yureiyaps

[yureiyaps]

ִֶָ☾. See You Later!

cw: war au

pairing: megumi x OC, dad!Satoru

wc: 2.3k

(Akira's POV)

Arata and I were about to leave after the entire conundrum involving the vending machine, our boots scraping against the cold concrete. Wind stirred dust like it was hiding something. I scanned the zone. Something was off.

Too quiet. Not the good kind.

Arata was to my right, one hand near her holster, eyes razor-sharp. “Looks like it hasn’t been touched in years.”

I crouched beside the old terminal, brushing away decades of grime with my sleeve. “That’s what they want you to think.”

Then—

Click.

I froze.

Click click.

Two more.

Arata stiffened. “Did you hear that?”

I didn’t answer. My heart did.

Then they appeared. Three of them. Cresting the ridge like they’d been waiting for dusk.

Human in shape, but somehow different. Joints too fluid. Faces too still. Light didn’t reflect off their skin right—it bent. Like the world didn’t know what to do with them.

Sentients. Real ones.

I straightened slowly, stepping in front of Arata. “You’re not supposed to be online.”

The tallest one tilted its head, and I swore I heard metal strain.

“Unauthorized entry detected,” it said in a voice dipped in static. “Cross-referencing DNA profile: Gojo, Akira. Threat level: Red.”

Arata’s breath caught. “They know you by name?”

“I don't know how,” I whispered.

I barely registered her pulling her weapon. A gunshot rang out. It hit—ricocheted.

The thing smiled.

I grabbed her wrist. “Move!”

We ran.

Through dust and shadow and the broken bones of old infrastructure. I ducked low, weaving through collapsed beams, dragging Arata with me as their steps pounded behind us. I could feel the cold hum of their proximity—too close, too fast.

We found the ruins of a hallway—what used to be an ops corridor—and I slammed the reinforced door behind us, bolting it with an iron pipe. They didn’t try to open it.

They were waiting.

“Shit,” Arata gasped, bracing herself against the wall. “We’re boxed in.”

“No,” I said, panting. “Not yet. There’s a backup shaft I remember. It's supposed to run parallel to the old comms room. It’s narrow. We can crawl through it to the other side of the compound.”

Arata looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “How do you know that?”

I hesitated. “I don't. I guessed due to the installation and wiring. It's our only way out.

She blinked. “What?”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Let's just do it. I left trails, by the way."

Arata furrowed her eyebrows, a cease forming between them. "Why? And to who?"

“In case something happened. In case I didn’t make it back. I started embedding patterns. Messages. In my files. I marked specific words. Same pen, same color order. Left codes. Coordinates. Enough for him to trace. He wasn't supposed to find them yet, though. I didn't leave any trails in case this happened."

“Him,” Arata echoed, staring. “Wait. You’re telling me you wrote a secret love-coded message into classified black-ops files hoping Megumi would find it?"

“Not hoping,” I said, flicking my flashlight on. “Knowing.”

She exhaled sharply. “What the hell is he, a codebreaker?”

“No. He’s worse.” I smiled faintly. “He’s in love.”

She didn’t answer.

Behind us, the hallway lights began to flicker. One by one. Like a countdown.

We moved, running again. Deeper, faster. The shaft was ahead, covered in rust and silence, but still intact. I hit the latch and climbed inside first, turning to offer my hand to Arata.

“He’ll find us,” I said quietly.

Right before she pulled herself in, the wall behind her exploded.

We both ducked, heartbeats slamming, as one of the sentients crawled through the breach like a spider. Arata fired again—three rounds, all aimed at its core. It barely flinched.

I sealed the shaft door behind us and we bolted forward, crawling through wires and dust and memory.

My hands were bleeding. The metal walls of the shaft had edges like paper cuts, and the dust was thick enough to choke memory. I could hear Arata’s breath right behind me — shallow, ragged, like she was swallowing panic with every exhale.

We were blind. Only the beam of my flashlight cut through the dark, jittery against rusted cablework and crumbling insulation. The shaft was uncomfortably tiny, but it was what it was.

Then came the thud.

Heavy.

Too heavy.

I stopped. Held up a fist. She stilled. The thud came again.

I twisted toward her. “They’re above us.”

She mouthed back, How?

“They’re tracking heat.”

Arata’s jaw clenched, and for the first time since I met her, I saw her eyes flicker. Not fear — calculation. She was trying to figure out how many exits we had. How many bullets. How long it would take to die.

I reached forward again. Crawled faster. The shaft forked ahead — one path dropped lower. Tighter. A squeeze barely fit for a kid.

Perfect.

I slipped down it, boot first, sliding on my stomach until the space narrowed into silence.

She followed.

We stayed like that for what felt like hours. Until the air grew colder and the walls began humming. A different hum. Familiar.

I blinked.

“Wait,” I whispered. “I know this place.”

“You what?” she hissed.

I tapped the pipe above me. “This is under the research wing. One of the earliest blind test zones for Project Blind Sun. My father brought me here once when I was a kid. Looks like my predictions were right."

Arata stared. “Are you saying we just crawled into the belly of the beast? Thanks to your prediction, at that?"

“No,” I whispered. “We crawled under its grave.”

--------------

The lab beneath Sector 9Y was buried in time. A bunker within a bunker. My flashlight caught broken panels, smeared code stamps, bits of shattered glass.

“Why the hell would they reactivate this place?” Arata muttered, scanning the room.

“I don’t think they did,” I said. “I think it never actually shut down.”

We moved quietly. Past servers that buzzed faintly. Past an old terminal with flickering lights — not completely dead.

Arata crouched, dusting off the control panel. “You think it’s safe to touch?”

“Not remotely.” I popped open a side hatch. “But if there’s data in here, I’m not leaving without it.”

Then the screen lit up. A welcome message.

WELCOME BACK, GOJO-SAMA. PROJECT NODE: SERAPHIM GATE STATUS: REBOOTING DNA CONFIRMED.

Arata stepped back, stunned. Confused. Maybe a tiny bit afraid, but it was impossible to know.

“What… is Seraphim Gate?”

I stared at the screen.

“I don’t know,” I said. This was actually scaring me. Why was there a giant welcome message for my dad in the lab he sabotaged with his own hands?

And behind us — again — came that sound.

Click.

But this time it wasn’t from outside. It was from the shadows inside the lab.

I grabbed Arata’s hand, mine slightly trembling. We bolted — deeper into the forgotten wing. The shadows moved with machine grace. No footsteps. No breathing. Just the sound of shifting servos and the smell of old death. I don't know what my dad had been doing or what and who he was involved with, but this wasn't good.

I shoved open a side hatch and dragged Arata in, locking the blast door behind us.

“No exit,” she said, chest heaving. “We just boxed ourselves in.”

“We bought time,” I snapped, taking ragged breaths. “That’s all we need.”

The lights overhead sparked.

Then flickered red.

The console in the center of the room lit up.

ACTIVATING HOST EXTRACTION PROTOCOL. SUBJECT: ARATA MIYAZAKI. DNA KEY THREE – CONFIRMED. EXECUTING TRANSFER.

“What the hell is it doing?!” she shouted.

“I don’t know!” I ran to the terminal. “They’re not after me — they want you!”

“No—no, Akira, stop—!”

She shoved me back just as something burst from the far wall — a thin tendril of chrome and light, reaching like a vein of lightning.

It latched onto her back.

She screamed.

And the door behind us exploded.

A blur of black and blue shot through the smoke. Clean, sharp, silent.

Megumi.

He moved like a blade.

One shot — the bot behind Arata dropped. Another — the console shattered before it could complete the sequence. Sparks flew. Systems whined and died.

He was on his knees beside me before I even realized I’d hit the ground.

“Hey.” His voice was hoarse. “Hey, stay with me.”

I looked up at him, dazed. I'd ripped my side open against some metal while running and was gushing blood.

“You came.”

“Of course I came.” He was already checking my injuries. “You’re bleeding.”

I laughed weakly. “I bled more for worse.”

I winced as the pain sharpened, closing my eyes and leaning my head against the smashed console of the terminal as my breathing got shallower.

“I know.” He cupped my face. “But not again. Not alone.”

Arata coughed nearby. “Glad you two had your reunion. Can we get the hell out now?”

Megumi lifted me in bridal style; eyes still locked on mine. “I found the exit shaft on the way in."

“They want her,” I said, nodding to Arata. “They called her DNA Key Three. Something called the Seraphim Gate—”

“Explain later,” he said. “Move now.”

He was here.

And for now, we were whole.

_______________

We ran.

Well, Megumi ran. He carried me.

Arata limped behind, one hand clutching the charred mark on her back where the cable had latched on. “If I die from whatever the hell that was, I want my corpse buried far from military zones.”

“You’re not dying,” Megumi muttered. “Not today.”

“Cool,” Arata snapped, “then maybe clue me in on why robot tentacles think I’m a USB stick with legs?!”

“No idea,” I wheezed, “but I vote we short-circuit the next one with sarcasm and blind panic.”

We stumbled into a corridor that looked like it hadn’t been touched in decades. The signs were in a language I didn’t recognize — not Japanese, not English. Just glyphs. A triangle with a bleeding eye. Another with wings curled backward. A third, labeled in smudged ink:

SERAPHIM LOCK 3 Authorized DNA Required

“Okay,” Arata said flatly. “See? This is exactly the cult-bunker aesthetic I was hoping to avoid.”

Megumi didn’t slow. “We’re getting out. The shaft should lead us above ground.”

“We go up, what if those things are waiting?” I asked, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

Megumi looked back. “We stay here, I guarantee they’ll find us again. And you'll bleed out."

Fair. I readjusted the improvised compression, my head falling against Megumi's shoulder. He caressed my hair and adjusted his grip on me for more comfort, kissing my forehead. "You'll be okay."

We reached the shaft. Megumi hoisted me first, hands steady despite the tremor I knew he’d never admit to. I managed to not rip the wound open further, lying on the solid ground. Arata followed, teeth clenched the whole time. He came last.

We emerged into dusk-stained air, ash drifting across the horizon like paper snow.

The compound behind us groaned — alive again. Then it boomed.

A fireball lit the sky behind us. And just as I turned to ask what the hell that was, a voice crackled in Arata's comm.

“Akira. Lieutenant Arata. You’re both off the grid.”

Buzzcut.

“You’re lucky I intercepted the drone traffic. What the hell did you trigger in there?”

Megumi grabbed the comm and snapped, “We were ambushed. They tried to plug Arata into the floor like she was a damn power source!”

There was silence on the line. Then Buzzcut’s voice returned, low. Controlled.

“…Did it say ‘Seraphim Gate’? The terminal, I mean. Did it say DNA Key Three?”

We all froze.

Megumi looked between us. “…You know what that is?”

Buzzcut exhaled. “Get out of there. Now. I’ll explain when you’re safe. But listen to me, you just activated a goddamn fail-safe that wasn’t supposed to exist anymore. And if you’re alive, Akira, then so is your father.”

The line went dead.

[yureiyaps]

˙✧˖°♛ OF CROWNS AND CHAOS (preview)

In a world where kingdoms rise beneath burning skies and fall beneath frozen stars, two sovereign realms walk a fragile line between alliance and annihilation. One carved from eternal frost, ruled by silence and secrets. The other born of flame and divinity, where knowledge is a weapon, and warriors are forged in heaven’s shadow. You came from Caeloreth—a girl forged in sacred fire, chosen not for your smile but for the steel in your spine. A knight whose hands could wield any weapon, but whose laughter could split the chill of Thalore-Nytheria's eternal winter. He was the prince no blade could seem to kill—Dazai Osamu, crown heir of a kingdom of silence, whose charm was as deadly as the ice he ruled. Nobles whispered of curses. Of omens. Of his need for protection. So, they sent you. What began as duty dissolved into stolen glances beneath aurora-lit skies, into whispered jokes in cold hallways, into warmth that bloomed where none should.

But love, in a palace of politics and poised blades, is the most dangerous war of all. And the closer you stood to him, the more you realized: this was not about protecting the prince. This was about choosing between the crown, the chaos, and the boy who made snow feel like home.

[yureiyaps]

ִֶָ☾. See You Later!

cw: war au

pairing: megumi x OC, dad!Satoru

wc: 2.3k

(Akira's POV)

Arata and I were about to leave after the entire conundrum involving the vending machine, our boots scraping against the cold concrete. Wind stirred dust like it was hiding something. I scanned the zone. Something was off.

Too quiet. Not the good kind.

Arata was to my right, one hand near her holster, eyes razor-sharp. “Looks like it hasn’t been touched in years.”

I crouched beside the old terminal, brushing away decades of grime with my sleeve. “That’s what they want you to think.”

Then—

Click.

I froze.

Click click.

Two more.

Arata stiffened. “Did you hear that?”

I didn’t answer. My heart did.

Then they appeared. Three of them. Cresting the ridge like they’d been waiting for dusk.

Human in shape, but somehow different. Joints too fluid. Faces too still. Light didn’t reflect off their skin right—it bent. Like the world didn’t know what to do with them.

Sentients. Real ones.

I straightened slowly, stepping in front of Arata. “You’re not supposed to be online.”

The tallest one tilted its head, and I swore I heard metal strain.

“Unauthorized entry detected,” it said in a voice dipped in static. “Cross-referencing DNA profile: Gojo, Akira. Threat level: Red.”

Arata’s breath caught. “They know you by name?”

“I don't know how,” I whispered.

I barely registered her pulling her weapon. A gunshot rang out. It hit—ricocheted.

The thing smiled.

I grabbed her wrist. “Move!”

We ran.

Through dust and shadow and the broken bones of old infrastructure. I ducked low, weaving through collapsed beams, dragging Arata with me as their steps pounded behind us. I could feel the cold hum of their proximity—too close, too fast.

We found the ruins of a hallway—what used to be an ops corridor—and I slammed the reinforced door behind us, bolting it with an iron pipe. They didn’t try to open it.

They were waiting.

“Shit,” Arata gasped, bracing herself against the wall. “We’re boxed in.”

“No,” I said, panting. “Not yet. There’s a backup shaft I remember. It's supposed to run parallel to the old comms room. It’s narrow. We can crawl through it to the other side of the compound.”

Arata looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “How do you know that?”

I hesitated. “I don't. I guessed due to the installation and wiring. It's our only way out.

She blinked. “What?”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Let's just do it. I left trails, by the way."

Arata furrowed her eyebrows, a cease forming between them. "Why? And to who?"

“In case something happened. In case I didn’t make it back. I started embedding patterns. Messages. In my files. I marked specific words. Same pen, same color order. Left codes. Coordinates. Enough for him to trace. He wasn't supposed to find them yet, though. I didn't leave any trails in case this happened."

“Him,” Arata echoed, staring. “Wait. You’re telling me you wrote a secret love-coded message into classified black-ops files hoping Megumi would find it?"

“Not hoping,” I said, flicking my flashlight on. “Knowing.”

She exhaled sharply. “What the hell is he, a codebreaker?”

“No. He’s worse.” I smiled faintly. “He’s in love.”

She didn’t answer.

Behind us, the hallway lights began to flicker. One by one. Like a countdown.

We moved, running again. Deeper, faster. The shaft was ahead, covered in rust and silence, but still intact. I hit the latch and climbed inside first, turning to offer my hand to Arata.

“He’ll find us,” I said quietly.

Right before she pulled herself in, the wall behind her exploded.

We both ducked, heartbeats slamming, as one of the sentients crawled through the breach like a spider. Arata fired again—three rounds, all aimed at its core. It barely flinched.

I sealed the shaft door behind us and we bolted forward, crawling through wires and dust and memory.

My hands were bleeding. The metal walls of the shaft had edges like paper cuts, and the dust was thick enough to choke memory. I could hear Arata’s breath right behind me — shallow, ragged, like she was swallowing panic with every exhale.

We were blind. Only the beam of my flashlight cut through the dark, jittery against rusted cablework and crumbling insulation. The shaft was uncomfortably tiny, but it was what it was.

Then came the thud.

Heavy.

Too heavy.

I stopped. Held up a fist. She stilled. The thud came again.

I twisted toward her. “They’re above us.”

She mouthed back, How?

“They’re tracking heat.”

Arata’s jaw clenched, and for the first time since I met her, I saw her eyes flicker. Not fear — calculation. She was trying to figure out how many exits we had. How many bullets. How long it would take to die.

I reached forward again. Crawled faster. The shaft forked ahead — one path dropped lower. Tighter. A squeeze barely fit for a kid.

Perfect.

I slipped down it, boot first, sliding on my stomach until the space narrowed into silence.

She followed.

We stayed like that for what felt like hours. Until the air grew colder and the walls began humming. A different hum. Familiar.

I blinked.

“Wait,” I whispered. “I know this place.”

“You what?” she hissed.

I tapped the pipe above me. “This is under the research wing. One of the earliest blind test zones for Project Blind Sun. My father brought me here once when I was a kid. Looks like my predictions were right."

Arata stared. “Are you saying we just crawled into the belly of the beast? Thanks to your prediction, at that?"

“No,” I whispered. “We crawled under its grave.”

--------------

The lab beneath Sector 9Y was buried in time. A bunker within a bunker. My flashlight caught broken panels, smeared code stamps, bits of shattered glass.

“Why the hell would they reactivate this place?” Arata muttered, scanning the room.

“I don’t think they did,” I said. “I think it never actually shut down.”

We moved quietly. Past servers that buzzed faintly. Past an old terminal with flickering lights — not completely dead.

Arata crouched, dusting off the control panel. “You think it’s safe to touch?”

“Not remotely.” I popped open a side hatch. “But if there’s data in here, I’m not leaving without it.”

Then the screen lit up. A welcome message.

WELCOME BACK, GOJO-SAMA. PROJECT NODE: SERAPHIM GATE STATUS: REBOOTING DNA CONFIRMED.

Arata stepped back, stunned. Confused. Maybe a tiny bit afraid, but it was impossible to know.

“What… is Seraphim Gate?”

I stared at the screen.

“I don’t know,” I said. This was actually scaring me. Why was there a giant welcome message for my dad in the lab he sabotaged with his own hands?

And behind us — again — came that sound.

Click.

But this time it wasn’t from outside. It was from the shadows inside the lab.

I grabbed Arata’s hand, mine slightly trembling. We bolted — deeper into the forgotten wing. The shadows moved with machine grace. No footsteps. No breathing. Just the sound of shifting servos and the smell of old death. I don't know what my dad had been doing or what and who he was involved with, but this wasn't good.

I shoved open a side hatch and dragged Arata in, locking the blast door behind us.

“No exit,” she said, chest heaving. “We just boxed ourselves in.”

“We bought time,” I snapped, taking ragged breaths. “That’s all we need.”

The lights overhead sparked.

Then flickered red.

The console in the center of the room lit up.

ACTIVATING HOST EXTRACTION PROTOCOL. SUBJECT: ARATA MIYAZAKI. DNA KEY THREE – CONFIRMED. EXECUTING TRANSFER.

“What the hell is it doing?!” she shouted.

“I don’t know!” I ran to the terminal. “They’re not after me — they want you!”

“No—no, Akira, stop—!”

She shoved me back just as something burst from the far wall — a thin tendril of chrome and light, reaching like a vein of lightning.

It latched onto her back.

She screamed.

And the door behind us exploded.

A blur of black and blue shot through the smoke. Clean, sharp, silent.

Megumi.

He moved like a blade.

One shot — the bot behind Arata dropped. Another — the console shattered before it could complete the sequence. Sparks flew. Systems whined and died.

He was on his knees beside me before I even realized I’d hit the ground.

“Hey.” His voice was hoarse. “Hey, stay with me.”

I looked up at him, dazed. I'd ripped my side open against some metal while running and was gushing blood.

“You came.”

“Of course I came.” He was already checking my injuries. “You’re bleeding.”

I laughed weakly. “I bled more for worse.”

I winced as the pain sharpened, closing my eyes and leaning my head against the smashed console of the terminal as my breathing got shallower.

“I know.” He cupped my face. “But not again. Not alone.”

Arata coughed nearby. “Glad you two had your reunion. Can we get the hell out now?”

Megumi lifted me in bridal style; eyes still locked on mine. “I found the exit shaft on the way in."

“They want her,” I said, nodding to Arata. “They called her DNA Key Three. Something called the Seraphim Gate—”

“Explain later,” he said. “Move now.”

He was here.

And for now, we were whole.

_______________

We ran.

Well, Megumi ran. He carried me.

Arata limped behind, one hand clutching the charred mark on her back where the cable had latched on. “If I die from whatever the hell that was, I want my corpse buried far from military zones.”

“You’re not dying,” Megumi muttered. “Not today.”

“Cool,” Arata snapped, “then maybe clue me in on why robot tentacles think I’m a USB stick with legs?!”

“No idea,” I wheezed, “but I vote we short-circuit the next one with sarcasm and blind panic.”

We stumbled into a corridor that looked like it hadn’t been touched in decades. The signs were in a language I didn’t recognize — not Japanese, not English. Just glyphs. A triangle with a bleeding eye. Another with wings curled backward. A third, labeled in smudged ink:

SERAPHIM LOCK 3 Authorized DNA Required

“Okay,” Arata said flatly. “See? This is exactly the cult-bunker aesthetic I was hoping to avoid.”

Megumi didn’t slow. “We’re getting out. The shaft should lead us above ground.”

“We go up, what if those things are waiting?” I asked, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

Megumi looked back. “We stay here, I guarantee they’ll find us again. And you'll bleed out."

Fair. I readjusted the improvised compression, my head falling against Megumi's shoulder. He caressed my hair and adjusted his grip on me for more comfort, kissing my forehead. "You'll be okay."

We reached the shaft. Megumi hoisted me first, hands steady despite the tremor I knew he’d never admit to. I managed to not rip the wound open further, lying on the solid ground. Arata followed, teeth clenched the whole time. He came last.

We emerged into dusk-stained air, ash drifting across the horizon like paper snow.

The compound behind us groaned — alive again. Then it boomed.

A fireball lit the sky behind us. And just as I turned to ask what the hell that was, a voice crackled in Arata's comm.

“Akira. Lieutenant Arata. You’re both off the grid.”

Buzzcut.

“You’re lucky I intercepted the drone traffic. What the hell did you trigger in there?”

Megumi grabbed the comm and snapped, “We were ambushed. They tried to plug Arata into the floor like she was a damn power source!”

There was silence on the line. Then Buzzcut’s voice returned, low. Controlled.

“…Did it say ‘Seraphim Gate’? The terminal, I mean. Did it say DNA Key Three?”

We all froze.

Megumi looked between us. “…You know what that is?”

Buzzcut exhaled. “Get out of there. Now. I’ll explain when you’re safe. But listen to me, you just activated a goddamn fail-safe that wasn’t supposed to exist anymore. And if you’re alive, Akira, then so is your father.”

The line went dead.

[yureiyaps]

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . MASTERLIST

Series I write For - Jujutsu Kaisen, Bungo Stray Dogs, Attack on Titan (soon!)

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . JUJUTSU KAISEN

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . Megumi Fushiguro

ִֶָ☾. See You Later! (canon x oc)

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . Gojo Satoru

ARCH THAT BACK F'ME, PRINCESS! (canon x reader, oneshot)

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . BUNGO STRAY DOGS

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . Osamu Dazai

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . Neon Shadows: Code of the Underworld (canon x oc) . ۫ ꣑ৎ . I'D LET THE WORLD BURN! (canon x oc)

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . ATTACK ON TITAN

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . Levi Ackerman

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . Iron Flowers (coming soon!)

About me: Hiii, I'm Yurei and I'm 16 years old! Aries, I like rain, drawing, writing and I do volleyball. I started this blog in early 2025, so I'm relatively new to everything. I hope you enjoy my works!

Inbox is open for asks and submissions!

© 2025 All works made by yureiyaps, you may not reproduce.

[yureiyaps]

⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒Neon Shadows: Code of the Underworld (chapter one)

Pairing: hacker!dazai x cyberpunk!oc Universe: dystopian/cyberpunk!future wc: 444

The neon lights of Yokohama pulsed like a dying heartbeat, flickering against the rain-slicked streets. Holograms of corporate mascots towered over alleyways, their grinning faces promising a utopia that didn’t exist. In this city, where the mafia and megacorporations ruled, the weak were just data points in a ledger—expendable.

Mia knew this better than anyone.

She sat hunched over in a back-alley safehouse, fingers flying across a holo-keyboard as she watched the digital security of a corporate server crumble beneath her touch. The target? A subsidiary of Moriyama Industries—a front for the Port Mafia’s latest cybernetic project. The Neon Veil.

She had spent years hacking in the shadows, a ghost in the system, tearing at the seams of the syndicates that ran the city. But this? This was different. This was personal. Lines upon lines of code unraveled before her, illuminating her sharp features as she tripped a failsafe, eyes darkening.

A red warning flashed across her screen: INTRUSION DETECTED.

“Shit,” she hissed, fingers blurring to wipe her tracks.

Then, the screen glitched. The black void of her console filled with an unfamiliar logo—an eye, surrounded by distorted static.

A message appeared: "You’re good, but not that good, little fox."

Mia’s breath hitched. Someone has hacked her system.

Before she could react, a voice crackled through her comms—smooth, amused. “Now, what’s a talented girl like you doing poking around the Port Mafia’s dirty little secrets?”

She whipped around, heart hammering. The safehouse was empty, but she wasn’t alone.

“I don’t like uninvited guests,” Mia shot back, fingers already keying in a shutdown command.

Laughter. Low, warm, laced with something dangerous, almost mocking.

“Lucky for you, I do.”

The power cut out. The hum of neon and servers died, leaving only silence.

Then, a click. A gun? No—just the flick of a lighter. The faint glow illuminated the figure now leaning lazily against the doorframe. A man, wrapped in a long coat, the soft fire of said lighter casting flickering shadows over his face.

Mia didn’t need an introduction. Phantoms in the underground knew that face.

Dazai Osamu.

Legend. Ghost. The hacker who was said to have once worked for the Port Mafia, then vanished like smoke. Some said he was dead. Others said he had become something far worse.

And now, he was standing in her safehouse, smiling like he had just caught a particularly interesting butterfly.

“Well?” He tilted his head, watching her with sharp, knowing eyes. “Shall we talk business, Mia-chan?”

She hadn’t told him her name.

And that was the moment she realized—this wasn’t just another job.

This was the beginning of something much, much bigger.

------------------------- taglist: @crimsonhallucinations comments are appreciated!

[yureiyaps]

ִֶָ☾. See You Later!

cw: war au pairing: megumi x OC, dad!Satoru wc: 2.6k

a/n: i really enjoyed writing this particular chapter, as exhausting as it was :DD

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 >>> coming soon!

(Megumi's POV)

I was confused.

The problem with chasing shadows is that sometimes, they start looking back.

I was in the archives again. Third time this week. I knew there was nothing new in these files — redacted lines, blank pages, ink that looked like it was burned off — but I kept coming back anyway.

Hope's a stupid thing. Fragile. Addictive.

I flipped open another folder. Same emblem on the top corner. Same damn font. Property of Operation: Blind Sun. Property of a nightmare. Screw this. I sighed, tossing the useless stash of paper to the table and walking out of the room, closing the door behind me. Kuroiwa was either stupidly blind or blindly stupid.

Either works.

Staring at redacted files until my eyes fell out never helped and never will help, so I decided I'm going rogue. Even if it gets me kicked out of here - which I'm actually yearning for. How am I supposed to find my family - or what was left of them, at least - if I can't use any and all resources I can find? That's why instead of turning right in the corridor, I veered left into the darkness. In the direction of the SUPERIOR PERSONNEL ONLY room. Some files were labeled CLASSIFIED. Others were marked FOR EYES ABOVE RANK.

But none of them said Fushiguro Megumi: Stop Being a Goddamn Idiot and Open This Sooner — which is exactly what they should’ve said.

The lock was easy. The badge swipe? Easier. They trained me to ghost into enemy territory, and I was using it to crack into my own military’s records. What a joke.

I didn’t care. I had one goal. One person.

Her name. That’s all I needed. I typed it in like I’d done a hundred times before.

GOJO, AKIRA.

And this time, it didn’t bounce me.

It opened a record.

Deployment: Special Division 02 – Black Unit Commanding Officer: SOKOLYEV, CMDR Second-in-Command: ARATA, LT Status: ACTIVE Clearance Level: LOCKED

I stared at the screen.

Kyle Sokolyev. Buzzcut.

She was under Buzzcut the entire time. The same man I’d passed in briefings. The same man who pretended not to recognize my last name. The same unit that operated under the same goddamn flag as me.

My fists slammed the desk.

Kuroiwa.

She knew. She’d known everything.

My pulse roared in my ears like gunfire. A traitor’s beat — not to the country, but to myself. I should’ve seen it.

I didn’t wait for permission. Or a vehicle. Or a file stamp. I stole a damn bike from the depot and rode.

(MILITARY BASE, SPECIAL DIVISION 02 - AKIRA'S BASE)

The base looked like any other: concrete, dust, half-salvaged wiring running like veins up the sides. But it felt different. A soldier at the gate blinked when I flashed my stolen clearance. “Uh. Sir? You’re… not from this base.”

“No,” I said. “I’m looking for someone. Gojo Akira. She’s registered here.”

“Private Gojo?” He frowned. “She shipped out early this morning.”

Damn it.

“Then someone she was close to,” I said without flinching. “Anyone she trusted. Ate meals with. Laughed around.”

The guy scratched his head. “Uh… I mean, she mostly kept to herself, but—yeah. There’s this one guy. Talks a lot. Name’s Renji. He used to get her to eat when she skipped meals.”

“Where is he?”

“Mess hall. Second corridor.” I nodded, walking into the base and going towards the hall. It smelled like steel trays and yesterday’s regrets. Soldiers slumped over half-eaten meals, boots scraping tile. I scanned until I saw him — mid-twenties maybe, hair a mess, knuckles bruised, eyes like he hadn’t slept since peace was invented.

I walked over.

“Renji?” I asked.

He looked up slowly, like he was used to being called for trouble. “Yeah?”

“I’m looking for someone. Gojo Akira.”

His face didn’t shift much — just this small, knowing pause, like a dot connecting in the back of his mind.

“Oh,” he said. A faint smile, like he knew something I didn’t. Like he recognized me.

I didn’t press. “Do you know where she went?”

He nodded, pushed his half-eaten tray aside. “Shipped out early this morning. Left with Lieutenant Arata.”

My hands curled around the edge of the bench. “Do you know why?”

Renji scratched his neck, sighing softly and speaking. "I supposed it had to do something with these papers she's been studying non-stop. Something about her dad. Come on.” He stood and started walking, leading me to the barracks.

The room was quiet. Lived-in but stripped clean. Two bunks, one top, one bottom. Renji motioned to the lower one.

“She’s been studying these,” he said, crouching and reaching under the bedframe. “Secret files. She wouldn’t let anyone touch them, but… you’re not just anyone, are you?”

I didn’t answer.

He pulled out a folded pack of documents — ragged at the edges, creased from sleepless nights. He passed them to me.

“She never said your name,” Renji added quietly. “But I figured it out.”

I opened the folder.

Classified logos. Operation stamps. Maps. Coordinates. Codenames. Redacted lines stacked like barbed wire. I barely blinked. My fingers traced through them, eyes scanning for something — anything — that would tell me where she went.

Then something slipped loose.

A photo.

It fluttered down into my lap.

I stared at it.

It was us.

Just a day — random, forgettable to anyone else. I was maybe nine. She was grinning wide, arms thrown around my neck, and I was mid-sigh, clearly trying not to smile.

We looked happy.

I swallowed hard.

“She kept it in the folder,” Renji said, voice low behind me. “Wouldn’t let it go, even when she got yelled at for bringing personal stuff into briefing.”

I folded the photo back into the file. My throat burned.

“Do you know where they went?” I asked.

Renji shook his head. “No. But it’s all in there. If anyone can figure it out, it’s you.” I nodded, offering a tight smile that looked more like a grimace than anything else. Renji nodded his head, offering the same smile.

Except his looked more sympathetic and emotional.

I stood up, tucking the files into my bag gently and fixing my gloves, looking around. I had to find her, and I would. No matter what.

"Good luck. She'll be glad to know you still care," Renji said, silent support and understanding in his booming voice. Why would she think I didn't care?

It made me pause for a moment, but the thought was pushed to the back of my mind when I was out of the base. The drive to my base was exhausting, mentally wrecking. Everything happening was driving me insane.

And that insanity drove me further to find the truth. -----------------------

The file folder lied splayed open across the floor.

Gloves were off. Jacket on the ground. I'm sitting cross-legged, hunched over, every classified paper spread around me like the wreckage of a storm.

At first, I was just skimming, frustrated — trying to pinpoint anything concrete.

But then I realized something was off.

The first highlight’s yellow. The next… is red. Then green. Then blue. Then red again. And the pen strokes are slightly slanted, different. Not military issue. Not regulation.

Then it clicked.

She was talking to me.

I scrambled, dragging the lamp closer, pulling the files into a line.

Some highlights are in thick, angry strokes — military-issued. Others? Finer. Smaller. Like someone was trying not to be noticed. And she repeated a pattern — yellow, red, green, blue, red.

A cipher.

I pulled out my notebook, copying the words only highlighted in her color. The phrases they formed.

I'm stupid.

"They’re lying about Satoru." "Arata trusts you." "If you see this, I need you." "Find me before they do."

And then finally — one more line, tucked in a page with nothing else on it:

"Only you would’ve seen this."

I clenched the papers in my hands, feeling tears build up. My mind drifted back to the photo I saw earlier.

I could remember the moment the photo was taken. What she said. How she smiled. How she looked at me as if I were her whole world. Maybe I never looked back. But it was time to now.

"I hate you as much as I would love to kiss you right now," a soft whisper fell from my lips, something cracking the wrong way in my heart. I was so, so, so blind. I needed to find her ASAP.

I didn't care she had a layer of protection from Buzzcut and Arata over herself. Didn't care the two were smart enough to dodge a nuclear bomb seconds before it exploded. I needed to help her. If I don't, I don't want to know what could happen.

I'm pretty sure that earlier, I didn't deserve that smile of hers. But I'll be damned if I don't earn it now.

------------------

I slept over everything. Let the situation fully settle in my gut - let the fact she trusted me so much settle in completely. I can't fuck up now.

The hallway was too quiet for this hour. Morning briefings usually meant chaos - boots scuffing tile, radios crackling, half-eaten rations tossed on crates - but today, even the static felt like it was holding its breath.

I adjusted the strap of my sidearm as I passed the old west wing of Base D-7. Rust bloomed on the steel walls like rot, and for a second, I caught my own reflection in the window - a little older, a little harder around the eyes. I hated mirrors now. All they ever did was show me who I was without her.

Without my family.

A low whistle cut through the air. A junior tech—Rei, I thought—waved me over with a sealed file in hand.

“Sir, we picked up something odd,” she said, voice low. “Encrypted activity log triggered a ghost alert. Registered as unlicensed movement… but the trail is too clean. Almost like someone wanted us to find it.”

I frowned. “Where?”

She hesitated. “Sector 09.”

I blinked. “That’s not real. There’s no Sector 09.”

“I thought the same. But the log’s real. Timestamped, with geo-pings routed through backdoors only the black-ops used during Blind Sun’s peak.”

That name made my gut twist.

I grabbed the file. Flipped through sharp paper. A chill slipped down my spine - coded phrases, static glitches, bits of phrases I knew by heart.

My heart dropped. No.

I ran a hand through my hair, skin buzzing. “This pattern - it’s her,” I whispered. “It’s Akira.”

Rei blinked. “Sir?”

“She’s alive. Or she was. She left this trail.” I was already walking, then running toward Command. “She’s in Sector 09.”

“But that place—”

“I don’t care what the map says.” My voice was sharp, laced with steel. “If she’s there, I’m going in.”

I didn't wait for a car - yet again, just dragged the stolen bicycle with me and followed the coordinates. If Satoru ever taught me something useful, it was how to easily navigate using coordinates, even in dire situations such as this one.

------------------

Sector 09. I was confused, yet again.

Why was I at the Horizon Lot? There used to be an arcade here when Akira and I were kids. Akira's family always parked on spot 11B, mine took place 10A.

I carefully stepped into the parking lot, looking around. Something was terribly off. Usually, it took a good lot to make me feel insecure and scared.

Now, shivers ran up my spine non-stop and my eyes started watering without reason.

I shivered again, breath coming out in white clouds. I didn't know what cold was, but it was clear now that I was here.

And that Akira was possibly in a life-or-death situation.

Falling into step, I quickened my pace. There was no time to lose.

My pulse thudded in my ears as I sprinted down the corridor, the walls closing in on me. The air was thick with the scent of rust and decay, mixed with something sharper—burnt ozone, the sting of something metallic, something wrong.

My boots pounded the slick concrete floor, the echoes bouncing off the narrow passageways that seemed to get tighter the further I pushed. The walls—half-machine, half-stone—were like a grave, cold and unforgiving. They didn’t belong in a place like this.

Sector 09 shouldn’t have even existed. But here I was.

A flash of red on the floor caught my attention.

Blood.

Fresh. The dark, rust-colored smear was splattered across the ground, trailing off at an angle, like someone had been dragged or stumbled. My throat tightened, breath catching. I knelt, fingers hovering just above the floor. My eyes darted over the bloodstains, tracing the path.

Then I saw them.

Footprints.

One set was deeper, heavier - someone wearing tactical boots. But the second set, faint against the backdrop of scuffed floors, was lighter. Smaller.

The weight of the tread wasn’t right either. Too soft. Too quick.

My stomach dropped.

Akira’s footsteps.

The hollow pit in my chest swelled with dread. My heart hammered, the rhythmic thudding a constant reminder of how far behind I was.

“No…” I muttered under my breath, shaking my head. “No, no, no…”

She has been here.

My hands clenched into fists at my ides as I pushed myself upright, mind reeling. She had to be okay. She had to be. I was almost there. Almost close enough to...

The next thing I found nearly stopped his heart.

A comm-unit. Standard military issue. Its casing was cracked, one side busted open, wires dangling out like veins. I dropped to one knee, the urgency propelling me forward.

It was still faintly warm.

My fingers brushed the comm’s interface, testing it for any residual charge. I could feel the heat—fresh, as though it had been dropped only moments ago.

My breath hitched. She dropped it. It wasn’t just lying there; it had been discarded, left behind in a rush. A moment of panic. Or something worse.

I swallowed hard, chest tight.

The comm-unit was cracked, but it wasn’t beyond repair. If I could just get a signal out—maybe it wasn’t too late.

But as I reached for my own device, a strange sense of dread settled over me. I was missing something. Something important. The walls seemed to close in further, the corridor stretching out in front of me like a tunnel, growing darker with every step I took.

I snapped the comm-unit into my belt. The place was a trap—it had to be.

I didn’t care. I was getting her out. No matter the cost.

A scream interrupted my train of thought. It wasn't Akira's scream; I knew that the moment I heard it. Nevertheless, it made me freeze.

It came from somewhere below the ground.

What was going on?

Something smashing and unsettling, almost eerie sounds of cracking echoed through the empty, rusty parking lot, sending a pang of uneasiness and dread straight to my core. Shit.

I pushed harder, running faster, my legs burning as I followed the sounds of destruction. I had to find her. I had to make sure she was okay.

The walls shook, like something massive had just breached the ground. The sound of shattering glass and metal split the air. The whole place groaned, like a beast awakening from a long sleep.

I grabbed one of the grenades attached to my suit, throwing it at the wall from behind which the sounds seemed to be coming from.

I ran back quickly, protecting my face from flying debris and rubble, the sound of explosion deafening me for a moment before I looked up through the dust and caught those eyes.

Cerulean blue, like the sky before the war. Pristine white hair, wild and long.

----------------- taglist: @crimsonhallucinations

[yureiyaps]

ִֶָ☾. See You Later! character visual boards

a/n: heyyo! i'm really busy with school and volleyball right now so i won't be uploading as much in the next two weeks or-so. however, it doesn't stop me from posting some drabbles and such :D hope you enjoy the visuals (i know yall are supposed to imagine things but this was to kind of give everyone a feel of what i imagined the characters as)!

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ Megumi Fushiguro

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ Akira Gojo

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ Gojo Satoru

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ Fengxian Gojo

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ Yuta Okkotsu

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ Arata Miyazaki

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ Commander Buzzcut (Kyle Sokolyev)

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ Kiyomi Fushiguro

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ Toji Fushiguro

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ Tsumiki Fushiguro

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ Geto Suguru

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ Overall story vibe

[yureiyaps]

ִֶָ☾. See You Later!

cw: war au pairing: megumi x OC, dad!Satoru wc: 2k

part 1 | part 2 | part 3| part 4 | part 5 >>> coming soon!

"Arata!" I ran after her, slightly out of breath as she stopped walking when I caught up.

"You mentioned knowing a woman named Kiyomi a bit before the war started, right? She was my mom's best friend?"

Arata looked confused by the sudden question but answered anyway. "Yeah, Kiyomi Fushiguro. Why? Did you find something on her?"

My eyes widened. Fushiguro.

Megumi’s mom.

“…No.”

“Then why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

I snapped out of my daze, mouth slightly agape.

“Just… she’s the mother of my close friend. Well, actually, not a close friend. Someone really dear to me.” I stumbled over my words like a lovestruck idiot, a hint of pink dusting my cheeks as I took a deep breath. Gosh.

Arata just smiled knowingly, gesturing for me to take my time.

“She’s the mother of my best friend. Megumi. Dad had been taking care of us both since the bombardment that presumably 'took out' his parents, older sister, and my mom.”

Arata paused, looking at me like I was the eighth wonder of the world.

“You know Megumi?” she asked softly, almost gently. I should’ve been surprised she knew how to be soft-spoken, but I wasn’t. Not after what happened this morning.

“Yeah. We’re, like, attached at the hip. He’s basically the only friend and support I had. My brother got stuck outside the country when the war started, so Megumi was there in his stead.”

I’d thought she knew I was friends with him — since Fengxian, Kiyomi, and she were close — but I suppose some things were better kept hidden.

Arata nodded, looking away for a moment before speaking up again. “I was told he died after the others.”

Oh, fuck no.

Megumi, dead?

I almost choked on my own spit. I wouldn’t — couldn’t — let him die. That one stupid, freezing night six years ago, I’d sworn to find him even if the world ended. I was dead set on keeping it that way.

“He’s cynical, sure. He’s also suicidally reckless — check. But he wouldn’t die that easily. I wouldn’t let him.” I said it too quickly. Too desperately. Too determinedly. Too lovingly — as if the mere thought of Megumi dying buried fear far too deep in my marrow.

Which it did.

I’d just hidden that vulnerability beneath the mask of a court fool — a façade built so others would only see what I wanted them to see.

Arata watched me closely, eyes sharp but unreadable. The silence stretched a little longer than it should’ve.

“You really care about him,” she said finally. Not a question — a fact.

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because what was I supposed to do? Lie? About loving him? No way.

“You remind me of her, you know,” Arata said again, her voice softer. “Your mom. The way you deflect. The way you dig your heels in even when you’re scared out of your mind.”

I blinked. Something behind my ribs twisted.

“She once stood in front of a live mine just to pull me out of the line of fire,” she added, her voice distant, touched with something old and worn. “Told me, ‘I’m not letting anyone I love get buried in someone else’s war.’”

She looked back at me.

“I think you inherited more than just her stubbornness.”

I just nodded. The words I wanted to say were lodged in my throat like a knife through the heart.

It did sound like something my mom would do — risking herself to save someone she cared about.

But I couldn’t remember her. Couldn’t picture her in that moment.

I’d forgotten what she looked like. What her voice sounded like.

That’s part of why I want — need — to find her.

And Dad. And Megumi’s parents. And Tsumiki too.

“Can we go to my house? I have someone to apologize to,” I asked softly, my voice pleading. Arata seemed to understand and simply nodded.

“Sure. I’ll tell Buzzcut we’re doing field work.”

-----------------

Returning to the place I grew up was harder than I thought it would be.

Seeing all the things I left behind that night two months ago - God, sometimes I wish I had just stayed strong enough to handle things as they were.

No answers. No knowledge. No truths.

Maybe then things would’ve been better.

Maybe I wouldn’t have left the only person still alive —

alone.

And unfindable.

Megumi wasn’t here.

I panicked, rushing down the stairs into the basement where we used to sleep — but silence welcomed me. And the almost painful sight of the pillow fortress we’d made, now nothing more than a mess of fabric and plush on the floor.

Arata followed after me, sympathy written all over her face.

“It’s okay. He may have gone out to get food.”

“He hasn’t. We built that pillow fortress the night I ran away. It—it’s…”

I trailed off, the sentence falling apart as tears threatened to spill over. But I wouldn’t let them.

Couldn’t.

I had to stay strong. For Dad. For Mom. For Yuta.

For Megumi, too.

Speaking of Yuta — my older brother — Dad once said something about his room being the best location in the house.

My brows furrowed.

Everything else faded. Even Arata’s voice, calling out to me.

“…kira! Are you okay? Why’re you crying?” She came up behind me, turning my face gently toward hers. I blinked, snapping out of whatever daze had overtaken me, wiping my face with the heel of my palm.

“I’m okay. I just remembered something Dad said… about my brother’s room.”

Arata raised a brow, clearly confused, then let out an “Ooh, right. Yuta, correct?” and gave my shoulder a soft squeeze. “What about his room?”

I tensed.

Seriously — what about his room?

“I don’t know. I vividly remember Dad telling Mom it was the best location in the house. For hiding something, I presume, but—”

I stopped.

Eyes widening.

Hiding.

Hide and seek.

I was up the stairs to the third floor faster than my brain could smash the “oh no” button before I even processed anything yet—just bolted, straight into Yuta’s room.

It was somewhat the same, except one of the walls had been damaged in a bombing and the whole place was covered in rubble. I looked around frantically, and then my eyes landed on a specific drawer. I’d always thought it looked a bit out of place—the color was darker, the handle was different from the others. It was also locked at all times, which made it the perfect mystery for Megumi and me to obsess over when we were kids.

Yuta and Tsumiki had given up on trying to crack it ages ago. They were always more mature than us. More reserved.

Arata came into the destroyed room a few seconds later, wondering what the fuck I was doing.

Honestly? I didn’t know either.

I was just sitting on the floor with a hairpin (yes, the same one I used to break into the file room) and toying with the drawer lock like some nosy, unhinged kid.

“Fucking hell, what is this thing made of?!” I hissed at some point, completely losing my patience and slamming the entire drawer set against the wall. Something inside that specific fucking drawer cracked. It clicked open.

Arata snickered behind me. I turned and glared at her like I was ready to commit murder. She raised her hands in mock surrender.

“There we fucking go.” I opened the drawer. Great. Another set of worthless white papers.

Still, I had no other choice. I started flipping through them anyway.

“You seem to be on an f-bomb strike. That normal?” Arata asked teasingly, kneeling beside me. The teasing disappeared the moment she saw my face.

I was crying now.

Compared to dropping f-bombs every two seconds, me crying was a rare sight. I almost never did.

The message was handwritten—on old Monopoly money and a folded hide-and-seek scorecard. It had been stuffed between the useless papers.

"You picked the thimble — small, but brave, I took the seventh step, my cave. The banker speaks in polished lies, but only when the dice disguise." "Go to Jail — a cursed square, yet safest when the world’s unfair. Free Parking’s not a prize to take, it’s where we pause, not where we break." "Now count to ten, my clever light — your seeker’s gone, but not from sight. The game’s not done, the rules are bent. I'm hiding still. That’s what I meant."

Are dads always this confusing, or is mine a special case?

“Thimble, seventh step, banker, dice, jail, free parking, count to ten…” I muttered through tears, trying to connect the dots.

Arata looked even more confused than I did. Like she was trying to understand quantum physics with a hangover.

Understandable, really. My dearest Dad just had to use fucking Monopoly and hide-and-seek to send me a clue.

Then it clicked.

I stood up.

The thimble. The stairs.

Rushing downstairs again and going below exactly the seventh step, I crouched, fingers tracing the dusty wood beneath the stairs. The step creaked differently — hollower, like it was tired of waiting to be noticed.

Arata hovered above me. "Seriously? Now you're poking stairs?"

"Shut up and help me pry this one up," I muttered.

It gave way with a snap, wood splintering just enough to reveal what had been buried: a folded-up scrap of yellowed paper, wrapped around something small and metallic. My hands trembled as I unfolded it. The thimble fell into my palm, cold and familiar. And inside the folds of the note—

There it was. Faded, real, and ridiculous: a parking ticket.

I blinked. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

I unfolded the attached paper fully. Not just a note. A poem. Another rhyme. Another code from a man who’d turned our childhood games into trail markers for survival.

"Free Parking’s not on every chart, but you and I made it a start. Spot Eleven-B, by rust and light, where shadows hum and vending bites." "Behind the screen where buttons blink, there lies a box — but not for drink. It sells no snacks, it hums no tune, yet hides the truth beneath the moon." "And when you hear her voice, you’ll see, what was lost was meant to be. So, bring the thimble. Bring your name. One more round — we’re still mid-game."

I reread it three times before looking up at Arata. Her expression was no longer confused. Just concerned. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means I’m going to the old Horizon Lot,” I whispered. “Spot Eleven-B.”

-------------------------

The Horizon Lot was as forgotten as my father — a derelict parking garage halfway sunk into the earth from the last quake. Dust, rust, and memory clung to its beams. Arata parked near the entrance and killed the engine.

“You sure about this?” she asked.

I nodded, slipping the thimble into my jacket pocket.

We walked through crumbling silence, down into the half-submerged lower levels. Eleven-B was barely marked anymore, but I counted — second row, third column, tucked into the shadows. Just like he said. Rust and light.

And there it was: the old vending machine. Cracked screen. Buttons long worn smooth. But I could see the faintest glow still flickering beneath the busted plastic.

“He said it wasn’t for snacks,” I murmured.

I reached behind the machine, fingers brushing against metal.

A latch.

With a soft click, the vending machine shifted, revealing a narrow compartment tucked behind it — a black box, slick and locked with a biometric seal and an ancient keypad. I stared at it.

Then it spoke.

Not just a beep. Not just static.

A voice.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

My blood ran cold.

Fengxian. My mother. Her voice. Her actual voice — preserved, recorded, real.

She sounded calm. Gentle. Like she had just kissed my forehead and tucked me in, not disappeared in a fireball of lies.

“If you’re hearing this, then your father’s plan worked. You found the thimble. You found the note. And now, it’s your turn to finish what we started.”

I couldn’t breathe. I dropped to my knees.

Arata stood behind me, stunned into silence.

“This box holds the first key. Inside is everything you need to understand what Project Blind Sun really was, and what your father did to stop it.”

“Bring this to someone you trust. Someone who won’t break. You already know who.”

“We never left you. We just hid better.”

The recording ended.

Silence fell again, thick and deafening.

I looked down at the box. Then to Arata.

Then I whispered, more to myself than anyone else:

“Tag. I guess I’m it now.”

-------------------------

taglist: @crimsonhallucinations

[yureiyaps]

ִֶָ☾. See You Later!

cw: war au pairing: megumi x OC, dad!Satoru wc: 1.3k part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 >>> coming soon!

TWO MONTHS LATER The sun hadn’t even peeked over the mountains yet when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

I blinked, groggy and still half-dreaming about a life where I wasn’t being dragged out of bed before dawn. “Lieutenant Arata?” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.

“Get up,” she said softly, almost… nicely? “Just you. The others are still out cold.”

I followed her, boots barely laced, my brain trying to piece together whether I was in trouble or about to be forced into some extra push-up punishment for yesterday’s sprint sass.

But she didn’t lead me to the training yard. She led me to her office.

The lights were dim, the heater humming quietly. It smelled like old coffee and something faintly floral—maybe those weird herbal things adults who don’t sleep properly drink. Arata sat behind her desk, arms folded, a file open in front of her. My file. No—the file. Actually, the copy of it.

My stomach twisted. “If this is about the thing I took, I—”

“Relax, Akira,” she said, cutting me off before I could spiral into a full-on defensive speech. “Buzzcut already told me. If it makes you feel any better, he only ratted you out because he figured I’d be less dramatic about it.”

“Rude,” I muttered, sitting down. “So… what happens now? You going to wipe my memory or something?”

“I’m not the Men in Black,” she replied, smirking slightly. “But I wanted to talk to you. Just us.”

That got my attention.

She tapped her fingers on the folder. “You’re looking into Project Blind Sun. Buzzcut gave me the short version. I figured it was time I gave you mine.”

I blinked. “You know about it?”

“Only pieces,” she admitted. “Most of it was sealed above my clearance. But I knew your mom. I knew her best friend, too. Back then, before everything went to hell, we weren’t in uniform all the time. We were just... women trying to survive the system. Friends. A little reckless. Definitely too smart for the brass.”

She smiled faintly at the memory, then looked me dead in the eyes.

“Fengxian - your mom - and Kiyomi. They weren’t just civilians caught in the crossfire. They were part of something bigger. Your mom especially. She was one of the best hackers I’ve ever met—she could dismantle an entire surveillance web with a radio and a coffee machine.”

That sounded exactly like her.

“But something changed near the end. They started getting nervous. Like someone was watching them, or like they knew too much. I asked once. Your mom smiled, tapped her temple, and said, ‘They want us dumb. And we’re not dumb, are we?’ Then she left it at that.”

I didn’t speak for a moment. The heater buzzed.

���I think they were working with your father,” Arata continued. “Maybe not officially, maybe not even legally. But there’s a reason why all three of them—Fengxian, Kiyomi, and Toji—‘died’ in the same explosion. That’s not a coincidence. That’s cleanup.”

I leaned forward. “So you believe me.”

Arata raised an eyebrow. “You think I dragged you in here to scold you? I’m not Buzzcut. I’m not here to shut you down. I’m here to help. Your dad saved a lot of us. Your mom saved me personally. If there’s even a chance they’re still alive, I’ll do what I can to help you find out.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but my throat tightened instead. All the sarcasm and bravado in the world couldn’t cover up how much I needed that—someone finally standing with me, not just behind me.

“Thank you,” I said, quieter than I expected.

She leaned back, all business again. “Don’t thank me yet. We’re just getting started. You’ve got half a trail and a whole forest to navigate. Buzzcut’ll keep an eye on you, and I’ll help from the inside. But you need to play it smart. No more breaking into restricted files without a plan.”

I tried to smile. “So... you’re saying I need two toothbrushes to scrub the barracks next time?”

She rolled her eyes. “Make it three.” -------- (Megumi's POV) (TWO MONTHS AGO, WHEN AKIRA DISSAPEARED) The last time I saw her, she was curled up beside me, breathing slow and steady. It was one of those rare nights where neither of us had nightmares. I remember thinking how peaceful she looked, like the war hadn't touched her - like we weren’t living in the rubble of everything we’d lost.

I gave her my blanket. She always kicked hers off.

We made a fort out of bedsheets and stuffed a stolen can of peaches between us like it was treasure. She mumbled something in her sleep. I didn’t catch it. I think it was my name.

When I woke up, she was gone.

No note. No goodbye. Just the peaches. And her bracelet on her pillow.

I tore the fort apart looking for her. Searched the entire block. Thought maybe she was out for a walk or on a snack run or pulling some kind of Akira-level prank.

But when her dad’s old jacket was missing - the one with the burn on the sleeve and the rip in the pocket she always kept stitched shut, the one he didn't take with him when he disappeared, what, five months ago now - I knew.

She had left.

She left me.

(CURRENT TIMELINE)

I threw the file across the room. It didn’t say anything new. Nothing we didn’t already know.

Project: Blind Sun. Status: Top Secret. Casualties: [REDACTED]. Purpose: [REDACTED]. Ethics Review: Never Happened.

Great. Government-sanctioned amnesia.

I shoved my hands through my hair and stared at the ceiling of the underground briefing room. Concrete. Cold. Like everything else in this place.

“Throwing files won’t make the truth come faster,” came a voice from the door.

I didn’t even look. “Neither will staring at them until my eyeballs dry out.”

The voice belonged to a woman named Kuroiwa — my contact in this task force. Not military. Something… deeper. Black-ops level. The type of place that didn’t exist on paper.

She stepped inside and kicked the file back toward me with her boot. “We’re not looking for paper trails, Fushiguro. We’re looking for shadows. You want answers? Learn to see in the dark.”

I sighed. “That’s not ominous at all.”

“You think this project has rules? You think your father and mother died in an airstrike like the records say?”

I looked up.

“Because we don’t,” she said. “And neither did your sister.”

The file felt heavier now.

“Why me?” I asked.

“Because you're reckless,” she said. “And angry. And because when we ran your psych eval, you said the only thing keeping you alive was a girl with white hair and too many secrets.”

My hands clenched. “She’s not a secret.”

“Exactly,” she said. “She’s the key.”

Flashback again: That night, two months ago, I found her combat boots by the door. Laces still double-knotted the way she liked them. She must’ve slipped out barefoot. Quiet.

My heart was a war drum.

I ran outside. Called her name.

Akira. Akira, come back. Akira, what are you doing?

I sat on the curb until morning.

I didn’t cry. I never do.

But the world felt colder.

Like she’d taken the sun with her.

They told me to forget about her. "She's too much trouble, too dangerous," they said.

But they don’t know what it’s like to lose the only person who ever made you believe in something again. They don’t know what it’s like to wake up cold - every morning - for two months, because she was the only thing that made you feel alive.

They don’t know her laugh.

They don’t know how she looked at me when we were kids and said, “If the world ends, I’m still finding you.”

So no.

I’m not detached.

I’m focused.

She vanished into the light.

I’ll dig through the dark to bring her home. ______________________ taglist: @crimsonhallucinations

[yureiyaps]

ARCH THAT BACK F'ME, PRINCESS!

cw: bestfriendsbrother!satoru, choking, doggy, rough, he's so annoying istg, manhandling, suguru doesn't know (newsflash), secret hookups, fwb!satoru x fem!reader, fingering, blowjob, overstimulation, satoru finding ways to fuck you silly until sunday, using his blindfold wc: 1.1k

How you ended up in this face-down, ass-up position - with your older brother's best friend nevertheless - you really didn't know. Probably because Satoru has fucked you silly in ways you didn't know were possible.

A large, veiny hand clamped over your mouth, muffling the sweet noises slipping past those sinful lips of yours. "Don't wanna wake your older brother, now do we, princess?" He drawled in a raspy, deep voice, the soft plap plap plap of his hips smashing against your ass filling the room. With one of his hands pressing you into the mattress, the other clasped over your mouth tightly - you could only whimper and babble helplessly, too fucked-out to even think straight, let alone speak.

Attempting to shift, you squirmed a little, pushing your hips back against his. Satoru groaned, fisting your hair and pushing your face into the pillow beneath you, the other hand pinning your wrists together against your back.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asked playfully, stilling his brutal thrusts, his tip kissing your cervix even then. "I thought we were having a fun time, no?"

"Toru, please," you breathed out heavily, body trembling with the need to cum for the nth time today.

"Please what, pretty?" he mused, smiling wickedly as he let go of your wrists, his hand slipping between your legs and rubbing teasing circles on your sensitive clit - pulling all sorts of moans and whimpers from your mouth, body convulsing and jerking gently with each wave of pleasure that rolled over you.

"Let me - oh shit - let me f-fucking come, you ass," the words left your lips subconsciously, head buried in a pillow, the soft material quieting your obnoxiously loud sex noises down. He just tch'd, shaking his head.

"Ask nicely, and I may let you cum on my dick like the filthy slut that you are."

You didn't even get to ask him nicely before he had you gushing all over his cock as he angled himself to hit that spot deep inside you brutally, fists clenching around the frilly edges of your beige pillow. The coil residing inside of his stomach finally snapped - and he’s cumming with you, dumping a filthy thick ‘n creamy load far deep into your womb. It’s hot and sloppy 'n disgusting yet has your legs shaking.

"Atta girl." he praised, sliding a hand up your spine and releasing your hair from his other one, making your head loll onto the beige pillow. You were a panting, sticky, fucked-out mess, your body marred with dark red andpurple hickeys, his handprints and bruises from his hands gripping your hips for dear life. His cerulean eyes drifted towards the creamy ring forming at his base and your sobbing clit.

"Hold still, sweetheart," he ordered, swirling his thumb around your flooded pussy. He pulled out slowly and sticky, white ropes of cum started to pour from your slippery folds, the narrow head of his dick twitching at the sight. Fuck.

Leaning down, his pink, reddened tongue lapped along your slit, tasting your juices mixed with his, the sensation making you squirm and whimper due to overstimulation, breathing ragged.

"Satoru, what the - mmh - fuck are you doing?" You asked tiredly, fighting the gnawing urge to mush your hips against his face.

"M' eating, princess. Have some class," he muttered against your slick heat, tongue delving into your tight canal and stretching your gummy walls, two long fingers slipping in with along with it, tickling you in all the right ways. His teeth latched onto your clit, suckling and biting gently. Your back arched viciously as pleasure coursed through your veins, hands curling into fists as a string of expletives left your mouth, heat coiling low in your stomach. He chuckled, the sound warm and deep, reverberating against your slick folds.

"Good girl. Gonna cum yet?"

You just whined, your gushing juices coating his lips and fingers. Satoru groaned, lapping your essence up like it was the sweetest nectar. "Fuuuck, you taste fucking divine."

His large hand cupped your chin gently, turning your face to him and smashing his lips on yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue, the flavor sweet mixed with salty. Satoru grabbed his blindfold off the nightstand and slipped it over your eyes, a slow grin lacing his lips.

"Careful, don't want you choking on anything, princess," he teased as you wrapped a hand around his semi-hard cock, , mushroomy tip already leaking pre again. Satoru groaned deeply, head thrown back and mouth agape in pleasure when you took him down your throat. His abs flexed each time you swirled your tongue around him, a low moan escaping his pink, pillowy lips. You were merely holding him in your mouth, edging him painfully.

He snapped after a moment, twirling your hair in one of his fists and shoving his throbbing cock down your throat, your nose brushing against his pelvis as a string of very explicit expletives sounded from his mouth.

"You're gonna swallow it all." He ordered through grit teeth, breathing heavily as his hips bucked into your mouth with deep, quick thrusts. The tightness of your throat had him blowing a nut faster than he wanted, strings of hot cum coating your tight walls. A very obscene, loud moan reverberated through the walls of your room, his muscles flexing as he came.

Satoru stayed still for a moment, holding your head in place for a moment before Suguru yelled "what the fuck was that sound???" from his room. Oopsies.

There was a moment of silence.

A peaceful, sacred moment.

Then.

Then.

Suguru barged into the room like a man on a mission. A traumatized mission.

"WHAT the actual, unfiltered, rawdogged hell was that sound?"

Satoru, still shirtless and somehow glowing with post-nut smugness, doesn't even blink. "What sound?"

"You were moaning like you transcended reality. I genuinely thought you were either getting murdered or achieving Nirvana via vicious deepthroat. There’s no in-between."

Suguru stares at him. Then at you. Then back at him.

Satoru just grins, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Why not both?"

"NO. No 'both'. I want my sister to get a restraining order on your dick, Satoru." He jabs a finger toward you.

You, by the way, are lying there like you just survived a five-act opera called “Wreck Me Daddy (ft. Satoru Gojo)”, wrapped in covers and an expression that says there is no God, only Gojo.

Suguru rubs his temples, muttering, “I need therapy. I need holy water. I need bleach for my brain.”

Satoru shrugs, stretching. “I need a snack. Your sister drained my soul.”

"AND I HOPE SHE DRAINS YOUR BANK ACCOUNT TOO."

[yureiyaps]

ִֶָ☾. See You Later!

cw: war au pairing: megumi x OC, dad!Satoru wc: 2.3k

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 >>> coming soon!

How to Break Into a Restricted Files Room Without Dying (Probably) - A GUIDE

Step one: Don’t get caught.

Step two: Seriously, don’t get caught.

Step three: Have a really solid excuse in case you do. (Mine was “I got lost looking for the bathroom.”)

The file room was tucked away in the back corner of the base, where the lights flickered like they were running off dying batteries and the air smelled like wet paper and denial. I’d scoped it out during lunch when Lieutenant Arata was too busy yelling at a recruit for sneezing without permission.

Now, hours later, everyone was asleep — or at least pretending to be. The snoring was suspiciously synchronized. Maybe it was a defense mechanism. Or a coping strategy. Or maybe I was just delirious from doing a thousand burpees.

I slipped out of bed, moving like a shadow in a hoodie two sizes too big, avoiding every creaky floorboard and snoring landmine in my path. My boots were slung over one shoulder, laces tied together, because apparently stealth mode doesn’t include stomping like a buffalo.

The hallway was dead silent. Which was worse than noise, because silence meant you could hear everything — like your heartbeat, your breath, or the sound of your soul screaming in anticipation.

I reached the door.

Locked, of course. Because apparently breaking rules was frowned upon in the military. Who knew?

I pulled a bent hairpin from behind my ear — courtesy of Renji, who said his sister used it to pick vending machines back home. Not sure how that translated to military-grade locks, but I was desperate.

Click.

The door creaked open like a horror movie sound effect. I cringed.

Inside, rows of cabinets loomed like iron sentinels. Cold. Silent. Full of secrets.

I pulled the door shut behind me and flicked on the dim overhead light. Dust swirled in the air like the ghosts of classified past.

I didn’t know exactly what I was looking for. A clue. A record. Anything with my dad’s name on it that wasn’t followed by the word “deceased.”

I rifled through folders. Mission logs. Deployment orders. Clearance stamps. There was an entire section blacked out with red ink like someone had tried to censor the universe itself.

Then I saw it.

"OPERATION: BLIND SUN." File Status: Classifified Top Secret. Personnel: [REDACTED] Commander: [REDACTED] Agent Code Name: Six Eyes. Real Name: Satoru Gojo.

My breath caught.

This was it. Proof that he was part of something. Something big. Something dangerous enough to vanish a man like him.

I flipped the folder open—

—and immediately heard the door handle turn.

Shit.

Heavy boots. One pair. Slow. Deliberate.

Each step echoed in my skull like a countdown. The flickering light made shadows dance across the walls — mine included, which I tried to flatten like a damn pancake. I didn’t breathe. Breathing was a luxury. Right now, I was air. A rumor. A whisper of nothing.

A flashlight beam swept across the room.

“You in here, mouse?” a low voice drawled.

I recognized it. Not a grunt. Not a recruit.

Commander Buzzcut. Tank-betting, thunder-voiced, Gojo-traumatized Commander.

Oh no.

He was the one person on base who’d definitely recognize my face. Or worse — my vibes.

The beam passed inches from my shoes.

Think, Akira. Think.

I slid the file into my hoodie, slow and silent, like the world's dumbest ninja. Then, still crouched, I shuffled behind another row of cabinets. I bumped into a chair. It squeaked like a snitch in a cop drama.

The light froze.

“...You better not be one of those goddamn raccoons again,” he muttered, sounding less angry and more tired of existence.

I swallowed. Raccoons? Seriously? I’m risking my life for the truth and this guy thinks I’m a trash panda?

I peeked out. Mistake number one.

His eyes locked onto mine immediately. Sharp. Dark. And not surprised in the slightest.

“Well, well,” he muttered. “The Gojo kid.”

“…Hi,” I said, because that’s the best my brain could manage under imminent death.

He walked forward, slow, calm. Not threatening — which was somehow worse. Guys who didn’t need to try were the most terrifying.

“You picked a hell of a room to break into.”

“I was… looking for a mop?”

He raised a brow.

“A very specific mop.”

“A mop. In a top-secret file room."

“Yeah! It’s a military mop. Very special. For cleaning up the mess my dad left behind."

“Cute,” he muttered, eyeing the file under my hoodie. “You get that from your dad too?”

“What? The mop obsession? Yeah, totally. It's genetic. You wouldn’t believe how many mop-related incidents he caused.”

He didn’t seem amused. Great. Clearly, my career as a stand-up comedian was over before it started.

I shifted uncomfortably, my hoodie feeling a lot heavier now that I realized I was holding classified stuff.

“You’re a lot like him,” he said, not even looking at me, like he was deep in thought. "Your dad was a pain in the ass, but you’ve got that same reckless... dumbass energy.”

“Thanks,” I grumbled. “You’re the first person to say that about me."

“Trust me,” he continued, “Your dad was a goddamn disaster, but he got shit done. I’ll give him that.”

“I mean… a disaster is kind of harsh,” I said, "He was more of a creative problem solver.”

"Like the time he drove a tank into my office because he was bored?"

I flinched. “Oh yeah, I've been told about that. I think he broke a few of his own bones in the process.”

“Lucky it was only bones," the commander grumbled. “He nearly took out half the building.” He paused, then added, "Seriously though, you still haven’t told me why you’re in here."

I hesitated. “I was looking for… uh, a mop. And answers. Mostly answers.”

"Answers to what?"

I gulped. “Answers about my dad. Where he went. What happened.”

He stared at me for a moment, and I swear, for a second, I thought he was actually going to say something comforting. Then he just sighed like he’d been asked to solve world hunger, rubbed his forehead, and muttered, “If I told you, I’d have to kill you. Literally.”

“Oh, okay. You’re that guy,” I said, feeling my sarcasm take over because, honestly, what else could I do? “You gonna pull out a cheesy ‘I can’t tell you the truth’ line too?”

He glared at me. “I will kill you.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah, we’ve all heard it before,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Big tough commander who’s too cool to talk. You know, you're not that intimidating when you're wearing a buzzcut. Just saying."

He narrowed his eyes. “You want me to be intimidating?”

“Not really,” I said, half-choking on the nervous giggles bubbling up. “You can just be… normal. Like, a regular guy with regular shoes. Not the ‘I’m going to break you with my stare’ vibe. It's exhausting.”

He stepped closer. “Fine, how about this: I don’t kill you for breaking in here, but I do make you clean the entire barracks with a toothbrush. You okay with that?”

“Ugh. That’s like a fate worse than death,” I said, clutching my hoodie like it was a lifeline. “You’ve got no idea how many crumbs are in that place. It's a biohazard.”

"Don't think I won’t," he said. "I was about to do it with the last guy, but he bailed. This is your lucky day, kid.”

I stared at him. Lucky day? I couldn’t decide if I was about to die of laughter or of sheer terror.

“You’re not going to tell anyone about the file, are you?” he asked, tilting his head like he was genuinely asking me not to get myself killed.

“Me? Tell on myself?” I gave him a fake hurt expression. “You wound me, Commander. I’m not stupid enough to go running to anyone with a secret, much less this... this... mop operation.”

He grunted, clearly done with me. “You’re a pain in the ass.”

“You’re telling me,” I said with a grin. “And, uh, next time you want to catch someone breaking into your restricted files, maybe don’t walk in like a human bulldozer. It’s a little too obvious.”

He didn’t even smile. Instead, he just gave me a deadpan stare and said, “Get out of here, before I change my mind and make you mop the barracks. And leave the damn file. You’re in enough trouble as it is.”

“Fine, fine,” I said, holding my hands up in mock surrender. “But I’m taking the file with me. It’s basically my inheritance now. I’ll make sure it gets to the right people.”

With that, I turned to leave, but not before hearing the most ominous thing he’d said all night.

“Oh, and Gojo?"

I froze. "Yeah?"

“If you even think about telling your dad you broke into the files... I will make you mop the entire base with your tongue. Got it?”

“Got it,” I said, hurrying out the door. “Have a nice day! Don’t forget to drink water. You look a little parched!”

As I sprinted down the hallway, I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. Maybe I wouldn’t die tonight. Maybe I'd survive long enough to be a legend... Or at least be known as the girl who almost got herself murdered by a tank-betting commander. -------------------------

Getting to the rock-hard mattress that could double as a medieval torture device, I toppled onto it with a silent laugh, clutching the file to my chest like it was a precious secret—or, you know, my ticket to figuring out where the hell my dad went.

“I did it,” I muttered under my breath, brushing my mess of white hair out of my face. “I did it.”

Could I finally start searching for him? Maybe. Unless someone had something to say about it. But has anyone ever stopped me before? No, not really.

Well, except for that one time in second grade when I tried to gently kick a kid in the shin for calling my favorite action figure—a unicorn with laser eyes—a "ridiculous piece of plastic." I was about to retaliate with all the fury of a caffeinated squirrel when Mrs. Calloway swooped in like a hawk, slapping my hand and claiming it was because he thought I was "more powerful than a toy." Yeah, okay. Sure. The whole class probably thought I was either a hero or a psychopath.

But here I was—much older, much wiser (and infinitely more dangerous)—and it was a lot easier to plot a course to get my father back. Or at least figure out what happened to him. The real question was: where the hell was I supposed to even start?

I rolled over, glancing at the file on the bed. It was a jumbled mess of papers I had grabbed in my “operation stealth mode.” Not exactly my finest hour, but who cares? I wasn’t about to let anyone stop me now.

"Okay, think. Where to start?" I muttered to myself, scanning the disorganized mess. The base's tight quarters weren’t exactly the ideal place for sneaky activities. Between the cramped hallways and the constant hum of nearby voices, I had no business running a clandestine operation here, but I wasn’t about to let that stop me.

I glanced around the group room. The bunk beds were stacked too close to each other, so there wasn’t much room for me to hide anything—especially not a file that could get me in serious trouble. My best bet was just to keep it hidden on me.

I shoved the file under my hoodie. If anyone walked in, I could just pretend I was going for an emergency snack run. I mean, who would question that? It was 2 AM. Everyone was “snacking.”

But I wasn’t dumb enough to think this would be easy.

The door creaked open just as I pulled the blanket over me, flattening my body to the bed like a pancake being squashed under an iron.

“Akira?”

It was Renji.

I froze.

Shit.

I pulled the file tighter into my hoodie and tried to act casual. Real casual. Like a pro. Like I wasn’t about to get caught red-handed with something I wasn’t supposed to have.

“Yeah?” I called out, forcing my voice to sound normal.

Renji poked his head around the doorframe, his face still holding that mixture of concern and amusement. “You’re... still awake?”

I gave a half-hearted shrug. “Can’t sleep. Too much on my mind.”

Renji raised an eyebrow and stepped inside. “You sure you’re alright? You’re acting a little... twitchy.”

I was literally twitching. The file felt like it was pressing into my skin, reminding me that anyone could walk in and ruin everything. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking.”

He looked at me for a long moment, his eyes narrowing slightly, but then he sighed. “Alright, if you say so. Just... be careful, okay?”

Careful? What was I supposed to do? Come clean? Tell him I broke into the restricted file room to find dirt on my dad? Yeah, that was going to happen.

“Yeah, sure,” I said, playing it off. “Totally careful.”

Renji looked at me for another second, then nodded like he wasn’t buying it but wasn’t going to press. “Alright, well... sleep if you can. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Me? Stupid?” I grinned, trying to ease the tension. “Never.”

Renji shot me a look that said he wasn’t buying the act but didn’t push it. “Fine. Just... don’t make me come back in here with the lights on.” He turned, stepping toward the door.

“Hey, Renji?”

He stopped and glanced over his shoulder.

“Thanks,” I said, sounding casual. “For checking in.”

Renji gave a short nod, his expression softening for a second. “Anytime. Don’t be a stranger.” Then he was gone, leaving me alone with the file—one I had no intention of letting anyone see, least of all him.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

Now, all I had to do was figure out how to get to the next step without anyone asking too many questions. Because if Renji or anyone else knew about this file, I’d be stuck in a whole new kind of mess.

[yureiyaps]

ִֶָ☾. See You Later!

cw: war au pairing: megumi x OC, dad!Satoru wc: 1.8k

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 >>> coming soon!

I slipped through the broken door quietly, a bag over my shoulder and glancing at sleeping Megumi, smiling warmly.

"See you later, Gumi." Disappearing from the dimly lit room and into the cold, merciless shadows of the night, I vowed to one day return here and meet them, him, again. Mom died, Dad went away. Yuta was stuck outside of the country. Megumi was injured. I was ill, too. No one was okay. War took everything away. It replaced the sunny sky with dark fog, living with mere surviving - barely so. Survival was improbable. I had once known life the way it was supposed to be - carefree, colorful, joyous. Easy. I'd known what it was like to see my parents happy. The way Dad would hug Mom from behind while she made food, the way she'd soothe Dad after he'd return from work - tired, unwilling, frustrated, but safe and loved. No point in looking back, though. That was eleven years ago. War had taken place long ago. Back to the story. I snuck to the army base. I'm going to join them. The base was heavily loaded with ammo, iron and plank crates, guns, gunpowder, bandage, anything you could think of. Except food. It reeked of blood, rust and rot. I winced, pinching my nose. It was better than the stale stench of decaying bodies on every corner of the city, if anything. The rot was caused by bad water installation, I guessed. The facility was way too humid for a city with scarce rains.

I kept low, slipping between stacked crates and rusted barrels, the cold metal biting through the thin soles of my boots. The air was thick — humid and heavy — each breath like swallowing mold. My heart thudded painfully in my chest, not out of fear, but anticipation. This was it. No more waiting, no more hiding behind others. If I had to rot, I'd rot fighting.

A low whistle caught my attention. I paused, ducking behind a broken forklift. A patrol. One soldier, maybe two. Their boots scraped against the wet concrete, the sound magnified in the silence of the night. I held my breath.

"Thought I heard something," one murmured.

"Just rats. Big ones, maybe," the other replied.

They moved on. I didn’t. Not for a long minute.

The recruitment tent was near the far end, behind a half-collapsed watchtower. I'd seen it days ago from the hill, where I watched with binoculars too old to focus properly. I hadn’t slept that night, just planned. Rehearsed. Failed a few times. Got back up. Megumi wouldn’t have approved, but he wasn’t in a state to stop me. No one was. I had nothing left to lose.

I reached the edge of the training yard, where floodlights flickered over scarred dirt and crooked barbed wire. A few recruits were already lined up, half-awake and shivering. They looked younger than me. Or maybe it was just the hunger. War made everyone shrink.

A man in a tattered officer's coat stood with a clipboard, barking names. His eye caught mine.

"You. You're not on the list."

"I’m not. I’m here to change that."

He looked at me like I was a ghost. Maybe I was. A remnant of something this world tried to bury, still crawling back with dirty nails and a scorched soul.

He sighed. "Name?"

I hesitated. Then: "Akira."

He scribbled it down, like it meant something. Like names still mattered.

"Akira what?" the man asked, tapping his pen.

I blinked. Right. Last names. Those still mattered too.

"...Gojo."

He froze. His pen stopped mid-scribble, then snapped in half. I stared at it. He stared at me. Somewhere, a rat squeaked in the silence.

"Gojo?" he repeated, like I just told him I was a reincarnated deity or the ghost of war itself. "As in Satoru Gojo?"

"Yeah." I shifted the bag on my shoulder, trying to look casual. "He’s my dad. Tall, white hair, blindfolded, used to annoy the hell out of everyone with his existence?"

He muttered something under his breath that sounded like a prayer — or a curse.

"You're his kid?"

"Unfortunately," I said with a dramatic sigh, as if I’d ordered a salad and got a side of world-ending trauma instead. “But don’t worry, I’m much more tolerable. Slightly.”

The man gave me a look that screamed I am not paid enough for this. Then he sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and motioned for me to follow.

“Fine. Get in line, Gojo. But if you explode anything in the next 48 hours, I’m blaming your bloodline.”

“Fair,” I said, grinning as I jogged to join the line of recruits. “But I only blow things up accidentally.”

The other recruits glanced over, sleepy eyes flickering with either fear or curiosity. Probably both. I stood next to a guy who looked like he’d been raised by wolves and caffeine. He side-eyed me.

“Gojo, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Your dad’s a legend.”

“Legendary pain in the ass, but sure.”

He snorted. “Cool. I’m Renji. Used to steal army rations and trade them for chocolate.”

“I respect the hustle,” I said solemnly.

It felt weird, standing here. Like I was part of something again. Not just a memory or a shadow. I wasn’t here because I believed in the system — hell no. I was here to find out what happened to my dad. He disappeared three months ago, and no one would tell me anything. Just vague statements and awkward silences. And now? There were whispers. About a task force reassembling. About survivors of missions that didn’t make it into the reports.

So yeah. I was going to find him. Or at least what was left of him.

Even if I had to sneak in, lie about my age, and fake my way through basic training.

Which, by the way, started at 5 a.m. the next morning.

Renji leaned over and whispered, “You ever shot a gun?”

“Nope. You?”

“Nope.”

We looked at each other.

“…We’re so dead.”

“Absolutely.” The barracks smelled like feet, disappointment, and regret. I hadn't even made it to the bed before I was assaulted by the rock-hard mattress, the paper-thin blanket, and the sound of someone snoring like a dying lawnmower in the corner.

“Welcome to hell,” Renji whispered as he collapsed onto the bed across from mine, arms spread out like a tragic corpse in a war documentary.

I dropped my bag on the floor and flopped onto the bed, instantly regretting every choice that led to this moment. “I swear this mattress is harder than my emotional state.”

Someone in the room let out a laugh-snort. I cracked an eye open to see a girl with short-cropped hair and a scar across her jaw watching me with mild amusement.

“You’re the Gojo girl?” she asked.

I sighed. “Is that what I’m gonna be known as?”

“Well,” she said, rolling onto her side, “your dad once crashed a tank into the commander’s office because he was bored.”

I blinked. “That actually sounds like something he’d do.”

“Good luck living up to that legacy.” She smirked.

Fantastic. I hadn’t even held a gun and I already had a reputation to uphold. Or destroy. Either worked. -------------

At 4:55 a.m., the world ended.

I was rudely awakened by a bucket of cold water and a sergeant with the voice of a dying blender screaming, “WAKE UP, YOU USELESS MAGGOTS!”

My soul left my body.

Renji sat bolt upright beside me, eyes wide, mouth open, hair somehow more tragic than yesterday. “Are we being bombed?” he gasped.

I groaned, water soaking through my already-worn hoodie. “Worse. It’s exercise.”

We were herded out like soggy chickens, shoved into a formation that looked like it had been choreographed by a drunk goat. The yard was still soaked from last night’s sudden rain, and I promptly stepped ankle-deep into a mud puddle that smelled like expired regrets.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Renji whispered.

I flipped him off with a shiver.

A tall woman with arms like steel pipes and a glare that could melt steel stepped forward. “I am Lieutenant Arata,” she said. “I will be your instructor. I will break you. Mentally, physically, emotionally. Possibly spiritually. Any complaints?”

I opened my mouth.

“Don’t,” she snapped, before I could even get a word out. “I know your last name.”

Right. That was going to be a thing.

We started with running. Lots of running. The kind of running that makes your ancestors sore. Then push-ups, sit-ups, burpees—aka, the unholy trinity of “why did I ever wake up today.”

By hour two, I was rethinking all my life choices. By hour three, I was seriously considering throwing myself into the nearest ammo crate and living there like a gremlin.

“Hey,” Renji wheezed beside me. “You think if we fake our deaths, they’ll let us nap?”

“If you die, I’m stealing your boots,” I muttered.

“They have holes in them.”

“Still better than mine.”

Somewhere between dragging my body through an obstacle course that looked like it was designed by Satan’s handyman, and getting yelled at for breathing too loudly, something weird happened.

A commander in a clean uniform walked by and paused mid-stride when he saw me. He did a double take, stared a little too long. He scared the shit out of me. Dude was built like a mountain with a buzzcut and a voice that could shatter windows.

He stopped in front of me. “Name?”

“Akira Gojo,” I said, standing as straight as I could. “Sir.”

His eye twitched. “Gojo?”

There it was again. That look.

“Any relation to Satoru?”

“My dad,” I said. “Apparently he drove a tank into someone’s office?”

A beat of silence.

Then, like thunder: “HA! That bastard owed me five bucks!”

Everyone blinked. He cleared his throat. “Well, let’s see if you inherited his skills or just his attitude.”

“Is ‘both’ an acceptable answer, sir?”

More silence. Then, quietly, “…Smartass.”

Renji nudged me from the side. “You’re gonna get us all killed.”

“Better than dying of boredom.”

Renji sighed, shaking his head. “No offense, but your dad was like… a god.” "I'm the keychain version." -------------- By lunch, we were covered in mud, sweat, and possibly tears. Renji had been yelled at for holding his rifle like a flute. I tripped and took down two other recruits like dominos. The instructor muttered something about “cursed genes” every time he looked at me.

But I was still standing. Still breathing.

Still here.

And later that night, when the others were asleep and the base was quiet, I snuck into the restricted files room. Because behind all the yelling, training, and dirt-eating — I had a mission.

My dad didn’t just vanish. He left something behind.

And I was going to find it.

Even if it killed me.

…Hopefully after I learned how to aim a gun.

[yureiyaps]

dad!Satoru during Shinjuku Showdown Arc

cw: angst w/dad!Satoru, series preview

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" "Kind."

As I stood among shackles of something that once was Shinjuku, those moments replayed again and again. Yes, I wanted to be kind. Kind as in - protect the weak and my loved ones. But in truth, only the strongest people can be kind. The weak use others to their advantage. Right now, I felt as if I were weak. Had I not accepted fighting Sukuna in my father's stance, none of this pandemonium would've happened.

Maybe, just maybe, if I had begged harder, argued louder, or done something more than just stand there and accept it, I wouldn't be staring at the ruins of a battlefield where my friends once stood.

But I hadn’t.

And now, everything felt wrong.

One thing I couldn't understand was, how my dad had always been larger than life. A force of nature. He had made the impossible look effortless, as if the concept of loss simply didn’t apply to him. Always too fast and too complex for me to understand. Though, his leadership and the warmth of his hand on my shoulder as he pushed me to my limits - just so I could unlock that potential residing deep within me - they were understandable. Wisted for, even. Had it not been him leading me, I never would've been as strong as I am currently. Even though I feel empty inside-out, because, what even is all this power one possesses when it can't save or protect one's friends? I have no use of it, save for surviving only to help the weak. Save for keeping my heart beating, only to fuel my body that will be used as a weapon.

Just like dad's.

But what was that one stupidly annoying thing he engraved into my memory as if it were conceived within me? "Don't let them use you as a weapon. Resist. Push back, scream, hit, cry, anything. But don't let them take you down and manipulate that pretty head of yours into believing your whole being was made solely for the purpose of protecting and killing. Because, no, it wasn't. You - your being, your whole self - was made to be loved and cared for. To be fed with knowledge and happy things, to be taught how to turn this upside-down world into something better, even if slightly." That stuck with me my whole short life. I was being bullied by some shitheads? "Don't let them get to you. Resist." The higher-ups were being jerks as per usual? "Tone them out. Think of ways to improve yourself, because they downgrade you to make themselves feel better." Anything in the world goes against me? He goes against the world, with me. I remembered how he always believed that true strength was not measured solely by power, but by one's capacity to protect and care for others. I couldn't just ignore the fact that even the purest intentions came with a heavy price, having witnessed... whatever this destruction shall be named. And I hate it. I'm sure he'd hate it too, if he were unsealed. “I wanted to be kind,” I thought, clinging to the simple yet profound truth my father instilled in me. Although, after all of this, I think I finally understood that kindness required a foundation of strength; the weak often fell prey to those who exploited their compassion. In a twisted way, accepting Satoru's path had made me a witness to both the triumph and the pain of wielding such power. I shall continue and honor his legacy - even if he is still alive, still here - not by mimicking his strength alone, but by blending it with the compassion he cherished. By making sure young people such as myself got to enjoy their youth as much as possible. By fulfilling my dreams, too.

[yureiyaps]

boyfriend!megumi headcanons

boyfriend!megumi loves laying his head on your chest, the way your fingers toy with his hair gently and lull him to sleep he barely gets boyfriend!megumi isn't expressive with his emotions, but will stick close to you and be clingy if he's not feeling good. he'll probably find an excuse to either hug or touch you in any way because he needs the comfort but doesn't want to admit it boyfriend!megumi who will side-eye you whenever you do something stupid or start acting silly boyfriend!megumi who grumbles before taking his jacket off and draping it over your shoulders, acting annoyed with you but loving the way his jacket looks on you boyfriend!megumi who shares his music with you, despite saying "ignore that song, i randomly put it there" because he doesn't know whether you love his music taste (you do.) boyfriend!megumi who gently presses his forehead to yours while his hips ram into you mercilessly, a silent "i love you" through actions

[yureiyaps]

[yureiyaps]

literally me <3