tmrala

[tmrala]

HAVE MERCY *•.

Chapter Five : NO SUCH THING AS QUIET

————

I have to be honest, this chapter, with the first one, is probably my favorite one so far :) Feel free to comment btw !

Don’t forget this fanfic is also on AO3 : Have Mercy by Tmrala

————

You remembered the way they used to talk about you.

Not to your face — never to your face. The Hanahata were far too proud for that. But you heard them through the paper-thin walls of the temple, their words hissing like oil in a pan.

“She’s a mistake.”

“An anomaly.”

“Just a servant, yet she sees curses?”

“She shouldn’t even exist.”

You had been five, hiding in the corner of the hallway, hands clutched tightly around your elbows as their voices bled through the sliding doors. You didn’t cry, not even then. But something inside you had twisted and gone still — like your body understood before your mind did that you were not safe there. Not wanted. Not normal.

That same silence wrapped around you again now, years later, as you pulled your long-sleeved navy blouse over your arms in the quiet of the dorm room.

Faith stood beside you near the mirror, adjusting her gold earrings with steady fingers, her hair perfectly brushed, her expression unreadable.

You stared at your own reflection — specifically at the underside of your arm, where the edge of an old scar peeked out before you tugged your sleeve down to cover it.

It was white and slightly reddish on the outside now, but you knew every curve of that wound like a signature. You hadn’t gotten it in battle. You’d gotten it when you were still being punished for existing.

You glanced at Faith again. She noticed you looking, offered a small smile. You smiled back and turned away before it could shake.

————

The small side room used as a morning cafeteria was unusually quiet.

You didn’t mind the silence. Most mornings, you and Faith came early or ate somewhere else entirely — on the roof, in the garden, or just not at all. Today, though, the silence clung too tightly to everything.

You sat down across from her with a cup of tea in hand and a piece of toast you didn’t intend to eat. Faith had barely touched her food. Her gaze was distant, shoulders stiff, lips tight. Her coffee had gone cold, and she hadn’t even realized it.

She looked worse than usual — and that meant something. Faith never looked vulnerable. She always held the weight for you, always deflected, always shielded. And now that weight was too much. You could see it. Her lips were pale. Her breathing too shallow. She usually dressed like armor, walked like she owned every room she entered. But this morning, she was unraveling.

Something was wrong. More than usual.

You looked down at her bracelet, the familiar golden glinting as her arm shifted slightly — F.H. etched onto the surface, delicate and precise. She wore it every day, even on missions, even when it got in the way, even after everything that happened.

Your throat tightened.

You didn’t say anything. You just smiled — soft, hollow — and stood up as naturally as you could.

“I’ll go grab something from outside.,” you said lightly, trying your best to not make it sound like a lie. Faith blinked up at you, nodding once without asking anything.

~

You slipped out into the courtyard, letting the sliding door click softly behind you. The air was humid, the clouds bloated and gray, threatening rain, and the cicadas were still screaming like they hadn’t realized the season was ending.

As soon as you reached the shadowed side of the building, which look more like temple than a real building, near the old tree where no one usually went, your steps slowed, and the pressure snapped like a wire pulled too tight.

You cried. Not loud, not violently. No sobs, no shaking.

Just tears, like your eyes had given up pretending everything was fine. Just a pressure behind your ribs, too full, too long ignored, and now it leaked out in the form of silent surrender. You brought your knees to your chest and pressed your forehead there, trying not to break apart completely.

You didn’t know how long you sat like that and you didn’t even realize someone had seen you until you heard soft footsteps.

You looked up sharply, wiping your cheeks, already trying to lie. But it was Gojo. Of course it was. You sighed, not in the mood to talk, especially after what he heard about you yesterday.

He stood a few feet away, not approaching, not smiling, just watching with something unexpectedly gentle in his expression.

“Mercy,” he said, voice soft. “Can I…?”

You shook your head too quickly. “I’m fine.”

He tilted his head slightly. “You’re not.”

There was no malice in his voice. Just observation. He turned his head toward the building.

“I’ll get Faith.”

You didn’t protest.

————

Gojo didn’t say much as he guided you and Faith down the quiet hallway. The gentle squeak of your shoes echoed against the polished wood floor. You couldn’t even look at Faith. You were grateful she hadn’t said a word yet. You didn’t think you could hold it together if she did.

Eventually, he opened the door to one of the smaller classrooms and stepped aside to let you in. The lights were off, but the morning sunlight filtered in through the tall windows, casting long shadows on the floor. Rows of empty desks lined the room, dust particles dancing in the still air.

You sat on the edge of a student desk, your back slightly hunched, hands folded in your lap. Faith stood nearby, still and alert, but not speaking. She was waiting for you to start.

Gojo sat across from you, legs casually crossed, but his eyes were serious.

You looked down at your arm. The fabric of your long-sleeved blouse shifted slightly when you moved, revealing the faintest edge of the scar beneath. You tugged the sleeve lower, swallowing tightly.

“I know you want to know if what Naoya said yesterday was true.” you said, voice quiet. “Please, let me finish before you say anything.”

Faith didn’t interrupt. She simply nodded once, and that was enough.

“My family served the Hanahata clan. For generations. We weren’t worth much — not in blood, not in strength. They kept us close enough to control, but far enough to step on. I suppose that our main quality was our reliability and, most important, our faithfulness.”

Your throat tightened. You didn’t stop.

“I wasn’t born with cursed energy. At least, that’s what everyone thought, because in the Hanahata clan, servants are chosen to be normal humans, not sorcerers. Only the Hanahata family are born, raised and trained to become powerful sorcerers.” You glanced quickly at Faith. “But I was able to see curses. Ever since I was small.”

You glanced at Gojo. He didn’t look surprised — just… sad, at least you thought he was through his round sunglasses. Like he already knew where this was going.

“They thought I was defective,” you continued. “A freak. I wasn’t allowed to speak unless spoken to. I wasn’t allowed to learn, or ask questions, or look anyone in the eye. I think they were scared… Because if my "case" reached the ears of the Hanahata family itself, they would treat every single servants as traitors.”

You hesitated. It was probably the first time you had to open up to someone. Faith’s presence behind you felt like a wall of strength. It helped.

The scar on your arm burned with the memory. You forced yourself to keep talking.

“I didn’t know what music was. Not really. To be short, Faith gave me a violin once. Said it was a toy. Something to play with, so I wouldn’t cry so much.”

Faith’s breath caught quietly behind you, but she said nothing.

“I taught myself. Hid in the laundry rooms, the cellars. Played with no sound, just moving my fingers. But one day, it made noise. Real noise. Something responded.”

You looked up at Gojo again. “The curses came.”

He leaned forward slightly. “And what did you do?”

“I didn’t mean to call them,” you said, fingers curling. “But they came anyway. I don’t know how. I played and they listened. They came inside the house. Killed the others. Burned everything.”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, not at you, but at the image you were painting.

“And you survived.”

“I didn’t want to,” you whispered. “But Faith came. She pulled me out.” Your voice cracked then. “No one else would have.”

Silence followed, thick and electric. You gave a quick look at Faith, one of her hands rubbing the edge of her temple as if the pressure behind her eyes might break through. She looked like she was about to throw up, or cry, or both. You sighed. It was understandable, you two were vulnerable for the first time for years, plus towards an almost total stranger but you couldn’t do otherwise to protect yourself…

Gojo finally exhaled, slowly. “You’ve been running since?”

You nodded. “For years. We don’t know who knows the full story. Some clans have whispered about us. Others think we’re just rumors or some kind of legends. But Naoya… he recognized us.”

“And what he said about you-”

“Lies,” Faith cut in, voice sharp. “He spat filth because he couldn’t stand seeing a woman stronger than him. He said Mercy seduced curses, like it was some twisted kink.”

You flinched at the memory. Gojo’s face darkened.

Faith stepped forward, her hand grazing your back. You didn’t move away.

“She’s not some siren,” Faith said. “She doesn’t control them with lust. She plays music, and they… they worship her. They fall apart for her. They die for her without touching her. Her technique is like that, but not herself as a person.”

You looked down again. “But I swear I don’t do anything with them… I don’t know why-”

Then came a knock at the door.

Ijichi peeked in first, followed by Nanami. He closed the door gently behind him.

“We came as requested,” Ijichi said, glancing toward you. “Is everything alright?”

“No,” Gojo replied. “But we’re working on it.”

Nanami stepped closer, eyes scanning you, then the whole scene with quiet care. “What’s the threat level about the clan Naoya talked about yesterday?”

“Moderate to rising,” Gojo replied. “If word spreads to the Hanahata - or any clan with a grudge - it’ll be more than politics.”

“They’ll send someone to clean it up.” Faith added.

You looked at Ijichi. “What happens if they come here?”

“We intercept them,” he said without hesitation, then looked at Gojo and his voice went quieter “But, please just explain why we have to do all that against a powerful clan. You didn’t explain anything.”

“It won’t be easy,” Nanami added. “But we’ve dealt with clan retaliation before. And Gojo has enough influence to scare off half the council.”

“That’s not enough,” you said suddenly. “We need more than defense. We need legitimacy.”

All eyes turned to you.

“If people think we’re just fugitives,” you said, “They’’ll keep hunting us. But if we’re… useful, or even respected… Part of something…”

“They’ll think twice,” Nanami finished.

Gojo smiled, more to himself than anyone else.

“You’re not just powerful,” he said. “You’re smart.”

You flushed, but didn’t look away.

Faith raised a brow. “So what now?”

“Now we keep you safe,” Gojo said. “We build a case for your presence here. Give you roles that make your stay harder to question.”

“No lectures,” you muttered.

He laughed. “No lectures. Not unless you ask for them.”

You leaned back against the desk, exhausted but lighter somehow.

————

The rest of the day was basically you, Faith, Nanami, Gojo and the poor Ijichi trying to find solutions about the Hanahata issue, sharing informations and trying to prepare for an eventual fight.

You hadn’t even made it to the door of your dorm when Yuji called out.

“Hey! Faith! Mercy! Wait up!”

You turned, startled by the sound of your name, to see Yuji jogging toward you across the courtyard, his pink hair bouncing with each step. He was grinning, waving with both arms like a kid trying to catch a bus. Beside you, Faith froze, then turned slowly.

“We were just heading to our room,” she said, voice level but not unkind.

“Yeah, I know,” Yuji said, catching up and bending slightly as he caught his breath. “But… I was hoping we could all eat together? Like, with everyone. It’s been kind of intense lately. I don’t know why but Gojo gave us a lot of missions lately… and we haven’t really had a chance to just… sit down and be people, you know?”

Faith glanced at you.

He added quickly, “You don’t have to, obviously! But we all wanted to - well, Nobara said if I didn’t ask, she’d throw her shoe at me, so… there’s that.”

You huffed out a laugh, the tension in your shoulders loosening a little.

Faith raised an eyebrow. “She’s not bluffing. She has terrifying aim.”

Yuji laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Please? Just for tonight?”

You nodded before Faith could decide otherwise. “Okay.”

You saw the surprise in her expression, but she didn’t object. Instead, she fell in step beside you as you followed Yuji down the path toward the dining hall.

~

Faith walked beside you, her shoulders tense, lips pressed into a flat line. She hadn’t spoken much since the meeting with Gojo, Nanami, and Ijichi. You kept catching her glancing at the floor, as if the old ghosts she kept locked away might crawl out from beneath the tiles.

But Yuji’s energy was disarming, and Nobara’s teasing about Faith’s heels—again—broke the silence just enough.

“You seriously need to stop dressing like you’re on a Vogue cover every day,” Nobara quipped, biting into a steamed bun. “You’re making the rest of us look bad.”

Faith only lifted her glasses and offered a dry, almost regal smile. “Some of us were born with taste.”

That earned a loud laugh from Panda, while Maki rolled her eyes affectionately. You tried to laugh too, but it caught in your throat.

Your eyes drifted inevitably to Choso.

He sat across from Yuji, chewing slowly on his rice while he stared down at his plate like it had offended him.

He looked up. Briefly. Caught your eyes.

You felt the flicker again.

That thing. That strange, blooming heat that sat behind your ribs whenever he was near. He didn’t smile. Choso never smiled. But his gaze lingered a second longer than it should have, and you weren’t sure if it was reassurance or curiosity or something else altogether.

“Come on, sit here,” Yuji said, patting the space beside him.

You hesitated, then took the seat across from him. Faith slid in beside you.

Plates appeared. Conversations overlapped. The warmth in the room buzzed low and gentle, like the hum of string lights.

Faith was already engaged in some sarcastic debate with Nobara. Panda had started stacking food on your plate without asking. Someone passed you a small dish of pickled radish and you took it instinctively.

“You’re too quiet,” Yuji said suddenly, leaning forward. “Everything okay?”

You were so used to silence filled with threats, with tension. This… This mess of voices, of friends teasing each other while passing dumplings across the table - this was foreign.

You didn’t notice the tears until one slipped down your cheek.

You wiped it quickly, fingers trembling.

Choso noticed.

He didn’t say anything. Just reached over with a napkin, placing it gently beside your plate. Then, with that same silence he always wore like armor, he turned back to his food.

The kindness in that moment undid something inside you.

You couldn’t explain it - not to Faith, not to yourself. But it was there, tangled in the middle of your ribs, blooming like ink in water.

~

The table was a battlefield of empty bowls and half-finished tea, but the laughter still lingered like a soft echo in the air. Faith was deep in some light-hearted back-and-forth with Nobara again but this time was about fashion choices in battle - “If you can’t fight in heels, you’re just not trying hard enough”- while Panda tried to stack all the bowls on top of Inumaki’s head.

You stood up to help, reaching for a tray but Choso was already there.

“I’ll get it,” he said softly, his fingers brushing the edge just before yours did.

You blinked up at him, surprised. “Oh… Are you sure?”

He nodded, avoiding your gaze. “It’s what the eldest should do.”

You almost smiled at the formality of it, and watched as he carefully gathered a few bowls and cups in long, deliberate movements. Across the table, Yuji reached for the teapot, but Choso stopped him with a quiet: “Yuji, no.”

Yuji blinked. “What?”

“I said I’ll do it.”

“You’re not a house elf, Choso.”

Choso gave him a slow, flat look. “I’m your older brother.”

Yuji paused, then grinned. “Yeah, but you’re kinda terrible at stacking dishes.”

Choso’s frown deepened. “I am not.”

Yuji pointed. “You broke a cup last time.”

“It was defective,” Choso said, completely serious.

You watched them, amused, as Choso nudged his brother away and took over. Despite his expression, there was something oddly proud in the way he moved — like he wanted to be useful, even if his hands were slightly too large for the delicate cups.

~

The group moved together in a soft wave, saying quiet goodbyes under the lanterns strung between the buildings. Nobara waved dramatically, claiming she had homework (she didn’t). Megumi yawned behind her, clearly two seconds from collapsing. Panda nudged Inumaki with a muttered “Shake it off,” and they vanished into the darkness together.

Faith adjusted the bracelet on her arm and murmured something to Maki—something half serious, half sarcastic. You didn’t catch it, but it made Maki snort before she left.

You lingered, just a bit longer.

Choso stood by the courtyard steps, his hands in his pockets, eyes lifted toward the faint stars. When he noticed you still watching him, he didn’t look away. Instead, he stepped toward you, slow and a little awkward.

He glanced at Faith, who had just entered the dorm, then leaned in a little closer. Before you could say anything, he reached into his pocket and handed you something. A small packet of dried tea. Lavender, from the smell. It had a handwritten label—messy, in dark ink.

“Helps with… overthinking,” he said gruffly.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Instead, you pressed the tea packet against your chest and whispered, “Goodnight, Choso.”

He took a small step back, clearly flustered. Then you saw it - the faintest flush across his cheeks.

“Night,” he replied, and turned away slowly.

You watched him walk, the shadows catching his long silhouette as he vanished down the corridor. And when you finally turned to go inside, your hand still held the small paper packet like it was something sacred.

~

When you slipped into the room, the lights were already dimmed to a soft amber hue. Faith was sprawled elegantly on her bed, legs crossed, her hair tied up in a loose bun. Her silk nightshirt was pink and black pipping, naturally tailored, and she had her glasses perched at the edge of her nose like some off-duty heiress.

You closed the door quietly, clutching the little sachet of tea Choso had given you.

Faith didn’t look up right away, just reached for the remote and muted the lo-fi playlist humming through her phone speaker.

“Did the tall, broody one confess his undying love yet, or are we still doing the slow burn?”

You rolled your eyes. “He gave me tea.”

She blinked. Then grinned. “Oh. Oh my god.”

“It’s not like that,” you muttered.

Faith sat up properly now, folding her legs under her. “You’re holding it like it’s some kind of relics.”

You looked down at the sachet in your hand. “He made it himself I think.”

“Oh my god.”

“Faith—”

“I’m just saying,” she said, voice warm with amusement. “A man like Choso doesn’t handcraft herbal tea for just anyone. He barely looks people in the eyes. Plus, you’ve got that look, though.”

“What look?”

She turned toward you with a smug smile. “The ‘I’ve just been emotionally destabilized by a boy with tired eyes and questionable hygiene’ look.”

You gave her a tired glare. “Choso is clean.”

“Oh, I didn’t say he wasn’t. Just… perpetually exhausted and emo,” she said, climbing into her bed and folding the duvet over her legs. “You know. All loose dark strands, haunted eyes, and the kind of voice that makes you wonder if he’s been cursed by poetry itself.”

You stifled a smile and sat on the edge of your bed. “Beautifully said but… you are unbelievable.”

Faith raised an eyebrow. “Come on. The man has pigtails, Mercy. And somehow he still manages to make it work. That’s dangerous.”

You laughed together. After a moment by putting some pajamas and braiding your hair, you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Faith… Do you ever think about how they talked about me?”

Faith’s smile dropped instantly. She sat up, her expression sharpening with the protective ferocity you knew so well.

You sank back onto your pillow with a small groan. “…I almost cried at the table.”

“You did?”

“Not a lot,” you murmured, voice muffled by the pillow. “Just… my eyes stung. I don’t think anyone noticed.”

A pause. You knew you could talk about everything with her, the same way she can confesses everything to you.

Then, softly, “Why?”

You didn’t speak for a moment. Then: “Because it was nice. All of it. Just… sitting there, with people. Laughing. Eating something warm. Yuji being so happy we were there. Choso clearing the table like it was some very important duty. You joking with Nobara like you’ve known her for years. I forgot what it felt like.”

Faith was quiet.

You swallowed the tightness in your throat. “They’re still looking for us, you know.” She declared, looking straight at you.

You nodded.

“They’ll always be looking. That’s the thing with people like them. They can’t stand it when you leave. When you choose yourself.”

You sat quietly, her words settling between you like dust.

“They taught me power was a cage,” Faith continued, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “And that loyalty meant obedience. But now…” She sighed heavily and stopped talking for a couple of seconds. “They don’t know what they’re dealing with. The Hanahata won’t stop.”

“No. But we’re not who we were.”

Faith turned, serious now. “If they come for you, I’ll burn every last one of them.”

“I know.” You smiled gently at her.

Then, with a dry tone, Faith added, “Of course, if Nanami asked me nicely, I might consider not burning everyone. Just the cousins.”

You blinked, then burst into quiet laughter. “Oh my God. You’re into him.”

Faith lifted her chin. “I am an adult with refined tastes. He’s calm. He reads. He’s—”

“—Old.”

“Stable,” she corrected, eyes gleaming. “And hot. Objectively.”

You buried your face in your pillow. “We’re gonna die here.”

Faith laughed too. “Not before you kiss Choso.” Then, softly, from her bed. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“If you ever kiss him - warn me first. I need to emotionally prepare.”

You let out a quiet laugh.

“And same goes for Nanami,” you whispered.

“Oh no,” she said dramatically. “When that happens, you’ll hear about it from across campus.”

Faith pulled the blanket higher and turned off her bedside lamp. The room fell into darkness, save for the moonlight slipping through the windows.

For a moment, you both lay still, listening to the quiet pulse of the school around you.

Then, out of the dark: “Do you think he likes you back?”

You blinked. “I don’t know.”

“I do,” she murmured. “He looked like he was going to kill the rice cooker when it took too long.”

You smiled into your pillow. “That’s not romantic.”

“It is for him.”

[tmrala]

HAVE MERCY *•.

Chapter Four : A MONSTER’S MELODY

—————

Heyyy !

I had a lot of things going on for the past days due to eïd so I couldn’t really focus on the story. Sorry for the delay, Have Mercy is still going to be upload on Tumblr and AO3 every Thursday <3

See yall next Thursday~

—————

You weren’t quite sure how you ended up in a brightly lit shopping district, surrounded by glass storefronts that glittered like polished gemstones under the early afternoon sun. The city buzzed around you, a constant ebb and flow of chatter, car horns, and the occasional shriek of laughter from a passing group of teenagers. It was the kind of chaos that you usually avoided, but today Faith walked alongside you, her glasses perched on her nose and an unbothered look on her face, she walked confidently in her usual heels (despite the ache). Even with her by your side, it was still overstimulating.

“Black again?” Nobara stopped and pointed at the flowy long-sleeve shirt you were holding up. “Mercy, you’re not mourning. Try something that doesn’t make you look like a Victorian ghost.”

You blinked at her, then turned to look at the top again. It was black. So was the skirt in your other hand. Faith gave you a sideways glance over her glasses.

“She’s got a point,” she said, arms crossed. “What about navy? Or wine red? You always said red looked good on you.”

“I’m fine with black.” You tried to put the shirt back on the rack.

Yuji suddenly popped in between you and the hangers. “Wait, wait! What about this?” He lifted up a pale green blouse with lace detailing. “You like lace, right?”

Your eyes softened, caught off guard by how thoughtful the choice was. “I don’t think I can pull this off.”

Yuji leaned in, grinning. “You totally can! You just gotta try it. Right, Faith?”

Faith didn’t even glance up from the earrings she was eyeing. “I’d put her in forest green, but pale green could work.”

You stared at the fabric. You didn’t hate it, not really. You just weren’t used to being seen. For years, you’d worn dark clothes out of necessity, blending in, never drawing attention. It wasn’t a style — it was security.

Still, you found yourself nodding. Maybe it was Yuji’s wide-eyed enthusiasm or the way Nobara clapped excitedly like she’d just won a bet. Maybe it was Faith’s nonchalant approval. Or maybe it was just that — for once — you felt like part of something that wasn’t just about survival.

So you tried it on. And somehow, it didn’t feel like a costume.

You eventually walked out of the changing room in something soft and unfamiliar. The compliments came so quickly you didn’t know where to look.

“You look amazing,” Choso said simply, and it felt less like a compliment and more like a statement of fact.

You blinked at him, your heart oddly loud. “Thanks.”

⸻

A half hour later, your small group had transformed into walking chaos: bags swinging from arms, sugary energy spiking, Faith complaining about her feet. You stopped at a bubble tea place tucked into a corner, bright paper lanterns swung above the awning, their warm colors reflected in the glass windows, fragrant with matcha and tapioca.

Choso blinked at the menu, clearly overwhelmed. He stood in front of the menu, squinting like it was written in an alien language.

“You’ve never had this?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Looks… unnatural and… what’s a ‘taro’ and why does it look like cement?” he asked.

“You’ll like it,” Yuji promised.

Faith rolled her eyes. “I’m betting he doesn’t.”

You ordered matcha with oat milk, the same thing you always did. Inside, you all squeezed around a low table. Faith sat beside you, and Choso took the seat across from you like it was natural.

His confused look on his face when he received a cup covered in cartoon strawberries was priceless.

“What do I do with this?”

“Poke the straw through,” Yuji demonstrated.

He tried. Failed. Tried again. The straw bent.

“Here,” you said, taking his cup gently and piercing the lid. “There.”

Choso stared at the cup, then at you, then sipped. And blinked. His eyebrows furrowed. "Do they all have bubbles?” he asked seriously.

You chuckled under your breath. “The ‘bubbles’ are tapioca pearls.”

He nodded with the same half confused, half serious expression on his face but kept siping his boba. Nobara took a picture of him, looking at his boba like a confused cat. She sent it to you directly. When you gave her a grateful smile, she nodded in silence.

“That’s… not bad. It’s weird. Sweet. But not bad.”

“Like you,” you murmured without thinking.

The group erupted into teasing laughs, and Choso looked down at his cup, hiding a grin.

You weren’t used to laughing. Not like this. Faith sat opposite you, watching silently, as if trying to memorize the moment. Yuji was debating the merits of tapioca vs lychee jelly. Nobara had her phone out, threatening to take pictures (again). Megumi looked vaguely annoyed, which probably meant he was having a good time.

You sipped your drink slowly, warmth blooming in your chest.

Choso nudged you gently with his shoulder. “You okay?”

You nodded. “I think… I am.”

The sky was shifting into blue without any clouds. Conversations bounced—Nobara ranting about skincare, Faith recalling a mission you two had in Okinawa, Yuji and Megumi arguing about movie genres. You found yourself leaning slightly toward Choso, noticing the way his shoulders relaxed around the group.

There was laughter. Real laughter.

————

They insisted on stopping at another shop before heading to the theater. Nobara led the way, dragging Faith along, muttering something about accessories. Yuji followed, energized as always, while Megumi looked like he regretted every life decision that brought him to this moment, which probably meant he was having the time of his life.

That left you and Choso lingering near the crosswalk.

He glanced down at your drink. “You finished it.”

You nodded. “It was good. I forgot what normal felt like.”

Choso’s voice was soft. “Maybe this is your new normal.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Because you wanted to believe it.

You wanted to believe that one day, you could walk these streets without looking over your shoulder, that Faith could laugh without checking her surroundings, that your power wouldn’t reduce everything around you to ashes.

————

You didn’t notice the cursed energy until you passed the small alley beside the shop where Nobara wanted to go before the movie theater. It crawled up your spine like frost.

“Do you feel that?” you asked softly.

Faith had already stopped walking, eyes narrowing.

“Something’s inside,” she murmured.

Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi paused. You could see it in their stances—they were ready. But Faith glanced at them, then at you.

“Stay back,” she said. “We’ll go.”

Choso had already turned toward the building.

“I’m coming too.”

Yuji frowned. “Hey, wait a—”

“You stay here,” Choso said. “I won’t risk you getting hurt.”

“But—”

Choso looked over his shoulder. “I’m your big brother. Let me act like it.”

Yuji clenched his fists. "Wait, I—"

Megumi putted his hand on Yuji’s shoulder. "No, wait, you already putted yourself too much in danger for the next couple of years, let them do their jobs, if they need help they’ll tell us. Let’s just make sure nothing look weird from the outside."

Nobara sighed heavily, putted her nails back where they were originally, nodded at Yuji and Megumi. He couldn’t say anything, it just shut Yuji up.

~

It was an old bar — abandoned, its sign hanging by one rusted chain. The air inside was thick, sour. Shadows pooled unnaturally in corners, and you could feel the pressure against your skin.

The cursed spirit emerged from the dark like it had been waiting.

It was massive—an amalgam of limbs and mouths and eyes that blinked at different rhythms, whispering curses under its breath. Your skin crawled. You reached behind you slowly, fingers brushing the leather strap of your case.

The violin.

You took it out and tucked it beneath your chin.

Faith moved with speed, her energy slicing forward like an arrow through wind. But the cursed spirit was quicker — striking her side with a grotesque tendril that sent her crashing into the far wall.

“Faith!”

You didn’t think. You played.

The bow glided across strings as your fingers danced with purpose. That same lullaby. Soft. Dangerous. Magnetic.

The cursed spirit turned its attention toward you. And froze.

The curse lunged at you, torn between rage and awe. And that was its mistake.

Because you didn’t stop playing.

And Choso didn’t miss. He moved past you, fast and brutal. The cursed spirit twisted toward him, distracted, and he brought his hands together.

“Piercing blood.”

His technique pierced the almost frozen cursed spirit, one, two then three times. You looked at Choso, he was so focused.

Then, it just laid on the floor, dead. When the smoke of the impact cleared, it was over.

~

Faith winced as you wrapped a strip of cloth around her arm.

“I’m okay,” she muttered.

“Don’t you dare say that again.”

Nobara offered to help clean it, muttering something about idiots getting themselves hurt. Megumi, on the other hand, was calling Gojo to let him know about the incident.

Yuji was pacing when you stepped out. He looked like he wanted to scream.

“You said you’d let me fight with you!” His voice more hurt than angry.

Choso wiped blood from his cheek. “And I said it’s my job to protect you.”

“Not like that! Not by excluding me.”

Choso looked tired. “You can be strong. And still let people care for you.”

You stayed quiet, unsure if you had the right to witness this.

————

The walk back to Jujutsu High was quiet. But not unobserved.

From across the street, a man watched you. Naoya Zenin. His eyes were wide, disbelief written in every line of his face.

“Was that…” Megumi frowned. When he looked a second time, Naoya wasn’t there anymore.

You looked at Megumi, confused.

“Never mind.” he muttered.

————

“These are minor injuries,” Shoko said, cigarette dangling from her mouth as she patched up Faith. “You’ve had worse based on the scars on your body.”

“Still hurts,” Faith muttered.

Nanami arrived a second later, clipboard in hand. “Gojo’s occupied. He sent me to check in.”

Faith flinched. You didn’t miss it. Nanami’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Nothing serious,” Shoko added. “Except her ego.”

Faith glared.

Shoko smirked. “You’re fine. Go. Rest.”

————

Later, back at Jujutsu High, the world tilted again.

As you walked the corridor, hand in hand with Faith, you passed a half-open door.

You heard your name. You stopped.

“—don’t care if they’re legends or monsters,” a voice said. Arrogant. Cold. Familiar.

Naoya Zenin.

You froze. Faith stiffened beside you. You glanced at her quickly, she was out of breath, her usual smirk completely gone.

Gojo’s voice was next. Calm, too calm. “You came all this way to whine, Naoya?”

Naoya sneered. You could hear it. “I came to give you a warning. Faith Hanahata and her little pet—Mercy—shouldn’t be here.”

You peeked inside. Nanami stood like a statue. Gojo sat with his hands folded. And across from them, Naoya. He looked older. Sharper. Still full of poison.

He flipped a file open. “You know what she did, right? Mercy. Burned her whole family alive. Faith helped her escape. That’s the reason why they vanished for years.”

Your stomach turned.

“There were rumors,” Naoya lowered his voice like he was about to share some terrible secrets. “That she… sold herself. Let curses spirits fall in love with her. Some say she sleeps with them. That she’s a monster.”

Your breath hitched. Are they really saying such kind of things about you? Your cheeks became red, not out of guilt but out of shame. How can they made up such an outrageous lie about you ? You smiled, not really chocked after all, the Hanahata clan always hated you. You felt Faith tightened even more, her hand shaking in yours like she was holding herself back.

“Do you have proof of any of this?” Nanami asked quietly.

“Do you need proof when a woman has that much power and no leash?”

Gojo stood.

Naoya didn’t.

Faith burst into the room. Her presence was like thunder. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Naoya looked at her, slowly and smiled.

“Long time no see. Still playing house with your little pet?”

“Say that again,” Faith snapped.

“I could call the Hanahata clan right now.”

Gojo stood. “You could try. But you’d regret it.”

Naoya didn’t flinch. “You’re protecting monsters.”

“We protect people,” Gojo said. “Even the broken ones. Especially them.”

Naoya closed the file. “You’ll see. I’m not the only one interested in them. The Hanahata clan will be pleased to know they’re alive.” Naoya left with a grin and a promise. “I’ll be back. With something… enlightening.”

You felt sick. Like everything you built was crumbling.

Faith was about to throw hands but you grabbed her by the arm. “Come on.”

As you walked away, the world felt smaller and heavier, once again. Why, just why. Why was it suppose to always happened ?

~

In your room, Faith paced.

“They’re going to come for us.”

You sat on the bed. Numb.

“Do we run?” Her voice barely audible

Your throat burned. “I don’t want to.”

“Me neither. But if the clan knows—”

You sank onto the bed. “We finally had one good day.”

Faith sat beside you. Her hand found yours.

You thought of the violet top in your bag. Choso sipping strawberry tea. The laughter.

“I don’t want to lose this,” you whispered.

Faith squeezed your hand. “Then we fight.”

Your breath shook. But you nodded.

“Then we fight.”

[tmrala]

he's trying!!

[tmrala]

HAVE MERCY *•.

Chapter 3 : GUESTS OF THE UNKNOWN

———————

Before starting

I want to let yall know this fanfic is available on AO3 !

Thank you for your support, hope you’re gonna enjoy this new chapter ! xx

———————

You were walking through silence.

Or maybe you were floating. The ground hadn’t felt real beneath your feet—wood, stone, dirt? You couldn’t tell. The air had been heavy, thick with something old and metallic. You recognized the smell before you saw it: blood.

You kept walking.

The hallway bent, becoming a corridor you knew too well—the entrance to the gathering hall of the clan. Your steps had slowed, and you heard something—

A soft voice, humming. A lullaby. Your lullaby. You knew this particular one since you’re a kid, who’s singing it ?

You followed it.

The door creaked open. The room was dim, shadows swallowing the corners. At first, you thought it was empty—until you saw her. A small girl, curled up beneath the long wooden table, knees drawn to her chest, hair wild and matted. Her pale dress was stained dark, clinging to her skinny frame.

She rocked back and forth, lips barely moving as she hummed.

You knelt, heart tight in your chest.

“Hey,” you whispered. “Are you okay?”

She stopped. The humming died. She lifted her head slowly — too slowly — and looked at you. Her eyes were dull, hollow.

“Why didn’t you do anything?” she asked.

You flinched.

Behind her, you saw the floor now—really saw it. The bodies. Dozens. Some of them… familiar. Some of them…

You tried to speak, to explain, but no sound came out. Your throat locked.

“Why didn’t you do anything?” she repeated. Louder.

You shook your head. You couldn’t. You didn’t know—

She stood, and suddenly she was screaming. Her mouth didn’t move, but her voice sliced through the air, through you. You covered your ears, but it didn’t stop. You wanted to run, but you couldn’t.

You were stuck in it again.

~

Your eyes flew open.

Light filtered through the shoji screen, faint and cold. You were drenched in sweat, the sheets tangled around your legs. Your chest rose and fell too fast, your skin sticky and cold at the same time. For a few seconds, you didn’t move. You just breathed. Tried to remember where you were.

Not there. Here. Jujutsu High.

Safe? Too early to say.

Faith was still turned away on the other bed. Her breathing was slow and steady. You sat up carefully, fingers running through your hair—which, unsurprisingly, was a complete mess. The braid you had tried to make the night before had unraveled sometime during the nightmare. It hung in limp, twisted strands, part of it tangled and useless.

Of course.

You sighed and stood, pulling on the oversized hoodie you’d tossed across the chair. Your feet slipped into Faith’s spare pink claquettes—ugly, but comfortable. Yours were still packed somewhere. The floor was cool beneath them, and the air bit lightly at your skin as you stepped into the hallway. It was chilly, but not unpleasant. The kind of cold that nudged you awake instead of jolting you.

You made your way to the shared bathroom at the end of the corridor. It was empty this early. You splashed water on your face, watching the droplets trail down your cheeks in the mirror. Your reflection looked older than it should have. Worn. Tired. Your eye bags were so dark… for how long now ?

That dream again… or something like it. It was never exactly the same, but the girl was always there. You were always failing her. Well, technically, failing you. What’s the point of dreaming of a memory over and over again but on the other hand, your brain seems to have a hard time letting go of what happened.

How long was this going to follow you?

How many more nights of waking up with guilt pressed against your lungs like a curse?

You leaned forward, staring at yourself.

You wondered what Gojo knew. What any of them knew. Did they understand who you were—who you had been? Or were you just another cursed tool in their war against death? Do they know anything about you in general, or even Faith ?

Nanami had barely spoken to you yesterday. Utahime—you hadn’t met her yet, but you’d heard Gojo mention her name, half-lost in his chaotic way of explaining things. Still, you knew the name. And today, there would be a meeting. All of them. You and Faith. A proper introduction…

Uh… I’m so tired, what time is it ?

You dried your face on a rough towel and lingered by the window, looking out at the school grounds. Jujutsu High looked peaceful this morning, like the whole place was holding its breath. You wondered if any of the others here woke up like this. If they ever dreamed about blood and silence. If they ever woke up wishing they hadn’t.

————

The meeting had been scheduled for late morning, but you had been awake long before that.

You remembered brushing the soft fabric of your black dress flat as you stood in front of the mirror. The lace cardigan you had layered over it itched faintly at your shoulders, but it looked refined. Gentle. Not weak. Faith hadn't said much as she got dressed either-just a few snide remarks under her breath about how the building was too quiet and how she should've brought her own kettle.

Still, she looked immaculate. As always.

Her blouse was white, lined at the edges with a soft midnight blue, tucked neatly into a matching skirt that fell to mid-calf. Gold jewelry glinted against her skin-her usual bracelets, and that arm bracelet she wore every single day, the one with F.H. engraved into it. Her brown glasses rested delicately on the bridge of her nose, and her hair, styled into a smooth shoulder-length brushing, bounced slightly every time she walked.

Your outfits couldn't have contrasted more. You didn't mind. You rarely did.

Gojo had asked to meet somewhere "neutral" but the meeting room isn't what you expected.

You imagined something more rigid, more official-mahogany desks and stiff-backed chairs. Instead, the place looks like someone's classroom commandeered for the morning, with a low table at the center, cushions set around it, and a pot of tea already steeping. The light is soft, filtered through the paper windows, and for a second, it almost makes the whole thing feel like something else. Like you were just invited for a casual conversation.

You fiddled absently with the hem as Gojo finally enters the room. He's all lightness and mischief, leaning into the doorway as though he owns it. You're not sure if it's because of his blindfold or just his general aura of theatricality, but he somehow managed to make a room smaller by just walking in.

"Good morning, ladies," he says brightly, as though you're old friends and not borderline fugitives with a shared kill count. "Sleep well?"

Faith offered him a dry glance. "Define "well"?"

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.

Trailed behind Gojo is someone you didn't recognize—a woman with warm eyes, a as beautiful traditional dress and a serious look.

She also had a big scar on her face, pretty cool.

She nodded at you politely.

"That's Utahime," Gojo announced. "And our dear friend jichi, who will be joining us remotely because he hates early mornings."

A tablet screen lighted up at the table's edge, showing a nervous-looking man adjusting his tie and bowing profusely. You blinked. He didn't look like he hates early morning though ?

"Why the whole council?" Faith muttered, not entirely under her breath.

Gojo waved a hand. "Neutrality, mostly. I figured you'd appreciate it. We don't know you that well yet, so I wanted everyone to feel comfortable." He grins. "Well, as comfortable as possible when discussing potential indefinite arrangements."

You tilted your head. "So that's what this is?

Convincing us to stay longer?"

"Indefinitely," Utahime clarified, folding her hands in her lap.

Faith scoffed. "Do we get school uniforms too?Or do we draw straws for who has to teach P.E.?"

Gojo snapped his fingers. "I knew you'd bring that up."

Faith lifted an eyebrow. "They're hideous."

"And functional," another voice said from the doorway.

Nanami.

The temperature in the room shifted immediately. He didn't say a word at first, just moved to his spot and settled down with the quiet efficiency of someone who already read the minutes and prepared his rebuttal.

Faith visibly straightened.

You raised an eyebrow at her. Interesting.

You refocused on Gojo as he leaned forward, resting his chin in one hand, looking far more serious than a moment ago.

"We're not doing this because we're desperate," he begins, "and not because we want to trap you. You're not under contract, and you won't be counted as staff. But we've seen what you can do - especially after yesterday - and frankly, it would be stupid not to at least try to keep you around."

You glanced toward Nanami, who adds calmly, "Our students benefit from diversity in instruction. Your methods, though unorthodox, are effective."

"Color me flattered," Faith said, arching an eyebrow.

But your thoughts are elsewhere. You thought of Yuji then. His easy smile. The way he'd said, "Choso talks about you."

You remembered how that had startled you more than it should have.

"I remember someone saying they wanted us to teach them," you murmured. "To learn from us."

Gojo's smile softened. "Yuji meant that. I think the others would benefit too."

Silence settled over the room for a moment.

You inhaled slowly. "You want us here, fine. But why? What's the real reason? Our techniques aren't exactly textbook. And unregistered exorcists tend to make institutions nervous.

Gojo shrugged. "True. But that's what makes you valuable."

He gestures loosely, expression shifted just slightly.

"Look, this school needs more than just rules and rituals. It needs adaptability. People who survived outside the system and can teach others how. You're not traditional, sure. But you're effective. And frankly, we're tired of losing good students to a world we didn't prepare them for."

There's a beat of silence. Then Faith muttered, "And what exactly would we be here?"

"Mentors," Nanami said simply.

You studied him for a long moment. Stoic, yes. But there was no deception in his eyes. Just blunt honesty.

Nanami added, "We believe your experience could offer something different. A perspective they won't get from manuals or seminars."

He kept going. "You wouldn't be staff. You'd be mentors. Temporary guests with benefits."

"Guests of honor," Gojo grins. "With free food, decent housing, no paperwork, and as much freedom as we can afford to give."

"It means no contract. If we wanted to walk out tomorrow, we could." You looked at them, fingers curled in your laps.

Gojo nodded. "You could. But we'd prefer if you didn't."

Faith crossed her arms. "And if we change our minds?"

"You leave," Utahime said simply. "No tricks."

You went quiet for a bit. Your fingers brushed your dress. The lace caught on your nail.

Maybe... for once, it was okay to stop running.

"I think I'm staying," you said softly. "I'm tired. Of hiding, of always looking over my shoulder. I think... we deserve to rest. Even just for a while."

Faith blinked at you. "You're serious?"

You turned to her, voice gentle but steady.

"Even if it's temporary, we could help here. And if it turns to ash, we leave. But for once, let's not run before we're chased."

Silence followed.

Then, leaning in slightly, you whispered with a sly smile:

"And you really want to leave Nanami behind?"

Faith's face flushed. She coughed loudly, pretending to sip her tea.

Nanami looked over, impassive. But you could swear his jaw twitched like he was fighting a smirk.

Gojo leaned back, grinning ear to ear. "Well, I'll take that as a yes."

You exhaled slowly, heart slightly lighter.

And somewhere in your thoughts, the image of a certain dark-haired sorcerer with pigtails flickered again. His gaze, soft and unreadable, from the night before.

You had stayed, even if just for a day.

And he had looked... quietly pleased.

————

The meeting ended with an odd, hanging sense of finality.

You and Faith stepped out of the room in tandem, the low murmur of the closing door behind you almost drowned by the echo of your thoughts. For all the hesitations you had, the decision had been made: you were staying. Not forever, not officially-but still. Staying.

"Well, that wasn't emotionally taxing at all," Faith muttered as she straightened her sleeves.

Before either of you could get too far, Gojo called out from behind.

"Ladies!" he grinned, popping his head through the now-open door. "Almost forgot. Orientation time."

You raised an eyebrow.

Gojo nodded toward the hallway. "We figured you might want to see where you'll be staying, training, possibly plotting our untimely deaths, etcetera."

Faith tilted her head, unimpressed. "And what, you're going to personally show us around?"

"Oh, l'd love to, but l'm far too important and busy," he replied, dramatically pretending to check his nonexistent watch. "Instead, you're in luck. Nanami will be escorting Miss Attitude-" he gestured toward Faith, who snorted-"and for you..."

His voice trailed off as he turned his head slightly. That was when you noticed the tall and pale figure leaning against the corridor wall just a few steps away, half-shrouded in shadow.

"...Choso here has generously volunteered."

Gojo's voice was tinged with something playful.

"He doesn't usually talk much, unless it's about you. Or so l've heard."

Your eyes widened slightly. Faith's head whipped toward you, clearly trying not to smile.

Choso didn't react, arms crossed, face unreadable.

Gojo waved his hand like he'd just announced something inconsequential. "He's new around here too. Think of it as two ghosts of the past haunting the same halls."

Faith leaned closer to your ear. "That was weirdly poetic. Is he always like that?"

You didn't answer. You were too focused on the way Choso's gaze met yours-steadily, quietly, without judgment. Something about it made you straighten.

"Let's get this over with," Faith sighed. "Try not to get lost, yeah?"

You nodded, and the two of you split paths-her heels clicking against the floor as she followed Nanami's calm, composed figure down the opposite hall.

Then, it was just you and Choso.

He looked at you for a beat longer, then finally spoke.

"Ready?"

:...Yeah," you said, voice a little quieter than you intended.

"Let's go."

~

The air outside was crisp but not unpleasant.

Morning light filtered softly through the high branches above Jujutsu High, casting latticed shadows over the worn stones beneath your feet. Choso led you through paths that wove between the buildings-showing you not just the layout, but the spaces in-between. Places students gathered. Corners they avoided. Rooms they forgot.

"You're not exactly a student here," he said at one point, pausing by a small courtyard filled with oddly arranged rocks and a single crooked tree. "So I figured you wouldn't want the usual rundown."

"I appreciate that," you replied, glancing toward the tree. "Do you give tours often?"

He huffed a small breath-almost a laugh. "No."

You smiled faintly. "So why me?"

He stopped walking.

The silence stretched-long enough for you to notice the way the wind caught strands of his hair, how the edges of his coat lifted ever so slightly.

"I can't explain it," he said finally. "I thought it was a good idea but I don't even know why."

Your chest tightened-slightly.

"…That’s vague."

"I'm not great with words."

"I can tell."

He looked at you then. Really looked. There was something intense in his gaze-searching, grounded, not sharp, but heavy. It felt... sincere.

"..I saw you yesterday," he said. "During the demonstration. The violin. I can't stop thinking about it, it's so weird. I don't know how you did it but... there's something else in your music, or should i say cursed technique."

"What else?"

Choso tilted his head slightly. "Pain."

The word hit harder than you expected.

You glanced away, staring at the pebbles near your feet, your voice quiet when you replied.

"You're observant."

"I notice what matters.'

That silenced you.

For a while, the walk continued without speaking. He showed you the training grounds, the meditation rooms, the library from the outside. Then a small, quiet space nestled behind one of the buildings-a narrow garden, clearly untended but not unloved. Overgrown vines. Forgotten flowers. The kind of place students might come to when they didn't want to be found.

You paused at the edge.

"Do they know?" you asked him softly. "The others. Gojo. Nanami. Utahime. Do they know anything about me or Faith ? I heard you didn't come from jujutsu high the same way as Nobara or Megumi... Maybe you know how it works here and how deep they do their researches about a newly admitted sorcerer ?"

He didn't answer right away. When he did, his voice was lower.

"Not really. But they don't care in the way you think they would."

"And you?"

"I don't care either."

You turned toward him, surprised.

"I mean," he added, "I care about you being here. But what you've done? That's not what defines you. What matters is that you're here now."

That stunned you more than it should have. Is he just brutally honest or is he trying to reassure me ?

"…You’re strange," you said quietly.

He smirked. "Takes one to know one."

For a second, you just stood there-unsure of what to say, or how to thank him for what didn't even feel like kindness. It felt like something else and it felt nice.

He gestured to a path that led back toward the guest rooms. "Come on. You've seen enough for one morning."

You nodded slowly and walked beside him.

And though no one said it aloud, something between you had shifted.

[tmrala]

Fanfic is a free hobby.

It's one of the last few things we can have as a society that's free. You can engage, for free. People give you things (art, stories, etc), for free.

Don't buy into the consummerism just because it's everywhere else.

You don't have to consume everything you interact with. You don't have to use things, just because they exist.

You're allowed (still, for now), to have things that are enjoyable for free.

Do you realise how insane the world is? We don't have many places where we can just be, for free anymore, but ao3 is. Did you notice we don't have ads in ao3? We don't have pop ups? Where ELSE do we not have that?

Where else can you just go and not have to wait for a commercial to be over or for ads to be on the sidelines?

I don't think the younger people understand, but the whole of internet used to be like this. YouTubers would do Youtube for free, just because. You couldn't monetise your internet presence before.

Ao3 is like a little preserved corner of the internet where the old internet used to be, and it's being attacked by people who do not understand that free things are allowed to exist without judgment.

Please don't ruin this for us.

Some of us need it.

[tmrala]

HAVE MERCY *•.

Chapter Two - IN THE WAKE OF SILENCE

————

11:30am - Jujutsu High

The stairs never ended. They just didn’t.

You weren’t entirely sure how long you’d been climbing, but the ache in your thighs was very real — and judging from the soft curses Faith muttered every few steps, she felt it too. Her beige pantsuit still looked immaculate, somehow, despite the ridiculous slope. Her hair bounced with every step, neat as ever. But the small heel on her shoes? Yeah, not built for mountain treks.

“Who the hell builds a school at the top of a damn mountain?” she snapped, adjusting her brown glasses for the third time in two minutes. “Do they make students do this every day? Is this hazing? This feels like hazing.”

“They probably teleport, Faith,” You replied, suppressing a laugh. “You know. Magic?”

“I don’t care if it’s magic, cursed energy, chakra, or the damn force. This is a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

She stopped briefly to shake one foot out of her heel, huffing. Her bracelets clinked as she bent down, graceful even while visibly in pain.

“You look great though,” You offered, teasing.

Faith shot you a sharp glare over her brown glasses but didn’t say anything. You took it as a win.

The path ahead was quiet, lined with trees that looked untouched by time. Peaceful, almost. But not in the comforting way. More like… still. Watching. Waiting. Every now and then you could sense it again — that prickle along your spine. That odd tug in your chest.

Something in the air was familiar in a way.

“Mercy,” Faith said, more softly now, falling in step beside you. “Are you okay?”

You blinked. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“Dangerous habit.”

You smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. There was too much on your mind. You two were walking straight into a place built for power, hierarchy, and structure — all things we’d deliberately avoided for years. And now here we were, marching up to its doorstep, feet blistering, hearts uncertain.

Well, yours was uncertain.

Faith’s jaw was set. Her steps were still sharp, precise, confident. Defensive. She didn’t like this. Not the mountain, not the mission, and definitely not the idea of being tied to any institution again.

But you? Definitely curious. Unsettled, but curious.

When you finally reached the top, you paused at the wide torii gate that marked the entrance to Jujutsu High. From here, the school loomed — grand, traditional, and eerily quiet. Faith tilted her head and muttered, “Not creepy at all.”

We didn’t have long to reflect. The second we stepped past the gate, someone was waiting.

“Well, well,” came a familiar voice, all charm and chaos. “Fashionably late and dramatically winded. Just my type.”

Gojo Satoru grinned beneath his blindfold, lounging against a pillar like he hadn’t just been watching us suffer from the top of the stairs. Beside him stood someone very different — a blond man, stoic, composed, and with a presence so serious it nearly knocked the wind out of me.

The mysterious man gave a slight nod, still composed even if he looks straight up exhausted.

“Welcome to Jujutsu High, i’m Nanami Kento.”

Faith nodded—her words, however, betrayed her nerves:

“Hi. Faith ! I mean—Nice to meet you. No wait, I mean… Nice to meet you. Period.”

Gojo burst out laughing.

“And here I thought you were the calm one.”

Faith turned to him with a glare that could curdle milk.

“Can you be quiet for, like, thirty seconds?”

“So, Faith and… Mercy, correct?” Nanami said, looking at you, passing his hand on his perfectly brushed hair.

I nodded, waiting for Faith to say something as usual but this time, she had straightened her spine like she was being evaluated by a modeling scout. You were trying your best to not laugh at her face in front of everyone.

“That’s correct,” she said crisply, then added, a little too fast, “I like your tie.”

Nanami blinked. Gojo raised a brow, amused.

“Thank you,” Nanami replied, tone neutral.

The silence that followed was thick enough to chew.

Gojo clapped his hands. “So! Before things get any weirder — although I encourage weirdness — I figured we’d show you around. You’ll be staying the night. Maybe longer, if you don’t hate us. I’m sure we can find an agreement.”

Faith looked unconvinced. You couldn’t blame her.

—————

We were led through quiet halls lined with tatami mats and sliding wooden doors. Everything felt clean, precise, almost sacred.

“The guest rooms are usually for visiting sorcerers,” Nanami explained. “You’ll be placed here for now. Close enough to the main dorms, but private.”

Gojo leaned in with a sly grin. “You two scream ‘complicated past,’ so we figured it’d be better not to throw you in with the high schoolers.”

Faith muttered under her breath, “God forbid we ruin the vibe.”

The room was traditional: two beds and a soft natural light filtering in through the shoji screens. Our bags — previously picked up by some overly enthusiastic students, or assistants you didn’t even know at this point — were already waiting for us.

You stepped inside, slipping off your shoes instinctively, and knelt beside your things. Faith hovered near the door, arms crossed.

“You good?” you asked, glancing up at her.

She didn’t answer right away. Just stared at the space like it might swallow her whole.

“Yeah,” she said finally. “It’s clean. And quiet. Creepy, but… manageable.”

“That’s high praise coming from you.”

“I mean, no bloodstains on the walls yet. We’re already doing better than last time.”

That earned a soft laugh from you, but it faded quickly. You started unpacking slowly, folding a few things just to keep your hands busy. It can be the beginning of a new life, or just a new experience that’s going to be soon a possibly good memory, you couldn’t lie to yourself by saying you were totally fine and not nervous at all.

It was strange, this place. Too peaceful for how heavy the energy felt in the air. Like something was always just behind the next breath. You sometimes wonder if it’s just because you have this "special link" with curses or if it happens to every sorcerers…

“Do you think this is a mistake?” You asked without looking at her.

Faith was quiet for a beat. Then:

“Honestly? Probably.”

You smiled despite yourself.

“But it’s our mistake to make,” she added. “And if we’re going to be watched, better we set the terms. No more hiding. No more ghosting the world, at least for a day and a night.”

You turned toward her, finally catching her gaze.

“And no more running?”

She shrugged, expression unreadable. “We’ll see.”

———

The sun had started its descent. The sky was pale gold, edges tinged with pink. The breeze was soft, carrying the faint sound of training from the distance — weapons clashing, someone shouting something about cursed techniques.

“I swear if one of these kids tries to spar with me, I’m going invisible and staying that way,” Faith muttered.

You didn’t answer. You were distracted — more by the pull you’d been trying to ignore all day. Like a whisper in the back of your mind, soft and persistent.

We walked for a while, mostly in silence. Past gardens, stone paths, and one koi pond where Gojo had once allegedly dropped his blindfold and traumatized a first year.

Eventually, we sat on a low wall near the back of the training field. From here, we could see some of the students moving about in the courtyard: a tall girl with glasses practicing with a long sword, a panda — yes, an actual panda — lounging in the sun, and another boy with dark hair probably training against the girl and wearing the expression of someone constantly five seconds away from sighing.

Faith squinted. “I like the one with the shadows. He looks like he’s permanently disappointed in everyone.”

“That’s Megumi,” you said quietly.

She turned to you, a mocking grin on her face. “You memorized their names?”

“I paid attention.”

Faith arched a brow. “Did you pay attention or were you paying attention to a certain someone in particular?”

You gave her a sharp look, but it was too late — she was already smirking. Gosh, not again.

“You’re such a menace,” you muttered.

“You’re such a terrible liar,” she replied.

~

10 minutes after, the training grounds had been cleared for the demonstration, the students gathered in clusters across the benches and shaded grass. You recognized the familiar faces of Yuji, Megumi, Nobara, the girl with glasses, Panda, and another guy who always talks about fishes among the crowd. Gojo stood near the sidelines, sunglasses firmly in place, while Nanami stood next to him—arms crossed, expression unreadable.

Faith exhaled beside you, adjusting her beige blazer and pulling her sleeves up slightly to reveal the delicate silver bracelets on her wrists. Her heels had already given her blisters on the way up the hill earlier, but you wouldn’t have known it from the way she carried herself now—calm, sharp, collected.

“Let’s just get this over with,” she muttered under her breath, but you could tell her nerves were buzzing beneath the surface. Understandable.

“You’ve got this,” you said quietly.

She rolled her eyes but gave you a small smirk. “You too.”

Gojo stepped forward and clapped his hands together once. “Alright, kiddos. Eyes and ears open. You’re about to witness something special. Faith—whenever you’re ready.”

She didn’t wait for further instruction. She stepped forward, drawing a two small, elegant pistols from the inside of her blazer.

And then, she vanished. Literally.

A flicker of distortion spread through the air like a heatwave, and she was gone. The crowd murmured, some standing to get a better view. You watched closely, knowing what came next.

Suddenly, targets that had been placed around the perimeter started exploding with precision shots. One after another, clean and silent, the bullets hit their marks with eerie synchronicity. A blur shimmered through the air—barely visible, like light bending over glass.

When she reappeared, it was behind a target on the far end of the field. She holstered her weapon and gave a half-bow.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, then applause. Maki looked impressed. Panda clapped with both paws. Gojo whistled low. Even Nanami blinked—just once, but that was a lot for him. Of course, she did it.

Faith returned to your side, brushing invisible dust off her shoulder. “Beat that.”

You didn’t answer but instead, stepped forward, violin case in hand.

There was a pause. Some students looked confused—until you opened the case and took out the instrument, dark wood gleaming under the afternoon sun. You adjusted the bow in your hand and closed your eyes.

And played.

The first notes were soft—almost too soft to hear. But then the melody built slowly, swelling into a haunting, resonant tune that seemed to vibrate through the very ground.

It didn’t take long before cursed spirits began to appear.

They emerged from the edges of the training ground—slithering, crawling, drawn in like moths to flame. The students shifted uneasily, but Gojo lifted a hand. “Let them come,” he said calmly.

The music shifted into something delicate and tragic, and the curses halted. They didn’t attack. Instead, they stared at you—longing, transfixed.

Then, one by one, they began to destroy themselves.

One shrieked and twisted its limbs until they broke. Another bashed its head repeatedly into the earth. A third set itself ablaze with its own cursed energy. They all fell, one after another, moaning like heartbroken children.

Gasps echoed across the crowd.

“Holy shit,” Nobara muttered.

Yuji looked stunned—even if he’d seen it before.

Choso didn’t say a word but you were able to feel his gaze from where he stood. It burned into me, quiet and constant. He’s somewhere next to Yuji, probably behind him. You sensed his presence since the beginning, avoiding his gaze at all costs.

You lowered the bow slowly, ending on a single, trembling note.

The last curse, a creature with many arms, tried to crawl toward me. It didn’t make it far before it dissolved into ash. Gosh, I hate all of this.

Silence.

Then: applause. Staggered, then growing. You can feel their gaze on your violin, like it’s some kind of mysterious a weapon they want to try.

You turned, a little breathless, to see Gojo clapping theatrically. Nanami gave a small, approving nod. Even the fish guy, from where he stood near the girl who’s name is apparently Maki, said something—probably “Salmon.”

Faith looked at me, proudly. It’s the only thing that can make you feel better after this massacre.

————

Evening – Just Outside the Dorms

After the whole show, Faith disappeared—muttering something about needing “fresh air,” which you suspected was code for Nanami reconnaissance. You didn’t follow her. Instead, you walked along a small trail behind the dorms, the air cooler now, your thoughts still tangled in violin strings and the memories of burning curses.

You sat on a bench beneath a tree, letting your mind wander.

That’s when you heard footsteps. You didn’t turn. “Yuji?”

He appeared next to you, scratching the back of his head. “Hey. I, uh… saw you walk off alone. Thought I’d check in.”

You offered a faint smile. “You do that a lot, I can feel it.”

“Old habit,” he chuckled, then sat next to you. “That performance was insane. Even knowing what you could do… it still gave me chills.”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you nodded. We sat in silence for a moment, watching the sky dim.

Yuji leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Can I tell you something? Might be a bit much, but… I think you should hear it.”

You glanced at him, curious.

“You ever heard of Sukuna?”

You shook your head slowly.

He exhaled. “He was called the King of Curses. A monster, basically. A thousand years old, four arms, cursed techniques that wiped out entire clans. And… for a while, he lived inside me.”

You stared at him. “Wait. Inside you?”

“Yeah. I ate one of his fingers by accident—long story—and he kind of took up residence in my body.” He paused. “He’s gone now. For good. But it wasn’t easy getting there.”

“That sounds… horrifying.”

“It was,” Yuji said simply. “But I got through it. Mostly thanks to people like Megumi, Nobara, Nanami and Gojo senseï. And later… Choso.”

At the sound of his name, your chest tightened. Why does it almost hurt every time someone mention him ?

"I saw how close you were to Faith and I don’t even know if you two are going to stay at Jujutsu High but you seem very close to each other." He looked at you, genuine in his words.

You nodded again. "Yes, we are. We managed to have a pretty anonymous existence until now, at least we tried to so I don’t know what you heard about us. Faith is like a sister to me and-"

"Sorry but what I mean is… I can understand it’s new for you two, especially if you were alone all this time, but don’t forget you can always rely on her, ok ?"

You raised an eyebrow quickly. "Well… yes, thank you I guess".

Looking at his embarrassed look, you couldn’t help but smile.

"No no ! It’s just an advice because you know… It can be new and I want to make sure you’re not feeling lost or anything… see ?"

"It’s fine, I get it. Thank you for your concern though, it’s very nice of you."

Yuji looked down at his hands. “Well… Actually, I recently found out not that Choso’s my brother. Like, biologically but again, it’s a long story. His memories were messed up at first, but… now that we know, we’ve been trying to make up for lost time.”

He smiled a little. “He’s weird. Quiet. But I like him. I think he loves me a lot too.”

“And,” Yuji added, nudging me lightly, “He talked about you. A lot.”

Your heart skipped. He talked about you ? How ? You met once but… yes, it was special for sure.

“I don’t know what happened between you two, but he remembers. Clearly. It’s not just gratitude—he’s curious. Protective, even. He doesn’t say much, but when your name comes up, he… softens.”

You looked at your hands and you couldn’t help but smiling, a sincere and genuine smile on your face. At least, you weren’t the only one thinking about that curious so called "connexion" between you two. You were wondering if it was only in your head, avoiding the conversation with Faith - even if she tried to bring it up multiple times.

"That’s good to know…" you muttered, quietly.

————

11:03pm - Next The Dorms

The courtyard is quiet now.

Lanterns hang in a loose pattern, casting soft gold light over the stone path. You stepped outside alone, the cool night air wrapping around your arms like a shawl. Your thoughts were still stuck somewhere between the way the curses tore themselves apart and the look on everyone’s faces—some fascinated, some disturbed.

You needed the silence.

You were halfway to the low stone wall when you realized you were not alone.

Leaning on the far edge of the courtyard wall, one foot braced behind him, arms crossed. He didn’t move when you approached, didn’t flinch or speak. He just watched you.

You hesitated, unsure if you should turn back. But you didn’t. Instead, you stepped into the dim light.

He tilted his head slightly. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

You shrugged. “I wasn’t trying.”

His eyes held yours for a moment longer than expected, dang he has beautiful dark eyes. “That performance of yours. It was… something.”

“Not sure if that’s a compliment,” You murmured.

“It is,” he said simply.

He studied you—like you’re part of that uncertainty, something new he hasn’t categorized yet.

“You’re not what I expected,” he said.

“You don’t even know me.”

“I know,” he said. “That’s what’s strange.”

You folded your arms. “People say that when they’re projecting.”

He almost smiled. Almost. “Maybe.”

We fell into silence that didn’t press too hard. Just enough to feel real.

“I heard you’ve only just arrived.” he said.

“I did. This morning.”

He nodded. “Then I guess I’ll be seeing more of you, not only to perform in front of everyone.”

“Probably.”

He straightened, but didn’t leave right away. The lantern light shifted, catching in his hair, along the black scar that marks him as something different from everyone else here.

“I don’t usually talk to strangers,” he said. “But you don’t feel like one.”

These words did something in your chest. Not warmth exactly—more like the tremor before a fall.

“You don’t feel like one either,” you said before you could stop myself.

Your eyes met again. A second passed. Then another.

Then he nodded—once, slow—and walked away.

You didn’t stop him.

And you didn’t went back inside right away.

Instead, you stayed there under the quiet sky, pulse a little too fast, breath a little too still. You don’t even know what just passed between us. But it doesn’t feel like the end of it.

Not even close.

[tmrala]

wishing I could freeze time so fanfic writers could write all of their slow-burn enemies to lovers and gay porn and fix-it fics and all of their WIPs and prompts without having to worry about life and other responsibilities

[tmrala]

Heyyyy !

Just wanted to say that my fanfic (JJK based, Choso x Reader) "Have Mercy" is gonna be updated every thursday <3

Stay tuned

[tmrala]

HAVE MERCY *•.

Chapter 1 - MOONLIGHT REQUIEM

•••

Some notes before starting :)

- This chapter is an introduction to everything

- Reader is Mercy, we’ll follow her during the next chapters but I thought it was better to set everything up before getting into the fic itself <3 //// SO DON’T WORRY, this type of POV won’t last

- If you want a glimpse of what Mercy is playing, I was inspired by the violin version of Moonlight by Kali Ushis (available on Tiktok if anyone is interested)

Be nice, it’s my first fanfic <3

•••

15th Floor - South Tokyo District - 10:48pm

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, revealing… not what they expected.

“Is this… a hotel lobby?” Yuji asked, already half-stepping out with a puzzled look.

“No,” Nobara said, squinting down the hallway. “It’s giving expensive divorce lawyer’s office.”

Gojo grinned. “Wrong again. This, my dear students, is class.”

“I thought class had less… velvet,” Megumi muttered under his breath.

Plush carpeting muffled their footsteps as they stepped out, the elevator doors closing behind them. The hallway ahead was softly lit, almost theatrical — walls dressed in golden sconces and minimal decor, leading toward a wide open arch where warm music spilled out like perfume.

Choso brought up the rear, silent, hands tucked deep in his pockets. His eyes scanned everything — not like a tourist, but like someone checking for exits.

They entered the lounge in a loose formation, the group visibly out of place against the polished backdrop. Dark oak paneling. Deep green velvet booths. Soft amber lighting casting long shadows. A grand piano rested silently on a low stage framed by heavy curtains, and the entire back wall was glass — revealing Tokyo’s nightscape and a dark sweep of ocean beyond.

Yuji leaned in to whisper, not really whispering at all, “Okay but… how did Gojo even find this place?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” Nobara replied, eyes already flicking toward the bar. “Also, why do I feel like everyone here has at least three bank accounts and a secret affair?”

Gojo chuckled as he led them toward a booth with a perfect view of the stage. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, you know.”

“What suits me,” she said, sliding into her seat, “is not being dragged to a sketchy rooftop bar by my teacher in a blindfold.”

Gojo winked. “Correction: exclusive rooftop bar.”

Megumi didn’t comment. He just sat stiffly, scanning the room like he expected a cursed spirit to crawl out of the liquor bottles. Which, to be fair, wasn’t impossible.

Choso remained standing a moment longer than the others, head slightly tilted. There was cursed energy here — faint, but strange. It moved like something curled up, pretending to sleep.

He finally took his seat. “There’s something here.”

Gojo didn’t even blink. “Good. I’d hate to waste a night out.”

Yuji rested his elbows on the table. “Sooo… who exactly are we meeting?”

“Faith and Mercy,” Gojo said, picking up a menu like he was browsing room service. “One of them I’ve met. Twice, actually. Both times she made me feel like I was back in high school being roasted by the cool kids."

“Sounds like your type,” Nobara said dryly.

“Faith turned me down for recruitment both times,” Gojo continued, ignoring the jab. “But it’s been a few years. Maybe she’s mellowed out.”

“Or maybe she still thinks you’re annoying,” Megumi said.

Gojo placed a hand over his heart. “Megumi. Wounded.”

A waiter appeared, the kind of guy who probably spoke five languages and remembered your favorite drink after one visit. The group ordered their drinks quickly:

Gojo, smug as ever: “Lychee tonic. And make it sparkle.”

Yuji: “Spicy ginger soda.”

Nobara: “Mocktail. Make it bitter and beautiful.”

Megumi: “Iced black coffee.”

Choso, without pause: “Red wine. Dry.”

The waiter disappeared as smoothly as he arrived.

They sat back into the quiet murmur of the room. The music — soft jazz with a modern twist — curled around them like smoke. People mingled by the bar in expensive clothes, all smiles and practiced laughter. The kind of place where secrets were just part of the decor.

“They don’t know who we are,” Gojo said, voice lowered just slightly.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Yuji asked.

Gojo tilted his head, listening for something no one else could hear.

Then, he smiled.

“Let’s see how the night unfolds.”

~~~~~~~~

15th floor, same club — 11:02 PM

The low thrum of bass-heavy music rolled through the velvet walls of the lounge, pulsing like a second heartbeat in the air. Chatter floated from clustered tables, glasses clinked, and a subtle haze of perfume and liquor laced the atmosphere.

Then, it shifted.

Yuji froze mid-sip. "Uh... did anyone else feel that?"

Megumi’s eyes narrowed. "This energy... Another sorcerer I suppose."

Choso’s fingers twitched on the stem of his wine glass. "Not malevolent. Just... strong. Controlled."

Gojo set his drink down slowly. "She’s here."

Nobara turned in her seat, eyes scanning the entry.

They didn’t need confirmation. Behind her, the door closed with a soft click, as if the building itself was politely telling her good luck out there.

Someone at the bar turned. A suited man with a wallet probably fatter than his personality raised his drink.

“Tough day?”

She didn’t even blink. “Don’t.”

“Just trying to be friendly.”

“Try somewhere else.”

She breezed past, barely giving him a second glance. He chuckled to himself, the kind of laugh that thought it was charming. It wasn’t.

She made a beeline for the bar and dropped onto the stool like gravity had finally caught up with her.

The bartender greeted her like he knew her — because he did.

“Long day?”

She raised two fingers. “Double.”

“Whiskey?”

“Obviously.”

The first drink disappeared faster than it probably should have. She didn’t care. Not tonight. Her phone buzzed. She looked down, then locked it again without answering.

Two drinks in and her shoulders dropped half an inch. Maybe three. She tapped her nails against the counter, then pulled up her messages. Still nothing. She stared at the screen a little too long.

Behind her, the lounge kept breathing — slow, easy, ambient. The small crowd near the bar didn’t pay her much attention. They knew her here. She was familiar, but not open. Sharp-edged. Not someone you approached twice.

Her dark purple outfit — a fitted ensemble of a knee-length skirt and matching top — hugged her frame like second skin, professional yet sharp. Her heels clicked against the wood of the chair nervously.

Her expression was unreadable — the kind that screamed “don’t waste my time” before you even opened your mouth. A few men tried. She didn’t spare them a look.

Yuji let out a low whistle. "She moves like Nanami, in a good way."

Nobara didn’t look away. "She does have ‘pay me or perish’ energy. I respect it."

Gojo chuckled. "Told you she was hard to recruit."

She tapped furiously at her screen. No reply.

Another drink. Another message.

By the third, her head lowered slightly, one foot slipping out of her heel. The room felt distant now, blurry around the edges. Music swelled as the band started a new track — upbeat, jazzy, with a throbbing rhythm that seemed to crawl under the skin.

Then she stood.

Gojo raised a brow. "Well, this is new."

"She’s... getting on stage?" Yuji asked, confused and fascinated.

Faith climbed the short stairs barefoot, heels abandoned, and turned toward the crowd. She didn’t speak. She danced. Not trained or performative — it was loose, impulsive, half-drunk. The kind of dancing people do when they’ve lost count of reasons to care. Her hands moved above her head, skirt swaying, eyes shut. The crowd didn’t boo. In fact, a few men up front cheered, applauded. The energy shifted from confusion to entertainment.

Nobara leaned forward. "I kind of want to be her."

"You are her," Gojo smirked. "But with more volume."

Yuji laughed. "Should we clap too or is that weird?"

Choso, quiet until now, tilted his head. "Another sorcerer is approaching."

Gojo's expression shifted. Serious. "That would be Mercy."

Faith opened one eye mid-spin — and smiled.

The energy in the room changed again. Heavier. Denser.

But no one had seen her face yet.

~~~~~~~~

Faith saw her instantly.

Everything about her shifted — her posture, her expression. She stepped down from the stage without a word and crossed the room barefoot, whiskey still in hand.

“Finally,” she said, exasperated. “I called you like five times.” She leaned in, lowering her voice. “There are curses in here. Not basic ones. Strong. Hidden. Can you play tonight ?”

After what seemed to be a minute, the supposed Mercy just left to stand there, at the edge of the room, a figure cloaked in shadow, on her way to the velvet stage.

She didn’t need to be introduced to others. No announcement. Just a wave of that specific energy that washed through the club like gravity incarnate. It didn’t threaten. It simply was. Commanding. Inescapable.

A ripple spread through the cursed energy field like static before a storm.

Choso tensed.

From his corner seat, he whispered, "Weird energy."

Clad in a long black dress with a flowing navy-blue drape cascading from one shoulder, she moved in silence, unnoticed by most — until the first whisper rippled through the room.

Mercy stepped onto the stage like she was stepping into her own sanctum. A low velvet couch stood at the center, and she sank into it gracefully, facing away from the audience.

She exhaled.

Uh they’re watching again.

Her heart pounded. She hated this part. The silence before the music. The way the crowd held their breath like she was about to bleed.

But Faith had asked. She always did. And Mercy... she could never say no to her. Especially when she’s not doing her best, she can’t do that to her.

A quiet internal tension built up in her chest as she adjusted the violin under her chin. Her fingers trembled — not with fear, but memory. Weight. Love. Grief. All of it, pressed into the strings.

And still, she began.

From the back of the room, Faith appeared at their table as if stepping out of shadow. No one felt her approach. Not even Gojo.

“Miss me?”

Gojo blinked. “How do you do that?”

“Trade secret,” Faith grinned. “I’d tell you, but then I’d have to curse you. Permanently.”

Yuji leaned forward. “There are fléaux here. Class 1. We should—”

“Shhh,” Faith raised a finger, taking a drink that wasn’t hers. “She’s playing Moonlight. Don’t ruin it.”

Gojo narrowed his eyes. “Wait, the siren piece?”

Faith tilted her head. “The one and only.”

“And you brought us here without popcorn?”

“Sorry, forgot the cursed-slaying snacks. Next time I’ll pack a bento.”

The curses emerged. One crawled on too many legs. Another floated with jelly-like organs throbbing visibly. They crept forward, slow, rapt.

Mercy played.

Her bow swept across strings like a whisper slicing silence. The melody — haunting, sultry, devastating — crawled across the floor and into the bones of every living thing.

Choso sat forward, completely still.

Her music spoke to him.

The creatures stopped in front of the stage. Swelling with cursed love, cursed ache, cursed hunger. And Mercy, still of posture but blazing within, drew them in further.

Choso’s voice was a breath: “She’s not just luring them. She’s seeing them.”

Faith looked at him. Not surprised. “You feel it too.”

“Yes.”

“She doesn’t want to kill them. Never has. But the music gives them a choice. Mercy…” she hesitated, “…always hoped one would walk away.”

One never did.

Mercy turned.

The moment their eyes met hers, the curses shuddered. One tore at its face, crooning. Another collapsed to its knees, weeping ichor. The third opened its chest like a blooming flower and smiled as it died.

The last note soared.

A single splash of black blood marred Mercy’s cheek.

She didn’t flinch. But her eyes brimmed with something heavy — grief, maybe. Or penance.

The room erupted in cheers.

Choso didn’t clap. He stared. Like he was reading a page only he could understand.

Gojo leaned toward Faith. “So, what is she? A sorcerer? A siren? A cursed artist with chronic guilt disorder?”

Faith smiled faintly. “She’s Mercy. That’s all you need to know.”

“I get the protectiveness now.”

“Yeah, well,” she muttered. “If the higher-ups knew what she really was… they’d try to turn her into a weapon.”

Gojo nodded. “And you’d burn the place down.”

Faith clinked her glass to his. “Glad we understand each other.”

Mercy bowed.

Then vanished.

But Choso watched the spot where she had stood. His fingers twitched. And for a second — just a second — he thought he could still hear her music, low and aching.

She had looked at him.

And he had understood.

Not with words. Something silent.

The buzz from the crowd hadn’t quite faded when Faith rose from her seat.

“Come on,” she said, already walking.

Mercy trailed behind her, still in her black gown, hair pulled to one shoulder, violin back in its case. The bloodstain on her cheek had been wiped away, but the memory lingered. Her presence—quiet and composed—still tugged the atmosphere in its wake.

The exorcist table went silent as she approached.

“Well, well,” Gojo began with a lazy grin, arms behind his head. “If it isn’t the elusive duo. Faith, Mercy. Or should I say, trouble squared?”

“Funny,” Faith replied, folding her arms. “I was just about to say the same about you and your teenage entourage.”

“Hey!” Yuji objected.

Faith smirked but then gestured to Mercy. “You wanted to meet her. So meet her. But say something dumb and I will evaporate your eyebrows.”

Yuji leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Hi. I’m Yuji. That was… beautiful. And kinda terrifying.”

Mercy blinked slowly. Then, gently: “Thank you. I try to avoid the terrifying part, but… it’s not always optional.”

Choso’s eyes hadn’t left her.

He stood slowly, offering a small, respectful nod. “You’re not like other exorcists.”

Mercy met his gaze. You’re not like the others either.

She didn’t say it. But something passed between them — recognition unspoken.

Faith noticed it immediately and arched a brow. “Should we leave you two to awkwardly stare a bit longer, or…?”

Nobara commented too : "Are they flirting or trauma bonding…?"

Mercy looked away, color warming her ears. Choso looked unaffected, but his hands tucked calmly into his pockets, as if grounding himself.

Gojo broke the moment with a clap. “Right. Business.”

He leaned forward, suddenly serious. “We want you two to come to Jujutsu High. Not as students — obviously — but there’s a lot you know that we don’t. And vice versa.”

“Hard pass,” Faith said instantly.

“Faith-” Mercy began.

“No,” she cut in. “We left that world for a reason. Politics. Interrogations. Getting used. I’m not putting you through that again., neither do I.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Gojo said. “Not on my watch. I don’t care about the elders. I care about results.”

Megumi finally spoke up, voice low. “You’re already risking yourselves by staying unaffiliated. You know that, right?”

Yuji nodded, more earnest. “It’s not about control. Personally, I think you deserve more than being in the shadows. People could learn from you. We could !"

Mercy looked at them. These were the new generation. Young, powerful, impulsive — but kind.

She turned to Faith. “Maybe… just to see. Not commit. Just visit.”

Faith didn’t answer. Not right away.

“We were kids when we ran,” she said finally. “Too much power, too little guidance. Families torn apart. And no one looked for us. No one offered help. Only chains.”

A beat of silence followed.

Then Choso said softly, “You’re not the only ones who had to become their own salvation.”

Mercy turned to him again.

His voice was calm. “I’m not human. Not fully. They still let me in. It’s not perfect, but… sometimes you find people who see you before they fear you.”

She swallowed. Her fingers brushed the edge of her violin case.

Faith looked between them, eyes narrowing slightly at the undercurrent. “Fine,” she muttered. “We’ll visit. Briefly. You try anything shady, I start hexing kneecaps.”

Yuji punched the air. “YES!”

Faith rolled her eyes. “God, he’s enthusiastic.”

“Deal!” Gojo grinned. “I love a good hex.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

“Neither was I.”

Mercy, despite herself, let a small smile crack her lips.

Choso offered a slight nod. “I hope we get to hear you play again. Without the dying part.”

“So do I,” she replied.

And for a moment, as the others fell back into bickering and banter, they stood apart — a thread of understanding drawn tight between them.

Outside, the night pulsed with cursed energy. But inside, something new had begun.

[tmrala]

i finished the first chapter !

just want to warn quickly, the first chapter is gonna be a third person POV, more like an introduction/chapter 1

it sounds chaotic but it’s not that bad actually, i think it’s better to do that at first.

can’t wait omg

[tmrala]

omg i got a FIRE SCENARIO IN MIND for my Choso x Reader but it’s very specific like you have a curse technic etc…

Would you like a fanfic like that ?😔 I’m genuinely asking because it’s gonna be my first in YEAAAAARS

[tmrala]

yeah.

[tmrala]

GUYS I HAVE TWO IDEAS, IT’S GONNA BE MY FIRST FANFICS AFTER YEAAAAAARS😔 OMG I CAN’T WAIT

Should I start writing a fanfic like Choso x Reader ? I feel like the Choso fanfics are slowly but surely becoming less and less present (still VERY good works tho)

If you have any ideas of scenarios : LET ME KNOW xx

[tmrala]

Choso 💭 *matchy-matchy = fated brothers*

credits to the original artist @yakult9_chim on X & ig

[tmrala]

Should I start writing a fanfic like Choso x Reader ? I feel like the Choso fanfics are slowly but surely becoming less and less present (still VERY good works tho)

If you have any ideas of scenarios : LET ME KNOW xx

[tmrala]

choso is so expressive with his hands

[tmrala]

When tumblr refreshes itself and the fic I was reading fucking disappears forever 💔

I’ve been searching for a smau I was reading for three days 😔