

"Nope," you shook your head. "We aren't friends yet or anymore."

"Let me..," Gojo began, but immediately fell silent, and you were dying for him to say something already. You could have just kept your mouth shut and everything would have been fine. "Let me walk you out, okay?"

"Deal."

Already dressed in your uniform, you raced around the room like a lunatic. If everything at home was a mess, at least you knew it was your mess, but in Hopetown, you had to work hard to find everything you needed.

Without taking off your original mask, you put on your work mask and started screwing filters into it, all in a hurry. When you were done with the respirators, you quickly tied your hair into a ponytail and grabbed your phone - the charger fell out of the socket and clattered on the table. You furrowed your eyebrows - you hadn't pulled that hard. You glanced at the screen. There was almost no charge.

The phone was not charging the whole time.

There was no time to deal with it - the main thing was to remember what date it was. With these thoughts, you grabbed your backpack and started looking for your watch, but everything but it came up. You remembered that you had taken it.

There was a knock at the door. "Come in!" you shouted out in a rush still digging in your backpack.

"Y/N?" asked Gojo quietly. "Almost midnight. You'll be late."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," you were already throwing the contents on the floor in panic. There wasn't even time to ask anyone for watch.

"Hey," he softly called out to you intercepting your hands. "Calm down. What's wrong?"

"Watch!" you exclaimed. "Watch. I can't find it," you mumbled anxiously combing out the loose strands.

He reached for his hand - the clasp clicked. "I'll give you mine, okay? Don't worry," taking your hand, he started to put the watch on you.

You stared at it all in utter shock. You'd never experienced anything like this before - the blood in your ears was rushing so hard you couldn't hear your hitched breath. "Ya... Ya can't do that. Ya can't give them to me."

"It's just a watch," finally snapping it onto your hand, he barely denied himself the urge to kiss your palm. "If it bothers you that much, you can just return it later."

"Oh!" you exclaimed as if it had hit you. "Yeah, sure," you checked the time on your phone screen against the clock. It was all coming together. "We should get going."

You ran out into the street and you took a quick stride toward the deserted place not paying attention to whether he was following you. Two steps across the bridge, you ran past the storage and on to where there was not even a hint of any building or presence.

Gojo followed you. Your quickened gait was like his normal stride, so he could easily keep up. He lacked the resolve to even look at your back, but he couldn't let you go without saying anything. He couldn't.

You had already reached a small and deserted field. The dark rustling forest in the background was eerie; or rather, it would have been if your thoughts hadn't been cluttered with other things. "Okay," you said stopping him. "I'll take it from here," he nodded briefly, and wrapping his arms around himself, watched helplessly as you walked away.

You took a dozen steps and stopped when he called out to you. "Y/N," Gojo's voice was so faint you hardly recognized it. You turned around - there he was, still the same one standing in front of you: tall, with disheveled white hair, and the blue of his eyes could be seen even from the distance that separated you, but you couldn't explain to yourself why the feelings were different now. "You belong in mine now," he said quietly, but it sounded like he was whispering these words right in your ear.

He'd never seen you look like that before; you looked down, and he could tell your mouth was open, but he knew you weren't going to say anything. You shifted your gaze back to him, and he had enough to catch a glimpse of your grateful look that he almost lunged at you. Сlosing your eyes and making a barely visible bow with your head, you turned away. Gojo immediately covered his eyes with his hand to keep from being blinded by the purple flash.

When he took his hand away, he knew he would be alone. Gojo was well aware of that, but he still hoped, and that hope turned into something else: the idea that next time he wouldn't let you go so easily. Maybe, he wouldn't at all.  

[Timeless, Void; Time on watch 11:58pm]

Each of the voidrunners had gotten bilateral pneumonia the first time they'd entered the void. Not surprisingly, having come in here for more than the hundredth time, the cold stabbed at your face with sharp blades of ice.

As soon as your feet touched the ground, you began to run. Every step you took left black sand rising behind you, and the dust cloud seemed to chase you. There was nothing but a glowing purple line on the blackening horizon - and you ran straight for it, all the while looking around for something that stuck out. In simple words: anything.

Run.

Trying to distract yourself from the cold and the upcoming hungry and exhausting days, you started playing songs in your head, any kind of melodies: happy, sad, annoying, contagious. The sand under your feet crunched so nastily that it was better to run on broken glass, but you were never offered a choice.

Run.

Your peripheral vision picked up a growing purple flash; you looked back, and it was another rift. So some demon was coming out of that point, and if you were extremely lucky, it wasn't an loner, which meant there might be a settlement nearby.

Run.

You turned toward the rift, looking around much more carefully now. Nothing. You ran up the hill, thanking the creators of this place once again that at least there was no wind - otherwise you'd be tired of getting sand out of your eyes.

As you ran up the hill, your inner instinct barked at you to duck - and you did so obediently and sharply, and something flew over you. Still not slowing down, you looked in the direction from which the thing was thrown - there was a loner standing there. He was covered from head to toe in black ugly patterns that had a life of their own and crawled across his skin, blackened uncut hair falling over his face covering the same dark eyes. Loner looked at you and grinned in a way that showed all of his teeth, and the only thing you wanted right now was to knock them out.

You turned sharply in his direction, and changed from running to pacing. 

"Shading."

The demon bent his head sideways unnaturally, and his eyes flickered - he straightened up again, ducked down a little, and began to spin around, seeking.

"Relocate."

Wherever and however he turned, you were always at his back. You looked at the spectacle for a moment, with one hand you dug into his face, pulling him close to you, and with the other, you gave him two quick dagger strokes between his collarbones, before he could even wheeze as he fell to the ground.

Emerging from the black haze, you resumed running, not looking back as the demon you had just killed crumbled into immediately vanishing ash.

You had been running for a long time, but it was as if the rift wasn't getting any closer. Another descent and another long ascent, and finally the purple-colored sand told you that the rift wasn't as far away as it seemed.

Only in that light was an unfamiliar dark spot. Another one?

You've gone back to a step - getting close enough to the figure, you saw that this certain someone was lying curled up, not moving.

You shoved him with your foot, but there was no response. With an annoyed exhale, you grabbed the man's head, and when you saw his face, you let it out in horror. It was Megumi. "Hey!" you exclaimed worriedly, pushing and braking him. You put two fingers to his neck and exhaled in relief when you found a pulse. "Come on," you started slightly slapping his cheeks and shaking him by the shoulders.

It was your fault. Getting rid of Sukuna, you led Megumi through the isolation, but you didn't realize the boy would be so strong that one time would be enough for him. However, how did he end up here? "Come on, open your eyes!" you whined lifting his eyelids with your thumbs. They immediately fluttered open. "Okay, good!" you encouraged him, though you doubted he could hear you. You pulled off your mask and leaned it against his face - it wouldn't fit him because of the customized shape, but it was better than nothing.  "Come on, help me," you put his hand on the mask and he clutched at it, whereupon you picked him up by the waist and put his arm around your shoulder and waddled towards the rift.

He was barely moving his feet and almost all of his weight was on you; you were walking with your legs bent about halfway over. "It's okay," you assured him in a cheerful voice. "We're almost there. If you can get in here, you can definitely get out."

Once at the rift, he fell down and pulled you with him. "Pull yourself together!" you said anxiously, picking him back up. "Here," you said taking off your watch and quickly putting it on him. He wobbled from side to side, and you grabbed his shoulder each time bringing him back into place. He looked up at you - from under half-closed eyelids, he was staring at you with a stubborn look as if refusing to leave. "Don't worry, I've got another one, it's fine, just go," you immediately went behind his back not wanting to be under such scrutiny, and began to nudge him towards the rift. "Straight to the doc, got it? That's it, go. I'll be back in three days," you still pushed him to the rift, and he barely had time to turn his head to look at you - he immediately disappeared. You exhaled noisily, and leaned over and rested your hands on your knees, cursing under your nose.

When the adrenaline was finally out of your body, you looked down at your hand where your watch should have been. Pressing your lips together, you pulled out your phone - the screen showed five percent charge. "I guess I fucked up," you swallowed a lump in your throat and clicked your tongue. You buried your face in the palm of your hand trying to calm down - your hair was starting to darken from the roots.

In three days, you're not coming home.

The only thing left to do was run.

next ⊳

[thiniceofeternalyouth]

MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER SIX

WISH UPON A PAPER PLANE [1 pt.]

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, sci-fi, cosmology.

Chapter warning&tags : ooc, slight manga spoilers, profanity, mentions of alcohol, mentions of pregnancy, touch-starved!Gojo, slight yandere themes (if you squint);

Words count: ~15k

⊲ previous next ⊳

[Nov 23, 2019; 10:51pm; hunter's headquarters]

You stared at the contents of the refrigerator in bewilderment. You closed the door and immediately opened it again trying to make sure you weren't crazy. All the chocolate milk you had bought just yesterday was gone.

It's been going on ever since you had another lodger in your workroom; it didn't matter that you bought twice as much of anything when he arrived, it all disappeared as fast as it appeared.

You came to your senses with the click of the kettle boiling. You calmly brewed the tea, automatically added six sugar cubes to the mug, set it on the table, and then began to pick up the things scattered around the room.  

A redhead appeared in the doorway. "Adoptee, borrow me earphones."

Holding the pile of things in your hands, you glanced over your shoulder at Rachel. She was already dressed in a black uniform; her perpetually unruly hair was tied back in a high ponytail, she wore a black mask with small notches on the sides of it, she had a belt around her waist to which a hip harness was attached, and she was holding a pair of boots. "In the bedside table."

Rachel tapped the mask. "And new respirators."

"Top right drawer of the desk."

"And also elastic bandages."

You tried not to roll your eyes. "Look on the bottom shelf in the closet."

When she found everything she needed, Rachel plopped down in your chair and started bandaging her legs. "Who's that in there?" she asked casually, nodding toward the bathroom door, where you could hear the muffled sound of water.

Gathering up all clothes, you tossed them into the laundry basket. "Three guesses," you mumbled.

Rachel raised her eyebrows playfully. Even though she was wearing a mask, you knew her enough to realize she was biting her lower lip right now. "Is there something between ya two?"

"Definitely," you spread your palms apart, as if trying to measure something. "A huge household chasm, for example."

Rachel chuckled as she continued to bandage her legs. "That bad?"

"Well, not really," you said a little hesitantly, stepped closer to Rachel and sat down on the table. "Once I asked him to throw some of his own clothes in the washer, and, uh… he threw his black t-shirt in with my white clothes," it was supposed to sound like an excuse, but saying it aloud only made you bury your face in your palm more making your next words sound muffled. "I don't have any more white clothes."

"Don't ya think he did it on purpose?" inquired Rachel, pulling on her boots. "Ya know, so you wouldn't ask him for anything else."

You took on a blissful look so suddenly that it made Rachel cringe, and question your normality for the umpteenth time. "Nah, I'm not sure of anything anymore. I'm just graciously accepting the trial God has sent me."

"Why don't ya just punch him a couple times?" she turned to you, jumping up from her chair and starting to stretch her arms.

You sighed ruefully, grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back. "Calm down. I'll definitely get over this one somehow. A couple more months and I might even be able to put up with his God complex."

A hurried exclamation was heard from the bathroom. "Y/N! Where's my uniform?"

You rounded your eyes indignantly, and Rachel hissed because your grip on her shoulder had gotten too strong. "I put it right on the door in front of your nose!" you exclaimed trying to shout over the sound of the water.

"Adoptee, easy," Rachel whined trying to remove your hand from your shoulder.

You tore your gaze away from the bathroom door and perked up. "Sorry," you mumbled guiltily and pulled your hand away.

Gojo came out of the bathroom. You let out a silent sigh of relief when you saw that he had deigned to get dressed after all. Even though he was already in his uniform, drops of water fell from his damp hair onto his cheekbones slowly dripping down, and your mind was already drawing his protruding collarbones. You slapped your palms gently over your face. What were you even thinking? "Mochi," he turned to you, coming closer and closer. "Did you make tea?"

He had already gotten close enough to stand between your legs when you fumbled for the mug on the table and shoved it at him literally pressing it into his chest, pushing him away from you.

"Thank you," Gojo chirped. When he brought the mug to his lips, his expression changed and he frowned his eyebrows seriously. "You added sugar, didn't you? Otherwise, I won't drink it."

You stared blankly at his face for a few more seconds, and then a nervous laugh escaped your lips. You turned to Rachel, and for a second it looked like your eyelid was twitching. "If I do end up in the electric chair, tell everyone it was self-defense."

Rachel nodded understandingly, and jumped out of her chair and headed briskly for the door, forgetting her respirators and headphones leaving them lying on the table.

"Wait!" you shouted after her, but your exclamation was answered only by the metallic creak of the door slamming shut.

Shaking your head in annoyance, you stood up from the table and picked up Rachel's belongings, and before you knew it, his arms were gently around your waist and he rested his chin on the top of your head. "It was a joke. You know I'll drink poison from your hands, right?"

Dazed for a moment, you tilted your head and looked his fingers that delicately traced the fabric of your sweater. He was becoming more touching by the day. "Enough. The temptation is already too strong," as you continued to look at his hands, your gaze locked onto the black uniform. Will ya be gone for long?"

"I'll try to get back as soon as possible," he said to the reason he held in his hands.

He had to hold on harder because for before he could blink, you slipped out of his embrace. "Okay. If anything happens, text me."

Gojo had long since ceased to boast of his strength at such phrases you said; he comforted himself that you said such things not out of underestimation but out of concern, and the thought was so soft he wanted to drown in it. "I can only write to you if something happens?"

"If I say 'yes', will that stop ya taking pictures of every bush and sending them to me with a note saying they look like me?"

"I don't think so."

You nodded understandingly and looked away, but he noticed the wrinkles in the corners of your eyes. You were smiling. "I gotta go. While Rachel and Issu are still here, I need to give some guidance."

You had barely reached the workroom door when you heard his voice again; you had to strain your hearing, for this time he sounded unaccustomedly quiet. "Say you'll miss me."

You felt nothing but joy. The joy of standing with your back to him so he wouldn't notice your surprised eyes, and when you turned around, there was nothing left of the surprise. "See ya," you threw over your shoulder, and the metallic creak of the door slamming shut reached his ears.

***

The three of you were standing on the practice field.

You screwed the respirators harder into the young man's stiff mask and pulled them apart to make sure they fit tightly. His gaze was off to the side and completely blank. You raised your hand up and made a rotating motion with your index finger. He obediently turned his back to you. You looked him over from head to toe, and rubbing your chin, you pulled him up by his belt, where a small hip bag was attached, and tightened the clasps more firmly. He didn't make a sound - you took that as a signal that he was comfortable. You put your arm around Issu's shoulders and turned him around to face you. "Everything alright? Did the mask fit okay? Straps aren't pulling?"

He only shook his head.

You threw a glance at his black disheveled hair falling over his shoulders, then pulled off your scrunchie and held it out to him. "Put ya hair up."

While he obediently tied his hair, you kept looking at him and thinking about how you'd never heard his voice.

Rachel stood beside him and with her hands at her sides, beat the toes of her boots rhythmically against the ground.

Thud-thud.

Issu had already managed to deal with the unruly strands that were poking out, and he was tying the last knot of the elastic band.

Thud-thud.

He shifted his gaze to you, waiting for further instructions.

Thud-thu—

"Calm down!" you barked in Rachel's direction.

"How much longer?" she whined before you could even utter your word.

"Okay," you turned in her direction and clasped your hands together across your chest, exhaling noisily through your mouth. "Now ya. What aren'twe doing?"

"Don't get kid in trouble," Rachel mockingly high-pitchedly teased you.

"Good," you said with a cluck of your tongue and turned back to Issu again. "Now ya're just going to see what the void looks like and try to get used to the sensation. Ya go out through the first rift you see; Rachel will continue raid alone. Clear?" kid nodded and you pull your phone out of your pocket. "Let's check it out."

While Rachel rolled her eyes irritably, Issu already had his phone at the ready. You unlocked the screens and carefully made sure the dials, down to the seconds, went on simultaneously. "Did ya check your watch against your phone?" you turned to Issu. The kid nodded.

"See ya," you said and took a few steps away from them.

"Finally!" exclaimed Rachel enthusiastically, and with maddening lights in her eyes, grabbed the kid's shoulder. You covered your eyes sharply with your forearm.

A purple glow swept across all visible space like an instant tsunami. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared. You pulled your hand away, and glancing at the darkened crowns swaying in the distance, you sat down on the cold ground and waited for Kyle.  

***

It was past midnight. Gojo shivered as he looked at the figure of you sitting in the distance, shrouded by the restless wind that had risen in the night. Your habit of running out of the house without outerwear at any time of year made him want to either mock you or silently walk over and give you his. Or maybe both. When he imagined you drowning in his jacket, he shyly lowered his eyes to the floor and grinned. After a couple of long breaths, he finally looked at you again, and took a step toward you.

His eyes stung, and he tried in vain to blink away the discomfort. When he gave up, he squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the backs of his palms against his eyelids; a purple flash was imprinted on the other side of his closed eyes.

Finally wiping the discomfort from his eyelids, Gojo opened his eyes, but only to see your figure clutched in another man's arms. You and Kyle were holding each other, swaying from side to side as if dancing; he wasn't sure if the man was saying anything to you, but he was sure he could hear you laughing. He seemed to forget one thing at times, which was your main difference.

You've never been alone.

His teeth clenched involuntarily and hard, and he buried his face deeper into the long collar of his uniform, and immediately tucked his hands into his pockets. When he saw you, he'd forgotten why he'd left the house in the first place, but the tight fabric of the clothes he was pinching reminded him that he had to go on a mission.

Glancing once more at your never-disengaged silhouettes, Gojo in one motion pulled the mask that had been hanging around his neck all this time over his eyes and disappeared before you would have been able to notice him. 

[Nov 25, 2019; 04:02am; United States, Montana, Granite County, Garnet]

You finally sat down on the porch of one of the abandoned houses; the path down the washed-out dirt road seemed impossibly long, and your shoes, covered in mud, felt leaden. Behind the towering trees in the hills around the abandoned town or the chirping of the early birds - you tried to catch a glimpse of anything.

You pushed the container away from you, and, unable to resist any longer, you lay down on the porch and stared up at the night sky. Here, in the wilderness, it was unobstructed and unobscured, the noise of light inherent only in inhabited, living places.

The more you gazed into the high night abyss, the more stars appeared on it; they appeared just as a pattern on a table would appear from beneath a layer of dust as if someone were slowly tracing it with a hand.

Was there anything out there? Beyond the observable universe, beyond the entire universe - anything at all? Swallowing the feeling of something exorbitant and unattainable, you raised yourself on your elbows as if it would help you somehow get closer to the sky. Whether the expanses of the universe drew you in with their mystery or drowned you with their silence, you were only concerned with one question: did they long for you as you longed for them?

With difficulty, you looked up from the sky and glanced at your watch. You'd agreed to meet at four a.m. sharp, but the hands were already past half past four. The insider wasn't coming.

With a frustrated sigh, you stood up to your full height and looked up to the heavens once more; barely touching your fingers to your lips, you blowed a timid shy kiss.

As you picked up the container, your hearing picked up a methodical and approaching tapping sound; it was muffled and barely perceptible. Carefully setting the container down, you stepped out onto the dirt road, and tried to look. At first your eyes caught nothing but darkness, but soon you saw the source of the tapping - a cane, and behind the cane as if out of nowhere, a man holding it.

The closer the man came, the smaller he seemed, and when he came close he was almost a head shorter than you. He raised his head, and from beneath his gray hat you were met by a aged but still shining look; his eyes were adorned with a kindly squint, and he held out a wrinkled hand to you. "How the killers from the North doing?"

"More like from the East," you shook his hand firmly.

The older man's thick mustache muffled the chuckle that escaped him. "The rest didn't bother you?" he unclenched your palm, and rested both hands on the handle of his cane.

You interlocked your fingers together and gave a long hum. "Nah, not really," you said shaking your head slightly.

The old man kept his gaze on you. "Have you lived in the East for a long time?" seeing you shake your head from side to side once more, the old man grinned condescendingly. "From the height of my years, I can say that it was in the North that the first hunter appeared-"

"And I dare not argue with ya," your respectful tone was at odds with your actions. It seemed to the old man that, under his gaze you would give in, yield, and give him - if not from status, then from age - the respect he deserved. And you did. But why did the old man find himself under the gaze of your slightly widened eyes?

He swallowed quietly and turned his gaze back to the container. You were leaning closer to his face inch by inch.

The old man clenched his teeth; he felt as if a huge fanged drooling mouth were breathing down his cheek. He turned sharply in your direction, and you immediately recoiled from him chuckling; there was not a shred of danger in your face, except for a benevolent squint. "Did ya bring it?"

"I brought it, yes," said the old man grimly, and adjusting his collar, tapped a dirty cane on the container. "Only that won't be enough. You know it's hard to come by in the present realities."

You nodded briefly. "I'll bring two next time."

"Six," the old man said.

"Three."

"Five," he persisted.

"Three or I'll take away what ya brought by force."

The old man was glad your ugly smile was hidden by the mask. He pulled a matchbook out of his gray suit pocket and held it out to you.

"Thank ya," you chirped taking the box from him. The old man didn't resist, but walked over to the container and picked it up. Despite his frail build, it was easy for him. You pressed your lips together. "Ya even know where the hunters came from, but where ya came from, ya still won't tell me?"

The man cast a glance in your direction over his shoulder. "Girl," he snorted condescendingly. "Only if you weren't human would I be able to explain it to you."

"Yeah, of course," you muttered idly, turning the matchbook in the palm of your hand. The old man turned to face you, and you gave him another glance. "One last question. Do ya know where Rei is now?"  

Black lines spread across the old man's lower eyelids, and his rounded glass eyes turned black. He took a step back. "No," he hissed.

You rolled your eyes irritably, for the man had disappeared too quickly for a truthful answer. You waved the old man away in your mind, and opened the box pulling out a tiny clear bag, staring at the creamy beige dust it contained. You would have stared at it longer if it hadn't been for the phone notification.

[04:31am] Kyle: Issu came out of the void

[04:31am] Kyle: The kid got bilateral pneumonia and dehydration, but overall, he's fine.

[Nov 26, 2019, 05:37am, hunter's headquarters]  

Gojo stood in the doorway of the workroom; his entire uniform was covered in dust and dirt, but he didn't have a scratch on him - as usual, he had come home infinitely alive.

Half of the desk drawers were pulled out; pens, vitamin jars, notebooks, devices that looked like thin black spider webs, and an inordinate number of written and blank sheets of paper were strewn across the floor - he had a few seconds to look at the mess you'd made, but not enough time to look at you. He was standing with his head against the doorjamb watching you and your every move; you were sitting on the floor, shuffling through some papers, humming something to yourself and moving your shoulders rhythmically, apparently to the beat of the music.

"Are you kidding me?" asked Shoko in a monotone voice. "Get up."

Gojo flopped down on the hospital bed where Ieiri had just changed the bedding and buried his face in the pillow.

"Get up already," she said, but he didn't move. Shoko sighed irritably, but sat down in the chair that was next to the bunk. She knew for sure she would regret her next words. "If you don't want to leave, then just tell me what's wrong already."

Gojo raised his head sharply. "I don't understand!" he exclaimed, and Shoko involuntarily squeezed her eyes shut at the loud sound. "I'm trying to make contact, to bond in some way, to form a friendship, and she!" he almost gasped with indignation. "I even walk around half-naked in front of her, and she looks at me like I'm an earthworm!"

"Disgusted?" asked Shoko wrinkling her nose.

"SHE DOESN'T LOOK AT ME AT ALL-"

Shoko abruptly covered his mouth with her hand, only for him to stop screaming like that. "Stop yelling," she hissed, and he nodded exhaling into her hand in defeat. Ieiri removed her palm. "Form a friendship, you say," she summarized skeptically. "Tell me, how often have you flaunted your bare torso in front of Suguru, then thrown tantrums about him not paying attention to you?"

Gojo opened his mouth, but no words came out; only an inarticulate snort and he turned away from her.

Shoko shook her head and leaned back in her chair. "I don't know what's on your mind, but don't you think you just romanticized the image of her in your head and now you're just pissed off that she's not acting the way you thought she would?"

"I've never done that."

"Oh, really?" she muttered raising her eyebrows. "How much do you know about her anyway?"

Gojo buried his face in the pillow again. There was a quiet, suppressed 'Back off'.

He immediately wanted to leave. He'd come here for comfort, not sticky guilt.

Shoko looked over his motionless figure before patting him on the back. "Well, go find out."

He pulled away from the pillow and finally assumed a sitting position tucking his long legs under him. "And you?" he met her questioning gaze. "Well, how do you feel about her?"

"I try not to cross paths with her at all," she replied dryly.

He glanced at her spitefully. "Why?"

Shoko began to restlessly twirl a curl on her finger. "I don't know. Rachel told me that she does something to hunters that makes them either get stronger or die. Guess the outnumber."

A skeptical grin showed on his lips. He couldn't believe his ears. Such words - and from her? "Are you serious?"

"I'm not fifteen years old," she bellowed, and nervously running her palms over her face, tried to pull herself together. "I'm well aware that it's unlikely she's doing this for pleasure or fun. It's just..." Shoko swallowed, and finding a lifeline in the form of a window stared out of it. "I've had two loved ones in my life who committed questionable acts, but somehow they were regretful, doubtful, sometimes even broken-looking. Even though they tried to hide it, you could always tell and that's okay. No matter how powerful the sorcerers are, they're still human," as he listened to her words, he hadn't noticed how long he'd been looking at his interlocked fingers. "And then... Then I look at her, and... I don't know," Shoko shrugged weakly. "It's like she doesn't regret anything. It's like she has no emotions at all."

Gojo had always believed his best friend. Even now he believed that Shoko was telling the truth. Only it was her truth.

Gojo put his palm to his mouth and suppressed a chuckle when you started humming once more, then moved slowly toward you. He stopped a few inches away, nervously fumbling with a tiny souvenir in his pocket.

His fingers were already a few inches away from the fabric of your sweatshirt as you pulled your head up. When you met his gaze, you pulled out your headphones.

He just needed to say hello. The usual word 'hey', there was nothing complicated about it.

Gojo leaned in to be closer to your face. "It's not even six in the morning and you're already villainizing," he gently rubbed his nose against your forehead.

"Back already?" you asked surprised, getting up from the floor. "Are ya okay?"

He went into a stupor. Up until this point, coming home from assignments Gojo had gotten nothing but short nods, questions about how it went or complaints from higher-ups. "Me?" he questioned dully. "Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine. Except I'm dirty. Uh," confused for words, he bit his tongue. "I-I mean, my uniform is dirty. See?" Gojo tugged his sleeve and let go sharply causing a tiny cloud of dust to rise.

You lowered your head and bit your lip, trying to calm the spasmodic heaving of your chest. "Uh-huh," you muttered quickly putting your palm to your lips. Coughing, you looked up at him again squinting your eyes.

He hid his face in his palms. "If you laugh now, I swear to God, I'll cry," Gojo mumbled.

He barely had time to say the words before you burst out laughing. "Please, just get in the shower," you turned to the computer waving one hand away from him and the other away from the tears that were coming, and he turned on his heels and headed for the bathroom.

Gojo slammed the door shut with force, and walked over to the mirror to meet his flushed face. "That witch," he muttered clenching his cheeks. "Pull yourself together," he quietly slammed his palms on his face.

He removed the mask hanging around his neck and quickly threw his jacket to the floor. Something clanked along with the familiar thud.

There was the sound of a palm slapping against his forehead. He'd forgotten to hand over the souvenir.

That thought made him shower as quickly as possible; he even forgot to apply the rest of (your) moisturizer to his body.

After getting out of the shower, he flew over to the dresser and pulled out a drawer, but the contents - or rather, the lack thereof - made him furrow his brows. Gojo quickly rummaged through all the drawers, but found no clean clothes.

He looked around the bathroom absent-mindedly. All that was left was a towel. 'That's even better,' he thought to himself smiling stupidly.

Gojo slipped the towel over his hips and looked at himself in the mirror. He ran a hand through his hair tucking it back; a few unruly strands did fall into his face. He took a couple of deep breaths and walked out of the bathroom clutching a small gift in his hand. 

You were still standing with your back to him looking at something on the monitor. "I'm not looking," you nodded over your shoulder not looking away from the screen.

Gojo gave a barely audible chuckle. "That's a pity."

"What is it?" you asked stretching the words playfully. He was moving quietly toward you, not paying attention. You flipped your hair to the side exposing the back of your head - he gulped. "Has magic stopped putting clean clothes in the dresser?" You saw something on the screen that made you squeeze your thigh with your hand – it almost took his breath away. "Ah yes, that wasn't magic either. It was me," with a splash of your hands, you turned around and almost collided with his still-water-damp chest. You wanted to take a step back, but the table, which was already close by, hindered you. You looked up at Gojo questioningly.

Gojo had always thought he could take the stares of anyone; here with you he lowered his gaze and stared somewhere around your collarbones. He coughed softly, picked you up by the waist and before you could say anything, he had you sitting on the table.

Taking your hand, Gojo stroked it gently with his thumb as if to see if it was okay. You sat with your face buried in his shoulder not moving. He rested his cheek against the top of your head, his hand moving slowly up your forearm. He lingered on your shoulder and squeezed it gently, and at that moment he prayed to all the Gods that someone, anyone would turn off the damn sound in this world - because his breathing was too heavy and audible. He ran his knuckles down your neck barely touching the thin fabric of the tight collar. Finally, his fingertips sank into the black mask. He couldn't feel your skin, just an unpleasant tingle. He rubbed his nose against the top of your head forcing you to look up at him, and when your eyes met, he finally unclenched the hand that was against your face. Something jingled.

"And this is for you," Gojo smiled. "When I saw it, I immediately thought that, well... That it looks like you," on one of his fingers on a ring hung a keychain. It was a rubbery little astronaut. You couldn't see his face under his white spacesuit - it was hidden under orange 'glass'. The astronaut had a disproportionately large head, and his tiny arms were spread apart as if he were ready to hug anyone.

Seeing you hesitate, Gojo put the keychain in your hand.

The action made you perk up. "Thank ya," you chirped softly. He nodded briefly but contentedly at your words, but he took his time pulling away from you. His eyes widened at first when he felt your palm on his cheek, but when he felt you start to move closer, he didn't know where to look. To the right? To the left? Down? His gaze darted erratically this way and that, afraid to even move so as not to scare you away. When your lips were at his ear, his vision blurred. "Put ya pants on."

Gojo pulled away from you abruptly. "You!" he raised his hand pointing a finger at you. "You ruined everything!"

You jumped off the table and turned back to the monitor. "Look in the closet, I think there was some left over."

Behind your back, you heard a disgruntled muttering and the creaking of closet doors, followed by footsteps and the squeak of a mattress. 

He could hear the familiar clacking of keys. He couldn't get Shoko's words about not knowing you at all out of his head. "How long you here for?"

"Well... I don't even know," you muttered, not taking your eyes off the screen. "We have a town day coming up on December 5th, and Frank's going to kill me if I don't show up there. Which means I need to get as many things done as possible to keep my head down, and considering I'm going on a raid tonight, there's less and less time."

"You mean there won't be any free time at all?"

"What's wrong?"

"Pay attention to me," Gojo asked quietly. "At least ten minutes. Lay with me."    

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard. You looked up slowly and saw his figure nestled comfortably beneath your blanket, and you tightened your lips nervously.

"I won't do anything stupid," he said moving to the other edge and patting the seat he'd vacated. "I swear."

"Okay," you replied and walked over to the bed. As you fluffed your pillow, doubt crept into your soul. A viscous and sticky feeling that drowned you like a swamp. Anxiety went hand in hand with doubt, like a person pushing you deeper into the swamp.

You plopped down next to him.

"Gotcha!" he exclaimed triumphantly, and in one motion he was on top of you. His arms wrapped around your waist, and he rested his head on your chest. "There's no escape now."

You rolled your eyes. There he was - both the swamp and the man drowning you in it. "You're heavy," you mumbled softly trying unsuccessfully to shove him off you.

"You have to be patient," he murmured wrapping his arms tighter around your waist. Something crunched in your back. Gojo looked up sharply and seeing the tiny wrinkles on the bridge of your nose, he panicked. "I'm sorry! Does it hurt?"

"Ya know... You should learn to calculate your strength," you said quietly squirming and trying to get into a more comfortable position. 

Gojo loosened his grip a little. "I'll try to be more careful next time," he said and returning his head to its previous position, rubbed his cheek gently against your collarbones as if apologizing. He had experience. Combat, worldly, sexual.

But this was an experience he hadn't had yet.

Your hand was already burrowing into his hair. Water dripped from the still-wet strands straight onto your clothes, but you continued to massage his scalp ignoring it.

"Mochi?" he addressed you softly, and he heard you hum something to yourself. "Where are your parents?"

"Not here."

He hesitated a bit before asking the next question. "What happened to them?"

"Dunno."

Gojo furrowed his brows, and a sense of annoyance made him clench his teeth. The dialog wasn't flowing, but he never backed down either. "Your favorite food?"

The range of topics made you chuckle. "With this job I don't have much choice, so I guess you could say I'm an omnivore."

"Wow, what do we have here?" he playfully inquired raising his head. He began to gently nibble and tickle your sides. "An answer consisting of more than two words?"

You tried not to squirm or roll, but you couldn't. Gojo pinched just above your waist, and laughter burst out of you. "That's it, stop it, STOP!" you tried to pull his hands away.

"I won't do it again," he purred with a satisfied smile. "For now," he added laying his head back down. The tickling turned smoothly into stroking. "And your strength... Is it, well... Is it innate or acquired?"

You flicked him gently on the forehead. "What strength do ya keep talking about?"

"So it wasn't you who came in, snapped your fingers and got rid of the curse king?" he asked ironically.

You grinned. "Well, if that's what it looked like to you, then I haven't practiced for nothing."

"You still haven't answered my question," he pinched your side warningly.

You exhaled noisily removing his hand only for him to stubbornly put it back in place. "More like both."

The next question Gojo asked was kind of in-between, but it dumbfounded you. "What about you and Kyle?"

"Uh," you squinted your eyes and slowly swept your gaze around the room as if there was an answer to that question lurking around here somewhere. Or at least a little clarification. "What about Kyle and me?"

"Aren't you two a little too close?" he muttered into the fabric of your sweatshirt.

"What?" still as perplexed as ever, you asked. "What do ya mean? He's my brother."

"He's no relation to you," he blurted out and immediately felt your muscles tense.

"Now that wasn't necessary at all," you hissed unhappily, removing your hand from his head and trying to push him off of you.

"I'll definitely bite my tongue off someday," he promised holding you in place. He lifted his head and stared at your face. "I'm sorry," he whispered childishly tweaking his lower lip.

"Whatever," you said nonchalantly, returning his head to your chest

"One last question. Did anything happen between you?"

You shrugged. "There was a lot going on between us."

It was as if someone had broken off a piece of his rib and put a smoldering coal in it - just like that, everything in his chest was on fire. "What kind of answer is that?" he spat out.

"What kind of question is that?" you asked indignantly raising your voice, and that made him falter. "Look," you said on an exhale, and it was as if all emotion had gone out of you again. "If this keeps up, I'd better get to work."

"Five minutes," he mumbled. "I'll be quiet, really. Just...," he stammered, and shyly took your hand and put it back on his head. "Just let's lie down for another five minutes."

Instead of answering, you started going through his strands again. Gojo exhaled in relief. When you moved to the back of his neck, his breathing slowed with each movement of your fingers. When you heard him sniffle, you wondered if he'd fallen asleep without eating.

Five minutes seamlessly flowed into eight hours.

[Nov 28, 2019; 10:04pm; hunter's headquarters]

The sound of the waves - whether quiet or restless - always soothed tired minds. Maybe the water shimmering in the twilight mesmerized him, or maybe he didn't have the strength to look up at the horizon standing so close to the edge that he could see the waves licking the coastal rocks.

He had never thought of such a thing, he was too strong in spirit. However, in this moment the real him was as if he were looking at himself from the outside, chained and completely immobilized. It had been more than a year since those events, and he had never been able to talk about his feelings, and the others had not dared to ask: some  of them had no idea that all that time his soul had been torn as easily as an old rag; others had no idea what had happened.

He kept looking helplessly at himself, at the other version of himself that didn't have the guts to take one step forward, either one step back.

"Kid!" Itadori flinched when he heard the loud voice that overrode the sound of the water. He couldn't even turn around on his own - he was turned around by a strong hand that rested on his shoulder. "What ya doing here?" asked Kyle, it was impossible to see in the darkness as he squinted his eyes. "Let's get inside," he nudged the boy lightly and Itadori went forward out of inertia. Kyle followed him.

When they were on the doorstep, seeing Itadori heading for the stairs, Kyle put his arm around his shoulders and turned him toward the workroom.

Kyle sat Itadori down in a chair, threw a blanket over his shoulders, and made chamomile tea. Sitting down beside him, he held out the mug to the boy, but Itadori didn't react. Kyle exhaled worriedly and set the mug on the table. "Tell me about it," Itadori kept staring at one point as he continued. Interlocking his fingers, Kyle leaned over and looked into his eyes trying to find something there. "I know this isn't easy. Try to get one word out of you, and it'll get easier from there-

Kyle was interrupted by a ragged sob. Burying his face in his hands, Itadori bent down and began to shudder with his whole body.

It was always good to vent, but it was much better to tell what had gotten you to this point. Taking the mug, Kyle gently but stubbornly grabbed the boy's chin forcing him to look up. "Drink."

Itadori nodded curtly, took the mug and took a couple of sips. His eyes were as red as his crying face. "Tell me," he mumbled, and his lips trembled again. "Have people ever died through your fault?"

Kyle raised his eyebrows in surprise. Since when do such adult problems have such a childish face? "I don't know how ya'll feel about us after this, but I'll even say more than that. We killed people." 

"You...," Itadori began, but feeling a cry coming up to his throat, he sipped from his mug again. "You mean dioreacts?"

"No," Kyle shook his head nonchalantly. "We got over them a long time ago and just accepted as fact that the fusion process was irreversible. What I meant was that we were killing people. Ordinary people."

"But how come..."

"It just happened," Kyle exhaled grimly.

"How do you handle it?" asked Yuji with broken hope in his voice.

Kyle smiled sadly. "We'll tell you when we will," he patted Itadori on the top of his head. "And anyway... Ya're a huge empath, kid. And with a job like this... Well, I guess that's your truest curse."

Itadori didn't have time to say anything before a redhead appeared from behind the door. "I'm actually here for perfume... What's this?" asked Rachel with suspicion in her voice.

She was wearing a tight black evening dress, and her perpetually unruly hair was styled and tossed to the side. There was the sound of high heels clomping in the workroom as she stepped closer to the boys, and after dropping her clutch on the table, she pulled up a chair and sat down next to Kyle.

Rachel looked at Itadori's face, which was as tearful as it was lifeless, and turned a meaningful glance at Kyle. He only nodded awkwardly pressing his lips together. She wrinkled her nose and sucked air through her teeth as if she'd stubbed her finger on paper. "What, the moral compass has snapped a bit?" she turned to Itadori. "Don't worry, everyone's been through it."

"Anyway, what I wanted to say," Kyle began. "We're having a festivity in town on the fifth. And I'd really like to show ya something, so... Whatever you're up to, leave it, okay?" Itadori fidgeted in his chair and stammered. He only realized what he wanted to do when the other person said it. He nodded shamefully wrapping himself in the blanket. "That's good," Kyle smiled warmly, but the smile abruptly disappeared from his face when he looked at Rachel. "Where ya off to again?"

"On a date," she chirped tucking her hair behind her ear.

Kyle crossed his arms over his chest and planted his foot on his leg. "Isn't it about time ya settled on one?"

"Look, why ya dancing so shitty?" she hissed glaring at him.

"What are you talking about?" he blurted out angrily

"I thought eunuchs weren't supposed to be disturbed by anything!"

"Shut your mouth!"

They were brought out of their argument by a faint chuckle that sounded like another sob. "Look at it," Rachel muttered glaring at Kyle. "Got the kid down again," she stood up, and taking Itadori under her arm, set him on his feet. She was already taller than he was, but in heels, she was a whole head taller. "Let's get out of here, sweetheart. I'll walk ya to your room," she said and putting her arm around his shoulder, she led a flushed Itadori who was no longer crying away from the workroom.

Looking at them, Kyle reached for Itadori's mug, but there was another one in the way - yours, with unfinished tea. The knock made Kyle jerk and when he turned around, he saw the tea spreading over the scattered papers. "For fuck's sake," he reprimanded you for the mess you left behind.

Kyle picked up the mug and took it to the sink. Returning to the desk, he crumpled up all the papers and tossed them in the trash. Wiping down the desk and coming across the pens and pencils, he tossed it into one drawer; seeing the papers, he tossed them into another. Still holding the rag in his hands, he walked over the surfaces of the furniture wiping away the dust.

He had already washed the few dishes in the sink and put them on the shelves. He came to his senses only when he put a pair of sneakers he'd found under the bed at the doorstep of the workroom.

"That's better," he exhaled contentedly, looking around the room.

There was a click behind him, and Kyle looked back, contentment replaced by rage. He clenched his teeth tightly so they wouldn't end up in the throat of the person who'd entered the workshop.

"Well, hey there," Gojo greeted him tilting his head slightly sideways and smiled.

"You're just an asshole, not a teacher," Kyle spat out into his masked face. As he walked out of the workshop, Kyle didn't even nudge him with his shoulder - he didn't want to touch him that much.

[Dec 4, 2019; 09:47am; Hopetown].

The morning was frosty, fresh, but windless, and the road was long, but long ago trampled and learned by heart, and from this took much less strength than in the first times.

But you were accompanied by newcomers - behind you could hear the heavy breathing from the long climb up the slope; someone was swatting from branches and coniferous vegetation; someone fumbled aside when stone chips fell from the high nearby cliffs.

"Y/N," Yuta's panting voice came from behind you. "How much farther is it?"

Yuta grumbled annoyingly when he heard your cheerful voice. "Nah," you chirped brushing a branch out of the way with your hand. "We'll go up now, and then we can see the town. Then all that's left is to go down."

There was a long exhalation behind you, and some unhappy muttering. "Ya didn't train their stamina at all, did ya?" you asked quietly, turning your head slightly.

"Somehow... I haven't had time for that sort of thing. You know, magic and all that," Gojo muttered on an exhale, dodging another branch. "Can't we just teleport?"

"Ya weak or what?" you taunted him. "Move ya feet, come on. We're almost there."

Overcoming the remaining distance, you pulled back one of the coniferous branches that obscured the view. "Welcome," you said, and bent in a mock bow taking your hand aside and pointing the way.

Surrounded by the mountains that threw a white-colored garment over their 'shoulders', surrounded by the vegetation that was now sleeping under the snow, surrounded by the river that had no beginning and ran away somewhere beyond the mountains, there was a town. The houses looked gingerbread, and the snow lying on them looked like icing.

Slowly floating across the sky, the heavy clouds were touching the peaks of the mountains and cutting themselves not worrying about anything. From up here, everything seemed so quiet as if no one had ever lived here.

You cast your eyes upon a distant cliff hidden in the high rocks, and your thoughts were filled with the troubles of the days ahead.

Now all that's left is to descend as carefully as possible.

***

"Careful, it's slippery!" you exclaimed uncontrollably as Maki stepped onto the bridge leading across the river into town, her foot going sideways. Taking her by the arm, you set off forward together.

It was no longer so quiet. There was clanking, clattering, negotiations, shouts and laughter everywhere. There were dozens of trampled paths: from house to house, from house to warehouse, from storage to powerhouse, from powerhouse to bar, from bar to house. Only one path almost covered with snow went somewhere over the mountain into the forest.

Some houses were made of wood, some of stone, and some of both, whatever material and strength was available. Because of the different landscape, all the houses were on different levels and were hidden behind each other, and the snowdrifts hid them as well. The chimney of each house was filled with thick smoke, and the glass windows were covered with patterns drawn overnight during the winter.

There was a thud behind you. When you turned around, you saw Danielle lying in a snowdrift.

"Dany, are you okay-" you faltered as you saw Megumi run up to her, and gently picking her up by the waist, set her on her feet. They held hands.

There was a disgruntled, indignant muttering above your ear. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"You should wear a hat, fancy boy," you said looking at Gojo. "You'll catch cold."

"We're almost here anyway," he said, and smiling, he reached into your pocket with one hand and squeezed your warm palm.

"Okay, okay!" you shouted drawing attention. "We're that way, guys," you pointed to one of the large wooden houses standing on a high hill.

"...look at that, they showed up after all..."

Faces began to show in the windows hiding anger and discontent behind snowy patterns.

"...since when have there been so many of them...?"

People started coming out of the houses. Whether just to spit or to get a better look.

"...They're all kids, has she gone completely insane...?"

You didn't realize how tightly you'd squeezed Gojo's hand. He looked at you worriedly, but there was nothing on your face - the look seemed even emptier than before.

"Hey," he quietly called out to you tapping his finger gently on your cold cheek. "Let's go inside."

You nodded and he led you up the slope. He looked back at you periodically as if he were checking to see if you were missing, if you'd run away - as if he weren't the one holding your hand right now.

Suddenly, something small and fast came at you from the top of the hill - no, not an avalanche - and your eyes only caught a few red strands sticking out from under hat. "Y/N!" the boy squeaked before flying into your arms, and you almost went flying down the hill.

"Hey, Mike," you greeted him, cradling the imp in your arms.

"Where's mom?" he asked peering over your shoulders but only bumping into Gojo.

"I'm sorry, but she's on a raid right now. She won't be back until after the festivity," you stroked his back sympathetically.

"She's always like this," he mumbled frustratedly into your scarf.

"Don't get upset, it's not her fault. She'll come eventually anyway," you tried to cheer him up. You set him on his feet, and noticing that his hat had moved down over his eyes, you corrected it. Tears came out. 

There was a sob that heralded the beginning of disaster. What do you say to a child who's about to cry? That sometimes circumstances are stronger than we are? That tears can't help the grief? Or should you tell him that everything will be fine? Will he even understand what you are trying to say?

The first whimper that came out of Mike's lips was still soft. You put your hand to your forehead in panic trying to think of all the options.

Suddenly, Gojo scooped Mike up into his arms. "We'll be right there!" he exclaimed and you jerked as they instantly disappeared from your sight.

The panic only intensified. You looked around erratically, trying to catch a glimpse of them. What are you going to tell Rachel? That her son was stolen by a madman?

Your heart was stopped from bursting by them also appearing out of nowhere. Gojo's hair was more disheveled than usual, but Mike was hatless, his red hair bunched up in tangles. He sat quietly in Gojo's arms, his eyes full of shock.

"What did ya do to him, you-"

"That was so cool!" squealed a recovered Mike loudly.

"We... We scouted the area a bit. From above," Gojo said shyly, nodding to the sky.

You slapped your palm to your forehead. "He's going to bury us," you muttered quickly. "Frank's gonna bury us. Alive. When he finds out about this."

Gojo lowered Mike to the ground, and the boy immediately burst toward the house. "Calm down, everything's okay."  

You looked at Mike with round eyes. "Now he's going to find out," you whispered quietly. "That's it, we're dead," you started to giggle for some reason, and when you turned around, you saw that you weren't alone. "You're crazy," you said and Gojo kept laughing, pulling you close and burrowing into your scarf.  

***

Under the stare, you both bowed your heads. You were biting your lip and looking at your suddenly interesting shoes. You wished Frank would say something sooner because as so often happens, waiting for punishment is worse than punishment itself.

One of you couldn't take it. He couldn't take it, and he gave up.

"I totally take the blame," Gojo said.

There was a heavy sigh. Frank got up from his chair, walked over to you, and hugged you as hard as he could. "Ya," Frank addressed you in a bass voice. "Grab a shovel and go clean the roads."

A relieved exhale escaped your lips, you clutched your chest. "Thank God!" you squeaked, and before you flew out the door, you shouted: "Good luck!"

"And ya," Frank turned to Gojo squinting his eyes and appraising him with his gaze. "Ya're gonna help me cook dinner." Gojo furrowed his eyebrows incredulously. Was this the whole punishment thing? "Move, son," Frank said and slapped Gojo on the back with such force that his lungs nearly popped out.

"Your arm is... heavy," he wheezed rubbing the sore spot.

Frank only hummed and walked over to the locker and pulled out a bag of potatoes. "Here. Peel." Gojo shrugged, but began to do as commanded. In complete silence they began to prepare dinner, Frank chopping up meat and vegetables and serving him peeled potatoes.

Gojo glanced at Frank furtively, waiting for him to say something, but he seemed too focused. He didn't like moralizing, but at least he was ready for it. Silence was hard to get used to.

Gojo coughed quietly. "So, uh... Where's your wife?" he asked in a grayed voice. "It must be very hard to run a household alone."

"My girl's long gone," grinned Frank popping chopped onions into the pot.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Frank did not faint. "Don't be," he said. "We'll all be there. And besides, I've got great kids."

"That's true," he said quietly, smiling like a fool. Your face flashed before my eyes.

Frank looked at it with a sly look. "How's it going with Y/N?"

Gojo felt the blood rush sharply to his cheeks. "Fine," he wanted to end there, but the next words came out on their own. "Expect she's... I don't know, it seems she shuts people out. I mean, too much."

"She has her reasons," Frank brushed it off, while checking the pie in the oven.

"Like what?" he blurted out.

Frank hummed longingly, examining the golden pie crust. "Do you think we should wait any longer or is it ready?"

Gojo threw the knife into the sink with a loud clang. "Look, under her clothes I counted five scars on her stomach, nine on her back, three on her left arm, and what's on her neck... And that's just what I could feel," he listed angrily. "What happened to her?" he added in a whisper, barely audible.

Frank slowly closed the oven and sighed heavily. "I don't know." 

"What?" squeamishly and incredulously he blurted out his question.

"Cool your jets," Frank said calmly, rising to his full height. "I don't know not because I don't want to, but because my daughter never told me. Shall I torture her? When the time comes, she'll tell me and even if she doesn't, it's my role as a father to support and love her no matter what," Gojo only swallowed hard and nodded briefly, but his clenched fists wouldn't unclench for some reason. "But I'm old," Frank said sadly. "So I have the nerve to ask ya to look after her when I'm gone. You two seem to be...getting along pretty well." 

"I'll protect her," Gojo assured firmly, picking up his knife again and began methodically peeling the skin off the potato trying to calm himself down.

"Son, my daughter doesn't need protection," Frank shook his head. "Yeah, and caring isn't just about that."

"What else, then?" he asked quietly.

"Well, how about that," Frank began. He finally pulled out the pie, all smoky and flavorful, and set it on the dining table. "Emotional support. When person don't ridicule you or your hobbies. Praise, maybe even for the little things. Or when you come home all dirty and tired and they take you to the table and spoon-feed you," Frank glanced at the two chairs next to him, and for a moment, he saw two ghosts - his and his wife's. "A blanket to cover you, or give you the tastiest piece on your plate, and when you're sick you don't drag yourself feverishly to the drugstore to get medicine. In the little things, in general."

Gojo froze. All the clothes that had been washed and put on the shelves by you immediately flashed through his head, all the hot breakfasts, and your worried messages if he was even ten minutes late.. He remembered looking at you through the mirror while you dried his hair, and the discovery of the second blanket thrown on top of him in heavy frosts. He could still feel the warmth in his hands from the mug of tea you'd brewed. "I'll be right back!" 

"Where ya think ya goin'?" exclaimed Frank angrily, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck. "And the soup? What a bunch of kids," he muttered quietly to himself, and giving Gojo a ladle in his hand, ordered him to stir the broth.

***

Tris was sitting on your lap puffing and panting childishly, folding the corners of the paper repeatedly. Every time she failed or got it wrong, she would crumple it up nervously with her childish hands and toss it in the trash, and you would stare at the pile of scraps in the corner of the room.

It was getting dark outside the window, and Tris could barely see what exactly she was doing anymore, but her stubbornness kept her from saying a word. You turned on the nightlight.

"Better?" you asked her, and she only nodded angrily. "Don't be so nervous. It'll work out sooner or later. Ya want me to help ya?"

"No!" she squeaked angrily, clutching the paper into a shred again and tossing it aside.

You pressed your lips together understandingly, leaned back in your chair, and stroked her hair to make her feel better. She kept squirming in your lap, and you had to catch her from time to time, but she didn't even notice, too engrossed.

Her panting subsided a little when she finally successfully folded the first corners. "There, that's not bad," you said softly, resting your head on her shoulder and watching the result.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," you said not taking your eyes off Tris's labors.

"How is it going?" asked Frank softly, leaning over the table. You nodded slowly towards the table. "Tris, it's time to go to your room."

"I'll be going soon," she muttered without looking up.

"Watch it," he ordered you sternly, while kissing the tops of both of you. As Frank stepped back, Gojo appeared from behind his broad back.

Frank was already standing in the doorway. "Actually, I just came by to tell ya that we don't have any more extra rooms. So ya're gonna have to sleep together."

Before you could answer anything, Frank had already closed the door and the last thing you saw was his satisfied wide smile.

Gojo's sat down next to you. Tris only squirmed more at the attention being drawn to her and what she was doing.

"What is it you're doing?"

You sighed tiredly. "Trying to learn how to make a paper plane."

"What's that for?" he asked chuckling softly.

"When we were coming up, did you notice the high cliff in the distance?" you asked, and in response, you heard him purr something in agreement. "We launch paper planes from there every year for town day. With wishes. Although..." you stammered, remembering the words written out by your childish hand a long time ago. "It don't have to be wishes. You can write what you feel, or what you love. Anything that would make you happy. Something like that." 

"Can I do that too?" asked Gojo playfully.

"Well...," you stretched out, casting a glance in his direction. "Ya don't seem like a person who doesn't have anything."

He pressed together his glossy lips skeptically and pulled away from you. "That's how."

"I'm sorry," you said softly, shrugging your shoulders. "Apparently I was wrong," fearing where this dialog might lead, you decided to back off. "It's time for bed now. I'll lie down on the floor."

"What do you take me for?" snorted Gojo indignantly, getting up from his chair. He walked over to the closet and busied himself with finding an extra blanket and pillow while you and Tris watched him.

Looking him over from head to toe, Tris lifted her head and looked at you. "Was he born this way?"

Without taking your eyes off his already tall figure, which now stretched to the topmost drawers, you raised your eyebrows. "Yep. He's got the bamboo gene embedded in him."

"Really?" squeaked Tris excitedly.

"I bet."

"I can actually hear everything," mumbled Gojo. Finally pulling out a pillow and blanket, he pouted and began to make himself comfortable on the floor. 

You scooped Tris into your arms as you heard a faint sob. You turned her to face you in a panic, her tears welling up. "I want to sleep with you," she whimpered.

"Couldn't ya have asked without tears?"

You felt a poke at your ankle. "Don't talk like that to a child!" he hissed quietly at you.

You just stepped over him and got into bed with Tris. Climbing under the covers and snuggling in, she giggled happily and triumphantly.

You began to stroke her hair, as was your habit. Soon she stopped squirming and kicking at you, but she was still chattering quietly to herself. You tried not to make any sudden movements so as not to disturb the peace that was coming. Her arms around your waist went slack and she turned her back to you exhaling noisily.

In the room, besides Tris's sniffling, you could hear the ticking of the clock, the second hand seeming to beat against your temples each time. You covered your ear with the blanket, but quickly felt yourself getting hot, even though your feet felt icy cold. You buried your face into the pillow disappointedly.

"Hey," his quiet whisper called out to you. Pulling yourself off the pillow, you saw Gojo resting his chin on the bed looking at you. "Can I join you?" he asked and he was met by your quiet sigh. "I'm old now, my back hurts."

"Ya gave up too quickly," you whispered grinning. A chill ran down the back of his neck.

Gojo crawled slowly into the bed trying to get as comfortable as possible, and kept casting concerned glances at Tris. Finally resting his head on the pillow, he looked up at you. His fingers slowly, inch by inch, came up to your palm and touched it. He gently traced its contours and stroked your knuckles, occasionally giving the pads a gentle squeeze.

You couldn't see his cheeks reddening in the dark anyway - so he thought, not realizing that it wasn't just his cheeks that were reddening, but his ears, and his neck, and probably everything under his clothes. "Why you wearing a mask?" he asked quietly.

"No reason... I just had a theory that the judges don't perceive masked faces. And I... I don't know who judges will have or when. So I prefer to stay in everyone's memories like this."

"You brawling a lot?" whispered Gojo. 

"I don't know, it just makes me feel better," you mumbled averting your gaze.

Watching you, he decided not to push you. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you off. "Got it," he said, but there was a strange, unfamiliar sadness in his voice. "Listen," Gojo stammered hearing his own hoarse whisper, and coughed as quietly as he could. "You... Can you call me by my name, just once in a while?" 

"By name?" you asked confused.

"Hey!" he quickly faltered when his feigned indignant whisper came out too loud. "We've spent so many nights together and you don't even remember my name?"

"You mean Satoru?"

He couldn't find anything to say. Words became a lump in his throat when his name first came out of your mouth. He only nodded hoping you could see that desperate attempt at confirmation in the darkness.

"Okay," you said hiding a smile in your pillow, squeezing his hand "Good night then, Satoru."

"Uh-huh," he barely got it out of him and squeezed his eyes shut, extinguishing his hitched breath against the pillow. He squeezed your hand in return.

You checked on Tris again. She was breathing slowly and deeply - still asleep. You exhaled in relief, gently rubbed the tip of your nose against the top of her head, and waited for Gojo breathing to become the same - measured and deep, hoping you could do the same with him.

***

You gave up at 4:30 in the morning.

The room was hot and cold - you were terribly cold, though sweat ran down your back. Every time you closed your eyes, instead of seeing vivid and fake images, you were only protecting yourself from the intrusive thoughts. You couldn't even turn from side to side to soothe your soul, so as not to wake up two people who were sleeping peacefully.

You climbed over them as carefully as you could, and finally removed the sticking strands from your forehead.

They were sleeping so peacefully. You swallowed bitterly, adjusted the battered blanket and covered them, then moved quietly toward the door. At the door you turned around, opened your mouth as if you wanted to say something, but then stopped and slammed the door shut as you stepped out into the hallway. As you passed the mirror, you looked at yourself, and your reflection looked as if it had been hurt.

You walked down to the kitchen, and the first thing you encountered was Frank's back. "Hey," you quietly called out to him, but his back flinched anyway.

"Not sleeping again?" he mumbled his question stashing something in his pocket.

You approached him silently, and he immediately pushed back near chair inviting you to sit down. Glancing at his pocket, you walked up to him from behind and put your chin on the top of his head hugging him by the shoulders. "Ya miss her?"

"Every day," he whispered. He stroked your forearm, and after smacking the back of yours, he stood up. "Sit. Now that ya're awake, let's have breakfast."

You sat down obediently this time and watched as Frank worked in the kitchen. He took the meat out of the refrigerator, threw it in the oven to heat, while he boiled water, and chopped vegetables for the salad.

When he was done, you had a plate of meat, a bowl of salad, a mug of tea, and a loving father in front of you. "Thank ya," you thanked him picking at the meat with your fork, separating it into fibers.

"No appetite?" he asked popping a piece of tomato into his mouth. "Ya eat your vegetables. It has vitamins in it. Look at Rachel - she ate cabbage all her childhood and no problems. Not physical, not mental."

"Uh-huh," you stretched out, and sipped your tea from your mug. "Only alcoholism, but that's basic."

You received a soft slap. "Eat," he said, but nothing changed: you continued to mash your food with your fork. Frank dropped the cutlery into your plate with a clang. "I can't do this. What's wrong? What's bothering you?" he asked worriedly, lifting your chin with his finger and forcing you to look him in the eye.

You exhaled convulsively, and placed a clear bag of creamy beige dust on the table.

Seeing it, Frank was seized with panic. "How did ya...," he almost gasped. "Fuck, do ya have any idea what those fucking monopolists calling themselves higher-ups will do to ya if they find out about this?"

"Whatever," you waved it off indifferently. "Frank, I have no gardening skills. Especially since the black orchid is a very... um, demanding flower. Ya're the only one who can help me," you looked into his eyes hopefully.

Frank fidgeted tapping his fingers on the table, shifting his gaze from the bag to you, and back again. "What are you planning?"

"Not completely sure yet," you said rubbing your forehead, trying to hide from his eyes. He put his big hands around your face, once again wanting to see honesty.

As soon as he saw your eyes, his own anxiety swept over him. "Ya...," he stammered stroking your cheeks with his thumbs trying to reassure you. "It's okay, it's okay. I'll do everything," he assured you, and with what was the strength of a father's love - cradled you against him as you tried to quiet your ragged breathing. "Come on, let's go to the well," he stroked your back, his fingers feeling every scar whose origin you never told him. "We'll get some fresh air; get some water at the same time. Then ya'll take a bath," you nodded weakly at his suggestion, and rose from your chair as quickly as you could and rushed forward, tugging your blackened hair into a messy ponytail.

***

A rustling sound beneath the window and a soft poke on his cheek finally made him raise his eyes. Not realizing where he was, Gojo sat up jerkily pulling the blanket with him causing Tris, who had been sitting on it, to fall back onto the pillows. 

Panting and squirming, Tris rose again and sat down next to him. "Where's Y/N?" she asked menacingly.

"Where...," Gojo mumbled sleepily, rubbing his face with his hands. "Mom abandoned us," he summed up disappointedly, looking at empty side of the bed. "Are you hungry?"

Tris nodded.

Gojo picked her up in his arms. "Come on then, let's go brush our teeth and I'll make you something," he was prevented from turning around by another crackling sound outside the window. Seeing the familiar flow of cursed energy, still holding Tris in his arms, he walked over to the window, but there was nothing to see because of the patterns; turning the knob, Gojo opened it. 

Down below, in several sweaters and an oversized jacket, hat pulled to the side, Megumi was chopping wood. His cheeks were redder than usual, and he was out of breath; after a moment to catch his breath, Megumi brought the axe over his head once more.

Barely containing his laughter, Gojo reached for his phone. "Smile for the camera!" he shouted, and Megumi darted a glance upward and was greeted by a large number of flashes. Gojo only stopped when the axe flew into the wall with a crack, an inch from the window. "Rude!" he shouted indignantly, and with a jerk he closed the window.

***

Gojo hummed long and thoughtfully as he assessed the contents of the refrigerator. The fridge was full of food - a lot of it, and it was all different. The problem was he had no idea what to do with it. "Do you like scrambled eggs?" he asked glancing at Tris over his shoulder.

"Yeah," she muttered. She was trying to fold the poor paper plane again, and Gojo was already getting a smack on the hand when he tried to help.

Turning on the electric stove, he washed the eggs and beat them straight into the skillet. 'Maybe I should put some milk in it?' he thought to himself rubbing his chin thoughtfully. 'But that would be an omelet, and we agreed on scrambled eggs. Though... Whatever,' and with these thoughts he poured milk into the pan and stirred the resulting mixture with a spatula. "And if I put some cheese in it..." he mumbled aloud.

Ten minutes later, he placed a plate of cheese omelet, neatly sliced tomato and cucumber in front of Tris, and slid her a glass of water and a cup of hot chocolate.

Tris froze. Gojo had managed to distract her from the paper planes after all, and she shyly pushed the plate closer to her. As she tasted what he had prepared for her, she smiled at him for the first time with all her teeth. "Thank ya," she babbled softly.

Gojo chuckled softly. She was too much like you for a foster child.

The front door opened and Frank, paired with the snow falling off him, stepped into the house. "Good morning," he greeted them in a brisk bass and set the huge buckets of water on the floor. "Awake? That's a good thing. Everyone else is already decorating the town, so join."

As soon as she heard the word 'decorate', Tris swept everything off her plate and drained her mug of hot chocolate ignoring the glass of water completely and ran to get dressed.

Looking at her unsuccessful attempts to pull on her boots due to the rush, Gojo reached out to help. "I'll do it myself!" she squirmed. A carbon copy.

After waiting patiently for Tris to get dressed, Gojo took her in his arms and left the house. He didn't even have to ask which way to go; the music was playing in the right place.

Gojo had no sooner come down the hill than he became more and more surprised as people kept coming towards and away from him, and they looked too happy. He didn't know or recognize any of them and probably they didn't know him either, but every person he passed congratulated him with a friendly smile, and he only looked back at them in bewilderment.

All the houses already had garlands that flashed and shimmered, and on every porch hung a wooden 'paper plane' that swayed from side to side. Closer to the center of town, the houses were painted with chaotic lines of color, and the lines shone as brightly as the sun at its zenith. Out of the corner of his eye, Gojo caught a glimpse of Ryan running along one of the houses and running his hand along it leaving a bright red glowing streak on the house.

There was laughter and loud conversations everywhere, he could even hear the cork popping from a bottle of wine. The air was filled with the smells of fresh baked goods, cotton candy and raspberry lemonade.

Some people were standing on stepladders right in front of the house - hanging colorful paper lanterns. A woman shouted at a man to redo everything, because the lanterns looked out of place.

All the roads had been cleared of snow, and it made the town seem bigger than it had the first time. The whole town seemed different from the day before.

Familiar silhouettes appeared on the horizon.

"Y/N!" exclaimed Axel joyfully. "Look what I can do!" he clapped his hands together loudly, and glowing golden sparks sprinkled from them - so tiny they were a hundred times smaller than a firefly. He swung his hands upward in a sudden motion, and the sparks obediently soared into the air flying over the town. "Kyle taught me," he added defiantly.

"Not bad," you said grinning. "It'll be especially nice when it gets dark," you said, and you were about to go back to painting Mike's face, but from over Axel's shoulder came two figures - one so wrapped in winter clothes that it looked like a balloon, and the other with windswept hair that was whiter than snow.

"Finally!" you exclaimed. "I thought ya were gonna oversleep," you gently put your arm around Mike's face and leaned his cheek against yours. "Say, do we look like a tiger?"

"Definitely," laughed Gojo sitting down next to you in the chair. "Now, growl," he turned to Mike. There was a fierce childish growl. Holding back a laugh, you turned Mike around to face you again. As you drew out the black and orange stripes, a bunch of people swept past you, humming and dancing. "So there are a lot of hunters after all," Gojo remarked.

"A couple or three houses would be enough for the hunters, not a whole town," you said concentrating on drawing Mike's stripes. "There's mostly people from the void here."

"You're not bringing them home?" he asked frowning his eyebrows.

"We bring some of them back, of course. We do some memory work, and then we let them go. But the rest... Uh, I don't know. Imagine ya're a coachman from the 18th century, ya've done your day's work and ya're rushing home to your wife and kids. And on the way home, some boogieman drags ya into a completely empty and cold place. And if ya didn't die of cold or disease, ya just wait, and it's unclear what you're waiting for. Death, I guess. Until ya come across a person who carries time with them and can get ya out of there. Only... it isn't your time anymore," you fell silent examining the result on the boy's face. "So ya come out and everywhere instead of horses there are incomprehensible rolling boxes, people talking on some rectangles, and in place of your house and your neighbors' houses now stands a huge shopping mall. And ya are standing there, and ya have no more people you knew, no more profession, no more wife, no more children. Ya'll never come back home again because you don't have it anymore. So that's how Hopetown came to be," and when you were done, you kissed Mike on the top of his head, and he squealed so you wouldn't ruin the coloring and ran off to the other kids to show off.

While you stared at the boy, Gojo looked at you and didn't know whether he wanted to hold you or shake you by the shoulders so you'd come to your senses. Shoko's words about you having no regrets came to mind. 

You could have been anything to him - private, insensitive, hysterical, kind, angry - and he would have understood every feature, but he still couldn't grasp it: how much do you have to love life to have the courage and strength to give another chance to live it to others? You've paid too unfair a price for that.

The only thing he wanted was for you to stop hiding.

When Gojo mustered up the courage to say something to you, you were distracted by a phone notification. 

[11:54am] Frank: Incident. We're short on torches. Go to the storage and see if there are materials

[11:54am] You: Ok

"Can you draw?" you turned to Gojo getting up from your chair

"I can do anything," he said smiling smugly.

You didn't get a chance to say anything before there was a rumble and a clink of broken glass behind you. When you turned around, you saw Danielle slumped on the terrace of the bar and a box lying next to her. Pieces of broken glass were scattered across the terrace, floating in the spilled wine. "Dany," you mumbled worriedly, running up to her. There was a crunching sound of glass beneath your feet. "What's wrong with ya lately?" you asked wrapping your arms around her waist and lifting her to her feet. Her pale face looked up at you, not even pink from the freezing cold.

"Nothing," she muttered smiling weakly. "Not feeling well lately, a little sickening."

You rounded your eyes. "Dany," you whispered, and leaned closer to her ear. "Did ya take pregnancy test?"

"What?" she resented weakly. "No, I haven't, we haven't yet... We... Well, uh, ya know," she burrowed into the collar of her jacket in shame.

"Okay," you nodded. "Come on, I'll walk you home."

A concerned Megumi ran up to you. "Is everything okay?" he asked excitedly, and you stepped aside giving him access. "I'll walk her over," picking her up by the waist, he told you. 

As you watched them follow, Gojo came up behind you from behind and put his hands on your shoulders. "What happened?"

"I don't know," you shook your head chewing on the pad of your thumb without realizing it. "What ya doing here?" you asked turning back to him. "The kids are waiting for ya, go on."

"I can actually help out in the storage too," Gojo muttered pouting his lips.

"You've already got an assignment and I'll manage on my own somehow," he snorted something grudgingly in protest, but went back to the kids nonetheless. 

You slipped your jacket over your shoulders and tied your scarf around your neck, and headed for the storage. You were about to round the corner of the house when Itadori called out to you. "Wait, I'm coming with you! We're out of paper lanterns!"

"Where ya going without a jacket, ya dumbass!" shouted Axel after him. "It's half an hour to the storage, put it on!"

***

You wandered between the racks, Itadori searching the shelves for boxes of decoration, and you looked around every corner of the room for a barrel of resin. Finally, seeing a yellow cross-painted in paint on one of the barrels, you approached it. "Itadori, give me a hand," the kid immediately jumped down from the rack and was beside you.

The two of you dragged the barrel to a table that stood against the wall, on which empty crates of wooden sticks and old rags already stood. "Do you need help?" asked Itadori sincerely.

"Nope," you patted him on the top of his head, and took a stick from the drawer. "Grab your decoration and run to the others, I'll be right back."

"Got it," Itadori said, and in two jumps, he was already at the rack where he'd left his box. You were already holding the end of the stick in the resin, slowly cranking it, and behind you came Yuji's confused voice that mumbled 'Hello', but no one answered him. You rolled your eyes, and taking the tip of the stick out of the barrel, tapped it against the edge to get rid of the excess tar. 

A glimmer of golden hair and the outline of a sharp chin showed from the side. "Good afternoon," Nathaniel greeted you taking one of the sticks and dipping it in the tar. Meanwhile, you were winding the rag around yours trying to get the fabric as tight as possible. "How's the work coming along?"

"Not bad," you said sniffing your nose. "Although there are getting to be too many loners in the void. Ya know anything about that?"

"That's not our area of responsibility," Nathaniel noted phlegmatically. "How's Frank doing?"

"He's fine."

"How's everyone else doing?" he kept trying to keep the idle conversation going by handing you a stick and picking up the next one.

"Same."

"You haven't found a settlement yet?"

There was the sound of tearing fabric. You wrapped the torch tightly around it, and folded it neatly into the empty box. "That's not your area of responsibility. The small talk has gone on long enough."

"Tell me, since when do you stick to the tactic of keeping your enemies close?"

"What are ya talking about?" you ask without taking your eyes off the case.

Nathaniel exhaled irritably, the overly forceful impact of the stick hitting the metal barrel echoed throughout the large storage. "You're aware the kid stayed near you, only to finish you off?"

"Well...," you stretched out chuckling. "I suspected something was amiss. I couldn't have such a miracle fall on my head for free."

"Is this a joke to you?" hissed Nathaniel, oblivious to the torches. You were calmly wrapping the cloth around another stick. "He's been walking all over you for a year now, how do you live with it?"

"A year, ya say," you thought for a moment. "You mean he made a deal with ya a year ago?

"With Christian," Nathaniel pointed out, and noticing your indifferent state, began to calm down himself. "Yes, almost a year ago."

"Well, why did you mess with my head?" you asked, and tossed the finished torch into the empty box not so neatly anymore. "What was it you said back then? 'They are planning something'? Couldn't you have said it sooner?"

"You mean why didn't I give details near our headquarters? You could have thanked me for warning you at all."

"Well, thank you."

"Get rid of him," Nathaniel hissed sternly as if commanding.

"Uh?" you went into a momentary stupor. "I won't do that. He's had a year to kill me and he hasn't even tried."

"Because he knows that- Ahem, that you can't be killed in this state," Nathaniel paused hoping nothing would happen. "He's been notified that your emotions make you weaker-"

"My emotions make me stronger," you interrupted him in a stubborn tone, but further on your voice grew weaker with each word. "But nothing good about that," you added in a near whisper.

"If you don't want to kill him yourself, then order me to."

The skin on your wrist hissed. "Ouch!" you exclaimed quietly rubbing a tiny glowing crosshair on the sore spot. "It hurts," you blurted out glaring at him. "Look, I know going around in debt is a nasty business, but I'm gonna to order ya to do it."

"Then why did you even make me promise to you if you don't use it?" he asked irritably.

"Uh... for fun?" you replied shrugging your shoulders in doubt. "I did you a favor, and you had nothing to charge at the time. Well I just wanted to test how the promise system works. Actually, I don't give a damn what you're saying. He's not that kind of person. Don't mess with my head."

"I shouldn't have approached you in the first place. You're just...," he sighed contritely, resting his hands on the table, not looking up at you. "You're the most immature and irresponsible person I've ever met," he shook his head dejectedly. "Even when I communicate the threat directly to you, you can't get rid of it," he met only your silence, your blank stare, and the mechanical movements of the hands that tied the cloth on the torch. "God," he said in a hoarse voice. "Don't tell me you're in love with the kid."

***

Itadori had stuffed too much into his box - he had to keep peering out from behind the mountain of paper lanterns stopping every now and then to avoid slipping.

Once again, Yuji looked out and spotted the familiar figures, and took in more air. "Hey! Need help!" he shouted. Axel immediately ran over to him, and promptly dumped half of the contents of the box into his own. "Thanks," Itadori said smiling.

Gojo watched all this perplexedly, completely forgetting that he was drawing a frog on Tris's face. "Itadori!" he called out to Yuji, and the boy setting the box down, ran up to his teacher. "Where's Y/N?"

"She stayed in the storage," murmured Itadori tiredly but cheerfully. "Some other man came to see her and..."

What?

"...he didn't even say hello back. He's kinda old, I didn't know that elderly could be so rude. But he has cool hair color, golden, I think..."

What?

"...he seemed to stay there with her."

If Yuji had said another word, a painful whimper would have come out of Gojo. His eyes blurred and he could barely squeeze out words while maintaining his usual attitude. "Itadori, where's the storage?"

"Over there," Itadori said pointing to the bridge. "Over the bridge and immediately to the right, that big hangar with the red doors. Sensei?" asked Itadori dumbly when he saw Gojo immediately dash toward the storage.

***

Gojo leaned his forehead against the cold metal door and frantically tried to catch his breath. His side stung, and his heart was beating so furiously that he didn't know whether it was the sound of snow crunching under his feet or his ribs breaking. He could hear your voices, but mostly Nathaniel's - you were either silent or humming. Gojo squeezed his eyes shut with force trying to listen.

"...for what it's worth. I'm not thrilled with our current politics myself, but I guess I'll agree with them on this one. You don't belong in this world."

Gojo's chest ached when he heard your voice. You sounded confused. "I don’t belong in their world either. Where should I go, then?"

"You have the answer to that question. Only you don't have the guts or the courage to do it," Gojo felt like tearing Nathaniel's vocal cords out. He didn't dare speak to you in such a condescending tone. No one did.

"Hey!" Gojo's shout was more like a growl, but turning toward him, you saw nothing but a casual, serene smile. "Frank said you need help here," he said in a soft voice. Gojo came over to you and put his arm around your shoulder, furtively throwing a warning glance at Nathaniel.

"Deal with it yourself," Nathaniel tossed over his shoulder waving his hand carelessly in farewell.

Gojo gave him a look, and after making sure that this dirt was no longer here, cupped your cheeks. "Everything okay?" he tried his best to hide the worry in his voice.

"Yeah...," you stretched out. "Yeah, everything's okay," you added in a more confident voice. "I just got another round of bad for doing things the wrong way."

His hands slid down your back, and he pulled you against him. "You know," Gojo mumbled into the top of your head. "I've cut out my higher-ups. I can do the same with yours, if you want." 

You chuckled weakly. "I see ya're bloodthirsty."

"You bet," Gojo confirmed nose burrowing into your hair.

You didn't put your hand on his waist, didn't ruffle his hair, didn't nuzzle your nose into his neck, and it was the first time you hadn't responded to his touch. A chill ran down his back, and he gripped the fabric of your jacket tighter with sweaty palms. He was willing to do anything stupid or say anything nonsensical to get you to do something.

"I wouldn't mind it myself, but the hunters would revolt. I'm not sure I have the strength to fight on two fronts," you said. You don't have the strength? That sounded like utter nonsense. Or are there some other forces he's not aware of? "Ya're kinda here to help," you remarked poking him in the side. He exhaled in relief.

"So what you're saying," he began gently nibbling your sides, which made you laugh softly and squirm. "That hugs are useless?"

Sure, hugs were helpful - they produce oxytocin in the brain. Nevertheless, right now you felt like you'd first fallen into a trap from which there was no escape.

next ⊳

[thiniceofeternalyouth]

MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER FIVE

SHADOW BEHOLDER

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, sci-fi, cosmology.

Chapter warning&tags : ooc, mentions of human trafficking, mentions of drugs, profanity, mentions of alcohol and smoking, slight yandere themes (if you squint);

Words count: ~10.5k

⊲ previous next ⊳

[July 3, 2019; 07:02pm; hunter's headquarters]

Cumulus torn clouds floated breezily ahead framing the overcast sunset in the distance, and something dark stretched out on the horizon; it was unclear whether it was the peaks of the sunset-shadowed mountains, or a dark long cloud. The breaking sunlight colored the damp haze rising from the sea orange, and the sight of it made her eyes ripple. Or maybe it was the wine.

Rachel walked drunkenly down from the rock outcropping toward the cliff holding a bottle of wine in each hand high above her head. Her feet tripped over every little rock or tiny notch, but she'd rather smash her face than the bottles of red semi-dry.

Sitting on the sunbaked grass, Shoko looked at her sympathetically. She took another drag and let the tart smoke of the cigarette billow out of her lungs to freedom. "Alcoholic."

Rachel clumsily plopped down next to her and placed the bottles on the ground as neatly as possible. "Hey, ya actually drank more than me."  

"Unlike someone, I know how to drink," Shoko put out her cigarette on the ground and threw the butt into the fire pit. "Did you bring a corkscrew?"

Rachel leaned on her arm squeezing her flushed cheek and drunkenly clucked her tongue. "Shit."

"Let's do old school then," Shoko said handing Rachel a bunch of keys.

Rachel took the keys accompanying the action with a respectful oblique nod. "As ya say, my queen," She began picking at the sawdust cork with the key edge trying to push it inward. Once Rachel had the point about halfway into the cork, she covered the key with her palms and applied force to push it in, and at that moment, a red liquid enveloped her hands and face.

"Elegant," Shoko said rolling her eyes irritably.

"But it worked," Rachel chirped wiping the wine from her face with her sleeve. "Gimme your glass."

Rachel poured the alcohol into wineglasses and leaned against a ribbed rock gazing out at the burning sun. The sound of the wind-disturbed forest could be heard behind them, and the waves crashing against the rocks tried in vain to reach their feet.

Rachel took another sip and turned back to Shoko. "Ya know," Rachel said stretching her words drunkenly. "When I first saw ya, I couldn't even imagine ya being quite the outgoing person."

"Guess I'll have to put your name on my list of people with stereotypical thinking now," Shoko said deftly pulling another cigarette from the pack.

Rachel pouted her lips and gave the most contrite look possible. She realized from Shoko's raised eyebrows that she'd gone a little overboard. "Forget it," she snatched the cigarette out of Ieiri's hands and took a drag.

"Listen," Shoko turned around and looked back at the windows in the cliff. "Are there really so few hunters? I thought it was us who had manpower problem."

Rachel shook her head slightly fearing more dizziness. "Old generation hunters live in Hopetown, and our higher-ups just put the voidrunners away from everyone else. They figure that if the dioreacts planning a large-scale attack, we'll be the first ones to get hit, since we've trespassed on their territory."

Shoko could no longer make out the clear lines on the horizon, the rainy sunset blurring into a gray-orange mess. She set her glass aside and rested her head unashamedly in Rachel's lap staring up at the sky. "Well, the hell is the old generation for?"

"To level up and learn to enter the void, hunters have to put your consciousness through isolation. Not everyone is willing to do that, so they stick to the old ways," Rachel rested her head on the rock gazing upward with Shoko. "I can't even tell ya what exactly is going on in isolation because when maintainer escorted me through, I didn't even realize it. It was like fingers snapped and something changed inside me."

Shoko hummed skeptically. "Not everyone is willing to spend a second of their life to become stronger? So much for nonsense."

"Who knows how much time we actually spend in there? Only maintainer feels time in isolation," Rachel said exhaling heavily.

"And I still don't see it as a big deal."

"Coz ya only see survivors," Rachel said and completely forgetting about the glass reached for the bottle. One must either avoid unpleasant conversations or drunk them down. "Most of hunters who wished to become voidrunners died before they were able to enter the void. Their consciousnesses were lost in isolation. Or they dissolved there, dunno. "

"I see," Shoko said coldly. She was twirling her auburn curl around her finger out of old habit. "Your higher-ups have gotten comfortable. Putting people through isolation and the only ones who managed to survive are shooed away like lepers to take the hit."

Rachel chuckled softly pressing the bottle to her flaming cheeks. "They're not the ones leading us in. The higher-ups don't really like us at all, or maybe they hate the very idea of entering void. Not much difference. They think that doing it this way we only make dioreacts angrier, and endangers the rest of hunters. So they give us more work between raids making us get rid of demons the old-fashioned way. They're mad as hell."

"Then who leads you out?"

"Uh, it’s-" mumbled Rachel stuttering. The cloud on the horizon began to thicken with as much force as the air around the girls. "It's Y/N’s doing."

Shoko immediately stopped playing with a strand of hair. "You mean- you're saying that she-" she stammered trying to find the right words. "I'm sorry if I misunderstood you, but what you're saying is that she k-"   

Shoko's face turned red. Not from shame, not from embarrassment, not from anger. It was from spilled wine. The bottle slipped out of the drunken Rachel's hands, and the remnants of the alcohol ended up on Ieiri's face. "God, Shoko! I'm sorry!" Rachel frantically tried to wipe Shoko’s face with her sleeve.

"You're not drinking anymore today," Shoko muttered sullenly, rising from her seat and fighting off Rachel's hands.

"Come on, it looks better on ya," Rachel pointed out slyly. "You look really sexy."

"Shut up."

"Speaking of sexy!" exclaimed Rachel, unable to keep her interest in check. "Do ya date a lot?"

Shoko stared at her in amazement as if she were insane wrinkling her nose slightly at her tactlessness. "And when am I supposed to do that? Between patients and filling out paperwork? And anyway, ever since I contacted the doc, I don't even have those five minutes to spare."

"I refuse to live in a house with so many workaholics," Rachel protested. "Come on, not going out at all? And you don't even, well, um... You don't even relax with anyone?" asked Rachel shamelessly scrutinizing Jeri's discouraged face. "Not even with Gojo? Come on, you've known each other for about fifteen years, there's no way there's nothing going on at all!

"Ew!" squeaked Shoko, and Rachel blurted out a smile pleased that she had finally seen a little more than Shoko's usual cold look. "Just shut up. No, nothing happened. And it won't. It's like sleeping with a relative."

"All right, all right, I believe it," a still radiant Rachel softly stretched out. "By the way, where's that troublemaker?"

"No idea," Shoko said resting her head in Rachel's lap again.

[July 3, 2019; 07:16pm; Tokyo Prefecture, Tokyo, Bakery N]

The small bakery decorated in muted yellow colors was filled with the smells of freshly brewed coffee and ruddy crisp dough. On the wall behind the cash register, there were small boards on which the names of confectionery products, it’s prices, and the day's promotions were handwritten in multicolored chalk. A pretty salesgirl in a funny yellow beret was chatting with the customers advising them and helping them to make a choice. Only the sorcerer squatting in front of the glass display case for baked goods and paying no attention to anyone frowned annoyingly.

No matter how rarely you were home, you always made time for Gojo. You made time to send massage to him and ask if he was all right when he was on a mission. Every time you listened to his endless stream of chatter, and if he did something ridiculous or violated your personal boundaries, he never heard a sigh of annoyance from you. Gojo had never heard you hold a conversation in which he was being bad-mouthed, whether it was in jest or in truth.

With you, he felt as if he was understood. Whether it was because you were in similar positions in life's vicissitudes or something else, he did not know. It didn't seem to matter to him.

After all, you found out and memorized some of his features before you even met him, while he didn't bother to find out what kind of sweets you like for six months.

Indignant at his own neglect he squeezed his cheeks with his hands with vigor continuing to stare at the display case under the oblique glances of the visitors, paying them no attention.

At the end of the dark corridor on the second floor, someone’s lonely silhouette sat on the floor outside one of the rooms.

The door one of the rooms clicked open. As you left Danielle's room, you glanced at his drooping form barely visible at the other end of the hallway. You quietly closed the distance between you and Gojo and sat down across from him as carefully as you could.

Drawing attention to yourself was not part of the plan, but not leaving a man wallowing in reflection in a strange place was a matter of principle.

He was used to stares, but the way you did it seemed too shameless. Your gaze was straightforward and, if only it were not a play of imagination, surprisingly soft.

"What is it?" he grinned softly. "The first time we met you refused to even look my way, and now you can't take your eyes off me. Am I that handsome?"

"Ya know," you squinted your eyes as if evaluating something. "I think you'd still be handsome even if you had your eyes pulled up on your ass."

Gojo bit his tongue and his chest began to convulse. "What-" barely opening his mouth he hissed with a gasping laugh. "What kind of compliment is that?"

"I'm trying!" you blurted out indignantly, looking at the way he hid his face in his palms trying to calm down.

"Yeah, I really appreciate it," he said on an intermittent exhale wiping the corners of his eyes.

 "Uh," you began hesitating. "What ya doing sitting here alone at this hour?"

He stretched his legs out casually, but avoided your gaze carefully. "Your beds are too soft. And pillows are rough," he said with an indifferent shrug. "And I can't open a window to air out the room because of loud sound of the waves."

"Got it," you said stretching the words teasingly. "If it's that bad, you can sleep in my workroom. I've got a firm mattress and air conditioning, too. About pillow...," you paused for a second, thinking. "Guess for a princess like ya, I might as well go to the store and get a proper one."

"Hey," Gojo snorted unhappily, gently nudging your thigh with his foot, to which you chuckled softly. He sat there hesitating, unsure how to take your words, but he wanted to believe it was a sincere suggestion and not a simple sneer. "Did you...," he coughed, hearing the hoarseness in his voice. "Did you really mean it?"

"Would I mock a man who sits in the hallway looking like a stray puppy?" getting another poke in the thigh from him, you gave up. "I really meant it. If ya can't sleep in your room, come and sleep in workroom if ya want."

"What about you?"

"We've got a bunch of unoccupied rooms here," you put up your hand gently, pointing down a long hallway. "Still, sometimes I work nights filling out paperwork and all that other bureaucracy, so if you're in the workroom, you'll have to put up with someone's presence and the clacking of keys paired with the squeak of a pen."

"That's how," he mumbled and felt his fingertips burning hot. "Anyway, I like having something... buzzing under my ear. I'll graciously accept your offer, but only if you promise me you won't stare at me much while I sleep."

"Nope," you shook your head stubbornly. "I'm sorry, I can't promise that."

Gojo sat back and tried to suppress a smile, not even thinking about the fact that he might look like an idiot.

At the end of the dark corridor on the second floor, two someone's non-lonely silhouettes sat on the floor outside one of the rooms.

When the salesgirl finished serving another customer, she gave Gojo another confused look. It wasn't often that one met a man so unusual and attractive. "Sir," she addressed him and noticed with fear that her voice had cracked with excitement. She coughed quickly. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Huh?" Gojo absentmindedly raised his head. He blinked and stretched out to his full height and walked to the cash register, causing the salesgirl to look embarrassed. "Actually, you can. I'll take the whole thing. Two servings each, please," he said bestowing her with a welcoming smile.

The salesgirl was confused by such an order. "You mean everything at all? Even carrot bread?" she asked in a stammering voice.

"You know, I'll take one carrot bread, though, I guess," he said mentally noting that he definitely wouldn't eat that.

The salesgirl pulled a roll of craft paper from under the counter and placed it on the table, then began wrapping each dessert in it with shaking hands. She thought the man was glaring at her back, but his eyes were actually fixed on his phone. He'd texted you asking if you were home, and waited patiently for a reply.

Gojo was brought out of his detached state of reality by a girl's voice. "Uh, sir. That'll be 39721 yen, sir," the salesgirl mumbled as she placed six stuffed paper bags on the counter in front of him.

"Sure," he pulled his wallet out of his pocket and counted out the bills. Gojo was already grabbing the handles of the bags when the salesgirl, redder than usual, handed him a small piece of paper folded in half. He looked at the girl questioningly. "That's my phone number."

"Oh," he said grinning slightly. "Sorry, but-"

"No, no, it's nothing!" she rambled in a stammering voice, tucking a piece of paper into her pocket. "It would be foolish of me to think you aren't dating someone. Have a good day, sir."

"Till next time," he said over his shoulder already heading for the door.

[July 3, 2019; 07:16pm Kumagaya, Saitama Prefecture, Bar N]

Each step leading up to the underground bar made a rusty creak in your footsteps, and the room itself was more like a warehouse than a public place. Metal round tables stretched along one wall, and a bar counter stood opposite; behind it, shelves of alcoholic beverages illuminated blue gave the bar a dank atmosphere.

A chubby, rosy-cheeked girl whose hair was tied with a pink bandana was vigorously scrubbing the surface of the bar. She deftly lifted vases of nuts and cutlery stands to clean the dirt beneath them.

"Lu!" you called out to her in greeting. As soon as you took a step toward her, the customers looked up at you. It seemed like it wasn't just the blue lighting that made this place cold.

She tucked a rag somewhere down under the counter and waved at you, beckoning you over to the bar. "Hey! Long time no see," she smiled pulling one of the snack vases toward you.

"I've got my hands full," you said sitting down on a high stool and placing the airtight small container you'd been holding the whole time on the bar.  "I see ya business is booming. Lots of visitors," you shook your head lightly over your shoulder looking slyly at Lu.

"I work here day and night! Can you imagine how frustrating it would be if it didn't pay off?" she said pouting her lips.

You pulled the vase of snacks closer to you. "It would pay off. It's not the alcohol that draws everyone here, it's ya charisma."

Lu's already rosy cheeks turned crimson, and she waved you off carelessly. "Flattery gets you nowhere."

"It helps me sneak in anywhere," you chirped popping a peanut into your mouth. "Any news?"

Lu looked at you as if you'd took her at gunpoint. "Y/N, you know... the longer we spend in this state," she wrapped her arms around her shoulders squeezing them slightly. "The less we feel for others. It's like we become separate individuals and... You know. Humanizing."

Her behavior made you frown. "Lu, why ya acting like I'm threatening ya?"

"You are a hunter after all," she mumbled quietly to herself.

"And ya're an insider. We're not touching ya. Even if ya don't have any information," you tried to sound as soft as possible, but it came out like you were telling the girl off. "I just have one question. Ya don't know anything about the creature that calls itself Rei?"

The corners of Lu's lips quivered, and she squeezed herself even tighter in the embrace. The air in the bar had gotten so thick, it felt like you could grab a fork from the bar and stab it. Lu's whole look screamed that she didn't want to enter that state.

"Okay, I'm leaving-,"

"Wait!" squeaked Lu causing you to sit back down. "Uh... What does the body he's wearing look like?"

"Well," you stretched the word out furtively peering into your memories. "A man, somewhere in his late thirties. Face perpetually smug. Moronic grin. Black hair, a couple strands of gray. And a hu-u-uge scar across his face."

Lu squeezed her eyes shut as hard as she could. Her fingertips were slowly, as slowly as the sun walks across the sky, crawling in ugly black patterns. Her abruptly opened eyes became blacker than the worst night and began to dart from side to side; Lu herself stood motionless, not even her chest heaved as if someone was forcefully squeezing it. 

After a moment, she closed her eyes again and suppressed the demon in her with a sharp intake of breath. She looked up at you and bit her lip in frustration. "I'm sorry, I can't find it. But maybe you can get help from someone else," you threw her a questioning look as she gibbered to herself. "But he's not an insider, so there's a chance he won't want to talk to you.

"Who is he then?"

"Just a dioreact," Lou shrugged. "As far as I know, he's trying to live a normal human life and has nothing directly to do with the kidnappings and murders, but... He's kind of helping demons get in touch with people who, you know... Trade drugs. And people. Maybe that's how he got in touch with Rei."

"Where can I find him?" 

"He has his own auto repair shop on the outskirts of Tokyo, in the Edogawa ward," Lu said taking a pen out of her pocket and writing something down on your hand. "He closes at eight at night, so you'd better hurry."

"Thank ya for your cooperation," you chirped covering the written address on your wrist with your sleeve. "And these are for ya," you said sliding the container closer to her.

"You shouldn't have," Lu muttered embarrassedly, hesitating to touch the container.

"Ya don't always have to steal from hospitals," you said looking slyly at Lou. You reached into the container and opened it, pulling out a single bag of blood and stowing it in your backpack. "I hope ya don't mind if I take one with me," the girl nodded silently at your words. Turning around, you were faced with the same cold stares that greeted you here. One of the visitors' eyes were black, and he held a glass to his mouth tapping away nervously at it with his finger. "See ya, guys!" waving goodbye to them, you ran out of the cold bar towards the warm air.    

On the outskirts of Tokyo countless tangled wires of transmission lines dangled from poles so low that they gave the impression of an urban spider's web. In one of the narrow streets, dilapidated buildings with unglazed balconies greeted you; on one of these, a man with a cigarette in his teeth was hanging clothes after washing; on another, an elderly woman was shouting to someone at the end of the street that dinner was ready.

The phone vibrating in your pocket distracted you from contemplating the everyday life of local people.

[07:21pm] Gojo Satoru: mochi

[07:21pm] Gojo Satoru: u home?

[07:23pm] You: nope

[07:24pm] Gojo Satoru: where r u?

[07:27pm] You: I'm busy

[07:27pm] Gojo Satoru: I asked where u r, not whatcha doin dummy   

[07:31pm] You: got a couple things to do in Edogawa ward

[07:31pm] Gojo Satoru: there's a metro museum in that ward, u know where it is?

[07:32pm] You: yep

[07:32pm] Gojo Satoru: I'll meet u there in an hour

[07:32pm] Gojo Satoru: no, in half an hour

[07:32pm] Gojo Satoru: don't be late

You stared at the phone screen for a while wondering how a person could contain so much impudence. You came to your senses when you heard the echo of someone's booming laughter from the back alley. A group of guys came around the corner talking loudly and gesticulating vigorously. You glanced at them, and your gaze fell inadvertently on the frail little man the young men had passed. The man was pushing the heavy metal gates; they yielded to him with a heavy, long creak. He finally closed them and wiped something off his forehead with his dirty sleeve; you were already standing near him.

"Closing already?" you asked glancing at his hand, which was desperately trying to find something in his pocket. "It's not eight at night yet."

"I apologize," he smiled nervously, greeting you with a quick bow. "Family emergency."

"I see," you said nodding your head understandingly. "Too bad, my car's been needing an emergency inspection for months now."

The man finally pulled a key out of his pocket and awkwardly tried to get it into the keyhole. "A car? What car?" he hiccupped as if suppressing a hysterical laugh.

You looked around the narrow street and only now realized that there were no cars here, which made you cluck your tongue annoyingly. "Well, that was awkward."

He finally locked the gate and without looking in your direction, he took a quick step away. You followed him. "I just want to ask ya couple questions!"

"Leave me alone!" he shrieked, and despite his feet stumbling over everything he could, he broke into a run. As soon as the man turned into the alley, his eyes widened and he immediately stopped: you were already walking toward him from there. With a desperate shake of his head, he turned around and wanted to run back, but you were in front of him again.

He rushed down the street, and you exhaled tiredly as you watched him.

The man kept running. He ran and looked around frantically. His blurred vision merged the whole landscape: houses, bushes, signs. He wouldn't have stopped if it hadn't been your hand that yanked him sharply by the scruff of his neck into one of the alleys.

Standing behind him, you squeezed his neck with one hand and with the other you pressed the edge of the dagger against his carotid artery. "Just a couple questions," you spoke in a low whisper. "Or I'll send ya to judges," hearing the last word, a ragged sob escaped the man's lips. He nodded, and you immediately let him go.

You waited for him to cough and come to his senses. You pulled a bottle of water out of your backpack and handed it to him, but all you got in return was an incredulous look. "Whatever," you said putting the bottle back away. "Straight to the point. How long has Rei been in contact with you?"

"I didn't- I-" he tried frantically to force the words out. "Last fall."

Was it normal for Rei to stay out of contact with this creature for so long? "Ya sure? Maybe he just changed bodies?"

"I don't know if he changed his body!" the man wailed hysterically. "But I do know he hasn't contacted me all this time!"

"Okay, okay," you said throwing up your hands at the man's sudden outburst. "Ya don't have to yell like that-"

The man slid down the wall holding his head with his hands. "I didn't do anything wrong," his muffled sobs could be heard. "I was just trying to live in this condition."

A skeptical grimace appeared on your face. "Oh, really? Aiding and abetting slave traders and demons out of the goodness of your heart, too?"

The man raised his head and gave you a panicked look. "They threatened me! They threatened to kill my wife and child!" with every word he uttered, your eyebrows crept upward. "Or rather... This body's wife and child. But that doesn't change anything," struggling to utter the last words, he wrapped his arms around his head again.

"What am I hearing? Have human feelings been nurtured?"

The man's shoulders shook. He tried to wrap his arms around himself as if trying to maintain control. He raised his head again. "You don't understand how much we can feel!" he bellowed in your direction. "We didn't choose all this! We're being merged with bodies not of our choosing! But we want to live too. Even if it's just... like this."

"So that's what this is all about," you hissed looking him in the eye. The man sitting on the pavement already looked tiny, but something made him shrink into a lump. "I was wondering, since ya care so much about your wife and child, why ya didn't just surrender to the judges right away," you covered your eyes and tried to regain your breath. When you opened them, you gave the man another dark stare. "Ya know, there's absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to live. Just don't ya dare cover your selfish ass with good intentions," you reached into your backpack again, and rifling through it for a bag of blood, threw it at the man's feet. "Thank ya for your cooperation," after throwing out the words through your clenched teeth, you disappeared around the corner.

All that was left was to get to the Tokyo Metro Museum.     

It was quiet here in the square. The museum staff had long since gone home, having turned out the lights throughout the building. You stood in front of the glass doors trying to see either the dark room or your own reflection.

He was late. You were standing in the square at the main entrance of the building right under the blue sign shuffling from foot to foot with fatigue, and he was late. No call, no message.

The ground heated by the day's sunlight was already starting to cool down, which made you shiver a little and finally pull your phone out of your pocket to dial his number.

"Still looking for me?"

The sound of the voice came from nowhere, but it was everywhere. You pulled your head away from the screen of the phone to look at the reflection of the glass doors. There was no one behind you.

"Don't turn around," you thought to yourself. "Just don't turn around."

"Pet."

If the feeling of rage was something tangible, it would definitely be a liquid. A liquid that you squeezed and put into a steel box, but that voice just drove a thousand sharp nails into that box like a hammer, forcing the liquid out.

You turned around.

You turned around and bumped your forehead against the concrete wall. Your side vision caught the flicker of a dim light bulb, which made a clicking tinkling sound. "I guess I fucked up," you exhaled disappointedly and turned around, thus creating a shuffling sound. The light bulb went out and all that was left in your ears was the ringing from the silence that came. There was an positive side to the darkness: the walls which seemed about to crush you were not so visible.

You stood like that for another minute letting your eyes adjust to the darkness. The long corridor with wall openings at various distances screamed that you were in a maze.

"Relocate."

You remained standing still. "Sure," you thought to yourself rolling your eyes irritably.

[July 3, 2019; 08:06pm; hunter's headquarters]

Music played softly in Megumi's room. The sound of the melody was occasionally interrupted by the sound of the pages of the book Danielle was reading on the bed. Megumi was sitting on the floor beside her looking at something on his phone screen.

Danielle had to reread the paragraphs over and over again because she couldn't concentrate on the text because of her poorly concealed excitement. She threw another fleeting glance at the boy and jerked her foot awkwardly, causing her to stiffen. He hadn't noticed, had he?

Megumi locked the screen of his phone and set it aside. "Dany?"

"What?" she squeaked, her voice hoarse with trepidation. She put her hand to her mouth in horror and pretended to cough.

"You okay?" the boy inquired leaning his head back on the bed and examining her.

"Y-yes," Danielle mumbled awkwardly tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "The air in the room is just dry. I should at least get a humidifier. So what did ya want?"

"How much longer do you think the hunters will let us live here?"

The girl rounded her eyes. "Why on earth would ya even have such thoughts? No one is chasing you out of here."

"Dunno. I wouldn't wanna overstay my welcome."

"I think you're the only one who thinks that," Danielle said with a giggle.

It seemed to Megumi that they had really stayed here for a long time. On the other hand, all he could think about was how much he wanted to stay here at least a little longer. That's how his thoughts darted from one to the other creating confusing coils. "Aren't you, uh, going to get in trouble with the higher-ups for this?" he asked nervously rubbing the edge of his t-shirt.

"They don't seem to have shown up yet. I think even if there is a problem with them, the elders will handle it," the girl assured him.  

Megumi nodded briefly, but that wasn't all he was interested in. He nervously held onto his index finger, which had blackened for the tenth time in the last six months. "Dany, listen. What's your technique?"

"Technique?" she asked absentmindedly dimming her gaze. "We honestly don't have such concepts."

"I meant abilities," Megumi explained as carefully as possible, feeling the tension building up in the room.

"Ah!" exclaimed Danielle in relief. "I don't have a pronounced ability yet, Y/N haven't put me through the insolation yet," she eyed Megumi's frowning face with an edge of her eye. "It's to increase the body's conductivity for dark energy. Growing a new sense organ or something like that."

Megumi only squeezed his index finger harder. "What abilities are there anyway?"

"Actually, there are quite a few. Some are mandatory, and others you only learn if ya feel ya can handle it. Well, also each ability can either be specifically targeted or diffuse."

"And then what are the mandatory ones?"

"Relocate and regeneration," Danielle said as if she were reading a textbook. "Relocate not only allows you to teleport from point to point, but also to enter the void."

"And the others?"

"There really are a lot of them, I can't list-"

Megumi couldn't keep himself quiet. "At least tell me about the ones you know about."

"Well... let's say our Doc. Though regeneration is mandatory, he has it at a level that no one else can reach. And that's despite the fact that he's never been through isolation and has been high conductive since birth. Also with his replication ability, he can replicate anything, even configurations of atoms. So with severed limbs we run straight to him," the girl tried to joke, but the awkwardness created in the room seemed like it could be gobbled up with a spoon. "Uh... Well, or Rachel. One of her powers is tranquility. She can stop whatever processes are going on. From photosynthesis to uranium decay. Also, when she makes tranquility diffused around an area, it gives the impression that time has stopped there!"

The girl finally saw a fleeting smirk on his face. "You know, that sounds cool. Is there anything else?"

"It's actually really cool because the use of each ability is limited only by your imagination, so spin it however ya want," Danielle mumbled softly, trying not to hesitating over her words. His fleeting smile stood before her eyes. "Y/N uses shading. You know, she can use dark energy to make photons absorbed and reflected from her body transform into shadow ones. Kinda invisibility."

"We rarely see her anyway," Megumi said exhaling noisily. "And all of you- uh, you can't catch curse energy at all?"

"Nope," Danielle said having long since forgotten about the book lying right in front of her nose. "But honestly, ya could show it to me."

His cheeks turned slightly pink. "How?"

Danielle's second burst of courage ended as soon as she wanted to enact what she'd planned. "Uh, ya know," she said in a stammering voice and slid off the bed trying to hide her trembling knees. She sat down across from him. "Would ya mind folding your palms like this?" she interlocked her palms, leaving a space between them. He obediently closed his hands and didn't dare to raise his gaze to her.

She glanced at his hands, a concerned exhale escaping her chest. "Megumi, what's wrong with your finger-"

"It's fine. Doc said it's just a side effect of the treatment. It'll pass soon," he lied without blinking an eye. A quick change of subject was necessary. "So what did you wanna show me?"

"I-I'm honestly not sure it's going to work out well, I'm still just a student after all," Danielle muttered excitedly. "You can release a steady little stream of cursed energy, right?" 

"Sure," he tried to nod his head, but from the side it might have looked like he was having a muscle spasm.

"Okay, then on the count of three do it," she covered his hands with hers. "One," he felt her warm skin. "Two," he closed his eyes because he didn't want to embarrass her by looking at her. Didn't want to embarrass himself even more. "Three," he wished there was a window open in this room because the waves would muffle his hitched breath.

They released energy at the same time.

Whether only a minute had passed, or whether time didn't exist at that moment at all. He wanted to touch her a little longer, but her voice made him open his eyes. "Ready?"

"Ready," he said on a quiet exhale.

She slowly spread their palms apart. There was a butterfly. It was barely visible, one wing slightly larger than the other, but it seemed beautiful to Danielle. "It worked!" she squeaked quietly, pleased with the result. With a flap of its absurd wings, the butterfly rose into the air and flew toward the window.

"Where is it going?" asked Megumi absentmindedly.

Danielle chuckled. "Ya didn't think she'd stay with ya forever, did ya?" She admired the butterfly that perched on the window. He admired her profile. Admired it so long that he surprised himself when the fingers of his hand gently touched her cheek.

Danielle turned toward him. She looked scared and confused, but he couldn't find the strength to took off his hand from her cheek. "Dany," he whispered softly. "Can I ki-"

They were pulled away from each other by the sharp sound of the door swinging open. "Guys!" exclaimed Itadori. "Doesn't anyone wanna go to movies?"

"GET OUT OF MY ROOM!" shouted Megumi disappointedly. He jumped to his feet and started shoving Yuuji out the door.

"Hey, this is actually my room too!"

Your eyes had finally gotten used to the darkness allowing you to move around without any problems. Pros: there was a light source coming in from somewhere outside and reflecting off the surfaces. Cons: it was not a pleasant environment.

Every time you looked away from the concrete walls, the straight construction joints seemed like curved ugly grins. You were followed by the echo of a shrieking noise that sounded like the singing of cracking ice somewhere in the middle of the Arctic. You kept moving forward not letting the sound catch up with you.

Upon reaching a dead end, you turned right.

The noise kept up. It seemed more and more insistent and faster. You quickened your step, and it began to sound louder, closer. You furtively glanced at the walls making the ugly smiles you'd imagined disappear.

It's a dead end again. You returned to the opening and turned right. 

There was the distant sound of the wind rushing in panic in the blizzard. A loud long rumble followed another crackle.

One thing that reassured you was that you didn't hear footsteps in front of you or behind you. Though that couldn't stop you from glancing behind you from time to time.

When you reached the fork, you turned right.

Something warm felt on your earlobes. Warm and viscous. You touched your ear, and when you looked at your fingers, you saw something dark on it.

Your gaze went back to the road.

There was someone coming at you. It was walking slowly, barely moving his feet. You absentmindedly tried to stare, straining and squinting your eyes. A long curly lock of hair fell over the silhouette's face. It came closer and closer, and a blank, open gaze was directed at you (or through you).

It wasn't Rachel.

You backed away, turned and rush away from there. As you glanced behind you, you had the creepy realization that it hadn't made any attempt to catch up with you; it was still following you, slowly but surely.

This behavior is inherent in a creature that already knows where you're going to be wherever you're going.

You found yourself in another corridor. The only thing left to do was not to rack your brains and always turn to the right, trying not to listen to the next crackle of ice.

The surroundings didn't change even after a hundred turns and seven blisters on your feet. Another dead end on the horizon made the growing lump of irritation inside you burst out with a jagged exhalation. You turned around to walk back to the missed opening, but just as you were one step away from your goal, a tall figure stepped out from behind the corner, forcing you to retreat a few steps. White hair was visible in a glow even in the darkness.

You were already walking in the other direction when a voice called your name. The familiar cracking and howling sound stopped, replaced by silence. The abrupt transition from one to the other was as painful as simply having the first. You grabbed your aching ear and clenched your teeth.

Gojo's hand gently touched your shoulder, and you were finally relieved. "Are ya real or what?"

A sly grin appeared on his face. "What is it? You see me so often in your dreams that you can't tell the difference?" he murmured softly, leaning closer to your face.

You paid attention to his provocation. Something else was more important to you right now. "Ya alright?" your concerned voice made him stiffed and leave no shadow of his previous smirk. "No one touched you? You didn't see anyone?"

"Uh... no?" Gojo mumbled incomprehensibly, puzzled by either your questions or your anxiety. "Should I?"

"Look," you nodded pointing somewhere behind his back. Out of the darkness, step by step, came the outline of a man in a familiar black uniform, and dark strands of hair falling over empty open eyes.

He swallowed. "It's not Megumi, is it?"

You shook your head. "Nope," and with that, you took his hand on automatic heading in the other direction away from the creature. "How did ya even get here?" Gojo didn't even hear your question, all but staring at your interlocked hands. "Hey," you snapped your fingers right in front of his face.

He perked up. "What did you say?"

"I asked you how ya got here."

"I was approaching the museum, and then I heard someone's voice. It seemed weird, like it was coming out of my head. I just turned around, and I bumped into a concrete wall...I think?" Gojo rambled on trying to line up the memories in his head in a coherent row.

You continued to wiggle between the openings. "Well, we are two idiots," you chirped summarizing.

"This is not how I wanted to spend this evening," he said with annoyance in his voice pouting his lips.

"Well so did I. When I followed the right hand rule I wanted to find a way out and I found you," you said with a shrug. "Life is full of disappointments. Get used to it."

"Rachel was right, you're just a little bully," his dramatic tone came out overly deliberate again. "And actually, I'm kinda glad we ended up here," Gojo clucked his tongue. You still couldn't get used to his quick change of demeanor. "You finally took my hand. Look," he lifted your clasped hands, and you stared at them in amazement as if you hadn't initiated it. You immediately unclenched your fingers and tried to pull your hand away, but Gojo only gripped your palm tighter with his fingers. "Nope, no way. Get used to it."

"Okay, I give up," you said squeezing his hand again.

Your touch made him forget his teasing remark that you should have done this from day one. There was no way to suppress the excitement. He urgently needed a distraction. "Listen, who are those creatures?" asked Gojo pointing a finger somewhere behind your backs.

"I've never encountered them myself yet, but Frank told me about something similar," you mouthed thoughtfully, looking behind you. "They're kinda like mimics. Just following in your footsteps. I wouldn't really wanna to find out what happens if they get to us."

From the far doorway someone stepped out. A red collar could be seen in the darkness.

"Is there no way to kill them at all?" he asked feeling an unpleasant tingling in the back of his neck.

You threw the dagger that appeared in your hand toward the creature hitting it squarely in the forehead. The mimic vanished in a cloud of smoke. "Does that look like it's fucking dead?" you asked rhetorically, a frown wrinkling the bridge of your nose. "I think it just showed up somewhere and is headed our way again."

"Do we have a tracker hanging on us or something?"

"It's possible. Unlikely ya've ever looked under your skin."

Gojo shuddered. "It won't take long to become paranoid with you."

"Welcome to the club, buddy," you said chuckling merrily. "That's why they're not running after us. There's no point in us hiding anyway, so they're just biding their time until we're exhausted."

"And your sorcery doesn't work here?" Gojo asked taunting you.

"One would think you're still here for some other reason."

He pretended not to hear you as he continued to tease you. "I thought I'd really met someone strong, but sorry. You are weak."

You bit your lip to keep from cracking a smile. "You're right. But take responsibility," your voice softly shifted to a whisper. "I'm weak only for ya."

You were so unfair. So unfair that Gojo swallowed his words and walked beside you silent, occasionally touching his burning cheeks.

For a while, you walked on in hush turning right at dead ends; only your footsteps could be heard. Only yours?

You stopped short a dozen feet before reaching the next turn.

"Something wrong?" he asked worriedly, squeezing your hand lightly.

You drilled your gaze to the right wall. "Do ya hear that too?"

Gojo fell silent. He tried not to breathe. He heard someone's footsteps behind that wall advancing towards the opening. "Mimic?"

"Mimics don't make sounds," you shook your head accompanying the sound of footsteps with your eyes. You perked up and turned around to him peering into his eyes. "Wanna go for a jog?"

***

After a couple of hours, at least some difference was waiting for you around the next corner. Albeit the same concrete and empty, but still spacious room, from which there were only two exits - the one from which you came and on the adjacent wall. Is this what the center looks like in normal mazes?

"You're not even breaking a sweat," came an indignant panting exclamation from behind you. "When you said 'jog', I thought it would be a light jog, not a marathon." 

You glanced behind you. Gojo was standing bent over and resting his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. "I think we outrun 'em. Let's take a little break," you said heading to the far corner.

You both sat down on the cold dusty floor. You took off your backpack and started to fish out something from the contents. After a while, you handed him a bottle of water and a chocolate bar. It wasn't much, but it was all you had.

Gojo hesitated shifting his gaze from the provisions to you. "What about you?"

"Don't worry," tired of holding your hand with the groceries, you placed them in his lap. "I've got more. I'm not hungry yet anyway."

Frustrated thoughts of six irretrievably lost bags of baked goods popped into his head. Awkwardly twirling the bottle in his hands, Gojo opened it and took a couple sips draining half of it. "Do you have any thoughts?" he asked opening the chocolate wrapper.

"Well," you began trying to pull your thoughts together. "We're kind of still on Earth. Light gets through here, and it's not easy to create an alternate light source, and we were here in literally seconds, so... We haven't turned to bloody dust yet, so the atmospheric pressure is the same, we're breathing normally, we're not off the ground. So whatever this place is made of, it's limited to Earth settings."      

"Sounds soothing, but it's no use," Gojo muttered chewing on a piece of chocolate.

"That's actually pretty good," you tried to reassure yourself. "No idea about elsewhere in the universe, but we don't have measurable continuous quantities here in physics. Everything around us that appears to be continuous is not." 

Gojo crumpled up the chocolate wrapper and tossed it somewhere in the darkness. "You definitely have a screw loose."

Again there was the familiar notes of delight in your voice. "Well, not me. More like the creator of quantum theory," while you chattered to yourself, Gojo kept staring at your profile. Staring and unable to find the strength to tear his eyes away. "All that remains is to capture the moment itself. I don't know what it will look like, of course. It's hardly a portal or a breach."

"What is it then?" his voice came out softer, more quietly. Against his will.

You shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe it's something that's out of place. Something foreign. But so far all we've encountered are walls, walls, and more walls." You turned to him and he immediately turned his head away. "Ya can rest for now. There's no telling when another opportunity will present itself. I'll keep an eye out," you looked around at the two exits.

Gojo hummed looking at your legs. It would be a crime not to take advantage of the opportunity. Without hesitating, he rested his head on your lap. "You're not going to make me sleep on cold concrete, right?"

"Yeah, right," you grinned and made yourself comfortable leaning against the wall. "Ya know, it's dangerous for you to be with me," Gojo only snuggled harder into your lap. Whether it was true or not didn't bother him at all. "I mean, we got here at the same time, but you said you didn't bump into anyone. So the mimics are here for me."

Oh. So you meant the maze. "Nah, that's okay. You can stroke my hair if you want," Gojo murmured sleepily, not specifying that he wanted it himself.

Your hand was immediately in his hair. You were gently scratching the shaved back of his head with your fingertips, and he was half asleep, unable to resist the goosebumps that spread up his spine. You tried not to lose concentration or look at him too much.

So you stayed there. Gojo peacefully asleep in the godforsaken place on your lap, and you watching the doorways intently; one of your hands running through his hair, the other playing with the dagger, deftly moving it between your fingers

Rachel tried unsuccessfully to make out the caller's name on the phone screen through her blurred vision. Completely desperate, she turned the screen toward Shoko and tapped her finger on the phone.

Shoko raised an eyebrow, but still read the caller's name. "It's Frank."

The spoken name literally made Rachel come to her senses. She answered the phone and straightened her back as if he'd walked into the room. "Hey, dad," she said loudly and distinctly-embroidering each word.

A disgruntled snort was heard on the other end. "Young lady, how much did ya drink?"

Rachel exhaled in astonishment. She wanted to lay her head gently on the table, but she miscalculated her strength, and a dry loud thud rippled through the room. "Just a little bit."

"If this keeps up, I'm going to talk to higher-ups about cutting your funding," the bass in the receiver was so loud Rachel had to tear the phone away from her ear.

"Actually, we're not financially dependent on them anymore," Rachel drunkenly stammered.

"Then I'll talk to Y/N about it," Frank didn't relent.

"Dad-"

Rachel interrupted his angry tone. "Cut it out. I have no desire to watch my daughter drink herself to death. If ya're not thinking of yourself, at least think of your son."

She suppressed the sob climbing to her lips with her hand, pretending to cough it out. "Got it."

"Good girl," Frank's voice became an order of magnitude softer as did his heart. "How are the others doing?"

"Kyle's in raid, Y/N's missing again."

"As soon as they get home, tell them to call me," the man said worriedly and at times like this he sounded especially parental. "By the way, I'll be sending a replenishment to ya soon," he added in between.

"What?" muttered Rachel grudgingly. "More students?"

"No. One of the hunters expressed a desire to join the voidrunners. I fought the higher-ups out of him, they wouldn't let him go," Frank said grinning unkindly. "The only thing is ya'll need to train his stamina and then take him through isolation afterward."

"Ya talk about it like it's a shopping trip. Anyway, one person? Ya serious?"

Frank took a deep breath. "Don't take your frustration out on me. Anything is better than nothing. The kid's twenty years old, name's Issu. Unsociable, but he knows his stuff. Even without isolation he's doing well, so don't get upset early."

Rachel nodded, oblivious to the fact that the person she was talking to was not sitting in front of her. There was a second's silence on the other end of the line.

"One more thing," Frank finally broke the silence. "How are things going with your coworkers?" he sounded casual, but that was what alerted Rachel.

"Well... fine, I guess?" she said as cautiously as possible. "Why?"

"It's just... It's just that some of the higher-ups still aren't thrilled," Frank's casualness was immediately replaced by indignation as soon as he said the phrase aloud. "Quote, 'hunters haven't messed with such the dirt yet'."

"Dad," muttered Rachel wrinkling her nose. "What are they gonna do to us? Let them say what they want as long as they don't crawl out of their holes."

"Fine," Frank said trying to push the feeling of anxiety away. "Make sure you tell those two to give me a call. Love ya."

"And I love ya, too. See ya later," Rachel said and hit the disconnect button.

She looked up from the phone and was surprised to see Shoko staring at the living room. Following the direction of her gaze, Rachel also stared at Mei-Mei, who was seated on the couch watching TV. She was wearing nothing but a oversized light-blue shirt.

"And here I thought people like her could afford at least one set of pajamas," Rachel mumbled disappointedly, getting up from the table. "I'm going to bed," she waved to Shoko and headed for the second floor.

Shoko glanced at her, watching carefully to see if Rachel would trip on the steps. When she heard the door slam, she turned to Mei-Mei. "Is it so hard to follow the rules of this house?"

"Does any of the rules here have any legal force? I don't think so," Mei-Mei said winking slyly at Shoko.

"Change your clothes," the doctor said sharply.

"I won't," Mei-Mei cooed. "This gift means a lot to me."

"I have no idea what you're trying to accomplish," Shoko said getting up from the table. "But I do know that when someone takes someone else's stuff without permission, it can hardly be called a gift."

Mei-Mei chuckled softly. "It's just an unnecessary circumstance for no one."

"Watch out that you don't pave your way to grave with these circumstances," Shoko mumbled indifferently as she walked up to the second floor. Her voice grew quieter with each step she passed. "I wouldn't piss off the locals if I were you." 

"How dangerous," Mei-Mei whispered hiding a smile beneath the fingers pressed to her lips.

"..., hey."

Either in a dream or in reality, a hand gently stroked Gojo's cheek. He fidgeted in his half-slumber trying to get comfortable, holding something soft against him. It would have continued like this until someone forcefully flicked him on the forehead. He jerked his eyes open. The sudden realization of where he was made him jump up.

"Morning, sleepyhead," you said quietly, holding out a water bottle to him.

He took a couple sips, and then wiped his eyes. "Morning," he muttered in a hoarse voice. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. It's just that we should get going. You've been asleep for three hours, so they're probably getting close to us by now."

In the darkness, you saw the outline of his round eyes. You grinned thinking that Gojo was stunned that he'd slept so peacefully in such a place for so long. He thought about the fact that you had actually been sitting in the same position the whole time so as not to disturb his sleep.

Gojo stood up stretched out to his full height kneading his stiff limbs. "Impressive," you whistled getting up from the ground and looking at his figure.

"Listen," he began in a still sleepy voice. However, sleepy thoughts can often be delusional, full of illogic, but in your situation, every one of them could fit. "Isn't that us?"

"Huh?" you stopped shaking off your feet and raised your head to look at him. "What do ya mean?"

"You said a breach is something that's taken out of the setting. Isn't that us?"

Something cracked. You wished it was an insight, but it was the floor beneath your feet. A few inches away from you, the ceiling collapsed at once raising a cloud of dust and dirt blocking your already meager view. You glanced down; the floor was literally breaking into pieces and falling into the void. Your head snapped up sharply and you darted from side to side, desperately trying to find Gojo amidst the cloud of concrete dust in the chaos of the falling ceiling and breaking floor. Your pounding heart wasn't calmed, but nearly burst as someone's hands clamped you down to chest shielding you from everything.

You opened your tightly squeezed eyes when the noise of destruction finally died down. The summer breeze touched your dusty hair. The smell of burnt wood, peppermint and something sweet hit your nose. Gojo still held you close to him. 

You stood in a small square in front of glass doors and a there was a blue sign above you. "Gojo," you called out softly, grabbing his forearm. "We're in the middle of the street."

"No," Gojo mumbled stubbornly into your shoulder, clutching you obstinately in his arms. "We're still in the maze."

You suppressed a chuckle against the fabric of his sweatshirt. "Let's go home already."

***

Already changed into your pajamas, you stood in the bathroom brushing your teeth. You were holding a coaster in your hand, and you looked at it in surprise: there was another toothbrush in it. You hadn't noticed it before. How long has it been here?

"Weirdo," came a voice. Gojo stood leaning against the doorway watching as half the toothbrush evaporated somewhere in your mask. "I still can't figure out if it's the mask, or if it's just that you have a freakishly huge mouth." Gojo walked over to you and took the toothbrush from the coaster, and you set it back down with a clatter.

The only sounds in the bathroom were the water running from the faucet and the rustle of brushes. You weren't used to someone else standing next to you in the bathroom. Gojo was not used to having someone else standing next to him in general.

But you were learning.

"Nice pajamas," he muttered inarticulately from behind a mouthful of toothpaste, peering at you and your pajamas with the funny little avocados through the mirror. "Staying in the workroom tonight?"

You spit the toothpaste into the sink. "Yeah, I need to get some more work done," you said and wiping your face with a towel walked out of the bathroom.

You went to the desk and opened the bottom drawer pulling out a stack of blank sheets. Sitting down in your chair, you tossed it onto the table; your eyes caught the folder where the stack had fallen.

"How much longer you gonna work?" asked Gojo taking a seat next to you.

"Ya wanna sleep here? I'll try to keep it short," you replied picking up the folder with Rachel's recent raid report.

"That's not what I'm talking about," he muttered awkwardly shifting his intertwined.

"Meg, put the kettle on, please," you said running your eyes over the lines.

The voice that answered you was full of indifference. "Put it on yourself."

Muttering sarcastic words of thanks to yourself under your breath, you wanted to get up from your chair, but his hand came down gently on your shoulder stopping you. "I'll get it done," Gojo stood up and headed towards the kettle; once he was at the target, the kettle clicked on and turned green. "What, does everyone in this house have a similar sense of humor?" he exclaimed splashing his hands indignantly. You only shrugged guiltily.

The kettle finally boiled, and he set the mugs on the table. You stared in horror at the sixth sugar cube he was throwing into his mug.  

Gojo handed you a cup of hot fragrant tea. "So kind of ya," you said leaning back in your chair and putting your feet up on the table. Your gaze drifted back to the report.

There were warm and insanely soft red socks on your feet. Gojo stared at them watching you clench and unclench your toes. Cute. "Your socks are nice too," he commented taking a sip from his mug.

You tore yourself away from the papers throwing a glance at your feet. "Thank ya," you chirped. "I always match my socks to the color of my underwear."

A mechanical voice cut into your conversation. "You're not wearing any underwear right now."

In the silence that hung, you phlegmatically wiped the tea off your face, which Gojo choked on. "Thanks for input," you muttered and turned to him. His face was red from intense coughing. Or so you thought. "Need help?"

"N-no!" exclaimed Gojo in a hoarse voice moving farther away from you.

"Okay," you said with a shrug.

You put the report aside and started filling out blank papers. Finally coming to his senses, he caught a glimpse of you writing about today's incident. "Y/N," you responded with a nod of your head. "Do you know the person who led us there?"

"Yeah," you replied dryly, continuing to trace out the letters on the paper.

Gojo bit his lip nervously, not knowing if he could go a little further. But testing the waters is not criminalized, is it? "Who is he?"

"My teacher, if you can call it that," you said crossing out some word and crumpling the piece of paper.

Gojo looked at you spitefully. "What? You were trained by a demon?"

"Can you imagine?" you exclaimed softly under your breath. "Life in general is an amazing thing."

Your behavior only misled him more. He gripped the cup tighter in his hands. Gojo wish he could keep his temper in check, but he didn't even know what pissed him off more: the information he'd gotten or your indifference. "He called you a pet," behind the pile of papers, you didn't notice the pouring disgust in his voice.

"He had a lot of strange habits. Never mind," he saw you rub your collar as you said it. It was high even on your pajamas.

The cup he was clutching in his hands cracked.

You turned at the sound. Gojo was holding a mug covered in tiny cracks; it looked like it was about to fall apart. "Put it neatly on the table. I'll clean it up later."

"You really wanna talk about fucking mug-"

"Look," you cut Gojo off halfway through tossing your pen wearily on the desk. "I need to write it all down," you tapped your fingers on the stack of paper. "And at least half of it will be scribbled about how sweet you sleep and how loudly you snore. So whatever it is, let's have a chat about it later," your voice sounded lower due to exhaustion. "Go to bed, 'kay?" you added more softly.

"Whatever you say," despite the anger in his chest that you hadn't noticed, he wasn't about to leave the workroom. On the contrary, he walked over to your bed and leaned on it tiredly, holding one of the pillows to his chest. Gojo had never seen you sleep here, and yet the pillow smelled like you. He burrowed his face deeper into it, leaving only his eyes to steal glimpses of your image. With each deep exhale, he calmed down little by little. You were here, with him, in the same room.

"Good night, boxy."

"Good night, mochi."

His eyes closed involuntarily. Falling into sleep, Gojo left behind those days in which the forecast had promised him endless rain and an eternally lonely room.   

next ⊳

[thiniceofeternalyouth]

MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER FOUR

VOIDRUNNERS

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, sci-fi, cosmology.

Chapter warning&tags : ooc, mentions of blood and wounds, profanity, mentions of alcohol and smoking

Words count: ~11.5k

⊲ previous next ⊳

[29 Dec, 2018; 12:01am; hunter's headquarters].

"I've never met anyone so insolent in my life," Gakuganji shifted his gaze from Mei-Mei, who was in no hurry to get up from the table to the sorcerer, who was hastily pulling on a gray jumper ignoring her flirtations. Except the higher-up wasn't referring to either of them.

Gojo didn't care about the old fool's lamentations, and he cared even less about Mei-Mei's mocking taunts. He felt he had to catch up with Shoko, who had long since made her way up to the second floor. Brushing aside the girl's flirtations, he traversed the stairs in two leaps and saw Shoko already turning the handle of one of the doors. "Shoko, wait!"

She didn't have time to slam the door right in his face, but she did manage pinch his fingers with it. Shoko heard a low whimper from the other side, and swung the door open. "You're disgusting," she told him instead of greeting him. "Both of you."

Trying to maintain his usual demeanor, Gojo did his best to brush it off. "Oh, come on. Just wanted to have a little fun, what's wrong with that?"

Taking off her medical gown and tossing it on the dresser, Shoko turned toward him and noticed that he was clutching his already damaged fingers a little too nervously for a careless man. "What's wrong with that? These people have provided us with safe shelter and food while we try to find ways to create protective barriers around the schools without Tengen's involvement, and the first thing you do is fucking on their table," with each word spoken, shame pressed down on his shoulders causing them to slump ever lower. "Actually, I thought you two stopped 'comforting' each other a long time ago."

"There's been a lot going on lately," Gojo shrugged serenely keeping the indifferent but still familiar smile on his face, which disappeared as soon as he remembered what he'd just done. "What should I do?" he said quietly, barely moving his lips.

Hitherto looking at herself in the mirror and trying to wipe away the scattered mascara under her eyes, Shoko instantly turned in his direction, barely hearing the unfamiliar tone in his voice. "Are you in love or something?"

His reaction was so instantaneous that it was instantly clear as day. "W-what?" he perked up directing at her the most puzzled glance possible. "Don't be absurd! I've just never met someone, uh, someone so strong before."

"Uh-huh," Shoko said rolling her eyes. Not wanting to waste another second of time sacrificing precious sleep, she started pulling off her clothes. "First of all, you should at least apologize to her. Second, get out of my room."

To his disgruntled muttering, Shoko finally pushed him out of the room. "Yeah, by the way. I didn't ask your permission to examine Geto's body this time. He was my friend too. So no one will touch him now," she hissed slamming the door in his face.

"Well, I was going to cremate him anyway. After everything that happened," he thought to himself, but in the back of his mind he realized he had earned Ieiri's wrath.

He found himself in an empty, dark hallway, still clenching his aching fingers and shifting nervously from foot to foot. He should have apologized right now if only to just get the weight off his chest. So he thought.

As slowly as possible, Gojo made his way through the kitchen, which was empty, and straight into the hallway. He slowed down and picked up speed again mentally berating himself for his indecisiveness. Amidst the tangle of his own thoughts, he didn't realize how he'd ended up in front of the workroom door. What should he do? Knock? Or just walk in unceremoniously? What if you're already asleep?

Gojo stood like that for a moment longer, and it occurred to him that he really ought to have some decorum in someone else's house. He brought his hand to the door and tapped the metal surface with the knuckle of his index finger. "Come in," it was clearly not your voice.

Opening the door, Gojo's gaze fell on the man's broad back. Someone was going through the mess on your desk. After standing like that for a bit longer, Gojo realized the guy wasn't going to pay attention to him. "Hey. Where's Y/N? I thought I'd find her here."

The young man finally turned around and popped his head up giving him a sharp look of the green eyes that showed from beneath the black strands. "Just left."

The information he had just received made him furrow his eyebrows unhappily and bite the inside of his cheeks in worry. "I mean, she literally just got back, where did she go?"

A bright short flash suddenly illuminated the surroundings and sneaked violet rays through the workroom window causing the objects in it to cast shadows that darted about in a momentary frantic dance. When everything was back to normal, Kyle headed toward the door shoving Gojo with his shoulder along the way. "To the raid."

This information gave him a little less than nothing. Gojo realized that pestering a man who was unfriendly to him with countless questions was pointless, but at least he was entitled to one question. "When is she coming back?"

Already climbing the metal stairs, Kyle simply brushed him off. "Not earlier than in three days."

[31 Dec, 2018; 06:33pm; hunter headquarters]

After the exile of the curse king and a gray man like Kenjiaku the curses seemed to lie low as if they had lost all their courage. No one questioned whether this was true or not because with or without their existence, the life of the sorcerers continued, though in a drastic change of course. That was why now the students of the once Tokyo magical college were comfortably seated in front of the TV in the living room: some sat on the corners of the spacious couch, some sat on the floor having scattered countless cushions. Yuta who was caught in the embrace of Frank's right arm, who kept his gaze fixed on the TV show, shrank into a lump, and looking at the Frank's imposing figure was afraid to move. 

After only a few short episodes, Itadori's patience broke baring endless interest. "Frank," Itadori sitting on the floor, popped his head up at the gray-haired man. "What do hunters do after all? From the name, I can figure they hunt, but what exactly do they do?"

Frank hummed not taking his eyes off the TV. "When this whole thing first started, hunters had almost exactly the same thing going on as ya all do. Just as ya seek out and exile curses, they sought out and destroyed the dioreacts. With only one correction - some hunters, who were later appointed superior because of this, had the ability to 'bind' a certain hunter to a certain dioreact. Therefore, hunter would follow in its footsteps, and when he was in close proximity, he couldn't realize where the thing was sitting. As if somewhere in the looking glass. They had to sit and wait, sometimes for months, for it to show up. That's how it was destroyed. Except...," Frank had to release Yuta from his embrace to scratch the back of his head as he held a bottle of beer in his other hand. "I don't know how exactly it happened, but at one point it dawned on hunters that they weren't destroying dioreacts because they started encountering other dioreacts, and they looked completely different -  different height, gender, hair color, body type, but something inside told hunters that they had killed this thing before. And just like that, it turned out that hunters were only destroying their bodies, not themselves, which only provoked further fusions," Frank paused for a moment remembering. "Just when things were getting desperate, road to the judges opened up."

Finally turning toward Frank, Itadori folded his arms on the couch and rested his chin on them. "Judges?"

Frank only laughed rubbing the boy on the top of his head. "Don't even ask, kid. We don't know much about them ourselves. They're sort of judges of the creation, but hell knows what our minds paint. Dunno. The only thing we knew for sure was that they helped us get rid of dioreacts with ends. All we had to do was take them to judges, and that's where the question came in. How do ya get a creature that's many times tougher than ya to wear themselves out so that you just can grab them by scruff and take them to judges?

"How?" asked Yuta already regretting having reminded Frank of his existence again.

"Black orchid extract. It doesn't act on dioreacts like holy water does on evil things, of course. If ya spill it on them, they won't sizzle. But if ya cut their flesh with a weapon infused with extract, it causes them great pain. Or if ya inject them with a syringe they get paralyzed, but that's too wasteful of a dosage considering how long and tedious it takes to get it.  

"What about dark energy?" asked Itadori examining his hand as if trying on how it would 'look' on him.

All Frank could do was shake his head negatively. "It used to be that the conductivity of hunters' bodies for dark energy was severely limited. There were exceptions to the rules, but no matter how much dark energy the hunters had in them, no matter how sophisticated their spells were, only the bodies that used dioreacts were destroyed."

Everyone's heads came up because there was an indistinct stomping sound from upstairs as if someone were walking unevenly or trying to dance unskillfully. As soon as the stomping died down, Frank took a couple sips from the bottle. "I was an old generation hunter," the living room seemed to fill with the sound of creaking heads turning toward him who directed skeptical, bewildered looks at him. Frank snorted indignantly. "What? I can't to get fat in retirement?" he looked around at everyone present; some of them hid their faces reddened with embarrassment while others continued to stare at him just as incredulously. "Never mind. All in all, as an old generation hunter, I can say that there is no trust in judges. After all, they're going through your memories trying to find some irregularities on a certain dioreact, and the catch is that they were finding hunters' own irregularities as well. Except no one gave us a goddamn list of rulebooks. The only thing that was comforting was that judges never interfered in anything themselves personally, apparently they always busy, so... so hunters went to judges themselves shaking and wondering if they'd come back. A lot of them never came back. Although the tradition with judges still exists, next generation came along, though.

The clumsy stomping that had come from upstairs earlier was heard on the stairs. Rachel, flushed from head to toe, was coming down to the kitchen humming songs as she went. Her red and perpetually curly unruly hair looked much more disheveled, and her unfocused gaze shone like a mirror. Finally making her way downstairs and into the living room, she stopped abruptly and staggered back as if perplexed that there was anyone else in the house but her. After a couple seconds of staring, she greeted everyone with a drunken nod, and turned sharply toward the refrigerator.

All the while, sitting in a cushioned armchair apart from everyone else and trying unusually hard not to draw attention to himself, Gojo watched the drunken Rachel, and his tongue was faster than his thoughts as usual. "Does this new generation of yours do anything? It looks like they're just getting by."

"Says man who can't even wash mug after himself in someone else's house," muttered Kyle who sat in the very corner of the couch and kept his eyes on the screen of his phone shifting his gaze from the news feed to the time.

Propping his head up with a hand, Gojo directed a squinting gaze at Kyle. "Huh? You wanna go outside and talk about it-"

Rachel, who had already managed to find a bottle of wine in the fridge, leaned on the couch and poked her head between Frank and Yuta, her face seemed to have resentment mixed with intoxication. "Actually, we do! Voidrunners. First we go in, then we run, run, run, hic~," she covered her mouth with her palm, her face going pale for a moment. "Then we run some more, then we fight, and if we're lucky we find people, take them out, BUT!" she dramatically raised her hand with her index finger raised. "There are two rules," she shifted her gaze to her index finger, followed immediately by raising her middle finger as well. "That's better. There are two rules! Never break the raid cycle and always carry a watch with ya in the void," noticing Frank's preternaturally reproachful look, Rachel hurriedly removed herself. "Dad, this is the last time, I swear," whereupon she headed drunkenly with a bottle of wine in her hand up the second floor back to her room.

"What was that?" asked Itadori waving away the smell of booze. "Kyle, what was she talking about?"

"Less one knows, better one sleeps," Kyle said without looking away from his phone screen.

"Kyle!" almost everyone in the room exclaimed synchronously. Everyone except Gojo, who was trying too hard to pretend he didn't care, but was praying inwardly that Kyle would be bribed by the voices of his students. He needed to know where you were and what was happening to you.

The green-eyed hunter flipped his phone away irritably and stared at the television not knowing who to stare at, running a hand carelessly through his hair. "What exactly do ya wanna know?"

Still sitting on the floor, Itadori moved closer to him. "What is void?"

"Place that the dioreacts created. It seems we have kinda wrong sun for them and the wind that is too warm, who knows. Because they are in albeit reshaped, but still human bodies, they needed similar 'earthly' settings, but in void there is nothing but heavy dark sand, cold rarefied air, black sky that seems to fall on your head or seems unusually distant. There isn't even a sun, there's some alternate heat source that gives the emptiness a purple glow. It seems the only thing they haven't screwed up is gravity. Still, the universe used very fine tuning to create the Earth, which the dioreacts can't replicate."

Gojo squeezed the arm of his chair in an inexplicable anxiety. So that's what that flash was. You went into the void.

"And the raids... So the raids are conducted there?" a shocked Yuta inquired quietly.

"Yeah," Kyle nodded his head idly as if he was in prostration. "We learned how to get in there freely a few years ago, but getting out isn't so easy - we have to look for rifts left by the dioreacts themselves. After we organized raids. We calculated the average statistical value of how long a hunter can last without food and water under stress. It turned out to be three days for each of us. So we went in, found ourselves in a random place and ran. We can't stop there, or we'll go crazy. If we can't run, we walk. If we can't walk, we crawl. About the rules... One voidrunner must enter the void before another hunter comes out, otherwise everything will be turned upside down, changed places. That didn't seem like such an aggravating factor to us before until we found out that the void wasn't really that empty. We just went in and wiped out the dioreacts that got in the way because the void gave them a vulnerable spot, right here," Kyle tapped the pad of his finger against the center of his collarbones. "It's not easy to do, but it's doable, no black orchids or judges needed. Except that on another raid one of us suddenly discovered a settlement, and it was populated not only by dioreacts, but humans as well. To put it more accurately, slaves. That's why it became important for us to keep order in the void and that's why the raid cycle can't be broken, one of us must be there. If the cycle is broken for even a second, we will lose sight of this settlement. Even if a voidrunner is badly wounded, they is only allowed to leave after his three days are up."

There was silence in the living room. Itadori looked like he didn't want to deal with dark energy and all that it entailed. Yuta looked at Kyle with undisguised respect.

"You mean you're getting people out of there? Can't they come out through rifts on their own?" asked Yuta.

Kyle shook his head slowly, the colored frames of the show reflecting lightly on the skin of his face. "As it turns out, they can't. Even if you take out the sentries, they just can't even get close to the rift, blown to ash. We can take them out with us conducting our dark energy through them, but to maintain a steady flow we have to sacrifice the number of people to keep them from being torn to shreds. So the so-called "evacuation" takes a very long time. That's what we do there. We look for a settlement, take people out, watch the dioreacts, who's doing what, who's at the posts, what time those posts change, we memorize everything and after we take people out, we do the roundups. Well, after everything is cleaned up, we can let everyone come out of the void and have a little vacation before the new race. We were just about out of it by the way, when Y/N started raiding again a couple days ago.

Itadori blinked and popped his head up frowning his eyebrows. "Rachel said something else about the watch!"

Kyle unlocked his phone screen and glanced at the time again. "I know it sounds counter-intuitive, but there is no time in void. Void and our place are causally unrelated. So if ya wanna go home, be nice enough to always carry a watch with ya, that is 'time'. If it suddenly stops or ya lose it, ya'll never get home no matter how fast you run to the rift. As Y/N said, while you're running to the rift, here it's likely the universe has time to go all the way from the big bang to the big crunch. I think if we could take one peek into the void from our world right now, everything would be frozen to us, even the grains of sand that the wind has lifted into the air. So the only sensible thing you can do is look for a settlement and hope that one day the voidrunners will come there and bring time with them," Kyle exhaled convulsively rubbing his fingers together nervously. "I'm telling it like it is now, but how many lives it took while we got it all laid out."

Itadori kept glancing at Kyle not daring to ask any more questions. Yuta was already sitting more relaxed; it was nice to be around people you knew something about, but just as he was getting used to the excessive tactility of the inhabitants of the house, Frank released him from his right arm and stood up from the couch. "I'm gonna go pack up the kids, and yeah, it's time to head back to Hopetown." Frank glanced at his watch, and realizing you should be back soon started packing in a hurry. "Don't wanna get in the hot seat. Keep an eye on everyone here," he gently ruffled Kyle's hair and headed out into the hallway.

The time of your three-day raid was inevitably coming to an end. You should have been home in about five hours. Unless you lost your watch or it broke, or someone broke it on purpose. You had to be back. Kyle wasn't the only one watching the time nervously now; blue eyes were checking the time on his phone now and then, intermittently flicking them up to the television, but only to glance to the face of the clock that hung above it. 

[1 Jan, 2019; 12:17am; hunter headquarters; training field]   

Your blurred vision began to focus, your surroundings began to gradually take shape, and your hearing finally caught the familiar sound of the crunching of the fragile thin layer of snow beneath your heavy boots. The cold winter wind was enveloping you here, but compared to the cold of the void even this embrace seemed unaccustomedly warm. Unconsciously, you unscrewed the two round respirators from your mask, which made a satisfying, quiet click as it turned. Your lungs were still burning with icy fire, and you methodically took deep breaths in and out. As you tried to warm your insides, you finally spotted a silhouette in the darkness of the training field, each exhalation drawing in a cloud of vapor.

"Well," Kyle exhaled grinning and sniffing his red nose. "Happy New Year."

You grinned back rubbing your chapped palms trying desperately to keep them warm. He slipped the warm jacket over your shoulders, and you made your way down from the training ground to the lower level of the cliff heading toward the entrance of the house. You cast a glance back over your shoulder. "Vito managed to get in on time, didn't he?"

"He got in by before twelve at night, don't worry," Kyle assured you softly.

Walking through the shroud of snow that was falling in prickly flakes straight onto your face, you had already entered the house soon and found yourself on the basement floor, right by the door to the workroom. "Got a present," he cast a cheerful but tired look of his green eyes at you. "Megumi's awake."

You didn't even notice how your eyes widened with delight, and you were tempted to say something, but all you did was open and close your mouth.

"That was the good news," Kyle said, and his voice grew a half tone darker. "The bad news is that we've been contacted by higher-ups for a couple hours, calling ya on the carpet."

The elation was replaced by a sense of irritation and annoyance. "What, right now?"

"They've made it clear they don't intend to wait," Kyle said with a shrug.

You knew there was no point in taking your own frustration out on the man in front of you, so you only exhaled trying to catch your breath. "I'll just take a shower, change my clothes, and go over to Megumi's. Ya go to bed."

"Ya know I can come with you, right?" said Kyle with hope in his voice trying to catch your gaze.

You shook your head slowly, carefully avoiding his eyes. "Ya can't. Good night," without waiting for his reply, you walked into the workroom slamming the door in his face.

***

The pleasant feeling of clean, fresh clothes on a clean body. You would have spent a little more time picking out a sweatshirt made up of softer fabric, but the message Kyle had told you made you hide your desires in a distant drawer.

You walked up the metal staircase a little too slowly as if you were deliberately stretching time. Once you were in the hallway, the dim light coming from the kitchen caught your eye. Perhaps Megumi's awakening had excite some of the inhabitants of the house making them forget their sleep.

Peeking out from around the corner, you saw a familiar white mop of hair. Your chest felt the unnaturalness of the moment. Shouldn't he be at Megumi's right now? Throwing another glance at him, you saw him once again check the time on his phone. "Hey."

He flinched and cocked his head as if he wasn't used to being approached discreetly. "Hey," carefully hiding the concern in his eyes, he assessed your condition. The moment his gaze tried to catch yours, he noticed you looking perplexedly at the table. Apparently, you noticed that the carefully left years of indelible drink marks and small chips from contact with the utensils had disappeared. "I bought a new table."

You bit your lip trying not to laugh. "Do ya always have such drastic methods?"

He just nodded, not sure what else to say. You didn't look hurt, or upset, or angry. It was as if you didn't care. Since when did he care about the indifference of someone he barely knew?

"First of all, you should at least apologize to her."

It was a lot easier for him to exile a dozen curses than it was to squeeze out a word of apology. Was it worth it if you didn't care?

However, sometimes your behavior caused him inner dissonance obscuring and confusing his muddled thoughts with unknown outlines of hope. "Why ya sitting here alone?" you asked with concern in your voice. "I thought I'd find ya at Megumi's since he's awake."

So you were looking for him? Most likely you just didn't put it the right way. "Well, first he was surrounded by my students, then your students, and then all of them together. After that, he was left alone with... Danielle. I think that's her name. There wasn't much time for me."

You didn't pry into his soul asking why he didn't just join the others. You had an alternative. You walked past him to the door of the infirmary. Stopping beside it, you took another glance at the sorcerer stepping from foot to foot. "Do ya wanna go see him now with me?"

He rose from his chair and headed in your direction shortening the distance between you with each step. "Yeah."

Suddenly you got a sharp blow to the head. A low hiss escaped your lips; grabbing your forehead and rubbing the sore spot, you glanced at the spot where the blow had come from and realized that someone had opened the infirmary door abruptly. Two identical heads showed themselves. "Y/N?" the twins shrieked your name in panic.

"Yeah, it's me," you said with a warning tone in every word. "Ya both," taking turns pulling the twins out from behind the door, you wrapped your arms around their shoulders. "Why are ya up at this hour?" your cooing voice didn't bode well.

One of the twins nodded toward the open door and muttered in a conspiratorial tone. "There's SO MUCH going on in there!"

You barely fought the urge to roll your eyes and turned to Gojo. "Okay, okay. These are my students. This is Axel," you pinched one of the dark-haired boys hard on the ear to which he grumbled unhappily. "This is Ryan," you pinched the other one as well. Еhe second boy looked like a dark copy of the first - his eyebrow adorned with a small oblique scar, and he was covered in piercings and tattoos which you had already managed to heap reproach on him for having gotten them without adult knowledge and in an obscure underground. "Axel, Ryan, this is Gojo Satoru."

One of the twins turned his head slightly toward the other. "Do ya think the hair color is real?"

"Yeah the hair color is real, but the eyes," Ryan spoke in a whisper as if Gojo wasn't literally standing in front of him. "Definitely contact lenses."

You let out an involuntary gasp of indignation. Grabbing both of them by the scruff of their necks, you gently nudged them towards the stairs leading to the second floor then turned back to Gojo. "I'm sorry; they can be very tactless sometimes."

"I don't even know from whom did they take such a behavior," Gojo laughed motioning in your direction. "You called my higher-up a fossil as I recall," the smile instantly vanished from his face when he noticed the slightly reddened skin on your forehead. He tried to reach out a hand intending to inspect the site of the blow, but immediately yanked it away. "Are you okay?" 

"I've had worse," you grinned softly looking him in the eye. After a couple of seconds when you realized your eye contact had lingered, you perked up and headed for the infirmary. "Let's go." 

***

Standing outside Megumi's infirmary room, you peered cautiously through the open doorway. The sight before you made you bite your lip to keep from grinning like a lunatic. Now you could see what the twins were talking about. The whole room was littered with different bouquets, scattered wrappers, and a pile of brightly colored cards on the table. Probably if it wasn't for Megumi's diet, there would have been pizza boxes. At the head of all this beauty, Megumi, whose skin was finally starting to get some color, was lying on the couch, and Danielle was sitting beside him pulling a chair closer to the bed. They were talking quietly about something, and every time Danielle's lips moved, the boy's face would turn a faint shade of pink or he would awkwardly fiddled with his fingers. From the outside it was noticeable how much of his newfound energy he was spending not looking in her direction.

You raised your head to look back at the tall and equally peering silhouette. "How would ya feel about disturbing their idyll?" receiving Gojo's affirmative nod, you entered the chamber, and moving two chairs closer to the couch, you unceremoniously sat down on one of them. Gojo sat down next to you. "Look at ya, two lovebirds."

Danielle averted her confused gaze pretending to look at the damn interesting view out the window. Megumi, on the other hand, was staring right at you. The corners of his lips trembled, and he bestowed you with a fleeting smile. "Hey, Y/N."

Gojo furrowed his brows, folded his arms across his chest and pouted his lips childishly. "You'd kill me for that."

The two of them needed to talk. Just talk. Even if it didn't solve anything, even if they didn't dare to say something important to each other, but now there was something more important - tomorrow would inevitably come for them again and again from now on, each time giving them a chance to make things right. Their only task was not to squander all the opportunities they had been given.

That's why you brought Gojo here - just to leave them alone. You glanced at Danielle and after waiting for her to finally look at you, you pointed toward the door with a slight nod. You rose from your seats at the same time causing the sorcerer, who was under the intense gaze of dark blue eyes, to throw his head up in panic. "Traitor!" he only managed to shout back at you.

Despite Gojo's typical demeanor - nonchalant and even a little light-hearted - Megumi sensing the growing tension assumed a sitting position and tucked his legs under him as if trying to shrink in size.

"I wasn't actually going to eat you, you're not as sweet as you think you are," with that phrase Gojo intended to light the mood a bit, but only seemed to alienate Megumi more. Gojo had to wipe the nonchalance from his face for a second. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Megumi said peering at the creases in the white sheets. He'd never been known for being talkative, but the cold tone of his voice sent shivers down the back of the Gojo's neck. The next question made his heart sink. "You weren't going to save me, were you?"

He was, but how could he explain to the kid opposite him that things hadn't gone the way Gojo wanted them to? He couldn't squeeze out an explanation that he would probably have the strength to destroy the curse, but only at the cost of Megumi's life. The words stuck a sharp bone in his throat. "Look, it's not that easy-"

"Were you going to or not?" persisted Megumi interrupted him. The boy had no desire to hear excuses.

Gojo involuntarily clenched his fists so hard that veins showed on the backside of his palms. "No."

"Fair enough," Megumi said with a shrug. The stiffness subsided, kid's body seeming to relax. Expecting a decidedly different reaction, Gojo was confused.

It seemed all that they were needed now was to smooth out the sharp edges hurting themselves a couple times in the process, but slowly and methodically getting rid of them nonetheless. "I know I wasn't the best mentor. More than that, I've been the worst caregiver. Truth be told, there are some things you'll probably hate me even more after finding out about, but one way or another, if you and I never part ways, I'll... I'll try to be a better person." 

"Our ways will part? With you? You stick to everyone like chewed gum," the boy said, and for what seemed like the first time in the Gojo's memory, Megumi weakly smiled at him for the first time.

***

You've never really liked hospitals. A regular hospital and your infirmary weren't much different: the same rooms, beds, IVs, injections, beeping cardiomonitors, the smell of medicine and disinfectant solutions. But doc's was cozier. It smelled less like death.

As you sat with Danielle on the mobile couch in the hallway, you tried to restrain yourself from starting to tease her about matters of the heart. The blonde-haired girl got flustered then smiled shyly biting her lips, apparently remembering her quiet conversations with her new friend, occasionally giggling quietly to herself. Looking at her young unencumbered by experience face, your ribcage filled with affection. You had once long ago wanted to experience something like that. Now you hoped cowardly that she'd never ask you for love advice in the future because you didn't know what to do with it yourself.

As your gazes crossed again, a door slammed somewhere at the end of the infirmary corridor, and you heard heavy footsteps approaching. The hair on the back of your neck stirred, and you jumped up from your bunk at Danielle's understanding glance making a quick dash out of the infirmary. Except the hand that grabbed your shoulder was quicker. "Hold on, girl," if the doc's footsteps made you nervous, the tone of his icy voice made you feel truly terrified. "There's my next patient."

Overcome with stiffness, you slowly turned around and giggled nervously looking into his eyes. "Hey, doc," you tried to pull your shoulder back a little to shake off the heavy hand that was clinging with a dead grip. "Ya know, I got paged by the higher-ups, so-"

"They'll wait," without removing his hand from your shoulder, he led you to a vacant room. "Post-raid physicals are mandatory."

You glanced over your shoulder at Danielle, your eyes signaling for help. She shrugged and waved back with an unconcealed look of satisfaction on her face.

Doc released you from his grip only when you finally stepped into a vacant room, and he slammed the door behind you. Unlike your workroom, Doc's was always sterile. Medical flasks stood neatly in cabinets; new syringe needles packed and stacked in special containers, clean fresh linens on the bunk, not a speck of dust on the floor. You walked forward leading your hand over the clean smooth metal surfaces feeling your back being glared at. "Lie down on the bunk, take your top off."

"Pervert," you wrinkled your nose with feigned displeasure, but you walked to the bed and took off your sweatshirt and assumed a lying position. "Ya're not going to implant those things in me again, are ya?"

"It's a mandatory procedure," doc mouthed. Before you knew it, he was attaching devices less than five inches in diameter to your temples.

"Ouch!" you exclaimed with a sudden short burst of dull pain as he was already fastening the neurates near your heart, on your lower back and on your ankles with practiced deft movements. "That's hurt!"

"Don't exaggerate and stop squirming."

You froze. After only a couple of seconds, a growing discomfort began to appear where the neurates were attached. As they began to penetrate their sensors deeper and deeper under your skin, doc's screen showed more and more readings of your condition as he looked at it over square glasses. His dark skin shimmered a thick silver in the cold light of the fluorescent lights, contrasting beautifully with the doctor's white lab coat, his hands clutching your medical records.

You closed your eyes and concentrated on your breathing trying to chase away the dark thoughts of the upcoming conversation. You didn't want to listen to any lectures. You didn't want to feel anyone's concern, much less pity. Your only desire was to lie on the soft sheets for a while longer even if the sound of the broken flickering lamp irritated your hearing. 

The doctor tossed aside the medical records and grasped the edge of the table with his hands. "Your vitals are deteriorating exponentially. You're only hanging on by your regeneration. But pretty soon your body will be so depleted that it will stop helping, too."

You opened your eyes a little throwing a fleeting glance at the monitor screen. "I'm fine."

"Yeah? Maybe you sleep just as well?" turning around to face you so he could better see the lies oozing out of you, doc leaned back against the desk. "When was the last time you slept and how much?"

"Before the raid, a couple hours," not a single muscle on your face flinched without betraying your deception, only the doc had your vitals besides your words. He trusted it more.

"Your neural connections have begun to break down," he informed, expecting you to react in any way. You rose slowly assuming a sitting position gently kneading your shoulders. It was almost as if you didn't care. "Ya know, at best you're in danger of severe headaches, hallucinations, mental breakdowns, partial or total memory loss. At worst, death."

Fumbling for the devices in your temples, you began to rip out the neurates staining the bed with blood in the process. "Unfortunately, death wasn't part of my plans."

"Are ya crazy?" growled Doc grabbing a pack of band-aids off the shelf and sitting down next to you. "I should be doing this!"

"I know, I know. I just couldn't take it anymore," you grinned looking into his amber eyes as he focused on the band-aid on your temple.

You could see him bite the inside of his cheeks. Doc could pretend all he wanted to be a heartless man who was just doing his job. But doctors often had to sacrifice their feelings shoving them to the very depths of their souls just to keep from going insane. "I don't know how to help you anymore. My energy isn't regenerating you. My regeneration and replication spells aren't helping you. Sleeping pills, sedatives, neuroleptics. Even had your bone marrow taken for evaluation," you cringed remembering the pain of that huge needle in your pelvic bone, so neither local nor general anesthesia worked on you. "And I never came up with anything."

"Ethan, I already told ya," you shoved his shoulder softly. "I'm not gonna die in the next fifty years. I really want to live."

"Then you should sleep," Doc said, though he realized that was the worst advice, like telling a deeply depressed person "don't be sad." He felt worthless.

"You're a great doctor, ya know," you seemed to read his mind. "No one but ya would have messed with me for so long. One day we are gonna figure out these adrenaline rushes when I fall asleep, and then we'll go celebrate your status as the best doctor in the universe."

"Whatever you say," he said getting up from the couch. "But your job is to see me as often as you can. I have other patients to see. And you try to get some rest."

Quickly pulling your sweater back on, you straightened up sharply remembering something. "Doc!" you exclaimed as he was already holding onto the doorknob. "And how are the... how are the patients who are, ya know... pirates?" you inquired tapping lightly under your left eye.

"Almost restored. You know it takes the lion's share of time to replicate and restore sensory organs," and seeing your theatrical nod, he finally opened the door behind which the white-haired sorcerer had been standing for an unknown amount of time. After looking him over from head to toe, Doc forced him aside with his imposing figure. "However."

Gojo leaned against the doorway watching you change the band-aids on your temples, which were already flimsy, into new ones. Then he took a glance at the white sheet, which was stained with burgundy liquid. He lost his patience when you stuck the band-aid crookedly to your temple for the second time, apparently because you didn't have a mirror in front of you. He walked over to the metal table, and with a tearing sound opened a new one holding out his hand to you. "Let me?"

You nodded briefly and tilted your head a little sideways to give him more access. The warm skin of his fingertips made contact with yours through the thin material causing you to cough nervously. "Did ya two talk?"

"A little," he replied lightly brushing the strands away from your other temple and doing the same manipulation. "You hurt or something?" you felt like he asked it just for the sake of cleverly jumping off the subject. He felt like he was having his soul torn apart by worry.

"Nah," you said running your fingers over the evenly applied band-aids. "Thanks for help," you smiled, your eyes colored by an affectionate squint. After talking to Megumi, it was noticeable that it was as if one of the many weights had been lifted from his soul.

It seems he just wanted to take another weight off his chest. Right on your head. "You know, me and Mei-Mei, it's nothing like that. Just... Just helping each other out sometimes."

You hummed involuntarily, glancing in his direction with confusion. "Why ya making excuses?"

"Dunno," a mocking smirk escaped his lips. He was probably back to his usual lighthearted credo. "Just glad you didn't whine about it. Because at first glance you seemed, well..., " he gave you a glance of blue eyes that for once made you feel out of place. "A prude."

The last word he said made you furrow your brows in confusion. You didn't know why, but you tried to search your memory for the prison term given for killing a man. "Excuse me?"

He didn't answer right away. Pondered whether he should have bitten his tongue off right now or left himself the option of apologizing in the future. "Uh, I didn't mean it that way."

As hard as you could to hide your growing irritation, you exhaled. You exhaled and were about to leave the room because you wanted to get things done rather than listen to the insults. "Honestly, I'd talk some more," you grinned softly wrapping your arms around your waist for a moment. "But right now, I don't wanna waste time with someone who's going to make a hundred excuses instead of saying sorry," you waved him goodbye briefly, and maybe his words would have hurt you if only your head wasn't full of meetings with your higher-ups.

As you stepped along the stony road, which was already partially overgrown with grass, you quickened your step with each wide step you took wanting to get it all over with as soon as possible, the wind itself at your back. In the distance, among the darkness of the trees, you could see tall stone structures, the core of which served as lanterns.

The rustling of leaves was hushed, breathing quickened. On the horizon, you could see the doors already open creating a picture of false hospitality.

You walked into the room and stopped in front of a large table on a small platform. It's a great way to show everyone who comes in their place.

No one paid any attention to you. The man sitting in the center continued to fill out some paperwork. His long black hair was in a tight braid, and even the strands that had fallen out and fallen into his face seemed to be in place. Beneath his thin-rimmed glasses was a perpetually disgruntled squint of his eyes. At his right hand sat another man, with golden hair and a far too kindly look for such a place. The other three chairs were empty.

"Where are the other snakes?" you asked not wanting to wait to be looked at.

The black-haired man finally looked up at you with a hard stare. "Watch your mouth."

"But it worked, though. Ya're finally paying attention to me, Chris," you drawled tucking your hands behind your back.

"Stop twisting names," he tossed the pen away and leaned back in his chair. "Now I expect you not to play dumb and explain the presence of strangers in the house."

"Who told ya?" you gritted your teeth in a frighteningly aggressive way, but when you realized you were losing control, you put a friendly expression back on your face. "We're sheltering coworkers in a difficult situation; I don't see anything wrong with that. Don't tell me it still bothers ya that your great-great-great-  Long story short, that your distant relatives were wronged by a separate caste of sorcerers. That's so immature of ya."

The man grinned revealing a nasty grin. "You've decided to drag the others down with you? Isn't the mountain of corpses you're already standing on not enough?"

The veil of your eyes was abruptly blanketed by maddening lights. "The higher the mountain of corpses, the wider my view," you snapped at his arrogant expression. "But ya know, if you cause any of them to lose a hair, I'll rip your hearts out."

Christian leaned in your direction as if you were fighting for the title of most insane creature. "You've just given us a great idea because with our death at your hands we'll be only too happy to show everyone your true colors." 

A dagger unconsciously appeared in your hand, you were already barely aware of your actions. "Ya fucking scum-"

You were forced to come to your senses by the golden-haired man who slammed his palm sharply against the wooden table. "Enough!" the sound it made made you come to your senses and you quickly suppressed the flash of rage in your chest, a convulsive exhale escaping your lips. "Y/N, that's not why we called you here. We're not going to interfere with what's going on in your house."

"Then what do ya want?"

Christian tossed the folder carelessly on the edge of the table, closer to you. You didn't even bother to pick it up. "Inmates are going missing in the Abashiri prison colony. Maybe it's just a trick by the wardens, maybe not. Either way, check it out."

"Even if they are dioreacts, ya know we only destroy them in the void-"

"I don't care much about that," Christian interrupted in an indifferent tone. "If they are there, then you'll go to the judges with them."

"You're already making no secret of the fact that you want to get rid of me."

Christian snorted derisively gifting you with an uneasy feeling in your chest. "I've never really hidden it. I keep hoping that one day your mask won't save you."

God knows you endured as long as you could. But you couldn't take it. You couldn't take it, and you laughed. Wiping the tears from the corners of your eyes, you looked at the black-haired man once more. "Screw ya," you took a breath and straightened your back regaining your carefree look. "Alright, I'm gonna go to your prison. See ya around."

***

Long after you had passed through the doorframes and walked along the stony road, you made your way through the trees. For some time now, you'd been aware of footsteps somewhere behind you, which was tiring. Exhausted from the pursuit, you cast a glance over your shoulder, and saw a glimmer of familiar golden hair. "Nael, stop acting like a stalker and just tell me what's wrong already."

"Christian is an ungrateful idiot," said the voice following you in an apologetic tone. "But I must show my gratitude at least on my own behalf. We ran tests on that amulet you brought back from Cambodia. It does indeed deliver steady streams of energy. So all that's left is the safety tests and we'll send it to Frank in Hopetown to put it in repository. The electricity and your relics that guard the town will be fine."

"Nice," you drawled without slowing your step.

Seeing that you weren't going to stop, Nathaniel cocked his sharp chin in concern. "They're planning to get rid of you."

"I somehow thought it would be helpful If one of higher-ups would owe me," you mumbled in a monotone voice peering at the earth-filled foliage beneath your feet wrapping yourself more tightly in your jacket. "But now ya haven't said anything new."

Nathaniel covered the distance between you in two steps and blocked your path. "I'm serious. They're planning something. I can't say more at the moment, but I'll try to figure something out. Just be careful."

"As always," you said splaying your hands tiredly, and stepped around Nathaniel and hurried out of the place.

[4 Jan, 2019; 10:18pm; hunter headquarters]

The fresh, frosty air filled the workroom from the open window. Without remembering how you'd showered, you were already sitting in a chair with your head hiding on your arms. Droplets dripping from your hair and falling to the floor made a measured, quiet background noise. Every muscle ached, every bone aching, and you bit your lip in frustration glancing down at the bed you'd laid on twice that evening in an attempt to sleep.

No one knew you were home. Not a single living soul had met you. Instead of being disappointed by that, you exhaled a sigh of relief. You wanted to be alone for a while.

Still, you were heavy of heart. You took off your robe and clumsily pull on your clothes to go upstairs.

***

There were only three people sitting at the dining room table. Itadori was fiddling with the box of the board game trying to find the place where the rules were described. Shoko was drinking her second mug of coffee clearly not understanding how she'd gotten here. Gojo rested his chin on his hand and brought his face close to the doctor's and glared at her apparently forcing her to join them.

Their domestic bustle made you squint your eyes affectionately. "Are ya awake?" your ever-unfelt presence made all three of them pop their heads in your direction.

You still couldn't get used to Itadori's perpetually enthusiastic demeanor. So when he jumped up from his seat and rushed towards you clutching the box with both hands, you backed up a little. "Y/N! Where have you been?"

Quickly going through all the possible answers in your head, you pulled out the simplest and most succinct one. "Work," Gojo was clearly not satisfied with that answer. He'd been hanging around your workroom and kitchen for three days straight, or looking out the living room window ten times a day hoping to catch a glimpse of your silhouette walking into the cliff.

"Okay," chirped Itadori and lifted the game box higher resting his chin on it. "Would you like to play Monopoly with us?"

"I'm afraid if I sit down to play in this state, I'll go bankrupt after the first move," you said,pushing your chair back and sitting down on it. "But I'd love to watch."

You heard a very quiet sound, like distant and uncertain footsteps. You stirred glancing around, but they didn't seem to hear anything.

"Then you'll be rolling the dice," Shoko addressed you sipping coffee from her mug. "I don't trust that asshole."

"Hey!" Gojo's indignant exclamation made Shoko roll her eyes.

Itadori enthusiastically began laying out the board game then began counting out everyone's initial capital to the Gojo's grumbling that the pink-haired kid was cheating and had put more money in for himself than everyone else.

You heard again the faint sounds of inarticulate whispering; this time your hearing made it clear that there was a commotion outside the infirmary door.

"Okay, we need to decide who goes first," muttered Itadori looking at the lid of the box that had the rules written on it.

"What kind of stupid question is that? Me," Gojo said impatiently in his voice grabbing the dice.

Shoko instantly snatched the die from his hands. "First is the one who takes out the bigger number, so back off."

There was the sound of the same footsteps and muffled scraping on the metal door, and looking around at everyone sitting there and noticing that none of them were paying attention again, you thought you were starting to lose your mind.

You jumped up from your seat at the anxious stares and walked quickly to the door of the infirmary opening it with a jerk. The two faces before you caused you to fall into a second stupor, after which you exhaled in relief. "Ya know," you said leaning against the wall to make way for them. "All the footsteps in front of the door mean nothing if you never got in."

When there were two people in the room, there was the sound of a mug falling and immediately shattering, the jagged creak of a chair being pushed back, and someone's inarticulate stammering.

Itadori stood up from his chair and tried to take a step in their direction on trembling legs. "Nanamin?" he shifted the look of wet eyes from the blond man to the girl. "Nobara?"

Crossing her arms over her chest and looking away with a frown, Nobara didn't even think about making a move to meet him. "Have you buried me yet, dumbass?"

Overcoming the trembling in his legs, Itadori covered the distance between them in no time and enclosed them in an embrace, no longer hiding his tears. "Alive! You're alive!"

Confused by such an emotional greeting, Kento awkwardly patted the boy on the shoulder. "Decided to stick around for a while," Nanami shifted his gaze to the confused Gojo who couldn't understand why he hadn't sensed them. "Never mind," Kento said turning to him as if he'd read his mind. "Just a side effect of the treatment. It'll be back to normal soon."

Gojo immediately jumped from his seat, and under Shoko's same tired, but already widened by shock gaze, embraced all three of them, even though of the three only Itadori was happy about it.

At the sound of someone's voice calling you from the infirmary corridor, you took one last glimpse of the tender picture of the small reunion. You swallowed the indistinct lump of a long-known feeling and walked into the infirmary closing the door as quietly as you could. You didn't belong there.

***

Doc was walking toward you so fast that the oncoming air current made the white coat flutter. "Come on, let's go help calm Danielle down and get her out of here."

"What's the matter?" you asked perplexedly rushing towards him and the two of you headed towards one of the rooms.

"Oh yeah, you weren't there," Doc said looking at someone's medical records over square glasses. "Vito got out of the raid tonight on schedule. But he didn't come out quite whole."

"And how bad is it?"

"His condition is severe, but stable. He passed out as soon as he came out of the void, hasn't regained consciousness since."

Once outside one of the rooms, Doc opened the door with a jerk. Vito was there, neither dead nor alive, lying serenely on the couch. Every part of his body visible from beneath the bedspread was covered with deep cuts from which a thick green liquid flowed uncontrollably in small quantities staining the sheets. An oxygen mask covered the lower half of his face, and if it weren't for the cardiomonitor beeping nearby, you'd think he was really dead because his chest wasn't heaving. "Oh shit," you sounded so unemotional that anyone would get the impression that the toothpick had more feelings. 

Next to the motionless body in the chair sat a slumped Danielle, who had probably already cried all her tears, leaving behind dried smudges under her eyes and an accompanying lifeless look.

Doc leaned toward you and said as quietly as possible. "Get her out of here. She's only in the way."

"Cold fish," you muttered quietly to yourself.

"Cheeky obstinate wench," Doc said adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"What?"

"What? I thought we were just exchanging all well-known facts," he whispered before turning around and walking away, leaving you alone.

You walked slowly around the bunk biting your lip. At first you wanted to grab a chair and sit next to her, but instead you turned the girl and the chair to face you and sat down on the floor. Danielle's head hung down like a rag doll. It was as if she wasn't even aware of your presence. Had she really been sitting here like this for almost twenty-four hours?

"Bun," you tapped your finger quietly on her leg. There was no response. "Look at me," you gently cupped your hands around her cheeks forcing her to look at you. She blinked slowly once then just as slowly blinked a second time. Her eyelashes fluttered uncontrollably, and she clutched her eyes shut with all her might and cried again sliding to the floor into your arms. "I know," you cradled her sobbing figure against you, and she nuzzled her nose into your neck. "Your father's made it out of worse than this," you grinned sadly realizing that you were such a poor comforter. "He'll come out of it. Maybe not today, not tomorrow, not in a week. But he'll wake up. When he does, it seems to me he'd like to see ya rested and happy, even if only a little."

"Take me through the isolation," Danielle pleaded in a sobbing voice pulling away from you. "I can't go on like this. I wanna go on the raid with ya."

"You can't, you're not ready yet," seeing that she wanted to interrupt you, you gently held your palm up letting her know you weren't done. "Besides, you're driven by revenge right now. Trust me, it won't lead to anything good. Don't rush things, let them take their course. You'll make fewer mistakes that way," Danielle nodded her head in defeat and snuggled into your shoulder again burrowing into your hair. "Let's go to bed, bun. Sleep on it. Now go ask doc for a sedative, okay?" she nodded weakly into your shoulder. Gently holding her by the waist, you set her on her feet.

Waiting for her to leave the room, you leaned against the doorway glancing at Vito. The cardiomonitor kept beeping, as if it were negotiating with God. "Ya'd better wake up," you said in a warning icy tone. "Don’t ya leave her behind," slamming the door behind you, you headed down the hallway after Danielle.

***

Once in the living room and standing in front of the stairs to the second floor, you said goodnight to Danielle and wiped away your tears one last time. Two pairs of eyes watched you, the owners of which were hesitant to interfere with your soft interactions. Gojo watched as you gently cupped Danielle's cheeks with your palms and, looking into her eyes, said something softly. The girl nodded quietly and staggered off to the second floor, while you stared at her. So you can be this gentle, too.

Hearing the quiet slamming of the door and making sure Danielle had gone into her room, Gojo drew your attention. "Something wrong?"

You perked up as if you hadn't noticed them before. "Nah," you said shrugging nonchalantly. "Has everyone else gone to bed already?" you shifted your gaze from Gojo to Shoko.

"He bugged everyone," Ieiri said pointing at Gojo and leaning back in her chair. She had an unlit cigarette between her lips.

You splayed your hand tiredly, pointing to the window. "At least open the window before ya smoke," Shoko nodded, and you wandered toward the basement door.

The Doctor glanced at the sorcerer, who was nervously crunching his knuckles and staring at the corridor you'd just disappeared into. "You look pathetic," she said clucking her tongue. "Just go."

He immediately took off from his seat. Quickly descending the stairs, he knocked on the door to the workroom, but only to enter unceremoniously. There was no one inside. He exhaled convulsively. Had you gone out again?

Gojo ran outside in what he was wearing - a thin gray sweatshirt, black sweatpants, and bare feet. The damp winter wind knocked his breath out for a second messing his white strands into wet ones. As he discerned your silhouette sitting on the bluff just ahead in the lowermost tier of the cliff that rested against the ribbed stone with his shoulder, he walked back into the house in a hurry, but only to slip his shoes on his feet and grab his jacket.

With the sound of restless waves and sea ice crashing against the rocks, he approached you from the back as softly as possible gently slipping his jacket over your shoulders, and sat down next to you. You could smell the odors of burnt wood, peppermint and something sweet mingling with the smell of winter.

Even though you hid it, the dark circles and bloodshot eyes gave you away. You were terribly tired, mentally and physically exhausted.

Gojo realized he'd caught you at the exact moment you didn't want a single living soul to see you. It made him uncomfortable, but he just couldn't go and leave you here alone in the dark and cold. When he saw your hand resting on the cliff, he slowly moved his own, inch by inch toward it.

He nudged you lightly with his shoulder. "Hey," he called out to you softly. "You're gonna get cold."

You grinned assuming a straight sitting position and glimpsing the jacket you were wearing. "I see ya've already moved your stuff in, too."

He nodded smiling awkwardly. If you'd even looked at him, you'd have seen that he looked a little flustered. It seemed to have gotten through to him that he didn't want to be another burden on your shoulders, and judging by how rarely you were home, you had too many of those without him. "I'm sorry," he breathed out surprised himself that it was easier than he thought. "I'm sorry for snapping at you in the morgue. For the incident with Mei-Mei. For insulting you in the infirmary. I'm sorry and... Thanks for everything. I just hope you can forgive me and we can be, well, um... friends" at this point your pinky fingers made contact. You didn't pull your hand away.

"Apologies accepted, but no thanks. Wrong tree," you said and glanced at him with a muffled giggle. His heart skipped a beat. He wanted to take off your mask and see you smiling.

"So much for modesty," he drawled and leaned closer to your face looking playfully into your eyes. "Wanna watch cartoons?"

You nodded cheerfully. "Lead the way."

Once you were in the house, you agreed to meet in the living room because you both needed a change of clothes, damp from the snow and wind. Standing in his room, having already changed his gray sweater for a black one, he stood in front of the mirror and tried to arrange his unruly hair somehow. After another attempt, he blushed at the realization of what he was doing and hurried down to the living room.

You were already sitting in the living room, pulling on your soft pajamas and tying your wet hair into a messy ponytail. Sitting here before you hadn't noticed how cozy your couch and how nice the warm light from the dim lamp were, or how warm the room could be. You hadn't noticed it in the same way you didn't notice now how someone's hands gently covering you with a blanket. You fell into a long-forgotten restless sleep.

***

You made your way through the laughing backs throwing apologies in your wake every now and then. There were too many people in the bar making the smells of tequila and coke and whiskey more stuffy and stale.

You traversed two steps, the sides of which were missing almost all the balusters, and found yourself in a more secluded deserted little hall. Despite the large sign with the crossed-out cigarette, the room was filled with curls of scattered tobacco smoke.

Tripping over another foot and apologizing, you glanced at the green shabby steering wheel on the wall; next to it hung a huge swordfish that pointed its long, straight nose straight at the bar. Behind the bar fidgeted a thin and angular bartender with a sullen expression; between mixing and pouring drinks for customers, he grimaced and frantically polished glasses.

You finally found yourself at the shabby wooden table where Vito was sitting staring at you innocently and taking a few sips of beer. You immediately snatched the bottle out of his hands indignantly. "Ya crazy?" you hissed sitting down on a flimsy wooden stool. "What did the doc tell? No fatty, fried, floury, salty, sweet, and especially no alcohol! Why ya even here?"

Vito laughed guilelessly not attempting to take the bottle back. "Just wanted to unwind," he gave you a soft look. "I don't think I've even noticed how you've grown from a little troublemaker to a huge nerd."

"Speaking of nerdy," you said getting up from the table and heading towards the bar. Once at it, the bartender threw a frown at you as he continued to rub his glass. "Water, please. And grape juice."

Without a word, the bartender pulled a bottle of water and a juice box from under the bar in one motion, and filled the glasses with ice pouring the drinks into them in a couple of seconds. "Thank ya," you said taking the cold glasses giving the bartender one last wink. "I see ya!" you said in a warning tone when you noticed him reaching for the beer bottle. "And here's your alcohol for the next six months," you placed the glass of water in front of his nose with a victorious look. He accompanied your figure with a sour expression.

"Life just got a lot more boring for some reason," Vito sighed theatrically taking a sip of water. He looked at you, then at your glass and grinned covering his lips with the back of his hand. "You remember when you were a kid at Christmas whining to Frank about giving you a wine glass?" he asked propping his head up with his hand. "You hopped grape juice out of it all day, and after drinking about three boxes you pretended to be dead drunk all evening?"

"Don't ya dare even start."

Taking another sip of water, he tried with all his might not to laugh, lest that water end up on your face. "And the next day you kept everyone awake all morning demanding that they give you a 'hair of the dog'," he laughed, and you brought the ice-cold glass of juice to your face trying to cool your burning face. After sitting like that for a couple minutes, you finally brought the glass to your lips, wanting to moisten your parched throat. Vito looked up at you. "You won't take off your mask even now?"

You ran your fingers lightly over the matter on your face, provoking it to pop in small stirrings. "It's kinda hologram, though. It doesn't interfere."

Vito nodded understandingly. "How's Danielle doing?"

"She's fine. Still can't get over the state you came out of the raid. She's worried and scared."

Only Vito opened his mouth to say something, but he was immediately interrupted by a woman's voice. "Bun?"

Your heartbeat instantly sped up, now and then getting out of rhythm. Your body stiffened. Turning your head with difficulty, your eyes widened in shock. "Mom?" you didn't recognize your own voice, weakened and hoarse. You coughed quickly getting up from your seat. "What ya doing here?"

Her arms hugged you tightly. "Vito told me you'd be here. I'm sorry, I'm sorry I can't stay here for long. I have so much to do. But I really wanted to get one glimpse of what you've grown up to be," she whispered softly, kissing your face. "Are you doing okay?"

"I'm okay, mom," you forced out words in a broken voice as she wiped your wet cheeks with her warm thumbs. "It's okay."

"We'll stay here a little longer next time. I promise," she said looking into your eyes. "I have to go, bun. I love you," she whispered giving you one last kiss on your forehead and hurried to the front door.

"I love you, too," you mouthed it watching as her silhouette disappeared behind the door.

You sat down slowly in your chair keeping your gaze fixed on the entrance. Vito was tactful enough not to say anything about your condition. It was the first time he'd ever seen tears rolling from your eyes, though. He awkwardly drained his water glass. "Y/N, I'm gonna go too. Gotta stick to the regimen or the doc will sew me to my bunk."

"Huh?" you popped your head up looking at him, but it was clear from the look in your eyes that you weren't here right now. "Yeah, sure. I'll see ya around."

As you tried to finish your glass of juice, the conversations began to die down. The smell of tequila began to fade, and there were fewer dirty jokes.

The bartender continued to rub glasses to a shine just as zealously, glaring at you with a frown when you were all alone in that bar at the corner.

next ⊳

[thiniceofeternalyouth]

MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER THREE

HATARAT

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, adventure, sci-fi, cosmology.

Chapter warning&tags : ooc, mentions of blood, pus, arthropods and food; profanity, suggestive themes

Words count: ~12.5k

⊲ previous next ⊳

An unpleasant feeling pressed shamefully on your chest. You sat in your workroom replaying in your head the events that had happened a few minutes ago hiding your face in the palms of your hands. That weight was driven deeper beneath your ribs by a pair of green eyes across the room staring fixedly at you as if wanting to leave a burnt mark on your skin.

"If I'm understanding ya correctly," Rachel began saying squinting her eyes. "The first time in your life guy took your hand and the first thing ya did was put a dagger to his throat?"

"Technically, he didn't take my hand, he grabbed it," you tried to parry pulling your hands away from your face and glancing at Rachel. She only raised her eyebrows skeptically at your words causing you to grimaced your face and burrow back into your palms. "God," you squeaked into the skin of your hands.

"Come on, sis," Rachel leaned back in her chair and laughed. "I think our dad has long since resigned himself to the fact that ya're going to die a spinster."

"Don't bring Frank into this, it's none of his business," you mumbled sighing heavily. "In fact, don't tell him about it at all."

"Oh, come on," Rachel said cheering you up. "Ya know he says sensible things sometimes. The peace of mind and safety of mankind is a good thing, but ya shouldn't forget personal happiness."

"Since when does this 'personal happiness' consist of just marrying me off?" you muttered with skepticism in your voice.

"Who said anything about getting married, dumbass," Rachel moved toward you only to flick her long burgundy fingernails across your forehead. "Let's start by saying that it's easier to deal with adversity with 'your' man and it's less sad to die alone," the red-haired girl said with a soft sadness in her voice, her shoulders slumping a little as if nostalgia was smothering them from behind.

"Rach-" noticing her faded look, you started in an apologetic tone, but Rachel shaking her head from side to side, immediately interrupted you.

"Forget it, it wasn't your fault," she grinned, her green eyes brightening again and she immediately changed the subject. "There's no way in hell I'm going to believe you're running around with that white-haired guy just because..." Rachel stammered hesitating. "By the way, why are you running around with him in the first place?"

"His kids asked me to," you said without a shred of shame in your voice shrugging your shoulders.

"Oh, yeah," Rachel drawled squinting her eyes slyly. "Right. Kids. Well, since ya're not interested in him, I'm keeping him," you only nodded toward the door from the workroom at her provocation as if to signal 'go ahead'. "What kind of nerd have you grown into!" The girl was immediately in your face, your cheeks clutched in her hands.

"Raphel-"

"You expect me to believe that you went to Xibalba¹ just because the kids asked you to?" she asked clearly not expecting your answer. "Sure, you could chalk it up to the fact that your ass just can't sit still, but you know, sis," she squeezed your cheeks a little tighter. "Something you're obviously not telling me, because your face is getting a little too warm!" she exclaimed laughing.

"That's because there's nothing to squeeze it that hard!" you squeaked trying haphazardly to get her hands off your face.

***

[19 Nov, 2018; 07:02am; hunters' headquarters]

You had already drained three water bottles in the morning; your body was exhausted from the endless flow of information and lack of sleep. Your reddened eyes darted randomly from the screens of monitors to the pages of old dusty books, your gaze occasionally freezing on the cube that was among all this information mess on the table in your workroom. You felt a growing irritation inside, either from the endless search or from the coming powerlessness. Your gaze turned less and less often to the cube as if you were ashamed to look into the eyes that flaunted it and, damn it, how you wanted to exclaim that he should stop looking at it that way and that it was not easy for you either. The internal war of fatigue with stubbornness was interrupted by the click of the door and you turned around muttering something to yourself. Kyle.

"No, I'm not tired, I'm not hungry, and I'm still not gone insane," you mouthed in a monotone voice, and barely did you blot the exhaustion from your eyes when you noticed he wasn't alone.

"What ya doing?" inquired Kyle, looking at your desk.

"Recording an unboxing on YouTube, what does it look like?" you sneered, not expecting an answer to the question you asked. "Why did ya bring the kids here?"

"I had nothing to do with it," Kyle said raised both hands in mock defeat. Several pairs of young eyes stared back at you from over the man's shoulder, a naive flame of undiminished enthusiasm burning in them.

"We wanna help," Itadori said taking a few steps in your direction.

"I don't get it," you stammered wrapping your index finger and thumb around your chin and giving the kids a perplexed look. "You have air-conditioned rooms here with great sea views, unlimited access to food and gaming pc with Netflix subscriptions and you're still wanna to swashbuckle," your gaze lingered on the guys for a couple more seconds and then with a splash of your hands you jumped up from your seat and started dragging all the available chairs closer to your table. "Well, since you're so eager to help, welcome."

"What do we have to do?" inquired Maki.

"Here," you tossed a huge pile of books mixed with old scrolls in front of their noses, the dust rising into the air making Itadori cough. "Look for and mark any mention of sealing, closing, moving, anything square and small and anything that consisted of or is made up of human skin."

"Marking?" asked Itadori in bewilderment, looking at the ancient waste paper. "How can you do that? You opened your mouth as if to say something, but closed it and exhaled through your nose before grabbing the nearest pink marker and drawing random patterns on the page of one of the books.

"See? Nothing happened," you said with a shrug and tossed the marker aside. "No one died or got sick. Now get to work," you prodded them rubbing the top of their heads and turned to Kyle quietly, "Our house is starting to look more and more like a kindergarten."

"And the zoo, too," Kyle grinned glancing at Panda. You grinned back and settled back into your seat once again bending your head over the riddle. You could feel the excitement building in the room as if ancient magic had challenged the human mind. The workroom became increasingly filled with the sounds of rustling sheets and quiet conversations. The eyes of the kids were vigorously following the written lines trying to get something useful out of them, one could hear the squeak of markers and someone's methodical clicking of fingers.

As the clock ticked, someone would put away their markers, knead their hands or feet, someone would wipe their eyes with the palms of their hands and reach for a bottle of cool water, but the mountain of already re-read materials would inevitably grow behind your backs. The conversations had already died down, only measured breathing was heard and you looked around at the kids and stood up from the table heading for your personal small refrigerator. You opened it and appraised the contents with a glance, mentally figuring out if there was enough for everyone or if you'd have to spend the energy to go upstairs for more. Your hands grabbed a few chicken sandwiches and popped them into the microwave and while they were getting appetizing you pulled a few small boxes of strawberry mochi out of the fridge. When everything was ready, you scooped it all up and returned to the table arranging the loot in front of the kids. At the quiet but enthusiastic cheers, you unconsciously affectionately patted one of them on the top of the head glancing at your phone screen hoping to see messages from Megan, who was scouring the Internet for something useful among the pile of junk. Nothing. You wanted to curse under your breath, but you shuddered remembering you weren't alone in the room and settled back in your chair.

It was getting evening outside the window and you looked at the tired faces in the room." That's it, kids, rest up. First go to the canteen for dinner, and then do your own thing," no one objected to your remark because of fatigue. The students stood up and quietly said goodbye to you and walked out of the workroom. "You know what pisses me off the most?" you turned to Kyle, who turned his crumpled face to you. "Monks and Buddhists and whoever else sits in those monasteries never keep information about anything in an informational form. And I don't relish the thought of bouncing around shrines somewhere in the mountains of Tibet looking for scrolls made of papyrus and cow shit," you muttered and hid your face in your palms, Kyle only hummed tiredly. "How am I supposed to get it out of this fucking box!"

"God only knows," Kyle said shrugging.

Your eyes widened and you pulled your hands away from your face, your head snapping up sharply. "God, ya're a genius!" you exclaimed loudly and immediately jump up from your seat. You ran over to the closet and began throwing the contents aside in search of your backpack.

"Where do you think ya're going?" Kyle asked disapprovingly getting up from his chair. You glanced at the bottom shelves of the closet, then ran to the bed and leaned over to see what was underneath. You finally found your hiking backpack underneath and without slowing down you sprinted over to the table and grabbed the cube, then headed for the exit grasping your jacket in the process. "Hey!" shouted Kyle.

You holding the handle of the already open door, finally looked up at him. "An audience with God!" you said and with a final wave of your hand to him, you slammed the door on your way out.

***

Once you were on the other side of the door to your workroom, you quickly realized in your head that there was neither time nor inclination to waste energy on the long journey. You closed your eyes and mentally pictured an office whose windows were perpetually draped with dark gray curtains, with a laptop invariably on a graphite smooth desk, a mesh pen stand, a crystal decanter with an amber-colored liquid and a pair of shiny clean glasses beside it, all framed by a pile of folders and tax documents. Behind the desk was a black office chair that looked simple and unassuming, but a single glance at the materials it was made of made it clear that it was expensive. On the walls hung graphite shelves in the tone of the desk, on which stood various books, bling, and a few live plants. The whole picture was completed by a cozy and suddenly bright couch with soft cushions. You opened your eyes and before you stood the same picture that had just been in your imagination. There was no one in the office. You walked around the desk and sat down in the chair grabbing a tiny sculpture of an Art Nouveau woman from the shelf. Your fingers slid along the curves of the sculpture and you marveled at every carefully made crease in her veil, every dimple in her skin, as if the sculptor had subdued the stone and made it as docile as clay. The distinct sharp sounds of heels on parquet were heard in the hallway, growing louder and louder. As soon as it stopped just before the door, someone turned the key and pulling the doorknob and entered the office.

"Laitta! Long time no see!" you exclaimed cordially as soon as someone turned on the light.

"WAIT!" you shrieked as she leaned over the table, her face a few inches from yours, her hand clutching your chin in anger. "It's evening; let's not force things because not everyone has left the building. We don't want anyone to get hurt, do we?" You rambled quickly making innocent eyes. The goddess hesitated for a second, but immediately released you resting your head back in the chair.

"Stand up," she commanded icily, and you obeyed.

"Okay, okay, why are ya being so prickly," you walked around the table and Laitta sat down in her chair, opened up her laptop and started doing her busy work without paying any attention to you. "Laitta," you addressed her, resting your hands on the table. There was no response. "La-a-a-aitta," you tried again deliberately drawling your vowels. Nothing again. "Laitta!" you leaned over her and shouted right in her face.

"WHAT!" she barked losing all her patience.

"I need your help," you grinned clearly pleased with your result.

"First return what you stole," she leaned back in her chair crossing her arms over her chest. "Then maybe I'll help you."

"Aren't you a little petty for a Goddess?"

"Petty!" Laitta bellowed in your direction. "You stole an item capable of moving something into the past of something with the planet's position at that time intact! Is the Atlas just another piece of bling for you?"

"What difference does it make?" you asked in bewilderment shrugging your shoulders. "You as a user of Atlas can't employ that ability of it anyway."

"I wasn't going to use it, but I need its side effect!" she exclaimed. "Look what's become of me in these few years without it," she pointed to her face. The once young, statuesque lady had turned into an older, but still statuesque woman in just a couple years. Her dark curls had turned gray, her thin graceful hands were covered in wrinkles and fine cracks, as was her face. "Still, no one, no one can use it but me. Give it back," the rage in her voice changed to a plea.

"I knew you'd beg," you sighed pulling something out of your backpack. You placed on the table an object of silver or platinum that looked a lot like a compass, except there were many times more directions on it and the circumference of that compass was clutched by an Ouroboros ¹.  Laitta grabbed the Atlas and headed for the restroom in her office, and you sat down on her desk with your eyebrows raised wondering how important it was to her. A couple minutes later a young girl appeared in the office, her black hair glistening in the artificial light of the lamp; her skin, visible from under her clothes, became thin and velvety; her dark eyes having regained their youthfulness, gained luster. "Ya know, age was good for you," you sounded a little disappointed.

"Shut up," Laitta said smiling. She was clearly pleased with her new youth and her uplifted spirits seemed to wipe away any previous rage.

"My turn," you said, clapping your hands and hopping off the table and reached into your backpack again. You took out a light cube and put it on the table.

"What is this abomination?" asked Laitta taking a second to hardly tear her gaze away from the small mirror she held in her hand and examine herself going over her curls now and then.

"There's kind of a person in there," you said with doubt in your voice because you still didn't believe that was possible. "I wish I could get him out of there."

"Is it sealed or something?" asked Laitta finally transferring her eyes from the mirror to the cube examining it. "Nah, sorry. Can't help it," she said wrinkling her nose and returning to her beauty.

"Fine," you hissed in her direction maintaining a friendly smile. "Just don't whine later when your face starts getting wrinkles and Atlas disappears again."

 "Wait," she said in a low voice watching as you already stuffed the cube into your backpack and headed for the exit. "There is one option, but I can't make any guarantees." You turned around and raised your eyebrows, signaling her to continue. "There is one place, and according to ancient rumors it could destroy any seal that was imposed. A place called Hatarat."

"And it is located..?"

"Xibalba," Laitta said looking you dead in the eyes.

"Couldn't have worked out better," you mumbled rubbing your forehead with your fingers. You weighed in your head the facts that you hadn't been able to find a shred of information in the past ten days, hadn't moved forward with your search, had a little less than nothing on your hands and decided that maybe this gamble was worth it. "So how do I get into this underworld?"

"There's more to it than that," Laitta said with a shake of her head. "For mortals still alive, the gates only open in a parade of planets. A full parade of planets."

"Incredible," you said raising your eyebrows and looking at your hand as if there was a watch on it. "The only thing left to wait for is... How long is it? 143 years?"

"You won't have to wait," the Goddess said glancing at Atlas. "I can't move myself back in time, but I can't move the rest of the people," Laitta thought rubbing her chin with her graceful fingers. Noticing your concerned look and as if reading your thoughts, she added: "Don't worry, your little hooman in the cube won't be affected by the rules of the creation. It is done without his knowledge or consent. But you," she pointed her index finger at you drilling you with her gaze. "Don't look at anyone. Don't talk to anyone. I doubt there will be any other crazies like you in that place, but don't get into anyone's memories.

"I know the rules," you said with a shake of your head.

"I hope you're ready," said Laitta holding out her hand to Atlas. "You as a fragile living matter are more likely to be torn to shreds, though."

"And what are the odds of that?"

"Ninety-ten," chirped Laitta smiling sweetly.

"Ya could have kept your mouth shut," you said rolling your eyes.

"One more thing," Laitta said rotating the Atlas's case, with each section it made a distinctive clicking sound. "You'll have exactly twenty-four hours to return to your original location, or you'll stay there forever. You need to time yourself as soon as you get there."

"Wait," you stopped her frowning your eyebrows. "Are you telling me that if I unsealed him and he and I don't make it to the original location, we'll have to spend the rest of our lives chilling in the eighties?"

"What are you, an idiot? Are you listening to what I'm even talking about?" Laitta tried to suppress you with a look. "Moving you to the past is only necessary for you to enter the gate, Xibalba itself has nothing to do with time at all, it simply doesn't exist there and you will be the only entity that has it. I told you that this is done without the knowledge and consent of the person inside the cube, he is still bound to the present moment, whether you want it or not, so after the unsealing he will be here. Not specifically in my office of course, I honestly have no idea where exactly he will deploy. The fact is, once the cube is opened you'll be alone in there. But you, stupid creature, have given your consent, so kindly return to your original location within the allotted time frame or stay dancing to Van Halen ³.

"Okay, spin your compass already," you waved her off slinging the straps of your backpack over your shoulders.

"If you make it, I'll see you back here in a second," Laitta summarized, spinning Atlas faster and faster. "And if your body still can't handle moving, I'll be scrubbing your bloody dust off the walls."

***

[3 Mar, 1982; 12:01am; Central America, somewhere in the forests of Guatemala]

Bloody hands. The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was your bloody hands. The skin was torn in places like an old lightweight dress. You rolled up the sleeves of your irretrievably ruined sweatshirt, and reached into your backpack in search of bandages and if you were lucky, alcohol. You pulled out what you needed and clamping the fabric of the torn off sweater sleeve between your teeth, you began carelessly dousing the fresh wounds. Your hiss merged with the hiss of your skin. You spit the cloth out angrily and began bandaging your hands starting at the wrists and working your way up to your shoulders praying that there was enough white material to cover everything. As soon as the procedure was finished, you looked up and realized you were somewhere in the heart of the subtropical rainforest. In the darkness of the night, each individual twig teased you illusorily depicting living creatures to which your imagination ascribed malevolent motives. Every sound created in this place seemed to be clearer and closer than it really was. You shook your head dumping such thoughts away from your mind and moved forward across the untrodden terrain ignoring the pain in your hands.

"The deeper into the wood ya go," you muttered to yourself treading through thickets of plants and tree roots setting your phone's timer for twenty-four hours and breaking branches of bushes and trees to give yourself clues to return. You could figure out where you were, but you couldn't imagine which way to go because Laitta hadn't said a word about it. Suddenly, for some unknown reason you froze in place turning your head from side to side and staring at the darkness of the forest. The emptiness of the forest to be more precise, because you couldn't even hear the rare sounds of animals or insects anymore. The hair on the back of your neck stirred and the ground fell out from beneath your feet. Literally. The ground sprinkled like crumbs leaving a huge hollow space as if out of nowhere forming a cliff.

"Oh, shit!" you shrieked grabbing at the bare, decrepit roots of the tree, your hands responding with a sharp pain that you didn't pay attention to. You hung like that for a few minutes wondering if this was the 'gate' that Laitta had told you about. After a few more seconds, you let go of your arms and flew downward more out of excitement than fatigue.

Your body didn't feel the pain of hitting the rocky floor, but you couldn't say you'd fallen into soft cotton candy. You rose to your feet and shook yourself off, then pulled your phone out of your pocket to check the time remaining; nine hours and twenty-two minutes. What?

"It's not good to steal time," you said to someone trying to make out your surroundings. Suddenly the torches were lit illuminating the dilapidated, dark walls, water dripping down to the floor filling the room with its gurgling sound. When you turned around, you saw a narrow passage into an unlit corridor.

You walked over to one of the torches hanging on the wall and pulled it from the torchere with some force. "I'm going to need this," and then you headed straight for the hallway.

All you could hear was the sound of your footsteps and the crackling of the flames. Unfortunately for you, you felt something crawling on your skin around your waist; you quickly slipped your hand under your sweatshirt and pulled it out sharply. "Ew," you squeaked with disgust in your voice, wrinkling your nose, and when you saw that you were holding a scorpion, you shoved it away from you.

Your gaze returned to the straight road; the space of the corridor had widened considerably, flanked by horribly detailed huge sculptures of scorpions that went further into the emptiness of the corridor, which seemed to have no end. "Ya're not coming alive, are you?" you said letting out a nervous chuckle. You walked forward slowly and once you were between the two statues, you aimed the firelight at one of them; your gaze lingered on the huge stinger, you swallowed nervously and continued on your way trying not to look back. Something ran down the back of your neck and your hand automatically flicked the arthropod away from you. It was as if the corridor behind you had begun to make unpleasant, subtle noises.

As you advanced, the noise grew inexorably as if a thousand tiny jackhammers were pounding behind you. The scorpions on your body became more frequent and you realizing that the noise behind you was coming from the approaching stomping of tiny limbs rushed forward without looking back. Suddenly a sharp pain pierced your side and you pulled out a small wooden stake; the end of it was soaked with your blood mixed with something else. Glancing at the wall, you saw that there was a small hole through each statue. All you could do was curse to yourself and toss the wood aside continuing to run. Your breath hitched, your eyes became hazy, your fingertips began to go numb and before you could react, you crashed into a wall that had appeared out of nowhere.

The stomping stopped. It was unclear whether the pursuit had stopped or whether you couldn't hear anything because of the ringing in your ears. Your body was lying on the damp surface and a strange force was trying to open your eyes. Your chest ached because you felt you were missing something important. Time.

Your eyes snapped open and you jumped up. Your head was still buzzing and you looked around carefully trying to keep your balance. Even though the torch was lost, you realized that this was a completely different room. Water was running down the walls echoing in the dark room. You took a couple of cautious steps forward, then something crunched under your feet; someone's remains estimated to be about a few hundred years old looked damp as if they were still decomposing. You stepped over the corpse carefully noting that your footsteps were becoming visceral.

Your eyes had almost adjusted to the darkness; there was nothing here but four walls that was deformed in places, a few corpses, a foul odor and a single double door that looked so impregnable at first glance that it was much easier to give up and go back. The trickling of the water increased. You ran your hand along the walls near the door - nothing. As your fingers formed the familiar triangle pointing downward, an inner voice said.

      "Relocate."

 Nothing happened, but you weren't surprised: in places like this, the 'lords' make sure that no magic is used in their territories. You took a step away from the door to try to get a better look at what was around it, making a bubbling sound; you lowered your head and saw that you were standing ankle-deep - no, not in water - in a thick, dark maroon liquid.

All the while the room was filling up with blood and doing so faster and faster as time went on. As you swallowed the nausea, you looked around trying to see where the fluid was coming from. You couldn't see the mechanisms, but you could see a lever that was just below the high ceiling. There were only two options: either try to get there on your own or wait until the room was completely flooded, which seemed easier. The problem was that if the doors opened inward, the pressure in sealed room would keep them closed forever or until the room was empty again.

The blood was up to your knees. You carefully shuffling your feet through the thick of it, came to the wall where the lever was located. It was absolutely smooth, but the adjacent wall was half-destroyed and had some defects and small protrusions. Climbing up this wall to the ceiling was easy except that you turned around when you were under the ceiling. There was about couple feets between you and the lever. It's unclear what kind of hope made you reach for the lever with such force that in an instant something crunched in your shoulder; you clenched your teeth and brought your hand back to the ledge grasping it. Your fingers, wet with sweat and blood, began to slip.

"Fuck it," you shrieked quietly and gathering more air into your chest and turning your body toward the lever, you pushed your legs off the wall with force. Your hands gripped the lever awkwardly and you slipped and grabbed it erratically pulling it down toward you; as soon as it gave way with a terrible creak, you slipped and fell straight into the bloody mess.

The room emptied again after only a few seconds, but immediately filled again with your gasping coughs and spit. You tried desperately to wipe your eyes, but it seemed to make them even dirtier. After a few failed attempts you still managed to see something, and you began to slowly rise to your feet, peering through the door. "Got the joke," you drawled words grudgingly examining the sashes, which were open not to the inside of the room, but to the outside. "Funny."

You waddled toward the door holding the side of your body where the poisoned stake had been stuck earlier. The sight before your eyes took your breath away. An incredibly beautiful huge cave, the walls of which shimmered with numerous violet lights as if someone had put a spotlight on them. Giant stalactites were hanging from the vaults of the cave, which you couldn't even see; you standing on the cliff could also see the tips of the same huge stalagmites except for which you couldn't see anything. The violet sparks of the cave circled around you flying up and down as if beckoning you to go somewhere; as if bewitched, you wandered after them.

Someone shoved you in the back forcing you to come to your senses; you turned around sharply, but there was no one around, not even the purple lights and you were alone in the darkness for the umpteenth time. You stood in the middle of the stone nondescript bridge and a feeling of confusion and loneliness slowly began to fill your chest. You looked around like a small child at a crossroads trying to figure out which way to go. When you couldn't figure it out you sighed and sat down on the edge of the bridge, your feet wiggling nonchalantly.

"I take it the river of scorpions and the river of blood have already been," you addressed someone in the void. "What's next on the entertainment program?" there was a rocky cracking sound after your line, the bridge sagging. The realization struck you with a lightning bolt as if conducting a current through your body, but there was no strength left even to run; your hand gripped your inflamed side harder and you collapsed down along with the splintered structure.

The sensation of something soft and pleasant spread through your limbs. It felt weightless. You still hadn't lost consciousness, though you were close to it. Your body was sinking into something again, but it was clearly no longer blood, much less water, trying to push you to the surface; it was something much, much thicker. You'd lost your coordination in the fall and there was no way to tell which way to swim and your eyes couldn't see anything either. Quickly extinguishing your incipient panic, you began to move slowly your arms from side to side, up and down trying to catch the flow of air. After a few minutes, the oxygen in your lungs began to run out and you desperately moved to the random side doing the same manipulations with your hands. Finally, your fingertips began to blow and you raked your hands in that direction with force. As you surfaced, gulping in air mixing with that was dripping from your face, you grabbed onto something at random hastily climbing up there. Once you were on some surface, you finally lost consciousness.

      "Get up."

You feeling a long-forgotten sense of unease began to mumble something indistinctly, your hands clutching yourself tighter in your arms.

      "I SAID GET THE FUCK UP!"

You jumped up sharply grabbing your stomach with a hand that felt like it had been kicked. Realizing you were alone and he couldn't be here, you moved your hand to your chest trying to calm your racing heart. After a couple of deep inhales and exhales, you finally came fully to your senses; your gaze fell on the spot you had floated out of. A whitish liquid was spreading across the bottom of the cave changing from a dull yellow to a dark green in places. Pus.

Fully regained consciousness you grabbed your back trying to make sure that your backpack was still there; when you found it, you took off the straps and putting the backpack on your lap and undid the lock, some dire need made you check if the cube was still there. It was lying carelessly among a pile of junk, scraps of some papers, alcohol, and even a climbing rope. "Ya know, I'm expecting at least an invitation to dinner after this," you muttered and pulled out your head from backpack before tucking it behind your back and slinging it back over your shoulders, hitching the extra straps around your waist. You noticed that the bandages on your arms had turned into ragged dirty rags and threw them off. Dark energy was already splicing your wounds with thin black lines that looked like nasty worms. 

"Bestie, I hope you keep me safe from blood poisoning too because I've got it with one hundred percent probability," you addressed the dark energy as if it were alive and after standing still for a couple more seconds, you moved forward.

The next environment was something like a huge unlit hall and unlike the previous places, the floor and walls were decorated with shimmering black tiles with silver joints, and around the perimeter of the room stood what looked like animated statues of owls with burning eyes and outstretched wings. Messengers of the lords. In the middle of one of the walls there was a huge gate, whose flaps rounded sharply towards the top forming a sharp long peak. Almost the entire door was decorated with an angular but systematic ornament that was illuminated in red. Barely had the annoying thought of how to open them popped into your head as the gate leafs began to slowly open. "I don't need a lot of begging," you said heading straight for the gate.

Once you passed through it, you stepped onto a road lined with a cool blue mist that blocked all vision. Unlike the other rooms you had passed, there was no sound here, the feeling of absolute vacuum beginning to weigh on your mind. Ignoring the loss of one of your senses, you stubbornly continued on your way. Your eyes still saw everything, and everything was clear; the fog began to swirl ahead as if enveloping someone in its weightless embrace. A familiar silhouette appeared and you caught a glimpse of blue-black hair as you came closer.

"Kyle?" you asked in confusion, unable to hear your own voice. He turned around and looked at you, immediately flashed back into the mist. In absolute silence a deep, low and yet humiliating laugh began to rise from the bowels of the underworld. Remembering the lords' passion for creating artificial scarecrows to humiliate travelers who mistakenly greeted them, you could only roll your eyes.

You finally emerged from the fog and found yourself on a vortex of four roads, each of which was saying something in unintelligible whispers, but all your attention was taken by a dilapidated low pedestal that stood between two of these roads. You tsked at one of the paths whose whispers seemed the loudest and walked towards the pedestal. Once up on it, you were faced with a huge circular platform, the circumference of which was marked with diametrically opposed small gilded circles, one of which had a narrow, thin hole in it, just the same shape of your dagger's blade that was already in your hand. "Need a twist?" you thought to yourself leaning closer to the gold circle, trying to insert the dagger into the hole, but it wouldn't budge as if it had been drawn. You wrinkled your nose in bewilderment shaking the remaining dirt and dust off the circle with your hand, but it wouldn't come off. "Reflection?" you asked yourself suddenly, and lifted your head up.

Your body thudded against the surface that was supposed to be the ceiling and you hit your head hard against the floor. The room turned upside down. Your nerve endings were no longer paying attention to the countless bruises, your mind was already at home taking a warm bath and eating a delicious dinner, perhaps even at the same time; something told you that there were only a couple of steps to go.

You looked again at the large circular platform and saw that there were now numerous straight lines connected to each other inside it; the dagger was now easily inserted into the opening of the small circle, but no matter which way you turned it, nothing happened. "They could have at least included instructions," you thought indignantly looking around the pedestal for any symbols. Nothing.

The lords of Xibalba, though fearsome, were very predictable creatures. All lords wanted sacrifices, and the masters of this place took gold or blood as the myths would have it. Since you hadn't brought any jewelry with you, there was only the second option.

      Slash!  

You swung the dagger sharply across your palm and directed the flowing stream straight into the hole. The red liquid filled the lines as mesmerizingly beautiful as a falling domino would be stacked. As soon as the end of the broken lines joined the beginning, the platform flashed red and went out, immediately moving aside with a deafening screech; you were back on the edge of another precipice. Isn't this the Hatarat?

The first loud click sounded, the first step leading downward appeared. The next step immediately followed with identical sounds; the rhythmic clicks that were created seemed to count down the time to something inevitable. You obediently stepped off the first step plunging into darkness.

This time you could see nothing, absolutely nothing. You were standing on a tiny and looked like moonlit piece of land. As soon as you tried to step beyond the light, someone pushed you back. You tried again, with the same result. "One," someone's murmuring voice exploded and spilled the same recent laughter in your ears and you shuddered unseen.

"What do you mean by 'one'?" you shouted in indignation. "I'm fucking alone here!" barely had you finished speaking as you quickly slurred and it came to you. You threw off your backpack and began rummaging through it looking for the cube. When you pulled it out and brought it closer to your face, you gasped in surprise: all of its facets were glowing red; you spun around in disbelief at your surroundings. "See ya, boxy," you said, smiling. "I hope it won't kill you," after which you threw the cube with force somewhere into the darkness.

The ground beneath your feet shook so violently that you fell on your back out of balance. Your body was covered with stone chips. The faint light that had illuminated you earlier went out and you were left in a darkness that your eyes could not adapt to. Praying mentally that everything had worked and you hadn't accidentally destroyed the artifact along with the person inside it, you gathered your will into a fist once again and was determined to find a way out of this cloaca.

***

After a dozen bruises, a couple of fights, and hundreds of swear words, you were standing in Laitta's office again. You'd been here just a second ago for her and she was still clutching the Atlas, but her eyes were deep in the laptop screen. Unable to say a word, you just stood there, waiting to be noticed.

"Look, the news is reporting a four-point earthquake somewhere off the east coast of Japan, supposedly a tectonic plate shift. Your doing?" she asked you sliding her eyes over the lines then shifting her gaze to you. "Ew, you look like shit."

"Screw ya," you mumbled examining your body, which was covered in dried blood and congealed pus, your clothes were torn in places and your tangled hair added to your charm.

***

You and Rachel were already lying on the workshop floor; she was on top of you pinching your skin randomly in different places not letting you move. You laughed at the ticklish sensations and cried out when Rachel put too much pressure on you. You both didn't hear the door click open because of all the fun chaos.

"Are my girls fighting again?" a low baritone crept into the workroom. You and Rachel raised your heads at the same time looking at the intruder. A portly man of advanced age, whose eyes always seemed narrow because of his cordial smile stood in the workroom doorway watching you, his eyes full of paternal love. His long gray hair was gathered in a low ponytail, his not-young face was adorned with stubble in the color of his hair. Kyle was next to him, too. You and Rachel looked at each other sharply and realizing from your angry look that questioned if she was the one who called him here, Rachel shook her head in panic. "Hey, Dad!" Rachel jumped up first and ran in his direction. "We were just talking about you!"

"Kind words, I hope?" the man asked enclosing Rachel, Kyle and the approaching you in a hug.

"I'm gonna fucking die," hissed Rachel, who had the misfortune to find herself in the middle of a bear hug.

"Here they are, my loved offspring," the man chuckled kissing each of you on the top of your head.

"Hi, Frank," you said detachedly as if resigned to your fate.

"Dad, back off, we're not little kids anymore," Kyle muttered breaking out of his embrace. "I'm going to bed."

"Raised a rude boy," Frank stretched out with a smile on his face as he watched Kyle walk up the metal stairs, then let you and Rachel go. "And I have exactly two gifts for you."

"Mommy!" squeaked someone's childish voice, and from behind Frank's broad back something redheaded and small came rushing toward Rachel nearly knocking her to the ground.

"Mike, honey!" Rachel exclaimed picking the boy up and wrapping her arms around him burying herself in his baby soft hair. You mentally noted how pleased you were that her attention had shifted from you to him.

"So, what's the second gift?" you turned to Frank with growing displeasure in your voice realizing who else he'd brought.

"Hey, Y/N-ie," a quiet voice greeted you. Hidden behind the man's broad back was also a little girl in a blue dress, and she was covered in freckles from top to bottom, her small hands shyly clutching a sheet folded in half to her chest.

"Hey, my little bun," you greeted her softly in return gently picking her up in your arms and carrying her towards the bed that Rachel and Mike were settled on. "Tris, give me and Grandpa Frank two minutes and I'll be sure to look at what you brought, 'kay?

"Okay," Tris nodded her head clutching the sheet to her chest even tighter. Setting her down on the bed, you headed towards Frank and jerked him into the bathroom forcefully but still quietly slamming the door behind you.

You gave the gray-haired man a fierce look. "Frank, what the hell are you doing here? What are you bringing the kids here for?" you hissed at him trying to keep your voice steady.

"Are ya gonna burst or something if ya ever call me dad?" Frank looked down at you crossing his arms over his chest.

"Don't ya dare change the subject!"

"Look, ya didn't even come to Hopetown for Christmas," Frank said shrugging, disappointment flashing across his face for a second and a needle of guilt stabbing into your chest. "So I decided to bring Mike and Tris to you at least, if only for a little while."

"Frank, I'm sorry, I really am. But you know it's very dangerous out here," you ran your hands through your hair and put your arms around your shoulders as if trying to reassure yourself.

Big hands gently touched your cheeks and you looked up at Frank, your eyes widening with worry. "Have you forgotten who your father is? I can give you all a head start still," and at the same time he pulled you against his chest, and you nuzzled your nose into it letting out a relieved exhale.

You would have been happy to pamper your soul further while you were stroked through your hair like a little girl, spitting and forgetting about all the misfortunes, but the sense of responsibility nurtured from childhood made you pull away and retreat a couple steps. "Ya take the kids tomorrow and you're going back to Hopetown," with that said you left the bathroom.

When you went back into the workroom, Rachel shushed you, even though you didn't make a sound. You raised your eyebrows in surprise, but when you saw Mike and Tris laid comfortably on your bed you nodded understandingly. Such a long ride to your place could take a lot out of even the naughtiest of children. You glanced at Frank and Rachel gesturing for them to go to sleep and after they had quietly left the room, you moved closer to the bed. As you adjusted the blanket and wrapped the little bodies tighter, your gaze fell on the bedside table; the same folded sheet laid on it that Tris had been carefully cradling. You sat down beside the bed and unfolded it carefully, and before your eyes was something blotchy and bright, made up of all sorts of shades of blue and purple with dull yellow incongruous stars sprinkled all over it. "So much for the cosmos," the warmth spilling into your chest came out of your mouth with a soft, quiet laugh that you tried to extinguish with your head tucked into the sheet.

The next afternoon as the sun was setting, you walked down the hallway toward the kitchen trying to hold on to the pile of paper bags that contained the groceries mixed with some medications you had just bought. Finally dumping it all on the dining room table, you opened the refrigerator and started filling the emptied contents grabbing Mike who was crawling from the kitchen unit to the refrigerator and putting him back on the floor; once the groceries were spread out on the shelves of the refrigerator, you opened the top drawer to put the medications in there, while changing the coffee cup someone had left in front of Tris' nose, which she was already reaching for with her little hands, for orange juice. "Keep an eye on them," you said to Frank grabbing the only unopened paper bag.

You grinned softly as you watched your students and older hunters pair up with students from the Tokyo magical college, probably having just finished eating dinner in the canteen walked out of the left door of the living room. Stepping onto the threshold of the living room and gathering all your courage into a fist, you headed towards the right door that led to the infirmary.

Your quiet footsteps were all that could be heard in the lighted corridor of the infirmary and with each step you took as you approached the room where Megumi and the white-haired sorcerer were lying your confident gait became slower and more awkward. There was no point in delaying the inevitable, so you stopped at the wall right next to the open door and drew in more air clutching the paper bag tighter to your chest.

Just as you wanted to step out from around the corner, you heard quiet negotiations; you shook your head in bewilderment. Had Megumi woken up? You appeared on the threshold crashing into two pairs of eyes. Both were sitting on Gojo's bed talking quietly about something, but as soon as they saw you, they immediately fell silent. "Oh?" you smiled, tilting your head slightly to the side. "So the reunion has already happened after all. It's a shame, because I wanted it to be a little more festive," you looked at infirmary's surrounding.

There was an awkward silence. After a few seconds, the headmaster got up from the bed coughing meaningfully. "Well, I don't want to lose my lunch muffins, so... I'll leave you two alone. Y/N," he nodded his head in farewell and you watched him going away, puzzled because his room was in the other direction.

Turning your head, you met the sorcerer's gaze. Not sure where to begin, you waved your hand gently. "Hey."

"Hey," he averted his gaze, fiddling with his fingers.

Exhausted from the growing awkwardness, you not knowing where to start until then decided to start with what you held in your hand. "Uh, anyway... I've got apples, peaches, orange and cherry juice in here," a smile grew on Gojo's face as you listed and he bit his lip. "There's also a mochi here. With green tea, chocolate and mango," the sorcerer stopped smiling and his already large eyes rounded with shock and you laughed. "Don't look at me like that. Your students served ya up on a plate," you walked over to his bedside table and carefully set the paper bag down all the while feeling the stare but somehow not feeling uncomfortable about it. "This is my apology for yesterday's uh, incident. I acted impulsively."

"Hey! Just an apology?" suddenly the quiet sorcerer was suddenly as loud as everyone had described him to be. "And here I was beginning to think someone actually cared about me." He turned away from you pouting his lips making you laugh once again.

"And I never said that was the only reason," you never saw the look on Gojo's face as you moved towards the unconscious Megumi. You walked over to the boy and running your fingers gently over his forearms, took his hand examining it; the dark energy was now painted in chaotic dark lines only at his fingertips. "There, he's feeling much better now, so he should wake up soon." Wrapped up in your thoughts of Megumi, you didn't even hear Gojo walk up close to you; turning around, a whistle escaped your lips. You'd never viewed him this close and full-length before not counting that incident when you saw nothing but a red veil; you jokingly raised your head covering your eyes with the palm of your hand as if protecting them from the sunlight. "Mister, isn't it blowing hard out there?"

Not looking up from another thousandth joke about his height, Gojo laughed softly sitting down on the couch at Megumi's feet. "Nah, it's not blowing," he wrapped his long fingers around his chin cocking his head as if in thought. "Though, pipsqueaks can really be kinda hard of hearing."

"We never introduced ourselves to each other," you held out your hand to him looking at him unflinchingly.

He felt either awkward or embarrassed under your gaze; hastily and invisibly clutching the sheets in his hands, Gojo tried to wipe away the sweat that protruded on his palms all the while feeling his cheeks grow warm, but he still extended his hand in return and you shook hands. "Gojo. Gojo Satoru."

"Y/N. Just Y/N," even though your lower face wasn't visible Gojo could feel how bright you were smiling at him taking a seat next to him on the couch.

"Well, Y/N," he swallowed quietly, feeling the warmth radiating from you and if you hadn't been in the room, Gojo felt like he would have slapped himself to come to his senses. "How much more do you know about me?"

"Let me see," you sat on the couch and started to dangle your feet. Even though the beds in the infirmary were quite high themselves, Gojo still had his hand over his mouth pretending to just lean on it, even though he was trying not to laugh. "You're kind of an arrogant creature who doesn't recognize anyone's authority, but with your power it's forgivable," you said, crooking one finger. "You have a heap of altruism in you just so long as nothing goes against your selfish desires," you crooked a second finger. "You're a very light sleeper, I don't think that point needs explaining," you bent a third finger. "You're a fan of ridiculously expensive shirts," you curved your fourth finger. "You also go to the dentist every two months to get another cavity treated because you love sweets too much," you curved the last finger on your hand. "And you also get drunk from one glass of wine," you added and though you really wanted to continue you were afraid you'd be considered a stalker.

"Wow," his voice sounded very quiet for some reason. "And you really remembered all that?"

"Of course I did," you shook your head and grinned staring at him. "I'm a manipulator," he stared at you wide-eyed for a couple seconds then the chamber filled with your soft, seemingly melded laughter. As you laughed, you looked him over with an elusive concern. "But more importantly, how are ya feeling?"

"Wonderful," he crooned looking at you the way professional liars do. He appreciated your skeptical look and realizing the attempt had failed, continued to reassure you. "Really, I'm fine. Sometimes weird thoughts pop into my head, but it's happened before," he smiled awkwardly his eyes fixed on the floor and he clasped his fingers together.

Your conscience gnawed at you for invading his personal space enough already. Suppressing the urge for further questioning and casting a glance behind your back at Megumi, you turned back to Gojo. "Just try not to be alone right now."

Loneliness. The curse or freedom that had followed him all his life, neither letting him fall normally nor fly high constantly keeping him between heaven and earth. "But I have no one to go to," he thought to himself, for the first time not finding the courage to say it out loud.

"Y/N-ie?" a thin voice made you look up. A little girl stood on the doorstep having changed from yesterday's blue dress to a light purple one.

You grinned and patted her knee gently beckoning her over and letting her know you weren't the least bit angry that she was walking around the huge house alone again. "There's my little tail," you picked her up, kissing her on the temple, making Tris giggle uncontrollably. When she calmed down, she immediately stared with her dark eyes at the white-haired man. "Tris, this is Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer alive," you dramatically and meaningfully expressed his status causing his cheeks to warm again; afterward you glared at Gojo. "Gojo, this is Tris, my uh- my daughter," you stammered a bit as you stipulated her status, for which you mentally slapped yourself on the forehead. 

Gojo stared at you in amazement then furrowed his eyebrows incredulously. "Aren't you a little young for the role of mommy?"

"Why, do ya wanna figure it out?" there was a teasing challenge in your voice and you moved a little toward him.

"Yes! I mean N-NO! I mean- Oh my god," Gojo started to stutter and immediately hid his flushed face in his hands. You and Tris sat there looking at him with a look of satisfaction at your prank even though the girl didn't understand what just happened and was just copying your behavior.

"You didn't conceive Megumi at thirteen, did you?" Gojo was even more confused by your question, but when he realized what you were getting at, he pulled his face away from his hands and looked at you raising his eyebrows; you only nodded in response.

"Are we going to watch the Iron Giant?" Tris interjected into the conversation.

"Hmm, are we gonna watch this cartoon for the hundredth time?" you cocked your head as if pondering even though you already knew your answer; dark eyes were looking down at you expectantly. "Of course we'll watch it. Wanna join?" you turned towards the sorcerer again. "Or grown men don't watch cartoons?"

"Gladly," he said carefully hiding a smile. Picking up Tris, you headed into the living room and this time you got another tail.

***

Two elderly men sat in the kitchen sipping hot blueberry tea and watching the three of you on the couch in front of the TV. You and Gojo were sitting close together and Tris kept talking restlessly between you piling pillows around you and trying to get comfortable on either you or the sorcerer. Gojo seemed to be making jokes all the time and after another joke you pinched his nose instead of laughing causing him to let out a disgruntled squeak pursing his lips playfully. "They seem to be getting along quite well," Frank turned to Principal Jaga not taking his eyes off of you.

The headmaster hummed skeptically setting his cup aside. "That restless one gets along pretty well with everyone. As long as they don't get in his way. Anyway, I'm glad he can exhale a little now after everything," Frank sighed restlessly at the principal's words wondering when that opportunity would fall to you as well and the principal certainly noticed it. "So... demons?"

"Well, you could say that," Frank smiled shrugging his shoulders. "A good half of what's said about them in any of the sources is true except..." the gray-haired man faltered, unsure of how to present the information staring first at the end credits of the cartoon you and Gojo were watching then looking up at the night sky through the living room window. "Except they're not of mythological origin. And we call them dioreacts."

The principal furrowed his eyebrows and stared at Frank, but exploded into a low cackle a couple minutes later. "Aliens? Are you serious now?"

Carrying a soiled popcorn dish and hearing the last part of the conversation, you couldn't help but intervene. "What's the matter? Have ya always seen aliens as green little men with mustaches on their heads?"

"No, it's just... Extraterrestrial intelligent life exists after all?" the principal shook his head in disbelief squinting his eyes.

Having put the dishes in the sink, you turned around and leaned against the kitchen unit; Gojo sat down next to Frank and he seeing that you were without Tris, gave you a questioning look. "She wore us out pretty well and fell asleep on the couch. Don't ya dare wake her up," you pointed your index finger threateningly at Frank realizing that if she woke up it would be up to you to entertain her; you then focused your attention on the headmaster. "After all, in the concept of 'extraterrestrial intelligent life' we only understand one word: extraterrestrial. What 'life' is and what 'intelligent' is for some reason no one is in a hurry to explain. So yes, to deny its existence just because it is beyond our comprehension is rather silly."

"But how did they end up on Earth?" the Director asked and you could tell by the look on his face that he still took you for crazy.

"We have no idea why they suddenly began their space expansion. Maybe because of some threat, maybe somewhere in their world they had already evolved to the point where they had nothing left to do but conquer space to keep their evolution from stalling." You scratched your temple thoughtfully and stared up at the night sky. "It's also unclear where they came from, whether from another star system, another dimension, some parallel worlds, another fabric of space-time or Balk ⁴, but either way, there's two pieces of news, good and bad," you perked up, and walked over to the table and sat down across from Gojo who had been listening intently to you all this time. "First and good, they can't interact with us outside of the human body in any way, and neither can we with them. We simply don't have such senses, but the bad one... The bad one sounds exactly the same, but with a different implication. They're infesting people's bodies nonstop. And all this makes us think that they really left their homeland in a hurry because of some danger, and now having found themselves here and having found a shelter in a human body they want to settle here."

Gojo clicked his teeth, something dark and unfamiliar in his eyes. "Why don't they live in peace? We humans are friendly enough creatures."

"It's just that unlike Earth creatures who have an aquatic basis for life, they have it tied to human blood plasma. In large quantities. But they eat us because we're delicious, I guess," you tightened your lips at the unpleasantness of this conversation.

"How is that possible?" the principal asked. "I mean, it's human bodies that they're inhabiting, so they're an earthly life form now, too."

"There is nothing earthly and much less human in them after fusion because the atoms in their molecules have been reshaped and rearranged," you stated flatly, your voice as if it had turned metallic. "By combining certain atoms in a certain sequence we get a structure with properties that a simple bunch of the same atoms don't have, and the name of that structure is a molecule. The basis of life is not somewhere out there at the level of individual atoms, it is higher. The basis of life is molecular. Now try to swap at least two atoms in molecules and living matter having lost its emergent⁵ property will immediately become inanimate turning a human being into a corpse. Now imagine when the Diomorphea having appeared on this planet, began to collide with humans, either completely accidentally or completely intentionally provoking fusion; How many people were killed while the Diomorphea was trying to find the right configuration of atoms with which to exist?         

Gojo tilted his head to the side, which made his hair stick out even shaggier, reached out to you and snapped his fingers in front of your nose bringing you out of your information trance. "Diomorphea? What the hell kind of pokemon is that?"    

"So-called core. According to the information gathered over thousands of years, the hunters came to the conclusion that all dioreacts used to be something whole, but at the first successful fusion they split into pieces, God only knows how many," you kept looking at the sorcerer trying to stifle the urge to ruffle his hair. "So, the Diomorphea is the core or the first dioreact, ya name it. And there's a suspicion that it's the one that's somehow directly involved in the fusion of all the other split-off dioreacts, otherwise, if every dioreact could conduct a fusion we would all be dropping like flies without explanation."

Gojo hummed propping his head up with both hands. Although he showed genuine interest, his eyes were involuntarily sleepy and he desperately tried to blink away the drowsiness causing his long white lashes to flutter. A mesmerizing sight. "Given the nature of our work, it's strange that we've never encountered them."

"We'll take that as a compliment," you chirped swinging your leg, and your bare foot grazed his equally bare ankle. Casually tapping the table with awkward fingertips and pretending that none of this had just happened, you leaned back further into the back of your chair. "Yeah, and if you've encountered them, it's unlikely ya paid attention. Unless you could feel the effect of the uncanny valley, only instead of disgust and fear ya'd feel an uncontrollable rising sense of anxiety. No one's had that?" you looked around the table at everyone and seeing the headmaster and Gojo shake their heads negatively, you shrugged. "No wonder, ya people are unusual too," suddenly looking up and remembering that you should be somewhere else right now, you added. "Actually, not all dioreacts are bad. Some of them blend into the normal human rhythm of life, and just a couple dozen of them are of great help to us. We owe them a lot, because they told almost everything we know because now even though all dioreacts are divided, they are still a single organism and they see, hear, and feel everything that others see, hear, and feel. The name of such dioreacts is insiders," you jumped up from your chair grabbing your phone off the kitchen counter.

Frank, looking around in confusion and trying to catch a glimpse of your flailing figure looked visibly perturbed. "And where do ya think you're going, young lady?"

"Meet the insider, he texted me," you shouted already from the hallway sitting on a chair and putting on your socks.

"Actually, we contact the insiders ourselves for security purposes!" the indignation in Frank's voice grew with every word uttered, his low voice making the dishes on the table almost shake.

"Really?" you blurted out sarcastically, hoping he would hear it. "And for what purpose did you disable our house's security protocol then?"

Frank couldn't take it anymore, he snorted in indignation standing up from the table so abruptly that the chair beneath him fell over, and headed toward you out into the hallway. "Did I have to make Tris and Mike cut their hands open to give your artificial intelligence their blood for examination?" the tone of his voice sounded like you wanted to leave as soon as possible. "Ya do realize this is a trap, don't you?"

"Well, or the information is so urgent that the insider just doesn't have time to wait for us to deign to contact him. Come on, this one's been tried and tested over the years," you gibbered hastily pulling on your sneakers. "Otherwise, this is such an obvious trap that I'm going to fall for it purely on principle! That's it, I'm out of here," with that you gave Frank a quick hug and dashed out the door that led to the basement floor.

To your surprise, you heard the sound of rushing footsteps behind you. Gojo remembering his past experience didn't dare to grab your hand again. Luckily for him, you finally descended the metal stairs and turned around and seeing your face once again, all the words he wanted to say flew out of his head. "Well, uh— take care," he smiled nonchalantly tucking his hands into his pockets.

"As always," you nodded your head smiling back and examining his endlessly mussed hair. "I apologize in advance," you reached out with a hand, briefly but gently ruffling the snow-white hair. "Gosh, even softer than I thought," you squeaked and whether from haste or embarrassment ran out the huge metal door, leaving Gojo utterly confused, alone with his suddenly feverish heart.

Two days later, you were insanely happy to hear the usually annoying beep of the key card because it meant you were home. Your split eyebrow was almost healed and there were only a couple of minor bruises on your body. As you passed through the metal door, you noted the absence of the white room; the security protocol was still disabled, and therefore Frank was still here. He was right after all, this was all just another trap and the insider who'd been feeding you information for years was dead, but you'd rather eat your own pinky than admit that to him.

It was so late that you were sure that the whole house was asleep with its occupants, but feeling terribly hungry and remembering that there was nothing in the refrigerator in your workroom, you headed for the metal staircase trying to keep the sound of your footsteps in the quietest range. Finally, after turning the doorknob and closing it carefully behind you, you carelessly but also quietly kicked off your sneakers and went straight to the kitchen in total darkness.

When you reached the corner of the kitchen around the corner where the dining table and the refrigerator were located you heard a strange commotion. You listened leaning against the doorjamb, your hand in a dark haze ready to grab your dagger. The quiet creaks of the wooden table, the rustling of clothes and suddenly the sounds of kissing. Hearing it, you wrinkled your nose in confusion. Had Rachel really started bringing lovers into this house? The black haze from your hand disappeared immediately; after thinking about it some more, you hummed contentedly but quietly thinking that maybe it was Kyle who had finally found someone, but still remaining creepily annoyed by the fact that they weren't doing it in a more private place. "Nuh-uh, I told you," a teasing male voice made the already immobile you literally freeze in place. "No kissing on the lips, we've talked about this a thousand times."

He was answered by an equally teasing, languid foxy voice. "What's the matter? Are you saving yourself for the one?" you squinted your eyes and tried to rack your brain to remember anyone in this house with a voice like that.

"I don't see any point in exchanging spittle," Gojo barely finished the sentence as you stepped out from around the corner a bit to check that your hearing wasn't deceiving you. No, that's right. Two half-naked bodies pressed against each other on your dining table. Sorcerer pulling away from the woman began unbuttoning her blouse. "Are you sure you want to do this here?"

You stood still and not knowing what to do, watched their actions with completely blank eyes swallowing a disgusting lump of feelings that tasted more like a dirty floor cloth soaked in rotten blood. If only your legs had been buzzing with fatigue a few minutes ago, now even your head ached. The heavy chains that had shackled your heart long before and had loosened their grip over time, clenched it with renewed vigor.

 "Oh, come on!" she giggled pressing her naked thighs against his waist. "Those saints are all sound asleep by ten o'clock at night."

"Then spread your legs a little wider," Gojo grinned finally unbuttoning her blouse and exposing the last of what was hidden.

You flicked the switch, and the light spread across the room just as quickly as your patience was wearing thin. "Not everyone," your face now had a good-natured expression on it instead of blank eyes. "When I told ya not to be alone, I didn't mean it like that, ya know," Gojo pulled away from the girl abruptly and looked at you apparently swallowing.

You didn't forget for a second why you'd come here and you strode lightly past them and straight to the refrigerator. Opening it, you appraised the contents with a glance. "I don't judge people for their kinks, but if ya want to fuck in this house find a more private place."

"We'll remember that," the girl chirped giving you a sly look; still prostrate on the table, she playfully covered her bare breasts with the fabric of her blouse. You grabbed a carton of chocolate milk and slammed the refrigerator door shut and because of your unpleasant emotions, you didn't even notice the sorcerer standing next to you barely moving his parched lips as if he were struggling to get a single word out.

"Or at least not on this table," you tapped your knuckles on the wooden surface next to her white-gray mussed hair. "Because we eat here from time to time. Although, if you're going to eat her out, then I don't even have an objection," you were still keeping a friendly attitude, but it seemed to Gojo that you were literally spitting those words in his face and it also seemed to him that he really deserved it.

You were a moment away from leaving the room, but suddenly you heard the click of the door to the infirmary. You jerked open the refrigerator door and stood across from the two half-naked figures even though you realized that the refrigerator door and your size would not hide the outrage. The next unfamiliar faces were in the room and you slammed the door shut with force barely concealing your irritation.

A woman appeared at the door, a white medical coat draped over her shoulders; her tired look suggested that she was of the same profession. An old man came out behind her. She gave you a look that expressed nothing but a desire to go to bed. "What's going on here?"

"I could ask ya the same question," you waved your hands. "Who are you?"

"Shoko Ieiri, a doctor at Tokyo Magic College."

"Great, that says a lot," you said not hiding the irony bubbling in your voice. You glanced over at the bald old man standing next to her with the ridiculously long beard; you couldn't see his eyes from under his thick gray eyebrows. All of his ears were pierced in completely different places, the jewelry in them playing in the light. The old man seemed to be smaller than you were tall. "And what kind of fossil is that?" the girl behind you burst into laughter, though to you the whole situation was so absurd that it was no longer possible to keep yourself in check.

Shoko cast a glance at the old man before directing her eyes at you and if it weren't for the circumstances you would managed to note that you were crazy about her mole under her eye already. "As of late, our higher-up. Yoshinobu Gakuganji.

"Bring him back to the dig," dropping that phrase, you walked out of the room closing the door with such force that plaster sprinkled from the walls.

You were coming down the stairs to the workroom, one of your hand clutching a carton of hard-won chocolate milk, the other typing an angry message to Frank barely hitting to spell.

[11:57pm] You: I've only been gone for two days so bother explaining why the fuck some obscure doctor paired with a walking antique is walking around freely in our house and someone is fucking on our damn dinner table

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Chapter notes:

Xibalba – the underworld of the Maya peoples

Ouroboros – a snake eating its own tail; one of the oldest symbols known to mankind. Representation of eternity and infinity, the cyclical nature of life

Van Halen - famous American hard rock band of the 80s.

Bulk - long story short, massive bodies like stars, planets and black holes bend space in the vicinity of themselves, roughly speaking in this form woosh ◡ (you can say 'push down'), space cannot be pushed into nowhere, so Bulk that's the theoretical place where space can be pushed

Emergence - the presence of properties in the system that are not inherent in its components individually; irreducibility of the properties of the system to the sum of the properties of its components (imagine that someone methodically and repeatedly throws a bunch of stones into the air and after each throw there is a non-zero probability that the stones will fall on each other in a certain way forming a certain structure and this structure will have its own set of properties that the pile of stones itself does not possess. For example if once the stones fall so that they form a house (it sounds stupid but this is just an example) it will have properties like protection from rain wind animals etc)

PHEW THIS ONE WAS HARD

[thiniceofeternalyouth]

MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER TWO

A WALK TROUGH THE FOURTH DIMENSION

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, , sci-fi, cosmology.

Chapter warning: MANGA SPOILERS, cursing, mentions of blood, mentions of food, Gojo is a meanie

Words count: ~9k

⊲ previous next ⊳

[24 Dec, 2018; 06:01pm; Shinjuku Special District, Tokyo Prefecture]

A small group of people dressed in black and covering the lower half of their faces with masks were on one of the lower floors of a business center, the wall of which had been completely demolished from hollow purple. The reinforced concrete structures that used to make up the whole were either splintered into crumbs or dangling from the remains of the wall exposing steel bars. From this spot there was a perfect view of the battle of the two strongest, which was spread out in the shadow of the broken skyscraper. You, on the other hand, remained invisible without emitting any cursed energy.

Sitting on a piece of broken reinforced concrete that used to be the floor, you watched the sorcerer and the curse king's actions and every time Gojo took damage you jerked your leg nervously and clenched your teeth. Your gut was pissed off that you didn't understand the nature of the feelings that made you this way. As everyone else sat lazily against the far wall exchanging jokes, a man's cheerful voice jerked you out of your state of irritation:

"All we need here is beer and chips," Vito tried to lighten the mood. He was the oldest of the active hunters and he looked exactly like Danielle. His blond hair, short though it was, glistened even in the dark, his fair skin, which was always flushed was covered with small scars and there were deep wrinkles under the outer corners of his eyes as his blue eyes watched the action below. "Look, that king of curses got another series of punches to the face from the white-haired one," Vito said humming approvingly.

"Considering they used territory expansion three times already, it's no wonder they had to switch to hand-to-hand," you said propping a hand on your face keeping your eyes on the fight. "Can ya imagine the state of their brains right now?"

"I can tell that you're imagining it too vividly by looking at you," Vito said shifting his gaze from Gojo to you and smiling slyly. "You're worrying a little too much."

"Just a bad feeling," you brushed off his teasing tone. "Remember what Itadori told us about Zenin Clan's technique?"

"Oh, right, what's its name..." hesitated Vito straining his meanderings. "Ten shadows technique?"

"Exactly!" you exclaimed snapping your index finger and thumb. "The technique is already unusual enough on its own, but here's its latest shikigami, uh," you stammered, seeing the white-haired sorcerer wipe away the blood that came from his nose with the back of his hand, and a stack of needles plunged into the back of your head with an unsettling feeling again. "I guess that thing out even of my depth."

"You mean divine General Mahoraga?" asked Vito grinning. "Geez, that's quite a name they gave it."

"Quite a name for a monster that can adapt to any cursed technique," you shrugged, and thinking that at this rate Mahoraga would soon be able to adapt to Gojo's infinity technique, you jerked your foot once more knocking over a small piece of concrete that was held up by a protruding iron beam. Now it was clear why Sukuna needed Megumi's body, for in any other body he would never have been able to defeat Gojo because there would be no Mahoraga to break through his infinity. While you were pondering this, the battle of the two strongest due to their swift movements shifted from the roadway under the road bridge, part of the supporting structure in the form of several reinforced concrete pillars was immediately destroyed. Everything seemed to be going according to plan for the white-haired sorcerer: he was striking blue after blue and Sukuna had only to dodge or take it and your heart was beating in an invariably calm rhythm, but a growing sense of anxiety was building up the force of its impact on your chest. You saw that with each blow they made against each other, they were getting farther away from your location and you found yourself standing on one of the dilapidated bridge pillars still in the shadow of the concrete rubble without even thinking. This pillar was though not close, still behind the Gojo and if you had even a modicum of cursed energy in you, one of them would have sensed your presence immediately. Sukuna's body had just taken an enhanced version of the red that Gojo had suddenly directed at him from around the corner before your eyes. After getting hit in the face with the debris from the pillar, Sukuna was already healed in the next moment. Itadori was right: the sorcerer had already had more than one chance to finish Sukuna off, but Gojo couldn't do it while the curse was in Megumi's body. "Damned sentiment," you thought to yourself.

"It seems you wanted to be sudden, but apparently you're so tired that you don't realize that all your techniques have been read," Sukuna turned to Gojo, a nasty smirk drawn on his face.

"Don't jump to conclusions," Gojo said and you noticed how a moment later, a red flash circled the building and struck the curse straight back and Gojo activating black lightning struck Sukuna's solar plexus, whose body flew straight at the sorcerer's fist on the inertia of the red strike. The curse's eyes rolled uncontrollably, blood spurted from his mouth, he recoiled and the wheel above his head, which allowed Mahoraga to adapt to any technique, fell as it made its final turn. Sukuna disappeared into the shadows and darkness began to grow beneath Gojo's feet, from which Mahoraga's huge hands reached out to him inviting him into a deadly embrace. Your heart skipped a beat: Mahoraga had just adapted to Gojo's infinity technique. While Gojo was trying to dodge the huge hand with a huge blade sticking out of his forearm, he didn't notice that the shadow behind him had already formed a triangle of index fingers and thumbs.

      "Isolation."

As soon as you said the word, you began to gulp for air and it took all your strength not to recoil or you would have flown down the pole with a stone. You felt like your skull was being poured sulfuric acid and your organs were wandering around your body instead of staying in their designated places. "So this is what it's like to have two consciousnesses in one body," you thought to yourself with a faint indecipherable thought, someone was trying to dislodge your consciousness, but a stream of dark energy blocked all attempts of the unpleasant guest. You tried to see through the white veil where your idea had led and you could still see two silhouettes standing there.

"Oh? What is it?" Gojo's voice sounded a little surprised, but the surprise changed to defiance as if by a click. "Has daddy Mahoraga abandoned ya?" He tilted his head to the side, a grin flaunting on the sorcerer's face. Sukuna, on the other hand, stood motionless resembling a statue. The drooping, impersonal eyes began to close, the dark patterns that adorned Megumi's body began to fade and with a slight recoil, the curse fell flat. If you could see just a little better you would have noticed how in just a couple seconds the entire spectrum of emotions showed on the sorcerer's face - from confidence, to courage, to bewilderment, to confusion, and even slight panic. Gojo cautiously approached Megumi's body, leaned over and checking something, his body shuddered in a relieved exhalation and you shuddered with him.

      "Isolation."

You cast the spell a second time and now your body was concerned only with the cold evening air and a hungry stomach. You watched Gojo gently brush the black strands from the boy's face, and you wondered to your shame, what the movement would feel like if it were your own hair. You waved your head chaotically from side to side, as if chasing away childish thoughts. Meanwhile Gojo tried to gently take Megumi in his arms to return home with him, but the adrenaline accumulated during the battle instantly evaporated, passing the duties to his colleague in the face of fatigue making the sorcerer stagger, and he holding Megumi in his arms, began to fall himself.

                                       TWO DAYS EARLIER

The sound of metal cutlery paired with the early morning mist from the window that was built into the rock filled the dining room. You were already standing at the large metal chopping table waiting for your portion and the smell of roasted chicken filled your nostrils. Behind you on the dull stonework were two long dark wood tables, flanked by similarly colored benches where the few hunters were already seated, exchanging jokes and stealing food from each other's plates. The metal door that led to the kitchen swung open and out came a terribly tired Danielle, who had once again foolishly served her punishment holding your plate of flavorful baked potatoes and equally flavorful bird meat. Taking the plate from her hands, you winked at Danielle and headed toward the boy, who was sitting alone in the far dark corner, picking at his plate without appetite. When he saw you approaching him, Itadori only pressed his lips together and turned away from you covering his face with his hand as he continued to mash the innocent potatoes with his fork.

"What are you doing sitting here all by yourself?" ignoring his behavior you sidled up to him, your hilariously chipper voice exploding in the boy's eardrums. "Itadori?" you tapped the back of his head with your finger quietly catching his attention.

"Y/N, that's not fair!" exclaimed boy slamming his hands on the table.

 "Did ya get up on the wrong side of bed or something?" you asked peering into the brown eyes and noticing that they were filled with childish resentment.

 "Ya know, you remind me of those nerds from high school who always sit alone," Rachel placed a tray of food on the table with a metallic clang catching your attention. Kyle came over with her as well, and sat down next to you winking at you. "What's up, kid? Is that brat offending you?" She turned to Itadori pointing a finger at you.

 "And here comes prom queen," you said with irony in your voice and Rachel turned to you showing her tongue.

"Y/N said she had plan to suppress Sukuna in Megumi's body and then just up and left!" pouted Yuji crossing his arms over his chest. "Like she did it on purpose! I realize you don't have to tell me anything, but... Maybe after this, I can sleep a little better," he mumbled hiding the lower part of his face in his high red collar.

"Close your eyes," you said to Itadori and he looked up staring at you incredulously. "Close your eyes, don't be afraid," he obeyed your second request and after a little fidgeting in his chair, he closed his eyelids.

"What do ya feel?" you asked leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms over your chest.

"What do you mean?" asked Itadori without opening his eyes, but faced with your silence; he decided to describe everything in order even if it sounds like complete nonsense.

"I can feel soft but firm fabric of my uniform," he began to say, his fingertips groping the fabric. "I feel warm skin of my hands, I smell fried chicken and someone's male cologne, uh," Itadori hesitated a little. "I can hear Rachel typing on her phone and Kyle chewing his food."

"Here ya go," you praised the boy, if only for not being confused by your question. "I realize it's going to be problematic in such a noisy environment, but now imagine that all your senses suddenly stopped feeding you information as if your brain had been taken out of its skull and placed in a machine that provides it with everything it needs to function outside your body."

"Sounds a little... scary," Itadori said squirming harder in his chair.

"You've faced worse things," you patted the boy on the head. "Back to the subject at hand, what would be left of you in that case?"

"Memories?" suggested Yuji.

"Exactly!" you exclaimed quietly. "All the experiences you've had, which you'll relive over and over again for lack of interacting with an environment, maybe start building some scenarios in your head, having internal dialogs, until the very moment ya start going crazy."

"Y/N!," Rachel hissed at you threatening you with her finger. "Don't ya dare scare him!"

"Long story short, if you've managed to experience what I'm talking about for even a brief moment," you paused briefly to chew the piece of food you'd just put in your mouth. "Congratulations, you've just been in isolation."

"I still don't fully understand," Yuji said, there was a confused awkwardness in his voice.

"That's because we haven't explained everything yet," Kyle interjected into the conversation. "Remember when you told me that the peak of your world's prowess was territorial expansion? Well," Kyle hesitated, as if searching his mind for the right words. "Roughly speaking, isolation is the peak of our world's prowess, though it's functionally very different from yours."

"What happens in isolation? What is it for?" Itadori continued to pile on the questions looking each of you in the eye in turn.

"Actually, it carries more than one function, there's no telling in a nutshell," you said with a shrug. "But let's start with the fact that the Isolation is a place made up of only dark energy, nothing exists there but it itself," you turned to Itadori and after taking a sip of sour orange juice, you continued: "Put aside all prejudices about dark energy because it is most likely the most vile phenomenon that exists in the universe."

"Is it the reason something bad is happening?"

"We don't know why, but our universe is expanding and doing so at an accelerating rate," you said scratching your temple with your index finger. "And since scientists have no idea what makes universe expand, they usually refer to any hypothetical phenomenon that can accelerate the expansion of the universe as dark energy and yeah, we didn't rename it to suit us, it sounds cool," you threw your forearms up shrugging playfully. "Dark energy expands our universe not from any particular point, but in all points at once. I'd like to point out that dark energy is kind of the opposite of gravity meaning that the more filled up space is the stronger the gravitational force, and the emptier space is the stronger the dark energy is because although it's counterintuitive, its density per square foot doesn't decrease as space expands," you glanced at Itadori to make sure he was still with you. "I mean, do ya get what's going on? As the expansion of the universe accelerates, there's more and more empty space, which in turn will cause the expansion to accelerate, which will cause more empty space and so on ad infinitum, and I highly doubt that the expansion of the universe is its only property."

"It's good that you explained everything," Itadori said smiling, but the corners of his lips crept down again and he went limp in his chair. "Too bad I didn't get anything."

"Don't fill your bright young head, if ya think about it too much you can catch existential dread," you laughed rubbing the boy on the top of his head. "The easiest way to put it is that isolation is a completely empty place with only dark energy to ensure exponential expansion throughout eternity."

"So, in isolation space expands itself for an infinite amount of time?" asked the boy, a flash of insight on his face.

"That's right, you're a smartass!" you exclaimed grabbing the boy's pink cheeks with your palms. "Now imagine ya have the ability to put some sort of consciousness in there - your own or someone else's, it doesn't matter."

"But isn't that dangerous?" mumbled Itadori from behind his cheeks clenched by your hands, and you blushing slightly, finally let him go. "After all, if everything there is expanding from all points at once, doesn't that mean that consciousness will expand with space?"

"You're right, it's dangerous," you sighed quietly examining the ridiculously ornate silver bracelet on Kyle's arm. "First ya'll forget yesterday, then what ya did last year, what ya were like ten years ago and eventually ya'll forget even your own language, and so on until your existing self dissolves into dark energy."

"How do you use it, then?"

"And here comes into play something that scientists can hardly ever explain and this perhaps is called magic." you smiled awkwardly fiddled with your fingers because you weren't used to having someone listen to you with such interest. "Because, without going into too much detail right now, even though dark energy is a nasty thing, if you know how to use it, it can be a pretty good tool."

"Oh!" exclaimed Itadori, catching the gist of it. "You're going to put Sukuna's consciousness in there?"

"You're thinking in the right direction, but there is a catch," you retorted looking out the window. " Sukuna and Megumi's consciousnesses are in the same body right now, so if I send the isolation to Megumi's body, both of them will have to go into isolation with me and I won't be able to tell which one I'm 'capturing'," you said pointing to the quotation marks in the word 'capturing' with your fingers. "I'll have to re-enter the isolation second time directing it only at myself, because it doesn't matter who's here after the first isolation," you looked at Itadori, tapping your temple with your index finger and the boy's eyes widened. "And who goes back into Megumi's body."

"But what if Sukuna returns to Megumi's body?" asked Itadori with excitement in his voice.

"Well that's not so terrible, because Sukuna will most likely be left without ten shadows technique because Megumi's consciousness will sit quietly in my body until your precious teacher finishes the curse so I can quietly return Megumi's consciousness to his body through second isolation, but there is some possibility that during that time I will die myself due to such an internal conflict."

"But what about..." Itadori began rubbing his knees nervously clearly trying to suggest something else. "Can't you immediately re-enter the isolation and wait there?

"Itadori, don't forget that my mind is used to isolation and Megumi's mind isn't," you clarified shaking your head. "Also, I realize this isn't very intuitive, but like I said nothing exists in isolation but dark energy. Although there is no such thing as time there, but along with that there is an infinite amount of it there.

"What do you mean? Itadori asked losing the thread of the point again.

"Y/N means," Kyle interjected. "She could spend two infinities in isolation, but to us outside observers, it would look like she never left," Itadori's mouth dropped open in surprise, forming a perfectly shape of 'o'.

"But what if it's the other way around?" it suddenly hit Itadori. "What if you suddenly put Sukuna's consciousness inside you and Megumi's consciousness returns to his body?" the boy panicked remembering his past experience when the curse parasitized his body.

"That'll be even easier!" you exclaimed clapping your hands together. "If after the first isolation Megumi's consciousness returns to his body and I have Sukuna's consciousness," your lips spread into a cheeky grin. "I'll just re-enter the isolation and wipe the bastard off the face of the creation."

"Adoptee, ya sure you can go into isolation two times in a row?" inquired Rach with a note of anxiety in her voice. "Think twice."

"Think twice?" you popped your head up from your plate and stared at Rachel. "Buddy, I don't think even once!"

"Yeah, we're aware of that," mumbled Kyle into his hand, which he completely covered his face with as if he was embarrassed by your behavior.

After your brief conversation Itadori finally began to eat devouring the long-cooled potatoes with appetite. You watched as he chewed one bite and put the next one in his mouth, amused by his direct behavior. Time flowed slowly and even though the winter sun was rising on the other side, where the spacious windows of your house looked out, but still the sunlight was filling the far dark corners of the room more and more decisively with each passing moment. You glanced at the invisible watch on your hand and turned to Yuji:

"It's about time ya get ready to go home," you said gently flicking Itadori on the nose. "Otherwise they'll notice you're missing."

"Can I ask you one more question?" the boy asked and you nodded your head affirmatively. "I've noticed that you say 'something like consciousness' or you just say 'consciousness' but with such, uh, skepticism in your voice. Why?"

"Geez, boy, you've opened Pandora's box again," Rachel rambled on with feigned panic in her voice. "Close it back up, pretend you didn't ask anything!"

"Well," you tilted your head toward Yuji, and your foot kicked the leg of the chair Rachel was sitting on with such force that it nearly fell over along with her.

"Little bully-" muttered Rachel under her breath, but you continued talking, not listening to her:

"It's just that humanity still has a very poor understanding of what we call consciousness," you said with a shrug.

"But what about it?" objected Itadori. "I think there's a lot to dig up on that subject."

"It is. Different sources will tell you about an immortal soul, or neurophysiological connections or that consciousness has nothing to do with the soul or the brain, but no one," you said, emphasizing the last word. "No one can explain to you why this happens. You and I are made of the same matter as stars, planets or that stupid bracelet on Kyle's hand," you nodded at his hand that was resting calmly on the table. "But it's unclear how ordinary matter composed in a certain way - suddenly - can generate subjective experience?"

"Maybe I don't quite understand everything, but does it matter?" Itadori asked shrugging his shoulders,

"It doesn't until you start thinking along those lines," you agreed with him. "Except that everything we talk about, everything we think exists is postulated by our consciousness. All the sensations you get from birth until you die are created by your brain," you gently tapped Itadori's forehead with your knuckles. "The brain internally forms a kind of environment that exactly replicates the external, real world environment... Or not?" you peered into brown eyes that reflected the lights in your own eyes in the light of the suddenly flickering lamp. "Anyway, perhaps there is a very tiny but already existing possibility that you are not the one who speaks your thoughts. You're the one who hears them." With those words, you got up from the table, picked up the few trays to take them back to the dispensing table. Coming back and leaning your arms on the table next to Itadori, you whispered:

"So when you're sitting alone in a room going about your unremarkable mundane business," you whispered in the boy's ear in a conspiratorial tone. "There's a chance you're not alone there."

"Y/N!" howled Rachel grabbing you by the scruff of the neck, dragged you towards the canteen exit.

Before the wooden doors closed in your face, you saw the worried look in Itadori's eyes and only had time to yell. "Sike!"

Concrete crumbs pounded into your back, the back of your head ached quietly from the impact with the ground and something too heavy was pressing against your chest. As you struggled to open your eyes, your hand tried to shove something heavy off to give your airway room to breathe and get more air into your chest. The moment your fingertips came in contact with the object, the thought that it was too soft jumped into your head and it hit you: the moment Gojo fell, you were at his back knowing that your size would make it harder to support him and more likely to hurt yourself, but your actions were faster than your thoughts. Finally, when you fully focused your gaze you saw a snow-white mop of hair right under your nose and on the sorcerer's body as a cherry on the top was Megumi's body, which he had picked up, but never had time to take anywhere. Silently cursing to yourself, you crawled out from under the unconscious bodies as carefully as you could holding Gojo's head gently. You gently checked their pulses with your hand, and exhaled a sigh of relief as you sat down beside them as if you needed a little respite yourself. Quietly shaking off the construction dust from your uniform, you noticed that your hands were darkened with indecipherable, chaotic, and to top it all off, ugly patterns. Rolling up your sleeves you clenched your teeth uneasily seeing that they had spread all over your forearm. Going into isolation twice in a row was risky, but looking at the two motionless but still alive bodies you had no regrets. You unconsciously reached up to flick a strand of white hair away from Gojo's face, but as soon as your hand was a few inches from his skin, you yanked it away as if you'd been burned. You would have kept hesitating, moving your hand in and out of his face, if it hadn't been for the sharp voice that called out to you:

"Get your hands off of them!" shouted a female voice in a frenzy, and you noticing that a two-handed axe was flying straight at your head instantly vaporized along with the two bodies you were holding in your arms. 

[25 Dec, 2019; 08:42pm; Tokyo, Tokyo Prefecture, Chiyoda Special District, Cafe N].

You were sitting in a familiar soft armchair and hot, fragrant coffee with each sip seemed to fill your veins with home warmth. Having settled down at a table in a secluded corner, a garland of all kinds of colors was shimmering against your silhouette, a pleasant, unobtrusive melody of the place was flowing quietly through the spacious hall, which was accompanied by chewing sounds of the boys sitting in front of you. Looking at their tired, but terribly peaceful faces you drowned all even the sharpest pricks of regret about your own intervention somewhere in the depths of your soul.

"I never thought you'd still keep your promise you made back then, in this very café," Yuta said adding more hot sauce to his plate.

"Hey!" you threw your head up sharply frowning your eyebrows. Your hand reached across the table to quietly tap your index finger on the boy's forehead. "That sounded really rude!"

"Sorry, I didn't mean it that way," laughed Yuta. He kept looking at you and there was no way he could shake off the idea that you reminded him a lot of someone. "Honestly, I just didn't think it would end so soon and so... uh, well."

"Good," you smiled brightly squinting your eyes. "I hope ya'll have a quieter time now, because there is nothing to waste your youth on such things"

"Y/N, how are sensei and Megumi doing?" asked Itadori cutting into the conversation.

"They're fine," you replied tapping your fingers on the table to the beat of a quiet tune. "They haven't come to their senses yet, but that's not surprising," you slapped the table gently with the same hand and leaned back in the upholstered chair.  "Doc said another couple or three minutes of this kind of exertion and your teacher's brain would have turned into a fried steak, but Megumi... Well, isolation hasn't gone unnoticed for him, so he needs as much rest as possible right now."

"Then can we stay with you for that time too?" asked Itadori biting his lip awkwardly.

"Look at ya, what a nimble booger," you said grinning. "You've already picked out your rooms and settled in pretty well anyway."

"Is that a yes?" asked Itadori excitedly and you nodded affirmatively. "I told you she'd say yes," Itadori whispered in Yuta's ear and you tactfully pretended not to hear them. As the boys ate and drank their cocktails taking advantage of your promise to pay for them, you were still anxious, even though it seemed to be over yesterday.

"You know, he'd like you," Yuta's quiet voice pulled you out of your rebellious musings and you raised your eyebrows questioningly without realizing what he meant. "Our teacher. Well, I think so," he added and a feeling of embarrassment spilled over his cheeks red. 

"I wouldn't bet on it," you mumbled to yourself mentally marveling at the childlike directness and lack of understanding of the conflict that could result. After all, your worlds were divided thousands of years ago by strife and discord gradually making everyone living in your world a monster and a thug. Luckily for you, after a while you were no longer spoken of at all seemingly erasing your existence from the face of the Earth while you quietly did your work. At that moment, while you were scrutinizing the young faces, caution snapped into your head with a scathing cry.

"Watch out!" you only had time to yell in their direction before a shard of the far window slashed your cheek, a rush of air blew the building aside and only your table and chairs remained standing in the deserted spot, thanks to your flash of caution. You, instead of turning in the direction from which the stream had been directed, turned your gaze in the opposite direction where the now former café had piled up into a heap of splinters and bodies. A painfully familiar silhouette appeared out of the dusty chaos and as you took a step toward it you were blocked by the backs of two boys and you could sense that Rika was now somewhere close by, but you couldn't see her because of your lack of cursed energy. "What the hell," you thought to yourself and grabbed the boys by the scruff of their necks pulling them aside.

"Y/N!" the boys exclaimed in unison, but you stubbornly led them away.

"Ya both, get out of here," you murmured softly under your breath letting them go. "Here's the key card, go home," you tossed the key into Yuta's hands. "While the adults talk."

"But we can-" began Yuta, but you cut him off abruptly.

"I said get out," you said keeping a friendly face as you spoke the same warning words. As soon as they nodded their heads but in disagreement you turned around and Kenjaku stood before you, about ten foots away.

"There you are, thief," Kenjiaku gritted his teeth in a grin. "Thanks to that black-haired kid, without his massive flow of cursed energy I doubt I would have found you so soon."

"Oh?" you raised your eyebrows tilting your head slightly to the side. "Has a superior creature such as yourself stooped to such base human desires as revenge?"

"In my case, it's no more than a response to such a cute but still irritating stimulus," you barely refrained from rolling your eyes at his tiresome familiarity. The purpose of the curse was as clear as day, but it stood motionless, hands clasped beneath the folds of the kimono taking its time to close the distance. You could feel something wandering and hovering around you, an unpleasant veil enveloping your heightened sixth sense and it was unclear to you whether it was just a stream of cursed energy coming from Kenjaku or whether the curses he had summoned were surrounding you. You got a shot of adrenaline from your body at the exact moment something hit your chest with great force, and you flew at instantaneous speed towards the ruins of one of the buildings mixed with a stream of artificially created lightning-fast wind gusts that lifted pieces of asphalt and ground. In that brief instant, the nails of your hands managed to clutch at the ground, but still it didn't slow you down and your body, which now lay in the ruins of the building, was buried the one that flew with you. 

Kenjiaku stared at the mess he'd made trying to catch even the slightest movement that would tell him if you were still alive after something like that. As he stared at the ruins he had created, ten thin, tiny black streaks began to appear on the ground on a lower trajectory and second by second they grew joining together until they formed one large, elongated line as if someone had cut through reality leaving a black bleeding wound in the fabric of space. A kick of such force flew into the curse's back that he instantly fell into the dark embrace of the abyss. "Life didn't teach ya anything," you muttered wiping the blood from your face with your sleeve and exhaling sharply pushing back a strand of your disheveled hair that had fallen over your face. "Well, let's wait a few minutes," you said glancing at the invisible watch on your arm and sat down next to the darkness.

You scrolled through the news feed on your phone switching to online stores, throwing in your cart the sneakers, earrings, and unbelievably beautiful dresses that you would never wear. You looked into your group chat, which was created for the purpose of information exchange or just for idle chatter at least, was now filled with endless idiotic memes and you glanced at the time and realized with horror that 23 minutes had already passed. "Oh, shit!" you exclaimed with panic in your voice and thrusting your arm over your shoulder into the abyss, yanked the body out with a jerk.

The curse appeared before you in a different form: face gaunt, hair disheveled and torn in places, eyes filled with madness and horror, clothes faded and torn in places. "Sorry, sorry, I went a little overboard," you mumbled in a guilty voice, though it was just a lighter version of the isolation you hadn't dared to enter because of yesterday's events. This darkness consisted of just dark matter, which seemed less dangerous than dark energy and it didn't take away one's senses and consciousness nor did it require your personal presence, but it did erase the sense of time and you realized looking at Kenjaku's frantic look, that he hadn't felt it for really too long. "Anyway, look, ya have two options," you squatted down in front of his mangled silhouette lifting two fingers up at his face. "Either I push you back in there and close the incision," a lie, you wouldn't have been able to close the incision with the dark matter striving to push the foreign body out like a splinter, but by the certainty of your voice Kenjiaku had no choice but to obediently heed you. "Either we go to the judges now and see what they have to say about this whole mess you've made."

"Who are-" a hoarse voice rose from his lungs and he stopped half-heartedly and coughed violently. "Who are the judges?"

"I have no idea," you said with a shrug. "We used to just take the demons to them and then they'd figure out what to do with them. But I think they'd be very interested in a creature like you," you said with a smile looking into the dark eyes. "It's not as bad as it sounds. Maybe they'll just give ya spanking and let ya go and then we can have a proper fight when we're both strong enough. So, what's it gonna be?"

"Lead the way," Kenjiaku mumbled idly and you grabbed his temples with one hand lifting two fingers of your other hand somewhere upward uttering:

"Under the eyes of the Gods of Justice, before the radiance of the Witnesses of Fate, protected by the word of the creation and blah blah blah... Shine the light, open the veil," and with that, your silhouettes disappeared with a food-distinguishable pop as if bursting.

The fathomless blue eyes had been continuously watching Megumi's body for an hour. The unconscious body of the boy as if exsanguinated, showed no signs of life. If it weren't for the heart monitor next to him occasionally playing the beat of the young heart, Gojo would have gone insane - and God save those who witnessed the madness of the strongest. The sorcerer regarded the dark, chaotic and somehow disgusting patterns that slid up and down Megumi's forearm, as if trying to reach his heart. He leaned back in his chair looking over the last two messages from Itadori: the first one Itadori had asked in case Gojo woke up when no one was around, not to worry about anything and that they were fine and the second with the information that he and Yuta would be coming here soon received more recently. "Everything's fine, you say," he thought to himself shifting his gaze from the phone to Megumi and bit his lip with such force that it bled. He wiped the blood away lightly with his hand and covered his eyes with the thought that it was all from accumulated fatigue.

"Sensei?" Yuta's voice pulled Gojo out of his restlessness. "How are you feeling?"

"And what is this doubt I hear in your voice?" wiping his face with his hands and pulling on his usual smile, Gojo turned around to his students. "I'm fine as always!" placing his hands on his students' shoulders and leaning down to their level, he still with the same broad smile, but subtle threat in his voice said: "Well, my boys, ya will explain it all to me now."

"Uh, we..." mewled Yuta running his fingers over his hands. "She'll be home soon, so I think you'll need to talk to her."

"Who is her?" squinted Gojo's eyes squeezing their shoulders even tighter.

"Her name is Y/N," Yuji said with childlike directness in his voice and wide eyes.

"Honestly I don't care what her name is," Gojo said with a shake of his head and letting go of their shoulders. "Is this her work?" he pointed at Megumi's body.

"Yes, that's her-"

"Where is she?" asked Gojo with an already undisguised anger in his voice.

"We were sitting with her at the cafe," Itadori began in a dazed manner, not understanding why his teacher was getting angry. "But then Kenjaku attacked us and she told us to get out of there-"

"What?!" he snapped in their direction, as if spitting out the last remnants of patience with that word.

Stretching... Stretching... Stretching... Stretching...

The line of your indistinct silhouette stretched reflecting in the eyes of Kenjiaku, who was following you with a fine, irritating ripple. Each of his feeble steps seemed to sink into the ground that wasn't beneath his feet. He lifted his hand to get a closer look: unfilled with color, devoid of any paint, only the shadowy line of his hand's silhouette trembled constantly breaking into small segments. Kenjiaku knew exactly what his palm was holding straight at this moment, but it seemed to be strongly curved towards his face and turning his hand with the back side, it already formed the same arc-shaped something. The edges of your lines were also constantly curved approaching him and then moving away. Beginning gradually to lose his mind from such changes, he could not stand it. "What's happening to us?" he asked and dreading the fact that instead of his voice he heard only a strange dragging sound that spread through the space in a vibration.

"Nevermind, there's a slight distortion of space here," you circled your hand around the heavily arched horizon. "Because this one here is actually a straight line. And yeah, just don't think about the fact that there's no floor under your feet," the vibrations from your voice pierced through his gut and as soon as you said that he immediately started to fall down, but you grabbed him by the scruff of the neck already prepared for that. "I warned ya. It's kind of a four-dimensional space here, so you can step not only left-right and back and forth, but also up and down, so follow me strictly."

"I thought hunters were just a scary fairy tale for naughty little curses," said Kenjiaku.

"Do you know who I am?" you said trying to mock the tone of cursing from your last encounter, but that tone dissolved into a chirr.

"Not really," Kenjiaku said and the segments of your lips spread into a twisted grin. "What's going to be going on with these judges?"

"Usually they already know themselves what the so-called 'defendant' has done," you said with a shrug. "But with ya no idea, maybe they won't know what to do with ya at all; we've never brought a curse here."

"How much farther do we have to go?"

"As long as space isn't this empty," you replied to curse continuing to step forward making the lines of your silhouette stretch behind you. The warped horizon once again showed fine ripples and it grew into the outline of an indistinct surface as you approached. You moved even closer and the silhouettes of three seemingly human beings became visible, but there was no hint of eyes, nose or lips on their faces. There were no ears, no outlines of hair, just a general humanoid outline, the trembling line of which kept tearing and joining together in different places. You stopped not far from the surface behind which the judges stood and waited quietly. "What's going on?" asked Kenjiaku.

"No idea," you replied. "Maybe they're evaluating ya; maybe they haven't noticed us at all."

"Approach," the emotionless vibration thundered through all visible space causing your chest to convulse several times. Kenjaku took a step forward, but you grabbed his forearm.

"It's for me," you said smiling. You got as close to the surface as you could and the lines of one of the creatures, though geometric, still chaotic, began to stretch toward you. As it merged with your silhouette into one, your brain felt as if a hundred fists were clenched it. It searches for memories. Memories of your last conversation with Kenjiaku and of this procedure you conveniently 'forgot to mention'. Just when you began to think you were losing consciousness, the creature's lines and yours began to separate and it was back behind the surface.

"Open the wormhole," uttered the same powerful vibration.

"What does that mean?" only had time to ask the curse as visible geometric lines began to distance him from you. "You!" he exclaimed in anger, clearly addressing you. "You little scum!"

"See ya in hell," you said with just the outline of your lips slightly waving the fingertips of your raised hand in farewell. "Or outside the observable universe, it's just a matter of luck." You turned back to the judges and remained standing motionless, until one of them finally turned his attention to you.

"Else?" said a voice.

"I want Geto Suguru's body back," you said pondering whether it was worth such a ruse to return a dead body to one who treasured it.

The dark corridor of your infirmary seemed to sleep with along with the patients. Only the muffled clatter of the wheels of the stretcher you were pushing in front of you disturbed this peacefulness. On the stretcher lay a body covered with a black cloth on which you tried hard not to lower your eyes. Next to you walked Vito, who knowing his calm temperament and his tendency not to ask questions you had asked for a small favor: to help you deliver the body. Keeping your course straight to the morgue room, which was at the very end of the corridor, the two of you - or to be more precise the three of you - were approaching one of the rooms, from which you could see the dim color and hear albeit not loud, but vigorous conversations. As you neared the doorway, you peered into the room to see who was disturbing the medical peace.

"I see ya having a family quarrel," you said jokingly to the trio and if your heart could beat faster than usual it would have punctured your ribs long ago at the realization that blue eyes were staring right back at you. "Not reprehensible, but be a little more quiet, others are resting," with those words you seemed to gather your wits and stare back into the blue eyes.

"Now forget everything I just told ya," Gojo smiled and after patting Yuta and Itadori's hair so hard that they shrank back, he headed in your direction. He didn't understand himself now: just a second ago he'd been seething in his own invisible anger, but when he saw you his anger was replaced by confusion and he didn't know what to do, so he followed you as soon as you moved. 

"I already have an escort," you turned to Gojo noticing that he was walking directly behind you and Vito.

"I'll be the third, then," Gojo said with the same smile, but with a subtle sarcasm clearly realizing that his phrase had a double meaning. You reached the metal door, and Vito pulled it open allowing you to enter the morgue with the stretcher without obstruction. You walked a little farther letting go of the stretcher's handrail when it was next to the freezers and turned around.

"Should I stay?" asked Vito and you shook your head pursing your lips. Vito shifted his concerned gaze from you to Gojo and left the room slamming the steel door shut leaving you two alone. Gojo slowly walked over to the vacant iron stretcher and sat down on it keeping his eyes on you. If you hadn't been so tired, you might have noticed that the living embodiment of winter was sitting in front of your nose, but now your mind was on finding ethyl alcohol and formalin to treat the corpse or to replenish the supplies if you ran out of it. Since Gojo was silent and you had nothing to say to him, you began your ridiculous search through the many lockers.

"Are ya serious?" responded Gojo to your actions. "Am I that uninteresting?" His playful tone was met with your silence accompanied by your fiddling and the creaking of shelves causing the sorcerer's patience to burst for the second time of the day. "Why the hell did you get involved? No one asked you to," the playful tone changed to a serious one as if by snap.

"We don't need to be asked," you countered his attacks rummaging through one of the cabinets that held various tubes and needle injectors, but nothing resembling formalin. "Your problem was your problem equally as long as it was localized."

"Huh?" Gojo let out a chuckle as if in disbelief. "Believe me, I'm strong enough to handle everything and certainly without the help of a bunch of obscure creeps," his every word echoed with a spit on the back of your head.

"How old are ya?" you asked finally turning in his direction examining Gojo from head to toe. "Nearly thirty? So ya had plenty of time to get rid of Sukuna before he got into Itadori's body," you shrugged turning back to the drawer. "But you didn't. So stop acting like a child who got his first place prize taken away."

"You're the reason Megumi is in such a state with some black abomination spreading through his body, aren't you?" Gojo asked not even trying to keep his voice down, the tone of which felt like cold shower of accusations and recriminations over you.

"Yeah," you agreed easily nodding your head.

"Well, if he dies-"

"He won't," you said in a firm voice and realizing that you were out of formalin after all, you closed the door of the last locker in defeat. You walked over to one of the freezer lockers and opening it, pulled the iron retractable structure towards you. Connecting the stretcher to it you pulled the cloth off the dead man and began to slide the body deeper into the freezer compartment.

A lump rose in Gojo's throat at the sight of the deceased's face and he tucked his trembling hands in his pockets. "Well, if you're that good," he began sarcastically. "Then why didn't you do the same thing to him as you did to Megumi?" when he said "to him" you realized he wasn't talking about Kenjaku.

"Because he wasn't there," you mumbled quietly, while the mechanism of the structure clicked into place and you reached for the small iron door to close it.

"Lie!" shouted Gojo in anger slamming the door shut with one hand and you took a step back. "You just killed him, didn't you!"

"Incredible," you clasped your hands slightly as if in defeat. You weren't expecting honors or thanks, you weren't expecting anything and yet your already exhausted gut told you that it couldn't take another accusation and you would snap back. You were well aware that the sorcerer standing in front of you was tired, he was tired and probably still hurt and maybe there was a very tiny chance that he didn't mean everything he said. "Maybe I also shot Kennedy and dinosaurs had turned up their toes because of me? All it took was one freak to tell ya your friend was alive and you believed him and ended up in hoosegow, but the second I told ya he was never there ya say in a heartbeat that I'm a fucking liar," you ran your hands over your tired face. "If I'm that bad, then take the kids and get out, no one's keeping you here.

"Look, I-"

"If we have decided to kindly exchange barbs, well," you knew you would regret your next words, but no strength still could stop you. "You killed him first," if you had listened to your surroundings a little better you would have heard Gojo gulp feverishly. "Let us call it a day. Go to your room, get some rest." You pulled open the metal door leading out of the morgue and with one last glance at Gojo; you smiled softly realizing he wouldn't see it because of the mask. "Good night, boxy." As soon as you stepped onto the threshold of the corridor someone's unfamiliar and from that disgusting touch reached your hand making your eyes see nothing but red. Just as the scarlet veil began to fall from your eyes you realized that you were pressing the sorcerer's throat into the wall with your forearm, your other hand already holding a dagger to his carotid artery. The realization hit you on the top of your head with a sharp axe and you backed away disappearing into the darkness of the corridor and if it hadn't been for the shame that kept you from looking back you would have noticed the concerned blue eyes watching you.

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[thiniceofeternalyouth]

MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER ONE

A FOOL AND A THIEF

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, adventure, sci-fi, cosmology.

Chapter warning: MANGA SPOILERS, cursing, mentions of smoking, mentions of gore, mentions of blood.

Words count: ~12k

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A/N: Sorry for any grammar or punctuation mistakes, eng isnt my first language

[1 Nov, 2018; 03:46 am; Tokyo, Tokyo Prefecture, Shibuya]

Under the Tokyo sky amid the rubble and the half-destroyed Shibuya Station, silhouettes in dark robes loaded the wounded into cars.“Who the fuck are you?” Wiping the blood from his lip with his sleeve, the guy asked angrily.

“We were just passing through, to be honest," she said with a smile tucking a stray red curl behind her ear and lighting the last cigarette from her pack. “It had been one hell of a long day. Y/N, let's go home already."

The night air blew across the boy's scarred face and it seemed to him that even his eardrums were damaged because he never heard a single gust of wind. Nor did he hear the footsteps of the silhouette next to him. "Hey!" girl's whisper made Itadori come to his senses. In front of him stood a girl seemingly his age, with blonde hair hidden by a black robe. Though she wasn't wearing any kind of mask either, from something he couldn't make out her eyes. “Here, take this," she tried to shove some kind of paper at him. The girl paid no attention to the fright in the boy's eyes, nor to his pose ready to fight, but was still trying to find a pocket in his clothes to shove the piece of paper into. "Call me if you need help," the same girl's hurried whisper barely uttered the phrase before it’s owner disappeared from sight. It took some time before Yuuji came to his senses. Trying to figure out if he was hallucinating under the stress of what had happened, he shoved his hand into his pocket trying to find what the stranger had shoved in there. Pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket, he carefully unfolded it and stared at the symbols. A phone number. A very ordinary phone number.

Not hallucinations.

[9 Nov, 2018;, 02:31 pm; Tokyo, Tokyo Prefecture, Chiyoda Special District, on the way to Cafe N].

You turned to the blonde girl holding her hand so you wouldn't lose her in the crowd of people rushing about in the center of Tokyo. "Dany, if ya wanted to eat so badly, why couldn't we find a closer café?“ Your peripheral vision kept picking up unfamiliar facial features, the gestures of people talking on the phone, flowering plants scattered in the flowerbeds and neon signs especially invisible in the daylight. If it weren't for the girl pulling you fiercely in the direction of the café, it would have seemed nothing more than a beautiful fake.

"Of course we could, but, first of all, we never take the easy way out," she raised her fist in the air and began flexing her fingers as she listed. “And secondly, people say about some really great Yakiniku here.” You just hummed in response making it clear that you weren't interested in that at all. Although, everyone who knew you at least a little bit knew about your passion for food and many people took shameless advantage of it.

When you opened the door to the café the doorbell alerted everyone to new visitors. Stepping inside, you felt the warm atmosphere. Quiet pleasant music, dim lighting, soft cozy chairs, textured wooden tables, on the walls there were frames with some photos and handwritten inscriptions with warm words. As your gaze clung to the furnishings, Danielle waved her hand at someone sitting at a far table. "What the..." you had time to think before one of the boys, black-haired with small circles under his eyes wearing a white jacket that resembled some sort of school uniform got up from the table and headed towards you. As soon as he changed his position you saw the person sitting behind him. A pink-haired kid. The same kid who had been in Shibuya. You grabbed Dani's hand and immediately stormed out of the cafe."Y/N, wait!” Danielle tried to get through to you, but you stubbornly pulled her away from the place. “I'm the one who gave them the number to contact us in an emergency!” sensing that you hadn't heard a word she said, she pulled her arm out forcing you both to stand in place. “I said wait!”

The black-haired boy who had been running after you all this time repeated her request. "Please, wait!" he stopped beside you, bent down and wrapped his arms around your sides trying to catch his breath. You stared at him silently in anticipation. When he looked up at you, your gaze made him fade and a pale blush broke out on his young cheeks. “I'm sorry. We don't know who else to turn to, but we really need help right now,” his hand went into his jacket and he was ready to pull something out, but you stopped him. "Not here," you said, and nodded your head toward an unremarkable alley. As soon as you started toward the direction you'd indicated, you stopped Danielle. "Not you, young lady. You wanted Yakiniku so badly, so why don't ya go back to the cafe?” you tilted your head slightly to the side and smiled letting her know that this was as far as she could go. Though she pressed her pink lips together, she didn't contradict you.

Your footsteps were accompanied by the sound of drops falling from the drains. The alley reeked of damp, filth and poverty. The shabby walls covered with obscene inscriptions seemed about to collapse. Walking a couple more meters down the wet road, you stopped. Turning to face the boy and smiling to ease the tension between you, you leaned your shoulder against the wall. "First, introduce yourself.”

"Yuta. Okkotsu Yuta, student at the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical college," he said in a low voice, rubbing his fingers together.

"Too formal," you chuckled. "What would a student of this college want with my student?” you emphasized the word 'my', but without any anger or irritation in your voice.

Yuta pulled a dark cube out from under his jacket and held it out to you. "Here," you raised your eyebrows in surprise and stared at the boy, waiting for further explanation. “I know it's hard to believe, but there's a man in there right now. And that person is our teacher," the boy exhaled convulsively. He felt the way a five-year-old feels when telling his parents about the scary monster living under the bed. Yuta didn't know who you were. Do you know about cursed energy? About curses? About the sorcerers who fight them? Would you believe him?

You were already twirling the cube in your hands, examining it from every angle. "Okay, let's say it's true," there was a stitched eye on one of the dark edges and judging by the tactile sensations, the frame itself was made of leather. “But what do you want us to do?”

"I wish you'd get him out of there," the boy said, still dumbfounded that he hadn't noticed the way you'd snatched the prison out of his hands. “Please.”

"There's no other way to get him out of there, I take it," you ran the knuckle of your index finger over the stitched eye waiting for some kind of reaction. Nothing.

"No. All the items that could have been used to solve the technique were destroyed by the teacher himself," the boy lowered his eyes to the floor realizing how that sounded.

"That’s ironic," your laugh echoed in the alley. “All right, if you want us to get him out of there, I need at least a little more information, ya know.”

"We don't know much ourselves," the boy's frustrated voice hit your temples. “The only thing we know is that this is the other side of the gate," Yuta pointed to the cube with a nod of his head. "There is the prison realm itself.”

"Prison realm?” you asked with a touch of skepticism in your voice. “Where is it? Is it, like, a subterranean, a facility or is it—“

"No," the boy interrupted you, shaking his head. “It's the same cube, only lighter and there are eyes on all sides of it.”

"Are ya saying that your teacher is in two subjects at once?” With a voice excited with growing interest you asked the boy giving a slight nod in his direction.

"Dunno," Yuta apparently frightened by the sudden change in your mood, backed up a little. "Looks like it.”

"And this prison realm is now located...?” you paused waiting for Yuta to finish your sentence.

"Curse named Kenjiaku," Yuta watched your facial expression, which would probably tell him if you'd heard that name before.

"And let me guess what the catch might be," your voice, filled with sarcasm, drifted down the alley.

"There really is a requirement," Yuta muttered to himself. "The other side of the gate can only be opened in the immediate vicinity of the prison realm.

"Uh-huh," you wiped your face with your hand as if wiping away your disappointment. "Do you have a picture of that curse?" Yuta pulled out his phone and started frantically searching for something. As you watched at him, you couldn't help yourself and quietly put your hand on the guy's wrist that held the phone. "Yuta, calm down," your voice seemed very soft and soothing, and the boy looked up at you. "I won't bite." The boy nodded and smiled weakly back and the atmosphere immediately became more peaceful. After a few minutes, he handed you a cell phone with a picture on it. It showed a boy with fair skin and black hair tied in a tight bundle, though one strand of hair fell loosely over his face. A bright smile lit up the young face.

"He looks different now," Yuta interrupted your observation. "Most of his hair is loose, and his hair is longer. He's wearing something resembling a traditional kimono. There's a huge scar on his forehead." you silently listened to the young man, still looking at the photo.

You've seen this guy before. About a year ago. Pulling a case of headphones out of your pocket, you pulled one out and put it in your ear. The familiar sound of the power on reached your eardrums. "Meg, ya here?" you asked somewhere in the void.

"Here," someone replied mimicking a human yawn, it's voice sounded mechanical. "What does the mortal want?"  

"Let's go find the city camera, Yuta," you said heading toward the street.

"I've seen one around here," the boy grinned and led the way. You could have done it without him, but you let him lead the way.

After walking a couple blocks, there was a traffic camera near a stoplight. You pointed Yuta's phone with the picture right at it. "Meg, see this mug?" you asked someone again.

"Distinctly," the voice replied.

"Can you look it up on city cameras?

"Copy that. If I find it, I'll text you the location right away. 

"Deal," you handed the phone back to the boy, but you noticed that his gaze had gotten sad.

"Hey, what's wrong?" your voice was warm again like a dry summer wind.

"I don't know if I have a right to complain," you wondered at his words. After all, he was still a child, and he had every right to complain. "It's just that the teacher Gojo asked me to keep an eye on Itadori and the others in case something happened to him. And I don't seem to be handling it," the boy's shoulders slumped along with his voice.

"If you're standing here now, it's just proof that you're handling everything just fine," you gently tousled the boy's dark hair with your hand. "Don't ya lose heart. We'll figure something out," as you scrutinized the boy's skin, you began to notice healing scratches, bruises and contusions. "You know, go back to the cafeteria. Get some rest and good food. I take it the last few days have been hard on you. And we'll try to do something about it," you said with soft assurance in your voice, pointing at the cube.

"Would you have lunch with us now?" The boy asked with some hope in his voice.

"I can't, unfortunately, although I wish I could. I just don't like your pink-haired boy. Or rather, what's in him," you exhaled uneasily and Yuta stared at you with surprised eyes. As far as he knew, you'd never looked at Itadori up close. "But I'll walk you back to the café. I need to pick up Danielle anyway."

Walking through the crowd of the same hurrying people back to the familiar cafe, you looked at the colorful small paper lanterns on the windows of the place. From afar these crafts looked marvelous, but as soon as you looked at them closer, you could see the flaws: the glue was too much, a piece of paper was torn off and on the other lantern on the contrary there was too much paper. In fact, it didn't make them any worse. Probably because it looked like they were made by children. Well, it's really a family cafe.

As you tried to see Danielle through the window, you were relieved to see that she wasn't sitting at the same table as Itadori. You immediately wanted to kick yourself for thinking that. He wasn't a leper, and none of this was his fault, but keeping you all safe was your direct responsibility, which you were systematically violating. You were pulled out of your thoughts by Yuta's voice. "Thank you," he blushed faintly. "For coming and... for help."

"Too early for thanks," you smiled back. "But we'll celebrate sometime later. My treat. See ya later," you nodded your head toward the table where Yuji was sitting signaling that Yuta should go. The boy nodded back and hurried over to his friend. You went over to Dany, sighed like an old grandma and plopped down in the chair, threw the cube on the table, and stared at the girl, who was munching on a piece of meat with appetite. "So, my bun, how's it taste?" She looked from you to the cube and back to you then swallowed her food with a loud sound and nodded. "Eat, bun, eat, ya after such antics will not be enough to put a week of work in the canteen. There will be no time to eat there."

"Y/N!" The girl shrieked quietly with indignation and a touch of pity in her voice.

"And don't you dare try to pity me. I know those blue eyes of yours," you wagged your index finger in front of her face. Just as Dany was about to make the most pitiful face in the world and talk about love and mutual aid, you were interrupted by the sound of a notification on your phone. You reluctantly pulled your phone out of your pocket and stared at the notification bar. Your eyes widened slightly in surprise

[02:59pm] Megan: Kyoto Prefecture, Kyoto, Fushimi Inari Shrine, exact coo...

"You're quite fast, though," you muttered under your breath.

You opened the notification and saw coordinates that are more precise. Would the curse, or whoever it is be hiding in such a crowded and sacred place? Seems completely ridiculous. Sounds the same. Anyway, you wouldn't argue with Megan, so it was a good time to go and check out who Kenjiaku was and what he was all about.

[10 Nov, 2018; 08:43pm; Kyoto, Kyoto Prefecture, Fushimi Inari Shrine]

Walking up the mountain called Inari to the temple complex, there was a feeling of an invisible catch. For such a popular place it was strange not to see a single living soul, neither a tourists nor an employees of the complex. Since the eye couldn't get a hold of anything living, the attention shifted to the big picture. Thousands of toriis set up all along the paths of the temple complex standing so densely that they formed corridors. On some of them, the orange lacquer seemed already weathered, faded, though the black symbols that contained the name of the giver and the date were still just as black and bright. Outside of these arches, the caressing whisper of the forest could be heard. Throughout your journey through this place, you came across more than once sculpted images of kitsune standing at many small shrines that held keys in their mouths. It was amusing to contemplate how much people were willing to do to please an imaginary God.

Two things brought you to the main sanctuary of the complex: your sturdy legs and your stubborn nature. A small staircase flanked by familiar fox faces led you up to the gate of the shrine. The building was a traditional architecture of Shinto temples of Japan, which was characterized by simplicity and strictness of lines, a minimum of decorated elements. The only thing that caught the eye was the bright, rich red color. Having admired the view of the sacred place in the rays of the setting sun, your hands pushed open the doors.

As you stepped inside the building, you felt a kind of disappointment. Despite the beautiful facade the interior was almost empty making the space seem ridiculously huge. Yet, beautiful paintings adorned the walls of the temple, a few familiar sculptures stood in the corners and at the end of the room was a tall, but traditional Japanese table. As you ran your fingertips along the shelf, you could feel the dust settling on them. It looked tidy, but abandoned. It was as if the people who watched over this place had vanished into thin air.

The cracking of the rickety floor in the far corner of the room made you raise your head to look at the intruder. He was coming toward you, a man painfully familiar, reminiscent of the man Yuta had shown you the day before.

"Girl, aren't you lost?" the man gave you a warm smile. "The place is closed to the public."

You shifted your eyes from the interior and your keen but wary gaze slid unabashedly from the stranger's head to his feet, then you shifted your gaze back to his eye level. His smile wasn't warm. It was caustic like smoke from a campfire. "Actually, I'm here to see you. Or do you only take appointments?" your demeanor, as if by a click, changed to a friendly one, your face again lit up with a slight smile that was hidden under the black mask. 

"Well, I can take such a marvelous person right now," the man said sitting down at the table at the end of the room and gesturing for you to sit across from him.

Kenjiaku rarely felt restless. Or rather, he rarely felt anything in general, but watching you walk with a calm gait towards a place where you would find yourself only a few centimeters away from him made him act a little more cautious. Though he was looking directly at you, he didn't sense your presence. As he gazed into your gut he realized he couldn't see or feel any of the cursed energy, not even the slightest manifestation of it. Though there wasn't a gram of the usual magic in you, your aura still made him feel a slight... discomfort. No more, no less.

Another one of the Zenin clan? There are too many differences. Outwardly at least.

"That's nice to hear," you said settling back into your chair. "I didn't realize curses could be so welcoming."

"Do you know who I am?" Kenjaku's voice had a slight aristocratic arrogance to it.

"Not really," you said with a shrug. Not wanting to waste any more time on small talk and greetings, you pulled a dark cube out of your backpack, which was laden with all sorts of colorful trinkets and placed it on the table right in front of Kenjiaku's nose.

"Oh," he replied with a fake disappointment in his voice. "I see".

"Well, since you understand then why don't you just give up the prison realm without all the strife and fights?" you asked trying to keep your impatience in check.

The sound of the man's laugh filled the temple room for a second. The curse understood your purpose, but he had no idea what tools you possessed to accomplish it. The whole thing was like a game of Uno, but without the constraints of any game rules and the players held the cards they came up with. "Well, if you're so eager to play, let's play," Kenjiaku thought to himself and taking a light cube with eyes on all sides from the folds of his kimono placed it next to your dark cube on the table.

The urge to immediately examine the unknown object made you lower your eyes to the artifact. Already the very appearance of the prison realm evoked extremely unpleasant feelings, maybe even odious, most likely due to the fact that the frame consisted of human skin. But you set aside your preconceived notions and began to consider the object from a theoretical point of view. The joints of the object looked perfectly straight, the planes of the faces were not distorted, though from the angle of your gaze, it would seem that they should be. The object itself seemed so light, as if it were weightless, and seemed about to break away from the surface of the table. From every angle, the cube looked perfect. But here's the catch: nothing is perfect in nature. And then something clicked in your brain. A trap without bait.  "Isn't that too cheap a trick for a curse of your level?" you asked the man. There wasn't an ounce of challenge in your voice, more of a casual human interest.

"You did notice, though," Kenjiaku said with barely perceptible surprise in his voice. "Good. I suppose I could go a little further."

As soon as your eyelids closed to allow your eyes to refresh the visual information coming into your brain, at the same moment the space was filled with dozens of the same absolutely identical light cubes. They seemed to be everywhere: on the table, on the floor, on the few shelves, on the chairs and some of them occupied quite distorted position in space and stood on the edges, others seemed to be glued to the objects as if the gravitational field had changed, and the center of gravitation was no longer the Earth, but these very objects, and others were indifferently frozen in the air. You threw your head up and realized that the artifacts covered even the ceiling. Whatever the case, you should deal with problems as they came. As much as you didn't want to make small talk, you wanted to fight even less. So, small talk. "Aren't ya a Copperfield," you said, stretching the last word deliberately. "I'm interested in the secret of another trick," you looked away from the ceiling and returned your head to its usual position, staring into the dark eyes opposite. "You were killed a year ago. So what the hell are you doing here?"

"No one killed me," Kenjiaku looked away for a second as if remembering something. "You see, almost all of you out of my... How do you put it? Oh, yes," he flicked his middle finger and thumb, "League."

"Ya know, there are a few things that go against the laws of the creation," you said interlocking the fingers of your hands on the table looking at the huge scar on the man's forehead. "First is playing with time and the second is, oddly enough," you shrugged, waiting for him to finish his sentences for you, but it didn't happen. "Resurrection."

"I've never resurrected a person I've transplanted my brain into," Kenjaku said, his chin slightly pointed. "Though I have to admit, sometimes they do get in my way. Sharing a body with someone is hard, after all."

"Ya don't have to lie to me," you shook your head slightly maintaining eye contact with the curse. The tone of your voice didn't change, though it began to resemble a modest growing storm. "Besides, I didn't say anything about the bodies you're using. I was talking about you,"

A quiet but growing rough male laugh filled the room. "I've never resurrected myself," Kenjiaku said, still laughing mockingly. "It's just one of my techniques."

"You can call a dinghy a brigantine or a galleon," you said waving your hand lightly at his words. "It wouldn't stop being a dinghy."

"It doesn't matter at all," the man said shaking his head. "Even if the creation has its own laws, it doesn't seem to care who enforces them."

"Have you ever heard of systematic error of the survivor?" you asked tilting your head slightly to the side. "Or is the term too... human for you?"

"Yes, you're right," Kenjiaku continued adjusting the sleeves of his kimono: "I don't care much about humanity. Especially when you consider that humanity will soon cease to exist. At least as you are used to seeing it.

"Is there any use in asking you what you mean?" you asked raising an eyebrow. There was a visceral silence in the room. The curse either didn't plan to let you in on its plans or it was thinking about how best to present the information. You wanted the coin to fall on its lucky side.

"I'm gonna to make all humans shamans," Kenjiaku began. Bingo. "Of course, it won't be easy to unite all the people with Master Tengen."

"Who is Master Tengen?" you asked the curse.

"A sorcerer with immortality technique," the man said. "He also provides barriers for the Tokyo and Kyoto sorcery colleges," he added noticing your puzzled look, "His barriers prevent the flow of cursed energy from escaping, as well as providing protective functions.

"Nah, still don't get it," you said propping your cheek up with your hand.

"Of course you don't get it," Kenjiaku said, smiling mockingly at the thought of how stupid people can be. "All I have to do is merge my barriers with Tengen's.

"And yet, such transition would require an enormous amount of energy," you stated a fact.

"This is the most interesting part. A death migration will be organized to collect the cursed energy," the curse said savoring every word. "I will move the sorcerers to certain selected areas surrounded by their own barriers, so that they fight and kill each other. This is how the cursed energy will build up. They can't go beyond these barriers or they'll die. If the number of people in the area remains unchanged for twelve days, everyone within the barrier will die. Oh yes, I forgot to tell you, " his smile became so wide that it seemed as if his jaw was about to break. "Cursed energy would build up even when non-sorcerers were killed."  

"I thought it would be something interesting, but in reality it sounds like regular genocide," you were already hiding half your face in your hand, which your head was resting on, out of boredom. At first, you listened to his plan with enthusiasm, but the more he talked the more it all looked like the notes of a madman. Who's the fool now?

"And to further anger your creation, I will say that some shamans and even non-sorcerers will become vessels for shamans of past generations," he said, clearly trying to tease you.

"Whatever," you said leaning back in your chair and tucking your hands under the table. Your casual conversation had gone on too long, but the cautious plan still hadn't matured in your head. If you act directly, what are the odds of it working? Biological objects subjected to magic sometimes behave unpredictably. When you take into account the fact that the object theoretically contains a biological subject it further reduced the chances of success. Finally, you had no idea where the actual cube was, so the spell would be diffuse rather than directed. Without removing your hands from under the table, you joined the index fingers and thumbs of your hands so that they now formed a triangle. As soon as they closed, without giving you time for further doubts and thinking about the consequences your inner voice said:

      "Offset."

Just as the curse opened its mouth to say something, in the silence of an instant there was a thud somewhere behind the curse's left shoulder. Your gazes instantly darted in the direction the noise came from. The fakes immediately dissipated as if Kenjiaku had lost concentration for a second, and turning his head back in your direction, he saw your sly gaze shift from the cube directly at him. You instantly jumped up from your seats, your hands on the table, and you said, without letting him get a word in edgewise. "It was a pleasure to talk to such an extraordinary person," you pulled away from the table and took a step back. "But I'll take my leave for now. Goodbye,"

With that, you turned around, opening your back, and headed towards the exit. "That sneaky bitch," Kenjiaku thought to himself. Now he was faced with two choices: attack you from behind or head for the cube revealing his own back. Both options were a lose-lose, he had done too much to accomplish what he had planned and he didn't want to stumble over something as simple as underestimating his opponent. He couldn't just take and pull the cube to himself since the one who was sitting inside strongly resisted it. So, the third option was to walk you to the exit and watch until your silhouette disappeared from the horizon.  

Kenjiaku followed your steady gait slowing his steps as he approached the doorway. The starlight was almost gone only to return again tomorrow allowing time to run again. The sky was shrouded in all sorts of delicate shimmers, the soft hand of nature painting over the hard joints between colors making purples and vinous dance together. Only your outline grew darker and darker as you moved further away from the shrine as there was no more daylight left to reflect off of it. Ironically, while Kenjiaku was watching your shadow, you were already standing behind him. With the urge to stab him in the back and give yourself away, you lifted the prison realm with a slight movement and disappearing with the faint black haze, you were back to being the one the curse was watching so intently. "Yoink," you chirped, examining the light cube in your hands from all sides, your face lighting up again with a smile. "Well, boxy, let's go home," you didn't want to think how many reserves of luck you've exhausted today and how many of these reserves are still left. After all, it wasn't your fault that Kenjiaku hadn't been taught one simple truth: when chasing an enemy, don't forget to look behind you.

 

[20 Dec, 2018; 06:32pm; Tokyo, Tokyo Prefecture, Tokyo Magic College]

Over the past few days, the very days that Gojo had spent in the cube, the magical college had undergone some changes and to be more precise, one huge change: when the teacher first returned here, he saw solid ruins. From the words of his students, he realized that it was the work of Kenijaku. The aftermath of their battle with Master Tengen the outcome of which had alarmed many shamans: Master Tengen was dead and the rat had escaped from the ship. The last slivers of Tokyo College were left without barriers, without protection and even without a principal. As of late, dark circles and small wrinkles began to appear under his heavenly eyes, his white skin becoming drier and tighter. Pulling on the mask of cheerful frivolity over the constant lack of sleep was getting harder. Every time he found himself in bed in the twilight tousling strands of snow-white hair with the fingers of one hand, Gojo unwillingly plunged into unnecessary thoughts and the thought that his students were almost the last thing keeping him afloat scrabbled pitifully in the back of his mind. He wanted to laugh at his own childish behavior because somewhere in his chest, in a place much deeper than the human soul there was an unfamiliar female voice that filled the entire absolute gut of the sorcerer with a measured sonata - that was really the last thing that would not let Gojo fall into oblivion.

With their own efforts, out of chips, planks and stones the students managed to restore the college's residential building. Of course, it was hard to see the former grandeur among the piles of construction debris and destruction, but the students valued this place not for its monumental architecture, but for the opportunity to be near each other. There was a consoling positive side to the whole situation: now the entire area of the college could be used as a training ground.

Ever since the day Gojo had scheduled the battle of the king of curses for December 24, he hadn't given his students a break. Even though he was seemingly confident of his unconditional victory he always wanted his students to become stronger. He was no longer shy about getting directly involved in the training. Since then, his students had not only become observers of his battles with curses, they had become sensei's "opponents" themselves. Gojo made them dodge, counterattack and even take on red, blue, black lightning and the whole arsenal that wouldn't result in death. There was no shame in even applying territory expansion a few times to let the students - their bodies and minds - get used to the highly unusual conditions during battle and sending them to places that registered even the slightest amount of cursed energy. Even though Gojo himself was the initiator of such intensive training, he was alarmed by the rapid changes in his students. Changes that were invisible even to his six eyes, but here was his sixth sense unpleasantly scrabbling claws at the back of his neck, not weak enough to forget about it, but not strong enough to give it much importance. The transformation wasn't bad, quite the opposite, the students were more confident, more adaptable, maybe even stronger. He had only been gone for nineteen days and while that was comparable to a lifetime in their world, it was not at all the length of time in which such a leap in transformation could occur. All their routine and conversations about everything went on as usual, but not until Gojo began to inquire, either directly or by subterfuge about who had gotten him out of the prison realm. The students all as one would start averting their eyes either sideways or upward pretending to try to remember something, but no matter the place or time, no matter who was now standing in front of Gojo the answer was always the same: "we don't know." Once again sitting at the lunch table, he began to gently question the students, but once again he ran into a blank wall. "Who would have thought my students would become so heartless in my absence? Not even you, Yuji. I didn't expect this from you!" sensei propped his head up with his hand glaring at the boy.

"And we didn't expect you to take an unscheduled almost three-week vacation right in the middle of a battle," the invisible assistant in the face of irony tried his best to help Itadori evade his teacher's tricky questions.

As powerful as Gojo was, he couldn't make truth serum. And he wouldn't use it on his students. Probably not. The only thing left to do was to sigh dramatically and accept his defeat, but he always had the last word. "Meanie!" Gojo left the room with his hands in the air taking all the sweets on the table. Whatever had happened in the end, once he was back in the world there was more work to be done, so it was high time he got to it.

***

[same time, ~2 hours difference from Tokyo; 04:32pm, Cambodia, Angkor region]

Climbing closer and closer to the sunlight literally from the depths of the Earth, among the dilapidated slab-paved roads, among the now-unpreserved columns that were once decorated with ornaments, surrounded by walls of fine-grained sandstone on which bas-reliefs of deities from Hindu mythology were occasionally found, you climbed the rocky wall, every now and then nervously checking your right pocket to make sure that what you came here for was still there.

"Damn Cambodia and its damn underground systems!" You shouted in annoyance to yourself as you continued crawling. "It's okay, just a few more steps and we'll be home."

Grab!

You clung to the very last ledge trying not to look down. The height wasn't scary to you and neither was the abyss you'd left behind, but who knows? Maybe just this once the darkness beneath your feet would have eyes.

Your legs pushed you forward relentlessly, light shone through the ivy-covered walls and you knew the way out was near. You pulled out of your pocket what you'd been running around for days and there wasn't a part of your body that wasn't aching from the eternal bumps and falls. Being clumsy sucks.

An elongated splintered sphere within which a tiny yellow core was visible through its orange shards - your eye was trying to study every part of the artifact, just in case it suddenly disappeared. "I wish I could squeeze you in my hand harder. But you're electrocuting yourself, ya know," you said taking your backpack off your tired tense shoulders to put the artifact away. In your pursuit of unbelievable objects you couldn't figure out if you were doing a good thing or if you were following your selfish desire to disappear somewhere on the ends of the Earth, but as long as the former coincided with the latter, you chased the intrusive thoughts away from you. The only thing you cared about now was that the artifact would be useful because many of them had fantastic, but for you absolutely useless properties and you were only interested in the second category: artifacts capable of releasing a huge amount of stable energy. The amount of energy released had to be so great that it had to be enough to power a small town. A notional compact power plant.

***

[06:39pm, Cambodia, on the approach to the capital Phnom Penh]

One of your delicate but wounded hands was gripping the steering wheel securely, the other leaning against the open window frame of the car. You couldn't deny yourself the small urge to stick your hand out the window and let the slightly damp but hot air flow through your fingers. You took your gaze off the road for a second and directed it to your hand, which was now catching the northeast monsoon, with the beautiful backdrop of Tonle Sap Lake in the sunset sunlight, which happily allowed people to set up floating villages on its restless waters. The silence of the rental car's interior was broken only by gusts of wind and your carefully crafted playlist, with each song your soul became more and more relaxed, but as soon as you were connected again, your phone was bursting with notifications. You weren't a fan of reading messages while driving, but something caught your eye.

[06:40pm] Itadori Yuji: Y/N, I can't keep quiet anymore teacher Gojo is asking more and more uncomfortable questions every day!!! 

[06:42pm] Can we just tell him already? only 4 days away

[06:42pm] He started prying into my phone more than usual I cant delete the story every time, I cant even sign u in

[06:54pm] Y/N, r u there?

[07:01pm] I won't say anything without your approval but to make you feel bad know that your silence breaks my heart :(

You sighed inaudibly. Itadori had gotten what he wanted: your conscience had pulled the rustiest needle out of the farthest pocket and wasn't shy about stabbing you in the heart. But it wasn't because you ignored the boy's messages. Angry reproach for getting involved in all of this was just starting to brew in your head. Fortunately or not, your train of thought was abruptly interrupted.

[INCOMING CALL: ITADORI YUJI]

"Y/N, where are you? What took you so long to answer? I thought I was going to have a panic attack!" Yuuji whispered. "What's up? Can I tell him everything?

"Kid, tell me, have you gotten so rich lately that you make international calls?" you said with a chuckle.

"What do you mean international calls? Where are you?" Itadori's whispering grew louder and louder, panic rising with each word.

"In Cambodia, there was a—" you began to speak, but the boy cut you short.

"Eek!" Yuji ended the call in a hurry. You laughed as you typed the message.

[07:04pm] You: I'd hate to scrape off your bursting from impatience body off the walls, but don't say anything to anyone. Don't ruin first impression, see ya!

Only one thought was spinning in your head: you didn't want any first, second, or even third impressions.

***

Eager to pass the time until your flight back to Tokyo, you wandered through the center of Cambodia's capital strolling leisurely along one of the central boulevards. The evening air, mixed with the smells of fruits, freshly baked rice flour baguettes, fish sauce and river water filled your lungs. You decided to give your legs a little rest and after walking a few dozen more steps and not finding any benches, you sat down on the side of one of the stone flowerbeds, trying not to crumple or damage the flowers growing in it. Your gaze was directed toward the Independence Monument, which towered grandly over the center of the city in the twilight, but you looked through it into your own thoughts. In such moments, you could finally feel that same fragile calm that constantly eluded you in a daily routine filled with countless deaths and eternal pursuit. While you were on one side of the world tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, on the other side of the horizon a sorcerer was striding toward his room, finally feeling the sleepy rush. Gojo stepped into the room closing the door very quietly behind him. The sorcerer's tired body as if filled with wet sand began to lazily and carelessly throw off his clothes, dirty from the day's countless training sessions and literally collapsed on the bed. As soon as Gojo closed his heavy eyelids, a familiar female voice echoed in his head making his heart clench painfully.

"Good night, boxy."

[21 Dec, 2018; 09:39pm; Japan, Aomori Prefecture, north of Higashidori village, hunters' headquarters]

You walked forward along the familiar road making your way through a forest of densely growing conifers. Through the cedar pines and firs you could already see a familiar cliff rising up surrounded by proud, impregnable cliffs against which the waves of the eastern sea were crashing on the horizon. The vegetation began to thin and you walked along the lower level of the cliff, straight to the entrance, which looked more like the entrance to a cave than to a dwelling. The darkness enveloped your eyes as you stepped into the huge crevice, and the further you went, the more you were guided by memory than by sight. You walked forward exactly twenty-three steps and turned clockwise thirty degrees and nothing but your sixth sense told you that you were right in front of the iron door. It was only on the third try that your tired hand found the key card in your pocket among the rest of the junk and you tapped your shoe to the ground in impatience and placed the card against the left side of the door at your eye level. The door creaked as it began to move aside, and as soon as you stepped inside, the mechanism returned the metal door to its previous position with the same quiet clank. You found yourself inside a bright, sterile room, no bigger than the smallest closet and after five seconds you turned your body exactly 45 degrees clockwise. After another five seconds, you did the same maneuver, and so on until you were in your initial position. An invisible speaker emitted three short beeps. The lines of your hand became covered in a dark walking haze and at the same moment an unpretentious but elegant dagger appeared in your hand. Knowing the whole procedure perfectly well, you pricked your finger and smeared a small amount of the secreted blood on the wall in front of you. The blood from the surface disappeared faster than three short beeps, the wall opened and you found yourself on the basement floor of your house. The space was filled with carelessly standing boxes, in which lay both old worn-out clothes and cartridges of different caliber, construction waste, spare parts from different mechanisms, scrap metal, the smell of paint and acetone was in the air. Your feet were already leading you up the metal stairs, each step making a distinct clanking sound under your soles.

The quiet of the house was broken by the creak of the door opening, the rustle of shoes being kicked off, the clank of a key being tossed onto the nightstand and your barely audible hitching of breath. You stopped beside the nightstand and looked up at the mirror that hung above it. In the darkness you could only make out the outline of your upper face, a black mask always covered the lower part of it and the desire to take it off at least at home was rapidly diminishing every day. Once again, you bringing your hands to your face, stopped. After hesitating for a few seconds, you shook your head chaotically and lowered your hands. When you pulled yourself away from the mirror, you quietly walked further along the varnished wooden floor and wanting to know if there was anyone at home whose peace you might have disturbed, you asked somewhere in the void. "Meg, is anyone home?" you tilted your head up slightly waiting for an answer.

"Yes, Kyle's been waiting for you," the voice replied with a distinctly mechanical quality to it. "And so am I, by the way."

"Megan, I'm sorry, but you know I've been out of touch," you sounded justified mixed with exhaustion.

"It didn't bother you before," Megan said with resentment in her voice. Even after so much time with Megan you couldn't tell for sure if she was really feeling human emotions or if she'd learned to mimic them and used them cleverly.

"It was different," you said wiping your face with both hands, trying to push the exhaustion away. "Oh, who knew there would be an AI with feelings?

"I didn't just show up," Megan said. "You're the one who made me this way," she said forgetting for a moment that her original job had been to state dry facts and relay information. "Don't exaggerate," you grinned shaking your head slightly.

As you took a few steps further down the corridor, your peripheral vision caught a tall silhouette. Just as you were about to become alert, a switch flicked and a light illuminated the far room. In the light of the lamp the silhouette took on the distinct shape of a man leaning against one of the wooden columns. The cold light fell on the sharp features of his face; his temples and the back of his head were shaved, but from the top of his head his blue-black hair fell in random strands across his face covering his deep dark green eyes. Beneath the t-shirt and pajama pants, he was in excellent physical shape, the visible part of his arms looking taut and wiry. A dark geometric tattoo could be seen from underneath the t-shirt that exposed his collarbone a bit. Despite his arrogant look, your eyes met his warm gaze. "Oh, my God, honey, I missed you so much!" You jumped across the room and ignoring the guy, hugged the refrigerator.

"That's your style," the young man laughed not even trying to pretend you hurt his feelings.

"Sorry Kyle, I haven't eaten in days, food fogs my mind," you laughed with him and hugged him tightly.

"I know, hun. I missed you. And yeah, there's a surprise in the fridge," and while he was saying all that, he kept kissing the top of your head.

You looked at him in disbelief "It's just food, isn't it?" You turned back to the refrigerator and opened it with a jerk. As you looked around the shelves filled with food, your gaze caught sight of a clear box decorated with little bows and a huge cheesecake inside and several cartons of chocolate milk that stood next to it. You peeked out from behind the refrigerator door and stared at Kyle with a squinted suspicious look, he only nodded his head in response letting you know it was all yours alone.

Just as your hand reached for the box, you heard loud, quick footsteps coming down the stairs. "Hey, adoptee! Don't ya wanna give me a hug?" The tall red-haired girl flew into the kitchen and crossed her arms over her chest pouting her lips.

"Rachel! How did you…" You slammed the refrigerator door shut and rushed toward her. "I mean, I didn't know you were home, I'm sorry!" You hugged her wrapping your arms around her cheeks and kissing her tanned round face. She crinkled her dark green eyes every time you accidentally grazed them with your lips.  

"I'll set the table for us for now," Kyle announced, looking at your tendrils.

While Kyle scoured the fridge for the food you needed, you decided to take a quick refreshing shower and put on your clean, soft pajamas after your warm reunion. As you walked down the stairs from the second floor, you smelled the delicious aroma of tuna sandwiches and as you moved closer to the table, you saw that there were three golden crusted sandwiches on your plate and a nearby basket full of fruit. As you sat down as a small family at the table Kyle began to question you. "So, are you going to tell me where you've been this time?" he asked slicing your cheesecake for you.

"In Cambodia!" you replied, without really getting through a bite of sandwich. 

"What, running around scaring the local tourists?" He asked mockingly, but Kyle always does that. Kindly.

"I'd love to, but this time I had to run underground," you replied with your mouth still full. Suddenly you get a light slap."Hey!" you turned to Rach, at which point she grabbed your nose with two fingers.

"How many times have I told ya to chew your food better? " The girl asked with one eyebrow raised.

"Got it, giving up, white flag, let go!" Rachel couldn't keep her stern big sister expression and laughed because of your stuffed nose and mouth full of food.

"By the way, look what I found!" And with that, you pulled out the small sphere that had been in your backpack all this time. You squeezed the sphere a little harder than you should have, and a small but noticeable electric shock went through you. You dropped the sphere, and it fell onto the wooden table, leaving a charred mark on it.   

"What the hell is that?" Kyle asked disapprovingly squinting his eyes as he methodically peeled the skin off the apple with his knife. 

"Dunno," you shrugged. "I haven't found out yet."

"Uh-huh, just like the last fifty pieces of bling," Rachel grumbled to herself.

You ignored her grumbling and continued. "But I really hope this thing can provide a steady flow of energy. There is a possibility that it was an amulet of Lakshmi, the consort of the god Vishnu. She was the source of the god's power and splendor filling him with energy. According to one legend, she leaves Vishnu when she sees the violation of moral standards in the story of Bhrigu. It's said that before disappearing from the divine world, she placed a piece of her soul there," you said gazing intently into the sphere.

"Sorry, says who? Voices in your head?" Kyle looked at you with his hand resting on his chin.

"Yep, and they also tell me you'll be sleeping outside tonight," you said rolling your eyes.

It was decided to spend the rest of the evening in silence. Kyle was on his phone, working on a training for the younger kids, Rachel had decided to collapse on the couch to the evening news, the newscaster broadcasting something about the Japanese prime minister's intentions to meet with the Iranian president and the release of radioactive water from the Fukushima nuclear power plant and you were doing the dishes humming your favorite songs to yourself.

You didn't remember whose decision it was to have panoramic windows in the hall, but now it seemed the best decision in the world. The cold night wind touched it with a gentle hand of nature and when you opened them, the hand touched you. It was good to feel alive even in spite of all those events that remained a scorched stigma on your past. Even if you weren't always up to the task, you successfully crushed the bright flashes of memories with the sole of your hardened character.

      "...a tour bus traveling the Kyoto-Nara route was found in the middle of the highway near the village Ide..."

The newscaster's voice pulled you out of your thoughts. Without taking your eyes off the window, through which you could see the troubled bay glittering blue, you began to listen to the newscaster’s words.

      "...completely empty, there was no sign of a struggle inside the bus or in the immediate vicinity..."

You are not surprised that no one has been able to find a trace of the missing people. The very beasts described in the Bibl, called by man as demons are particularly careful and calculating.

      "...a search operation has been organized, anyone with any information should contact the nearest police station..."

A crazy grin escaped your lips and you wanted to wish the federal authorities good luck because they would have to look in a dimension other than this one. Unconsciously, your thoughts drifted to the people on the bus. The young ones, under thirty, would most likely be used for the merger. The rest would either be butchered or enslaved, perhaps even sexual. You vividly imagined a pool of blood spreading on the ground, with a kneecap, a severed arm and a couple of severed vertebrae floating in it; the wet crunch of grinding bones, accompanied by a tight exhausted whimper replayed in your brain. Suddenly your keen hearing distinguishing the fictitious from the real, detected a rustle that broke the twilight's deceptive peace. Faint unfamiliar footsteps were heard at the other end of the room. Your soul became alert, and you became alert with it. "Good evening," came a hoarse voice from the darkness of the corridor.

"Good evening, Mr. Dead Principal!" you exhaled inaudibly, smiled and waved to the man.

***

"Here, your tea," you handed the hot mug to Principal Yaga. "Why are you on your feet? Didn't doc warn you that you were too weak now?"

"Thank you," the man took a sip and continued. "He warned me, but I heard him talking to someone and told me that you had arrived," the principal paused for a moment and added. "I wanted to thank you personally."

"You shouldn't have. You seemed ready to die," you said, a note of understanding slipping into your words. "Besides, it wasn't me who saved you, it was that redhead rascal over there," your thumb pointed behind you at the snoring Rach. "I wasn't even there."

"But she was there on your orders," the director said.

"It wasn't an order," you replied taking a sip of freshly brewed coffee from your mug.

"Anyway," he said shrugging and you chuckled softly. "I never knew you felt like a battered sack of potatoes after resurrection," the headmaster tried to stretch his neck with naughty hands.

"Technically you're not resurrected, you just didn't have time to die," you frowned your eyebrows slightly.

"You mean it was some kind of clinical death?" 

"You could call it that, of course," you shrugged and took a sip of coffee from your mug. "But routine terms don't really fit our way of life. The situations aren't exactly, uh, mundane."

"May I ask how you did it?"

"There is some sort of, uh, what do you call them? Tech? Nevermind. Anyway, we know it's very dangerous to play with time, but it's possible to freeze certain processes separately. Biological ones, among others. For an uninformed person it is much easier to freeze it, but those who know about it, consciously "turn off" the possibility of this manipulation with their body. After all, not everyone uses this technique for good," you tried to explain gesturing vigorously with your hands and having finished your explanation awkwardly put them around the mug. There was silence. It wasn't tense, just a silence between the person who had saved one life and the person who could save that life. Your chipped fingernails drove cracks in the table and thoughts that it would be a good idea to cut them off right now occupied your mind. You just had to focus on something to keep from feeling the pain.

"So now I shouldn't let anyone know I'm alive?" the principal interrupted the silence.

"Ya shouldn't," you said, shaking your head. "Your people have something coming up in three days and ya're too weak to help," you sighed, your index finger sliding over the rim of your cup. "I think the news that those who should be underground by now are sitting quietly drinking tea somewhere on the edge of Japan is going to bring them down. Well, maybe it might make them happy, but we're not taking any risks. On top of that, let the opposing side think you're outnumbered.

"Gojo scheduled the battle for December 24? " The headmaster asked in amazement raising his eyebrows.

"Yep, he did!" you leaned back in your chair, looked at the headmaster and laughed. "Your student has a lot of quirks."

"You have no idea how many," Yaga grinned realizing he missed his annoying former student. "Let me ask you, will you intervene?"

"We won't interfere until we realize things are going badly," you replied, your face twisted into a sly smile. "You know the politics of thugs and thieves," you said and then it was Principal Yaga's turn to laugh.

The evening was turning to night, and moths began to fly in through the open window circling the kitchen wall garland that you used instead of a nightlight. You watched the tiny wings flutter in the shimmering light thinking about how to present the information unknown to the director in a gentler way. You knew you couldn't delay this conversation, so you grabbed the mug as if it would give you some kind of support and blurted it out. "I'm sorry to report, but Master Tengen is dead," you exhaled silently, a small but heavy weight lifting from your soul.

"That's how it is," the principal said after a short pause, you could hear him swallow. "What about the Tokyo College?"

"Splinters," you scrutinized your fingers trying to avoid eye contact as if you were an accomplice.

"Is there anything else I should know?" The headmaster asked and you drained the mug in two gulps and set it down on the wooden table with a loud clatter.

"One who used to be in Itadori, uh," you hesitated trying to find the right words. "It seems he's in Megumi now."

"Sukuna Ryomen?" The director's voice exploded, but when he saw your eyes widen, he quickly calmed down. "Why would he do that?"

"Is that what you're asking me?" you raised your eyebrows pointing one hand toward yourself. "No idea. Maybe it was a change of scenery or maybe it was a plan."

You felt an unpleasant chill in your chest at your own words. You tilted your head back and stared up at the dark ceiling letting the rising tide of anxiety fill your head for a moment. Besides the fact that the demons' actions had been out of control lately, the curses were now on a full scale.

"I apologize for the interruption," Kyle's voice behind you pulled you out of your dazed state. "Y/N, devices for our kids ready yet?"

"Yeah, look in the workroom, top right desk drawer", you said.

"It's easy to find a table in this Filipino dump," Kyle said with irony in every word. You cocked your head up and looked at Kyle.

"Good, maybe ya can clean it up!" you exclaimed, clapping your hands like a child.

"Dream on!" he lightly ruffled your hair, and headed toward the door that led to the basement.

"It's very late, and you must be tired," you said, turning to Principal Jaga. "Go back to the infirmary, or I'll complain to doc about his patient walking around without his permission. He doesn't like that and won't tolerate it," you stood up, pushing your chair behind you. "You'll be out of lunch muffins for a week," and at the same time you turned around, following Kyle into the workroom.

***

As you walked past the kitchen, you glanced at the ridiculously colored refrigerator. The farther you walked across the cold floor of the house the more the warming feeling in your chest grew. You adored this place. Even though the air outside these walls was filled with callousness, at home every particle was filled with love. Even the particles that made up the damn appliances.

"We're not going to buy it," Kyle shook his head erratically from side to side. "Don't even think about it. No."

"Why? Give me one reason!" you started whimpering like a little baby.

"Let me see... Probably because it's RED and has freakin' PINK CHAMOMILE on the front of it!" You tried to keep a sad expression on your face to his words, but your lips twitching from holding back laughter gave you away.  "It's fucking fashion disaster," he mumbled, covering his face with his hand. You laughed so hard you had to clutch your hands to your stomach.

***

You sat on the curb outside an appliance store in the blazing June sun, with only the wind, like a hero from the books, saving your overheated bodies."Ya know I hate you," Kyle said with his hands on his cheeks. "You and your gift for persuasion."

"I know, hun. So are we gonna order movers or are we gonna do this on our own?"

When you entered the workroom the colors were familiar to your eyes. It could have seemed that there were colors here that didn't even exist in nature. They were everywhere: on the floor, on the walls and even somehow managed to reach the ceiling. Various caustic chemical stains, scuffs, fuel oil marks - looking at all this splendor you even felt ashamed. Just a little bit. Because this room used to be sterile white. Approaching Kyle from the back, you began to watch as he rummaged through your desk.

"Okay, here they are, I think," Kyle pulled something that looked like an impossibly thin black spider web out of a drawer. He folded the devices neatly into a black metal box and was about to leave the workroom. "Fucking Jesus!" He almost let go of the object. "Stop sneaking up on people like that!"

"Sorry, sorry, habit!" you grabbed the guy's forearms to keep him off balance, "Did ya find everything?"

"Yeah, think so, albeit barely. "

"Cut it out, I promise to clean this place up!" You pouted playfully for a second, but in the same instant your face took on a slightly worried expression. You had a favor to ask Kyle. "Look, I know you got along with the kids from Tokyo College, so could you help them out in three days? I mean, just be in range, just in case. Take Rach and a couple other guys with you," a feeling of unease made you look away. "It'll be safer that way."

"Even if I was against the idea, wouldn't you do it your way again and run over there to see the whole thing with your own eyes?

"Actually, that's what I wanted to do," you smiled at how well Kyle knew you. "But I can't. I have things to do in Karnak.

"Egypt? Are you fucking kidding me?" The men's got his eyes on you. "You literally just got back, you're a mess!" you bit your lip under his angry glare. "Look, this is not a joke. You just got back, you need to recuperate. Moreover, you have a raid in a week. Are you even thinking straight?" Kyle hasn't taken his eyes off you.

"No, I hit it when I was a kid, I think," you put your hand dramatically to your forehead.

"Why do you need to go there? I mean, why the urgency?"

"Hun, you know perfectly well why. Marragta's core is nearly depleted of energy. How do you propose we supply Hopetown with electricity? Build a nuclear power plant?" you ran your hands through your hair in concern. "Besides, if there's no electricity, the desalination units will stop working and most importantly without a steady flow of power the installed relics will stop working and the town will be left without protection!" you were doing everything you could to keep from snapping at the Kyle. "Don't we have enough problems?"

"It's not like ya have to run around the world checking every myth or legend for accuracy!" Kyle was starting to feel more frustrating. Even though his tone of voice hadn't changed, you were always good at reading between the lines even if it was for your own good. "Ya knew they were rarely true."

"I do. I'm well aware of that. But I'd rather regret what I've done than do nothing," you said through clenched teeth.

"I don't understand why we can't just use dark energy? I doubt the universe would be greedy about it," Kyle rubbed the fingers of his hands together in confusion. He hated being helpless, but he hated not being able to help you even more.

"Dark energy is extremely unstable in the long run. It has to be used here and now and even that doesn't guarantee that you won't disappear with it after it's used. We've talked about this many times and we won't discuss it again," you waved your hand in his direction, signaling that the conversation was over.

Kyle had been there for you since you were a child, even though you'd never needed it. He'd been one of the first witnesses to your first steps, your first words, your first bad joke, even though he was a little older than you. All his deep tenderness for you, which had been building up in him since the day you appeared was shattered every time by your recklessness filling every shard with anxiety and every sudden disappearance of yours provoked such a quarrel even if there was no proper ground for it. After each conflict you felt Kyle's confused gaze on you and each time one of you took a step towards. "Kyle—" you exhaled, but the guy immediately interrupted you. 

"I'm sorry I snapped you like that. Ya know I'm just really worried about you," he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear with a careful movement of his hand.

"I know, it's your role as big brother, so get over it," you smiled and returned to your radiant state. You reached out to hug Kyle, but your phone vibrated on your screen.

"Who else at this hour? " Kyle asked, peering at your phone screen and you looked away before he could read the caller's name and answered it.

"Itadori?" You sounded surprised and worried at the same time. You heard heavy breathing, wind howling and snow rustling on the other end of the phone.

"Uh... Uh, Y/N," Yuji's voice shivering from the cold finally came through the phone. "It seems I have gotten lost in the forest near your house."  

***

You wrapped Yuji's shivering body in a soft colorful blanket as he sat on the bed in your workroom. He looked from you to Kyle shaking from the cold trying to say something, but his teeth were chattering and he wrapped himself tighter in the blanket, only his brown eyes visible from beneath the soft fabric. Kyle looked at the situation, and tilted his head in your direction. "I think I'll make some cocoa and look for the old heater," he said softly and turned and headed for the door.

"If ya decide to add whiskey to it, I suggest ya start being afraid now," you jokingly warned Kyle.

"Mercy," the guy dramatically put the back of his hand to his forehead and slammed the door shut winking at you.  You flopped down on the floor next to the bed waiting for him to warm up enough to say something. Looking at Yuji's blue face, you were willing to bet yourself that his skin was tingling unpleasantly right now. With that thought you got up off the floor and went to the closet to get another brightly colored blanket and wrapped the boy in it again and sat down next to him on the floor. "I wondered if you were born this crazy, or if you'd picked it up from your teacher," Itadori's eyes widened and if his skin hadn't been so blue, a blush would have shown on his cheeks. You noticed the look in his eyes and added without a trace of embarrassment: "Why are ya looking at me like that? Judging by your stories, he really got a screw loose," you kept staring at him waiting for the warmth of your room to warm him up.

"We started practicing teleportation last week," the boy mumbled to your surprise as he parted his cracked lips.

"Yeah?" you asked raising your eyebrows. "I see," you said a little stiffly, trying hard not to laugh.

"Don't laugh!" The boy fidgeted in the bed, the warm blankets began to come off him and you could see that his skin was beginning to take on a vibrant color. "I'm... I'm glad to see you, Y/N," Yuji said, and a wide smile spread across his face.

"Itadori, I'm happy to see you too and no offense…," you faltered biting your lip. "What are ya doing here?

"Dunno," he lowered his head slightly shrugging his shoulders. "Battle is coming soon and the closer it gets, the more nervous and sleepless I get," he looked away and scratched the back of his head. "I feel much more relaxed at your place for some reason."

"Nervous?" you asked the boy. "Didn't ya tell me that your teacher is the strongest sorcerer?"

"It's true!" the boy exclaimed waving his hands in the air. "I'm not doubting him, it's just... It's just that Sukuna is in Megumi's body now, and Teacher Gojo, well... He raised him," Yuji said, his eyes blank for a moment. You could tell from the way he was rubbing his fingers that he wanted to say something else and your guess was immediately confirmed because you heard him draw in more air. "Perhaps you have a plan to suppress the Sukuna in Megumi's body?" Yuuji blurted out and then stopped abruptly waiting for your answer. 

"No, there's no plan," you shook your head slowly looking into his brown eyes. You noticed how the boy's broad shoulders began to slump slowly. "But there is an idea," you said, a smile in the tone of your voice and the boy smiled along with you.

"Really?" Itadori excitedly asked, giving in your direction.

"Yep," you said, getting up off the floor shaking off your feet. "Now go to sleep," Itadori looked at you confused and pouted his lips expecting you to say something else. "Kyle will take ya back in the morning and you can tell your friends you spent the night at the girl's," you winked at him and without waiting for him to ask more, left the workroom.

next ⊳

[thiniceofeternalyouth]

we're working with arts for series for u rn😛

[thiniceofeternalyouth]

MISLEADIN' ME [series masterlist]

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

Minors do not interact.

eh, sorry for any grammar or punctuation mistakes, eng isnt my first language

Summary:

«Don't take me for an idiot. Maybe I’m a fool, but I’m not stupid. I knew about my position from the very beginning”.

From the moment you were born there was no right or wrong way for you. There was only a way forward. The truth is that no one warned you that if you blindly follow a person you can even get off the straight road.

A story about pure love that began with betrayal.

Genre: HEAVY ANGST, fluff, slow burn, adventure, cosmology, sci-fi, mutual pinning, smut  

Warnings&tags: ooc, sorcerer!reader, badass!reader, violence, gore, physical abuse, manipulation, mentions of weapons usage, blood, smoking, non-con (not Gojo towards to reader), explicit smut, mentions of psychopathy, family drama, cursing, murders, changing an entity, moral gray, psychological abuse, minor original characters (more to be added).

Please, be aware.

IMPORTANT WARNING:

Canon universe. Non-canon events. Almost every arc of the manga has been altered through reader intervention.

Fans who are faithful to the original story are not recommended to read this work.

The original story and all characters of JJK belong to Gege Akutami.

This work was not created for commercial purposes. Just for fun. Please, enjoy!

ONGOING.

I. WORLDS COLLIDE: A FOOL AND A THIEF

II. WORLDS COLLIDE: A WALK TROUGH THE FOURTH DIMENSION

III. WORLDS COLLIDE: HATARAT

IV. WORLDS COLLIDE: VOIDRUNNERS

V. WORLDS INTERTWINE: SHADOW BEHOLDER

VI. WORLDS INTERTWINE: WISH UPON A PAPER PLANE [1 pt.]

VII. WORLDS INTERTWINE: WISH UPON A PAPER PLANE [2 pt.]

VIII. WORLDS INTERTWINE: COLD WASTELAND

XI. WORLDS INTERTWINE: ROAD HOME

X. WORLDS INTERTWINE: MY BEST FRIEND

XI. WORLDS INTERTWINE: A RUNAWAY AND A DEADMAN

XII. WORLDS INTERTWINE: THIEF OF THREE DESTINIES

XIII. WORLD'S DESTRUCTION: tba