What Could Have Been | OC x Gojo Satoru x Geto Suguru

by Hadesmonster

Summary:

𝐀𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐱 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨

°•☆➛This is an OC poly story. Amara Hoshizuki was found by principal Yaga and brought to train and learn at the Tokyo Curse Technical College. Her cursed techniques have never been seen before, and she was even told she might be able to keep up with Satoru and Suguru one day. Quickly, the three forms a tight bond that leads to a deeper connection than they ever expected. They face struggles and challenges that change their lives completely. But for better or worse?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

Yes, I'm writing another fanfic about my oc.

This is a poly fanfic between Amara (OC), Satoru Gojo, and Suguru Geto. They are all going to be dating, not just dating Amara, so there will be gay stuff if you're not into that. This takes place during Jujutsu Kaisan's whole childhood arch buuuutttt this is going to be a more college setting. They will all be 18+, and there will be smut, but it is going to take place before the Tengan mission.

⚠️Obviously, there will be spoilers and darker themes you have been warned ⚠️

Chapter 1

I have most of this story on wattpad so I will be posting chapters pretty fast like last time on my other stroy. 

I have it almost finish over there 😬

 

I hope you all enjoy this story too! I'm still learning to use Ao3 so please forgive me with tags and stuff.♡

Chapter 2: Behind The Door

The air in the Elders' hall was heavy with the scent of incense and dust, the kind of stillness that made every shuffle of a robe feel too loud. All hidden behind their cubby like doors above of polished wood and power, the Elders surrounded Masamichi Yaga with the same sour disapproval they wore like uniforms.

 

"...Her name is Amara Hoshizuki," Yaga repeated, voice calm but firm, hands folded neatly behind his back. "Eighteen years old. No formal jujutsu education. But the bloodline is confirmed."

 

One of the Elders, an older man with thin lips and eyes like a hawk, narrowed his gaze. "Hoshizuki... That would make her Riku's child, wouldn't it?"

 

There it was, the flash of interest, but most importantly, of wariness.

 

"Confirmed through multiple sources," Yaga nodded. "Riku Hoshizuki, mercenary for hire, notorious for his life-draining cursed technique and inability to die. Slippery as ever, still in hiding. But the girl? She's untrained. Living with her mother. No cursed user guidance whatsoever."

 

"Which means she could be a liability." Another Elder sneered, tapping his gnarled fingers against the door. "If she's inherited even a fraction of that man's power without knowing how to control it-"

 

"-Then she's more at risk of hurting herself than anyone else," Yaga cut in smoothly, though there was a bite beneath his words. "Or worse, being targeted by others who do understand the value of that bloodline."

 

A murmur rolled through the Elders like a slow wave, mumbling towards one another in quiet debate.

 

Yaga continued before they could shut him down. "She's showing signs of cursed energy manipulation already. Healing abilities. Defensive barriers. Some control over environmental restraints such as vines from the reports I've gathered. But all of it's rough. Untaught. Dangerous only because no one's been there to teach her how to wield it."

 

"And why should that be our problem?" came the cold reply from another voice, a woman this time, seated at the far right. "The last thing we need is an unstable sorcerer with a name tied to a criminal. What makes this girl worth the risk?"

 

Yaga's jaw tightened, but he held his ground. "Because she's already caught the attention of the wrong people. Word about her power is spreading. You know what happens to untrained sorcerers left in the wild. They either die, or worse, end up as tools for the ones who'd use them against us."

 

Silence.

 

The oldest among them leaned forward, his outline visible through the doors windows. "And you believe this girl can be controlled? Molded into something useful?"

 

Yaga's eyes narrowed, shoulders squaring. "I'm not interested in controlling her. I'm interested in giving her the chance to stand on her own. To learn what she is before someone else teaches her the wrong ideals."

 

A scoff. "And if the mother resists? If the girl resists?"

 

"Then I'll handle it personally." Yaga's voice was a hammer, steady and deliberate. "I'll go to them myself. Speak with the mother. Speak with the girl. If she has the potential I believe she does, I won't let that power go to waste."

 

The Elders exchanged glances again, weighing options, calculating risk.

 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the eldest among them gave a slow nod.

 

"You have one month," he said. "Convince her. Or we move on."

 

Yaga inclined his head once, stiff and controlled, though the anger simmered beneath his skin.

 

"Understood. I have faith that it won't take long."

 

As he turned to leave the hall, the heavy doors creaking shut behind him, Yaga let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His mind was already racing, not about the Elders' approval, but about the girl.

 

Amara Hoshizuki.

 

Untrained. Unaware. Living under the thumb of a woman who couldn't possibly understand the kind of world her daughter was born into. This wasn't going to be easy.

 

But then again, the things worth doing never were.

 

------

 

From the shadowed corridor outside the Elders' hall, two figures crouched low beneath one of the arched windows, one with long dark hair tied back loosely, the other with a mop of white that couldn't have blended in if it tried.

 

"We shouldn't be here.." Suguru Geto hissed, shooting a glance down the hall. "Yaga's gonna kill us if he catches us."

 

"Oh, absolutely." Satoru Gojo grinned, wide and unapologetic, the glint of his round sunglasses catching the light as he leaned closer to the crack in the door. "But aren't you curious? 'Riku's kid'? A healing technique? Sounds pretty wild."

 

Suguru huffed but didn't move away. "We're supposed to be on punishment detail. Mei Mei's still mad we bailed on cursed spirit clean-up last week."

 

Gojo waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, we'll make it up to her later when I care. C'mon, you heard them, 'Hoshizuki bloodline.' That's serious. Life-drain cursed technique? You can't tell me you're not interested."

 

Geto clicked his tongue, but his expression softened into curiosity despite himself. "Healing, though. Not draining. The daughter didn't inherit the same ability as the father."

 

"Maybe not the same, but..." Gojo's grin widened. "Healing instantly? Throwing up shields? Vines that can manhandle people? Sounds like she's got a whole toolkit."

 

"Sounds like you're only interested in her because her abilities are just as complicated and overwhelming as yours." Geto teases.

 

"What can I say? I've always wanted to see a female version of me." Gojo let's out a mischievous chuckle.

 

Inside the hall, they could still hear faint voices, Yaga's sharp tone echoing as he made his exit.

 

Geto leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, thinking. "If she's that untrained... she's dangerous. To herself, at the very least."

 

"Exactly why they're probably bringing her here," Gojo replied, shifting to sit cross-legged right there on the floor. "Bet she doesn't even know how strong she is. Sounds like her mom isn't a sorcerer at all."

 

Geto's brow furrowed at that. "So... she's just been living like a regular person? With that kind of power boiling under the surface?"

 

Gojo gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "Yep. Which means she's either about to have the worst year of her life or the best."

 

Suguru let out a soft breath, shaking his head. "You think Yaga's really gonna convince them? The Elders are pretty strict."

 

Gojo tilted his head back, sunglasses sliding down just enough to reveal the glint of his striking blue eyes. "Yaga won't give up. You know how he gets when he's set on something."

 

Geto smirked faintly. "Yeah. Stubborn old bastard."

 

"Can't say I blame him this time." Gojo leaned forward again, elbows on his knees. "I kinda wanna meet her now."

 

Geto raised an eyebrow. "Already interested, huh?"

 

Satoru shrugged, a cocky grin plastered on his face. "Hey, I've got a soft spot for pretty girls and problem children. Sounds like she might be both."

 

Suguru rolled his eyes but didn't argue.

 

The heavy doors of the hall creaked open then, making both of them jolt to attention. Footsteps echoed toward the corridor.

 

"Shit, move, move-" Suguru hissed, grabbing Gojo's sleeve and yanking him upright.

 

They ducked around the corner just in time as Yaga emerged, muttering under his breath, unaware of the two nosy students pressed flat against the wall.

 

When Yaga was gone, Gojo peeked back around with a grin. "So... how long do you think before we meet this Amara?"

 

Suguru gave him a sidelong glance, lips quirking into a reluctant smile. "Knowing Yaga? Not long."

 

-----------

 

The house sagged at the edges like it was too tired to stand upright. Mold crept along the corners of the warped wood siding, and the front steps looked one good stomp away from collapse. Rusted wind chimes clinked weakly in the stale breeze, their music as lifeless as the scraggly weeds choking the walkway. Garbage bags covered the windows, clearly not wating others to peek inside.

 

Masamichi Yaga stood at the edge of the porch, shoes scraping against the cracked boards as he took in the place. It was the kind of house that whispered don't look too close, and yet he'd come looking anyway.

 

Three slow knocks echoed against the thin front door.

 

For a moment, nothing. Then, the door creaked open a few inches, stopping at the length of a rusted chain lock. One sharp red eye peered out from behind it.

 

"...Who are you?" The voice was cautious but steady, low and rough like someone not used to speaking often.

 

Yaga offered a calm nod, hands held where she could see them. "Name's Masamichi Yaga. I was hoping to speak with Amara."

 

The eye narrowed suspiciously. "That's me. What do you want?"

 

"I'd just like to talk about something important," Yaga replied, voice steady and gentle. "Do you mind?"

 

A pause. The chain rattled, then slid free, and the door opened just enough to reveal her fully.

 

She was thin but wiry, standing like she expected to be shoved at any moment. Long black hair, uneven and choppy, framed her face, jagged strands falling into side-swept bangs that nearly hid one of those striking eyes. She wore ripped skinny jeans, a torn-up band tee that had seen better days, and a purple zip-up hoodie with the sleeves stretched down over her fists, zipper half-broken and dangling like it was clinging on out of spite.

 

"Not a lotta people come here for a 'talk,'" she muttered, eyes narrowing. "And sure as hell not anyone in a suit."

 

Yaga smiled faintly. "Fair point. But I'm not here to cause trouble. I'm here because I want to offer you something, Amara."

 

She leaned against the doorframe, one foot sliding back like she wasn't sure if she wanted to run or slam the door. "Yeah? Well, whatever you're selling, I can't afford it."

 

"I'm not selling anything." Yaga shook his head slowly. "I'm here because of your bloodline."

 

That made her flinch, barely, but enough that he caught it.

 

"Amara Hoshizuki," he said carefully, watching her reaction.

 

Her face scrunched in confusion, suspicion flashing in her eyes. "You... you've got the wrong person. My last name's Akumakyo."

 

His voice softened. "Thats what you've been told. Your real last name is Hoshizuki."

 

She stared at him, lips parting like she wanted to argue, but just then, the door swung wide with a sudden jerk, and a woman stepped smoothly between them, sliding herself into the space with practiced ease.

 

"Ohh my, sorry to keep you waiting, sweetheart!" the woman cooed, voice syrupy sweet. Glossy brown hair curled perfectly at the ends, bouncing as she tilted her head, flashing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Can I help you, big guy?"

 

Yaga straightened, arms crossing slowly over his chest. "And you are?"

 

The woman pressed a hand to her chest like she was shocked he didn't know. "Miyo. Just little ol' Miyo. Single mom, hard worker, doing my very best to raise this stubborn girl on my own." She laughed lightly, pinching Amara's cheek just a little too hard to be playful. "She's a handful, but I suppose she gets that from her deadbeat father."

 

Amara stiffened beside her but said nothing, eyes glued to the floor, rubbing her cheek.

 

Yaga didn't take the bait. "I was speaking with your daughter. About her name."

 

The smile on Hana's -Miyo's- face twitched, but she held it together, draping herself lightly against the doorframe. "Oh, honey, don't go confusing her with nonsense. Amara's a bit... slow, bless her heart." She reached out to pat the top of Amara's head condescendingly, fingers tangling briefly in the girl's uneven hair. "She's always been a little behind on these kinds of things. Wouldn't want to stress her out with things she couldn't possibly understand."

 

Yaga's gaze flicked to Amara, catching the way she barely held back the flinch, shoulders tightening just a bit more beneath her hoodie.

 

Hana continued, voice light as feathers, venom tucked neatly beneath every word. "Plus, I don't know where you're getting your information, darling, but my girl's name is Amara Akumakyo. Isn't that right, sweetpea?"

 

Amara's mouth opened, but the words caught in her throat. She only gave the faintest nod, eyes still downcast.

 

Yaga stayed calm, unshaken. "I know what I know. And so does your husband. Whether you want to admit it or not."

 

That smile faltered again, the corner of Hana's lips twitching downward before she quickly masked it behind a playful pout. "Oh, don't be silly. That man walked out before Amara could even talk. Why should we care what he says? Poor thing doesn't even know who he is."

 

Her hand slid over Amara's shoulder now, gripping it just a little too tight, squeezing like a warning.

 

"She doesn't need stories about no good family," Hana said sweetly, eyes hardening beneath the gloss of charm. "She's got me. And I take very good care of her."

 

Yaga's eyes narrowed, the polite mask dropping just enough to show the weight beneath his words. "You care for her? Then why are there reports from the neighbors calling the cops about frequent screaming? There was even one where they reported you dragging Amara into the house by her feet."

 

Hana's smile shattered. "Get. Off. My. Porch."

 

But Yaga didn't flinch. Instead, he looked directly at Amara, gentle once more. "You don't have to live like this, Amara. There's another path if you want it." He looks to Hanna. "I'll be back." then nods goodbye to Amara.

 

The door slammed shut so hard the frame rattled, but not before he caught the flicker of something desperate in the girl's eyes.

 

It wasn't just fear.

 

It was hope.

 

---

 

The sun was just beginning to dip behind the trees when Yaga returned to Jujutsu High, his suit coat catching in the wind as he stepped onto the main campus path. His expression was unreadable, mouth set in a line that hinted at both disappointment and resolve.

 

He hadn't made it ten steps before two familiar presences closed in on him like wolves scenting blood.

 

"Yagaaa senseiiii," Gojo called out, practically sliding into his path with that trademark cocky grin. "So? How'd it go with the mystery girl? Is she strong? Is she cute? Is she both? Please say both."

 

Suguru Geto followed more calmly, hands in his pockets, but his eyes were sharp. "You said Hoshizuki. That name's not exactly a whisper in this world. What's her connection to Riku?"

 

Yaga stopped mid-stride.

 

He turned his head slowly, gaze dragging over both of them like a tired parent who already knew exactly what trouble they'd gotten into.

 

"You were listening," he said flatly.

 

Gojo held up both hands innocently. "I was near the door. You know, doing my civic duty as an attentive student."

 

"By pressing your ear against a classified Elder meeting?" Yaga raised a brow.

 

"Hey, Suguru was with me!" Gojo added quickly, turning to throw Geto under the bus with zero hesitation. "He said you wouldn't mind."

 

Geto slaps the back of Gojo's head. "I said you shouldn't do it. I never said he wouldn't mind."

 

Yaga pinched the bridge of his nose. "You both are impossible."

 

He gave a long sigh, the kind that came from years of exactly this nonsense, then leveled them each with a look.

 

"I should give you both double the aftermath cleaning for the next two weeks. Or put you on dishwashing duty with Nanami."

 

Gojo's face twisted in horror. "No. Anything but Nanami. He makes me use those dumb gloves and tries to teach different scrubbing techniques."

 

Geto hid a laugh behind his hand. "Cruel and unusual punishment, truly."

 

Yaga didn't laugh.

 

"Listening in on Elder meetings isn't just reckless, it's dangerous. You could've overheard something meant to stay buried. Things you don't have the clearance to handle yet. You two may be strong, but you're still students."

 

Gojo dropped the grin, just a little. "We wanted to help."

 

"And you can," Yaga replied, folding his arms. "By doing as you're told. You want to be involved? Earn the right."

 

There was a beat of silence.

 

But then..

 

"...So?" Gojo asked again, face lighting back up like flipping a switch. "What's she like? Amara."

 

Yaga gave him a long look but eventually gave in, because Satoru Gojo wasn't going to drop it no matter how many scoldings he got.

 

"She's guarded. Skittish. Clearly been through a lot." His voice was quiet, thoughtful. "She doesn't even know her real last name. Her mother's been keeping it from her."

 

Geto's brow furrowed. "Why?"

 

Yaga's jaw tightened slightly. "I'm unsure of exactly why, but her mother doesn't seem to be a fan of the father. Might want to separate themselves completely. But her mother and her don't have the same last name, so it might be to completely disconnect Amara from everyone."

 

Neither boy said anything for a moment.

 

Then Gojo shoved his hands in his pockets and said, "So when's she coming here?"

 

Yaga looked down at him. "She hasn't agreed to anything. Yet."

 

"But she will," Gojo said with casual confidence. "You're not the kind of guy who lets someone rot in a place like that."

 

Yaga nodded quietly.

 

Because he was going back.

 

The look in Amara's eyes when that door shut, that flicker of hope, wasn't something he could ignore.

 

---

A few days flew by of Yaga trying to talk to Amara early in the morning, hoping to catch her, but each time, her mother was there. Keeping him out and Amara in.

 

---

 

The mornings always smelled like cigarette smoke and rot around the Akumakyo house.

 

Each day, just after sunrise, Yaga returned. Knocked three times. Waited.

 

Each day, it was the same.

 

The door cracked, chain clinking, and Hana's honey-coated voice oozing through the gap like poison.

 

"Well, aren't you persistent," she chirped. "You just love wasting your time, don't you?"

 

Yaga stayed calm, hands in his coat pockets, expression patient but unmoved. "I told you. I'm here to talk to Amara."

 

"She's not interested," Hana sang, leaning against the frame. "And neither am I. We're very happy right here. Now, kindly take your little sales pitch and shove it-"

 

"I'll be back tomorrow," Yaga cut in smoothly, dipping his head. "Tell her that."

 

The door slammed.

 

And true to his word, the next morning, he was back again.

 

And again.

 

And again.

 

---

 

The third day, it was Amara who cracked the door first, one eye peeking out from beneath her messy hair, hoodie sleeves stretched halfway over her fingers.

 

"...Why do you keep coming here?" Her voice was quieter this time, tired. "She's not gonna let you in."

 

Yaga gave a faint smile. "Because I told you I would."

 

A harsh yank pulled the door away from her again as Hana shouldered into view, shoving Amara aside with a little too much force to pass off as casual or protective. "You got some kinda kink for rejection? Or are you just this dense?"

 

"I'm here because your daughter deserves to know what and who she is," Yaga replied evenly.

 

Hana's smile tightened, her eyes sharp enough to cut glass. "She knows exactly what she is. Useless. Waste of space. Good for working, and that's about it. No need to fill her head with fairy tales about magic or whatever garbage you're peddling."

 

Amara flinched at the words, fingers curling tight into the frayed ends of her sleeves.

 

Yaga's eyes didn't leave Amara's face when he spoke next. "You don't have to stay here, Amara."

 

Hana reached for the door, slamming it shut with finality.

 

But the next morning, Yaga was there once again.

 

---

 

By the fifth visit, Hana didn't even bother pretending to be polite.

 

"You know, this is harassment," she hissed through the chain. "I should call the cops on your ass."

 

Yaga only nodded once, unfazed. "Feel free. I'll wait."

 

Hana's eyes narrowed, frustration flashing across her face.

 

This time, before she could slam the door, Yaga's voice came steady and sharp.

 

"It must be hard, raising a kid on your own. All those bills. Food. Rent. And with how much she works, I'm guessing Amara's the one keeping this roof over your head."

 

The smile Hana gave him was vicious, like a snake baring its fangs. "I do what I have to. The world's cruel. She's lucky I didn't throw her out sooner."

 

Yaga's eyes darkened just a fraction, but his voice remained level. "What if I told you there's a way she could take care of herself, and you wouldn't have to lift a finger?"

 

That gave Hana pause. "...What're you getting at?"

 

Yaga leaned in, lowering his voice. "I'm offering her an education. Training. A place to live. She wouldn't be your responsibility anymore. You wouldn't have to waste your precious time 'dealing' with her."

 

Hana's smile twitched like she was barely holding it together. "...And what? She runs off to your little circus school and leaves me here? Who's going to pay my bills? I doubt you are."

 

Yaga's gaze didn't waver. "Well would you rather her out of your hair or paying your bills?"

 

The door slammed shut immediately after that.

 

---

 

The next morning, Yaga caught Amara alone at the door. Hana's voice was yelling from somewhere deep in the house, but the girl stood there anyway, thin arms crossed tight across her chest like a shield.

 

"...You're really not gonna stop, huh?"

 

"No," Yaga answered softly.

 

Amara scowled. "I don't need anyone saving me."

 

"I'm not here to save you." Yaga gave her a gentle look, patient. "I'm here to give you a choice. One you've never been given."

 

She chewed at her lip, staring hard at the floor. "You said something about a... bloodline. About cursed energy?"

 

Yaga gave a small nod. "You're a sorcerer, Amara. It's in your blood. You've already shown signs, healing, shields, and vines. Those aren't accidents. They're abilities. Powerful ones."

 

Her eyes shot up to meet his, suspicion fighting against the faint flicker of something else. "...And this 'school' of yours? What, you're gonna throw me in with a bunch of stuck-up rich kids who already know how to do this shit?"

 

Yaga smiled faintly. "Something like that. But we'll teach you. From the ground up."

 

"...Why me?"

 

"Because you deserve to know what you're capable of," Yaga answered simply. "Not what your mother says you are."

 

Her mouth opened, like she wanted to say something more, but a sharp yell echoed from inside the house. "Amara! Who the hell are you talking to?!"

 

Amara jumped, shoulders snapping up tight. Without another word, she shut the door.

 

But not before Yaga saw it again.

 

That flicker of hope, just beneath the fear.

 

---

 

It was barely past noon when Yaga stepped back through the campus gates, jaw set like stone, the exhaustion in his shoulders not from the walk but from the fifth round of the same fight.

 

He didn't even make it halfway to the faculty hall before the ambush.

 

"Yagaaaa-senseeeiii," Gojo's voice rang out, sing-song and way too chipper for the look on Yaga's face. "What's the hold up, huh? You said you'd have her here by now."

 

Suguru Geto strolled along behind him, hands tucked in his pockets, more patient on the surface but still watching Yaga carefully. "Yeah, what's going on? You've been out there every morning for days. Did she say yes yet?"

 

Yaga let out a slow breath through his nose and kept walking. "It's not that simple."

 

Gojo, of course, fell into step right beside him, matching pace like a stray dog refusing to be shooed. "Not simple? C'mon, how hard can it be? You tell her she's got some kick ass superpowers, she gets a free ticket to the coolest school on earth, bada-bing, bada-boom."

 

Geto raised a brow, eyes narrowing slightly. "Satoru, not everyone's as eager to show off as you are."

 

"I'm just saying!" Gojo threw his arms up. "If someone told me, right now, that I had cursed energy and could blow stuff up with my mind, I wouldn't have even packed a bag before running out the door."

 

Yaga stopped abruptly, turning to face them. His glare could have leveled a building. "Her situation isn't yours."

 

The words landed hard enough that even Gojo quieted, lips pressing together into something closer to a pout.

 

Geto's expression softened, thoughtful. "She's really not allowed to make the choice, is she?"

 

Yaga nodded once, slow. "Her mother's got a chokehold on her. She's been isolated her whole life." His jaw tightened. "She's not resisting because she doesn't want to come. She's resisting because she's been taught she's not allowed to want anything."

 

Gojo's mouth twitched, something uncomfortable stirring behind the sunglasses. "...So, what? We're just waiting around until she gets the guts to run?"

 

"We're giving her the chance," Yaga corrected firmly. "You don't rip someone out of a cage they've been locked in their whole life without giving them a reason to believe there's something better on the outside."

 

Suguru nodded slightly, folding his arms. "Makes sense. But... the Elders gave you a deadline, didn't they?"

 

"Two more weeks." Yaga's gaze dropped, heavy. "They're not going to keep waiting after that."

 

There was a long pause.

 

Gojo, for once, looked serious. "What happens if she doesn't say yes?"

 

Yaga's lips pressed into a thin line. "That's something that should be left between me and the elders."

 

Geto's brow creased. "You think they'd-?"

 

"Let's not speculate," Yaga cut him off, voice hard. "I won't let anything happen to her if I can help it."

 

Gojo's fists clenched tight at his sides. "That's such bullshit. They can't just disregard her abilities because she can't fit the deadline."

 

"Welcome to the Jujutsu world," Yaga replied bitterly.

 

Silence hung between the three of them, thick and tense.

 

Then Gojo kicked at a rock on the path and huffed. "Well, what if we go meet her?"

 

Geto blinked. "Satoru-"

 

"No, I'm serious!" Gojo pushed his sunglasses up into his hair, eyes bright but determined. "Maybe she just needs to see someone other than you. Someone closer to her age. Someone less 'scary old dude in a suit.'"

 

Yaga raised an eyebrow. "I'm thirty-four."

 

Gojo shrugged, unbothered. "Exactly. Ancient."

 

Geto smirked despite himself. "I mean... he's got a point."

 

Yaga narrowed his eyes at both of them like he was seriously considering how many weeks of toilet cleaning he could assign as punishment.

 

But then he let out a long sigh, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "Absolutely not. You two are not going over there."

 

"C'mon, what's the worst that could happen-?"

 

"No." Yaga's voice was firm. "If her mother so much as sees the two of you, it'll only make things worse."

 

Gojo groaned dramatically, flopping backward onto the grass like gravity personally offended him. "This sucks. I'm bored. I wanna meet the scary mystery girl."

 

Suguru crouched down beside him, resting his arms on his knees. "Be patient, Satoru. If Yaga says she'll come around, then she'll come around."

 

Gojo crossed his arms behind his head, staring up at the sky with a huff. "...She better be cool."

 

Yaga shook his head, turning to leave them where they sat, muttering under his breath, "You two are worse than the damn Elders."

 

But even as he walked away, he could hear Gojo behind him, still whining at full volume:

 

"Geto, do you think she's gonna like me?"

 

Geto snorted. "Absolutely not."

 

---

 

Masamichi Yaga stood by the gates of Jujutsu High, the collar of his standard black suit pulled up against the bite of the evening breeze. The sun was low, casting long shadows across the courtyard. His expression, as always, was serious, focused.

 

He had one place to be tonight. And it wasn't here.

 

"You're going back to see her, aren't you?" came a far-too-eager voice behind him.

 

Yaga's brow twitched before he even turned around. Gojo was leaning against the nearest post, round sunglasses slipping low on his nose, that shit-eating grin as bright as ever. Geto stood nearby, arms crossed, watching Yaga with a look that was only slightly less obnoxious.

 

Yaga sighed through his nose. "I am. And no, you're not coming."

 

"Aw, c'mon, sensei!" Gojo whined, straightening up as he jogged a few steps closer. "You know we'd be helpful! What if she freaks out and starts throwing vines around or something? I could block-"

 

"No." Yaga's voice cut through the air like steel, flat and final.

 

Gojo blinked, halfway through a hand gesture. "Seriously?"

 

"Absolutely not." Yaga turned fully to face them, the stern weight of a teacher who'd had just about enough. "This isn't a mission. This is delicate. You barging in there would make things worse."

 

Geto raised an eyebrow, calm but persistent. "We wouldn't get in the way. We just want to meet her."

 

Yaga's arms crossed tightly over his chest. "And I said no. She's scared enough as it is. The last thing she needs is the two of you standing there looking like a couple of overeager watchdogs."

 

Gojo opened his mouth again, but Yaga held up a hand to cut him off before the words could come out.

 

"I know exactly what you're going to say, Satoru. And the answer is still no."

 

Geto gave a soft exhale through his nose, half-amused. "He's really not budging on this."

 

Yaga adjusted the high collar of his uniform with a sharp tug, already turning away. "You're students. You have your assignments. This is my responsibility."

 

Gojo huffed, hands on his hips. "But technically you're supposed to be teaching us how to handle situations like this, right? Life experience? Field observation?"

 

Yaga shot him a look over his shoulder. "You're about to get plenty of life experience if you keep talking."

 

Gojo's grin only widened. "Is that a threat or a promise?"

 

"Both."

 

Geto smirked quietly at Gojo's antics, but Yaga wasn't swayed. He started down the path, shoes heavy against the stone walkway.

 

"Stay here. That's an order."

 

Gojo groaned loud enough for the birds in the trees to startle. "You're no fun, sensei."

 

"Good," Yaga called back without stopping. "I'm not supposed to be."

 

And with that, he disappeared down the path toward the edge of campus, leaving the two of them standing there, Gojo already brainstorming how they could get around the "absolutely not" without technically disobeying.

 

"Think he'd notice if we just followed from really, really far away?" Gojo asked.

 

Geto gave him a long, unimpressed stare. "...Yeah. He'd notice."

Chapter 3: What Doesn’t Bruise Still Bleeds

The walls in the house were thin. Every word carried. Every scream bounced back twice as loud.

 

The living room smelled like old cigarettes and cheap perfume, the floral scent failing to cover the mildew that clung to the corners of the ceiling. Paint peeled in long strips along the doorframes. There were holes in the drywall near the hallway, patched lazily with tape and paper where fists had gone through more than once. The couch was a sagging, stained thing, its cushions so flat they might as well have been boards.

 

I stood in my black fuzzy socks on the scuffed wooden floor, my hoodie sleeves clenched in my fists, shaking with rage.

 

"You're worthless!" My mother's voice spat from across the room, shrill and sharp enough to cut glass. "I bust my ass day in and day out, and you- you just sit there, looking like your goddamn father! I went through labor! I did all the hard work! And you come out looking like a spitting image of that piece of shit!"

 

"I'm the one who's working!" I snapped back, voice cracking against the walls. "You haven't held a job longer than a month in the last year! I'm the one paying the damn rent!"

 

Her eyes narrowed, lips curling up in disgust. "You ungrateful little bitch. You think I don't deserve help after what I've been through?"

 

"You don't do anything but run your mouth and drink!" I shouted, my chest heaving. "I don't owe you shit!"

 

The slap came fast, but not fast enough for me to be surprised. Her hand cracked across my face, hard enough to snap my head sideways, the sting sharp along my jaw.

 

But the welt faded as soon as it came.

 

My body worked faster than her hate. The pain lingered, but my skin was smooth again before she could even step back.

 

She hated that more than anything.

 

"Don't you dare use that freak shit on me!" she hissed, grabbing a handful of my uneven hair and yanking hard enough to make my eyes water. She threw me down onto the floor, standing over me, chest heaving like she was just getting started. "I should've drowned you the moment I saw those disgusting red eyes."

 

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, staring up at her through my bangs, my breath shallow.

 

"Go ahead," I muttered. "Break my ribs again. They'll heal before you can fall asleep."

 

That made her snap.

 

She kicked me hard in the stomach three times but my body stitched itself back together with every blow. No bruises. No evidence. Just the dull ache of knowing it would happen again tomorrow.

 

"You think you're so special," she snarled, standing over me, breathing hard. "You're nothing without me. No one would take a freak like you in."

 

I didn't answer. I just laid there on the floor where she'd thrown me, staring at the water stain in the wood floor that looked like a warped halo.

 

She stood there a moment longer, waiting for me to cry, to beg, to apologize.

 

I didn't.

 

With a scoff, she turned on her heel and stormed down the hall to her room, slamming the door so hard the cheap frame rattled.

 

It stayed quiet after that. Just the low buzz of the broken fridge humming against the silence.

 

I stayed on the floor, my arms wrapped around me. I didn't have the strength to move right away. Not because my body hurt. But because everything else did.

 

I healed too fast to ever show the damage. No one could see the way I broke.

 

I don't know how long I laid there, five minutes? An hour? The clock on the wall hadn't worked in months.

 

Then came the knock.

 

Firm. Steady. Not the impatient pounding of the landlord, not the scratchy knock of the neighbors looking to bum smokes.

 

I bolted upright, my heart hammering.

 

Another knock, even and deliberate.

 

-------

 

Yaga didn't expect the door to open so quickly.

 

The quiet around the house was unnatural, the kind of silence that feels like a held breath, waiting to break. His knock had barely echoed off the rotting siding before the chain clinked softly and the door cracked open, just enough for one red eye to peer out, sharp and watchful.

 

It was her.

 

Amara.

 

She looked the same as before, jagged black hair falling unevenly into her face, hoodie zipped halfway, sleeves hiding her hands. But there was something different in the way she held the door this time. Not fear or frustration but caution and quiet interest.

 

"...It's you," she said softly, her voice rough around the edges like she had been yelling.

 

Yaga dipped his head in a small nod, keeping his voice low. "Hello again, Amara. I was hoping we could talk properly this time."

 

Her eyes flicked toward the hallway behind her, as if listening for any stir inside. She didn't open the door any further.

 

"She's asleep," Amara muttered, barely above a whisper. "But she gets up easy if I'm not where she wants me to be."

 

Yaga's posture stayed relaxed, arms folded loosely over his chest, careful not to crowd the door. "I understand. We can talk right here if that's what makes you comfortable."

 

After a few seconds, she unlatched the chain and pushed the door open fully, stepping out onto the small sagging porch. But she didn't come off it. She kept one hand resting on the doorframe like a tether, eyes wary as if expecting her mother's voice to cut through the night at any moment.

 

Yaga stayed a few steps down, giving her space.

 

"I meant what I said before," he told her gently. "I'm not here to make things harder for you. But I want you to understand what's happening. I want to help you understand who you are and how I can help."

 

Amara's arms crossed tightly over her chest, hoodie sleeves pulled down over her hands. "You keep saying that. That it's my 'bloodline.' My 'family.'" She frowned. "I don't even know what that means. You keep calling me some other name like I'm supposed to recognize it."

 

Yaga nodded slowly. "Hoshizuki. Your father's name. It's the family you were born into, even if no one told you."

 

Her eyes narrowed. "How can you just say that like it's so easy to understand and I should just belive you? I'm Akumakyo, have been my whole life."

 

Yaga stayed calm, steady. "That's the name your mother gave you. But it isn't the name tied to your abilities. It isn't the truth of where your cursed energy comes from."

 

Amara leaned back against the frame of the door, eyes still guarded. But she didn't shut the door. She didn't tell him to leave.

 

"...Say I believe you," she said after a long pause, chin lifted, voice firmer now. "What does that even mean? Why does that matter?"

 

"It means you're not crazy like you've been told your whole life....and it matters because it's part of who you are." Yaga said quietly.

 

That caught her off guard. He saw the flicker of something behind her eyes, something small and fragile she'd been holding shut for too long.

 

Her jaw clenched. "Everyone tells me I am. My mom-" She swallowed, fingers flexing beneath the sleeves. "She says I'm broken. That I make up the things I see. The things that... hurt me is just lies....I asked for help in school but....she had all the male teachers wraped around her finger....even the principal..."

 

Yaga's brows knit. "The things you see... Amara, do you mean cursed spirits?"

 

Her head tilted slightly, unsure.

 

"...I don't know what they're called," she muttered. "I call them monsters. The things that live here. In the walls. In the corners. They follow me around. I can feel them staring. Sometimes they pull my hair or scratch me, but my body always fixes it before there's proof. She says it's all in my head. Says I'm looking for attention."

 

The last words came out bitter, but there was something raw beneath them.

 

Yaga's gaze softened. "I see them too."

 

Her eyes snapped back to him, narrowing with suspicion. "You're just saying that."

 

"I'm not," Yaga replied calmly, shaking his head. "You're not the only one who can see them. Those things, the monsters, they're called cursed spirits. They're real. And the reason you see them is because you have this thing called cursed energy. You're a sorcerer, whether anyone had told you what that is or not."

 

Amara didn't speak right away. She stared at him like she wanted to believe it but didn't know how.

 

Finally, her voice came out quieter. "If they're real... then why don't they hurt her? Why don't they bother my mom?"

 

Yaga's lips pressed into a thin line. "Because people without cursed energy can't see them. They can't interact with them if they're weaker. But for those of us who can see them... we're the ones who suffer if we're not trained to handle it."

 

Amara's gaze dropped to the porch beneath her feet, teeth catching the edge of her lip as her mind worked through the weight of his words.

 

Yaga kept his voice steady, gentle. "That healing ability of yours, it's rare. Powerful. But you shouldn't have to survive alone just because no one ever taught you what it means."

 

She shifted, arms still crossed tight, but the tension in her shoulders eased just a bit. "...You really believe that?"

 

"I know that," Yaga answered.

 

Amara stayed leaning against the doorframe, but her eyes had softened, curiosity working its way through the cracks of her suspicion.

 

"...So what's this school then?" she asked, voice quieter now but steady. "You said you could teach me, but you didn't say where or how."

 

Yaga remained on the porch below her, keeping his posture calm, respectful. "It's called Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College or Tokyo Jujutsu High. It's a place where people like you, sorcerers, train to control their cursed energy. To learn how to protect themselves, and others, from spirits like the ones that hurt you."

 

Amara's brows pulled together, skeptical. "Just like that? You show up at my door and offer me a way out?"

 

"It's not 'just like that,'" Yaga replied. "It's a choice. Your choice. I'm not going to force you. But I'll keep showing up if it means giving you the chance to decide. People like your are important in the sorcerer society. You can do a lot of good and if I can offer you a way out of a place like this than I'm more than happy to keep up my persistence."

 

She studied him carefully, sharp red eyes flicking over his face like she was trying to find the lie tucked somewhere beneath the calm.

 

"...Are there other girls there?" she asked finally. "Ones like me?"

 

Yaga's expression softened. "There are. There's a girl named Utahime Iori. And Shoko Ieiri. They're both students right now, like you would be. Strong. Capable. Good people."

 

Amara's grip on her sleeves loosened a little. "...They... you think they'd talk to me? Be friends?"

 

"I think they'd want to," Yaga said honestly. "It's a small school. Everyone knows everyone. And no one there will tell you you're crazy for seeing the things you do."

 

Amara looked down again, toeing at a crack in the porch beneath her fuzzy socks. For a moment, she was silent.

 

Then, without looking up, she asked, "...You really see them?"

 

Yaga nodded once. "I do."

 

Amara's eyes lifted to meet his. There was something vulnerable there, something hard earned and fragile. Like she'd asked that question a hundred times before but never once gotten the answer she wanted.

 

"...Prove it," she said softly.

 

She stepped back from the doorway and, with a cautious glance toward the hall where her mother's door stayed closed, jerked her head for him to follow.

 

"But you gotta be quiet. If she hears you, she'll flip."

 

Yaga gave a nod and followed, stepping up onto the porch and into the house.

 

The moment he crossed the threshold, the air shifted.

 

It was like walking into something sour, the air thick with resentment and rot. The house felt heavy, not just because of the disrepair, though the place was barely standing. Holes in the walls stuffed with old towels, wallpaper peeling in long strips, stains along the baseboards where water damage had warped the floor. The couch sagged so low in the middle it was a wonder it still held shape at all.

 

But worse than the mess was the smell beneath the cheap floral sprays, the faint, metallic tang of blood. Dried and scrubbed, maybe again and again, but never gone. The carpet near the center of the living room was worn thin, discolored where the stains had sunk too deep to ever truly come out.

 

And underneath all of it, Yaga felt them.

 

Small cursed spirits, weak things, clinging to the corners of the ceiling, crouched in the shadowed spaces beneath the furniture. They trembled at his presence, but they didn't run, didn't want to risk him attacking them. The sick weight of negativity pressed against his senses, the unmistakable spawn of festering hate, fear, and suffering.

 

Amara stayed near the door, watching him closely, like she half-expected him to make something up or pretend.

 

But Yaga's eyes flicked once toward the hunched shape pressed into the far corner of the living room, a little twisted thing with too-long fingers and hollow white eyes, gnawing on the ragged edge of the couch cushion. Another hovered near the ceiling, a grub-like mass writhing slowly, feeding off the air itself.

 

"They're here," Yaga said quietly, pointing to the darkened corners without hesitation. "Three. One there, one above the couch, another behind the radiator."

 

Amara's eyes widened, her lips parting slightly. She glanced toward each place he named, nodding once, slow and cautious.

 

"...You really can see them."

 

Yaga gave a single nod, his voice soft. "I can."

 

She stayed frozen there for a moment, eyes locked on him, trying to decide if this was a trick. But when the silence held, when Yaga didn't laugh or dismiss it, didn't tell her she was imagining things, something in her posture finally started to sag. Her shoulders dropped a fraction. She exhaled like she hadn't breathed in hours.

 

"...So I'm not crazy," she whispered.

 

"No," Yaga said firmly. "You're not."

 

She swallowed hard, nodding again, though her hands still fisted tight inside the sleeves of her hoodie.

 

"They hurt me sometimes," she muttered, voice even quieter now. "When they get too close. I don't even think they know why they do it."

 

Yaga's eyes softened as he looked around at the spirits, the bloodstains, the decay.

 

"They're drawn to the anger here. The hate." He glanced toward the hall where the bedroom door remained shut. "Your mother's emotions... they're feeding these things. Keeping them alive."

 

Amara's lips pressed into a thin, bitter line. "Figures."

 

Yaga took a small step closer but stayed respectful of her space. "I can help you learn how to stop them. How to protect yourself. But only if you want that."

 

Amara's gaze flicked toward the hall again, cautious, guarded, but this time, when she turned back, there was something new in her eyes.

 

Something like hope.

 

Amara led Yaga quietly down the narrow hall, moving like she knew exactly which floorboards creaked and which ones could betray her. The hallway walls were patched with strips of old posters and magazine clippings, a thin attempt to cover the stains and cracks that ran deeper than paper could hide.

 

At the end of the hall, she pushed open the door to what had clearly once been a storage closet, now repurposed as her bedroom. The ceiling sloped awkwardly on one side, the lone window half-covered by a tattered sheet pinned up as a curtain. The mattress on the floor was thin and worn, the blanket stretched tight over it like the effort of keeping the room neat was the only thing keeping it from collapsing.

 

As Amara stepped inside, several small cursed spirits scurried out of the way, chittering beneath their breath as they dove under the bed, curling into the shadows at the corners of the room. Yaga watched their shapes flicker in and out of the edges of his sight, their forms weak but clinging desperately to the negativity that saturated the space.

 

Amara sat down on the bed, one leg curled beneath her, arms folded loosely across her stomach as she eyed him.

 

"...So how does this place work?" she asked. "The school. You said it's for people like me."

 

Yaga leaned against the doorframe, keeping his voice low but steady. "It's set up a lot like a college. There are dorm rooms for all the students, your own space, no one breathing down your neck. A dining hall where meals are taken care of. Classrooms for studying cursed energy, techniques, history. Training grounds. Safe places to learn how to fight back against spirits like the ones here."

 

Amara's eyes widened a little, her arms slowly uncrossing. "Wait, my own room? Like, really my own? Like and its nice?"

 

Yaga gave a small nod, a faint smile creeping into his voice. "Your own key. Your own bed. No one else's rules but the school's."

 

She leaned forward, her knees bouncing slightly as the excitement started breaking through her guarded expression. "And I wouldn't have to... I wouldn't have to pay for the food?"

 

"No," Yaga confirmed, shaking his head. "The school provides everything. Food. Housing. And if you need clothes or supplies, we can help with that too."

 

Amara's eyes brightened more than he'd seen all night. "I don't... I don't have a lot of clothes. Just what I can scrape together from the thrift store or whatever my mom doesn't steal from me."

 

Yaga nodded, calm and kind. "We'll make sure you have what you need. You'll get to pick things out yourself."

 

That earned a small, genuine smile from her, the first real one he'd seen. It wasn't a big smile, but it was soft around the edges, like she didn't quite remember how to hold onto happiness but was trying anyway.

 

"...I could get whatever I wanted?" she asked quietly.

 

"As long as you like it, and it fits," Yaga replied, voice gentle. "Yeah."

 

Her face lit up. She sat up straighter on the bed, her fingers fidgeting with the strings of her hoodie, unable to fully hide the spark of excitement breaking through the layers of caution.

 

But the moment shattered like glass under a hammer.

 

The bedroom door slammed open so hard it rattled the wall, and there she was.

 

Hana.

 

Or Miyo, as she still liked to call herself when she was playing innocent.

 

Her hair was messy, eyes bloodshot, rage already spilling off her in waves thick enough Yaga could feel it fueling the cursed spirits that twitched in the corners of the room. Amara quickly scurried back against the wall.

 

"What the fuck is this?!" she hissed, voice sharp enough to cut. "Bringing some man into your room? God, you're just like your whore of a father!"

 

Amara's arms instinctively covering her face like armor. "Mom, it's not-"

 

"Shut up!" Hana barked, eyes blazing as she pointed at Yaga, venom dripping from every word. "What the hell are you doing in my house? Trying to screw my kid? You sick bastard, I oughta call the cops right now!"

 

Yaga stood slowly, straightening to his full height, his expression unreadable, but there was steel behind his eyes.

 

"Enough," he said, voice level but carrying weight.

 

Hana sneered, teeth bared like an animal. "Don't you tell me-"

 

"I will," Yaga cut in, his tone sharp enough to halt her mid-sentence. "You don't get to stand there, after what I've seen in this house, after what I've felt in these walls, and pretend to be the victim here."

 

Hana's face twisted, sputtering. "How dare you-!"

 

"She invited me," Yaga said firmly, unmoved by the screech in her voice. "And we were having a conversation. One she deserves to have without being screamed at or beaten into silence."

 

Hana's hand twitched at her side like she wanted to strike again, but the look in Yaga's eyes pinned her where she stood.

 

He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.

 

"You call her crazy," Yaga said, quieter now, but colder. "But she's the sanest person in this house."

 

Amara sat frozen on the bed, eyes wide, hands clenched into the sleeves of her hoodie so tightly her knuckles went white.

 

Hana glared between the two of them, breathing hard, chest heaving. But when neither of them backed down, when Yaga's stare didn't break, she spun on her heel and stormed back down the hall, slamming her bedroom door hard enough to make the whole frame shudder.

 

The cursed spirits stirred again, jittery and restless, feeding on the fresh surge of hate.

 

Amara stood there, shaking slightly, biting down on the inside of her cheek.

 

Yaga softened just enough to speak gently again. "Are you alright?"

 

Amara gave the faintest nod, shoulders tight.

 

"...Yeah," she whispered. "I'm just not used to anyone saying anything back to her."

 

The door down the hall rattled again as her mother's furious footsteps paced back and forth inside the bedroom, but Amara didn't move. She stood stiff near the bed, arms wrapped tight around herself like if she let go, she might come apart.

 

Yaga stayed where he was, watching her carefully, giving her the space to breathe, but not the isolation that so often ate at people like her.

 

"...Amara," his voice softened, steady as stone but warm beneath it, "You don't deserve this."

 

Her lips pressed into a thin line, head bowed, bangs falling into her eyes. "No one deserves this..."

 

Her breath hitched. She bit down on her lip hard enough it should've split, but her cursed energy healed the wound before it even had a chance to bleed.

 

Yaga took a small, careful step closer.

 

"You're not crazy. You're not broken. You're a person. And you deserve better than what's happening in this house."

 

Amara's arms tightened even more, her head shaking faintly. For a moment, it seemed like she might snap at him, push him away, tell him off like anyone else who'd tried to talk about her life like they understood.

 

But then, quiet. So soft he almost missed it.

 

"...I want to go now..."

 

Yaga blinked. She was still staring at the floor, fingers clenched into the fabric of her hoodie so tight it might tear.

 

"I want to leave," she said again, louder now, breath shaking but words steady. "I don't care if you're lying. I don't care if this is some setup or if you turn out to be worse than her.... I just... I can't be here anymore..."

 

She looked up at him then, red eyes burning with something between desperation and pure exhaustion. "I'll take my chances."

 

Yaga's expression softened further, the stern lines of his face relaxing into something almost paternal.

 

"I'm not lying," he said simply. "But I'm glad you're ready to find out for yourself."

 

Amara's jaw trembled. She wiped at her face fast, rough, like she didn't want him to see the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

 

"Stay here," she muttered, already moving toward the small wooden dresser shoved against the wall. "I'm gonna grab my stuff."

 

Yaga nodded, stepping back toward the doorway but keeping his eyes on her.

 

Amara crouched down and pulled a small, battered backpack from under the bed. The zipper stuck halfway, but she yanked it hard until it gave, then started throwing in what little she had, two band tees, a pair of black skinny jeans that weren't full of holes yet, a couple of hoodies, socks, underwear. She stuffed a worn spiral notebook and a pen into the bag next, followed by a chipped lighter and a few cigarette butts she'd scavenged.

 

But the last thing she reached for, she did slowly.

 

Sitting on the shelf near the window was a small, tattered stuffed bear. One of its button eyes was missing, its stitched smile half-undone, the fur so matted and aged it was more gray than brown. She stared at it for a long moment, then carefully tucked it into the bag on top of her clothes like it was made of glass.

 

"My mom says it's the only thing my dad left behind," she muttered without looking at Yaga. "I don't know if that's true..."

 

Yaga didn't interrupt. He only gave a slow nod.

 

"Take what's yours," he said.

 

Amara zipped the bag shut and slung it over one shoulder, turning back toward him. There was still fear in her eyes, but beneath it, there was also resolve. The kind that only comes from surviving too much for too long.

 

She straightened up, gripping the strap of the backpack tight in her hand.

 

"...Can we go now?" she asked, voice small but certain.

 

Yaga gave one firm nod. "Yeah. We can go now."

 

The door creaked open slow, and Amara slipped out first, bag clutched tight against her shoulder. Yaga followed close behind, his steps light despite his size, scanning the hall as they crept toward the front of the house.

 

But they didn't make it three steps before the bedroom door at the end of the hall snapped open like a bear trap.

 

"Where the HELL do you think you're going?! You said talking! I didn't think you mean stealing my daughter!!"

 

Hana's voice shredded through the silence, raw and furious. Her hair was wild around her face, eyes bloodshot, veins bulging at her throat as she stomped toward them barefoot, fists clenched and shaking.

 

Amara froze, shoulders hunching instinctively, the fingers gripping her bag turning white.

 

Yaga's arm moved fast, shielding Amara with his broad frame as Hana stormed toward them, her rage boiling over.

 

"You think you can just waltz out of here?!" Hana snarled, shoving hard against Yaga's chest. "You can't take her! You can't take my daughter away from me, you freak!"

 

Yaga barely shifted under the blow, his hand flashing out and pushing her back hard enough to knock her off balance. She stumbled, hitting the hallway wall with a thud, eyes wide with shock.

 

"I'm warning you," Yaga's voice dropped low, sharp as a blade. "Stay out of my way."

 

But Hana's anger only twisted uglier. She lunged again, claws out, slapping at his chest and arms. "You can't DO this! She's MINE! You can't just take my kid, you bastard-!"

 

Yaga caught her wrists easily in one large hand, holding her back with no more effort than stopping a child's tantrum. His other arm stayed out, blocking Amara from the worst of it.

 

"She is not your property, she's an adult," Yaga snapped, voice rising like thunder for the first time. "And you will NOT lay another hand on her."

 

Hana spat at the floor, yanking at his grip, seething. "You don't know what she is! She's garbage! A broken little bitch just like her no good father-!"

 

Yaga's eyes narrowed, lips pulling into a tight line. His grip on her wrist tightened just enough to make her flinch.

 

"I'm only going to say this one last time," Yaga growled. "Stay out of my way. If you know what's good for you."

 

He let go of her wrist with a shove, sending her stumbling back onto the floor.

 

She straightened, glaring past Yaga at Amara like a snake ready to strike.

 

"Go on, then!" Hana hissed, waving them toward the door. "Get the hell out of my house, you worthless little brat! Don't come crawling back here when you realize no one wants a freak like you!"

 

Amara's breath hitched, her nails digging into the strap of her bag as her eyes locked on the floor. She didn't move. Didn't speak.

 

Hana sneered, voice dripping with venom. "You hear me, Amara? You're NOTHING. You'll always be nothing. Just a broken little bitch, ruining eveyones life around you, just like your father!"

 

The words hit harder than any slap ever could.

 

Yaga moved towards Amara and looks at her softly. "Are you ready to go?"

 

Hana laughed bitterly, leaning against the wall, rubbing the wrist he'd grabbed. "Good riddance," she spat. "Go ahead. Run off with your little sorcerer boyfriend, chasing after anyone who'll pity you."

 

Amara's head stayed down, shaking, teeth clenched tight but she didn't cry. She squared her shoulders, took a breath, and stepped closer to Yaga.

 

"...I'm ready," she said softly.

 

Yaga nodded once without looking back to Hana, keeping himself firmly between them as he moved toward the door with Amara in front of him.

 

Hana's voice followed them out, shrieking curses and insults into the night, but Amara didn't flinch.

 

Not this time.

Chapter 4: First Night

The walk to Jujutsu High had been quiet.

 

Amara hadn't said much since they left the house. She kept her arms wrapped around the strap of her worn backpack, head down, gaze fixed on the road ahead. Yaga stayed beside her, letting the silence settle naturally between them, giving her the space to sit with her choice.

 

When they arrived, the school grounds were calm, the wide stone paths empty under the soft glow of the evening lamps. The dorm buildings stood at the far edge of campus, with the main hall and training grounds sprawling out toward the center. It looked peaceful, even normal, if you didn't know what lived beneath the surface.

 

Yaga, dressed in his usual suit instead of the teacher uniform, walked her up the stone steps toward the dormitory.

 

"C'mon," he said, voice soft but firm. "Let's get you a key and settled in."

 

Amara nodded, eyes wide as she took in the towering buildings, the archways, the way the place felt so much bigger than anywhere she'd ever been.

 

But peace, at Jujutsu High, never lasted long.

 

"Sensei~!" a loud, familiar voice echoed across the courtyard. "Is that her?!"

 

Yaga let out the slowest, deepest sigh Amara had ever heard.

 

Satoru Gojo came barreling across the courtyard, round sunglasses perched on his nose, white hair a wild mop that somehow made him look both lazy and electric at the same time. Right behind him, hands tucked casually into his uniform pants, walked Suguru Geto, expression calm but eyes sharp with curiosity.

 

"You didn't tell us you were bringing her back tonight!" Gojo complained, skidding to a stop in front of them, grinning down at Amara like she was the most interesting thing he'd seen all week. "What, were you planning on keeping her a secret forever?"

 

Yaga crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. "I specifically told you both to stay out of this."

 

"Yeah, yeah," Gojo waved him off, "you also told me not to listen in on Elder meetings, and look how well that went."

 

Suguru gave a polite dip of his head toward Amara, lips curved in a soft smile. "Suguru Geto. And this idiot's Satoru."

 

"Pleasure to meet me, I know," Gojo chimed in, finger-guns at her.

 

Amara blinked up at them, mouth twitching like she wasn't sure if she should be annoyed or amused.

 

"...You're a little full of yourself, huh?" she deadpanned.

 

Suguru gave a low chuckle. Gojo gasped, hand to his chest like she'd mortally wounded him. "Rude! We're welcoming you to your brand new life, and this is the thanks I get?"

 

Amara crossed her arms, tilting her head just enough to let her bangs fall across one eye. "I dunno. I was expecting someone better looking."

 

Suguru snorted.

 

Gojo leaned down a little, grinning wider. "Oh, you bite back." He looks to Suguru. "I like her."

 

Yaga groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I was trying to keep this quiet."

 

"Sucks for you!" Gojo chirped, spinning on his heel like he hadn't heard a word of protest. "So! You settling in tonight? We could give you the grand tour. Show you the training grounds, the cafeteria, the best spots to ditch class-"

 

"No," Yaga cut in, voice firm, glaring at both of them. "She needs rest. She's had a long night."

 

Amara raised a brow, glancing between the two boys, her lips curling just a little. "You two always like this?"

 

"Yup," Geto answered, smiling easily. "He's worse than me though."

 

"Hey! Equal opportunity menaces, thank you very much," Gojo shot back.

 

Amara gave a soft laugh despite herself, relaxing just a little more. "...Huh. I think I might survive here after all."

 

Gojo gave her a mock bow. "Anytime. I'm a professional morale booster."

 

Yaga rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they stayed in his skull. "Get lost, both of you."

 

Gojo straightened, saluting with two fingers. "You got it, boss."

 

Suguru gave Amara one last glance and put a hand up as a goodbye, his smile softening just a touch. "See you around, Amara."

 

They both headed off, Gojo still talking loudly about how he was definitely going to be her favorite.

 

Amara watched them go, then looked up at Yaga, smirking faintly. "They're not gonna leave me alone, are they?"

 

Yaga shook his head, exhaling slowly. "Absolutely not."

 

"...Good," Amara muttered, the smile sticking just a little longer this time.

 

---

 

The dorm building stood tall and quiet beneath the glow of the outside lamps, the air still and soft around it. Yaga led Amara down a hallway lined with doors, each marked with small brass numbers. The floor creaked faintly under their steps, but otherwise, it was peaceful, no screaming, no slammed doors, no threats waiting just around the corner.

 

Yaga stopped in front of one of the rooms and handed her a small silver key, attached to a simple black leather tag.

 

"This one's yours," he said, his tone gentle again. "No one comes in unless you say so. You've got your own bed, dresser, closet, desk, and a bathroom just for you. Meals are served in the dining hall, but there's a small kitchenette down the hall if you want to make something yourself."

 

Amara took the key slowly, like it might disappear if she wasn't careful.

 

Yaga gave her a small nod, lingering a moment at the door. "If you need anything tonight... I'm just down the hall."

 

She nodded back, swallowing hard. "Thanks, Yaga."

 

He gave one last glance over her, measuring, making sure, but when she didn't waver, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone with the key in her hand.

 

Amara stared at the door a moment longer before sliding the key into the lock and twisting it.

 

The door swung open into the soft glow of a single overhead light.

 

It wasn't fancy. But to her? It was everything.

 

The room had clean white walls, smooth wood floors, and a soft bed tucked neatly into one corner with fresh sheets folded tight. A small dresser stood against the wall near a built-in closet. A desk sat beneath the window, and to the side was a narrow door leading into her very own bathroom. Simple, but hers.

 

Her stomach gave a weird little flip, the kind of feeling she wasn't used to. The kind that made her want to grin so wide it hurt.

 

She dropped her bag to the floor and just stood there a moment, taking it all in, blinking like maybe she was still asleep and any second she'd wake up back on that sagging couch with her mom screaming from the other room.

 

But it didn't fade. It was real.

 

"This is mine," she whispered to herself, eyes wide. "It's really mine."

 

With a grin breaking across her face, she kicked off her shoes, ran straight to the bed, and flopped face-first onto the mattress, arms spread wide, feet kicking into the air like a kid high on too much sugar.

 

She rolled over onto her back, bouncing a little as she stared up at the ceiling, letting out a breathless laugh. "Holy shit. I have my own bed. Not some mattress from the dump.."

 

Without hesitation, she popped back up and started unpacking, carefully pulling her few clothes from the bag and folding them into the dresser. Her notebook went onto the desk, along with the worn lighter and the few other small items she'd carried with her. She tucked the cigarettes away at the back of the drawer, just in case.

 

Last came the stuffed bear.

 

She held it for a moment, thumb running along the frayed stitching of its half-smile, before gently placing it on the bed against the pillow.

 

The room still looked a little bare, but it was warmer now, hers.

 

Amara turned in a slow circle, taking it all in again, that stupid grin creeping right back onto her face. She threw herself down onto the bed again, kicking her feet happily, arms stretched above her head.

 

For the first time in her life, she didn't feel like she had to look over her shoulder.

 

She could breathe.

 

She could just be.

 

The buzz of excitement kept her moving, picking at the bedsheets, adjusting the bear on the pillow, sitting at the desk for a minute just to spin slowly in the chair like a dork.

 

But when the adrenaline finally started to settle, and the night crept in fully, quiet wrapping around the dorm like a soft blanket, Amara pulled the covers up around her and tried to sleep.

 

Tried.

 

She shifted once, twice, rolled to one side, then the other. The bed was soft, warmer than anything she'd ever had. The silence was almost too much. No yelling. No creaking footsteps. No glass breaking.

 

It was... safe.

 

And somehow that made it harder.

 

Her body healed faster than most, but her head hadn't caught up yet.

 

Amara hugged the bear tight against her chest, staring at the wall, blinking slow, waiting for the panic to come back.

 

But it didn't.

 

Only the loneliness. Only the quiet.

 

Still... she smiled faintly into the dark.

 

"I'm out," she whispered. "I made it."

 

Even if sleep didn't come easy, she held onto that.

 

She was free.

 

----------

 

Sleep just wasn't happening.

 

I'd been laying here for what felt like hours, staring up at the ceiling, blanket pulled over my head like it might smother the thoughts out of me. It didn't work. My body was still buzzing too much, the kind of buzz that comes after you run on adrenaline for too long and then suddenly stop.

 

It was too quiet. No yelling, no glass breaking, no slamming doors. Just... soft, still air and my own heartbeat kicking around in my chest like it didn't know how to calm down.

 

Then there was a soft knock.

 

I stiffened, sitting up fast, eyes locked on the door.

 

Another knock, gentle. Then the soft shhhft of paper sliding under the door.

 

I blinked, shuffling out of bed with my blanket still around my shoulders, and sat cross-legged on the floor to grab the note. Scribbled across it in messy handwriting:

 

"You awake? -Satoru & Suguru"

 

I snorted quietly through my nose, grabbing a pen off the desk and sitting right there on the floor to write back:

 

"Yeah. Why? Plan on breaking in?"

 

I shoved the note back under the door with my foot.

 

A few seconds later, the paper slid back toward me with a new line scrawled at the bottom:

 

"Only if you're into that." -Satoru

"No, we will not be breaking in." -Suguru

 

I smiled a little despite myself.

 

Then the knock came again, louder this time, a couple solid thuds.

 

"Hey! Since you're awake come out and hang with us!" Gojo's voice rang way too loud through the hallway.

 

"Satoru," Geto's voice followed, quieter but with that calm, practiced patience, "lower your voice."

 

"Sorry, sorry," Gojo mumbled, though I could still hear the grin in it.

 

There was a pause.

 

"But seriously," Gojo tried again, softer, but still Gojo. "C'mon. We're up, you're up... You don't wanna spend your first night alone, right?"

 

I leaned my head against the door, smiling more than I meant to.

 

"Pushy much?" I say with a soft chuckle.

 

"Extremely. Yes. But in like a charming way." I could hear the cocky grin in his voice.

 

"Charming is not how anyone would put it." Suguru shoots back.

 

The corners of my mouth pulled up. Alright. These guys were persistent, I'd give them that.

 

Still sitting on the floor, I reached up and unlocked the door, cracking it open just enough to peek through.

 

And of course Gojo was right there, crouched way too close, leaning in like a golden retriever who hadn't learned not to jump.

 

Without even thinking, I put my hand on his face and pushed. I smush his cheek as he grinned at me from under my palm.

 

"Wow," I said flatly, "you don't have an off button, do you?"

 

"Not one I've found yet," he chirped, smiling wider against my hand.

 

Suguru was sitting on the floor next to him, back against the opposite wall, arms loosely draped over his knees, watching the whole exchange with that soft, knowing smirk of his.

 

"Glad to see you're not intimidated," he said, nodding toward where I still had my hand in Gojo's face.

 

I finally let go, leaning on my elbow against the doorframe, still half-wrapped in my blanket. "Takes a lot more than some loud-mouth giant to scare me off."

 

Gojo gasped, clutching at his chest like I'd stabbed him. "Loud-mouth giant?! Is this how I'm treated after offering my exclusive late-night presence?"

 

"Satoru," Geto cut in again, voice calm but firmer this time, "volume."

 

"Right, right," Gojo hissed, dropping his voice to what I guess was his version of a whisper. "But for real, you wanna come out and hang? It's not just pity, swear. We're always up late anyway."

 

I squinted at him. "You two never sleep?"

 

Suguru shrugged lightly. "I do. Just... not easily."

 

"Yeah, I'm a chronic insomniac," Gojo chimed in, now sitting cross-legged on the floor like we were at some middle school sleepover. "Can't shut my brain up."

 

"Trauma," I deadpanned, pointing at him with mock accusation.

 

He grinned. "Don't we all have a little something something?"

 

I shifted a little, sitting fully on the floor just behind the cracked door, chin resting on my knees. "I have no idea what I'm doing here..."

 

Suguru gave a small nod, his expression softening. "That's okay. You're not supposed to yet."

 

Gojo leaned his chin into his hand, still too close, still not moving away. "We'll help you figure it out. It's really not that complicated."

 

I blinked at him, a little taken off guard by how easily he said it. No teasing in his tone that time. Just simple fact.

 

Suguru gave him a quiet look. "Satoru," he reminded again.

 

"Ah, yeah, sorry, sorry," Gojo mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "We, uh... we're hanging out in the common room. No pressure. Just snacks and bad choices."

 

I smirked. "You had me at snacks. Just gimme a sec to change." I said, shutting the door softly but leaving it unlocked.

 

I stood there for a moment, leaning my forehead against the door, exhaling slow. God, they were a lot. But... not in a bad way. It was the first time in forever someone had actually wanted to talk to me without it feeling like a setup. Without the expectation I'd owe them something for it later.

 

And maybe that's what made me grin as I tossed my blanket back onto the bed and tugged off the ratty sleep shorts I'd thrown on earlier.

 

I pulled on my one pair of longer pajama pants, black, printed with tiny red strawberries all over. Comfy. Reliable. Next came my oversized black t-shirt, sleeves hanging just past my elbows. The lettering on the front had long since cracked and peeled from too many washes, but I liked it that way.

 

The pièce de résistance?

 

My pink fluffy socks, patterned with tiny hearts, so soft they made walking across the wood floor feel like stepping on clouds. Perfect for sneaking snacks and avoiding suspicion.

 

I grabbed my trusty purple zip-up, the only jacket that had survived my mom's constant attempts to "borrow" (steal) it. The zipper was still kinda busted at the bottom, but still comfortable. I shoved my hands deep into the sleeves.

 

There. Appropriately dressed for midnight chaos.

 

I cracked the door open again and peeked out.

 

Gojo was now laying on his back across the hallway floor, arms flopped dramatically over his head like he'd been waiting years. Suguru sat against the wall, patient as ever, one knee drawn up, arms relaxed over it.

 

Gojo perked up immediately when he saw me. "Finally! Thought you were gonna ditch us and make me cry."

 

"Maybe I just wanted to make you sweat a little," I teased, stepping out and nudging him lightly with my foot.

 

"Bold move." He grinned up at me, hands behind his head. "I respect it."

 

Suguru gave me a once-over, then nodded with a small, approving smile. "Nice socks."

 

"Thanks," I smirked. "They make me faster."

 

Gojo raised a brow, still sprawled out like a starfish on the floor. "Like speed socks? Certified ninja gear?"

 

I crossed my arms over my chest, one brow raised right back at him. "Obviously. Limited edition. You couldn't handle this kind of power."

 

Geto snorted quietly, pushing off the wall and standing up. "She fits right in already."

 

Gojo sat up cross-legged again, grinning. "Knew I liked you."

 

I rolled my eyes but couldn't keep the smile off my face. "You guys always this desperate for attention?"

 

Suguru gave a soft, almost fond sigh. "Unfortunately."

 

"Absolutely," Gojo added proudly.

 

I shook my head, chuckling under my breath. "Alright, alright, show me the way to these so-called snacks before I regret this."

 

Gojo shot to his feet like he'd been spring-loaded. "Yes! Let's go, Team No Sleep!"

 

Suguru gave him a flat look. "Satoru, tone."

 

Gojo cleared his throat, dropping his voice all of two notches. "Let's go... team... no sleep."

 

I smirked, shoving my hands deeper into my sleeves as I followed them down the hall, strawberry pajama pants swishing with every step.

 

---

 

The common room was way nicer than I expected. Definitely not the busted couches and flickering ceiling lights I was used to. Everything in here was soft, clean, and expensive-looking. Overstuffed chairs, wide sofas with fat pillows, little round tables scattered between them. Shelves lined one wall, full of books and old film cases. There was even a snack station tucked in the corner, the vending machines humming softly beneath the warm glow of the lamps.

 

Suguru dropped down easily into one of the big chairs, settling in like he belonged there, which, yeah, he probably did. Satoru, meanwhile, flopped down full-body across the couch like a man who had never in his life learned the word "subtle."

 

I hovered awkwardly for half a second before sliding down into the couch across from them, pulling my knees up to my chest and tucking my feet beneath me.

 

"So," Gojo said, grinning as he popped open a bag of spicy chips, "first night at Jujutsu High. How's it feel to be living in luxury with the coolest sorcerers alive?"

 

Suguru let out a soft sigh, reaching for one of the pocky sticks. "Ignore him. He's not that cool."

 

"Rude." Gojo pouted, tossing a piece of candy into his mouth. "I'm extremely cool. Top of my class. Good hair. Winning smile."

 

I snorted, leaning my chin on my knees. "Man, humble too. The total package."

 

Suguru chuckled softly.

 

"So..." I shifted a little, curiosity getting the better of me. "You're sorcerers. What does that actually mean? What do you guys do? Like, power-wise I guess?"

 

Gojo's eyes lit up instantly. "Glad you asked!"

 

"Oh, here we go," Suguru muttered, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair, chin in his palm like he'd heard this speech a thousand times.

 

"I," Gojo announced grandly, spreading his arms like he was presenting a masterpiece, "am the proud heir of the Gojo clan. Which means I've got Limitless and the Six Eyes, two of the strongest abilities in the jujutsu world. When I was born the world quacked at my presence!"

 

He leaned forward, sunglasses sliding down just enough for me to catch a flash of those ridiculous, bright blue eyes.

 

"Limitless lets me manipulate space itself," he continued, grinning. "Basically, you can't touch me unless I let you, I can fly, teleport. All that sick as hell stuff. And Six Eyes gives me perfect perception of cursed energy, it makes everything I do super efficient. Plus it lets me study people and their abilities."

 

I blinked, jaw slack. "Wait. Space? Like- literally? You can fly!? Teleport!? What the hell!?"

 

Gojo beamed, tossing another thing of candy into his mouth. "Exactly."

 

"...That's nuts." I leaned forward a little without thinking, wide-eyed. "How does that even feel? Like, can you feel the space around you or-?"

 

"Constantly," Gojo nodded. "It's like having an invisible cushion around me all the time."

 

Suguru cleared his throat, lifting two fingers slightly like he was raising a hand in class. "In case he doesn't mention it, he also has a Domain Expansion but hes still working on that."

 

"Uh, what's that?" I looked at him a bit confused.

 

"I'm glad you asked again!" Gojo chimed in. "It's basically like a super epic final move but it's super rare for sorcerers. Again showing why I'm the greatest thing to bless this Jujutsu world." His grin was so obnoxiously cocky.

 

I didn't want to keep feeding into his inflated ego so I switched my attention to Suguru. "What about you? What's your thing?"

 

"Cursed Spirit Manipulation," he answered easily. "I can absorb and control cursed spirits. Use them as weapons. Store them inside me."

 

"That's so cool," I blurted out, leaning forward onto the arms of my chair. "You control curses? Like, those nasty little things I was seeing at my house?"

 

Suguru gave a nod, smiling softly at my reaction. "Exactly. Though I usually keep stronger ones. The little ones burn out too fast."

 

I was practically bouncing in my seat now, every instinct telling me to keep asking a million questions. "And they just listen to you? Like Pokémon?"

 

He laughs lightly. "Most of the time," he replied, smirking. "The ones that don't... well. They don't last long."

 

I shook my head, grinning. "Damn. You guys weren't kidding. This is insane."

 

Gojo stretched with a dramatic groan, swinging his legs off the couch and standing up. "Alright, enough over the table talk. I'm coming over there."

 

Before I could process what he meant, he was already walking toward my couch with zero hesitation, plopping down right next to me like we were lifelong besties.

 

I tensed immediately.

 

Not a huge flinch, but I definitely shifted, stiff, my hand tightening around the edge of my seat.

 

"Uh-actually," I cut in fast, forcing a little grin onto my face, "why doesn't Suguru sit by you, yeah? I mean, he's gotta suffer sitting next to you every day. Wouldn't wanna break tradition."

 

I scooted fast to the other armchair across from them, trying to play it off like I was just making space.

 

Suguru gave me one long, careful glance, his easy smile softening just a bit. He moved to sit next to Satoru then he leaned over, cupped a hand around Satoru's ear, and whispered something to him.

 

Gojo blinked, leaned back a little, then looked across at me with his head tilted.

 

"...Wait. Do you just not like people sitting that close?"

 

Suguru immediately let out a sigh, dragging his hand down his face. "Satoru..."

 

"What?" Gojo blinked, frowning. "You said I should know!"

 

Suguru pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. "I didn't mean say it out loud..."

 

I stared at both of them for a second, then let out a sharp snort before I could stop myself.

 

"Well. You're not wrong," I admitted, leaning back into the chair, curling one leg beneath me. "I'm not real big on people being up in my space. Not unless I invite it. Not a fan of touching either."

 

Gojo's expression softened a little, not pitying, just... understanding. "Alright. Noted. I'll keep a cushion of respectful distance."

 

Suguru sighed again, but there was a smile creeping onto his face now too.

 

"You're lucky she's nice about it," Suguru muttered to Gojo. "Most people would've decked you."

 

"Yeah," I nodded, smirking, "you're real lucky."

 

Gojo grinned wide, propping his chin on one hand. "I'm charming. It gets me out of trouble."

 

I rolled my eyes but couldn't stop the smile.

 

"Charming's not the word I'd use," I muttered.

 

"Loveable?" Gojo offered.

 

"Loud," Suguru corrected.

 

"Irresistible."

 

"Irritatable."

 

"Exhilarating!"

 

"Exhausting." I laughed quietly, shaking my head as I grabbed one of the pocky sticks from the pile between them.

 

The banter died down just enough for me to shift, eyeing Satoru across the little table between us.

 

"So... you said you can be untouchable, right?" I asked, raising a brow. "Your whole 'Limitless' thing."

 

Gojo leaned back in his seat, fingers laced behind his head, grinning like a kid who'd just been handed the mic at karaoke. "Yep. Untouchable. Unless I feel like letting someone through."

 

I tapped my chin, leaning forward onto my knees. "Then why'd you let me push your face earlier?"

 

Suguru gave him a look like yeah, I was wondering that too.

 

Gojo shrugged, still smiling. "Because I'll always let a girl hit me."

 

I blinked. "Wait- what?"

 

"Dead serious," he said, nodding like he was explaining tax law. "Something I've learned about woman sorcerers is that physical violence is the easiest way for them to set their boundaries. If I put the Infinity up every time someone tried to slap me, no one would ever feel like they could check me."

 

Suguru gave a soft sigh. "God knows you need to be checked."

 

"Right?" Gojo grinned wider. "Plus, it's funny. I only keep it up if I personally don't wanna be touched... or again, if it's funny."

 

I snorted, shaking my head. "So you're telling me your strategy is 'let them hit me first, ask questions later'?"

 

"Exactly." Gojo beamed, finger-guns at me again.

 

"...You're lucky you're pretty," I muttered, grabbing another pocky stick.

 

"I get that at lot." Gojo winked.

 

I was about to fire back another jab, but the conversation drifted naturally back toward what had me curious to begin with.

 

"So," I leaned back again, tucking one leg under me, "if your thing is space and cursed spirits..." I glanced between them. "What about other people here? Are there, like, categories of powers or...?"

 

"Oh! Great question-" Gojo immediately started to sit forward, hands waving like he was ready to give a full lecture.

 

Suguru reached over and smacked the back of his hand lightly. "Satoru, stop. You're gonna spend the next twenty minutes making it about yourself again."

 

Gojo huffed, slouching back into the couch like a scolded child.

 

Suguru gave me a much more patient smile. "I'm curious about yours, actually. Yaga mentioned you've got some abilities, but he didn't go into detail."

 

I shrugged, suddenly a little self-conscious, tracing my thumb along the hem of my sleeve. "I... don't really know how to explain it well. I'm still figuring it out. I only know what I've picked up on my own."

 

Gojo perked back up, leaning forward again. "But you can heal, right?"

 

"Yeah." I nodded slowly. "I've been able to heal myself for as long as I can remember. Like... pretty much instantly."

 

Suguru's brows raised slightly, curiosity bright in his eyes. "Instantly?"

 

"Show us!" Gojo leaned in, hands clasped like he was about to witness the coolest magic trick of his life.

 

I hesitated, but their interest wasn't like my mom's had been. This wasn't that kind of attention.

 

So I reached into the pocket of my hoodie, pulling out the small pocketknife I always kept there.

 

Gojo's eyes widened like a kid on Christmas morning. "Ohh, she came strapped."

 

Suguru elbowed him kinda hard making Satoru rub his arm.

 

I flipped the blade open and, without hesitation, dragged it across my forearm, slow enough for them both to clearly see the cut open wide across my skin.

 

The blood beaded up fast, but before it could even roll down, the skin stitched itself back together like nothing had happened. Smooth. Seamless.

 

But the blood that had already touched my skin didn't go anywhere. It clung there, bright red, smearing across the healed flesh where the cut had been.

 

Gojo leaned in closer, wide-eyed. "No way. That's insane."

 

Suguru nodded slowly, clearly impressed. "So the healing only works on the damage itself, not the fluids or blood loss."

 

"Yeah." I wiped my arm off on the inside of my hoodie sleeve, giving a little shrug. "The blood's gone once it leaves me. I can heal cuts, broken bones, punctured organs, whatever, but I can't put the blood back in once it's out or grow stuff back I think."

 

Gojo leaned his chin into his hand, eyeing me curiously. "How much can you heal? Like, what's the limit?"

 

I scratched the back of my neck, thinking. "I dunno. I've had some pretty bad stuff happen. Ribs. Stab wounds. Couple fractures. But I've never actually pushed it far enough to see where the line is."

 

Suguru frowned slightly. "Have you ever passed out from overuse?"

 

"Yeah," I admitted. "A few times when I've pushed it too much in one go."

 

Gojo leaned back, still watching me like I was the coolest science project he'd ever seen. "So, what- you're basically immune to most stuff? Like poison? Toxins?"

 

I nodded. "Pretty much. My body filters them out crazy fast. Doesn't mean they don't affect me at all, but it takes a lot. Like, I can't really get drunk unless I go hard."

 

Gojo grinned. "Party tank. I respect it."

 

Suguru gave him the flattest look. "Please don't encourage her to test that."

 

I smirked, leaning my elbow onto the armrest, chin in my hand. "He's just mad 'cause I'd drink him under the table."

 

Gojo threw his head back with a laugh, pointing at Suguru. "She's calling you out already, man."

 

Suguru rolled his eyes but smiled, biting the pocky stick between his teeth.

 

I leaned back, stretching my legs out in front of me, feeling lighter than I had in a long, long time.

 

For the first time... talking about my abilities didn't feel like some shameful secret.

 

It felt like something I could actually be proud of.

 

Gojo was still grinning like I'd just challenged him to a duel. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

 

"So," he started, eyes gleaming, "drinking contest one day?"

 

I raised an eyebrow. "You serious?"

 

"Oh, dead serious." He nodded, reaching for a bag of gummies. "You just said you can't get drunk easy. I feel like it's my civic duty to test your limits."

 

Suguru sighed, breaking off the last piece of his pocky stick. "Yaga already told you you're not supposed to drink."

 

Gojo gave him a look, waving one hand like that was clearly optional advice. "Yaga says a lot of things. You can't know what alcohol does to a Six Eyes sorcerer until you try."

 

"Yeah," Suguru muttered, leaning back into his seat, "that's what we're all afraid of."

 

I snorted, reaching for the bag of spicy chips from the little pile between them. "I'd pay money to watch you two go head-to-head. I feel like you'd both end up passed out, just in completely different ways."

 

Gojo grinned, tossing a gummy into his mouth. "I don't pass out. I exit dramatically."

 

Suguru gave him the driest stare imaginable.

 

I laughed, settling deeper into the chair and popping a chip into my mouth, pointing at Satoru with the chip bag. "You're a menace."

 

"Thank you," he chirped, beaming like I'd just given him a gold star.

 

I licked the chip dust off my thumb and leaned back, stretching my legs out again. "...So, what's the plan for me tomorrow? Am I just wandering around aimlessly until someone points me toward a classroom?"

 

"Nah," Gojo said, shaking his head, "Yaga'll probably give you the official tour. Show you the dorms, training grounds, classrooms. All that jazz."

 

Suguru nodded along, his tone calmer, more matter-of-fact. "You'll meet a few of the other students too. Shoko, Utahime... probably Mei Mei if she decides to grace us with her terrifying presence."

 

Gojo popped another gummy into his mouth, grinning. "Then the day after that, you'll actually start classes. They kinda ease you in. First day's just the 'welcome to sorcery hell' thing."

 

I smirked. "What kind of classes are we talking? Like, 'Cursed Spirits 101'?"

 

"Actually, yeah," Suguru replied, leaning forward, resting his arms on his knees. "But also the basic stuff, math, science, history, language arts. All of it ends up tying back into cursed energy theory and sorcerer history though."

 

Gojo nodded enthusiastically. "Cursed energy has fingerprints everywhere, so even the normal subjects end up looping back around. You'd be surprised how often geometry comes up in Domain Expansions."

 

I blinked, half-grinning. "Yikes. Good thing I didn't fail math."

 

"Don't jinx yourself," Suguru muttered.

 

I leaned my head against the back of the chair, staring up at the ceiling. "So when does the hands-on training start? Are they gonna throw me into some cage match right away, or...?"

 

Gojo shook his head. "Nah, they won't make you spar right out the gate. Yaga'll want to see where you're at first, figure out how much control you have over your cursed energy before they put you in the ring."

 

Suguru nodded, his tone softer now. "Probably a few days of orientation, meeting people, getting a feel for the basics. Then light training. You'll build up to the hard stuff."

 

I exhaled slowly, shoulders relaxing a little more than I realized they were still tense. "Okay. Good. I was, uh... worried it was gonna be a 'sink or swim' kind of place."

 

Gojo shrugged, flashing a grin. "Depends who's throwing you in the water."

 

"Don't listen to him," Suguru cut in, side-eyeing him. "He would absolutely throw you into a sparring match on your first day if he was in charge. But Yaga has a brain."

 

Gojo threw his hands up. "Hey, trial by fire builds character."

 

"Trial by trauma builds therapy bills," Suguru shot back, deadpan.

 

I laughed again, shaking my head as I grabbed another handful of chips. "You two are like the worst good cop, bad cop combo."

 

Gojo pointed at Suguru. "He's the bad cop."

 

"You're the bad cop," Suguru corrected. "I'm the reasonable one."

 

"Reasonable's boring."

 

"Exactly."

 

I shook my head, grinning as I watched them bicker like they'd been doing this forever.

 

---

 

The snack pile was thinning out, chip bags half-empty, pocky sticks down to a few lonely stragglers. I was still curled up in the chair, one leg folded underneath me, picking at the last few crumbs while Satoru and Suguru kept talking, their words floating over me like soft background noise.

 

"So we should definitely be the ones to show her around," Gojo was saying, leaning back into the couch, arms stretched out across the top like he owned the place. "Yaga'll want to do the boring speech thing, but after that? Let us handle it. We can make it fun."

 

Suguru hummed, nodding slightly as he chewed thoughtfully on the end of a pocky stick. "You think Yaga's gonna just hand that over?"

 

"Yeah. If we ask nice." Gojo grinned. "Or, you know... wear him down like we usually do."

 

Suguru gave a small sigh but didn't argue. "You just want to see how fast she can spar."

 

"Obviously." Gojo grinned wider. "She's got potential. You can see it already, even if she doesn't know how to use it yet. I'm curious how that healing's gonna play into her style."

 

Suguru's smile was softer. "She's not ready for that yet. Physically? Maybe. Mentally? I think she needs to feel safe before she's going to put herself out there."

 

Gojo leaned his head back, tapping his fingers lightly against the couch. "Yeah... fair. But once she is ready? I wanna be first in line."

 

"I don't doubt that," Suguru muttered, amused.

 

I could still hear them, their voices dropping a little as the conversation turned more casual, the two of them spinning ideas about classes and training schedules, how they might convince Yaga to loosen the rules for my first week.

 

But the words started blurring together, softer and softer. My eyelids felt heavier the longer they talked, my head tilting against the back of the chair, the warmth of the room and their voices wrapping around me like a blanket.

 

I didn't even realize I was slipping under until my head lolled to the side, breathing slow and steady, fast asleep.

 

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

 

"...Aaand she's out," Satoru whispered, sitting up a little straighter as he leaned forward, peering at Amara from across the coffee table.

 

Suguru gave a small nod, watching the rise and fall of her shoulders, the way her arms stayed wrapped around her knees even in sleep.

 

"She was running on fumes," Suguru said softly, his voice dipping low out of respect for the quiet. "Not surprised. Yaga said she had a long night."

 

Gojo shifted, scooting forward on the couch, elbows on his knees. "Should we... wake her up? I mean, we were mid-hangout."

 

Suguru gave him a flat look. "Satoru."

 

Gojo blinked back, tilting his head.

 

"Let her sleep."

 

"But-"

 

Suguru held up a hand. "No. She needs it."

 

Gojo pouted, glancing back at her, clearly torn between wanting to keep the night going and knowing Suguru was right.

 

"...Fine," he sighed dramatically, slumping back into the couch like he was being punished. "But I'm carrying her."

 

Suguru raised an eyebrow, giving him a once-over. "You? Carry someone gently?"

 

Gojo shot him a grin, standing up and stretching his arms overhead. "Please. I'm a professional."

 

He approached slowly, crouching down beside the chair where Amara slept, her head resting awkwardly against the armrest. For once, Gojo's usual cocky energy softened. He held out a hand, and with a soft hum of cursed energy, activated a thin, nearly invisible layer of Limitless between his hands and her body.

 

She lifted easily, weightless in his arms, floating just off the barrier of Infinity so that they weren't technically touching at all.

 

Suguru stood too, quietly grabbing Amara's backpack from the floor and slinging it over his shoulder.

 

Gojo adjusted his hold, keeping the cushion of space steady between them as they started down the hall. "See? Gentle."

 

Suguru gave him a sideways glance. "You're still not as smooth as you think you are."

 

Gojo grinned wider. "But I'm smoother than you thought I'd be."

 

Suguru didn't argue that.

 

They walked down the hall together, the soft sound of Amara's even breathing filling the space between their footsteps. Suguru watched as Satoru glanced down at her once, his grin softening just a little at the edges.

 

She didn't even stir.

 

Yeah. She needed the rest.

 

And for once... Gojo let the silence stay.

 

---

 

The walk back to her dorm was quiet, just the soft creak of floorboards and the faint hum of the building settling for the night.

 

Amara stayed completely out, arms limp where they floated just above Satoru's barrier of Infinity, her head resting against the invisible space like a pillow. Suguru unlocked the door ahead of them, stepping inside first to flick on the soft desk lamp, casting a warm glow over the room.

 

Gojo carefully floated her down onto the bed, still not touching her, lowering the Infinity just enough for her to settle fully onto the mattress.

 

Suguru stepped in immediately, pulling the blanket up over her shoulders, gently tucking it beneath her chin like he'd done it a thousand times for stubborn kids who wouldn't admit they needed comfort. He reached over to grab the stuffed bear she'd left on the pillow and placed it carefully in the crook of her arm, angling it so it looked like the thing was holding her back.

 

Meanwhile, Satoru had started snooping, eyes wandering curiously across the little room. He crouched by the desk, tilting his head at the tiny collection of stuff she'd unpacked, the notebook, lighter, half-used cigarette pack tucked behind the books.

 

"Ooh, tragic bad-girl starter kit," he whispered, reaching out like he was about to mess with the lighter.

 

Suguru smacked the back of his head.

 

The sharp pop of his hand connecting with the back of Gojo's head echoed soft but solid through the room.

 

"Don't touch her stuff."

 

Gojo winced, rubbing the back of his head with a pout. "What if it was cursed?"

 

"It's not," Suguru replied flatly, smoothing the blanket one last time, making sure it covered Amara's socked feet.

 

Gojo sulked a little, standing back up, but his eyes drifted to the battered old bear now tucked into Amara's arms.

 

"Man," he whispered, leaning closer to get a better look at it. "This thing has seen some shit. It's like the veteran of the stuffed animal wars."

 

Suguru gave him a sideways look, lips twitching like he was trying not to smile. "Leave the bear alone."

 

"I'm just saying- he looks like he's got a story to tell," Gojo grinned, gesturing toward the bear's missing button eye and half-undone smile. "Probably smokes tiny cigarettes when no one's looking."

 

Suguru shook his head, but the faintest laugh escaped him. "You're insufferable."

 

"Lovable," Gojo corrected, pointing at him.

 

"Exhausting."

 

"Still lovable."

 

Suguru sighed, standing up and quietly double-checking the lock on the door. He paused to make sure Amara was still sleeping soundly before flicking off the lamp, leaving just the moonlight spilling in through the window.

 

Gojo followed him out, sticking close behind as Suguru eased the door shut and gave the lock one last firm turn.

 

"Sleep tight, strawberry pants," Gojo whispered under his breath with a grin as they stepped quietly back into the hallway.

 

Suguru gave him another light swat on the arm. "You're gonna call her that forever now, aren't you?"

 

"Absolutely," Gojo said, finger-gun as they walked off down the hall. "Well, until I forget and come up with something new."

Chapter 5: Rise and Shine and Ready To Be Terrorized

Knock, knock.

 

The soft tapping at my door tugged me out of the weird half-sleep I'd drifted into sometime after the boys must have dropped me off. I peeled one eye open, blinking blearily at the soft glow of morning pushing through the curtains.

 

"Amara," Yaga's calm voice called from the other side of the door, gentle but firm. "Time to get up. You've got your tour this morning."

 

I groaned, dragging the blanket tighter around my shoulders for a second before forcing myself upright.

 

"Alright, alright, hang on," I called back, rubbing my eyes.

 

Before I could even fully swing my legs off the bed, I heard the faint shuffle of shoes outside the door, then the unmistakable whisper-argue of those two.

 

"C'mon, let us come with! It'll be fun!" Gojo's voice, not even trying to keep it subtle.

 

"You're gonna scare her if you show up this early," Suguru chuckled lightly.

 

"Nah, I'm great in the morning."

 

"You're loud in the morning."

 

I rolled my eyes and pushed up from the bed, stretching my arms over my head with a yawn before glancing toward the small closet where a uniform was hanging neatly on the door.

 

Dark navy jacket, pleated skirt with a sharp cut, brass buttons gleaming. Similar to the other female uniforms I'd spotted in the halls.

 

I grabbed the uniform, quickly pulling it on over my usual black sports bra and tank. The fit was snug but not uncomfortable. The skirt hit just above the knee, the jacket buttoned sharp at the waist. I gave it a little tug straight, grabbed my black boots from beside the bed, and laced them up tight.

 

The mirror on the closet door caught my reflection as I ran a hand through my choppy black hair, trying to smooth down the worst of the bedhead. I put it up in a ponytail, leaving my bangs out and calling it a day.

 

I grabbed my hoodie, debating for half a second whether to throw it over the uniform, then decided against it. I tucked my pocket knife in my boot.

 

"Ready?" Yaga's voice came again, followed by the door creaking open slightly.

 

I turned toward him, already moving to the door, but no surprise, Gojo's head was immediately sliding into view over Yaga's shoulder like a nosy older brother.

 

"She's awake! I told you she'd be awake!" Gojo chirped, sunglasses already on, grin way too big for this hour.

 

Suguru appeared next to him, far calmer, arms crossed but definitely lurking on purpose. "We're here to assist, sensei."

 

Yaga let out the longest, slowest exhale. "I told you both-"

 

"Come on, Yaga!" Gojo cut him off with a grin. "It's her first tour. Don't you want her to be properly entertained?"

 

"'Entertained' and 'terrorized' aren't the same thing," Suguru added, though his smirk betrayed him.

 

I stood there halfway into putting my hair up, one eyebrow raised, watching this whole interaction unfold like it was the most natural thing in the world for these two to be arguing with their teacher before breakfast.

 

Yaga gave me a long, patient look over their shoulders. "Do you want these two following us around?"

 

I smirked, tying the elastic in place. "...Kinda curious how annoying they'll be."

 

"See!" Gojo practically cheered. "She gets me."

 

Suguru gave me a slight bow of his head, lips twitching into a faint smile. "I promise I'll behave as always."

 

Yaga pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is going to be a long morning."

 

---

 

The morning air was cool and crisp as we stepped outside the dorm building, the sun still climbing into the sky, casting long shadows across the wide stone paths of Jujutsu High. The place was even bigger than it looked the night before. Open courtyards, tall archways, and traditional rooftops mixed with modern edges. The whole vibe was out of a storybook.

 

Yaga led the way, hands tucked into the pockets of his black tracksuit, pointing out buildings as we went.

 

"This is the main hall," he started. "Classrooms are inside, along with the faculty offices. You'll have your basic academic classes here."

 

I nodded, taking it all in, until I realized Gojo had somehow drifted a little closer to my side, walking backward in front of me, grinning like he was waiting for me to trip over him.

 

"Pro tip," he said, finger raised like he was about to drop some ancient wisdom, "best vending machines are second floor, east wing. They restock faster, and there's this one grape soda that-"

 

"Satoru," Suguru cut in smoothly from my other side, walking with perfect posture, arms crossed loosely behind his back. "Maybe let her learn the important parts of the school before you start rating the snack selection."

 

Gojo pouted, spinning back around to walk normally. "Snacks are important."

 

I smirked, keeping my pace between them. "Honestly, he's got a point. I do love a good snack."

 

Suguru gave me a side glance, lips curling faintly. "I'm going to regret encouraging this, aren't I?"

 

"Oh, absolutely," I grinned.

 

Yaga kept moving ahead, clearly used to their nonsense, pointing toward the courtyard that opened up before us. "This is where most of the outdoor training happens. Sparring, cursed energy drills, basic combat."

 

Before I could even say anything, Gojo casually spun on his heel, flicking his sunglasses up just enough to flash me a grin. "This is where I destroyed Suguru last week in a friendly match."

 

Suguru's brow raised just slightly, eyes narrowing in mock offense. "Destroyed? I believe the score was even, if we're counting the cheap shot at the end."

 

Gojo gasped, hand to his chest. "Excuse you! Tactical brilliance, not a cheap shot."

 

"Sure," Suguru hummed, glancing my way with a soft smile. "I'll let you decide who's the better fighter once you've seen us both in action."

 

"Oh, we're doing this, huh?" Gojo grinned, leaning in just a little toward me, tilting his head. "You can judge the next match. Neutral party."

 

I raised an eyebrow, biting back a grin. "Oh, I'd love to watch you two beat the hell out of each other. Sounds like a good time."

 

Gojo beamed. Suguru gave him the smuggest little side-eye.

 

Yaga sighed but kept moving, waving us along. "If you two are done posturing..."

 

We walked through the next set of doors into one of the indoor training rooms, high ceilings, reinforced walls, and padded floor panels. Definitely meant for more intense fights.

 

"This is where the advanced cursed energy control training happens," Yaga explained. "You won't be doing hands-on combat until we've seen how your cursed energy flows. But you'll likely start with some control exercises here by the end of the week."

 

I nodded, stepping in further to look around until I felt it again. Both of them flanking me.

 

Gojo leaned casually on the doorframe, hands stuffed in his pockets, grinning. "I could give you some one-on-one tips, y'know. Special Gojo training package."

 

Suguru's voice stayed calm, but the corner of his lip twitched up. "If you want quality training, I suggest ignoring whatever plan he just came up with five seconds ago."

 

Gojo gasped again, dramatic. "Wow! Sabotage! Jealousy is so ugly on you, Suguru."

 

"Not jealousy," Suguru replied smoothly, walking a little closer toward me. "Just facts."

 

I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow at both of them. "...Are you two always like this?"

 

"Yes," Yaga answered from across the room without missing a beat.

 

Gojo leaned toward me, whispering like it was a secret. "For the record, I'm the fun one."

 

Suguru gave him a bland stare. "And I'm the reasonable one."

 

I tilted my head, grinning wider. "I feel like I should place bets on which of you gets punched first today."

 

Gojo threw both hands up like a referee. "Hey, I'm willing to spar right now."

 

Suguru just smiled, calm as ever. "You'd lose."

 

"Oh, you wish."

 

Their bickering continued as we moved on to the dining hall. It was spacious, warm lighting, long rows of tables. It smelled faintly of rice and miso, and for a second, the chaos of the two boys dulled down enough for me to just enjoy the feeling of walking freely through this place. Not being shoved into a corner. Not being told to shut up. Just... here.

 

It was a weird, good feeling.

 

Even if my tour guides were apparently locked in a permanent competition.

 

The tour moved through a few more hallways, Suguru and Gojo still casually one-upping each other in the background, until Yaga finally stopped near the open doors of one of the common lounges attached to the classroom wing.

 

He turned back to me, arms crossed, expression softening just a little. "Before we wrap up, I want to introduce you to the others. Your classmates. These are the people you'll be working with the most, and who'll likely keep you alive when you get thrown into the field."

 

Gojo leaned in from behind him, grinning. "No pressure."

 

Suguru gave me a small, reassuring nod. "They're good people."

 

Inside, the group was already gathered and scattered comfortably around the room. Shoko Ieiri sat slouched on one of the couches, cigarette dangling lazily from her fingers, her eyes half-lidded but sharp. Utahime Iori stood by the far wall, arms crossed, chatting quietly with a grumpy-looking blond guy in a uniform who had all the vibes of a tax accountant that had wandered into the wrong career. Beside him, a younger kid-bouncy, bright-eyed, perked up immediately when he noticed us walk in.

 

"Hey, hey, hey! New face!" Yu Haibara beamed, practically bouncing in place.

 

Yaga cleared his throat, motioning toward me. "Everyone, this is Amara Hoshizuki. She'll be joining the first-year program."

 

Shoko's gaze flicked toward me, and almost immediately, she straightened up, leaning forward with a smirk. "Oh hell yeah. You look like trouble."

 

I blinked, taken a little off guard, but the grin slipped onto my face fast. "Depends. You looking for trouble?"

 

Shoko snorted. "Absolutely. Hi. I'm Shoko. Doctor in training, official smoker of the group, and apparently your new best friend."

 

She held out a hand toward me, still holding the cigarette between two fingers, and I shook it, already feeling the tension drain out of my shoulders.

 

"Sounds good," I grinned. "I could use a best friend."

 

Nanami, standing stiff near the wall, gave me the faintest bow, polite but clearly sizing me up. "Kento Nanami. I hope you take your studies seriously."

 

I nodded, straightening a little. "I plan to."

 

His eyes narrowed slightly. "Yaga mentioned you don't have much control over your abilities yet."

 

I stiffened a bit at that but kept my chin up. "I don't. Not really. Only my healing's consistent."

 

Nanami frowned, clearly not thrilled by the idea, but he gave a small nod. "Then I hope you're ready to work twice as hard."

 

Suguru leaned in, voice calm. "She's here to learn. She'll get there."

 

Nanami gave him a look like we'll see, but stayed quiet.

 

Gojo, meanwhile, had already drifted over toward Utahime, leaning on the wall beside her with the most obnoxiously smug grin plastered across his face.

 

"Well, well, if it isn't Iori Utahime, future star of the program-"

 

"Go away," Utahime snapped immediately, not even looking at him.

 

"Rude," Gojo tsked, leaning closer. "Shouldn't you be setting a good example for the newbie?"

 

Utahime didn't miss a beat. Without turning her head, she calmly slipped off one of her shoes and launched it straight at his face.

 

Gojo tilted his head just enough for the shoe to fly past him harmlessly, grinning like a brat. "Ooh, good form. You're getting better at that."

 

Finally, Utahime turned toward me, sighing like she had to shake off the Gojo-stink before she could be civil. "Iori Utahime. Sorry about him. Welcome."

 

I gave her a little smile. "Honestly, that was the best introduction I've seen so far."

 

She cracked a small smile despite herself.

 

Haibara was already practically bouncing in front of me, hands waving excitedly. "I'm Yu Haibara! It's so cool you're here! We never get new people! Well, like, not often, you know? I hope we get to train together! Oh! What's your technique?"

 

I laughed, holding up a hand like slow down, buddy. "Uh, it's mostly healing. And... vines? I'm still figuring it out."

 

"That's awesome!" Haibara beamed. "Healing's super rare, right? You're gonna be so good at this!"

 

Shoko leaned back again, blowing out a thin stream of smoke. "Don't let these guys scare you off. First year's mostly learning not to die."

 

Gojo grinned, leaning into the doorway, arms crossed behind his head. "And making sure I remain your favorite."

 

Utahime rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck.

 

"Doubtful," I muttered, smirking at him.

 

Suguru gave Satoru the smuggest little side-eye. "She's smart."

 

"Hey!" Gojo gasped, but the grin never left his face.

 

Standing there with all of them, even Nanami giving me the occasional side-eye, I felt it for the first time.

 

Maybe this was a place I could actually belong.

 

After the introductions wrapped, Yaga gave the group one of his usual tired looks, the kind of look that says I've been dealing with these kids too long, and now there's another one, and motioned for me to follow him again.

 

"Alright. Let's get you something to eat before I cut you loose for the day," he said, already heading toward the cafeteria wing.

 

I stuck close, trailing a few steps behind. Satoru and Suguru tagged along (because of course they did), keeping up their usual playful bickering until we reached the dining hall doors.

 

The cafeteria was already starting to fill out, a soft murmur of voices bouncing off the high ceiling. Long tables stretched out beneath wide windows, sunlight pouring across the polished floors. The smell of rice, beef, and something fried hung warm in the air.

 

Yaga gestured toward the serving line. "You're free for the rest of the day after this. Get used to the place. Explore if you want. Tomorrow, I'll walk you through your schedule and get you officially registered."

 

I nodded, my stomach reminding me I hadn't eaten since those snacks last night.

 

Before I could move toward the food, Satoru nudged Suguru's shoulder and flashed me a grin. "Hey, after classes today, sparring match. You should come watch."

 

Suguru gave a small nod, smirking softly. "It'll give you a good idea of how fights actually look between trained sorcerers. Not just the flashy stuff, but how cursed energy works in real time."

 

I raised a brow, my mouth already pulling into a grin. "You guys just want a judge."

 

"Guilty," Gojo said without shame.

 

Suguru smiled, eyes calm. "It really would help you learn, though."

 

"Alright," I said, grabbing a tray from the stack. "I'll be there."

 

Gojo gave me a mock salute, Suguru nodded approvingly, and Yaga gave the boys a look like don't start another fight in the cafeteria.

 

I made my way through the line, grabbing a bowl of rice, sliced steak, some grilled fish, and a soft-boiled egg. Simple. Comforting.

 

I slid into an open seat at one of the smaller tables, tucking my legs up under the bench as I started in on the rice.

 

But before I could get through my first bite, someone slid smoothly into the seat across from me.

 

"New girl," came a soft, honey-sweet voice.

 

I looked up.

 

A tall, pale woman with long silver hair braided neatly over one shoulder sat with perfect posture, blue eyes half-lidded like she couldn't be bothered to be fully awake. She twirled a strand of hair idly between her fingers, smiling faintly.

 

"Amara, right?"

 

I nodded slowly, setting my chopsticks down. "...Yeah. And you are?"

 

"Mei Mei," she answered easily, like I should've already known. "You'll probably hear about me eventually. I tend to stand out."

 

She smiled again, but it was the kind of smile I knew too well. The sharp, calculated kind. Pretty on the surface, but cold underneath.

 

"I hear you're a healer," she continued, tilting her head slightly, eyes scanning me like I was some puzzle she was deciding whether or not to take apart. "Useful. You'll go far if you know how to play your cards right."

 

I narrowed my eyes slightly, leaning an elbow on the table. "I'm not really here to play games."

 

"Oh," she hummed, resting her chin in her palm, smile never wavering. "You're going to have to, sweet thing. Whether you like it or not. That's how this world works."

 

There was something in her tone that crawled under my skin, too familiar, too smooth. Every word perfectly placed, every compliment laced with strings.

 

I'd heard that voice before. Not hers exactly, but the type.

 

It sounded like my mother.

 

Mei Mei watched me for a moment longer, waiting, maybe expecting me to bite or try to impress her.

 

I gave her the flattest stare I could manage. "You done?"

 

Mei Mei's smile didn't falter, but her eyes sharpened just a touch, like a cat noticing the mouse might actually bite.

 

"Mm, not quite," she hummed, tipping her head slightly, that silver braid falling over her shoulder as she rested her elbow on the table. "I couldn't help but notice how friendly Satoru and Suguru have been with you already."

 

She twirled a strand of hair lazily between two fingers, still studying me like she was trying to pin me under glass.

 

"Usually they're not so..." she rolled her wrist in a slow, deliberate circle, "...welcoming."

 

Her smile stayed soft, but the tone dropped just enough to feel like a warning.

 

"They're known for sizing people up first. Testing them. Seeing if they're worth their time. A fight, a challenge, something to prove."

 

She leaned in slightly, her voice syrup-sweet but sharp underneath.

 

"But here you are, fresh off the street, no training, no real control, and they're already flocking. Practically peacocking around you."

 

I felt my jaw clench, but I kept my face still, just raising one brow at her.

 

Mei Mei's lips curved, eyes narrowing.

 

"You're pretty, sure," she continued casually. "But not that pretty. So tell me, what exactly did you do to get them so wrapped up?"

 

She rested her chin in her hand again, blinking slow. "Little helpless act? Or do you have something better hidden up your sleeve?"

 

I smiled, slow and sharp. "...Wow," I said, leaning forward onto the table, voice low. "You really showed your hand fast, huh?"

 

Her smile twitched for half a second, just enough to know she didn't like that.

 

I tapped my fingers on the table between us. "For the record? I didn't do anything."

 

I let my eyes narrow, leaning just a bit closer. "Maybe they're just not as shallow as you seem to be."

 

Mei Mei's smile returned, tight at the edges now, but she leaned back smoothly, folding her hands on the table like a queen on her throne.

 

"Mm. We'll see how long that lasts," she said softly.

 

She stood, brushing off her skirt like my words had already rolled off her. But there was a new tension in her jaw.

 

"Well," she added with that same practiced sweetness, "welcome to Jujutsu High, Amara."

 

Her gaze dipped down to give me one last look, head tilted as if still trying to figure out where my strings were.

 

But I didn't blink.

 

She turned, braid swaying perfectly behind her as she walked off like she'd won something. I stared after her, watching her go.

 

Yeah.

 

I'd met people like that before. I knew exactly what she was.

 

And I already didn't like her.

 

 

Chapter 6: Show Offs

The training grounds outside were massive, open dirt and stone with a wide clearing framed by towering trees, enough space that even the nastiest cursed techniques wouldn't risk bringing the school walls down.

 

It was quieter than I expected when I got there, only a few other students milling around the edges, watching from a safe distance. But right in the center stood Gojo and Suguru, already facing off, the air between them buzzing with something I couldn't quite explain, tension, excitement, that weird charge you feel right before lightning strikes.

 

I hung back at first, finding a spot on a low stone wall a little ways off, pulling my legs up to sit cross-legged, arms folded loosely over my knees.

 

I figured they wouldn't notice me right away.

 

But the second Satoru's eyes landed on me across the field, his whole face lit up.

 

"HEY!" he shouted, waving both arms again like a lunatic. "She showed up!"

 

Suguru turned too, his face softening into that calm, easy smile of his as he raised a hand in greeting. "Good timing."

 

Gojo practically bounced in place, spinning on his heel toward Suguru. "See? Told you she'd come."

 

Suguru gave him a flat look. "You also said you could win this match without breaking a sweat."

 

"I can!" Gojo huffed, puffing up like a bird trying to look bigger. "And now I have an audience, soooooo get ready."

 

Suguru just shook his head, sighing softly. "This is going to be unbearable."

 

I couldn't help but grin a little, but honestly? My chest felt tight. I'd never seen anyone really use cursed techniques before.

 

The air between the two of them felt... heavy. Like the space itself was waiting for something to snap.

 

Gojo was the first to move, sliding his sunglasses down just enough to flash that too-bright gaze before he launched forward with speed that didn't even make sense.

 

Suguru shifted fluidly to the side, not even flinching, his hand lifting as cursed spirits began to materialize behind him, warped shapes of shadows and claws, twisted things I didn't even have names for.

 

"Did you see that dodge?!" Gojo called out mid-spin, grinning wide as he bounced back a few steps, clearly showboating as he threw a casual hand wave my way. "You watching, Amara?!"

 

Suguru let out a breath like he was so tired already, but when he flicked one spirit forward in a sharp arc, his eyes slid toward me too, calm and sweet. "Don't let him fool you. He's just loud."

 

Gojo zipped past the spirit, flipping midair as if just to prove he could, landing in a crouch with one hand pressed to the dirt.

 

"Bet you didn't know I was this graceful, huh?" he called, shooting me a wink.

 

I stared, wide-eyed, heart pounding against my ribs. I had no idea cursed energy could even do this. The way the ground shifted beneath their feet, the way Suguru's spirits moved like they were tethered to his fingertips, it was terrifying and absolutely amazing at the same time. It felt like watching a bomb go off in slow motion.

 

I gripped my knees tighter, leaning forward instinctively, nervous but unable to look away.

 

Suguru's next wave of spirits came in fast, but Gojo flicked his wrist, that shimmering distortion of air appearing around him, Limitless, I remembered him saying. The cursed spirits snapped and hissed at the space but couldn't get closer, their claws stopping inches from his skin like they'd hit an invisible wall.

 

"Yo, did you catch that? Did you see?!" Gojo shouted across the field, pointing directly at me like a kid desperate for applause. "Suguru's trying so hard, but he still can't land a hit!"

 

Suguru's eyes narrowed slightly, and for a second, I could see it, the little spark of oh, it's on now.

 

He shifted his stance, cursed energy pooling deeper around him as more spirits gathered in the air, circling him like a protective storm.

 

Gojo grinned wider, bouncing on his toes. "You sure you wanna show off right now, Suguru? She's watching. Gotta look cool, right?"

 

Suguru gave a soft chuckle, the edge of a smirk curling at his lips. "Says the one doing backflips for attention."

 

Then Suguru snapped his fingers, sending the spirits diving toward Gojo in a coordinated strike.

 

Gojo teleported, or, at least, that's what it looked like. One second, he was there. The next, he had blurred across the field, standing near the edge, hands on his hips, grinning like an idiot.

 

"Fastest guy on the roster," he called out, waving both arms at me again. "You impressed yet?!"

 

I snorted despite myself, shaking my head, my heart still hammering.

 

Terrified? Yeah.

 

Awestruck? Also, yeah.

 

But mostly?

 

I was having a hell of a time watching them make fools of themselves.

 

---

 

Gojo and Suguru's spar kept rolling on, cursed energy sparking through the air like static waiting to snap. Spirits swirled and clawed, Gojo zipped and flashed that damn cocky grin every time he dodged one.

 

I was still perched on my stone wall when I heard footsteps behind me.

 

"Mind if we join you?"

 

I turned to see Shoko, cigarette dangling between her fingers, and Utahime, arms crossed but looking just curious enough to tag along anyway.

 

I shrugged, scooting over a bit. "Be my guest."

 

Shoko dropped down onto the wall next to me, stretching her legs out, while Utahime stayed standing, leaning against the tree nearby.

 

The second Shoko's eyes landed on the match, she snorted out a laugh, smoke curling from her lips. "Oh my god, they're really doing it."

 

Utahime rolled her eyes. "Of course they are. They're idiots."

 

"Doing what?" I asked, eyeing them both.

 

Shoko smirked, nudging her chin toward the field where Gojo was now backflipping again, landing in a crouch and shooting me another Are you impressed yet?! grin.

 

"They're showing off," Shoko said simply, waving her cigarette in the air like it was obvious.

 

I blinked, frowning a little. "But... why? They barely know me."

 

Shoko just smiled wider, leaning back on her hands. "Doesn't matter. They can sense your strength. Especially Suguru, he's good at reading people. And with Gojo's Six Eyes, I'm betting he already knows more about your cursed energy than you do."

 

I stared out at the field, mouth tugging to the side. "You're serious?"

 

"Dead serious," Shoko replied, flicking ash off the end of her cigarette. "They don't do this for just anyone."

 

Utahime grumbled something under her breath, clearly annoyed by Gojo's ongoing existence.

 

"HEY, AMARA!" Gojo yelled again, dodging a spirit by practically dancing around it, arms thrown wide. "You saw that, right?!"

 

Shoko choked on her own laugh. "God, he's pathetic."

 

But before Gojo could bask too hard in his own glory, Suguru moved fast, one of his spirits snapping forward, wrapping like a whip around Gojo's ankle and yanking him straight off his feet.

 

"Oof- HEY!" Gojo hit the dirt with a thud, arms flailing.

 

Suguru's calm smile barely shifted as he tilted his head. "Maybe focus on the fight, Satoru."

 

Gojo scrambled up, brushing dust off his uniform, shooting me a sheepish grin like haha, that was nothing.

 

"Anyway!" Gojo started to shout toward me again, waving-

 

WHAM.

 

Suguru's next spirit barreled into him mid-sentence, knocking him clean off his feet again, sending him rolling across the field.

 

"DAMMIT, SUGURU!" Gojo's voice cracked as he flailed, popping back upright, sunglasses askew. "I was talking!"

 

"Exactly," Suguru replied smoothly, eyes narrowing just a fraction, clearly enjoying himself. "Stop talking."

 

I couldn't help it. The laugh burst out of me before I could stop it, loud enough that both of them heard.

 

Gojo immediately perked up again, grinning wide, pointing straight at me. "See? She thinks I'm funny."

 

Suguru rolled his eyes but smirked, sending another spirit charging at Gojo just as he puffed his chest like a show dog.

 

"I'm starting to get secondhand embarrassment from this," Utahime muttered.

 

"They're hopeless," Shoko agreed, exhaling smoke with a grin. "But, hey, this is probably the most entertaining spar we've had all week."

 

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, still watching the chaos unfold.

 

The spar dragged on for another few minutes, Gojo flipping, flashing grins between attacks, Suguru calm and calculated, his cursed spirits weaving through the air like they knew the dance by heart.

 

Every few seconds, Gojo would yell across the field, "Amara, did you see that one?!"

And almost every time, Suguru would use the distraction to land another hit, knocking him off balance or forcing him to backpedal with a scowl.

 

It was like watching two peacocks trying to out-pretty each other and occasionally smacking each other with their feathers in the process.

 

But before it could escalate into full-blown property damage, Yaga finally stepped out onto the field, raising one hand sharply.

 

"Enough!"

 

His voice echoed through the open space, heavy enough to snap both of them back to attention.

 

Gojo froze mid-sidestep, one leg still awkwardly in the air like he was about to make another dramatic spin.

 

Suguru dropped his hand, the last of his spirits dissolving into black mist around him.

 

Yaga pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling through his teeth like he'd been counting down to this moment all day. "You're both wasting energy showing off. If you put half that effort into your form instead of your egos, you might actually learn something."

 

Gojo dropped his foot to the ground, hands on his hips. "Ouch, sensei. Right in the feelings."

 

"Good," Yaga grunted. "Your footwork's sloppy when you start running your mouth. And Suguru, your timing's good, but you're overcommitting on the counters."

 

Suguru nodded once, polite, though his eyes flicked toward me for half a second before returning to Yaga.

 

"I expect both of you to run drills tomorrow morning. Together," Yaga added, already turning to walk off.

 

The second he was out of earshot, Gojo immediately spun on his heel, jogging toward where I was still sitting with Shoko and Utahime. Suguru followed, slower, smoother, but definitely not letting Gojo have the spotlight entirely.

 

Shoko flicked her cigarette butt into the dirt and stood, stretching her arms overhead. Utahime just sighed like she'd already prepared herself for the nonsense about to happen.

 

Gojo skidded to a stop in front of me, leaning down slightly, sunglasses slipping low on his nose as he grinned. "Soooo? How'd I do?"

 

I raised an eyebrow, biting back a smile. "You mean aside from getting slammed into the dirt every time you tried to flirt mid-fight?"

 

"Harsh!" Gojo gasped, clutching his chest. "But fair."

 

Suguru stepped up beside him, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow, far more composed. He gave me a small, polite smile. "It was just a light spar, but hopefully, it gave you a decent idea of how cursed techniques work in a fight."

 

I smirked, tilting my head. "Mmm. So humble."

 

His smile didn't waver, but his eyes narrowed just the faintest bit, like he caught that I caught him.

 

"You're just as bad as he is," I said, pointing at Satoru.

 

Suguru gave the softest shrug, trying to play it off. "I wouldn't say just as bad."

 

Gojo grinned wider, nudging Suguru's arm with his elbow. "Don't let him fool you. He's just better at sounding polite while he brags."

 

"I'm providing useful information," Suguru corrected, his voice even but with that little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

 

Shoko walked up behind them, snorting. "They've been like this since year one."

 

Utahime crossed her arms, glaring at Gojo. "Worse, honestly."

 

Gojo spun toward her with that obnoxious grin still fully loaded. "Oh, c'mon, Iori! Deep down you're impressed."

 

She bent down, calmly picked up the shoe she'd thrown at him earlier, and held it like she was considering throwing it again.

 

I couldn't help it. A laugh escaped before I could hold it back.

 

The last of the cursed energy had settled, the air finally calm again, but the buzz of excitement still hummed under my skin. I was about to make some sarcastic remark at the both of them when Suguru, smooth as ever, shifted a step closer, cutting off Gojo's next inevitable attempt to be the center of attention.

 

"Hey," Suguru said softly, leaning just slightly toward me, voice lowered enough that it felt like it was meant just for me. "If you're up for it... I could help you try out your abilities. No pressure. Just some light practice."

 

The offer caught me off guard.

 

I blinked at him, stomach flipping the same way it always did when someone expected something from me, but Suguru's expression stayed calm, gentle, eyes soft behind that curtain of dark hair.

 

I rubbed the back of my neck, eyes dipping toward the ground. "Uh... I... I don't know if that's a good idea. I mean- I'm still kinda a mess with it. I don't really have control. I don't wanna... I dunno... screw up and hurt you or myself."

 

Suguru's smile didn't fade. "That's the point of practice. You're not expected to be perfect."

 

Before I could even think about answering, Gojo's voice cut through the moment like a siren.

 

"Excuse me!"

 

We both turned just as Gojo practically slid back into the conversation, one hand raised like he was calling foul at a game show.

 

"Were you not the one," Gojo started, grinning but with that gleam of drama in his eyes, "who literally told me yesterday that she should take it easy? That we shouldn't throw her into anything too fast?"

 

Suguru gave the faintest sigh, but his smile stayed intact. "I said she shouldn't spar right away. This would just be control work."

 

Gojo pointed at him like gotcha. "Mmm, mmm, nope, no backpedaling now, Mr. Responsible. 'She needs time to feel safe,'" Gojo mimicked in his best Suguru voice, waving a hand dramatically. "'We shouldn't overwhelm her.' Ringing any bells?"

 

Shoko snorted from where she'd plopped back down on the wall, fully enjoying the show.

 

Suguru's eyes narrowed just a fraction, still perfectly composed. "This isn't sparring. I'd just be helping her get a feel for the energy flow."

 

Gojo grinned wider, leaning against Suguru's shoulder like a smug little brother. "Ohhh, I see how it is. You're just trying to beat me to it. You wanna be the first one to train with the cute new girl."

 

Suguru's eye twitched, but his smile never cracked. "Not everything is a competition," he replied smoothly.

 

Gojo leaned closer, still grinning. "Isn't it, though?"

 

I blinked between the two of them, half-confused, half-amused, one eyebrow raised. "...You two good?"

 

Suguru gave me the softest smile, polite as always. "Perfectly."

 

Gojo gave me a wink. "Better than good."

 

Utahime groaned and muttered something under her breath about boys being the worst.

 

Shoko kicked her feet against the wall, smirking at me. "You're gonna have your hands full with these two."

 

I leaned back a little, smirking despite myself. "Yeah, I'm starting to notice."

 

"Amara."

 

I turned at the sound of Nanami's voice, steady and serious as ever, walking up with Yu right on his heels, bright-eyed and bouncy as usual. A few steps behind them, Mei Mei strolled up like she had nowhere better to be, arms crossed, her silver braid glinting in the sun.

 

Nanami stopped a respectful distance away, clearing his throat. His posture was as stiff as if his uniform was two sizes too small.

 

"I wanted to reintroduce myself properly," he said, voice calm but clearly trying. "Yu pointed out that I... may have been too blunt earlier."

 

Yu leaned around him, grinning wide. "I told him! I was like, 'Nanami, dude, you sounded so intense!' You gotta remember not everyone's used to the whole 'Nanami charm' thing."

 

Nanami let out the softest sigh through his nose but gave the smallest nod. "Kento Nanami. First-year, like you. It's good to meet you."

 

I smiled a little, softening. "Good to meet you too. I appreciate the redo."

 

Yu beamed, already bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. "So! Your cursed technique, you said healing, right? But, like, how much? Is it just small stuff, or can you do, like, major injuries? What about cursed energy output? You got a reverse flow thing going on or-?"

 

"Yu," Nanami cut in, voice flat but not unkind.

 

Yu winced, holding up his hands. "Right, right! Sorry. I just think it's super cool!"

 

I laughed softly, rubbing the back of my neck. "It's... a lot. I can heal most things pretty fast, even bad injuries. But I'm still figuring it all out. I'm not exactly textbook trained."

 

Mei Mei, who'd stayed quiet until now, let out a soft, amused hum and tilted her head, eyeing me like I was something to be appraised at an auction.

 

"How cute," she murmured, one hand brushing her braid over her shoulder. "Didn't even know how your own technique works before you came here. It's... charming, really."

 

There was a smile on her lips, but it didn't feel kind.

 

Before I could fire back, Gojo practically teleported across the space between us, slipping right into the middle of the conversation like a wrecking ball through glass.

 

"Wow, Mei Mei," he chirped, grinning wide, "didn't realize we were handing out gold stars for being condescending."

 

Mei Mei's eyes narrowed just slightly, but Gojo didn't give her an inch, leaning casually against the wall like he'd won the argument already.

 

"You sure you're not just mad the newbies getting more attention than you?" he added with that trademark grin, pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose.

 

Suguru snorted quietly from behind him, shaking his head.

 

Mei Mei's smile stayed frozen in place, but her eyes narrowed like ice cracking under the surface of a pond. She let out a soft, airy laugh and gave me one last, slow once-over before turning away. "Enjoy the attention while it lasts, dear."

 

She walked off, perfectly composed, braid swaying behind her.

 

Gojo waved after her like he was swatting at a fly. "Bye-bye now. Don't let the door hit you."

 

Shoko chuckled from the sidelines, giving Gojo a little nod of approval. Utahime just shook her head like she couldn't believe she was agreeing with him for once.

 

I exhaled a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding, turning back toward Nanami and Yu, grateful for the distraction.

 

"So..." I said, glancing at Yu. "You really know everyone's business, huh?"

 

Yu grinned wide. "Hey, I'm just friendly!"

 

Nanami sighed but gave the faintest smile at the edge of his lips. "Persistent is more accurate."

 

I laughed softly, leaning against the edge of the wall. "Thanks for the questions, though. You actually seem like you care how my technique works, not just what I can do for people."

 

Yu nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! I mean, we're all here to learn, right? It's cool meeting someone with something so different."

 

Nanami gave a small nod of agreement. "If you need help studying cursed energy theory, let me know. I may not be as loud as these two-" he glanced at Gojo and Suguru, "-but I'm reliable."

 

I smiled, genuinely this time. "I'll take you up on that."

 

Gojo huffed, arms crossed. "Hey! I'm reliable!"

 

Suguru gave him a long, slow look. "...Are you, though?"

 

Shoko laughed, leaning back on her hands. "That depends on the definition of 'reliable.'"

 

I grinned wider, shaking my head as the teasing continued.

 

---

 

The sun was starting to dip lower, casting soft gold over the training grounds as the match officially wrapped and the tension in the air finally melted. The bickering between Gojo and Suguru kept on like background noise, but it had shifted into something lighter, teasing, half-hearted jabs, the kind of back-and-forth you only get between people who've known each other too long to be serious about it.

 

Nanami gave one last polite nod, Yu still bouncing on his heels beside him.

 

"So," Yu chirped, glancing toward the rest of us, "food?"

 

"Obviously," Gojo said, already turning on his heel like it had been his idea. "I burned so many calories showing off."

 

Suguru gave him the driest look imaginable. "Maybe you should try burning some ego next."

 

Shoko groaned dramatically, flicking away the stub of her cigarette. "God, you're both exhausting. But yeah, I could eat."

 

Utahime rolled her eyes, arms crossed, but even she didn't argue.

 

Before I even realized it, I was following right along with them, our mismatched group shuffling toward the dining hall together. The chatter between them was easy, comfortable, and loud in all the right ways. Suguru occasionally leaning over to tell Gojo to knock it off when he got too loud, Gojo clearly ignoring him but grinning like it was a badge of honor. Yu jumping between conversations, asking Nanami something one second and then turning back to me the next to throw out another question about healing techniques.

 

The doors to the cafeteria were already propped open, the warm smell of dinner floating through the air, steamed vegetables, fried chicken, something sweet on the dessert line. The glow from the overhead lights reflected off the polished floors and long rows of tables, a soft hum of voices from the students already there.

 

We all grabbed trays, half-bumping into each other in the process because none of these guys knew how to not take up space. Gojo kept trying to sneak extra pieces of fried chicken onto his plate until Utahime smacked his hand with a pair of tongs.

 

"Get your own, dumbass," she hissed.

 

"Sharing is caring, Iori!" he whined but backed off with the world's most dramatic sigh.

 

Suguru, of course, grabbed his food neatly and without fuss, somehow looking graceful even while loading up a tray. Nanami's choices were efficient, predictable, rice, fish, greens, everything organized like his brain. Yu grabbed what looked like one of everything.

 

I stuck to the basics, rice, some chicken, and a few dumplings. But I couldn't stop the smile that crept onto my face as I followed them toward a table near the middle of the room.

 

Gojo flopped down first, sprawling across one side of the bench like he was claiming the space by right. Suguru settled next to him, graceful as always. Shoko parked herself across from them, kicking her feet up onto the edge of the bench. Utahime slid in beside her with a sigh like she was already regretting sitting near Gojo.

 

Nanami sat straight-backed and proper at the end, while Yu plopped down right across from me, grinning as he shoved a dumpling into his mouth.

 

And me?

 

I sat right in the middle of it, tray in front of me, the warm hum of conversation circling the table like it belonged there.

 

I didn't even realize how much my face was hurting from smiling until Suguru glanced my way and gave me one of those soft, knowing looks, the kind that says he saw it, but wasn't about to call me out for it.

 

It felt... good.

 

So good it was almost hard to breathe.

 

Like if I let my guard down for too long, I'd fall right into it.

 

But I couldn't help it. I couldn't stop the grin that spread across my face, couldn't hide the little laugh that bubbled up when Gojo started complaining about how Utahime was sabotaging his meal.

 

I was sitting at a table.

 

Eating dinner.

 

With friends.

 

Friends.

 

And for the first time in a long time... it felt real.

 

 

Chapter 7: Training Struggles

The next morning came fast.

 

Classes were... fine. At least as fine as getting dropped into a classroom where half the material felt like it was written in a foreign language. Cursed energy theory, sorcerer history, energy manipulation equations, they had math tied into this somehow, and my brain was already begging for a smoke break by the second lecture. All this information felt like it was flooding my skull and making it want to pop.

 

Yaga gave me the tour between periods, pointing out where my academic classes would be and where I'd rotate through practical sessions. Most of the time, he kept it straight-faced and professional, but every so often, I caught the soft flicker of understanding in his expression, like he knew exactly how overwhelmed I probably felt.

 

"Take your time with the material," he said as we walked. "But today... I'd like to get a sense of where you're at."

 

That's how I found myself standing in the open air of the outdoor training grounds again, the sun high, sky clear, and a small but very nosy audience gathered along the edge of the field. I hate people staring at me. I hate so many people behind me, looking at me, judging me, pointing at me...

 

Gojo, Suguru, Shoko, Utahime, Nanami, Yu... even Mei Mei had shown up, arms folded, looking every bit like she was here to watch something entertaining. Those were the only recognizable faces.

 

I shifted awkwardly under the weight of all their eyes.

 

Yaga stepped out in front of me, hands behind his back. "Don't overthink it. I just want to see what you can do with your cursed energy. No combat, no fighting, just try to focus. Push your energy into your hands. Shape it. Let's see where your control is."

 

Easy enough in theory.

 

In practice?

 

Not so much.

 

I took a breath, grounding myself like he'd told me. Focus on the core. Push the energy out, steady, controlled.

 

Nothing.

 

I tried again. Too hard. My hands started shaking, cursed energy leaking in wild, uneven pulses that felt like they were ricocheting back inside me instead of going where they were supposed to.

 

My fingers twitched, cursed energy sparking out of my palms only to sputter and fade into smoke. I grit my teeth, trying to force it. Focus, focus, dammit just work-!

 

"Slow down," Yaga instructed, calm but firm. "Don't force it."

 

But I could already feel the weight of their stares.

 

I heard the soft sigh from Nanami before I even looked up. The subtle shake of Utahime's head. The slight lean Suguru gave toward Gojo, saying nothing but definitely thinking something.

 

Mei Mei's laugh cracked through the air like a whip.

 

"Oh, this is precious," she hummed, smiling like she was watching a comedy show. "The 'prodigy healer' who can't even form cursed output. How.... charming."

 

I felt my stomach twist, my throat tighten. I tried again anyway, palms clenching, cursed energy jittering through my hands, but it sputtered out just as fast, uneven, and ugly. I hate this. I hate this. 

 

Yu clapped his hands together, smiling wide from where he sat on the edge of the field. "You're doing great, Amara! Seriously! Just takes practice!"

 

Bless him. The only one saying anything supportive at all.

 

But my ears were ringing, my chest felt too tight, my head spinning as the embarrassment started bubbling up under my skin, hot and sharp.

 

"Just breathe," Yaga tried again, but the words barely registered.

 

I couldn't breathe. This is so embarrassing. Humiliating! They're all looking at me and making fun of me! I look like an idiot! Maybe my mother was right...

 

I could feel it, the frustration, the weight of all their eyes, the laughter, the disappointment.

 

The knot of cursed energy inside me snapped, and without warning, a bubble formed.

 

That damn crimson sphere that appeared before, rising up around me like a shield, pulsing and humming. Thick, nearly opaque blood-red, sealing me off from the outside.

 

No one could see in, but I could see out. I could still see all of them standing there. The judgment. The pity. Mei Mei's smug little smile and laugh.

 

Yu looking concerned now, waving a hand. "Uh, what's happening?"

 

Gojo and Suguru exchanged a glance, Suguru's brow knitting just slightly.

 

And me?

 

Stuck inside this stupid bubble. Burning with shame. Not only am I embarrassing, but now I'm embarrassed and stuck inside a bubble I'm not sure how to take down..

 

The red bubble pulsed quietly, the air inside it thick and humming, warm like the pressure before a summer storm.

 

From where I sat, hugging my knees inside, I could still see everything, every detail through the crimson haze, like looking through tinted glass.

 

The group outside had frozen.

 

Gojo's grin was long gone, and his sunglasses lowered just enough that I could see the sharp focus in his eyes as he watched the sphere, measuring and assessing. Suguru's arms were crossed tightly over his chest, brows drawn together, his calm expression stiffening into something closer to concern.

 

Yu was the first to move, hopping up to his feet, waving both hands frantically toward Yaga.

 

"Uhh, Sensei?!" Yu called out, wide-eyed. "That's... uh, I'm pretty sure that's not what was supposed to happen, right?!"

 

Yaga's expression stayed level, but his eyes narrowed, sharp as a blade. He stepped forward slowly, examining the dome, head tilting just slightly as he pressed his hand against the outer layer of the shield. The energy buzzed under his palm, alive and crackling with tension, but not lashing out. Just... holding.

 

"Everyone step back," Yaga ordered, his voice low but commanding. Even Gojo shifted instinctively at the tone.

 

"This isn't normal for her, is it?" Shoko asked, her earlier amusement gone, now watching the bubble with more caution than curiosity.

 

Yaga shook his head once. "No. This is a defensive reaction. She didn't call for this."

 

He let his hand drop away from the sphere, turning back toward the group, his expression harder now.

 

"I want all of you to think about how fast this flipped," Yaga said, his tone like steel. "She went from struggling to even access cursed energy to forming a fully realized defense technique in under a minute."

 

Gojo frowned, glancing toward Suguru, who said nothing but didn't meet his eyes either.

 

Mei Mei just folded her arms tighter, one brow lifted, but her smile notably gone, making way for more irritation than entertainment.

 

Yaga's eyes narrowed further as they swept across the group. "What do you think caused that?" he pressed.

 

The silence was heavy.

 

Yu raised a hand slowly, voice soft. "Um... stress?"

 

Yaga nodded once, sharp. "Stress. Pressure. Maybe even humiliation."

 

His gaze cut straight toward Mei Mei, then the air around him thick enough that even she flinched.

 

"Laughing at a student's failure, mocking them, judging them for not mastering control in their first exercise here, is not how we teach. I thought I was able to trust you all to be here and be supportive of your new classmate, but I was clearly wrong. The immaturity of you all was unexpected."

 

Mei Mei gave the faintest shrug, eyes narrowing, but she stayed quiet.

 

"And the rest of you," Yaga continued, sweeping his eyes across Gojo, Suguru, Nanami, Utahime, and even Shoko now. "You sat there. You let it happen. You let one person speak up for her. Are we not a team? A group to trust and work together? What kind of trust is this building?"

 

Gojo shifted uncomfortably, scrubbing a hand through his hair, sunglasses pushed up onto his head now. Suguru's lips pressed into a thin line, shoulders tight.

 

Nanami gave a soft exhale through his nose, bowing his head just a little. "You're right. We acted inappropriately due to our own biases and expectations, forgetting that she hasn't had the same opportunities and understanding as us. And if we are to be a team, we need to support growth and evolution of cursed energy, not just strength and mastary.."

 

Shoko let out a breath, looking down at the ground, her usual casual smirk wiped clean. "Agreed..."

 

Utahime crossed her arms, frowning hard, but nodded once.

 

"...I'm sorry," Yu starts. "I mean- I know I was supportive, but I should've said something more when Mei Mei started. I should've backed her up better."

 

Nanami followed, quiet but honest. "We all should have."

 

Gojo scratched the back of his neck, the usual cocky spark gone from his voice. "...Yeah. That's on us for being all lame and shit."

 

Suguru nodded slowly, stepping forward just a little. "I apologize, too. We were too focused on the outcome. Not on how hard it is to stand out there alone."

 

Even Utahime mumbled a soft, "I'm sorry," though she didn't quite lift her head.

 

Shoko sighed, finally looking back up at the bubble, voice quieter than usual. "Me too."

 

Mei Mei stayed silent, but when Yaga's glare sharpened, she rolled her eyes and gave a stiff, "I apologize."

 

Yaga exhaled, his shoulders dropping slightly now that the scolding had landed. His hand pressed against the bubble again, softer this time.

 

"Amara," he called gently, voice lowering from steel to something closer to kindness. "It's okay. You can come out now."

 

The bubble stayed up, pulsing faintly with that soft crimson glow, steady as a heartbeat. No one moved, the awkward tension hanging thick in the air until my voice finally cracked out from inside the sphere.

 

"This is so embarrassing!"

 

I could hear how shaky it sounded, even through the layer of cursed energy between me and the rest of the world. My head was buried against my arms, and my knees pulled tight to my chest. Every inch of me felt like it was on fire with humiliation.

 

"I can't even-" My voice wavered, breaking off into a frustrated groan. "I can't even do the basics, and now I've got this stupid... thing just- UUUGGH!"

 

Yaga stepped closer again, crouching down near the edge of the bubble, his voice gentler now. "Amara... you're not the first person to struggle like this. And you won't be the last."

 

He pressed his palm against the surface of the bubble, patient. "You're not failing. You're learning. And this shield? This is impressive. You're protecting yourself without even realizing how you're doing it yet, that's instinct, not failure."

 

I stayed curled up, biting hard on my bottom lip, my fingers digging into the sleeves of uniform.

 

"C'mon now, sensei, give her a second." Gojo's voice chimed in, way too casual.

 

I peeked up just enough to see him walking right up to the edge of the bubble, grinning like he had absolutely no fear of the dangerous cursed energy humming off the thing.

 

"Hey, hey, Amara, what happens if I poke it, huh?" he teased, raising a hand and wagging his fingers at the surface. "What if I just gave it a little boop?"

 

The second his fingertips brushed the shield, the bubble snapped. Sharp spikes of cursed energy shot out like the thorns of a rose, jagged crimson tendrils lashing toward his hand.

 

Gojo yanked his fingers back with a loud, dramatic "WHA!" as the spikes recoiled, pulling neatly back into the smooth surface of the bubble.

 

"Okay, okay! Noted!" he called out, shaking his hand like he'd been zapped. "The bubble pulled out some knives! I can take a hint!"

 

Even from inside the shield, I couldn't help the snort that slipped out through my nose.

 

Gojo grinned wider, clearly hearing it.

 

"See? There's that laugh!" he called, stepping back just enough to give the bubble some space. "C'mon, no one's allowed to sulk this hard when they've got a cool cursed technique like that."

 

I stayed quiet for a moment, biting my lip to keep the smile from breaking through too easily.

 

Gojo crouched down at the edge, balancing on his heels, still grinning like a menace.

 

"I mean, if I had a built-in panic room that could stab people? You'd never get me to shut up about it," he said, smirking. "I'd be out here like, 'Hi, I'm Satoru Gojo, user of Limitless and oh yeah, sick ass porcupine bubble, nice to meet you.'"

 

That actually made me laugh, just a soft huff at first, but it cracked through the panic enough to loosen my chest a little.

 

Yaga gave him a slow, tired look but didn't stop him. Even Suguru, off to the side, let out the faintest sigh like he's unbearable but... effective.

 

Gojo leaned his chin on his hand, still crouched comfortably. "So what do you say, little porcupine? Gonna let us back in, or am I gonna have to start doing stand-up comady out here?"

 

I snorted again, louder this time. "Please don't."

 

"Lucky for you, I'm not yet," Gojo grinned. "Because right now I'm doing crouched comady."

 

"Stoooooooop," I groaned, but this time, I was laughing through it. "That's so dumb!"

 

The bubble gave a faint pulse, and then, slowly, the red light began to fade.

 

The shield peeled away, dissolving like mist in the sunlight, until it was just me again, sitting there with my arms still wrapped around my knees, eyes a little red and puffy but... breathing easier.

 

Gojo stood and gave me a mock bow. "Thank you, thank you, I'm here all week."

 

Suguru smiled softly at me. "Good to see you less spherical."

 

Yu gave me two big thumbs-up from where he stood, beaming.

 

I stood up slowly, brushing the dirt off my skirt, the sting still sitting hot behind my eyes, but my hands weren't shaking as much now. I kept my arms folded across my chest for a second, swallowing hard.

 

"...Sorry for freaking out like that," I muttered, eyes on the ground.

 

There was a pause, then Nanami's voice, steady and certain, cut through the awkward quiet. "Don't ever apologize for reacting to disrespect..."

 

I glanced up, surprised by how solid he sounded. His expression stayed serious, but there was no judgment in his eyes this time.

 

Yu nodded fast beside him, his grin back in place. "Yeah! Exactly! You're here to learn, right? No one's perfect at the start, and you shouldn't be forced to feel bad about it."

 

Utahime gave a soft hum of agreement, crossing her arms. Even Shoko, who hadn't said much yet, gave me a nod, her usual smirk softer now.

 

Suguru took a step forward, folding his arms loosely across his chest. "Cursed energy isn't something you just get overnight. It takes time to feel it. Even longer to trust it...and now probably even longer to trust your peers..."

 

Gojo, though, had that look in his eye, the one that meant trouble was about to happen.

 

Before I could react, he slipped off his sunglasses and, with all the ceremony of someone about to crown a queen, chucked them at me.

 

I caught them on reflex, blinking at the weight of them in my hands.

 

"...What the hell was that for?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

Gojo grinned, crouching down just a bit, resting his hands on his knees. "Wanted to see if the bubble would just pop up again if something got thrown at you," he said cheerfully.

 

I stared at him, deadpan. "...Satoru. They're sunglasses. They're not exactly a threat."

 

"You say that," he replied, wagging a finger, "but have you ever been hit in the face with a good pair of shades? Hurts way more than it should."

 

Yaga let out the longest sigh known to man, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Gojo. Sit down."

 

Gojo plopped right onto the ground, grinning like an idiot, leaning back on his hands.

 

I shook my head, biting back a smile as I handed the sunglasses back.

 

"Appreciate the science experiment, though," I deadpanned.

 

Yaga gave Gojo one last glare before turning back to me. "Alright. Now that everyone's calmed down, let's try again. No pressure. Just focus on your hands. Don't force it. Feel where the energy is in your body first."

 

I nodded, exhaling slowly, rolling my shoulders back. The group stayed nearby, quieter this time, but not as heavy and definitely not as judgmental.

 

I let my hands relax at my sides, closing my eyes. This time, I wasn't thinking about what they were seeing. I was just trying to feel it.

 

I clenched my fists tight, jaw locked as I pushed the cursed energy out again, this time feeling it rise sharper, hotter than before, angry and impatient, like I'd been holding my breath too long and it was ready to explode.

 

The air around me started to crackle, a soft hum turning into sharp static. The energy surged out in jagged bursts, wild and erratic, wrapping my arms in waves that lashed like they had minds of their own. It wasn't smooth and definitely not steady.

 

It was like trying to hold back a tide with bare hands.

 

Satoru, leaning casually nearby, squinted suddenly, his playful grin dipping into something more serious. His head cocked to the side as the cursed energy flared again, bigger this time, so big that it made the space feel clostrophobic, vibrating the air between us.

 

I noticed it right away, the way he winced, blinking hard, lifting a hand to rub his eyes.

 

"...You good?" I called out breathlessly, trying to stay focused but not missing the way he grimaced.

 

Instead of answering, Satoru popped his sunglasses off one-handed, tucking them on top of his head. His eyes, shockingly blue beneath his white hair, narrowed straight at me, locking onto my energy like he was staring down a puzzle he was dying to solve.

 

Suguru caught the shift, too, his calm expression tightening slightly as he watched Satoru's reaction.

 

Satoru didn't even glance away from me. He leaned forward a little, gaze fixed, eyes sharp as razors. Suguru slapped down Satoru's glasses, but Satoru immediately pulled them back up.

 

I could feel the energy flaring harder the longer his eyes stayed on me, like it was reacting to him watching, almost vibrating with the attention.

 

The pulses snapped again, skipping wildly from my hands, crackling up my arms and out into the air.

 

Satoru blinked hard once more, rubbing at the corner of his eye, squinting like my cursed energy was physically grating on him.

 

"I swear," he muttered under his breath, mostly to himself, "it's like staring straight at the sun through a magnifying glass..."

 

"What's your problem?" I asked, frowning between shaky breaths.

 

Satoru didn't answer right away. Instead, he slowly leaned toward Suguru, still watching me, and said low enough that I almost didn't catch it, "She's bright as hell, hurts like a bitch."

 

Suguru gave him a faintly raised brow but stayed quiet, eyes flicking back to me and the swirling chaos of energy still buzzing uncontrolled around my arms.

 

I grit my teeth, trying to rein it back in, but it was like trying to grab smoke with my bare hands.

 

I didn't know what was happening. I didn't know why my cursed energy was reacting so violently, or why the hell it was messing with Satoru of all people, but I could see it clear as day:

 

My cursed energy wasn't just unstable. It was reactive, emotional and begging to be let out. 

 

Whatever it was doing, it was strong enough to make him squint.

 

Satoru finally shoved his sunglasses back down onto his face, exhaling slow, still eyeing me under the dark lenses.

 

"...You're working with something way nastier than you realize, newbie," he said, voice still light but softer now, almost impressed.

 

I swallowed hard, my hands still buzzing with the backlash, the sparks of cursed energy snapping sharp between my fingers.

 

I had no idea what that meant but the cursed energy was still sparking wild through my arms, humming like a hornet nest just beneath my skin. My hands clenched tighter without meaning to, the more I tried to control it, the worse it seemed to buck and pull away from me.

 

"Alright, Amara," Yaga's voice cut through the panic, steady and calm, like iron wrapped in silk. "Stop chasing it. You're fighting it too hard. Breathe. Let it settle."

 

I sucked in a shaky breath, my chest tight, energy still swirling in erratic pulses.

 

"Don't push it out," Yaga continued, stepping closer but giving me space. "Acknowledge it and listen."

 

I frowned but did as he said, forcing myself to stop clenching, to loosen my fingers, my arms, my jaw. The cursed energy flickered, surging one last time before it began to draw back, coiling like a snake into my core, the buzzing in my hands fading little by little.

 

My knees wobbled, and I barely managed to stay standing as the last of the cursed energy sank back into place.

 

The second the air cleared, Satoru practically exploded into motion, throwing both arms into the air with a giant grin plastered across his face.

 

"HOLY SHIT!" he yelled, beaming like he'd just won a prize at a carnival. "Did you see that?! Did you guys see that?!"

 

Suguru let out a soft breath, arms folded but his lips curling up in one of those small, genuine smiles that were worth more because they were rare.

 

"Not bad," Suguru said with that calm, steady voice, but there was an edge of real excitement beneath it. "Not bad at all."

 

"Not bad?!" Satoru barked, spinning toward him with wide eyes. "Are you kidding? That was awesome! She's raw as hell, but that output? That's insane!"

 

I blinked, still catching my breath, wiping sweat off my brow with the back of my sleeve.

 

"...Why were you squinting like that earlier?" I finally asked, tilting my head at Gojo, still confused. "I mean, you looked like you were staring at the sun."

 

Satoru's grin softened just a little, though the excitement stayed shining behind it. He popped his sunglasses back onto the top of his head again, tapping the frame.

 

"This?" he asked, wiggling the shades. "These aren't just for style, you know."

 

He leaned forward slightly, hooking his thumbs into his pockets, tilting his head as if deciding how much to explain.

 

"I've got something called Six Eyes, I mentioned it before," he said, tapping beneath one eye with a single finger. "It lets me see cursed energy perfectly. Like, better than anyone else can."

 

I frowned, listening close, my stomach still flipping weirdly from the aftershock of my failed practice. "Okay... but why the sunglasses?"

 

Satoru's grin widened. "Because it's bright. You saw how your energy was flaring? To you guys, it's probably just a glow or a shimmer. To me? It's like someone cranked the brightness up to max and then broke the dial off."

 

He reached up, casually lowering his sunglasses back into place over his eyes again.

 

"I'm seeing every single thread of cursed energy, all the time," he continued, voice softer now, not bragging, just honest. "The flow, the density, the direction. It's like thermal vision, but worse. More color, more detail. It's also constant."

 

I stared at him, eyes widening a little.

 

"That's why I wear these most of the time," he added, flicking the frame. "The shades help dull it down. Give me a break. Otherwise, it's just... a lot of information. All the time. Sometimes too much. Gives me migraines if I don't manage it right."

 

Suguru gave the faintest nod beside him. "He's not exaggerating. When he was younger, it gave him nosebleeds just trying to focus on it too long."

 

Satoru waved a hand like psshh minor detail, still grinning. "But hey! Small price to pay for being the strongest, right?"

 

I squinted at him, half skeptical, half impressed. "So you can... just see how my cursed energy works?"

 

Satoru leaned back on his heels, smiling wider. "Every ugly little pulse of it."

 

I blinked, face heating a bit more than I wanted to admit.

 

Suguru shook his head softly. "Don't let him get in your head. He's still an idiot about it."

 

"I'm not an idiot! I'm handsome, talented and oh yeah, the strongest sorcerer to be born in like centuries." Satoru shot back, spinning the sunglasses once between his fingers before sliding them firmly back on.

 

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, my shoulders finally starting to drop.

 

Still embarrassed?

 

Absolutely.

 

But at least now I knew what I was working with.

Chapter 8: Sucks to Suck

The morning sun burned a little too bright against the training field, dust kicking up under my boots as I stared across the space at Nanami and Yu Haibara, my first combat partners. It's been a few weeks, and I pushed to try to practice more with my abilities. Satoru was heartbroken he didn't get to go against me first.

 

Yaga stood off to the side, arms crossed, eyes steady beneath his sungalsses. His gaze didn't waver, didn't soften, as he gave the instructions.

 

"Simple exercise," he said, motioning between us. "You're not trying to win a fight. You're trying to practice controlling your output, defense, and offense. Amara, your focus is on restraining with your vines and holding your shield when necessary. Nanami, Yu, your job is to apply pressure without doing real damage."

 

Nanami gave a short nod, already radiating the kind of serious energy that made my stomach twist. His blunt gaze met mine, flat and unreadable.

 

Yu smiled, soft and bright as ever. "We got this, Amara! Don't worry, we'll go easy on you."

 

I gave him a small, tight smile that didn't reach my eyes. I wish I could be just a fraction as positive as he is. 

 

I barely slept the night before, my head swimming with the disaster of the cursed energy test. Today was supposed to be a chance to prove I wasn't completely hopeless.

 

But standing there, under the weight of their attention, my hands already felt clammy. The energy that lived under my skin buzzed too loud, familiar, unpredictable, and probably dangerous.

 

"Begin," Yaga called.

 

Yu moved first, careful and deliberate, approaching in a defensive stance, trying not to rush me. Nanami hung back a step behind him, sharp eyes watching every inch of my posture.

 

I sucked in a breath, forcing the cursed energy to my hands like Yaga taught me. Focus. Don't push. Feel it.

 

Yu reached toward me, slow enough to give me time to react.

 

But my body flinched before my brain could catch up. The panic cracked like lightning through my nerves, and my shield burst into existence, the crimson bubble snapping up between us so fast it made the air pop.

 

"Good!" Yu called, trying to keep it positive. "You caught that one!"

 

I held it for a second... then felt the energy sputter. The bubble thinned, wobbled, and patchy where my focus was already fading.

 

Yu pressed in closer, testing the edge, and my vines snapped up from the ground without warning, too fast, too wild. They whipped at him, missing by a mile, smashing uselessly against the dirt.

 

I dropped the shield, frustrated, hands shaking.

 

Nanami's voice came steady from across the space. "Your cursed energy is leaking. You're wasting it before you even decide what you're doing."

 

I shot him a glare, my jaw tightening. "I'm trying to not do that. It's not like im doing on purpose!"

 

His expression didn't change. "I'm not being cruel. I'm telling you the problem."

 

Yu hesitated, giving me an apologetic smile, then moved in again, slower this time.

 

I tried to raise my vines deliberately, but they jerked and snapped out erratic, two of them lashing too hard, gouging into the ground beside his feet.

 

Nanami's voice stayed flat. "You're reacting, not controlling. You can't rely solely on emotions."

 

I forced the shield up again, but the cursed energy bled out fast, my arms shaking as I held it. The burn of it drained me quick, quicker than I thought it would. I felt the sweat roll down my back, my breath coming shallow.

 

The shield popped again, energy sputtering out uselessly.

 

Yu held up a hand, smile softening. "Hey, you're doing fine! It's just gonna take time. Don't beat yourself up-"

 

"Oh my god, Yu," I snapped harder than I meant to, glaring at him. "I don't need a pep talk, okay? I get it! I suck."

 

Yu's eyes widened a bit, taken back, his hand dropping to his side.

 

Yaga's voice stayed even but stern. "Amara."

 

I clenched my fists, head low, heat rushing up into my face.

 

"What's the point of this anyway?" I spat, voice cracking as the words pushed out before I could stop them. "Why am I even here? I'm not a fighter. I don't know how to control any of this! I can't even get my own body to listen to me-!"

 

I felt the flare before I realized what I was doing.

 

The cursed energy snapped up from the ground violently, my vines lashing out on their own, two of them shooting straight for Yu and Nanami, grabbing hard around their arms and shoulders, squeezing tight enough to make Yu gasp.

 

Nanami's eyes narrowed fast, cursed energy sparking through his hands as he moved.

 

"Amara-" Yaga's voice was sharp now.

 

But I couldn't stop it.

 

Nanami raised his blunt sword, cursed energy coating the blade, and with a clean, controlled swing, he sliced through the tendrils wrapped around him and Yu, the vines snapping apart, flinching back into the ground like wounded animals.

 

Yu stumbled back a step, rubbing his arm where the vine had latched on, his expression still soft but now wary.

 

Nanami lowered his weapon, eyes calm but hard. "Control. Or someone gets hurt. Let's call it a day, Yu. We have studding we can be doing."

 

The worst part wasn't the failure. It was how easy it had been to lash out without meaning to. The look on their faces, the shift from curiosity to caution.

 

Like they'd just watched me prove their worst assumptions right.

 

The silence after Nanami's blade dropped back to his side was deafening. The vines that had whipped out from me hung limp, receding into the dirt like they were ashamed of themselves too.

 

I stood there frozen, throat tight, but my legs finally gave up the fight. I dropped hard onto the ground where I stood, knees pulled up to my chest, arms hugging them close as I pressed my forehead down against them.

 

Yaga's voice broke through the heavy air, steady and deliberate.

 

"That's enough for today."

 

Yu nodded faintly, still rubbing at the red mark on his arm where my vines had caught him. Nanami gave a respectful bow toward Yaga, then a brief glance at me, his expression unreadable, but not cruel, something like pity, which made me feel even worse.

 

The others began to drift away, their voices soft as they walked back toward the main building, leaving the field quiet except for the breeze rustling the trees.

 

I stayed where I was, staring at the ground, arms wrapped tight around my knees, the weight of failure sitting square in the middle of my chest like a brick. I'd rather physically pain than these feelings..

 

I didn't even notice when Yaga walked over and sat down beside me, close but not too close.

 

"Rough first spar," he said softly, folding his hands in his lap.

 

I didn't answer. Just let out a heavy, shaky sigh, my breath catching in my throat halfway through.

 

Yaga leaned back slightly, resting one elbow on his knee as he looked out across the training field.

 

"I know it feels like hell right now," he started, his voice low but even. "You're wondering why you're here. If this was even the right choice."

 

I swallowed hard but stayed quiet.

 

"But what you're doing, what we're doing here, isn't about being perfect. It's not about getting it right on the first try or the tenth." His eyes softened a little beneath that heavy brow. "It's about learning how to protect people. How to stop things that no one else can."

 

He paused for a moment, giving me time to breathe.

 

"Cursed spirits... they don't care if you're scared. They don't care if you're having a bad day or if your energy control isn't perfect yet. They'll kill whoever's in their way. People who can't see them, people who don't even know what's coming."

 

I lifted my head just a little, my chin still resting on my arms.

 

"That's why sorcerers exist," Yaga continued. "Because someone has to stand between the people who can't fight back and the things that want to hurt them."

 

I let the words hang there for a second, chewing them over through the lump in my throat.

 

"...So like... superheroes," I mumbled.

 

Yaga gave a soft huff of breath that might've been a laugh. "Kinda, yeah. Less capes, more cursed tools. But it's the same idea."

 

I pulled my knees a little tighter to my chest, the burn behind my eyes softening just a bit.

 

Yaga pushed himself up to stand, brushing the dirt off his pants. He turned, holding out a hand toward me.

 

"Come on. Let's get you some water, cool down for the day."

 

I stared at his hand for a moment, fingers twitching like I wanted to reach for it, but the ache in my chest was still too raw.

 

I shook my head slowly, eyes back on the ground.

 

"...I just wanna sit here a little longer."

 

Yaga didn't push. He gave a small nod, lowering his hand, and turned without another word, walking back toward the building and leaving me there in the quiet.

 

The sun was starting to dip low, casting long shadows across the courtyard. The hum of the cafeteria drifted faintly through the windows, voices laughing, plates clinking, the smell of hot food in the air.

 

But I wasn't there. Didn't want to. It felt humiliating to just sit near people who watched me mess up so bad..

 

I'd barely made it back to the dorms before grabbing the half-empty pack of cigarettes from my jacket pocket, fingers shaking more than I wanted to admit. I ducked out toward the edge of the grounds where the trees started, tucked into one of the quieter corners behind the school buildings-half-hidden, half-forgotten.

 

Lit the cigarette with the cheap lighter I always kept stashed deep in pocket.

 

First drag hit my lungs like sandpaper. It felt earned.

 

The weight of the training session pressed down heavy on my chest, squeezing tighter every time I replayed it in my head, the shield sputtering out, the vines lashing too hard, Nanami's blade cutting through my mess like it was nothing. I could still feel Yu's eyes on me, trying so hard to be nice, and the disgust I'd thrown right back at him. Why am I like this? Even my cursed energy is mess..

 

I crushed my knees up to my chest again, arm resting on top of them, cigarette dangling between my fingers.

 

I barely heard the soft footsteps behind me.

 

"...Mind if I join?"

 

I turned my head just enough to see Shoko standing there, one hand casually stuffed into her pocket, the other already holding a cigarette between her fingers. She didn't wait for an answer, just eased down to sit a few feet away on the concrete ledge, stretching out her long legs in front of her.

 

She didn't look at me right away, just lit up her own smoke, exhaled slow, let the silence settle between us.

 

I didn't say anything, and she didn't either. The quiet was... nice. Not heavy. Not awkward. Just there.

 

After a minute, Shoko leaned back on one hand, staring up at the dusky sky. "Shit day, huh?"

 

I let out a dry little snort, flicking ash off the end of my cigarette. "Yeah," I muttered. "You could say that."

 

Shoko nodded once, still not looking at me. She took another drag, exhaled, eyes half-lidded and soft. "First training's always rough. No one ever talks about that part. They just act like you're supposed to get it on day one."

 

I didn't answer, just stared at the dirt between my boots.

 

Shoko didn't push. Didn't tell me it was fine. Didn't tell me I was strong or brave or any of that shit I wasn't in the mood to hear.

 

She just sat there, quiet. Smoking with me.

 

I could feel the knot in my chest loosen just a little, not gone or fixed, but enough to let my shoulders drop out of that tight, defensive hunch.

 

"Skipped dinner?" she asked after a few more minutes.

 

I nodded, flicking the ash again. "Didn't feel like it."

 

She hummed, soft. "Yeah. Same."

 

I glanced over at her for the first time, and Shoko gave me this tiny, sideways smile, more like a shrug than anything else.

 

I looked away quickly, but the corners of my mouth tugged up just barely.

 

We sat there a while longer, letting the cigarettes burn down to the filters. The last bit of sunlight dipped beneath the trees, the air growing cooler as the evening settled in. I stared at the last inch of my smoke, tapping ash onto the ground, watching it crumble like the day had.

 

Shoko finished hers with one last drag, flicked it aside, and leaned back again, stretching her arms overhead with a soft groan.

 

She gave it another minute, just enough space to let the quiet settle naturally, then tilted her head toward me.

 

"...You want to be alone?"

 

I hesitated, the word sitting heavy on my tongue, but I nodded. "Yeah," I said softly. "Just for a little while."

 

Shoko nodded once, like she'd expected that. She stood up slow, brushing off the back of her skirt as she stretched again. But before she turned to leave, she reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a slightly smushed candy bar, holding it out toward me.

 

"Here," she said, tone casual. "Stole it from Gojo earlier. You should try to eat something."

 

I blinked, glancing up at her, but the soft smirk on her face told me she wasn't kidding.

 

"You know," she added, tapping the candy lightly against my knee, "before you fully spiral into 'moodiness and malnourishment' territory."

 

I gave the faintest huff of a laugh, shaking my head as I reached out and took it from her hand. "...Thanks," I muttered, eyes down but meaning it.

 

Shoko shrugged, already stepping away. "Don't mention it."

 

She gave a little two-finger wave as she walked off, disappearing back toward the dorms, leaving me alone again, but not as heavy this time.

 

I turned the candy bar over in my hands once before setting it beside me on the ledge.

 

Didn't feel ready to eat it yet.

 

------ 

 

The night had crept in fully, cool air settling over the school grounds, the moon casting soft silver light across the courtyard and training fields.

 

Most of the students had retreated back to their dorms by now, either asleep or winding down, the school quiet except for the rustling of trees and the distant hum of campus lights.

 

Gojo and Geto were heading back from the vending machines, Gojo juggling two cans of soda lazily between his hands while Suguru walked a step behind, hand in his pockets and eyes half-lidded with his usual calm focus.

 

"Yaga's gotta stock the machines better," Gojo muttered, cracking one open. "How am I supposed to keep my energy up on green tea and sparkling water? I'm a growing boy."

 

"You're mostly sugar and spite," Suguru replied, but the smile at the edge of his mouth betrayed him.

 

As they cut across the training grounds, Gojo slowed. His eyes narrowed, sunglasses pushed up onto his head to get a better look.

 

"Hey," he said, nodding toward the field.

 

Suguru followed his gaze.

 

There, half-shadowed by the trees near the far side of the practice ring, stood Amara.

 

Alone. No supervision. No one watching. Just her and the wild, snapping vines of cursed energy tearing out of the ground around her.

 

Gojo's grin faded, his usual lightness sinking into something quieter as they stopped to watch.

 

Amara stood in the center of the mess, hands clenched tight at her sides, cursed energy pouring off her in uneven, chaotic waves. The vines lashed out, snapping at the air, but uncontrolled, jerking in random directions, some coiling too slow, others whipping too fast.

 

She tried to shape them, arms jerking forward, focusing hard, but the tendrils didn't listen.

 

"Dammit!" she barked, teeth clenched.

 

One vine lashed at her thigh, smacking hard enough to make her stumble.

 

"STOP!" she shouted, swinging her arm to slap it away like it was a misbehaving dog. "Stop hitting me and just do what I'm telling you to!"

 

The vines snapped again, one smacking her across the shoulder. She swatted it hard with her hand like she could bully it into obedience, frustration radiating off her in waves.

 

"You're MY cursed energy!" she yelled, voice cracking. "You're supposed to listen to ME! Why are you being so stubborn?!"

 

Another hit, this time to her shin, making her hiss through her teeth.

 

She struck back at the tendrils, her palm connecting with one like it might finally understand, like it was personal between them.

 

But the energy didn't hate her. It just didn't know how to obey.

 

Suguru's brow furrowed faintly, gaze softening at the sight. "...She's really fighting it," he murmured.

 

Gojo's arms crossed slowly, soda forgotten in his hand. He leaned forward just a bit, eyes narrowing behind his shades.

 

"Yeah," he said, quieter than usual. "And it's fighting her right back." he chuckled. "Really shows her personality."

 

The tendrils kept snapping out, jerking too wide, slapping the ground like angry snakes. But Amara didn't back down. She didn't stop, even when her arms shook, even when the vines landed hard enough to leave marks.

 

She screamed at them again, throwing both hands out like she could force the energy into place by sheer will. "Just WORK! URG!! STOP BEING SO *incoherent frustration sounds*"

 

Gojo let out a soft breath through his nose, eyes still fixed on the chaos. "This is kind of hilarious.." He tilts his head. "Most people would've given up by now, at least to go to bed." he muttered.

 

Suguru nodded once, voice low. "Yeah."

 

There was a long beat of silence between the two of them, standing there in the moonlight, watching her fail and fail and fail again, but still get back up.

 

Gojo's head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing behind his lenses. "Stubborn as hell."

 

Suguru smiled faintly. "Remind you of anyone?"

 

Gojo's grin crept back, soft but real. "Nah. I'm way worse."

 

They stood there a little longer, neither of them interrupting, neither stepping forward, just watching her fight her own cursed energy like it was a battle she refused to lose.

 

No audience. No glory. Just pure, exhausted determination.

 

--------

 

I was sweating through my hoodie, chest heaving, arms burning from how hard I was gripping my own cursed energy, if you could even call it that. The vines snapped again, whipping out and smacking the ground hard enough to spray dirt into my face. One cracked across my wrist, stinging sharp.

 

"Dammit!" I hissed, smacking it away like it could feel it.

 

"You're supposed to be mine!" I barked at the damn thing, voice raw. "You're supposed to listen to me!"

 

But the cursed energy didn't care. It just kept bucking, wild and mean, smacking at the dirt, snapping at my hands like it was throwing a tantrum right alongside me.

 

I was so caught up that I didn't even notice the footsteps coming up behind me.

 

"Wow. You really are fighting your own technique out here."

 

I jumped a little, spinning around, and there they were. Satoru standing there with that ridiculous grin, sunglasses perched crooked on his nose. Suguru right behind him, arms crossed, giving Satoru the side-eye like he already knew this was going to go sideways.

 

I wiped the sweat off my forehead with my sleeve, scowling as I straightened up. "What the hell are you doing out here?" I snapped, glaring between them. "Are you seriously spying on me right now?"

 

Satoru shrugged like he wasn't guilty at all. "Not spying. Just... observing."

 

Suguru gave him a soft elbow to the ribs without even looking at him. "Be nice."

 

Satoru groaned dramatically, waving a hand like ugh, fine."I am being nice," he insisted, stepping closer, hands stuffed into his pockets. "I just, okay, I heard how bad you bombed sparring with Nanami and Yu."

 

I stiffened, my stomach dropping like a stone. "Gee, thanks."

 

Suguru gave him another little nudge, sharper this time.

 

"What?!" Satoru huffed, throwing his arms up. "I don't mean it in a bad way! Look, yeah, you sucked. That's fine! It sucks to suck sometimes, but sucking just gives you room to learn to suck less."

 

He leaned forward a little, tilting his head, sunglasses sliding lower down his nose so I could see those stupidly bright blue eyes.

 

"But the only way to not suck," he continued, "is to keep going. You fight your energy, and it fights you back. You give up. It does, too."

 

I crossed my arms tight over my chest, chewing the inside of my cheek to keep my face from getting any hotter.

 

"I'm trying," I muttered.

 

Satoru's grin softened just a little. "Yeah. We can tell."

 

Suguru stepped up beside him, his tone a lot gentler. "We saw you practicing. Most people wouldn't still be out here after the day you had."

 

I let out a bitter little huff, my eyes glued to the ground. "Not like it's doing me any good."

 

"Maybe not yet," Suguru replied. "But you're still here."

 

Satoru crouched down a bit, leaning forward so he was right in my eyeline, resting his hands on his knees.

 

"Hey," he said, and for once, his voice dipped softer, less cocky. "You think I was good at this right away?"

 

I raised an eyebrow, giving him a flat stare. "...Weren't you?"

 

Satoru blinked, then burst out laughing. "Okay, bad example! But Suguru wasn't."

 

Suguru sighed, shaking his head, but didn't argue.

 

Satoru grinned, tapping the side of his head. "Point is, you're gonna suck until you don't. That's how this works."

 

I looked at him, still frustrated, but I couldn't help the way my lips tugged just a little at the edge.

 

"Real inspiring," I muttered.

 

Satoru beamed. "Right? I'm thinking about making it my personal motto."

 

Suguru rolled his eyes but smiled faintly.

 

I exhaled slowly, finally letting my arms drop to my sides.

 

"...So, what, you guys just gonna stand there, or are you actually gonna help?"

 

Satoru's grin widened. "Depends, do you take constructive criticism, or are you gonna try to sick your vines on me?"

 

I shot him a glare, but the sting behind it was a little softer. "...Maybe both."

 

"Alright," Satoru clapped his hands together, stepping onto the field like he was showing up for a party instead of late-night training. "Lesson one: stop swinging at your own cursed energy like it owes you money."

 

Suguru gave him a look but nodded toward me, his voice calm. "Let's start slow. Focus on one tendril. Just one."

 

I grit my teeth but nodded, planting my feet and holding out a hand, trying to call up just a single vine. The cursed energy snapped up from the ground, but before I could shape it, two more lashed out beside it, wobbling wild and uneven.

 

"Okay, good! Sort of!" Satoru chirped, sunglasses glinting under the moonlight. "Now make them not look like angry noodles."

 

I shot him a glare but tried again. My focus wobbled. The vines jerked too fast, one snapping toward my face before I swatted it away.

 

"Ugh!" I groaned, grabbing at my own hair, already feeling the frustration bubbling up again. "Why can't I just- do this?!"

 

I clenched my fists, cursed energy starting to spark out of my hands again, tendrils rising like they were ready to throw another fit.

 

"Whoa- whoa- pump the brakes." Satoru held up both hands like calming down a rabid cat. "Deep breath, little porcupine. If you're gonna throw a tantrum, at least wait until we're done."

 

Suguru stepped closer, voice steady but pointed. "You're getting mad again."

 

"Yeah, no kidding!" I snapped.

 

My vines snapped and swung around, hitting whatever they could reach.

 

"You can't keep reacting like that," Suguru said, not unkindly but firm. "You're making your cursed energy react. You can't calm it down if you're not calm yourself."

 

Satoru nodded, leaning back on his heels. "Yeah, frustration's fine for punching stuff, but it doesn't teach you control."

 

I huffed hard through my nose, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes for a second.

 

"...I'm sorry," I muttered finally, voice cracking a little. "I just- I don't get this. Any of it. Why me? Why this? What's the point? I don't know if I built for this..."

 

They were quiet for a second.

 

Then Suguru shifted, stepping closer, hands folded behind his back. His tone softened.

 

"It matters," he said quietly. "Because people out there are getting killed by things they can't even see. They don't know how to fight back. They don't get the chance. But we do. We can stop it."

 

He gave a slight nod toward me. "You can stop it. That's why it matters."

 

I stared at him, chewing the inside of my cheek, heart thudding too loud in my chest.

 

Satoru snorted, waving a hand dismissively as he flopped onto the grass.

 

"Blegh, here he goes with the moral speeches again," he groaned, rolling onto his back with one arm behind his head. "Protect the weak, save the world, blah blah blah."

 

Suguru frowned slightly but didn't rise to the bait.

 

Satoru stretched out one leg, propping himself up on his elbow as he looked at me, grin lazy but sharp.

 

"I don't give a damn about any of that," he said, smiling like it was the easiest truth in the world. "The weak? They're just weak. I'm here to beat the strongest curses I can find, show off a little, and have a good time doing it. That's what makes this fun."

 

His grin widened, tapping the side of his head. "Look good, fight hard, live fast."

 

Suguru gave him the softest eye roll.

 

Gojo caught it and waved a hand again. "What? I'm not here to play the hero. That's boring."

 

Suguru's expression didn't change much, but I caught the faint tension in his jaw, the way his arms crossed a little tighter.

 

"I'm here because people need us," Suguru said, calm but certain. "Even if they never say it. Even if they never know."

 

Gojo groaned loudly, tipping back onto the grass with a dramatic sigh. "Ugh, I hate moral conversations! Talk about something else!"

 

I blinked, looking between the two of them. Two sides of the same coin.

 

Suguru, so steady, so sure of his purpose. Satoru, chaotic, powerful, chasing the fight for the thrill of it, but still standing here, still showing up.

 

I let out a breath, shaking my head. "...You two are exhausting."

 

Satoru grinned, shooting finger guns at me from where he lay sprawled out. "Yeah, but we're also helpful, so. You're welcome."

 

Suguru smiled faintly, nodding toward me again. "Now... want to try that again, but slower this time?"

 

I sighed, flexed my fingers, and nodded. "Yeah," I said. "Let's go again."

 

"Alright," Suguru said, stepping back just enough to give me space, arms loosely crossed. "Let's focus on one thing. Don't try to control everything at once. Pick one vine."

 

"One," I repeated under my breath, nodding.

 

Satoru was still sprawled out on the grass, one leg kicked up over the other, hands behind his head. "And don't start yelling at it like you're arguing with your houseplants again."

 

I shot him a look. "No promises."

 

He grinned, wiggling his fingers at me. "Hey, I'm just saying. Positive reinforcement, babe."

 

I rolled my eyes but tried not to smile as I turned my attention back to the space in front of me. One deep breath in. One out. I clenched my fingers slightly, focusing as hard as I could on calling up a single tendril.

 

The ground beneath me buzzed faintly, and from the dirt, one thin vine slowly, shakily crept up like it wasn't sure if it was allowed to. It wobbled. Almost fell sideways.

 

"There," Suguru's voice broke in gently. "Good. Stay with it."

 

My fingers trembled, but I kept my eyes locked on the vine, willing it to hold still, to stay upright.

 

"Now try to shape it," Suguru coached softly. "Just bend the tip. Don't force it."

 

The vine quivered like a nervous animal, and my pulse jumped, but I bit back the frustration and pushed down the urge to scream at it like I had before. I tried to ease into it, thinking about how it should feel, not how mad I was that it wouldn't listen.

 

It shifted. Bent, just a little at the tip.

 

Satoru lifted his sunglasses just enough to peek at it, then gave a low, impressed whistle. "Ohhh! Look at that! She's doing it! Baby's first vine control!"

 

I blinked, not believing it for a second, then grinned so wide my cheeks hurt.

 

"Oh my god!" I yelped, practically jumping where I stood. "Did you see that?!"

 

I spun in a little circle, hands thrown up, grinning like an idiot.

 

"I DID IT!" I shouted, bouncing once on the balls of my feet before doing the most awkward little happy stomp-dance in the dirt.

 

Satoru cracked up, rolling onto his side. "Whoa, whoa, slow down! You're gonna scare it back underground!"

 

Suguru smiled softly, nodding. "That's what we're talking about."

 

The vine trembled again, but I steadied my breathing, still grinning too hard to be fully calm, but this time, I kept the focus, hands shaking but controlled.

 

It bent again, smoother now. Not perfect, but it did what I wanted.

 

I let out a loud whoop, punching the air like I'd just won a match.

 

Satoru beamed from his spot on the ground, sunglasses sliding halfway off his nose. "See? Told you. You just had to stop bullying your cursed energy into submission."

 

"Hey, the bullying almost worked," I shot back, laughing breathlessly.

 

Suguru shook his head with a soft chuckle. "Less yelling at it. More understanding what it wants to do."

 

I nodded fast, still buzzing with the rush of it.

 

"Okay," I said, dropping my arms, breathless but excited. "Let's go again. I can do this."

 

Gojo leaned back, stretching out like a cat, grinning wide. "Hell yeah, you can!"

 

 

Chapter 9: Hidden Within

The clouds hung heavy and low over Jujutsu High, the kind of gray that felt too quiet, like the sky was holding its breath. I stood near the courtyard fountain, shifting on the balls of my feet as Yaga read off the names for today's "field observation."

 

"Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Utahime, Haibara... and Amara."

 

I didn't react. Just blinked slow and exhaled smoke into the breeze, watching it curl around the cold stone rim of the fountain. I knew I didn't belong on this list.

 

Gojo's voice snapped through the silence, all smug and too loud. "Oh? We're bringing the newbie vine witch? What happened to 'observe only'?"

 

I didn't flinch. But I did glare. He grinned at me like he'd won something.

 

"She'll observe," Yaga said firmly. "No combat. She needs to see how fieldwork flows. She doesn't engage unless absolutely necessary."

 

Geto gave me a glance from behind his lashes. Calm and quietly assessing. Like he was already running simulations in his head. That stare made my stomach turn inside out.

 

I flicked my cigarette away and shoved my hands into the pockets in my skirt. "Don't worry," I muttered. "I'm pretty good at standing around and doing nothing."

 

Yu gave me a thumbs up from behind Nanami. "You'll do great! Don't be nervous!"

 

Nanami just sighed like someone already mourning his own patience.

 

---

 

The building looked like it had been a shrine once. Set in the outskirts of a neighborhood in Sendagaya, tucked between construction scaffolds and the high gleam of new towers, the old wood and stone structure stood like a secret memory. There were weeds eating at the walls. Paper charms turned to ash on the doorframe.

 

Yaga explained the mission as we entered the courtyard.

 

"A low-grade spirit was spotted. Locals reported headaches and nausea. The residual readings were weak. Likely a leftover from a larger exorcism in the area. There have also been rumors of something bigger lurking here, but I have faith that you all can deal with it."

 

Haibara's smile didn't budge. "Sounds easy!"

 

That's when I felt it.

 

A pressure. Like something in my spine shifted a notch out of place. I reached up and rolled my neck with a crack, sharp and automatic. I didn't even think about it, but my skin itched.

 

I turned my head slightly.

 

"Something's big is inside," I said before I could stop myself.

 

They all paused.

 

Yaga blinked. "You feel it?"

 

I didn't answer. My neck popped again. My jaw tensed. It wasn't just the curse's residue. It was something alive. Active and moving. Not strong, not yet. But sneaky. Hidden, maybe.

 

Geto's eyes narrowed. "Where?"

 

I hesitated. "I... don't know exactly," I admitted, blinking as my neck cracked again with that same bone-deep urgency. "It's not like I see it. It's more like..."

 

I turned slowly, like a compass needle pulled toward something unseen. "...like there's a string. Invisible. Tugging me forward. Like it's watching me and drawing me closer..."

 

Gojo gave a low whistle, somewhere between impressed and annoyed. "Creepy. I like it."

 

I ignored him.

 

Each step I took down the corridor made that tension in my neck worse. My skin prickled. There was a sour taste in the back of my throat, like rust or mold. The further I went, the louder my pulse sounded in my ears.

 

The room we stopped in looked harmless. Dusty tatami mats. Broken paper lanterns. A half-collapsed altar.

 

But I knew. It was here.

 

"There," I said, pointing to the far corner, where the shadow stretched just a little too far up the wall.

 

Suguru moved beside me, slow and precise. "Stay behind me."

 

The air changed, pressing in, humid and old, like it had been held inside rotting lungs too long. My eyes burned, and then

 

It unfolded.

 

Not from the floor or ceiling. But from the walls themselves.

 

Paint peeled back like wet paper, revealing slick, glistening skin the color of a rotted plum. It had no real face, only a circular mouth filled with nails and screws. Things it had eaten, maybe, or borrowed from whatever cursed memory had formed it.

 

Its body was long, almost eel-like, with limbs that bent the wrong way and dragged behind it like broken umbrellas. Thin strings of hair fluttered across its chest, tied into messy knots like prayer ribbons. It made a noise, wet and musical, like a music box submerged underwater.

 

It looked straight at me, even though it had no eyes.

 

That string inside my ribs snapped tight.

 

"Move!" Geto barked.

 

I jumped back just as the cursed spirit lunged, its body unraveling like it was made of pulled silk.

 

Geto moved like water, hand slicing through the air, and one of his spirits barreled into the cursed form, knocking it off-center. Nanami and Gojo followed suit, Gojo cracking his knuckles with a grin.

 

"Ugly little bastard, aren't you?"

 

I couldn't move. Not really. I could feel it. Not just see it. The cursed energy was wrapping around the room like a net. If I closed my eyes, I could trace it, see the way it spilled from the creature's body in fractured pulses. There was a rhythm to it. A beat. I could dance to it if I had to.

 

I stepped forward before I realized what I was doing.

 

"Amara-!" Utahime snapped.

 

"It's trying to double back through the cracks behind the wall! Third board from the center, just under the light!"

 

Gojo froze. He looked at me like I'd said something impossible. "There's no way you could've-"

 

His words cut off as the spirit surged exactly where I'd pointed, clawing through the panel in a shriek of splinters.

 

Nanami cursed and leaped to intercept, slamming it down with blunt cursed energy. Gojo moved faster, ripping the thing in half with a snap of his fingers and a gleam in his smirk. The remnants dissolved into oily goo.

 

There was silence for a bit, then Gojo spoke.

 

"...Alright, that was cool," Gojo admitted.

 

Yaga turned toward me. "How did you know it would double back?"

 

"I didn't exactly," I whispered. "I just... felt it. The energy moved. I followed the current. Plus, the board was covered in cursed residue, it clearly lied hiding there."

 

It wasn't just that I could sense cursed energy. It was like... it whispered back. Showed me things I didn't ask to see. My body responded before I had time to think, drawn like a magnet.

 

Geto's stare was heavy on me. "It's more than sensing. You're tracking it."

 

Gojo nudged my shoulder. "Cursed energy bloodhound, huh?"

 

I flinched at the touch, and he backed off instantly, raising both hands in mock apology.

 

But he was still looking at me like I'd just grown a second head.

 

The silence didn't last.

 

One breath, two, and then the building groaned.

 

The floor shifted under our feet with a stomach-turning lurch. Lanterns cracked overhead, wood splintered, and the hallway to the left stretched like something breathing in deep. The doors warped, expanding and multiplying like reflections in a broken mirror.

 

"What the hell-?" Nanami muttered, reaching for the wall as the entire space elongated unnaturally.

 

Yaga's eyes narrowed. "It's manipulating the interior. This isn't residual- there's a stronger cursed spirit still hidden. One capable of warping perception. Make sure to stick with Amara! We can handle this, but we can't risk her safety!"

 

My neck cracked hard. Pain flared down my spine like a live wire.

 

"Something's wrong!" I said. "It's here! It's- it's everywhere!"

 

Then the walls split.

 

A rush of cursed energy exploded from the center of the shrine, so thick I could taste iron in the air. A second cursed spirit peeled itself from the architecture, not from the shadows, but from the design itself, like it had been living in the carvings and paint.

 

It had too many legs. Six? No- eight. Spindly and sharp, like stilts made of ivory and blackened glass. Its torso was narrow and stretched, wrapped in mummified ribbons that twitched with every breath. Its face, if you could call it that, was a slab of smooth obsidian with no features, only a vertical crack leaking cursed energy like steam.

 

Then it howled.

 

Not a sound but pressure.

 

I barely had time to react before the ground cracked open between us.

 

"Scatter!" Yaga barked.

 

The shrine convulsed like it was alive. Floors twisted into spirals. Rooms folded into each other. A long corridor that had once been six feet turned into a twenty-meter tunnel lined with flickering talismans.

 

When the smoke cleared, I was alone with Utahime and Yu.

 

"Where's everyone else?" Yu asked, voice tight.

 

"I- I don't know," Utahime breathed. "The cursed spirit... it's manipulating space."

 

We were in a hallway I didn't recognize. The windows looked like painted paper. The ceiling pressed low. Every step forward felt like walking in a dream that didn't want you to wake up.

 

But I could still feel it.

 

The cursed energy, thick and vengeful, crawling down my throat like tar.

 

"It's here," I whispered.

 

The pressure in my chest screamed it. The cursed energy was so thick it hummed under my skin like electricity crawling over bone. I rolled my neck again with a sharp pop, fingers twitching.

 

A breath later, it emerged.

 

It didn't walk into the hallway. It unfolded.

 

First came its voice, no words, just a wet, distorted giggle, like a child laughing underwater. Then, limbs began to peel from the corners of the ceiling and floor. Too many limbs. Too long. Bent in ways that made my stomach twist.

 

It was shaped like a marionette, carved from bone and wrapped in what looked like skin, but not human skin. Translucent. Veiny. Stretching too tight over a twisted ribcage that opened and shut like a jaw. It had no eyes, only an upside-down mask nailed to its chest, with black tears streaked beneath the eyeholes.

 

Utahime immediately moved in front of me, arms wide. Yu stepped beside her, weapon drawn.

 

"Stay behind us," Utahime ordered, voice firm but not unkind. "You're not ready for this."

 

I didn't argue.

 

Not because I agreed, but because my body wouldn't move. My legs felt frozen, locked by something deeper than fear. Watching them stand in front of me like that... like I was someone worth shielding... it hurt in a way I didn't have words for.

 

The cursed spirit shifted.

 

And then it launched.

 

Fast, too fast. It twisted like liquid, sliding across the walls, arms flailing, those long claws dragging sparks from the wood.

 

Yu went left, intercepting it with a flash of cursed energy and a swing of his blade. Utahime moved right, chanting under her breath, cursed script lighting the floor beneath her.

 

I watched.

 

I watched as they fought for me.

 

And then it hit her.

 

Utahime didn't see one of the limbs swinging, the one that lashed around from above like a scorpion tail. It cracked against her side, flinging her into the wall with a sickening thud. She dropped like a ragdoll.

 

"Utahime!" Yu turned, but he was too slow. The spirit reared back again, all its mouths laughing, claws rising for the kill.

 

Something inside me snapped. I moved without thinking.

 

I threw myself forward, cursed energy igniting like a firestorm under my skin. My shield erupted into place, covering Yu and I extremely close together. My vines reached out towards Utahime, pulling her into the bubble with us. Yu quickly picked her up so she was closed in.

 

The cursed spirit slammed its claws into my shield over and over using multiple of its legs. My knees shook, but I managed to keep it up enough to use my vines again.

 

My vines burst upward, faster than I'd ever managed. They slammed into the cursed spirit, wrapping around its legs, pinning it in place.

 

They froze for a breath. I could see it in their eyes, confusion, shock. They hadn't expected me to get it right.

 

Hell, I hadn't expected me to get it right.

 

But I didn't wait for praise. I pushed forward, forcing my vines to surge from the floor, crawling up the hallway walls like crimson veins. They reached for the cursed spirit, catching its limbs and anchoring it to the stone.

 

"Go," I growled, breath ragged. "Find the others."

 

Yu shook his head violently. "No way-! We're not leaving you alone!"

 

"You're not strong enough to handle it solo," Utahime coughed as she tried to stand, her weight sinking to one side. "We'll stay together!"

 

"You have to leave!" I snapped, more forceful this time. "If you stay, it'll kill you! I can heal! Go!

 

The cursed spirit twitched. It let out a low, metallic hum like laughter echoing through broken teeth. The wood beneath us groaned as the cursed pressure deepened again, drew tight like a snare trap.

 

"Get out of here!" I shouted, turning back toward them with every ounce of fury I had.

 

They didn't listen.

 

Not until the spirit moved.

 

Faster than before. It didn't lunge- it folded the hallway, like the floor had turned to liquid, like the world was made of paper, and it was done playing fair.

 

A ground melted, sending them through a sludge. The ground then slowly went back to solid. And just like that-

 

They were gone.

 

"YU!" I screamed. "UTAHIME-!"

 

No answer. Just muffled yells from under me, their voices distant and panicked. 

 

The spirit turned back toward me. Its many limbs scraped along the floor like knives on stone. Its cracked mask seemed to grin as it reached for me with one twisted claw.

 

My pulse roared in my ears.

 

I stepped forward, and vines followed.

 

"Fine," I whispered. "You want me?"

 

I raised my hand. "You got me."

 

---

 

I fought like I had nothing left to lose.

 

Every time it moved, I moved faster. My body burned, but the cursed energy flowed like it belonged to me now, obedient and purposeful. Not a storm. Not chaos.

 

A weapon.

 

I slammed my palm into the floor, and the vines speared up from beneath the cursed spirit, coiling around its midsection, growing tighter and tighter like a vice.

 

It screamed.

 

One of its limbs coiled back, slower, like a snake drawing breath, and struck.

 

I saw the spear like limb coming towards me, and I threw up my shield, but it wasn't enough. It tore through my shield, burting it immediately.

 

Something hot, sharp, and deep, driving straight through my stomach.

 

My legs lifted off the ground as I was impaled, slammed backward into the wall, and pinned like a rag doll.

 

A scream tore out of my throat, but it was cut short by the rush of blood in my mouth.

 

The claw stayed embedded.

 

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. My body trembled, my fingers twitching uselessly at my sides. The cursed spirit let out a final broken laugh right before my vines, guided by blind instinct, pierced through its skull.

 

It shuddered once and collapsed. 

 

There was silence.

 

I was still hanging there, skewered through the stomach, arms limp, breath rasping.

 

My cursed energy flared, desperately, wrapping around the wound, trying to heal what it could. Trying to keep me alive. It was struggling but doing what it could. 

 

Every second stretched, the pain started to numb into the background until I moved ever so slightly. My body was feeling cold. I was losing a lot of blood, and I wasn't sure if my healing could replenish fast enough. I tried to swallow the blood coming back up my throat in hopes that would run it back through my body, but it all just found it's self back through the hole. 

 

My body healed tight, which was the only good thing about this situation. The blood was no longer pouring but just leaving small drips until it came back out of my mouth, but even that was an improvement since I wasn't throwing up nearly as much as I was leaking.

 

The claw just stayed lodged through my stomach, anchoring me to the cracked wood like I was just another decoration for this twisted place. My arms hung heavy at my sides. My feet couldn't touch the ground.

 

I wasn't scared. Not really.

 

I think I should've been. Should've begged for someone to find me. To save me.

 

But all I could think was: If this is it... that's fine.

 

I was so tired. Of holding my breath. Of waiting for the next pit of quicksand would throw in my path, the next mistake that would make someone decide I wasn't worth keeping around..

 

If this place wanted me dead, it could have me, I guess. At least this time, it was my choice to stay behind. At least Yu and Utahime were safe.

 

I exhaled, slow, shallow, ragged.

 

A little blood trickled from the corner of my mouth.

 

And I closed my eyes.

 

It's nice to feel wanted...

 

Even if it was only by death...

 

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

 

"That's the last one," Suguru said, brushing dust off his shoulder as a severed cursed spirit writhed on the floor behind him.

 

"Barely even worth breaking a sweat, or eating." Gojo replied, cocking his head with a grin. "C'mon, Yaga really undersold this place. I was expecting at least one bloodthirsty freak."

 

Suguru smirked. "You're the only bloodthirsty freak here."

 

Before Gojo could answer with something suitably immature, footsteps thundered down the corridor, fast and desperate.

 

Utahime came skidding around the corner first, bruised and pale. Yu was right behind her, eyes wide.

 

"She's in trouble!" Utahime shouted. "Amara's- she stayed behind, she told us to go, and then the cursed spirit melted us into the floor!"

 

Gojo blinked. "Wait, what?"

 

"We didn't want to leave her!" Yu said, shaking his head like he was still trying to believe it. "But the curse split us up! It twisted the whole building, we tried to get back, but it blocked us! We tore through the floor above us but she wasn't there anymore!"

 

Suguru's expression sharpened instantly. "Where?"

 

Utahime pointed. "we were in the north wing. Past the collapsed altar. The pressure down there- something was wrong. She was saying how odd it felt.."

 

Gojo waved a hand. "Okay, okay, calm down. She probably just popped a vine too hard and needs a juice box. She's scrappy." He said it with a smirk. 

 

But his voice was too casual.

 

He reached up, flicked his glasses off, and his Six Eyes lit up in shimmering blue.

 

The smirk dropped.

 

Gojo's head turned slowly, scanning, right, left, up, down. His shoulders stiffened. The corner of his mouth twitched.

 

"...I don't see her."

 

Suguru frowned. "What do you mean?"

 

"I mean- I can't find her cursed energy."

 

For one terrifying heartbeat, the air went still.

 

Utahime's hand flew to her mouth. Yu looked like he'd just been punched.

 

Suguru took a step closer. "Satoru?"

 

Gojo didn't answer. His fingers clenched around his glasses. His jaw flexed once.

 

Then he laughed. Short and sharp "Nah, she's gotta be suppressing it," he said too quickly. "She probably flared it out during the fight and then, then turned it off to hide or something- She's fine."

 

But he was already moving fast. Suguru followed without a word, expression unreadable but tight.

 

Behind them, Yu and Utahime scrambled to keep up.

 

Gojo didn't say it out loud, but something was cracking under his skin. If Amara was hurt, or worse, and he hadn't seen it coming...

 

He didn't know if he could forgive himself.

 

The shrine twisted around them, still subtly shifting with every breath. Walls that once led into hallways now curled into themselves. Paper screens rippled like water. The cursed spirit's death had left a scar on the building's very bones.

 

They turned corner after corner, checking every door, every splintered chamber. Yu and Utahime kept calling out for her,

 

"Amara!"

 

As if saying her name enough times might shake something loose.

 

"Gojo!" Nanami's voice.

 

They skidded to a stop as Nanami and Yaga emerged from a side corridor, weapons still drawn.

 

"We lost contact with the four of you, what happened?" Yaga demanded.

 

"She stayed behind," Geto said tightly. "Took on a cursed spirit alone. Separated from the others."

 

"She what?" Nanami's jaw clenched.

 

Yaga's brows furrowed, expression darkening. "Where?"

 

"North wing," Utahime said quickly. "But we can't find her. She's not answering."

 

Gojo stayed silent. He was scanning again. His Six Eyes flared to life behind his glasses, burning bright and cold as he swept the area.

 

Still nothing.

 

Amara's cursed energy, so sharp, so vibrant before, was gone.

 

"Gojo?" Suguru's voice was low.

 

"I'm looking," Gojo murmured, though the tone was wrong. Too calm. Too clipped.

 

"She has to be alive," Yu said, his voice cracking. "Right? She- she has that healing thing.."

 

"She's alive," Gojo said automatically.

 

His fists clenched at his sides. His vision twitched, like static dancing in the corners of his sight. The others kept talking, their voices overlapping.

 

"She wouldn't suppress her cursed energy after a fight, not with an injury."

 

"She might've passed out."

 

"What if she used too much?"

 

"She's not- she can't be.."

 

The words became noise. Gojo gritted his teeth and covered his ears.

 

Shut up.

 

He inhaled sharply, muting the world around him, just for a moment, and focused everything on the energy grid dancing behind his vision.

 

The walls bled color in his mind. Every cursed signature stood out in sharp contrast, Yu's, Utahime's, Yaga's. Even Nanami's cool, steady burn.

 

But then there was a flicker.

 

Barely visible.

 

A pulse, stuttering in and out like a failing heartbeat.

 

Gojo's eyes widened.

 

It hurt to focus on it, too dim, too unstable, but he forced it. The Six Eyes strained, every nerve behind his eyes lighting up with sharp, electric pain.

 

"Got you," he whispered, barely audible.

 

The others didn't notice. They were still talking, worrying and planning.

 

Gojo turned and sprinted. "She's southeast. Behind the collapsed corridor. About five floors deeper than the building should even have."

 

"What? How the hell-"

 

"It's a spatial twist. The curse folded the structure in layers. Doesn't matter. I'm going."

 

Suguru was already at his side. "Lead the way."

 

Nanami, Yaga, Yu, Utahime, they all followed.

 

But Gojo didn't wait for them because that flicker, that spark of cursed energy, fluttering in and out of existence was her.

 

And she was fading.

 

---

 

They found her by the collapsed offering hall.

 

Everything around it was quiet. The cursed energy was fading like mist after a storm, still sharp at the edges but with no source left alive.

 

She was hanging there, high up, pinned against the splintered remains of the back wall, impaled clean through by a jagged, blackened spear that had nailed her right through to the support beam. Her body sagged slightly with gravity, arms limp, blood pouring from her abdomen like a grotesque fountain.

 

The cursed spirit beneath her was already dead.

 

But Amara wasn't moving.

 

"Satoru," Geto said quietly.

 

"I see her."

 

Gojo moved first, lifting off the ground with a hum of cursed energy so quiet it could've been a breath. Geto followed, rising atop one of his summoned spirits, an airborne thing that looked like a stingray.

 

The smell hit first, rotting iron, salt, and something worse.

 

Gojo reached her side and hovered in place, hand twitching as he took in the scene.

 

The claw had gone straight through her stomach. Through everything. It had caught her just beneath the ribs and now gravity had begun to slowly pull her body down along it, stretching her skin and muscle, making the wound worse by the minute.

 

Her blood didn't only soak the beam below. It was everywhere.

 

Her uniform was torn, stained deep crimson. Her head lolled to one side, mouth slightly open, eyelids fluttering but not waking.

 

She was still breathing but barely.

 

"Shit," Gojo muttered, voice hollow.

 

Geto stopped beside him, his cursed spirit lowering him gently to the wood.

 

"She's alive," Suguru said.

 

"She's not gonna be for long." Gojo's voice cracked, just slightly.

 

He reached out and hovered his hand near her shoulder, fingers curling but not quite touching.

 

"We have to get her down."

 

Suguru didn't hesitate. "Together."

 

Gojo nodded, and they moved in tandem, Gojo placing a soft, precise hand on her side, activating Infinity between her and the beam to keep it from ripping more skin. Suguru carefully shifted her weight from behind, murmuring to the cursed spirit beneath them to support her legs.

 

It took time. Too much time.

 

When they finally got her down, Gojo landed hard, knees hitting the ground beside her as Suguru laid her gently on her back.

 

The blood spread fast.

 

The pool beneath her widened with each second, soaking into the wooden floor.

 

"What now?" Suguru asked.

 

Gojo's voice was strained. "The thing is still in her."

 

They both looked at it.

 

Black. Serrated. Barbed. As thick as a sword and long as her forearm. It jutted from her stomach like a grotesque branch, and even unconscious, her body trembled around it.

 

"If we pull it out..." Suguru began.

 

"She might bleed out." Gojo finished.

 

"But if we don't..." Suguru said quietly, "her cursed energy can't work. Not properly."

 

Gojo's jaw clenched. He looked down at her face, pale, lips slightly parted, blood caked on her chin. She looked... peaceful.

 

Too peaceful.

 

"Okay," he said, voice cracking into something higher, something thin. "Okay. We pull it."

 

"Satoru-"

 

"She's already healing," he snapped. "You see it, right? She's fighting. So we let it do it's thing."

 

Suguru nodded once. "On three."

 

Gojo slid his arm beneath her shoulders, shielding her from the jolt. His Infinity wrapped around her lower back, not to protect her from him, but from the splinters and floor beneath.

 

He placed a hand near the base of the claw.

 

"Three," Suguru said, gripping the thick shaft of the cursed limb.

 

"One-"

 

The sound it made was wet, awful, like tearing meat from bone. Blood surged instantly, splashing across Gojo's infinity and Suguru's wrist. Her body jerked violently, even unconscious.

 

They both froze.

 

The wound pulsed.

 

Not with blood, but with light. Crimson light, radiant and raw, pushing outward from the puncture site. Her cursed energy began surging.

 

It was working.

 

Gojo looked down, and could see her organs.

 

They'd been shoved aside by the claw. Split. Torn.

 

"Oh, god," he whispered. "I can see- fucking everything."

 

He looked up, trying to laugh. "She's gonna be so mad we saw her guts. Like, so mad. I feel like this is worse than catching her naked..."

 

But his voice was shaking.

 

Suguru didn't smile. He was watching Gojo. Watching the cracks appear in the strongest sorcerer alive.

 

"She's going to live," Suguru said softly, trying to tether him. "She's strong."

 

Gojo nodded too quickly. "Yeah. Yeah, I know. She's fine. Just....gross." His hand was still shaking where it hovered near her face.

 

Blood still pooled beneath her. It oozed slow and dark from the wound, though the bleeding was already less violent. Her cursed energy shimmered just under the skin, flickering and fighting, pulling torn muscle and ruptured tissue back into place thread by painful thread.

 

Gojo crouched at her side, the back of his hand pressed against her forehead.

 

"She's fine," he muttered again. "Probably gonna pop up and yell at me for touching her. You'll see."

 

Suguru knelt beside him, quiet, wiping the blood from her lips with his sleeve.

 

Gojo glanced at him and added, "Bet she'll tell everyone she took that curse down solo. Might even get cocky."

 

Suguru gave a tired exhale that might've been a laugh. "Wouldn't blame her. She earned it."

 

Gojo looked down again. The hole in her stomach was still wide open, but it was shrinking now, muscles weaving together like red lace, skin bubbling around the edges where her cursed energy knitted itself across the trauma.

 

It was working. She was actually healing.

 

Even so, the floor beneath her was slick with blood, and her face had gone pale as chalk. Her breath was still shallow.

 

"Come on," Gojo murmured. "Come on, Hoshizuki. You didn't crawl out of hell just to bleed out in some shitty wooden room with bad ventilation and even worse décor."

 

Suguru stood up as footsteps echoed behind them.

 

Yaga approached in silence, eyes narrowing as he took in the damage.

 

"Her wound is healing," Suguru said immediately. "But she needs rest."

 

Yaga didn't speak at first. He crouched, lifted Amara's limp body into his arms with careful strength, cradling her like a soldier carrying a fallen comrade.

 

"Gojo," he said, voice low. "Anything left of the cursed spirit?"

 

Gojo stood slowly, cracking his neck once. "Oh. That thing?"

 

He looked at the blackened remains of the claw still embedded in the wood beam.

 

Then he extended a hand, and with a flick of his wrist, obliterated it.

 

The wall, the floor, the entire section of the shrine disintegrated, vaporized in a pulse of pale blue light. The cursed remnants were gone. The building gave a slow, exhausted creak as the twisted dimensions began to unwind, doors returning to their original shapes, walls pulling inward, hallways shortening like elastic snapping back into place.

 

"Oops," Gojo said, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeves.

 

Yu flinched at the sheer force of the destruction. "Was that... necessary?"

 

"No. But it was fun." Gojo flashed a grin, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

 

Suguru didn't even blink. "You did that because you were pissed."

 

Gojo didn't answer. He didn't need to.

 

Yaga adjusted his grip on Amara, glancing around as the shrine finished settling back into its original form. The cursed pressure was gone now. Truly gone.

 

"Everyone, stay close," Yaga said. "We're done here. Time to go home."

Chapter 10: Worries and Wounds

Beep.

 

Beep.

 

Beep.

 

The sound pulled me up from somewhere deep, like surfacing from the bottom of a frozen lake. Cold light pressed against my eyelids, and when I finally peeled them open, everything stung.

 

White ceiling. Soft linens. The sterile smell of antiseptic mixed with something sweet... flowers.

 

I blinked slowly.

 

My whole body ached, but not sharply. It was a dull throb, like my muscles had been wrung out and left to dry. My skin was warm, my mouth dry. My tongue stuck to the roof of it.

 

I turned my head slightly and saw the machines. Wires stuck to my arms, thin pads on my chest, a monitor rhythmically blinking in quiet, annoying patience. There were IV lines, one running into the crook of my elbow, slowly dripping clear fluid into me like I was some plant someone forgot to water.

 

I was in a hospital gown. Loose, pale blue, open at the shoulders. But what caught my eye next stopped my breath.

 

Fuzzy socks.

 

White, with little pink cherry blossoms on them.

 

I didn't wear those.

 

I didn't own those.

 

I stared for a second longer before my eyes drifted to the side table.

 

Cards, flowers, and a tiny plush cat.

 

"Get well soon, idiot." That was definitely Gojo's handwriting. Swirly, dramatic, and somehow smug even on paper.

 

Another read: "Don't worry. You bled a little, but you didn't die. So we're all impressed." - Shoko

 

I cracked a smile at that one.

 

I exhaled slowly and pressed my palm to my stomach.

 

Nothing. No bandages. No pain. No scar.

 

Just smooth, untouched skin. Like the barbed limb had never gone through me at all. Like I hadn't nearly-

 

I swallowed hard. My hand trembled. I clenched it into a fist and blinked away the sudden sting in my eyes.

 

And then I heard them.

 

Two voices echo down the hallway. Distinct and impossible to miss.

 

"Satoru, if you try to bring her spicy chips while she's still on IV fluids again, I swear-"

 

"Come on, Suguru. They said soft foods. Chips can be soft if you suck on 'em long enough."

 

"You're not testing that theory on her."

 

"She's a healer. She'll live."

 

Their voices got louder.

 

I turned my head toward the door.

 

Something in my chest twisted, half dread, half relief, all tangled up in my stomach.

 

Because if they were here...

 

That meant I was really okay.

 

And for some reason, that was the part I still hadn't wrapped my head around.

 

The door swung open with a loud bang.

 

"Tadaaa~!" Gojo's voice sing-songed through the room like a trumpet blast at a funeral. "Your favorite knight in shining sunglasses has arrived!"

 

I flinched slightly at the noise and blinked blearily toward the doorway, caught between confusion and irritation. Bright white hair, cocky grin, paper bag in one hand, and a massive bouquet of flowers in the other. The bag had something greasy leaking through the bottom.

 

"Didn't think you'd be up yet," he said, kicking the door shut behind him with one heel. "But hey, good timing. I brought food you're definitely not allowed to eat."

 

"I can smell it," I croaked, my voice barely more than sandpaper and regret.

 

"Smells like victory, doesn't it?" he said proudly. "Victory and hospital violations."

 

Suguru walked in behind him, shoulders relaxed and sprite in hand. His dark purple eyes landed on me, softening instantly.

 

"You're awake," he said, voice calm. "Good."

 

Gojo tossed the flowers on the side table with a dramatic flourish. "See? Told you she'd wake up the second I got here."

 

"Yeah," Suguru said smoothly, setting his tea down. "Definitely wasn't the sound of you yelling like an idiot."

 

I blinked slowly, eyes shifting from one to the other. "...Why do I have socks on? These aren't my socks."

 

Gojo lit up. "Ohhh! Right. Check 'em out! Cherry blossoms. You're welcome."

 

"Why..?"

 

"Because you can't be in a hospital without looking fly, duh."

 

Suguru gave him a flat look. "He was pacing so much he wore a dent into the tile outside the infirmary. Shoko told him to stop, so he hyperfixated on socks instead."

 

Gojo scoffed. "I wasn't pacing. I was strategically surveying the area."

 

"Back and forth. For three hours."

 

Gojo turned on him. "Oh, please. You were trying so hard to look chill that Shoko thought you were having an out-of-body experience."

 

"I was reading," Suguru said, deadpan.

 

"You were staring at the same page for thirty minutes."

 

Suguru didn't blink. "It was a very emotional paragraph."

 

I blinked at both of them. "You two are insufferable."

 

Gojo turned back to me, grin faltering just a little as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Yeah, well. You almost died, so we get a pass."

 

I glanced down at my stomach. "You saw it?" I asked softly. "The wound?"

 

Gojo made a face. "Yeah, and uh, real talk? You've got some weird-looking intestines."

 

Suguru raised a brow. "Satoru."

 

"Sorry! I'm processing!"

 

I cracked the smallest, tired smile.

 

Gojo rubbed the back of his neck, the grin dropping altogether. "Seriously, though... that thing had you pinned, Amara. Like... wall-mounted. You weren't even conscious. There was so much blood."

 

"I know," I murmured.

 

Suguru sat down on my other side, hands folded in his lap, watching me closely.

 

"You fought it off yourself," he said. "Protected Utahime and Haibara. Held it together until we found you."

 

"You both look like hell," I said quietly. "I thought you were supposed to be the cool ones."

 

"I'm cool," Gojo said immediately.

 

Suguru tilted his head. "You were pissed off."

 

"I was fine! I just make that face sometimes."

 

"Oh? And when you nearly vaporized the building afterward?"

 

"Strategic demolition. Very heroic. Very calculated."

 

I laughed weakly. "You guys suck at lying."

 

They didn't answer right away. But the quiet that followed wasn't uncomfortable. It was heavy. Real.

 

Suguru spoke first, eyes never leaving mine. "We were nervous."

 

Gojo looked down at his hands, fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. "Yeah. No joke this time. That... that wasn't funny."

 

I didn't know what to say.

 

So I looked at them, both of them. And I just nodded. "I'm still here."

 

Gojo grinned again, softer now. "Damn right, you are."

 

Suguru's voice was quiet, almost reverent. "Welcome back, Amara."

 

---

 

The silence faded into something easier after a minute. I shifted slightly, enough to sit up more in the bed. The wires tugged against my skin, and the machines beeped a little faster in response.

 

Suguru noticed and instinctively reached to adjust my pillows. Gojo just flopped backward onto the foot of the bed with a dramatic sigh like he was the one who'd been impaled.

 

"Everyone else okay?" I asked finally. "Yu, Utahime... Nanami?"

 

"They're fine," Suguru answered first. "Utahime's bruised but back to complaining like usual. Haibara hasn't shut up since we got back. Nanami won't admit he was worried but told me I needed to stop showing emotion in public, so that was... his version of processing."

 

Gojo chimed in, "Yaga went full 'strict dad' mode. Had that whole deep-voiced 'I'm not mad, just disappointed' thing going on. But hey, no one died. So... that's a win."

 

I swallowed around the dryness in my throat. "Good. I'm glad."

 

They didn't say anything else for a second until I shifted again, this time glancing between them, suddenly unsure if I wanted to ask what was forming in my throat.

 

But I did anyway.

 

"And... you two?" I asked softly. "Are you okay?"

 

Suguru blinked.

 

Gojo sat up a little straighter, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a shrug.

 

"Pfft. We're fine. We're always fine."

 

"Seriously," I said, voice still hoarse but more firm now. "You saw me all... gross and torn open and bleeding out on a wall. I didn't even know where I was. I thought-"

I stopped. Let the words fall off.

 

"...Sorry you had to see me like that."

 

Suguru's expression softened immediately. "You don't have to apologize for something like that. We should be sorry for letting it happen."

 

"It's not your fault. It was something unexpected. I know you guys are strong and all, but you're still human, ya know? Can't be perfect all the time." I look to both of them softly.

 

Gojo didn't say anything at first.

 

He looked at me, but this time, not like I was a walking miracle or a comeback story. He looked at me like he was still seeing it.

 

The way I'd been strung up. The blood. The shaking breath.

 

He tried to smirk. "I've seen worse."

 

"You haven't," Suguru said without looking at him.

 

Gojo didn't deny it.

 

And I... I didn't push. Instead, I reached for the easiest thing to break the heaviness.

 

"So," I said, holding up my foot slightly, sock wrinkling around my ankle. "Why these?"

 

Gojo blinked. "What?"

 

I pointed at the fuzzy cherry blossom socks. "You picked these out. Why?"

 

His grin returned like flipping a switch. "You're telling me you don't feel twenty percent more powerful with those on?"

 

"I didn't say that. They're just... aggressively soft."

 

"Exactly. Power socks. Healing buffs. Very rare. Probably enchanted."

 

Suguru sighed. "He stood in the school store for nearly half an hour trying to decide between those and another pair with frogs on them. I watched him hold them up to the light like he was checking for cursed inscriptions."

 

Gojo grinned. "I stand by my choice. Those socks scream, 'I lived, bitch.'"

 

I laughed again. It hurt, but not too much.

 

And for a moment, even with the tubes and machines and the weight of what we'd been through, it almost felt like things were normal.

 

Like I was just a girl with weird socks and two insufferable idiots at my side.

 

---

 

The room was quiet again.

 

Gojo had eventually run out of energy and been dragged out by Suguru after insisting he could "cure me faster than Shoko with the power of snacks and charisma." Suguru, ever the grounding force, told him to let me sleep before he ended up hooked up to one of the IVs himself.

 

Now the only light came from the monitors. Pale green numbers. Soft beeps. The glow against the window from one of the courtyard lanterns outside.

 

I stared at the ceiling.

 

Still not asleep.

 

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw it, the wall, the cursed spirit, the way my blood poured like it was trying to leave me faster than my body could fight. The image didn't scare me exactly, but it lingered. Heavy. Sticky.

 

I turned onto my side and winced as something tugged in my chest.

 

Then..

 

Soft footsteps.

 

I barely heard them. Just the gentle scuff of shoes on tile, slow and deliberate but hesitant.

 

My breath caught when the door creaked open. I blinked toward it and saw him.

 

Suguru.

 

Hair down, shoulders relaxed, hands in the deep pockets of his black uniform pants. He stepped inside slowly, pausing near the doorway like he wasn't sure if he should really be here.

 

He looked... tired.

 

More tired than he'd let on when Gojo was here. Shadows under his eyes. That quiet heaviness that only shows up when no one else is watching.

 

"Hey," I rasped, voice dry from silence.

 

His head lifted a bit, and I saw the ghost of a smile flicker across his face. "Couldn't sleep?"

 

I shook my head. "You?"

 

"No."

 

Another pause.

 

I shifted over a little, dragging the blanket with me. "You can sit. If you want."

 

Suguru didn't move right away. But then he exhaled, slow and controlled, and made his way across the room. He didn't take the chair. Instead, he lowered himself onto the end of the bed like I'd offered, careful not to bump any wires, his weight barely dipping the mattress.

 

The silence that followed wasn't awkward.

 

It was warm. Comfortable even.

 

"You look worse than I do," I murmured after a moment.

 

"That's because you're healing," he replied, the barest trace of amusement in his voice. "I'm not."

 

"Too bad. I'd trade you if I could."

 

He glanced over his shoulder at me, just a little. "Don't say that."

 

I frowned. "Why not?"

 

His eyes lingered on the wall in front of him.

 

"I saw what you looked like when we found you," he said quietly. "No one should have to go through that. Not even once."

 

I looked down at the blanket covering my legs.

 

"I don't remember all of it," I admitted. "Just the heat. And then the cold. I remember thinking... maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing if I didn't come back."

 

That made him go still.

 

I didn't mean for it to come out like that. But now that it had, I didn't want to take it back. It was true. Honest in a way I wasn't used to.

 

Suguru didn't fill the space with pretty words or forced comfort.

 

He just nodded. "I've felt that before," he said, so soft it was almost soundless.

 

When I looked up at him, he was watching me now. No walls. No calm mask. Just him.

 

"You did good," he added. "You protected your team. You held your ground. And... I'm glad you're still here."

 

His voice cracked a little at the end. Just a little.

 

I swallowed. "I'm glad you are too."

 

He looked like he might say something else. But instead, he just reached forward and tugged the blanket up over my legs a little more. Like I was made of glass.

 

---

 

Suguru didn't say much after that.

 

Just sat there, his arms brushing lightly against my leg through the blanket, his hands clasped neatly in his lap like he was afraid to move too much. Like I might break again if he shifted the wrong way.

 

I watched him for a moment, studying the crease between his brows. It hadn't gone away since he walked in. He wasn't tense, he was contained. Like something inside him was still storming, even if the surface stayed still.

 

I shifted, scooting over more on the narrow hospital bed until there was enough space.

 

"Hey," I said softly. "Lie down. You look like you need it."

 

His eyes flicked to mine, surprised. "I'm fine."

 

"You're not," I said. "C'mon. I'm not gonna bite."

 

A pause.

 

Then, slowly, Suguru exhaled and nodded. He kicked off his shoes, hesitated once more, then climbed in beside me.

 

He laid on top of the blanket, his body angled carefully away like he didn't want to crowd me. His hands folded under his head, his long legs hanging slightly off the edge.

 

I felt the bed dip beside me, and for the first time since I woke up, I didn't feel cold.

 

But even as he settled, I noticed it, his eyes kept drifting.

 

Lower.

 

To my stomach.

 

I didn't say anything at first. Just watched the way he kept glancing there and then forcing himself to look away, his jaw tight, his throat bobbing when he swallowed.

 

I knew what he was thinking.

 

He'd seen it. The hole. The blood. He hadn't seen what I looked like now.

 

So I did something impulsive.

 

I sat up a little, reached for the front of my hospital gown, and started unbuttoning it, slow, careful. The top stayed on, but I loosened it enough to let the blanket fall slightly and expose the smooth plane of my stomach.

 

Suguru went still.

 

Eyes wide. Face flushed.

 

"Amara- what-"

 

"Relax," I said, grinning as I adjusted the blanket to keep my chest covered. "I'm not flashing you, monk boy."

 

His ears turned red. "That's not-"

 

"You keep staring. Figured I'd make it easier on you."

 

"I wasn't staring," he muttered.

 

"You were definitely staring."

 

He looked away for half a second, but his eyes found their way back quickly. He didn't even try to deny it this time.

 

And then he saw it.

 

Smooth, unbroken skin. Not even a scar. Just me. Like nothing had happened.

 

"See?" I said softly, fingers brushing across the spot where the wound had been. "It's gone."

 

His brow furrowed again, but differently this time.

 

Like he didn't quite believe it until I reached for his hand.

 

He froze.

 

I curled my fingers around his and guided it gently to my stomach, pressing his palm flat against the spot where the claw had once torn me open.

 

His hand was warm and big compared to me.

 

I could feel the way his fingers twitched slightly against my skin, how his breath caught in his throat.

 

"You can touch it," I whispered. "It's okay."

 

He didn't speak.

 

Just let out a quiet, shaky breath and kept his hand there. I felt the tension leave him, his shoulders sinking, his brows smoothing just a little. His thumb brushed once, instinctively, as if testing the truth of what he was feeling.

 

"No scar," he murmured.

 

"Told you. Healer perks."

 

His cheeks were still pink, but the relief that washed over his face was undeniable.

 

He looked like he could finally exhale.

 

"Thank you," he whispered.

 

I smiled, letting my hand rest over his for just a second longer. "You can stop worrying now, Suguru."

 

His voice was barely audible. "Not likely."

 

Suguru's hand stayed against my stomach for a few seconds longer before he slowly pulled it away, careful like I might fall apart if he moved too fast.

 

He shifted to lay back down, muscles still tense, like he wasn't sure what was allowed anymore.

 

"I don't want to crowd you," he said quietly.

 

"You won't," I replied, already scooting closer.

 

He watched me with a look I couldn't quite place, soft, cautious, almost afraid of what I might say next.

 

So I took the choice out of his hands.

 

I moved until our sides were pressed flush together, my arm brushing his, our hips barely touching beneath the blanket.

 

He went very still for a moment. Then, slowly, he relaxed into it.

 

I could feel his warmth, the steady rhythm of his breathing. His body had been tightly wound since the moment he stepped into the room, but now, at last, something in him began to unwind.

 

We lay there like that, quiet, until he spoke.

 

"So..." Suguru murmured, voice softer than the sheets beneath us, "your belly button ring is cute."

 

I blinked, then looked at him and grinned. "Still thinking about that, huh?"

 

The flush bloomed across his cheeks so fast it was almost impressive. "I wasn't-" He looked away. "I just... noticed. My hand was there and I just-"

 

"You noticed," I echoed. "Mhm. Very observant."

 

"Stop."

 

I laughed under my breath, turning just enough so I could look at him without straining. "You were blushing so hard I thought your soul might leave your body."

 

He groaned and pressed a hand over his face. "I'm regretting ever saying anything."

 

"No, you're not," I said, smirking. "You're just upset I caught you being flustered."

 

"I'm not flustered."

 

"You're literally hiding behind your hand."

 

He peeked at me between his fingers, dark eyes sparkling with something amused and tired and affectionate. "You're really going to bully me about this, aren't you?"

 

"Absolutely."

 

He lowered his hand and tried to compose himself. He straightened a little, tilted his head, and gave me the most dramatic slow-lidded look I'd seen outside of a soap opera. "Well, can you blame me for noticing?"

 

I raised a brow, amused. "Noticing what, exactly?"

 

He hesitated.

 

His ears went red again.

 

"...You're pretty," he mumbled, barely audible. "I'd be stupid not to notice."

 

My smile dropped into something softer. That little pulse of heat in my chest wasn't embarrassment or surprise, it was warmth. The heart rate monitor starts beeping a bit faster. 

 

Suguru looks to it and chuckles lightly then looks back to me with a soft smirk. "Seems you like when I call you pretty." 

 

"Who wouldn't..?" I said, quiet enough to match his tone. "You're not so bad yourself, y'know."

 

He rolled his eyes. "You sound surprised."

 

"I am surprised," I teased. "I thought your charm was limited to backhanded compliments and passive-aggressive wisdom."

 

"You wound me."

 

"Not like I was."

 

His face fell for just a second, until he saw the smirk on mine and gave an exasperated sigh through his nose.

 

"Too soon," he muttered, eyes narrowing.

 

"Never too soon."

 

We lay there in the dark for a while longer. Our conversation wandered, soft, quiet things. Talk of nothing and everything. Favorite food. Stupid school gossip. The difference between his favorite incense and mine. Whether Gojo would ever learn to sit still for more than five minutes (he wouldn't).

 

His voice got slower.

 

Quieter.

 

Eventually, it faded completely.

 

Suguru drifted off beside me, breathing slow and even. One arm loosely draped over his stomach, the other just barely brushing mine where our hands had settled together.

 

I stayed awake a little longer, just listening to the quiet.

 

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I didn't feel like I had to keep one eye open.

 

Because Suguru Geto was next to me.

 

And somehow, I knew I was safe.

 

---

 

I was almost asleep.

 

Suguru had already gone still beside me, his breathing deep and steady. The room had settled into that kind of hush that only comes after everything has been said and no more words are needed.

 

I let my eyes fall shut.

 

Then..

 

Click.

 

A soft squeak of the door.

 

My eyes cracked open just in time to see a very familiar mop of white hair poking in through the gap.

 

Satoru Gojo stood there, eyes wide behind his glasses, jaw practically on the floor.

 

He looked between me and Suguru, who was still very much asleep, and then back at me.

 

I raised a brow.

 

His expression morphed from shock to something far more dramatic.

 

He staggered back a step, clutching his chest like I'd betrayed him.

 

Fake betrayal, of course. Complete with a silent gasp and a hand to his forehead like some kind of Shakespearean widow.

 

I pressed a finger to my lips.

 

"Shhh," I whispered, half a laugh in my throat.

 

He didn't shhh.

 

Instead, he mimed the most exaggerated betrayal I'd ever seen. He mouthed things like How could you?! and He was my best friend! while pretending to collapse against the doorframe like he'd just witnessed the downfall of a great love triangle.

 

I rolled my eyes so hard it nearly hurt.

 

"Get in here, dumbass," I whispered.

 

He immediately stopped fake-swooning, straightened up, and beamed.

 

He shut the door behind him, quietly, for once, and tiptoed across the room with the subtlety of a freight train, grinning all the while.

 

"You sure?" he whispered, standing at the side of the bed now. "There's not a 'reserved for responsible adults' sign on this thing?"

 

"You're not that irresponsible."

 

"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

 

"Don't make me take it back."

 

He grinned wider. Then, without hesitation, climbed onto the bed.

 

Except his version of climbing on was less "get comfortable" and more "become a human cat."

 

He draped himself across the end of the bed, head pillowed on my stomach, right over the spot where Suguru's hand had been earlier, with his long legs dangling off the mattress, feet flat on the floor.

 

"I own this hospital now," he mumbled into the blanket over my gown. "I'm not moving."

 

I laughed, hand instinctively finding his hair and carding through it. "You're heavier than you look."

 

"I'm all muscle. And charm."

 

"More like drama and chaos."

 

"Same thing," he muttered, already sounding half-asleep.

 

Suguru stirred a little beside me but didn't wake, his arm bumped lightly against mine, and I felt the warmth of him still steady at my side.

 

Gojo shifted once, just enough to get comfortable, then sighed against my stomach. His hand brushed up to rest gently over my ribs, as if checking one last time that I was really here. Really okay.

 

And I was.

 

With Suguru's steady breath at my side.

 

With Satoru's ridiculous sprawl against my legs.

 

With warmth wrapped around me like a blanket I didn't know I needed.

 

I closed my eyes.

 

And for the first time since stepping into this world of curses and shadows, I let myself fall asleep without fear.

 

Because I wasn't alone anymore.

Chapter 11: Spar Between Gods

The morning air tasted like sun-warmed concrete and judgment.

 

I stood at the edge of the training field, my sleeves rolled up, hair tied back, sneakers digging into the dusty patch of dirt that had seen more teenage angst than an entire therapy office.

 

Everyone was watching me like I was glass. Shoko leaned against the fence with her arms crossed, squinting at me like I was a walking science experiment. Utahime had that furrowed look she got right before lectures. Nanami muttered something about recovery time and proper rest.

 

And Yaga? Yaga was pissed.

 

"You were discharged yesterday," he said, arms folded so tightly across his chest I could hear his joints creak. "You need to rest. You lost a lot of blood."

 

I flexed my hand and rolled my shoulders. "And I'm fine. My cursed energy's stable. My wound's gone. I've slept, I've eaten, and I've already paced my entire dorm twice this morning. Let me do something before I climb the walls."

 

"You almost died, Amara," he said more softly. "You don't get extra credit for pretending that didn't happen."

 

"I'm not pretending anything," I snapped, sharper than I meant. "But I don't have the luxury of sitting around hoping I magically get stronger by resting. That's not how this works for me."

 

I took a step closer. My voice dropped. "You've seen what I can do. What I'm made of. I'm not supposed to stay down. I bounce back. That's the whole point."

 

The silence was tight after that.

 

Then:

 

"She's right," Gojo's voice cut in, far too casually for the weight of the moment. "The girl's got vines for days and a constitution like a cockroach. Let her stretch her legs."

 

I turned just in time to see him saunter into the field, sunglasses tilted and in his white uniform button up.

 

"Plus," he added, cracking his knuckles, "I volunteer as tribute."

 

"Oh, no," Suguru murmured behind him, deadpan.

 

"Oh, yes," Gojo said, grinning. "I'll spar her. Gently."

 

I didn't miss the way Yaga pinched the bridge of his nose like this was causing him actual physical pain.

 

"Fine," he sighed. "But the second you start showboating, I'm ending it."

 

"Wouldn't dream of it," Gojo said, placing a hand dramatically over his heart.

 

---

 

We squared off on the field, a loose ring formed by the others who'd decided to stay and watch the chaos. Suguru lingered on the sidelines, arms folded, unreadable as always.

 

Gojo raised a single hand. "Ladies first."

 

I didn't hesitate.

 

Vines cracked up from the ground, sharp and fast, lunging toward him in a coordinated whip, but they stopped short, slamming into a wall of air that shimmered with cursed energy. His infinity.

 

Gojo yawned. "Oof. So close. You almost hit me. Like, maybe two universes away."

 

I growled and tried again. This time, I split the vines, two to his front, one wrapping around behind. They circled like snakes, adjusting mid-strike.

 

Didn't matter. They all halted inches away.

 

He blew on his fingernails and polished them against his shirt. "You're so intimidating right now. I'm shaking."

 

"Drop the Infinity, coward."

 

He gasped. "How dare. I'm being gentle, like I promised."

 

"You're being annoying."

 

"Same thing."

 

He wasn't attacking. Not even countering. Just standing there, arms loose, letting me exhaust myself trying to land a hit, I never would. I knew it. He knew it. The whole damn school knew it.

 

And yeah, maybe I was starting to feel it. That itchy frustration crawling up my spine. That old feeling of falling behind.

 

"Enough," Suguru's voice rang out, calm but sharp. He stepped onto the field, his dark uniform catching the breeze. "She's not going to get better aiming at a target she can't touch."

 

Gojo turned, exaggerated offense on his face. "Excuse me, are you saying I'm too powerful to be a teacher?"

 

"I'm saying you're more distraction than instruction."

 

The crowd oohed in unison.

 

Suguru ignored them. He turned to me. "Your form's improving. But you're relying too much on reaction. No grounding. No control." He extended a hand. "Spar me."

 

I hesitated. Then nodded.

 

Gojo stepped aside, dramatically offended, mouthing "traitor" at me like I'd just broken his heart. I flipped him off with a kissy face.

 

---

 

Sparring with Suguru was different.

 

He didn't hold back, not in the same way. He didn't make himself untouchable. He made himself just barely beatable. His movements were fluid, patient. He tested me. Pushed, but with purpose. Every dodge, every redirect, every faint tap of a spirit, he was teaching while fighting.

 

"You're watching too much," he murmured as I pivoted away from a lash of cursed thread. "Feel instead. You sense things instinctively. Trust that. Don't wait for your mind to catch up."

 

I gritted my teeth, ducking low and letting a vine spiral out from the ground. It struck one of his weaker summons and made it dissolve.

 

He nodded. "Good. Now again."

 

It was smoother. Better. But it still wasn't enough.

 

I moved faster. Pushed harder. Sweat ran down my spine, my legs trembled from impact. But it felt real. Like I was actually learning.

 

And of course, that's when Gojo intervened.

 

A flash of cursed energy split the air, and suddenly Gojo was in the spar again, flickering into view between us, grinning like a gremlin.

 

"Booooriiiiing," he declared. "Let's spice it up, shall we?"

 

Suguru's eyes narrowed. "Satoru."

 

"She can handle both of us," Gojo said. "Right, Amara?"

 

"...I don't know," I panted. "Depends. Do I get to punch you in the face now?"

 

His grin widened. "If you can catch me."

 

---

 

It was chaos after that.

 

Gojo flitted in and out of reach, teasing me, warping the air with lazy flicks of his wrist. Suguru tried to maintain order, directing my energy, reminding me to ground myself, to feel the flow, but even he was being drawn into the spiraling rhythm of our three-way fight.

 

The field lit up with cursed energy. My vines tore through the dirt in jagged waves, Suguru's spirits crashed into Gojo's barriers, and Gojo just laughed through all of it, dodging, flickering, showing off.

 

And for a moment, just a moment, I was keeping up.

 

Not perfectly. Not flawlessly.

 

But I was in it.

 

Sweating. Bleeding. Fighting.

 

Alive.

 

The field was wrecked.

 

Dirt torn up in ragged patches, stray talismans shredded, the air so thick with cursed energy it buzzed in my teeth. I could feel every pulse like a drumbeat under my skin, mine, Suguru's, Satoru's. Wild, woven, crashing together.

 

And somehow, I was still standing.

 

Gojo flickered into view in front of me, Infinity humming like static around his body. "Careful," he said with a grin. "You're starting to look competent."

 

I lunged.

 

My vines shot forward, not at him, but at the ground, ricocheting up behind him in a crisscross trap. Suguru's voice echoed at my back: "Yes, use the terrain!"

 

Gojo vanished before the vines struck, reappearing to my left mid-yawn.

 

"Predictable," he muttered.

 

I growled, spinning to intercept, but Suguru was already behind me, brushing a hand near my shoulder, his cursed energy nudging mine like a conductor redirecting the flow of an orchestra.

 

"Don't force it," he said low. "Let the instinct rise. You're fighting too hard. Trust the rhythm."

 

I exhaled.

 

I tried to feel it. The shift in the current of energy around us. A lull in Gojo's showboating. A sudden sliver of opening.

 

I moved without thinking, faster than I had any right to. My vines surged and clipped him.

 

Not a strike. Not damage. But they brushed his shirt

 

Gojo blinked.

 

His grin twitched.

 

Suguru raised a brow, subtle and smug. "Look at that," he said softly, just loud enough for Gojo to hear. "She touched you."

 

"That was nothing," Gojo snapped, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve. "I was trying to be nice and leave wiggle room for her."

 

Suguru's tone was silk. "You sure?"

 

Gojo's smile tightened. "Positive."

 

The others watching started murmuring. 

 

Yu let out a cheer. "She actually hit him!"

 

"She touched him."

 

"Holy shit, she's learning fast-"

 

Suguru looked at Gojo from the corner of his eye.

 

And he smirked. That smug little smirk said, I know what you're doing. And I'm going to make it worse.

 

He turned to me, voice smooth. "Good. That's enough from him."

 

"Wait, what?" Gojo asked, half-laughing.

 

Suguru stepped between us. "You're better off focusing on an opponent who doesn't treat this like a carnival ride. Let's go again."

 

He was goading him.

 

And Gojo snapped.

 

"You think she's gonna get anywhere if she never learns to dodge the real thing?" His voice was still joking, still bright, but I could hear the edge in it. The tightness beneath the words.

 

"She needs to feel what it's like going up against the best."

 

Suguru didn't even flinch. "You mean the loudest."

 

Gojo's smile twitched.

 

I stepped back instinctively, chest heaving, sweat dripping from my brow.

 

And that's when Suguru reached out.

 

He gently brushed my forearm with two fingers, steadying my cursed energy with a single pulse. My skin prickled. My breath caught in my throat. It wasn't flashy, but it was intimate.

 

Too intimate, and Gojo saw it. His Infinity flared. A pulse of cursed energy cracked the air like thunder.

 

Everyone fell silent.

 

Gojo tilted his head. "Huh. Guess I am getting in the way."

 

Suguru's face was a masterclass in calm amusement. "Glad we agree."

 

Gojo walked forward, slowly this time. Each step purposeful, eyes locked on Suguru, then me, then back. The air around him shimmered. Not dangerous. Not yet.

 

But close.

 

"You like playing teacher, huh?" he asked. "Getting real cozy over here."

 

Suguru shrugged. "She learns better through feeling. You said so yourself. She's not a puppet. You can't just dodge her into frustration and call that training."

 

Gojo's voice dropped a register. "And you think you know better?"

 

"Right now?" Suguru glanced at me. "Yeah."

 

It was like watching a lightning storm build in slow motion. Gojo's posture didn't change. His smile didn't drop. But his sunglasses slipped a little lower, and behind them, I could see it.

 

That twitch in his eyes.

 

Not rage.

 

Not yet.

 

But something quieter. Deeper.

 

I stepped between them, panting. "Okay, pause," I said, lifting both hands. "Jesus. I didn't ask for a pissing contest."

 

Suguru's hand lightly touched my back, so light I barely noticed. 

 

"Sorry," he said, voice steady.

 

Gojo didn't apologize.

 

He just stared at me. At the hand on my back. Then, he flicked his gaze back to Suguru with a grin too sharp around the edges.

 

"Well," he said, pushing his glasses back up. "You'd better hurry up and make her a prodigy then. Wouldn't want your teaching style to fall short of mine."

 

Suguru tilted his head. "I'll let her results speak for themselves."

 

Gojo let out a low, amused hum. "Sure, sure. But let's make one thing clear-"

 

He stepped close enough that I could feel the buzz of his Infinity again.

 

"I'm not the one who's jealous."

 

Suguru's smile was razor thin. "Aren't you?"

 

Their cursed energies pulsed against each other, pressure building so tight my ears rang.

 

I coughed.

 

"Okay," I wheezed. "Fun as this is, I'm going to throw up from the testosterone poisoning."

 

That broke it.

 

Gojo blinked. Suguru gave a soft snort. The tension thinned.

 

I turned away and dropped to sit on the ground, breath hitching as my body finally reminded me I wasn't as strong as I wanted to be yet.

 

Suguru knelt beside me without a word.

 

Gojo hovered behind, quiet now.

 

And as I sat there, breathing, sweat-drenched, and exhausted but I realized something.

 

They were both showing off. Just in completely different ways. Suguru, with his steady presence, his careful hands and thoughtful instructions. Gojo with his flash, his fire, his desperate need to be seen.

 

And somehow, I was stuck between them.

 

Suguru handed me a bottle of water, and I took it gratefully, swallowing half in one go even though it hurt my throat. My limbs trembled slightly with leftover adrenaline, and my cursed energy still fizzled in odd directions, like a storm had passed through me and didn't know how to leave.

 

Gojo still hadn't moved.

 

He was standing just behind us, watching. Sunglasses on, arms crossed, jaw tight under all the forced ease. That smile he wore, big, easy, blinding, was stretched too far. Too white. Too clean.

 

Suguru didn't even look at him. Just said, casual as ever: "You were quieter than usual back there, Satoru. That aura of invincibility wearing thin?"

 

Gojo's jaw twitched. "Oh?" he said with mock interest. "I thought I was just being polite. Didn't want to break your little classroom vibe."

 

Suguru finally glanced at him, dark eyes cool. "You seemed more like a kid who didn't like being left out."

 

There was a beat.

 

A charged, brittle silence.

 

Then Gojo stepped forward, too close, like gravity wanted him in Suguru's space.

 

He leaned in just enough for no one else to hear, lips curling near Suguru's ear.

 

"Keep showing off," he whispered, all sugar and venom. "And I'll show them what it looks like when I actually fight you."

 

Suguru didn't flinch.

 

In fact, his smirk deepened.

 

"Go ahead," he murmured back. "But if I land a single hit, they'll never let you live it down."

 

Gojo pulled back with a grin, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Ohh, someone's cocky."

 

"Someone's threatened."

 

The cursed energy between them flared again, invisible to the untrained eye, but thick as molasses to anyone paying attention.

 

Utahime was definitely paying attention. "They're going to kill each other," she muttered from the sidelines.

 

"I'd bet money on it," Nanami said flatly.

 

I stood up, swaying a little. The tension was still crawling up my spine, and the boys were practically radiating enough power to cook the grass under their shoes. I looked between them, one hand pinching the bridge of my nose, the other clenched loosely at my side.

 

"Okay," I snapped. "I'm done."

 

Both of them turned to look at me.

 

"I'm done," I repeated, more firmly. "You two can keep measuring dicks if you want, but I'm getting food before I pass out."

 

Suguru blinked. "Amara-"

 

"No," I cut him off. "I get it. You're both strong and mysterious and emotionally constipated and apparently allergic to just saying what you mean. But I'm hungry. And I need a shower. So either walk with me, or keep your energy contest going until the building explodes. I genuinely don't care right now."

 

Gojo stared at me.

 

Suguru stared at Gojo.

 

Gojo opened his mouth, then closed it again. "...Do they still have those spicy karaage buns in the vending machine near the mess hall?" he asked weakly.

 

I gave him the flattest look I could muster. "Yes, but if you try to steal mine, I'll strangle you."

 

He held up both hands. "Understood."

 

Suguru said nothing, but I could feel the way his cursed energy cooled, the tension draining from his frame as he fell back into step beside me.

 

I turned and started walking. The field behind me was still a wreck. The audience was still murmuring.

 

But I didn't care.

 

Because right now, food is waaaayy more important than emotionally repressed demigods with something to prove.

 

Behind me, I heard Gojo mutter under his breath: "She gets all dramatic when she's hungry."

 

And Suguru, ever the instigator, replied just loud enough for me to hear

 

"Maybe she just gets tired of playing with boys who don't know how to share."

 

I didn't turn around.

 

But I did smile.

 

---

 

The walk to the mess hall started quiet.

 

Tension still lingered, but it dulled beneath the soft chatter of campus life and the warm scent of fried food drifting in the air. Gojo walked just ahead of us, kicking a rock down the path like it owed him money. Suguru walked beside me with his hands in his pockets, his gaze occasionally flicking sideways as if checking to make sure I was really okay now that the adrenaline had worn off.

 

And I was.

 

Mostly.

 

Still sore. Still buzzing. But the hunger was real enough to distract me.

 

By the time we reached the vending machines outside the mess building, Gojo had already reverted to peak menace.

 

"Alright," he declared, planting himself in front of the machine like it was a throne. "Three spicy karaage buns, two sprites, one melon pan, and an ego boost for me, since someone finally managed to land a hit."

 

Suguru leaned against the wall. "Still not over that?"

 

"I am perfectly over it," Gojo said, jabbing the machine buttons like they personally offended him. "I'm so over it I might buy out the whole row. You want one, Hoshizuki?"

 

I raised a brow. "One what? Ego boost?"

 

"Those come free of charge," he grinned. "But no, your pick. You earned it. You were a little battle cryptid back there."

 

Suguru rolled his eyes. "That's not a compliment."

 

"Sure it is," Gojo said, retrieving the first of many buns with a flourish. "Cryptids are mysterious. Powerful. Covered in blood, usually. Just like Amara."

 

"You're unhinged."

 

"I'm delightful."

 

I was too hungry to argue, so I took the offered bun with a quiet thanks and leaned against the edge of the machine, watching the two of them bicker like the earlier tension never happened.

 

And it hit me then, how quickly they bounced back from confrontation. Like rubber bands stretched to their limits but never snapping.

 

Until one of them made it snap.

 

"Y'know," Gojo said suddenly, eyes sliding sideways with a little too much sparkle, "now that we're getting closer... maybe I should get your number."

 

He looked at me.

 

Dead serious.

 

Suguru turned his head sharply.

 

I blinked. "My what?"

 

"Your number," Gojo said, popping open a soda like this was casual. "For, y'know... missions. Emergencies. Casual flirting. Definitely not so I can send you dumb things at 3 a.m. or text you terrible puns."

 

I stared at him. "I don't have a phone."

 

Silence.

 

Then Gojo physically recoiled.

 

"You- what?!"

 

I shrugged, chewing. "Never needed one."

 

Gojo dropped his bun. "You don't have a phone?!"

 

"Why is that surprising?"

 

"Amara," he said slowly, like I'd just told him I eat glass, "even Utahime has a phone. I saw her playing Snake in the common room."

 

I gave him a blank look. "That's a game?"

 

"Suguru," Gojo said, spinning toward his best friend like this was a shared emergency, "she doesn't have a phone!"

 

Suguru sipped his soda calmly. "She just said that."

 

"Yaga's gonna hear about this."

 

And he pulled out his flip phone. Bright yellow and sleek. Definitely top of the line.

 

"What...?" I asked slowly.

 

"Just let happen, hes not going to back down from this one." Suguru muttered, eyes closed like he was tired of explaining it.

 

Gojo was already dialing.

 

"Yaga!" he barked into the phone. "It's an emergency. It's Amara! She has no phone! What kind of world are we living in!? She's a healer, for god's sake! How's she supposed to call for help?? Smoke signals?!"

 

There was a muffled response on the other end.

 

"Put it on my card. Get her something good. Flip phone minimum, none of that beep-only brick nonsense- Oh, Amara, what's your favorite color?"

 

He aimed the question at me so suddenly I almost dropped my bun. "Uh... purple?"

 

"Purple," he repeated into the phone. "Tell the tech guy. I want it shiny. She deserves shiny. And don't cheap out on minutes, she's new, she might get lost."

 

Suguru was staring at him now, barely blinking. "You're ridiculous."

 

"I'm a hero, Suguru."

 

"You're a shopping addict with too much pocket money."

 

"Same thing," Gojo replied waving him off. 

 

"Thanks, pops!" And he snapped the phone shut with a flourish like he'd just sealed a business deal.

 

I stared at him, stunned. "You... didn't have to do that."

 

Gojo tossed the last soda to Suguru without looking. "Yeah, I did. Can't have my favorite curse gremlin out here phoneless. That's just tragic."

 

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

 

"Thank you," I said quietly. "Seriously. I've never had my own..."

 

Gojo's grin softened, just a little. "First of many things you'll get now."

 

And then he turned to Suguru. That smirk was back.

 

"All I'm saying," Gojo said, leaning dramatically against the vending machine like a smug anime rival, "is that I just gave her her first phone. What have you done today?"

 

Suguru's eye twitched.

 

I bit into the rest of my bun to avoid laughing.

 

Because now it was Gojo pushing Suguru's buttons.

 

And he knew it and he was thriving.

 

Gojo was painfully smug.

 

Not the usual kind of smug, this was the I just won something no one else realized was a game kind of smug. He leaned against the vending machine like it was a throne and popped another spicy bun into his mouth with the kind of confidence that screamed look at me, I did something nice and now I'm gonna rub it in forever.

 

Suguru didn't say anything at first.

 

But I saw it, the flicker in his jaw. The faint tension behind the calm lines of his face. He sipped his soda slower than usual, gaze fixed on the horizon like he might astral project out of sheer patience.

 

Gojo noticed.

 

Of course he did.

 

"Y'know," he drawled, stretching his arms above his head and flashing the barest sliver of stomach as his jacket lifted, "this whole 'responsible mentor' thing really suits me. Maybe I should start doing more charity work. Could be good for my image."

 

Suguru's tone stayed even. "You don't have an image. You have a reputation."

 

"Which you benefit from," Gojo shot back, voice lilting. "I bring the chaos, you bring the cleanup. It's a balanced ecosystem."

 

"You're a forest fire. I'm the water."

 

"Hot forest fire, though."

 

"You're exhausting."

 

Gojo grinned and turned toward me. "See what I deal with? He's always like this. All quiet judgment and perfect hair. You'd think with all that cursed spirit knowledge, he'd know how to have fun."

 

I laugh a little.

 

Suguru exhaled through his nose, slow and precise, like he was calculating something.

 

Then Gojo added, real casual, "Not everyone can give people firsts, I guess."

 

The tension snapped like a pulled wire.

 

Suguru's hand froze around his soda.

 

I felt the air shift, not dangerous, not flaring, but sharp. Tight. Suguru's eyes didn't narrow, but the warmth in them dulled just a little. Not gone. Just... cooled.

 

"That's not what this is," he said, voice quiet.

 

Gojo tilted his head. "Isn't it?"

 

The silence between them stretched, subtle but buzzing.

 

And for the first time, I really looked at Suguru.

 

At how still he was. How careful. How hard he worked to stay measured around Gojo, even when the other was throwing verbal knives like they were nothing.

 

I'd thought he was just... composed. Collected.

 

But now?

 

Now I saw it.

 

The edge.

 

The way he held things back. Not because he didn't feel them, but because he felt them too much.

 

Gojo knew it, too.

 

And he was poking at it.

 

"Suguru," I said, gently.

 

He glanced at me, and his shoulders dropped almost imperceptibly. That heat behind his eyes banked again, tucked away like it had never been there.

 

"I'm fine," he said. Too quickly.

 

Gojo's smirk faltered just a hair, but he recovered fast. "C'mon," he said lightly. "Don't get all broody on me. I'm just saying, if we're trying to make friends, I think I'm ahead."

 

"Oh, so it's a contest now?"

 

I blinked between them.

 

"...You're trying to make friends with me?"

 

Gojo turned to me with mock offense. "What, you thought I was risking my life to make sure you got a purple flip phone out of the kindness of my heart?"

 

"Didn't you just say you wanted to do charity work?"

 

"Exactly. You're my charity case."

 

I shoved him in the shoulder. He exaggerated a stumble, clutched at the vending machine like he'd been mortally wounded, and said, "Abuse. I'm reporting this."

 

Suguru stepped in with a calm expression and handed Gojo a napkin. "Here. For the wound to your ego."

 

"You're both the worst," I muttered, fighting a smile.

 

But inside?

 

Something about it felt... good.

 

Not the jabs or the bickering. But the fact that they were both trying, in their own ridiculous ways, to pull me into something. I didn't know if they were even aware of it yet. If it was about me or about winning or about not wanting to be the one left behind.

 

But I felt it.

 

Suguru wasn't as chill as he looked.

 

Gojo wasn't as confident as he acted.

 

And me?

 

I wasn't sure what I was to them yet.

 

But for once, I wanted to stick around to find out.

 

---

 

Yaga found me just outside the common room, arms crossed and looking like he'd just come from dragging a cursed spirit by the neck out of a sewer. He always looked like that, stern, tired, vaguely annoyed. But today?

 

He was smiling.

 

Like a real, soft-eyed, barely-contained smile.

 

"Amara," he said, clearing his throat like he didn't want anyone catching him being sentimental in public. "I have something for you."

 

I blinked. "Uh... okay?"

 

He reached into his coat and pulled out a box. Purple. Glossy. My name written on a sticker in Gojo's handwriting, dramatic swirls, glitter marker, and a tiny smiley face next to it.

 

I stared.

 

Yaga held it out, clearly trying not to look too invested. "From the school. Technically."

 

"Technically?"

 

"Gojo's card. Don't ask how much it cost."

 

I opened the box with careful fingers.

 

There it was.

 

A brand new flip phone. Sleek. Shiny. Deep violet with a faint shimmer when the light hit it. The keypad sparkled slightly. The screen was clean, untouched. Mine.

 

My first anything that was truly mine.

 

"Holy crap," I breathed, staring at it like it might vanish. "This is... mine?"

 

Yaga nodded, beard twitching like he wanted to smile wider but didn't know how.

 

I giggled.

 

Not just a laugh. A full-body, bright, giddy sound that felt like it cracked something open in my chest. I'd never even touched something this nice before. And now it was in my hands.

 

Yaga looked startled at first.

 

Then he smiled. Like, really smiled. The proud-dad kind. Like he'd just watched his kid win their first spar or perform their first technique and didn't want to embarrass them by tearing up.

 

"Thank you," I said, voice catching a little. "Really."

 

"You're welcome," he replied, quiet and warm. "Go on. I think there are two idiots waiting to be your first contacts."

 

I didn't wait.

 

I didn't knock.

 

Didn't even hesitate.

 

I ran through the dorm hallway and skidded around the corner like a possessed raccoon with a mission, cradling my new phone like it was an ancient relic.

 

Gojo's door was slightly cracked open.

 

So I shoved it all the way.

 

Both heads whipped toward me at once.

 

Gojo was mid-lean over a small fold-out table littered with Digimon cards. Suguru sat cross-legged across from him, calmly sipping juice from a tiny carton like a monk who had simply decided Digimon was now a spiritual practice.

 

"I GOT THE PHONE-!"

 

Gojo blinked. Suguru raised a brow. And in the half-second before either of them could respond, I launched myself toward the table, nearly knocking Gojo's rare foil card off the edge.

 

"It's PURPLE!" I declared, shoving it toward them like I'd won a lottery. "And it's mine!"

 

Gojo whistled. "Ohhh. Damn. Yaga actually followed through?"

 

I grinned wide. "Guess all that dramatic begging worked."

 

Gojo puffed out his chest. "You're welcome. Clearly my influence is rubbing off on the man."

 

Suguru sipped his juice. "Your influence nearly got you suspended last week."

 

Gojo waved that off. "Details."

 

He leaned back and nodded at the phone. "You know, it's a good color. But you know what makes it great?" He pointed at himself with a flourish. "The fact that I made it happen. I mean, let's be real, I did save your life. With fashion. And generosity. And selfless charm."

 

I laughed, half-cackling as I flipped the phone open and shut. "You're ridiculous."

 

He grinned wider. "Ridiculously amazing."

 

And then I hugged him.

 

I didn't even think about it, I just threw my arms around his shoulders and squeezed, burying my face briefly against his neck. Gojo went still for exactly half a second.

 

Then?

 

He milked it.

 

"Awww," he cooed loudly, wrapping both arms around my waist like he'd just been reunited with a long-lost lover. "Look at this! Genuine affection! Someone get a camera, this is going in the yearbook."

 

I laughed and tried to pull away, but he clung like a koala. "I'm serious," he said, raising his voice just enough to echo off the dorm walls. "I am clearly her favorite. Look at this loyalty. This admiration. This deep emotional bond-"

 

Suguru's fingers twitched around his juice carton.

 

He didn't look angry. Of course not. Geto never looked angry.

 

But the way he adjusted his legs and straightened his posture just a little too perfectly? Calculated neutrality.

 

Gojo noticed.

 

He absolutely noticed.

 

And he leaned into it with all the grace of a man chucking gasoline onto a very polite fire.

 

"You know, it's crazy," Gojo went on, loosening his grip just enough to let me sit back a bit, but keeping an arm draped oh-so-casually around my shoulders. "When you go above and beyond for someone, really invest in their joy, you get rewarded. Like this. Human affection. Cute smiles. Hugs."

 

His eyes slid to Suguru. Glittering.

 

"I mean, not everyone gets that. Some people just get a thank-you text. If that."

 

Suguru didn't flinch. Just looked him dead in the eye and said, "I don't need a hug to know where I stand."

 

Gojo grinned. "Of course not. Because you used to be her favorite."

 

"Used to?"

 

"I mean, I got her her first phone. That's, like, bonding for life."

 

Suguru tilted his head slightly. "Is that why you were pouting when she fell asleep next to me?"

 

Gojo blinked. "I don't pout."

 

"You sulked in the corner like a wet cat."

 

"That was my brooding aesthetic, thank you very much. And in case you forgot I got to sleep in the same bed on her stomach."

 

Suguru waved him off. "Details."

 

They bickered like it was a language only the two of them spoke. And me?

 

I just sat between them, phone in hand, smile still tugging at my mouth, and watched it unfold.

 

Because whether they admitted it or not, both of them were trying.

 

Not to win. Not really.

 

But to stay close.

 

And in that quiet part of me, the part that used to brace for yelling or silence or slamming doors, I realized something else:

 

They made me feel like I belonged in the middle.

 

Right where I was.

 

I flipped the phone open with a snap like it was a weapon and looked up at them with a grin. "Alright. Time to make this official. Numbers. Both of you."

 

Gojo immediately puffed up like he'd just been knighted. "You want my number first, right? I mean, it's clearly the most important one."

 

"Whichever one you can type faster," I said, handing him the phone.

 

He pretended to be offended. "You wound me."

 

Suguru just held out a hand calmly. "Give it here. Before he names himself something stupid."

 

"I was gonna put 'Gojo the Great.'"

 

"Exactly."

 

I laughed and passed the phone to Suguru first. He entered his number quickly, his fingers precise on the keypad, and handed it off to Gojo like they were passing a relay baton. Gojo immediately typed something very fast and hit save with a flourish.

 

I snatched it back and checked the contacts.

 

Suguru G.

Satoru Gojo The Greatest ;)

 

I blinked. "The greatest, huh?"

 

"Uh duh! Because I am," Gojo said proudly.

 

"Don't float away with that inflated ego," Suguru muttered, sipping his juice again.

 

"I still have plenty of room to be complimented," Gojo insisted.

 

I rolled my eyes and quickly typed up a message.

 

Just a simple:

This is me. Try not to be annoying. :)

 

I hit send to all.

 

The second it went through, both of their phones buzzed at the exact same time. I watched them lift their phones in perfect sync.

 

Gojo laughed. "Ohhh. She's already texting like a pro. Look at this sass!"

 

Suguru smiled faintly, his thumbs moving across his keypad with that same methodical grace he used for everything. Gojo, on the other hand, was hammering buttons like he was defusing a bomb.

 

My phone buzzed.

 

I flipped it open.

 

From Suguru G.

Noted. I will be exactly 20% less annoying than Gojo at all times.

 

Then..

 

From Satoru Gojo The Greatest ;)

Too late. Already annoying. Can't stop now.

 

I giggled.

 

Like, actual giggled.

 

And they both looked up at the same time.

 

Gojo raised a brow. "What was that?"

 

"Was that a giggle?" Suguru asked, voice faintly teasing.

 

"No," I said quickly, trying not to smile harder. "It was a normal-person laugh. Shut up."

 

Gojo smirked. "You sure? It sounded like delight."

 

"Sounded like affection," Suguru added.

 

"Sounded like she likes us."

 

"Sounded like she's gonna deny it forever."

 

"I am going to deny it forever," I said, hugging my phone to my chest. "You're both insufferable."

 

"Yeah," Gojo said, leaning back on his hands and grinning like the sun. "But you're stuck with us now."

 

Suguru just smiled.

 

And I couldn't help it, I was smiling too. Big and genuine.

 

Because I was stuck with them.

 

And for once, that didn't feel like a trap.

 

It felt like a beginning.

 

 

Chapter 12: Attention Grabbing

The warehouse stank like mold and burned plastic. Thick with cursed energy, like someone had spilled oil over the air and lit it on fire. Cracked windows let in just enough gray light to make the shadows look like they were watching.

 

Yaga had said it was a "low-pressure mission", more observation than combat. "Just watch how they work," he had told me. "They're the best of the best. You'll learn plenty."

 

Yeah. Sure.

 

Except right now, the best of the best were arguing like two kids trying to one-up each other in a sandbox made of blood and cursed debris.

 

"-I'm telling you, Satoru, you didn't even check the second floor," Suguru said as his curse spirits fanned out in perfect synch behind him like a living diagram.

 

Gojo grinned, hanging upside down from a broken ceiling beam like a very smug bat. "Because there's nothing on the second floor. I already scoped it. With my perfect vision and flawless instincts. You're welcome."

 

Suguru's jaw ticked. "Or you skipped it because you got bored."

 

"Same thing."

 

"No. It's really not."

 

I sat on an overturned desk, hands clasped tightly in my lap, watching the energy between them twist like a coiled wire. What started as banter had shifted. I could feel it.

 

Gojo warped to the other side of the room in a blink, toes tapping the ground as he landed in a crouch, eyes gleaming. "Besides," he called lazily, "I already exorcised the big one downstairs. One shot. Boom. Clean kill."

 

Suguru's expression barely moved, but the air around him rippled as three cursed spirits emerged behind his back, each one delicate, quiet, and lethal. He motioned once, and they spiraled down the hallway like smoke.

 

"I don't miss things, Satoru," he said. "That's the difference between style and discipline."

 

"Oh? Was that a dig at my style?"

 

"If it was, it wouldn't be subtle."

 

Gojo's grin sharpened. "You want unsubtle?"

 

He vanished again, then reappeared right in front of Suguru, crouched low, Infinity humming in the air between them.

 

"This unsubtle?"

 

Suguru didn't flinch. He just lifted his hand slowly, cursed spirits rising like a tide behind him, every one of them flaring with silent command.

 

"Satoru," he said softly, "we're on a mission."

 

"Then stop trying to be a dad. You're not Yaga."

 

"Someone has to be when you're bouncing off the walls like a hexed pinball."

 

I could feel it in my spine, the tension. The cursed energy in the room was heavy, not from the actual curses but because of them.

 

I stood up.

 

Cleared my throat.

 

Neither of them looked at me.

 

The last cursed spirit, some bloated thing dragging a broken arm and drooling ooze, crawled out of a stairwell and wheezed.

 

Gojo snapped his fingers.

 

It exploded into a million meat bits covering the walls in disgusting goo.

 

Suguru didn't even blink. Just turned and dismissed his spirits like he was brushing lint off his sleeve.

 

And then they walked out.

 

Side by side.

 

Not speaking.

 

I trailed after them, frowning as the warehouse door groaned open and sunlight hit my eyes.

 

We stood there a second, the building groaning behind us. Dust swirling in the light.

 

Gojo cracked his neck. Suguru didn't look at him.

 

I crossed my arms.

 

"You two are acting weird."

 

Without missing a beat, both of them said, "No, he's acting weird," in perfect, annoyed unison.

 

I blinked.

 

"...Seriously?"

 

Gojo waved a hand. "Suguru's just being cranky because I'm faster."

 

Suguru snorted. "And you're being reckless because you can't focus."

 

"Can't focus? I had that thing dead in one shot."

 

"I had six curses down in five seconds. Without wrecking the hallway."

 

Gojo turned. "Okay. But which hallway looked cooler, though?"

 

Suguru sighed so deeply that I thought his soul was trying to exit his body.

 

I just stared at them.

 

They were still... them. Still joking, still biting. But something had shifted beneath the surface. Like a fault line cracking, pressure building up underneath their usual rhythm.

 

I wasn't sure what it meant.

 

But I didn't like it.

 

---

 

The next mission was without them.

 

The escalators in the abandoned mall groaned like old bones in the dark.

 

Flickering overhead lights buzzed like insects caught in a trap, casting long shadows across storefronts with peeling signs and dust-coated mannequins frozen in forever sales.

 

It should've felt creepy.

 

But all I felt was annoyance. 

 

"Yaga said this was a 'basic walkthrough' for cursed presence detection," Shoko muttered, cigarette tucked behind her ear as she examined a cracked floor tile. "Which is code for: 'babysit Amara without telling her it's babysitting.'"

 

"I heard that," I called from a few feet ahead.

 

She didn't even turn around. "You were supposed to."

 

Nanami walked with his usual precision, eyes scanning every broken skylight and unlit corner like he was judging the building's architectural sins. Yu bounced beside him like a golden retriever in a button-up shirt.

 

"Whoa," Haibara said, peering into a busted arcade, "this place is kinda cool. Like, in a cursed-kinda way. We should fix it up."

 

Nanami side-eyed him. "Absolutely not."

 

Yaga stayed posted outside the shattered glass entrance like a glorified security guard, clearly waiting for what we all knew was inevitable.

 

Gojo and Geto had finished their mission an hour ago. The odds of them not trying to sneak in? Zero. Yaga was just pretending he didn't know. Or maybe hoping they'd hold off long enough for me to actually train.

 

Which I was trying to do.

 

Really.

 

But all I could think about was how weird they'd been.

 

The silence. The tension. The unspoken bitterness that hung between them like static.

 

And no one was talking about it.

 

I stopped beside a rusted fountain and turned to face the others. "Hey."

 

Shoko looked up from flicking ash onto a broken directory map.

 

Nanami paused.

 

Yu grinned at me. "Yeah?"

 

"...Do any of you think Gojo and Geto are acting weird?"

 

There was a pause.

 

Then:

 

"Yes," said Nanami flatly.

 

"Obviously," Shoko added.

 

"Super weird!" Haibara chirped.

 

I blinked. "Okay. So it's not just me."

 

Shoko stretched her arms overhead, her sleeves sliding down to her elbows. "They've been weird for years. But yeah. Lately? Definitely worse."

 

"They're bickering more," Nanami said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "And Gojo's been showing off more than usual, which is... an achievement."

 

"They've always been competitive," Haibara offered. "But it feels more personal now."

 

That made something in my stomach twist.

 

I crossed my arms. "I just... I don't get it. Everything was fine. And now they're acting like they're trying to win something. Or... prove something."

 

"They're both emotionally stunted show-offs with power complexes and zero self-awareness," Shoko said, walking past me and tapping her cigarette against a rusted trash can. "Welcome to the team."

 

I sighed and slumped against a support column. "Great."

 

Shoko paused. Her tone shifted, just slightly into something softer, quieter. "You know it's not about you, right?"

 

I hesitated. "Isn't it, though?"

 

Nanami looked at me, serious as ever. "Ignore them. Focus on yourself. Your technique needs refinement. That should be your priority."

 

"Gee, thanks," I muttered.

 

"It's not an insult," he said, voice even. "You're strong. But if you waste your time worrying about two grown men playing tug-of-war with their egos, you'll never reach your potential."

 

"I just want them to stop being... weird."

 

"You can't fix that," Shoko said gently.

 

Haibara stepped forward, smiling. "You can't fix them, Amara. But you can help them. By being you. Honest. Brave. Annoying."

 

"Thanks." I laughed a little.

 

"That's a compliment!"

 

I rolled my eyes, but I smiled anyway.

 

Because as frustrating as they were, Gojo and Suguru, I cared. And that was the problem.

 

I just didn't know what to do with it yet.

 

----------

 

The sun hung low over the shattered skeleton of the abandoned mall, casting long, jagged shadows across the cracked parking lot. Satoru crouched behind a faded vending machine like a six-foot gremlin in Versace sunglasses.

 

Suguru stood beside him, arms folded loosely, watching the front entrance like it might open with a red carpet and fanfare.

 

"They're already inside," Gojo whispered, peeking around the metal frame. "We're late."

 

"We weren't invited."

 

"We're always invited."

 

Suguru tilted his head. "Yaga explicitly said no."

 

Gojo looked offended. "He also said I'm 'a menace to training environments,' but I still show up."

 

"That's not a defense."

 

"It's a lifestyle."

 

Suguru's lips twitched, like he wanted to smile and was actively repressing it. "You're unbelievable."

 

"You're here too."

 

"I'm supervising your poor decisions."

 

Gojo grinned. "See? We're a team."

 

He warped up to the roof of the entrance with a whisper of cursed energy, crouching low like a spy in an after-school special.

 

Suguru followed more quietly, stepping up onto a summoned cursed spirit shaped like a massive stingray that hummed low as it carried him upward.

 

They both landed in a crouch, side by side.

 

Gojo squinted down through the broken skylight. "I see movement. Think they've found a cursed nest yet?"

 

"Doubtful. Yaga wouldn't send Amara into real combat yet. He wants to test her restraint."

 

"Ugh. That's boring."

 

"That's the point."

 

Gojo made a dramatic gagging noise just as a heavy, stern voice rang out from behind them.

 

"Do not make me drag you two out by the collars."

 

Both heads whipped around at the same time.

 

Yaga stood just a few feet away, arms crossed, face stone-set. Behind the sunglasses, Gojo's brows shot up.

 

Suguru gave a perfectly neutral nod. "Yaga."

 

"Don't 'Yaga' me. What did I say about this mission?"

 

Gojo grinned, already trying to backpedal. "We're not interfering. We're observing. Different verb. Less crime."

 

Yaga did not look impressed.

 

Suguru, ever the more composed of the two, added smoothly, "We were simply curious. You said yourself it's important for us to understand the development of our classmates."

 

"And I also said," Yaga cut in sharply, "that the last time I let either of you train with Amara, she walked away learning nothing, overwhelmed, and nearly set the field on fire."

 

Gojo winced. "That's an exaggeration. The flames were controlled."

 

"They melted Nanami's watch."

 

"He needed a new one."

 

Yaga exhaled slowly, a vein in his temple twitching. "You had your chance to help her. You turned it into a competition."

 

Suguru opened his mouth, clearly ready with some diplomatic rebuttal.

 

Yaga turned to him next. "And don't think you're off the hook, Suguru. You are just as guilty as he is."

 

Suguru's lips parted slightly, as if ready to object, but he didn't. His jaw tightened instead, brows knitting with that same quiet restraint he always wore like armor. It was rare to see Suguru look genuinely chastised. Even rarer to see him not try to explain himself.

 

Yaga wasn't done.

 

"I don't know what's gotten into the two of you lately," he said, voice hard and low. "But it's interfering with Amara's progress."

 

That landed like a stone dropped in still water.

 

Suguru didn't flinch, but Gojo glanced sideways at him, then back at Yaga, mouth tugging into a crooked line.

 

"She's just-" Gojo started.

 

"She's a student," Yaga snapped. "One still struggling with control. And instead of guiding her, you've been dragging her into your little ego contest. Sparring? Fine. Showing off your cursed energy like it's a circus act? Not fine."

 

Suguru exhaled slowly through his nose. "We didn't mean to-"

 

"I know you didn't mean to," Yaga said. "But that doesn't make it better."

 

The silence hung thick for a beat.

 

Then Yaga stepped back and crossed his arms again, the glare still firmly locked in place.

 

"Here are your choices. You can stay up here, quietly, and wait until they finish, or you can head back to the school. But either way, you're not interfering. And you're not training her together again until she improves. Understood?"

 

Gojo raised his hands in surrender, leaning back on his elbows. "Alright, alright. No need to bring out the execution orders. We'll behave." He paused. "Mostly."

 

Yaga gave him a long, unimpressed look.

 

Suguru inclined his head. "We'll stay. Quietly."

 

"Good," Yaga muttered. "Try not to break the roof."

 

He turned and hopped down off the edge without another word, boots crunching softly as he landed on the gravel path below.

 

As soon as he was out of earshot, Gojo stretched out dramatically with a groan, legs kicking lazily over the edge of the rooftop.

 

"You're quiet," he said, flicking Suguru a sideways glance. "Guilt looks weird on you."

 

"I'm thinking."

 

"Dangerous pastime."

 

Suguru shot him a look. "You did push her too hard."

 

Gojo shrugged. "Yeah, well. You let me."

 

Suguru didn't argue.

 

Because that part was true.

 

They sat in silence a moment longer, just above the broken glass skylight where they could both see Amara pacing through the old food court, Haibara happily chattering beside her while Shoko casually leaned against a support beam, smirking at something Amara said.

 

Suguru's gaze lingered on her, watching the way her hands moved when she talked. The way she ducked her head when she laughed. Still not used to being seen.

 

Gojo saw it.

 

And smirked faintly, voice light as ever. "Y'know," he said, "I don't think we're as bad at this as Yaga thinks."

 

Suguru arched a brow. "You think?"

 

"I mean," Gojo stretched again, lacing his hands behind his head, "she's not scared of us. That's a win."

 

Suguru didn't answer right away.

 

"She trusts us," he said, quiet. "Even when we don't deserve it."

 

Gojo glanced over. Something in Suguru's voice made his grin falter.

 

But it only lasted a second.

 

"Good thing we're fast learners, huh?" Gojo said and flashed him a cocky grin. "Next time Yaga gives us the green light, we'll be perfect mentors. Kind. Gentle. Modest."

 

Suguru huffed. "You've never been modest a day in your life."

 

"Hey," Gojo grinned, pushing his glasses higher, "if I were modest, how would the world know how great I am?"

 

"A tragedy, truly."

 

They lapsed into silence again, watching her through the glass. 

 

From their perch on the rooftop, Satoru and Suguru watched the group inside begin to move, the soft hum of footsteps echoing across the cracked tile below.

 

Shoko led the way through the rusted remnants of the old mall's atrium, followed by Nanami and Haibara in casual formation. Amara brought up the rear, dragging her hand lightly along the grime dusted railing as she walked, eyes a little distant, mouth pulled into a thoughtful line.

 

"She looks fine," Gojo muttered, chewing on a stick of gum he'd pulled from his pocket, sunglasses pushed down just enough to give him a better view.

 

Suguru hummed. "She's not."

 

"She's walking."

 

"She's thinking."

 

"She always thinks."

 

Suguru didn't respond.

 

Below, the group passed through the rusted metal doors of what used to be a department store, and Gojo shifted slightly, adjusting for a better angle

 

Amara stopped.

 

The others kept walking.

 

She stayed perfectly still, boot heels planted in a thin layer of dust. Her head tilted slightly like she was listening for something no one else could hear.

 

Then, slowly... she looked up.

 

Right at them.

 

Gojo froze, gum pausing mid-chew. Suguru leaned forward, just slightly, expression unreadable.

 

Amara didn't wave. Didn't smile.

 

She just rolled her eyes.

 

Then she turned and jogged ahead to catch up with the others, disappearing behind a wall of broken mannequins.

 

Gojo blinked. "She totally knew we were here."

 

Suguru just gave a small, satisfied smile. "Of course she did."

 

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

 

I caught up with the others, dust catching in my throat as we passed through what remained of the women's formalwear section. Headless mannequins in tattered cocktail dresses leaned drunkenly against racks like hungover ghosts. Fluorescent lights above flickered but never quite turned on.

 

Shoko glanced back once. "You good?"

 

"Yeah," I muttered, brushing dirt off my sleeve. "Just had to check something."

 

She didn't ask.

 

Haibara jogged a little ahead, peering around corners like he was expecting something to leap out. "I haven't seen any signs yet," he called. "Yaga said it should be a weak one, right?"

 

"Residual readings were low," Nanami confirmed. "But this place's layout is unstable. Could be deeper in."

 

I followed them through the corridor, hand flexing slightly at my side. I could feel it, not strong, not sharp, but there. Like a heat shimmer under my skin. Something twisted and wet that shouldn't exist.

 

It was waiting.

 

Haibara reached a corner first, then stiffened. "Got something."

 

We all stopped.

 

Nanami stepped up beside him, eyes narrowing. "It's weak. No intelligence. But it's moving."

 

A shadow twitched at the edge of a collapsed jewelry counter, small, hunched, and malformed, like a drowned dog covered in moldy blankets. It hissed when it saw us.

 

Shoko cracked her knuckles. "Alright, newbie. This freak is all yours."

 

My chest tightened, but I stepped forward.

 

Nanami gave a short, approving nod. "You're in charge. We'll only intervene if necessary."

 

The spirit twitched again, dragging itself forward in a slithering, boneless mess. It clicked its teeth together, mouth foaming.

 

I swallowed. My vines curled inside me, ready but buzzing like a swarm of wasps under my skin.

 

I raised my hand.

 

"Okay," I whispered. "Let's try this."

 

The cursed spirit lunged.

 

Not fast, but unpredictable. It moved like something in pain, twitchy and crooked, with long limbs that scraped against the tile like dull blades. Its body was shaped like a collapsed centipede, all twitching spines and sagging joints. It shrieked when I stepped closer.

 

I flinched but forced myself forward.

 

My cursed energy sparked on instinct, a jolt behind my ribs. I pivoted to the side, narrowly avoiding the first swipe of its claws, but not the second.

 

A sharp crack of pain lit up my shoulder as one limb clipped me hard, throwing my balance off. I slid backward on the grimy floor, my heel catching on some broken jewelry display. My back hit the ground with a breathless thump.

 

Haibara started to move.

 

"Wait," Nanami said, one arm shooting out. "She can heal. She needs to figure this out while under pressure."

 

"She's bleeding," Shoko murmured, frowning.

 

"And she'll stop bleeding. If she panics and has everyone run to her rescue, she can't grow."

 

My focus narrowed to the cursed spirit, now crawling over broken glass, reaching for me with jaws unhinged too wide. My ribs burned from the fall. My elbow throbbed.

 

I coughed and rolled out of the way of its attack. Though I rolled myself right into a support beam.

 

"Ugh- shit-"

 

The thing struck again, and I ducked behind a metal shelf. An idea clicked quickly, and I started shoving the shelf over with my shoulder. It crashed down in a hail of rusted perfume bottles and shattered glass, slamming down onto the spirit. It wiggled and thrashed under the shelf.

 

That bought me some time.

 

I shoved my palm against the ground, gasping.

 

"Come on-!" I growled, cursed energy flaring through me like a cracked whip.

 

Vines exploded from the floor beneath the collapsed display, blooming out like thorns from a wound. They whipped forward and tangled around the cursed spirit's limbs, locking it to the ground. One curled around its head, slamming it sideways against the floor.

 

The creature shrieked again.

 

I took the chance and dove behind another shelf, panting. My shield snapped up around me with a jolt, a tight bubble of cursed energy that shimmered like thick glass. The claw marks on my shoulder already pulsed with heat, closing, slow but sure.

 

I stayed crouched, breathing hard as the cursed spirit thrashed in the tangle of my summoned vines.

 

The floor trembled beneath it.

 

I dropped the shield.

 

I use my vines to slowly start to rip the spirit in half. A sickening crunch and tearing meat sound echoed throughout the empty mall. It screamed and wailed. 

 

"Just die already!"

 

With a final burts of energy, I tore the spirit in half, it's gore all over then disappears into nothingness. 

 

A moment later, the vines withdrew, curling back into the earth.

 

I stumbled forward, half limping. My legs ached from hitting the beam. My arm was soaked with blood, though the healing had already begun to knit the gash closed.

 

I pushed a sweaty strand of hair off my face and looked back.

 

The others stared at me in silence.

 

I exhaled, shaky but solid. I gave a thumbs up, even as I winced. "...I got it."

 

Haibara's face lit up. "You did!"

 

Shoko looked vaguely horrified but impressed. "That was brutal."

 

Nanami just nodded once. "Not efficient... but effective."

 

I dropped onto a nearby bench with a groan, muttering, "Everything hurts."

 

My vines retracted fully, leaving behind cracks and a ruined floor display. My bubble was long gone. I was covered in dust, blood, and expired body spray. I was a concoction of smells, and none of them pleasant.

 

But I'd done it. On my own.

 

Even if my skin was kinda burning and itchy from the sheer amount of perfume covering me.

 

---

 

We made our way back toward the mall's broken entryway, my steps uneven but steady. Every part of me ached like I'd been thrown down a flight of stairs, but I couldn't stop the way my chest lifted with every step. It wasn't clean. It wasn't elegant. But I'd done it and didn't pass out.

 

And as we stepped out into the hazy gray light of the late afternoon

 

I stopped short.

 

Gojo and Suguru stood near the base of the crumbling escalator like two schoolkids caught sneaking out during a fire drill. Both had the collars of their uniforms firmly clenched in each of Yaga's fists, arms pinned awkwardly at their sides. Gojo looked mildly betrayed. Suguru looked mildly resigned.

 

Yaga's expression was thunderous.

 

My lips twitched.

 

I crossed my arms and chuckled with a shake of my head.

 

Gojo, eyes widening with fake innocence, immediately perked up. "Oh hey! There's our little champion!" he called, voice all too casual as he tried to straighten up, only to get yanked back by Yaga's grip. "What a crazy coincidence running into you here!"

 

"I thought this mission was private," I said dryly, raising a brow. "Must be real easy to get lost these days."

 

Suguru cleared his throat, adjusting the angle of his sleeves like that would restore any sense of dignity. "We were... in the area."

 

Shoko snorted loud enough for it to echo. "Yeah. The area directly above us. In perfect rooftop-creep formation."

 

Haibara leaned in beside me, whispering way too loudly, "Do you think they were watching you the whole time? That's kinda romantic. Or really weird. Or both."

 

"Both," Nanami muttered without pause. He looked like he aged a year just being on this outing.

 

Gojo grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "We were just supportively observing from a safe distance. Totally not breaking any rules."

 

Yaga's grip tightened like he was this close to knocking both their heads together. "They were five seconds from busting through the skylight. I had to physically restrain them."

 

"You could've just asked nicely," Gojo grumbled.

 

"I did," Yaga growled. "Five times."

 

Suguru gave a tight, almost charming smile. "We were only concerned. That's all."

 

"Because we care," Gojo added, nodding sagely. "So much."

 

I stared at both of them.

 

Gojo had leaves in his hair. Suguru's collar was wrinkled. Neither of them looked remotely casual, no matter how hard they were trying to sell it.

 

I narrowed my eyes. "Uh huh."

 

Shoko cackled, bumping her shoulder into mine. "You really broke their little brains, y'know."

 

"I didn't do anything."

 

"Exactly."

 

Yu nudged Nanami. "Should we leave them to it? Let them keep awkwardly failing at pretending they're not obsessed?"

 

"No," Nanami said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Because if we leave, Satoru will absolutely say something stupid and ruin all the progress she made today."

 

Gojo gasped. "Excuse me-"

 

I waved a hand. "Don't. Just... don't."

 

Suguru gave me a quiet once-over, his eyes briefly flicking to the faint bloodstain on my sleeve, and asked softly, "Are you alright?"

 

I nodded once. "Fine. Little sore."

 

Gojo perked up again. "You sure you don't need a personal medic? Or a smoothie? Or like, some cute guy who'll carry you heroically into the sunset?"

 

"Do you know a guy like that?" I shot back.

 

Shoko wheezed.

 

Yaga finally released their collars with a grunt. "All of you, back to the school. Now. Before someone actually gives me a reason to lose my last shred of patience."

 

"Yes, Dad," Gojo muttered.

 

Suguru murmured, "We're going."

 

Haibara bounced a little beside me. "That was awesome, by the way! You did great!"

 

I smiled at him, soft. "Thanks, Yu."

 

As we started walking back to the van, I didn't miss the way both Gojo and Geto trailed just behind me on either side like a pair of massive, guilty dogs pretending they hadn't just tried to crash my mission.

 

I didn't say anything.

 

But I let them follow.

 

 

Notes:

Sorry for the big spacing. When I copy my story over from Wattpad to here it makes huge spaces. Not sure why but my dyslexia likes it since its hard for me to read on this website most of the time so imma leave it.

If people really hate it I'll fix it.

 

Thanks for reading though♡

Chapter 13: Separation

The clouds overhead felt thinner today, wispy things peeled across a blue sky, the kind that didn't know if it wanted to rain or not. The courtyard gravel crunched under my boots as I stepped beside Suguru, his steps as silent as ever. The quiet between us wasn't uncomfortable.

 

Yaga had made it clear. No more joint missions with both of them. Not until I could show "measurable control" without the chaos of Gojo's antics or Suguru's silent enabling. So here I was, alone with Geto, assigned to a cursed detection exercise out in the wooded outskirts of a residential zone.

 

He stopped walking.

 

"We'll start here," Suguru said, glancing around the overgrown path. His tone was calm but clipped, like he was already assessing where the wind would carry cursed energy trails. "No buildings. Good visibility. It'll help you focus."

 

I nodded, pulse ticking a little faster. I wanted to do well. I wanted to be able to fight alongside my new friends instead of being babysat by them.

 

Suguru turned to face me. "Close your eyes."

 

"What?"

 

"You'll track them better if you aren't trying to see them. Your cursed energy sensitivity works more like a sixth sense, right? Not a line of sight."

 

I hesitated but trusted him and closed them.

 

The wind rushed faintly through the trees. A crow cried somewhere far off. For a few seconds, all I could hear was the shifting silence of nature. And then-

 

Snap.

 

A cursed spirit's presence cracked into existence nearby. I felt it like a jolt up my spine, low, dense, and slick like oil rolling across skin. Then another. And another.

 

Three distinct pulses of energy. One to my left. One high up. One behind me.

 

They buzzed against my skull like flies trying to crawl inside my ears.

 

I winced.

 

"Don't move yet," Suguru said gently, still nearby. "Feel them. Try to tell me where they are."

 

I reached out with my cursed energy like fingers fumbling in the dark.

 

The one high up... near the trees. Not close, but watching.

 

The one behind me... circling.

 

The one to my left, closer than I thought.

 

I turned slightly. "Left. That one's pacing."

 

"Good," he said. "Now find the one near the ridge."

 

I breathed deeper. Let the energy pull me.

 

"There."

 

"Perfect. Now-"

 

Three more slammed into the area at once.

 

The sudden weight of them crushed down over my senses like a tidal wave. I gasped. My knees buckled. The air felt thick and loud, like all the cursed energy in the area was trying to tunnel into my body through my teeth.

 

"Suguru...." I hissed.

 

"Breathe."

 

"I- I can't...my head feels like it's splitting open..."

 

My fingers twitched. My jaw locked. My neck cracked once, sharp and involuntary.

 

And then his warm fingers caught mine.

 

"Amara," Suguru said, voice low and even. "Grounding. Stay with me."

 

I clenched my teeth. He brought my hand to his chest and pressed it flat over his heartbeat. Steady. Constant.

 

"Count the beats," he said. "Match them."

 

I closed my eyes tighter. The cursed energy was still screaming but quieter. Like it was now behind a pane of glass.

 

I focused.

 

One. Two. Three...

 

My breathing slowed.

 

Suguru's other hand rested lightly on my shoulder, thumb brushing once, just enough to remind me I was here.

 

"Better?" he asked softly.

 

I nodded. Barely.

 

He exhaled like he'd been holding his own breath the whole time.

 

"Alright," he said, voice dipping into something warmer. "Let's try again. I'll only summon two this time. You tell me where they go."

 

This time, when the cursed spirits bloomed across the landscape, I didn't flinch.

 

I tracked them, even through all the buzzing and pulling.

 

Suguru didn't say anything, but the faint smile on his face said enough.

 

I stood still, grounding myself. Suguru's cursed spirits had retreated again, but the weight of them still lingered faintly in the back of my skull, like the echo of a scream after it's already stopped.

 

I rubbed the heel of my palm against my temple, trying to explain what I didn't have perfect words for. 

 

"It's like... there's an invisible string. But when I focus on it too hard with too many targets, it splits. Like I'm tied to ten different ropes, all pulling me in different directions."

 

Suguru tilted his head thoughtfully, his dark eyes narrowing just a bit. "So, if there's only one string, you can follow it fine. But when there's more..."

 

"They all start yanking. I can't tell what to focus on. It just gets loud and tiring."

 

He nodded slowly. "Then maybe the trick isn't to follow all the strings..."

 

I looked at him.

 

"...just one."

 

He stepped back a few paces, hands slipping into his pockets. "Let's try something else. I'll summon a few spirits around the area again, but this time, I want you to ignore them. Completely. Your goal is to find me. Just me."

 

"But won't your energy blend in with-"

 

He shook his head. "Not mine. You've been around it enough now, haven't you? You've felt it. My cursed energy doesn't move like a spirit's. It's steadier. More structured. You can find it, if you block everything else out."

 

I hesitated.

 

He gave a soft smile. "Close your eyes. Count to twenty. Then track me."

 

I exhaled. "Okay."

 

I closed my eyes and let the world go quiet.

 

"One... two..."

 

The moment I hit five, I felt the spirits bloom into the space again. Subtle, slinking like silk across the grass. One dropped into the trees. Another crept along the outer edge of the clearing. Their energy felt like sharp static, prickling, and erratic.

 

Suguru's didn't.

 

"Eleven... twelve..."

 

His was different.

 

I focused on that. The warms, the steadiness it brought to my core. 

 

It was like making your way to the sun spot in cold water. A slow, deliberate rhythm in a room of chaos. The string that tied to him was tighter than the others. Clearer. And I could feel it tugging me but not in every direction, just one. Subtle. Constant.

 

I hit twenty.

 

Opened my eyes and turned toward the trees.

 

I moved quietly, pacing through the edge of the brush, ignoring the whisper of cursed energy in the corners. I didn't let myself get distracted.

 

Only him.

 

It took a minute. Maybe more. But I felt it getting stronger, his energy pulled against my ribs like a magnet.

 

Then, a soft breeze.

 

A pulse.

 

My head snapped left.

 

Suguru stood behind an old utility shed, half-shrouded by shadow, arms folded loosely. He raised a brow as I stepped into view.

 

I pointed at him. "Got you."

 

He grinned. "Very good."

 

I smiled, just barely.

 

I let my arm go out, and I flopped onto the ground, breathing a little hard. I let out a soft chuckle. 

 

Suguru was at my side instantly, crouching. "Are you okay?"

 

I nodded. "Yeah. Just... it takes a lot out of me. When I do it right." I chuckled again. "But it's nice to do good. I feel... accomplished."

 

"We'll build your stamina next." He offered a hand.

 

I took it and wiggled my brows. "And how do you plan to do that, huh?" I smirk a little.

 

He blushes softly and laughs a little. "Don't say stuff like that. I mean it in a completely normal way." His smile softened.

 

My fingers were still wrapped around Suguru's. We looked into each other's eyes without saying a word for a little too long.

 

But then a pulse, familiar, bright, and cocky as hell, slammed against the edges of my senses like a firework going off in a church.

 

I stiffened. My head whipped toward the east tree line before I even registered why.

 

Suguru noticed. "What is it?"

 

I blinked once, jaw tight. "...Satoru."

 

Suguru sighed. Not surprised. Just mildly annoyed in that calm way he always was when Gojo did exactly what Suguru expected Gojo to do.

 

And then..

 

Fwump.

 

A gust of wind blew my hair into my face as a blur of blue and silver warped into view with zero regard for subtlety. Leaves spiraled up in his wake. Gojo stood there like he was arriving at his own award ceremony, hands in his pockets, sunglasses slightly askew, grin already in place.

 

"Wow," he said, stretching the word out like a yawn. "This was such a good training spot, right? Great visibility. Fresh air. And- oh? What's this? My two favorite people?"

 

"You're not supposed to be here," Suguru said without turning around. His tone was even, but I could hear it, the edge, thin and stretched. "Yaga said one-on-one."

 

"Yaga says a lot of things," Gojo replied, toeing at a rock on the ground. "And you say a lot of things. But I say this is a group bonding opportunity. You know, for emotional support."

 

I crossed my arms. "You tracked us?"

 

"Technically you sensed me," Gojo grinned. "Which, honestly, means your detection thing's getting pretty good. So... you're welcome for the lesson."

 

Suguru exhaled sharply through his nose, clearly done. "Satoru."

 

Gojo finally looked directly at him. And I saw it, the flicker. The narrowed eyes behind the tinted lenses. The twitch at the corner of his mouth. Suguru's shirt sleeve was still slightly wrinkled where I had gripped it.

 

Jealousy.

 

Gojo didn't hide it well. Not when it came to people he cared about getting too close to someone else without him.

 

"Well," he said, exaggerated casual, "it just seemed like a shame to let the two of you hog all the fun."

 

Suguru turned fully to face him now, calm but unyielding. "She's learning to isolate individual energy sources. You're not helping."

 

"I can be quiet."

 

"You're never quiet."

 

"I can try!"

 

I glanced between them, uncomfortable heat crawling up my neck. "Do I need to leave so you two can fight over who gets to be the sensei today?"

 

They both spoke at once.

 

"I'm not fighting-" Gojo.

 

"We're not fighting-" Suguru.

 

I blinked slowly.

 

They glared at each other.

 

Suguru's voice dropped lower. "This is supposed to be her time to build without distractions."

 

Gojo's grin faltered just a hair. "I'm not a distraction."

 

"You are when you warp in mid-exercise like a firework display."

 

Gojo's hands left his pockets. "Says the guy who summoned six cursed spirits to 'test her instincts.'"

 

"At least I didn't interrupt a private training session to make it about me."

 

Gojo's jaw ticked. "I'm here for her."

 

Suguru raised a brow. "Are you?"

 

The silence that followed was thin as glass.

 

And I hated it.

 

So I shoved my hands into my pockets and muttered, "You guys really suck at being normal sometimes."

 

They both looked at me.

 

Gojo opened his mouth. Suguru did, too.

 

I raised a hand. "And if you say 'he's being weird,' I swear-"

 

Simultaneous, in perfect sync:

 

"He's being weird."

 

I sighed so hard my soul nearly left my body.

 

"Okay," I muttered, rubbing my temple. "Satoru, are you feeling left out?"

 

Gojo didn't even hesitate. 

 

"Yes," he said, full volume, like a child who'd just admitted to stealing cookies. "Emotionally abandoned. Tragically overlooked. I might never recover."

 

I blinked at him.

 

Then laughed. I didn't mean to, but it snuck out, like a hiccup of amusement. "You're too cute when you're all pouty."

 

His eyes lit up like I'd just handed him a gold medal and an Oscar at the same time.

 

"She thinks I'm cute," he said, turning to Suguru with the biggest shit-eating grin I had ever seen. "Write that down. In permanent marker. Frame it."

 

Suguru stared at me like I'd just thrown meat to a starving lion.

 

"Don't feed into his behavior," he said flatly. "It encourages him."

 

"Oh, like you're one to talk." I folded my arms and narrowed my eyes at Suguru. "You like to show off and feed your ego just as much as he does."

 

"I wouldn't say that-" Suguru said smoothly.

 

"Oh, and summoning six spirits, pretending it wasn't overkill, and then getting all touchy feely afterwards was just part of training?"

 

He raised a brow. "They were weak."

 

Gojo snorted. "So's your ego."

 

Suguru's expression didn't change, but the sharp tilt of his head said enough. "Says the one who threw a tantrum because he wasn't the center of attention for five minutes."

 

I stepped back a little.

 

Gojo's smirk dropped. "Funny coming from the guy who acts calm but keeps trying to one-up me whenever someone else is watching. And then tries to pretend that's not the case even though everyone knows it."

 

Suguru's eyes darkened just a shade. "At least I don't treat training like a performance."

 

"Maybe if your performances had a little more style, you wouldn't have to play the wise monk all the time-"

 

"That's enough," I snapped, the force behind it surprising even me.

 

Both of them stopped. Gojo blinked. Suguru turned his head toward me, eyes a little wide.

 

I exhaled slowly and stepped between them, palms touching both of their chests.

 

"Seriously. What is going on with you two?" I looked between them, heat prickling in my chest. "I signed up to fight curses and make friends, not mediate whatever weird pissing contest this is."

 

Neither of them spoke.

 

The silence stretched, awkward and heavy but not quite angry though definitely too tight for comfort.

 

Gojo finally broke it, scratching the back of his neck. "...She said I was cute," he mumbled.

 

"Satoru." Suguru sighed.

 

I pinched the bridge of my nose, took a breath, and shook my head. "I'm going back to the school."

 

I didn't wait for permission or questions, I just turned and started walking. Dirt crunched under my boots. The trees felt too quiet. The air too thick.

 

And, of course, footsteps immediately followed.

 

"Wait up!" Gojo called, practically tripping over a root just to match my pace. "C'mon, don't be mad, we're fun!"

 

I didn't answer.

 

"I'm fun," he corrected.

 

Suguru's voice came smoothly behind us. "You're exhausting."

 

"Exhaustingly fun."

 

I glanced over. Gojo grinned at me, that stupid tilt of his head like he was trying to charm his way out of trouble.

 

"You know," he said, "you storming off like that? Very cool protagonist energy. Excellent dramatic exit. Could use a little theme music next time, though, maybe something with strings. You give me sad strings."

 

"Or a fog machine," Suguru added.

 

Gojo gasped. "Brilliant. Write that down."

 

"Calling the studio now."

 

They both kept pace with me like I hadn't just told them off five minutes ago, but the familiar rhythm of their back-and-forth tugged a reluctant smile out of me.

 

"You two are impossible," I muttered.

 

"Impossible to ignore," Gojo said proudly.

 

"Impossible to tolerate," Suguru replied.

 

I looked between them, Gojo's easy grin, Suguru's subtle smirk, and sighed again, though this time it was lighter.

 

Maybe this was just how they were.

 

Chaotic. Competitive. Maddening. 

 

But way too charming for their own good.

 

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

 

I split up from Suguru and Amara after a bit. I needed a moment to breathe and hang out with my favorite lesbian. 

 

The second I spotted Shoko's door cracked open, I didn't hesitate. I pushed it wider and flopped face-first onto her floor like a man in the throes of emotional crisis.

 

Because clearly I was.

 

She didn't even look up from where she sat at her desk, legs kicked up, flipping through a medical textbook with a pencil tucked behind her ear.

 

"Are you bleeding?" she asked without glancing over.

 

"No."

 

"Missing a limb?"

 

"No."

 

"...Someone break your heart?"

 

I groaned dramatically into her rug. "Maybe."

 

Shoko hummed, flipping a page. "Alright. That one's new. You may proceed."

 

I turned my head just enough to see her, and my cheek mashed against the hardwood like a sad pancake.

 

"I think I'm jealous."

 

Her pencil paused. "Of who?"

 

I rolled onto my back, arm thrown over my face like the world was ending. "Suguru."

 

Now that got her to look.

 

Brows raised, she blinked once. "Okay. I did not have that one on my list."

 

"Not like that," I snapped, sitting up a little and scrubbing a hand through my hair. "I mean, maybe a little. I don't know. I just-"

 

I looked at the ceiling, voice quieter. "Something's changing. And I can feel it. In him. In her."

 

Shoko leaned back, hands resting in her lap now, her gaze calm but sharp in that way only she could manage.

 

"She's getting closer," she said softly. "To both of you."

 

I nodded, swallowing. "Yeah. And it's not like I didn't want that. I do. She's funny. She's cool. She gets it. But it's like- like the closer she gets to Suguru, the more I feel like..."

 

"Like you're losing something?"

 

I looked at her. "Yeah."

 

The word tasted awful.

 

Shoko didn't tease. Didn't even smile. Just watched me for a moment before speaking again.

 

"Satoru, you've never had to share anyone before. Not really."

 

"That's not-" I stopped. Blinked. "Okay, maybe that's fair."

 

"She's not replacing you," Shoko said gently. "And Suguru isn't leaving you behind. But maybe... you're afraid of being left. Of not being needed by someone for once. Especially someone you trust."

 

I looked down at my hands. "I want her to be my friend so bad it's stupid. I don't even know why."

 

Shoko smiled, but it was soft. "Because for once, someone sees past all the Infinity. And I think that scares the shit out of you. Out the gate you both were obsessed with her. She was new and she wasn't expecting anything from you. You tried to show off like you always do, and she ignored it or dismissed it." She laughs a little but softly. "You're so used to people outright thinking you're annoying or treating you like a god. She treated you like neither of those. She was like 'okay but what else?'"

 

I let out a long breath, the kind that left my lungs too empty. "I'm not used to this," I whispered. "Whatever this is."

 

"I know," she said. "But you'll figure it out. Just don't blow up the building over it, okay?"

 

I snorted. "No promises."

 

She tossed her pencil at me, letting it bonk me on the head. I picked it up, sitting up and handed it back to her.

 

I laid back down again, arms sprawled wide across Shoko's floor like I was trying to merge with it. The wood was cool under my cheek. Stable. Way more emotionally adjusted than me.

 

Shoko had gone back to her textbook, but I could feel her eyes flicking back to me, always observing.

 

She didn't ask for a while. Just let the silence settle like dust.

 

"So." she said, interrupting the silence.

 

I groaned, rolling over onto my back. "Uh oh."

 

"What is your relationship with Suguru, exactly?"

 

I blinked. "What do you mean?"

 

She gave me a look like she was about to pull out a highlighter and diagram this conversation. "You guys are always up each other's asses, figuratively, and bicker like a married couple. You're constantly fighting but also always following each other around. It's weirdly domestic. Do you want me to send you to couples therapy?"

 

I threw an arm over my face. "We're not dating, Shoko."

 

"I didn't say you were." She paused. "But are you sure you're not?"

 

I groaned. "I'm not gay."

 

"You could've fooled me," she muttered.

 

"I'm not!" I sat up a little, scowling. "I just- look. Suguru's... he's my best friend. That's it."

 

"Uh huh."

 

"I mean, yeah, we're close. We've known each other forever. He's basically the only person I trust not to explode if I say something out loud without filtering it first." I scratched the back of my head. "He gets me. That's all."

 

Shoko leaned her cheek on her hand. "Do you want to be with him?"

 

I blinked. "What?"

 

She didn't repeat it. Just waited.

 

"I don't know," I admitted after a beat. "I don't think about people like that, usually. I mean, sure, I can acknowledge when someone's hot. I'm not blind. But... being with someone? That part's always felt weird."

 

I rubbed the heel of my palm against my chest like something was stuck there. "Like I want it and don't at the same time. I want people to stay. To be close. But then I get close, and I feel... trapped? Or maybe scared they'll just leave. So what's the point?"

 

Shoko was quiet. Letting it settle.

 

I kept going.

 

"Sometimes I think maybe I'd want to be with someone. Like... really want it. But then it just disappears. Like, I can't picture it sticking. Even if I care. Even if they care. It's like my brain doesn't know what to do with the idea."

 

"And yet," Shoko said, raising an eyebrow, "you're terrified of losing Suguru. And now you're getting jealous over Amara, too."

 

I stared at her. "Yeah. Thanks for that, doctor."

 

She smiled. "That's what I'm here for."

 

I leaned my head back on the floor again. "Maybe I don't care who I'm with. Maybe I just want someone. Or maybe I just want them."

 

Her voice softened. "That's not nothing, Satoru."

 

I didn't respond. Just stared up at the ceiling like it might start offering therapy, too.

 

Shoko tossed the pencil again. It bounced off my forehead.

 

"Stop being weird about it," she said gently. "Let things be whatever they're gonna be. You're already in the deep end. Might as well see if you float."

 

I closed my eyes and sighed. "I hate when you make sense."

 

"Good. Now get off my floor."

 

There was a knock. It was soft... measured and polite. "Shoko, have you seen Satoru?"

 

Shoko didn't even glance up from her book. "That's so him," she said, flicking her eyes toward the door.

 

I sighed and lifted my hand, signaling her to let him in.

 

She raised a brow, then called out, "He's in here."

 

The door opened, and there he was, Suguru Geto, the calm in my chaos, standing framed by the light from the hallway with a little white paper bag in his hand.

 

"There you are," he said, voice warm like a goddamn campfire. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

 

I sat up straighter on the floor, trying to act like I hadn't just been bleeding my heart out all over Shoko's hardwood. "Oh yeah?"

 

He held up the bag. "Stopped by that place you like near the station. They had those stupidly sweet bean cakes you inhale like oxygen."

 

I snatched it out of his hand immediately. "You're forgiven."

 

"Was I in trouble?" he asked, lips quirking.

 

Shoko rolled her eyes and stood. "I'm gonna pretend I wasn't just the emotional support team for this mess." She patted Suguru's shoulder on the way out. "He's all yours."

 

Suguru watched her leave, then turned to me with a faintly amused look. "You've been hiding in here long enough to need a support team?"

 

"Nope," I lied, tearing into the bag. "Just needed some peace and quiet away from your very soothing spiritual lectures and totally not competitive energy."

 

He hummed, settling into the chair across from where I was still sprawled. "You only come to Shoko's room when you're spiraling."

 

I shoved an entire bean cake in my mouth. "Do not."

 

He gave me a look. That calm, unreadable Suguru stare that said he saw way more than he let on.

 

I chewed slowly. "Okay. Maybe a little spiraling."

 

He smiled faintly. "Want to talk about it?"

 

"No," I said around the sticky sweetness. "But I also didn't want to see anyone, and you showed up with dessert, so."

 

"Lucky guess." He leaned back, eyes scanning me again. "You're tense."

 

"I'm fine," I said, too fast.

 

"You're pouting."

 

"Am not."

 

He just watched me. Quietly patient and knowing.

 

I hated how easily he could read me sometimes.

 

"I don't know what's going on," I muttered, dropping my chin onto my knees. "You and me and her- it's like something's shifting. And I don't know if I like it. Or if I hate it. Or both."

 

Suguru's expression softened, just barely. "We'll figure it out."

 

That stopped me. Because something about the way he said it sounded heavier than normal.

 

"Is this weird for you too?" I asked quietly.

 

He was silent a beat too long.

 

Then: "It's... different. New." A pause. "But not bad."

 

I didn't say anything.

 

And neither did he.

 

We just sat there, me on the floor with half a bean cake in hand, him in the chair, elbows on his knees, watching me like he could feel the static in my chest.

 

Eventually, he stood.

 

"I'll let you mope in peace."

 

"I'm not moping," I called after him as he turned for the door.

 

He looked back over his shoulder, a little smirk tugging at his mouth. "Sure you're not."

 

And then he was gone.

 

But things still just...felt off...

 

 

Chapter 14: Separation Pt. 2

Yaga's words still echoed as we stepped into the sparring grounds behind the dorms: "On your best behavior, Satoru. If she walks away emotionally or physically bruised, I'm blaming you."

 

To which Gojo had dramatically saluted and said, "Sir, yes sir, best behavior locked and loaded, safety on."

 

He'd been smirking the whole time.

 

Now, standing across from me in the golden hush of late afternoon, his sunglasses pushed up into his hair, and his uniform jacket draped on a fence post, he looked... focused. Still playful. But sharper.

 

"All right, vine witch," he said, cracking his knuckles with exaggerated flair. "Today, no vines. No bubbles. No dramatic death blossoms of healing energy. Just you, your cursed energy, and these-" He flexed both arms, biceps barely showing under his t-shirt. "Fists of justice."

 

I stared at him. "Did you just quote a Power Ranger?"

 

He gasped. "How dare-! I'll have you know that's an original Satoru Gojo quote. Patent pending."

 

I rolled my eyes, but the smile tugging at my mouth betrayed me. He saw it. Of course he did.

 

"Now," he continued, hands sliding onto his hips, "I want you to focus your cursed energy into your hands. Not all at once, just enough to feel it hum under your skin. You've got a lot, Hoshizuki. More than most sorcerers I've met. But you burn through it like it's going out of style. You gotta learn control. Restraint. Everyone is so focused on your abilities, which don't get me wrong, are super cool, BUT-"

 

He straighted up, posing a little. "Those are your heavy hitters. You want to save those as much as possible so you can actually last during a fight."

 

He walked toward me, slowly, not intimidating but deliberate.

 

"And when I say 'hit me,' I mean you're gonna try. I'll be dodging. Mostly. Unless I'm bored. Or distracted. Or feeling merciful."

 

I narrowed my eyes. "You're enjoying this way too much."

 

He grinned. "Obviously. Now come on. Show me those healing hands of fury."

 

I shook out my shoulders and let the cursed energy curl around my fingers. A flicker, small but dense. Enough to feel like it had weight. Enough to hurt, if it landed.

 

I swung.

 

He dodged like it was nothing.

 

"Too slow," he teased.

 

I pivoted and jabbed again. He leaned just enough to avoid it, hands behind his back.

 

"Better," he said. "Still baby punches, though."

 

"Oh, I'll give you baby punches."

 

I faked left, went right, and aimed low. My foot came around, sweeping at his ankle. He jumped, graceful and annoyingly smug.

 

"Did Yaga tell you to flirt or train?" I huffed, sweat already starting to collect at my brow.

 

Gojo tilted his head. "Who says I can't do both?"

 

I didn't answer. I just charged again. He sidestepped, but this time, I was closer. A graze. A nick of contact along his arm.

 

His smile faltered. Just a little. "Oho? We're getting spicy now."

 

"Getting annoyed, actually."

 

"Even better."

 

We kept going. Blow for dodge. Jab for smirk. Every time I got closer, he ramped up the teasing. But he wasn't being cruel. Just relentless. And it worked.

 

Because my cursed energy wasn't flaring out in wild bursts. It was focused. Controlled. My heartbeat matched its rhythm. My arms burned, sure, but they weren't overloaded. I felt powerful, not because of my vines or shields, but because of me.

 

"Atta girl," Gojo said after I managed a clean shoulder hit that sent him skidding back half a step. "You're holding it. That's real progress."

 

I stood there, panting, hands crackling faintly. My knuckles were red, but nothing was broken. No burst veins. No sudden collapse.

 

I smiled, wide and real.

 

Then he said, "And you didn't even fall on your ass this time! We just love to see growth!"

 

I threw a water bottle at his head.

 

He caught it without blinking and popped the cap off like nothing, then handed it to me.

 

As he watched me cool down, his smile softened. Not the cocky one. The real one.

 

"You're getting there, Amara," he said. "And not just because I'm an amazing teacher. Though, obviously, I am."

 

I rolled my eyes, but it didn't hide the grin spreading across my face.

 

"Thanks," I said quietly. "For not going easy on me."

 

He paused.

 

Then, in a rare moment of stillness, he said, "I wouldn't do you the insult."

 

The silence stretched, a little charged. Not heavy, just warm.

 

And then he ruined it, as expected.

 

"But also, if you tell Suguru I was actually helpful, I'll deny everything and probably fake my own death."

 

"Noted." I laughed a little.

 

The sun was dipping low behind the trees, casting golden streaks across the courtyard as I wiped sweat off my brow and dropped into the grass with a heavy exhale. My arms felt like overcooked noodles, my shoulders sore from throwing punch after punch, not at a curse, not at some training dummy, but at Satoru freaking Gojo.

 

He didn't even flinch once.

 

Gojo sprawled out beside me like he hadn't just turned my most powerful swings into warm-up taps, his long limbs stretched across the grass like he belonged there, sunglasses sliding slightly down the bridge of his nose.

 

"Y'know," he said lazily, "you've got a solid right hook. It'd be terrifying if it actually... y'know... connected."

 

I shot him a glare, though there was no real bite behind it. "You said I could go all out."

 

"And you did." He patted his chest. "See? Not even a scratch."

 

"That's because you used Infinity."

 

"Exactly. So you can't hurt me, and I get to admire your form. Win-win."

 

I rolled my eyes and sat up straighter, still catching my breath. "Is this how you and Suguru became friends? Beating the hell out of each other?"

 

Gojo smirked, a little spark lighting up behind his shades. "Basically, yeah. Except he actually landed a few hits."

 

That made me grin despite myself. "So what, it's like... trial by combat for friendship?"

 

"Something like that." He leaned back on his hands, looking up at the sky. "We were idiots. Still are, honestly. But fighting someone without trying to kill them, it tells you a lot. How they move. How they think. Who they are when they stop pretending."

 

I glanced over at him. "And who am I?"

 

He looked at me, and for once, the usual cocky grin softened. "You're someone who hasn't even scratched the surface yet. But when you do? You're gonna hit harder than anyone expects."

 

My throat tightened just a little.

 

Before I could say something, Gojo clapped his hands and stood up with a flourish. "Alright! Enough feelings. Let's go again. This time, swing like I insulted your stuffed animals or something."

 

I grinned and chuckled. I hopped to my feet and cracked my knuckles. "I think I'll use my imagination."

 

"Perfect." He spread his arms, inviting the hit. "Come on, vine witch. Show me the rage!"

 

I stepped forward, pulled back my fist, and let it fly.

 

Gojo just stood there, just grinning, untouchable and bright. He's definitely the world's most annoying yet strangely comforting, punching bag.

 

My fists slammed into the invisible wall over and over. The resistance was maddening, like punching through air soaked in syrup. Gojo didn't even blink. He just stood there with that same insufferable grin plastered on his face, arms folded behind his back like he was posing for a stupid magazine cover.

 

"Nice form," he said, cocking his head. "That one almost looked threatening."

 

I let out a breath between clenched teeth and swung harder.

 

"Woah! That one had some feeling behind it." He leaned back dramatically, even though the Infinity hadn't so much as let the breeze of my punch ruffle his shirt. "Is that rage I sense? Oh no, is it directed at me?"

 

"Yes," I growled.

 

"Hot."

 

"Shut up!"

 

I kept swinging, faster now, harder. My knuckles buzzed with cursed energy, and my muscles burned like they were lit from the inside. But I didn't stop. Something about the way he just stood there made me want to scream. Untouchable. Untouchable and smug and, annoyingly pretty.

 

I twisted my hips and drove one more solid punch toward his chest, fully knowing it'd hit the barrier and go nowhere. I grunted, then stumbled back, catching my breath.

 

Gojo let out a low whistle and gave a slow clap. "And that's what we call 'giving it your all.' Ten outta ten. Style points for the sweat. And the hair sticking to your forehead? Iconic."

 

I flipped him off and collapsed onto the grass, arms sprawled out beside me. "I'm done. For now. Before I punch you in the throat and sprain myself doing it."

 

He plopped down across from me like a puppy who didn't know when playtime was over. Then, because he couldn't just sit still like a normal person, he scooted closer, legs splayed out, and locked his shins around mine like we were kids about to play some stupid game.

 

I raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

 

"Leg bonding. Duh." He smirked and tapped the side of his sunglasses. "This is how real warriors decompress after combat. Ancient Gojo technique. Very sacred."

 

I snorted and shook my head, too tired to argue.

 

We sat like that for a while. Just... breathing. Letting the leftover heat from training settle into something calmer. His presence was loud even when he was quiet, but it didn't feel heavy. Not now. Not here.

 

I glanced up at him. "Hey... thanks."

 

He blinked. "For what?"

 

"For not going easy. And for actaully teaching me something important."

 

He gave me a softer smile. Just for a second. "You're welcome."

 

Then there were soft footsteps.

 

"Of course you're out here."

 

Suguru's voice was smooth as ever, but there was something under it. A tension. I turned toward him, still catching my breath and instantly understood why.

 

He was looking right at our legs.

 

Gojo's, still locked with mine.

 

Gojo noticed too.

 

And that stupid grin of his stretched even wider.

 

"Oh hey, Suguru," he said sweetly. "Didn't see you there. We were just sharing a heartfelt post-battle moment. Very cute and sappy."

 

Suguru's eyes narrowed slightly. "Is that so?"

 

Gojo tilted his head, innocent as sin. "You jealous, bestie?"

 

Suguru didn't answer. But the crease between his brows deepened, and his hand twitched at his side like he was considering summoning a cursed spirit just to punt Gojo across the field.

 

I looked between them and groaned. "Not this again..."

 

Suguru was mid-glare, and Gojo was mid-smirk, when I let out a dramatic sigh and leaned back on my elbows.

 

"You two are ridiculous," I muttered, then jerked my chin at Suguru. "Get over here."

 

Both of them blinked at me.

 

"What?" Suguru asked, brow arching.

 

I gestured to the tangled mess of limbs between Gojo and me. "Come sit. Lock your legs in too. You're acting like this is weird."

 

Gojo made a confused noise in his throat. "I mean... it is."

 

"No, it's not. We literally slept in the same hospital bed. All three of us. This is tame compared to that." I smirked, breath finally slowing. "Unless one of you is secretly scandalized by thigh contact."

 

Gojo opened his mouth, probably to make it worse, but Suguru cut in first, sighing like I'd just handed him a full schedule of minor inconveniences.

 

"Fine." He stepped forward and settled beside me with precise ease. Then he locked his legs with mine opposite of Gojo. "But only because your logic is, somehow, annoyingly sound."

 

Gojo huffed. "This feels like some sort of cult ritual."

 

"Then you shouldn't have started it," Suguru said smoothly, folding his hands over his knee.

 

I grinned between them, now the center of a very confusing triangle of limbs and cursed energy. But oddly, I didn't mind it.

 

It felt... okay.

 

"Alright," I said after a beat. "Suguru, how was your day? I know you had a solo mission earlier."

 

He glanced at me, that little hint of surprise flickering through his expression before he nodded. "Small village outside Kawasaki. Minor infestation. Bunch of weak little curses nesting in the base of an old bathhouse."

 

"Ooo, spooky," Gojo said. "Did they whisper 'get out' from the drainpipes?"

 

"No," Suguru said, deadpan. "But one of them tried to possess a futon. I exorcised it and felt mildly guilty. It was a nice futon."

 

I snorted. "You would feel bad for a haunted mattress."

 

"Hey," Gojo chimed in, "he put up a fuss when I stepped on a cicada last week."

 

"It was alive and on its back," Suguru replied without missing a beat. "It was struggling."

 

Gojo leaned back dramatically, hand over his heart. "And I'm the dramatic one."

 

I couldn't help but laugh. I felt their bickering vibrating through my legs now, and I kind of liked it. Like I was grounded. Held in place by these two chaotic gravitational pulls orbiting me on either side.

 

And for once, neither of them seemed to be trying to outdo the other.

 

They just... existed.

 

"You two are such a disaster," I muttered, tipping my head back to stare up at the sky.

 

"Certified," Gojo said proudly.

 

"Fully aware," Suguru added with a small smile.

 

We sat there in quiet for a bit longer, legs still locked, the breeze tugging gently at our hair.

 

I felt balanced for the first time in a while.

 

Suguru's eyes drifted to mine, warm and thoughtful. "So... how'd training go?"

 

Gojo sat up a little straighter, like he was about to announce a championship win. "Oh, I was the best instructor ever, obviously. Incredibly patient. Ridiculously handsome. She cried tears of joy halfway through."

 

"I did not cry," I said, rolling my eyes with a laugh.

 

"You definitely made a face like crying," Gojo argued. "It was touching. Beautiful, even."

 

"I was sweating," I said flatly.

 

"Same thing."

 

Suguru shook his head with a quiet chuckle. "So it went well then?"

 

I turned toward him, grinning now. "Actually... yeah. Better than I expected. Gojo made me work on hand-to-hand without using my cursed techniques. It was hard, like really hard, but I think I actually started to get the hang of it. It made me feel powerfull and not super drained."

 

Gojo puffed up a little. "She's a beast. If she ever figures out how to aim those punches properly, I might actually feel them one day."

 

"You didn't even pretend to flinch," I muttered, lightly kicking his shin. "Kind of rude, honestly."

 

"That's because I'm a gracious sparring partner, it would do you no good to lie." he said, smirking.

 

Suguru raised an eyebrow. "And you let her wear herself out on your technique instead of actually helping her land something real?"

 

I blinked. "Wait, what-"

 

"Don't ruin this for me," Gojo said quickly. "She was having fun."

 

"I was having fun," I confirmed. "I don't really get a lot of chances to just... let it all out like that. Without worrying about what I'll break."

 

Suguru nodded, thoughtful again. "That's good. You need that. Space to push without consequence."

 

"It felt good," I admitted. "Like something in me clicked a little. Like I'm not just reacting anymore, I'm actually starting to use it. My energy. My body. All of it."

 

Gojo flopped back again dramatically, arms sprawled. "She's gonna surpass us in, like, six months."

 

"Maybe just you," Suguru said, eyes twinkling as he took a sip from his drink.

 

I laughed again, and this time it felt easy. Like maybe this was what it was supposed to feel like, training, friendship, connection.

 

Not just survival.

 

I glanced between them. "Thanks... both of you. For helping me get here."

 

Gojo flashed a grin, eyes hidden behind his glasses. "You're welcome."

 

Suguru just gave me a quiet nod, soft and steady. "Anytime."

 

And somehow, even with our legs still tangled and the sun dipping lower in the sky, I felt like I was standing on solid ground for the first time in a long while.

 

 

Chapter 15: Thin Ice

Yaga's eyes bore into us, arms crossed and jaw tight. "You've earned this," he said, voice even, but it was the kind of even that trembled with an underlying threat. "Amara's come a long way. I'm trusting you three to handle this seriously."

 

Gojo gave an exaggerated salute. "Sir, yes sir."

 

Suguru nodded, much calmer, but his fingers twitched slightly at his side.

 

I stood between them, hands in the pockets of my uniform, trying not to fidget. I knew what this mission meant. Yaga didn't say it outright, but I could tell. This was our test. Not just mine. Ours.

 

"I swear," I muttered, "if you two screw this up again, I'm punching someone."

 

Yaga didn't even crack a smile. "You screw this up, and you boys are on solo duty for a month."

 

We all said we understood, and maybe they did, for a short moment at least.

 

---

 

The abandoned bathhouse towered over the treeline, old wood groaning in the wind as we stepped through the shattered entrance. Vines climbed the walls. The air clung to my skin, heavy with damp decay and something colder.

 

"Stay close," Suguru murmured as he moved ahead, one of his spirits already drifting near the ceiling.

 

Gojo glanced over his shoulder at me. "Don't even think about sneaking off."

 

"I wasn't," I said, already a little annoyed he felt the need to say it. "I know what I'm doing."

 

"Then don't make me question it."

 

I bit the inside of my cheek. Kept my mouth shut. I hate when Gojo gets serious. He turned into such a prick.

 

They walked in front of me, bickering low... once again. Suguru snapped something about Gojo's lack of awareness, and Gojo fired back about Suguru being too uptight. They didn't even realize how loud they were being. My footsteps slowed. My cursed energy tugged like something was physically pulling on that invisible string, trying to get my attention.

 

It was sharp. A sudden pressure crawled up my spine, urging me to stop. To listen.

 

But Gojo and Suguru were already at it again.

 

"Don't give me that 'I'm thinking ahead' crap," Gojo scoffed, walking a step too fast. "You're just mad I took the lead."

 

Suguru didn't bother looking at him. "No, I'm mad you didn't think at all. Again. You charged in without even checking for residual energy."

 

"I checked plenty."

 

"Then you're losing your edge."

 

I cut between them. "Hey- can we like not do this?"

 

Neither of them stopped. Not really.

 

"I'm not losing anything," Gojo snapped. "You're just too damn cautious. Always have to be the one in control."

 

Suguru's mouth twitched. "Someone has to be. Especially when you're dragging Amara into places she's not ready for."

 

"Don't talk about me like I'm not standing here," I muttered, louder now. "Seriously. Cut it out."

 

Still nothing. Just raised voices echoing off the rotting wood.

 

"You think she's not ready?" Gojo barked. "Then why the hell did Yaga approve this?"

 

Suguru's voice dropped to a lethal calm. "Because she's grown. But that doesn't mean you get to throw her into danger and call it support."

 

I stepped back. The weight in the air shifted again.

 

That tug. It was still there. Pulling. Insistent.

 

I turned slightly, eyes narrowing at the far wall. A fractured mirror hung between crumbling pillars. My cursed energy flared in warning.

 

It was watching.

 

I blinked. The mirror pulsed. A string of cursed energy extended from the shards, threading along the floor and deeper into the ruin. I focused. The path became clearer. A heartbeat. Faint.

 

They didn't see it. Too busy tearing into each other.

 

"Whatever," Gojo said, throwing up a hand. "Just keep pretending you're the only one who cares."

 

"You act like this is a game-" Suguru started.

 

And I was done.

 

I turned away.

 

Their voices dulled behind me, fading into muffled echoes swallowed by the hall. My cursed energy buzzed, not sharp now, but low. Humming. Drawing me forward like a quiet promise.

 

The ruined path narrowed. Stone gave way to broken tile, steam curled from cracks in the floor. At the end of the hallway, an open doorway waited. I stepped through.

 

The bath was still full.

 

It shouldn't have been. This place had been abandoned for years. But the water rippled gently, clean and glassy, as if it had been drawn only minutes ago. Mist hung low over its surface, thick and slow, curling like fingers through the air. The smell was off. Sweet and floral at first, then the faint almost hidden smell of something rotting.

 

But then something was singing. It was beautiful.

 

A woman's voice, soft and stretched long, echoing beneath the surface of the water. I couldn't understand the words, but they filled my ears, pressed into my skull. The sound wrapped around my thoughts, sinking its weight into me, warm and inviting. It pulled at my chest. At my heart.

 

I stepped closer to the edge.

 

The cursed energy was strong here. It bled through the water in smooth pulses.

 

My feet stopped at the stone rim. I looked down. The water was black beneath the reflection. Bottomless. A flicker of movement stirred near the center.

 

The song grew louder. Clearer. It wasn't coming from around me, it was inside me. Nestled deep in my head like a lullaby I never meant to learn. My pulse slowed. My limbs grew heavier.

 

Something inside me whispered to step in.

 

Just one step. That's all. Just sink. Let go. Be still.

 

No.

 

No...

 

This....feels....wrong....

 

My thoughts jerked sharp. A spike of resistance cut through the haze. My cursed energy recoiled violently, a shock that made my vision jolt. My breathing quickened. That wasn't a song, it was a command. I needed to get away...

 

The water twitched.

 

From the center, pale arms slithered upward, fingers too long, too many joints. A woman's face surfaced, beautiful at first glance. Porcelain skin. Black hair floated around her like silk. But her mouth stretched wide and thin, lipless and torn at the edges. Eyes black. Unblinking.

 

She smiled. Then screeched.

 

Tentacles burst from beneath the water.

 

They whipped toward me, thick and bloated, covered in lesions and dripping black ichor. One wrapped my ankle. Another lashed around my waist and yanked. My back hit the floor hard, and I was dragged toward the edge.

 

I screamed.

 

The water neared. My nails scraped the tile. I kicked, thrashed, fought, but the grip was relentless. My mouth opened again to scream for them-

 

"GOJO! GETO!" A slick limb slapped across my face and locked there.

 

I was muffled and gagged.

 

I reached for my pocket. My fingers fumbled for the hilt of my knife. The blade snapped open. I jammed it into the nearest tentacle.

 

The cursed spirit shrieked. The sound pierced through my bones. But it didn't let go. Not of me and not of my mouth.

 

I stabbed again. And again. And again. Blood, or something that looked like it, splashed across my hand burning it like boiling water. One of the many limbs thrashed, knocking over shelves and glass hopefully making enough noise that the boys could hear, but the grip on my ankle tightened.

 

I gasped through the pressure on my mouth. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't scream.

 

My lungs burned. The edge of the bath was inches away.

 

I stabbed blindly now, my arm a blur of desperate, furious motions. Slicing at anything I could.

 

The tentacle across my mouth tightened. My knife slipped from my fingers, clattering uselessly against the tile before it was swallowed by the water. My lungs strained in panic. I needed space, any space. I summoned everything I had and flared my cursed energy outward. My bubble.

 

The healing barrier erupted around me in a snap of red light, cocooning me in its familiar warmth.

 

But the moment it formed, I realized my mistake.

 

The cursed spirit didn't stop. It couldn't get inside the bubble, but it could drag the whole thing. My limbs floated inside the barrier, weightless, useless. I had no leverage. No ground. I couldn't swing. I couldn't fight.

 

I was a fish in a glass tank being hauled to slaughter.

 

Panic surged in my throat. I dropped the shield and tried to scramble away. The tentacles wrapped around me again, more this time, tighter.

 

The water rushed in again, freezing, nipping at my feet as the thing pulled harder. I slammed my palm to the floor and pushed out vines. Crimson and wild, they burst from the cracks in the tile near the far end of the room. My vine wraps around the arm I was able to get free and pulls.

 

I screamed through clenched teeth as my hip popped, the pain blinding. My shoulder followed with a sickening snap, but I didn't stop. I poured everything I had into the pull, gritting against the tearing in my joints.

 

The cursed spirit shrieked in return, pulling harder, dragging me toward the bath's edge inch by inch.

 

The tentacle across my mouth slipped, just for a moment. I bit down hard. My teeth sank into cold flesh, rancid and sour. I ripped with all I could

 

It screamed. The limb recoiled instantly, thrashing away from my face. I sucked in a ragged breath and roared:

 

"SATORU! SUGURU!! HELP ME!!"

 

The echo rang down the hall.

 

No answer.

 

The creature's face surfaced again, lips peeled into a gaping smile. The song began again, low and vibrating inside my skull. Softer this time. Coaxing. Seductive. It seeped through my ears, trying to nest itself back inside my mind.

 

No. Not again. Please please...

 

The song pulled at my mind, so I opened my mouth and sang. Loud. Off-key. My voice cracked and broke but it filled the air, loud enough to tear through the fog. I forced the notes out, each one a scream. Anything to keep it from getting in again.

 

The cursed spirit froze, its melody faltering. Its expression twisted in fury. The creature lunged again, mouth unhinging, song rising sharp and vengeful-

 

Then the wall exploded.

 

A streak of cursed energy tore through the bathhouse, shattering mirrors and tile in a blinding flash of blue. A second later, another wave surged, a swarm of black curses, crashing through the opening like a storm.

 

Gojo and Suguru hit the room like a pair of gods descending in fury.

 

The cursed spirit screamed, voice splitting the air as Gojo blurred forward. He didn't speak. He didn't smile. His hand snapped out and grabbed one of the tentacles mid-swing and crushed it. The limb imploded in his grip, splattering across the floor.

 

Suguru moved in tandem, his expression blank but eyes ablaze. A black, twisted mass of his own curses slammed into the creature from the side, pinning it against the bath's far wall. It writhed. Screeched. Gojo raised a single hand, two fingers lifted lazily.

 

"Cursed Technique Reversal: Red."

 

The blast caved in the mirror behind it and split the spirit and wall clean in half.

 

It didn't die right away. It convulsed, screeching in tones so sharp my ears rang. Suguru stepped forward, raising his hand. The leftover remains of the spirit twisted into smoke, condensing down into a pulsing black orb. He held it for a breath, eyes unreadable, then popped it into his mouth and swallowed, trying to not puke.

 

I collapsed.

 

Pain screamed through my limbs. My vines receded. The tile beneath me felt cold, but distant, like I wasn't really on the ground. My shoulder muscles twitched violently, then snapped back into place. My hip followed with a sickening pop that made me gag. I whined loudly as my body tried to put itself back in place.

 

I sucked in a breath that turned into a sob.

 

Suguru was the first to speak, stepping closer, his voice low but sharp. "You weren't supposed to separate."

 

I blinked up at him, dazed. My jaw clenched against the pain. "I-"

 

"You could've died, Amara," he continued, too calm. "That thing was luring you, and you walked right into it."

 

"Suguru-" Gojo's voice snapped through the tension, hard and venomous. "She just almost got dragged to hell. Give her a fucking minute to breathe."

 

Suguru turned to him, expression unreadable. "I am giving her a minute."

 

"No, you're giving her a lecture she doesn't need right now."

 

I stared up at them, my chest rising and falling too fast. My limbs still trembled. My throat was raw from screaming and singing and biting through something that shouldn't have even been solid. I was covered in its black ooze and soaked from the splashing water.

 

I reached up and grabbed Gojo's sleeve. His head turned to me immediately, anger still burning behind his eyes, but softer now.

 

"I'm okay," I struggled to get out.

 

He crouched beside me, hand resting near but not touching. "You're not. Don't lie."

 

My fingers found the fabric of his uniform sleeve and gripped tight. I couldn't stop shaking, and the warmth of his presence was the only thing keeping the panic from dragging me back under. His voice was softer now, but the tightness in it hadn't left.

 

Suguru stepped closer, quieter now. The tension in his jaw loosened as he scanned me, his eyes tracking the blood, the bruises, the raw mess of my joints. He watched the way my shoulder spasmed as it clicked fully back into place. He didn't speak, just let out a breath and crouched on my other side.

 

I was healing. Slowly. My body was knitting itself back together. But it hurt. Every flicker of cursed energy brought another jolt of pain.

 

I leaned forward, still clutching Gojo's sleeve with one hand while bracing myself against Suguru's leg with the other. "Don't help me," I hissed through clenched teeth, dragging myself into a sitting position. "Not yet. Just...stay still."

 

They did.

 

I sat there for a moment, my heart pounding. My voice came out hoarse, but I didn't care.

 

"You two need to cut your shit..."

 

They blinked. Together.

 

"I'm done," I said, louder now. My throat burned. "I'm done watching you two pathetically bicker and pretending it's not a problem. I'm done standing between you while you rip at each other because you don't know how to deal with emotions. You ignored me, both of you. I told you to stop fighting and you didn't even hear me."

 

"Amara-" Suguru started.

 

"No." I cut him off, glaring through the ache. "Don't. Don't defend it. You think I wanted to go off on my own? I didn't. I only moved away because the only thing I could hear over that cursed energy was the two of you throwing jabs at each other. I was calling out, I was right there, and neither of you noticed I was gone."

 

Gojo opened his mouth too, but I beat him to it.

 

"Don't try to spin it. I'm not having it. I almost died. And you were too busy arguing over who was more right."

 

Silence fell heavy.

 

I shoved against both of them, using their bodies to push myself to my feet. My legs wobbled. I almost fell again, but I stayed up, breathing hard. Still trembling. But standing.

 

"You can follow me back to the school," I said, looking between them. "But after that, I'm taking a break from both of you."

 

Suguru's brow furrowed slightly, but he didn't speak.

 

Gojo's expression was unreadable, quiet in a way I wasn't used to seeing. He looked smaller somehow, still kneeling beside the shattered tile.

 

"I mean it," I said, quieter now. "Figure your shit out. Or don't. But I'm not going to die while you two fight."

 

I turned and limped toward the door, not waiting to see if they followed.

 

They would of course. But I didn't care right now.

 

---

 

None of us said a word on the way back.

 

The walk was slow, mostly because my legs barely worked, but they stayed on either side of me, close but quiet. No jokes. No teasing. Not even those awkward attempts at light conversation Gojo usually tossed out to smooth things over. Just silence and the sound of gravel underfoot.

 

By the time we reached the gates of Jujutsu High, my body felt like lead. My healing had done most of the heavy lifting, but the exhaustion hit like a curse of its own.

 

They helped me up the stairs.

 

They followed me all the way to my dorm room, standing just outside while I fumbled for the key. I could feel their eyes on my back, Gojo's nervous fidgeting, Suguru's stillness, but I didn't turn around.

 

I opened the door, stepped in, and slammed it shut.

 

The sound echoed in my ears, louder than anything they'd said all day.

 

I tossed my phone on the bed and stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours. Every inch of me ached, but it was nothing compared to the storm ripping through my chest. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to throw something hard enough to shatter the damn window.

 

But instead, my phone buzzed.

 

Satoru:

 

> hey

can u just let me know if you're okay?

u don't even have to answer

just send me a . or smth

 

I stared at the message. My jaw clenched.

 

Then it buzzed again.

 

Suguru:

 

> I'm sorry.

That wasn't how today was supposed to go.

Let me know if you need anything. I'll leave you be for now.

 

And again.

 

Satoru:

 

> okay actually dont send a dot that's dumb

send like a ! thats more fun

actually don't send anything at all idk

sorry

just

yeah

 

I groaned and rolled over, shoving my face into my pillow.

 

They were trying.

 

And for a second, I almost gave in. Almost replied. Almost sent that stupid "!" just so they'd stop pacing inside their rooms.

 

But then I remembered. The look on that cursed spirit's face. The way my shoulder had torn out of its socket. The way they hadn't heard me until it was almost too late.

 

The anger came back fast and sharp, curling in my stomach like coiled wire.

 

I shoved my phone under my pillow and ignored it.

 

Then another buzz. But this one had a different tone. One I changed just for Shoko...

 

Shoko:

 

> Heard what happened from two very annoying birdies.

Mind if I swing by?

 

I hesitated, then thumbed back a quick reply.

 

Me:

 

> Door's unlocked.

 

Not even two minutes later, I heard it creak open.

 

Shoko stepped in without ceremony, cigarette already half-smoked, and flopped lazily into my desk chair like she lived here.

 

She gave me a once-over, her eyes calm but knowing. "Well," she said, exhaling a stream of smoke toward the window, "you look like hell."

 

"Thanks. I feel like it." I muttered, voice still hoarse.

 

"Figured I should check in," she continued, spinning the chair slightly with her foot. "Heard from our favorite disaster duo. Apparently, the mission went from exorcism to emotional breakdown in record time."

 

I huffed. "Yeah. Something like that."

 

She raised an eyebrow. "So... wanna tell me what's going on, or should I just guess based on the dramatic slamming and brooding texts?"

 

I sat up slowly, dragging my knees to my chest and resting my arms on them. "They won't stop fighting. And today... I could've died. Because they were too busy arguing to notice I was gone. I told them to stop, and they didn't even hear me."

 

Shoko didn't say anything at first. Just watched me with those painfully perceptive eyes of hers.

 

"You mad?" she asked finally.

 

"Furious."

 

"Good. You should be."

 

I blinked. "Seriously?"

 

"Yeah." She leaned back, taking another drag. "They're morons. Powerful, overachieving, self-righteous morons. But they care about you. That's obvious."

 

"They have a funny way of showing it."

 

"Welcome to the male emotional maturity scale. They don't know what to do with feelings unless they can punch them or swallow them down."

 

I laughed. A short, bitter sound, but it helped.

 

Shoko flicked ash into the cup on my desk. "So. What now?"

 

I stared at the floor. "I told them I needed a break. They can sort themselves out without dragging me into the crossfire."

 

Shoko nodded, her mouth curving slightly. "That's fair. Brutal. But fair."

 

"Am I being too harsh?"

 

"Do you feel like you are?" Shoko asked.

 

I hesitated. "Kinda... but I'm also still really angry."

 

She smirked at that, the corner of her mouth twitching. "Then no, you're not being too harsh. You don't owe them calm just because they finally realized they screwed up. Let 'em sit in it. They need to be put in their place every once in a while."

 

I smiled softly at her. "Thank you, Shoko, really.."

 

Shoko stood, stretching like a cat, her lab coat half-falling off one shoulder. "Any time. You know I love a good drama."

 

That pulled a faint smile from me. She walked to the door but paused, hand resting on the frame.

 

"You need anything else? I'll be up a bit longer since I've been in the lab studying." she asked.

 

I shook my head. "Just... quiet."

 

She nodded. "Cool. I'll grab you something from the dining hall. Just don't be upset if I grab you one of everything."

 

I almost laughed. "Thanks, Shoko."

 

She gave me a casual salute and disappeared out the door, the soft click of it closing behind her.

 

I laid back against my pillow, eyes closed, breathing finally a little steadier. My limbs still ached, and the ghost of that cursed spirit's song still pulsed faintly in my head. But at least the room was quiet.

 

Buzz.

 

I groaned and reached for my phone.

 

Satoru:

 

> did shoko stop by

pls tell me she didnt roast us too hard

 

Buzz.

 

Suguru:

 

> Shoko mentioned she was going to see you.

I hope you're feeling a little better.

I won't bother you beyond this. Just wanted to say I'm still here.

 

My thumb hovered over the keypad for a second.

 

Then I dropped the phone on my nightstand.

 

They were trying. And yeah, a part of me felt guilty. The part of me that hated seeing either of them look disappointed, or worried, or sad.

 

But I couldn't let that part win right now.

 

They'd have to sit with it.

 

Because I wasn't ready to forgive them yet.

 

---

 

I don't remember falling asleep, just that the food Shoko brought back smelled better than I expected. Rice, pork, something vaguely green I didn't question. It hurt to sit up, but I forced myself to eat anyway. She didn't say much when she dropped it off, just gave me a smile and a small nod.

 

I ate every last bite.

 

Then I passed out on top of my covers, still half dressed, phone dead somewhere under my pillow.

 

The knock came hours later, soft. Too polite for Gojo. Too persistent to be anyone else.

 

I groaned, dragging myself out of bed, every joint protesting. My muscles ached like I'd done a week of training in one day. The moonlight painted thin lines across my dorm floor, lighting the room up in a blue tint.

 

I opened the door.

 

And just... stared.

 

The hallway was empty, but the floor in front of my room wasn't.

 

There were snacks. Piles of them. Pocky, melon bread, those weird hard candies Suguru pretended not to like but always ate when Gojo gave them to him. Bags of chips. Energy drinks, teas, soda. A few pre-made bento boxes stacked neatly.

 

Flowers sat in the center, two bouquets, one of soft purple tulips and the other a chaotic mix of whatever flowers Gojo probably grabbed without asking what they were. They clashed. It was almost charming.

 

There were notes scattered everywhere. Folded. Sealed. Some scrawled quickly on napkins.

 

And gifts, actual gifts. A plush rabbit with a stitched frown that looked suspiciously handmade, a new sketchbook I hadn't told anyone I wanted, even a small, polished knife with a dark handle and a note that just said, "Since you lost yours. This one bites harder."

 

I exhaled slowly. My throat caught.

 

I brought everything inside one armful at a time, stacking the flowers on my windowsill and clearing my desk for the rest. The plush went on my pillow, next to my beat up one. The sketchbook by my lamp.

 

Finally, I sat down and opened the notes.

 

The first one was Suguru's, his handwriting clean, slanted and practiced:

 

Amara,

You were right. I should've listened to you. I should've protected you better. I keep replaying that moment in my head, and it kills me that I didn't notice sooner.

You shouldn't have to scream for our attention. Not ever.

I'm sorry. Truly sorry.

-Suguru

 

The second one was undeniably Gojo's, half-cursive, half chaos, some letters tilted sideways:

 

Sorry.

I'm an idiot. A really loud one.

You were the only one paying attention, and I hate that I ignored you when you needed me. Needed us. I hate that you were scared and I wasn't there.

Please don't shut us out forever. I miss you.

I miss your stupid jokes and your mad face and even when you hit me with your vines.

-Satoru

(p.s. The flowers were my idea but Suguru picked the overly nice ones so yell at him if they die)

 

I wiped my cheek before I realized a tear had slipped down. I wasn't ready to forgive them yet. Not completely.

 

But something in me cracked. Softened. Shifted.

 

Because they meant it.

 

And even if I didn't open the door tonight, at least I knew they were still on the other side.

 

 

Chapter 16: Come Clean

The wind was sharp on the rooftop, carrying the scent of rain that never quite came. The city below glimmered in the distant haze, and the lights from the school cast soft shadows across the roof tiles. It was quiet, eerily so, except for the faint rustle of fabric and the scuff of sneakers against concrete.

 

Gojo leaned against the railing, his glasses hanging from his shirt, eyes on the sky but clearly not seeing it.

 

"You're late," he said as Geto stepped through the rooftop door.

 

"You're always early," Suguru replied, shutting it behind him with a soft click.

 

Neither of them smiled right away.

 

The silence between them had weight now. Not like the old days, when it was comfortable. Tonight it was strained, like glass bracing for a crack.

 

Gojo was the first to break it.

 

"So," he said, drawing out the word. "You here to hit me or hug me?"

 

"Neither," Suguru said calmly. "Though I thought about both."

 

Gojo huffed a small laugh and scratched the back of his head. "Fair."

 

Suguru stepped forward, folding his arms, stopping a few feet away. His eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger, but with intent. "I want to talk about Amara."

 

Gojo stiffened. "Don't start," Gojo warned, voice suddenly tighter. "I already feel bad. I get it. I fucked up-"

 

"No," Suguru cut in. "That's not what I meant."

 

Gojo blinked.

 

Suguru held his gaze, firm. "You like her, don't you?"

 

A pause.

 

Gojo shifted. "I- What? No. I mean-"

 

"Satoru."

 

He flinched at the name. Suguru rarely used it with that tone.

 

Gojo sighed and looked away. "...Yeah. I do."

 

Suguru didn't react right away. Just stared at him for a moment, unreadable.

 

Gojo glanced back, sheepish. "I thought I'd hate it. Sharing attention. Feeling... whatever this is. But turns out the only person I don't mind sharing with is... you."

 

That earned the faintest twitch of a smile from Suguru.

 

"I'm not surprised," he said softly. "People fall for you all the time."

 

"Yeah, but Amara's different," Gojo said quickly. "She's- she actually makes me want to try en shit."

 

Suguru nodded slowly. "She makes me feel that way too."

 

Gojo stared at him. "So what? We just... fight it out until one of us gives up?"

 

"No," Suguru said. "That's why I wanted to talk. I heard about this thing recently. A type of relationship. Polyamory."

 

Gojo squinted. "Pol-a-what now?"

 

Suguru held back a laugh. "It's when more than two people are in a relationship. Together. Equal. It's not... competing. It's choosing each other. All of us."

 

Gojo was quiet for a long second.

 

"Does that make us gay?"

 

Suguru smirked. "Yeah. A little. You okay with that?"

 

Gojo made a dramatic face. "I guess. But only if I get to be the hot one."

 

"You're always the hot one, Satoru."

 

Gojo blinked. "Was that a compliment?"

 

"I'll deny it later."

 

They both laughed then. Quiet but real. The kind that cracked the tension in their shoulders.

 

Suguru stepped closer, leaning next to him on the rail. "I think we should try to stop fighting over her. She already said she's done until we get our shit together. Maybe this is what that looks like."

 

Gojo exhaled through his nose. "Teaming up instead of competing?"

 

"Exactly."

 

Gojo grinned, something playful flickering in his eyes again. "So what, we flirt with her together? Double the chaos?"

 

"She won't know what to do with herself," Suguru said with a smirk.

 

Then Gojo's grin faded a little. "What if she says no?"

 

Suguru's smile softened. "Then... maybe we just stay together."

 

Gojo blinked, caught off guard. A pink flush bloomed over his ears, and he tried to play it cool. But he laughed, breathy and a little too shy for his usual self.

 

"You're such a sap sometimes," he muttered.

 

Suguru bumped his shoulder. "Takes one to know one."

 

Gojo snorted, gaze drifting back up toward the stars. "You know... if we're gonna do this whole poly thing right, maybe we should, uh..." His smirk turned mischievous. "Practice kissing each other first. Y'know. So we don't suck when we get the chance to kiss her."

 

Suguru raised an eyebrow, deadpan. "That's the worst excuse I've ever heard to kiss me."

 

Gojo laughed, pushing off the railing, pretending to stretch. "Oh, come on. I'm just being practical."

 

"Right. Practical." Suguru stepped closer, his voice lowering just enough to make the air around them shift. "So what's the verdict, then? Gonna kiss me now or are you chickening out, Satoru?"

 

Gojo stiffened, just slightly. His confident smirk faltered, and he glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Whoa now, I thought you'd be the one who panics first."

 

"Oh no," Suguru said, grin forming as he leaned in ever so slightly, voice like silk, "you're the disaster flirting king. I figured the moment someone actually called your bluff, you'd combust."

 

Gojo's ears turned red. "I don't combust."

 

"You are combusting. Right now."

 

"I am not-" Gojo sputtered, waving his hand, still very much not making eye contact. "I was being funny. That was a joke. I joke when things get weird. It's a trauma response."

 

Suguru let out a real laugh, deep, genuine, echoing off the rooftop tiles.

 

Gojo crossed his arms, pouting. "Stop laughing."

 

"I can't. You're blushing."

 

"No, I'm cold."

 

"It's May."

 

Gojo shoved him lightly in the shoulder. "You're the worst."

 

"And you love it."

 

Gojo gave up trying to hide the grin breaking across his face. "...Maybe."

 

They stood there in the soft moonlight, shoulders touching now without effort. And even without kissing, without pushing anything too far, something in the air felt sealed, an understanding stitched between laughter and red ears and too many unspoken things finally starting to find words.

 

They weren't there yet.

 

But they were on the way.

 

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

 

The sun was out, the sky was clear, and birds were chirping, it would almost be relaxing if I didn't have a pounding headache. My legs still ached, but I was moving easier this morning. Bruises faded, bones reset, and whatever cracked thing had been sitting heavy in my chest felt a little lighter, at least enough to sit outside and breathe for once.

 

I stepped into the courtyard and immediately got a bad feeling.

 

There they were. Gojo and Suguru.

 

Sitting on a bench. Together.

 

Laughing.

 

I stopped dead in my tracks.

 

They were getting along. Suspiciously well. And not in the normal "we've known each other forever and tolerate each other" kind of way. No, this was unsettlingly coordinated. Matching energy. Matching smirks. Like they'd had a secret meeting and agreed on a plan I was definitely not invited to.

 

I narrowed my eyes. "Nope."

 

Too late. Gojo's head whipped around.

 

"Amaraaa~!" he sang, standing so fast it was like he'd been waiting in ambush. Suguru followed at a much calmer pace, but his eyes were doing that thing, the quiet, unreadable, and somehow worse than Gojo's screaming attention thing.

 

I backed up a step. "No. Whatever this is? I don't like it."

 

"Too late," Gojo said with a grin. "You're part of it."

 

They sandwiched me on the bench before I could escape, one on each side, too close to be accidental. I side-eyed them both like they'd grown extra limbs.

 

Gojo leaned in, resting his chin on his hand. "Sooo... hypothetical question."

 

"Oh god."

 

"If you liked two guys, super hot, very powerful, extremely cool guys, would it be, like, totally overwhelming if they both liked you back?"

 

I blinked. "Toootally depends. Are they both insufferable?"

 

Suguru let out a soft breath that might've been a laugh. "We talked," he said, voice quieter but direct. "No more games. We want to know what you want."

 

I stared between them.

 

Gojo looked like he was trying not to fidget, and Suguru was still doing the calm, composed thing, but there was something open in his eyes.

 

I inhaled slowly.

 

"I don't want to say no," I said, watching their expressions carefully, "but I'm not ready to say yes either. Not completely."

 

Gojo's grin wavered just slightly. Suguru gave him a side glance, subtle, but I caught it.

 

"I just need more time," I continued. "If we're gonna do anything, whatever this ends up being, I want it to feel natural. Not forced. Not planned like some evil flirt-coordinated assault."

 

Gojo snorted. "Ouch."

 

I smirked. "I'm not saying stop. I'm saying... don't fake it. I need more normal. More quiet. I want to hang out without wondering if I'm being cornered into a choice. I don't need perfection. I just want to see what this looks like when you're not trying so hard."

 

Suguru nodded once. "That's fair."

 

Gojo was quiet for a beat longer, then gave a dramatic sigh. "Okay, okay. I can do normal. I mean, I am normal."

 

"You're a walking fever dream," I muttered.

 

"Thank you?"

 

I shook my head, letting myself relax a little more into the bench.

 

"One condition," I added. "You can act how you want. Say what you want. Just keep respecting my space. My boundaries. If I make it clear I don't want to continue with the flirting or whatever, you stop."

 

Suguru looked at me. "Always."

 

Gojo gave a salute. "Scout's honor."

 

"You were never a scout." Suguru shook his head with a light chuckle.

 

"I could've been."

 

"Pretty sure they'd have kicked you out after five minutes." I added with a laugh.

 

"Three," Suguru corrected gently.

 

Gojo gasped, mock-offended.

 

And just like that, the tension eased. The space between us felt less heavy. I still didn't know where this was going, not really. But I wasn't walking away.

 

I just needed to take my time.

 

---

 

A few days pass and things start to fall back in place.

 

The sun dipped behind the trees and the sky turned navy, things felt... okay again. Not perfect. Not fixed. But okay enough for me to say yes when Suguru gently asked if we could hang out that night, nothing serious, just something soft.

 

Gojo had immediately suggested a sleepover. "Because, obviously, I'm hilarious and everyone sleeps better after a good laugh. It's science."

 

I rolled my eyes and said fine. Only because my dorm room had the most space, which was just code for "the emptiest." Not much furniture. Barely any decoration. But the bed was big enough for three if you didn't mind limbs overlapping, and the floor was clean. Enough. But I made sure to get most of my clothes away.

 

By eight o'clock, they were knocking on my door with their arms overflowing, blankets, pillows, two bags of snacks, and a small boxy DVD player that Gojo kept dropping.

 

"Stop dropping it," Suguru muttered, adjusting the blanket roll over his shoulder.

 

"I'm not dropping it, I'm testing its durability."

 

"There's very little that's durable against you, don't push it."

 

I stepped aside to let them in, suppressing a smirk as Gojo kicked off his shoes and nearly tripped on my rug. Suguru gave me a brief look, then shook his head with a soft smile. 

 

I shrugged with a chuckle. "You knew what you signed up for."

 

They dumped their stuff on the bed, and Gojo immediately started rearranging the pillows like he was nesting. "Okay, this one's the head pillow, this one's the knee support, this one's for cuddling in case one of you bails on me halfway through the night-"

 

"I will suffocate you with that pillow," I muttered, setting my small stack of DVDs on the dresser.

 

Studio Ghibli. My comfort. My actual emotional support.

 

"Okay," I said, holding them up like sacred artifacts. "We've got Howl's Moving Castle, Spirited Away, My Neighbor Totoro, and Princess Mononoke. Pick your poison."

 

Gojo's hand shot up. "Howl. Obviously. It's the closest I'll ever get to having magical hair like that."

 

"You already have magical hair," Suguru said flatly.

 

"Thank you," Gojo beamed.

 

I popped the DVD into the player and flicked off the main light, leaving only the soft orange glow of my desk lamp. The opening score started, soft and nostalgic, and for a moment, no one said anything.

 

We all climbed onto the bed, me in the middle, not by choice, but because they made it that way.

 

Gojo sprawled dramatically, legs everywhere, stealing half the blanket. Suguru sat with his back against the wall, arms folded behind his head, eyes half-lidded but clearly paying attention.

 

The movie started. The music wrapped around the room like a lullaby. Outside, the cicadas buzzed in the trees and the occasional sound of crickets. It was like we were in our own little world.

 

I leaned back against the pillows and let myself relax.

 

"Do you think I'd make a good wizard?" Gojo whispered suddenly.

 

"No," Suguru and I said at the same time.

 

"Wow. The betrayal. I'm like the closest thing you can get to a real life wizard."

 

"Don't talk during the movie," I muttered.

 

"You're in the middle, that makes you the sound moderator."

 

"I will moderate you off this bed."

 

Gojo gasped. "So violent."

 

Suguru reached over, handed me a bag of chips without saying a word, and I knew then, that things weren't perfect, but they were ours. Messy, loud, a little uncertain, but no longer broken.

 

We were building something again.

 

And maybe that started with Ghibli films and weirdly expensive pillows.

 

The movie flickered on, soft and golden across the walls of my room. The hum of the DVD player blended with the rise and fall of the soundtrack, and even Gojo had finally stopped talking, lulled by the animation and snacks and the safety of shared silence.

 

I didn't mean to lean into Suguru, not really. I was just tired, and his shoulder was right there. Warm.

 

I let my head rest there, eyes half-closed, just for a second. His breathing didn't change, but I felt him glance down.

 

Gojo noticed before I could even pretend it didn't happen.

 

"Oh? Getting cozy, are we?" he whispered in the most obnoxious tone he could muster.

 

"Shut up," I mumbled, barely lifting my head. "Just resting my eyes."

 

"Uh huh. Just resting them directly on Suguru, huh?"

 

"Shut up, Satoru," Suguru said, but his voice was soft. He didn't move away. Didn't seem to mind.

 

I shifted again, trying to find a better spot, pulling the blanket tighter around my legs. The pillows had all shifted into weird, uneven piles, and Gojo was stretched out diagonally across the bed like he owned it. I tried to get comfortable without jostling anyone, but the more I moved, the more awkward it became.

 

"Okay," Gojo said, sitting up. "That's it. You're doing the sleepy wiggle. Just admit you're tired."

 

"I am tired," I said through a yawn. "But your bed construction sucks."

 

"My pillow fortress is elite."

 

"Your pillow fortress has a pit in the middle of it where my spine goes to die."

 

Suguru smirked. "Alright. Movie's over. Let's get actually comfortable before she injures herself trying to politely not crush either of us."

 

I blinked sleepily as the credits rolled, stretching once before letting myself flop back into the mess of blankets. "The bed isn't big enough."

 

Gojo stood up, cracking his neck. "Then we get creative."

 

"What does that mean?"

 

"It means I get the wall side. I'll curl in. You go in the middle, and Suguru gets the edge 'cause he's the responsible one who won't fall off and break something."

 

Suguru raised an eyebrow. "You're putting me on edge duty because you're worried you'll roll off?"

 

"Exactly. You've got better balance."

 

"This is what I get for being the 'responsible one.'"

 

They rearranged the bed while I laid there half-conscious, watching them argue over whose blanket was softer. I felt hands lift the covers around me, felt Gojo's long limbs wedge themselves behind my back in a dramatic sprawl. Suguru eased into the space in front of me with much more grace, one arm sliding carefully under my pillow like he'd done this a hundred times.

 

Gojo's voice was quieter now, close to my ear. "You good?"

 

"Mmhm."

 

Suguru's hand brushed my arm gently. "Still okay with this?"

 

I nodded, already sinking into the warmth between them. "Just don't breathe on me too loud."

 

Gojo laughed into the back of my hair. "I make no promises."

 

It was cramped. It was awkward. Suguru's knee kept knocking against mine, and Gojo refused to stop shifting every thirty seconds, but it was warm. 

 

It was safe.

 

I closed my eyes to the sound of their breathing on either side of me. Somewhere between the quiet laughter and the way Suguru shifted just enough to tuck the blanket higher on my shoulder, I realized...

 

This might actually be what peace feels like.

 

The room was warm now, thick with the hush of night and the steady rhythm of three bodies breathing close together. The movie had long since ended, the DVD menu looping quietly on the screen across the room, but no one moved to turn it off.

 

My head was tucked beneath Suguru's chin, his chest rising and falling slow and even against my cheek. His hand rested loosely on my shoulder, not gripping, just there, steady and calm. He always ran a little warm, like his cursed energy hummed under his skin even when he slept.

 

Behind me, Gojo had gone suspiciously still.

 

For once, not a word. Not a dramatic sigh or some snarky whisper to fill the silence. Just his breathing, slow but not quite as steady, more erratic, like he was trying very hard to pretend to be relaxed.

 

I was floating in that soft middle place between sleep and wake when I shifted to get more comfortable, and without thinking I wiggled my hips, just a little, to adjust the blankets around my waist.

 

Gojo made a noise behind me. Barely audible. Like someone choking on air and biting their tongue at the same time.

 

Then I heard it, a sharp inhale, followed by the softest curse under his breath.

 

"Shit."

 

I would've laughed if I wasn't already drifting.

 

Gojo bit down on his thumb, muttering behind me, his voice low and close. "She's trying to kill me."

 

"She's asleep," Suguru whispered, sounding half amused and half warning. "And you're being obvious."

 

"She wiggled." Gojo's voice cracked a little. "Direct attack."

 

"Behave," Suguru murmured, shifting his hand a little firmer around my back like he was silently setting the boundary for all of us. "Or I'll make her turn around and deal with you face-first."

 

Gojo exhaled a soft, strangled laugh and buried his face in the pillow. "Okay. Okay. I'm fine. I'm totally fine."

 

But I could feel it, his legs brushed against mine more closely now, his body settling into mine like he was trying to mold himself into the shape of my back. Even his arm found its way gently across my waist, hesitant at first, but Suguru didn't say anything. So it stayed.

 

And the longer we stayed there, the more natural it felt. The press of Suguru's chest, the solid warmth of Gojo's body curled behind me, their breath syncing up slowly around me like waves.

 

I let myself drift again, lips parted just slightly, eyes closed.

 

For the first time in days, I felt surrounded, protected-held.

 

And even though they were clearly still disasters...

They were mine.

 

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

 

The room was quiet. Still.

 

Almost.

 

Gojo stared at the wall across the bed, eyes wide open in the dark, blinking slow and deliberate like if he did it enough, it might reset his brain. It didn't. He shifted slightly, adjusting the arm that was draped over Amara's waist, trying not to breathe too loud.

 

Didn't help that her entire back was pressed against his front, especially her hips.

 

It had been manageable when they first curled up, all cozy and platonic and sweet. But at some point in the last hour, she started moving in her sleep. Tiny shifts. Half-rolls. The kind of unconscious wiggles people do when chasing a dream or adjusting to a warm bed.

 

Except her dream-wiggles kept grinding her hips back into his lap.

 

And Gojo was not doing well.

 

Across from him, Suguru lay propped slightly on one elbow, watching Amara's face, serene and completely unaware of the quiet panic happening behind her.

 

Gojo whispered first. "I'm dying."

 

Suguru blinked. "I know."

 

"No seriously." Gojo's voice was barely audible. "She keeps... moving."

 

"She's asleep, Satoru."

 

"She's torturing me."

 

Suguru looked over Amara's sleeping form, eyes landing on Gojo's face in the shadows. "Then maybe don't press your hips so close."

 

"I didn't try to. She wiggled closer."

 

Suguru covered his mouth to hide a smirk. "Is that the technical term?"

 

"Shut up," Gojo hissed. "Her butt is literally- right there."

 

"I'm aware."

 

"You don't get it. You're on the safe side."

 

"Her face is on my chest. Her mouth is near my collarbone. You think this is safe?" Suguru tilted his head just slightly. "We're in the same hell."

 

Gojo groaned softly, burying his face in the pillow again. "Why are we like this."

 

"Because we like her."

 

"I was handling this poly thing fine until she tried to seduce me in her sleep."

 

"She's not seducing you, you're just touch-starved and horny."

 

Gojo glared across the bed, scandalized. "Rude."

 

"Accurate."

 

They fell quiet again, the only sound in the room the soft hum of the DVD menu looping from the TV screen.

 

Amara murmured something in her sleep, nothing coherent, and shifted again. Her back pressed firmer against Gojo's hips and he froze.

 

Suguru stifled a laugh into his sleeve.

 

"This is a nightmare," Gojo whispered with urgency. "A beautiful, perfect, soul-crushing nightmare."

 

"You're the strongest sorcerer alive," Suguru said, voice low and dry. "Control yourself."

 

"I am controlling myself."

 

"Barely."

 

They both watched her for a beat. The rise and fall of her chest. The way her lips parted, her fingers twitching under the blankets. Completely unaware of the storm she'd stirred up just by existing.

 

Suguru leaned closer, voice quieter now. "We're not gonna survive her, are we?"

 

Gojo's answer was a breath. Honest but quiet. "Nope."

 

They had managed a whole ten minutes of silence.

 

Gojo had finally stopped groaning into his pillow and accepted his fate as a man quietly suffering in the dark, resigned to the full body contact of Amara's back pressed into him with frustratingly perfect pressure. He was half-asleep, or maybe half-unconscious, brain fogged by restraint.

 

Then Amara shifted again.

 

But this time it wasn't toward him.

 

Suguru blinked as her forehead brushed beneath his chin, her breath ghosting warm and slow across his collarbone. He barely reacted, used to the closeness. Used to her warmth. But then her lips grazed his neck.

 

Not a kiss. Just an unconscious nuzzle. But soft. Lingering. Dangerous.

 

Gojo snorted behind her. "Oh no. She got you too?"

 

Suguru didn't move. Didn't breathe. His eyes stared up at the ceiling with the rigid determination of a man trying to focus on literally anything else.

 

Gojo leaned forward a little, grinning like a devil in the dark. "Is that panic I see on your very well-composed face?"

 

"Shut up," Suguru muttered, voice strained.

 

"Did she kiss you?"

 

"No."

 

"She kissed you."

 

"She didn't. It wasn't- shut up. She's asleep."

 

But Gojo wasn't done. Not when he saw Suguru's shoulders tense more. "She moved her leg, didn't she?"

 

Suguru didn't answer.

 

"She did. Oh my god."

 

Amara shifted again, nuzzling closer into Suguru's neck, the hand resting between them slowly curling. Her fingers brushed the hem of his shirt, and then her hand slipped under it.

 

Suguru exhaled sharply through his nose. His entire body went still.

 

Gojo wheezed, trying not to laugh. "Oh man. Now who's dying?"

 

"She's asleep," Suguru whispered, like saying it enough times would make it true.

 

"That hand isn't asleep."

 

"Shut. Up."

 

Gojo curled tighter against her back, grinning into her hair. "You want me to trade places with you?"

 

"No."

 

"You sure?"

 

"She's touching my ribs."

 

Gojo's laugh died. "Oh."

 

"And now she's-" Suguru's voice cracked as her hand drifted even higher, the back of her knuckles grazing far too close to places that should not be grazed at 2:00 a.m. during a platonic cuddle.

 

Gojo was full-on cackling now, shoulders shaking silently. "You're gonna explode."

 

Suguru turned his head slightly, teeth clenched, voice low and sharp. "I'm going to ascend."

 

They both went quiet as Amara mumbled something incoherent and sighed in her sleep, shifting her weight again. The hand beneath Suguru's shirt dragged higher across his stomach, palm warm, grazing his chest.

 

He grabbed her wrist gently and moved her hand down.

 

Back to a neutral zone.

 

He tucked her fingers into the blanket and prayed she didn't wake.

 

Gojo was still grinning like an idiot. "I don't think this counts as taking it slow."

 

Suguru closed his eyes and muttered, "I can't think right now. Give me a second."

 

Gojo quietly laughed.

 

---

 

The room had finally gone quiet again.

 

Gojo had stopped laughing- mostly. Suguru's heart rate had mostly returned to something resembling human. And Amara, blissfully unaware of the war she had just waged in their bodies, was sleeping peacefully again between them.

 

Until she stirred.

 

Suguru felt it first, the slight twitch of her leg, the slow inhale, the tiny movement of her fingers curling against his chest again.

 

Then her voice came out, soft and half-mumbled: "Sugu... I gotta pee."

 

His eyes fluttered at the nickname and then cleared his throat. "Okay," he whispered, already shifting to give her space.

 

Except she didn't wait.

 

Amara pushed gently at his chest, not aggressive, just drowsy and determined. She rolled over him to get up, slow and clumsy, which meant she practically sat on his lap in the process. Her weight landed fully across his hips for a few painful seconds, and her chest, tight tank top, no bra, was right at his face level.

 

Suguru stared straight ahead like a soldier under interrogation.

 

Gojo's mouth fell open silently behind her.

 

Amara didn't even notice. She just sleepily muttered "sorry" and stumbled off the bed into the bathroom, closing the door with a soft click and leaving behind a pair of completely broken boys.

 

Silence.

 

A long, stunned silence.

 

Then Gojo exhaled loudly, throwing an arm over his face. "I'm gonna die."

 

Suguru swallowed, dragging a hand down his face. "We deserve to die."

 

Gojo peeked at him from under his elbow. "Did she just-?"

 

"Yes."

 

"She was literally in your lap."

 

"I know."

 

Gojo laughed again, quieter this time, more breath than sound. "Try not to pop a boner, my guy."

 

Suguru side-eyed him. "You try not to pop a boner."

 

Gojo scoffed. "Please. I rarely get those."

 

Suguru raised an eyebrow. "Bullshit."

 

"No, seriously," Gojo said, flipping onto his back with a dramatic sigh. "I don't get... like, gross turned on. Not really. Not unless it's stupidly specific. But this?" He gestured wildly at the ceiling. "This is different. I feel like my heart has a boner. Is that a thing?"

 

Suguru blinked slowly. "It is not a thing."

 

"It is now." Gojo stared up at the ceiling, his voice quieter, more thoughtful. "It's like... my whole chest is tight, and I want to laugh and cry and punch something. And it's not even because she's hot, which, obviously, she is, but because I want to wrap her in seventeen blankets and protect her forever while she bullies me."

 

Suguru looked at him for a moment, then gave a short laugh. "You're so screwed."

 

"Yeah," Gojo admitted. "And not in the fun way."

 

They both fell quiet again, letting the weight of the night settle around them. Suguru let his head rest against the pillow, breathing in slow, grounding. This whole thing, whatever it was becoming, felt fragile and real and impossible.

 

Then the bathroom door creaked open.

 

Both boys sat up slightly as Amara shuffled out, half-asleep and completely unaware that her tank top had shifted, dangerously so. One strap had slipped off her shoulder, and the neckline drooped just enough that one of her boobs was very nearly exposed.

 

She rubbed her eye with the heel of her palm, yawning, moving slow and aimless like a drunk ghost.

 

Neither of them said anything at first. Just... stared. In horror. And awe.

 

Gojo whispered, "Oh no."

 

Suguru hissed, "Don't say anything."

 

"I'm not saying anything!"

 

"You're thinking loud."

 

"She's gonna fall-"

 

Too late. Amara bumped into the edge of the bed with a soft grunt and tried to climb in like her bones had turned to jelly. Suguru was already there, catching her gently by the arm.

 

"Whoa- careful there."

 

"I'm fine," she mumbled, crawling halfway into the sheets before flopping down, clearly done being awake.

 

Gojo knelt behind her and tugged the blanket higher to cover her legs while Suguru leaned in, gently grabbing the wayward strap of her tank top and pulling it back over her shoulder. He fixed the neckline too, carefully adjusting the fabric so nothing was peeking out, not because they were embarrassed. But because she deserved privacy, even from them, especially when she didn't realize she needed it.

 

Gojo followed the motion, brushing her hair gently off her face before settling back beside her with a quiet sigh.

 

"Thanks," Suguru murmured.

 

"Yeah." Gojo's voice was soft. "Heart boner still going strong."

 

Suguru snorted under his breath. "Go to sleep, idiot."

 

"Can't. Too full of love and suffering."

 

Suguru gave him a look, more fond than annoyed. "You're unbelievable."

 

But before Gojo could make another snide comment, Amara stirred again.

 

Still caught in whatever half-dream haze she floated through, she let out a tiny, frustrated whine and shifted between them, tugging the blanket up with one hand while the other clutched Suguru's shirt in a fist.

 

"Not close enough," she mumbled.

 

Both boys froze.

 

Gojo blinked. "Did she just-"

 

"Yeah," Suguru said, stunned. "She did."

 

She tugged at Suguru again, her fingers curling tighter into the fabric at his chest. Her head pressed further into the space beneath his chin like she was chasing his heartbeat. At the same time, she reached back blindly with her other hand, grabbing at the first thing she could find, Gojo's arm.

 

Her fingers found his wrist and tugged, insistently.

 

Gojo sucked in a sharp breath.

 

"I don't think I'm emotionally stable enough for this," he whispered, letting her pull him closer.

 

Suguru swallowed hard as Amara shifted again, pressing herself into him fully, her leg curling around his and her forehead resting just under his jaw. She didn't open her eyes, just mumbled something that sounded vaguely like "better" before going still again.

 

Gojo, now chest to her back, leaned in so his nose barely brushed her hair. His free hand rested just above her hip, and she didn't flinch. Didn't stir.

 

The three of them molded into a single, tangled warmth under the blankets.

 

Suguru let out a slow, shaky breath, eyes wide in the dark. "She's going to kill us."

 

Gojo nodded against her hair. "Yeah. And I'm gonna thank her in my will."

 

Suguru chuckled, quiet and low. "I'm not even sure what this is anymore."

 

"I think it's purgatory," Gojo murmured. "Sexy, emotionally confusing purgatory."

 

Amara didn't respond. She just kept breathing soft and slow between them, content, wrapped in both their arms like she belonged there.

 

And maybe she did.

 

 

Chapter 17: Date not Date....Date

I woke up to warmth.

 

Not the lazy, sun-on-your-face kind of warmth. This was the weighted warmth of limbs and breathing with two distinct heartbeats pressed up against me. My face was tucked into Suguru's chest, and I could feel the slow rise and fall beneath his shirt. His arm was around my waist.

 

And behind me...

 

Gojo.

 

His hand rested on my hip, light but there, and his leg was tangled with mine like we were puzzle pieces someone had shoved together in a rush.

 

My brain went blank for a second.

 

Then it screamed.

 

Oh my god.

 

I stayed still. Too still. The kind of still where you start pretending to be asleep because you have no idea what to do. My hand was on Suguru's stomach, under his shirt, and I thought I put it under there in a dream...

 

Worse part, I didn't want to move it.

 

Suguru stirred slightly. His breathing changed just enough for me to know he was waking up. A soft, sleepy sound vibrated in his chest.

 

"Morning," he murmured.

 

I swallowed. "Morning."

 

He didn't pull away. Just looked down at me, his eyes still half-lidded and gentle. Warm. The kind of look that made me feel like I was doing something very dangerous just by existing.

 

We stared at each other for too long.

 

"Good morrrrning sunshineees~" Gojo's voice suddenly exploded behind me as he stretched dramatically, flinging one arm over my side and across Suguru's shoulder. "Best sleep I've ever had. I would rate this a solid 10 out of 10. We definitely have to do this again."

 

I shoved my palm into his face before I could stop myself. "It's too early for your nonsense."

 

Gojo snorted, laughing even as he peeled himself off the mattress. "What? You two were all snuggled up, I felt left out."

 

"You were part of it!" I hissed, grabbing a pillow and whacking his arm with it. Making him laugh harder.

 

Suguru sat up slowly, dragging a hand down his face. "You're both being so loud."

 

"Do you think we should do this every weekend?" Gojo continued, grinning wide, unbothered. "Get some popcorn, pile in here, emotionally devastate each other with Ghibli movies, fall asleep all tangled like a pretzel, classic bonding."

 

"Pretzels don't suffer like we did," Suguru said flatly.

 

"What do you mean?? Have you never eaten a pretzel where they're all like 'oh noooo don't eat me! I have a wife and kids ahhhhhhh!' CRUNCH." He quotes the pretzel in a high pitched voice. "I would say that's definitely suffering." 

 

Suguru lets out an exasperated sigh.

 

I rolled out of bed and stumbled to my feet, my tank top halfway up my side. I yanked it down quickly and pointed at both of them. "I'm going to the bathroom. Alone. No more talking for a bit."

 

I brushed my teeth like my life depended on it. Because if I looked in the mirror for too long, I might have to admit how nice it had been. How natural. How much my body hadn't wanted to move away from either of them. And how scary that was.

 

By the time I came back out, they were already half-dressed, bickering over who stole more of the blanket. I threw a hoodie over my tank top and headed straight to the cafeteria, trying to ditch them for a moment to get some quiet.

 

I wanted time to recalibrate.

 

But of course, Shoko was already at our table, looking at me over her coffee like a cat who knew exactly where the mouse had been.

 

"Sleep well?" she asked, her voice like smoke and curiosity.

 

I froze mid-step. "Fine."

 

Her smile spread. "You look very fine."

 

Gojo plopped down across from her, tossing his glasses on the table. "It was a very healing night for all of us. Physically. Spiritually. Snugglily."

 

Suguru sat beside him with a sigh. "Ignore him."

 

"Oh no, I absolutely won't," Shoko said, grinning wide now. "Something's different."

 

"Nothing's different," I said too fast.

 

"Uh huh."

 

Gojo leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head. "We're just a little more emotionally evolved now. We had a group nap. We bonded."

 

Shoko glanced between the three of us. "So when's the wedding?"

 

Suguru choked on his rice.

 

Gojo threw his head back laughing.

 

I buried my face in my hands.

 

Yeah. Everything was very normal.

 

I peeked at Shoko through my fingers. She was still grinning, sipping her coffee like she hadn't just upended the fragile emotional balance I was barely holding together.

 

"There's no wedding," I muttered.

 

"Yet," Gojo added, wiggling his eyebrows.

 

"I will throw this tray at you."

 

"I'll catch it and say 'I do'."

 

Suguru, still recovering from choking on his rice, cleared his throat and said nothing. But the tips of his ears were red, and he suddenly had a lot of interest in his miso soup.

 

I slumped down in my seat, hoodie sleeves pulled over my hands. "You guys are the worst."

 

Shoko leaned her chin on her hand. "So... wanna tell me what really happened last night? Or do I have to start guessing out loud and make it everyone else's business?"

 

"There's nothing to tell," I said, trying to sound casual. "We watched Howl's Moving Castle, fought over blankets, and fell asleep. That's it."

 

Gojo leaned in, resting his elbow on the table. "You forgot the part where you demanded we get closer in your sleep and then climbed Suguru like a sleepy jungle gym."

 

Suguru, bless him, didn't even look up.

 

Shoko's smile turned absolutely feral. "Ohhh? I must know more."

 

I glared at Gojo. "You are so lucky I didn't bring my knife to breakfast."

 

"Why? So you could stab me and cuddle me afterward?"

 

"I will end you."

 

"And I will thank you."

 

I groan.

 

Shoko tilted her head. "So. Just to confirm. You, Suguru, and Satoru shared a bed last night. Cuddled. No one died. And you all woke up in one piece. Emotionally compromised but otherwise intact."

 

"Correct." I answered quickly.

 

"Fascinating."

 

I dropped my head onto the table with a groan.

 

Shoko laughed and reached over to pat my hoodie-covered head. "You're totally crushing on them." she whispered to me.

 

"I hate you."

 

"Only because I'm right."

 

Gojo looked smug as hell. Suguru looked like he wanted to melt into the floor. And I- well, I wanted to hit a reset button and go back to before I ever agreed to that sleepover.

 

But.... I didn't really mean that.

 

Because even with the teasing and the awkward tension and the blush that was burning its way up my neck, there was something good in it. Something warm. Safe.

 

Something I hadn't had before.

 

I picked up my spoon, still not looking at either of them. "No more sleepovers."

 

Gojo gasped. "What? Why?!"

 

"Because I like my sanity."

 

Suguru finally spoke, voice low and dry. "And we're a direct threat to it?"

 

"Yes," I said flatly.

 

But when Gojo bumped my shoulder with his and Suguru quietly nudged his bowl toward me, offering his last dumpling without a word, I knew.

 

No matter how much I pretended I didn't want another night like that...

 

It was already too late. I had let them in and part of me didn't want to shut the door again.

 

---

 

I should've known the peace wouldn't last past breakfast.

 

The second we walked into class, Satoru had his arm slung around my shoulders like he owned the air I breathed. He was grinning, sunglasses back in place, radiating chaotic boyfriend energy so hard I was convinced people could feel it coming off him.

 

"Did you bring your pencil?" he asked, voice syrupy sweet in my ear as we stepped into the lecture hall. "You can borrow mine, but only if you promise to stare at me instead of the board."

 

"I will stab you with that pencil," I muttered, shrugging him off. "We're in class."

 

"Exactly!" he said, still glued to my side. "This is the perfect time for romantic gestures. Public settings? Academic tension? Forbidden hallway glances?" He gasped. "Wait! Do you wanna hold hands under the desk?"

 

"No."

 

"What about footsie?"

 

"Satoru."

 

Shoko, sitting in her usual back row seat, lazily turned a page in her notebook. "She said no, Gojo. Like twice."

 

"Yeah, but I asked different questions." He looked back to her.

 

Suguru entered behind us, quiet as always, the very picture of restraint. He didn't hover. Didn't rush to grab my hand or whisper anything suggestive. He just nodded to me, soft, warm, a little shy. Like a proper gentleman still trying to figure out which step came next.

 

"Morning," he said, offering me a small folded note. "Found that band you were talking about the other day. I have a few CDs of their music so I burned the ones on here that I thought you'd like."

 

My heart fluttered, because of course he remembered that offhand comment from last week.

 

"Thanks," I said, taking it carefully, like it meant more than it probably should've.

 

"See?" Shoko drawled from behind her book. "One of them's a poetic idiot. The other's just an idiot."

 

Gojo sat beside me and slumped dramatically in his chair. "I'm just confident in what we have. Right, babe?"

 

"Don't call me that," I hissed.

 

"You didn't deny the 'we' part."

 

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Suguru didn't look up from his notes, but I could see the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

 

I mutter, dragging a hand down my face. "This is going to be every class now, isn't it?"

 

"Absolutely," Gojo said cheerfully, already trying to doodle hearts in the margins of my notebook.

 

"You're not even subtle," I snapped.

 

"Why be subtle," he replied, grinning. "Subtlety is for cowards."

 

Suguru leaned over just enough to murmur near my ear, low and smooth. "If it helps, I plan to court you with more grace."

 

Shoko choked on her gum in the row behind us.

 

Gojo blinked. "Court? You're making it sound like we're in feudal Japan."

 

"Well," Suguru said calmly, "Amara deserves something more deliberate than being tackled into a relationship."

 

"I didn't tackle her!"

 

"Did you not trap her between us last night and whisper emotional confessions into her hair?"

 

Gojo paused. "Okay, but in my defense, her hair smelled nice."

 

"I hate both of you," I groaned, slamming my head onto the desk.

 

Shoko chuckled and passed me a sticky note that read: "This is better than TV."

 

And unfortunately, she was right.

 

Because somehow, I was stuck between a slow-burn novel and a chaotic rom-com, and neither of them showed any signs of letting up.

 

---

 

The rest of the day was shockingly normal.

 

Training drills. Cursed energy control exercises. A lecture on curse spirit classifications that made my eyes glaze over until Gojo dropped his pen three times just to whisper stupid things to me when I bent to pick it up. Suguru was... calmer. Steady. Present. He stayed close without clinging, and every now and then I'd catch him watching Gojo with an amused expression like he was letting a toddler run loose in a glass shop just to see what would break.

 

But by the time the sun started dropping behind the trees, we were called into Yaga's office. Suguru was being sent out on a solo mission, mid-grade threat, but far enough to keep him overnight, maybe longer.

 

Gojo didn't react much. Just nodded along, hands in his pockets, acting unbothered.

 

Suguru glanced at me before leaving, eyes lingering just long enough for something unspoken to pass between us.

 

"I'll be back in a day or two," he said softly. "Try not to let him get you in trouble."

 

I snorted. "No promises."

 

He offered a rare, real smile and slipped out the door.

 

Then it was just me and Gojo, standing in the empty hallway.

 

"So," he said after a beat, rocking on his heels. "Wanna do something stupid?"

 

I gave him a look. "What kind of stupid?"

 

"The fun kind," he said, eyes sparkling behind his shades. "Y'know. Date kind of stupid."

 

I blinked. "Wait, are you-"

 

"Arcade," he said, already tugging his jacket on. "Sapporo's got this huge one down by the station. Neon lights, fighting games, DDR, crappy nachos. It's peak romance."

 

I stared at him for a second.

 

He was serious. But also... not. That weird Gojo gray area where everything was a joke until it wasn't.

 

"Just us?" I asked carefully.

 

He held up two fingers. "You and me. Suguru's off ghost hunting or whatever, so I figured, hey, perfect time to steal you."

 

I hesitated.

 

But not for long.

 

"...Alright," I said, trying not to smile too obviously. "But I'm not playing DDR." I laughed lightly. "I suck at that game so bad."

 

"Too bad," he said, already grinning as he started walking backward. "I insist on watching you suffer."

 

I rolled my eyes and followed him towards my dorm room.

 

Something about it felt reckless.

 

But also safe.

 

Maybe this wasn't so stupid after all.

 

---

 

The arcade was glowing.

 

Neon signs buzzed above the doors, and inside, everything was noise, buzzers, electronic jingles, machines blinking in a hundred colors. The air smelled like popcorn and warm plastic. Kids shouted. Couples argued. Teenagers yelled across rows of claw machines like they were waging war.

 

It was perfect.

 

I didn't usually dress up for stuff like this, but I couldn't help it. Something about the way Satoru had asked... half teasing, half sincere, it made me want to look good.

 

So I showed up in ripped black skinny jeans, my favorite mesh long-sleeve over a cropped tank. My chains were on, earrings in, rings stacked, and boots laced up tight. Just enough edge to feel confident.

 

Gojo saw me and froze.

 

Dead in his tracks outside the arcade, soda in hand, gum halfway to his mouth.

 

He blinked, slowly. "Oh."

 

"What?"

 

"You're gonna kill someone."

 

"I'm literally wearing jeans."

 

"You're gonna kill me."

 

I rolled my eyes and walked past him. "Come on, hotshot. Let's see if you can actually win a claw machine or if you're just full of it."

 

"Oh, I am absolutely full of it," he said, jogging to catch up. "But you're still going down."

 

For the first hour, it was easy.

 

We jumped from one game to another, trash-talking, laughing, lightly pushing each other between rounds. I beat him at air hockey twice after I told him his Infinity being on was cheating, and he destroyed me in some rhythm-based nightmare I couldn't even follow. I got a plushie shaped like a weird frog with wings. He tried to win one and got a big rubber spider instead.

 

He proudly named it Haru.

 

But it didn't stay fun for long...

 

It started with one girl. Tall. Bubblegum pink lips with too much lipgloss on. She tapped Gojo on the shoulder while we were playing a zombie shooter game.

 

"Sorry, but- are you a model?" she had her arms behind her back and turned side to side as she looked up at him through her lashes.

 

Gojo grinned. "Not officially."

 

Then came another. And another.

 

They gathered fast, like moths to a very hot, extremely annoying flame. A group of girls, maybe five, maybe six, surrounded him near the snack bar, giggling and fawning. Compliments flying all around. Asking for selfies. One girl touched his arm and didn't let go.

 

And Gojo? He was thriving.

 

I watched from a few feet back, still holding the soda he left in my hand. My brows lifted, unimpressed. He was smiling wide, laughing too loud, eating it all up.

 

I could almost hear him thinking 'I deserve this.'

 

He loved being seen. He loved being adored. Worshipped, even. He lit up like a god in a glass box when people looked at him like he was untouchable.

 

And right now? I was invisible.

 

One of the girls bumped into me without looking. No apology.

 

I took a slow sip of his soda, pretending it didn't sting.

 

But it did.

 

I don't know what exactly snapped in me.

 

Maybe it was the way that girl was laughing too loud at a joke Satoru hadn't even told. Or the hand on his bicep. Or the look she gave me, the kind that said, Oh, you must be his cousin or something.

 

Whatever it was, it lit something bold in my chest. Something mean. Something possessive.

 

So I straightened my posture, rolled my shoulders back, and walked right up to Satoru like I owned the air around him.

 

He was mid-sentence with one of the girls, doing that stupid charming smile that made people forget what they were saying. His eyes caught me, but before he could speak, I slid in behind him, slow and smooth, and wrapped my arms around his waist.

 

He stiffened. Just for a second.

 

Then I pressed into his back, hands splayed wide across his stomach, fingers curling into the hem of his shirt and slipping just underneath it, lowering a little past his belt, noticing he has a bit of a happy trail, which I fight every urge to blush and lift my hands back up. My cheek brushed against his shoulder blade.

 

I felt him breathe in. Sharp.

 

Then he melted.

 

I leaned in close to his ear. "Hey, babe," I purred, low and sweet. "Having fun?"

 

His spine shivered. I swear. His whole chest tensed like he had just short-circuited.

 

"Wha- y-yeah, I mean-uh," he stammered, for the first time in probably ever.

 

Before he could recover, I moved, slowly, around to his front, dragging my hand from under his shirt across his side, tracing the dip of his waist to the center of his chest. My nails teased the edge of his collarbone before settling on the side of his neck, thumb brushing over his jaw.

 

His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

 

I tilted my head, and looked up at him through my lashes with full puppy-eyed precision, voice innocent and weaponized. "You didn't forget about me, right?"

 

The girls around us quieted, watching furiously.

 

"Amara-" Satoru breathed, eyes wide, hands hovering like he didn't know if he was allowed to touch me.

 

I leaned up on my toes, fingers still at his throat. "You know this makes me mad, right?"

 

"You- uh- you look mad," he muttered, pupils blown wide. "But, like, sexy mad. It's confusingly hot."

 

One of the girls, the one with the glossy lips and too much perfume, blinked and asked, a little too sharply, "Are you his girlfriend, or something?"

 

I turned to her without dropping my hand from Satoru's chest, voice sweet as poisoned sugar.

 

"Isn't it obvious?" I said, smiling. "He just has a bad habit of enjoying attention a little too much."

 

The girl's mouth twitched like she was about to argue, but I didn't give her the chance. I grabbed Satoru's hand and laced our fingers together deliberately.

 

"You ready to go, baby?" I asked him.

 

He blinked. "Yes. Yes ma'am."

 

I turned us both around, leading him by the hand with a sway in my hips and my head held high, like I'd just conquered a kingdom and made its prettiest knight my pet.

 

Behind us, I could feel the burn of frustrated glares. I didn't even need to look.

 

Satoru followed like an obedient dog, clinging to my side now. We stepped around a corner and out of the noise and lights. He pressed a hand against the wall beside me, breath shaky and eyes absolutely wrecked.

 

"Holy shit," he muttered, breathless. "I think I'm in love with you."

 

I raised an eyebrow, smirking. "No, what you are... is in trouble with me."

 

Satoru's other hand hit the wall beside my head, boxing me in without even realizing it. His body curved around mine, heat pouring off him like he hadn't taken a full breath since I pulled him away from the crowd.

 

He looked dazed. Pink flush on his cheeks. Eyes glazed and wide, lips parted like he was still trying to catch up to everything I'd just said.

 

So I brought him back the fastest way I knew how.

 

A flick right to the forehead.

 

"Ow- what?!" he yelped, recoiling.

 

"What do you mean 'what'?" I snapped, shoving him lightly back but staying between his arms. "You invited me out. You asked me to hang out with you and then ditched me the second a few girls batted their lashes your way."

 

He opened his mouth to speak, but I didn't let him.

 

"No, seriously, what the hell was that, Satoru?" I pressed, voice rising. "You left me standing there, looking stupid, while you let half a fan club touch you all over with their grimy hands."

 

"I didn't-!"

 

"You did!" I shouted, chest tight and voice cracking. "And I watched you enjoy it."

 

"I had a thin thin layer of my infinity..." He says a little pouty.

 

I groan "If this was a real date, and you pulled that shit, I would've left. I wouldn't have texted you, and sure as hell wouldn't have gone on a second one."

 

Satoru swallowed, shoulders bunching slightly as he shifted back just an inch. "I didn't mean to ditch you-"

 

"But you did. Because you don't think sometimes." My voice cracked again, softer this time, but not gentler. "You just soak up attention wherever you find it. I stayed because I know you have a never inflated enough ego."

 

He flinched at that. Not much. But I saw it.

 

I paused. My anger still burned, but under it was something else.

 

"...Did you invite me out because you wanted to spend time with me?" I asked slowly. "Or did you just want someone around so you could show off? I just wanted to hang out with my friend, not his ego..."

 

That one landed.

 

The silence stretched long. His mouth opened, then shut again, and the usual quickfire Gojo wit was nowhere to be found.

 

I saw it. The moment it stopped being about the fan club or my outfit or the joke he'd been about to make. It was like a string inside him tugged hard and suddenly hurt.

 

"I..." he started, voice rasped. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way."

 

"Then why'd you do it...?"

 

He leaned back just enough to drop his gaze to the floor. "Because I'm used to people loving me for five minutes at a time."

 

I didn't move.

 

He continued, quieter now. "It feels good, you know? Being admired. Even if it's shallow. Even if it's not real. People see me and smile and laugh, and for a second, I forget that none of it means anything. I forget they don't know me. It's nice being admired just for existing."

 

I stared at him. The boy who bragged like he breathed. The boy who couldn't go ten minutes without making someone look at him. Makes me wonder why he feels he needs to rely on that shallow attention....

 

I didn't speak. Not yet.

 

I let him stand there, holding himself up between two walls, mine, and his own.

 

Satoru didn't look like the strongest sorcerer in the world right then.

 

He looked like a boy unraveling. Not because of a curse, or a mission, or some threat he could punch in the face, but because I asked him something he didn't have a quick witted response for.

 

So I reached out first.

 

I leaned forward, and rested my head softly against his chest, right over the beat that hadn't quite calmed down yet.

 

He froze for a second, one breath, maybe two, and then melted, arms wrapping gently around my back like I was something precious. Not delicate. Just important.

 

We stayed like that for a moment. Quiet. Warm. Uncomplicated.

 

I felt his chin dip, his breath against my hair.

 

"Can we just... go back to having fun?" I whispered.

 

His whole body shifted and relaxed, like someone had unpaused the world. "God, yes," he breathed, already sounding more like himself. "I'm so ready to pretend I didn't almost have a feelings seizure in public."

 

I huffed a soft laugh into his chest.

 

And just like that, he snapped back into motion, grabbing my hand dramatically. "C'mon! The night is young! My ego's only slightly bruised! Let's go emotionally reset with something loud and full of flashing lights!"

 

I laughed a little and followed him.

 

---

 

For the rest of the night, Satoru Gojo was on a mission, and this one wasn't about curses.

 

He flung himself into every game with full commitment, dragging me along to rhythm battles, claw machines, and some horror shooter he insisted we play with dramatic screams. He made voices. He acted out scenes. He tripped over his own feet on purpose to make me laugh.

 

And it worked.

 

He was ridiculous. Relentless. Completely unhinged. And he had me laughing until my face hurt.

 

But then he saw it.

 

A massive claw machine in the back corner. Glowing like a final boss. Inside, crammed into a nest of hard-to-reach angles, was a giant stuffed bear. Easily 5 feet tall. Bright purple bow. Too fluffy to exist.

 

Gojo stopped mid-stride, eyes narrowing.

 

"I want that."

 

I followed his gaze. "You mean the one designed to eat money and crush dreams?"

 

"I have to win it."

 

"It's bigger than me."

 

"I know," he whispered. "That's why it's perfect."

 

He didn't hesitate. Slid a token in. Started. Dropped the claw. Missed by a mile.

 

Then tried again. And again.

 

The machine groaned every time the claw lowered, jerking just wrong enough to look fair while never actually grabbing anything.

 

"Seriously," I laughed, watching his face twist in agony. "This is the definition of rigged. Don't waste your money on it."

 

"Give me a second.."

 

He stepped back, squinted at the machine like it had personally offended him.

 

Then he crouched. Stared into the side panel. Pressed his palm against the glass. Watched the claw cycle three more times before straightening up, and rolling his shoulders.

 

"Alright," he said. "This machine's old. Slight right lean. Weak motor delay on drop. I need to account for gravity, plush compression, and timing. Easy."

 

I blinked. "Did you just analyze the claw machine?"

 

"I'm a genius," he said simply, sliding in another token. "And I want to win the pretty girl a bear."

 

"Oh yeah? What pretty girl are you talking about?" I tease a little.

 

"You, obviously." He says with complete focus which makes what he said come out more genuinely than anything he's ever said to me. 

 

A slight blush creepy onto my cheeks and smile softly. "I didn't expect you to say it so matter of fact.."

 

The claw moved. Dropped. Twitched. Hooked the bear's tag.

 

It dragged. Hung. Dangled. I held my breath.

 

And with a final, mechanical shudder the bear fell into the prize chute.

 

Gojo exploded into movement. "YESSSS!" he shouted, yanking the bear out like a trophy. "SHE'S BEAUTIFUL, SHE'S OURS, HER NAME IS KAZUMI."

 

I stared. "You named the bear Kazumi?"

 

"Don't question her spirit." He turned, presenting it to me with both arms. "Here. For you. For surviving me."

 

I took it, laughing so hard I had to lean against the machine. The bear was huge, way bigger than me.

 

He watched me, flushed from effort, hair slightly mussed from the thrill, eyes bright behind his shades.

 

Gojo was glowing.

 

Not from cursed energy, not from ego, okay, a little from ego, but mostly from that kind of dumb joy you only see in kids at theme parks and guys who just conquered a rigged claw machine on a date.

 

He paced a circle around me and Kazumi the Giant Bear, eyes sparkling behind his tinted sunglasses, even though it was night and inside. He looked like he was going to combust if he didn't document this moment.

 

"I need pictures," he muttered, flipping open his phone. "God, this is going on my wallpaper. I'm never deleting this."

 

I rolled my eyes, holding Kazumi in front of me. "You're ridiculous."

 

"I'm an artist," he shot back, crouching for a low-angle shot. "Okay, hold her like she's a baby. No- wait- like she's a weapon. Ooh, that's it. Dangerous and adorable. Perfect."

 

He snapped the photos with a tiny click sound and stared at the screen like it was priceless.

 

"Wait," he said suddenly, already clicking through. "I'm sending this to Suguru."

 

"Oh my god." I laugh a little.

 

He was already hunched over his phone, thumbs flying over the keypad with the speed of someone who had very specific things to say and very little shame about it.

 

> To: Suguru

shes holding the bear i won her

i am the best

look at her. look.

u should be jealous

her name is kazumi. the bear. not amara.

 

He sent the photo, then another, this time of me mid-laugh as I tried to lift Kazumi's giant arm for a dumb pose.

 

Then another.

 

And another. From every angle. Gojo behind me, Gojo beside me, Gojo trying to put sunglasses on Kazumi.

 

I tried to snatch the phone at one point and he spun away, holding it high. "NO. This is art. This is history. This is the scrapbook of our youth."

 

His phone buzzed a minute later.

 

> From: Suguru

...

You won a bear. Congratulations.

Do not name Amara kazumi.

Amara fits her better.

She looks really happy.

 

Gojo stared at the message for a moment.

 

Then grinned.

 

"See?" he said, flipping the phone shut and stuffing it in his pocket. "He gets it."

 

I shook my head, cheeks warm from laughing, from smiling, from him.

 

He looked at me again, and this time he didn't joke. Didn't pose. He just reached out, and tugged Kazumi slightly to the side so he could see my face clearer.

 

"You do look happy," he said, voice lower, more real.

 

"I am," I said quietly.

 

His smile lit up so genuinely.

 

I was happy. 

 

Because even behind all the noise, Satoru Gojo was starting to see me, not as some sidekick or a showpiece, but as someone he wanted next to him.

 

And maybe... I was starting to want the same.

 

 

Chapter 18: Courtship At It’s Finest

Suguru came back earlier than expected.

 

Yaga had told us the mission would take him three days, maybe more depending on terrain and cursed spirit resistance. I had prepared myself for a stretch of Gojo's endless monologuing and Shoko's dry commentary until Suguru returned.

 

But by the time the sun was high on the second day, he was already walking back through the gates, coat dusted with travel, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and a small nick on his cheek that was already healing.

 

I spotted him from the common hall window and leaned out.

 

"Thought you were supposed to be out until Friday."

 

Suguru looked up, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Finished early."

 

"Missed us that much?" I tease a little.

 

He chuckles and shakes his head. "I'm not admitting anything out loud."

 

He didn't immediately come up to the dorms. Just gave me a knowing glance and a two-fingered wave before heading off to debrief with Yaga. No dramatics. No parade. Just quiet efficiency, like usual.

 

When I saw Gojo later, he was not pleased.

 

"What do you mean he's back already?!" he squawked, slumped dramatically across the couch in the lounge. "That mission was supposed to take days! Days of me being the favorite!"

 

"You were never the favorite."

 

"Lies and slander!"

 

I handed him the soda I had brought from the common room. "Suguru probably just took it seriously."

 

Gojo sat up and took a sip. "Yeah, well. He may be back, but now I'm the one leaving soon! Yaga is trying to tear us apart!"

 

He said it like the universe was personally victimizing him.

 

Apparently, a solo scouting mission came up that Yaga wanted Gojo for. Nothing major, just a routine cleanse on a remote property outside town.

 

Still, Gojo milked it for everything it was worth.

 

"They're gonna send me out there to die," he moaned, lying on the floor now, legs up on the wall. "And then you'll miss me. You'll weep!"

 

"Good," I said, stepping over him. "I hope it's quiet out there."

 

"You wound me."

 

"I haven't even started."

 

When he finally did leave, after enough whining, and clingy dramatics to drain the entire room, Suguru found me outside.

 

I was sitting on the edge of the training platform after seeing Gojo off, legs dangling, the late afternoon sun warming my back. The quiet felt strange without Gojo's voice bouncing off every surface.

 

Suguru approached quietly, hands in his coat pockets.

 

"Looks like it's just us," he said.

 

I looked over my shoulder. "Guess it is."

 

He sat beside me without asking, and we stayed in that soft silence for a while.

 

"So," he started, voice low but sure, "can I ask you something?"

 

"Absolutely. Shoot."

 

"Would you want to go out with me tonight?"

 

I blinked, surprised by the suddenness of it.

 

He didn't stumble. Didn't fidget. Just watched me with that calm, composed gaze that always seemed to read deeper than I wanted to admit.

 

"Like Gojo did?" I asked, teasing.

 

"Not like him," he said smoothly. "I don't need a neon arcade to spend time with you."

 

I tried not to smile, but I could feel it creeping up.

 

"Are you asking me on a date?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Why now?"

 

His expression softened, eyes a little more thoughtful than playful. "Because when I left for that mission, all I could think about was getting back early enough to see you again. I don't want to wait around for the right time. I just want time with you."

 

My heart kicked a little too hard in my chest. I swallowed and gave him a quiet nod.

 

"Alright," I said. "Let's go out, Suguru."

 

---

 

I wasn't sure what Suguru had in mind when he said "nothing flashy."

 

But I hadn't expected him to show up at my door looking like he stepped out of a silent film, black button-down, sleeves rolled, dark slacks, hair tied up in that usual low, clean bun. He didn't wear anything loud, but the way he carried himself made it feel like he was dressed for something special.

 

So I decided to match it.

 

My dark purple velvet dress was a little tight around the hips, stopping just above the knees, the lace detail trailing up my thighs like vines. My dark purple velvet choker matched the fabric. Dangling earrings framed my face, catching in my hair. I kept the makeup soft, liner sharp but not too much, lips a little glossy. I didn't want to overdo it.

 

But when Suguru saw me, he paused.

 

It wasn't dramatic. Not like Gojo, who would've whistled or made some big dumb joke about falling in love on the spot.

 

Suguru just blinked once. His gaze swept over me slowly. Not in a gross way, just seeing me.

 

"You look..." he said, voice softer than usual. "Beautiful."

 

My cheeks warmed under the compliment, but I shrugged it off with a smirk. "You're not so bad yourself."

 

We walked into town, the evening sky painted in burnt gold and violet, the cicadas humming low in the distance. The air smelled like summer dust and cigarette smoke from an alley three blocks away.

 

He took me to a little rooftop cafe hidden in a more secluded part of the city. The kind of place with string lights, quiet music, and mismatched chairs that felt too old and too romantic at the same time.

 

He ordered us lavender soda and curry buns and tried to be subtle about watching me when I laughed.

 

And he did try.

 

He cracked dry jokes and little deadpan observations. Told a story about Gojo falling asleep standing up on a train and getting off at the wrong stop.

 

I smiled. I chuckled. A few short laughs slipped out of me easily.

 

But he kept trying. A little too hard.

 

He tripped over a joke at one point, misworded the punchline, paused, then awkwardly corrected himself.

 

I tilted my head at him. "You nervous or something?"

 

Suguru blinked. "No." Then, softer, "Maybe."

 

I leaned my elbows on the little round table and gave him a look. "You don't have to try so hard, you know."

 

He tilted his head. "I'm not trying too hard."

 

"You are." I smiled softly. "You're trying to be smooth. And charming. And funny. And you're already all those things, Suguru. You don't have to script it."

 

He looked at me for a second, unreadable. Then he exhaled through his nose, the tension in his shoulders loosening.

 

"It's different with you," he admitted. "I want to get it right."

 

"You will," I said, flicking my straw wrapper at him. "But not by forcing it. You don't have to be Gojo. It's not a competition."

 

"I would never survive being Gojo," he said dryly.

 

"Exactly," I said, grinning. "You're better as you."

 

He stared at me for a second too long.

 

The wind blew, soft and warm, catching the scent of my perfume and carrying it between us. He shifted forward slightly, and I caught the barest flicker of his fingers brushing the side of my hand on the table.

 

Not grabbing. Just touching.

 

I didn't move away and neither did he.

 

It was quiet for a moment, the lights from the string bulbs above us casting a soft golden tint on his cheekbones, catching the faint tired lines beneath his eyes. The whole night was wrapped in that rare kind of peace Suguru always carried with him.

 

Then he smiled, a little self-deprecating, a little shy. "Think I could get a redo on that joke?"

 

I raised an eyebrow. "Absolutely not."

 

His laugh was low, warm, and real. "Brutal."

 

"Honest," I corrected. "Besides, it was funny because it flopped."

 

"You're saying I'm charming in failure?"

 

"You're charming." I teased. "But yeah. In failure too."

 

He shook his head, still smiling, and reached for the lavender soda between us, taking a slow sip before speaking again. "I keep thinking I should have planned more. Picked a better place, come up with something clever. But... this felt right."

 

"It is," I said quietly. "It is right."

 

The conversation shifted after that, naturally, like leaves turning in the breeze. We talked about training, what it was like for him growing up around jujutsu traditions, his thoughts on cursed spirits, what peace might look like if it were something a sorcerer could touch.

 

Eventually, his tone changed, still gentle, but a little heavier.

 

"You know," he said, thumb brushing the rim of his glass, "Satoru and I have been trying not to make things harder for you... but we've also been thinking about it still. The poly thing..."

 

My fingers paused mid-tap on the table.

 

Suguru kept going, no pressure in his voice, just earnestness. "I know it's a lot. Unconventional. Especially for someone who's never had the chance to be with one person safely, let alone two."

 

I didn't answer right away. My eyes dropped to the table, then lifted back to his.

 

"I'm still... wrapping my head around it," I admitted. "It's not that I'm against it. It's just-" I searched for the word. "Unreal. I don't think I've ever been wanted like that. Not by one person. Let alone two. I'm still trying to convince myself you guys are trying to use me for something..."

 

He didn't interrupt. Just listened. Like always.

 

"But..." I added, meeting his gaze with a faint smirk, "I do think it's cute that you're both courting me in your own weird ways. You're like... a composed historical drama, and Gojo's a chaotic romantic comedy."

 

Suguru actually laughed at that. "I'll take that as a compliment."

 

"You should. Because somehow, it's working."

 

He leaned forward slightly, elbow on the table, resting his chin in his palm. "What would make it less overwhelming? More... comfortable?"

 

I blinked, not expecting the question.

 

"I don't know," I said honestly. "Maybe... time. Less pressure. Just... letting things happen naturally." I shrugged. "You guys already take up so much of my world. Maybe I just need to feel like I have space to choose what to do with it. Or to just not feel the need to have it all figured out."

 

Suguru nodded slowly. "So, no more ambush cuddling and synchronized flirting attacks?"

 

"I didn't say no more," I said with a smirk. "I just want to know you're doing it because you want me. Not to win something."

 

His eyes softened at that. "I never want you to feel like a prize we're fighting over. You're not something to win."

 

My chest tightened.

 

"I know," I whispered. "That's why I'm still here."

 

---

 

The night had thinned out to something quieter. The rooftop café was starting to close up, chairs dragging in, soft music fading, but neither of us moved to leave yet. Suguru leaned back in his chair, eyes a little darker in the low light, watching the stars instead of me.

 

I watched him.

 

Something about the way he'd asked what would make me feel comfortable, it lingered. Sat heavy in my chest in a way that wasn't bad. Just real.

 

"If we're really... doing this," I said carefully, "then that means it's not just me and you. And not just me and Gojo. It's... also you and Gojo, right?"

 

Suguru blinked, startled by the shift. His eyes flicked to mine.

 

A blush bloomed slowly across his cheeks. Not red-hot like Gojo's, but a soft, dusted pink that told me I'd hit a nerve.

 

I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hand. "Oh no. Don't get shy now."

 

He cleared his throat. "We've known each other a long time."

 

"That's not a no."

 

"We're close," he said diplomatically. "Very close."

 

I raised an eyebrow. "So... crushes?"

 

He looked away, and that was confirmation enough.

 

"Oh my god," I whispered, grinning. "You totally have little crushes on each other."

 

Suguru groaned softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "We talked about it. Before either of us brought this to you. We had to, obviously."

 

I sat up straighter. "Wait- you actually discussed it? Like, what if we kissed kind of discussed it?"

 

"Not in those exact words," he said, though the blush deepened. "But yes. We wanted to be honest with each other. If we were going to do this, whatever this ends up being, it had to be equal. For everyone."

 

"So it's not just 'let's both date Amara.' It's you two and me and each other. All three."

 

"Yes," he said simply. "That's the only way it works."

 

I chuckle lightly. "Don't say it so diplomatically. You make it sound like a business plan."

 

He gets a little embarrassed. "Sorry. I don't mean it like that. We even agreed that if you said no to all three of us being together that we would just....stay with each other....romantically." He cleared his throat.

 

I smiled softly. "That's honestly lovely to hear."

 

I was quiet for a second, the weight of that settling over me.

 

I tilted my head. "So. Have there been any... moments? Between you two?"

 

He hesitated. Just a little too long.

 

"Suguru," I drawled, "I swear to god if you withhold this juicy emotional cuteness from me I will scream."

 

He exhaled, clearly regretting this conversation, and looked at me with quiet amusement. "There were a few close moments. Nothing past friendship. But... maybe more than just friendship, too. It's complicated."

 

I leaned in more, completely invested now. "I want details. Who touched who first? Who got flustered? Were there lingering stares? Accidental almost kisses? Emotional confessions at three a.m.?"

 

He rolled his eyes. But he was smiling now, soft and embarrassed. "Satoru doesn't really realize when he's doing something intimate. He'll hold my wrist during missions. Sit too close. Talk like it's only us in the world. But when he does realize it... he shuts down. Or makes a joke."

 

"That tracks," I said, my grin stretching wider. "What about you?"

 

He paused. "I... let him. That's my problem. I let him touch me like I'm something he already owns."

 

My chest tightened, not in jealousy, but something else. Something deeper. Something loving.

 

"And that doesn't bother you?"

 

"It used to," he said softly. "But I realized it wasn't one-sided. And once we talked about it, once we put everything on the table... it stopped feeling like confusion and started feeling like a possibility."

 

I stared at him for a long moment. My heart beating hard in my chest.

 

"And now?" I asked. "What does it feel like now?"

 

He looked at me, straight and true. No blushing. No hesitation.

 

"It feels like we're building something. Something none of us have ever had. And I want to see where it goes. With him. With you. With us."

 

And just like that, something inside me began to trust it.

 

Not fully. Not blindly. But enough to wonder what it would feel like to have both of them reaching for me and each other.

 

And not letting go.

 

Suguru let that last line hang in the air, his voice low, eyes on me like he'd just dropped the final stone into the center of a still pond. I was still trying to figure out how to breathe again when he tilted his head slightly, mouth curving into something sly.

 

"But since we're talking about feelings..." he said casually, "let's talk about yours."

 

I blinked. "What?"

 

"Your little moment at the arcade."

 

My stomach dropped. "What moment?"

 

His grin widened. "You know. The one where you wrapped yourself around Satoru like a velvet-coated octopus in heat and stared down a gaggle of fangirls like you were about to bury them in the alley."

 

My face burned. "Oh my god." I laughed a little.

 

He was absolutely loving this. "He told me everything. Said you looked up at him with those big eyes and that pout and made him forget how to speak."

 

"I did not-"

 

"And," he added, drawing the word out like a dagger, "you called him baby. In public. In front of witnesses."

 

"That was tactical," I mumbled, fidgeting with my earring. "It was a strategic power move."

 

"It was adorable," he said, laughing now. "Satoru said you melted him on the spot."

 

I tried to hold my ground, keep my smirk, but the heat in my face was already giving me away.

 

"I wasn't jealous," I lied boldly. "I was just... asserting dominance."

 

"You were pouting," he countered. "And clinging."

 

"It was for the mission," I said, standing my ground. "Operation: knock the ego prince down a peg."

 

Suguru chuckled low, his voice dipping with the next hit. "You touched his happy trail, Amara~"

 

I froze. "Excuse me?"

 

"Yeah," he said, all faux-innocence. "Satoru said, and I quote, 'She put her hand up my shirt and stroked the soft little line of hair under my belly button. I think I meant god.'"

 

I let out a noise. A strangled, high-pitched one and slapped my hands over my face. "I didn't mean to!"

 

"Oh, you soooo meant to," he said, grinning like a cat who just broke open the birdcage. "He said he didn't even know what to do with himself. He almost sat down right there."

 

"Suguru, I swear, if you ever repeat this conversation to anyone-"

 

He reached across the table and gently pulled one of my hands away from my face, still laughing under his breath.

 

"I won't," he said. "This moment is just for me."

 

I looked at him through my fingers, still mortified. "You're enjoying this way too much."

 

He shrugged. "You're cute when you're shy. I never get to see this side of you."

 

I grumbled something unintelligible and took a long sip of my drink just to hide my face.

 

Suguru leaned back in his chair, eyes still fixed on me, but softer now. "For the record," he added, "Satoru said that was the moment he realized you had complete power over him. And honestly, I think he liked it."

 

I raised an eyebrow, still blushing but slightly intrigued. "And what about you?"

 

Suguru's eyes didn't waver.

 

"You don't have to put on a show with me," he said. "But when you do... I get it. Completely."

 

And just like that, I was melting all over again.

 

I finally lowered my drink, still hiding the last traces of a blush behind my glass, and fixed Suguru with a narrowed look.

 

"You know," I said slowly, "it's moments like this that remind me why you and Satoru are so close."

 

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh?"

 

"You're both smug, teasing jerks. Just in different fonts."

 

He chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. "I'll take that as high praise."

 

"I bet you will."

 

But he wasn't the only one who could play this game.

 

I let a lazy smile slide onto my lips and shifted in my seat slightly. Subtle. Smooth. Under the table, I slid one foot out of my shoe and slowly stretched my leg forward. My toes found the side of his ankle first, brushing softly, then trailing upward, light and teasing.

 

He didn't react at first. Too calm.

 

But when I nudged his pant leg up ever so slightly, enough for the side of my foot to meet bare skin, he twitched. Just a little. Just enough.

 

I kept my voice even, eyes locked on his. "What's wrong, Suguru?"

 

His jaw flexed. "You're being pretty bold," he said, voice a touch lower than before.

 

I shrugged innocently, running my foot once more up the curve of his calf. "It's only fair," I said, biting back a smile. "I was bold with Gojo."

 

His eyes flashed, amused, intrigued, definitely affected. "That you were."

 

He leaned in slightly, elbows resting on the table, his gaze darkening in that slow, deliberate way that made my breath hitch.

 

"Should I be expecting you to try to find my happy trail too?" he spoke calming.

 

I didn't flinch.

 

I leaned forward, matching his tone and dipping lower, just enough to meet him in that charged space across the table.

 

"Do you want me to?" I asked, quiet and dangerous.

 

That's when he choked.

 

Not dramatically, but enough to make his eyes widen slightly and his hand twitch toward his drink like it might save him.

 

I sat back, legs still trailing along his under the table, grinning.

 

"I mean," I added, swirling the straw in my cup, "I'd hate to play favorites."

 

He cleared his throat, doing his best to recover, composure cracking at the edges. "Remind me not to underestimate you again."

 

"You won't need reminding," I said sweetly.

 

And just like that, the tables had turned.

And Suguru Geto, the smooth, composed, always-one-step-ahead strategist, was now the one melting in his seat.

 

And I was very okay with that.

 

---

 

The walk back to campus was full of unsaid things.

 

The kind that hummed beneath every glance, every small brush of our arms, every stretch of silence that somehow made the air feel thicker. The sky above was dark and cloudless, the stars sharp and bright, too pretty for how much tension crackled between us like an unspoken dare.

 

Neither of us crossed the line.

 

But we both thought about it. I could feel it in the way Suguru kept stealing glances at me from the corner of his eye, and I wasn't exactly being subtle either. My body still buzzed from how close we'd been at the table. From the teasing. From the way I'd seen him unravel just a little under my touch.

 

But neither of us moved.

 

Because we both knew what it would mean if we did.

 

He stopped with me at my dorm, hands still tucked politely in his pants pockets like he was trying to play off just how much restraint he was holding onto.

 

I turned to him, hands clasped behind my back, rocking slightly on my heels. My voice came out softer than I expected. "Thanks for tonight."

 

He looked at me, eyes holding that familiar calmness... but deeper. Warmer.

 

Then, after a pause, he spoke.

 

"Would it be alright if I kissed you?"

 

My heart did something ridiculous in my chest and tripped over itself before catching.

 

It wasn't the question that got me. It was the way he asked it. Not as if he deserved it. Not even as if he expected it. But as if the asking itself was sacred.

 

I smiled, a little shy despite myself. "You can kiss my cheek," I said quietly, tilting my head just a little. "For now."

 

He nodded once, slowly, and stepped closer. One hand came up to my face, brushing his fingers along my cheekbone with the kind of reverence people use when touching silk.

 

And the other...

 

It hovered just near my hip. Hesitant.

 

Waiting.

 

I reached down and gently guided his hand to rest there, letting him know it was okay.

 

His thumb twitched against the curve of my waist.

 

And then he leaned in.

 

The kiss he gave me wasn't rushed. It wasn't showy. His lips brushed just beneath my cheekbone with a softness that made my breath catch. The way he held my face, fingers feather-light against my skin, made it feel more intimate than anything else he could've done.

 

He pulled back slowly, eyes still half-lidded, expression unreadable.

 

So I returned the favor.

 

I leaned in and kissed his cheek, right along his jaw, just close enough to make his breath stutter. My lip gloss left a faint, shimmering mark, and I didn't bother wiping it off.

 

When I pulled back, I met his eyes and whispered, "Goodnight, Suguru."

 

His voice came back just a second late. "Goodnight, Amara."

 

And though neither of us said it aloud, it was clear:

We were very close to crossing a line.

 

But not tonight.

 

Tonight, just enough was perfect.

 

----------

 

Text Conversation - Late Night

 

[1:03 AM]

 

Gojo Satoru:

> back yet??

did u kiss her

did she kiss u

did u die

do i need to hold a funeral or high five u what's happening????

 

[1:04 AM]

 

Suguru Geto:

> I got back twenty minutes ago.

She said yes to the date. Obviously.

 

Gojo Satoru:

> YEAHHHHHH

ok tell me everything

did u go classic? romantic? chaos?

i swear if u took her to some bookstore im gonna throw a brick at your head

 

Suguru Geto:

> Rooftop café.

Quiet. Private. Good lighting. She wore that velvet dress.

I forgot how to function for about 15 minutes.

The walk there was the only thing that helped my brain calm down.

 

Gojo Satoru:

> oh no

THE DRESS?

the one with the lace on the sides?

ur lucky you didn't combust

u alive?

emotionally? spiritually?

 

Suguru Geto:

> Barely.

She teased me.

With her foot.

Up my leg.

Skin to skin.

 

Gojo Satoru:

> ...

am i jealous?

i think im jealous

but also aroused

but also proud

but mostly jealous

 

Suguru Geto:

> She was confident. Controlled the whole thing without making it obvious.

Called me out for trying too hard.

And she was right.

I was getting too in my head again.

 

Gojo Satoru:

> damn

our girl's too powerful

do we just hand over our souls or

 

Suguru Geto:

> Might be too late for that.

 

Gojo Satoru:

> so??? did u kiss???

 

Suguru Geto:

> Asked if I could.

She let me kiss her cheek.

She kissed mine too.

Left lip gloss on me and everything.

 

Gojo Satoru:

> bro

bro

bro

i am feeling like 14 emotions and none of them r chill

did u float home

r u floating now

i would have exploded on the spot

 

Suguru Geto:

> I considered it.

It was better than a lip kiss. Slower. Softer. She moved my hand to her hip.

I don't think I'll forget it.

 

Gojo Satoru:

> im gonna fight u but lovingly

god shes really got us whipped huh

 

Suguru Geto:

> Completely.

 

Gojo Satoru:

> ill bring breakfast tomorrow

you better tell me more over your lame tea and my sugary sweet hot chocolate

also tell her i said i miss her or whatever

but like

in a cool way

 

Suguru Geto:

> I'll tell her you said "whatever."

She'll know what that means.

 

Gojo Satoru:

> good

she always gets me

 

Suguru Geto:

> I know.

 

Gojo Satoru:

> u in love with her yet?

 

Suguru Geto:

> ...

Working on it.

 

Gojo Satoru:

> yeah

me too.

 

 

Chapter 19: Birthday Surprise

We started lying to him at breakfast. 

 

He sat at the edge of the table, shirt half-buttoned, hair damp from a rushed shower. Practically glowing with anticipation. And not the subtle kind, either, the kind that comes with obnoxiously loud sighs and glances thrown at the wall clock. 

 

“So,” Gojo said casually, swirling his spoon in his cereal, “doesn’t today feel kinda… special?” 

 

Shoko, sitting across from him reading her textbook, took a slow sip of her coffee without looking up. “It’s a Thursday. It feels like paperwork.” 

 

“Pretty sure it’s Wednesday,” I muttered through a mouthful of toast, biting back a grin. “Or maybe Tuesday? Time isn’t real.” 

 

Suguru didn’t even lift his head from his book. “It’s December 6th.” 

 

I watched Gojo’s eye twitch, just barely. He looked at me, fully looked, with that searching kind of stare he sometimes used when he was half-sure I was messing with him. I just blinked. 

 

“Not ringing any bells?” he tried again, resting his chin on his palm. “No, like, weird internal instinct telling you the universe is a little more fabulous than usual today?” 

 

I stretched my arms and yawned. “You’re always fabulous, Gojo. Nothing new there.” 

 

By the time he left on his solo mission, he was convinced, just barely, that maybe we really had forgotten. 

 

We hadn’t, obviously. We’d been planning this for weeks. 

 

Suguru had made the list, color-coded and alphabetical. Shoko secured the snacks, the drinks, the music, stuff she said he liked but never asked for. Yu handled the candles and tried his absolute best to keep his excitement from blowing the whole operation. 

 

And me? I made the decorations. The banner. The dumb clown hat. The party favors. All while pretending I didn’t care that much. 

 

But I did. 

 

He wasn’t just the strongest. Or the loudest. Or the most annoying person to ever exist in a hallway. 

 

He was my friend. One of the first people who saw something in me I didn’t even know I had. 

 

And maybe he didn’t need a birthday party. Maybe he didn’t even want one. But that didn’t mean he didn’t deserve it. 

 

The common room looked like something out of a cozy nightmare by the time we were done. String lights hung in loops along the windows, throwing a soft amber glow across the walls. The table was filled with his favorite snacks, sweet, salty, weird soda flavors we had to hunt down in the city. Someone (Shoko) had snuck in a bottle of something stronger, tucked behind the fake plant in the corner. 

 

And at the center of the room, a cake shaped like a giant pair of his sunglasses. Because of course, it was. 

 

“Five minutes out,” Suguru said from the window, lowering his phone. “Everyone in place?” 

 

Yu nodded quickly, already crouched behind the couch. Shoko kicked her feet up from the armchair and pointed at the light switch. “Lights off on my count.” 

 

I stood behind the door, my heart weirdly pounding. This wasn’t just a party. It was a message. 

 

You matter to us even if you pretend you don’t need it. Even if you act like you’re fine without it. 

 

We still see you and we care. 

 

“Now,” Shoko whispered, and the room went dark. 

 

The only sound was the soft fizz of soda cans and the faint crackle of candles. 

 

The door creaked open slowly, then stopped. A long pause. 

 

Gojo’s silhouette stood framed in the entryway, tall, motionless. A beat passed. 

 

“...You bastards,” he whispered, but there was laughter in it. 

 

The lights came on all at once. Music kicked in, streamers uncurled from the ceiling in a silent cascade of confetti and sparkles. Yu popped up from behind the couch, yelling, “SURPRISE!” so loud he startled Shoko into spilling her drink. 

 

Suguru leaned against the table, arms folded, the tiniest smile tugging at his mouth. “Happy birthday, Satoru.” 

 

Even Mei Mei showed up, off to the side and dressed like she was slumming it to make an appearance, but present nonetheless. Nanami stood near the back, arms crossed, but there was something faintly amused in the way he watched it all unfold. Ijichi hovered awkwardly in the doorway, clutching a paper-wrapped box and looking like he wanted to melt into the floor. 

 

Gojo blinked, wide-eyed, then turned in a slow circle like he needed a full 360° just to process the moment. 

 

“I knew you all remembered,” he said triumphantly, pointing at Shoko. “You lied to me.” 

 

She toasted him with her drink. “Blatantly.” 

 

He started toward the table with a spring in his step, arms thrown out dramatically like he was basking in some invisible spotlight. “This, this is what I deserve. No, more than that. This is what the world deserves, me and cake.” 

 

Everyone laughed and rolled their eyes, the tension broke like a bubble. 

 

Gifts were passed around shortly after. 

 

Yu gave him a box stuffed with rare imported candies, super sour, super sugary, things with warning labels that said: “Limit Consumption to One Piece Per Day.” Shoko gave him a framed photo of their entire group from a few weeks ago, taken after a mission and clearly unplanned. Gojo was mid-laugh, Suguru was glaring sideways, and I was in the corner double-fisting rice balls. She’d written “Your stupid family, whether you like it or not” on the back. 

 

Mei Mei gave him an expensive bottle of wine since he was now 20. Nanami gave him a set of elegant black shoes and Ijichi, stammering, offered him a new expensive watch since Suguru had broken his last one. 

 

Then Suguru stepped forward, holding a small black box in both hands. 

 

Gojo’s tone changed instantly, lighter, teasing. “If this is another wind chime, I swear to God. You give me them just to piss me off since I hate the noise.” 

 

“It’s not,” Suguru said dryly, handing it over. “Though I debated it.” 

 

Inside was a bottle of cologne. Not the cheap stuff either, Gojo’s favorite, the kind he only wore for special missions or when he was trying to look like he hadn’t just rolled out of bed. His fingers paused over the box a moment longer than necessary before he glanced up and muttered, “Thanks.” 

 

Suguru just nodded, eyes softer than usual. 

 

Then, it was my turn. 

 

I hesitated, not because I didn’t want to, but because suddenly, it felt like too much and not enough at the same time. Everyone had given him something nice. Something that cost money, that glittered, that could be measured. 

 

Mine was different. 

 

I cleared my throat and stepped forward, clutching the small cloth-wrapped bundle like it might fall apart in my hands. “Uh… okay, so. I didn’t have money. But I made you something. Actually had to learn how to make it first.” 

 

He tilted his head, sunglasses catching the low light. “You made me something?” 

 

“Don’t laugh.” 

 

“I would never.” His voice was soft now. 

 

I held it out to him. He took it carefully, unwrapping it slowly, and when the black fabric fell open in his hands, he froze. 

 

It was a blindfold. 

 

Not just any blindfold. A blackout one. Stretchy, soft, breathable, lined in cursed energy to help filter light and signature interference, woven tight so it wouldn’t slip during combat but not tight enough to cause strain. The stitching wasn’t perfect, but the fabric was high-grade. I had begged Yaga to let me use the storage cloths kept for emergency repairs. It took me two weeks just to get the base shape right. 

 

Gojo ran his thumb along the inner seam in silence. 

 

“I thought,” I said quietly, “maybe it’d be better than your glasses on missions. Since, y’know, you keep dropping them. I’ve found them under four different vending machines this year alone.” 

 

That got a snort out of him. 

 

He looked up, and even through the sunglasses, I knew he saw everything. Saw me. Saw all of it. 

 

For once, he didn’t joke. Didn’t throw his arms around or shout something ridiculous. 

 

He just nodded, and said, “Thank you. I love it.” 

 

My ears went hot. “You better. I pricked my finger like five times for that thing.” 

 

He smiled. 

 

And for a second, just one, it wasn’t loud or chaotic or dramatic. 

 

It was just warm. 

 

--- 

 

The room smelled like sugar, wax, and slightly scorched frosting. 

 

Gojo stood at the table, his hands braced on either side of the sunglasses-shaped cake. Suguru and I stood across from him, the candlelight making shadows dance across his face and glinting off his glasses. For once, he wasn’t talking. Just watching the flames. 

 

I nudged him gently with my elbow. “You gonna blow them out or wait ‘til they melt into the frosting?” 

 

He didn’t answer right away. 

 

“Make a wish,” I added, softer this time. 

 

He looked at me. Then Suguru. Then the candles. Then back at us. 

 

And for a moment he looked kind of… awestruck. Like the room, the cake, the banner, all of it had caught him off guard in a way he wasn’t ready for. 

 

Then he leaned in, drew a long breath, and exhaled. 

 

The candles went out in a sweep of golden smoke. 

 

Everyone clapped, and a few people whooped. Yu yelled, “He’s officially old!” and Shoko threw a piece of candy at his head. 

 

But Gojo? 

 

He turned and immediately latched onto Suguru, slinging an arm around his shoulders and leaning so hard it looked like he might knock them both over. “Did you see how I blew out those candles?” he said. “That was technique, precision even.” 

 

Suguru didn’t even blink. “Incredible. Truly your greatest achievement to date.” 

 

Then Gojo looked at me, grinning like a kid on too much sugar, and reached for my wrist. 

 

I flinched instinctively, but he caught himself, paused, and instead just tugged lightly on the hem of my sleeve. 

 

“You’re not getting away either,” he said. 

 

“Didn’t plan to,” I mumbled, cheeks burning. 

 

--- 

 

For the rest of the night, he barely let us go. 

 

He kept bouncing between me and Suguru like a cursed pinball, ruffling Suguru’s hair, leaning on me until my shoulder started going numb, and dramatically draping himself across the couch cushions between us like a cat demanding worship. 

 

The room dimmed as the night wore on, music low and warm. Someone pulled out the GameCube, and Yu launched into a Mario Kart tournament with all the energy of a caffeinated raccoon. 

 

Gojo insisted on playing first and chose Yoshi. Suguru chose Waluigi, naturally. I picked Toad because someone had already stolen Boo. 

 

“I’m going to annihilate you,” I warned. 

 

“You’re cute,” Gojo said, “but delusional.” 

 

I beat him in the first round. Barely. 

 

He screamed like it was a national tragedy and flopped onto the rug, moaning something about betrayal and heartbreak. 

 

Eventually, the controllers passed hands, Shoko took over, then Yu, then Ijichi, who turned out to be alarmingly good with Donkey Kong. 

 

By the time the Smash Bros matches started, the energy had shifted again, more chaotic, more focused. 

 

Yu was nearly vibrating off the floor, gripping his controller with the intensity of a surgeon. 

 

“Nanami! Help me! What does Pikachu’s down-B do again?!” 

 

Nanami, sitting in the corner with arms crossed and a paper cup in hand, sighed. “It calls lightning.” 

 

“THAT’S SO COOL- wait, how do I do it again?!” 

 

“Down. Then B.” 

 

“I love you!” 

 

“Stop saying that.” 

 

Even Mei Mei cracked a smile, though she remained curled in the corner like she was observing a particularly ridiculous wildlife documentary. 

 

And in the middle of it all, Gojo was glowing. 

 

Maybe not literally, but close. 

 

He was laughing, slouched between Suguru and me, knees tucked up, head tilted back with his glasses pushed onto his forehead. 

 

His arm brushed mine. His leg leaned on Suguru’s. And for once, he wasn’t the strongest, or the loudest, or the most dangerous person in the room. 

 

He was just Satoru. 

 

Our Satoru. 

 

--- 

 

One by one, everyone drifted out. 

 

Yu was the first to go, still hyped on sugar but crashing fast. Shoko stretched out on the floor before mumbling something about her spine and disappearing with the empty drink cups in tow. Even Nanami and Ijichi bowed out with quiet nods and tired shoulders, the night finally winding to a hush. 

 

Mei Mei left without saying goodbye. 

 

And then it was just us. 

 

The soft hum of the console menu music buzzed from the TV. A couple of half-eaten cupcakes sat on the table, the candles now burned down to harmless wax spirals. I sat on the couch, legs tucked underneath me, Suguru sprawled out at the far end with one arm behind his head, long hair mussed from where Gojo kept running his hands through it all night. 

 

Gojo had taken over the floor space between us like a starfish, stretched out and smug, glasses tossed somewhere nearby. He was still glowing. Not just from cursed energy, though I could feel it thrumming under his skin, but from that rare kind of peace he rarely let himself feel for too long. 

 

He looked between us slowly, then propped himself up on one elbow, eyes glinting. 

 

“You know,” he said, dragging the words out like honey, “I think the birthday boy deserves one more thing.” 

 

Suguru didn’t even blink. “More sugar? You’ve had four cupcakes.” 

 

Gojo smirked. “Nope. Something sweeter.” 

 

I squinted at him. “Satoru-” 

 

“A birthday kiss,” he said dramatically, placing a hand on his chest like he was in a soap opera. “From my two favorite people.” 

 

“You’re insufferable,” Suguru said, but he didn’t move away. 

 

“And you’re stalling,” Gojo countered. 

 

I should’ve rolled my eyes. I should’ve laughed and thrown a pillow at him. But the way he looked up at us, mischief and hope balanced so delicately, it didn’t feel like just a joke. 

 

Suguru raised a brow, and I caught the faintest curl of a smile on his lips. 

 

Without a word, we both leaned forward. 

 

One on each side. 

 

Gojo went still as we pressed our lips gently to the corners of his mouth, Suguru on the left, me on the right. Our cheeks touched, soft and warm, and for just a breath, it felt like the world stilled. 

 

Then Gojo kissed back. Not a full kiss, just a slow press, a quiet thank you, a held breath made real. 

 

When we pulled back, his smile had changed. Softer. Smaller. 

 

He blinked up at us, a little dazed. 

 

“…Okay,” he said. “Now I want separate ones.” 

 

Suguru snorted. “Greedy.” 

 

“You encouraged him,” I muttered. 

 

“I earned it,” Gojo said, eyes still half-lidded. “It’s my birthday. You can’t legally say no.” 

 

I rolled my eyes, but I was already leaning in again. 

 

Gojo’s grin didn’t waver, but there was something quieter underneath it now. 

 

Still sprawled between us like he belonged there, which, honestly, he kind of did, he tilted his chin toward me, dramatic as always. 

 

“Ladies first,” he murmured, teasing and a little smug. 

 

I rolled my eyes. “You’re not a lady.” 

 

“But I could be,” he whispered, lips pursed, “if it gets me kissed faster.” 

 

I huffed a laugh and shook my head. “Alright. But just a soft one. Nothing crazy.” 

 

He looked up at me, unblinking. “Promise I won’t start moaning or anything.” 

 

“God, Satoru-” 

 

He was still laughing when I leaned in. 

 

Just a kiss. That’s what I told myself. Just a soft kiss on the lips. Nothing serious. Nothing to unravel me. 

 

And then it happened. 

 

The moment our lips touched, something in me, tight and long-held, snapped loose. Like someone lit a match and dropped it in the center of my chest. 

 

His lips were soft, warmer than I expected. He didn’t move at first like he wasn’t sure if I was serious. Like maybe he hadn’t actually expected me to do it. 

 

And then he kissed back. 

 

Slow and careful. 

 

And then deeper. 

 

He shifted, and sat up slightly, one hand brushing the side of my jaw. I could feel him everywhere, his cursed energy like static, his breath, the weight of how badly I suddenly didn’t want to stop. 

 

The line we’d danced around for months, flirting, teasing, hiding behind sarcasm and stolen glances, blurred into nothing. 

 

And maybe that should’ve scared me. 

 

All I could think was that I don’t mind this. I don’t want to stop this. 

 

My fingers curled into his shirt. His hand slid up the back of my neck. We breathed into each other like we were trying to memorize it. 

 

Ahem. 

 

I pulled back like I’d been slapped with a warding tag. 

 

Suguru sat exactly where he’d been, back resting against the couch arm, elbow propped on a cushion. He hadn’t moved. 

 

But his eyes were dark. And his expression? 

 

Unreadable. 

 

Gojo let out a guilty little laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “Whoops.” 

 

I stared at Suguru for a second, heart pounding, lips still tingling. 

 

“I wasn’t-” I started. 

 

“You were,” Suguru said calmly. “It’s fine.” 

 

But the way his gaze flicked from me to Gojo and back again, there was something underneath the words. Something watching. Waiting. 

 

Gojo leaned toward him next, still breathless, still smiling. 

 

Gojo shifted toward Suguru, still breathless, still grinning, like every nerve in him was lit up but he wasn’t sure where to place it. “Your turn,” he said, voice low and almost a little shy now. 

 

Suguru didn’t hesitate. 

 

He leaned in with quiet confidence, one hand curling into the fabric of Gojo’s shirt, the other steady against his jaw. And when their lips met, the room felt like it tilted sideways. 

 

Gojo melted. 

 

There was no other word for it. 

 

Suguru kissed him slowly at first, methodical, firm, taking his time. Then deeper, a bit rougher, tilting Gojo’s chin up just enough to take full control. Gojo made a soft sound, barely a whisper, and his hand reached blindly, catching Suguru’s wrist like he was grounding himself. 

 

I couldn’t look away. 

 

By the time they pulled apart, Gojo’s lips were pink, his cheeks flushed, his whole body loose like he was floating. Suguru stayed close, breathing quietly and even, his thumb brushing a slow, invisible circle across Gojo’s jaw. 

 

Then his gaze turned to me. 

 

Heavy-lidded. Sure. Hungry, but not rushed. 

 

“You want a taste too?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. 

 

I didn’t trust my mouth to work. I nodded instead, cheeks burning. 

 

Gojo’s hand slid to the small of my back. His other found Suguru’s. “Wait,” he said, still breathless but smiling, “I wanna see it. You should kiss over me. I wanna feel it.” 

 

His voice dropped, teasing but real. “Touch you both. Watch you both.” 

 

I swallowed hard. 

 

Suguru shifted slightly, arm brushing Gojo’s chest as he reached out to me. I leaned in, heart hammering like it was trying to escape through my ribs. 

 

Gojo's hands rubbed slowly up and down both of our backs, his touch light, almost reverent, tracing along my spine while his fingers curled against Suguru’s shoulder blade. 

 

Suguru caught my jaw gently, tipping my face toward his. 

 

“You okay?” he murmured, voice velvet-soft. 

 

“Yeah,” I breathed. “I just… yeah.” 

 

Then he kissed me and everything else dropped away. 

 

Suguru’s mouth was warm and sure against mine, the kiss deepening in slow, coaxing waves. His hand curled behind my neck, steady, thumb brushing slow against my skin like he was learning me in real time. I felt Gojo’s hands, still trailing along my back, firm and grounding, a quiet contrast to the flutter in my chest and the fire sparking low in my stomach. 

 

It was too much. And somehow not enough. 

 

Suguru tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss further. My breath hitched, and I kissed back harder, caught in the pull of it. Our bodies shifted closer. I felt Gojo press a little tighter against me too, his head tipping forward to rest near my shoulder, a low sound escaping him like he couldn’t decide which of us he wanted more in that moment. 

 

But then I pulled back. 

 

Not abruptly, but enough. 

 

My lips were still tingling, and my heartbeat felt like it was trying to rattle out of my ribs. I pulled away just a little, breath shaky. 

 

Suguru’s eyes opened instantly, calm and careful. 

 

“You okay?” he asked softly, voice thick but steady. 

 

I nodded, trying to catch my breath. “Yeah. I just… I don’t want it to go too far. Not tonight.” 

 

Suguru’s hand left my neck, settling instead on my shoulder. “That’s okay.” 

 

His voice was honest, his touch gentle. There was no pressure. Just understanding. 

 

Gojo, of course, exhaled dramatically and flopped back into the pillows with one arm over his eyes. “I swear, you two are gonna give me a nosebleed with all this sexual tension.” 

 

I laughed a little relieved and grateful for the humor. “Oh my god, shut up.” 

 

He grinned under his arm. “But, okay, if we’re not doing anything hot, can I at least use my birthday card to cash in on some cuddles? Because it’s been forever and my skin is starving.” 

 

Suguru snorted. “Since when do you need permission to be clingy?” 

 

“Since you both got really good at dodging me,” Gojo replied, sitting up and jabbing a finger at me. “Especially you, miss ‘I like my personal space unless I’m sleep deprived or dying.’” 

 

I rolled my eyes. “I’m allowed to have boundaries.” 

 

“Rude,” he whispered. 

 

I stood and stretched, grabbing my hoodie from the back of the couch. “Fine. But I want your bed this time. It’s bigger.” 

 

Gojo blinked. “But I like your bed. It forces us to be closer.” 

 

I raised an eyebrow. “Your room or no cuddles.” 

 

He made a wounded noise. “Blackmail on my birthday?” 

 

“Take it or leave it.” 

 

He groaned but stood up anyway. “Fiiiine. But I get the middle.” 

 

Suguru followed behind us, amused. “Like we were going to argue.” 

 

--- 

 

The walk to Gojo’s room was quiet, heavy with everything unsaid and everything understood. 

 

Inside, it smelled like him, sweet and clean and something distinctly warm. The blankets were already half-kicked to the floor, and he scrambled to fix them as we climbed in. I ended up tucked against his left side, Suguru on his right, one of Gojo’s arms slung lazily around my back and across my waist, the other around Suguru’s shoulders, gripping his shirt like a kid with a comfort object. 

 

His voice was muffled against my hair when he finally spoke again. 

 

“This was the best birthday I’ve ever had.” 

 

Suguru reached over him and linked his fingers with mine. “Good.” 

 

I didn’t say anything. 

 

I just squeezed back and closed my eyes. 

 

Satoru fell asleep faster than I’d ever seen him. 

 

One moment he was making half-mumbled jokes about needing someone to play with his hair and the next, gone. His breath evened out, slow and steady, mouth slightly parted, eyelashes resting against his cheeks like shadows. He looked... peaceful. 

 

I wasn’t used to seeing him that way. 

 

His arms were around both of us, me on his left, Suguru on his right, his chest rising and falling beneath our heads like a gentle rhythm. I could feel the thrum of his cursed energy, low and quiet, like a heartbeat underwater. 

 

Suguru’s hand was draped over my side, not possessive, just there. Warm. Reassuring. 

 

Neither of us moved for a while. It felt like breathing in a secret. 

 

Then, quietly, Suguru said, “I’m sorry if I pushed you.” 

 

I turned my head, cheek brushing soft cotton. His voice was low, honest. Not apologizing out of guilt, but respect. The kind that didn’t demand forgiveness, just wanted to make sure I was okay. 

 

“You didn’t,” I said softly. “I mean… maybe a little, but not in a bad way.” 

 

He waited. He always waited. 

 

“I just don’t know if I’m ready to cross that line all the way,” I admitted, heart ticking like a clock behind my ribs. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just… new. A lot. You know?” 

 

Suguru nodded, chin shifting slightly against Gojo’s shoulder. “I get it. We can go back to keeping it friendly. No pressure.” 

 

I smiled faintly. “I don’t think I want to go all the way back.” 

 

That caught his attention. 

 

I looked over at him, meeting his gaze in the low light of the room. His eyes were half-lidded, soft at the edges but focused completely on me. 

 

“I’m okay with maybe dipping into something a little outside of just friendship,” I said. “Slowly.” 

 

Suguru’s thumb brushed gently against my wrist where his hand still rested. “Then that’s what we’ll do. No rush. No expectations.” 

 

Between us, Satoru shifted in his sleep, letting out the softest little sigh and pulling us closer like he could feel the conversation in his dreams. 

 

I exhaled, the knot in my chest loosening as Suguru’s fingers found mine again. 

 

Wrapped up in Satoru. Pressed against Suguru. I didn’t know exactly what this was. But I knew it was warm. I knew it was safe. 

 

And for now, that was enough. 

 

--- 

 

I woke to warmth. 

 

Not the usual kind, like blankets or sunlight or even cursed energy humming beneath my skin. No, this was weighted warmth. A whole-body, pinned-in-place kind of warmth. 

 

Gojo was asleep diagonally across both Suguru and me, one leg thrown over my hip, an arm stretched out and draped over Suguru’s chest like he was trying to claim the entire bed with his limbs alone. His head was tucked awkwardly between the two pillows, hair a chaotic mess, mouth open just enough to snore gently. 

 

I blinked slowly, adjusting to the light filtering in through Gojo’s half-open curtains. My neck ached a little. My arm was dead asleep under Satoru’s spine. 

 

Across from me, Suguru was already awake. 

 

He was lying on his side, cheek pressed into the pillow, dark hair loose and soft across his shoulder. His eyes met mine immediately, calm, half-lidded, warm in that quiet way only he could manage at six-something in the morning. 

 

“How long have you been up?” I whispered. 

 

He shrugged, voice just above a murmur. “About an hour.” 

 

I blinked. “Doing what? You just... laid here?” 

 

His gaze flicked to Gojo, then back to me. “Admiring you both.” 

 

I groaned and buried my face in the nearest pillow. “You’re such a weirdo.” 

 

“Maybe.” He shifted a little, the corner of his mouth lifting. “But you’re beautiful when you sleep. So is he. Thought I’d take the moment.” 

 

My face warmed, blood rushing straight to my ears. “Stop saying stuff like that first thing in the morning. I’m not built for it.” 

 

“I think you're built for it just fine,” he whispered, clearly enjoying this. 

 

Gojo stirred beside us, face scrunching up as he made a noise somewhere between a groan and a cat yawn. His arms tightened around both of us instinctively, and then his voice came out hoarse and slurred with sleep. 

 

“Mm’not awake yet. Shh.” 

 

“You’re talking,” Suguru said flatly. 

 

“Shhh,” Gojo mumbled, eyes still closed, face mashed into the pillow. “If I don’t open my eyes I’m still asleep. It’s a quantum rule.” 

 

“You made that up,” I said, amused. 

 

“Everything’s made up,” he said, then turned his face toward me with a lazy smile. “Morning, pretty girl.” 

 

My heart did something inconvenient. 

 

Suguru raised an eyebrow. “What about me?” 

 

Gojo reached blindly and patted Suguru’s cheek. “Also pretty.” 

 

Then he groaned and rolled onto his back, flopping across both of us again like he was reclaiming his territory. 

 

I should’ve pushed him off. 

 

But I didn’t. 

 

Something about the intoxicating smell of his cologne and something uniquely him dragged me deeper and deeper into his loving warmth. 

 

And I didn’t want it to let me go.

 

 

Chapter 20: First Drink

The night started off normal. 

 

Shockingly normal, considering who was involved. 

 

The seven of us. Me, Gojo, Suguru, Shoko, Yu, Nanami, and Mei Mei had gathered in one of the common rooms. There were snacks, music, dim lighting, and, for the first time ever, alcohol legally acquired by all present parties. 

 

Well, except for Yu and Nanami, who were present but on soda duty. Nanami made it very clear he was only there to supervise. Yu kept accidentally sipping from everyone else’s glasses and giggling to himself. Utahime didn't even bother making an appearance since the thought of Gojo being drunk was too repulsive. 

 

Otherwise, It was casual. Warm. Comfortable. 

 

And then Gojo announced, loud and proud, “I want to try drinking tonight.” 

 

Suguru gave him a look like he was trying to do the math in real-time. “Satoru, your technique needs full, constant control. You blackout when you sneeze too hard.” 

 

“I’m fine!” Gojo grinned, reaching for one of the cans Shoko brought. “I’m twenty. I’m the strongest. I deserve to see what all the fuss is about.” 

 

“No one said you didn’t,” I said carefully, already sensing the oncoming chaos. “Just that your body is usually on, like, a god-tier level of cursed energy threading, and alcohol is a depressant-” 

 

“Amara.” He looked at me with the most shit-eating grin I’d ever seen. “Do you doubt me?” 

 

I blinked. “Every day.” 

 

That earned a loud laugh from Shoko and a quiet snort from Suguru. 

 

Mei Mei sipped her drink and added, “If he implodes, I’m not cleaning it up.”

 

--- 

 

The first hour was fine. 

 

Better than fine, actually. Gojo was… sweet. 

 

He got clingy but in a manageable way. Tugging on Suguru’s sleeve every time he wanted to tell a story. Resting his chin on my shoulder and whispering things like "You're really pretty when you sip stuff. It's classy.” Giggling to himself when Shoko tossed a peanut at his head. 

 

At one point, he tried to teach Yu how to dance, and it looked like a toddler wrestling a broom. 

 

Everything was fine. 

 

Until shot number four. 

 

That’s when it shifted. 

 

His smile sharpened. His posture loosened. His ego, already a massive, self-sustaining organism, swelled. 

 

“Okay but like, let’s be real,” Gojo said, sprawled out dramatically across two beanbags, sunglasses back on. “Who here can actually take me in a fight?” 

 

Mei Mei raised a brow. “Not this again.” 

 

“I’m just asking questions!” he said, arms flailing. “We all know I’m holding back. All the time. Constantly. My Infinity is literally perfect. And don’t even get me started on my Six Eyes.” 

 

Shoko muttered under her breath, “Here we go.” 

 

“I am the technique,” he continued, gesturing with his cup. “The Limitless doesn’t control me, I control the Limitless.” 

 

Suguru gave him a flat stare. “You sound like a motivational poster for a jujutsu cult.” 

 

“I’d join that cult,” Yu added, grinning, already tipsy on sugar and Gojo's chaos. 

 

“And you,” Gojo pointed dramatically at me, sloshing his drink slightly, “don’t even get me started on you.” 

 

I raised an eyebrow. “Do I want to know where this is going?” 

 

“You’re the scariest one here!” he declared. “You’re like a cute little horror movie. No control, explosive cursed energy, vines from hell, emotional damage aura. But do you use it? No. You just get all flustered and adorable and restrained.” 

 

I blinked. “You’re drunk.” 

 

“And honest!” He laughed like that proved a point. 

 

Suguru sighed beside me and leaned close enough to murmur, “He’s still climbing the hill. We haven’t hit the ‘I’m gonna start levitating to prove a point’ phase yet.” 

 

“Fantastic,” I muttered. 

 

Mei Mei was already putting her coat on. “You’re on your own. If he explodes, I’m charging you all for clean-up.” 

 

As she left, Gojo yelled after her, “You’re just mad because I beat your record in cursed spirit exorcisms last month!” 

 

“No,” she called back, “I’m mad because I taught you how to do it.” 

 

Gojo pouted and turned back to us. “She’s so mean to me.” 

 

“You’re being an asshole,” Shoko said bluntly. “But a mild one. I’ll let it slide.” 

 

He stuck his tongue out at her, then flopped dramatically into my lap, sighing like a tragic noble. “Amaraaaaa. I’m amazing, right? Tell them.” 

 

I tried not to smile. “You’re something.” 

 

“Something irreplaceable.” 

 

“Something loud.” 

 

“Something sexy and unstoppable.” 

 

Suguru sipped his drink, amused. “You’re something that’s definitely going to crash hard later.” 

 

Gojo just grinned wider. “Bet you five bucks I don’t.” 

 

I looked at Suguru. He looked at me. 

 

We both sighed. 

 

This night was far from over and it started with the windows. 

 

We were mid-conversation, well, the rest of us were mid-conversation, and Gojo was dramatically explaining the superiority of triangle onigiri when he suddenly stopped, stood up, and announced: 

 

“I have to go.” 

 

Suguru blinked. “What?” 

 

Gojo pointed at nothing in particular. “I just gotta. My legs need to move.” 

 

“Gojo,” Shoko said, flat, “sit back down.” 

 

But he was already moving. 

 

Shoes sliding on the hardwood, shirt slightly askew. He sprinted to the window like he’d been called to destiny and, without warning, leaped. 

 

I screamed. “What the hell?!” 

 

But a second later, Suguru, dead calm, just muttered, “The idiot can float. He’s fine.” 

 

Shoko downed the rest of her drink. “And now we’ve reached the runner phase.” 

 

“What?” 

 

Suguru stood up and stretched like this wasn’t a new thing. “Seems like he’s a runner. First time drinking, first time bolting. Should’ve seen this coming. He can't sit still sober.” 

 

“I did not see this coming,” I slurred slightly, clutching my half-finished drink. 

 

Shoko was already pulling on her coat. “Grab your shoes. We’re hunting Gojo.”

 

--- 

 

It got worse almost immediately. 

 

Because apparently, Gojo hadn’t just decided to run. 

 

He decided to teleport. 

 

“Yu, Nanami,” Shoko said into her phone, voice tired but efficient. “We’ve got a six-foot-tall menace on the loose. Drunk and teleporting. Possible Infinity flickering. Containment is now a group effort.” 

 

Yu sounded way too excited. “Like tag but cursed! I’m in!” 

 

Nanami, flatly. “I’ll regret this, won’t I?” 

 

“Probably,” Suguru replied over her shoulder. 

 

--- 

 

I was not sober enough for this. 

 

We were chasing Satoru through the streets of Tokyo like he was a glitching video game character. 

 

My cursed energy tracking was mostly functional, but I was buzzed and slightly unbalanced, and every time I zeroed in on him, he blinked again like some smug ghost. 

 

“There!” I pointed toward a side alley. “He’s, like, tingling in that direction!” 

 

Shoko sighed. “You need a better way to describe that.” 

 

“I’m doing my best! He’s fast!” 

 

“He’s drunk,” Suguru corrected. “And teleporting unconsciously.” 

 

We sprinted to the next corner, just in time to see Gojo appear on top of a vending machine, arms spread like he was announcing a prophecy. 

 

“I AM THE PILLAR OF MODERN SORCERY!” 

 

“Gojo-!” I yelled. 

 

“I’M VIBRATING AT A FREQUENCY ONLY CURSED ENERGY UNDERSTANDS.” 

 

He teleported again. 

 

Gone. 

 

--- 

 

Phone buzzed.

Yu: “He’s near the train station! I just saw a flash of white hair and someone screamed ‘Is that an idol??’” 

 

Nanami: “I’m circling to cut him off near the park. He just appeared on top of a playground horse and yelled more of his painfully annoying nonsense. 

 

Suguru snorted. “That sounds right.” 

 

We caught our breath, half-wheezing, half-laughing as I leaned on Suguru’s shoulder and wiped the sweat off my forehead. “This is the worst form of exercise. Ever.” 

 

“You love it,” he said. 

 

“Shut up.”

 

--- 

 

Gojo popped back into view three blocks down, now holding a glow stick and wearing someone’s sunhat. 

 

“YOU CAN’T CATCH WHAT EXISTS IN MULTIPLE DIMENSIONS!” 

 

I swore under my breath. “I’m gonna kiss him just to distract him.” 

 

Suguru, amused. “You think that’ll work?” 

 

“I think I have no other plan.” 

 

Shoko pulled up beside us, breathless. “Okay. We trap him next time he stops. No more yelling. No more surprises.” 

 

“Yu says he’s heading to the shrine next,” I muttered, squinting to feel that telltale spark of Gojo’s cursed energy. “I think I can beat him there.” 

 

Suguru nodded. “Then let’s go. Before he decides he can outpace a bullet train.” 

 

We took off again, drunk, determined, and chasing the world's strongest sorcerer through a trail of glowing chaos and questionable fashion choices. 

 

We found him at the shrine. 

 

Technically, Yu found him first, by running headfirst into a cursed barrier Gojo had instinctively flickered into existence like a glittering drunk alarm system. But once Suguru and I caught up and rounded the stone path leading toward the back steps, we saw him. 

 

And I almost fell over laughing. 

 

Gojo was standing at the top of the shrine steps, arms out like he was presenting himself to the heavens. Absolutely draped in chaos. 

 

A heart-shaped pair of glittery sunglasses hung crookedly off his nose. A bright pink feather boa was wrapped around his neck twice. His wrists were stacked with jelly and beaded bracelets, half of them glowing faintly. Someone had clipped plastic butterfly barrettes into his hair. His button-up  was open, chest visible to all. And dangling off his belt loop was a frilly pink bra. 

 

Suguru froze beside me. “I can’t believe this is my life.” 

 

Gojo spotted us immediately. 

 

“AMARA!” he shouted, arms flailing above his head like he was waving down a rescue helicopter. “AMARA I GOT PRESENTS!! PEOPLE GAVE ME THINGS!! BECAUSE I’M PRETTY!!” 

 

“You really are,” I called back, almost doubled over. “You're breathtaking.” 

 

“I KNOW!!” 

 

Shoko stumbled up behind us, eyes wide. “What the actual-”

“I don’t even want to ask,” Nanami said, arriving just in time to witness Gojo blow a kiss at nothing. 

 

Yu? He was already filming.

 

--- 

 

Gojo swayed dramatically. “I went to a karaoke bar and someone gave me these shades. And these-” he held up a pink beaded necklace with a glittery frog charm, “-these were from a bachelorette party. And this?” He pointed to the bra. “This was from a girl named Momo. She said it would be pretty on me.” 

 

I covered my face. “Of course she did.” 

 

Then I had an idea. A dangerous and possibly manipulative idea. 

 

I stepped forward, a little too confidently for someone still slightly buzzed, and smoothed my hands down my sides. Unzipping my hoodie just enough to let it fall off my shoulders, I made a very deliberate show of my cleavage, all wrapped up in the little crop top I had worn. 

 

Suguru turned his head slightly. “Oh no.” 

 

“What?” I said sweetly. “I’m just using what I’ve got.” 

 

“Do you need a bra too?” Gojo shouted down to me. “Because I have one!” 

 

I sauntered closer, hips swaying, eyes half-lidded. “Hey, pretty boy,” I cooed. “You teleport around a lot tonight. That must take a lot of energy.” 

 

Gojo hiccupped. “So much. My legs are tired.” 

 

“I bet.” I purred, stepping into the bottom of the steps now, fingertips tracing along the edge of the banister. “Maybe you should let me take care of you. Reward you for all that hard work.” 

 

He blinked at me, smile slowly spreading into something dazed and so excited. 

 

“I LOVE rewards,” he said. “Amara, you’re the best. You’re so sparkly. And you smell good. And your hair is doing that swishy thing.” 

 

He hiccuped again and blinked. 

 

Just like that, he teleported five feet closer. Then again. Then again. Little skips. Little hic-hop-hic bursts of cursed energy. 

 

I held out my hand, gently, with a smile. 

 

He was almost within reach. 

 

“NOW!” 

 

Suguru tackled him from the left. 

 

Nanami came in from the right like he’d trained for this moment his entire life. 

 

Yu launched himself from a bush with the enthusiasm of a teenage missile. 

 

“NOOOOOO-” Gojo shrieked, arms flailing as he was dogpiled into the ground like a glittery, half-dressed linebacker. “I WAS ABOUT TO GET MY REWARD!” 

 

“Contain him!” Suguru ordered. 

 

“I’M TOO PRETTY TO BE ARRESTED!” Gojo yelled, face smushed into the grass, boa flaring like a fallen phoenix. “THIS IS OPPRESSION! THIS IS JEALOUSY!!” 

 

I was still standing at the bottom of the steps and nearly dropped from laughing too hard. 

 

“I was so close,” he whimpered, wriggling under the weight of three people, “I saw boobs and everything.” 

 

“God help us,” Shoko muttered. 

 

--- 

 

Getting him back to the dorms was… a journey. 

 

Even sobered up a little, face flushed from exertion, shirt wrinkled from being tackled, glittery bracelets still dangling from his wrist, Gojo was a lot. Still buzzing with cursed energy, stumbling slightly when he turned corners too fast, but thankfully not teleporting anymore. 

 

Shoko handed off a water bottle with a hydration powder in it and then gave me a tired salute. “He’s your problem now.” 

 

Yu grinned. “I’d do that again! That was actually really fun.” 

 

Nanami didn’t speak. Just patted my shoulder like he was offering prayers. 

 

Suguru sighed next to me. “We’ll take babysitting duty.” 

 

And then it was me, Suguru, and Gojo, half-dragging, half-guiding him down the hall to my room. The moment the door closed behind us, it was like something shifted. 

 

He went quiet. 

 

Not bad quiet. Just… soft. 

 

He dropped onto my bed like gravity had decided to triple for him, legs stretched out, eyes a little glassy. Suguru sat beside him, shoulder pressed to his. I stood near the edge, trying to decide if I needed a sedative or a camera to document this. 

 

Gojo looked up at us with that wild white hair slightly mussed, his glasses off now, revealing the full intensity of those crystal-cut eyes. 

 

“You guys,” he said, voice suddenly very sincere, “are the best thing that ever happened to me.” 

 

Suguru chuckled lightly. “I really appreciate that, Satoru.” 

 

“No, listen.” Gojo grabbed his arm. “Listen. I mean it.” 

 

I smiled softly. “We’re listening.” 

 

He looked between us, me standing close, Suguru right beside him, and his face melted into the softest, most genuine expression I had ever seen on him. 

 

“I’m so stupidly in love with you both it makes my ribs hurt,” he said. “Like, physically. I think I need a medical check.” 

 

I snorted. “You need electrolytes.” 

 

“No, I need you.” 

 

That shut me up. 

 

His eyes found mine, wide and adoring. “Can I-” He shifted slightly, arms reaching. “Can I pull you into my lap?” 

 

I hesitated. 

 

Suguru nudged me. “Go on. I’ll be here for extraction if needed.” 

 

So I let him. 

 

I climbed into his lap slowly, letting his hands find my waist, and his whole body relaxed like I had just fixed something he didn’t know was broken. He nuzzled his nose into my shoulder like a cat, sighing happily. 

 

He reached out, blindly, and pulled Suguru closer too until he was sitting pressed tight against his side. 

 

Then Gojo looked up at me, eyes half-lidded, voice lower now. 

 

“Can I be clingy?” he asked. “Can I be kissy? Just for a little bit?” 

 

I felt my heart flutter. “Yeah. You can.” 

 

He didn’t wait. 

 

He kissed up my throat first, gentle, slow, just his lips brushing my skin. Then across my collarbone. He whispered something about how warm I always am. About how good I smelled. About how he loved my freckle. I don’t even know if he knew what he was saying anymore. 

 

And then he leaned toward Suguru and kissed him too. 

 

Slowly. Purposefully. 

 

Not just the lips. His jaw. His cheek. His shoulder. 

 

Suguru let it happen, hand finding Gojo’s hair and smoothing it back gently. “You’re drunk.” 

 

“I’m honest,” Gojo said between kisses. “And I want you both. Forever. That’s all.” 

 

I melted into his arms. 

 

Gojo’s arms wrapped tighter around my waist as he leaned forward, practically burying his face in my boobs. 

 

“Mmff,” he murmured into my skin, his nose squished right between my boobs. “This is the best place on Earth. Warm. Soft. Heartbeat.” 

 

I froze, blushing furiously. “Satoru-” 

 

Suguru blinked slowly and gave him a look. “You’re treading a very fine line.” 

 

Gojo just mumbled, “Not dirty. Just cozy. Feels like safety.” 

 

And the way he said it? 

 

Soft. Honest. Almost boyish. 

 

He wasn’t groping. He wasn’t teasing. He was just there, nuzzled against me like he belonged, completely vulnerable in a way only drunk Gojo ever let show. 

 

I placed a hand on his hair, gently stroking it, trying to keep it together. 

 

Then I felt it. 

 

Down. Beneath me. Pressed just faintly against my thigh. 

 

His erection 

 

And he was not small. 

 

Every muscle in my body went still. 

 

So did his. 

 

Gojo froze, face still tucked against my chest, and then whimpered into me. 

 

“Oh my god,” he mumbled. “I’m so sorry. That’s never happened before. Like, ever. I swear to god it’s not even- like, you didn’t even do anything- I just- I’m- your heartbeat’s right there and you smell really nice-” 

 

Suguru squinted, confused at first, then paused. Blinked. 

 

Then facepalmed so hard I felt secondhand embarrassment radiate off him in waves. “Satoru...” 

 

Gojo groaned. “I know.” 

 

I stayed where I was, cheeks burning, trying very hard to not let my expression betray the shrieking in my brain. 

 

“Well,” I said lightly, “I’m gonna choose to take that as a very flattering compliment.” 

 

“Please do,” Gojo muttered. 

 

“But maybe I should… not be on your lap anymore.” 

 

“Yes please,” he agreed instantly, already shifting awkwardly beneath me. 

 

I gently climbed off and stood up, trying not to think about how warm my face was. Gojo grabbed a pillow, my pillow, and threw it over his lap, then flopped backward dramatically with a groan. 

 

“I’m never drinking again,” he mumbled. “I peaked. It’s all downhill from here.” 

 

Suguru sat back with a smug expression. “You embarrassed yourself. That’s new.” 

 

“Don’t make it worse,” Gojo groaned into his hand that wasn’t on the pillow. 

 

I leaned down, brushing hair from his face and grinning softly. “Hey, Satoru.” 

 

He peeked up at me, eyes wide and hopeless. 

 

“It’s okay,” I said. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.” 

 

He whined into his hand again, then pulled up his shirt over his face like a retreating turtle. 

 

Suguru patted his shoulder. “Truly a historic day.” 

 

I looked over at the Satoru who was sprawled dramatically across my bed, still clutching the pillow to his lap like a lifeline. 

 

“Are you gonna calm down enough to cuddle,” I asked gently, “or do you think that’ll just make it worse?” 

 

He groaned. 

 

Loud. Pitiful. Theatrical. 

 

“I want cuddles,” he whined. “But I don’t wanna lose my cuddle privileges over a dumb... reaction.” 

 

Suguru snorted. “That was a generous word for it.” 

 

"If you just want to call it a night, Satoru, that's okay. I'll take you to your room." I pet his hair gently. 

 

Gojo whined even louder. “No no no. I promise I can be chill. I’ll face the wall! I’ll be little spoon! Just... don’t exile me.” 

 

I laughed quietly. “Okay, okay. You’re safe. Come here. Let’s get all this glitter off first.” 

 

I knelt down and helped him unclip the heart-shaped glasses from his hair, tossing the boa aside, gently peeling off bracelets and necklaces that he’d clearly been gifted by half the drunk girls in Tokyo. 

 

When I unclipped the bra from his belt loop, I raised an eyebrow. 

 

He winced. 

 

“Okay,” I said casually, “do I want to know how you ended up with this? Did you, like, see a naked girl to earn it?” 

 

His eyes widened, hands flailing slightly. “No!! No no no no! She took it off under her shirt. It was like a joke. I wasn’t even thinking! I just thought it was funny! I didn’t mean anything by it!” 

 

He sat up slightly, looking between me and Suguru with that rare wide-eyed panic, like he realized just now how that might’ve looked. “I’m so sorry. That probably sucked to see. I didn’t even connect it until right now. I swear I wasn’t trying to disrespect either of you-” 

 

Suguru cut him off with a calm wave of his hand. “Relax. I’m not threatened by a party bra.” 

 

Gojo looked at me next, nervous. 

 

I toyed with the edge of my sleeves, suddenly a little nervous. “You don’t owe me that exclusivity, you know. We’re not, like... dating.” 

 

His expression changed instantly, softening in a way that hit deeper than it should have. 

 

“But I want to be,” he said, voice low, almost breathless. “So I’m not gonna risk doing something that might push you away. Either of you.” 

 

I stared at him and melted.. 

 

Suguru didn’t say anything, but he leaned back against the headboard with a quiet smile and let the weight of that settle in the room. 

 

I cleared my throat, cheeks burning. “Okay,” I said. “Well, both of you, get comfortable. We’re sleeping. I’m not having any more cursed emergencies tonight.” 

 

Gojo let out a tiny relieved laugh and peeled off the rest of his outer layers, grumbling under his breath as he did. 

 

I turned around politely to give him space, mostly for his own sake, but also mine, because it was pretty obvious he was still feeling... enthusiastic. 

 

Behind me, I heard rustling and the faintest whisper from Suguru: 

 

“You really weren’t kidding, huh?” 

 

Then Gojo, mortified. “Shut up.” 

 

I bit my lip to keep from giggling. 

 

Gojo flopped onto the bed dramatically, still clutching a pillow over his lap like his dignity depended on it. 

 

Suguru sat next to him, hair a little tousled, shirt hanging loose over his frame, completely relaxed compared to the flustered wreck beside him. 

 

“Still having a problem down there?” Suguru asked, his voice just a little too smooth. 

 

Gojo groaned into the mattress. “Please. Please don’t make it worse.” 

 

“No promises,” Suguru smirked, nudging him with a foot. “I mean… you’re really not hiding it well.” 

 

Gojo turned to Suguru, eyes narrowed. “You’re enjoying this.” 

 

“A little,” Suguru admitted, a slow grin spreading across his face. “The strongest sorcerer in the world, undone by a little cleavage and affection. It’s kinda cute.” 

 

“I’m fighting for my life right now,” Gojo muttered. 

 

“And hard-ly doing it.” Suguru chuckled at his own pun. 

 

I bit back a laugh and stepped toward the dresser, grabbing the shirt I planned to sleep in, Suguru’s old one. Well, originally Suguru’s, then Gojo’s after he stole it, and now mine, by the laws of closet conquest. 

 

As I started undressing, slipping off my jeans, and then pulling off my top, I could feel the tension in the room spike immediately. 

 

Gojo went rigid, looking at the ceiling like it held the secrets of the universe. 

 

Suguru kept a carefully neutral expression, but his eyes flicked up once before he redirected his focus to picking at a loose thread on the blanket. 

 

I stood there in my black underwear, knowing exactly what I looked like. How the lines of the fabric hugged my body, how the light caught the curve of my back, the dip of my waist. 

 

Then I smirked, just a little. “You two always this quiet?” 

 

Suguru raised a brow. “Trying to be polite.” 

 

Gojo made a noise that was halfway between a gasp and a dying bird. 

 

Suguru, ever the menace, added, “Might want to cover your eyes, Satoru. Wouldn’t want things to get even worse.” 

 

“I hate you,” Gojo choked out. 

 

“I’m helping,” Suguru said, completely unhelpful. 

 

I turned around just long enough to catch the look on Gojo’s face, absolutely wrecked, eyes wide, lips parted like I was some kind of miracle he wasn’t built to process. 

 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered like it physically escaped him. 

 

The words landed in my chest like warmth. 

 

I smiled softly, tugged on the shirt, and let it fall over me, big and worn, cotton-soft and smelling faintly like both of them. It hit my thighs, oversized and cozy, hiding everything again. 

 

Gojo looked both relieved and devastated. 

 

“Okay,” I said, climbing into bed. “No more suffering. You first, Satoru.” 

 

Gojo wasted no time, rolling under the blankets and throwing his arms wide like he’d been waiting for this moment for hours. “Yes. Finally. Blanket sanctuary.” 

 

Suguru climbed in on the other side, calm and composed, but still smiling at the ridiculousness of it all. 

 

I slid in between them, tucking myself in close against Gojo’s back, and felt his arms wrap around my arm instantly. Suguru’s hand rested on my hip, fingers curling loosely in the fabric of the shirt. 

 

Gojo let out a long, content sigh. 

 

“Warm,” he mumbled, pressing his face into my hand. “Safe.” 

 

Suguru leaned in closer and kissed my shoulder. “Now sleep.” 

 

I smiled, closing my eyes between them. 

 

Everything else could wait.

 

 

Chapter 21: Expensive Taste

It had officially been a year.

 

One full year since I stepped foot on Jujutsu High soil with nothing but a duffel bag, a wrecked heart, and no clue how the hell cursed energy worked.

 

Now I was arguing with Satoru Gojo about birthday cake frosting in the middle of a high-end bakery.

 

“No black,” he said, arms crossed, sunglasses pushed up on his head like a crown. “Suguru hates black frosting. Says it stains his mouth and tastes weird.”

 

“Hm. Fair. What about that purple one? Matches his eyes kinda." I chuckled lightly.

 

“No, can't be that shade. It clashes with his whole broody ‘mysterious curse manipulator’ thing. He’s a cool-tones kind of guy.”

 

I side-eyed him. “You’re wearing a neon blue hoodie with matching sneakers.”

 

“And I make it work. Suguru has taste.” He pointed at a chocolate and gold cake. “That one. That’s the one.”

 

He wasn’t wrong, it looked incredible. Rich, glossy, dramatic. Just like Suguru on mission mode.

 

Still, I had to smile.

 

Gojo didn’t want anyone else helping. Not Shoko, not Yu, not even Nanami. He said it was “an S-tier assignment,” and only the best were allowed to touch it. Which apparently meant just me and him.

 

I knew why, though.

 

It wasn’t just about control. Or making it flashy. It was about Suguru. About making sure the person who meant the most to him walked into something beautiful and knew it was built by love, not obligation.

 

So I let him be bossy. I let him overspend. I let him drive himself into circles over table arrangements like we were planning a royal banquet instead of a birthday dinner in the common room.

 

I even let him drag me into the city for shopping.

 

That’s when it really hit me.

 

Gojo Satoru wasn’t just rich.

 

He was the 'I didn’t even look at the price tag rich'.

 

He didn’t blink. He didn’t hesitate. If he wanted it, he bought it. Bags of gifts. Custom wrapping paper. A cologne that smelled like cardamom and something sweet. 

 

“He’ll love this,” Gojo said without thinking. And he was probably right.

 

Meanwhile, I was in the corner of a tiny supply shop counting out coins, trying to figure out if I had enough to buy the fabric, thread, and little vials I needed.

 

Satoru wandered over and squinted at me like I’d just started speaking in tongues. “What are you doing?”

 

I looked up, startled. “Buying stuff?”

 

He stared at me for a full two seconds. Then pointed at my money. “With that?”

 

“Yes?” I blinked. “It’s my money?”

 

He looked personally offended. “Amara.”

 

“…What?”

 

“You’re with me. You don’t pay for things when you’re with me.” He plucked the coins out of my hand like they were made of trash, paid, and then handed them back to me. “Put that away.”

 

I stared at him. “You’re being dramatic.”

 

He stepped closer, voice low but not teasing. “You’re mine. I take care of mine.”

 

My face went hot. “Satoru-”

 

“No arguments,” he said, softer now. “Let me do this.”

 

So I let him.

 

I still chose everything myself, soft cursed energy-threaded fabric, small reinforced glass tubes, a leather strap that could loop onto Suguru’s belt without getting in the way. I wanted to make him something useful. Something personal.

 

A little pouch that he could carry on missions, for the gift I really wanted to give him.

 

Liquid candy. Flavored drops, sweetened just enough to make swallowing cursed spirit orbs slightly less disgusting. I’d been refining the cursed compatibility recipe for weeks.

 

He didn’t ask for it. He probably didn’t even think to complain. But I had noticed. I always noticed.

 

Satoru didn’t say much after that moment in the shop. Just stuck close, carrying my bag, throwing way too many snacks into the cart, and asking questions like “What color do you think screams ‘you’re the best person in my life’ without being too emotionally vulnerable?”

 

It was Suguru’s birthday.

 

But somehow, as the day passed, I realized it was also a quiet celebration of something else.

 

Of this bond. Of what we were building together.

 

---

 

The sun was starting to set by the time we got back to campus.

 

Everything was ready. The table was set in the common room, subtle and warm, just how Suguru would want it. The cake was chilling in the tiny fridge. The lights were dimmed just enough. Satoru insisted on cursed flame lanterns instead of string lights. "More ambiance," he said. “And besides, you can’t beat cursed fire for mood lighting.”

 

But even with everything in place, I felt... off.

 

While he bounced around adjusting things and humming some obnoxiously cheerful pop song from the mall, I stood near the door, clutching the finished pouch in one hand, the little vials tucked safely inside. Each one was labeled by flavor: ginger honey, citrus clove, stuff he liked. Stuff that would coat the throat and soothe the stomach, not just mask the bitterness of cursed residue.

 

I should’ve felt proud. But instead, my chest buzzed with doubt.

 

It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t expensive. It wasn’t anything someone with Gojo’s kind of reach couldn’t have bought ten versions of in a single afternoon.

 

And Suguru… he deserved more than a stitched-together pouch from someone who still barely understood her own cursed technique half the time.

 

I didn't realize I was squeezing it so tightly until Satoru’s voice broke the silence.

 

“Hey.”

 

I looked up.

 

He was watching me from across the room, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets, sunglasses nowhere in sight. The sky outside was turning soft with gold.

 

“You okay?” he asked.

 

I hesitated.

 

He crossed the room in a few long strides and stopped in front of me. Not too close. Just enough.

 

“I just…” I looked down at the pouch, running my thumb over the stitching. “It feels dumb now. It’s not much. I wanted to give him something helpful, something thoughtful. But I keep thinking, what if it’s not enough? What if it doesn't even work-”

 

Satoru gently took the pouch from my hands. He held it like it was made of glass.

 

“This,” he said slowly, “is one of the best gifts he’s ever going to get.”

 

I blinked at him.

 

“Do you know how many people even notice how sick he gets after absorbing cursed spirits? How bad they taste?” Satoru asked, his voice low now, all the teasing stripped away. “Most people don’t care. Even I didn’t for a while. He just swallows it down and hides the side effects like everything else.”

 

He looked at me, really looked. Like he was cutting right through me and finding something raw, something true.

 

“But you?” he said. “You noticed. You thought to yourself, how can I make this easier for him? How can I make him feel even a little bit better?”

 

His eyes softened. “That’s love, Amara. You didn’t just buy something pretty. You thought about what he needs. That’s more than enough.”

 

My throat went tight. “Satoru…”

 

He smiled, but it was gentler now. “You’re allowed to be scared it’s not enough. That’s just proof it matters to you.”

 

I looked down at the pouch again.

 

It didn’t look like much.

 

But now?

 

Now it felt like maybe it was everything.

 

“Thank you,” I whispered.

 

He nudged my arm with his knuckles. “Anytime.”

 

Then he glanced at the clock. “He’s almost here.”

 

I straightened, tucking the pouch carefully into my hoodie pocket. “You sure we shouldn’t have let the others help?”

 

Satoru shook his head, a rare seriousness settling over his expression. “No. I wanted it to be just us first. He gets overwhelmed when there are too many people waiting on him. I want him to walk in and see us. Just us. The ones who know him best.”

 

My chest warmed.

 

Yeah.

 

That sounded right.

 

---

 

We heard his footsteps before we saw him.

 

Measured. Heavy. Controlled. The kind of walk that said I’m ready for anything, even if that anything was a trap.

 

Satoru straightened beside me, rubbing the back of his neck and muttering something like, “Here we go,” before stepping toward the door with his usual bounce. I stayed by the couch, my heart racing just a little.

 

The door slid open.

 

Suguru stepped inside in his mission uniform, hair tied up, coat draped over one shoulder. His eyes swept the room quickly, too quickly. Shoulders tense. Jaw tight. That same edge he always wore after long days, the one that said I’ve seen things I don’t want to talk about right now.

 

Then he stopped.

 

Paused.

 

Blinking once.

 

Just me and Gojo.

 

No crowd. No yelling. No surprise explosions. Just soft cursed firelight, the smell of chocolate, and Satoru smiling at him like he was the only person in the world.

 

And slowly, like a string had been cut, the tension eased out of Suguru’s frame.

 

His shoulders dropped. His fingers loosened around the fabric of his coat. He exhaled, slow and deep, and stepped further inside.

 

“You didn’t invite everyone,” he said quietly.

 

“Nope,” Gojo replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Just us. Didn’t want you to feel like a zoo animal.”

 

Suguru’s gaze flicked to me. I gave him a small smile. “Hi.”

 

The corner of his mouth lifted, tired but genuine. “Hi.”

 

He walked over, his eyes drifting around the room, picking up the little details, his favorite incense burning faintly near the window, the cake carefully boxed on the table, the dark cloth wrapping the gift Satoru had picked out. His gaze lingered on the two place settings. Just two.

 

Suguru turned back to us. “You planned all of this?”

 

Gojo nodded. “Every cursed thread.”

 

Suguru’s brow lifted slightly. “You bribed Yaga to send me on that mission, didn’t you?”

 

Gojo beamed. “It’s not bribery if it works.”

 

Suguru rolled his eyes, but there was warmth there now. Something soft in his chest unclenching.

 

“I thought it was going to be a thing,” he admitted after a moment. “Too many people. Too many expectations.”

 

“Not tonight,” I said.

 

His eyes met mine again, quiet, searching.

 

Satoru stepped closer and gently took the coat off Suguru’s shoulder, tossing it onto the back of the couch like he’d done it a thousand times before. “Come sit. We saved the best seats.”

 

Suguru didn’t argue. He just let himself sink into the space between us.

 

The kind of space we’d built, brick by brick, stitch by stitch, until it felt like something solid enough to lean into.

 

And tonight, he did.

 

I set the table while Gojo adjusted the cursed lanterns for the third time, apparently the lighting had to be exactly right for when Suguru opened his gifts.

 

Dinner was already laid out, Suguru’s favorite dish from a little shop tucked in the corner of the city, the one Gojo insisted on picking up himself even though I offered. The moment the scent hit the room, Suguru stopped mid-sentence and blinked.

 

“You remembered this place.”

 

“Of course I did,” Gojo said, sliding plates toward us. “You never shut up about their seasoning.”

 

Suguru stared at the dish, almost in disbelief. “I haven’t had this in months.”

 

“We figured you probably didn’t eat,” I added softly, grabbing utensils. “You usually don’t after a mission.”

 

He tilted his head, eyes flicking to mine. “You’re right. I didn’t. Usually because of the consumption of cursed spirits. Buuuut... I actually kept a few cursed orbs in my pocket, didn’t want to ruin my appetite. Just in case.”

 

Gojo looked horrified. “You carry them around like snacks?”

 

“Only if I know you’re planning something. I figured I’d need a clear stomach.”

 

We all laughed at that, and the tension in Suguru’s shoulders finally melted the rest of the way. The three of us settled down and ate together, knees brushing under the table, light conversation folding around us like a blanket.

 

Suguru leaned back in his chair eventually, long fingers brushing his jaw. “Okay, I give in. This might be the best birthday I’ve had in years.”

 

Gojo sat up like someone had hit a button. “Time for gifts.”

 

Suguru raised an eyebrow. “Already?”

 

“Yes.” Gojo leaned dramatically across the table toward me. “Amara’s first.”

 

I nearly dropped my fork. “Wait- me???”

 

“You made something, and he’s going to lose his mind over it,” Gojo said, eyes sparkling.

 

My heart fluttered. Suguru turned toward me, elbow on the table, chin in hand, that look in his eyes, soft, knowing, like he could see all the nerves I was trying to hide.

 

“Is that true?” he asked, voice velvet. “You made me something?”

 

I nodded, pulling the pouch from my hoodie pocket and setting it in front of him with shaking fingers. “Yeah. Um. I worked on it for a while. With Shoko, actually. It’s not big or anything, but…”

 

He reached for it gently, brushing my hand in the process. “Show me?”

 

His voice dipped lower, something fond curling around the edges.

 

“please pretty girl?” he added, almost like a secret. “I want to see what you made for me.”

 

I flushed so hard I thought I might combust on the spot. Gojo snorted into his drink and whispered, “He’s weaponizing the voice again.”

 

I shot him a look, but Suguru was still watching me, quiet, patient like I had all the time in the world.

 

I swallowed, trying to ignore the heat in my cheeks. “Okay. So, it’s a pouch- uh stitched with cursed threaded fabric. I wanted it to be small so you could clip it on your belt and keep it close. Inside are drops- some, uh, cursed compatible ones. Sweet, so swallowing curse orbs doesn’t make you gag as much.”

 

His expression didn’t change, but his whole body stilled.

 

“They’re flavored,” I added quickly, nervous now. “Potent enough to help with the side effects. You only need a drop or two. And I included some extra ones, not for the stomach stuff, just for taste. There’s a blue raspberry one because it made me think of Satoru. And a blackberry one. That one’s… um, it’s purple. For me. If that makes sense.”

 

Gojo leaned in and whispered loudly to Suguru, “She’s nervous. That means she really likes you.”

 

“Shut up,” I muttered.

 

Suguru picked up the pouch like it was something sacred. “Can I try it?”

 

I nodded. “If you want.”

 

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a single cursed orb, still glowing faintly, sealed in a tight sphere of binding cloth.

 

Gojo leaned forward with his chin on the table. “This is gonna be so gross.”

 

Suguru gave him a look. “Then don’t watch.”

 

He opened the vial with steady hands, and sniffed it, cautious and curious. Then, with a short nod, he let a drop of the citrus clove one hit his tongue.

 

He swallowed the orb.

 

There was a brief pause. His nose wrinkled slightly. Then he blinked. “It’s still disgusting.”

 

My heart sank slightly.

 

“But,” he continued, meeting my eyes again, “it’s a million times more bearable. I didn’t even flinch.”

 

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

 

“Amara,” he said softly, “this is… perfect. I didn’t even know how much I needed something like this.”

 

The look he gave me then, grateful, warm, completely unguarded, sent butterflies straight through my spine. I didn’t even notice I was starting to twirl my hair a little.

 

And then Gojo leaned back with a proud smirk.

 

“Told you,” he said. “Mind. Blown.”

 

Suguru was still holding the pouch in his hand when Gojo stood up with a dramatic clap.

 

“Alright, enough of the sentimental stuff! My turn!”

 

Suguru raised an eyebrow but leaned back in his seat, still visibly soft around the edges from the gift I had given him. “You’ve been waiting all night for this, haven’t you?”

 

Gojo smirked. “Duh. Do you know how hard it was not to spoil everything before you even got back? I’ve been twitching for hours.”

 

He reached under the table and pulled out a carefully wrapped black and gold box with elegant charms tied to the ribbon. No sparkle, no glitter, just sharp, stylish restraint. So Suguru.

 

Suguru blinked. “You wrapped that?”

 

“I supervised,” Gojo said proudly. “Amara actually wrapped it, but I picked the ribbon. And the charms. And the box.”

 

I groan. "You weren’t supposed to tell him." I chuckled lightly.

 

"I'm not going to take credit for your skill. Plus I love having more reasons to hype you up." Satoru smirks widens.

 

Suguru chuckles a little.

 

Satoru set the first gift in front of Suguru with exaggerated care. “Open it.”

 

Suguru didn’t rush. He untied the ribbon like it was an ancient puzzle, peeled back the paper, and lifted the lid.

 

Inside was a full calligraphy set.

 

But not just any set.

 

The brushes were engraved with his initials in kanji. The inkstone shimmered with embedded traces of cursed silver. Everything about it screamed luxury, but not just for the sake of it. It was thoughtful. Personal.

 

Suguru ran his fingers across the silk wrapping. “You remembered I lost my old set.”

 

“Obviously,” Gojo said. “It drove you nuts for weeks.”

 

Suguru didn’t say thank you. He didn’t have to. The way his shoulders relaxed and his jaw unclenched said enough.

 

Gojo grinned and pulled out the second box, this one smaller.

 

“This one’s legal now,” he said, voice smug. “Welcome to adulthood, officially.”

 

Suguru opened it and actually laughed.

 

Inside sat a sleek, expensive bottle of premium sake, nestled in a cushioned case with an inscription on the neck "To the second most powerful man I know." Gojo had gotten that custom engraved.

 

“I’m not drinking this tonight,” Suguru said, amused.

 

“You better not,” Gojo said. “It cost more than your entire wardrobe.”

 

“And whose fault is that?”

 

“Don’t worry about it.”

 

Next came the third gift. A bottle of Suguru’s favorite cologne. Subtle, deep, woodsy, the one I had smelled on him a dozen times without realizing how much I had started to associate it with safety.

 

“This one’s refillable,” Gojo said. “So now you never have an excuse to run out.”

 

And then the last gift.

 

Wrapped in protective seals and layered silk.

 

A cursed weapon.

 

Suguru unwrapped it slowly, reverently, and froze the second he saw what it was.

 

“Playful Cloud?” he breathed, fingers running along the staff’s smooth, lacquered surface.

 

“A special grade,” Gojo said softly now, no joking. “Three-section staff. Rare as hell. Hard to master, but you’re already close. It’s built for hand-to-hand sorcerers who use external reinforcement.”

 

Suguru didn’t speak. He just stared at the weapon, awe and affection flickering across his face like something sacred had been handed to him.

 

Gojo sat back with a small, satisfied smile. “Told you I’d outdo your gift, Amara.”

 

“Let me pretend you didn’t,” I said, but I smiled too.

 

Suguru looked up finally, voice low. “Thank you, Satoru.”

 

Gojo blinked, momentarily caught off-guard by the sincerity in it.

 

Then he clapped his hands again. “Alright, the group’s probably on their way up now. Mentally prepare for Haibara’s volume level.”

 

That actually pulled a laugh from Suguru, quiet but real.

 

---

 

Sure enough, a few minutes later, the common room door slid open and the rest of the crew spilled in.

 

Yu entered first, practically glowing with excitement, followed by Shoko (already halfway through a cigarette), Nanami, Utahime, Ijichi, and even Mei Mei, flawless as always like she hadn’t debated skipping until the very last minute.

 

They came with wrapped gifts, small boxes, and paper bags.

 

But most importantly, they came with open smiles, easy laughter, and presence.

 

And for once?

 

Suguru didn’t shrink under it.

 

He just smiled back.

 

---

 

The common room turned to chaos.

 

Yu, Nanami, and Shoko were locked in a heated game of Mario Party, with Haibara yelling at the screen like it owed him money and Shoko threatening to curse the console if it glitched again. Utahime just stayed close to Shoko and watched them play, making comments here and there.

 

In the far corner, Gojo had cornered Mei Mei and Ijichi, animatedly reenacting a Digimon battle with exaggerated hand gestures and sound effects.

 

Mei Mei looked vaguely murderous. Ijichi looked like he was calculating how many cursed spirits he could survive fighting just to escape.

 

Which meant it was the perfect time to slip away.

 

I tugged gently on Suguru’s sleeve and nodded toward the kitchen alcove just out of view. “Come on. Just for a second.”

 

He followed without a word, already smiling like he knew what I was up to.

 

Once we were mostly out of sight, I pulled the sleek bottle of sake Gojo had gifted him off the counter and held it up. “It’s your birthday. We should toast.”

 

Suguru raised a brow. “Thought you didn’t drink much.”

 

“I don’t,” I said, already grabbing two cups. “But I’ll make an exception. Just one.”

 

He looked at me for a moment then took the bottle from my hand and poured. The sound of the liquid hitting porcelain was soft beneath the noise of the party.

 

“To you,” I said, raising my cup.

 

“To my favorite girl,” he replied, eyes gleaming.

 

We drank.

 

The warmth hit slow but steady, curling in my chest.

 

“You’re smooth,” I muttered, setting the cup down.

 

“Only with you,” he said easily.

 

I rolled my eyes, but my face was already warm. “You keep that up and I’m gonna need another shot for courage.”

 

He didn’t miss a beat, just poured again with that same slow, smug grace, and slid the cup back into my hand.

 

We clinked them.

 

And drank again.

 

“You know,” he said, leaning slightly against the counter, “when I first met you… I thought you were going to be a pain in the ass.”

 

I laugh. “Thanks.”

 

“No, I mean it,” he laughed too. “You had this... chip on your shoulder. Like you’d punch the sun if it looked at you wrong.”

 

I raised my brow. “I still might.”

 

He smiled, soft now, sincere. “But you were sharp. Observant. I noticed that first. Before you ever showed your cursed technique or even said anything real. You just… watched. Like you were trying to figure out if this place was going to break you too.”

 

I didn’t know what to say to that.

 

So he kept talking.

 

“I didn’t expect you to stay. Or to care. Or to get under my skin like this.”

 

My voice was quieter than I meant it to be. “When I first saw you, I thought you were... untouchable.”

 

His brow lifted. “Really?”

 

“Yeah. You were so calm, so put together. Like nothing rattled you.” I paused. “Then I realized you’re just better at hiding it than most.”

 

That made him go still for a moment. Like something in him recognized the honesty and didn’t know where to place it.

 

“I’m not hiding anything right now,” he said, voice a little rougher. “I’m not calm either.”

 

I swallowed. “No?”

 

He stepped closer, not quite touching me, but the air between us pulled tight.

 

“I want to kiss you,” he murmured, like it physically hurt to admit it. “I’ve wanted to for weeks. Since that kiss on Satoru's birthday. I was hoping to ask you more eloquently but right now, with you looking at me like that, I’m begging you...”

 

My heart tripped.

 

His voice. His eyes. That slightly breathless edge to the way he said it.

 

I melted.

 

I leaned in, about to close the space, when-

 

“Hey,” Gojo’s voice echoed from the hallway, “where’d my two favorite people disappear to?”

 

Suguru groaned so hard it sounded physical.

 

I let out a breathy laugh. “We can be quick.”

 

He took that offer immediately.

 

His hand caught my waist, the other cupping the back of my neck as he surged forward. The kiss was messy, rushed, desperate. Like he had held it back so long he couldn’t think straight anymore.

 

Our mouths moved fast, needy. His lips were warm, the taste of sake still fresh, and the sound he made, when I kissed him back like I meant it, might’ve ruined me forever.

 

He pressed me gently, then more firmly, against the wall.

 

His hands found my waist. His body pinned mine.

 

His mouth was back on mine before I could take another breath, then lower, his lips trailing across my jaw, down my neck. I gasped when he kissed that sensitive spot just beneath my ear. I felt him smile against my skin.

 

“Suguru-” I whispered, but it came out more like a sigh.

 

Then footsteps.

 

I stiffened. “Suguru, someone’s coming-”

 

He didn’t stop right away. Another kiss to my throat. Slower now. Lingering.

 

Then he heard it.

 

He pulled back just in time, one hand still braced on the wall beside my head. He cleared his throat, chest rising and falling a little too quickly, his mouth still kiss-bruised and parted.

 

“There you are,” Satoru’s voice chimed in as he rounded the corner. “I was starting to feel abandoned.”

 

I turned so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet.

 

Gojo stood there with a lopsided grin, sunglasses pushed into his hair, a half-finished snack in one hand. His gaze flicked between us, me breathless and pink, Suguru looking way too casual but still flushed, and he raised a single white brow.

 

“Well well well,” he said. “What’s going on over here?” His tone was teasing, but the glint in his eyes said he already knew.

 

Suguru didn’t even hesitate. “I was kissing our girlfriend.”

 

I choked. “Suguru-!”

 

Gojo blinked once, then pouted dramatically. “Excuse me? You were what now?”

 

“I mean,” I mumbled, face on fire, “you got kisses on your birthday too-”

 

“Yeah but-” he pointed between us, “I didn’t get to kiss Suguru tonight. And certainly not all hot and bothered like that.”

 

Suguru looked at him, completely deadpan. “Then kiss me.”

 

And Satoru?

 

Didn’t flinch.

 

He stepped forward without a beat of hesitation and kissed him.

 

It wasn’t rushed. Wasn’t wild. It was slow and steady, familiar in a way that sent a hot jolt through my chest. Suguru leaned into it with a soft sound, one hand cupping the back of Gojo’s neck.

 

When they pulled apart, breath a little uneven, Satoru turned to me, flushed and grinning.

 

“Okay,” he said, voice rough with warmth. “Now I feel balanced.”

 

Suguru slid an arm around my waist.

 

Gojo mirrored him, pressing close from the other side, his arm draped over my shoulder as they pulled me into the middle, flush between them.

 

Their hands started to roam. Not greedy. Not rushed. Just… there.

 

Gojo’s fingertips traced idle lines up and down my spine.

 

Suguru’s palm pressed against my hip, steady and grounding.

 

I looked up at them, heart thudding wildly, not sure which one to speak to first. But they didn’t ask for anything more. Not yet.

 

Gojo rested his forehead gently against mine.

 

“You’re ours, you know,” he said, softly now. “We’re not gonna rush you. But we’re not letting you go, either.”

 

I could barely breathe.

 

Suguru kissed my temple, slow and warm. “Not ever.”

 

Pressed between them, warm hands on my back, Suguru’s breath near my neck, and Satoru’s forehead resting against mine, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just us.

 

Their cursed energy curled softly around me, familiar and protective. I let myself sink into it, just for a moment. Just long enough to feel like I belonged there.

 

Which was why, maybe, the words slipped out before I could stop them.

 

“I think we might be pushing a little past the ‘just friends’ boundary,” I said, trying to keep my voice light.

 

Gojo pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, then dramatically gasped. “What?! No way. You mean all friends don’t pin each other to walls and make out in hallways?”

 

Suguru chuckled quietly behind me, and I could feel the vibration of it against my back. “I guess we’re redefining friendship. Personally, I’m fine with whatever this is.”

 

He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and added, softer now, “I love having my two favorite people this close.”

 

My heart did a little somersault.

 

Satoru leaned in again, grinning. “Okay, so now that we’ve all admitted we’re friends-plus… can I get a second kiss from my favorite pretty girl?”

 

I narrowed my eyes at him, feigning suspicion. “Just one?”

 

He pouted. “I’ve been so patient~”

 

“That’s a lie.”

 

Suguru raised a brow. “That’s a bold lie.”

 

I sighed with exaggerated dramatics. “Fine. But if you get handsy again I’m biting.”

 

“That’s hot. Please do..”

 

Before I could fire back, he was kissing me.

 

This one wasn’t teasing.

 

It was deep. Slow. Consuming. His hands stayed respectful, barely curved along my waist, but the way his lips moved with mine made my knees go weak. I could feel every unspoken thing in it, every time he’d wanted to kiss me and didn’t. Every moment he held back. Every ounce of Satoru Gojo's reckless heart offered all at once.

 

I made a small, embarrassing sound in the back of my throat and had to grip the front of his shirt to stay grounded.

 

And then I pulled back, just a little, breathless, dizzy.

 

“Okay,” I said, panting softly. “Calm down.”

 

He blinked, looking both pleased and dazed. “You started it.”

 

“I really didn’t.”

 

Suguru smiled, lazy and warm, brushing his thumb along my shoulder. “You’re both disasters.”

 

“You love it,” Gojo muttered, still catching his breath.

 

Suguru tilted his head. “I really, really do.”

 

 

Chapter 22: Spoil Her Rotten

“Alright,” Gojo said, adjusting his sunglasses as they stepped out of the train station and into the heart of the city. “We’ve got one mission. One objective. One sacred task.”

 

“Make sure she actually feels loved this year?” Suguru offered, already pulling out a folded list.

 

Gojo glanced over. “No. I was gonna say ‘buy everything she’s ever looked at for more than two seconds,’ but yours works too.”

 

Shoko had her orders, keep Amara distracted for at least six hours. Which was going well, considering she texted thirty minutes ago: she’s eating waffles and fighting me over a claw machine. Do not screw this up.

 

They wouldn’t.

 

They couldn’t.

 

Not when it was Amara’s first real birthday.

 

Suguru led the charge.

 

He knew her style almost too well by now: dark tones, silver jewelry, combat boots she wore into the ground, and sleeves long enough to swallow her hands.

 

The first shop was small, tucked between two bookstores. Inside was a dream, racks of layered skirts, distressed tights, oversized printed tees, and accessories that didn’t sparkle, they glinted.

 

He picked out a muted army green maxi skirt, a black hoodie with silver-thread details, and a purple plaid mini to match the fuzzy legwarmers she always wore. When Gojo returned from the other aisle, he dropped three chunky pairs of black platform boots and said, “You can pick your favorite but I’m getting all three anyway.”

 

Suguru didn’t argue. He knew better.

 

---

 

Gojo handled the aesthetics.

 

He grabbed silver chains, gothic-style rings, a pair of earrings that matched her gauges, and a locket, clean, oval, understated.

 

He handed it to Suguru without saying anything.

 

Suguru opened it.

 

Inside was a tiny printed photo they’d taken after a mission weeks ago: Gojo with one arm around Amara, the other flashing a peace sign. Suguru was mid-smile. Amara was laughing and blushing.

 

Suguru shut the locket slowly. “She’s gonna cry.”

 

“I know,” Gojo said proudly.

 

---

 

They moved through the city like men possessed.

 

They stopped at a boutique and bought a rich black bedspread with stitched Gothic patterns and matching dark purple pillowcases. Gojo found a tiny bookshelf shaped like a coffin and didn’t even blink before paying. Suguru loaded up with candles, amber, lavender, sugary sweet, and a little wooden box of incense with engraved bats.

 

“Smells like her room should. It smells like us too much sometimes,” he murmured.

 

Satoru laughed. "I think that's a good thing personally."

 

---

 

They passed a tiny stationery store, and Gojo paused.

 

Inside was pastel romance manga, all wrapped in plastic. He bought five different series. The cashier blinked at him.

 

“These aren't for me,” he explained. “They’re for him.” he points his thumb at Suguru. 

 

Suguru sighs and shakes his head.

 

---

 

“Last stop,” Suguru said as they ducked into a small indie shop.

 

The racks looked handmade. Natural fibers, one of a kind pieces. Gojo held up a black oversized tee with a soft fairy print and glanced over his sunglasses. “She’d wear this.”

 

“She already does,” Suguru said, flipping the tag. “Get it a size bigger though.”

 

They found a pair of thick black cargos with purple plaid patches and a long, layered velvet dress with lace detailing that Gojo touched and muttered, “I swear if she doesn’t wear this while mocking me I’m gonna scream.”

 

Gojo tossed the velvet dress over his arm with a grin, already picturing how Amara would roll her eyes before inevitably wearing it to torment him. “Okay, I’m done. If she doesn’t try to seduce me in this, what’s the point?”

 

“Oh my god,” Suguru muttered, amused. “You’re impossible.”

 

“You’re the one buying her the lace-up corset top, so don’t pretend your hands are clean.”

 

“Difference is, I can handle myself,” Suguru said, flipping through a rack of slouchy black sweaters. Then, with a sly glance, he added, “You remember last time you tried to ‘handle yourself’? Drunk cuddles? Amara on your lap? Head in her chest? You were so blissed out that you looked like a cult member. Thought you might start a religion right there." 

 

Gojo groaned, face already flushing beneath his sunglasses. “Bro. That was a fluke.”

 

“‘A fluke’?” Suguru smirked, mimicking Gojo’s drawl. “You got a hard-on in front of your two favorite people, apologized like your life was ending, and she still let you cuddle. Just, ya know, had you facing the wall.”

 

“Don’t act like you weren’t enjoying the view too,” Gojo shot back, shoving a fuzzy purple cardigan into Suguru’s arms. “Besides, you were blushing when she changed into your shirt. We’re both screwed.”

 

“I’m not the one who had to hide under a pillow and moan like I got stabbed.”

 

“Because I was mortified!” Gojo hissed, then added under his breath, “Also... kinda excited. Which is her fault, honestly.”

 

“She sat on your lap because you begged like a needy dog,” Suguru said casually. “You were already all over her, kissing her collarbone like she was made of dessert. Honestly? She was too polite about it.”

 

Gojo muttered something unintelligible and shoved a set of silver rings into their basket. “I’m buying her these and pretending this conversation never happened.”

 

“You were so red, Satoru. And you didn’t even get drunk enough to forget. Just drunk enough to make it weird.”

 

Gojo laughed despite himself. “Next time, you’re the one getting seduced into cuddle mode.”

 

Suguru gave him a smug look. “I’m always in cuddle mode. I just don’t get accidentally horny over it.”

 

Gojo reached for a bottle of incense and smirked. “You will. Just wait. She’ll crawl into your lap next time, press those cold toes against your thigh, and you’ll be finished.”

 

Suguru hummed, that smug knowing smile creeping across his face. “You say that like you wouldn’t enjoy watching it.”

 

“I’d enjoy suffering through it,” Gojo shot back. “But seriously... it’s weird, you know?”

 

Suguru raised an eyebrow, loading a set of candles into their basket. “What is?”

 

Gojo shifted, pretending to be preoccupied with picking through incense scents. “Getting excited like that. That... doesn’t happen. Not with anyone.”

 

Suguru tilted his head slightly, tone softening. “You mean besides her.”

 

“Her and-” Gojo glanced over the shelf, then smirked without meeting Suguru’s eyes. “You, sometimes. But it’s rare.”

 

Suguru didn't laugh. He knew this side of Gojo, the one who overanalyzed his own emotions in secret and hated feeling like he couldn’t control his body like he did everything else. “It’s not weird. You never cared before.”

 

“Exactly,” Gojo muttered, exhaling a slow breath. “I didn’t. I didn’t even really get it. I mean, when we were younger? You were the one who had to explain that stuff to me.”

 

Suguru chuckled. “You found those damn magazines.”

 

“You left them out,” Gojo shot back. “And I remember staring at them like... okay? Cool pictures? But it didn’t make me feel anything.”

 

Suguru smirked. “Yeah. You asked me why anyone would look at them instead of just going outside.”

 

“Yeah! Because I didn’t get it,” Gojo said, grinning faintly now. “And I still didn’t, for years. People would flirt with me all the time and I liked it, I liked being wanted, but not because I wanted them back. I liked the attention. The moment someone gave me their number, I’d just toss it. It was just... a quick high. It never meant anything.”

 

Suguru nodded, understanding. “You like being admired. But until now, you didn’t care for anything deeper.”

 

Gojo nodded slowly. “Yeah. Then you and Amara come along and suddenly I’m thinking about her sitting in my lap for weeks. And not just that, it’s... everything. Her voice, her laugh, how she looks at us like we’re not monsters.”

 

Suguru’s expression softened. “You’re not a monster.”

 

Gojo gave him a look. “You’re biased.”

 

“I’m wise,” Suguru corrected with a shrug. “But yeah. I noticed. You’re different with her. With us.”

 

Gojo paused, then added more quietly, “I still haven’t... you know. Jerked off.”

 

Suguru blinked. “Still?”

 

Gojo shrugged one shoulder. “I mean I have just to feel it out, I guess. But didn’t really care for it. But now? I don’t know. It’s like my body finally caught up to my heart or something.”

 

“That’s actually kind of sweet.”

 

Gojo rolled his eyes. “Gross.”

 

“You are,” Suguru deadpanned, then smiled again. “But I get it. You’re still figuring out how your body reacts.”

 

“You’re more comfortable with all that,” Gojo said, nudging his arm. “You push lines. I just follow the current.”

 

“I like pushing when I know I’ve got consent,” Suguru replied honestly. “But you? You don’t chase things unless you want them. And you’re finally starting to want something like that.”

 

Gojo looked down at the basket in his arms, filled with soft purple sweaters, incense, jewelry, and all the things they’d hand-picked just for her.

 

“Yeah,” he murmured, the smallest grin tugging at his lips. “I really do.”

 

Suguru clapped him on the back. “Then stop overthinking it. Let her see it.”

 

Gojo gave him a devilish smirk.

 

Suguru sighs. "Not your dick. Your soft side, you freak."

 

Gojo smirked. “Maybe I will. After she tries on that dress and mocks me in it.”

 

Suguru snorted. “Just don’t get hard in public this time.”

 

Gojo groaned. “I hate you.”

 

“You love me.”

 

“…Unfortunately.”

 

Suguru takes a moment then looks back to Satoru. "Wait does that mean you've been thinking of touching yourself now?" Suguru asks bluntly.

 

Gojo groans. "You would hang onto that, ya secret freak." He sighs. "I've thought about it more than usual and if I think about her and you too much it, uh, yeah... makes things complicated. But we've been sleeping in the same bed too much for me to try anything." 

 

Suguru smirks widely. "Good to know." 

 

"Shut up."

 

---

 

Finally, as they stood at the checkout counter surrounded by gift bags and folded outfits, Suguru looked over at Gojo.

 

“She’s going to know.”

 

Gojo glanced up. “Know what?”

 

“That we’re both completely gone for her.”

 

Gojo grinned. “Yeah. I think that's a good thing.”

 

---

 

Back on the train, bags piled between them, Suguru leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

 

“We did good,” he said.

 

“Obviously,” Gojo replied. Then paused. “You think she’s gonna like the room decor stuff?”

 

“She keeps her space empty because she’s scared to get attached,” Suguru said. “You gave her a reason to fill it.”

 

Gojo was quiet for a beat. Then...

 

“You’re so sappy sometimes.”

 

“You’re worse.”

 

They sat in silence, the kind that only exists between people who understand each other deeply.

 

For the first time in her life, Amara was going to be celebrated.

 

Not tolerated.

 

Not pitied.

 

Loved.

 

And they were going to make damn sure she knew it.

 

---------

 

Shoko was acting suspicious as hell.

 

Not the usual lazy “I’ve had three hours of sleep and want caffeine.” suspicious, but real, measured eyes-glinting mischief. I’d seen her in this mood maybe twice. Once before a prank on Gojo that ended with three cursed raccoons in his room, and once when she “accidentally” switched Nanami’s cologne with lavender-scented deodorant.

 

So when she dragged me back to the dorms with a mysterious grin and armful of clothes, I knew something was up.

 

“Why are you making me try stuff on?” I asked, holding up one of the shirts she’d tossed at me.

 

“It’s your birthday,” she said casually, flopping down onto my bed. “You’re not allowed to look like you gave up.”

 

I frowned. “It’s not my birthday.”

 

She looked at me. “Amara. It’s your birthday.”

 

I blinked. “Oh...”

 

The silence stretched for a second before she leaned up and threw a fishnet shirt at my face. “Now shut up and get dressed.”

 

---

 

We settled on an outfit I hadn’t even remembered owning.

 

The cropped, striped top hugged my ribs, the long sleeves covering just past my hands, just how I liked it. My fishnets peeked out above my black jeans, and the layered belts sat low on my hips. I hadn’t worn my silver cross necklace in months, but Shoko helped me untangle the chains and clasp it behind my neck.

 

“You look hot,” she declared, arms crossed. “And I love the belly button ring. Suguru’s gonna combust.”

 

I chuckled. “Why is that a selling point?”

 

“Because it’s funny.”

 

I shook my head, fingers tugging at the edge of the sleeve. “I still don’t get why you’re doing all this.”

 

She grinned, grabbed my hand, and said, “You will.”

 

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

 

Back in the common room, Gojo and Suguru were finishing the setup.

 

The space was warm with candlelight and the amber glow from the GameCube’s menu screen, already humming softly with idle music. They’d arranged pillows and blankets around the low table, stacked with Amara’s favorite snacks, drinks, and, of course, the purple frosted, heart-shaped cake in the center. Black sprinkles glinted under the soft lights. The scent of lavender and sandalwood from the incense Suguru had picked filled the room.

 

Gift bags lined the wall, organized and obsessively labeled by Gojo. The locket was wrapped and tucked beneath the corner of the table, and the new bed set was hidden in her room, ready for the second surprise later.

 

Gojo checked his phone and smirked. "She’s on the way. Get your serious face on."

 

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

 

Shoko pulled me around the corner toward the common room.

 

“What are we doing?” I whispered. “Why are there lights on in there? Did Gojo break something again-?”

 

The door opened.

 

And I froze.

 

Everyone was there, Yu, Nanami, Utahime, and even Ijichi. But not Mei Mei, which felt somehow correct.

 

The lights were soft. The cake was purple. There was a wrapped stack of my favorite mangas on the table. The room smelled like comfort. The GameCube was already on. And all of them turned toward me with stupid, warm smiles that made my stomach twist.

 

Satoru stepped forward, hands in his pockets, sunglasses tucked onto his head, that boyish grin plastered across his face.

 

“Happy birthday, Amara.”

 

Suguru followed right after, slower, but eyes warmer than I’d ever seen them. “You didn’t think we’d let it pass, did you?”

 

My mouth opened. Nothing came out.

 

I looked around at all of them, the decorations, the snacks, the thoughtful details, and something in my chest cracked open.

 

They remembered.

 

They knew.

 

They cared.

 

I barely stepped fully into the room before both Gojo and Suguru turned into statues.

 

Not the subtle kind, either. The kind where they visibly forgot how to function.

 

Suguru’s eyes swept over me slow and low, lingering far too long at my waist before snapping politely to my face. His mouth parted slightly like he was about to say something, then thought better of it.

 

Gojo, on the other hand, just straight-up stared.

 

"Well damn,” he muttered under his breath.

 

Shoko elbowed him hard.

 

I glanced down at myself, already warm from head to toe, fighting the urge to cross my arms.

 

“I told you,” Shoko said with an evil smirk. “She’s hot.”

 

“Yeah,” Gojo said, dragging a hand down his face like it would somehow cool him off. “We know. We have eyes.”

 

Suguru cleared his throat, adjusted the sleeves of his shirt, and nodded like he was convincing himself to behave. “You look beautiful.”

 

That one landed square in my chest.

 

I tried to ignore the way I could feel their eyes every time I shifted or tugged on the hem of my top. They weren’t leering. Just… visibly trying not to fall apart.

 

And honestly?

 

Same.

 

Because everything was perfect.

 

My cake. My colors. My people.

 

I took a deep breath. Focused. I would not cry. I would not ruin this moment with messy feelings that made me want to crawl into the nearest blanket and disappear.

 

I tried to just be.

 

---

 

Someone dimmed the lights, and Yu lit the candles. Shoko grabbed her drink and started the song, dragging the rest of them into a chaotic, slightly off-key chorus of Happy Birthday.

 

I stood frozen in front of the cake, not sure where to look, eyes stinging already.

 

And then I felt them.

 

Two sets of arms, one around each shoulder.

 

Satoru on my left, his chin brushing my temple. Suguru on my right, his hand firm and steady at the small of my back.

 

They swayed me gently, rocking us back and forth as the song carried on around us.

 

Gojo’s voice was loud and dramatic, dragging out every syllable like it was a stage production.

 

Suguru sang low, soft, and a little off-tune, like he didn’t care as long as I heard it.

 

I pressed my lips together so tightly they ached.

 

Because it was too much.

 

Because no one had ever done this before.

 

They made sure I knew it wasn’t just about a day on the calendar. It was about me.

 

And the moment they finished the last line and everyone clapped, Suguru leaned in and whispered, “Make a wish, pretty girl.”

 

I gently bonked my head against them lightly and then I blew out the candles with everyone cheering around me.

 

For a second, I just stood there, blinking at the smoke, not sure what to do with the lump in my throat. And then I turned and threw my arms around both of them.

 

Gojo pulled me in first, arms tight around my waist as he rocked me side to side with the giddy enthusiasm of someone who’d eaten too many sweets. Suguru came in a second later, calm, grounded, arms wrapping around my back with practiced ease.

 

It wasn’t a delicate hug.

 

It was warm. Solid. The kind you melt into without realizing.

 

I held on like I never wanted to let go.

 

---

 

The party moved into something cozy not long after.

 

Games were played, Yu screamed loudest at Smash Bros, especially when Shoko KO’d him with Peach. Nanami, somehow, was unbeatable at Mario Kart. Ijichi lost to Utahime and then spent the next hour analyzing why. Gojo set up a projector for a movie, but halfway through, most of them started dozing off or sneaking out.

 

Shoko winked at me before grabbing her jacket. “Happy birthday again. Try not to combust.”

 

“I make no promises,” I muttered.

 

By midnight, the only ones left awake were me, Satoru, and Suguru. The candles had burned down to soft nubs. The projector was still glowing dimly with a paused Ghibli menu screen.

 

I was curled into the middle of the couch, legs tucked under me, head heavy with more happiness than I knew what to do with.

 

Gojo leaned over the back of the couch, chin resting on his arm. “Hey birthday girl.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“You wanna do gifts now?”

 

I hesitated. “We could wait until tomorrow.”

 

Suguru sat down beside me, handing me a glass of water like he’d read my thoughts. “We figured tonight would be better. Fewer people. Less pressure.”

 

I looked at both of them.

 

They knew. They always knew.

 

“Yeah,” I said, voice low. “Let’s do it now.”

 

Gojo clapped his hands together and grinned. “Prepare to be spoiled absolutely rotten.”

 

I opened the first gift slowly, hands trembling just enough to notice.

 

They sat close on either side, Suguru’s knee brushing mine, Satoru sprawled across half the couch like he forgot he wasn’t the center of the universe.

 

Inside the first bag was a thick pair of black fuzzy socks, decorated with tiny stitched bats. A little handwritten tag tied to them read: For when your feet are as cold as your heart. Satoru’s handwriting.

 

I smiled. Quiet. Soft. Hugged them to my chest and whispered, “These are perfect.”

 

Then came the incense box, bat carved, my favorite lavender and sandalwood blend already tucked inside. Then the candles. Then the bed set, black and deep purple, soft like cloud-soaked cotton. Then the outfits. One after another. All my style. All my colors. The boots. The hoodie. The fairy tee. The dress.

 

And then the locket.

 

A small, silver thing with a tiny hinge and a photo inside that punched the breath right out of my lungs. They had written 'Family looks different now' on the inside cover.

 

I set the open box in my lap, and something in me cracked.

 

"I-" I started, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I don’t deserve all this.”

 

Suguru leaned in slightly. “Amara-”

 

“No, really. It’s so much. It’s everything. It’s too much. I’ve never had-” My voice caught, jagged and raw. “I’ve never had someone do this for me. Not like this. Not even close.”

 

My fingers curled into the fabric of my pants. My chest twisted like it couldn’t decide if it wanted to break or burst. “She never even tried. My mom. Not even once. I spent every birthday pretending it didn’t matter, telling myself it was just a day.”

 

The tears came fast. Hot. Ugly.

 

“And you two-” I gasped, pressing the locket to my chest, “-you made it look so easy. Like it wasn’t a fight. Like it wasn’t a burden.”

 

My shoulders shook. I doubled over, choking on sobs that wouldn’t stop. Everything I had buried, everything I thought I had moved past, it all flooded up and spilled out like I was drowning in it.

 

They didn’t panic.

 

Suguru pulled me against him first, hand firm and steady on my back. “You do deserve this. Every bit of it.”

 

Satoru moved next, gathering me into his lap with all the grace of a weighted blanket. “We were always gonna do this for you. You didn’t have to earn it. You just had to exist.”

 

I clung to them both, face hidden, chest heaving.

 

Gojo rubbed slow circles into my spine, his voice gentler than I had ever heard it. “C’mon now. You’re gonna ruin my cool guy rep with all this sincerity.”

 

I sniffed. Loudly. And wiped my face, eyes, nose, and all, on the front of his shirt.

 

He paused.

 

“Did you just- Amara!”

 

I looked up at him, tear-streaked and red-eyed. “It was there.”

 

He gaped, full dramatics loading. “This is my birthday shirt! My most emotionally significant shirt! I wore it on Suguru’s birthday too!”

 

Suguru raised an eyebrow. “You wore that to bed two nights ago with nacho dust all over it.”

 

“It’s a legacy now!”

 

I laughed.

 

Short, broken, but real.

 

And when Suguru pulled me tighter and Gojo pressed a kiss to the top of my head, I let myself believe it.

 

I wasn’t alone anymore.

 

And maybe I never would be again.

 

They wiped my tears with the softest hands, kissed my temple like it was sacred, and then, with zero hesitation, started dragging everything into my room.

 

The new bed set came first, dark purple with subtle stitched gothic patterns and black and purple silk pillowcases. Suguru took over smoothing the comforter while Gojo insisted on fluffing the pillows “exactly like hotel ones, but cooler.”

 

We hung up a few posters, lit two of the new candles, and arranged the incense box near the window. My fuzzy socks went into the top drawer. The new manga set went on the nightstand. Suguru even refolded the skirts I had already owned just to make space in the drawer for the new clothes.

 

By the time we finished, it was nearly 3 am.

 

The room looked… mine. Lived in. Loved in.

 

Like someone had claimed it for me because I didn’t know how to claim it for myself.

 

I stood in the doorway, watching them move around like they had always belonged here, and said softly, “I want cuddles.”

 

Gojo froze mid-pillow toss. “Say less.”

 

Suguru smirked. “Give us a second.”

 

They both peeled off their outer layers, stripping down to boxers and T-shirts like it was the most natural thing in the world. I turned toward my dresser, hands already reaching for the oversized black tee with the delicate fairy print. One of my new favorites.

 

I pulled off my pants and top, standing in just my underwear, back still turned.

 

Behind me, Gojo whistled under his breath. “Do we look away or…?”

 

Suguru, voice slightly rougher than usual “Yeah, what’s the protocol here?”

 

“It’s just my back,” I said, rolling my eyes even as I blushed. “Don’t get weird.”

 

“That’s a lot more skin than you usually show. Like you don't even have your sports bra on...” Satoru said like he was physically struggling not to comment.

 

I didn’t turn around. I just smirked and tossed my shirt over my shoulder, letting the soft cotton drop to the floor.

 

“Didn’t know I was being monitored.”

 

“Not monitored,” Suguru said, voice smooth and low. “Admired.”

 

Satoru made a little sound in the back of his throat. “You know what’s criminal?” he said. “All these damn freckles.”

 

That made me pause. “What?”

 

“You’ve got so many,” he said, borderline scandalized. “Like, how did I not notice this many before?”

 

I turned slightly so they could see more of my side.

 

“Seriously,” he murmured. “They’re like constellations. You’re basically a galaxy.”

 

Suguru leaned forward a little, gaze softer now. “They’re beautiful,” he added, and somehow it wasn’t even flirty, just true.

 

I blushed hard. The kind of heat that crept all the way up to my ears.

 

I gave a little hip sway without thinking, biting back a laugh. “Stop looking like that. You’re gonna make me cocky.”

 

Gojo grinned. “That’s the plan.”

 

I stayed facing away for a beat longer, arms wrapping around my chest. My skin burned from their compliments, the kind that felt too genuine to be a joke. And I wasn’t used to that kind of attention, not the kind that didn’t come with expectations or cruelty hidden beneath it.

 

“You’re both ridiculous,” I muttered, but there was no venom in it. Just flustered heat.

 

“I mean,” Gojo said behind me, voice almost boyishly earnest, “you’ve got no idea what you look like, do you?”

 

I turned slightly, still clutching my chest, but enough so I could peek at them from the corner of my eye. They were both in boxers and soft cotton, casual like they weren’t currently watching me in nothing but underwear and nerves.

 

My stomach had rounded out a little. Not bloated, just fuller. Softer. Healthier. When I first got to Jujutsu High, I was practically skeletal, living off caffeine and spite. Now I had thighs that touched and hips with shape, a belly with softness. I wasn’t ashamed of it, not really. But it still felt new.

 

Their eyes didn’t move like they were scanning for flaws.

 

“You okay?” Suguru asked, voice lower now. Not seductive but careful.

 

I gave a small nod. “Yeah. I’m good.”

 

They didn’t come closer. Didn’t crowd me. They just... waited.

 

“Can we touch?” Satoru asked after a long beat. “Just... hands. Polite ones. Promise.”

 

I blinked. “You’re asking?”

 

“Of course we are,” Suguru said. “We don’t want you to feel like we’re taking something you’re not ready to give.”

 

I swallowed. That lump of emotion, half affection, half disbelief, wedged itself right in my throat. I nodded slowly.

 

“You can touch,” I said softly. “Just- keep your hands polite. Don’t make me move mine.”

 

Gojo was the first to move. He stepped forward like I was a fragile creature and he didn’t want to spook me. Then, without a word, he picked up the black fairy-printed shirt from the floor and handed it over, his fingers brushing mine.

 

“Here,” he murmured, “so you don’t have to defend yourself with your arms.”

 

I smiled, small and grateful, pressing the soft cotton against my chest but not putting it on yet. I just held it there like a barrier I chose. Like armor I was willing to let them around yet.

 

With my chest covered, I let them take me in.

 

Gojo stepped closer again, his hands ghosting along my waist. Not gripping, just resting, like he needed to feel I was real.

 

“You’ve filled out,” he said, awe in his voice. “Like... in the best way.”

 

“I eat now,” I muttered, lips twitching.

 

“Good,” Suguru added, kneeling slightly to trace a finger down the side of my thigh, just above the hem of my underwear. “It suits you. You look strong.”

 

My face flushed again. “Strong’s not usually a word people use when someone's like this.”

 

“It’s the only one that matters,” Suguru said simply.

 

Gojo’s fingers slid up toward the dip of my back, tracing freckles along the spine with gentle reverence. “You’ve got a whole constellation back here, I swear.”

 

“I’m gonna get a big head,” I warned.

 

“Please do,” he said. “You’d deserve it.”

 

Their hands were warm. Steady. And polite, like I asked. But not cold or impersonal. I could feel how badly they both wanted to pull me closer, but they waited. Always waited.

 

I swallowed hard and looked over my shoulder. “You know, I didn’t think I could ever feel okay like this.”

 

Suguru smiled at me, slow and honest. “That’s because no one ever let you.”

 

Gojo leaned in, brushing his lips against my shoulder, light as air. “We’ll always ask first.”

 

I breathed in, letting the weight of that settle in my chest.

 

“Okay,” I said. “Then ask if you can cuddle me already. It’s cold.”

 

Suguru’s grin widened. “May we cuddle you, pretty girl?”

 

“You may,” I said, finally letting the shirt slip over my head and settle around my body. “But I get to be the middle.”

 

Gojo beamed like I just told him he’d won the lottery. “Best seat in the house.”

 

I climbed into bed, and both boys made space, Gojo immediately flopped onto his back with an arm wide open, Suguru curling in from the side like a lazy shadow.

 

I settled between them, laying on my side with Suguru’s hand resting gently at the curve of my hip.

 

Gojo curled around behind me and tucked his head into the crook of my shoulder, his fingers resting lightly on my stomach… and then trailing lower.

 

I felt it, soft, familiar, absent-minded.

 

He started gently playing with my belly button ring, rolling the cool metal between his fingertips in slow, unconscious little circles.

 

He wasn’t even aware of it. Just a habit. Like stimming.

 

I smiled into the pillow.

 

Suguru noticed, of course. He raised a brow. “You’re doing the thing again.”

 

“Hm?” Gojo mumbled, halfway to sleep.

 

“Her belly ring.”

 

“Oh.” Gojo paused. “It’s nice. Feels cool. Kinda clicky.”

 

“It’s literally in my body,” I said, laughing softly.

 

“Yeah, and it’s perfect,” he muttered, not stopping.

 

Suguru shook his head with a small smile and kissed my temple. “We’re a mess.”

 

“But we’re her mess,” Gojo mumbled.

 

My heart ached in the best way.

 

And surrounded by the weight of them, by the soft press of Suguru’s lips against my hair and Gojo’s fingers still tracing gentle circles over the silver ring in my navel, I closed my eyes.

 

 

Chapter 23: Big Sister

They left that morning.

 

Suguru with his coat half-buttoned, eyes steady but soft. Satoru with his sunglasses on and his hoodie pulled half over his head like he was still pretending to be asleep. They both kissed my cheeks, Suguru subtle and warm, Satoru dramatic and loud and promised they’d be back in two days.

 

It wasn’t a big mission. Routine, Yaga said. A containment job out near Osaka.

 

Still, the dorm felt quieter the moment the door clicked shut behind them.

 

Not broken-quiet. Just… noticeably emptier.

 

Too much room to think.

 

---

 

“You’re up early,” Shoko said around a yawn, lighting her cigarette with the kind of indifference that only came from habit.

 

“Didn’t sleep much,” I admitted, pulling on my boots.

 

“You miss your dumbass boyfriends already?”

 

I flushed. “We’re not-”

 

She gave me a look.

 

“Okay,” I muttered. “I'm missing Satoru and Suguru a little bit..”

 

---

 

Yaga had scheduled me for extra training today, said something about improving my cursed energy control while “the distractions” were gone. Rude.

 

But when I stepped outside onto the training field, I didn’t expect to see her.

 

Yuki Tsukumo.

 

Tall. Blond. Effortlessly cool in a way that didn’t feel forced at all, like she just existed outside the rules the rest of us were learning to live by.

 

Leather jacket. Loose slacks. Sharp eyes. Easy smirk.

 

“Ohhh,” she said when she saw me. “So you’re the bloodline girl.”

 

I blinked. “Uh… yeah? I think?”

 

“I’ve heard about you,” she said, stepping closer. “Healing shields. Vine tricks. The usual rebellious flair. You’ve got potential so I'm told.”

 

I clear my throat. “My name is Amara Hoshizuki.."

 

“Yuki Tsukumo.” She grinned. “And starting today, I’m your new favorite trainer!”

 

Behind her, Shoko dragged over a folding chair and sat down. “Don’t get her killed.”

 

“Relax,” Yuki said, stretching out her arms. “We’re just gonna play.”

 

---

 

We trained for two hours.

 

And by “we,” I mean me and Yuki.

 

Shoko supervised by chain-smoking and occasionally yelling “You’re flaring too hard!” whenever my vines cracked through the ground.

 

But it was… good.

 

I had more control now. When I summoned my vines, they came in smooth arcs instead of unpredictable tangles. My shield didn’t surge unless I called it. I could flare my energy around a specific point and hold it steady.

 

Yuki noticed, too.

 

“Your cursed energy used to scream,” she said, circling me after a particularly clean vine snare. “Now it hums. That’s progress.”

 

“Thanks,” I muttered, catching my breath.

 

She tossed me a water bottle. “You’re not just strong. You’re sharp. You notice things most people miss. That’s why those two idiots follow you around like puppies.”

 

My stomach fluttered. “We’re close.”

 

“Mmhm,” she hummed, clearly amused.

 

---

 

During break, I checked my phone.

 

Satoru: look at this cursed burger its like 90% lettuce im offended

 

[Image attached: Gojo holding a monstrosity of a sandwich with a dramatic frown.]

 

Suguru: It’s not cursed. You just don’t eat vegetables like a human.

 

Satoru: Amara back me up this is a crime right?

 

I smiled, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

 

Me: There's definitely too much lettuce but I do think you need to eat vegetables more instead of just sweets.

 

Satoru: BETRAYAL

 

Suguru: Put the phone down and eat. We have places to be.

 

I missed them.

 

Not in the way I used to, back when just being alone felt dangerous. I was okay now. I was stronger. I had my footing. But still… there was too much space around me without their voices filling it.

 

I glanced up from my screen to find Yuki watching me.

 

“You get soft when you read their texts,” she said, grinning.

 

I rolled my eyes. “They’re dumb.”

 

“Hm.” she hummed softly.

 

---

Later that day Yuki said she wanted to take me on a mission but getting Yaga’s approval was first priority.

 

“You’re not ready.”

 

Yaga’s voice was firm, folded arms like steel across his chest. He stood in the training yard’s doorway, blocking the sun, looking more like a mountain than a man.

 

Yuki, on the other hand, rolled her eyes behind me. “C’mon, Yaga. She’s controlled, consistent, and finally not flinching every time she uses cursed energy. Let her stretch her legs a little in something bigger.”

 

Yaga narrowed his eyes. “There’s a difference between stretching and jumping into the deep end.”

 

“I’m not asking for deep end.” Yuki crossed her arms, leaning casually. “Just something more than sparring vines and classroom theory. You know she’s ready.”

 

I stepped forward. “I want to go, Yaga.”

 

His eyes moved to me, dark and searching. There was always something behind them when he looked at me. Something fatherly, even if he never said the word out loud. Protective, in a way that went deeper than duty.

 

I swallowed. “I can do this. You’ve seen how much better I’ve gotten. If you trust me… then trust this. I won't be alone and Yuki is tough."

 

The silence hung like breath before a storm.

 

Then he sighed, long, weary, and full of reluctant faith. “Fine.”

 

I blinked. “Wait, really?”

 

“Bring her back in one piece,” Yaga told Yuki, but his eyes stayed locked on mine. “And you.” He pointed at me. “Don’t try to be a hero. Don’t make me regret this.”

 

I nodded once. “I won’t.”

 

---

 

The mission was a cursed spirit infestation about an hour’s train ride outside Tokyo, an old post-war military warehouse that had become a breeding ground for weak to mid-grade curses. Not a death trap, but not a schoolyard either.

 

Yuki stretched across the bench seat opposite me in the train car, boots up, jacket open, eyes on the window like she didn’t have a care in the world.

 

“So,” she said, “what’s your deal?”

 

I blinked. “My deal?”

 

“Yeah. You. The mystery girl with the scary bloodline and too many pretty boys orbiting her.”

 

I sigh, already regretting this train ride. “There’s no orbiting. Plus I don't know anything about my so-called "bloodline" As far as I know it's only me.”

 

“Oh no?” she teased. “You mean the two who texted you like ten times before we left? One of whom kissed your cheek in front of Shoko and didn’t even pretend to play it off?”

 

"Damnit Shoko.." I mumbled under my breath.

 

Yuki smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

 

After a moment of silence, she leaned back and added, softer now, “You don’t talk about your family much.”

 

I stared out the window. “There’s not much to say.”

 

“That bad?”

 

I hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. My mom… it was bad. Sure it still is but lucky for me I'm not there.”

 

“And your dad?”

 

“I don’t know anything about him. I don’t even know his name. All I have is a teddy bear he gave me before leaving. For all I know that's not even true..” lean my head against the window.

 

Yuki let out a low hum, thoughtful.

 

“Funny,” she said, tapping her boot against the seat. “You’ve got cursed energy control like a pressure valve. And the vine tech you’ve got? Feels like something powerful. It's rare that doesn’t stem from a bloodline. You ever wonder where that came from?”

 

“All the time..”

 

Another pause.

 

Then, quietly, Yuki said, “There’s a man I knew once. Not personally, but by reputation. A mercenary. Didn’t stay in one place long. Life-draining cursed technique. Regenerative abilities. People said he was nearly unkillable.”

 

I turned slowly. “And what does that have to do with me?”

 

Yuki didn’t look at me. “Not sure but know you didn’t hear any of this from me.”

 

My heart beat faster. “What was his name?”

 

She gave me a side glance and shook her head. “Just be careful digging. Some bloodlines are better left buried.”

 

I didn’t answer.

 

The train rocked gently as it sped forward, and I stared out the window, wondering what kind of person could abandon someone like that. Wondering what it meant for me.

 

I missed Satoru’s chaotic commentary. Suguru’s steady presence. Shoko’s sarcastic sighs. The silence left too much space for thoughts.

 

Yuki kicked my boot, and gave me a lazy grin. “Hey. Don’t spiral. We’ve got cursed spirits to beat up and a train car to ourselves. Let’s focus on the fun.”

 

I cracked a small smile. “Right.”

 

“Good.” She leaned back again. “When we’re done, I’ll even let you pick dinner. My treat. Consider it my welcoming gift to you.”

 

I grinned, just a little. “Deal.”

 

---

 

The warehouse was barely standing.

 

Twisted steel supports cut through rotted walls like ribs. Glass crunched beneath our boots as we stepped into the open floor that was half collapsed, half taken over by mold and creeping roots. The cursed energy in the air buzzed low and ugly, the kind that made your molars ache if you weren’t used to it.

 

I stood still near the entrance, breathing through my nose. The scent was subtle, metallic, and sour. The space pulsed like something breathing underground.

 

Yuki watched me from the side, arms crossed, relaxed as always.

 

“You’re reading it, huh?”

 

“Yeah,” I murmured. “Three presences, definitely spirits. One stronger than the others, a bit further out. They’re not moving much, dormant or nesting. But they’re aware of us.”

 

“Good,” she said, grinning. “I like the way you talk when you hunt.”

 

I chuckled and shook my head. "You're making it weird."

 

She laughs.

 

---

 

We moved quietly through the wreckage, my feet steady now, vines curled beneath the surface of my skin like leashed snakes. I didn’t even need to reach for them, they responded to me naturally now, twitching beneath my fingers when I called for their attention.

 

Yuki didn’t comment on it this time. She’d seen it before. She knew.

 

“Your control’s tighter,” she said as we ducked under a collapsed beam. “Your cursed energy used to scream all over the place. Now it whispers,” she says the last part in a hushed tone.

 

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ve been trying.”

 

“Seems like it’s working. Especially with the way you pinned me this morning.”

 

“That was an accident.”

 

“No, it wasn’t,” she grinned.

 

I smirked slightly but didn’t argue.

 

---

 

We paused near a pile of rusted shipping crates. I closed my eyes for a second and focused again, tracking the presence in the far back. Still there. Still pulsing like a heartbeat buried in concrete.

 

“Talk to me,” Yuki said casually, leaning against the crate. “We’ve got five minutes before we poke the nest. Might as well pass the time.”

 

“About what?”

 

She shrugged. “Your classmates. Life at Jujutsu High. The boys.”

 

I snorted softly. “You’re obsessed with them.”

 

“No, I’m obsessed with you when you talk about them.”

 

That shut me up for a second.

 

“…Shoko’s my favorite,” I said eventually, voice quieter. “She’s blunt but not cruel. She doesn’t expect things from me. She just… shows up. It’s enough.”

 

“Sounds like her.”

 

“Yu’s sweet. Nanami’s sharp. Utahime’s a little stiff but I think she means well. Everyone else I like fine.” I paused. “Except Mei Mei.”

 

“Oh?” Yuki’s voice lifted with amused interest. “Spicy. Why not Mei Mei?”

 

“She treats people like currency,” I muttered. “Like we’re investments or gambling chips. I’ve never seen her fight unless she’s being paid to. And she’s smug about it. Like her power makes her better than everyone else—no heart, no loyalty.”

 

Yuki blinked, then grinned. “Damn. That’s brutal.”

 

“She’s honest about being selfish,” I added. “I guess I respect the transparency. But I don’t like her.”

 

“And the boys?”

 

I didn’t respond right away.

 

Yuki didn’t push. Just watched me like she already knew the answer.

 

“…They’re my home,” I said finally. “Suguru’s grounding. He’s calm and logical but not cold. And Satoru- he’s… chaos. But it’s the kind that lifts. They make me feel like I’m not broken.”

 

Yuki gave a slow nod. “Good answer.”

 

I looked around once more, cursed energy shifting low and steady in my chest.

 

“They’re close,” I murmured. “We should move.”

 

Yuki stretched her arms overhead, lazy and sharp all at once. “After you, Little Hound.”

 

I smiled.

 

The further in we moved, the heavier the cursed energy got, thick and clinging, like damp air before a storm.

 

I felt it crawling beneath my skin, not in a threatening way, but in a way that made my vines twitch and stretch without being asked. They wanted out. They wanted blood.

 

Yuki let me take the lead.

 

She didn’t say as much, but I could tell, by the way she hung back just a few steps, her hands in her jacket pockets, eyes sharp but relaxed. Not passive. Just… watching.

 

She was testing me. I knew it. And maybe… I kind of wanted to pass.

 

“There are three,” I murmured, slowing my pace.

 

“Yeah?” she asked, voice light. “Where?”

 

I pointed. “One up ahead, low to the ground, quadrupedal, I can feel its legs moving... Probably a scavenger class. Another is clinging to the wall near that collapsed section. Not moving. Could be a curse formed from mold or rot.”

 

“And the third?”

 

I hesitated.

 

“Humanoid,” I said finally. “Straight ahead. Stronger. I don’t think it can talk, but it’s definitely aware.”

 

Yuki’s smile curved just slightly. “Smart girl.”

 

---

 

The first curse lunged out from behind a pile of crates, fast and low, all gnarled limbs and wet teeth.

 

I didn’t flinch.

 

My vines burst from the ground like whips and caught it mid-air, slamming it back into the steel floor with a sickening crunch. It screeched once, then went still.

 

The second came from above, silent, almost graceful. I let my cursed energy flare me upward, vines all around me, my vines pierce through the cursed spirit multiple times then pull it apart from the inside out. My vines put me down.

 

Yuki let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

 

I didn’t respond.

 

The third was still waiting.

 

I could feel it. Moving now. Shifting through the dark like it had bones that bent the wrong way. Humanoid, yes. Not a special grade. But strong.

 

It stepped into view a moment later, lanky, twitching fingers dragging against the rusted steel. Its face was smeared like melted wax, features half-formed, one eye larger than the other and glowing faintly green.

 

It opened its mouth, but no words came out, just a groan, guttural and low.

 

Still…

 

It was intelligent enough to hesitate.

 

“You wanna show off?” Yuki murmured behind me, her voice relaxed, but her stance had shifted. 

 

Ready, just in case.

 

I took one step forward. My hands were steady.

 

“Yeah,” I said. “I do.”

 

It rushed me.

 

Fast. Unpredictable. But I had fought worse.

 

My shield flared up mid-dash, glowing crimson, and it bounced off it with a snarl, but before it could recover, my vines curled up from beneath it and snared its legs, yanking hard enough to send it crashing face-first into the floor.

 

It screeched and twisted, slicing through one of the vines with a sharp burst of cursed energy, but I was already moving.

 

My fingers hit the ground. The cursed energy tracking kicked in. I felt it breathing. Anticipating.

 

I let that feed the vines. Let my cursed energy bend to match its rhythm.

 

Then I spiked the ground, jagged vines shooting up from below like thorns through concrete, impaling it through the torso and pinning it to a rusted beam.

 

It screeched once more, then exploded into bits.

 

Silence followed.

 

The only sound left was the pulse of cursed energy retreating into my spine.

 

I stood there, breathing evenly.

 

Yuki clapped once behind me. “Well, damn, Little Hound.”

 

I turned to her, a slow grin breaking across my face. “Told you I’ve been working on it.”

 

She nodded. “Yeah. And it shows. You’re not just strong. You’re dangerous.”

 

I chuckled breathlessly. "Thanks.."

 

---

 

We stepped out of the warehouse just as the sun started setting, gold light bleeding through broken windows, casting long shadows behind us.

 

I was still rolling my shoulder, sore from a near-miss elbow block, when I heard Yuki’s phone buzz in her pocket. She pulled it out, typed something quick, and then gave me a sly glance.

 

“What?” I asked.

 

“Nothing,” she said, way too casually. “Just sharing a little highlight reel with your fan club.”

 

I squinted. “What did you do?”

 

Ten seconds later, my phone buzzed.

 

Satoru: YOOOOO WHO LET YOU GET THIS STRONG?? HOLY SHIT!!

 

Suguru: Yuki sent us a video. I'm impressed. Also slightly offended. Are we being replaced?

 

Satoru: im free thursday were sparring dont back out pretty girl~ i wanna see if you can throw me like that.

 

My face burned.

 

Yuki leaned over my shoulder, reading the messages aloud in a dramatic narrator voice. “‘Don’t back out, pretty girl,’ ohhhh~” She grinned at me, bumping her shoulder into mine. “Are you sure you’re not dating?”

 

I groaned. “We’re not.”

 

She raised an eyebrow. “Okayyyyy, but are you sure they don’t think you’re dating?”

 

I opened my mouth to fire back something sarcastic.

 

But nothing came out.

 

I blinked. Looked away. Scratched at the edge of my sleeve. “…I don’t know.”

 

Yuki leaned back against the bench with a smug little grin that made me want to throw my water bottle at her. “That’s what I thought.”

 

“It’s not like we haven’t talked about it,” I muttered, feeling suddenly too warm in my jacket. “It’s just kind of… there. Quiet. But also not.”

 

“Mmhm,” she hummed. “Let me guess, Gojo flirts like it’s a reflex and doesn’t realize half the time he’s actually being serious. And Suguru gives you those soft looks like you hung the stars but pretends it’s nothing.”

 

I blinked. “Have you been spying on us?”

 

“I’ve known them longer than you have, baby bat,” she grinned. “They’re not subtle. They think they’re subtle, but they’re emotionally constipated in opposite directions.”

 

I choked on a laugh, wiping my eyes. “Satoru’s a wreck. He doesn’t know what to do with feelings unless they’re loud or funny.”

 

“And Suguru,” Yuki said, stretching her arms, “is a man of quiet crises. He thinks if he doesn’t say it, he can keep it.”

 

The breeze picked up, tugging gently at the edge of my shirt. I stared out toward the tracks. The platform was quiet, just a few late commuters shuffling by, oblivious to whatever storm brewed in my chest.

 

“They matter to me,” I said softly. “More than anything. But it’s messy. And I’m scared it’ll only get worse from here...I don't know...good things never stay with me no matter how tightly I grip.”

 

Yuki was quiet for a beat.

 

Then she leaned forward, elbows on her knees, her voice lower now, no teasing, just the weight of someone who understood too well.

 

“Messy’s fine,” she said. “Messy’s honest. You’ve been through hell, and so have they. But if there’s love in it, even the tangled kind? Don’t run from it. That stuff doesn’t come around often. Not for people like us. People like us are lucky to even make it to 35.”

 

"What about Yaga? He's older." I ask gently.

 

"Notice how there's not many people his age around him? People don't make it long and those who do know that any day could be their last."

 

I swallowed.

 

Then my phone buzzed again.

 

Satoru: suguru says im not allowed to buy a giant bear for your room unless i get permission so can i get a bear the size of a person 4 u yes or no?

 

Suguru: Please tell him no.

 

I smiled despite myself.

 

Yuki leaned in, reading it over my shoulder. “See? Hopeless.”

 

“Oh, hush..”

 

She bumped her shoulder into mine. “You fit with them. And I think they already know it. Question is, do you?”

 

I didn’t answer.

 

Part of me knows the truth but theirs still that small part worried...worried that once I dive in completely everything will change...

 

 

Chapter 24: New You

The sound came first, soft, nearly weightless. A shift in the mattress, the gentlest brush of fabric and fingers.

 

At first, I thought I was dreaming. My sleep-fogged brain didn’t quite piece it together, but something… someone… was there. Close.

 

I jolted upright, heart jackhammering against my ribs as my cursed energy flared instinctively, violet vines twitching beneath the skin of my arms, ready to strike.

 

“Hey, hey, shh, it's us,” came a low, soothing voice near the edge of my bed. Suguru.

 

“And we come in peace,” Gojo added in a whisper that was so not a whisper, followed by a muffled laugh and the creak of the floorboards under his weight.

 

I blinked against the darkness, eyes adjusting just enough to make out the familiar shapes, one sitting at the edge of the bed, the other kneeling beside it with his fingers barely grazing the comforter. Their cursed energy hit me a second later, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

 

“Oh my god,” I croaked, voice still hoarse from sleep. “You guys are freaks. Who breaks into someone’s room at- ” I paused, turning toward the window. “…Is it even sunrise?”

 

“Will be soon,” Gojo said with a smug grin I could hear in his voice. “We missed you. Thought we’d surprise you.”

 

“By giving me a heart attack?” I grumbled, though I was already leaning forward, arms reaching out blindly in the dark. My hands caught fabric, a jacket, a sleeve, something, and I yanked.

 

“No no no wait-” Suguru warned, but I was already pulling both of them toward me.

 

They stumbled forward with soft oofs and quiet curses, landing clumsily on top of the blankets. Suguru managed to brace himself with one hand against the wall, but Gojo just flopped dramatically face-first into the mattress like a corpse.

 

I wrapped my arms around them anyway.

 

“Mm,” I mumbled, burying my face against a shoulder that smelled like cologne, faint sweat, and city air. “Missed you too.”

 

Their weight was warm and solid. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been counting down the days until they got back. Their energy buzzed around me in familiar, comforting static. Gojo’s like lightning through glass, Suguru’s like soft rain.

 

“You’re comfy,” I muttered.

 

“You’re not,” Suguru replied gently. “We still have our coats on. And shoes. Gross.”

 

I groaned but didn’t let go. “Then take ’em off.”

 

Gojo chuckled into the pillow. “If we do that, I’m not leaving this bed all day. I’ll die here. I’ll become one with your mattress.”

 

“That doesn’t sound like a threat,” I said, eyes already drifting half-shut again. “Sounds like a challenge.”

 

Suguru let out a quiet breath against my ear, the sound somewhere between fond and exasperated. “You’re still half-asleep.”

 

“And you’re fully overdressed,” I muttered.

 

“She’s got us there,” Gojo said, voice muffled. “Alright, alright, don’t strangle us with affection yet. We’ll be back in like five minutes. I want to brush my teeth and change into something cuddle-compatible.”

 

Suguru shifted first, gently untangling my hand from his sleeve. “Try not to fall asleep again before we get back.”

 

“Can’t promise anything,” I said, but I was smiling now. That full-body kind of warmth that only came when they were near.

 

As they slipped out of the room, I rolled over and buried my face in the pillow they’d just crumpled. It smelled like them.

 

And maybe I was still half-asleep, but I could’ve sworn my cursed energy purred.

 

---

 

The door creaked open again a few minutes later, followed by soft footsteps and the quiet rustle of fabric. I didn’t bother turning over.

 

“Please tell me you brushed your teeth,” I mumbled into the pillow.

 

“I brushed, moisturized, exfoliated, changed into something that cost more than most people’s rent, and even clipped my nails,” Gojo said, voice smug as ever. The bed dipped behind me a second later.

 

Suguru followed with a quieter entrance. No commentary. Just the smell of fresh fabric softener and that subtle cologne he always used, cool and herbal, like tea and moss.

 

I felt the blankets lift behind me, and then Suguru slipped in, warm and solid against my back. His arm curled around my waist without hesitation, his hand resting low on my stomach. The slow circles he traced there sent little ripples of calm through me.

 

Gojo climbed in from the other side, his hair still slightly damp, wearing a jet-black tee and gray sweatpants so soft I could hear them whispering luxury. His shirt smelled faintly like some expensive Japanese wood and spice blend I could never name.

 

I buried my face into the crook of his neck without a word, inhaling like it might keep me calm forever.

 

“Oh. Hi,” he said softly, voice closer to real than playful now. “Missed this.”

 

“I’m trying to absorb both of you,” I muttered. “Let me.”

 

Suguru chuckled behind me, his breath warming the nape of my neck. “She’s hoarding us.”

 

“Like a little dragon with anxiety and attachment issues,” Gojo teased, gently pulling the blanket over my shoulder and tucking it close.

 

“Still gonna absorb you,” I murmured.

 

“Fine by me,” Gojo whispered back, nose brushing my temple.

 

Silence settled for a few seconds, thick, but not heavy. The kind of quiet that felt earned. Comfortable.

 

“She's been training with Yuki,” Suguru said eventually, his hand still moving slowly over my stomach. “That’s what Shoko said.”

 

“The whole time?” Gojo’s voice perked up, even if his body didn’t move. “She kick your ass?”

 

“She did not kick my ass,” I admitted, smirking into his neck. “But she said I was good. Said I was starting to hum instead of scream.”

 

“That’s huge,” Suguru murmured. “You feel different, too. Steadier.”

 

“You look different,” Gojo added, nudging my nose with his. “Posture’s better. Energy’s clearer. Are you glowing, or is that just my influence?”

 

“Definitely the sweatpants,” I muttered.

 

“Hey, these are imported.” He kissed the top of my head, warm and playful. “Not just anyone gets cuddled in designer fleece.”

 

“I can feel the luxury radiating through the fabric,” Suguru said dryly. “It’s healing her.”

 

They both laughed, quiet and easy.

 

I pressed closer into Gojo’s chest, and Suguru pulled me tighter from behind like we were all just one tangled thing now. My arms, their hands, breath syncing in that soft, sleepy rhythm only real closeness could create.

 

Suguru’s fingers paused at my waist, just for a second. “You did good,” he whispered.

 

Gojo echoed him. “We’re proud of you.”

 

I didn’t say anything, but I let my fingers find the hem of Gojo’s shirt and hold on, just for the sake of holding something.

 

And when I finally spoke, it was barely a whisper.

 

“I’m glad you’re home.”

 

---

 

The alarm went off like a low hum, subtle but insistent. I blinked groggily, halfway tangled in my sheets and even more tangled in limbs.

 

Suguru reached back behind him to silence it, his movement slow and careful. His fingers brushed against my temple as he smoothed my hair behind my ear, his other hand still curled loosely over my stomach like it belonged there.

 

“Time to wake up,” he murmured, voice still gravel-thick with sleep.

 

Gojo groaned dramatically behind me. “Nooooo. Five more minutes. She’s warm.”

 

“She’s also being crushed,” I muttered, voice hoarse.

 

Gojo just buried his face back into my neck with a dramatic sigh. “Mmm. That’s the point.”

 

Suguru leaned in and kissed the back of my shoulder, soft and grounding. “Come on, pretty girl. Time to suit up.”

 

The words made my stomach flutter because I knew exactly what was coming.

 

They’d seen the damn video Yuki sent and therefore wanted to test me again.

 

We changed together, half-sleepy, half-excited.

 

Gojo stripped off his black tee and sweatpants in record time, pulling on his sleek navy uniform like it had been tailored directly onto his skin, because knowing him, it probably had. His shirt was crisp, collar sharp, and sunglasses perfectly perched.

 

Suguru moved with practiced grace, folding his plaid pajama bottoms with neat precision before stepping into the loose, dark slacks of his uniform. He tied his bun tighter, sliding on his long-sleeved navy top.

 

I reached for my own uniform at the foot of the bed, still the same default fit they issued when I first got here. Nothing custom. Just plain navy blue. Functional. Basic.

 

Gojo frowned the second he saw it. “You still haven’t customized your uniform?”

 

I blinked. “Didn’t know I could.”

 

Suguru looked up from adjusting his sleeves. “Everyone’s allowed to. Yaga encourages it. You’ve seen mine. Utahime’s. Even Shoko has her cropped jacket version.”

 

Gojo clicked his tongue. “No offense, babe, but that thing looks like you’re about to take a Jujutsu Bar Exam. We’re fixing this later.”

 

I rolled my eyes, but my chest buzzed with warmth.

 

---

 

We moved quickly to the training grounds. 

 

The sun was still low in the sky, casting golden stripes through the sky as we made our way outside. I was in my boots, my uniform clinging just slightly from the quick warmup laps Suguru made us run. Gojo had stretched exactly once and declared himself “already limber,” which Suguru immediately countered with, “You’re going to pull something.”

 

“Only your patience,” Gojo winked.

 

I rolled my eyes, but I was buzzing with excitement.

 

Suguru stepped into the field first, stretching one arm behind his head with a slight smirk. “Alright, Little Hound. Let’s see what Yuki taught you.”

 

“She said I bite harder now,” I shot back and crouched into a low stance.

 

We circled for a moment. His posture was relaxed, borderline lazy, but I knew better. Suguru never fought with full aggression unless pushed, and even then, it was with calculation, not emotion. He was fast, clean, and nearly impossible to surprise.

 

Which is why it felt ridiculously good when I did.

 

I let my cursed energy flicker forward, letting my bubble just start to bloom around me and immediately saw him adjust his stance, retreating half a step. He was preparing for the drain on his output, assuming I’d go defensive.

 

But I didn’t.

 

I dropped the shield before it could form, twisted my heel, and let two low vines lash from beneath his feet.

 

He moved, of course, Suguru Geto didn’t get caught. But it wasn't about catching. It was about redirecting.

 

He dodged right, and that’s where the second set waited, twisting fast, one snapping around his ankle like a lasso.

 

He didn’t fall, he didn’t even stumble, but I saw his eyes flick with a split-second of surprise before he tore the vine apart with cursed energy and stepped back.

 

A clean hit.

 

My chest swelled.

 

“Good,” he said, shaking the last thread of vine off his pant leg. “Very good. That feint was nasty.”

 

Gojo cheered obnoxiously from the sideline. “OH! She got you! Suguru, should I call the Elders? Did you die a little?”

 

“Only on the inside,” Suguru said dryly, but his smile was real. Proud.

 

We tapped fists, and I raided myself for another round with him

 

But Gojo bounded on immediately.

 

“Alright,” he said, rolling his neck with a loud crack, “now let’s see if you can do that to the strongest.”

 

I sighed, already bracing. “Can we not go full ego mode today?”

 

“No promises,” he grinned, slipping his uniform jacket off and vibrating with anticipation.

 

---

 

It started fine.

 

He darted in and out, too fast for me to catch with vines unless I predicted him early. I raised shield after shield, and while they didn’t hold for long, they lasted longer than before.

 

“Damn,” he muttered after my third counter. “You’re actually tanking some of this.”

 

He got even more excited.

 

And when Gojo got excited, he forgot things.

 

Like how I wasn’t built the same way he and Suguru were.

 

Like how I didn’t have Six Eyes to regulate every drop of cursed energy or a technique that rewrote space to protect me.

 

He hit the next strike a little harder. Broke the shield in one hit and didn’t stop. A roundhouse with cursed energy laced through his heel cracked against my side, not directly, not fully, but enough.

 

Enough that I felt the crack.

 

Enough that my ribs screamed even as my body rushed to heal.

 

I didn’t fall. I didn’t make a sound. I just stepped back and grinned like a maniac, raising a fresh shield like I wasn’t swallowing blood.

 

He came in again, fists blazing.

 

Suguru’s voice cut through like a blade. “Satoru!"

 

Gojo froze mid-step.

 

I saw his eyes shift, scanning me. He didn’t need Six Eyes to notice how I was holding my side now, just barely. Not obvious. But not invisible either.

 

“Shit.”

 

He lowered his hands immediately. “Shit, shit- I didn’t mean to hit that hard, I swear, I thought you had another layer up.”

 

“I did,” I said quickly, smiling too wide. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

 

“Where?” He stepped forward. “Where did I hit you?”

 

I shook my head, waving a hand. “It’s not bad. Just a bruise.”

 

“It’s not,” Suguru said quietly.

 

He walked up behind me, his hand ghosting to my ribs, gentle and careful.

 

His fingers brushed the edge of the worst bruise, just light enough to not jostle anything but firm enough to say 'I know.'

 

I tried not to wince.

 

Gojo looked like a kicked puppy.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, more serious. “I wasn’t thinking. I just- I got excited. You were doing so good, I didn’t think it would land.”

 

I reached out and took his wrist, gently trying to ground him.

 

“It’s okay, Satoru,” I said softly. “Really. I heal fast. It’s my whole thing, remember?”

 

His eyes searched mine. “That doesn’t mean I want to hurt you that bad...”

 

“You didn’t,” I said, lying with more confidence than I felt. “It’s part of sparring. Getting hit. Getting better.”

 

He still looked wrecked.

 

Suguru exhaled behind me, his hand sliding to the small of my back. “She’s going to keep pretending she’s fine until she falls over,” he said, “so maybe let her sit down before she has to lie about internal bleeding.”

 

I groaned and flopped down onto the ground. “I’m not bleeding internally.”

 

Gojo crouched in front of me, his brows furrowed. “You’re the strongest healer I’ve ever seen. But that doesn’t mean I get to push you past what your body can take.”

 

My heart twisted.

 

I wanted to be able to keep up with them.

 

With him.

 

With both of them.

 

But maybe I couldn’t.

 

Not yet. Maybe not ever.

 

And I hated that truth more than the pain in my side.

 

Still, I nodded. Smiled. “Noted. No rib breaking next time.”

 

Suguru sat beside me and handed me a water bottle.

 

Gojo stayed kneeling, his hand resting carefully against my shin, like he wasn’t sure I’d let him be closer.

 

I leaned forward and nudged his shoulder with mine.

 

“I still got a hit on Suguru,” I said.

 

Gojo cracked a smile. “Yeah. You did. And it was beautiful.”

 

Suguru smirked. “I’m still offended.”

 

I laughed, pressing the cold bottle to my ribs. 

 

The dull ache in my side eased with each passing second, warmth radiating through my ribcage as my cursed energy mended the damage. I breathed deeper, carefully, then stretched my arms above my head with a low groan. A satisfying pop echoed from my spine.

 

“Okay,” I muttered, flexing my shoulders and cracking my neck. “I’m officially un-cracked.”

 

Suguru raised a brow from where he sat beside me, one leg bent up, arm resting on his knee. “How’s the pain?”

 

“Gone,” I said, rolling my shoulders again for dramatic effect. “Not even a twinge.”

 

Satoru, still crouched nearby, looked like he hadn’t unclenched since Suguru called him out. His eyes trailed over me, lingering at my side like he was afraid to look anywhere else. His jaw was tight behind the slight pout tugging at his lips.

 

I narrowed my eyes.

 

Oh no. That was a guilt spiral face. I’d seen that look before.

 

I sighed. Then smirked.

 

Time to fix this the only way Satoru Gojo understood; chaos.

 

I lunged.

 

He didn’t even have time to react before I launched myself at him, tackling him backward onto the ground with a loud, dramatic thud. His arms instinctively flew up to catch me, but I was already sprawled across his chest, legs tangled with his, chin resting over the center of his sternum like a human paperweight.

 

His breath rushed out in a whoof.

 

“Amara-!”

 

“Shh,” I said, dramatically placing one finger over his lips. “This is what forgiveness looks like.”

 

He blinked, startled.

 

Then I wiggled my hips a little to settle in and grinned up at him.

 

“Comfy,” I declared.

 

A short laugh burst from his chest. “You’re literally crushing me.”

 

“Good. Consider it penance.”

 

Suguru snorted somewhere behind me but didn’t interfere.

 

Gojo’s laugh faded into something softer. “Are you really okay?”

 

“Mmhm,” I hummed, then leaned down and bit his arm.

 

“OW- HEY!” He jolted. “What the hell?”

 

“Biting you until you stop looking like a kicked puppy.”

 

He tried to swat at me, but I caught his wrist and bit the side of his hand next.

 

“Amara!” he whined, giggling despite himself. “You’re supposed to kiss injuries, not cause them!”

 

“New technique,” I said, then nipped at his shoulder. “Cursed nibbling.”

 

He dissolved into laughter, flailing slightly as I attacked again, this time peppering his jaw with obnoxiously dramatic bites and snorts, barely sharp enough to sting but annoying enough to make him squirm.

 

“Okay, okay!” he wheezed. “Truce! Truce, I swear!”

 

I sat up triumphantly on his chest, grinning down at him with flushed cheeks and tangled hair. He was still laughing, arms splayed out dramatically above his head, pants rumpled and t-shirt half-ridden up from the scuffle.

 

His eyes crinkled behind his sunglasses.

 

“You’re the most violent cuddlebug I’ve ever met,” he said fondly.

 

I leaned down and kissed the tip of his nose. “And you’re a drama queen with monster legs. Deal with it.”

 

He chuckled again, softer this time, trying not to melt from a simple kiss. “I really am sorry...”

 

I shook my head. “And I really don’t want to hear it again. Accidents happen. I can heal. You’re not allowed to mope on my time.”

 

From behind me, Suguru added casually, “Besides, she bit you. That’s clearly revenge enough.”

 

“Hey,” Gojo said, mock-offended, “she’s the one who assaulted me. I’m a victim here.”

 

“Victim of your own overexcitement,” Suguru replied, walking over and crouching beside us. “At least now you know she’s learning.”

 

Gojo turned to look up at me again, expression brighter now. “You really are. Stronger. Sharper. More you.”

 

I softened. “I’m trying.”

 

He reached up and flicked a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. “Keep going. You’re already almost there.”

 

I smiled, heart thudding against his ribs.

 

Suguru ruffled my hair gently from the side. “And next time, try not to break anything unless it’s one of his delusions.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“I’m just saying,” Suguru murmured, smirking. “Your shield held longer than I expected. And you managed to fake me out. I’m impressed.”

 

I grinned. “Well… I do learn from the best.”

 

Gojo wrapped his arms around my waist from beneath me and hugged me like a human seatbelt. “Damn right, you do.”

 

And for a long moment, the three of us just stayed there, breathing easy.

 

Safely and comfortably together.

 

 

Chapter 25: Push Push Push

Yaga didn’t give me a choice.

 

“Mei Mei needs extra hands for recon,” he said. “You’ve improved. You’re going.”

 

Which sounded like a compliment until I realized who I’d be stuck with.

 

Now here I was, standing in the shadow of a half-collapsed subway tunnel, shoulder-to-shoulder with Mei Mei, and across from an eternally unimpressed Nanami, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

 

“Stay close,” Mei Mei said smoothly, swinging her polearm up to rest on her shoulder. “I’d hate to have to explain to your boyfriends why you got flattened.”

 

I clenched my jaw. “They’re not-”

 

“Oh, come on.” Her smile was razor-sharp. “You think the rest of us aren’t talking about it? You walk around campus with both the strongest sorcerers at your heels, and you think no one’s curious?”

 

Nanami gave her a look. “We’re here to locate a grade one spirit, not interrogate a classmate.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Mei Mei sighed. “But I can multitask. Besides, don’t you want to know what makes her so... irresistible?”

 

"No. I just want to make sure she's improving and can be useful in battle against curses. Her personal life doesn't concern me." Nanami answered.

 

I didn’t say anything.

 

Because if I did, I might say something I’d regret.

 

We moved deeper into the tunnel system. It was half-flooded, the ceiling dripping, the cursed energy thick like mold in the air.

 

“Tell me,” Mei Mei continued, picking her way over a broken track beam with perfect balance, “what is it about you? The sarcasm? The trauma? Do you make a mean cup of tea?”

 

“Back off,” I said in a tired tone.

 

But her tone remained playful. “I’m just trying to understand the appeal. You’re not exactly a powerhouse. Yet here you are, tangled in a love triangle with the only two people who matter in Tokyo. I'm not sure you understand just truly how those two are."

 

Nanami sighed again. “You’re being unprofessional.”

 

“Am I?” Mei Mei asked sweetly. “I’m taking stock of her assets. Watching how she reacts under pressure. Evaluating emotional triggers. It’s very educational.”

 

“I don’t want to be tested by you,” I said flatly.

 

She gave me a smile like a wolf in silk. “Hm, I didn’t ask. I want to know what you think. Do you prefer Satoru’s chaotic mess or Suguru’s quiet worship?”

 

Before I could answer, something moved. A spike of cursed energy surged just ahead, and the shadow of a massive arm lashed from behind a crumbled support beam.

 

Mei Mei twirled her battle axe lazily. “Finally.”

 

Nanami adjusted his tie.

 

And I ran straight into the fight.

 

The cursed spirit lunged, a twisted, rotted thing with limbs like tree trunks and a mouth split across its stomach. I ducked under its first swipe and slammed my fist upward into its jaw, sending it staggering back.

 

“Left!” Nanami barked.

 

I spun, vines bursting up from the concrete behind me, catching the spirit's ankle and yanking hard. It slammed into the wall, and I followed it, throwing two more vines like whips, one grabbed its arm, the other coiled around its neck.

 

I planted my heel, moved with the motion, pushed, pulled, and twisted, like a puppeteer using her whole body.

 

“Don’t forget the other one~” Mei Mei called behind me.

 

"Nanami! Switch!" I call out.

 

Instantly he came charging in and slicing the spirit in my grasp.

 

I spun, releasing one vine and throwing it like a lasso, and caught the second cursed spirit that had appeared in a burst of sludge. I pulled it forward into a punch from Nanami, then dragged it back into my elbow. My vines kept moving with me, spiraling like extensions of my limbs.

 

I wasn’t just using them, I was moving with them.

 

I dodged, pivoted, redirected. I threw Mei Mei out of the way when the spirit lunged toward her with a second mouth and took the counter myself, slamming both hands to the ground. My vines erupted upward like spears, piercing through its arm, pinning it mid-attack.

 

Blood smeared across my cheek, but I didn’t stop.

 

I had this.

 

We finished the fight fast, too fast for something grade one. But it didn’t matter.

 

We kept moving deeper. The cursed energy thickened like humidity, clinging to the air and crawling up my spine. Nanami walked ahead, flashlight in hand, scanning the walls. Mei Mei stayed behind me, but not far enough.

 

I didn’t like it.

 

Mei Mei didn’t get impressed by things. She'd never praise my technique or acknowledge the control I’d fought to gain over my vines. No nod of approval. No comment. Just a half-smirk and calculating eyes.

 

She wasn’t watching me to learn. She was watching to see what she could use.

 

“You rely a lot on instinct,” she mused, casually stepping over a crumbled support beam. “Not a bad thing, but it’s messy. Emotionally-driven techniques tend to burn out faster.”

 

“You mean like how you burn out people?” I shot back, too fast. Too tired to be polite.

 

Her smile widened. “Oh? Did I touch a nerve?”

 

“You are a nerve,” I muttered.

 

“Interesting,” she said, brushing a strand of hair back behind her ear. “So defensive. I wonder if that’s your trauma acting out or just plain insecurity.”

 

I turned sharply. “Why are you so obsessed with me? It's fucking weird.”

 

She shrugged. “Because Satoru and Suguru are not the type to fall for just a pretty face. I want to know what’s underneath. What they see. If it’s real, or just something you’re pretending to be.”

 

“Maybe they just like me because I'm a good person,” I snapped.

 

She laughed, quiet and cutting. “No one just likes in this world. Everyone wants something.”

 

I stopped walking and turned toward her fully. “Then what the hell do you want, dude?”

 

Mei Mei’s smile didn’t change. But something in her eyes did. Just a flicker, something colder, less amused.

 

“Usefulness,” she said. “Predictability. Power. People who fit into plans without making messes.” She gave me a slow once-over. “I’m still deciding what you are.”

 

“Keep deciding,” I said. “I don’t owe you shit and I'm not gonna be held responsible for your petty jealousy."

 

Nanami cleared his throat loudly from up ahead. “We have company.”

 

And just like that, it shifted again.

 

More cursed spirits. Bigger. Faster. They came at us in a wave, distorted and shrieking, long limbs slick with sludge and made of bone. The tunnels echoed with their screeches.

 

Nanami launched forward with his blade. I spread my stance and pulled vines from the ground like whips, ready to intercept,

 

Then-

 

SMACK

 

Something hit my back. Hard.

 

Mei Mei. She’d pushed me forward, right into the path of one of the curses.

 

I barely had time to throw up a shield, the vines crackling to life just in time to absorb most of the impact, but it still hurt. Knocked the wind out of me.

 

“What the hell-?”

 

She didn’t answer. Just danced around behind me again.

 

Next spirit. Another charge. Another shove.

 

I caught the hit with a vine wall but felt the shock in my shoulder, teeth rattling.

 

Third time. I was faster, ready but still, she grabbed my arm and dragged me into the cursed spirit’s line of fire before jumping clear herself.

 

By the fourth fucking time I wasn’t fast enough.

 

The spirit landed a glancing blow across my ribs, knocking me into the wall. My vines flared wildly to protect me but the damage was done. I hit the stone hard, breath knocked clean out of my lungs.

 

I groaned, coughing, gripping my side. Warmth spread across my ribs, blood. Nothing fatal for me but fuck was it deep. Any deeper and it would have sliced my organs.

 

I snapped. I forced myself to stand.

 

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?!”

 

Mei Mei didn’t even look winded. “You handled it.”

 

“You used me as a human shield! Four times!”

 

“You’re a healer,” she said, calm, unbothered. “You recover faster than Nanami or me. Simple resource management.”

 

“re- resource management!?!?,” I responded absolutely flabbergasted. “That’s just using people like disposable tools!”

 

Mei Mei tilted her head. “And you’re good at being one. Take the complement, I don’t give many out.”

 

“If I didn’t heal how I do you’d be dragging my body back to Yaga in pieces,” I snarled.

 

“I wouldn’t drag it,” she said smoothly. “Nanami would.”

 

The words sliced deep, colder than her usual brand of detached cruelty. She didn’t even look at me as she said it, just kept twirling her weapon like this whole mess wasn’t even worth remembering.

 

But something inside me snapped. Eye twitching.

 

The cut along my ribs was already healing, skin knitting itself together with sharp, tight pulses under my palm. My cursed energy was roaring now, pulled taut like a bowstring. And under it, under the crackle of vines coiling around my boots, under the sharp inhale I couldn’t seem to let go..

 

There was something else.

 

Not just anger. Not just power. Something was pulling.

 

Like the heat wasn’t only mine.

 

Like something was feeding on it, responding to it, echoing through my core like a second heartbeat. Slow, hollow, hungry.

 

I took a step forward. My vines creaked and hissed as they rose with me, too fast, too fluid, like they weren’t waiting for me to command them anymore. They just wanted something.

 

My eyes locked on her.

 

“Try that again,” I said, my voice lower than before. “I dare you.”

 

Mei Mei finally looked up, and for a split second, just the briefest flicker, I saw her expression shift. Not fear. But a flicker of curiosity interrupted by caution.

 

Then she smiled. Slow. Amused.

 

“Oh?” she said lightly. “Getting worked up, are we?”

 

Nanami moved fast. He stepped between us in an instant, one hand lifted toward me, the other angled back toward Mei Mei as if dividing the space itself.

 

“Enough!”

 

His tone left no room for debate. His gaze locked onto me sharply. Not accusing. Not afraid. But watching. Measuring. Like he’d felt it too. That shift. That pull.

 

I didn’t back down, but I didn’t move forward either. My vines pulsed once around my feet, then slithered back into the earth like they had just realized they were being watched.

 

I exhaled hard. My hands trembled. I clenched them into fists.

 

Mei Mei leaned on her axe handle, utterly unfazed. “How dramatic,” she purred. “Though I suppose I should’ve expected that. Emotional types always think rage equals power.”

 

I gritted my teeth.

 

“Keep talking,” I growled. “Maybe you’ll finally say something that makes you bleed.”

 

She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head. “But you won’t. Because that would make you look weak in front of Nanami. You’ll fume and pout and storm back to Yaga like a good little student.”

 

I almost lunged.

 

But Nanami’s voice, calm and iron-strong, cut between us again.

 

“We’re done here. All cursed activity in the tunnels is neutralized. We’re returning.”

 

Mei Mei turned without another word, her braid swinging behind her like a sash of quiet superiority.

 

I stayed rooted for one second longer, fists still clenched, the anger still simmering somewhere deep and dangerous inside me.

 

It didn’t feel like just mine anymore.

 

But I swallowed it down.

 

I followed behind them in silence.

 

The tunnels were still, empty of curses now, but the air didn’t feel any lighter. It sat heavily on my skin as if the lingering tension between me and Mei Mei hadn’t left with the spirits.

 

She strode ahead like nothing had happened, shoulders relaxed, humming faintly under her breath like she was already bored with the whole day. Nanami walked behind her, his usual neutral calm intact, but I could tell his mind was still turning. He’d felt it. That moment when something shifted in me. The flare that wasn’t part of my normal cursed energy, something darker and older scraping up from the edges.

 

And I had felt it too.

 

That voice, silent but present, hadn't spoken in words. It didn’t have to. I didn’t know what it was, but it had noticed what I felt. It liked it.

 

I flexed my fingers. They didn’t shake anymore, but I could still feel where my vines had gone tense like something under my skin had wanted to strike, not protect. Something that didn’t care if it was Mei Mei or a cursed spirit at the other end of it.

 

I kept my head down, following the crunch of Mei Mei’s boots and the rhythm of Nanami’s steady pace. The tunnel opened wider the closer we got to the exit shaft, sunlight bleeding in from the top of the crumbling stairs ahead.

 

Still, no one spoke.

 

Until Mei Mei broke the quiet with her usual poison-wrapped silk.

 

“You know,” she said lightly, “I think I struck a nerve earlier.”

 

I said nothing. Not at first. I was too tired. Too sore. Too aware of the stinging ache at my ribs where my shirt was still damp with blood that had long since dried.

 

She slowed a little. Just enough to glance back at me over her shoulder. “I don’t fault you for lashing out. Emotion is a tool, just like anything else. But it’s unrefined. It makes you predictable.”

 

Nanami didn’t respond. Neither did I.

 

“I see it now,” she went on, voice too calm. “You’re not the strongest. You’re not the sharpest. But you are dangerous. Uncontrolled. A wild card. That’s why they like you.”

 

I narrowed my eyes. “You don’t know anything about why they like me.”

 

She smiled again. Not cruel. Just... condescending. “No, but I know boys like chaos when it comes in a pretty package. Until they don’t of course.”

 

“Enough,” Nanami said sharply, his voice like a gavel dropping.

 

We reached the stairs, light pouring in around Mei Mei’s silhouette as she climbed. She didn’t look back again.

 

I stayed a few steps behind, chest still tight, jaw still locked. The sunlight didn’t warm me when I stepped into it, it just reminded me of how deep we’d gone.

 

Nanami fell into step beside me as we passed the gate marking the edge of the curse zone.

 

“She won’t report what she did,” he said, voice quiet. “But I will.”

 

I didn’t answer right away.

 

“…Thanks,” I said finally.

 

Nanami nodded just slightly, more in acknowledgment than comfort, and continued walking. My side still ached faintly, though the bleeding had stopped. The bruises were healing, but my anger… that wasn’t going anywhere.

 

I dug my phone from my pocket, the screen still smeared with dried blood from my hand, and typed one message.

 

To: Gojo, Suguru

 

> I’m fucking furious.

 

That was all I had energy for. But it was enough to give them a heads up.

 

---

 

By the time we crossed the gate and stepped back onto campus grounds, the late sun was painting long gold streaks over the gravel paths. And there they were.

 

Satoru and Suguru, waiting like they’d felt me coming.

 

Suguru was leaning against a tree in his usual quiet poise, arms crossed. Gojo, of course, was sitting on the back of a bench like it was made for him, spinning his phone in one hand. The second they saw me, they straightened.

 

Gojo’s sunglasses slid down the bridge of his nose as his Six Eyes scanned me, fast, focused, unusually silent. 

 

I instinctively crack my neck and roll it out.

 

“Whoa,” he murmured. “You look like a thunderstorm.”

 

Suguru stepped closer, eyes flicking to the half-healed wound on my side, to the slight tension still in my shoulders. “What happened?”

 

“She looks furious,” Gojo added. “Like, actually furious. I didn’t know cursed energy could even look like that. It’s like someone lit it on fire and trapped it in a cage.”

 

I didn’t speak. I didn’t have to. My energy was still flaring just beneath the surface, too tight to suppress, too jagged to soften.

 

“Mm,” came a smooth voice behind us. “Don’t worry, boys. She performed adequately.”

 

Mei Mei walked up, brushing dust off her sleeve with deliberate elegance. Her braid was still perfectly in place. No scuff, no wound, not even a hair out of line.

 

Gojo’s face shifted immediately, that usual grin sliding into place like a mask. “Mei Mei,” he drawled. “Always a pleasure to be near you and your complete lack of empathy.”

 

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” she purred. “Your little girlfriend’s still breathing, isn’t she?”

 

Suguru’s posture changed.

 

He didn’t move, but his presence shifted. Denser. Heavier. Like the air had tightened around him.

 

Gojo let out a single dry laugh. “Mmm. You might want to stop there.”

 

Mei Mei didn’t push it. She smiled, dipped her head slightly, and then turned on her heel, graceful and unbothered as ever, disappearing down the path with her usual swaying strut.

 

Nanami remained quiet through the entire exchange. But once she was gone, he turned to the three of us and spoke in that calm, blunt voice of his.

 

“I’m going to speak to Yaga. Immediately.”

 

I nodded. “Yeah that would be a good idea. Tell him everything.”

 

“I will.” He looked at Gojo and Suguru, then back at me. “You’re not at fault.”

 

And with that, he turned and left.

 

I exhaled for the first time in what felt like hours.

 

Satoru and Suguru were quiet, but they closed the distance between us like magnets. Gojo tilted his head, studying me again, softer this time.

 

“Who do I kill?”

 

“No one,” I muttered. “Not yet.”

 

Suguru looked down at me. “Want to talk about it?”

 

“Not here,” I muttered. “Come to my room.”

 

I didn’t wait for an answer. Just turned and stormed toward the dorms, vines twitching faintly at my heels like they were still itching for something to hit. I could hear the quiet thuds of their footsteps falling into pace behind me, Gojo’s longer strides catching up easily, Suguru’s more measured. No questions. No pushing.

 

Just following. Like they always did.

 

I flung my door open the second we got there and barely waited for it to close behind them before I snapped.

 

“She used me as a human shield!” I yelled, pacing back and forth, throwing my arms up. “Not once. Not twice. FOUR. TIMES.”

 

Gojo’s mouth dropped open like he was watching a soap opera. “No way.”

 

“Yes way,” I spat, turning to face them. “And every time she did it, it was with that smug-ass little smile like she was doing me a favor. ‘Oh, you’re a healer, you can take it!’ Like that justifies throwing me into the claws of a cursed spirit!”

 

“She threw you?” Gojo said, horrified. “Like literally threw or metaphorically-?”

 

“Literally pushed me into multiple attacks, Satoru!” I shouted.

 

He gasped. “That bitch.”

 

“She thinks she’s so untouchable and clever and smooth just because she talks like she’s always five moves ahead, but all she does is treat people like disposable tools! And then she had the audacity to act like she won some psychological match just because I didn’t deck her in the teeth!”

 

Gojo flopped dramatically onto my bed, arms spread like a starfish. “You should have swung out. I would’ve held your earrings.”

 

“Yaga would’ve expelled me,” I muttered.

 

“Worth it,” he said, without hesitation.

 

Suguru, sitting calmly in my desk chair with one ankle crossed over his knee, finally spoke. “You’re not wrong for being angry. But letting it take over like this doesn’t help you. She wants you to lose your cool. She pushes until you explode, then walks away untouched while you deal with the fallout.”

 

“I know,” I growled. “I know, Suguru, but she just- UUUHHHGGG she got under my skin. She made me feel shitty. Like I was just this cute little emotional mess she couldn’t wait to see break.”

 

Gojo sat up now, his shades pushed up onto his head so I could see the fire in his eyes. “Then prove her wrong. Not by snapping, but by showing her what she underestimated. She thinks you’re a soft target? Next time, make her eat it.”

 

Suguru looked between the two of us, his calm versus Gojo’s chaos, and gave me a tired but fond smile. “Or… you could both breathe. Maybe once.”

 

“I am breathing,” I huffed. “Aggressively.”

 

Gojo reached over and started rifling through my snack drawer. “Do you have anything crunchy? Crunchy food hits the spot when you're pissed off.”

 

I slumped down onto the floor, my anger burning off in waves, sharp and smoky, but beneath it, I felt the warmth of them both. One lounging too close on the bed with chip crumbs everywhere, the other perched with calm precision at my desk, eyes following every subtle shift in my energy.

 

It helped. Not enough to make the fury vanish, but enough to ground it.

 

I stretched my legs out, staring at the ceiling. “Is she always like that?”

 

Gojo tilted his head. “Mei Mei?”

 

“No,” I said dryly. “The sewer troll. Yes, obviously Mei Mei.”

 

Suguru leaned back in my chair, thoughtful. “She’s always calculating. Cruel. She doesn't waste time insulting people unless she thinks she can learn something from how they react.”

 

“Or she wants to know where to stick the knife,” Gojo added. “She flirts too, but it’s just another way to test people. She likes knowing who’s vulnerable to what.”

 

I frowned. “Has she ever done that to you two?”

 

Gojo snorted. “Nope. She mostly just flirts with me and then rolls her eyes when I flirt back harder.”

 

Suguru gave him a look. “You flirt back so aggressively I’m shocked she doesn’t file noise complaints.”

 

“I bring charm to the battlefield, thank you.”

 

I ignored their usual back-and-forth. “But she never did the whole psychological breakdown thing? Never used you like bait?”

 

Suguru shook his head. “Not with me. And not with Satoru or Nanami, as far as I’ve seen.”

 

“She treats us like peers,” Gojo said, his grin sharpening. “Even if she thinks she’s better than everyone.”

 

My fingers curled slightly against the rug. “Then why me?”

 

Suguru’s voice was calm. Too calm. “Because you’re new. Untested. Tied to us. She doesn’t see you as stable. She sees you as leverage.”

 

“I hate that,” I muttered. “She thinks she can shake me like a dumb vending machine and get what she wants..”

 

“Looks like she hit the wrong button,” Gojo said, tipping the bag of chips toward me in offering. “You practically lit up the damn cave.”

 

I took one, chewing slowly. “What about Utahime? Or Shoko? Or even Yu?”

 

Gojo shrugged. “Shoko’s too deadpan to flinch, and Utahime doesn’t spend much time with Mei Mei. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mei tried to break her down at some point though.”

 

Suguru added, “Yu’s too sweet. No edge to press into. It wouldn’t be worth her time. He’d probably offer to carry her groceries.”

 

“Then she picked me because she thought I’d snap.”

 

“She picked you,” Suguru said, “because she wanted you to.”

 

Gojo leaned over the side of the bed, resting his chin on his palm. “But you didn’t. Not really. You got mad. You didn’t break.”

 

I exhaled slowly, staring down at my hands.

 

“Maybe not,” I admitted. “But she still got to me. She pulled something out of me I didn’t even know was there. Something I couldn’t put back once it moved.”

 

Gojo sat up a little straighter, expression shifting from playful to serious, his tone still casual, but his voice low. “Your cursed energy… it didn’t look like it normally does when you walked up to us.”

 

I look to him. “What do you mean?”

 

He pushed his glasses halfway down his nose, tapping the frame with a finger. “Usually, your energy’s wild but soft. Messy, yeah, but it breathes with you. It pulses with your emotions. But when you got back from that mission?” He paused. “It looked compressed. Rigid. Almost feral. Like it wasn’t yours anymore.”

 

That made my stomach twist.

 

“It’s calmed now,” he added, watching me. “You’re back to normal. More or less. But for a second, it was like…” He frowned. “Like you were being used by it. Not the other way around.”

 

Suguru shifted in the desk chair, his gaze steady. “I can’t see cursed energy like Satoru does. But I felt it too. Like it was pressing outward. Trying to fill the room before you even got close.”

 

I swallowed.

 

So it wasn’t just me.

 

“It didn’t feel like healing,” I said quietly. “It didn’t even feel like my vines. It felt... hungrier.”

 

Gojo leaned forward again, elbows resting on his knees. “You didn’t lose control of whatever it is, though. You held it. That matters.”

 

Suguru nodded. “It means you can train it. Understand it. That thing inside you? Whether it’s a bloodline trait or a cursed adaptation, it didn’t overwhelm you. That’s important.”

 

“Still,” I muttered, “it’s like something woke up when she hurt me. Like it wanted her to keep going.”

 

There was a pause.

 

Then Gojo, voice softer than I expected, said, “Then we figure out what it is. Before she, or anyone else, tries to wake it up again.”

 

Suguru added, “And until we know what it’s capable of… we make sure you’re not facing it alone.”

 

That settled something in my chest.

 

Even if something inside me was changing..

 

I wasn’t the only one listening anymore.

 

 

Chapter 26: Late Night Fears

The nightmares came in waves.

 

Not the usual kind, the ones with blood and broken glass, the ones where I relive every sharp word my mother ever spat at me, every mistake I've ever made echoing in my skull. These were quieter. Hungrier. They didn’t scream. They whispered. They watched.

 

I woke with my shirt stuck to my skin, heart pounding like I had been running, hand clenched in the sheets so tight the fabric kept its shape when I let go.

 

The dorm room was too still. Too quiet.

 

I sat up, rubbing my eyes. My vines twitched faintly under my skin, restless like they’d been stirred too. I tried lying back down. Turned over. Counted ceiling tiles. Nothing helped. I was wide awake and buzzing.

 

Eventually, I gave up and padded barefoot into the common room.

 

The glow of the TV lit the space with soft blue flickers, and there he was, Gojo, in all his stupid, lanky glory, sprawled on the couch with one leg hanging off the armrest and the other pulled up like a perch. His hoodie was bunched at his waist, grey sweatpants soft and perfectly clean like always. He was playing Mario Kart. Koopa zoomed across the screen at an ungodly speed.

 

He didn’t look up when I entered.

 

“Can’t sleep?” he asked casually, thumb flicking the joystick like it owed him money.

 

I padded over without answering and sat down beside him, my legs curled underneath me. I didn’t say anything. Just leaned into his shoulder and let the warmth of his body seep into mine.

 

He glanced over, the softest curve pulling at his mouth.

 

“No hello? No dramatic sigh?”

 

I just grunted, forehead pressing to his sleeve.

 

He chuckled and paused the game. “Hang on.”

 

Then, without warning, he stood up and shoved the couch three feet closer to the TV. I blinked as it scraped across the floor with a low groan.

 

He flopped back down, patting his stomach. “Alright, come here. I know what you need.”

 

I raised an eyebrow. “A chiropractic adjustment?”

 

“A cuddle,” he said, smug. “Duh.”

 

He didn’t have to tell me twice.

 

I curled onto the couch and tucked myself between his legs, letting my head rest just below his collarbone, my arms folded loosely across his middle. His hand immediately found my back, fingers dragging slow shapes under the fabric of my shirt. I could feel the faint shift of his breath beneath my cheek, the steady ba-thump of his heart.

 

He unpaused the game one-handed.

 

I sighed softly. “This feels illegal.”

 

“Right?” he whispered back, grinning. “Top-tier cuddle positioning. I’m basically your mattress now.”

 

“You always this humble?”

 

“Only when I’m right.”

 

I laughed, quiet and half-asleep already.

 

His thumb moved in soft circles at the base of my spine, slow enough that it felt more like a lullaby than a touch. I didn’t realize how tense I’d been until my whole body melted into him. Like something inside me finally let go.

 

“You’re warm,” I mumbled, letting my eyes close. “And soft. Like a bougie, overstuffed heating pad.”

 

He grinned. “That’s the nicest insult I’ve ever gotten.”

 

His voice had dropped lower, more of a hum than a tease now. It felt like the night folded around us in layers, static from the game, the soft crinkle of the couch, his fingers tracing the length of my back like he was trying to memorize it.

 

“You’re playing Koopa,” I murmured.

 

“Always.”

 

“Why?”

 

“He’s tiny, fast, and adorable. Just like someone else I know.”

 

I poked his side with a tired finger. “Flattery gets you nowhere.”

 

“Lies,” he whispered. “It gets me exactly where I want to be.”

 

I smiled, barely.

 

The match ended with Koopa in second. He cursed under his breath and started another one, but I could tell he was only half-playing now. His other hand had migrated to my hair, twirling a loose strand between his fingers.

 

I don’t know how long we stayed like that. Minutes. Hours. Time blurred when it was soft.

 

Eventually, I spoke. Quiet. Almost afraid to ruin it.

 

“Did she ever mess with you?”

 

Gojo didn’t ask who I meant. He just sighed.

 

“No,” he said. “Not like that. Never like that.”

 

He kept playing, but slower now.

 

“She flirted. Tried to provoke me a few times. But I’m…” He exhaled a short laugh. “I’m hard to pin down when I don’t want to be. And Suguru? She treats him like a wall. Too solid to move, too complicated to climb.”

 

“But I’m not a wall.”

 

“No,” he said, his hand brushing down my spine again. “You’re something else. Something she can’t categorize. So she poked.”

 

“She shoved,” I muttered.

 

“I know,” he said gently. “And I’m sorry.”

 

I didn’t answer. I just curled in closer, pressing my nose to his neck, breathing in the faint smell of that expensive cologne he always wore.

 

“You don’t have to be tough right now,” he whispered.

 

That was the part that almost undid me.

 

Not a demand. Not a challenge.

 

Just permission.

 

I let myself stay there. Let myself melt into the curve of his body, the steady rhythm of his breath, the casual, grounding presence of him beneath me. No pressure. No expectations. Just… him.

 

“I had nightmares,” I admitted.

 

His hand paused.

 

“Do you want to talk about them?” he asked.

 

I shook my head against his chest. “Not yet.”

 

“Then don’t.” His fingers resumed their quiet circles. “Just breathe.”

 

I didn’t know how long we stayed like that. It could’ve been fifteen minutes or an hour, I didn’t care. The static lull of the TV, the warmth of Gojo’s body under mine, the gentle drag of his fingers through my hair… it was enough to make the world blur. Enough to make the fear stop knocking.

 

Then I heard the soft creak of the dorm door and padded footsteps. I didn’t even lift my head.

 

“You moved the couch again,” Suguru said, voice hushed but unmistakably unimpressed.

 

Satoru grinned above me. “Guilty. But it was for a good cause.”

 

The couch dipped behind me as Suguru approached, and I finally cracked one eye open to see him standing over us with a towel draped around his neck, his long hair still damp and curling slightly at the ends. His T-shirt was wrinkled like he’d just pulled it out of a drawer, and his classic pajama pants with little checked squares. He looked unfairly cozy.

 

He didn’t say anything right away, just arched a brow and then reached out, flicking one of Gojo’s legs.

 

“Move your spaghetti limbs. I want to sit down.”

 

Satoru let out an exaggerated ugh, lifting both legs with unnecessary flair like they weighed a ton. I used the moment to shift, so I was still lying against Gojo’s chest but now partially in Suguru’s lap as he settled onto the couch.

 

Suguru sighed contentedly, adjusting until one arm rested across my back and the other hand slid down to gently rub my thigh. His fingers were warm, steady, unhurried.

 

“What’s going on, Amara?” he asked softly, rubbing slow circles against the side of my leg.

 

“Nightmares,” I murmured, not moving.

 

He nodded like he understood completely, even if I didn’t explain further.

 

“You’re safe now,” he said quietly, pressing his palm flat between my shoulder blades. “Just breathe, pretty girl.”

 

The skin there twitched at the warmth of his touch, but not in fear, never with him. He was grounding. Slow. Patient. Like he knew the exact pressure to keep me tethered.

 

I didn’t say anything back. Didn’t need to.

 

I let my eyes flutter closed, cheek still pressed against Satoru’s chest. I could feel the faint buzz of his laugh before I even heard it.

 

“Well,” he muttered, flicking the joystick again with renewed focus, “now that I’m no longer responsible for massage duties, I can finally reclaim my honor.”

 

“You never had any to begin with,” Suguru said flatly.

 

“I have plenty of honor. Overflowing, even.”

 

“Sure. That’s why you tried to cheat in Mario Party last week.”

 

“I didn’t cheat, I strategized. There’s a difference.”

 

“You unplugged my controller.”

 

“Only because you were about to steal my star!”

 

Suguru sighed, shifting a little beneath me so I was tucked more comfortably into the crook of his arm. One hand stayed pressed between my shoulder blades while the other rubbed lazy circles down the back of my knee, slow and soft.

 

“She’s melting,” he murmured, voice dipping low. “You feel that? You’ve got her half-asleep already.”

 

Gojo snorted. “That’s ‘cause I’m the mattress.”

 

“You’re the floor she’s sleeping on out of protest.”

 

“Rude. This floor is high quality and imported.”

 

Suguru arched a brow. “From where? The world’s most dramatic mattress store?”

 

“From Italy, actually. My bones are European.”

 

I laughed, barely, just a huff of breath against his chest, but it was enough to make Satoru puff up with pride.

 

“There she is. Laughing at my jokes. As she should.”

 

“She’s laughing at you,” Suguru corrected.

 

“Details,” Gojo said, turning back to the screen. “Koopa and I are in sync now. We’re bonded by blood and probably trauma.”

 

“Your trauma is a banana peel and no insurance.”

 

“You mock me now, but just wait! Watch this turn.”

 

He made a sharp noise, flicked the joystick hard, and then immediately groaned.

 

“Never mind. Red shell. I was cheated out of my epic drift.”

 

Suguru hummed in mock sympathy. “Tragic.”

 

Gojo peeked down at me. “She’s totally judging me, isn’t she?”

 

“She’s almost asleep.”

 

“Which means she’s listening. And judging.”

 

Suguru leaned forward a little, brushing his mouth against the crown of my head in the lightest kiss.

 

“She’s tired. Let her rest.”

 

Gojo sighed dramatically. “Fine. I’ll win quietly.”

 

“Try ‘gracefully.’”

 

“Now you’re just asking for miracles. Which lucky for you, I'm full of those.”

 

I smiled to myself, eyelids fluttering but not shutting. I didn’t want to miss this. The sound of their voices, Gojo’s light ridiculous humor, Suguru’s low and dry and too clever for his own good humor, blended into something soft and sacred.

 

A lullaby made of static and sarcasm.

 

Their words didn’t need to mean anything profound. Just hearing them exist around me, like I was part of their normal like I wasn’t something fragile or broken, healed places inside me I didn’t even realize were still cracked.

 

Gojo yawned mid-turn. “Okay, I might’ve gotten too comfy. My legs are asleep.”

 

“That’s because you sit like a goblin.”

 

“It’s comfortable!”

 

Suguru laughed softly. “You’re thirty percent limbs, twenty percent ego, and fifty percent chaos. There’s no comfortable way for you to sit.”

 

“You forgot the ten percent charm.”

 

“You added an extra ten percent.”

 

“I contain multitudes.”

 

I let out another small, tired snort.

 

Suguru’s hand moved again, slow and steady across my back. “There she goes.”

 

“We’re so funny,” Satoru whispered with a smug grin. “We’re healing.”

 

“She’s healing. You’re barely coherent.”

 

“You wound me.”

 

“Only emotionally.”

 

“Lucky for me,” Gojo muttered, eyes still on the screen, “she likes me broken.”

 

The room had gone quiet again, but not heavy. The kind of quiet you feel rather than hear. Their voices had faded into low murmurs and half-laughs, and now the only real sound was the low hum of the game menu and Suguru’s fingers still moving gently across my back.

 

I could’ve stayed there forever.

 

But something tightened in my chest.

 

I don’t know why it came out when it did. Maybe it was the weight of the day catching up. Or maybe being wrapped up like this, so safe, so warm, so wanted, shook something loose.

 

“I’m scared,” I whispered.

 

Suguru’s hand stilled.

 

Satoru glanced down from above me, his fingers slowly moving from my arm to my hair.

 

“Of what?” Suguru asked, voice low, careful. Not pushing, just waiting.

 

I swallowed. “Of getting too comfortable.”

 

The words felt stupid out loud. But they kept coming.

 

“I keep thinking… what if the second I let myself believe this is real, you both change? Like… I stop being a chase. Or something new. And suddenly I’m just another thing you got tired of.”

 

Gojo was silent longer than usual. Which in itself said a lot.

 

His hand tightened just slightly on my arm. Then, voice softer than I’d ever heard it, he said, “I don’t let people close. Like… ever.”

 

I blinked. Tilted my head slightly to look up at him.

 

Gojo looked down at me with no smirk, no bravado. Just him, wide-eyed and honest, white hair falling over his forehead.

 

“It’s been Suguru,” he said. “Always. And maybe Shoko. But even then… not like this.”

 

He paused like he wasn’t sure how much to admit.

 

“I feel safest when you’re around.”

 

My breath caught.

 

“I don’t know what that says about me,” he added, almost laughing, “but it’s true.”

 

Suguru shifted behind me, curling just a little more around us like a barrier. His voice was quieter than Gojo’s, lower, more deliberate.

 

“You’re not a chase, Amara,” he said. “You’re… you. That’s all we’ve ever wanted.”

 

I closed my eyes, breathing in the warmth from both sides.

 

“There’s no rush,” Suguru added gently. “We’re not going anywhere. And it’s okay if things stay slow. If you need time. If you need space. If there are things we’re doing that make you uncomfortable-”

 

I shook my head against Gojo’s chest. “No. I don’t want anything to change.”

 

They both went quiet.

 

“I think that’s what scares me... That things will change and not feel this safe anymore..." I admitted.

 

Suguru’s hand resumed its slow rhythm on my back.

 

Gojo lowered his face so his cheek rested against the top of my head.

 

“Then nothing has to,” Suguru said. “Not until you’re ready.”

 

“Especially not the cuddles,” Gojo murmured. “I live for this now.”

 

I smiled, small and tired. “You’re clingy.”

 

“Exceptionally,” he agreed.

 

Suguru chuckled, hand gliding down to squeeze my calf softly. “Only with you.”

 

“I know.”

 

And somehow… that made it easier.

 

I didn’t have to be all in. I didn’t have to sprint toward anything. I just had to exist here. In this moment. With the two people who made the fear quieter.

 

Wrapped up in limbs and breath and soft touches that asked for nothing but presence.

 

I let myself rest, pressed between them.

 

 

Chapter 27: Blood Lined Thread

The quiet of the administrative wing didn’t feel like peace. It felt like something buried, deep and rotting, beneath lacquered floors and aging scrolls. Yaga sat in his office, arms folded across his broad chest, gaze fixed on the flickering screen of his thick monitor. The glow casts deep shadows across the lines in his face.

 

The door creaked open with no knock.

 

Yuki Tsukumo didn’t ask permission.

 

She stepped in like smoke, loose pants sweeping the floor, coat slung lazily over her shoulder but there was something colder than usual in her eyes.

 

“I thought you’d come,” Yaga said without looking up.

 

Yuki dropped a folder onto his desk.

 

Inside: still frames. Cursed vines. A healing shield flaring red. Amara mid-motion, expression unreadable, caught between instinct and intent.

 

“That was from our last training session together,” Yuki said, tone light but void of humor. “Warehouse outside Shinjuku. Three Grade 2s. She wiped them out almost solo.”

 

Yaga’s jaw ticked. He flipped to the next image. The vines were cleaner than before. Deliberate.

 

Yuki crossed her arms. “Tell me that doesn’t look like a technique she’s been trained with since childhood.”

 

“She’s been training hard here,” Yaga said evenly.

 

“Not like this,” Yuki snapped. “You know it. I know it. Hell, Nanami knows it, he’s the one who told me what Mei Mei pulled.”

 

Yaga finally looked up.

 

Yuki leaned on the desk, lowering her voice. “She should’ve snapped. Mei Mei used her like a cursed ragdoll and she snapped back with a technique that didn’t just react, it calculated. It moved around Nanami, around bystanders. It was clean. Focused. Too clean for someone still fumbling with cursed energy output not long ago.”

 

Yaga didn’t reply.

 

“I asked her about it,” Yuki continued. “She said she blacked out. That something just ‘took over.’ that 'all she felt was anger.' Gojo refused to talk to me about what he sees in her energy and Geto just plays it off like he doesn't know what I'm talking about.”

 

Silence pulsed between them.

 

“You think this is just trauma manifesting through cursed energy?” she asked.

 

Yaga didn’t move.

 

“Because I don’t.”

 

Yuki sighs. “Ten years ago,” she started, “A rumor. A man, not sure of the name. Said to drain sorcerers and curses alike. Said to never die. Said to wear a cursed collar around his neck and that the only way to kill him was to remove his head.”

 

She looked him dead in the eyes.

 

“I don’t know who he is. But I think you do.”

 

Yaga’s fingers curled slightly over the edge of the desk. He didn’t confirm. Didn’t deny.

 

Yuki kept going, voice like pressure. “I think he’s the reason the elders even let you take Amara in. I think they were hoping you’d get to her before he did.”

 

Still no answer.

 

“I’ve never seen cursed energy move the way hers does,” she continued. “It’s not just reactive. It’s adaptive. It shifts based on emotional input, grief, fear, rage. And now it’s starting to grow teeth. It’s not just protection anymore.”

 

She nodded toward the folder.

 

“That vines in the photo? It wasn’t reacting. It was tracking. It hunted the curse down the second she felt unsettled.”

 

Yaga finally leaned back.

 

“It’s above your clearance, Yuki.”

 

She laughed, bitter. “That’s a first.”

 

“Let it go.”

 

“I don’t let things go. You know that.”

 

“Yeah, and it's a pain in my ass.”

 

Yuki stepped back. For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint creak of the building settling.

 

“I’m not asking to protect myself,” she said. “I’m asking because I happen to like the girl.”

 

Yaga studied her. “So do I.”

 

“So you have to understand why I'm worried.”

 

There was something ancient in Yaga’s eyes as he looked back at the file. At the image of Amara, surrounded by broken spirits and curling vines like blood-soaked roots.

 

“She doesn’t know what she is,” he said softly. “Not fully.”

 

Yuki’s brows furrowed.

 

“She thinks she’s alone in this,” he continued. “But what’s inside her? It wasn’t made by accident. It was built.” He tapped the photo. “Engineered over generations.”

 

Yuki went still.

 

Yaga’s voice dropped. “You weren’t wrong. The elders let me take her in because of him. Because they were afraid he’d come back to finish what he started. But they’re fools if they think this ends cleanly.”

 

“Who is he?” she asked.

 

Yaga hesitated.

 

“…Riku Hoshizuki.”

 

Yuki’s eyes widened.

 

The name fell like a blade into the silence. Yaga folded the folder shut as if that could contain the weight of it.

 

“Don’t repeat it. Not to the girl. Not to anyone.”

 

Yuki’s voice was quiet now. “He’s still alive, isn’t he?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

"Liar." Yuki’s voice cracked like a whip through the still air. Her palms hit the desk with a hollow thud, papers jolting under the force.

 

Yaga didn’t flinch. But his jaw clenched.

 

“I said drop it,” he rumbled, but there was no real anger, just weariness. The kind that builds after years of keeping a truth too heavy to carry out loud.

 

Yuki didn’t move. “You know where he is. Or at least know more than you’re saying. You didn’t even hesitate when you said his name.”

 

“I said it to shut you up,” Yaga growled, standing now, broad shoulders shadowing the desk. “Because if I don’t say it, you dig. And if you dig, the Elders hear. And if they hear-”

 

“They’ll do what?” Yuki snapped. “Try to erase her like they do everything else?”

 

Silence. Thick. Static.

 

Yaga looked at her then, not as a superior, or a sorcerer, but as a man who’d seen too many children tossed to wolves and called it duty.

 

“Riku Hoshizuki isn’t coming for her,” he said, slow and sure. “He made that clear when he walked away after her birth.”

 

Yuki blinked. “So he knows she exists?”

 

“He knew the second she was born,” Yaga replied. “He showed up. Looked at her. Turned his back. Told her mother never to contact him again.”

 

Yuki reeled slightly at the bluntness. “So he abandoned her?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Yaga’s hands were tight fists now, braced on the desk.

 

“She wasn’t part of some long plan. She wasn’t a weapon he groomed. She was a mistake. An accident. And it killed him to realize the bloodline would continue.”

 

Yuki’s lips parted, but nothing came out.

 

Yaga pushed away from the desk and paced once, running a heavy hand down his face.

 

“You think I haven’t asked myself if he’d come back? If he’s watching? You think I haven’t checked, had sorcerers watch the shadows every time she so much as got close to triggering that power?”

 

He turned back to her, eyes sharp. “He hasn’t come. And I don’t think he will.”

 

“Because he doesn’t care,” Yuki said flatly.

 

“Because he’s afraid,” Yaga corrected.

 

That silenced her.

 

He sighed and returned to his seat, the weight of all his decisions dragging across his back.

 

“She’s stronger than he was. Stronger than he wanted to be. She was born of someone who hated her and someone who feared her. And still, she chooses kindness. That’s what I want to focus on nurturing.”

 

Yuki’s mouth tightened. “You think he’s still watching?”

 

“I think he’s hoping she dies before the world notices her.”

 

The words left a chill in the air, settling like frost.

 

Yuki finally stepped back from the desk. Her fists were loose now. Her anger hadn’t gone, but it had shifted.

 

“You’re going to have to tell her eventually,” she murmured. “Maybe not today. But she deserves to know.”

 

Yaga didn’t look up this time. “I know.”

 

Yuki lingered by the door, her eyes sharp as a scalpel.

 

“She’s changing,” she said quietly. “You can’t tell me you don’t see it.”

 

Yaga let out a breath through his nose. Slow. Controlled. “I see it.”

 

“Then what do you think it is?” she pressed, stepping back toward the desk. “Because this, this thing that’s happening to her cursed energy, it doesn’t feel like a natural progression.”

 

“I don’t know,” Yaga admitted, voice low and graveled with strain. “I want it to be natural. I want it to be her just… growing into it. Gaining control. Growing as any other student would.”

 

He looked down at the image on his desk again, the still frame of Amara mid-attack, vines coiled like limbs with minds of their own. Controlled. Directed. Hungry.

 

“But if it’s not?” Yuki asked.

 

He didn’t answer.

 

“You think it’s the bloodline.”

 

“I think,” he said slowly, “we won’t know unless we keep watching. Closely.”

 

Yuki leaned forward again. “And what if it’s something else developing? Not a technique. Not just cursed energy. But a trait?”

 

Yaga’s voice dropped like a closing door. “This conversation is over.”

 

Yuki stared him down.

 

“You’re going to have to tell someone eventually.”

 

“No.” His voice was sharp now. “And you won't be telling anyone anything, especially not her.”

 

She didn’t hide her frustration. “You’re gambling with a girl’s life by keeping her in the dark.”

 

“I’m protecting her,” Yaga snapped. “From a truth that might never come to pass. From a weight that she doesn’t need to carry unless she has to. I want solid answers before doing anything.”

 

Yuki exhaled slowly like she was biting back something sharp. “You’re betting on hope.”

 

“I’ve bet on worse.”

 

There was a beat of silence.

 

Then Yaga continued, more measured.

 

“I’m going to have Shoko monitor her cursed energy levels regularly. Weekly, maybe more if there’s a flare. But I’m not telling Shoko the reason.”

 

Yuki frowned. “You think she’ll do it blindly?”

 

“She’ll do it because I’ll say it’s training. That Amara’s cursed energy signature is unique enough to make for a strong diagnostic case study. And because she cares.”

 

Yuki stepped back again, arms crossed tightly. “You really think you can hide this forever?”

 

“I think if we’re careful… we won’t have to.”

 

The room fell into heavy silence.

 

“…Fine,” Yuki muttered. “But the second that girl starts losing control again, really losing control, I’m stepping in. With or without your clearance.”

 

Yaga didn’t stop her this time.

 

She opened the door, and before slipping into the hall, she paused, glancing over her shoulder.

 

“She’s not just something to observe, you know.”

 

“I know.”

 

And then the door clicked shut behind her.

 

Yaga stared at the empty space she left behind, the silence pressing down harder than before.

 

He looked again at Amara’s photo.

 

At the vines. The red light.

 

At the expression on her face that wasn’t fear.

 

It was something deeper. Hungrier. Like a storm learning how to stand still.

 

“…Just let me be wrong,” he muttered.

 

Then he slid the folder into the drawer and locked it tight.

 

---

 

After the day had started to settle into night, Yaga made his way back to his office.

 

The dorms had gone quiet for the night, distant laughter and footsteps finally giving way to silence. A breeze curled through the trees outside, brushing against the windows like it was looking for a way in.

 

But in the depths of the faculty wing, Masamichi Yaga was wide awake.

 

The light in his office was dim, one lamp casting soft yellow over piles of reports and files, most untouched. He sat at his desk, staring at the heavy, dust-covered folder resting in the center like a curse all its own.

 

---

 

Riku Hoshizuki – CLASSIFIED LEVEL | STATUS: Presumed Rogue | File Sealed: 1992

 

His fingers hovered over the flap for a long moment before pulling it open.

 

The paper inside was brittle at the corners. Time hadn’t dulled the ink, though, every word still sharp. Still damning.

 

CLASSIFIED FILE – Jujutsu HQ

 

SUBJECT: Riku Hoshizuki

DOB: March 4, 1962

STATUS: Rogue / Unaffiliated

CLASSIFICATION: Special Grade – Active Threat

LAST CONFIRMED SIGHTING: Presumed 1999

CURRENT LOCATION: Unknown

FILE UNSEALED BY: Masamichi Yaga | Clearance Code: Zeta-Ten

DATE: May 31, 2007

NOTES: Subject presumed alive. Subject remains extremely dangerous. Immediate containment is recommended if located. DO NOT ENGAGE.

 

---

 

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION

Reported by: [Redacted]

 

Height: 6’3”

 

Build: Lean, muscular

 

Eyes: Red

 

Hair: Black with premature whitening in streaks (believed to be a side effect of cursed ink experimentation)

 

Distinguishing Features: Numerous healed lacerations across face and torso; scorched cursed ink markings across neck and upper chest (inflicted during childhood for testing resilience to spiritual corrosion).

 

Typical Appearance: Long dark coat, leather, or reinforced armor beneath clothing. Wears a custom-made Cursed Leather Collar around the neck, etched with reinforced binding sigils, specifically designed to counteract decapitation techniques.

 

---

 

CURSED TECHNIQUES

Compiled by: [Redacted]

 

1. Cursed Drain:

Subject drains both cursed energy and life force directly from victims via physical or near-contact proximity. Drain effects vary in intensity depending on emotional state. Repeated incidents have led to full-body paralysis, memory loss, and in rare cases, cardiac death in Grade 1 sorcerers.

 

2. High-Speed Regeneration:

Subject can regenerate organs, limbs, and even severe cranial trauma. One recorded case notes the reattachment of a severed arm in less than 4 minutes.

 

3. Battlefield Adaptation:

Riku adapts his cursed output to match or outlast opponents. In prolonged engagements, he becomes increasingly erratic and difficult to predict.

 

---

 

KILL REPORTS

Reviewed by: Arata Mondo, Second Seat, Tokyo HQ

 

Total Confirmed Kills: 37

 

12 Sorcerers (Grades 2–1)

 

9 Cursed Spirit Handlers

 

16 Non-sorcerer civilians (believed to be collateral or witnesses)

 

Kill Zone Behavior: Does not distinguish between combatant and observer once engaged. However, no confirmed kills of children or pregnant individuals. Suggests partial inhibition or behavioral conditioning.

 

“Subject displays high-level battlefield logic. Cold. Calculating. But not without patterns. Kill radius remains tight, suggesting an intentional avoidance of mass-casualty events.”

— Report: Special Ops Commander [Redacted]

 

---

 

PSYCH EVALUATION EXCERPT

Initial Examination Conducted by: Dr. H. Kurobane, 1980

Age: 18

 

---

 

PSYCH EVALUATION ADDENDUM

Subject Name: Riku Hoshizuki

DOB: March 4, 1962

Date of Intake: September 12, 1980

Age at Intake: 18

Facility: Tokyo Central Medical (Initial), then transferred to Sorcerer Custodial Ward 3A

Classified Entry: Level Omega – High-Risk Containment

Compiled By: Dr. H. Kurobane

Clearance Code: RZ-9JX

 

---

 

INTAKE NOTES:

 

> Subject was discovered at 2:17 AM, wandering along the western tracks of the Shinjuku rail line, fully barefoot, wearing only a torn long, presumed white, shirt and ripped black jeans. Subject was soaked in blood from chin to calf. When approached by metro security, he resisted nonviolently, only repeating the word “no” under his breath. Refused to speak otherwise.

 

> Immediate scans showed no visible wounds. After cleaning, no lacerations or bruising consistent with the volume of blood present. Lab reports confirmed the blood matched the subject’s DNA signature but was fresh, approximately 3 to 6 hours old, with no signs of coagulation.

 

>Subject was catatonic for the first six hours post-admittance. No cursed energy fluctuations during this period. Subject had no reactions to physical stimuli and eyes would not dilate when light test was introduced.

 

---

 

CONFIDENTIAL — Jujutsu Psychiatric & Neurological Division

PATIENT: Hoshizuki, Riku

DOB: March 5, 1962

AGE AT TIME OF SCAN: 19

CASE ID: #99-α13H

REFERRING PHYSICIAN: Dr. H. Kurobane

CONSULTING NEUROLOGIST: Dr. Keiji Tsuda

SCANNING DATE: June 18, 1981

SCAN TYPE: Full cranial MRI, functional MRI (fMRI), electroencephalogram (EEG), retinal light response test

 

---

 

CLINICAL HISTORY:

 

Patient exhibits flat affect, minimal speech, and extreme resistance to confinement. Displays sudden and disproportionate violent responses when provoked. History of childhood experimental trauma and confirmed regenerative cursed technique; family line known for high-risk cursed technique experimentation (classified, redacted).

 

---

 

BRAIN SCAN & NEUROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS:

 

1. Amygdala Activity:

 

Hyperactive baseline state.

 

Patient shows persistent, elevated amygdala activity even in a resting state. This is consistent with chronic hypervigilance and trauma-response conditioning.

 

Suggests a near-constant state of perceived threat or agitation.

 

Patient may be neurologically locked into a defensive emotional mode, explaining intense rage and difficulty experiencing joy or affection.

 

2. Prefrontal Cortex (Emotion Regulation & Decision Making):

 

Underdeveloped connectivity to the limbic system.

 

Decreased gray matter volume in medial and ventromedial prefrontal areas, common in individuals subjected to prolonged childhood abuse.

 

Impaired regulatory control over emotional response, especially fear and aggression.

 

Possible indicator of psychophysiological blunting: patient cannot "feel" fully unless stimuli are extreme.

 

3. Anterior Cingulate Cortex:

 

Minimal activation during empathy-based tasks.

 

Indicates extreme emotional detachment or trauma-induced empathy suppression.

 

Possibly a coping mechanism or neurological shutdown from early repeated violations of body autonomy and isolation.

 

4. Insular Cortex:

 

Shows low interoceptive sensitivity.

 

Patient may have diminished internal emotional awareness—i.e., feels almost nothing unless under extreme physical/emotional distress.

 

Matches observed behaviors: no response to pain, emotional blankness punctuated only by sudden intense violence.

 

---

 

ADDITIONAL TESTS:

 

Pupillary Light Reflex Test:

 

Abnormal.

 

Pupils remain constricted under all lighting conditions.

 

No dilation when exposed to low-light environments or during cognitive/emotional load (fMRI-confirmed).

 

Indicates potential damage or mutation in the brainstem’s Edinger–Westphal nucleus or curse-induced autonomic override.

 

May relate to patient’s regenerative ability or be a consequence of repeated cursed experimentation in childhood.

 

---

 

NOTABLE OBSERVATIONS:

 

Despite extensive neurological abnormalities, no signs of organic brain damage are detected.

 

Patient’s regenerative cursed technique appears to have prevented long-term physical trauma markers from presenting.

 

However, functional trauma, emotional, sensory, and behavioral, is profound.

 

When spoken to by most staff, patient remains mute.

 

---

 

SUMMARY DIAGNOSIS:

 

Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (C-PTSD)

 

Emotional Regulation Disorder (Curse-influenced variant)

 

Psychogenic Mutism (intermittent)

 

Neurodevelopmental Scarring consistent with prolonged cursed experimentation and isolation trauma

 

---

 

RISK FACTORS:

 

Extreme volatility. Emotional shutdown punctuated by sudden, lethal aggression.

 

Curse-user mutation may allow long-term repression of internal stimuli until external provocation exceeds a manageable threshold.

 

Lack of fear-based self-preservation. Complete emotional desensitization.

 

Danger level escalates when the patient is not under constant supervision.

 

---

 

RECOMMENDATIONS:

 

Do not attempt standard rehabilitation.

 

Patient does not meet baseline human emotional thresholds for cognitive reconditioning.

 

If containment cannot be guaranteed, immediate reclassification to ROGUE status is advised.

 

Strongly recommend psychological containment seal or permanent sedation if re-acquired.

 

---

 

Signed,

Dr. Keiji Tsuda

Jujutsu Psychiatric & Neurological Division

Level IV Clearance Required for Access

 

---

 

TRANSFER TO WARD 3A (Jujutsu Supervision):

 

> Transferred under Emergency Protocol 7-B after initial containment staff reported unexplainable cursed energy surges during routine observation. One incident involved a nurse experiencing a 30-second visual distortion, describing “long shadows coming off his skin.”

 

---

 

OBSERVATIONAL PERIOD (1980–1985):

 

Behavioral Log – Excerpted Reports:

 

NURSE REPORT: YUMIKO TAKEDA – OCT 4, 1980

 

> “Patient screams when locked inside his quarters. Not outbursts, actual blood-curdling screams. Repeatedly throws himself against the door. At one point dislocated his left arm and began trying to snap the bones further. Not in rage. Almost… methodical. He stopped the second the door was opened. Wouldn’t speak after. Just sat on the floor and stared at the door.”

 

---

 

ORDERLY REPORT: MASAO NISHIDA – NOV 15, 1980

 

> “Subject broke his own fingers. Intentionally. In front of a staffer after being denied recreation access. When approached later to ask why, he said nothing. Wouldn’t even look up. Doesn’t react to pain. At all. I don’t know if it’s stubbornness or something deeper. I recommend stronger restraint measures.”

 

---

 

NURSE REPORT: EIKO FUJIMURA – FEB 3, 1982

 

> “I do not believe the subject is violent by nature. I think he is afraid. Deeply. Every time he’s allowed out of confinement, he becomes still. Not defiant, frozen. His hands tremble when he touches anything. I found him sitting under a desk once, holding one of the wooden table legs and tapping it gently like he was testing if it was real. It’s not aggression. It’s disassociation.”

 

---

 

PSYCH EXCERPT – DR. H. KUROBANE – JULY 9, 1983

 

> “He will not talk about his parents. He shuts down. His only consistent verbal phrase is: ‘Don’t lock the door.’ He repeats it when alone, sometimes while asleep. I believe his earliest trauma is tied to forced containment and experimentation. Cursed ink traces across his neck and upper shoulders appear burned into the skin with ceremonial precision. These are not decorative marks. They were branding.”

 

> “Subject is not mad. Not in the clinical sense. He is detached. He exhibits high intelligence, calculated perception, and severe emotional repression. His energy flares only in spikes, unpredictable and potent. He's shown us time and time again that he has found multiple ways to escape yet hasn't left. Windows, ventilation shafts, even pick locking doors with a spork.”

 

> “I strongly advise against reintroduction into society without years more of containment and treatment.”

 

---

 

INTERNAL REQUEST – TERMINATION VS. CONTAINMENT

Date: January 27, 1984

Petitioner: Commander [REDACTED]

Request: Immediate removal of subject from public containment. Deemed too unstable. Suggested permanent spiritual lock-down or euthanasia.

 

Status: DENIED

 

Override Issued By: [REDACTED]

Notes: “Subject has potential utility. Watch, do not destroy.”

 

---

 

RELEASE AND DISAPPEARANCE – INCIDENT LOG

Date of Release: May 4, 1984

Authorized By: [REDACTED]

Condition of Release: Subject showed “marked behavioral improvement.” Vocal responses resumed, mild engagement in monitored tasks. No recorded violent episodes in 4 months.

 

NURSE DISPUTE – SACHIKO MORI – APRIL 30, 1984

 

> “He is not better. He is quieter. That is not the same. He is not healed. He is hiding. If you let him out, we will never find him again. I’m not scared of him, I’m scared for who he becomes when no one’s looking.”

 

---

 

ADDENDUM: SUBJECT RIKU HOSHIZUKI

PSYCH WARD 3A - INTERNAL CASE FILE

SECTION: STAFF REPORTS, BEHAVIORAL OBSERVATIONS, INCIDENT LOGS

ACCESS: RESTRICTED - LEVEL BLACK

 

---

 

NOTE FROM NURSE HAZUKI MORIMOTO – NOVEMBER 22, 1984

 

> “He doesn’t respond to most of us. Never has. But when I sit down with him, just quietly… he listens. Sometimes he nods. Sometimes he’ll repeat a word I say. It’s small, but it’s something. I don’t think he’s empty, I think he’s afraid to show anything.”

 

> “He never smiles. Never laughs. But once, when I gave him his meal and said, ‘You’re safe now,’ he looked at me. Really looked. And I swear I saw something close to relief. It was gone fast. But it was real.”

 

---

 

STAFF MEMO – ORDERLY YUKIO SAITO – DEC 5, 1984

 

> “He’s a beast in human skin. Doesn’t flinch at pain, doesn’t react unless provoked. But god help you if you do provoke him.”

 

> “We had an incident today, another patient stole his lunch tray. Before we could intervene, Riku had the other boy pinned, one hand around his throat and the other cracking his jaw against the floor. He didn’t speak. He didn’t yell. He just acted. Surgical. Precise. Emotionless. It wasn’t anger. It was instinct.”

 

---

 

DOCTOR’S NOTE – DR. H. KUROBANE – DEC 9, 1984

 

> “Subject lacks emotional variance. His affect is almost entirely flat or violently reactive. He is only peaceful under strict routine and direct supervision by Nurse Hazuki Morimoto. Any deviation from her presence results in regression to prior behaviors, silence, violence, self-harm, or extreme agitation.”

 

---

 

EMAIL CORRESPONDENCE - NURSE H. MORIMOTO TO HQ MEDICAL BOARD – FEB 10, 1985

 

> To Whom It May Concern,

I am submitting this as a formal objection to the proposed release of Riku Hoshizuki under Protocol 12. While I understand he has demonstrated consistent calm over the last several weeks, I do not believe he is ready for societal reintroduction. He mimics emotional control, but it is not rooted in healing. It is rooted in fear of punishment or rejection. His humanity has not been rebuilt, it has been compressed.

 

If you release him now, you are not returning a patient to the world. You are releasing an unknown variable with no concept of consequence and no real support structure.

 

He is not stable. He is compliant. There is a difference.

 

- Hazuki Morimoto, Ward 3A Senior Nurse

 

---

 

RESPONSE FROM HQ – FILED MARCH 1, 1985

 

> Nurse Morimoto,

Your concerns are noted. However, under the revised spiritual containment policy, subject has met the criteria for public release. We will not be extending his hold. Continued detainment is no longer justifiable under current behavioral guidelines. Your request is respectfully denied.

 

- Administrative Officer [REDACTED]

 

---

 

FINAL NURSE ENTRY – H. MORIMOTO – MAY 3, 1985 (DAY BEFORE RELEASE)

 

> “He sat by the window again today, hands folded. I asked him if he was ready. He didn’t answer. Just shook his head slowly. He whispered something. I think he said, ‘I don’t want to go back.’ I touched his arm. He didn’t flinch.”

 

“I know what this is. This isn’t recovery. This is sedation. They’re letting him go because they’re tired. Because they think they can’t fix him. But he wasn’t broken to start with. He was made into this.”

 

---

 

POST-RELEASE EVENTS LOG – CLASSIFIED

DATE OF RELEASE: MAY 4, 1985

ESCORT DETAIL: 2 Sorcerer-Class Agents (Names Redacted)

MISSION: MONITORING AND REPORTING – TRACK SUBJECT LOCATION OVER 30 DAYS

 

INCIDENT REPORT – FILED MAY 9, 1985

 

> Both assigned agents failed to check in after 72 hours. The tracking technique cast on Agent #1 was terminated. An emergency location sweep returned no results. Secondary search team found both bodies on May 12, 1985, deep in the outskirts of the Nagano Prefecture.

 

> Cause of death: massive blood loss, torsional spinal fractures, and post-mortem dismemberment. No signs of external cursed energy involvement.

 

> Riku Hoshizuki was never seen again. Case marked: “ROGUE – KIA PRESUMED.”

 

CONFIDENTIAL APPENDIX — FIELD SIGHTING

ATTACHED TO FILE: HOSHIZUKI, RIKU

UNVERIFIED ACCOUNT — RETROSPECTIVE ENTRY FROM NURSE HITOMI MAEDA

YOKOHAMA MEDICAL CENTER, APRIL 20, 1987

Filed: August 12, 1990

Status: Assumed Valid. Classification: Restricted.

 

> I wasn’t supposed to write this down. I was told to forget it. But I couldn’t. I still can’t.

 

---

 

ENTRY: Nurse Hitomi Maeda (Yokohama Maternity Wing)

 

I remember it like a dream that stuck to the corners of my thoughts.

 

That day was quiet. Late spring sun filtering through the hospital curtains. I was tending to a mother recovering from emergency labor, no father listed on the paperwork, and no family visiting. She was unconscious. Sedated. The baby, however… she was perfect. Small. Healthy. Laughing at nothing. No crying. No stress.

 

Until he arrived.

 

He wasn’t on the visitor log. No identification. No flowers. Just a stuffed bear and a name I’ve never forgotten:

 

Ichiro Tominaga.

 

Tall. Scarred. Hair was dark at the ends but prematurely white along the top, like frost had kissed the roots. He had red eyes, and not in the poetic sense. Actually red. Like blood left to sit too long in glass.

 

Security tried to stop him before he reached the maternity wing. He didn’t lash out. He didn’t threaten. But something in his presence halted the air in the room. Like the floor knew not to creak too loud.

 

He said nothing.

 

But I stepped in.

 

I don’t know why. I never get involved when security’s in the middle of something. But something about him… not allure, not charm. Gravity.

 

“Sir?” I asked gently. “This area’s restricted unless you’re a listed guardian.”

 

He turned slowly. And when he finally spoke, his voice was like a rusted door breaking apart at the hinges.

 

> “She’s mine.”

 

That’s all he said. Like the words hurt to pass through his throat.

 

I didn’t believe him at first. But then he held out the bear. It wasn’t new. Worn, a little torn at the ear. Handmade stitching. Not store-bought.

 

> “I need to see her.”

 

He didn’t demand. He didn’t plead. But I felt myself nodding before I realized what I was doing.

 

I smiled, trying to ease the tension I didn’t understand. “You’re not really a talker, huh?”

 

He blinked once. Like the question surprised him.

 

> “Talking wastes energy.”

 

I laughed softly, but he didn’t.

 

I remember asking about the bear. 

 

“Did you bring this for her?”

 

He nodded, slow and uncertain. “It’s all I have.”

 

There was something so final in the way he said it. Like he knew it wasn’t enough.

 

I made him wait. I had to. Protocol.

 

He stood in the corner of the nurse’s station like a statue in a war museum, arms crossed, back straight, never taking his eyes off the door. Not in impatience. In fear. Not fear for himself. Fear of what was inside.

 

I asked him to fill out a check-in form.

 

> “Fake name,” he rasped, not bothering to lie. “Don’t report it. Just… let me hold her.”

 

He said it with no plea in his voice.

 

Just need.

 

I don’t know why I disobeyed.

 

Maybe it was how his hands shook. Or how he stood like someone who hadn’t let himself rest in years. He looked like he was unraveling, piece by piece, and trying to tape himself back together before anyone noticed.

 

I brought him to the crib.

 

He stared at the infant for a full minute before moving. Like he thought she might disappear.

 

When I handed her to him, I felt something snap in the room. Just… silence. Pure and trembling.

 

He took her like she was glass. Not fragile but sacred.

 

The moment she was in his arms, he didn’t move. Barely breathed.

 

And she, she laughed. A tiny hiccup-giggle. Wrapped her tiny fist in the lapel of his coat. He didn’t flinch. Just stared.

 

> “She doesn’t know,” he whispered.

 

I asked gently, “Know what?”

 

He didn’t answer.

 

He sat down. On the chair in the corner, still holding her, rigid and pale. But his hand kept brushing her back. So slowly. Like muscle memory learned from a life he didn’t live.

 

I said something stupid, something sweet. I told him everything would be okay.

 

> “You don’t know that,” he murmured, hollow. “Don’t lie to her.”

 

His voice cracked. Just a little.

 

He didn’t speak again for the next 3 hours. 3 hours he held her. We told him he could put her down, that he could take a break but he... he just shook his head. Just sat. Rocked her when she stirred. Never let anyone come close.

 

Then the mother started to wake. I told him we’d need to place the baby back. He held her tighter at first. Not possessive. Protective.

 

And then he stood. Placed the bear in the crib. Held the child one last time. Then handed her off.

 

The second her tiny fingers left his, she wailed. Not like a baby fussing. Like she felt it.

 

He looked at the mother and said. "Never contact me again."

 

Then he turned before I could ask anything else.

 

I stopped him in the hallway.

 

“Will you come back?” I asked.

 

> “No,” he said, and his voice… it almost broke. “Tell her I died for all I care.”

 

He walked out before I could stop him. No signature. No follow-up. Just a name that didn’t exist and a child he never looked at again.

 

---

 

NURSE NOTES — FILED YEARS LATER, CLASSIFIED:

 

> “That man… Riku or not, I believe it was him. There was too much pain in his silence. Too much knowing in his touch. I should’ve reported it sooner. But I was scared. Not of what he was. Of what they’d do to him if they found him.”

 

> “But now… I wonder what they’ll do to her.”

 

---

 

The office was quiet, too quiet.

 

The kind of quiet that pressed behind Yaga’s ears and settled deep in his chest like stone.

 

The file sat open across his desk, brittle pages covered in redacted names, sealed stamps, and reports written by people long retired or long buried. But this page, this one was different.

 

The nurse’s account.

 

Yaga read it again, slower this time. He didn’t skim the way he used to when this was just another classified anomaly. Back then, the words didn’t weigh the same. He hadn’t met the girl. He hadn’t seen her sit in his classroom, curled in on herself like she’d never been told the world had a place for her.

 

Back then, Riku Hoshizuki was a rogue. A problem. A walking death sentence in human skin.

 

Now… he was a father.

 

And Amara was here. Living proof of his existence, his legacy, and possibly, the same danger wrapped in new flesh.

 

Yaga sat back, jaw tight, gaze heavy on the line that stuck out the most.

 

“Tell her I died for all I care.”

 

He remembered the first time he met her, Amara, not the file. She was thinner than she should’ve been, jumpy, skittish like a stray pulled from a trap. And yet… her cursed energy was screaming from beneath her skin. Wild. Untamed. Screaming to protect. Screaming to survive.

 

That wasn’t something you learned.

 

That was blood-deep.

 

Yaga turned the page.

 

Black lines across Riku’s neck. Old ink burns. A leather collar carved with an anti-severance seal. Experimental tattoos from a family long vanished, cursed into extinction by their own obsession with regeneration and life manipulation.

 

They treated their children like subjects.

 

And Riku? He was the last. The experiment that never broke.

 

The one who ran.

 

Yaga’s hands curled into fists on the edge of the desk.

 

He had fought tooth and nail to keep Amara from becoming another number. The Elders wanted her observed. Contained. If she’d shown even a hint of violent instinct when he first approached her, they would’ve locked her up and thrown away the key.

 

But she hadn’t.

 

She had just stood there, bruised and bleeding from her mother’s rage, and asked quietly “Am I broken?”

 

And now, here he was. Staring at the records of the man who made her. The one who vanished the second he saw her born like he couldn’t stand to witness the continuation of a curse he never chose.

 

He swallowed back the bitterness in his throat.

 

Riku hadn’t come for her.

 

Not once.

 

He left her with a woman who hated her. Who hurt her. And he never came back.

 

But Yaga had.

 

He came. He returned. He fought the Elders and the system and his own damn hesitation to give her a chance.

 

Still...

 

The reports were clear.

 

> “He doesn’t scream in pain. He screams in silence. The second we stop looking, he disappears.”

“He broke every surveillance charm we put on him within twelve hours of release.”

“All three field trackers are dead. Throats crushed. No cursed energy residue.”

“Do not pursue. Consider him rogue and kill-on-sight if reidentified.”

 

Yaga pinched the bridge of his nose. His eyes burned, not from tears, but from sleeplessness. From the weight of seeing a girl build herself up from the edges of a broken bloodline, never knowing the weight she carried in her marrow.

 

Riku was a monster by report.

 

But the nurse’s letter… it was different.

 

Gentle. Heartbreaking.

 

He held her like she was holy.

 

He turned back to the photo, what little there was of it. Grainy security stills. Half a face. A cigarette in one hand. A bear tucked under his arm.

 

Yaga stared at it.

 

Then, softly, under his breath:

 

“…What is your plan? Do you have one?”

 

No answer, of course.

 

Only the faint whir of the overhead fan, and the echo of a child’s birth cry written in retrospective ink.

 

He reached forward and closed the file slowly. Re-sealed it with his own classification stamp.

 

REOPENED UNDER CONDITIONAL OBSERVATION. AUTHORIZED: M. YAGA.

DO NOT SHARE. DO NOT DUPLICATE.

 

The file then went into his personal cursed energy-resistant lock box.

 

 

Chapter 28: Beauty is Pain

I wasn’t supposed to be here. 

 

That was the first thought in my head as the fog rolled in, low and choking, curling around my boots like fingers dragging me down. 

 

Yaga said no. 

 

Said the area was too high-risk. Said the spirit we were hunting had already devoured five people in the last two weeks, and that even with Gojo and Geto, it wasn’t safe for me. Not yet. Not until I had improved more. 

 

Gojo grinned through the warning. “We’re the strongest, old man. We’ll babysit her.” 

 

Suguru was more diplomatic, said I needed fieldwork. That she’d be on their leash the whole time. That nothing would touch her unless it touched them first. 

 

And I, fucking idiot that I am, I agreed. 

 

Because when Satoru Gojo says, “You’ll be fine,” in that smug, sugar-slick voice, it’s easy to believe him. 

 

Until you’re not fine. 

 

Until you’re bleeding. 

 

Until you’re screaming and no one answers.

 

--- 

 

We came to the town at dusk. 

 

An old ward on the outskirts of Osaka. Buildings squatted low like bones sunk into wet earth. Signs rusted off their hinges. The alleys were narrow. Hungry. Like they remembered what it meant to be a secret. 

 

The building we entered was half-swallowed by vines and black mold. A forgotten clinic turned local legend. We were here to exorcise a cursed spirit born of whispers and warnings, fear-fed and faceless for decades until it began to manifest. 

 

Slit-mouthed woman. 

 

Kuchisake-Onna. 

 

The words felt too sharp in my throat. 

 

An urban legend so old and so thoroughly believed that the cursed energy feeding her could’ve flooded a whole district. 

 

Gojo called her “Smile Girl” like it was a joke. 

 

I laughed, a little. Pretended it didn’t settle in my gut like lead. 

 

--- 

 

The plan was simple: sweep the floors, locate the source, and neutralize it. 

 

I stayed between them both. Suguru on the right, silent and scanning, Gojo on the left, cocky and humming the Super Mario theme under his breath. 

 

The deeper we moved, the more the air changed. 

 

Not in temperature. In texture. 

 

Like the air itself had teeth. 

 

Suguru’s spirits began twitching before we even hit the second floor. 

 

“Something’s here,” he murmured. 

 

“She’s watchinggggg.” He raised his hands up like claws wiggling his fingers. 

 

The windows were blacked out. Light had no home here. 

 

Even the floorboards groaned like they didn’t want us. 

 

But then I heard it. 

 

A child crying. 

 

At first, I thought it was a trick of the acoustics. But it came again, higher this time, wet and broken and familiar in a way I couldn’t name. Like it had been sewn into the lining of my ribs. 

 

Suguru grabbed my wrist as I turned toward the hall. “Don’t.” 

 

“There’s a kid,” I said. 

 

“There’s something,” he replied. “That doesn’t mean it’s real.” 

 

It sounded so real. Like every lonely part of me remembered what that cry felt like. Like I couldn’t ignore it. Like I shouldn’t. 

 

Gojo had moved ahead, scouting the next hall. Suguru turned to follow. 

 

I didn’t. 

 

I slipped away, only for a moment, I just wanted to check. 

 

The crying led me to a small examination room tucked behind a partially rotted sliding door. 

 

The walls inside were covered in peeling childlike murals. Cartoon animals smiling with teeth too sharp. 

 

I froze. 

 

The second I stepped into that room, the cursed energy hit me like a freight train. A wall of rot, sorrow, and something worse, delight. The air turned molasses-thick. My stomach dropped before I could turn around. 

 

“Do- do you think I’m pretty?” 

 

The voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. 

 

It came from behind me, soft as breath. 

 

Every hair on my body stood up. My vines twitched beneath my skin, vibrating like tuning forks. The cursed energy coming off her wasn’t chaotic, it was precise. It wrapped around my legs like thread, unseen but pulsing, and I didn’t even know it until it was too late. 

 

A hand landed on my shoulder. 

 

Cold. Paper-light. 

 

I whipped around. 

 

She was right there. Face covered by a surgical mask, dark hair hanging limp, one hand holding a rusted pair of scissors stained dark near the hinge. 

 

She tilted her head at me. 

 

“Do you think I’m pretty?” she asked again. 

 

“Of course!" I blurted out, chest tightening. 

 

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Even like this?” 

 

She raised her hand and tugged the mask down. 

 

And the smile... 

 

God, the smile.... 

 

It wasn’t just cut. It was torn, lips peeled back like raw meat, flesh held together by crude black thread. A thousand years of rage and rejection oozed out with every breath. 

 

I panicked. 

 

“Yes!” I said again, louder. “Yes, you’re beautiful!” 

 

A pause. 

 

Then she tilted her head further. 

 

“Then become pretty like me!" 

 

She was on me before I could scream. 

 

The scissors came down, and I barely jerked my head to the side before they scraped across my cheek, not cutting, but close enough I felt the cold bite of cursed metal. 

 

I threw up my arms, cursed energy erupting in a flash-shield. The barrier cracked instantly under her next strike. 

 

“You smell like fear,” she hissed, voice sweet and fractured. “Let me fix your face.” 

 

I screamed and lashed out, vines exploding from my arms like a storm of thorns, aiming for her face, her hands, anything. 

 

She sliced through them, her cursed energy turned every inch of her into a weapon. 

 

I tried to run. She grabbed my ankle mid-dash and yanked. 

 

My chin slammed into the ground. 

 

Blood filled my mouth. 

 

My vines whipped back, coiling around her wrist, crushing bone. I heard it snap. She didn’t flinch. 

 

“Let me make you pretty!" 

 

She dropped down on top of me and pinned me to the floor. My shield tried to rise again but it cracked under her body weight like glass under boots. 

 

She pressed the cold, blood-stained scissors to my face. 

 

I screamed again, this time in pure, unfiltered rage. 

 

My heel slammed into her knee. I twisted, dug my elbow into her neck, shoved, kicked, and got halfway up before she slashed the scissors across my stomach. 

 

White-hot fire lit up my nerves. 

 

The cut was deep. Too deep. 

 

My shirt was soaked in red almost instantly. 

 

I stumbled back, hand pressed to the wound, but she kept coming, grinning wide, all teeth and sick joy. 

 

I summoned a wall of vines between us and backed into the hallway. At least that was what it should have been but now it was another room. Another trap. 

 

Mirrors on every wall. 

 

Each one showed her, clipping her scissors together over and over, eyes locked on me no matter which direction I turned. 

 

I pressed my hand to my stomach again, my cursed energy flared to try and seal the wound, but it wasn’t fast enough. Not with how much blood I had already lost. 

 

She appeared behind me in the mirror. 

 

“Don’t cry,” she said, just before slamming me headfirst into the glass. 

 

Blood ran into my eye, down my cheek, into my mouth. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from, my scalp? My eyebrow? Somewhere else? 

 

I threw a punch and felt my knuckles snap as they connected with her jaw. 

 

She smiled wider. 

 

Then she grabbed a fistful of my hair and dragged me across the broken glass floor, cutting my back, my arms, my everything. 

 

“Let’s make you symmetrical,” she cooed. 

 

I twisted, screamed, and bit her arm. 

 

She shrieked, throwing me into the wall. The plaster cracked on impact. My ribs, I felt them snap and dig. 

 

I clawed my way up to my knees, vines spiraling around me like snakes drunk on rage. I flung them forward like javelins, embedding them in the walls, the ceiling, the floor around her, then pulled. 

 

The room collapsed. 

 

The ceiling caved. 

 

I fell with it. 

 

Everything went dark. 

 

I coughed up blood, mucus, and even dust. My throat burned. My shoulder was out of place. My ankle twisted. My stomach was still bleeding. 

 

My face- 

 

I reached up and felt the deep slice running from the corner of my mouth halfway toward my ear. 

 

It wasn’t bleeding fast. That was the problem. 

 

It was slow.

 

I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. 

 

But my hands were shaking. 

 

“You’re almost there,” she cooed, crouched low just a few feet away in the shadows, her scissors dangling from one hand like a toy. “Let me help you finish it.” 

 

She started forward. 

 

I crawled backward. 

 

Every inch of my body screamed. My stomach was still bleeding, sticky, hot, and wet. My shoulder was out of place, and one of my ankles had gone dead and swelling. My face throbbed like a drumbeat under my skin. 

 

But I didn’t stop moving. 

 

She lunged. 

 

I rolled but not fast enough. 

 

The scissors sank into my thigh, straight through the muscle. She yanked them out with a sick, wet pop, and my scream this time was real. 

 

“Hold still,” she sang. “Beauty takes work.” 

 

“Fuck you,” I spat, curling my fist and swinging. 

 

Cursed energy burned through my knuckles. 

 

The punch landed square in her jaw, and I felt bone crack. 

 

Her head twisted. Snapped to the side. 

 

It became a brawl after that. 

 

There wasn’t room for tactics, not with how little energy I had. No room for clever tricks or elegant techniques. No time to plan. Only rage. Only pain. Only me, barely standing, fists lit up with cursed energy as I fought like some street rat. 

 

I punched her again, my hand connecting with the sharp edge of her face. Her teeth tore the skin across my knuckles but I didn’t stop. 

 

She stabbed into my side. 

 

I screamed again, grabbed her wrist, and bit down, cursed energy flaring in my teeth like something primal. She shrieked and staggered back. 

 

Vines burst from my forearms and wrapped around her ankles, jerking her to the ground. 

 

I pounced, knee slamming into her chest, and just hit her. Again and again and again. 

 

Every strike burned my skin, flared pain in my ribs, and made my shoulder grind wrong in its socket. 

 

She slashed my arm open with her blade. 

 

I headbutted her. 

 

Blood sprayed across my face, not hers, mine. 

 

Still, I moved. 

 

She knocked me back. I crashed into the broken glass again, shards embedding in my palms. 

 

I couldn’t breathe. 

 

I couldn’t heal fast enough. 

 

My vines lashed out on their own, driven by panic and fury, wrapping her torso, digging deep, but I felt my body swaying, lungs burning. 

 

She cut through the vines with ease, smiling wider than ever. 

 

“Pretty things break easiest,” she whispered and charged. 

 

Something snapped in me. 

 

A deeper place. A hungrier place. 

 

I grabbed her arm mid-swing, and forced my palm against her neck, and I didn’t even mean to do it, not consciously. 

 

I just needed energy. 

 

I needed something.. 

 

My body was starving... 

 

Then it hit me. Like biting into rot. Like swallowing fire and acid on something alive. My cursed technique flared to life and drained her. 

 

I felt her cursed energy pour into me, black, thick, like choking on smoke and oil. I didn’t want it. My stomach rebelled, my mouth flooded with saliva, my veins went cold. 

 

Violent. 

 

That’s the only word for it. 

 

It tore through me like oil and muck, thick and choking, seeping into every pore. The cursed spirit’s energy surged through my palm and down my spine like I had filled my stomach with bugs. 

 

I didn’t just taste it. I felt it. 

 

In my gums. In my bones. Behind my eyes. 

 

The power slammed into my body, and for one, unbearable second, I thought I might combust. 

 

And then.. 

 

My stomach knitted closed in an instant. The shredded muscles in my thigh locked back into place. I felt my cheek stitch together, nerves humming. My ankle cracked and reset. Ribs shifted. My shoulder snapped back into socket with a wet jerk. 

 

All of it in seconds. 

 

But the pain didn’t go away. 

 

It just… moved. 

 

I barely had time to breathe before my stomach revolted. 

 

I doubled over and puked. 

 

It hit the floor with a sound I’ll never forget, wet, violent, and thick like sludge. The smell burned my nose. Sewage and burnt skin penetrating and assaulting my senses. 

 

Everything inside me twisted, and turned. I heaved again, harder this time, my arms trembling under my weight. My forehead pressed to the floor, slick with sweat, blood, and spit. My vines were twitching without control, spasming like they wanted to flee my own skin. 

 

I didn’t notice the footsteps until they were close enough to make the floor tremble. 

 

And by then, it was too late for pride. 

 

I was already on my knees, face to the ground, puking my guts out like something inside me had turned to rot and was clawing its way out through my throat. My fingers scraped against tile slick with blood and bile. My ribs ached from the force of it. My mouth tasted like iron and ash. 

 

Then, hands. Steady. Familiar. 

 

One brushed my hair back, holding it gently but firmly, the other sliding around my shoulders. 

 

“I’ve got you. Easy,” Suguru murmured, dropping down beside me like it wasn’t the most horrifying thing he’d walked in on. “You’re okay, I’ve got you. Just breathe through it, pretty girl.” 

 

His hand cradled the back of my head, thumb stroking behind my ear. My stomach heaved again, another useless retch, but his touch didn’t flinch. 

 

“You’re safe now.” 

 

I clutched my middle, nails digging into the sticky fabric of my shirt, breath hitching again as the taste of her still lingered at the back of my throat. 

 

Gojo’s voice cut through the buzzing in my head like a crack of lightning. 

 

“What the hell happened...” 

 

He was standing across the room now. Not near me. Near her. 

 

The cursed spirit lay slumped against the wall. Still breathing. Still twitching. Her smile split to the bone, black tar dripping from her mouth. Her body looked half-collapsed in on itself, shriveled in places, stretched in others, like her cursed form had been partially emptied. 

 

Gojo crouched low, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, expression tight and unreadable. 

 

“This wasn’t just a fight,” he muttered. “She was drained.” 

 

Suguru’s hand stilled on my back. 

 

There was a pause. 

 

“And the only one person here who could’ve done that…” Gojo’s voice trailed, sharp like glass. 

 

My stomach twisted again. I dry-heaved. 

 

Suguru was already shaking his head, quiet but sure. “I doubt she meant to.” 

 

“She drained a special-grade curse,” Gojo said, standing now, expression unreadable. “That thing’s alive. For now. But if it regenerates-” 

 

“Then we end it,” Suguru cut in. His voice was level, but I could hear the grit in it. “Switch. I’ll take care of it.” 

 

Gojo hesitated, eyes flicking from me to the curse. 

 

Then he nodded once. “Now. Before it heals up.” 

 

Suguru’s hands eased off me gently, brushing back a strand of hair one last time. 

 

“I’ll be right back,” he said. “You’re okay.” 

 

Then he rose and crossed to the curse. 

 

I curled in on myself, arms trembling, breathing ragged. I couldn’t stop shaking. 

 

Gojo moved closer. 

 

Not touching. Just there. 

 

Kneeling in next to me. 

 

He didn’t speak at first. 

 

Didn’t reach out. 

 

He let me dry-heave into the silence, waiting for the spasms to pass, for my breath to come back in shallow, pitiful gasps. 

 

Then, softly he spoke, “Did you know it was going to happen?” 

 

I shook my head. “No. I- I didn’t-” 

 

His voice wasn’t angry. Not at first. 

 

But it was too sharp. 

 

I didn’t lift my head. I couldn’t. My arms were wrapped around my stomach, fingers curled into the torn fabric of my shirt like I could hold myself together that way. 

 

“I didn’t know.” I whispered. 

 

There was a pause, long and cold. 

 

“Did you feel anything before it started?” Gojo asked again, voice lower, but no softer. “Any kind of signal? A shift in your energy? A warning?” 

 

“I- I don’t think so,” I stammered, the words catching in my throat. “I was- I was just trying to stay alive, and then-” 

 

“Think,” he cut in. 

 

My breath hitched. 

 

Gojo moved to crouch in front of me but didn’t touch me. His arms rested on his knees, but his shoulders were tense. His eyes were too wide, too focused like he was looking for answers in me that I didn’t have. 

 

“I am thinking,” I said, barely audible. 

 

He exhaled, through his nose. Frustrated. “So it just… happened?” 

 

“I didn’t mean to,” I said quickly. “I didn’t want it. I didn’t choose it.” 

 

“Yeah, I got that,” he said, sharp. “But your cursed energy doesn’t just act on its own. It’s not a wild animal unless you let it be.” 

 

“I didn’t let it,” I said, shaking my head fast like that would help. “I swear I didn’t- Satoruuu.." I whined and then continued. "I was- she was cutting my face open and I couldn’t- my body just-” 

 

“You’ve never done it before?” he pressed. 

 

“No!” I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’ve never- I didn’t even know I could do that.” 

 

He clicked his tongue. 

 

I flinched. 

 

I heard him shift, weight moving across the debris-covered floor. 

 

“And you didn’t try to stop it?” he asked next. “Once it started, you just let it happen?” 

 

I froze. 

 

That one hurt. 

 

“I did try,” I said, barely more than a whisper now. “Once I realized what it was doing I tried to pull away.” 

 

“And?” 

 

“My cursed energy didn’t let me,” I said. “It was like- like it was starving. Like it knew what it wanted, and it wasn’t done until it got its fill.” 

 

He paced a little. 

 

I kept talking anyway because if I stopped I thought I might fall apart completely. 

 

“I was scared,” I whispered. “I couldn’t stop the bleeding. I thought- I thought I was gonna die..” 

 

Gojo didn’t answer right away. 

 

And that silence? 

 

That was worse than the questions. 

 

I curled in on myself without meaning to, my knees drawing tighter to my chest, arms folding around my middle like I was trying to shrink out of sight. My face was hot, eyes burning, throat swollen. I wasn’t sobbing. I wasn’t yelling. 

 

But I was crying. 

 

The kind of crying that felt more like leaking. Quiet. Helpless. 

 

“I didn’t want to scare anyone,” I choked. “I didn’t want to be a problem.” 

 

His breath hitched. “Shit,” Gojo muttered under his breath. 

 

I still didn’t look up. 

 

“Amara-” His voice changed. Softer now. Harsher at the edges but not at me. At everything else. “I’m not mad at you.” 

 

Before I could even breathe it in, another voice cut in gently. 

 

“Alright,” Suguru said, low and calm, as he stepped in beside him, wiping his mouth. “That’s enough.” 

 

His hand rested briefly on Gojo’s shoulder. Not forceful. Just grounding. Like even he could tell I was fraying at the seams. 

 

Gojo blinked. Looked at me. Looked at how small I had made myself. 

 

He deflated a little. Like he finally realized what I must’ve looked like from the outside. 

 

“Sorry,” he muttered. “That came out wrong.” 

 

“It’s okay,” I whispered, rubbing my sleeve across my eyes even though my face was already raw. “I… I’m sorry too.” 

 

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Suguru said, instantly. 

 

Gojo nodded, eyes soft now. “Seriously. I’m the one who dragged us into this mess. We weren’t even supposed to bring you. And then we left you alone. Again.” 

 

I shook my head. "It was my fault. I wondered. 

 

Suguru sighed. "Let's not fight over who should be at fault. Let's just be glad things didn't go worse." 

 

I swallowed hard and looked at them both. “Can we go home now?” 

 

Gojo straightened. “Absolutely.” 

 

“Of course.” Suguru agreed, already rising to his feet. 

 

Gojo gave me a lopsided smile. “Want me to carry you? Bridal style? Piggyback? I can even carry you firefighter style if we’re feeling adventurous-” 

 

I shook my head fast. “No. I want to walk. Thank you though..” 

 

“Fair enough,” he said with mock solemnity, brushing the dust from his pants. “But I will offer commentary the entire time about how badass you looked.” 

 

“Same,” Suguru added, the ghost of a smirk playing at his mouth. “You made me so proud.” 

 

My heart wanted to burst at that statement. 

 

I stood slowly, legs aching, the ghost of pain still rippling through me even though my body had healed. It didn’t matter. I was going to walk with them. Not behind. Not carried. 

 

Beside.

 

--- 

 

We got back to campus just before sunset. 

 

The sky had that warm orange tinge, the kind that made the buildings glow gold and made every shadow feel longer. 

 

Waiting at the school gate was Yaga. 

 

Arms crossed. Scowl loaded. 

 

Not just disappointment but fury. 

 

His cursed energy flared the second he saw us. Gojo flinched, not from fear, but from knowing exactly what was coming. 

 

“Do you two have any idea-!” 

 

“Yaga-sensei,” Gojo interrupted brightly, throwing one arm around my shoulder. “Let me stop you right there! Becaaaauuuuse you’re not going to believe how badass our girl was today.” 

 

Suguru joined in smoothly, folding his arms and leaning slightly back on one leg. “She went up against a fully manifested urban legend alone. Held her own. Controlled her cursed energy. Resisted panic. Clean hit with vines. Minimal collateral. I'd give it an A.” 

 

“More like an A-plus,” Gojo corrected. “Or an S. Can we give her an S?” 

 

I blinked between them, then somehow managed a crooked smile and nodded. “Yeah. S for ‘Still Alive.’” 

 

Yaga stared at the three of us, exasperated and deeply unimpressed. 

 

Then he sighed. Rubbed the bridge of his nose. 

 

“Don’t ever do that again,” he muttered. 

 

“Yes, sir,” all three of us said at once. 

 

He gave us a long look like he wanted to stay angry but was too tired to keep it up. 

 

“Go get cleaned up,” he said finally. “We will talk tomorrow boys.” 

 

We didn’t need to be told twice. 

 

--- 

 

My dorm bathroom was dim and quiet when we got there. 

 

Gojo kicked the door open like it was a mission and immediately made himself at home, hopping up onto the sink and tossing a towel over his shoulder like it was a cape. 

 

Suguru closed the door behind us and dropped down onto the toilet lid, arms crossed again, legs stretched out casually. “We’re staying.” 

 

I blinked at them both. 

 

“...You’re staying in the bathroom while I shower?” 

 

“Obviously,” Gojo said. “You think we’re letting you be alone after that?” 

 

“We won’t look,” Suguru added, voice warm but dry. “Gojo talks too much anyway. We’re just here to fill the silence.” 

 

I couldn’t help it, I laughed. It came out of me like breath breaking the surface. 

 

“I’ll take it.” 

 

The second I said it, Gojo reached into his pocket, pulled out his blackout glasses, and tossed them lazily to Suguru. 

 

“Here. You’re on temporary blind duty.” 

 

Suguru caught them one-handed and slid them on without a word, leaning back again with that effortless grace of his. He looked like the world’s most casual security detail. 

 

Gojo, meanwhile, took a towel and flipped it over his head like a makeshift curtain. The ends hung down over his face and neck, and he even tucked part of it under his chin. 

 

“There,” he said, muffled through terrycloth. “Modesty achieved. I’m the world's best gentleman.” 

 

I raised an eyebrow, peeling off my shirt with slow, deliberate movement, wincing a little at the way it stuck to half-healed cuts and dried blood. “You do know that I know you can still see me, right?” 

 

“Not clearly,” Gojo replied, grinning beneath the towel. “Everything’s super fuzzy. Like a bad sketch of a crime scene.” 

 

I narrowed my eyes. “Satoru.” 

 

He chuckled. “I try not to look. It’s rude sometimes.” 

 

Suguru, behind the glasses, muttered, “It’s always rude.” 

 

Gojo gasped dramatically. “I'm trying! I could be way worse.” 

 

“Then maybe try taking your eyes out,” I offered, stepping out of the rest of my ruined clothes and into the shower. The warmth hit me immediately, making me hiss as the water sluiced over my skin. The heat settled the pain I was starting to get numb to, loosening my muscles and soothing their soreness. 

 

I closed my eyes. 

 

Just for a moment. 

 

The boys started talking like I wasn’t naked on the other side of a cheap plastic curtain. 

 

“She drained it,” Gojo said first. “Not like a little siphon, either. That curse was drying out.” 

 

“I saw,” Suguru replied calmly. “Its body looked like a cheap juice box, all wrinkled. Collapsing.” 

 

Gojo kicked his feet gently against the cabinet under the sink. “You ever seen anything like that? Cursed energy pulling with healing, but forcibly from something else?” 

 

“No,” Suguru admitted. “It’s not consumption like mine. It’s closer to something parasitic. Not a technique I’d label sustainable without… side effects.” 

 

“It healed her in seconds,” Gojo said. “Like my seconds. That’s not normal.” 

 

“No, it’s not,” Suguru agreed. “And testing it without knowing what triggers it would be reckless.” 

 

Gojo scoffed under his towel. "Stop reading my mind. A little testing could be fun.” 

 

“Not without Yaga’s supervision,” Suguru replied. “You saw her after it hit. She couldn’t even stand. She was dry-heaving cursed sludge, Satoru.” 

 

There was a pause. Then Gojo sighed. 

 

“I know. I just… I want to understand it. I hate not understanding things. Especially when it almost got her killed.” 

 

A long silence hung in the steam. 

 

Then Suguru added quietly, “She held her own though.” 

 

“She did more than that,” Gojo admitted. “I mean, I’m pissed as hell she wandered off, again, but... she survived something most sorcerers would’ve been slaughtered by.” 

 

“She’s stubborn.” 

 

“She’s dangerous.” 

 

Suguru chuckled. “You say that like you’re not proud.” 

 

“I am,” Gojo said. “But we need to put a leash on her or something. Like those kid backpacks. You blink and she’s three hallways deep chasing crying children that aren’t even children.” 

 

“She’s empathetic.” 

 

“She’s a menace.” 

 

“You’re a menace. She's still figuring this all out. She's still playing superhero, ya know? Hasn't had to-” 

 

"Let's just leave it at that." 

 

I leaned against the shower wall, listening to their voices echo through the steam.

 

 

Chapter 29: New Beginnings

Their voices buzzed in the background like the low hum of a favorite song. Familiar. Comforting. 

 

The water had long since gone warm instead of hot, steam still curling off the tile, my fingers pruned, my body tired but no longer shaking. Just… resting. 

 

I leaned my forehead against the shower wall and closed my eyes. 

 

Their voices filtered through the curtain. 

 

“…so, back to that leash idea, maybe we should get her a custom one, ” Gojo keeps going. “Purple. Spiked. Cursed-energy resistant.” 

 

Suguru huffed. “We’re not treating her like a dog.” 

 

“You say that now, but she’s got this little growl when she’s pissed and it’s weirdly effective-” 

 

“Shut up.” 

 

“You only say that because you like it.” 

 

I smiled. 

 

And then, without really planning to, without the usual swirl of doubt or fear or overthinking that usually wrapped itself around anything vulnerable, I just… spoke. 

 

“I want you both...officially...” 

 

Silence. 

 

Like instant silence. 

 

No chatter. No smartass commentary. Not even Gojo shifting his foot on the counter. 

 

Just dead silence. 

 

“…Wait, what?” Gojo finally choked out, voice two octaves too high and absolutely losing it. 

 

I bit my lip and rinsed shampoo from my hair like I hadn’t just emotionally detonate-bombed the bathroom. “I said I want you both officially...to be my boyfriends.” 

 

Suguru was quiet for another full beat. 

 

Then 

 

“Could you say that one more time?” 

 

“Don’t make it weird,” I said, eyes still closed. “I already said it.” 

 

“No, no, definitely heard it. Just wanted to make sure I didn’t hallucinate it from brain overheating,” Suguru muttered. 

 

Gojo was still audibly struggling to breathe like he’d just taken a punch directly to the soul. 

 

“She said she wants us to be her boyfriends-” he repeated, possibly to the faucet, possibly to some God. “Like, plural. Us. Both. At the same time.” 

 

“Correct,” I said calmly, suds dripping down my shoulders. 

 

Suguru cleared his throat. “Amara. Are you sure you’re not just… overwhelmed? You nearly died today. You don’t have to make any emotional commitments while covered in blood and half-drowned in cursed sludge.” 

 

“Exactly. I nearly died today,” I said, rinsing the last of the soap away. “I don’t wanna keep wasting time.” 

 

Another pause. 

 

Gojo broke it with a dramatic gasp. “Oh my god, you like us.” 

 

“I never said I didn’t,” I shot back, turning off the water. “You two have been circling me like moths for months.” 

 

Suguru chuckled quietly. 

 

Gojo made a strangled noise of delight. “You want both of us? Like a special limited edition poly pack?” 

 

“Don’t make me take it back.” 

 

“No no no,” he said immediately, “You said it. It’s real. You can’t backtrack now.” 

 

I tugged a towel from the hook and wrapped it around myself before pulling the curtain aside. Gojo still had the towel over his head like a dumb little ghost. Suguru, even wearing Gojo’s glasses, somehow looked like he’d just been kissed and stabbed at the same time. 

 

“Hi,” I said, stepping out. “Do you both still want this...?” 

 

“More than anything..” Suguru murmured. "Is this a dream? Satoru pinch me." 

 

“Definitely not,” Gojo said. “Because in my dreams, she doesn’t have that towel on- ow! I’m kidding, don’t throw shampoo at me!” 

 

I rolled my eyes and tossed the bottle anyway. 

 

Suguru stood first. “You know we were already yours, right?” 

 

I paused. Blinked. 

 

“…Yeah?” 

 

He nodded. “Good.” 

 

Gojo yanked the towel off his head and gave me the biggest, dumbest grin I had ever seen. “Well. Guess we’re official now.” 

 

“Oh god,” I muttered. 

 

He threw his arms in the air. “Boyfriends and girlfriend!” 

 

Suguru let out a sigh. “You’re going to be intolerable.” 

 

“And taken,” Gojo added proudly. “Tragically unavailable. Emotionally spoken for. Eat your hearts out, Tokyo!” 

 

I laughed, blushing hard as I moved to grab clean clothes. 

 

Suguru’s hand brushed my back gently, just enough to guide me without lingering. “Go get dressed, our pretty girl~” 

 

“Our Taken pretty girl~” Gojo corrected. 

 

I didn’t fight the smile this time. 

 

The chaos they made felt like home. 

 

I toweled off quickly and padded barefoot into my room, still warm and tingling from the shower. My body ached in weird places, healing too fast, too sloppily, but something about the sting kept me present. Grounded. 

 

I knew exactly what I wanted to wear. Gojo’s shirt from earlier was tossed over the back of my desk chair, oversized, slightly wrinkled, smelling faintly of his favorite cola and that stupid expensive soap he used. I tugged it over my head without hesitation. 

 

And Suguru’s boxer briefs? Still folded near the foot of the bed, like he had changed out of them in a rush before we left on the mission. I slipped into them with a grin that would’ve gotten me arrested in several prefectures. 

 

Once I was dressed, I opened the bathroom door. 

 

“You can look now.” 

 

Two heads turned instantly. 

 

Gojo’s mouth dropped open. “No. No. There’s no way you just- Are those- Are those Suguru’s?!” 

 

Suguru blinked once. Then again. 

 

His ears went pink and then he stood up so fast the towel he was holding dropped to the floor. 

 

“You’re wearing my boxers?” he said, voice suddenly lower. Thicker. “On purpose?” 

 

I leaned casually against the doorframe, trying not to let the blush on my face betray the chaos in my chest. “Why? You gonna do something about it?” 

 

He was on his knees in seconds. 

 

Suguru Geto. On his knees. 

 

And I was no longer prepared. 

 

His hands slid up my thighs, slow and reverent, dragging the oversized shirt up with his touch until it bunched around my hips. His lips ghosted across the hem, then my stomach. My ribs. My thighs. 

 

Everywhere except where I expected. 

 

Where I was burning. 

 

“Oh my god,” Gojo breathed, visibly flustered. “I’m blushing. Suguru, she’s gonna explode-” 

 

“Let him finish,” I snapped, entirely red now. 

 

“Let me worship,” Suguru murmured, kissing the curve of my hipbone like it was sacred. “You don’t get to wear my name and not get kissed for it.” 

 

“I’m not wearing your name-” 

 

“You are now.” 

 

I grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged. “Behave.” 

 

His smirk turned downright sinful. 

 

Then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, Suguru scooped me up bridal style and carried me to bed. I squealed before he dropped me gently onto the mattress and tucked the blankets around me like I was something precious. 

 

He turned back, grabbed Gojo by the collar, and hauled him up next, throwing him over his shoulder. 

 

“Your turn, princess,” he said before tossing Gojo onto the bed like a ragdoll. 

 

“Jesus, Suguru,” Gojo laughed, half-dazed, “possessive much?” 

 

“You are mine,” Suguru muttered, crawling over the bed like a panther now. “Both of you are.” 

 

My pulse did something stupid. 

 

Then Suguru turned his attention back to me. His eyes gentled, burning like dark wine. 

 

“Can I have a kiss?” he asked softly. “Please?” 

 

I nodded, swallowing thickly. 

 

He leaned down and kissed me like he meant it. Like everything about today hadn’t happened. He could have rewritten pain with the way he touched me. 

 

I whimpered into it before I could stop myself. 

 

He pulled back, only slightly. 

 

“Your turn, ‘Toru,” he said without looking. 

 

Gojo blinked, eyes wide and glimmering. “Wait, me? You wanna kiss me?” 

 

Suguru rolled his eyes, grabbed Gojo by the shirt, and kissed him like he’d been waiting years to. 

 

Gojo melted immediately. His hands went to Suguru’s waist. Their teeth clicked a little from eagerness, but neither of them cared. 

 

I just watched. 

 

Watched and burned. 

 

Gojo flopped onto the mattress like he'd just been granted a wish by the universe itself. His cheeks were flushed, lips kiss-bitten and parted slightly, eyes still half-lidded from the kiss Suguru had given him. He looked… ruined in the prettiest way. 

 

And then he turned to me. 

 

“Hey,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Can I give you a kiss too?” 

 

I blinked. 

 

“I mean-” he sat up a little, hair wild from being manhandled and eyes wide like a puppy who’d just gotten a new toy. “I can finally say you’re my girlfriend. Like, actually. Not just ‘the girl I flirt with until I emotionally collapse and Suguru judges me.’ You’re mine.” 

 

He paused, then added, a little more sheepish, “And Suguru’s. But you know. Shared custody.” 

 

I snorted. “You’re such a dork.” 

 

“Yeah,” he said, smiling softly. “But I’m your dork.” 

 

My chest ached. In the best way. 

 

“I also wanna give you an apology kiss,” he added, voice gentler now. “For… y’know. Everything today. I should’ve listened to Yaga. Should’ve watched you better. Should’ve figured out something was wrong sooner. I just-” 

 

“Satoru.” 

 

He shut up immediately. 

 

I shifted closer, my fingers brushing his where they rested on the sheets. 

 

“It’s okay,” I said quietly. “I don’t really want to think about how bad it got. Not right now.” 

 

His brows furrowed, that soft blue glow behind his lashes dimming just a little. 

 

“But I promise,” he said, threading our fingers together. “I’ll do better. No more dragging you into bullshit just because I think we’re untouchable. No more letting you wander off just because I forget the world isn’t as kind to you as it is to me.” 

 

“I’m not helpless,” I reminded him. 

 

“I know,” he said instantly. “That’s the problem. You’re too strong for your own good. You act like you’re supposed to take it all, and then I blink and you’re-” He swallowed hard. “I don’t want to see you like that again.” 

 

My throat burned. 

 

“Just kiss me,” I whispered. 

 

He leaned in slowly like he was waiting for me to stop him. 

 

I didn’t. 

 

His kiss was warm and trembling, like he didn’t know what to do with how much he cared. His lips moved over mine with a reverence that knocked the air out of me, like this was what he’d been holding back for so long. 

 

It tasted like relief. 

 

And cola. 

 

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead on mine. 

 

“My girlfriend,” he whispered, smiling. 

 

I smiled back. 

 

“My emotional disaster of a boyfriend,” I whispered. 

 

Suguru coughed into his palm behind us. “That title’s already taken.” 

 

Gojo rolled onto his back between us and stretched out like a cat in the sun. “Guess we’re all disasters now.” 

 

I curled up beside him, one of his arms wrapping around my waist as Suguru draped an arm over both of us. 

 

And for the first time that day, I let myself breathe. 

 

I was just starting to feel the warmth of sleep tugging at the edges of my bones when Suguru shifted beside us. His arm flexed slightly around my shoulders, and then he propped himself up just enough to look between us, me curled under Gojo’s arm, and Gojo still wearing that dumb, starstruck grin like he’d won a prize at a fair. 

 

“C’mere,” Suguru murmured, voice low and warm. 

 

Before I could ask what he meant, he leaned in and kissed me. Not too deep, not too rushed, just soft and lingering, enough to make my chest flutter all over again. 

 

Then, without breaking the moment, he turned and kissed Satoru too. 

 

And then he did something I don’t think I was fully prepared for. 

 

He pulled both of us in, his hands cradling the backs of our heads, and coaxed us into a soft, shared kiss. His lips brushed mine at the same time they brushed Gojo’s, and suddenly it was the three of us, tangled and slow and almost unbearably gentle. 

 

For a second, it was perfect. 

 

And then- 

 

Gojo and I, never being able to be serious for too long, he tilted his head and, very deliberately, stuck out his tongue. 

 

I barely had a second to react before his tongue touched mine as we both had the same idea. 

 

“Oh my god,” I muttered, pulling back just slightly, laughing kinda hard. 

 

Gojo was wheezing. 

 

“We tongue-touched!” he cried, grinning like he discovered a new level of intimacy. “Suguru, we tongue-touched! Amara and I had the same idea! We're mind melding already!!” 

 

“You make it sound like we crossed swords,” I laughed, face flushing. 

 

“Technically,” Gojo wiggled his brows. 

 

Suguru gave a dramatic sigh. “You two are insufferable.” 

 

And then he also stuck out his tongue. 

 

And just like that, it devolved into a weirdly tender but absolutely ridiculous moment of all three of us cracking up while our faces were still inches apart. 

 

Suguru finally pulled away with a shake of his head. “Okay. That’s enough. Bedtime. We’re done here.” 

 

“Rude,” Gojo said, flopping back dramatically. “I was trying to make it romantic.” 

 

“You ruined it the second you went full tongue,” Suguru deadpanned. 

 

I buried my face in the blanket to contain my laughter. 

 

Then, as we all started getting settled, Suguru reached out and gently guided me to roll over. 

 

“Back to me tonight,” he murmured, voice low and possessive in a way that sent shivers up my spine. 

 

Gojo immediately perked up. “Hmhmhm neck cuddles.” 

 

He curled in close, grinning like a man who just got his favorite prize at a carnival. His fingers traced lazy shapes on my arm as Suguru spooned me from behind, one hand splayed low over my stomach like a quiet claim. 

 

I could feel Suguru press his nose into my hair. Gojo brushed his lips against my temple. 

 

Safe. Warm. Completely wrapped up in both of them. 

 

“Goodnight, girlfriend and boyfriend.” Gojo whispered, half-asleep. 

 

“Goodnight, Toru and Mara.” Suguru added. 

 

I closed my eyes. 

 

“Goodnight, my dumbass boyfriends.” 

 

--------- 

 

Amara fell asleep between them like she belonged there. Like the mattress had been made for the weight of three bodies, the tangle of limbs, the shared warmth. Her breathing slowed, soft and steady, her cheek pressed against Gojo’s collarbone while Suguru’s hand rested gently on her waist, anchoring them all in place. 

 

For a while, they didn’t speak. 

 

Not because there was nothing to say, but because neither of them wanted to break the peace of the moment too soon. The moonlight through the window painted long bars across the floor. Everything smelled like shampoo, skin, and the leftover trace of Satoru’s cologne on Amara’s borrowed shirt. 

 

Gojo was the first to whisper. 

 

“She’s really ours now.” 

 

Suguru didn’t answer immediately. He just turned slightly, brushing his nose against the back of Amara’s neck before exhaling a low, almost reverent hum. “Yeah. She is.” 

 

Gojo grinned at the ceiling. “You too, y’know. I’m dating you now. Officially.” 

 

“You’re very excited about that.” 

 

“Of course I am,” Satoru whispered. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this? You and me? And now her? It’s like- like the fucking sun finally came out after a hundred years of winter.” 

 

Suguru’s lips twitched at that. “Poetic.” 

 

“I'm the world's best poet and you know it. I'll start reciting Shakespeare.” 

 

“Don’t.” 

 

They lapsed into another pause. Gojo stretched a little, careful not to jostle Amara, then blinked up at the ceiling again. 

 

“But,” Suguru murmured, voice more serious now, “before we get too wrapped up in the honeymoon high, we need to talk.” 

 

Gojo groaned immediately. “Ugh, rules? Already?” 

 

“Boundaries.” 

 

“Same thing. Boring.” 

 

“I’m serious, ‘Toru.” 

 

That got his attention. Gojo turned his head, meeting Suguru’s gaze over the crown of Amara’s sleeping head. Suguru’s face wasn’t tense, but there was something settled behind his eyes. Something careful. Intentional. 

 

“You’re right,” Gojo said after a second, quieter now. “I know.” 

 

“I’m not saying we have to put walls up,” Suguru clarified. “But we need to understand each other. Especially now that emotions are involved.” 

 

“Yeah, well, joke’s on you,” Gojo muttered. “I don’t have boundaries.” 

 

“Bullshit.” 

 

Gojo blinked. “What?” 

 

Suguru smirked. “You don’t like people touching you when you’re angry.” 

 

“That’s not-” 

 

“You flinch when someone sees you cry.” 

 

“Okay-” 

 

“You hate being ignored by the people you care about, and you get possessive when you think you’re being replaced.” 

 

Gojo covered his face with his free hand. “God, shut up, Suguru.” 

 

“Should I keep going?” 

 

“No. I get it. I’m fragile.” 

 

“You’re not. You’re just, complicated.” 

 

There was something tender in the way Suguru said it. Not mocking. Not soft either. 

 

Satoru peeked through his fingers, grinning like an idiot. “So you’re saying I’m like, your favorite puzzle.” 

 

Suguru rolled his eyes. “You’re my favorite migraine.” 

 

“But you love me.” 

 

“I do,” Suguru said, simply. “And her too. Which is why we need to be honest when shit gets heavy. If either of us starts spiraling, we talk about it. No disappearing. No pushing the other away.” 

 

Gojo stared at him for a long moment. 

 

Then he nodded. “Deal.” 

 

“And we protect her,” Suguru added, voice lowering. “No more of what happened today. No more leaving her behind or letting her charge off alone because we think she can handle it.” 

 

“She can handle it,” Gojo said softly. “But yeah. I agree. We don’t let her go in blind again.” 

 

Suguru’s hand shifted slightly over Amara’s waist. “Exactly.” 

 

Satoru hummed, clearly still processing, but then a grin slowly curled at the edge of his mouth. 

 

“Well,” he said casually, “since we’re talking about boundaries… want me to start listing yours?” 

 

Suguru glanced at him warily. “Do I?” 

 

“Oh, you definitely do.” Gojo’s smile turned foxlike. “Let’s see… You don’t like being interrupted when you’re focused, you hate being touched by strangers, especially on the back of your neck, and you absolutely lose your cool when someone disrespects someone you care about even in the slightest.” 

 

“That’s not a boundary, that’s a moral stance.” 

 

Gojo waggled his eyebrows. “You get all twitchy when people touch your stuff too. And you pretend to be chill but you’re the most silently territorial person I’ve ever met.” 

 

Suguru sighed, but he was smiling. “You watch me way too closely.” 

 

“Mmhm.” Gojo leaned a little closer, voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Which is why I noticed something tonight.” 

 

Suguru raised an eyebrow. “What now?” 

 

“That little moment,” Gojo said, feigning innocence, “when Amara walked out wearing your boxers and my shirt and you dropped to your knees like she was a damn altar.” 

 

Suguru’s mouth parted slightly. “Oh my god-” 

 

“Worship mode,” Gojo went on. “Like, actual. Tongue on her stomach, hands on her thighs. You looked like you were about to start praying.” 

 

“I was praying. For patience.” 

 

Gojo snorted. “I’ve never seen you like that. You were needy, Suguru. Openly needy. Kinda hot.” 

 

Suguru groaned softly and covered his face with one hand, trying not to wake Amara. “Okay, fine. I was thinking with something a little more inappropriate than my head, alright?” 

 

Gojo burst out laughing, quiet but delighted. 

 

“Hey, no judgment,” he said, grinning. “I get it. Sort of. I mean, maybe not all the way. I don’t usually… get that way.” 

 

Suguru peeked through his fingers. “Right. Besides that time-” 

 

“With the two of you, yeah.” Gojo’s voice softened a little. “That was different, though. I wasn’t thinking about, like… doing stuff. I was just so overwhelmed by how much I felt, I guess. I didn’t even know my body could react like that.” 

 

Suguru let his hand fall back to the bed, listening carefully. 

 

Gojo hesitated, then asked, “Do you think… we’d ever be like that? The three of us? I mean- ya know, physically.” 

 

The question wasn’t lewd. It wasn’t even particularly bold. 

 

Just curious. 

 

Suguru inhaled through his nose, slowly, like he was reminding himself that now was not the time to be picturing things, especially with Amara’s ass pressed firmly against his lap. 

 

“Maybe,” he said after a moment. “Eventually. If she wants that. If we all want that. But it doesn’t have to be now. Or even soon.” 

 

Gojo nodded slowly. “Right. Yeah.” 

 

Suguru glanced at him sideways. “Why do you ask?” 

 

Gojo frowned thoughtfully. “I just… don’t really understand it. I mean, people always made a big deal about it growing up. Hookups, sex, whatever. It just sounded messy. And pointless. I never wanted it. Still kind of don’t. But when I’m with you two, I feel different. Not like, ‘I need this,’ but more like… I’d want it. If it was with you.” 

 

Suguru’s expression shifted. Something softer, more protective. 

 

“And that's totally okay,” he said gently. “You don’t have to force yourself to be interested in something just because it’s expected by other people. But if it changes… we’ll figure it out together. At our own pace. No pressure.” 

 

Gojo was quiet for a long moment. Then: “Do you like it? I mean… that kind of stuff?” 

 

Suguru chuckled, low and quiet. “Yeah. I do.” 

 

“Like… a lot?” 

 

Another chuckle. “Satoru-” 

 

“I’m asking for science!” Gojo whisper-yelled. 

 

Suguru rolled his eyes fondly. “Fine. Yes. I enjoy sex. I like connection, intensity. I like giving more than receiving. I like when the people I care about feel good, safe, wanted.” 

 

Gojo nodded slowly. “Okay. That makes sense. It suits you.” 

 

Suguru blinked. “What?” 

 

“You’re a service top,” Gojo said seriously. 

 

“Oh my god- where did you even learn that shit?” 

 

"Look, I'm a curious person who likes to learn things. Plus I've seen the magazines you buy." 

 

Suguru groans a bit. 

 

“I’m kidding. Sort of.” Gojo grinned. “I like asking you stuff. You don’t make me feel dumb.” 

 

“You’re not dumb.” 

 

Gojo stretched again, one hand brushing down Amara’s arm as she murmured softly in her sleep. 

 

“Maybe one day,” he said, “I’ll want that too. All of it. But for now… I just like this. Talking. Touching. Holding.” 

 

Suguru nodded. 

 

And with nothing else left to say, they both curled a little tighter around the girl they’d nearly lost, the boy they’d always had and the space they were all learning to fill. 

 

Together.

 

 

Chapter 30: Naked Chat

Something warm was pressed to my back. Something even warmer pressed to my chest.

 

I blinked slowly, the fog of sleep lifting just enough to recognize the firm arm curled under my chest, and the hand cupped gently over my ribs, Satoru. His leg was tossed over both of mine, anchoring me. I could feel the faint thrum of cursed energy through his skin, quiet and at peace for once.

 

But the real warmth, the one that stirred the butterflies low in my stomach, was the slow drag of Suguru’s hand up the skin beneath my borrowed shirt. His palm smoothed over my stomach in soothing circles, warm and reverent, like he wasn’t just touching me, he was memorizing me.

 

His lips pressed behind my ear. “Morning, beautiful.”

 

I hummed softly, my body aching in more places than I could count. But there was something grounding about his touch, something that made it all feel survivable.

 

“You’re sore,” he said, voice low and still wrapped in sleep. “How bad?”

 

“Bad,” I admitted. “But not dying.”

 

“Good.” His nose nuzzled into the curve of my neck. “Because I’d really hate to lose my girlfriend this early into the relationship.”

 

My heart squeezed.

 

“I’m your girlfriend now, huh?” I mumbled, hiding my face in the pillow.

 

“Wasn’t just a dream, was it?” Suguru asked, voice light. But there was something underneath. Worry. Doubt. Hope. “You sure this is what you want, Amara?”

 

I shifted my hand back to find his. Interlocked our fingers beneath the covers.

 

“I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t sure.”

 

He was quiet for a moment. Then, he squeezed my hand and leaned in to kiss my temple, cheek, and jaw, each one slow, almost shy.

 

“Then I’m the luckiest man alive.”

 

I laughed under my breath. “You’re ridiculous.”

 

“Roll over and tell me that to my face,” he murmured.

 

I rolled carefully, hissing a little as my ribs twinged. Satoru groaned at the shift but didn’t wake, he just adjusted, snuggling closer with his chin tucked over my shoulder like a needy cat.

 

Suguru’s hand came up to cradle my face. His thumb traced under my eye gently, like he was searching for pain and finding something else entirely.

 

“I mean it,” he said. “If anything feels off, too much even, tell us, okay? I want to be everything you need. But I don’t want to hurt you trying to be that.”

 

“You’re not hurting me,” I whispered.

 

“Still,” he said, brushing my hair back. “Let’s make this easier for all of us. Can I ask a few things?”

 

I nodded.

 

“What’s okay physically? What’s too far?”

 

I took a breath. “It depends. Touch is… hard sometimes. Especially my back. And I hate being surprised. But if I see it coming, or if it’s you or Satoru, I can handle it. Usually.”

 

“Your face?”

 

I hesitated. “Gentle’s okay. Hands are fine. Just… not too fast. Not when I’m not ready.”

 

He nodded solemnly, filing it away like gospel. “And kissing?”

 

I smirked faintly. “Clearly allowed.”

 

He chuckled. “Good." He kissed my lips softly. "What about sleeping together?”

 

My brows furrowed. “We already-”

 

“I mean literally sleeping,” he said, smiling. “But also… cuddling, undressing, bathing. Things like that.”

 

I flushed a little, tugging the covers up instinctively even though Suguru had barely moved.

 

“I mean… cuddling’s fine. I think we’ve established that.” I gave him a small smile. “And sleeping in the same bed too, obviously. It’s not like you two ever give me the option to sleep alone anymore.”

 

He grinned at that, eyes soft with fondness. “Guilty as charged.”

 

“As for undressing…” I trailed off, cheeks warming. “I’m getting better. Like, I don’t mind if it’s just a shirt and underwear. I trust you guys. But… full-naked is still kind of a weird line for me. I’ve done it once or twice with my back turned, but…”

 

His fingers brushed over mine under the blanket. “But?”

 

I exhaled slowly. “I just don’t want either of you to… I don’t know. Get the wrong idea. Like it’s some green light for anything else. I’m still figuring out what I’m okay with.”

 

Suguru’s expression didn’t falter. If anything, it got more serious, but not in a bad way. He nodded once, firm and sure.

 

“Then that’s the boundary,” he said simply. “You don’t have to worry about us misunderstanding. If you’re ever ready for more, you’ll let us know.”

 

“Okay,” I said softly.

 

“And if it helps,” he added with a faint smirk, “you’re not the only one who hasn’t seen anyone naked.”

 

That made me blink. “Wait. You and Satoru haven’t-?”

 

“Oh no, we have,” Suguru cut in smoothly. “We’ve seen each other naked more times than I can count. Mission injuries, hot springs, dorm showers, the works.”

 

I raised an eyebrow. “Then why-?”

 

“Because you’re the one who is warming up to us now,” he said plainly. “We didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. So we stopped and avoided just undressing as often and as openly as we used to.”

 

I blinked. That… made a lot of sense.

 

“You both just stopped being naked around each other? Just like that?”

 

He chuckled under his breath. “Well, not entirely just like that. Satoru complained for a while. Called me ‘prudish’ for a whole month.”

 

“That sounds like him,” I muttered.

 

“But he gets it. He knows what’s at stake if you feel unsafe. And between the two of us, we’re not exactly shy.”

 

I snorted. “Yeah. Satoru would probably streak through the courtyard if no one stopped him.”

 

“Oh, he has,” Suguru deadpanned. “Second year. Lost a bet to Shoko.”

 

I covered my mouth to stifle the laugh. “You’re joking.”

 

“I wish I was.”

 

I smiled again, settling closer.

 

Suguru gently traced over my side with his thumb again, his voice quieter now. “Whenever you’re ready. For anything. Even if it’s just seeing us like that. You call the shots.”

 

I nodded, heart fluttering. “Maybe… someday. Like, a hot spring or something. Casual. Low-stakes nudity.”

 

He huffed a soft laugh. “Consider it on the list.”

 

Behind me, Satoru grumbled something unintelligible and pressed his cold toes between my thighs like a gremlin. I squeaked and nearly kicked him.

 

Suguru raised an eyebrow. “Think he heard any of that?”

 

“Doubt it,” I mumbled, shoving Satoru’s foot away with my knee. “He’s basically dead until noon.”

 

“True,” Suguru said. “We could confess all our darkest secrets and he’d sleep through it.”

 

“…Should we test that theory?” I whispered with a mischievous smirk.

 

Suguru leaned in and murmured, “Only if you’re ready for retaliation. He always gets even.”

 

I relaxed again into the warmth between them. Still sore. Still healing. But steady.

 

And safe.

 

Suguru’s hand didn’t wander, but it never stopped moving. A gentle, grounding pattern across my side. Fingertips pressing soft paths into my skin like he was memorizing me.

 

“So…” he murmured, eyes still half-lidded, voice dipped lower now. “Do you want to talk about the other kind of intimacy too?”

 

I raised a brow. “We’re not already?”

 

He chuckled. “Fair. I just mean… expectations. Limits. Where you stand. Where we stand.”

 

I blinked at him, then glanced back at Satoru’s sleeping face mashed against the pillow like a pancake. “You want to talk about that while he’s snoring behind me?”

 

“He can’t hear,” Suguru said confidently. “And even if he could, it’d short-circuit his brain.”

 

That made me laugh, but Suguru’s gaze didn’t waver. There was a seriousness under it. Something gentle, but careful.

 

“You already know,” he said, “I’m the more… physical one. Between us. Satoru talks more about it, makes jokes, pushes boundaries verbally. But when it comes down to it? He wouldn’t know what to do if the opportunity actually showed up.”

 

I thought about it. Gojo’s teasing. His exaggerated gasps and flirty winks. His smug little “ooohs” every time I so much as leaned over. And yet… he never crossed a line. He never even touched me without making sure I was okay with it.

 

“Yeah,” I said. “That sounds right.”

 

“Satoru likes to fluster. He likes the idea of being wanted. But he’s not one for following through, at least not yet. He’s still figuring that part out.”

 

I nodded slowly. “And you?”

 

Suguru met my gaze steadily. “If you gave me consent, I’d go further without hesitation. Not in a bad way. Just… I know what I like. And I’d want you to enjoy it too.”

 

The honesty in his voice made my breath catch.

 

I rolled my eyes, more to distract myself than anything. “And here I thought you were the reserved one.”

 

“I am,” he said, smiling. “But I’m not dead.”

 

That earned a snort from me. I hesitated, then added, “Not to shock you or anything, but I’m not so holy either.”

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

I propped my elbow up, staring at the curve of his lips. “I’ve thought about it. You two. Hands. Mouths. All of it.”

 

Suguru’s jaw tensed slightly. I caught it.

 

“I like teasing you guys,” I went on, voice getting just a little softer. “But pulling the trigger on it is a whole other thing. I get nervous. Embarrassed.”

 

“Understandable,” he said, too calmly. Too controlled.

 

“Especially when I know,” I whispered, eyes dipping to his chest, “that you’d be very good at it.”

 

Suguru’s pupils dilated slightly like a predator catching the scent of something too sweet.

 

I leaned closer, my hand brushing up his ribs under the blanket. “Am I pushing too much?” I murmured like I didn’t know exactly what I was doing.

 

I leaned in, brushing my fingers just under the hem of Suguru’s pajama pants. Felt his warmth. Felt the subtle coil of tension still held in his stomach like he was one slow breath away from something snapping.

 

“Am I pushing too much?” I ask again, already knowing the answer.

 

His eyes flared slightly. Not angry. Not even annoyed. Just… hungry.

 

“You are playing with fire right now,” he said, voice velvet and smoke.

 

I smirked.

 

“I could always turn around and give you my back again,” I offered playfully, brows raised. “I know how much you liked that view last night…”

 

Suguru bit his knuckle so hard I thought he might draw blood. A stifled sound slipped from behind his teeth, half-groan, half-moan, and he squeezed his eyes shut like he needed to pray for strength.

 

“Don’t say that unless you want to deal with what you’re doing to me,” he warned, voice so strained it barely sounded like him. “You know what your body against mine does, and you are dangerously close to-”

 

“I’m not ready,” I whispered, softer now. “Just teasing. I’m sorry.”

 

He exhaled, sharply, maybe even a little grateful. Then reached up, cupped my jaw in his hand like I was fragile porcelain and he was trying not to crack me open with want. I expected a kiss to the lips but he pressed his mouth to my cheek firmly instead.

 

“I need a second,” he admitted, pulling back with a small, breathless smile. “An actual second.”

 

Then, suddenly, his leg stretched out and he kicked Satoru, hard enough to jostle the mattress.

 

“Wha-!?” Gojo jolted upright. Hair askew, pillow lines on his cheek, and blue eyes blinking furiously.

 

“I was having the softest dream,” he whined. “Why would you ruin it?”

 

“Because I need you awake,” Suguru said flatly, dragging a hand down his face.

 

Gojo narrowed his eyes and immediately flopped dramatically back down onto me, head landing on my chest like a cat looking for warmth.

 

“You were eavesdropping again, weren’t you?” Suguru asked dryly.

 

“I was,” Gojo said shamelessly, snuggling in closer. “But only a little. I stopped listening when I heard the word back. Figured that was my cue to stay unconscious for my own protection.”

 

I couldn’t help but laugh, fingers instinctively running through his snowy hair.

 

“Didn’t wanna interrupt Suguru’s crisis,” he mumbled, eyes fluttering closed again. “He needed that character development.”

 

Suguru groaned. “I hate you.”

 

“No you don’t,” Gojo sang, eyes still closed. “Now stop being weird and come cuddle me too, boyfriend.”

 

Suguru sighed, arm sliding back around me, a little rough this time like he was grounding himself through me.

 

“Thank you,” he whispered near the back of my neck, his lips brushing skin. “For telling me. For not pretending.”

 

I smiled against Gojo’s forehead. “You two are stuck with me now.”

 

Gojo purred.

 

Suguru buried his face into my hair.

 

And just like that, we breathed in the warmth of each other again, this chaotic, terrifying thing slowly becoming something solid and sacred.

 

---

 

A soft pat landed on my ass.

 

“Time to get up,” Suguru said, voice all rich and smooth like black tea and honey. The kind that made you want to stay in bed less because you were tired and more because of that tone.

 

I groaned into the pillow. “You were just begging me not to turn around a few minutes ago.”

 

“And now I’m begging you to function.”

 

“Rude.”

 

But I peeled myself from the warmth of Satoru’s chest anyway, stretching my arms above my head with a soft crack in my shoulder. Satoru let out the most dramatic sigh like I was leaving him for war.

 

I was about to start grabbing my clothes when Suguru held up a hand. “Wait. Let's stretch you first. Properly.”

 

“I just did,” I argued.

 

He raised a brow, already stepping into position behind me. “That’s not stretching properly.”

 

I huffed but didn’t protest when he gently guided me into a seated position, legs out in front of me. His hands found my arms and gently pulled them forward, helping me reach for my toes as far as I could. Then up, twisting me sideways, slowly easing my stiff muscles awake.

 

It wasn’t rushed. It was methodical. Thoughtful.

 

Like he was pouring care into every subtle motion.

 

“You’re getting better at this,” I murmured, smiling.

 

“You’re getting more bendy,” he teased, fingers brushing my ribs as he tilted me into another twist.

 

“Gross.”

 

“I meant flexible,” he chuckled.

 

“I know what you meant. I just like ruining things sometimes.” I chuckled.

 

That earned me a quiet laugh.“Want me to crack your back?”

 

“God, yes.”

 

He stood and pulled me gently to my feet, motioning for me to cross my arms. I did, and he stepped in behind me, wrapping his arms around mine. One, two, lift-

 

POP POP POP.

 

A moan left me before I could stop it. “Holy fuuuck. Oh my god.”

 

Gojo, who was only now dragging himself upright, smirked. “Was it good for you too, Suguru?”

 

Suguru gave him a withering side-eye. “Behave.”

 

“You literally made her moan.”

 

“It was spinal alignment.”

 

“Hot spinal alignment,” Gojo said, grinning.

 

Suguru rolled his eyes but held out his hand. “You’re next.”

 

Gojo didn’t hesitate. He leaped up, flopping against Suguru like he weighed nothing. Arms crossed, heels lifted-

 

CRACKCRACKCRACKCRACK.

 

Gojo moaned.

 

Loudly.

 

I covered my face. “Satoru, you sound like a bad hentai.”

 

“Don’t kink shame me while my spine is reborn,” he said breathlessly, swaying like a palm tree in the wind.

 

Suguru groaned. “This is why no one takes us seriously.”

 

“You take me seriously,” Gojo said, fluttering his lashes at him. “In bed.”

 

I threw a pillow at him.

 

Then I stretched my arms and turned to Suguru. “Alright, get down.”

 

He blinked. “What?”

 

“My turn,” I said, smirking. “Lay down. Shirt off.”

 

"I don't think I need my shirt off-"

 

"You heard me!" 

 

Satoru whistled.

 

Suguru looked suspiciously interested but obeyed, lowering himself onto the bed and resting on his stomach, boxers still low on his hips. I climbed up carefully, straddling the back of his thighs.

 

“You’re going to hurt me,” he said calmly, voice muffled in the pillow.

 

“Only a little.”

 

I started with gentle pressure, massaging into the thick muscle around his shoulders and spine, thumbs working small, patient circles. He melted. His breath caught once or twice, soft sounds leaking out as I found the tense spots.

 

Then I leaned back, placed my hands on his shoulder blades, and pushed.

 

CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.

 

He moaned and then immediately stuffed his face into the pillow in shame.

 

Gojo was howling.

 

I grinned wickedly, playing with his hair. “Was it good for you, Suguru?”

 

His hand came back and slapped my thigh half-heartedly. “You’re a menace.”

 

I leaned down to his ear. “You love it.”

 

Satoru practically fell off the bed laughing.

 

I rolled off of Suguru with a dramatic flop and sighed.

 

“Okay. Now we can get dressed.”

 

Suguru had his back turned while he pulled on his usual uniform, hair still messy and streaked from sleep. Gojo stood beside him, shirtless and yawning, scratching at his stomach like a lazy cat. I stayed seated on the bed for a moment, eyes flicking between the two of them as they changed like it was the most casual thing in the world.

 

And I guess it was, for them. There was zero hesitation in their movements, zero awkwardness. Just trust, familiarity. Comfort. I envied that a little.

 

I pulled on Satoru’s hoodie, his actual one, not one of the twenty extras he kept lying around “just in case.” It smelled like him. Like sugar, rain, and that expensive body wash he used. I slipped into the baggy black cargos Suguru got me for my birthday.

 

“You can look now,” I said, voice soft but steady.

 

Gojo glanced over his shoulder and beamed. “Damn. You look better in that than I do.”

 

Suguru turned and gave me a once-over, smiling gently. “That hoodie’s never getting washed again.”

 

I snorted.

 

Then Gojo tilted his head, a thoughtful expression tugging at his mouth. “Hey… genuine question?”

 

“Sure?” I raise an eyebrow.

 

“When do we get fully naked comfortable?” He raised a brow, fingers twitching like he was trying to keep from gesturing too wildly. “I mean, me and Suguru do it all the time. Like, undressing in front of each other, baths, changing, whatever. Do you think that could happen with all three of us? Eventually? I kinda like the comfort that it brings.”

 

I blinked.

 

Suguru chuckled behind him. “You always dive in headfirst, don’t you?”

 

Gojo grinned. “Well, yeah. I’m curious! Like- what if we just got used to it? Made it normal? Desensitized ourselves to the whole ooh nudity thing.”

 

He waved his hands for effect.

 

“Bodies are just bodies, right? I like seeing Suguru naked. That doesn’t mean I’m gonna hump his leg every time he takes his shirt off.”

 

“Thank you for the clarification,” Suguru said dryly.

 

I covered my face with my hands, laughing lightly. “Satoru…”

 

“I’m serious!” He folded his arms. “I just think it’d be nice if we could all be that comfortable around each other, you know?”

 

Suguru leaned against the wall. “It could be like that one day. But the first time won’t be. Most people don’t jump straight into full comfort. It takes time.”

 

“I wasn’t nervous,” Gojo said, blinking. “The first time we got undressed together. I just did it.”

 

“That’s because you’re a chaos elemental in the shape of a man,” Suguru replied, patient. “I was nervous.”

 

"You were?" Gojo looked at him a little surprised.

 

Suguru chuckles lightly. "Extremely. I was having a very attractive man bare it all in front of me before I even knew I liked men."

 

Gojo went quiet.

 

Then, quietly, he said, “I don’t really get it. I mean, I get it, like logically. But for me, it’s just skin, y’know? Yeah, I get a little excited sometimes, but not like… boner excited.”

 

Suguru bit back a laugh, and I felt my shoulders shake as I tried to keep mine in too.

 

Gojo immediately flushed. “Okay, no, wait- I’m not saying I don’t think you guys are pretty! I do! You’re both gorgeous. I think about kissing you both all over all the time and-”

 

“Woah, woah.” Suguru crossed the room and gently cupped the back of his neck. “Breathe. It’s okay.”

 

“Yeah,” I added, stepping closer. “You’re explaining it fine.”

 

Gojo looked between us, blue eyes wide and jumbled. “I just… I don’t really get physically attracted to people until I’m super close to them. Emotionally. And even when I do, I don’t feel this, like, need to do anything about it. I don’t even… I’ve never felt comfortable enough to want to go further. With anyone.”

 

Suguru nodded slowly, rubbing his thumb along Gojo’s collarbone in soft reassurance. “That’s okay. You don’t have to want anything.”

 

“Is that, like…” Gojo glanced at me, then back to him. “Is that weird?”

 

“No,” I said immediately. “That’s just you.”

 

Satoru looked at me, really looked, and something in his shoulders loosened. Like I’d cut a wire holding him too tightly together.

 

He huffed a quiet laugh. “I mean… I think I would want to go further if you guys asked. Probably. It’s not like I don’t want it. Just… I don’t need it. Not right now.”

 

His fingers toyed with the hem of the hoodie I wore and his voice dipped into something sheepish.

 

“But who knows? Maybe the first time I actually, y’know, finish with someone I care about…” He flashed a teasing grin. “I’ll become completely insatiable. Good luck surviving me.”

 

I snorted.

 

Suguru raised an eyebrow, his smirk crooked. “What, you think you’ll awaken some kind of sleeping beast?”

 

“THE beast,” Gojo corrected proudly. “Like a cursed technique but for orgasms.”

 

I wheezed, leaning into Gojo’s side as I laughed. “That’s horrifying.”

 

“Can’t wait to exorcise it,” Suguru deadpanned, and Gojo gave him the most offended gasp I’d ever heard.

 

“You guys are the worst,” Satoru said, covering his flushed face with his hands.

 

“You love us,” I sing-songed.

 

“Unfortunately.”

 

We were quiet for a second after that, just kind of… being. The sunlight slid through the curtains, catching in Suguru’s hair and turning his dark strands warm and gold. Gojo’s cheek was pressed into my head, soft and affectionate in a way I never would’ve imagined when I first met him.

 

And me? I felt safe. Even after everything. Even now.

 

“I think…” I began slowly, “...a private bathhouse could be a good start.”

 

Both boys looked at me.

 

I shrugged. “I know I’m still shy, but… if it’s private, and it’s the three of us, and I get to decide when I’m ready, it might help. I’d like it to feel natural. Comfortable.”

 

Satoru’s face lit up immediately. “Like an onsen? With snacks? And little towels on our heads?”

 

Suguru chuckled. “You just want to show off your legs.”

 

“Amara said it’s private,” Satoru shot back, smug. “I can be as scandalous as I want.”

 

I smiled, hiding my face in Gojo’s shoulder. “When I’m ready, I’ll plan it. And I’ll let you both know. But not yet.”

 

“Whenever you want,” Suguru said, gentle as ever.

 

“No pressure,” Gojo added, kissing the top of my head. "I'll buy out the whole damn street if I need to. Completely free of eyes besides of ours."

 

Satoru grabbed me tightly and started kissing me all over, making me giggle loudly.

 

And maybe… just maybe, we really could build something good here. Something real.

 

Something that didn’t rush or demand.

 

Just waited, and held on tight.

 

 

Chapter 31: Little Experiment

Summary:

Long Chapter incoming

The hallway buzzed faintly with morning light, a bit past 10 am now, the three of them were halfway to the dining hall when Shoko stepped into view at the end of the corridor. She looked... uncomfortable. Behind her, Yaga followed with his arms crossed, jaw tight.

 

"Amara," Shoko said with a small wave, "I need to run a few quick tests. Shouldn't take long."

 

Amara blinked, stepping half behind Suguru out of instinct.

 

"Before breakfast?" Satoru asked, frowning.

 

"She'll be fine," Shoko promised, her voice steady but not quite relaxed. "I just want to make sure nothing changed overnight."

 

Yaga nodded to Shoko before his eyes settled on Gojo and Geto. "You two. My office. Now."

 

That was not a suggestion.

 

---

 

Yaga's office was colder than usual. Maybe it was the way he sat behind the desk, fingers tented, elbows perched with the careful deliberation of someone preparing to strike a gavel.

 

Satoru flopped down in one chair like he owned the place. Suguru sat more carefully.

 

"Is there anything either of you would like to tell me?"

 

He spoke with the voice of a father who already knew. He was just waiting for his kids to admit it.

 

Gojo raised an eyebrow. "...We forgot to brush our teeth this morning?"

 

Yaga didn't even blink. "I'm talking about the mission."

 

That shut them both up.

 

Suguru glanced at Gojo. "We were planning to file the report-"

 

"You disobeyed a direct order." Yaga's voice was quiet but sharp. "That's one issue. Usually, that would be enough to test my patience, but what has me furious is the lack of communication about this drain ability."

 

Satoru's eyes narrowed slightly. Suguru stiffened.

 

Yaga leaned forward. "Nothing was said. Not in a report. Not in a message. Not in a call. Not in passing. I had to find out from the Elders."

 

Satoru's casual posture started to evaporate. "It only happened last night. We were going to-"

 

"You could have called. Texted. Sent a damn letter by cursed crow. Anything. I even stopped you all before sending you off to bed. Not one work. Not even a heads up." Yaga's voice rose. "Instead, I had to sit there while one of those smug fossils asked me how long I'd known that my own student exhibited one of the most dangerous and unstable techniques we've seen since her father."

 

Suguru exhaled slowly. "We didn't mean to hide it."

 

"Then what exactly do you think it looks like?" Yaga asked, more tired than angry now. "Because to them, it looks like you're playing house with a weapon you don't understand. And to me, it looks like I made the wrong call letting you near her unsupervised."

 

Gojo flinched at that.

 

"She didn't even know it was happening," Suguru offered carefully. "It was instinctual. She was on the edge of death, she fought through it-"

 

"And I'm proud of her," Yaga cut in. "But you're not her cheerleaders. You're her guardians in the field. And if you want me to trust you to handle that responsibility, you need to act like it. If you think it's too much to handle then that's fine but the responsibility then needs to be switched over."

 

Satoru, for once, didn't talk back.

 

The silence in the room pressed in like fog.

 

Finally, Yaga leaned back, with a sigh. "I'm not punishing you. Not yet. But this, what she's showing now, it's not a trickle. It's the start of a flood. And if she gets swept away by it, or if someone else finds out before we understand it... It's not just her who's going to suffer the consequences."

 

Suguru nodded solemnly. "We understand."

 

Gojo gave a tight nod too, jaw set.

 

Yaga's eyes flicked to both of them one last time. "Prove it."

 

The silence that followed was heavy. Not just from the reprimand, but from the guilt that neither of them could argue away.

 

Suguru sat still, hands folded in his lap, eyes on the grain of the desk. He could stomach a lot.. blood, pain, even failure, but not disappointment. Not when it came from Yaga. That always hits too deep.

 

Satoru, who rarely took anything seriously, wasn't smirking. His shoulders were a little hunched now, posture more subdued than usual. Yaga was one of the few people he actually respected. Being scolded by him always reminded him, quietly and sharply, that he wasn't untouchable.

 

Suguru cleared his throat after a moment. "You mentioned... her father."

 

Yaga looked up sharply.

 

"You've never said his name before," Suguru continued, calm but persistent. "Not to us. Riku Hoshizuki, right?"

 

The name landed like a stone dropped in still water.

 

Yaga's jaw flexed.

 

Gojo blinked, eyes narrowing. "That mercenary freak? Wait- him? I thought maybe it was just some coincidence."

 

Yaga didn't respond.

 

Suguru pressed. "Why didn't you tell us and why is her family such a hushed secret?"

 

"Because it doesn't matter who he is," Yaga said, more to the air than to them. "Only who she is."

 

"But she inherited his technique," Suguru said quietly. "Didn't she?"

 

Yaga let out a low breath like he was trying to release the frustration from his lungs. "I was hoping she wouldn't. For a long time, I truly thought she hadn't. Healing, regeneration, shields, those are traceable enough. That's the gentle side. The vines, the empathy, her raw cursed energy... all things we could account for, deal with easily." He paused. "But drain? That's unmistakably his. And a bigger problem than I hope to deal with.."

 

Satoru's fingers tapped his thigh. "The Elders were already watching her for that, huh?"

 

"They were watching her the moment I filed her name," Yaga said. "Some of them were ready to reject her admission entirely. They feared if she showed even a whisper of Riku's techniques, it meant he was still out there. That he might return for her."

 

Gojo snorted. "Let him try. I'd kill him in two seconds flat. What's even the worry?"

 

Yaga's eyes flicked to him, hard, but not disbelieving. "You probably could. But that's not what I'm worried about."

 

Suguru tilted his head slightly. "Then what?"

 

Yaga's voice dropped. "I don't think he'll come back for her. I think he made his choice the day he left her at birth. I think he's stayed gone on purpose."

 

"...That's cold," Gojo muttered.

 

Suguru frowned. "Then what are you afraid of?" Suguru repeated.

 

Yaga hesitated. His fingers curled loosely against the desk. "I'm afraid... that she'll go looking for him."

 

The silence that followed was heavier than the last.

 

Gojo glanced at Suguru.

 

Satoru leaned forward slightly. "Why would she?"

 

"Because she's starting to wonder where she came from," Yaga said. "And you two, whether you mean to or not, are helping her grow faster than we expected. Stronger, smarter, more curious. It's only a matter of time before she asks the questions I'm not ready to answer."

 

"Wouldn't it be better to tell her?" Suguru asked, "Before someone else does?"

 

Yaga looked tired. "I've thought about that every day since she arrived."

 

Suguru's voice softened. "Then what stops you?"

 

Yaga met his eyes. "Because she deserves to grow without that burden. Without his shadow. Every day she goes without knowing, she has the chance to become her own person, not just the daughter of someone feared and hated by half the jujutsu world."

 

"...She's already becoming that," Suguru said. "Her own person."

 

Gojo nodded. "She's not him or whatever her bloodline is."

 

Yaga didn't smile, but something in his face gentled. "No. She'll be better."

 

Gojo leaned back on his heels, arms crossed loosely, brows lifting with a faint grin. "So... maybe we start looking into her family history though? You know, do some digging, see if there's anything else hidden in that creepy little bloodline-"

 

"No." Yaga cut him off sharply.

 

Both Gojo and Suguru blinked.

 

Yaga's voice was stern but not angry. Just firm. "That kind of digging doesn't come without consequences. The Hoshizuki name may be all but wiped off official records, but some people still remember. People with long memories and sharp tongues. The last thing I need is one of you poking at graves and waking something best left buried."

 

Gojo raised his hands in exaggerated surrender. "Alright, damn. No shovels."

 

Suguru stepped in, tone more measured. "Then what's the next step? With the drain ability. We can't ignore it, and we can't just pretend it didn't happen. What do we do?"

 

Yaga sat back in his chair, folding his hands together with a sigh. "We keep a close eye on it. I've already asked Shoko to run a new set of tests, nothing too invasive, but we need baseline data. How it manifests. How it behaves. Whether she has any conscious control."

 

Gojo frowned. "She doesn't. At least, not yet."

 

"I figured," Yaga muttered. "Which is why I'm assigning her to train under Yuki for a while."

 

Suguru nodded slowly. "Yuki? That's... actually a good call."

 

"She's one of the oldest among you," Yaga said. "And one of the strongest. I trust she'll do everything she can to push Amara but keep her safe in the process. Yuki knows the stakes."

 

"What about us?" Gojo asked, nudging Suguru's arm. "Are we just sidelined now?"

 

Yaga looked between them. "No. You're still part of this. I know you care about her. And I'm not going to strip away her support system just because she's getting stronger."

 

Gojo seemed visibly relieved.

 

"But," Yaga added, tone dropping, "this ability is not to be tested again without either myself or Yuki present. Not in combat. Not in training. Not even in sparring."

 

Gojo opened his mouth to argue, but Suguru cut in instead.

 

"That's fair," he said. "It's dangerous."

 

Yaga nodded. "Exactly. We're dealing with something that doesn't just hurt others, it could hurt her. Or worse... change her."

 

Gojo fell quiet at that.

 

Suguru's brows drew slightly inward, but he didn't speak.

 

Yaga leaned back. "So until further notice, you two are cleared to support, I repeat, support, but not to push. Understood?"

 

"Understood," Suguru said immediately.

 

Gojo took a second longer. Then, finally, nodded. "Yeah. Got it."

 

Yaga's eyes softened, just slightly. "I know you two mean well. But this isn't just another cursed technique. This is something else entirely. If we mishandle it... we risk more than I can probably explain."

 

----------

 

I sat on the edge of the infirmary bed, legs swinging slightly, the paper roll crinkling beneath me every time I moved. Shoko moved around the room like always, calm, precise and cigarette tucked behind her ear but not lit. She didn't need to speak loudly to take up space. She just was.

 

"Okay," she said, snapping on a pair of gloves. "This won't take long. Just a few vials."

 

I tilted my head. "Do you... know what this is all for?"

 

Shoko glanced up briefly, her expression unreadable as she started prepping the needle. "Yaga didn't give me much. Just that he's mad at your idiot boyfriends for keeping quiet about your drain ability... and now he wants a full baseline."

 

I winced. "They didn't mean to hide it-"

 

"I know," Shoko cut in gently. "But that's not the point."

 

She tied the band around my arm and patted at my vein until it rose beneath the skin. I stayed quiet, watching her carefully. She wasn't angry, but something about her posture was firmer than usual.

 

"You have to understand," she said, eyes on her work, "those two are still students like us, but they're not treated like regular students. Not by Yaga. Not by the higher-ups. They're the strongest, and they want to be. Yaga gives them more responsibility because they ask for it. Because they've proven they can handle it." She slid the needle in with practiced ease. "But this? This was a step down."

 

I looked away, heart twisting. "They didn't know it would happen. Neither did I."

 

"I believe you," she said. "But it happened. And it should've been reported right after. Not when the Elders start gossiping like mean girls with ancient grudges."

 

I groaned quietly. "Just a bunch of high school drama queens."

 

She snorted. "They do have that resting bitch face."

 

I cracked a smile, then fell silent again, my cheeks warming as I thought about last night... and then this morning.

 

Shoko arched an eyebrow as she switched out the vial. "...Alright. You're holding something in. Spill."

 

My mouth opened, then closed. Then I pressed the back of my free hand to my burning cheek. "It's nothing-"

 

"Liar."

 

"It's just- okay fine!" I huffed, unable to stop the dumb little grin crawling up my face. "It's just... last night we all sort of... made it official. Like, for real."

 

Shoko froze for a second before finishing the draw. "Official official?"

 

I nodded. "I told them I wanted them both. As boyfriends."

 

"Holy shit," she muttered under her breath, clearly trying to sound neutral and failing.

 

"They were so shocked," I said, giggling. "Gojo almost choked. Suguru went silent and just.. blinked at me like he'd never heard the words 'boyfriend' before."

 

Shoko grinned as she taped a cotton ball to my arm. "I need every detail."

 

"I'm getting there," I laughed. "This morning, Suguru woke me up with kisses and soft touches and started asking questions, like, what I'm okay with, boundaries and stuff. He was being so sweet and respectful. But then I started teasing him... and he kind of lost composure a little."

 

Shoko turned fully to face me now, arms crossed, grin wide. "You made Suguru Geto lose composure?"

 

"I might've hinted at turning over and giving him my butt," I muttered.

 

Her eyebrows shot up. "You minx!"

 

"He told me to be careful if I didn't want his body to react more," I said, covering my face. "I told him I wasn't ready yet and offered an apology kiss, but he kissed my cheek instead like a gentleman and then kicked Gojo awake so he wouldn't accidentally pop a boner alone with me."

 

Shoko cackled. "God, I hate them."

 

"And then we had this whole thing where Suguru cracked my back, then Gojo's, and then I did Suguru's. He moaned so loud I thought the walls would collapse."

 

Shoko dramatically placed a hand over her heart. "I am living for this domestic little throuple."

 

I laughed, cheeks still warm. "It's just... nice. It's weird, right? Like, I never thought I'd be someone who had something like this. Two people who actually care about me. But... I do."

 

Shoko gave me a rare, soft smile. "You deserve all of it. Every bit."

 

She removed her gloves and tossed them. "Alright. Blood work's done. I'll send it to Yaga, and he'll start putting together a training schedule. Word is he wants Yuki to oversee your cursed energy progression."

 

I tilted my head. "Yuki Tsukumo?"

 

"Yep. Little Miss Wanderlust herself."

 

That made me sit up straighter. "She's actually staying long enough to train someone? Like consistently?"

 

Shoko shrugged. "I think you made an impression."

 

That made my heart skip a little. "...Good or bad?"

 

Shoko just smirked. "Depends how much you're willing to bleed for it."

 

Shoko wheeled the next machine over with a low hum, the cords and sensors bundled like lazy snakes in her arms. She dropped them onto the bed beside me with a sigh, lighting her cigarette at last and cracking the window open with one booted foot.

 

"Alright," she said, taking a long drag. "Time to measure cursed energy output and flow stability. Just breathe normally, don't overthink it, and for the love of god don't start glowing again."

 

I stuck my tongue out at her. "No promises."

 

She smirked and clipped one sensor to my finger, another just below my collarbone. "You'll be fine. You've been way more stable lately. Honestly, I think we're past the worst of the flareups."

 

I leaned back on my palms and let her adjust the rest. "I mean, yeah. I haven't exploded anyone this week. That's growth, right?"

 

Shoko chuckled. "That's Jujutsu High growth, baby."

 

The machine gave a soft beep as it kicked on, a slow line of green light crawling across the screen. My cursed energy hummed low and steady, a comforting thrum in my bones.

 

Shoko sat back on the stool and watched the screen. "Solid. Your levels are high, but not erratic. No bursts, no decay. You're not even flickering. See?" She gestured to the waveform. "Clean."

 

I smiled to myself, relieved. It was nice to not be the unpredictable variable for once.

 

Then..

 

"Hey, pretty girl, test over yet?"

 

I didn't have to look. Satoru's voice practically vibrated off the walls.

 

The moment I heard them, Satoru's stupid grin in his words and Suguru's quieter steps trailing behind, I felt something in me light up. A slow bloom of warmth in my chest, like flicking on a switch I didn't realize I'd missed.

 

And just like that the machine let out a shrill squeal, the screen flashing violently for half a second before everything flickered, the waveform spiking and crashing at once. One of the sensors sparked. Not enough to break the device, but definitely enough to make Shoko swear under her breath.

 

"Goddammit," she muttered, leaning in to manually reset the interface.

 

I stared at the screen, mortified. "...That wasn't me."

 

She gave me a flat look. "It was SO you."

 

Suguru stepped in behind Satoru, a brow raised. "What'd we miss?"

 

"Her cursed energy short-circuited the monitor the second you two walked in," Shoko said dryly, pressing buttons.

 

Gojo beamed. "Awww. She missed us."

 

"I did not," I said quickly, cheeks already burning.

 

Gojo sauntered in, sitting dramatically backward on the second chair. "It's okay. I get it. I'm a lot to miss."

 

Suguru came to my side more calmly, leaning down to nudge a strand of hair from my face. "Your energy really flared just from hearing us?"

 

"I- no- maybe? I'm not a doctor!" I groaned. 

 

"I am and the answer is yes." Shoko said as she messed with the machine and the cigarette dangled from her lips.

 

"I wasn't expecting you, and I was doing fine before you burst in." I sighed.

 

"It's not a bad thing," Suguru said gently. "Cursed energy reacts strongest to emotions. Yours just... likes us."

 

Shoko chimed in again, half-laughing. "Or it wants to kiss them as badly as you do." Shoke makes kissy lips and sounds.

 

"SHOKO-"

 

She shrugged, unapologetic, smoke curling from the side of her mouth. "Hey, I just read the spikes. You're basically a mood ring with a temper."

 

Gojo snickered. "That's adorable. What color are we today?"

 

Shoko pointed to the readout. "Peaked in crimson. Classic love-lust-fear combo."

 

Suguru smirked. "That tracks."

 

I buried my face in my hands. "Can you both leave? You're making me fail at the science testing."

 

Gojo was grinning so hard that his eyes crinkled even behind his blindfold. "Never. You're stuck with us now, remember?"

 

Shoko muttered under her breath "Actual children in adult bodies" as she reset the machine, tapping the side of the casing like she could guilt it back into cooperation. The screen flickered back to life and she shoved a few replacement sensors into my hand.

 

"Try not to explode this one, alright?" she said.

 

"I didn't mean to," I muttered, still flustered.

 

Satoru was already invading my space, grinning as he leaned in and rested his cheek lightly on the top of my head. "Let's see what the little danger noodle does this time."

 

I rolled my eyes but didn't move. His weight was oddly comforting.

 

Suguru stood beside Shoko now, arms folded, watching the monitor with sharp focus. He was quieter when he was trying to learn something, and he barely blinked as the screen began reading my output again, slow, steady pulses of crimson light humming across the waveforms.

 

"Looks better," Shoko murmured. "Still elevated, but steady. That last flare was mostly adrenaline-"

 

"AAAHHHHHH!"

 

"-WHAT THE FUCK, SATORU?!"

 

I nearly jumped off the bed. My cursed energy reacted instantly, vines flared out of the floorboards, the lights above us flickered, and the machine gave one long, pitiful beep.

 

There was a horrible electrical pop.

 

The screen went dark.

 

So did the rest of the room.

 

Shoko groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "You absolute nescience.."

 

Suguru stared at the now-dead machine. "That was the good one."

 

I was still recovering from the shock, vines slowly retracting back into the floor as I turned to glare at Gojo. "Why?!"

 

He looked delighted. "Okay, yes, that was rude, but! That cursed energy reaction? That wasn't just a flare. That was drain-based. It pulled from the machine. You saw that, right?"

 

Shoko gave him a narrow look. "...Unfortunately, yeah. It shouldn't have been strong enough to fry the circuits that fast. But the way it surged..." She exhaled. "Your cursed energy's adapting, Amara. Going on offense instead of defense."

 

"Because of the drain?" I asked.

 

"Exactly." Shoko nodded slowly. "It's not passive anymore."

 

Suguru placed a hand on my shoulder, rubbing gently to ground me. "Hey, you didn't do anything wrong. You just reacted."

 

Satoru's expression shifted ever so slightly, not guilty, but thoughtful. He lifted his head from mine and stretched lazily.

 

"Bathroom," he mumbled. "Too much water."

 

Shoko raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he sauntered off through the side door.

 

As Suguru checked over the wires and whispered something to Shoko about repairs, I sat very still, doing my best not to let my cursed energy flicker again. But I could still feel it, humming beneath my skin all tense, warm, and slightly sharp around the edges. Like it had teeth now.

 

----------

 

Meanwhile...

 

Satoru shut the bathroom door softly and leaned against the sink, glancing at the mirror before cracking the adjoining window. The breeze chilled his neck but cooled his thoughts.

 

He waited for a moment, then flickered out of view and reappeared silently at Shoko's side, crouched low and just out of Suguru's and Amara's sightline. Shoko was on the other side of the room now.

 

"Hey," he whispered.

 

She didn't look away from her shuffling in drawers, but he saw the tiniest flick of her eyes in his direction. "Talk."

 

"She's shifting," he said under his breath. "I saw it, when she flared, it wasn't just a spike. The structure of her cursed energy is different now. Before, it kind of screamed when it moved. Now it twists. Like it's reaching."

 

Shoko frowned. "Reaching how?"

 

"Like it's searching for something to feed on. And it's self-reinforcing. It's not just defending like it was before, it grows stronger when it touches something else. It drank the machine like it was nothing."

 

She inhaled through her nose. "And the aura?"

 

Gojo's voice dropped. "It's layered now. There's a second pulse underneath her usual flow. It's muted unless she's triggered. But when she is... it almost overtakes the other layer."

 

That made Shoko finally stop. She turned her full attention to him, concern flickering behind her cold exterior. "Like something else is sharing space in her cursed energy?"

 

Gojo nodded once, jaw tight. "Ish? Whatever it is it's starting to wake up."

 

-----------

 

Suguru's hand was still resting lightly on my shoulder, thumb drawing slow circles, probably more for his sake than mine. The machine was officially toast, its screen lifeless and blackened at the edges.

 

Shoko was kneeling beside it now, poking around the casing with the bored frustration of someone trying not to throw tools. "Well," she muttered, "that's fried. Guess we're done for now."

 

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "Sorry again..."

 

"It's not your fault," Suguru said immediately, voice soft.

 

But something was off.

 

His posture hadn't shifted much, but I could feel the change. His body was tense in a quiet, measured way like he was keeping me between him and something else. He wasn't looking at the broken machine anymore, either. His gaze had subtly shifted just past it... toward the small side door, Satoru had disappeared through.

 

And he was stalling.

 

"What's that face?" I asked him, squinting a little.

 

Suguru's lips quirked into something gentle, practiced. "What face?"

 

"The 'I'm pretending everything is normal but I'm secretly calculating the probability of something' face."

 

Shoko snorted.

 

Suguru's hand moved to the small of my back. "I just don't like this room. Too many wires."

 

I arched a brow but didn't push it. I could still feel the leftover buzz of cursed energy in my fingertips. I wasn't sure if I was more embarrassed or worried.

 

And then, just as Shoko stood, brushing her hands off..

 

The door creaked open again.

 

Satoru strolled back in, stretching his arms overhead with a yawn. "Whew! Don't think I've even pissed that much in my life."

 

I gave him a suspicious look.

 

"Don't look at me like that," he said, wide-eyed and innocent. "I'm just a simple man with a tragically small bladder."

 

Shoko gave him a withering look, then clapped her hands once. "Alright. Testing's done. Amara, go eat. Both of you-" she glanced between the boys, "-behave."

 

Gojo gave a dramatic bow, and Suguru gave a short nod, though his hand didn't leave my back.

 

---

 

The hallway air felt too still. Like it was holding its breath with us.

 

Suguru's hand hadn't left the small of my back, and I could tell it wasn't just for comfort anymore, it was subtle steering. Satoru was on my other side, arms lazily looped behind his head, but I caught the way his eyes flicked from hallway corners to doorframes, scanning for something invisible.

 

I felt it before I saw her.

 

The moment we stepped into the cafeteria, my cursed energy surged, sharp and reflexive like a blade drawn too fast. It flared beneath my skin without my permission, buzzing low in my ribs.

 

Mei Mei.

 

She was sitting at our table, back perfectly straight, sipping from a delicate teacup like she could do no wrong. All perfect and unbothered.

 

Satoru's hand suddenly dropped from behind his head, his fingers grazing my elbow. "Hey," he said softly, almost too soft for him. "Let's eat outside. Nice day. Real nice. Vitamin D and all that."

 

Suguru's tone was firmer. "We'll get you something tasty. You haven't had anything today."

 

I didn't respond. My eyes were locked on her.

 

She didn't even look at me.

 

The boys didn't wait. Suguru's hand slid down to grip mine, gently tugging me toward the food line while Satoru moved ahead, clearing the path with ease like he always did, all charm and swagger but no room for arguments.

 

I could still feel Mei Mei behind me like a bug crawling up my spine.

 

---

 

By the time we were outside, trays in hand, I was trembling again, barely, but I knew they noticed.

 

We sat at a circular stone table tucked under a newly bloomed cherry blossom tree. Suguru took one side. Satoru took the other. I sat in the middle.

 

I stared at the food. Tamago Kake Gohan and some grilled fish. It smelled good. Warm. Safe. But my fingers trembled around the chopsticks.

 

"Deep breaths," Suguru said, his voice low and even. "It's just us now."

 

I inhaled. Shaky. Then again, slower this time.

 

The cursed energy inside me hummed, still reactive, like a wire on the verge of snapping.

 

Across the table, Satoru wasn't eating.

 

He was watching me.

 

Or more specifically... watching my cursed energy.

 

His Six Eyes glowed faintly beneath his lashes, just enough for me to notice. Not enough for a show. He looked focused, serious in a way he rarely let himself be around me.

 

"Satoru," I said quietly, tilting my head. "You're doing the creepy glowy-eye thing again."

 

His gaze flicked up to meet mine, smile soft. "Just checking."

 

"On what?"

 

He didn't answer.

 

But Suguru's brow tightened. He noticed too.

 

I poked at my fish, voice lower now. "Is it that bad?"

 

Satoru leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm. "Not bad. Just... different."

 

Suguru nodded. "We'll figure it out. But you're okay right now."

 

I wanted to believe that.

 

The sunlight warmed my hoodie, and for a moment, I focused only on the feeling of it, the slow rise and fall of my chest, the way Suguru's knee brushed against mine beneath the table, how Satoru's gaze never left my face.

 

For now, I was safe.

 

The sound of Satoru's fingers drummed against the table pulled me out of my quiet calm. He made it clear he was holding back a dozen questions at once. His eyes were focused entirely on me, even his tray of food remained untouched.

 

I sighed and nudged my fish toward him. "If you're gonna stare at me like that, at least eat."

 

He didn't move. "I want to ask you something."

 

"I figured," I muttered.

 

Before he could say more, Suguru leaned in slightly, resting his elbow on the table, calm but firm. "She's been poked and prodded enough today."

 

Gojo pouted immediately. "Come oooonnn, I'm not poking. I'm asking. There's a difference."

 

"I'll allow five questions," I interrupted before they could start their usual bickering. I held up my hand. "Five. Real ones. Then we're having a normal day. You two already fried my nerves. Don't fry my brain too."

 

Satoru lit up like a Christmas tree. "Five. Got it."

 

Suguru arched a brow. "You're really encouraging this?"

 

"Better than him interrogating me for the next three hours while pretending not to," I said, then turned to Satoru. "Go on."

 

He leaned in, serious now. The change in his expression always caught me off guard, how quickly he could shift from loud and chaotic to terrifyingly focused. 

 

"What did it feel like, when Mei Mei was there? Before we left."

 

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. "Like a rubber band pulled too tight. Everything in me buzzed. My chest was tight. My hands felt hot." I paused. "But my cursed energy didn't act. I could feel it waiting, like it wanted me to give it permission. It was angry because I was angry, but it wasn't... out of control."

 

Satoru nodded slowly. "So it knows the difference between what you want to do and what you truly want."

 

"Yeah. Like when we fought that cursed spirit. I wanted to live. It wanted it dead because that was the only way to keep me alive. My energy didn't even hesitate then." I picked at my rice. "But with Mei Mei? I wanted her to kick her ass, sure. But not dead. It knew that. So it stayed in my skin. Didn't move."

 

Gojo nodded again, then tapped his chopsticks. "Question two-"

 

"Shouldn't this be question three? Your last one was a follow-up." Suguru asked with the tiniest smirk.

 

"No! The last thing I said was a statement. She just added on! That's not my fault." Satoru sassed back.

 

I chuckled a little. "I'll let it slide but no more. We'll be here forever otherwise."

 

Satoru groaned dramatically. "Fiiiiiinnneee." He quickly perked back up. "Offical question two now. The drain, did it feel like it wanted something from you, or like it was part of you?"

 

I squinted at him. "What kind of question is that?"

 

"A good one," he said brightly.

 

I sighed. "It felt... like mine. But old. Like I'd always had it and just didn't know how to reach it. When I tapped into it, it didn't feel like borrowing. It felt like remembering. Like finding an old book that you know but never read."

 

Suguru finally spoke. "That fits what Yaga said."

 

"Question three," Gojo said immediately, ignoring him. "After it's over, what do you feel? Be honest."

 

"Tired," I said without missing a beat. "Not sleepy tired. Like... like after an adrenaline rush. My whole body aches. Even if I didn't move much, it feels like I've been running. I get cold. My teeth chatter a little." I looked down at my tray. "And I feel sore. Emotionally too. Like something used me up."

 

Suguru's hand slid over mine gently beneath the table.

 

Gojo tilted his head. "Question four, when your energy flares like that, do you feel afraid of it?"

 

I paused. That one took longer.

 

"...Sometimes," I admitted. "I don't want to hurt anyone I care about. And I know if I lost control, really lost it, it could happen. But I also feel... weirdly safe with it. Like it would never hurt either of you unless I told it to."

 

There was a silence after that.

 

Satoru nodded, surprisingly serious for once. "Okay. Final question."

 

He leaned across the table dramatically, chin in his hand, eyelashes fluttering like he was about to recite poetry.

 

"If we were both cursed spirits, like big, scary ones, would you still date us?"

 

Suguru let out a slow sigh. "There it is."

 

I snorted. "Define cursed spirit."

 

"Like... me, but with horns. Still hot, obviously."

 

"Still goofy and loud?"

 

"Oh, definitely."

 

"Then yeah," I said, smirking. "I'd seal you both in some dumb love shrine."

 

Satoru beamed, victorious.

 

Suguru leaned in close to me. "That counts as a real answer?"

 

"He only had five. Not my problem if he wasted the last one."

 

They both laughed, and the weight in my chest finally cracked open enough to let air in. The food was still warm. The breeze was soft. And for the first time that day, the world felt like it wasn't trying to crush me.

 

Just... hold me.

 

---

 

We had mostly finished eating by the time Satoru leaned across the table again, hands tucked under his chin, eyes glittering.

 

"Okay, but can we go back to that cursed spirit boyfriend thing for a second?" he said.

 

I blinked. "Wasn't that your goofy fifth question?"

 

"Yeah," he grinned. "But it's also kind of a banger concept. Like. Imagine. Me, but cursed spirit me. What would I look like? Besides obviously dangerous and terrifyingly sexy."

 

Suguru muttered, "Emphasis on the terrifying."

 

"No, no, I wanna see this now." I reached for my sketchbook immediately, flipping to a fresh page. "You've activated something."

 

"Oh god," Suguru sighed, but I could already hear the fondness buried under the exasperation.

 

"Okay," I said, tapping my pencil against the page, "cursed spirits are ugly. That's just how it is. But I'll make you the pretty kind of ugly. Like a monster, but with style."

 

"I can't tell if that's a compliment," Gojo said.

 

"It's the highest compliment," I muttered, already sketching the frame of his face. Twisted, long-limbed, a mouth split with too many teeth and glowing eyes. Sharp joints. Chaos energy. Long claws gripping a sketched-out Suguru like a protective gremlin.

 

"Why do I have eyes on my biceps?" Gojo asked, peering over the top.

 

"Well if you count them up there's six of them." I give him a teasing smirk.

 

"Ah, yes, my all-seeing ability. How terrifyingly cute." He smirked back.

 

Suguru looked over my shoulder at his own monster version, sunken ribs, layered fang-filled mouths across his shoulders, long black hair hanging in sheets over hollowed cheeks.

 

"Wow," he said dryly. "I look like I need iron supplements."

 

"You look like you'd growl if someone touched Satoru without permission," I replied. "Which is accurate."

 

They both leaned in closer as I added ridiculous details, Satoru's drawing having a comically long tongue, Suguru's shadowy spirit arm trailing around Satoru like a leash. I grinned at my work, proud of how disgusting they looked.

 

"This is adorable," I said.

 

Satoru squinted. "You gave me a tongue longer than my arm. What am I, a Komodo dragon?!"

 

"You're a lovable Komodo dragon," I corrected.

 

Suguru smirked. "With a venomous bite."

 

"And a kiss quota," I added. "You must receive a kiss after each mission or you'll get upset."

 

Satoru's face lit up. "Oh my god, I do get pouty without kisses."

 

Then he leaned in closer, tapping the tongue I had drawn.

 

"Okay, but... this?" he said, voice low and suddenly not innocent. "Imagine what I could do with a tongue like this."

 

I blushed.

 

Suguru, somehow calmer, reached over and traced the inked-in mouths on his cursed form's palms. "Or these. Can you imagine what my hand mouths could do?"

 

My entire soul went red. "You two are the worst!"

 

"You brought this on yourself!" Satoru grinned.

 

Suguru added, "You gave us weapons, Amara."

 

"I gave you art! This was supposed to be cute!"

 

"And it is," Suguru said, grinning as he leaned closer. "But I'm definitely going to need a copy of that sketchbook page later."

 

Gojo held up a chopstick like a sword. "New plan. We turn into cursed spirits, and she keeps us in a cozy shrine. Feeds us. Cuddles us. Makes us kiss before we kill anything."

 

"I'd domesticate the hell out of you both," I mumbled, still red.

 

"You already do," Suguru murmured, warm and fond.

 

Gojo reached across the table and booped my nose. "And you'd still call us pretty even if we looked like that?"

 

I glanced at my drawing. Hideous. Twisted. Grinning.

 

"Yeah...Pretty ugly," I said trying to hold back my giggle.

 

Satoru laughed and Suguru shook his head with a smile trying to not admit my dumb joke was funny.

 

As soon as I shut my sketchbook, Satoru lunged for it like a toddler denied candy.

 

"Wait- let me see more!"

 

I whipped it out of his reach and held it to my chest. "You gotta ask nicely."

 

He blinked. "Wasn't that?"

 

"Absolutely not."

 

Satoru clutched his heart like I'd wounded him. "Okay, fine." He pouted, looking up at me with weaponized puppy eyes. "Pretty please, Amara, may I see the precious, delicate thoughts of your beautiful, gorgeous, and amazing artist brain?"

 

Suguru leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table. "You gotta admit that he's cute like that."

 

I sighed, already caving. "Fine. But no teasing or I'll draw you cursed and ugly again."

 

Satoru immediately scooted closer, Suguru joined him just as equally invested. I opened to the beginning of the sketchbook and watched their expressions shift as they flipped through.

 

The first few pages were silly. Little chibi versions of myself slumped dramatically on the floor. Me sleeping at my desk. A glowing vending machine lighting up my face. I always drew myself small, tired-eyed, with my hoodie sleeves always covering my hands.

 

Satoru paused on one.

 

"You really think you look like this?" he asked, tapping one where I'd drawn myself with comically dark circles and a slouch so deep I looked half-liquid.

 

I shrugged. "Sometimes, yeah."

 

Suguru's eyes softened. "You draw yourself like you're fading."

 

That made me pause. "I guess I feel like that sometimes."

 

They didn't say anything to that. Just quietly kept flipping.

 

Next were some landscapes. A train station platform in the early morning. The roof of the dorms under starlight. A little study of the trees that line the practice yard. Satoru actually gasped.

 

"Is that the back wall of the dorms?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"It looks gorgeous here. I didn't even know we had flowers behind it."

 

"Because you never look," Suguru said dryly.

 

Then came the people.

 

They stopped on Shoko first.

 

I had drawn her half-profile while she sat in class, hair a little messy, cigarette tucked behind her ear, eyes laser-focused on a page. Her beauty wasn't the point, I'd drawn her serious. Present. Stunning in a way she never pretended to be.

 

Satoru let out a quiet "Whoa."

 

"Damn," Suguru murmured. "You really caught her."

 

"She's easy to draw," I said. "She doesn't perform for anyone."

 

They flipped again and found Utahime laughing. Another with Shoko leaning on Utahime's shoulder, both of them mid-gossip. I'd drawn little hearts near the corner of the page.

 

Satoru snorted. "You're shipping them."

 

"I'm documenting. Shut up."

 

The next pages had Yu and Nanami. Yu's was dynamic, he was mid-laugh, hands thrown up in excitement, lines full of motion. Nanami's was exact. Symmetrical. He stood with his arms crossed, an exasperated look on his face. It took me four tries to get it right.

 

Then came them.

 

Their fingers stilled on the edges of the page.

 

One spread was dedicated to Suguru, small portraits from every angle. Laughing. Focused. Tired with his bun half-undone. Another page was all Satoru, grinning, smirking, sunglasses tilted, sleeping with his hair a mess.

 

Then came the full pieces.

 

Tiny versions of me, barely three inches tall, giving each of them a kiss.

 

One showed me climbing Suguru's shoulder to kiss his cheek while he read a book, completely unaware. Another had me nestled in Satoru's wild hair, kissing the top of his head while he grinned like he knew and was letting it happen anyway.

 

Satoru let out a stunned little noise. "You drew yourself as a bug."

 

"I am not a bug," I muttered, flustered. "I'm a little fairy girlfriend."

 

Suguru laughed. "You're a kiss sprite."

 

"Exactly." I chuckled 

 

Satoru grinned down at the drawing of him. "You really kiss my head when I sleep?"

 

I hesitated. "Once. You didn't wake up."

 

He looked at me, and for a rare second, there was no joke on his face. Just softness. Quiet affection.

 

Then Suguru traced the edge of his page. "You made us look loved."

 

I nodded. "Because you are."

 

They were quiet after that. Not awkward quiet. Just... full.

 

Satoru finally broke it with a grin. "Okay, but this one of Suguru reading with his hair down? That's unfairly hot. You're lucky I don't steal this and frame it."

 

"You steal it, and I draw you even more cursed next time."

 

"I dare you." He gets in my fave a little with a smirk.

 

"I will. With toes for fingers." I get closer too, narrowing my eyes playfully. 

 

Suguru chuckled, still flipping slowly. "You can draw us however you want, little fairy. But don't forget to draw yourself with us."

 

I turned to him and smiled, heart full to the brim.

 

"I already have."

 

They kept flipping through my sketchbook like it held the secrets of the universe, and to them, maybe it kind of did.

 

More group drawings. Me sitting between them in the common room, drowsy-eyed with a blanket over my head. Another one of us at the vending machines at midnight. I always looked small, a little too thin, and not very focused on but over time, I noticed even my lines got warmer. The way I drew Satoru's hand always resting near mine. The way Suguru looked at me when he thought I wasn't paying attention. The way I slowly started drawing myself smiling.

 

They noticed it too.

 

"You draw us with more detail the longer we know each other," Suguru murmured, tracing a sketch of the three of us lying on the roof. "More softness. More expression."

 

"You even started drawing yourself bigger," Satoru said, pointing gently to one toward the back.

 

I blinked. "I did?"

 

They nodded together.

 

I didn't know what to say to that. I hadn't done it on purpose. But something in me, some part that no longer felt starved and fragile, must've started sneaking into the art.

 

We turned the page and landed on a sketch I forgot was even in there.

 

Both Suguru and Satoru were shirtless, mid-flex, muscles only a bit exaggerated, sunglasses on, and stars drawn around them like they were on a magazine cover. I had drawn myself in the corner, mouth open in a little drool heart shape.

 

Satoru howled with laughter. "OH MY GOD- IS THIS HOW YOU SEE US?!"

 

"Occasionally," I muttered with a chuckle.

 

Suguru smirked, arms crossed. "You really gave me a six-pack, huh?"

 

"You have one." I poked his stomach gently.

 

Satoru leaned over dramatically. "And these pecs? This is art. I'm flattered."

 

"Next page," I deadpanned. "You'll get too full of yourself."

 

But they were already flipping again.

 

I panicked.

 

"Okay- wait- maybe not that far-!"

 

They froze.

 

I froze.

 

I had hoped they wouldn't flip that far. Even though some part of me knew they would.

 

There they were: multiple sketch studies of both of them. Poses. Anatomy practice. Reference drawings based on Greek sculpture and fashion ads and, yes, moments burned into my brain from every training session they did shirtless and glowing with cursed energy.

 

They were all censored, of course, draped fabric, strategically placed objects, a fig leaf or two. But they were detailed. Intimate.

 

Suguru in a reclined pose on the dorm couch, stretched out like a Renaissance painting.

 

Satoru leaning back on his elbows with sweat still dripping from his collarbone, abs catching the light like something sculpted.

 

Then... the last one.

 

Suguru on his knees.

 

Grabbing at someone's thighs, his face tilted upward in raw, beautiful desperation, like he was pleading to be devoured. Shirtless, a drape loose over his hips, enough detail to show the lines beneath, enough curve to make the implication impossible to ignore.

 

My stomach dropped. My skin burned. I wanted to evaporate.

 

Satoru made a noise that was somewhere between a whistle and a choked laugh.

 

Suguru just stared.

 

"...This one's from that night, isn't it," he said, voice low.

 

I swallowed. "Yeah."

 

"You remembered the position too well."

 

"It's a hard to forget moment.."

 

They didn't say anything for a bit.

 

I cleared my throat and tried to explain like I wasn't melting into my shoes. "It's just for anatomy practice. I draw what I see. You two are... around a lot. Shirtless. Posing. Doing your obnoxiously hot hair flips and back stretches and-"

 

Satoru leaned over and dramatically clutched the page. "I do hair flips?!"

 

"Oh my god," I groaned, hiding my face in my hands.

 

Suguru looked back at the desperate kneeling sketch of himself and exhaled through his nose, somewhere between amused and something darker. "This is... very flattering."

 

"I draw people to understand them," I said, still hiding. "I learn about you through posture, expression, where your tension lives. And you both are just, very tense in very specific areas."

 

There was silence again.

 

Then Satoru leaned closer and whispered, "So like... if you were three inches tall, would you kiss us there, too?"

 

I shrieked and smacked his arm.

 

Suguru laughed, finally flipping the page closed. "Alright, alright. Let's let her breathe."

 

But his ears were still a little pink.

 

And I caught him glancing at that page again.

 

Satoru flipped one more page before I could stop him. It wasn't a cursed boyfriend doodle. Not something silly or abstract or even lovingly exaggerated.

 

It was me.

 

There were multiple drawings blacked out with marker, covered with sticky notes, scribbled out with pen but one stayed reluctantly.

 

My limbs curled in on themselves, just slightly. My body angled like I was half-trying to hide, half-trying to stay still long enough to capture what I saw. A thin veil clung to my skin, just sheer enough to show the full outline underneath, every detail I normally went out of my way to blur. My hipbones. The small inward curve of my stomach. The piercing at my belly button and, God, the ones at my nipples, drawn with delicate silver glint lines through the almost-transparent drape.

 

My face looked... nervous. Exposed. Like I'd just walked into a room full of strangers and couldn't find the exit.

 

A breath caught in Suguru's throat.

 

Satoru blinked hard, gaze flicking over the lines with something caught between awe and restraint.

 

I couldn't look at them.

 

"I- It's for anatomy study," I said quickly, voice tight. "And practice. Like- like the others. I have to understand my own form if I want to draw others accurately."

 

"Amara," Suguru said softly.

 

He wasn't laughing. Neither of them were.

 

His voice was careful.

 

"You draw us," he continued, "with so much love. Every sketch. Every pose. Even the funny ones. And when it's yourself... it's like you don't want to see."

 

"I don't," I whispered. "Not really.."

 

Satoru gently brushed his finger along the page edge, not touching the art, just close enough to acknowledge it.

 

"This is beautiful," he said quietly. "Not just your body, the way you drew it. The vulnerability. The honesty."

 

"Still didn't know about those, though," Suguru murmured, nodding to the piercings, trying to keep his voice light, but his expression was anything but casual.

 

My entire face burned. "It's not something I ever thought mattered to mention."

 

Satoru blinked hard. "I mean. It matters now."

 

I groaned, trying to pull the sketchbook away, but Suguru stopped me, not with force, just with a hand resting over mine.

 

"Don't hide from us," he said softly.

 

I looked at them, really looked, and for once, they weren't teasing or smirking or even flirty.

 

They looked like they were honoring me.

 

"This wasn't for us," Satoru added, still quiet. "You didn't draw this to impress anyone. You drew it to understand something. And I think that's... really cool."

 

Suguru nodded. "And if you ever do draw yourself the way you draw us, I want to see that too. Not because we want more skin, but because we want to see how you grow. How you start to see yourself through the eyes of people who love you."

 

I swallowed the lump in my throat and managed a small, watery laugh. "You're gonna make me cry over my own boobs."

 

Satoru beamed. "They're very lovable boobs. I might cry over them."

 

Suguru rolled his eyes and gave my hand a squeeze. "You're allowed to be soft about yourself. We're going to keep reminding you, even if it's through sketches."

 

 

Chapter 32: Consent and Calculations

The buzz of my phone dragged me out of sleep before the sun even fully committed to rising. I blinked blearily at the screen, one eye open, squinting at it.

 

Shoko:

> You up? Need to do some monitoring and a small test. Come by the clinic in like 30 mins.

 

God. Barely past six.

 

I groaned but didn’t argue. Shoko had that tone in her messages, vague but final. The kind that said you can complain on the walk over. I kicked off my blanket and sat up slowly, cracking my neck with a wince. Everything still ached a little from training, but the soreness was more like after a hard workout than actual damage.

 

My vines buzzed faintly under my skin, twitching like they were stretching too. I ignored them for now.

 

I threw open my drawer and then immediately shut it again.

 

Laundry. Right.

 

Instead, I tugged on a pair of Suguru’s black sweatpants that hung low on my hips, barely staying up unless I tied the strings tight, but I didn’t. I kinda liked the way they slouched, showing the waistband of my underwear. I added a tight black crop top, one I usually wore under a hoodie. It hugged everything, showed my belly button ring, and, well, my piercings didn’t leave much to the imagination in this shirt.

 

I glanced at myself in the mirror.

 

No bra. Piercings visible. Right.

 

Whatever.

 

I slipped on my black flats, ruffled my hair into something semi-tame, and padded out into the hall. Satoru and Suguru’s rooms were next to mine. I knocked lazily between both doors, not sure who would answer first.

 

Gojo’s popped open almost immediately.

 

His white hair was a soft, chaotic mess and he was shirtless, of course. Just wearing a pair of Suguru’s plaid pajama pants, which looked like they’d been claimed without permission. He was chewing, socked feet poking out into the hall, holding a half-full bag of gummy bears in one hand.

 

“Hey,” he said, voice still low and scratchy from sleep. “You’re up early.”

 

“Shoko wants me for a test,” I mumbled, rubbing at my neck. “Something about monitoring again.”

 

He stepped back automatically, waving me inside. “You want sugar? Gummies make everything better.”

 

I shrugged and followed him in, flopping down on the corner of his unmade bed. He wandered toward his desk and leaned against it lazily, watching me with that weird half-smile he always got when he was thinking about something but hadn’t decided whether to say it out loud yet.

 

He offered me the bag, and I took one, chewing absently.

 

His gaze drifted to my face. Then my chest. Then back to my face.

 

Then… yeah. Right back down.

 

I raised a brow. “You good?”

 

His mouth quirked. He raised his hand like a student in class, the gummy bear bag dangling from the other.

 

“Can I ask about them?” he said, voice as innocent as his expression was not.

 

I blinked.

 

“…You mean my piercings?”

 

He nodded solemnly. “Respectfully.”

 

I snorted. “Sure, go ahead.”

 

His eyes flicked back down, just briefly. “They’re… new?”

 

I laughed. “Nah. Got ‘em when I was like sixteen.”

 

His head tilted. “Seriously?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“You’ve been holding out on us.”

 

“Not intentionally. You two usually only see me in shapeless hoodies and layers...and well also a bra. You think I was doing it on purpose?”

 

Gojo gave me a look. “I think Suguru’s gonna combust.”

 

I grinned, stretching my arms over my head just to mess with him a little. “That a problem?”

 

He made a strangled noise and popped another gummy bear into his mouth. “Only for my ability to act normal.”

 

I leaned back on my palms, letting the morning light from his window hit the curve of my stomach. “Well, guess you better adjust. I’m not changing.”

 

He made a quiet, dramatic whew noise under his breath, then looked at me again, this time with less ogling and more warmth. “You look good, by the way.”

 

“Thanks,” I said simply, but something about the way he said it settled differently in my chest. Like it wasn’t about the clothes, or the skin, or the metal.

 

Like he meant me.

 

That thought lingered, heavy and soft in equal measure, until Gojo crossed the room in two long strides and pushed me back on the bed like it was nothing. I squeaked a little in protest, but he was already climbing over me, spreading my legs lazily with his knee so he could collapse between them like I was a mattress made just for him.

 

“Hey-”

 

He didn’t let me finish.

 

His face buried in the crook of my neck with a warm exhale that made my stomach flutter. Arms wrapped under my back, lanky limbs pinning me like a weighted blanket. I didn’t fight it. Not even a little. My arms came up instinctively, one hand tangling in his stupidly soft hair.

 

He melted into me like I had been gone forever even though we see each other almost every day.

 

“Missed you,” he mumbled into my skin, voice muffled and low. “We didn’t sleep in the same bed last night and I hated it. Everything felt weird.”

 

“I was literally next door,” I said, but my voice was already softening. “You’re so dramatic.”

 

“I’m touch starved,” he declared. “Cuddle-deprived. Emotionally malnourished.”

 

I huffed a quiet laugh, running my fingers down his spine. “You’re impossible.”

 

“You love it.”

 

"Absolutely I do.."

 

His head shifted slightly, and I could feel his gaze drop down again, then up, then down once more. He didn’t even pretend to be subtle this time.

 

“Can I touch them?” he asked innocently like we were talking about earrings and not what was visibly pressing against my shirt.

 

“No.”

 

“Just one poke.”

 

“No.”

 

“Come on-”

 

“No, Satoru.”

 

He pouted. “I’m being respectful!”

 

“You’re being a menace,” I said, but my fingers stayed in his hair, stroking absentmindedly.

 

He sighed and surrendered, nuzzling into my collarbone again. “Fine. I’ll just suffer in silence.”

 

“Good.”

 

A pause.

 

“You smell good,” he said softly.

 

I blinked. “Thanks?”

 

“No, like… really good. That incense." He takes another big sniff. "The blackberry-something stuff Suguru got you.”

 

I smiled faintly. “Been lighting it more lately.”

 

“I like it,” he murmured. “Mixes with your perfume. You smell like something I wanna eat.”

 

My laugh this time was softer. “You’re such a weirdo.”

 

“And you’re warm,” he added. “And soft. And have things I’m not allowed to poke.”

 

I laugh softly.

 

---

 

We stayed like that, curled up in the lazy quiet of the early morning. His body heavy on mine in the best way, like a weighted comfort I didn’t know I needed until it was gone for one night.

 

Then there was a knock, soft, polite, and the door creaked open.

 

“You knock on my door looking for me?” Suguru asked, amused. “I was just waking up.”

 

Gojo grinned against my neck. “It was Amara. We were waiting for you.”

 

Suguru stepped into the room, already smirking when his eyes landed on the tangle of limbs we’d become. He was dressed like Gojo, those same loose plaid pajama pants Gojo steals but a plain black T-shirt that clung to his chest just enough to make my heart stutter. His hair was down, long, and just slightly messy like he had only finger-combed it.

 

His expression shifted, and softened, seeing us curled together.

 

He always looked like that when he saw us like this. Like he was witnessing something rare and sacred.

 

He didn’t hesitate, he never did anymore. He walked straight over and leaned down, one hand stroking my hair before pressing a kiss to my forehead.

 

“What’s going on, pretty girl?” he asked quietly.

 

I tilted my head toward him. “Shoko texted me. Said she wants to do some tests. Monitoring or something.”

 

Suguru hummed and nodded, brushing a thumb down my cheekbone like he couldn’t help himself. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah. Just stopped by to find you two since I figured you’d want to hover.”

 

Gojo perked up. “We hover with style.”

 

“Mmhm,” I muttered, though I didn’t move to push him off. I liked being hovered over. Only by them.

 

After a few more minutes of lazy cuddles, we finally peeled ourselves apart enough to get moving. I stood up and stretched, Suguru’s sweatpants slouching too low, just enough to flash the top of my underwear.

 

Gojo, of course, made no effort to look away. “Hey, Suguru?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“She has nipple piercings.”

 

Suguru, to his credit, didn’t choke. But his eyes definitely flicked to my chest and then away just as quickly, even as a faint flush crept up his neck.

 

I rolled my eyes. “Really?”

 

“Important information,” Gojo said seriously. “He deserves to know.”

 

Suguru gave me a slow once-over, then walked to his room then came back with a zip-up hoodie, one of his big, oversized ones that always smelled like cedar and the cologne he wore.

 

He handed it to me without a word. “For comfort,” he said with a totally straight face.

 

I squinted at him. “Is it though?”

 

His mouth twitched. “Maybe a little for me.”

 

I slipped it on anyway. It was warm. Familiar. Safe.

 

Gojo leaned in to kiss my cheek. “Come on, mattress girl. Let’s go see what Shoko wants to poke at today.”

 

---

 

The second we stepped into the old side wing of the med building, something shifted.

 

Suguru paused first, eyes narrowing. “You feel that?”

 

I nodded slowly. The air felt wrong. Not rotten, exactly, but like static. Like something too old had been left too long in a too-small room.

 

Gojo tilted his head. “There’s a cursed spirit in here.”

 

“There shouldn’t be,” Suguru said, low.

 

“You’re right,” Shoko’s voice called from the small back room. “There shouldn’t.”

 

We followed the scent of antiseptic and incense into the space beyond, where Shoko stood by a reinforced metal table. Her cigarette sat smoldering in a tray by the door, lit, but untouched. That alone told me she was serious.

 

The box on the table was heavy iron, covered in layers of cursed seals like paper sutures. The whole thing pulsed faintly like something alive was trying to breathe through the metal.

 

“What is that?” I asked, stopping a few feet back.

 

“Low-grade cursed spirit,” Shoko said simply. “We found it trying to slip in through the boundary last night. It was too weak to get close but strong enough to be felt.”

 

Gojo stepped closer, one brow raised. “And you kept it?”

 

Shoko flicked ash into the tray, unfazed. “For this.”

 

She looked at me.

 

“I want to see if you can choose to drain, Amara. In a controlled environment. Low risk.”

 

My stomach twisted. “Why?”

 

“Because the last time it wasn’t a choice. And this time it can be.”

 

Suguru’s arms crossed. “Does Yaga know about this?”

 

Suguru’s arms stayed crossed, weight shifted protectively toward me like a shield.

 

She ignores him. "It's barely a first grade. It'll be-"

 

“Does Yaga know about this?” he asked again, cutting her off, tone sharper now.

 

Shoko exhaled, cigarette smoke trailing from her nose as she waved it lazily toward the ceiling. “He knows I’ve got her under monitoring.”

 

“That’s not the same thing as this,” Suguru snapped. “A sealed spirit in a reinforced test room? That sounds like you’re working around something.”

 

Shoko turned to him fully, one hand propped on her hip, the other flicking ash with practiced irritation. “Geto. If I tell Yaga every single thing I do before I do it, nothing gets done. He’s got half the Elders breathing down his neck about her already. This is low risk.”

 

Suguru didn’t back off. “That’s not your call to make alone.”

 

She stared him down. “And you’re not her parent.”

 

There was a beat of tense silence.

 

I stepped forward before Suguru could respond, my voice soft but firm. “Hey. I want to try.” I touch Suguru's back gently.

 

Both of them turned to me at once.

 

Satoru spoke first, stepping just slightly in front of me, voice light but warm. “It’s gonna be cool. You’ve got this, okay? We’re right here. Not going anywhere.”

 

Suguru’s shoulders didn’t fully relax, but he looked at me with that quiet, anchoring calm I always trusted. “You can say no,” he said. “We’ll exorcise it the old-fashioned way. No pressure. You don’t owe anyone anything.”

 

I nodded. “I know. But I want to try. Just… can you both stay back? I don’t know what’ll happen and I really don’t want to hurt anyone.”

 

Satoru gave me a little salute and stepped back a few feet. “Back here. Safe and ready for anything.”

 

Suguru followed more hesitantly, still watching every twitch of my fingers like he expected me to collapse.

 

Shoko set the box on a silver table in the center of the room and adjusted the cursed seals. They flared faintly under her hand like bruises pulsing with heat.

 

“You ready?” she asked.

 

I looked at the box.

 

I was used to things being taken from me. My voice. My home. My body.

 

But lately, finally, I’d been taking it back.

 

Learning how to tell my cursed energy where to go instead of letting it scream without permission. Holding my power like a leash, not a noose.

 

Then the drain showed up.

 

It felt like being rewound. Rewritten. Like all the strength I’d built was borrowed, and the price had come due.

 

I hated it.

 

I was going to learn how to control it.

 

I let my hand hover over the box.

 

The threads didn’t spring on their own this time. That was the difference.

 

I felt the cursed energy call to me. Whispering like a current under skin. But it didn’t surge. It waited.

 

I nodded to Shoko.

 

Shoko peeled away the seal with a single, practiced motion.

 

And the box breathed.

 

A low-grade cursed spirit slithered out, amorphous and gray, like wet smoke held in the shape of a rodent. It pulsed with something primal, gross, and small. It didn’t look like much. But I could feel it.

 

The moment the box opened, my fingers itched. Not from fear.

 

From hunger.

 

I stretched my hand toward the spirit.

 

And I chose.

 

Red ribbons unraveled from my palm, not wild this time, but deliberate, steady. They floated through the air like silk in water, then struck.

 

The spirit screamed.

 

Not out loud. Not with words.

 

But I heard it anyway.

 

I felt it in my bones, clawing. Not just draining but fighting desperately.

 

It writhed under my threads, convulsing with a soundless plea.

 

I flinched.

 

Yanked my hand back, breath catching.

 

But the threads didn’t stop.

 

They clung, latched like veins, like leeches. 

 

One heartbeat.

 

Two.

 

Snap.

 

The threads recoiled into my palm like whips, and the feedback slammed into my gut.

 

A tidal wave of nausea.

 

My knees hit the floor.

 

Heat bloomed in my throat, sharp, hot, and sour. My stomach twisted, lurching sideways behind my skin.

 

Satoru blinked into place with a garbage bin like he had known it would happen. I dropped to my hands and gagged before the bin hit the floor.

 

Suguru was right behind him, gentle fingers in my hair, the other braced on my back. “You’re okay,” he whispered. “You’ve got this. Just breathe. You’re okay.”

 

I could still feel it, like little claws under my skin, scraping to stay alive, like it had left a piece of itself inside me and it hated me for taking the rest.

 

I gagged again and couldn’t stop it, sour bile hit the bin, thick and burning. There wasn’t much. Not like the last time. There were small amounts of that disgusting sludge.

 

I dry heaved once more before my body finally calmed, shaking and cold.

 

Shoko stepped in and took the bin with the same expression she used when inspecting cursed wounds. Half-clinical, half-concerned. “Good. The reaction’s smaller this time. Weak spirit, small payload.”

 

“Felt big,” I croaked.

 

She gave a soft snort. “Yeah. They always do when they fight.”

 

I didn’t answer.

 

Because it wasn’t just nausea.

 

It was the conflict.

 

That thing had fought. And not just to live, but to stay in me like I was some final shore it had tried to crawl up onto before it sank.

 

Suguru’s hand stayed steady on my back. Satoru knelt beside me, a water bottle already uncapped in his hand.

 

“Here,” he said softly. “Sip. Don’t chug.”

 

I did. Slowly. It helped.

 

Gojo’s thumb brushed over my temple like he was checking for a fever, but stayed quiet for once.

 

I sat there between them, hand still tingling with the afterburn of my cursed threads, and realized...

 

I made the choice. It didn’t choose for me.

 

I still hated how it felt but at least it had been my choice.

 

My breathing slowed.

 

The nausea receded faster this time, no crashing, no blackout, no shivering limbs, or visions of black tar curling behind my eyes. Just a slight hum under my skin, like my blood had been stirred with a stick. That was it.

 

I sat up straighter, testing the feeling. No vertigo. No splitting headache.

 

My hands weren’t shaking.

 

“Better,” I muttered, more to myself than anyone.

 

Suguru was still kneeling beside me, watchful. “Faster recovery.”

 

“Yeah,” I said. “Weirdly.”

 

He offered a hand, and I took it. His grip was warm and grounding. When he pulled me to my feet, the hum in my veins buzzed a little louder. Not much, but enough to notice.

 

There was a boost like I had a bite of something caffeinated but not enough to keep me awake through class.

 

I glanced at the sealed box where the cursed spirit had been.

 

Low-grade. Barely anything.

 

And in return? Almost nothing.

 

Draining small curses must not give much of anything back. Only nausea and a slight buzz.

 

So the boost, the crashes, the sickening kick of cursed energy overload I had felt before?

 

That must have come from draining something big... but... what would it feel like to drain...someone...

 

I rubbed my chest, right where the buzz still lingered like a phantom heartbeat, and turned to look at Gojo.

 

His Six Eyes were lit, glowing, glinting like frost caught in a spotlight. He was standing back with one hand on his chin, scanning me like I was a complex math problem he was close to solving but had the frustration like he might have to start the equation all over again to do so.

 

His gaze tracked over me in thin, sharp slices, like he could see through me. Not just my cursed energy but my blood, my bones, the way the drain had worked its way through my nerves and then retreated in fear of his gaze.

 

He wasn’t blinking.

 

“Your energy’s not crashing,” he said aloud, mostly to himself. “No recoil, no recoil rebound. You took in just enough to stabilize and nothing more. So it’s not automatic volume, it’s a two-way circuit.”

 

I raise an eyebrow at him. “Translation?”

 

Gojo’s gaze never left me. “The weaker the curse, the weaker the return. The energy doesn’t scale up to fill your tank, you only get what they’re worth.”

 

“Meaning?”

 

“Meaning you don't benefit from trash,” Gojo finished, finally blinking. “Which is good. Because this one was barely above a weed. And you’re still standing just fine.”

 

Shoko was already back at her desk, gloves on, pulling the lid off the biohazard container and separating the sludge sample from the vomit. 

 

“Not as much residual cursed protein this time,” she muttered, more to herself than to anyone else. “The reaction’s not chemical, it's energy-based. The sludge looks like it forms when the spirit’s cursed output exceeds what her body can store or needs. When the input’s small enough, it just flushes clean. So this isn’t a good technique for exorcising but a technique to maintain your other ones. The cursed spirit's energy has to go somewhere...Fascinating...”

 

“That sounds like good news?” I asked, crossing my arms.

 

“It is,” she replied without looking up. “Means your system’s adapting. But don’t get too cocky.”

 

Gojo stood slowly and clapped his hands together once, like that sealed something in place in his brain. “Alright. Suguru, entertain her.”

 

Suguru raised an eyebrow. “What.”

 

“I need to talk to Shoko,” Gojo said casually, already walking. “Privately.”

 

That single word, 'privately', snapped something inside me tight.

 

I turned just slightly, watching him lean down to whisper to Shoko behind her desk. She nodded once, typing something, then whispered back. They kept their voices low.

 

Suguru hadn’t moved away, hand still steady between my shoulder blades, but I could already feel the shift in him, relief easing the tension from his fingers. “You’re stabilizing faster,” he murmured, voice soft like he didn’t want to spook me.

 

“I am. That's improvement right?” I said, voice low. “It doesn’t feel like it..”

 

Suguru looked down to me, and he didn’t say a word, but I could see it in his eyes.

 

He knew what I was thinking. It was written all over my face.

 

They’re hiding something from me..

 

I wiped my mouth with the back of my sleeve and moved to sit down on the floor and pulled my legs up to sit cross-legged, Suguru dropping down next to me without asking. His arm draped loosely behind me, casual but present. Always trying to anchor me.

 

I didn’t look at him yet. Just watched Gojo’s back while he talked like I wasn’t there.

 

“Amara,” Suguru said gently.

 

I finally turned my head toward him. My eyes were sharp. I didn’t mean them to be, but I couldn’t help it. “Why do they feel the need to do that shit in front of my face?”

 

Suguru didn’t flinch. He looked tired, if anything. Like this was exactly what he’d expected to happen.

 

“They’re not hiding something to hurt you,” he said, tone even and low. “But they are… treading carefully.”

 

“That doesn’t answer anything.”

 

“No,” he admitted. “It doesn’t.”

 

I crossed my arms, pulling Suguru’s hoodie tighter around me, his scent wrapping around my ribs like armor.

 

“This is the second time,” I said, quieter now. “The second time I’ve drained something. First was that slit-mouth thing. And I almost died. Now I don’t puke tar, but Gojo starts talking about circuits and scaling and inputs. Like I’m not even here.”

 

“You are here,” Suguru said firmly. “That’s why he’s talking to Shoko now. Because you're stabilizing faster than he expected. Your ability’s developing, maybe faster than any of us expected. You're throwing Satoru for a loop. That's pretty impressive by itself.”

 

“I still feel like a test tube.”

 

He hesitated. “we want to fix that.”

 

I looked back toward the desk, where Gojo’s hands were now motioning as he whispered something sharp, quick, and quiet. Shoko tapped her fingers against a screen, nodding. They didn’t once glance toward me.

 

I forced my voice low, almost a growl. “I want to know what they’re saying.”

 

Suguru nodded once. “I’ll tell you what I can. But only when it’s something you want to hear. Not when you’re already bracing to be hurt.”

 

That stung.

 

"What we should hear and what we want to hear don't always align. Unlike a lot of sorcerers here I'm quite emotional. I get that. But you being uncomfortable by my emotions doesn't mean I lose my rights to autonomy or knowledge.."

 

"Amara- I didn’t mean-" Suguru stumbled over his words a little.

 

"I know," I answered firmly.

 

I knew what it felt like to have no say in what was done to me. I swore I’d never go back to that.

 

Choice wasn’t just about technique, or power, or abilities. It was about everything.

 

I stood up.

 

Slowly, steadily, brushing my hands off on Suguru’s hoodie.

 

Suguru didn’t try to stop me.

 

He didn’t need to.

 

I walked across the room toward Satoru and Shoko, who were still talking like I wasn’t in the same air. Satoru noticed me first, probably had the whole time, but only looked when I stepped right between them.

 

I tilted my head slightly and smiled, though it didn’t reach my eyes.

 

“So. You guys wanna loop me in?” I asked, voice sweet as poison laced candy.

 

Satoru blinked. “Loop you in on what?”

 

I looked at him, then at Shoko, then back to him. “Oh, I don’t know. The very hush-hush Six Eyes staring session and coded whispering you’ve been doing since I stopped vomiting cursed slop?”

 

Shoko raised a brow. “We weren’t whispering.”

 

“You can have fun with your technicalities but I'm not playing that game with you.” I keep my smile but narrow my eyes a bit.

 

“We’re just… trying to be cautious. Just trust me on this.” Satoru offered, voice light but not quite smug. He was trying to downplay. Badly.

 

I nodded slowly, still smiling. “Right. Because nothing screams ‘trust’ like watching two of my closest friends running away from me to whisper in a corner without me the second I do something new with the power I didn’t ask for.”

 

Shoko glanced at Satoru like she expected him to handle it, which was funny because he was very much the wrong choice for that. Satoru scratched the back of his neck and sighed.

 

“Okay, look,” he said finally. “It’s not because we think you can’t handle it. Or that we’re keeping stuff from you. It’s because Yaga wants things quiet right now. We’re not supposed to say anything until we have more data.”

 

I blinked at him. “So you ARE keeping stuff from me..”

 

“Well, no- wait not technically- Don’t make that face..”

 

“Technically,” I repeated, jaw tensing just enough to make the smile drop. “Got it.”

 

It wasn’t rage. Not even close. But it was enough to make Shoko take a step back and slide her hands into her coat pockets like maybe she had misjudged how calm I really was.

 

“I don’t need the whole thesis,” I said flatly. “But if you’re gonna poke me with cursed energy and shove spirits into buckets so I can drain and puke them back up, I deserve a hint about what you’re trying to learn from it.”

 

“We’re not experimenting on you, Amara,” Shoko said.

 

I stared at her. “You’ve collected samples from every part of me. What's next? Cutting me open? Give me time, I'm sure my guts are just aching to make their appearance again.”

 

There was a pause.

 

Satoru winced. “Okay, I get it. You’re upset. That wasn’t the intention..”

 

I let out a long breath, flexing my fingers at my sides like that might drain the frustration out through my palms. “I’m not trying to start a fight. But I’m also not just gonna smile and nod while you run diagnostics around me like I’m not standing right here.”

 

Suguru appeared behind me, silent as ever, a steady weight at my back without saying a word. His presence grounded me, but I didn’t lean into it. I didn’t want to be rescued.

 

“Let me set something straight. I’m not doing another test unless I get real answers,” I said. “No more surprise boxes. No more mystery sludge. And no more vague ‘we’re protecting you’ lines.”

 

Shoko lifted an eyebrow, unamused. “Amara, it’s not like we’re trying to trick you-”

 

“You already did,” I cut in. “And maybe it wasn’t malicious, maybe it was just bad judgment, but that doesn’t change the fact that I walked into this blind. Again. I trust you so I comply but you’re losing that right.”

 

Satoru tried the soft route. “Okay, okay, but this is important, right? We’re figuring stuff out that could actually help you-”

 

“Then explain it to me,” I said, sharper now. “Or don’t ask me to do it.”

 

They both opened their mouths again, probably to say something rational, something careful, something meant to soothe me.

 

But I didn’t want their forced soothing.

 

“So let me be clear,” I said, voice dropping, weight behind it. “If anyone tries to test me again without telling me what’s actually going on, you’re going to have to hold me down and force me. Because I won’t say yes. And I won’t play nice about it.”

 

That landed like a slap across the room.

 

Satoru’s smile dropped completely.

 

Shoko's eyes widened a little.

 

Suguru went still behind me.

 

Shoko straightened, eyes a little softer now. “Okay,” she said. “You’re right. I’ll talk to Yaga about it. You have my word.”

 

I held her gaze for another beat before nodding. “Thank you.”

 

Then, warm fingers brushed up the sides of my neck.

 

Suguru, of course.

 

His thumbs pressed into the tense muscles at the base of my skull, slow and firm. I tried not to react, but the second he found the tight spot in my left shoulder, I melted against him like butter on heat.

 

“You know I’m mad at you too,” I muttered, eyes closed.

 

“I know,” Suguru said, voice low and amused against the shell of my ear. “But I’m also working out this truly unholy knot in your shoulder, so I feel like I’m buying back a little grace.”

 

“You’re not off the hook just because you give good massages.”

 

“I’d never assume such a thing,” he said, gently kneading the spot between my shoulder blades. “I’m simply here to worship your strength, kneel before your righteousness, and hopefully earn a kiss.”

 

That made me laugh, low and begrudgingly.

 

“You play dirty,” I muttered, voice almost affectionate.

 

“Mmh. Guilty,” he said with a smile I could feel.

 

He leaned closer, lips brushing toward mine like he had charmed his way out of the whole thing.

 

I turned my head just enough to make him kiss my cheek instead.

 

His laugh rumbled against me, warm and unbothered.

 

“Cruel,” he said, smirking.

 

“Deserved,” I corrected.

 

From behind us, Satoru made a dramatic sigh, long and drawn out. “So I don’t get the cute make-up flirting treatment?”

 

I looked over my shoulder.

 

He was still standing a little ways off, arms hanging awkwardly at his sides. That ridiculous pout was on his face, but behind it was real hurt. And a flicker of jealousy he couldn’t quite hide.

 

I softened a little.

 

“Come here, dummy,” I said.

 

He hesitated.

 

“This doesn't make me hate you or even dislike you,” I added. “I'm frustrated and a bit mad but this didn't change how much I love you.”

 

He stepped forward, slow like I might swat him. His hand hovered near my hip but didn’t land, waiting.

 

I reached for him first.

 

Just a gentle tug on his wrist, pulling him in. The second he was close enough to wrap his arms around me, he melted like he’d been holding tension for hours.

 

He buried his face in my shoulder and let out a small, breathy groan. “Thank you. I hate when you’re mad at me.”

 

“Then stop being sketchy,” I said into his hair.

 

“Mmm… no promises on that but I'll be more honest about this stuff,” he mumbled.

 

Suguru chuckled behind me. “At least you’re self-aware.”

 

“I’m adorable,” Gojo corrected, arms now locked tightly around my waist. “And she loves me.”

 

“I tolerate you,” I said.

 

“Same thing.”

 

 

Chapter 33: Connections

The heat was starting to get hot. Today the sky was clear and sunny making it perfect for my surprise. My own natural spotlight.

 

I caught them both near the courtyard, slouched against the wall just outside the south dorm entrance, pretending to be casual and failing miserably. Satoru was squatting in the sun with his sunglasses halfway down his nose, spinning a popsicle between his fingers and in his mouth, and Suguru was leaning on the wall nearby, scrolling his phone one-handed with a half-finished bottle of canned coffee in the other.

 

Perfect.

 

I cleared my throat.

 

They both looked up.

 

And blinked.

 

Satoru was the first to react. He was loud, as expected.

 

“WH- oh my god!” He practically sprang to his feet, hands flying up like I had just descended from heaven.

 

“You’re- Amara, what the hell?!”

 

“What?” I asked, fighting back a smirk.

 

Suguru blinked slowly over the rim of his coffee. He didn’t say anything at first. He just stared. Hard.

 

“You- this- when did you- ?!” Gojo was already walking in a slow, exaggerated circle around me, hands up but not touching. “You updated your uniform and didn’t tell us?! This is a serious betrayal.”

 

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” I said, turning slightly to show off the full silhouette.

 

The uniform was close-fitting in the arms and torso, with a high-collared zip running halfway down my chest. The black tactical material hugged just enough to be flattering without restricting movement. The pants were loose, cinched at the ankles, and the boots were the same combat boots I usually wore but this time to Jujutsu High standards. I had tied my hair into a high ponytail to match the new style, sleek, efficient, and honestly? Kinda badass.

 

Satoru whistled low. “I’m just saying, I’d let you pin me and try to exorcise me. No questions asked.”

 

“Seconded,” Suguru murmured, still leaning, but not scrolling anymore.

 

I folded my arms, lifting a brow. “You two act like you haven’t seen me in less clothing.”

 

“Yeah,” Gojo said quickly, “but this is different.”

 

He waved a hand dramatically in front of me. “This? This is confidence. This is ‘I’m hot and I’ll step on you if you breathe wrong.’ This is- this is growth, babe.”

 

I snorted. “You're so dramatic.”

 

He grinned and dramatically flopped forward, hands clutched to his chest. “Please. Just one stomp. Right on the sternum. I need it.”

 

Behind him, Suguru hadn’t moved an inch, but his eyes were still locked on me. Not in a lusty, obvious way. Just… deeply, intently, like he was memorizing how I looked. How I stood.

 

I turned my gaze to him, smirking slightly. “Suguru. You good?”

 

He didn’t answer at first. Then his phone slipped from his fingers.

 

I blinked.

 

Before it even hit the ground, one of my vines sprouted soundlessly from the stone beneath him, caught the phone, and lifted it gently into the air.

 

Suguru blinked at the vine as it held his phone up like a peace offering, then turned to look at me again.

 

I raised a brow, a little smug. “You’re lucky I’m nice.”

 

The vine handed the phone back to him, curling delicately around the edges before vanishing again into the surface without leaving a trace.

 

Suguru finally smiled, slow and warm. “I’m very lucky.”

 

Gojo stared between us like he couldn’t decide whether to combust or intervene.

 

“She catches your phone with vines and you get that look?” he said, exasperated. “I ask her to stomp me and I get sarcasm?!”

 

“Correct,” I said.

 

“Unfair,” he muttered, but he was grinning. “Anyway, I rate the fit a ten out of ten. Would have been an eleven but you got points deducted for not letting me help you pick. However, this new uniform is everything. Can I take a picture? No? Too late, I’m already mentally framing it.”

 

Suguru stepped forward at last, one hand sliding into his pocket as his eyes trailed over the outfit one more time. “It suits you,” he said softly. “Not just the look. The way you stand in it.”

 

I felt warmth crawl up the back of my neck and into my cheeks, but I held firm. “Thanks. Thought it was time I stopped hiding in layers all the time.”

 

Gojo stepped beside me and tugged at the fabric at my shoulder. “You look like you could lead a damn squad.”

 

“Maybe I should,” I muttered.

 

“You already do,” Suguru said like it was obvious.

 

Gojo nodded solemnly. “Commanding officer of our hearts.”

 

“Oh shut up.” I laugh a little.

 

“Nope,” he grinned. “Now, quick group photo. C’mon, stand still-”

 

“I swear, if you purposefully wait until I blink again I'll lose it.”

 

“No promises!”

 

He quickly snaps a photo, showing me blinking with a laugh and capturing that loving look Suguru has been holding more often.

 

They kept circling me like twin satellites, Suguru quiet and close, Satoru loud and orbiting, until I finally gave in with a sigh and rolled my eyes.

 

“Okay, okay,” I muttered, dropping my arms. “Fine. You can have your moment.”

 

That was all it took.

 

Satoru immediately slid an arm around my waist like a smug octopus, pulling me against him with a grin that practically split his face. “You heard the lady,” he said, already laying his cheek on the top of my head. “It’s moment time.”

 

Suguru didn’t even hesitate. He stepped behind me, both hands warm on my hips, leaning down to press a soft kiss just behind my ear. “I won’t waste a second,” he murmured, lips trailing lower in an infuriatingly light path along my jaw.

 

“Gross,” I said flatly, even as my body melted like sugar between them.

 

“Sweet,” Suguru corrected, already kissing the top of my shoulder.

 

“I regret this.”

 

“No you don’t,” Satoru said, squeezing my waist and nuzzling my cheek with his nose.

 

“Don’t lie,” Suguru whispered against my neck. “You like being in the middle.”

 

I didn’t respond, only blushed.

 

Suguru kissed the side of my throat. “We should make this the new uniform check-in.”

 

“You’re going to make me ruin this outfit before I’ve even fought in it,” I muttered, suppressing a shiver as his mouth skimmed my collarbone.

 

“Not my fault it makes you look like a boss battle,” Gojo said, smirking like he was trying not to combust.

 

I was about to threaten bodily harm just to cool things down when a voice cut in-

 

“Well, well. Hope I’m not interrupting your little cuddle huddle.”

 

All three of us froze.

 

Yuki Tsukumo stood a few yards away, arms crossed, hair blowing slightly in the courtyard breeze, smirking like she’d just walked in on the punchline of a joke. She was in her signature sleeveless black top, jeans and her coat slung over one shoulder.

 

Suguru straightened immediately and stepped back, posture snapping to a more respectful distance like someone had hit a pressure switch.

 

Satoru stumbled a step away too, suddenly trying to look casual, which only made him look guilty.

 

I stayed in place and just raised an eyebrow. “You were interrupting. But it’s fine. I’ll live.”

 

Yuki grinned. “Damn right, you will. And you’ll thank me in a minute.”

 

Her eyes flicked briefly between the boys, noting the obvious but saying nothing. “Sorry I missed the last couple sessions, princess. Got held up with something annoying, wrinkly, and Elder-shaped. But I’m all yours today.”

 

“Lucky me,” I said dryly.

 

Yuki snapped her gum. “You’re gonna be. I’ve got something way more interesting planned than just sparring or breathing drills.”

 

That got my attention. “Like what?”

 

“Like cursed weapons,” she said, lifting a brow. “We’re hitting the armory. I want you to pick something. Your hands aren’t built for close-quarters brawling, and your vines? Useful, but not fast enough yet. You need something that fits you. Something you can use as an extension of that scary-ass cursed energy.”

 

Behind me, Satoru perked up immediately. “Ohhh, weapon day? Sweet, let’s go.”

 

He stepped forward like it was already a group activity, Suguru close behind.

 

But Yuki held up a hand. “Nope. Nuh-uh. Boys stay.”

 

They both froze.

 

“What?” Gojo asked, blinking. “Why?”

 

“Because this isn’t a field trip. And you don’t need to be glued to her like overprotective little parasites every time she leaves your line of sight,” she said, casually.

 

Suguru’s brow ticked slightly, but he said nothing.

 

Gojo, as expected, did say something.

 

“Excuse me, I’m a very handsome parasite.”

 

Yuki rolled her eyes. “Congratulations. Still staying here.”

 

Suguru sighed. “We can be helpful.”

 

“You can be distracting,” Yuki shot back. “Don’t worry, I’ll grab you both when it’s time for the actual training. Let the girl breathe.”

 

I turned to the boys. “I’ll meet back up with you later.”

 

Gojo looked heartbroken.

 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he called after us as I started walking beside Yuki.

 

I turned around just long enough to smirk. “That’s a very short list.”

 

Suguru gave me a faint smile and mouthed, be careful.

 

I nodded. Then followed Yuki toward the storage vault, heart a little steadier, boots clicking cleanly on the tile.

 

Yuki led me through a back hall I didn’t recognize, a long stretch of corridor that smelled like metal polish, old wood, and cursed energy residue. The air was heavy with it. My boots echoed on the floor louder than I expected.

 

She didn’t speak right away. Just walked with that same casual strut she always had, popping her gum, like none of this was ever that serious. But I could feel the side-eyes coming.

 

“…So,” she finally said, tone light and very not casual. “What exactly did I walk in on earlier?”

 

I blinked. “What?”

 

She gave me a sideways grin. “In the courtyard. You. Gojo. Geto. All pressed up on each other like a sandwich with too much meat.”

 

I choked out a laugh then cleared my throat and kept walking. “It wasn’t like that.”

 

“Mm,” she said, clearly not believing me. “So which one’s your boyfriend?”

 

I snorted. “You're blunt.”

 

“I don’t like wasting time. So?”

 

I hesitated. “It’s not like… that.”

 

Yuki raised an eyebrow. “You mean it’s like… what? A friends-with-benefits thing? Open arrangement? Emotionally codependent but physically ambiguous?”

 

I choked on my own breath. “Jesus.”

 

She grinned. “What? I’m just trying to narrow it down.”

 

“You’re too good at that,” I muttered.

 

She gave a little shrug. “I’ve seen a lot of weird dynamics in my time, sweetheart. Just never saw one that looked like that.”

 

We turned a corner, and I slowed a little. I could feel my ears starting to go warm. “They’re both my boyfriends,” I said quietly. “As in… all three of us. Together.”

 

Yuki actually stopped walking.

 

“Oh,” she said. Her tone wasn’t judgmental, just surprised. “Huh.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

She blinked. “Both of them?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“At the same time?”

 

“Mhm.”

 

Her brow furrowed slightly. “Like, openly? No one’s fighting or keeping secrets or emotionally blackmailing anyone behind the scenes?”

 

I laughed under my breath. “Not unless you count Satoru whining when I get more kisses than him.”

 

Yuki made a low whistle and kept walking again, the corners of her mouth lifting. “Alright, damn. That’s… kind of impressive.”

 

I let out a breath. “Thanks, I think?”

 

She shot me a look. “I didn’t mean it like it’s bad. Just, look, you know how people are. Hell, even the most progressive folks around here still clutch their pearls over tattoos and nose rings. A three-way romance? Especially in this society?”

 

“Yeah,” I muttered. “That’s why we don’t exactly shout it from the rooftops.”

 

“Yaga know?”

 

“No.” I shook my head. “And definitely not the Elders. I don’t even want to imagine what kind of backwards, purity-obsessed garbage would come out of their mouths.”

 

Yuki hummed. “They’d probably call it a corruption of divine balance or some shit.”

 

“Or claim I’m distracting the strongest sorcerers of our generation from their duties,” I added. “Or weakening the chain of command.”

 

“God forbid Satoru gets laid and keeps his head on straight,” she said, smirking.

 

I laughed, real, honest laughter this time. “Exactly.”

 

She nudged my arm lightly. “Well, for the record? I think it’s kind of badass. A little weird. But badass.”

 

“Thanks,” I said. “We try not to make it anyone else’s problem. We’re not secretive, but we’re not… flashy.”

 

Yuki snorted. “Could’ve fooled me. You three together look like a promotional poster for forbidden pleasure.”

 

“Oh my god,” I groaned.

 

“I mean it in a good way,” she teased.

 

We finally reached a heavy metal door lined with seals, humming faintly with layered cursed energy. Yuki pressed her palm to a charm near the lock and muttered something under her breath. A ripple moved through the surface, and the door groaned open with a sharp hiss.

 

The air inside smelled of something oddly familiar but also ancient.

 

“This is the cursed weapon archive,” she said, waving me in. “Some of these haven’t seen the light of day in decades. A lot of them are garbage. A few are worth their weight in gold.”

 

I stepped inside, scanning the rows of shelves. Everything was neatly cataloged, blades, spears, short daggers, chains, knuckle dusters. Even a few things that looked more ceremonial than functional.

 

“Why me?” I asked, stepping deeper into the vault. “Why now?”

 

Yuki didn’t answer right away.

 

Then she said, “Because your fists won’t always be enough. Your vines are getting stronger, your shield’s impressive, but you’re too smart to keep throwing yourself into battles hoping instinct carries you through. You need a tool that works with your cursed technique, not in spite of it.”

 

I nodded slowly, eyes catching on a slender blade in the back. I moved toward it without thinking.

 

Unlabeled.

 

Tucked behind a couple of cracked wooden boxes and a rusted chain.

 

It didn’t look special. Just a short sword, almost like a Kodachi. The sheath was dark, aged leather, frayed at the end. The hilt was wrapped in pale cord, and the handguard was etched with something faint and floral. Faint cursed energy bled off it like it was breathing.

 

I reached out slowly, not quite touching it.

 

And my cursed energy responded.

 

Just a flicker, like static under my skin.

 

“Feel something?” Yuki asked behind me, voice quieter now.

 

I nodded. “It feels like…like my energy recognizes it...Not just compatible but like it knows me.."

 

I grabbed the sheath gently and pulled it from the shelf. The weight was perfect. Balanced. Light enough to move with me. The second my hand touched the grip, a faint pulse ran through my palm. Like a vein catching a heartbeat.

 

Yuki watched me for a long moment, something unreadable behind her smile.

 

“Looks like it picked you back,” she said.

 

I swallowed. “What is it?”

 

She shrugged. “No label. No record. Might’ve been a Hoshizuki relic. Might’ve been a fluke. I didn’t want to bias you by pointing it out.”

 

“…So you hid it.”

 

“I placed it strategically,” she corrected.

 

I rolled my eyes.

 

Still, my hand didn’t loosen around the blade.

 

It felt like mine.

 

And for once, I didn’t feel like I was stealing from someone else’s legacy.

 

I felt like I was starting to write my own.

 

I turned the sword slowly in my hands, brushing my fingers along the sheath.

 

"Where did you find this?" I asked, eyes still locked on the pale cord wrapping the hilt. "Like… how do you know it might be connected to me?"

 

Yuki took a step closer, her arms loosely crossed, watching me with that calm, steady look she always wore when things got a little too close to personal. “I bought it off a mercenary about two months ago. Guy was trying to offload a bunch of cursed artifacts, most of it was trash. But this one caught my eye.”

 

"Why?"

 

"Because of this." She pointed to the handguard, where a delicate engraving wrapped around the edge, not very deep, half-faded, but clear enough. A lotus. Sharp-petaled. Etched like it had been pressed in with care, not for decoration but for identity.

 

I frowned, tracing it lightly. “…Lotus flower?”

 

“Your family crest,” she said quietly. “Or what used to be. I did some digging.”

 

Something cold slid into my spine.

 

I looked up. “You dug into my family?”

 

Yuki raised both hands, not defensive, just honest. “I didn’t go behind anyone’s back. I just… keep my ear to the ground when I think something might be important. You didn’t even know your family name until last year, Amara. But the world didn’t forget it completely.”

 

I swallowed hard. “You think this was… my dad’s?”

 

She hesitated.

 

"I think someone in your bloodline used it," she said carefully. "Could’ve been your father. Could’ve been someone before him. There’s no way to know for sure. But…”

 

She reached forward and gently turned the sword in my hands, rotating the hilt to face me. Her thumb tapped along the worn leather cord until she pulled it back just slightly, revealing the carved wood beneath.

 

There, nearly rubbed smooth with time and weather, was something I didn’t expect to see.

 

A name.

 

Not clearly legible, but just enough remained.

 

Hoshi-

 

My breath caught.

 

The rest of the letters were gone, eroded by age, blood, or both. But the first part was still there. Burned into the wood like it had always belonged.

 

“…It’s mine,” I whispered.

 

Not in the possessive sense.

 

It felt like recognition.

 

Like touching something that had once been a part of me, even if I didn’t know when, or how, or why.

 

“I don’t have answers,” Yuki said gently. “Not the kind you want. I don’t know if he used it. I don’t even know if it was forged for him. All I know is it reacts to you. And cursed tools like this? They don’t bond easily. If it wasn’t yours before… it is now.”

 

I stared down at the blade, heart thudding.

 

“…So what now?” I asked, my voice low.

 

“Now?” she smirked. “Now you train with it. See what it can really do.”

 

“But it could be dangerous.”

 

“You’re dangerous,” she shot back. “And that’s never stopped you before.”

 

I let out a shaky breath.

 

Then gripped the sword a little tighter.

 

Lotus crest. My name carved into the handle. Bought off a mercenary with a box full of stolen ghosts.

 

There were too many pieces. Too many questions.

 

But right now?

 

For once?

 

I didn’t feel like a mystery. I felt like a weapon being sharpened.

 

And maybe… I was okay with that.

 

Yuki slid her hands into her pockets as we stepped out into the hallway, her usual lazy swagger returning now that the sword was tucked neatly under my arm like it belonged there. “Keep it in your room for now,” she said. “I don’t want you swinging around with a cursed blade five minutes after bonding with it.”

 

I snorted. “You saying I’m impulsive?”

 

“I’m saying,” she smirked, “I don’t want to scrape spirit chunks off the ceiling because you got overexcited. We’ll dedicate a whole day to training with that one. Today’s focus is cursed energy work, not slicing things in half.”

 

I nodded, relieved honestly. I already felt like I had too many new puzzle pieces in my head and no clear picture of how they were supposed to fit. Adding a weapon to the mix might’ve tipped me too far forward.

 

As we rounded the corner near my dorm, I paused.

 

The door was already open.

 

“Satoru...” I called flatly.

 

His voice echoed back immediately, chipper and entirely unbothered. “Heyyy! Took you long enough!”

 

Suguru was standing next to him, arms crossed, like he was pretending not to be a part of whatever conspiracy was happening but had clearly been involved since minute one.

 

The second I stepped into view, Suguru moved toward me like gravity had grabbed his bones. His hand started to slide around my waist, brushing over my hip with that instinctive familiarity we still pretended we didn’t use in public. But then he hesitated, catching himself mid-movement and pulling his hand back like he thought he’d overstepped.

 

I blinked at him, then smirked. “She knows.”

 

He looked at me, then at Yuki, then immediately put his hand right back where he left off and added the other for good measure. “Good. Hiding’s overrated.”

 

Satoru was already bouncing on the balls of his feet behind them. “So what’d you get? Huh? Did you get a blade? A chain? Some creepy fan with curse smoke?”

 

I laughed. “Why are you acting like I just came back with candy?”

 

He shrugged. “This is way better than candy. Now, come ooonnnn. What is it?”

 

I held the sword out for him to see, the lotus crest glinting faintly in the hallway light.

 

Suguru leaned closer, his eyes dropping to the hilt, then back up to me. “That’s a serious piece of steel.”

 

“Wasn’t exactly in the display case,” I said, nodding to Yuki. “She planted it there on purpose. Wanted to see if I’d pick it without knowing.”

 

“And you did,” Suguru murmured, fingers brushing down the sheath reverently. “Of course you did.”

 

Satoru peeked closer. “Ooh, the carving, does that say your name? Or part of it?”

 

“Half,” I said. “Just the start. ‘Hoshi-’ and then it’s worn off.”

 

“Creepy,” Satoru muttered, eyes flicking to Yuki. “You didn’t… curse it yourself or anything, right?”

 

“I’m not that bored,” Yuki said dryly, stepping past us. And then, the moment she crossed into my room, she paused.

 

Her eyes swept the space with the precision of a military scout.

 

She didn’t say anything at first, but I saw the way her gaze clocked everything. The fact that my bed wasn’t made, that there were two hoodies on the back of my chair, one too long to be mine, one definitely Gojo’s. The spare pair of boots beside the window were clearly Suguru’s. A black t-shirt I definitely hadn’t worn lay folded next to my sketchbook, and my laundry bin had more plaid and black than anything I’d personally bought.

 

Yuki didn’t call us out. Not directly.

 

But her eyebrows lifted, and she muttered just loud enough for me to hear, “No wonder you’re always so relaxed.”

 

I rolled my eyes. "If you’re hinting at what I think you are then the answer is no we do not."

 

"Really? Like not at all?" 

 

I groan. 

 

"What? What don't we do?" Satoru looked between us confused.

 

Suguru sighs. "Sex, Satoru."

 

"Ooooooooh! We haven't gotten naked comfortable yet with Amara like me and Suguru have." Satoru says so matter of fact.

 

Yuki laughs, I blush and Suguru sighs harder.

 

"What!? What did I do wrong this time??" He pushes his glasses up to get a better look at every one.

 

"Nothing. You just have no filter sometimes." Suguru rubs Satoru’s back gently.

 

"You said it first! I thought we were just being blunt now!" Gojo stresses a little. 

 

"It's fine Satoru, really. It was just kinda funny." I chuckled lightly 

 

"At least I'm funny I guess."

 

"Very funny," Geto responded.

 

---

 

We talked a little more. Satoru tried to get me to unsheath the blade even after Yuki warned him twice. Suguru stood behind me most of the time, subtly brushing his thumb over the small of my back while pretending to study the weapon.

 

After a while, Yuki clapped her hands together once. “Alright, lovebirds,” she announced, “we’re done here.”

 

Suguru blinked. “We’re not even-”

 

“You’re close enough,” she interrupted. “I can smell your cursed energy chemistry. It’s like romantic secondhand smoke. I’m not trying to get emotionally entangled just by standing near you.”

 

I choked back a laugh.

 

Satoru puffed up. “You like standing near me.”

 

Yuki rolled her eyes. “Focus, Six Eyes. I actually came here to train your girlfriend, not get dragged into a group therapy cuddle puddle.”

 

I was still laughing when she turned to me.

 

“You ready?”

 

I nodded, shifting the sword against my back. “Yeah. Let me put this away.”

 

“Don’t forget it exists,” she said, already moving to the door. “We’re not finished with it. But we’ve got cursed energy to work out first.”

 

Satoru stepped forward. “We’re coming too.”

 

Yuki stopped. Turned. “You’re invited,” she said, “if you follow my rules.”

 

Suguru and Satoru both saluted her like children pretending to be in the army.

 

I gave them each a look. “Try not to get us all kicked out.”

 

Satoru winked. “No promises.”

 

 

Chapter 34: How Far Is Too Far?

Summary:

Warning this one is pretty gorey

Not too too detailed but if it's something that bothers you it might make you a little queasy

The station wasn’t crowded, which helped. Morning mist still clung to the corners of the platform, curling low along the tiles and giving the whole place this sleepy, almost dreamlike quiet. Yuki stood near the edge, arms crossed, bouncing once on her heels like she was impatient to move.

 

“We’re heading up the mountain,” she said as soon as we joined her. “Abandoned village I scoped out a while back. Good isolation, enough cursed residue to train without interruptions, and,” she glanced toward Satoru “, far enough that teleporting isn't possible.”

 

Gojo made a dramatic scoffing noise but didn’t argue.

 

We boarded the train near the school’s perimeter gate. I grabbed a seat by the window. My hair was still tied high, strands tickling the back of my neck, and I was hyper-aware of the way both boys kept glancing at me like I was wearing something scandalous.

 

As everyone got on the train I felt a strong sense of Gojo’s cursed energy making me crack my neck.

 

Gojo blinked into the seat beside me a second later, arm slinging around my shoulders like it had always belonged there. He leaned in so close his breath brushed my jaw.

 

“No teleporters allowed,” he whispered like it was a rule that he totally didn't just make up. “Unless it’s me.”

 

I snorted. “Of course. You’re the exception to every rule.”

 

“I’m the blueprint,” he corrected with a wink, then kissed my cheek softly.

 

Across from us, Suguru scanned the available seats, then gave Yuki a brief look before reluctantly sitting next to her. There was only a small table between the two rows, but it felt like a continent’s worth of distance with the way Suguru was very pointedly not looking at her.

 

Yuki, of course, noticed. She was all smug, leaning back with that “I know something you don’t” look written all over her face.

 

Satoru pulled me in closer like I was some prize he’d just won at a festival booth.

 

“You’ve been all over her all morning,” he muttered toward Suguru, loud enough to be heard. “It’s my turn now.”

 

“Oh, we’re taking turns now?” I asked dryly.

 

“Yes. And he hogged you earlier.”

 

“Get over it.” Suguru teased

 

“Never.”

 

I shook my head, smiling despite myself. “So what’s the plan today?” I asked, turning to Yuki. “Am I punching things? Bleeding into the dirt? What kind of training are we walking into?”

 

Yuki gave me a slow, coy grin. “If I told you everything now, there wouldn’t be any surprises.”

 

I groaned. “Yuki-”

 

“I’m not saying it’s not dangerous,” she added. “I’m just saying you’ll learn something.”

 

“That’s not helpful.”

 

Satoru leaned forward a bit, eyes narrowing slightly. “Terrain-based? Cursed spirits? Weapon-focused? Output control?”

 

Yuki raised a brow. “Sure.”

 

That clearly set him off. I felt the subtle twitch in his arm still wrapped around me, and then he started fidgeting.

 

It began harmless enough: his thumb tracing lazy circles into the fabric of my sleeve. Then he found the tiestrings of my pants and started twisting them together and tugging them loose, only to tie them again. After that, his hand dipped lower, fingers casually curling under the waistband of my sweatpants and brushing against the elastic of my underwear like he was trying to hook a prize in a claw machine.

 

I arched a brow at him but didn’t stop it. This was a Satoru thing. A 'he’s annoyed but needs something to do with his hands' thing. And the touch wasn’t sexual, just grounding. For both of us, weirdly. His favorite seemed to be tugging the strap of my underwear just enough to hear it snap softly against my skin like it scratched an itch in his brain.

 

“Yuki,” he said, deceptively sweet, “I’m starting to feel like you’re hiding something from me.”

 

“I AM hiding something from you,” she said cheerfully. “That’s the point.”

 

His jaw tensed. His fingers moved faster, twirling a piece of my hair now before letting it fall and picking another strand to twist.

 

“I don’t like this,” he said plainly.

 

“Aw,” Yuki cooed. “You scared?”

 

The laugh that left Satoru’s throat was soft, low, and unnervingly sharp.

 

I felt the shift instantly, the flicker of cursed energy that buzzed faintly beneath his skin. His grip on my waist stayed gentle, but his voice lost its playful lilt.

 

“Just remember,” he murmured, “when you drop the curtain on whatever this is, I’ll be the one standing closest to her.”

 

Yuki blinked. Then gave a slightly more wary grin. “Threatening me, Gojo?”

 

“Not at all.” He smiled, all teeth. “Just setting expectations.”

 

I felt Suguru’s foot hit his under the table, not gentle this time. More of a knock-it-off kind of thing.

 

Satoru eased back in his seat, dramatically like he hadn’t just gone full apex predator for five seconds. Then he leaned his head against mine and whispered, “She’s being really annoying.”

 

“Yeah,” I whispered back. “But so are you.”

 

He grinned, unrepentant.

 

Across from us, Suguru let out a quiet breath like he was already exhausted.

 

Yuki caught my eye. “You’ve got your hands full with them.”

 

“You think I’m in charge of this circus?”

 

“You’re at least leading,” she chuckled.

 

---

 

The train rocked gently beneath us, curving toward the edge of the forest line, and I found myself relaxing despite the tension. Satoru’s hand stayed tucked around my waist, fingers no longer toying with my clothes, just holding me there. Suguru had gone still again, but I could tell he was watching us, waiting, calculating.

 

Whatever this training was, it wouldn’t be simple.

 

And the fact that Yuki hadn’t told us what to expect?

 

Yeah. That wasn’t comforting.

 

---

 

We reached the abandoned mountain village just before dusk. The train ride felt hours too long, and now the world was soaked in blue-gray shadows, the sky cracked open with threads of purple-like bruises blooming behind clouds. The buildings were quiet husks, wooden shells taken by moss and time. It was the kind of place that shouldn’t echo, but every step did.

 

“This is your training ground?” I asked Yuki, eyeing the crumbling houses and overgrown shrine path.

 

Yuki smirked. “Best way to learn is in places that have already been ruined.”

 

Gojo scoffed behind me. “Very motivational.”

 

Suguru didn’t say anything, just walked beside me, hands tucked into his pockets as he surveyed the area.

 

Yuki stepped ahead, spinning a charm ring around her index finger. “Alright. Let’s get started.”

 

I felt it immediately, the prickle in the air, the tightening of space. Her barrier bloomed outward, sealing me in before I could even finish blinking. The edges of the world snapped into something else, a warped circle of cursed energy carved like glass around me. I whirled on instinct, slamming my shield into place, vines coiling at my heels.

 

“Suguru? Satoru?” I called.

 

They were just outside. I could see them, Gojo with his hand already glowing, Suguru stiff like he was ready to break the whole barrier apart.

 

“Don’t.” Yuki’s voice was firm, calm. “You interfere, I cancel the whole training, and you don’t get invited again.”

 

Satoru didn’t like that. His jaw locked tight enough I could see the grind of his molars from where I stood. Suguru said nothing, but the subtle flare of cursed energy said enough.

 

“Don’t worry,” Yuki added, turning toward them. “She can handle this.”

 

Then the first curse appeared.

 

It was a Grade-3. Ugly, twisted, low to the ground like a malformed toad with too many teeth and legs bent backward. It hissed the moment it hit the ground, then charged straight for me.

 

I let it.

 

I put my shield forward, vine snapped like a whip. The first hit took it off balance. The second ripped through its torso. By the time it screamed, I’d already jumped, vines spiraling up from below to split it in half. The cursed energy burst around me in a wisp of decaying breath and oil.

 

It was dead in less than a minute.

 

I didn’t even need to drain.

 

But I tried, because I knew Yuki would want that. I reached out, let the choice roll through me like a switch flicking on, and the red threads snaked out. Not hungry. Just… reaching. They touched the fading body of the curse and sipped, just enough to ease the strain in my limbs and quiet the heat in my ribs.

 

And then I stopped them.

 

I stopped them.

 

It worked.

 

But the moment I looked up, I knew that wasn’t enough.

 

Yuki frowned. “Not what I was hoping for.”

 

She flicked her fingers again. “Let’s push it.”

 

The ground shook. Something larger stirred.

 

“Shit..” I muttered.

 

Two more cursed spirits dropped in like anchors. Stronger. Grade 2, maybe high 2. One had elongated limbs and a mouth that stretched from navel to nose. The other was a fast freak, I could feel it before I even saw it. Its cursed energy was like hot static.

 

“Yuki!” Satoru’s voice rang out like thunder. “That wasn’t the deal.”

 

“First we never made any deal. What you and Yaga agree to are not the same rules I have. Plus she’s still standing,” Yuki said flatly. “Let’s see what happens when she’s pushed a little.”

 

I spun, barely catching the first lunge.

 

Pain bloomed in my thigh, something cut me. I didn’t even register the attack, just reacted. My shield cracked against the spirit’s side, vines erupting defensively from the ground. But the second one was already on me.

 

It threw me across the barrier. I hit the old shrine steps hard enough to see stars.

 

My shoulder cracked against the stone and for a second, everything buzzed, vision tilted, lungs rattled. I could feel something slick crawling down my arm. Blood.

 

But my legs moved before I could think. The moment I heard one of them skitter, I was already rolling.

 

One breath. Shield up.

 

Another breath. Fist clenched.

 

I shoved pain down into the pit of my stomach. I’d learned how to fight through worse. My ribs screamed as I pushed myself to stand, but they were already starting to hum with healing. Crimson energy licked along my bones, stitching things back together before I even finished taking stock of what was broken.

 

One of the curses lunged. I ducked, barely dodging the swipe of its claws as it tore through the space where my head had been. The other cursed spirit followed, and I dropped to the ground in a controlled fall, sliding backward on my heels with my shield angled in front of me. The edge sparked as it deflected a blow.

 

I couldn’t take them both head-on. I knew that much.

 

So I didn’t.

 

I focused on the thinner one, the one with the twisted limbs and mouth down its chest. I could hit that one harder, stagger it. Take it out of the equation.

 

The heavier one, I’d have to dance around.

 

A vine cracked out behind me, launching me forward. The movement jarred my still-healing ribs, but I clenched my teeth and slammed my fist into the first curse’s throat. It shrieked, cursed energy sputtering. I let the momentum carry me into a spin, shield snapping out into its side.

 

It flew back with a choked howl, skidding across the dirt.

 

The second curse lunged again. This time, I was ready.

 

I threw a vine up like a wall and jumped sideways. It hit the vine mid-air and crashed down, dazed for a second. That’s all I needed.

 

I turned back to the first one.

 

It was trying to stand, slow, twitchy, already regenerating.

 

I sprinted toward it.

 

Punch to the side. Vines in its chest-mouth, ripping it open.

 

Its scream was wet and guttural as it sagged forward, and I snapped another vine through its neck. No hesitation. It dropped, limbs twitching, mouth sagging open in a silent wail.

 

-----------

 

“One down.” Suguru barely exhaled the words before it happened.

 

The second curse lunged through the smoke and rubble of its fallen partner. In the blur of its speed, Amara didn’t have time to turn, only time to react too late.

 

Its clawed arm punched through her stomach like paper.

 

Blood sprayed from her mouth, her body jerking as the curse lifted her halfway off the ground on its jagged limb. The impact sent a pulse through the air that made the cursed barrier shudder.

 

Satoru’s cursed energy spiked like a blade.

 

“No-”

 

His hands slammed against the barrier, his Six Eyes burning.

 

Inside, Amara coughed violently and tried to grab the curse’s wrist, her own blood slicking down her body.

 

Satoru’s heart stopped.

 

Suguru didn’t say anything. He was already moving, one hand raised, summoning cursed energy fast enough to shake the air.

 

Yuki stepped between them with a sharp wave of her arm. “Stop!”

 

Satoru whirled on her. “Are you insane?! She’s dying!”

 

“She’s learning!”

 

“I swear to fucking god-” He turned fully, cursed energy flaring so hot the air distorted around him. Infinity came up in a heartbeat, denying even Suguru’s reaching hand.

 

“Get the hell out of the way, Tsukumo.”

 

Yuki didn’t move. “She has to know pain. Consequence. That she can bleed and still win.”

 

“I don’t care what lesson you think this is,” he hissed. “If you think I’m going to stand here and watch her bleed out for a growth-”

 

“If you go in there now,” Yuki said firmly, “she’ll never push past it. She’ll always expect you to save her. She’ll never evolve into the strong sorcerer we both know she can be.”

 

“I will always save her!” Satoru shouted, voice cracking like thunder. “What part of that is a fucking problem?!”

 

His fist drew back, he was about to swing, to break every line of decorum he had left, but Suguru reacted faster.

 

A massive curse erupted from his shadow, slamming between them in a single breath. The ground cracked under its weight, cutting Gojo’s momentum short.

 

“Enough!” Suguru barked.

 

His voice was deeper than usual. Strained. His jaw was tight, and his hand trembled at his side, but he didn’t move to attack.

 

“Yuki,” he said quietly, “tell me you didn’t just trap her with something she can’t survive.”

 

Yuki didn’t answer at first. Her gaze flicked to the barrier where Amara had collapsed to one knee, her hand glowing, already trying to close the wound in her gut. Blood smeared her fingers. She looked up, not at the curse, but straight toward the barrier, like she could feel them watching her. Her eyes were full of fire.

 

“I believe in her,” Yuki finally said.

 

Satoru didn’t drop his arm.

 

But he didn’t swing either.

 

Suguru was staring into the barrier like he wanted to climb through the glass. His teeth were gritted so tightly it looked like they might crack.

 

“…If she dies in there,” he warned, “you better hope you can outrun us...”

 

-----------

 

I didn’t see it.

 

I didn’t even feel it at first.

 

One second I was exhaling, one down, and the next there was heat in my stomach, like boiling water shoved through my skin, and then my feet weren’t on the ground anymore.

 

I heard something wet like a mop hitting tile.

 

Then pain. Blinding, raw, screaming pain.

 

It didn't register fast enough. My brain couldn’t make the pieces match. My legs dangled, twitching. My arms, God, my arms wouldn’t work. My fingers were sticky. I looked down..

 

And saw it.

 

The thing’s arm was through me. Through my stomach. I couldn’t… I couldn’t even scream. My lungs refused. My mouth filled with blood so fast I choked.

 

My vision blacked out for a second.

 

I think I started shaking. Or maybe the world was shaking. I didn’t know what was real.

 

I tried to reach for it, tried to pull it out, or push it away or something, but I couldn’t feel my hands. Couldn’t feel anything except the unbearable pressure in my gut and the wet heat dripping down my thighs.

 

“Satoru-” I tried to say, but it came out as a gurgle. Blood slid out between my lips, down my chin. My throat was closing. My ears were ringing.

 

I couldn’t see. Everything was blurred at the edges, static and red and spinning. I saw a flash of white and black outside the barrier. Someone was screaming. Yelling. I think it was him. Or Suguru. I couldn’t tell.

 

I think I’m dying..

 

The thought hit me like a second impact.

 

I’d been hurt before, stabbed, crushed, bruised, fuck I've been in this exact situation before. But something was different. I looked down again.

 

My stomach was open. I could see the inside of me, my guts, my blood. I tried to shove them back in, shaking hands, sobbing in silence, but they wouldn’t stay. It was slick and warm and sliding back out and I wanted to scream.

 

Please. Please. Please-

 

My cursed energy was trying. I could feel it desperately pulsing beneath the surface, trying to seal it, trying to pull me together, but it wasn’t fast enough. I was cold. My teeth chattered even though I couldn’t make a sound. My legs gave out and the spirit let go and I crumpled onto the stone, slipping in my own blood.

 

My hands pressed to the wound like that would help, like that would fix it. I couldn’t see anything. Everything was red. The whole floor was red. It was so much, too much blood. It didn’t stop.

 

This is it.

 

This is what it feels like to die.

 

I didn’t want to. For the first time.

 

Not like this. Not like a test. Not in front of them. Not with him watching.

 

Satoru. Suguru.

 

Don’t watch me die. Please...

 

I don’t know if I was speaking. I couldn’t hear myself. I couldn’t hear anything over the ringing and the rasp in my chest. I choked again, more blood pouring from my lips, thick and syrupy.

 

I pressed harder to my stomach. I tried to stop the shaking. I tried to breathe. It hurt.

 

Please. Please, I don’t want to go.

 

I’m not ready.

 

Please- I can’t-

 

I was panicking. My mind felt like it was breaking into a thousand pieces, bouncing between pain and panic and the helpless fear that no one could save me. Not now. Not in time.

 

And yet, somewhere inside that hurricane, beneath the terror and cold and the dizzy rush of dying, something else flickered.

 

Something sharp.

 

Something hungry.

 

The curse stepped in front of me.

 

I felt its breath. Hot and sour.

 

Something snapped.

 

The fear didn't go away.

 

It hardened.

 

It focused.

 

I looked up, blood blurring my vision, and I chose.

 

I didn’t beg. I didn’t plead. I took.

 

The red threads ripped from my skin like claws, slamming into the spirit with a crack. It screamed, really screamed, as they pierced through its chest, skull, and spine, anchoring deep, spiraling into it with a force that wasn’t instinct anymore.

 

It was me.

 

I wanted this.

 

I needed it.

 

The curse fought, flailing, trying to pull away, but it couldn’t. It was locked in. Trapped.

 

It buckled forward, writhing, and I dragged the life out of it. Every drop. Every ounce. The power hit me like a flood, searing, scorching, burning its way into my gut and bones.

 

And just as fast my body absorbed it

 

I dropped to my knees, stomach twisting into violent knots. The threads snapped back like rubber bands and I vomited, thick and black and sour, mixed with red and chunks I didn’t even recognize.

 

The blood was everywhere. I was soaked in it, my own, the curse’s, I couldn’t tell anymore. It pooled around me in a hot, sticky mess, seeping into my pants and under my knees.

 

I felt lightheaded.

 

But I could breathe again.

 

I was alive.

 

The barrier dropped.

 

And before I could fully register it, they were already there.

 

Suguru hit the ground first, dropping beside me so fast it was like gravity didn’t matter. His hands were on me immediately, one cupping the back of my head, the other pulling off his jacket and draping it over my shoulders. He didn’t care about the blood. Didn’t even flinch.

 

Satoru appeared next, Infinity shimmering faintly around him to keep the mess off his clothes, but his eyes, god, his eyes were glowing too bright, too frantic. His jacket was already off before he even knelt, shielding me with it as if the fabric could undo the damage.

 

“I’m fine,” I mumbled, voice hoarse and pathetic.

 

“You’re not,” Satoru said too quickly, breathless, like the words were oxygen. “Don’t say that.”

 

“You scared the shit out of us,” Suguru muttered, brushing blood from my cheek with his bare knuckles, his fingers trembling just enough that I noticed.

 

Yuki rushed in with a towel, kneeling opposite them. She didn’t say anything at first, just started wiping my arms and face clean, checking my pupils, making sure I was still here.

 

I could feel the heat from all three of them.

 

Satoru didn’t ask. He just picked me up, blood and all, his arms wrapping under my knees and back like it was second nature.

 

My cheek landed against his shoulder. His infinity kept him clean.

 

I still felt disgusting.

 

Suguru walked beside us, pressing one hand to the small of my back like he couldn’t bear to let go.

 

“I’m gonna buy you food,” Satoru muttered like that was the only medicine I needed. “And socks. And something with, like, vitamin B. Suguru, does she need B vitamins?”

 

“She needs a shower and rest,” Suguru answered, still watching me like I might disappear if he blinked. “But yeah. B vitamins too.”

 

Yuki walked behind us in silence, the cursed village growing smaller as the sun dipped low behind the mountains.

 

I held onto Satoru’s collar and let myself sag against his chest.

Still trembling. Still tasting blood.

But… I was breathing.

 

I survived.

 

Not because they saved me.

 

Because I saved myself.

 

But gods, it felt good to be in their arms afterward.

 

---

 

We made it to the train station just as the last of the sunset was dying behind the mountains, turning the sky that deep orange-red that felt like something bleeding out slowly.

 

Satoru carried me the whole way. I probably could’ve walked at that point, maybe, but he didn’t give me the option. And honestly… I didn’t fight him on it.

 

At the platform, he shifted his grip, cradling me closer before carefully, and gently, passing me into Suguru’s arms. Not like a handoff. Like I was something precious he didn’t want to drop.

 

Suguru looked down at me and smiled with that same soft, honey-warm expression he always saved for just me.

 

“Hey, pretty girl,” he whispered, brushing some damp hair from my face with the backs of his fingers. “You okay?”

 

I gave him the tiniest smile. “Hi.” I nuzzled into him. "Getting there.."

 

He kissed my temple, quick and warm, and held me closer, his chest rising deep and steady like he was trying to get me to match his breathing.

 

Meanwhile, Satoru…

 

“I WILL PAY EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU TO LEAVE. TAKE YOUR TRAIN A DIFFERENT DAY.”

 

He had walked to the center of the platform, arms spread like Moses parting the sea of exhausted salarymen and teenagers with headphones.

 

“I’m not kidding!” he shouted again, digging into his pocket for his black card. “Sixty thousand yen just to leave. Eighty if you run!”

 

There was a beat of stunned silence… and then chaos.

 

One by one, people stood up and started exiting the platform, some laughing, others eyeing Satoru like he was insane. He handed out money like candy, tipping station staff with little waves and dramatic winks.

 

“Private train for Team Hot and Bloody,” he announced, turning back toward us with a big, smug grin. “You’re welcome.”

 

“God, you’re dramatic,” I muttered into Suguru’s shirt.

 

“She’s not wrong,” Suguru said, watching Satoru toss another wad of bills to the conductor like it was nothing. “But it worked.”

 

A few minutes later, the train was completely empty. We stepped on alone, just us and a full car to breathe in.

 

Gojo tipped the driver too and told them not to interrupt for any reason unless the train was on fire or mid-derailment.

 

I slid into the plush booth seat by the window, still wrapped in Suguru and Satoru’s jackets, his arm over my shoulder while Satoru sprawled across the seat opposite like a king, legs wide, sunglasses back on, grinning like a satisfied little menace.

 

“I got us the good one,” he said. “No weird train smells. No strangers. No questions.”

 

“You just wanted an excuse to flex your wallet.”

 

“Obviously,” he grinned. “Also, Little Vampire deserves peace.”

 

I snorted and leaned my head against Suguru’s chest. “If you’re trying out new nicknames, I’m ranking that one above ‘Mattress Girl’ but under ‘Little Hound.’”

 

“Little Hound?” Yuki’s voice called from the next seat over.

 

“It’s just because I can sniff out cursed energy well." I chuckle lightly.

 

Satoru just beamed. “She’s got a whole collection. We rotate depending on her mood.”

 

Suguru laughed quietly, his hand rubbing soothing circles into my arm. “Right now she’s in her ‘nearly died again but is still cute’ phase.”

 

My blood was still drying in my hair, on my legs, in the creases of my elbows. It felt sticky, and thick, like it didn’t belong to me anymore.

 

“Here,” Satoru said, pulling out a big pack of wet wipes and a look on his face that was unusually soft. “Witchdoctor brand. Shoko-approved.”

 

He passed the whole thing to Suguru, who took one, then another, kneeling in front of me without hesitation. He pulled me closer to the edge.

 

The first swipe across my leg made me flinch.

 

“Sorry,” he murmured, eyes flicking up. “Too cold?”

 

I shook my head. “No. Just not used to… this.”

 

“Being taken care of?”

 

“…Yeah.”

 

Satoru pulled a wipe from the pack and started helping too, wiping down my arms, and then the back of my neck. They didn’t speak much. Just the occasional shared glance, like they were working in quiet sync.

 

Once most of the blood was gone, Suguru leaned back on his heels and asked, “Do you want to change?”

 

“I don’t have anything clean.”

 

Both boys immediately stood.

 

“You do now,” Satoru said.

 

Suguru already had his undershirt off by the time I blinked. “You’ll swim in it, but at least it’s dry.”

 

“I have pants,” Gojo added cheerfully, already tugging off his own. “Boxers stay on, don’t worry, unless you’d rather they didn’t.”

 

I rolled my eyes at him. “I just got skewered, not lobotomized.”

 

"So that means you'd be okay with them off?" He smirked.

 

I blushed and laughed. "Shut up."

 

He wiggled his eyebrows but didn’t push further, standing there in nothing but tight black boxer briefs that definitely didn’t leave a lot to the imagination.

 

And… yeah. I looked. Quick, subtle.

 

Satoru caught me and grinned wider.

 

“Eyes up, little vampire.”

 

“You’re the one standing there like a Calvin Klein ad,” I muttered.

 

He did a little hip swivel. “What can I say? I’m a gift.”

 

Suguru snorted behind me. “More like a hazard.”

 

I shook my head, cheeks a little warm, and let them guide me to the back cabin for privacy. I was still shaky on my feet, and I knew they both noticed.

 

They stood outside the door while I stripped off the ruined uniform and pulled on Suguru’s undershirt, soft, worn cotton that still smelled like cedar and incense, and Satoru’s pants, which I had to roll twice at the waist to keep from tripping.

 

When I stepped back out, both of them looked at me like I’d done something illegal.

 

Satoru clutched his chest. “Oh no. She’s hot and wearing my pants.”

 

Suguru was quieter, his gaze trailing down the line of my body, slow and reverent. “You look good, pretty girl.”

 

I could feel myself blush again, this time harder.

 

“Thanks,” I said, and I meant it.

 

Satoru slung an arm over my shoulder again as we headed back toward the front. “Next time we pack an emergency outfit for you.”

 

Suguru grinned. “Or two.”

 

“Or nothing,” Satoru added shamelessly. “I like her in just my pants.”

 

I groaned and shoved him lightly. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to bite.”

 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

 

We made our way back to the main cabin and dropped into the seats. My muscles were jelly, my head still humming from the drain, but the worst of the fog was gone. I lived..

 

Yuki leaned back across from us, arms folded behind her head like she hadn’t just staged a near-death lesson.

 

“Sorry,” she said casually like it was the kind of thing you say after bumping into someone’s shoulder on the street. “Didn’t mean to go so hard on you. But you did good. Knew you could.”

 

I blinked at her. “…That’s your version of an apology?”

 

She smirked. “Would you prefer a fruit basket?”

 

Gojo, seated next to me again with one leg bouncing like it might fly off his body, suddenly clapped a hand over his mouth and leaned all the way back, visibly straining. Like the act of not speaking was actively killing him.

 

Suguru leaned on his hand, lips twitching.

 

“Don’t-” Yuki pointed at Satoru without looking.

 

Gojo squeaked behind his hand. “-gonna say it-”

 

“No, you’re not,” Suguru warned, lightly pressing a hand to Gojo’s knee to still it.

 

“I so am,” Gojo hissed behind his palm. “I so fucking am.”

 

Yuki opened her mouth but didn’t even get the chance to bait him.

 

Satoru shot upright like someone lit a fuse, hand dropping, voice rising fast.

 

“You threw her into those cursed spirits, Yuki- impaled. Through. The. Stomach! She was bleeding out, I could see her intestines, and you’re sitting there like it’s some field trip and she didn’t almost-”

 

I reached up and took his collar gently, pulling him toward me mid-sentence.

 

“-die, and I-..”

 

I kissed his cheek. Soft. Just under the corner of his eye.

 

He blinked. Froze. Voice caught mid-rant like someone had hit a pause button on his soul.

 

I turned my face to him, giving him that look. The one that always made his thoughts come to a screeching halt like I'd stolen the air from his lungs and replaced it with honey.

 

"You're gorgeous and lovey, Amara but I'm in the middling of scolding a blonde bim-.." He spoke softly.

 

“Calm down,” I whispered, brushing another kiss along his jawline.

 

His breath hitched. That melting, flickering tension in his shoulders gave way as his whole body sagged into mine. He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to.

 

But I felt his glare flick toward Yuki, sharp and icy.

 

Yuki raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, and leaned back with a little smirk like she had expected worse.

 

Suguru chuckled quietly beside me, stretching out his legs, the tension finally bleeding out of him too. He looked at the two of us with that soft-eyed fondness that he never really tried to hide anymore.

 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he said to Satoru, voice teasing but lazy.

 

Satoru scoffed but didn’t move from my side. “I’m devastatingly cute.”

 

“Terrifyingly dramatic, more like,” I muttered, resting my head against his shoulder.

 

Suguru smiled, head tipping to the side. “Still glad we didn’t kill Yuki?”

 

“No,” Gojo grumbled, but he kissed the top of my hair anyway, letting his lips linger there like he wasn’t planning on moving any time soon.

 

And I didn’t want him to. Not now.

 

Not when the two people who knew exactly what kind of monster lived inside me were still choosing to sit at my side, drenched in blood, exhausted, and furious... but with me.

 

And that made all the difference.

 

 

Chapter 35: Drunk On You

The sun started its lazy slide toward the edge of the sky. It had been the day after the mission with Yuki and I felt good.

 

Like, really good.

 

I hadn’t just healed that day. I felt stronger. Cleaner. I didn’t know if it was the drain, the win, or the quiet way Suguru and Suguru had carried me all the way home, but whatever it was, it had settled deep in my bones.

 

Gojo had disappeared earlier on some quick mission, flinging a wink and a kiss through the dorm windows before vanishing like a magician in a spotlight. And honestly? I didn’t mind the quiet.

 

Especially when Suguru found me on the steps with his hands in his pockets and that thoughtful tilt to his brow.

 

“Come spar with me,” he said, voice like warm water. “Just you and me. Gym’s empty.”

 

I narrowed my eyes. “You planning to let me win again?”

 

He smirked. “No chance. But I am planning something else.”

 

Suspicious. “Like what?”

 

“A safe experiment.” He started walking, knowing I’d follow. “Voluntary. No surprises. You drain me. Just a little.”

 

That made me stop in my tracks. “Wait, what?”

 

He glanced back over his shoulder, face calm but eyes lit with something curious. “I want to see what it feels like. In a controlled setting. Just a micro-drain. You don’t have to take anything I don’t offer. I trust you.”

 

My stomach fluttered uneasily. “I don’t trust me.”

 

Suguru walked back toward me, slowly, until we stood toe to toe under the afternoon sun slicing through the gym doors. “You’re not a danger to me, Mara,” he said gently. “You’re someone I’d let touch my soul if you asked.”

 

God. The way he said things.

 

I nodded, breath shallow. “Okay. But… if I puke on you, I’m blaming you.”

 

He chuckled. “Noted.”

 

We stepped inside the gym. It was quiet, lit gold by the skylights overhead. Dust spun lazily in the air like the whole room had been waiting for this moment with us.

 

Suguru sat first on the mat and offered me his arm, the inside of his wrist turned up.

 

“Here,” he murmured. “It’s strongest at the pulse point. Let them taste it there.”

 

My hand shook slightly as I reached out. I brushed two fingers over his skin, barely a whisper, and the second I felt his heartbeat, mine skipped like a scratched record.

 

Snap.

 

The red ribbons uncoiled from my wrist like curious snakes, twitching slightly mid-air, uncertain.

 

They hovered over him, swaying like they were sniffing, unsure why they’d been summoned.

 

“They know,” I whispered. “They know they're not supposed to eat you.” I chuckled softly.

 

“They’re waiting for your word,” Suguru said calmly.

 

I nodded. “Just a little. Be gentle.”

 

The ribbons lowered, cautious, reverent.

 

And then- contact.

 

It wasn’t like before.

 

It wasn’t violent. It didn’t hunger.

 

It felt like... like a kiss. A warm press, like a mouth to skin. A slow pull that barely shifted the air.

 

Suguru didn’t even flinch. Just exhaled softly and watched me.

 

No nausea. No sting. No sludge.

 

But the second the ribbons retracted, I gasped like I’d stepped into hot water. My knees dipped a little and I caught myself with a hand on the mat, my heart beating sideways in my chest.

 

It was good. A little too good.

 

A shaky laugh spilled out of me before I could help it.

 

Suguru’s brows lifted, and he laughed too. “Feeling alright?”

 

I nodded, dizzy, warm, loose. “I feel… floaty.”

 

He reached for me gently, fingers pressing to my pulse this time.

 

His touch stilled.

 

“…Mara. Your pulse just dropped. Fast.”

 

I blinked slowly, vision dipping at the edges like the room was softer than usual.

 

“You’re kinda…” Suguru tilted his head. “You’re kinda drunk on it, aren’t you?”

 

I smiled like a sleepy cat. “You taste really nice.”

 

He burst out laughing.

 

And I didn’t even care that I was swaying a little. Because this time? This time, it didn’t hurt.

 

It felt like control.

 

Like choice.

 

And I wasn’t afraid of it anymore.

 

“I think I’m still buzzing,” I mumbled, grinning as Suguru gently guided me down onto the mat. My body felt like a live wire, soft, warm, electric. The gym air clung to my skin, but I didn’t care.

 

Not when he was looking at me like that.

 

I let myself crawl over him slowly, a lazy sprawl of limbs and soft laughter, settling on his lap like I belonged there, which, honestly, I kind of did.

 

“Hi,” I whispered.

 

“Hi,” he said back, voice low and already struggling to behave.

 

I leaned forward and kissed the curve of his neck, just under his jaw, and felt him exhale against the back of my shoulder.

 

Then I nipped, just a little.

 

His breath caught.

 

His hands, those huge, steady hands, slid under the back of my shirt like they were trying to memorize the shape of me. I sighed, tipping my head against his as his fingertips traced the curve of my spine.

 

“Your energy…” I murmured, pressing a little closer, “…makes me feel really good.”

 

He sucked in a breath through his nose, and I felt the tension rise right through him like a rope pulled taut.

 

“Amara-”

 

“Just a little bit more?” I asked, trailing my teeth across his pulse. “Please?”

 

“Absolutely not,” he said, sharper than before. “You’re already- we’re already-”

 

I giggled, shameless and drunk on his presence, bouncing once on his lap.

 

He groaned and grabbed my hips like that was the only thing keeping him anchored to this realm.

 

I bit his neck again, harder this time, and whispered, “Sorry. Got too rowdy.”

 

“You think?” he gritted, voice a strangled mixture of humor and agony.

 

Still, he didn’t push me away.

 

I grinned against his skin and let my lips trail close to his ear. “You have my full permission to use your imagination later… when you’re alone. I know you enjoy some alone time here and there~”

 

His reaction was instantaneous. His eyes fluttered shut, jaw flexing. One of his hands twitched on my hip, and the other slid a little further up my back.

 

“Fuck, Mara,” he whispered. “Don’t say things like that unless you want Gojo banging down my door and asking why I cursed the walls.”

 

I laughed, breathless and pink-cheeked. “Better lock your door then.”

 

He let his head fall back to the mat with a low groan.

 

“I will. I’m putting headphones on. And a sign. And maybe a fucking barrier.”

 

I leaned down and kissed his jaw, teasing. “That serious, huh?”

 

“You have no idea.”

 

We stayed tangled on the mat for a few more minutes, just breathing. My head rested against Suguru’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart while mine slowly remembered how to behave. His fingers traced light shapes across my back, and neither of us said anything until he gently lifted his wrist and pressed two fingers to my pulse again.

 

“Back to normal,” he murmured.

 

I exhaled. “Good.”

 

He glanced down at me. “How do you feel?”

 

I blinked up at him, cheeks still warm. “Good. Really good.” I hesitated, then bit the inside of my cheek. “Safe. Like… safer than I’ve felt in a while. Just us. No chaos. No tests. No Satoru screaming in the background.”

 

He laughed quietly, tilting his forehead to mine. “It was peaceful.”

 

I shrugged, barely above a whisper. “I liked it. A lot.”

 

His lips found mine, soft, slow, a kiss that tasted like gratitude and calm and quiet affection. When he pulled back, he offered me a water bottle like he’d been holding onto it the whole time.

 

“Hydrate before Gojo senses your heartbeat spiked and starts asking questions.”

 

I snorted and took the bottle, chugging like I hadn’t just been a drained mess five minutes ago. We left the gym, flushed and sticky with warmth, just in time to nearly crash into the man himself.

 

“Wow,” Satoru blinked at us, doing a slow up-and-down scan. “Why do you both look like you just made out with a sunbeam?”

 

I kept drinking. Suguru offered a completely innocent smile.

 

Gojo narrowed his eyes slightly but didn’t push. “Annnnywayyyy. There’s supposed to be a killer sky for stargazing tonight. Sunset’s already starting. Come with me. I brought snacks.”

 

“I’ll be there in a bit,” Suguru said, brushing his hand down my back. “If that’s alright with you, Mara.”

 

The way he said it, low, intimate, like it was a secret meant just for us, sent heat crawling up my neck. I nodded quickly.

 

“Perfectly alright,” I said, maybe a little too fast.

 

He smiled like I’d just handed him the moon, then pressed a kiss to the top of my head. Another for Satoru’s cheek, and he turned, disappearing back toward the dorms with his usual calm.

 

Gojo watched him go, then immediately whipped around to me.

 

“Okay. Spill,” he demanded, grabbing my wrist with the most serious look on his face. “You’re pink. He’s glowing. You’re hydrating very quickly. What happened? Tell me everything. Use interpretive dance if you have to.”

 

I lightly giggled. “I lightly drained from him with my fingertips and he liked it.”

 

Gojo gasped, delighted and horrified. “You touched his pulse?! Amara Hoshizuki, that is first base with cursed energy.”

 

“I didn’t even take that much!”

 

He threw an arm around my shoulder dramatically. “Oh, pretty girl. We are absolutely talking about this under the stars with me.”

 

I rolled my eyes and let him drag me toward the courtyard. “Fine. But only if you brought the good snacks.”

 

“Babe, I'll bring the whole fucking vending machine.”

 

---

 

The rooftop was glowing in soft purples and golds, the sky bleeding into dusk. The first stars blinked in overhead, shy little things against the fading heat. But all I could see was the chaos Satoru Gojo had somehow crafted into the perfect comfort nest.

 

Blankets layered like clouds. Pillows fluffed and stacked at different heights. Snacks, so many snacks, lined in chaotic but clearly intentional rows: chips, pocky, dried fruit, candy, cans of soda, and two whole thermoses of something steaming. He’d even stolen Suguru’s incense burner and set it up with some kind of vanilla-cinnamon scent that made the whole area smell like warmth and good memories. A speaker hummed with lo-fi in the corner.

 

I stopped in my tracks. “You-” My voice caught in my throat. “Satoruuuu.”

 

He turned, standing in the center of it like some smug little celestial fox. “Told you it was a good sky for stargazing.”

 

I didn’t say anything.

 

I just walked forward and wrapped my arms around him, burying my face in his chest.

 

His arms came around me immediately, strong,  crushing, and warm. “Hey,” he murmured into my hair, squeezing tighter like he needed it too. “What’s all this?”

 

“I just-” I blinked fast. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

 

“Obviously I did,” he said, pulling back just enough to tilt my chin up. His grin softened. “You almost bled out yesterday, Mara. We’re celebrating your non-death. That deserves snacks and cuddles and possibly a crown.”

 

I laughed, a little choked. “You’re so dumb.”

 

“Extremely,” he said, and peppered my face with kisses. My cheeks, my nose, my forehead, my temple. “Dumb for you.”

 

I giggled through my blush and shoved him backward into the pillows. He fell like he’d been hit by a sniper.

 

“Tell me everything,” he said, pulling me down beside him. “Don’t leave out a single detail. I want timestamps.”

 

I tucked myself into his side, head on his chest, legs tangled with his. He reached up and pulled one of the fluffiest blankets over us like he was trying to recreate a cloud just for us.

 

Satoru let out a deep, satisfied sigh. “This is the good shit.”

 

I laughed softly, curling closer. “You’re the one who made it.”

 

“Yeah, but it’s only the good shit when you’re here in it.”

 

That made me hide my face in his shirt for a second, cheeks warm. I took a breath. “So… You really want to know what happened?”

 

He tilted his head. “Only everything.”

 

I exhaled and told him about Suguru’s idea. About the micro-drain and how I was hesitant but curious. How safe it felt when it finally happened. The way the ribbons barely brushed him, like they knew he was off limits. I told him how I sat on Suguru’s lap and, maybe, got a little too comfortable.

 

Gojo’s hand on my side stilled, then resumed in slow, curious circles.

 

I smirked. “I might’ve… nibbled his neck.”

 

“Nibbled.” Satoru blinked. “You bit Suguru?”

 

“Just a little.”

 

His mouth parted in a stunned grin. “Oh my god, he probably short-circuited.”

 

I laughed. “He definitely had to inhale really hard at one point.”

 

“Oh, poor guy.” Satoru chuckled. “I leave for ten minutes and suddenly you're in full succubus mode.”

 

“It wasn’t like that,” I said, though my blush betrayed me. “It just… felt good. His energy did something to me.”

 

Gojo made a high-pitched noise like he was malfunctioning. “Did something to you? Do not say that to him again unless you’re trying to kill him.”

 

I grinned. “I already told him he could use his imagination later~”

 

Satoru threw his head back against the pillow with a thunk. “You’re so evil.”

 

“I am not!” I laughed, swatting at his chest. “I just said he had permission. He’s the one who said he’d lock his door.”

 

Gojo turned his head slowly toward me, wide-eyed. “His door is definitely locked.”

 

I nodded, biting my lip.

 

“You,” he said, pointing a finger at me. “You are a menace. A cursed energy vixen. A little vampire in the streets, a literal energy-draining sleep paralysis demon in the sheets.”

 

I snorted. “Satoru!”

 

“I bet he’s pacing his room trying to meditate it out.”

 

“Stop,” I giggled. “You’re gonna make me die.”

 

Gojo flopped dramatically onto the pillows and moaned. “I leave you two alone for one bonding exercise and suddenly I’m the third wheel.”

 

I reached up and booped his nose. “You’re not a third wheel. You’re my entire luxury ride.”

 

“Oh?” His brows rose. “Then does that make Suguru the engine or the heated seats?”

 

“I feel like he’d want to be the radio.”

 

Gojo cracked up laughing, then leaned down to kiss my forehead. “I really, really love you.”

 

I smiled, heart swelling. “I love you too, pretty boy.”

 

He beamed.

 

“Say it again,” he whispered, eyes half-lidded, the grin tugging at his lips turning downright sinful. “Call me pretty boy again.”

 

I giggled and leaned in, brushing my nose against his. “You’re my pretty boy~”

 

Satoru practically melted, groaning like I’d just hit his soul’s soft spot. He kissed me right there, slow and warm, fingers sliding into my hair like he never wanted to stop.

 

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against mine. “Can we…?” he asked softly. “Can we bond like that too? I don’t want to be left out.”

 

There was a vulnerability in his voice he rarely let show, not even with us. It made my heart clench in the best way.

 

“Of course we can,” I whispered, brushing his cheek. “I’d never leave you out.”

 

We both sat up slowly, still wrapped in the blanket as I moved to straddle his lap, just like I had with Suguru. Satoru’s arms instinctively found their way around my waist, but his movements were cautious, reverent, like he didn’t want to startle me or himself.

 

I trailed my fingers gently over the inside of his wrist, pressing just above the pulsing throb of his heartbeat. It was fast, a sharp contrast to Suguru’s steady rhythm. As soon as I brushed that spot, my cursed energy reacted.

 

The red ribbon-like strands slid out with hesitation, slow and unsure, like they didn’t know what to do with him.

 

Satoru blinked. “Why’re they shy?”

 

“I don’t know,” I murmured, watching them with curiosity. “Maybe… they can sense how different your energy is.”

 

The tendrils hovered, hovering at his chest, at his neck, like they were checking for something invisible. I gave them a soft mental nudge, and they responded, dipping in close to take just the smallest sip from his energy.

 

The second they made contact, everything changed.

 

It wasn’t like Suguru. Not calm, not grounding.

 

This was electric. My whole body snapped to attention. My pulse skyrocketed. I felt like I’d done a dozen lines of something illegal and washed it down with an energy drink laced with desire. My brain flooded with heat and light and fire.

 

“Holy- shit!” I gasped, gripping Satoru’s shoulders to steady myself as a laugh broke through my lips, breathless and high.

 

Satoru’s eyes went wide, concern flashing behind them. “Are you okay?”

 

“I feel like I could run a marathon and climb a building and then make out with you for hours without breathing.”

 

He flushed a deep red. “That good, huh?”

 

I couldn’t stop laughing, but I was shaking a little too. “It’s like someone shoved a lightning bolt down my spine.”

 

Satoru stared at me, then slowly broke into the cockiest, most pleased grin I’d ever seen. “Oh my god. I’m your cursed cocaine.”

 

“Satoru!” I said through a gasp, trying to keep myself from biting his shoulder out of nowhere.

 

“No, no, keep going,” he encouraged with a chuckle. “Tell me more about how I short-circuited your soul. I’m thriving right now.”

 

I clung to him tighter, trying to breathe normally. “You’re… too much. I took one drop. Just one!”

 

Satoru looked smug as hell. “And yet, here you are. Writhing in my lap like I’m the last Red Bull on earth.”

 

“You are so stupid.”

 

“And you,” he said, brushing his knuckles under my chin, “are so hot when you’re drunk on me.”

 

I was buzzing.

 

His cursed energy was still coursing through me, lighting me up from the inside out. Every little movement from him sent another ripple through my skin. I couldn’t sit still. I didn’t want to.

 

“Satoru,” I whispered, pressing my lips to the corner of his mouth, then his cheekbone, then lower, along his jaw, under his ear, down his neck. “I need you closer.”

 

He let out a strangled laugh, hand tightening a little around my waist. “I don’t think I can get closer unless we start crossing some lines, pretty girl.”

 

I kissed the pulse just under his jaw, grinning as I felt it spike. “Who says I mind?”

 

“Don’t tempt me,” he warned but it was breathless, needy, far from a real protest.

 

His fingers skimmed lightly down my spine, and I shuddered like his touch cracked something wide open. I gasped and clung to him, laughing shakily as I pressed myself closer.

 

“You make everything feel louder,” I murmured. “Suguru makes me feel safe… but you? You’re like setting fire to the air.”

 

That did something to him. He blinked hard, as if trying to keep himself grounded. “Keep talking like that and I swear-”

 

I reached up and tugged at his collar, fingers making quick work of the buttons. “You want compliments? I have so many, Satoru. You’re beautiful. You’re strong. You make me feel like I could explode just from touching you.”

 

His breath caught as my hands found his bare chest. I smoothed my palms over his heartbeat, the way his ribs moved under my touch, tracing his skin like it was something I’d earned.

 

“Okay,” he said hoarsely. “Okay. This is… really happening.”

 

“You’re so red right now,” I teased, kissing his collarbone. “I love when you pretend you’re not soft.”

 

His fingers gripped my hips hard. “I’m not soft. I’m-”

 

“Soft~” I whispered against his throat.

 

"I won't be if you keep this up..." He bites his knuckle a little.

 

Just then, footsteps approached, and before either of us could recover, a very flushed Suguru appeared from the stairwell.

 

He froze. We froze.

 

His gaze took in the unbuttoned shirt, my hands on Satoru’s chest, Satoru’s arms around my waist. His expression didn’t quite change, but there was the tiniest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

 

“Well,” Suguru said slowly, voice smooth but a bit raspy, “I see I wasn’t missed.”

 

Satoru groaned and dropped his head back against the blanket. “Why do you have perfect timing for ruining my good moments?”

 

“I have great timing,” Suguru replied dryly. “Just apparently not for you.”

 

I bit my lip, glancing between them, heat still buzzing in my cheeks. “I can explain…”

 

“No need,” Suguru said, walking over and crouching beside us. “I saw it coming. Just didn’t expect to walk into a scene straight out of one of your hidden manga, Mara.”

 

“You leave my manga out of this,” I huffed, climbing off Satoru just enough to let him finish buttoning up.

 

Suguru’s hand grazed my lower back as he leaned in, brushing a kiss to my temple. “You okay?”

 

I nodded, still flushed. “Maybe a little high on cursed energy.”

 

“I figured,” he chuckled, then looked over at Gojo. “And you?”

 

Gojo raised his hands in mock surrender. “I didn’t start it.”

 

Suguru tilted his head, smug. “But you would’ve finished it.”

 

They both looked at me at the same time, and I just groaned and flopped backward onto the blanket pile.

 

“You two are going to kill me.”

 

Satoru leaned over, pulling a blanket back over me and curling up on one side. Suguru settled in on the other side, dragging over some snacks like nothing had happened.

 

“Eventually,” Gojo said, grinning. “But not tonight.”

 

I was still shaking, not out of panic, but from overstimulation. My breath came in quick little hiccups, and my hands wouldn’t quite settle, twitching now and again where they were buried under the blankets. Suguru noticed first, brushing his knuckles against my cheek.

 

“You’re still buzzing,” he murmured.

 

Satoru frowned and reached for the nearby bottle of water, uncapping it and pressing it to my lips.

 

“Drink, pretty girl,” he said softly, using the nickname with a little smile to settle me.

 

I drank, slowly at first, then greedily, until I had to breathe again. Suguru rubbed slow circles over my chest, over my heart, like he was trying to convince it to slow down.

 

“You’re okay,” he whispered, his voice the grounding tether to Satoru’s fire. “You’re safe.”

 

Eventually, the intensity dulled to a hum beneath my skin, and I slumped against Satoru’s side with a weak laugh.

 

“Well,” I croaked, my voice ragged. “That… was a lot.”

 

Satoru snorted. “You think?” He leaned back on one arm, eyeing me like I was an unstable chemical experiment. “You're lucky I didn’t pass out from sheer ego inflation.”

 

Suguru chuckled quietly and reached over to adjust the blanket on my lap. “Let’s talk about that energy difference now that you’re not trying to crawl into his skin.”

 

“Shut up,” I mumbled, hiding my face in my hands.

 

Satoru cleared his throat dramatically. “Anyway, for the record, my cursed energy is obviously superior in every way-”

 

“It’s not about ‘superior,’” Suguru cut in smoothly, “it’s about intensity. Your energy has always been high-frequency and overcharged. Like a lightning storm.”

 

I peeked through my fingers. “That explains why it made me feel like I did a line of coke.”

 

“Meanwhile,” Suguru said, shifting so I could rest against him now instead, “mine’s heavier. Denser. Calmer on the surface but more layered.”

 

“You’re like warm whiskey,” I muttered, half into his shirt. “And he’s like Tequila and Pop Rocks.”

 

“I'll take that,” Gojo said smugly. Then his grin turned teasing. “Speaking of warm whiskey, Suguru, wanna talk about why you needed a minute before joining us tonight?”

 

Suguru didn’t even blink. “I’m going to pretend I have no idea what you’re implying.”

 

“Oh no, no, no,” Satoru laughed, poking at his side. “We all know why that door was locked, buddy.”

 

“Satoru,” I groaned, but I couldn’t help the laughter bubbling out of me.

 

Suguru sighed like a man wrongfully accused, covering his eyes. “You’ve corrupted her.”

 

“She was already corrupted,” Satoru said. “I just encouraged it.”

 

I buried my face in Suguru’s chest to hide the blush heating my entire body. His hand slid up to cradle the back of my head protectively, fingers threading into my hair.

 

After a beat, Satoru sat up straighter and cleared his throat. “Since we’re already… crossing every possible line today-”

 

“Oh boy,” Suguru muttered.

 

“I think we should revisit the physical closeness conversation, ya know, sex.” Satoru continued. “Because clearly, we’re on a one-way train to questionable decisions.”

 

“Bold of you to assume we weren’t already on that train,” I mumbled.

 

“Especially considering someone locked his door,” Satoru sing-songed, shooting Suguru a grin that was equal parts smug and exasperated.

 

“Enough,” Suguru groaned, covering his face with one hand. “I’m going to go meditate in a sensory deprivation tank.”

 

“Yeah, that’ll help,” I said, grinning. “Should I stop looking so pretty next time you offer your energy?”

 

Suguru peeked at me between his fingers, all tired affection. “Not possible.”

 

Satoru melted again. “Okay but, can we have an actual conversation about where the lines are? Because I really don’t want to guess wrong next time and ruin something.”

 

His voice was gentler now, a little more vulnerable beneath the bravado. That version of him, the honest one that slipped out when it was just us, made my chest ache.

 

“I think we should,” I said softly.

 

Suguru was quiet for a breath, eyes on the sky, then turned his gaze to me. “I don’t see a better time than now to talk about it,” he said gently, his fingers brushing along my arm. “We're all here, we’re close, and the sky’s too damn pretty to waste on avoidance.”

 

Gojo let out a soft hum of agreement, surprisingly thoughtful. “Yeah. Might as well actually talk before one of us ends up combusting out of nowhere.”

 

I gave him a look. “One of us?”

 

Satoru grinned. “Okay. Me. Obviously me.”

 

We all laughed softly, but the energy beneath it shifted. Calmer. Real. The kind of honesty we didn’t usually have time for in the middle of training schedules and cursed spirits.

 

“So…” I said, tucking my knees closer to my chest under the blanket. “If we’re serious about getting closer, like having sex, I think it should be something we plan. Not just… letting it happen in the middle of an adrenaline crash.”

 

“Agreed,” Suguru said easily. “I think we’d all be better off knowing what to expect. No pressure. No guessing. Just intention.”

 

Gojo tilted his head, eyes narrowing like he was trying to read my whole soul. “You mean like scheduling it?”

 

I nodded, embarrassed even as I spoke. “Not like a chore. Just something we choose. Something we have time to mentally and physically prepare for. And time to back out, if one of us isn’t ready.”

 

Satoru actually looked proud, which made my chest feel warm. “That’s… really smart.”

 

Suguru nodded. “I like that. I’d want to plan a whole day around it. Not just rush it. Even if we ended up backing out last minute, I’d still want it to be a day just for us.”

 

They both looked at me.

 

Waiting.

 

I swallowed hard, then exhaled, and I swear I felt my cheeks go up in flames. “I think I would be ready.”

 

Satoru made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a soft whimper, curling an arm tighter around me like I had just knocked the air out of him. Suguru visibly melted, his hand moving to my lower back in the most grounding, loving way.

 

“You mean that?” Satoru asked, lips brushing my hair.

 

“I do,” I whispered. “Just not right this second. But… yeah. I’ve never wanted anything more carefully.”

 

Suguru leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to my temple. “Careful sounds perfect.”

 

“We should do the bathhouse,” I added, glancing between them. “Dinner first. Then maybe the night together. If it doesn’t happen, it doesn’t happen. But it’d be our space.”

 

Satoru’s eyes lit up immediately. “Yes. Yes. That’s literally perfect. I’ll book the place. Suguru, we’re making dinner. You’re not allowed to say no.”

 

“I wasn’t going to,” Suguru laughed, brushing his thumb across my cheek as I tried not to squirm from how warm I felt inside. “I’m all in.”

 

I curled into them again, surrounded on both sides, held like I was something precious.

 

For the first time, the idea of giving myself to someone didn’t feel terrifying.

 

It felt like a promise.

 

And this time, I was ready to make it.

 

Suguru was the first to break the comfortable silence again, his voice low and thoughtful as his hand traced lazy circles on my back.

 

“I’m gonna… do some research,” he said, almost too casually. “Just to make sure I know what I’m doing. How it would work for all three of us. I don’t want any of us going into something important without understanding… everything.”

 

Gojo tilted his head slowly toward him, a slow mischievous smile creeping across his face. “Oh? Research, huh?”

 

Suguru narrowed his eyes. “Don’t start.”

 

But Satoru was already grinning wide. “Like, what kind of research, exactly?” He bumped Suguru’s foot under the blanket. “Gonna read scholarly articles? Watch… instructional content?”

 

Suguru’s ears turned a deep red and he looked away, clearly regretting speaking at all. “I meant reading,” he mumbled.

 

I couldn’t help it, I giggled into Gojo’s chest, then looked at Suguru with a teasing smile. “Mmm, reading, huh? The reading that has a lot of pretty pictures?”

 

He groaned and rubbed a hand down his face. “You two are impossible.”

 

Satoru leaned back, arms behind his head like a smug little menace. “I’m just saying, it’s very studious of you, Suguru. All that dedication… maybe you should present your findings in a group discussion.”

 

Suguru side-eyed him with a tight-lipped smile. “I will, if you promise not to interrupt with jokes every two seconds.”

 

“Absolutely not. But you should still do it.”

 

We all laughed, and the tension, if there had been any, melted away into something lighter. Comfortable.

 

Suguru sighed and met my eyes again, more serious now. “But I meant it, Mara. I want to get this right. I want you both to feel safe and wanted, not just swept up in a moment.”

 

I nodded, warmth blooming deep in my chest. “I trust you. Both of you.”

 

Satoru pressed a kiss to my shoulder, his voice softer now. “We’ll make it perfect, little vampire. Just say the word.”

 

And I believed him.

 

Because if there was anything more powerful than cursed techniques or inherited bloodlines, it was this.

 

Us.

 

And the care we were willing to give each other.

 

 

Chapter 36: Locked Door (NSFW)

Summary:

Jorkin it

As I left Amara and Satoru, I was left with a mix of relief and a tense, aching need. The way she had been with me today, bold, playful, and utterly fucking intoxicating, had stirred something embarrassingly primal within me. I needed a moment alone to process the storm of emotions and sensations she had unleashed.

 

I made my way to my dorm room, the walk feeling endless. My heart hammered in my chest, a relentless drumbeat of anticipation and nervousness. Once inside, I locked the door behind me, ensuring I had the privacy I craved. I took a deep, shuddering breath.

 

The room was quiet, the only sound was the soft rustle of leaves outside my window. I sat on the edge of my bed, my hands resting on my thighs as I tried to calm my racing thoughts. Amara's scent seemed to linger in my memory, a sweet and wild mix that was uniquely her. It was intoxicating, and I found myself taking deep breaths, trying to commit it to memory.

 

I started to unbutton my shirt, my hands trembling slightly with anticipation. The cool air of the room hit my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. I lay back on the bed, my mind a whirlwind of images, Amara's smile, her laughter, and the feel of her body against mine. I let my imagination run wild, something I had been hesitant to do until now. But she had given me permission, and that changed everything for my body.

 

My hand moved slowly at first, tentatively rubbing myself through my pants. The sensation was electric, a jolt of pleasure that sent my hips bucking up off the bed. I bit my lip, trying to hold back the groan that threatened to escape. It had been too long since I had allowed myself this release, and my body was starving for it.

 

I unbuttoned my pants, pushing them down along with my boxers, freeing myself. I was already so painfully hard. I'm just glad I could keep myself behaved until now. My hand wrapped around my cock, and I started to stroke, slowly at first, savoring the sensation. I pictured Amara's eyes, dark and intense, as she looked up at me. I remembered the way her lips felt against my neck, the soft nips that sent electric shocks through my body. My hand moved faster, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I gave in to the fantasy.

 

But I didn't want it to end so soon. I wanted to savor this, to draw it out and memorize every sensation, every thought. I eased off, my grip loosening as I slowed my movements, edging myself to keep the pleasure at a simmering point. I imagined Amara's touch, her hands exploring my body with the same curiosity and hunger I felt. I pictured her lips trailing down my chest, her teeth grazing my skin, marking me as hers. The thought sent shivers down my spine, but I held back, not wanting to rush this.

 

I found a rhythm, a slow, torturous pace that kept me on the edge, my body begging for release but me holding it at bay. I spit on my hand a bunch and rubbed myself more, trying to hold back my whines. I could feel the pressure building, the tension coiling in my gut, but I refused to let go just yet. I needed to draw this out, to exist in this moment of pure, unadulterated pleasure for as long as possible.

 

Amara, straddling me, her body pressing against mine, her breath hot on my ear as she whispered, "You have my full permission to use your imagination later... when you’re alone."

 

Fuck. The words alone were enough to send me spiraling, but I held on, my hand tightening just enough around my tip, to to keep me from tumbling over the edge. I was breathing hard, my body slick with sweat, as I rode the wave of pleasure, teetering on the brink of release.

 

I didn't want it to end. Not yet. I eased off again, my hand moving in slow, deliberate strokes, savoring the sensation of her imaginary touch, the memory of her scent, the echo of her laughter. I was lost in her, in us, in the possibility of what could be.

 

Eventually, though, the need for release became too great to ignore. I started picturing Amara and Satoru both licking up my length while they looked me in the eyes then trying to sloppily kiss with my cock in the middle and fuuuuck...them making out with my cum all in their mouths.

 

I picked up the pace, my hand moving faster, my grip tighter, as I chased the climax that had been building for what felt like an eternity. I could feel it, the inevitable peak, the point of no return. I turn around and curl inward on myself, fucking into my hand desperately, mumbling her and Satoru’s name as fucked into my hand. I gripped at the wall I was using to hold myself up painfully tight. 

 

With a final, desperate thrust, I let go, my body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over me. Ropes of my cum spurting out and covering my hand and bed.

 

I rode it out, my hand still moving, milking every last drop of sensation, every last thought of Amara and Satoru. And as I came down, my body sated and spent, I knew, without a doubt, that I wanted more. More of her touch, more of her laughter, more of everything she was willing to give.

 

I washed up quickly, sprayed my cologne a lot more than usual, and put on a clean shirt and pants. I head out of my room and rush to Satoru and Amara not wanting to keep the ones I loved waiting for me too long.

 

 

Chapter 37: Too Close

It was just shy of midnight when the front door opened, the porchlight flickering dimly above like it could sense the dread that stepped out of the shadows.

 

Riku Hoshizuki stood in the threshold.

 

Tall, gaunt, and framed in moonlight like a phantom returned from hell, he hadn’t aged the way normal men did. There were faint streaks of silver through his hair now, and more scarring along the sides of his neck, but his eyes were exactly the same.

 

Unblinking. Crimson. Hollow.

 

Hana froze in the doorway, one hand still on the knob, her breath catching audibly in her throat. “...You.”

 

The silence lingered.

 

And then she scoffed, harsh, brittle. “You’ve got some fucking nerve showing up here after all these years.”

 

Riku didn’t blink.

 

Her lip curled downward as she stepped forward, rage coating her voice in venom. “What, ran out of women to disappoint? Did every other freak finally get tired of your brooding silence?”

 

Riku’s voice, when it finally came, was rough. Cracked from disuse.

 

“Where is the girl?”

 

Hana laughed, sharp and humorless. “Still pretending to care about her? Don’t you think it’s a little late to play the noble father? I doubt you even know her name!”

 

He said nothing. Just stepped inside. Quiet. Massive.

 

And closed the door behind him.

 

Click.

 

The sound of the lock sliding into place cut through the air like a gunshot.

 

Hana's bravado flickered. “She’s not even here, if that’s what you’re hoping. She’s gone..”

 

Riku’s eyes tracked the hallway, impassive. He took in the disarray, the peeling wallpaper, the dull scent of mold buried under layers of cheap floral cleaner.

 

“I didn’t ask if she was here,” he muttered, almost more to himself. “I asked where.”

 

“You think you can just walk into my house after all this time and demand answers?” Hana snapped, stepping in front of him as he moved further in. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to just ask about her and ignore me!”

 

She shoved at his chest.

 

He didn’t move.

 

“I kept her, Riku. Me. You didn’t want her, remember? You left me here with her. I could’ve died in childbirth, and you still walked away. You didn’t want to be a father, so don’t you dare act like you suddenly give a shit now!”

 

Still, he didn’t respond.

 

Hana’s voice cracked as she kept pushing. “I waited, you know. I thought you’d come back for me. For us. But you didn’t. You left. You always leave. And now- now you just show up asking for her?!”

 

She hit him again, fists curled and weak with tremors. “Why not me? Why couldn’t it be me? Why couldn’t you come back because you loved me?”

 

He stood like a pillar, letting her pound her fists against his chest as the house groaned around them. His eyes shifted to the far hallway. Her bedroom. Then, his brow twitched.

 

A small door at the end of the hall. Covered in stickers.

 

His stare lingered.

 

Hana noticed.

 

“No,” she said, desperation crawling up her throat. “Don’t look at that. Don’t look at her things.”

 

He didn’t reply.

 

She grabbed his sleeve and yanked him backward, clutching at him like he might vanish again. “Please. Please, Riku. I- I was stupid. I know that. But I wanted you to love me so bad. I still want that. I thought maybe- maybe if you were to come back, it would be for me.”

 

Her voice broke. “Not for her.”

 

She collapsed into him then, sobbing against his chest, her fingers digging into the fabric of his coat like claws. He didn’t touch her. Didn’t hold her. His chin barely dipped as he looked down at her, gaze distant.

 

He let her cry. Let her cling.

 

“I never said I loved you,” Riku said flatly. “That was your mistake.”

 

She stiffened.

 

“I told you I didn’t want a child. Told you not to keep it. You thought you could change that. Thought if you stayed useful enough, I might decide you mattered.”

 

His voice was clinical. Hollow.

 

“The only compliment I can give you, Hana,” he continued, “is that your body felt good. Once. Maybe twice. Everything else?” He glanced at her hands still gripping him. “You were just a warm hole with a voice I didn’t like hearing.”

 

Her breath shattered into silence.

 

He looked away from her, down the hallway again. His voice dipped even lower. “You should’ve just stayed quiet.”

 

For one brief second, he looked… tired.

 

Not guilty. Not soft. Just something ancient and worn beneath the scars and the silence.

 

And then something clicked in his expression.

 

He took a step toward the door.

 

And something cold and inhuman rippled across his energy.

 

Hana, still clinging to his leg, flinched at the sudden shift.

 

He stared at the bedroom door like it was the entrance to a crypt. His jaw clenched once. Slowly. Measured.

 

“What did you do to her?”

 

Hana’s sobs hiccuped. “Wh- what?”

 

He looked down, and this time there was no restraint in the way his presence loomed.

 

“You're acting guilty. What did you do to the girl?”

 

For the first time since he'd stepped through that door, Riku’s voice was not dead.

 

It was dangerous.

 

The house groaned as Riku moved through it.

 

He stepped lightly for a man his size, his frame cutting dark shapes through the hallway as his fingers trailed along the peeling wallpaper. Hana trailed behind him, still ranting, her voice rising and cracking, caught somewhere between accusation and plea.

 

“You don’t get to look for her! You don’t get to act like you care now!” she shrieked. “I was the one here! I stayed when you ran!”

 

He ignored her.

 

The second door on the left was smaller, warped slightly at the frame. It had stickers on it, faded stars, a crooked black cat, what looked like a sparkly moon peeling off in one corner. One of the only remnants that a child had ever lived here.

 

Riku hesitated.

 

Then knocked once. Lightly.

 

There was no answer.

 

So he opened it.

 

The smell hit him first. Damp. Metallic. Decay.

 

Amara’s old room wasn’t just abandoned, it left the right amount behind to build that festering pit inside Riku.

 

The mattress lay directly on the floor, stained through with old blood and mold. The carpet had blackened in places. Dead bugs were clinging to the corners, and something crusted along the baseboards like a line no one ever bothered to clean. A single cracked lamp sat on the floor. The dresser was open. Empty.

 

No clothes. No personal items. No photos. No sign of life, just the ghost of a childhood endured, not lived.

 

Riku stared.

 

His fingers clenched at his side.

 

Then he slowly turned to Hana. His voice was as even as ever.

 

“Where did the money go?”

 

Hana's mouth opened and closed. “I- I spent it on the house. Food. Clothes for her. Things she needed. You think this was easy on me?”

 

He looked back at the bed. The rotting mattress. The broken window was patched with tape. The blood.

 

Then, with the same slow pivot, he opened her bedroom door.

 

A vanity glowed in the corner, neatly organized with luxury makeup brands. The bed was massive, plush, covered in layered comforters and silk pillows. A walk-in closet stood ajar, revealing a collection of beautiful dresses and winter coats. The carpet was freshly vacuumed. Candles lined the walls.

 

It was pristine.

 

Riku’s eye twitched.

 

“Where is the girl?”

 

Hana crossed her arms, her lip curled. “Why? So you can take her away from me too? So she can hate me for your mistakes?”

 

She marched into the kitchen, snatching the folded newspaper off the table. “You want to know what happened to her?” Her voice took on a bitter glee. “This is what happened.”

 

She shoved it into his chest.

 

The front page showed the photo of a girl, black hair, pale skin, dead, her body found in a dumpster. Murdered. Unclaimed.

 

“Some man came to the house,” Hana said, eyes wild with fury. “Said he’d pay. Said she had potential. I sold her. You didn’t want her. Why should I?”

 

Riku stared at the paper.

 

Not blinking. Not moving.

 

“She screamed, you know. Fought me. You should’ve seen her. Like a little animal.” Hana smiled without joy. “Maybe she was just like you after all.”

 

He didn’t say anything.

 

The silence was complete.

 

....

 

Crack.

 

Hana hit the floor so hard, her skull bounced against the linoleum.

 

Riku didn’t even look like he had moved.

 

“You never shut your mouth,” he said, voice eerily calm as blood started to pool under her hair.

 

Hana coughed, wheezing. “Riku- honey- wait-”

 

He didn’t.

 

He grabbed her by the throat and dragged her into the living room, then slammed her into the coffee table hard enough to break the legs. She gasped and clawed at him, but his grip didn’t waver.

 

“I told you not to keep her,” he said, crushing down. “I told you I didn’t want this. But you, you wanted something. You thought having her would bring me back.”

 

He twisted her wrist until it snapped.

 

She screamed.

 

“You hurt her,” he said simply.

 

Then he broke her jaw.

 

Again. And again. Until her sobs were muffled behind ruined bone and blood.

 

He didn’t yell. Didn’t grunt. Didn’t breathe heavy.

 

Riku Hoshizuki destroyed her like someone swatting a roach. Without feeling. Without pause.

 

And then—

 

Silence.

 

Her body twitched once more before going still.

 

He stood over her, blood soaked into his boots, into the cracks of the floorboards. His fingers flexed once. 

 

He grabs her arm, dragging her into the kitchen, wanting to keep her body away from the windows, not wanting her to rot too quickly.

 

He reached down and picked up the newspaper, now speckled in red.

 

He finally read it.

 

Name: Akari Watanabe. Age: 15. Brown eyes. 5’1. No confirmed family.

 

Black hair. That was it. That was the only similarity.

 

The newspaper crumpled in his hand and tossed it at her body.

 

“Fucking idiot,” he muttered.

 

He grabbed the cigarette pack off the kitchen table. "Mind if a bum one off ya?" 

 

He lit one and inhaled deeply. "For all the money you smoke garbage.." 

 

He sat on the couch, near her corpse, and blew the smoke out slow.

 

For a moment, he just sat there. Still. Thinking.

 

Then he stood. Walked to the door. Left it open behind him.

 

Someone would find it eventually.

 

---------

 

The phone rang just once.

 

Yaga snatched it off the receiver before it could stir the dorm.

 

“Yaga,” he said, already bracing.

 

“This is Division Six of the Jujutsu Society’s Enforcement Bureau,” a clipped voice replied. “We received an anonymous call about a murder. The caller gave an address and hung up.”

 

Yaga’s spine straightened. “Where?”

 

The officer gave it. A neighborhood Yaga hadn’t heard in not long enough.

 

“By the time we arrived, local authorities were already on the scene,” the voice continued. “We’re handling it now, but we’d like your presence. It might be tied to a case you recently reopened.”

 

Yaga was already halfway into his uniform, the phone cradled between his ear and shoulder. “The Hoshizuki file?”

 

A pause.

 

“We’d rather speak in person.”

 

“I’m on my way.” He slammed the receiver down and tugged his jacket over his shoulders, heart pounding, not fast, but heavy.

 

He moved quickly down the hallway, boots echoing faintly off the dormitory floor. The moon was high now, midnight quiet blanketing the school grounds. He passed the common room in a blur of motion.

 

“Yaga-sensei?” a voice whispered sharply behind him.

 

Satoru.

 

He was moving fast, already catching up. “What’s going on?”

 

Yaga didn’t stop walking. “I can’t tell you. Stay with her.”

 

“Suguru’s with Amara,” Gojo pressed, voice low but alert. “I’ll wake him. Just tell me-”

 

“You can’t help right now, Satoru,” Yaga said firmly. He paused just long enough to turn and meet those bright, sharp eyes. “I’m needed. Urgently. That’s all I can say.”

 

Gojo’s lips parted like he might argue, but something in Yaga’s expression, grim but unreadable, made him pause. The hallway light glinted off the frame of Yaga’s glasses.

 

“Stay,” Yaga repeated. “Please.”

 

Then he was gone, heavy boots pounding down the steps and into the night.

 

Gojo stood still for a long moment.

 

Behind him, the common room was silent again, except for the soft hum of the fan and the slow, steady breathing of Suguru and Amara tangled together on the couch, Amara curled up and safe, oblivious to the cold wind beginning to stir outside.

 

Gojo ran a hand through his hair and turned back toward them, uneasy.

 

Something had shifted. He could feel it.

 

-------

 

By the time Yaga arrived, the barrier was already in place, thin, pale blue, humming quietly over the perimeter of the small house nestled in a quiet corner of a Tokyo suburb. It was a barrier woven with bureaucratic precision; inconspicuous to civilians, but enough to keep all non-sorcerers and the nosy at bay.

 

He ducked beneath the boundary, nodding at the guards posted outside. A sorcerer from Division Six met him at the gate, badge glinting in the moonlight.

 

“Head Detective Mori,” the man said, offering a curt nod. “You came fast.”

 

“You mentioned this might have something to do with the file I reopened,” Yaga said simply, eyes already scanning the darkened structure ahead of them. “Talk me through it.”

 

Mori walked with him toward the front door, already unlocked and swinging slightly in the wind. "First things first there was no sign of forced entry. She had to open the door and let him in unless he pushed his way in which I don’t doubt."

 

Yaga nods, listening intently.

 

“Didn’t get much information from inside the house so we had to pull up some records to figure out what we're dealing with. House was purchased in full a few years back. No mortgage, no lien, no records of employment. Neighbors say they saw men coming and going all the time. Most didn’t ask questions.”

 

Yaga’s jaw clenched. “Amara told me she was always behind on rent. That she had to skip meals just to keep up with the bills.”

 

Mori didn’t look surprised. “Amara's your new student right? Sadly I hate to say it but someone was footing the bills but I don't think it was Amara. Bank trails show irregular deposits, always cash, sometimes large, sometimes small. All the amounts were never the same but were put into the same account, over and over. Payments started around the time of her daughter’s birth, then stopped cold about two years ago.”

 

Yaga’s boots thudded softly across the threshold. The smell hit him instantly, metallic, sharp, and rotten. Blood had soaked deep into the wooden floors. The living room looked ransacked. Not in the way of a struggle, no, this was deliberate. Vengeful.

 

Mori gestured toward a pack of cigarettes on the counter. “He lit one before he left. Unfortunately, he didn't leave the cigarette behind so we couldn't get a DNA match to verify it was truly him.”

 

They moved through the narrow hallway, past a cracked picture frame on the wall. A younger woman, Hana, posed stiffly beside a tall man with black hair and dead, sharp eyes.

 

Riku Hoshizuki.

 

Even in still photographs, he looked wrong. Misaligned. His posture was rigid, like he didn’t want to be seen, and in nearly every frame his hand was raised to block his face. And Hana, she looked radiant in some of them. Desperate in others.

 

Yaga stared longer than he meant to.

 

“We found your name and number on the house landline’s saved list,” Mori added. “We know this address used to belong to a girl under your care but we couldn't find anything verifying that besides your word. No birth records. No hospital papers. Not even school records until she enrolled at Jujutsu Tech.”

 

Yaga nodded. “She lived here.”

 

He stepped into the room at the end of the hall, the one that made his chest tighten the second he saw the door. There was no name on it. Just peeling paint and a dent where the doorknob had struck the wall too many times.

 

He opened it.

 

The air was thick.

 

The mattress was directly on the floor, mottled with stains, blood, mold, and rot. Bugs crawled in the corners. An open closet revealed nothing but broken hangers and a half-shattered mirror. Drawers were open but empty. No decorations. No warmth. A hollow shell.

 

Yaga stepped inside and breathed in the horror.

 

This was where Amara lived. He saw it before when she finally decided to leave but without her in it the little warmth and personality it did have was gone, leaving only the true cold and shallowness of its core.

 

He turned slowly, walked across the hall to the next door, and opened it.

 

The difference was night and day.

 

Lavish. Plush bedding. A vanity lined with expensive makeup. Silk curtains. Designer shoes. A soft, floral candle still flickered on the nightstand. And the scent, sweet perfume, still fresh.

 

Yaga’s hands curled into fists.

 

Mori came up beside him. “We found a newspaper on the body. A girl reported dead. The victim wasn’t your student, clearly, but the way it was tossed on her corpse I assume she used it to piss him off somehow. I doubt he knows what his kid looks like.”

 

“She lied,” Yaga said, eyes narrowing. “To him.”

 

“A lie like that would only work if he cared about his kid. We know what Riku is like. He can’t care about anything. A monster in human skin.” The detective scoff-laughs a little. "I bet cursed spirits feel more than that guy. Probably just lost some kind of leverage and now he's throwing a tantrum about it."

 

Yaga didn’t answer.

 

But in his mind, he could see it all. Riku Hoshizuki, cold, unreachable, violent. And yet… he remembered that report. That nurse’s note. The one time he held Amara as an infant. The one time his eyes softened.

 

The man who left a stuffed bear in silence.

 

Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was madness.

 

But Yaga no longer believed he had abandoned Amara entirely.

 

He was paying her mother. Not to stay away. Not for silence.

 

To keep her alive.

 

And now she was dead in his mind. Or at least was. By the look of it, he figured out he was lied to.

 

Yaga looked down at the blood pooled on the floor, the drag marks, the broken nails embedded in the wooden frame where Hana had tried to cling to life.

 

“We don't think he killed her right away,” Mori observed. “He let her scream for a while. With his ability, he could have killed her in 2 seconds flat but he didn’t.”

 

Yaga said nothing.

 

Just reached out, slowly picked up the cigarette pack still sitting on the edge of the counter. He only took one out of the fresh pack.

 

“He left the door open,” Mori added. “Didn’t even try to cover it up.”

 

Yaga put the cigarette pack down. “Because he knew we’d come quickly.”

 

The words hung heavy in the room, stale with blood and smoke. The lead detective blinked, looking between the crumpled body on the floor and the pack on the counter like they might rearrange themselves into a clearer answer. But Yaga knew. The placement wasn’t just a coincidence, it was intentional. A warning. A message.

 

He stepped back into the hall, shoes brushing against a smear of red leading away from the shattered table. A trail. Drag marks.

 

Riku hadn’t killed Hana in a blind rage. He’d snapped, yes. But there was no panic in the scene. No sign of hesitation. He hadn’t fled the house like a man who feared getting caught, he left the door wide open and the murder practically gift-wrapped for them. It's clear he's done hiding or at least isn't worried about what's to come.

 

The lead detective caught up to him. “Do you think it’s personal?” he asked. “This doesn’t feel like a hit. He didn’t clean anything up. He didn’t cover his tracks. He wanted us to see it. Most of Riku’s kills are organized hits. Nothing like this.”

 

Yaga didn’t answer right away. He stared at the wide-open front door, the one he used to knock on quietly, every time he tried to visit the girl with red eyes and skin like a paper doll. He remembered the way Amara used to stare at the floor when she answered, too ashamed to let her gaze meet his. Always lying in half-truths about whether she’d eaten. About whether she was safe.

 

“I think it’s very personal,” Yaga said finally.

 

The detective watched him, waiting for him to continue, but Yaga was already stepping past him, his gaze locked onto the bloodstained floor beneath him, the weight of the truth settling over him crushingly. He rubbed the back of his neck, his throat tight. For a moment, he almost couldn’t breathe, because it wasn’t just the body in front of him, or the way Riku had left the scene wide open, daring them to follow. It was that feeling that had been lingering in the back of his mind since Amara first stepped foot into Jujutsu Tech. Since she first opened up to him, hesitant but hopeful.

 

“He must have thought he was paying for her to be safe. Not... this.”

 

His voice came out rough. Yaga thought he understood the situation before. He thought Riku was an unfeeling monster, someone who had cast aside his responsibilities, abandoning his daughter for the sake of his own survival. Yaga had told himself for months, ever since Amara came to Jujutsu Tech, that Riku’s abandonment was just that; abandonment.

 

But now? Now he was questioning everything. He was starting to think he had been wrong all along. Maybe Riku wasn’t just a monster. Maybe the anger, the distance, the brutality were all just his way of dealing with the guilt of abandoning his child, of leaving Amara to fend for herself. Of what his family made him.

 

It wasn’t just abandonment, was it? No, it was more complicated than that. Riku cared, in his own twisted way.

 

But now? Now that care had morphed into something else entirely. Could it have become an obsession?

 

And if so, that obsession wasn’t going to let him leave Amara alone.

 

Yaga’s jaw tightened as he walked toward the door, the cold night air brushing against his face. He needed to go back. Needed to go back to Jujutsu Tech. He had a responsibility to protect her. He had failed her in more ways than one already, but now, with this new information, he couldn’t afford to let her slip through his fingers again.

 

“We don’t know exactly what was said. But my gut says he was looking for confirmation. He came here to check on something. Check on Amara now that she would be an adult. But he didn’t just kill Hana,” Yaga continued. “He killed her to confirm that Amara wasn’t here. She’s been the one thing that he just can't let go. I think that’s why he’s so... desperate.”

 

The detective nodded slowly, the gravity of Yaga’s words sinking in.

 

“I’ll tell the team,” the detective said quietly, his voice heavy with understanding.

 

Yaga’s hand paused on the doorframe, his back turned to the detective. 'I need to tell her soon. She’s going to have questions. About her mother’s death, about what’s happening now. I can’t leave her in the dark anymore. But she doesn’t need to deal with this while she's still processing everything else. I’ll give her the rest of the week off. But I need Gojo and Geto to stay with her, 24/7. I need them to protect her while I know he's out there.' Yaga thinks to himself.

 

"This is going to get messy and it's going to get messy quick. We need to find Riku but do not corner him. Just eyes on his location from a distance and the second he steps anywhere near the school you tell me immediately." Yaga speaking to the detective.

 

The detective nodded again, his voice calm. “Understood.”

 

Yaga turned, his face tight with the weight of the task ahead of him. “This is bigger than a simple case. Riku is still alive... he’s out there and he’s not going to let this go. Not without coming for her.”

 

The night's cold air did little to soothe the burning of his thoughts. His mind raced, and a sick feeling gnawed at the back of his mind. He wasn’t sure when it happened, but somewhere along the line, his role had shifted from a mere teacher to something more. He wasn’t just here to train students, he was here to keep them safe.

 

And right now, Amara was in more danger than ever.

 

---

 

The car door shut with a dull thud, the only sound in the quiet suburban street now sealed off and empty behind him. Yaga’s hands gripped the steering wheel like a lifeline as he exhaled a breath that tasted like too much coffee and regret.

 

The engine rumbled to life. He didn’t wait for the warmth to kick in. He needed movement. Direction. Control. His mind was a storm of images, blood on the floor, the shattered expression on Hana’s face, the sickened realization of Riku’s presence. And above all of it: Amara. Her eyes. Her voice. Her trust.

 

He didn’t hesitate. One hand left the wheel and fumbled for his flip phone, flipping it open and hitting the speed dial.

 

Ring.

 

Once.

 

Click.

 

“…Yeah?” Gojo’s voice came in a sleepy whisper, faint rustling in the background. “It’s stupid late, Yaga-sensei. You dying or something?”

 

“Are you alone?”

 

Gojo paused. “…Sort of?”

 

“I need you to be.”

 

More rustling. A groan. Then the sound of bedsheets shifting and a very soft, very sleepy voice murmuring in the background; Suguru’s, followed by the barely audible sound of Amara mumbling something unintelligible. A quiet thump as Gojo presumably slipped out of bed.

 

“You all fell asleep in the common room again?” Yaga asked flatly, though suspicion was creeping into his tone.

 

There was another pause, longer this time.

 

“Something like that.”

 

Yaga’s jaw tightened. “Satoru.”

 

Gojo winced like he could feel that tone through the phone. “Okay, fine, we crashed in a bed, alright? Just don’t freak out. It’s not like- look, we’re not doing anything shady, I swear.”

 

Yaga sighed through his nose, frustration pricking his temples. “That’s not the point. You know how this looks. You all need to sleep in your own beds.”

 

Gojo scoffed quietly. “You mean how it would look if you didn’t assume we were just really good friends?”

 

“Satoru-”

 

Another beat of silence.

 

Then, almost sheepishly: “Yeah. Sorry.”

 

Yaga closed his eyes for a second. He didn’t have the energy for this. “Forget it. I don’t have time to argue. I need you to set up a barrier in my office. Soundproof. Cursed energy muffling. Nobody can hear what we are going to talk about when I get back. Not Shoko. Not the Elders. No one.”

 

Gojo blinked, suddenly more awake. “Okay, wait- backup. Why? What’s this about? Did something happen?”

 

Yaga’s voice lowered, tight with the weight of what he couldn’t yet say. “It’s not safe to talk over the phone. Just do it. Wake Suguru if you need to, but leave Amara out of it for now. This is... sensitive.”

 

Gojo didn’t answer immediately. When he did, his voice was still playful, but with an edge. “You’re freaking me out, old man. You’re usually all grumble grumble, paperwork and protocol.”

 

“I’m serious, Satoru.”

 

“I can tell... That's whats freaking me out..”

 

Yaga’s eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror, catching the reflection of his own haunted stare. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Be ready.”

 

The call ended with a sharp click. Gojo stood in the hallway, phone still in hand, bare feet cold against the dorm floor. Behind him, through the slightly ajar door to Amara’s room, he could see Suguru shifting slightly in the low light, half-awake and murmuring something he couldn’t quite hear. Amara was curled up beside him, deep asleep.

 

Gojo turned away, heart starting to hammer in his chest, not with fear, exactly, but with something worse.

 

Instinct.

 

He didn’t know what Yaga had seen tonight. But whatever it was, it had changed something.

 

And if Yaga was worried?

 

Then they all should be. 

 

 

Chapter 38: What Needs To Be Said

The room was dim and warm, quiet besides the low whir of the ceiling fan and the occasional sleepy breath from the girl who was usually curled between them. Amara was tangled in sheets and limbs, her forehead pressed to Suguru’s collarbone, one hand loosely gripping the hem of his shirt.

 

Gojo moved into the room slowly, careful not to wake her, and gently brushed his fingers against Suguru’s wrist.

 

“Hey,” he whispered. “Hey, Suguru, wake up. I need your help.”

 

Suguru stirred, brows twitching faintly before his eyes cracked open. “Mnn… what time is it?” His voice was hoarse and low.

 

“Stupid o’clock,” Gojo muttered. “Yaga called.”

 

That got Suguru’s attention faster. His arms shifted like he was going to sit up, but Amara immediately whimpered and clung tighter, nuzzling further into his chest with an unconscious groan.

 

Suguru sighed softly and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Baby… I gotta get up for a minute,” he murmured.

 

“Nooo,” Amara whined, her voice muffled and slurred with sleep. “Don’t wanna. You’re warm.”

 

Gojo chuckled under his breath. “She’s like a very clingy cat. But cuter.”

 

Suguru rubbed slow circles against her back. “We just need to talk to Yaga real quick. Then we’ll come right back. Promise.”

 

Amara groaned again and turned away from him with dramatic flair, flopping onto her side and burying herself in the pillow pile. “Dumb. Take the whole school down with fire.”

 

“She’s dreaming again,” Gojo said, grinning. “Definitely dreaming.”

 

Suguru leaned over and gently tucked the blanket up around her shoulders. “Old man bear?” he asked softly, reaching down for the stuffed bear near her hip.

 

Gojo retrieved it first, placing it in Amara’s arms with care. “Already on it.”

 

She clutched the bear on instinct, her breath softening as she settled into the sheets. The boys paused a moment, watching her, making sure she was truly asleep again. Then Gojo stood and stretched, his t-shirt riding up slightly over his hips as he groaned.

 

“Alright,” he said, voice quieter now. “I’ll tell you on the way. Grab your slippers.”

 

Suguru nodded and followed, slipping silently out the door with Gojo and easing it shut behind them.

 

They walked briskly down the hall toward Yaga’s office, both of them slipper-ed up and alert. Gojo’s fingers twitched at his sides, his tone serious for once.

 

“He said to make the room completely sealed. Soundproof. Cursed energy blocked. Said nobody could hear what we’re about to talk about. Not Shoko. Not the Elders. Not Amara.”

 

Suguru’s eyes narrowed. “That bad?”

 

Gojo nodded once. “Yeah. His voice… it wasn’t like usual. He sounded... off. Like he just saw something that changed everything.”

 

Suguru’s brows drew tight as they rounded the corner.

 

“What do you think happened?”

 

Gojo didn’t answer right away. His mouth pressed into a thin line.

 

“…I think whatever it is, it’s about her.”

 

---

 

Yaga moved through the darkened halls of Jujutsu High like a shadow with purpose, the weight of what he carried sinking deep into his bones. He didn’t pause. Didn’t breathe too deeply. Every step echoed with restraint, with dread he hadn’t felt in years.

 

By the time he reached his office, the door was already cracked open, a soft blue light humming faintly from the cursed energy seals that pulsed along the walls. Gojo had done his job, overdone it, really. The privacy barrier shimmered faintly, layered twice over with muffling fields and a nullification ring that would make even the Elders strain to hear through it.

 

Inside, Satoru and Suguru were already waiting.

 

Suguru was perched on the edge of the couch, dressed in just a black t-shirt and soft pajama pants that still clung to sleep, his dark hair was loose and messy from sleep. He looked alert but calm, his fingers laced loosely between his knees.

 

Gojo sat backward on one of the office chairs, knees spread, arms slung over the backrest, legs bare except for the faint pattern of his boxers. His shirt white shirt clung to his frame, white hair ruffled in all directions. He looked like a sleep-deprived delinquent who accidentally broke into a board meeting.

 

“You took your sweet time,” Gojo said lightly, but there was a tightness under his grin. “So? What’s the emergency? Don’t tell me Amara’s dad finally showed up swinging.”

 

Suguru gave Yaga a more serious glance. “You wouldn’t have called us if it wasn’t about her.”

 

Yaga shut the door. Locked it. Double-checked the seals. Only when he was absolutely certain did he turn around.

 

His expression was grim.

 

“I went to the house,” he said. “Her house. The one she lived in before she came here.”

 

Suguru straightened, and even Gojo’s playful posture stilled.

 

“Why?” Geto asked.

 

“There was a report,” Yaga said quietly. “An anonymous tip. By the time I got there, the Enforcement Bureau had already flagged it. They called me because the location matched one from a reopened file.”

 

He paused.

 

“It was a murder scene.”

 

Gojo blinked. “Wait- what?”

 

“It was her mother,” Yaga continued, his voice controlled but heavy. “Hana. Dead. Brutally.”

 

Suguru’s brows furrowed, his mouth opening, but no sound came out for a second. Gojo pushed himself up straighter.

 

“Hold on. You said brutally- like how brutal are we talking? Was it cursed spirits? A sorcerer?”

 

“No,” Yaga said. “It was him. Riku. I'm sure of it.”

 

Both boys froze.

 

Gojo’s face twitched, like he wasn’t sure how to process that. Suguru sat back slowly, a low breath escaping him.

 

“So it’s confirmed then,” Suguru said quietly. “He’s alive.”

 

Yaga gave a single nod.

 

Gojo was already pacing. “Fuck. I mean, we knew it was a possibility, right? Her cursed energy, her bloodline, it wasn’t coming out of nowhere, and we all figured somewhere he was out there, just… not giving a shit. But now he’s back?”

 

“It’s worse than that,” Yaga said. “He didn’t come for her mother. He came to confirm something. And Hana... I suspect she lied to him.”

 

Geto narrowed his eyes. “Lied how?”

 

Yaga moved to his desk, picked up the evidence bag he’d brought in from his coat. Inside was the crumpled newspaper, still marked faintly with blood. He slid it across the desk for them to see.

 

“I'm guessing she showed him this,” Yaga said. “A girl murdered and left in a dumpster. Black hair, similar height. She must have told him it was Amara or maybe that she would do that to Amara... Something along those lines.”

 

Gojo’s face went blank.

 

Suguru’s didn’t. He looked furious.

 

“She used her again,” Suguru said lowly. “Even when she was gone, she was still using her.”

 

Yaga nodded. “He must have seen the paper. Believed it. For a second. And then he saw Amara’s old room. What was left of it. He must have realized Hana had been living in comfort while Amara suffered in filth. So he snapped.”

 

Silence stretched, thick and bitter.

 

Gojo broke it first, his voice quieter now. “So he thought she was dead. Then found out she wasn’t.”

 

“And now,” Yaga said, “we don’t know where he is. But I don’t think he’s going to hide again.”

 

Suguru leaned forward. “What do we tell her?”

 

“I’m telling her in the morning,” Yaga said firmly. “Everything. The murder. The possibility of him resurfacing. She deserves to know. She needs to. Because if he comes looking for her, and I believe he will, it won’t be to fight. Not at first.”

 

Gojo frowned. “Then what?”

 

Yaga looked tired for the first time that night. “I think he wants to see her. To understand what became of her.. Whether it’s guilt, obsession, or something else entirely, I don’t know. But she needs time to process. And she needs to hear it from me, not a headline or a hallway whisper.”

 

Suguru nodded slowly, jaw tight. “We’ll stay with her.”

 

Gojo’s arms crossed. “We’re not leaving her side. Not like we do much anyway.”

 

Yaga met both their eyes. “Good. Because this isn’t over. It’s just starting.”

 

Yaga’s voice softened, just barely, but it was the kind of softness that came from weariness, not ease.

 

“I’m pulling her out of everything for the week,” he said. “Training, classes, missions. And if I can help it.. longer. Whatever time she needs. However, she needs it. I’ll handle the Elders.”

 

Gojo raised a brow. “They’re not going to like that.”

 

“They’ll survive,” Yaga snapped. Then spoke quietly “She’s been surviving long enough. She needs to just breathe.”

 

Suguru exhaled slowly, nodding. “We’ll keep her grounded.”

 

“I know,” Yaga said. He stepped back toward his desk and sat heavily. “Get some sleep. And… thank you.”

 

They both nodded, quiet for a moment before slipping toward the door.

 

"And before I forget-"

 

They both turn to him.

 

"I do not want to catch you two in her dorm overnight. I've noticed something has been suspicious between the three of you and I'm telling you don’t make me have to look into anything." He speaks with a stern tone but there's something laces under it, something Gojo picked up on quickly.

 

"So you mean make it less obvious," Satoru smirks wildly.

 

"I said what I said. Now leave." 

 

They both chuckle lightly and head out.

 

---

 

The second the door closed behind them, Gojo let out a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck like he was trying to scrub the tension out of his skin.

 

“Well that was fun,” he muttered.

 

“Not funny,” Suguru said.

 

“I didn’t say it was. I said fun.” A pause. “You know, like dental surgery.”

 

Suguru just shook his head, silent for a beat.

...

 

“He’s really alive.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And her mom’s really dead.”

 

“Also yeah.”

 

They walked in silence for a few steps, slipper-covered feet padding across the cold hallway floor, both lost in the weight of everything they’d just learned.

 

“Yaga’s right,” Suguru said eventually. “We don’t let her go anywhere alone. Not until we know where he is, or what he wants.”

 

“Already planning to glue myself to her side,” Gojo replied. Then, with a crooked smirk, “Guess we can bump up that bathhouse thing. Naked healing time, right?”

 

Smack.

 

“OW- hey!” Gojo flinched as Suguru’s palm met the back of his head. “What the hell was that for?!”

 

“You know what it was for.”

 

“I’m trying to lighten the mood!” Gojo huffed, rubbing his skull. “This is all doom and gloom. Somebody has to be the serotonin.”

 

Suguru shot him a side-eye. “Try serotonin that isn’t horny.”

 

Gojo rolled his eyes, but the edge in his grin faded. He glanced ahead toward the dorms, expression softening.

 

“…Maybe we should plan something,” he said more seriously. “Not training. Not a distraction. Just… something good. Like a beach day.”

 

Suguru’s brow lifted slightly.

 

“Get everyone together,” Gojo continued. “Yu, Shoko, Utahime, maybe even Nanami. He loves the beach. Just a dumb, sunny, normal day. Play in the water. Make her laugh. Give her something else to think about, even if it’s just for an afternoon.”

 

Suguru was quiet, but the small nod he gave said enough. “Yeah,” he said. “She needs that.”

 

They reached the dorm hallway. The door to her room was still closed, soft light glowing from underneath. The air outside it felt heavier somehow, even in the quiet.

 

Gojo’s hand paused on the doorknob.

 

They didn’t speak.

 

Because suddenly, it hit them, what they were about to walk back into. The same soft warmth. The same pile of blankets and breath and shared safety. But now with the knowledge that tomorrow morning, everything would crack. That when Amara opened her eyes, the world she thought she knew would be ripped out from under her. Again.

 

Her mother. Her past. The man she thought was long gone.

 

She’d be changed by it. Again.

 

Suguru’s jaw clenched faintly. Gojo exhaled through his nose and let his forehead rest against the door for just a second, like he could brace for the wave that hadn’t hit yet.

 

“…What do you think her face is gonna look like?” Gojo asked softly.

 

“I don’t know,” Suguru replied.

 

Neither of them moved.

 

“It feels wrong,” Gojo added. “Just walking back in there. Crawling under the blankets. Like nothing’s changed.”

 

“Nothing between us has changed. We still care for her all the same...just how we need to has changed..”

 

“Yeah...”

 

Another pause.

 

But then Suguru placed a hand on the doorknob beside him and looked at Gojo with quiet certainty.

 

“We'll figure it out,” he said. “We always do.”

 

Gojo’s eyes flicked toward him, and something steady returned to his expression.

 

“…Yeah,” he echoed. “We always do..”

 

He opened the door.

 

The quiet hum of the fan greeted them. Amara was still curled up in the mountain of pillows, one arm slung around that tattered stuffed bear, the covers pulled up to her chin. Her face was peaceful.

 

For now.

 

They moved carefully, gently, sliding back beneath the blankets like they hadn’t been reshaped by the truth just outside that door.

 

And they held her.

 

Until morning came.

 

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

 

I woke up to the soft press of a hand on my shoulder and someone whispering my name.

 

“Amara… hey, sweetheart. Wake up.”

 

My brain swam through sleep like it didn’t want to surface, but the voice, Suguru, was calm and steady, the same one that always pulled me out of nightmares. I blinked slowly, barely registering the light behind my eyelids. The room was still dim, but soft pink-orange lines were starting to bleed around the curtains.

 

Too early. Too quiet.

 

I groaned and burrowed deeper into the blanket, trying to pull my bear up to my face, but another hand, cooler, slightly clumsier, gently ruffled my hair.

 

“Come on, pretty girl,” Satoru murmured, softer than usual. “We need to get up. Yaga wants to talk to us this morning.”

 

That sentence was strange enough to tug me out of my haze a little more.

 

“…What?” I mumbled, my voice rough. “Why?”

 

“He didn’t say exactly,” Suguru answered. “But it’s important.”

 

My fingers twitched under the covers. “I can be ready in five…”

 

I pushed myself up halfway, already reaching for my uniform hanging over the desk chair, but Gojo was immediately there, catching my wrist before I could drag myself out of bed.

 

“Nope,” he said gently. “Don’t need that. You’re off-duty today.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“You don’t need your uniform,” Suguru added, stepping back and pulling something from the dresser. “Here.”

 

He held out a worn black band tee, one of his old ones with cracked ink across the front and a tear near the collar. I didn’t even have to bring it to my nose to know it still smelled like him. He tossed it gently beside me.

 

“And these,” Gojo added, holding out a pair of deep navy sweatpants. I blinked again. They were ridiculously soft, definitely from some fancy brand he never shut up about, and definitely his.

 

“And you get these,” Suguru said as he knelt by the bed and held up a pair of fuzzy pink socks with bats on them. “Your favorites, right?”

 

I stared at them in the dim light, blinking hard.

 

“Wait, what’s… going on?”

 

“You should be comfortable,” Satoru said, brushing hair back from my forehead. “That’s all. It’s early, and you don’t need the pressure of stiff collars and zippers.”

 

“...But you’re both dressed like you just rolled out of bed,” I muttered, glancing at Gojo’s shirtless arms and Suguru’s messy ponytail. “Is this a sleepover extension or a funeral?”

 

Suguru’s smile faltered for a split second.

 

Something cold tightened in my stomach.

 

“What’s going on?” I asked again, firmer now, pushing the blanket off and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. “Seriously.”

 

They exchanged a look. It wasn’t long. But it was long enough.

 

“It’s not bad like that,” Gojo said quickly, crouching down beside me. “You’re not in trouble. No one’s mad. We’re just… Yaga needs to talk to you about something. Something heavy.”

 

Heavy.

 

I swallowed.

 

“…This is about the stuff you were hiding from me before, isn’t it?” I asked. “About the drain technique. My dad.”

 

Suguru exhaled slowly. “Some of it.”

 

“Then tell me now.”

 

“Yaga wants to be the one to explain,” Gojo said, quietly. “He can explain it better than we can. We promised to be there with you. That’s what matters right now.”

 

My hands had gone still in my lap, the soft fabric of Gojo’s sweatpants bunching between my fingers.

 

I looked down at them, then to the fuzzy socks, then to Suguru’s shirt. All of it felt… off. Soft armor. Padding for impact.

 

And suddenly, I wasn’t sleepy anymore.

 

I dressed without another word, and neither of them rushed me. They just stayed close, watching. Waiting.

 

Like they were bracing for something I didn’t understand.

 

But I would soon.

 

---

 

I didn’t remember walking there.

 

One minute, I was tugging on the oversized sleeves of Suguru’s old shirt, and the next, I was sitting on the couch in Yaga’s office with the worn armrest under my palm and my knees tucked up like a child.

 

Gojo and Suguru had changed too but stayed dressed down. They were in comfy sweats and t-shirts, no uniforms in sight. They flanked me on either side, close but not crowding. Warm. Watching. Waiting.

 

Yaga stood behind his desk, leaning on it with both hands. He looked… rough. His sunglasses were still on, but I could see the deep creases around his mouth and jaw, the tension in his shoulders. It was the way someone looked when they hadn’t slept. Maybe hadn’t even tried.

 

He exhaled once, low, long, and then nodded to himself, like he needed the gesture just to start.

 

“Amara,” he said, voice hoarse. “There’s something I need to tell you. It’s important. And it’s not easy. But I’m not going to hide it from you.”

 

I stared at him. I didn’t nod. I didn’t speak.

 

He continued anyway.

 

“It’s about your mother.”

 

Something in my chest twisted, sharp and deep, but I didn’t flinch.

 

“There was an incident last night,” he said. “At your old house. The local police responded to a call. By the time the Enforcement Bureau arrived, it was already being processed. I went myself. I needed to confirm what happened with my own eyes.”

 

He paused.

 

“Hana, your mother,  is dead.”

 

The words hung in the air like ash.

 

“She was murdered,” he went on. “It was violent. Premeditated. And based on the evidence, I believe the person responsible was your father.”

 

I didn’t react. I didn’t even blink.

 

Yaga kept speaking. His voice came in waves, low, steady, professional. He told me what they found. The blood. The newspaper. Her lies.

 

My head didn’t move, but my ears rang. High, sharp, steady. Like pressure in the middle of my skull, like someone had shoved cotton and knives behind my eyes.

 

My mother was dead.

 

My father had killed her.

 

Because of me.

 

No- that’s not-

 

But it was, wasn’t it? Every word was true. I had the puzzle pieces. This was just someone snapping them together out loud.

 

The room started to warp at the edges. Yaga’s voice sounded like it was coming through thick glass, and I could feel my own breath bouncing around in my lungs with nowhere to go.

 

I felt everything.

 

And nothing.

 

Like I could pick up the chair next to me and smash it through the wall, or just sit here until my body turned to dust. My hands were in my lap but I didn’t remember putting them there. My skin buzzed under my clothes like I wasn’t wearing the right ones, like I was in the wrong body altogether.

 

I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream.

 

“-mara.”

 

Someone was talking.

 

“Amara.”

 

Louder this time.

 

“Amara!"

 

That one hit.

 

Gojo’s voice, sharp and cutting, broke through the ringing like a punch through water. My head jerked slightly, like it had taken effort to return to myself.

 

He was kneeling in front of me, sunglasses gone, eyes wide and too blue for this moment. Suguru was next to me, silent, but his hand was clenched around mine so tightly I could feel the bones in my fingers shift.

 

I looked down.

 

There was blood under my nails. Thin crescent moons. My palm was raw and scratched, but already healed, pink and perfect like nothing had happened. Over and over and over.

 

“Oh,” I said, or maybe I just thought it.

 

I didn’t feel it.

 

Suguru didn’t let go.

 

Neither did Gojo. His hands were braced on my knees, gentle but firm, grounding me in the now like the floor under my feet was disappearing.

 

“I’m here,” I said finally, even though it didn’t feel true.

 

I wasn’t sure where here was.

 

The silence stretched.

 

Gojo hadn’t moved from in front of me, his thumbs brushing slowly back and forth along my knees. Suguru was still gripping my hand, warm and steady. I could feel them both anchoring me. Keeping me from slipping under again.

 

Yaga’s voice cut through the quiet.

 

“…Amara. What’s the last thing you remember hearing?”

 

I blinked. My mouth felt dry. My throat was raw even though I hadn’t screamed.

 

“I heard… about my mother,” I said, voice hoarse. “I heard what she did. What she told him. I heard you say she’s dead.”

 

Yaga gave a small nod, like he was filing that away somewhere behind those dark glasses. Like he was giving me the space to retract it. To breathe.

 

“Would you like a minute before I continue?” he asked, carefully. “You don’t have to hear everything right now. We can take our time.”

 

“Yes,” Suguru said softly, immediately. “Let her breathe.”

 

“Just a moment,” Gojo added, looking up at me. “You don’t have to rush this.”

 

But I shook my head.

 

“No,” I said. “I want to hear it. Just- keep going.”

 

There was something cold and rigid in my chest, like if I stopped now, I’d never be able to start again. I didn’t want to be handled like glass. Not when the truth was already cutting through me like steel.

 

Yaga nodded again, slow, reluctant, but he didn’t argue.

 

He sat back in his chair and exhaled through his nose before speaking.

 

“I reopened the Hoshizuki file about a month ago,” he said. “Once I confirmed your abilities and bloodline, I started comparing energy signatures, historical records, mission logs. I had a suspicion. I hoped I was wrong.”

 

He reached into the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a thin folder, sliding it across toward us. The corner brushed my knee.

 

“Your father is Riku Hoshizuki,” he said. “A former special grade. Rogue. Presumed dead until now.”

 

My stomach twisted.

 

“He was one of the most dangerous cursed energy users of his generation. His regenerative ability made him nearly impossible to kill. His draining technique was efficient, untraceable, and devastating. He didn’t just overpower enemies, he outlasted them. He was a weapon, not a man.”

 

I swallowed hard, but my throat stayed dry.

 

“He vanished over twenty years ago. After a series of violent incidents and some… disturbing family history. The rest of the Hoshizuki clan is gone. Self-destructed, most of them. Riku survived. And disappeared.”

 

Yaga leaned forward, arms on the desk. “When your mother became pregnant, she reached out to him. He told her to terminate. She didn’t. She kept you. And he vanished again.”

 

My nails curled into my palms again, but Suguru tightened his grip.

 

“The only reason we have a record of him at all,” Yaga continued, “is because someone, possibly him, was sending money. Enough to keep both of you alive. Quietly. No names. No contact. Until the payments stopped.”

 

I stared at the folder on my lap like it might start bleeding.

 

“Why are people scared of him?” I asked. My voice was rough again, but steady.

 

Yaga didn’t hesitate.

 

“Because Riku Hoshizuki is a ghost with god-tier stamina and no allegiance. No one knows what he wants. What he values. What lines he won’t cross. He’s too quiet, too fast, and too strong. There are entire villages unaccounted for after he passed through. And now-”

 

He met my eyes finally.

 

“Now, they’re scared of you because you carry his blood. Because you’re already showing signs of his technique, draining, regeneration, that protective burst barrier of yours. You’re an echo of something they thought was long buried. And some people think you’ll follow the same path.”

 

Gojo’s fingers dug into my knee gently, like he wanted to cut in, but didn’t. Suguru’s thumb rubbed slow circles against my wrist, grounding me with every pass.

 

I sat there, frozen between rage and fear and something I couldn’t name.

 

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to vanish.

I wanted to know more.

I wanted to know nothing.

 

But above all, I couldn’t stop thinking the same thing over and over again..

 

If he’s alive…

Then someday, he’s going to come for me.

And I don’t know if he wants to kill me or keep me.

 

Yaga moved to pull the file back, probably thinking he was sparing me. Probably thinking it would help. But my hand shot out before he could touch it.

 

I gripped the folder and yanked it closer, flipping it open like my hands weren’t shaking, like my blood wasn’t already humming loudly in my ears.

 

Inside wasn’t much. Not yet.

 

Recent findings. No photos of him. No names scrawled in blood or ancient family curses.

 

Just… numbers.

 

Bank statements. Transfers. Cash deposits.

 

No sender listed.

 

But the dates- the fucking dates-

 

I felt the breath leave me like someone had opened a door in my chest.

 

They started just after I was born. The money wasn’t huge, not extravagant, but it was steady. Frequent. More than enough to live on. More than enough to feed me. Clothe me. Give me a goddamn bed.

 

And it never came from the school. Yaga didn’t even know I existed until I was nineteen. There were no stipends from Jujutsu Tech, no scholarships. My mother had full custody until she gave it away to Yaga.

 

I thought, god, I thought we were poor. That we were barely scraping by. I thought the reason I worked night shifts and skipped meals and walked home in the cold with holes in my shoes was because she had nothing.

 

But she had money.

She had HIS money.

 

And she used it. On herself. While I worked graveyard shifts. While I counted change for cheap ramen. While I taped my fucking shoes together and worried about a rent that didn’t even exist.

 

There wasn’t even a goddamn rent...

 

I flipped the page too fast and tore the corner, my breath hitching sharply in my chest. I didn’t care.

 

The next few documents blurred. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t looking for logic anymore.

 

I wasn’t trying to understand.

I just needed to see it.

 

And then I did.

 

One page turned, and I came face to face with a photo that didn’t belong in a bank record folder.

 

The crime scene.

 

Blood.

 

Slick and violent across cracked linoleum. Splinters from a shattered table. Her body, blurred for decency but unmistakable in outline, sprawled and wrong in the center of the room like a doll someone had tossed aside.

 

Another photo, the trail. Drag marks. Her face half-turned, one hand clawing toward the kitchen counter. Fingers broken, curled in on themselves like a scream frozen in motion.

 

My stomach lurched, but my eyes stayed locked on the image.

 

I didn’t feel sorrow.

I didn’t feel closure.

I felt-

 

“Enough,” Gojo said, voice suddenly too close.

 

He reached out, slid the folder from my grip, and snapped it shut with a firm thwip. Before I could process that loss of control, he handed it to Yaga without looking away from me.

 

I didn’t fight it.

 

Because something inside me had already started to drift again.

 

My thoughts stretched thin.

Like someone had taken my brain and stretched it taut across a wireframe and left me buzzing.

 

I couldn't breathe. Or maybe I was breathing too much. My lungs felt full and empty all at once.

 

The blood on the floor.

The money that wasn’t mine.

The bed on the floor while she slept in silk.

The makeup. The mirror. The food I stole when she wasn’t looking. The hours I worked for rent that didn’t exist.

 

I wanted to destroy everything in this room.

The desk. The windows. The silence.

 

But I didn’t move.

 

Didn’t flinch.

 

Didn’t even realize I was zoning again until my own voice broke through it.

 

“What do I have to do now?”

 

It surprised even me, how flat it came out. Like I was asking for the next steps on a homework assignment.

 

Yaga cleared his throat. I barely registered it.

 

“I’ll help set up the arrangements,” he said gently. “I’ll pay for everything. You don’t have to be involved unless you want-”

 

“Cremate her.”

 

The words left my mouth before I could filter them. Before I could even care how they sounded.

 

Yaga blinked. Gojo shifted like he wasn’t sure if he should respond. Suguru’s grip on my hand remained, calm, grounded, but I felt him pause too.

 

I didn’t elaborate.

 

I didn’t want to give it more thought than it deserved. It didn’t deserve any.

 

“Just cremate her,” I said again, quieter. “You can find out if she has other family, right? Send it to them and if she gets lost in the mail then oh well.”

 

There was no ceremony in my voice. No closure. Just conclusion.

 

I stood slowly, letting Suguru’s hand slip from mine. My legs felt like they weren’t mine, but they worked well enough.

 

“I’d like to go back to bed now,” I said, my voice calm. Quiet. “I’ll come back later. When I’m ready to ask more.”

 

Yaga gave a small nod, but I didn’t wait for permission. I bowed to him, low and quick then turned for the door.

 

---

 

The soft padding of two pairs of footsteps followed just seconds later.

 

I didn’t have to look to know who.

 

We walked in silence through the early morning corridors, the hall bathed in pale gold light from the rising sun. The world felt too soft. Too quiet. Like everything was waiting for me to decide what it would be.

 

I didn’t know what that meant yet.

 

Satoru cleared his throat behind me.

 

“So, uh,” he said lightly, “I know this isn’t really the ideal time, but if you happen to see the cursed mannequin that stole my shirt last week, I’m officially putting out a bounty. It was a designer shirt that I had worn in perfectly.”

 

I blinked slowly.

 

“It wears it better than him,” Suguru said dryly.

 

“Oh, wow. Wow. Betrayed in my own time of need.”

 

I didn’t laugh. Not really. But I let a small, breathy sound escape me, more exhale than humor. And I glanced back just enough to give Satoru a faint raise of my brow.

 

He perked up immediately, as if that counted as a win.

 

“That’s right. I am hilarious,” he whispered to Suguru, loud enough for me to hear.

 

I kept walking, quieter now, but my fingers tugged a little on the sleeves of Suguru’s band tee. My way of feeding into it. Not for me, really.

 

For him.

 

Because I knew Gojo didn’t know what to do with this kind of silence. This kind of pain. And if this was how he reached for me, then I’d reach back. Just enough to let him know I hadn’t disappeared.

 

Suguru must’ve seen it.

 

He reached out and nudged Satoru’s arm. “Tell her the beach idea.”

 

Gojo blinked. “The- oh! Yeah!”

 

He suddenly stepped forward beside me, eyes brightening.

 

“So, I was thinking,” he said, walking backward so he could face me, arms gesturing wildly, “we should do a beach day. Like a whole thing. Shoko and Yu, Nanami and Utahime. Umbrellas. Snacks. Bad sunscreen choices. Maybe Suguru wears something boring and I laugh at him.”

 

“No you won’t,” Suguru said behind him.

 

“Yes, I will.”

 

Gojo grinned at me, arms spread. “C’mon. We haven’t done anything fun in forever. You deserve a dumb day. We all do.”

 

I looked at him for a long moment, expression unreadable.

 

Then I said, quietly, “...Only if Suguru wears a Speedo.”

 

Gojo gasped. “You do love me.”

 

“I never said that.”

 

“She’s warming up,” Suguru murmured.

 

Satoru stayed walking backward in front of me, eyes on my face like he was tracking every flicker of emotion like it was a cursed signal only he could see. His grin had faded now, still crooked, still Satoru, but gentler around the edges.

 

“…Am I pushing boundaries?” he asked, voice quieter. “Is it too soon to talk about fun stuff? I don’t want to, like… steamroll your grief with floaties and beach towels.”

 

I stopped just outside my door, hand resting on the knob.

 

“I’m not mad,” I murmured, finally meeting his eyes. “You’re not pushing anything. I’m just… tired.”

 

He nodded like he expected that. But there was a flicker of relief behind it.

 

“I don’t want to plan anything big right now,” I added. “Just- right now, I can’t think that far ahead.”

 

“Then I’ll do it,” he said quickly, offering a one-shouldered shrug. “I’ll handle the dumb details. You don’t have to think about it unless you feel like it.”

 

I looked between him and Suguru, who stood quiet and steady behind him, close enough to catch me if I started to drift again.

 

“…It would be nice,” I said finally. “Later. To do something stupid. Distracting. Just… for a moment.”

 

Satoru smiled, and this time it wasn’t showy or forced. Just soft. Real.

 

“We’ll make it stupid and perfect,” he promised.

 

“And loud,” Suguru added. “Satoru will insist on ruining the peace with bad music.”

 

“Oh, it’s going to be atrocious,” Gojo beamed.

 

I let out a breath, almost a laugh, but not quite, and turned the knob, opening the door to my room.

 

“Later,” I said again, stepping inside.

 

 

Chapter 39: Why Do I Feel Like This

I didn’t cry.

 

Not after I left Yaga’s office. Not that night. Not the next day either.

 

I slept for twelve hours straight, and when I woke, I didn’t remember dreaming. I didn’t feel anything.

 

Suguru was beside me when I opened my eyes that first morning. Quiet. Reading. One hand resting against my lower back like he hadn’t moved all night. When I shifted, he looked up and offered a soft smile.

 

He didn’t ask how I felt.

 

He didn’t need to.

 

Gojo brought me breakfast later, something sweet, soft, and easy. I picked at it, managed a few bites, and told him it was good. He beamed like I was some expert good critic that gave him a five-star rating and then flopped across my legs like a sunbathing dog. He didn’t push. Just stayed there, warm and present.

 

That was only Day two of all this.

 

By Day three, I stopped leaving the room.

 

The knot in my stomach never untied. I couldn’t tell if it was grief, or rage, or something else entirely. I didn’t scream. Didn’t cry. I just… drifted.

 

I took a long shower and stood under the water until my skin was bright red. I couldn’t feel the heat. I couldn’t feel much of anything.

 

Suguru knocked that evening.

 

“Hey,” he called softly. “I brought dinner. It’s the soup you liked from the café. The one with the weird dumplings that you said looked like ghosts.”

 

I didn’t answer.

 

After a pause, I heard the sound of something being placed gently on the floor outside the door.

 

“…I’ll leave it here for you... Please eat Amara. I'm right next door if you need or want anything..”

 

His footsteps were soft as they retreated down the hall.

 

Day Four.

 

Gojo tried instead.

 

He didn’t knock.

 

He just phased through the fucking door.

 

I barely lifted my head off the pillow.

 

He didn’t speak at first. Just hovered in the corner with a bag of snacks and a board game tucked under his arm. He waited. When I didn’t react, he slowly walked over, crouched beside the bed, and offered me a shiny wrapped candy.

 

“Bribery,” he said softly. “My best weapon. You said you really liked these ones and ate the whole bag I got, remember?”

 

I stared at it. I didn’t take it.

 

Gojo stared back at me for a long time, his usual grin dulled into something smaller. Something more fragile.

 

“You don’t have to talk,” he said eventually. “You don’t even have to look at me. But I’m here, okay? Even if you want to scream. Even if you hate all of us for breathing while she’s not.”

 

I didn’t hate them.

 

That was the worst part.

 

I hated her.

 

I hated that she was gone before I could tell her just how much I hated her. To ask her anything..

 

Gojo stayed a while longer, just sitting cross-legged on the floor beside my bed. Humming something soft under his breath while he sleeved Digimon cards.

 

He left when I finally turned over and buried my face in the blankets again.

 

The candy was still in my hand when I woke up.

 

---

 

Day Six, I locked the door.

 

It wasn’t dramatic. Just slow, mechanical. I needed something between me and the hallway. Between me and them. Between me and the voice that wouldn’t shut up inside me, that said:

 

“She was the worst person you had ever known. And you still feel like something’s missing.”

 

---

 

The knocks came anyway.

 

Yu first.

 

“Amara? Hey! I know you’re probably sick of us, but I made cookies. Real ones. With chocolate chips. Not raisins. I swear. I don't like raisins personally but some people do. Nanami said you don't though.”

 

A pause.

 

“Shoko said sugar helps regulate brain trauma. Or.. maybe she said that I have brain trauma. I dunno. Either way, there’s sugar involved. Please eat something, okay? Even if it’s not the best for you it's better than nothing. Plus eating is like the best!”

 

Another knock. Softer.

 

“I miss you. Everyone misses you..”

 

I didn’t answer.

 

---

 

Shoko came later.

 

She didn’t speak.

 

Just knocked twice, and then sat against the door. I heard her lighter flick. Heard the click of her nail ring against the wall.

 

Eventually, she said, “You’re not the only one who had shitty parents, you know.”

 

A long pause. Exhale.

 

“But it still fucks you up when they’re gone. Even when you wanted them to be. Sometimes it hurts more because you wanted them to be..”

 

More silence.

 

“I’m not going anywhere. Just thought you should know that.”

 

She didn’t knock again. Didn’t ask for a reply. She just smoked outside my door for what felt like an hour, humming old punk songs under her breath and occasionally muttering to herself.

 

---

 

Even Nanami stopped by.

 

It was brief.

 

“Amara,” he said, voice firm but calm. “I heard what happened. I won’t pretend I understand, but… I respect your silence. If you need anything, anything at all, you can knock on my door. No questions asked.”

 

I didn’t know what to say to that.

 

So I said nothing.

 

He left a book by the door anyway. A short novel. Paperback. Old. The corner had a sticky note.

 

> Thought you might like this. Quiet, but powerful. Like you.

 

- Kento

 

---

 

That night, Suguru came again.

 

No food. No teasing.

 

Just his voice.

 

“I know what silence like this feels like,” he said softly. “I lived in it for a long time. I still do, sometimes. It eats everything.”

 

He paused.

 

“But I’ll be outside this door as long as it takes. You don’t have to be okay. You don’t have to say anything. Just… don’t disappear on me.”

 

There was no humor in his voice. Just ache.

 

Something inside me flinched.

 

I rolled onto my side and stared at the cracked ceiling of my dorm, the fan blades casting faint shadows across the wall. My chest hurt. Not the sharp kind. The slow kind. Like rot. Like weight.

 

But his voice, God, his voice, wrapped around it. Gentle. Familiar. Real.

 

I didn’t open the door.

 

But I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders and tried to keep the way his voice sounded in my mind.

 

---

 

By Day seven, the quiet wasn’t heavy anymore.

 

It was sharp.

 

My skin itched. My breath came ragged. Everything in me felt like it had outgrown this room.. my body, my pain, my thoughts. I wanted to peel out of it like a bad sweater. Wanted to scream into the mattress or throw something just to watch it break.

 

I didn’t cry.

 

I didn’t need to cry.

 

I needed something to hurt

 

I kicked the edge of my desk hard enough to bruise my foot. Slammed the closet door just to hear something slam. I looked at the mirror and considered punching it. Didn’t. I wanted to. I wanted to break everything. 

 

Everything boiled under my skin.

 

My mom was dead.

 

And somehow, she still managed to be louder in death than she ever was in life.

 

She took the money meant for me. Lived in comfort while I bled. Painted her face with designer makeup while I cleaned blood off the soles of my shoes.

 

And he, HE, the walking corpse who created me, came back only to kill her.

 

For what? Revenge? Closure?

 

It wasn’t for me.

 

It couldn’t be.

 

He hadn’t come for me when I was ten and sleeping on the floor with nothing but a stuffed bear and a knot in my stomach. He didn’t show up when she broke my ribs by throwing me down the stairs and told me I wasn’t worth feeding. He didn’t come when I screamed into my pillow, when I whispered into the night that I wanted someone, anyone, to take me away.

 

But now?

 

Now he was real. Now he was out there.

 

And all I had was this stupid fucking bear.

 

I sat on the floor, staring at it.

 

The same one I’d had since I was old enough to crawl. Threadbare. Faded. One ear bent permanently from years of clutching. A little purple ribbon around the neck, stained and frayed at the ends. Suguru had helped me patch it once, when the arm started falling off. We joked that it looked like it had been through war.

 

Maybe it had.

 

I reached out and grabbed it by the head, squeezing hard.

 

“Say something,” I muttered, teeth clenched. “Say anything. Tell me why he left. Tell me why he came back.”

 

Silence. Of course. It's just a dumb stuffed animal.

 

I shook it hard.

 

Still nothing.

 

“Why the hell did he even give you to me?” I growled.

 

I slammed the bear against my knee. Then again. It didn’t feel good. It felt desperate. Pointless.

 

Then...

 

dingdingding.

 

I froze. I stared down at it, fingers tightening around its plush middle.

 

A sound. Faint. Like a bell. Muffled deep inside.

 

I shook it again, harder this time.

 

dingdingding.

 

It was struggling to ring like it was buried too deep under the stuffing. Like it wasn’t meant to be heard unless I really wanted to hear it.

 

I didn’t breathe as I gripped it tighter, found the old seam at the bottom Suguru had stitched shut. My nails hooked in, and with one small tear, the stitches came loose.

 

A tuft of old white stuffing spilled out onto my lap.

 

And inside, buried near the center, was something stiff and folded and wrapped in plastic to keep it safe.

 

A note.

 

I stared at it like it might dissolve if I touched it.

 

Then I reached in and pulled it out.

 

The edges were yellowed. Old. The handwriting was slanted and sharp, like the pen was held by someone who had never written a letter in their life and didn’t know how to be gentle even with a pen.

 

I unfolded it with shaking fingers.

 

There was no greeting.

 

No “To my daughter.”

 

No “From your father.”

 

Just ink. Jagged. Full of rambles.

 

---

 

You were born.

 

I thought you wouldn’t survive the week.

 

You cried too much. You were small. I didn’t want you.

 

I don’t love you. I don’t know how to love anything.

 

But I saw you. You had red eyes. You looked like my mother. You wouldn’t stop looking at me.

 

I thought about killing you. But I didn’t.

 

I don’t know why.

 

I brought you this bear. They said babies needed something soft.

 

It wasn’t new or anything. It was mine.

I never liked it. The stitching’s loose. The head leans funny. My mother gave it to me, then forgot I had it.

 

But you wouldn’t stop staring at it. So I guess it was a good choice.

You grabbed it with those tiny, fat fingers like it meant something. Like it was good.

 

I held you.

For hours.

 

You were warm. Ugly, like most newborns. Wrinkled and loud and impossible. But you cooed. Laughed.

At me.

Like you didn’t know what I was. I guess it's true babies don't know danger when they’re born. It's learned behavior.

 

You looked up at me with those red eyes like you were meant to be mine.

 

I didn’t know what to do with that.

 

I held you until your mother woke up.

She said something. Don’t remember what. I handed you back. You screamed when I let go.

 

I left.

 

That night I came back when no one was awake. Didn’t knock. Didn’t breathe loudly. I just stood there and looked at you.

 

You were still crying.

 

I hated that sound. But you weren’t crying from pain. That's why most things cry. You were asking for someone. You wanted something.

 

I put this note in the bear while you slept.

 

I thought maybe if I left it, and left you, you’d grow up without knowing what you came from. Hope the curse of this damn blood would leave you alone.

 

I hoped your mother would raise you soft. Let you cry about dumb shit. Homework. Rain. Boys.

 

I hoped you’d get to live life like a fool. Someone who thinks pain is temporary and monsters live in fairy tales.

 

I hoped you’d never have to feel the thing in your blood that gnaws at the spine. The hunger. The rage. The cold.

 

Shit like starving or what it's like to feel your body shatter and stitch itself back together.

 

I didn’t want you to be like me.

 

I didn’t want you to know I existed.

 

I’m not good. I’m not anything.

 

And if the world’s lucky, you’ll never have to see me again.

 

But if you do..

 

If for some reason you’re reading this and I’m still breathing..

 

One, that means something probably went wrong and you didn't get the lazy life..

 

But two,

 

Stay away.

 

I don’t know how to hold anything without breaking it.

 

And I made the mistake of holding you...

 

But you laughed when I did...

 

And for one fucked-up second, I almost wanted to stay because of it.

 

I won’t make that mistake again.

 

And neither should you.

 

-R.

 

---

 

I stared at the last line.

 

'And for one fucked-up second, I almost wanted to stay.'

 

It sat there on the page like it wasn’t the sharpest thing I had ever read. Like it didn’t carve straight through my chest and leave the pieces rattling.

 

My fingers curled tight around the letter, and I didn’t even realize I was shaking until I felt my teeth clench hard enough to make my jaw ache.

 

One second.

That’s all I was worth.

 

One second of “almost.”

 

He left me.

Left me, the screaming baby reaching for his warmth, so he could slink back into the shadows like a kicked dog.

 

Because he hoped I’d live a soft life?

 

I didn’t live soft.

I didn’t live safe.

I lived on the goddamn floor with nothing but this fucking bear to hold.

 

I stood up too fast and stumbled back, chest heaving like I had just ran a mile. The room was suddenly too small. Too quiet. My hands were burning with something deep, ancient, and ugly.

 

I grabbed the first thing I could reach, my hairbrush, and hurled it at the wall. The crash made the mirror tremble. A framed photo of the group fell off the shelf.

 

Next came the chair. I didn’t think, didn’t care, just flipped it, hard. It cracked against the desk, one leg splintering with a dry, high snap that made me want to scream again.

 

“FUCK!” I shouted it, throat raw. 

 

“FUCK YOU! FUCK THIS! FUCK EVERYTHING!”

 

The notebook stack went next. The lamp. My cup of pens. Everything in reach flew like it was guilty just for existing in the same space as me.

 

Except for the bear and letter.

 

Those I clutched like they were cursed.

 

Because they were.

 

Because he put his voice in them. Put himself in them.

 

And now I couldn’t rip them apart without feeling like I was ripping myself apart too.

 

“Why!? Why did you-!?” My words cracked in half as my knees buckled under me.

 

I dropped to the floor, one hand fisting in my own hair, the other clutching that damn letter like it could answer for itself. "FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU."

 

“He almost stayed,” I gasped. “He almost stayed, and then he left, why did he leave me-..”

 

I sobbed.

 

It was loud. Ugly. The kind of sob that rips out of your throat with no permission. The kind that snot and saliva get tangled in because you can’t fucking breathe around it.

 

I hated him.

 

I hated him so much.

 

And I wanted him to hold me again.

 

Even for just a second.

 

The air bent.

 

Like lightning before a storm.

 

And suddenly..

 

“Amara-!” Satoru’s voice, frantic, sharp with panic, as he teleported into the room, his hair wild and his eyes glowing bright

 

He looked like he was ready to tear the room apart.

 

Eyes wide, breath uneven, mouth already moving before his feet even hit the ground fully.

 

“Amara,” he called again, stepping toward me without even seeing the wreckage. “Talk to me. Where are you- what happened?!”

 

He scanned the room like I’d been attacked, like something had touched me. But it wasn’t a curse that had done this. It was me.

 

I was the earthquake. The epicenter.

 

The second his eyes found me, curled on the floor, hand clutching the bear like a lifeline, the other shaking around a torn piece of paper, his whole body locked up.

 

Then the door crashed open behind him, lock broken in.

 

Suguru stood in the frame, calm on the surface, but I could feel the tension in him. The way his cursed energy flared and compressed. Like he was ready to kill something.

 

His eyes flicked to Satoru first. Then to me.

 

Then to the destruction.

 

He didn’t speak. He just moved, cutting across the room like the storm couldn’t touch him. He crouched low beside me, hands open, gaze steady.

 

“Hey,” Suguru said, voice low and anchoring. “You’re safe.”

 

My breath hitched, my throat locking around the grief clawing its way out. “I’m- I’m not-”

 

“You are,” Satoru cut in quickly, kneeling on my other side. “You are. Whatever happened, you’re here, okay? You’re with us.”

 

“I-” I looked between them, voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to lose it, I just-”

 

“Shhh,” Suguru murmured, brushing a shaking strand of hair from my face. “You don’t owe us an apology for feeling, Amara. Let's focus on calming down first, okay?”

 

That did it.

 

The dam shattered.

 

My body pitched forward like it was done pretending to hold anything back.

 

I sobbed. Loud. Violent.

 

Like it had all been waiting in my lungs for this exact moment, when they saw me, not quiet or composed or sarcastic, but ruined.

 

I threw myself into Gojo’s chest, my fingers curling so tight in his shirt I felt a seam pop. His arms wrapped around me instantly, one hand fisting in my hair, the other curling around my ribs like he could keep my whole body from shaking.

 

“I’m here,” he whispered again and again, mouth pressed to the crown of my head. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

 

Suguru didn’t speak, he just pressed against my back, both hands solid and grounding, one sliding up to squeeze my shoulder, thumb rubbing slow circles near my neck.

 

The letter slipped from my fingers.

 

It hit the floor with a soft papery whisper, like it knew it had already done its damage.

 

Satoru looked down at it.

 

“I found it in the bear,” I choked, my voice ragged. “His bear. He left it for me when I was a baby. He- he came back and left this, and it’s so fucked, Suguru, it’s so messed up-”

 

He didn’t say anything.

 

He didn’t need to.

 

He picked it up slowly, scanning the words, eyes narrowing as he read.

 

Gojo didn’t move.

 

He just held me tighter, his breathing uneven, his grip like a shield made of flesh and bone and heat. Like he could break the storm between my ribs by anchoring me to his own heartbeat.

 

When Suguru finished the letter, he let out a quiet breath.

 

Not quite a sigh. Not quite a growl.

 

He folded it once.

 

Twice.

 

Then tucked it under my bear like it belonged in a grave.

 

“Did he mean it?” I whispered, voice so quiet I barely heard it.

 

“Which part?” Gojo asked gently.

 

I hesitated. “The part where he almost stayed.”

 

Suguru’s hand paused on my back. “I think… he did.”

 

“That’s worse,” I muttered. “That’s so much worse.”

 

“I know,” Suguru said, voice a little hoarse. “I know, Mara.”

 

Satoru leaned back to look at me. “You’re allowed to be pissed. He deserves your anger. He gave you just enough to miss him. That’s cruel.”

 

“And he didn’t even mean to,” I said, hollow. “He wasn’t trying to hurt me. He thought he was helping. He thought he was doing the right thing by walking away. He thought leaving me would save me.”

 

Gojo’s expression tightened. “Then he’s an idiot.”

 

“He is,” Suguru said softly. “But he’s also just a man. Not a god. Not a monster. Not nothing. Just… damaged. And dangerous. And probably incapable of love the way you know it.”

 

“He didn’t love me,” I whispered.

 

“No,” Suguru agreed. “But I think… he remembered you. And in his own, broken way, he tried to keep you untouched by him. That was the only kind of love he knew.”

 

My shoulders shook again, but I wasn’t sobbing this time.

 

Just unraveling.

 

I felt Satoru’s lips brush the top of my head, a kiss so soft I might’ve imagined it. “You’re not him,” he said. “You never will be.”

 

“And even if you inherited the worst of him,” Suguru added, “you’ve already proven you’re more.”

 

I nodded slowly.

 

It was all I could do.

 

I stayed curled between them for a long time, the room lit only by the glow of the hallway. I could still feel the wreckage around me, the shattered chair, the books, the broken glass.

 

But none of it mattered.

 

Not with their arms around me.

 

Not with my head pressed to Gojo’s shoulder, Suguru’s breath steady against my spine.

 

I don’t remember falling asleep.

 

But I remember the first moment I felt safe again.

 

It was somewhere in the middle of Gojo’s humming and Suguru’s hand sliding down to gently lace our fingers together.

 

-----------

 

Amara fell asleep in pieces.

 

Her face pressed to Satoru’s shoulder, Suguru’s hand still curled protectively against her spine, her breath catching now and then like her body hadn’t gotten the memo that it was safe.

 

They didn’t speak.

 

Not at first.

 

Satoru held her like she was still breaking, one hand in her hair, the other tracing small, absent circles against her arm. Suguru moved with practiced silence, slowly easing her into a more comfortable position without waking her, supporting her head, smoothing her legs out, pulling the blanket up and over her without letting it drag too roughly against her skin.

 

When her fingers twitched like they didn’t want to let go of Gojo’s shirt, he gently tugged it off and bundled it into her arms instead.

 

She clutched it in her sleep without hesitation.

 

Then, finally, she stilled.

 

Soft, steady breathing. No more sobs.

 

It was the kind of sleep that only comes after you’ve used up every ounce of pain your body can hold.

 

Satoru crouched beside the bed for a moment, just watching her, jaw tight. His Six Eyes dimmed back to their usual lazy glow, but the storm behind them hadn’t passed.

 

Suguru watched him for a while before moving to gather what was left of the mess. A splintered chair. Books half-buried under scattered pens. The dent in the wall from something heavy, he didn’t want to know what.

 

Gojo didn’t move until Suguru stepped past him and bent to pick up the letter where he’d tucked it under the bear.

 

That’s when his voice broke the silence.

 

“She deserves better.”

 

Suguru didn’t look up. “She does.”

 

“I mean it,” Gojo said, standing, his voice low and harsh. “She deserves so much better than a letter stuffed in a bear and a warning not to come find him.”

 

Suguru folded the note carefully again. He smoothed the corners with practiced fingers.

 

“He didn’t know how to love her,” he said softly. “But I don’t think that means he didn’t care.”

 

Gojo’s laugh was sharp. “Oh, come on, Suguru.”

 

“I’m not defending him.”

 

“You kind of are.”

 

Suguru glanced over, eyes tired. “I’m trying to understand how someone like him thought walking away would save her.”

 

“He didn’t save her,” Gojo snapped. “She ended up with that woman. She grew up thinking she was the problem. She spent years punishing herself, training her body to heal so fast it barely had time to register pain before she shoved it down and apologized for it. And all that time... he was alive. He could’ve come back.”

 

“He thought the worst thing he could do was stay.”

 

“He was right.”

 

That stopped Suguru.

 

Gojo didn’t mean it as praise. He said it like poison. Like if Riku Hoshizuki showed up right now, he’d erase him from the planet without blinking.

 

“He held her once,” Satoru said, voice soft now. “Once. And he walked away. I saw her cry less when she was skewered on a cursed spirit’s arm.”

 

Suguru set the folded note on the desk, beside the stitched-up bear.

 

“Part of her still wants him.”

 

“I know. That’s what makes it worse.”

 

Gojo turned away, pacing once across the room, then stopped near the broken lamp.

 

“I hate him.”

 

Suguru didn’t argue.

 

“I hate that he touched her once and left that kind of imprint. I hate that his blood is in her. That his name is in her bones.” He turned, eyes sharp. “And I hate that I can’t fix it.”

 

“You’re not supposed to,” Suguru said quietly. “She’s not a problem. She’s grieving.”

 

“She shouldn’t have to grieve someone who never earned it. Especially not two assholes.”

 

They stood in silence again.

 

Gojo finally exhaled and knelt, picking up a cracked book cover and stacking it on the desk. He didn’t speak again for a while. Not until the bulk of the damage was cleaned and the room looked a little less like the aftermath of a battle.

 

“She laughed for him,” he said suddenly.

 

Suguru paused by the bookshelf.

 

“She said she laughed when he held her. As a baby. That she looked up at him and laughed.”

 

Suguru didn’t move.

 

“She’s still that girl,” Gojo whispered. “Still reaching. Still hoping someone will come back.”

 

He looked at the bed, at the way Amara’s hand clutched his shirt like she was afraid of waking up without them again.

 

“I’ll kill him if he tries to come near her,” he added, voice flat.

 

Suguru didn’t disagree.

 

But he did walk over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

 

“You won’t have to,” he said. “We’re not letting her go through this alone.”

 

Gojo looked at him.

 

And for once, he didn’t deflect.

 

He just nodded.

 

“Yeah.”

 

They both looked back at her.

 

Asleep, curled in blankets, Gojo’s shirt tucked under her chin like armor.

 

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

 

I don’t remember when the quiet turned warm.

 

Somewhere between Suguru’s hand settling over mine and Satoru’s shirt tucked against my cheek, I must’ve drifted off.

 

I didn’t dream about blood this time.

Or screams.

Or my mother’s voice.

 

I just drifted.

 

And when I blinked awake, slow, careful, like coming up from the bottom of a deep ocean, the first thing I noticed was the smell.

 

Butter. Sweet something. Coffee.

 

And voices. Familiar ones. Muffled.

 

I kept still, tucked under the blanket, eyes half-lidded.

 

If I breathed slowly enough, maybe they wouldn’t know I was awake.

 

“You’re putting way too much jam on that.”

 

“It’s raspberry. And she likes jam. Don’t act like you weren’t planning to eat half of this before she even sits up.”

 

“I’m making tea, Satoru. I have both hands occupied. Unlike some people, I’m actually trying to be helpful.”

 

“Oh my god, shut up. I’m being so helpful. I’m literally creating a mood. Look at this blanket placement. Aesthetic.”

 

“…you stole it from the common room.”

 

“Yeah. Because it’s cute.”

 

I didn’t open my eyes all the way.

 

Not yet.

 

They were on the floor. I could hear the little creak of weight shifting against the boards and the soft rustle of fabric as someone fluffed the corner of the blanket again like it mattered.

 

Satoru’s voice.. playful and loud, trying to mask something underneath it.

Suguru’s.. quieter, but no less involved. I heard the clink of ceramic and the telltale sigh of a kettle being set down.

 

“You think she’ll be hungry?”

 

“She hasn’t eaten much in days. Even if she’s not hungry, she should eat something.”

 

“You think she’ll talk?”

 

A pause.

 

“I think she’ll try.”

 

That was Suguru.

 

And it made my chest tighten, not in a bad way. Just in that way it always does when someone says something true about you before you’re ready to admit it yourself.

 

I let my eyes flutter open just enough to see the edge of the blanket they’d laid out. On top of it: toast, eggs, rice balls, fruit in a mismatched bowl, a tiny stack of jelly packets. A lumpy paper cup of tea with Suguru’s handwriting on it, not too hot.

 

Satoru was crouched like a cat beside it, fixing the angle of the plate like it needed to be perfect.

 

Suguru was smoothing out a napkin beside the cup.

 

God, they were trying so hard.

 

For me.

 

I swallowed thickly and forced my eyes shut again, then let out a loud, dramatic groan like I was just waking up.

 

The sound of scrambling footsteps was immediate.

 

“She’s up,” Satoru hissed.

 

“Oh- Amara?”

 

I peeked one eye open with a sleepy squint.

 

“Mmnh,” I mumbled, stretching slowly, pretending like I hadn’t just spent the last five minutes spying on them. “What time is it…?”

 

And just like that..

 

They were on me.

 

Satoru plopped down beside the bed and leaned over dramatically, face close to mine with a crooked grin. “Good morning, Sleeping Disaster, we brought breakfast to you like royalty. Do you feel worshipped?”

 

Suguru followed more gently, crouching on my other side, his voice soft but warm. “How are you feeling?”

 

I blinked up at them. Their faces were so close. So earnest.

 

I swallowed again.

 

“Tired,” I said truthfully. “Sore.”

 

“You didn’t move all night,” Satoru said, brushing my bangs away from my face without thinking. “Suguru said you were hogging my shirt.”

 

“Mm,” I mumbled. “You weren’t wearing it.”

 

“That’s beside the point.”

 

“You can keep it,” Suguru added, smirking faintly. “He already claimed that pair of blue fuzzy socks, so now it’s even.”

 

I let out a small, quiet laugh.

 

It wasn’t much.

 

But it was the first one in days.

 

Satoru lit up immediately.

 

“There she is. I knew you were still in there. You had us worried you were gonna hibernate for the rest of the semester.”

 

“You cleaned my room,” I murmured, eyes drifting to the desk.

 

Suguru nodded once. “We didn’t want you to wake up surrounded by wreckage.”

 

“It wasn’t wreckage,” I muttered, eyes half-closing again. “It was art.”

 

Satoru snorted. “God, she’s back. She’s really back.”

 

They both helped me sit up gently, layering pillows behind my back and making sure the blanket stayed up.

 

The bear and the letter had been placed on the dresser.

 

Not too far.

 

Not in the trash.

 

Just… resting.

 

Waiting.

 

I looked at the tiny picnic setup. The food. The care.

 

And then I looked at them.

 

Suguru, focused and calm, smoothing a crease in the blanket with long fingers.

 

Satoru, bouncing on his knees like a dog who needed praise.

 

My throat felt thick again.

 

But this time, not with grief.

 

With something else.

 

Something warm.

 

“Thank you,” I whispered.

 

They both looked up at once.

 

Suguru’s eyes softened.

 

Satoru blinked.

 

Then leaned in like he couldn’t help it and pressed the gentlest, messiest kiss to the top of my head.

 

“You don’t have to thank us,” he said.

 

“But I will,” I replied, voice rough. “Because you didn’t have to do any of this.”

 

“We did,” Suguru said simply.

 

“You’re ours,” Gojo added. “Even when you’re a mess. Especially when you’re a mess.”

 

I felt my eyes sting again but this time, I let the small tears fall.

 

Because maybe it wasn’t about fixing anything.

 

Maybe it was just about staying.

 

And they were still here.

 

So I picked up the tea, sipped it, and smiled softly.

 

“Needs more sugar.”

 

“Blasphemy,” Suguru muttered, but he passed me two packets anyway.

 

Satoru flopped sideways across my lap like a cat.

 

And for the first time in days, I felt like myself again...

 

 

Chapter 40: Beach Day

When Satoru said beach day, I thought he was joking.

 

To be fair, he says a lot of things that sound like jokes. Especially when I'm depressed.

 

“Just one afternoon,” he’d said, voice soft but bright. “You, us, sun, sand, endless amount of snacks, what more could you want?”

 

I gave him the usual eye-roll, expecting Suguru to temper it. He didn’t.

 

“I think it’s a good idea,” he said instead, flipping through a small book like this was a casual conversation and not an ambush. “A soft day. No missions. No expectations. Just us. All of us.”

 

“Like... all of us?” I raised an eyebrow. “Shoko? Yu? Utahime?”

 

“And Nanami,” Suguru added. “He needs sunlight before he calcifies.”

 

“I heard that,” came Nanami’s voice, muffled through the common room wall.

 

I snorted despite myself. It hurt a little, but it was the first time that kind of hurt didn’t feel sharp.

 

Still, I hesitated.

 

“You guys don’t have to-”

 

“We want to,” Satoru cut in, suddenly serious. His expression softened when I looked up. “You’ve been in that dark room long enough. Just one day. Come on. Let us be annoying on the beach. You can sit under an umbrella the whole time and call us dumb.”

 

“You are dumb,” I muttered automatically.

 

Satoru beamed. “See? You’re ready.”

 

I groaned, dragging a hand over my face. “Fine. But I need a bathing suit.”

 

Both boys opened their mouths like they were about to volunteer.

 

“No,” I said immediately, pointing a finger. “You two are getting things ready. If I leave it to you, I’ll end up in something with rhinestones and the Japanese flag on each tit.”

 

Satoru blinked. “…not a bad ide-”

 

“No.”

 

“I second that ‘no,’” came a new voice from the hallway. Shoko.

 

“Third,” Utahime added, stepping in with a gleam in her eye that made me nervous.

 

“You two handle the cooler and other junk,” Shoko said, already tugging me toward the door. “We’re taking her shopping.”

 

“She needs sunglasses too,” Utahime added. “And some water for the train ride. I don’t think she's been hydrating.”

 

“I need help,” I muttered to myself.

 

“You have us now,” Shoko said, smirking sideways. “So, too bad.”

 

---

 

I should’ve known I wasn’t safe the second the train doors shut.

 

It started innocently. Calm. Shoko passed me a canned coffee without asking. Utahime adjusted her sunglasses and told me the plan like we were going to war.

 

“We’ll find something that fits your vibe,” she said. “Soft punk but swim-proof.”

 

“...I have a vibe?”

 

“Yeah. Brooding cryptid with nice eyeliner,” Shoko said around her straw.

 

“Charming,” I muttered.

 

The second we hit the shopping district, it was over for me.

 

Utahime was surprisingly methodical, pulling dark purple and black options with mesh cutouts and high-waisted coverage, holding things up to my shoulders with her head tilted like she was fitting a sword to a sheath.

 

Shoko, meanwhile, had one goal...

 

“Try this.”

 

I looked at the piece of fabric in her hands. “That’s a napkin.”

 

“It’s a bathing suit.”

 

“It has more strings than suit, Shoko.”

 

“That’s the point. Be hot. Confuse the boys. Watch them malfunction.”

 

“I don’t need help confusing Satoru. He short-circuits when I look at him too long.”

 

“Exactly. Maybe you'll give him an aneurysm and he'll stop talking for a little bit.” she grinned.

 

Utahime groaned, dragging me toward the changing stalls. “Ignore her. You don’t need to wear something that makes you uncomfortable.”

 

“She lives in discomfort,” Shoko called after us.

 

---

 

It didn’t take long for Shoko to hype me up enough to convince me to try stuff on.

 

“I’m only doing this because you said you wouldn’t send them to anyone.”

 

Shoko made a sound that couldn’t legally qualify as a promise. “I said I wouldn’t post them. Totally different.”

 

“Shoko.”

 

“Amara.”

 

“I swear to god-”

 

“Babe,” Utahime cut in, already tossing another hanger over the curtain, “it’s not like they haven’t imagined you in less.”

 

I choked on air. “EXCUSE ME-”

 

“Oh please,” she laughed. “You think Suguru hasn’t fantasized about unzipping you like a forbidden present? And Gojo? That man would die happy getting smothered between your thighs.”

 

I made a noise, somewhere between scandalized and feral, and Shoko full-on cackled from where she leaned against the mirror, phone already poised like a paparazzi agent.

 

“I hate both of you.”

 

“You love us.”

 

“…Unfortunately.”

 

When I stepped out, the first outfit was the mesh-sleeved two-piece I’d actually liked, black with plum undertones, sleek and clean with just enough edge to feel like me. I smoothed the fabric down over my stomach, a little hesitant, until..

 

“Ohhh my GOD,” Shoko gasped, lifting her phone. “Say less. Say nothing. I’m ascending.”

 

“Amara, you’re unreal,” Utahime added, looking me up and down like she was personally offended. “You’re like if goths were mermaids. Or witches that drowned sailors.”

 

“I- what does that mean-?”

 

“Spin!” Shoko barked. “Give me a spin!”

 

I hesitated.

 

Then did it.

 

One little spin. One silly, dramatic twirl like I was playing dress-up in someone else’s life. The mesh sleeves flared, and my hair caught in the air, and I grinned.

 

Big. Silly. Not for anyone but me.

 

Shoko snapped the pic like she was trying to win a Pulitzer. “Okay, that’s one. We need more. Next suit. Go.”

 

“No- wait, I’m not-”

 

“Hurry up,” Utahime added, already shoving another hanger into my hands. “Do it for science! And my eyeballs..” she giggles lightly.

 

I was doomed.

 

---

 

The second one was more daring, black and deep red with side cutouts and thin straps across the back.

 

“Okay, this one is slutty in a good way,” Shoko said.

 

“I can’t breathe,” I wheezed.

 

“Don’t need to. The boys will when they see this. Strike a pose.”

 

I struck a stupid one. Hand on hip. Over-the-shoulder smirk.

 

Click.

 

I covered my face immediately after. “Delete it. Burn it. Salt the earth.”

 

Shoko laughed so hard she nearly dropped the phone.

 

---

 

The third was the most revealing, dark violet, high-leg cut, backless, with thin crisscrossing strings and the most suspiciously placed triangle cups known to man.

 

“I cannot wear this.”

 

“You will wear this.”

 

“I will be naked.”

 

“You will be legendary,” Shoko declared. “Now give me something soft and deadly.”

 

I rolled my eyes but stepped out again, tugging the straps into place.

 

Utahime exhaled slowly, dramatically. “Satoru’s gonna combust.”

 

“I can hear Suguru blinking slowly from here,” Shoko added. “Pose.”

 

I didn’t pose this time.

 

I strutted.

 

Right into frame. Tossed my hair. Hands on hips. Gave them the smile I usually reserved for cracking someone's ego open mid-fight.

 

They howled.

 

I did a little finger-gun.

 

Shoko took one picture, then immediately switched to video.

 

“Okay, okay- video now. This is for the archives. Go!”

 

In the clip, I’m twirling again. A little slower. A little sillier. I throw a wink at the camera and almost fall mid-pose because I’m laughing too hard.

 

And as I looked at it..

 

Oh, right.

 

My nipple piercings are absolutely visible through the fabric.

 

“…Shoko.”

 

She’s still recording. “Yes, my queen?”

 

“My nipples.”

 

She zooms in dramatically then looks back to me. “You’re welcome.”

 

“DO NOT-” I laugh hard.

 

“Too late, already saved. This one’s for Gojo’s funeral. Suguru’s probably going to break his phone in half.”

 

Utahime was wiping away tears from laughing. “We need to warn them.”

 

“No. No warnings,” Shoko said, evil glittering in her eyes. “We send the video. We let God sort the rest out.”

 

“I’m going to die.”

 

“You’re going to kill them.”

 

“I hate it here.”

 

I didn’t though. Not really. I felt powerful.

 

Embarrassed? A little.

 

But powerful.

 

Because they weren’t mocking me. They weren’t judging. They were celebrating me. Every part. Even the ones I tried to hide.

 

And for the first time in a long time, I let myself be seen.

 

Skimpy suit, piercings, smile, and all.

 

---------

 

The message hit Satoru’s phone like a slap.

 

Three in a row.

 

One photo.

Second photo.

Video.

 

All from Shoko “I’ve Done Worse” Ieiri.

 

He was in the middle of trying to figure out how many umbrellas you could justify bringing for seven people when he opened the first picture.

 

And then stopped breathing.

 

His whole body went still. Eyes wide. Mouth slightly open. Shoulders squared like he’d been hit with a blunt object made of sheer sexual confusion.

 

Suguru didn’t notice at first. He was crouched beside Nanami and Yu, comparing beach chair weights and muttering something about shade angles and neck support. Yu was holding a chair above his head like a trophy.

 

“This one reclines!”

 

“That's great, Yu. Put it down.” Nanami said flatly.

 

But Suguru looked up the moment he felt it.

 

A shift in the air.

 

More specifically a visible vibration of panic rolling off of Satoru Gojo like a curse with no form but too much emotion.

 

“…Satoru?”

 

Gojo didn’t answer. Just stared at his phone, slack-jawed.

 

Suguru stood slowly and walked over, curiosity turning into suspicion the closer he got.

 

“Satoru. What did you do?”

 

Gojo blinked once. His voice came out an octave higher than normal. “I didn’t do anything.”

 

“Then what-”

 

The second Suguru caught sight of the screen, the third picture to be precise, he immediately snatched the phone out of Satoru’s hand and turned away.

 

His pupils dilated.

 

Gojo made a choked noise behind him.

 

Nanami, still kneeling by the cooler, looked up. “What’s going on with you two-”

 

Then he glanced at the phone.

 

“Absolutely not.” His hand shot out like a reflex and slapped his palm over Yu’s curious face just as the youngest leaned over.

 

“Wha- Nanami?! I didn’t even see-!”

 

“And you won't.”

 

Suguru’s fingers gripped the phone hard enough to make it creak, jaw tight, mouth parting like he’d just seen a ghost, a sin, and an angel all in one.

 

He turned the screen toward Satoru again.

 

“I- I can see her piercings,” he said blankly.

 

“You can,” Gojo confirmed, dazed.

 

“They’re- how is the fabric not illegal-”

 

“Because Shoko has no shame.”

 

“I'm going to die.”

 

“You wish.”

 

Yu was still squirming. “Why is everyone acting like I got cursed?!”

 

“You did,” Gojo said, snatching the phone back and jamming it deep into his pocket. “It’s called puberty, and it’s not for the faint of heart.”

 

Nanami sighed the sigh of a man who had seen too much.

 

“Finish loading the cooler,” he said. “If I hear the word nipples one more time, I’m going back to campus.”

 

“Nipples!” Satoru blurted.

 

Suguru elbowed him so hard he stumbled.

 

“Pack the drinks,” Suguru ordered, eyes still a little wide. “Do not speak to me for ten minutes.”

 

Gojo was still flustered. He grabbed his towel and whimpered into it. “She posed, Suguru. She winked. I wasn’t ready.”

 

“Stop talking about iiiiit.” Suguru groaned.

 

Yu looked at all three of them, completely lost, and started stacking water bottles into the cooler in pure teenage resignation.

 

Nanami handed him ice packs with a nod. “Good job.”

 

The rest of the prep continued in stiff, slightly stunned silence.

 

Gojo kept sneaking looks at his phone and then burying his face in his hands. Suguru muttered something about buying a blanket to cover her. Nanami did not look at either of them again. Yu simply decided that whatever mystery they were hiding was above his rank.

 

Gojo exhaled shakily. “We are so screwed.”

 

Suguru didn’t even argue.

 

-----------

 

"Okay, Satoru said, and I quote, ‘holy shit ur going to kill me wtf is that outfit who let her be hot help.’”

 

Shoko was reading dramatically off her phone while walking backward, nearly crashing into a sunglass display. Utahime steered her with one hand and handed me another bikini option with the other.

 

“And Suguru,” she continued, “replied with, ‘She looks incredible. I’m buying her shaved ice. Any flavor. All flavors. And probably a dress to cover her up...'”

 

I rolled my eyes and tried to hide the heat crawling up my neck. “Those are actually pretty tame. I expected Gojo to go full aneurysm.”

 

“Well, that was just replies to me. Let's see if they text you.” Shoko grinned like she’d been waiting for the second act.

 

My phone buzzed.

 

Once.

Twice.

Then five times in rapid succession.

 

“…No.”

 

“Yes.”

 

I stared at the screen.

 

--

 

Satoru Gojo:

 

> i had to sit down

like physically

u SPUN.

there was a WINK.

suguru isnt talking to me rn

also ur piercings are illegal

 

Suguru Geto:

 

> Do you realize what you’ve done?

Shoko is a war criminal

Please don’t ever wear that around other men

ever

Except maybe me and Satoru

Do you want a blanket or a dress as a cover-up?

 

--

 

I covered my face and laughed into my palms. My ears were burning.

 

“Yeah,” Utahime said smugly, taking the phone and reading over my shoulder. “That’s a man who’s both in love and suffering.”

 

“They’re being so dramatic,” I mumbled. “It was just a-”

 

“That,” she said, “is not ‘just’ anything. That's unfiltered Amara.”

 

“I’m not wearing it,” I declared.

 

“You already did,” Shoko said, waving her phone like a trophy. “And you looked hot. But fine. We’ll find one you’re actually comfortable in before your boyfriends combust.”

 

“They’re not my- ugh.” I groaned, dragging a hand over my face again. “Fine. Let’s find something a little less... nipple forward.”

 

---

 

After another hour, a bribe of milk tea, and Shoko’s near arrest for smoking inside, we finally landed on one I didn’t hate.

 

It was a black one-piece with mesh cutouts and lace-up sides, not as intense as the other one, but still cool. Still me. And I could move in it without worrying about a wardrobe malfunction.

 

“Very ‘witch at the beach,’” Utahime declared.

 

“This would still seduce Suguru,” Shoko added.

 

I snorted. “You just want more pictures.”

 

“Maybe,” she smirked. “But you look good, babe. You know you do.”

 

I looked in the mirror. And yeah...

I didn’t hate it.

I wasn’t hiding.

 

That was new...

 

---

 

We met up with the boys near the edge of the train station. Satoru was pacing, sunglasses tilted up, eyes locked on me the second I came into view. Suguru stood beside him, composed but not even pretending not to stare.

 

I held up the bag with the chosen suit. “Approved?”

 

Satoru blinked, then gave a strained little thumbs-up. “I’ll allow it. Barely.”

 

Suguru looked at Shoko. “You didn’t send them all, did you?”

 

She grinned. “Of course not. I have standards.”

 

“I’m calling that a lie,” Satoru muttered, stepping closer and dropping his voice. “Amara, if you wear that last one, I swear to god-”

 

“You’ll explode?” I teased.

 

“Visibly. Physically. Clean up aisle Gojo.”

 

Suguru snorted. “We brought you water and an ice pack shaped like a penguin.”

 

I blinked. “...why?”

 

“You looked hot in the pictures. We thought you’d overheat.”

 

God help me, I smiled.

 

“Come on,” I said, tugging Suguru’s sleeve. “Let’s go catch the train before Nanami leaves us behind.”

 

Satoru was still whispering “I saw her piercings” under his breath like a prayer.

 

Shoko patted his back. “You’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

 

By the time we made it to the train platform, I was already regretting letting Gojo and Suguru handle the packing.

 

“Why do we have three coolers?” I hissed, struggling to squeeze between them and the massive umbrella bag Suguru had balanced on his back like some sort of cursed mule. “What could possibly be in all of this?”

 

“Essentials,” Gojo said smoothly, though he was slightly out of breath. “Snacks, drinks, backup snacks, extra towels, emergency floaties, and a waterproof speaker for when I decide to bless everyone with my playlist.”

 

“And,” Suguru added, patting one of the coolers, “Amara’s melon sodas. Plural.”

 

“You brought an entire cooler for soda?”

 

“And ice cream.”

 

I stared at them. “…You two are so dramatic.”

 

They looked proud of themselves.

 

The train was crowded, but Gojo made sure we got our own section, likely through either charm, threats, money, or some absurd combination of all three. The moment we sat down, I found myself sandwiched between them.

 

Satoru sprawled on my right like a golden retriever in heat, his head resting dramatically on my shoulder, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose.

 

Suguru sat to my left, arms folded, eyes scanning the aisle like we were transporting royal cargo. His leg pressed against mine in that firm, grounding way he did when he thought I might float off somewhere.

 

“You good?” he murmured.

 

“Yeah,” I said softly. “Just… getting used to all this.”

 

Satoru peeked up. “The attention?”

 

“The peace.”

 

Neither of them said anything, but Suguru’s hand brushed against mine and stayed there, fingers curling gently around mine without pressing.

 

Gojo caught it and grinned. “Gross,” he said. “You’re both so cute. I hate it.”

 

“You packed floaties shaped like ducks,” I reminded him.

 

“First of all, they’re geese. Second of all, we’re all getting in those later.”

 

“Satoru-”

 

“I named them, Amara.”

 

“Oh my god.”

 

Nanami, Yu, Utahime, and Shoko sat across the aisle, watching the chaos unfold.

 

Yu was bouncing with energy, already wearing sunglasses indoors. “Are we almost there?!”

 

“No,” Nanami said, sipping coffee without making eye contact.

 

Shoko was filming again, obviously. “Don’t mind me, just collecting blackmail.”

 

Utahime leaned over and whispered, “Did he really name the floaties?”

 

“Yes,” Suguru said with no hesitation. “One of them is called 'Lord Honkery.’”

 

Utahime groaned. “UGH. What a lame name. Only Gojo would come up with something like that.”

 

The train swayed gently as it picked up speed. I exhaled and let myself lean back against the seat, closing my eyes briefly. It was warm, soft. Their shoulders on either side of me felt like safety.

 

Gojo reached out and gently tugged the edge of my sleeve over my hand.

 

Suguru tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

 

I pretended not to notice either of them, even as a small smile crept across my face.

 

For the first time in days, I wasn’t haunted by the weight of my name or the shadow of my bloodline.

 

I was just Amara.

 

Heading to the beach.

 

---

 

The moment we stepped off the train and onto the sunbaked boardwalk, it hit me all at once, salt in the air, waves crashing in the distance, the heat soaking straight through the fabric of my cover-up. Everything felt brighter. Louder. Real.

 

It should’ve made me anxious.

 

Instead… I breathed.

 

I felt like I hadn’t in days.

 

“Alright!” Gojo yelled, tossing one of the duck-shaped floaties high into the sky like a battle banner. “Everyone move out! Operation Beach Domination is underway!”

 

Yu fist-pumped. “Let’s gooo!”

 

“Please don’t yell,” Nanami sighed, already regretting being born.

 

Utahime and Shoko were carrying bags and drinks, chatting as they walked, both wearing big sunglasses and the smug confidence of women about to tan and judge in peace.

 

And then there was me.

 

Wrapped in my oversized black cover-up, arms crossed, feet buried slightly in the hot sand as I hovered near the towels and bags.

 

I didn’t move.

 

Not yet.

 

Gojo and Suguru got to work fast, setting up a pop-up canopy like professionals. Well, Suguru was calm, precise, and focused. Gojo tried to use his technique to skip steps, failed, got tangled in nylon, and had to be rescued by a visibly exasperated Suguru.

 

Yu took the opportunity to start building a volleyball court with the set he asked Gojo to buy him and did it with more enthusiasm than architectural sense.

 

I didn’t notice Suguru approach until he was right beside me.

 

“Too hot?” he asked softly.

 

I shook my head. “Not the heat.”

 

His gaze softened.

 

Then, without saying anything else, he stepped behind me and gently hooked his fingers into the loose fabric at my shoulder.

 

I stilled.

 

“You sure?” he murmured, close enough that only I could hear it.

 

I nodded.

 

And just like that, Suguru slid the cover-up from my shoulders, careful, slow, not to be seductive, but reverent. Like I was something to be seen and not exposed. The black fabric pooled at my feet, and I stepped out of it.

 

The wind kissed my skin. My heart beated hard in my chest. But when Suguru turned me gently to face him, the way his eyes dragged over me..

 

God.

 

He didn’t smirk. Didn’t leer.

 

He just looked.

 

And then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to my cheek. Then my jaw. Then one to the corner of my mouth, soft as dusk.

 

“You look like a goddess,” he whispered. “And we built you a throne.”

 

I blinked. “A what now?”

 

Gojo, grinning so hard his sunglasses almost fell off, waved us over.

 

Sure enough, right under the canopy they had set up, there was a full setup: a shaded chair lined with towels, a small side table already holding a cold melon soda, a book I've been meaning to read, and snacks I liked beside it. They even made a little footrest out of a cooler. Gojo had stuck a tiny paper crown on the seat.

 

“What is this?” I asked with a light chuckle.

 

“Your domain,” Suguru said, smug. “You’re not allowed to lift a finger today unless it’s to throw a volleyball at Gojo’s face.”

 

“I call it the Amara Zone,” Gojo added proudly. “Maximum comfort. Minimum sand in your butt.”

 

Shoko cackled in the background. “She has a throne and Satoru’s being useful. I have to take a picture.”

 

“Send it to me,” I said, sitting down slowly, carefully, still adjusting to the fact that my body was just out and no one was mocking it.

 

No one was shaming it.

 

Just Suguru, sitting next to me with a hand resting casually on my thigh, and Satoru standing behind me with a towel slung over his shoulder like a royal advisor ready to fight the sun.

 

I looked out toward the ocean and smiled.

 

Just a little.

 

Just enough.

 

---

 

The day went on and I relaxed in the shade for a bit. Taking in the salty air.

 

But Satoru was starting to build a pattern.

 

The first time Satoru brought me a seashell, he didn’t say a word.

 

He just sprinted up to me like an overexcited golden retriever, tossed something into my lap, and then stood there grinning while absolutely dripping wet from the ocean.

 

It was a sand dollar. Intact. Pale white. Fragile-looking.

 

“Found it with my toes,” he declared, proudly.

 

“You mean you stepped on it.”

 

“Details.” He leaned closer, water still streaming down his neck. “Do I get a prize?”

 

“One kiss.”

 

His grin widens. "I'll take it."

 

I kissed his lips softly and he couldn't help but smile into the kiss.

 

When he pulled away I tucked the sand dollar gently into the mesh pocket of my bag, his grin softened.

 

“You’re keeping it?”

 

“Of course I am.”

 

He disappeared into the surf again with a happy whoop. Five minutes later, he came back with a spiral shell and then a piece of sea glass.

 

He waited excitedly for his reward and I couldn't help but cave. He loved bringing back sand dollars saying he was paying for the mermaid kissing booth.

 

I kept everything, of course.

 

---

 

At some point, I appointed myself the sunscreen tyrant.

 

“Sit down,” I barked at Yu, who was already halfway to the volleyball net. “You’re turning red.”

 

“But-”

 

“Now.”

 

He plopped down like a scolded puppy. I sprayed his back with military precision.

 

“Nanami,” I called next. “You missed a spot on your neck.”

 

Nanami didn’t even argue. He just sighed, sat, and let me work.

 

One by one, everyone wandered into the shade to be resprayed. I made a game of it, spinning Shoko around like a rotisserie chicken while she laughed, making Utahime shriek when I accidentally sprayed her hair, getting Suguru to sit down between my legs so I could do his shoulders without straining. He didn’t mind of course and I used it as an excuse to massage his shoulders.

 

Satoru tried to be a brat and dodge.

 

So I chased him.

 

And won.

 

---

 

Later, while the others were deep into a volleyball game with a group of strangers they’d somehow befriended (Yu was already calling them his new brothers), I found myself left under the canopy, warm, a little sleepy, feet up on the cooler.

 

Then two shadows fell over me.

 

“Come on,” Satoru said, already glowing with that smug, beach-blessed tan that should’ve made him illegal. “Water time.”

 

“I’m good here.”

 

Suguru leaned down beside me. “You’ve never been to the beach before,” he said softly. “You should feel it.”

 

I hesitated.

 

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

 

“You’re not,” Suguru said instantly.

 

“Never,” Satoru added. “You’re the main character today.”

 

I smiled despite myself. “You two are always so persistent.”

 

"Uh, duhhhh. You wouldn’t like us as much if we weren’t." Satoru teased with that bright goofy smile.

 

They got me in the water with surprising tenderness.

 

Gojo coaxed me in a few steps at a time, talking nonsense and walking backward so I’d follow. Suguru stood close, his hand around mine, steady and sure as the water swirled around our knees.

 

And then the waves touched my thighs, and I gasped. It was cold, soft, so different than I expected.

 

“This is…” I breathed, eyes wide. “It’s beautiful.”

 

Gojo beamed. “Right?!”

 

Then he splashed me.

 

In the face.

 

I choked, sputtered, and whipped around. “You did not!”

 

“Oh, I did.”

 

I tackled him.

 

It was chaos after that. Full, messy, unfiltered chaos.

 

We played like kids, laughing too loud, shrieking when the waves hit hard, throwing wet sand at each other like we were five. I dunked Satoru. He tripped me. We both tried to climb on Suguru’s back at the same time and ended up collapsing into a wave.

 

Suguru didn’t mind. He smiled the entire time, quiet and steady, watching us like we were his favorite storm.

 

For once, I didn’t worry about how I looked.

 

I didn’t flinch at every shout or shadow.

 

I just lived.

 

I existed.

 

I laughed until my ribs hurt and tasted salt on my lips and let the tide pull me close to people who made me feel like more than the sum of my scars.

 

And then Satoru splashed me again, right in the face. On purpose.

 

“Okay!” I gasped, blinking water out of my lashes. “That’s war. One was too many!”

 

“You’ve declared it now?” he grinned, already backing away into the surf.

 

“You did this!” I lunged at him, but he yelped and dove under a wave, disappearing like a slippery eel.

 

I shrieked and chased him down, shoving water at his back. He spun and retaliated with both hands like he was holding cursed-energy super-soakers, and before I knew it, we were locked in a full-blown splash battle that started using a small bit of our cursed energy to make bigger splashes.

 

We ducked behind waves like cover fire, shrieked insults mid-attack, and took dramatic dives into the water when “hit.” I even made a finger-gun out of seaweed.

 

When Suguru got close enough, I ran to him and threw my arms around his middle, soaking him instantly.

 

“She’s using me as a shield,” he said flatly, hair dripping into his eyes as Gojo gleefully launched a wave at us both.

 

“Hostage,” I corrected. “Surrender or the hostage gets it, Satoru!”

 

Gojo cupped his hands around his mouth like a megaphone. “You touch one strand of his man bun and I will rain hell!”

 

Suguru sighed. “She already touched it.”

 

Gojo screamed like someone had stabbed him.

 

Then he sprinted toward us and tackled us both into the water.

 

It was chaos.

 

Delightful, salt-sticky, slap-happy chaos.

 

I didn’t even realize I was laughing with my whole chest until Suguru surfaced beside me, pushing his soaked hair back and smiling like I’d given him something holy.

 

Eventually, the others came running down the sand, pulled in by all the shrieking and wave-fighting.

 

“Are you guys five?” Utahime asked, stripping off her wrap.

 

“Yes,” Gojo shouted from waist-deep in water. “Join us!”

 

“We’re doing what, exactly?” Shoko asked, already tying her hair back.

 

“CHICKEN FIGHT!” Yu roared.

 

“Oh god,” Nanami muttered from the shore. “Absolutely not.”

 

“Yes,” Yu grinned. “You’re the judge.”

 

“No.”

 

“You have to! We need a referee who won’t cheat!”

 

Gojo was immediately offended. “I never cheat!”

 

“You have Infinity.”

 

“That’s not cheating, that’s a natural blessing.”

 

“You are so annoying, Gojo..” Utahime muttered, already pulling Yu into position.

 

---

 

Somehow, in under three minutes, we were all in formation.

 

I sat on Suguru’s shoulders, gripping his head as he steadied himself with legs planted and arms locked on my legs. His skin was warm under my thighs, solid and dependable. Though it didn’t stop his hand from rubbing soothing circles and hooking under my bathing suit a little, making me have to remind him to keep his hands polite while people are around.

 

He glanced up and asked, “Don’t wiggle. Are you gonna wiggle?”

 

“I’m wiggling so much,” I whispered gleefully.

 

Across from us, Shoko perched on Gojo’s shoulders like a smug gremlin queen.

 

And Utahime climbed up on Yu, who was way too excited and kept bouncing, nearly knocking her off before the match even started.

 

Nanami stood at the edge of the surf like a man praying for lightning to strike.

 

“Rules,” he called reluctantly. “No Infinity. No actual cursed techniques. Last team standing wins. And… please don’t drown.”

 

Yu pointed. “Gojo’s already cheating.”

 

“I’M NOT.”

 

“Shoko’s convincing him to cheat!”

 

“Emotionally influencing someone isn’t cheating!” Shoko chirped. “It’s strategy!”

 

The battle began with a screech from Gojo and a war cry from Utahime.

 

Waves crashed.

 

Shoko and I clawed at each other like drunken cats. Suguru kept me steady, turning with fluid precision while Gojo just spun in wild, dizzying circles like a carousel from hell.

 

“Hold still!” I shouted.

 

“Can’t!” he called back. “My gremlin is unhinged!”

 

“I heard that!” Shoko cackled, jabbing my ribs.

 

Yu tripped on a sand dip and sent Utahime toppling straight into Gojo’s side. He wobbled, cursed, and then Suguru used the opportunity to pivot and shove them both sideways.

 

“BOOM,” I yelled as Shoko splashed into the water with an outraged howl.

 

“SHE TICKLED ME!”

 

“ALL IS FAIR IN WAR!” I grinned and giggled.

 

Suguru beneath me murmured, “You are dangerously competitive.”

 

“I’m a goddess of war, Suguru. Respect it.”

 

"Hmhmh. Should I get on my knees for you my goddess?" He looked up at me with those love-filled eyes that make me want to melt in more ways than one.

 

"Beahave, my love~" 

 

He takes a deep inhale, settling himself. "I'm so behaving.." 

 

I chuckled lightly.

 

Nanami raised both hands and shouted “Amara and Suguru win,” I raised my arms to the sky like I’d just been crowned queen of the entire coast.

 

Salt water. Sunburn. Laughter.

 

I’d never known joy like this...

 

---

 

By the time the sky turned lavender and orange, the chaos had softened.

 

The volleyball net was abandoned, half-buried in the sand. Our footprints stretched out like fading memories near the tide, and somewhere out there, Lord Honkery the floatie goose had drifted into legend.

 

Nanami and Suguru worked together with practiced ease, setting up the fire pit near the center of our canopy circle. Gojo shaped the flames with cursed energy until Suguru scolded him for almost lighting Yu’s towel on fire.

 

“I am a controlled flame god,” Gojo said, puffing out his chest.

 

“You are a walking liability, now hand me that bag please,” Suguru said with a small smile.

 

Meanwhile, I was wrapped in Suguru’s sweatpants and one of Satoru’s white t-shirts that swallowed me up. I smelled like beach and sun and boy.

 

Not that I minded.

 

When the fire finally caught, Gojo stepped back with his hands raised like he’d just given humanity a gift.

 

Suguru, quietly, came over and opened the shared beach chair we’d used earlier, then sat down and pulled me gently into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. His arms wrapped around my waist. I melted into him.

 

“Comfortable?” he murmured into my hair.

 

“Too comfortable,” I whispered back.

 

“That’s the point.”

 

Shoko, of course, pulled out a cooler and cracked it open with dramatic flair.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she announced, “I have brought libation.”

 

Yu gasped. “I’m not allowed to drink!”

 

“That’s why we brought you soda,” Utahime said, tossing him a can.

 

Nanami took a bottle without a word.

 

Gojo sniffed dramatically. “I will not be partaking.”

 

Everyone paused.

 

“Oh?” I said.

 

“After the Teleportation Incident, I have officially retired from drinking.”

 

Shoko raised a brow. “Which part was too far for you? Was it the lack of control over your abilities or woman's bra?”

 

“I- I had plenty of control, thank you! And I learned that it's not polite to accept other women's bras.”

 

“Other women's? Are you implying there is a woman you can take bras from?” Shoko's smirk widened.

 

Incoherent mocking sounds at Shoko. "You know what I mean." 

 

"I know but I was hoping you would spell it out for the class." She chuckles softly.

 

Nanami sighs. "Everyone knows what you are implying just fine, Shoko. No need for admission."

 

"Wait- what do we all know? I'm sure we all know it like you said we all did... but uh... could I have a reminder?" Yu asked with a short bashful laugh. 

 

He sighs again and whispers to Yu.

 

"YOU GUYS ARE TOGETHER?!" Yu shouts out.

 

Nanami covers his face from embarrassment and regret.

 

Shoko, Utahime, and Gojo laugh hard. 

 

Suguru chuckles.

 

I sigh.

 

---

 

The fire crackled.

 

We roasted marshmallows, passed chocolate and graham crackers around. Everyone talked, nothing heavy. Just updates. Shoko teasing Nanami about his new book collection. Yu describing a dream he had about cursed spirits playing baseball and now wanting to play baseball. Utahime ranting about a student who accidentally cursed their own shoes.

 

And in all of it, Suguru held me like I was something sacred.

 

We whispered to each other beneath the noise.

 

“You were…” he murmured, “so you today.”

 

I shifted to look at him. “Is that good or bad?”

 

He smiled faintly, brushing my hair away from my face. “It’s devastating. I keep thinking, if I had met you as a kid, I would’ve followed you everywhere.”

 

I snorted. “You would’ve bullied me.”

 

“No,” he said, dead serious. “You would’ve scared me.”

 

“You just said I was devastating.”

 

“Exactly. You’re... powerful when you’re happy. It makes everything else seem worth it.”

 

His voice dropped to something soft and raw. “I watched you laugh with your head thrown back today. You don’t even know what you do to me.”

 

I swallowed hard, heart tripping over itself.

 

He leaned in, resting his forehead to mine. “You were made to shine. Even when the world tried to bury you in ash.”

 

I didn’t know what to say.

 

So I kissed him.

 

Just once.

 

Slow.

 

And when we pulled apart, I curled deeper into his chest and let the fire warm the rest of me. He pulled the blanket over us to keep me warm and to make sure the fire didn't toast my skin too much.

 

The fire popped and hissed as someone tossed another stick in. Shoko was halfway through a ghost story that involved a cursed bride haunting a ryokan, complete with creepy sound effects and dramatic pauses. Yu looked appropriately terrified. Nanami looked like he was planning his escape.

 

And me?

 

I stayed curled up in Suguru’s lap, hands half in his shirt and all in his space, while he whispered sinful things into my ear like we weren’t surrounded by friends.

 

“You have no idea what you look like right now,” he murmured, fingertips tracing lazy patterns on my bare thigh just under the hem of his sweatpants.

 

“Hmm?” I said, moving to sip my drink.

 

“Wearing my pants, Satoru’s shirt,” he went on, voice low, “sitting in my lap like you belong there.”

 

“Don’t I?” I asked, barely glancing up, but the curve of my lips was smug.

 

He exhaled a laugh against my temple. “You’re going to kill me.”

 

“Maybe I’m just softening you up.”

 

“Oh? Planning something sinister?”

 

“Always.”

 

He chuckled, deep and quiet, his palm sliding up a little higher along the inside of my thigh. Still slow. Still subtle. Just enough to make my breath catch.

 

“Do you know how hard it was,” he whispered, “watching you all day? That smile, that laugh. The way you splashed around like you were trying to baptize the whole ocean. I wanted to carry you away and-”

 

“Suguru.” I gave him a look that was both a warning and a dare. “There are children present.” I chuckled lightly.

 

Yu cackled nearby, completely unaware, shoving a marshmallow into his mouth with both hands.

 

“I’m being so good,” Suguru said innocently, though the heat in his voice betrayed him. “You’re the one leaning into me like this.”

 

“You’re warm.”

 

“I can think of a few ways to make you warmer.”

 

“Careful,” I warned, grinning as I let my fingers dip just beneath the edge of his shirt, brushing skin. “You’re going to say something that gets you in trouble.”

 

His breath hitched just enough for me to notice.

 

“You are trouble,” he said, brushing his nose along my jaw. “Delicious, infuriating, soft-lipped trouble. You keep looking at me like this, and I’m going to do something unwise.”

 

“We’re in public..”

 

“There’s a blanket covering us.” He peppered kisses along my jaw and neck.

 

My jaw drops and my eyes widen. "Suguru!" I whisper yell. "You are a menace with that mouth of yours."

 

He chuckles into the kisses. "I'm going to leave that one alone.." 

 

The fire popped loudly, almost covering the tiny gasp I made when he nipped, featherlight, just under my ear.

 

I swatted him playfully. “Behave.”

 

“I am.”

 

“Liar.”

 

“You love that about me.”

 

I shifted in his lap just enough to press myself harder against his chest. His arms closed around me instantly, his hands now tucked beneath the fabric of the borrowed shirt like they belonged there.

 

We were both smiling, slow, secret, full of heat.

 

The others just kept talking.

 

Satoru was leading a dramatic reenactment of the cursed bride’s final wail, using a burning stick like a microphone. Shoko had her phone out, definitely recording. Utahime was groaning into her drink.

 

And me?

 

I was exactly where I wanted to be.

 

Draped in affection. Wrapped in someone who saw all of me and still wanted more.

 

 

Chapter 41: Beach Day Pt. 2

The fire had mellowed into that perfect stage of slow-burning embers, casting everything in gold and shadow. Shoko had already lit sparklers for Yu, who was busy pretending to cast spells with them. Nanami looked like he was silently calculating how long he could stay before we crossed into his bedtime.

 

That's when the music started again.

 

Something upbeat. Silly.

 

Satoru stood, arms out, swaying like a man possessed. "Amaraaaa," he sang, dragging the final vowel. "Dance with me."

 

I didn't move.

 

"Too comfy," I mumbled into Suguru's chest, fully burrowed there, his arms still heavy around my waist.

 

"Amaraaaaaa."

 

"She's busy being warm," Suguru murmured.

 

Satoru pouted. "You're both killing me."

 

Then, with zero warning, Suguru adjusted me just enough to slide his hands to my hips and lifted me up slightly.

 

"Go on," he said, lips brushing my ear. "He's trying to connect with you."

 

I narrowed my eyes playfully. "You just want to watch."

 

He smiled. "Guilty."

 

---

 

I didn't expect to actually enjoy it.

 

At first, it was just stupid, Gojo flailing, me doing a terrible robot, then him pulling me into some exaggerated ballroom waltz in the sand while still barefoot and grinning like an idiot.

 

I couldn't help but laugh.

 

And then I leaned in.

 

What started as play shifted.

 

Just a little.

 

My body moved against his. Satoru's hands gripped my waist with a bit more firmness. I dipped low, then rose slow, feeling the beat slide through my spine like a taunt. He caught my rhythm instantly, matching me, mirroring me, turning something playful into something hotter than it had any right to be.

 

Someone whistled from the sidelines.

 

Then two more.

 

Suguru didn't whistle.

 

But he watched.

 

God, he watched.

 

I spun back into Satoru, my back pressing flush to his chest, one arm lifted lazily up his chest. He rolled his hips forward with a soft grunt, his chin grazing the top of my head as we moved. His breath was light, teasing against my ear.

 

"Should we rile him up?" he whispered.

 

I smiled. "Isn't that the whole point?"

 

Another roll of the hips. Another shift of mine.

 

If anyone thought we were just playing around... they weren't paying attention.

 

Satoru's hands dipped lower. He didn't touch anything he shouldn't. But the suggestion was loud enough to make Suguru visibly stiffen where he sat.

 

Or maybe that wasn't just visibly.

---

 

By the time the song slowed down, we weren't even dancing anymore.

 

We were just swaying, bodies close, heat shared, breath and heartbeat aligned. But when I glanced over Satoru's shoulder, my eyes caught Suguru's.

 

He was staring.

 

His lip was between his teeth.

 

His hands were in his lap. One of them definitely clenching fabric.

 

He looked wrecked.

 

Beautifully.

 

And we were so pleased with ourselves.

 

"Should we stop?" I asked Gojo, barely audible.

 

He looked over, saw what I saw, and smirked like a fox.

 

"Not yet."

 

We kept dancing just a little longer, Satoru's breath warm on my neck, my skin prickling every time his hands slid just a bit lower, never quite crossing a line, but definitely leaning over it.

 

We weren't even moving to the music anymore. Just to each other.

 

And when I bent at the waist in the last pulse of the song, slow and teasing, my arms dragging up as I looked over my shoulder, Satoru's hands caught my hips instinctively, gripping tighter than he probably meant to. His gasp behind me was part surprise, part laugh, part help me.

 

Suguru?

 

Suguru made a sound.

 

A low, muffled groan behind his hand, his eyes wide and locked on us like we'd just stepped on a landmine he wanted to bury himself in.

 

I heard someone, Shoko, probably, wolf-whistle in the background.

 

Satoru dropped his forehead to my back, laughing through clenched teeth. "You're gonna kill us," he whispered.

 

I smiled sweetly. "Not if I kill myself first." I laughed a little all blushed.

 

---

 

The night faded softly after that.

 

The others started packing up, saying goodbyes with sticky fingers and hoarse voices from shouting too much. Nanami nodded solemnly to each of us before dragging Yu, who looked like he wanted to live on the beach permanently, off toward the train station. Shoko kissed me on the cheek and whispered, "Text me if they get weird."

 

"They're always weird," I whispered back.

 

"More weird than usual" She winked then blew me a kiss. 

 

And then it was just us.

 

Satoru. Suguru. Me.

 

Sitting in the glow of a dying fire, tucked under one of the woven blankets we brought.

 

Somehow, both of them had become my personal heaters, Suguru stretched out behind me, cradling my waist; Satoru draped over my legs like a lazy cat, his white hair sticking out in every direction and his cheeks still a little flushed from our earlier performance.

 

Suguru had us both in his lap by default, arms slung lazily over Satoru's hip and my stomach. His hands moved idly, soft little strokes like he couldn't bear to stop touching us.

 

"You're both ridiculous," he murmured into my shoulder. "Beautiful. Infuriating. Mine."

 

Satoru giggled and tucked his face into my thigh. "Yours?"

 

"Possessively," Suguru said, eyes lidded and voice warm. "I should carve my name on you both."

 

"Oh no," I said. "Now he's feeling excited and poetic."

 

"I am poetic," Suguru whispered dramatically, nose brushing my neck. "I am tragic and star-crossed and deeply, painfully horny..." He huffs a little.

 

Satoru snorted. "Same."

 

I laughed, full and breathless. My cheeks hurt.

 

I leaned into Suguru's chest and said it, casually, but meaning every word:

 

"I think I might be ready soon."

 

He stilled.

 

Satoru lifted his head.

 

I clarified, voice quieter, but steady: "For the bathhouse date. The all-day one. I think... I'm almost there."

 

The warmth between us pulsed. Not just the fire. Not just body heat.

 

But that.

 

That deep knowing.

 

Suguru didn't press. He just kissed the top of my head and held me tighter.

 

Satoru curled up closer with a goofy grin, whispering, "We'll go slow. We'll make it perfect."

 

And I nodded. I believed them.

 

Because in this moment, with their hands on my skin and their hearts beating steady against mine, I didn't feel afraid.

 

I felt wanted.

 

Loved.

 

Safe.

 

---

 

By the time we made it back to the dorms, the world had quieted.

 

The three of us moved like a single shape through the hallways, Gojo humming some nonsense melody under his breath, Suguru walking slowly with our bags over one shoulder, his other hand never straying far from mine.

 

It was late. My skin still smelled like the ocean. My body was tired in the best way, heavy and warm and stretched from laughter.

 

We slipped into my room like we always did when the world got too loud.

 

Door locked. Lights low.

 

Satoru peeled off his shirt immediately, like always, tossing it somewhere near the hamper with questionable accuracy. "I call second shower!" he declared before flopping face-first onto my bed like a felled tree.

 

Suguru followed, tugging off his hoodie in one lazy motion, muscles rolling as he moved. "I'll be last," he said. "You two can fight over hot water."

 

That left me.

 

I stood in the middle of the room, hands on the hem of the oversized shirt I was still wearing, Satoru's. Still warm from his body. Still smelling like him.

 

And then I just...

 

Took it off.

 

No dramatics. No warning.

 

I pulled it over my head, tossed it on my desk chair, and then pushed Suguru's sweatpants down too, stepping out of them without thinking.

 

I was completely naked.

 

Casual.

 

Like they always were.

 

This is totally casual and it's so totally fine....

 

The silence was loud.

 

Gojo's head lifted off the bed so fast he almost slipped off it.

 

Suguru went completely still like if he moved too fast he would startle me.

 

I didn't look at them. Not directly. I acted like it was normal. Like it wasn't a huge deal for me. Like my body hadn't once felt like a battleground I was ashamed to show anyone.

 

I kept my voice light. "I'll go first then."

 

And I turned toward the bathroom.

 

But before I could take more than a step, I heard Suguru's voice, low and careful.

 

"Amara."

 

I paused.

 

Satoru sat up now, legs hanging off the bed, his eyes unusually soft beneath the white fringe.

 

Suguru's tone was gentle. "Can we... see you?"

 

My chest tightened.

 

He clarified quickly, before I could overthink it..

 

"No touching. No staring. Just... looking. Just to... take you in."

 

"Then we'll drop it," Satoru added. "Like it's nothing."

 

"Like you do with each other?" I asked, still not turning.

 

"Exactly like that," Suguru said.

 

I hesitated.

 

Then I faced them, slowly.

 

I didn't cover up.

 

I let them see.

 

All of me.

 

The faint scars. The curve of my hips. The softness I'd gained in safety. The silver glint of my piercings. The shadows of muscle from months of training.

 

The girl who didn't use to like mirrors was gone.

 

Or maybe she was still here, just a little braver now.

 

Gojo blinked, a little dazed. But he didn't make it weird. Didn't smirk or leer.

 

He just smiled. "You're beautiful, y'know?"

 

Suguru's voice was quieter. "Extremely beautiful..."

 

I swallowed, cheeks warm. "Okay. That's enough."

 

They both nodded.

 

No jokes. No pressure.

 

I darted into the bathroom with my heart thudding like a drum and the sound of the ocean still in my ears.

 

By the time I was out of the shower, the room smelled like soap and salt and Satoru's expensive shampoo. My hair was damp, and I was wrapped in one of my fluffiest towels, legs bare, heart pounding for reasons I refused to acknowledge.

 

---

 

Satoru came out of the shower after me.

 

Hair wild from the towel rub, steam still clinging to his skin, and a towel slung dangerously low around his hips like he had walked out of a damn magazine shoot. He was all lean strength and long legs and collarbones so sharp they probably counted as cursed tools.

 

Suguru followed a few minutes later.

 

Quieter. Broader. His towel was a little higher, but it didn't matter, he could've worn three layers and still made my brain short-circuit. His hair was loose, a few strands framing his face. Water still clung to his chest, dripping in slow lines down his torso.

 

They both looked at me at once.

 

Suguru spoke first, voice soft, teasing. "You let us see you. Fair is fair."

 

Satoru raised a brow. "Want to make it even, pretty girl?"

 

I blinked. "Wait- you're serious?"

 

"Only if you want," Suguru said, calm and respectful.

 

"Yeah," Satoru added. "We're not trying to be weird. Just... we trust you. You trusted us. So showing and sharing said trust and all that."

 

My mouth went dry. "O-Okay."

 

My voice cracked.

 

They nodded in sync.

 

And then, at the same time, two towels dropped.

 

Oh my god.

 

I was not prepared.

 

I mean- I knew they were attractive. I'd seen them shirtless. Been close. Felt their bodies pressed against mine in training, in cuddles, in everything that existed in the charged space between us.

 

But this?

 

This was a different level of exposure.

 

And... well.

 

They were both very... gifted down there..

 

Like, holy shit.

 

I blinked.

 

Then stared.

 

And kept staring.

 

Satoru laughed first, grinning so wide I thought his cheeks might split. "You good there, sweetheart?"

 

I didn't answer.

 

Couldn't.

 

Suguru smirked. "She's frozen."

 

"I think we broke her," Satoru added.

 

Still staring.

 

Still red.

 

Then, because he was the worst, Satoru did a little hip wiggle.

 

Just a subtle one. Just enough to make it so much worse.

 

"Satoru!" I shrieked, burying my face in my towel.

 

Suguru rolled his eyes and smacked Satoru's chest hard. "Knock it off."

 

"She was looking," Gojo defended, all faux innocence. "I was just giving her what she wanted."

 

"I was not-!" I started to argue, but my voice cracked again, and both of them burst out laughing.

 

"You totally were," Suguru said, smug.

 

I groaned, trying to melt into the floor. "I hate both of you."

 

"You love us," Satoru corrected.

 

"I might kill you in your sleep."

 

"Still counts as love I think."

 

Eventually, they pulled on boxers and climbed into bed like nothing happened, though Satoru kept grinning and Suguru kept stealing glances like he was proud of how red I had gotten.

 

And despite the embarrassment, despite the overwhelming everything... I felt safe.

 

Like we were truly equals now.

 

No secrets.

 

No fear.

 

Just soft skin, shared laughter, and hearts trying their best to move forward, together.

 

By the time we were all finally tucked under the covers, the energy had softened into something golden and heavy. Satoru was on my left, Suguru on my right, their legs tangled with mine, their bare chests warm against my shoulders. The blankets felt cooler than their skin, so I stayed tucked between them. I didn't want to move. Not even a little.

 

"Best beach day ever," Satoru mumbled, already halfway to sleep, hair still slightly damp and sticking to his forehead.

 

"Mmm," Suguru hummed, pressing a slow kiss to the crown of my head. "I liked the part where you embarrassed yourself."

 

I kicked his shin gently under the blanket. "I did not."

 

"You stared like it was art class," he said with smirk in his voice.

 

"Would you prefer I lied about it?" I teased.

 

"No," Satoru added helpfully. "Please stare. Stare always."

 

I groaned, face hot again. "I hate you both."

 

"We know," Suguru said, completely unbothered, pulling me tighter against his side like I was some kind of smug little heat pack.

 

Satoru yawned and stretched his arm over me like a blanket. "So... did you like today?"

 

I hesitated.

 

Then I nodded. "Yeah. I really did."

 

There was a pause, quiet, but not awkward. Just sleepy. Content.

 

Until Satoru shifted slightly and sat up on one elbow, blinking toward the shelf above my desk.

 

"...Wait. Are those-?"

 

I followed his gaze.

 

Shells. Sea glass. A few perfectly round sand dollars. All lined up carefully. Right where my textbooks used to be. I set them up while the boys were showering.

 

He stared, then looked at me, eyes wide and blinking. "You... put them all up?"

 

I smiled softly. "You gave them to me."

 

His face twisted for half a second like he wasn't sure if he should cry or scream from happiness, and then he flopped back down with a groan, burying his face into my neck dramatically.

 

"Why are you so cute?" he mumbled, muffled. "Stop it. Illegal."

 

Suguru chuckled softly. "I noticed them earlier," he admitted. "She even rinsed the sand off."

 

I rolled my eyes. "I wanted to keep them."

 

"They're yours," Satoru whispered, lips brushing against my collarbone. "You can keep everything."

 

I smiled into the dark, eyes drifting closed. "Only if I get to keep you too."

 

Both boys stilled.

 

And then they held me tighter.

 

The room was quiet besides the low hum of the AC and our breathing all tangled together.

 

Suguru had my front, his chest pressed to mine, one leg slotted between my thighs, his hand warm on my side, thumb tracing little shapes under the hem of my sleep shirt. Every time his thumb dipped low enough to brush my hip bone, my breath would catch just a little, and his lips would curl into the faintest smirk against my hair.

 

Satoru was at my back, chest flush to my spine, one arm under my neck as a pillow, the other wrapped lazily around my waist. His long fingers rested against my stomach, brushing absently over my belly button ring again and again. He always did that when we cuddled, like it was his favorite little fidget toy. Every time it shifted under his touch, a soft shiver rippled through me. He definitely noticed. He always noticed.

 

"So..." Satoru murmured eventually, voice low and sleepy. "Bathhouse date."

 

My stomach fluttered under his touch.

 

Suguru hummed in agreement, his hand sliding up to cup my jaw gently, tilting my face up so he could press a lazy kiss to my lips. It wasn't urgent. It wasn't possessive. Just... a promise.

 

"You still want to do it?" he whispered against my mouth.

 

I nodded, cheeks warming. "Yeah. I think I'm ready. Or... almost ready. I want to at least try."

 

"Good girl," Suguru breathed, brushing his thumb over my cheekbone before dipping down for another kiss, this one longer, deeper, slow enough that I felt my entire body soften against him.

 

Satoru made a quiet whine behind me and pressed closer, lips brushing my ear. "We'll make it perfect."

 

I let out a shaky laugh, half embarrassed. "Yeah?"

 

"Mhm," he said, nuzzling into my hair, his fingers still playing with my piercing. "I'm gonna rent out the entire place. No one else there. Just us. Staff if we need them, but they'll stay away. You can be as free as you want. However loud, however quiet, however soft you need it to be. No pressure. Just... us."

 

My heart clenched in the best way.

 

Suguru kissed my forehead and murmured, "We'll go slow. All day. As long as you want. If we only eat and nap, that's fine too. If we just... touch. That's enough."

 

I swallowed hard, tears pricking the edges of my eyes before I could blink them away. "You're both... too good to me."

 

"No such thing," Suguru said softly.

 

"I could definitely be good-er." Satoru corrected, squeezing my waist with a little grin in his voice. "You deserve all of it. And more."

 

I shifted closer to Suguru, my hand curling into his shirt, my back pressing tighter into Satoru's chest.

 

They held me like that in the dark, Suguru's lips brushing my forehead again and again, Satoru's fingers never leaving my belly ring, his touch grounding and soft. I felt them both breathing against me, warmth seeping into my bones.

 

I fell asleep to the sound of their hearts and the knowledge that for once... I wasn't dreaming of love.

 

I was living in it.

 

 

Chapter 42: Another Step Closer

The night air outside the Jujutsu Society record base was thick and unmoving, heavy with summer’s leftover humidity. Insects sang in the grass around the security fence, oblivious to the tall shadow stepping quietly over its outer wiring.

 

Riku Hoshizuki moved with a stillness that defied human nature. His boots made no noise against the gravel. His breathing didn’t fog the air. Even the cameras flickered, failing to catch his silhouette in the frame as he passed.

 

He approached the side entrance first. Two guards. Young. Tired. Bored. He watched them for precisely eleven seconds before stepping forward into the dim blue pool of security lights.

 

“Hey- who the hell- ?!”

 

His hand shot out before the sentence finished. Two fingers pressed against the first guard’s neck, just below his jaw, cursed energy thrumming in a precise, controlled pulse. The guard’s eyes rolled back and his knees buckled as his brain short-circuited under the targeted energy wave.

 

The second guard barely had time to lift his weapon before Riku’s hand met his wrist, sending it clattering to the ground. A palm to his sternum, cursed energy flickering just enough to disrupt the nerves in his body, and he too crumpled to the gravel without a sound beyond a muffled grunt.

 

Riku bent down, stripped both their security badges, and slipped them into his coat pocket. His movements were mechanical. Efficient. Devoid of rush. Devoid of feeling.

 

He didn’t look at their faces as he stepped over them.

 

---

 

Inside the building, fluorescent lights hummed dully against scuffed linoleum floors. The night shift was sparse, three at the front desk, two in the hall, four scattered in the back archives. Riku walked with his hands in his coat pockets, head tilted just enough to hide his face under the shadow of his hair.

 

When the first receptionist spoke up, he didn’t bother to answer. His hand flicked out, and cursed energy snapped through her chest like an electric shock. Her scream was cut short as her eyes rolled back and her body slumped in her chair. The other two barely had time to flinch before they too slumped forward, unconscious but alive. Barley.

 

He moved on.

 

The hallway guards were harder. They saw his eyes. One raised his cursed tool, voice cracking with sudden panic.

 

“Hey! Stop right-!”

 

Riku elbowed the man in the neck then quickly flipped him over onto his back. The man’s air was knocked out of his body, and his consciousness flickered out like a dying bulb as Riku used his cursed energy. The second guard tried to radio for help, but Riku was on him before the button was pressed, cursed energy slamming into his ribs and flooding his lungs with paralyzing heat. His mouth fell open in a silent wheeze before he dropped to the floor.

 

Riku dragged both men quietly into a side janitor closet, laying them out neatly, one atop the other. He tied their wrists and ankles with cable ties he’d taken from the front security desk. Their breathing was shallow but steady. He didn’t check twice.

 

---

 

He continued down the main archive hallway. Every room he entered, he cleared with silent, deliberate precision. Cursed energy that pulsed just enough to collapse, not to kill. Ties looped around wrists and ankles. Gags from towels, uniform sleeves, anything that kept them quiet.

 

One by one, they were laid down in storage rooms and closets, hidden from view. The hum of the security system never wavered.

 

By the time he reached the back records office, there was no one left to raise an alarm.

 

He entered the room with the same silent, deliberate steps. A single archivist sat behind the terminal, a thin man with graying hair and tired eyes behind his glasses. He flinched at the sudden silhouette in the doorway.

 

“C-can I help y-”

 

“Amara Hoshizuki,” Riku said flatly, his voice low, scraping with disuse. “Give me her file.”

 

The man blinked. Typed quickly. His brows furrowed. “I… I don’t see that name on file, sir.”

 

Riku didn’t move. Just stared, crimson eyes unblinking.

 

The archivist swallowed thickly, glancing at the ID badge clipped to Riku’s pocket. “I… I do see an Amara listed under Amkumakyo. Would that be…?”

 

A faint flicker passed across Riku’s face. His eyelid twitched. The air seemed to hum darker around him for half a breath before he spoke again.

 

“Open it.”

 

The archivist obeyed, fingers trembling as he entered clearance credentials. The screen lit up with file headers, rows of data flickering into view. He scrolled through quickly, his mouth moving silently as he skimmed dates, records, and assessments.

 

“She… she’s a student. First year… transferred under Headmaster Yaga’s recommendation. Her cursed technique is… um… this is heavily redacted. Sir, I- I don’t have clearance to unlock the full file. That requires Tier Five-”

 

“Get it.”

 

The archivist’s breath hitched. “I- I can’t. Only the Division Head has that clearance. I’d have to get him. I-”

 

Riku didn’t say anything. Just waited. Silent. Still as stone.

 

Eventually, the archivist scrambled out of his chair, nearly tripping over the hem of his uniform slacks as he bolted for the door. Riku followed at a measured pace.

 

They reached the Division Head’s office in less than a minute. The older man inside was just finishing his tea, surprised to see his archivist and a stranger enter without knocking.

 

“Kenji? What is- ”

 

He caught sight of Riku’s eyes and his blood ran cold.

 

Riku spoke before he could form another word. “Amara Hoshizuki’s full file.”

 

The Division Head blinked. Then squared his shoulders, voice going cold and stern. “Riku Hoshizuki... the damn ghost himself... A traitor and a coward.” He scoffed. "You’re not getting anything from me."

 

Riku tilted his head slightly. “Last chance.”

 

Kenji, the archivist, trembled between them. “Sir, please- he’ll-”

 

“I said I'm nothing giving you anything! You'll have to kill me before I give you anything!"

 

"I'm losing patience."

 

The Division's head started summoning his cursed energy to attack and that's all Riku needed to see.

 

Riku stepped forward, fast as a shadow crossing moonlight. His fingers curled around the Division Head’s throat and slammed him against the back filing cabinet so hard the metal dented inward with a screech. Papers fluttered to the ground like broken feathers.

 

“File,” Riku repeated, his voice utterly empty.

 

The man wheezed, clawing at the iron grip crushing his windpipe. He tried to kick, to pull Riku’s arm away, but it was like trying to bend steel. His vision tunneled. His lungs burned. Still he rasped out.

 

“Go… to… hell-”

 

Riku’s grip shifted slightly. He let the man go and for a moment their was a calming release.

 

Until..

 

Riku pulled a knife from his pocket and sit the mans throat. He falls to the table and bleeds out.

 

The archivist sobbed softly. “Please… please don’t kill me…”

 

“Sit,” Riku said, gesturing to the console.

 

Kenji scrambled into the chair, tears dripping onto the keyboard as he navigated trembling menus. There was a lock that needed to be done and a cursed energy scan and Riku held the Division Head’s limp hand up to the sensor. Since Riku didn't drain him, or kill him with a cursed tool, there was still lingering cursed energy around the corpse. The screen unlocked. Files spilled onto the monitor in neat rows.

 

Riku scanned them in silence, eyes flicking over each entry faster than human reading should have allowed. 

 

"Print it."

 

Kenji's fingers danced across the keys, selecting what he needed, printing pages to the side printer.

 

He didn’t react to the redactions. Names blocked. Missions blacked out. But enough remained. Her current name. Her school. Her class. Her training team.

 

He collected the stack of warm pages and slid them into his coat. Then he turned to leave.

 

The archivist let out a choked sob of relief. “Thank you… thank you… thank you-”

 

"You’re a damn coward who reeks of piss. Release all your friends. Maybe you can pretend to be a hero with them."

 

Then he was gone. Silent as a shadow. The door closed behind him with a gentle click, leaving only the distant hum of the printer and the soft, broken sobs of the man who realized that sparing him hadn’t been mercy.

 

It had been complete and utter indifference.

 

A waste of his time and energy.

 

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

 

Yaga’s phone rang at precisely 4:02 AM.

 

He’d been awake anyway, seated at his desk with paperwork spread before him that he’d read twice but absorbed none of. The summer sun hadn’t even cracked the horizon yet, leaving his office bathed in the thin blue shadows of dawn.

 

The ringtone was short, clipped, an emergency line only the Enforcement Bureau had.

 

He answered on the first ring. “Yaga.”

 

“Headmaster,” a curt voice replied. “This is Division Six. Detective Mori requests your presence. We have another incident. Coordinates sent.”

 

Yaga’s jaw tensed, his thumb already looking at the notification that came through on his private cell. “Understood. On my way.”

 

He didn’t bother to gather anything besides his coat and sunglasses. No breakfast. No tea. Just the familiar black jacket over his white button-up. He moved through Jujutsu Tech’s halls like a shadow before the sun.

 

---

 

The crime scene was at a smaller Jujutsu Society administrative base, tucked in a quiet business district just outside of Kyoto.

 

Barriers were already erected, soft blue shimmer in the morning sun as it started to rise. Yaga stepped into the barrier and was met with the sharp tang of blood and antiseptic, the scent of fear clinging under it all like mildew.

 

Detective Mori was waiting at the entrance, one hand tucked into the pocket of his dark slacks, the other holding his cigarette just far enough away to keep the smoke out of people's faces. His jaw was lined with faint stubble, eyes bloodshot but alert.

 

“Yaga,” Mori greeted with a short nod. “Glad you came fast.”

 

“What happened?” Yaga asked, voice flat but carrying.

 

Mori flicked ash to the ground, his lips twisting around the cigarette as he gestured for Yaga to follow him inside.

 

“One dead. Ten locked in different closets. One near-dead from pissing himself with terror but alive.” Mori’s voice was clipped, words falling like stones. “No cursed spirits. No veils deployed. Just… him.”

 

Yaga adjusted his sunglasses as they stepped over the threshold into the entry hall. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, illuminating the scuffed linoleum smeared faintly with footprints tracked in by responders. The smell of fresh blood hit sharper as they turned down a short hallway, passing an empty reception desk.

 

“Riku,” Yaga muttered, already knowing the answer.

 

Mori grunted in agreement. “Yeah. Hoshizuki. Left his usual signature.”

 

They entered the office.

 

The smell was strongest here.

 

An older man lay slumped against the desk, his throat sliced clean through, blood pooled at his knees and under the table’s edge in thick, congealed rivers. His eyes were open, wide with disbelief even in death.

 

Yaga’s face remained impassive behind his sunglasses, though his fingers curled once at his side.

 

“Who was he?” he asked.

 

“The Division's head,” Mori said, gesturing with his cigarette before realizing and cursing, stubbing it out against the heel of his boot. “Bureau shows he was requesting files on a first-year transfer. Your girl.”

 

Yaga’s chest went tight. “Amara.”

 

“Mm,” Mori hummed in confirmation. “Looks like Riku’s working his way through information chains. Trying to find out where she is, what she’s been doing, who she’s with. The others are in the break room now. He locked them all in closets.”

 

They exited the room, leaving behind the metallic sting of blood, and continued down to the break area. Inside, a group of lower-grade sorcerers sat on the worn couches and plastic chairs, shoulders hunched, hands wrapped around paper cups of hot tea passed out by responders.

 

Mori gestured to a middle-aged man sitting near the far corner, knees bouncing with leftover adrenaline. “That’s our talker.”

 

Yaga approached slowly, looming without meaning to, but the sorcerer looked up at him with wide, blown pupils and didn’t flinch.

 

“He spared you,” Yaga said simply.

 

The man swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I-. I told him I’d give him whatever he wanted if he left the rest of us alive. He could even take me if that meant the others would be safe. He just… he just stared at me, y’know? Like he didn’t care if I was lying or not..”

 

“What did he want?” Yaga asked, voice low, calm, controlled, though beneath it, something in his chest began to tighten.

 

The sorcerer swallowed, his hands shaking as he held onto his teacup like it was the only thing tethering him to the room. “He… he kept asking for a student file. A girl. Amara. But he was calling her something different. Hoshizuki. I didn’t… I didn’t see any student with that name.”

 

Yaga’s jaw ticked once behind his beard, hidden beneath the shadow of his sunglasses. “What name did you find?”

 

The sorcerer blinked rapidly, thinking back. “Um. Amkumakyo. That was the closest I could find. There was only one Amara on file that matched the year and age range. I… I told him it must be the same person. But it seemed to piss him off more. He got really quiet and just… stared at me. Like I’d done something unforgivable.”

 

Amkumakyo.

 

The name Hana had forced into the system out of spite, a twisted hybrid of insult and ownership. A name Yaga had kept in official records to prevent anyone from tracing her back to Riku’s bloodline. To protect her. And yet...

 

“What did he do when you told him?” Yaga pressed.

 

“He… um… he said he wanted her full file. Everything. But I don’t- I didn’t have access to that. Her file was locked. Tier Five clearance.” His voice cracked slightly. “So… so I told him that. I told him I’d have to get my supervisor.”

 

Yaga exhaled through his nose. “And that’s when he went to your boss...”

 

The tears started to prick at the corners of his eyes. “Yeah. - he didn’t even hurt me. He just… walked away. Like I didn’t matter. He went straight to him. I tried to warn him, I tried, but-”

 

He cut off, staring down at his trembling hands.

 

Yaga’s gaze darkened. “Did he say anything else? Anything about his intentions with her?”

 

The sorcerer shook his head frantically. “No, sir. He barely spoke. He just… wanted the file. My boss- he tried to deny him. Tried to stand up to him. Riku… he gave him a chance. Asked him for the file but when he didn’t hand it over or step down-” The sorcerer swallowed hard, bile rising. “He cut his throat. Clean. Like it was nothing.”

 

Yaga closed his eyes for a brief moment. He could picture it perfectly. Riku Hoshizuki, gaunt and quiet, speaking in that dead, flat tone he used for everything except violence. His mercy wasn’t kindness.

 

“How did he get the file if it was locked?” Yaga asked, though the dread curling low in his chest already knew.

 

The sorcerer’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t know. He just… printed it. Like it was nothing. The printer started going and he waited for the pages. They were heavily redacted, lots of black bars, but… I guess it was enough.”

 

Enough.

 

Enough to show her current name. Enough to show her class. Enough to list her year-mates.

 

Yaga’s pulse thundered dully against his collar. Because Amara’s file, unlike the others, wasn’t just her name and cursed technique. It was an ongoing observation record, built under his direct supervision. It listed team assessments, tactical pairings, personal progress evaluations.

 

And in every entry…

 

Every line.

 

Every mission note.

 

Were names.

 

Satoru Gojo. Suguru Geto. Shoko Ieiri. Nanami Kento.

 

His top students.

 

And now Riku knew them too.

 

---

 

Mori’s voice cut through his spiraling thoughts, rough with disdain as he approached from behind.

 

“Let me guess,” the detective drawled, flicking ash onto the tile floor before stubbing out his cigarette under his boot. “He’s hunting for her. Building a profile. Standard escalation for men like him. They start with records. Then witnesses. Then the target herself.”

 

Yaga turned, face unreadable behind his glasses. “This isn’t a contract kill.”

 

Mori scoffed. “No shit. If it was, she’d be dead already. This is personal. But mark my words, Yaga, it ends the same way. Blood. The only question is whose.”

 

He pulled out another cigarette, tapping it against his palm. “If you ask me, you should just hand him the girl. Lure him in, set the trap, end it clean.”

 

“No.” Yaga’s voice was flat steel.

 

Mori narrowed his eyes, biting down on the filter but not lighting it yet. “Then what’s your plan, Headmaster?”

 

Yaga looked back down the hallway, toward the office still stained with fresh blood. Toward the break room filled with trembling sorcerers. Toward the invisible thread that tied it all to his girl with the tired eyes and stubborn spine.

 

His jaw clenched.

 

“My plan,” he said quietly, “is to ensure the safety of my students at any cost.”

 

Yaga’s jaw tightened as he finished his words, his voice rumbling low in the stale fluorescent-lit hallway.

 

Mori watched him silently for a moment, cigarette balanced between his lips but still unlit. Then he scoffed softly, a bitter smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

 

“Safety at any cost, huh?” he muttered around the filter, his tone dripping with cynicism. “Spoken like a true idealist.”

 

Yaga didn’t look at him. He adjusted his sunglasses slightly, gaze fixed ahead, unflinching. “And what would you propose, Detective? That I simply sacrifice a student to protect the many? Offer her up like bait?”

 

Mori clicked his tongue, lighting his cigarette with a sharp flick of his lighter. The flame briefly illuminated the harsh lines of his face, casting deep shadows in the hollow beneath his cheekbones. He took a drag, exhaled smoke through his nose, and shrugged one shoulder.

 

“If that’s what it takes to stop a monster like him? Yeah. I would.”

 

Yaga’s head turned slowly, sunglasses glinting under the flickering hallway light. “You’d send a girl, barely twenty, to her death? Just to avoid getting your hands dirty later?”

 

Mori’s eyes narrowed, hard and cold. “Don’t twist my words, Headmaster. I wouldn’t send her to her death. I’d send her to end his. You think coddling her, hiding her away behind barriers and guards, is going to change the outcome? He’s not going to stop. He’ll cut down anyone in his path until he gets her. Until he gets what he wants.”

 

Yaga’s lips pressed into a thin, grim line. “And you think feeding him what he wants will end it?”

 

“No,” Mori said flatly. “But it’ll end him.”

 

The silence between them was heavy, the faint hum of the ceiling lights buzzing overhead like static in a dead radio line.

 

“You see them as weapons,” Yaga said quietly, his voice dark and flat as riverbed stone. “Students. Sorcerers. Humans. You see them all the same. Tools to be used. Lives to be bartered.”

 

“I see reality,” Mori snapped, flicking ash to the ground without care. His eyes glinted sharply under his dark brows. “I see blood and bodies stacked on the scales of your moral high ground. How many are you willing to let die for your convictions, Yaga? How many corpses before you’re willing to admit that idealism doesn’t save lives, it just preserves your conscience.”

 

For a long moment, Yaga didn’t answer. His broad shoulders rose and fell with a single heavy breath, the fabric of his black jacket whispering with the movement. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost tired, but unbreakable.

 

“My conscience,” he murmured, “is not what I’m preserving. It’s their futures. Their humanity. Their right to live without becoming what this world demands of them.”

 

Mori snorted, bitter amusement curling his lip. “You think they’ll have that choice in the end? You think your little girl, with her cursed blood and cursed eyes, will get to choose not to become a weapon when all this is over?”

 

Yaga’s sunglasses hid the flicker in his gaze, but his voice carried every shard of iron that ran through him.

 

“I think she will,” he said simply. “Because I will give her that choice. Because someone has to stand between them and the darkness that made men like him.”

 

He turned away, coat rustling as he moved back down the hallway, past the trembling sorcerers, past the blood-stained doors, past the quiet corpse of a man who thought his words could stand against a ghost with a blade.

 

Mori watched him go, his cigarette burning low between his fingers, the smoke curling around his rugged face like a curse he’d long accepted.

 

“Fucking idealist,” he muttered under his breath. But there was no real venom in his voice. Only resignation.

 

Because deep down, even men like Mori knew...

 

The world needed men like Yaga Masamichi.

 

Even if it chewed them up in the end.

 

 

Chapter 43: Overly Prepared (slight NSFW)

The first thing I noticed when I walked back into my room was that it looked… different.

 

The lights were low and warm, the blackout curtains pulled closed against the dying light outside. Gojo's TV was already flickering quietly with the movie menu, but what really caught my attention was the massive plush air mattress spread out across the floor, practically swallowing half my room.

 

It wasn’t just any air mattress either – it had a backrest. An actual backrest. It looked like the world’s most comfortable movie nest.

 

Satoru was sprawled across it dramatically, arms flung wide like he was presenting a prize on a game show. “Ta-da~! Welcome to your royal movie throne, Mara.”

 

Suguru was kneeling at the foot of it, organizing snack bags into neat piles: salty, sweet, sour, and “mystery.” He looked up at me with that quiet smile that always made my chest feel too tight. “We thought you deserved a proper movie night. You’ve been… dealing with a lot lately.”

 

I blinked, my throat catching on something soft and painful all at once. “You guys… did all this for me?”

 

“Duh,” Satoru scoffed, rolling onto his side to grin at me. “Who else would we do it for? Nanami? He’d just lecture us on wasting money and eating too many carbs.”

 

Suguru snorted, low and warm under his breath, before nodding toward the mountain of blankets beside him. “Get comfy. We have other things to talk about too.”

 

I raised a brow suspiciously but didn’t argue. I kicked off my slippers and padded over, climbing onto the air mattress. It felt like sinking into a cloud. A squeaky cloud, but still a cloud.

 

Satoru immediately wrapped himself around my back, arms looping under my ribs as he pulled me flush against his chest with a satisfied sigh. “Perfect.”

 

Suguru climbed up too, settling on my other side, one hand coming up to brush a stray strand of hair away from my face. His eyes flicked to Satoru briefly before returning to me.

 

“So,” he started, quiet but purposeful, “we finalized the plans for the bathhouse night.”

 

My stomach did a little flip. I tried to keep my face neutral, but apparently I wasn’t very good at that because Satoru let out a little snort behind me, squeezing my waist gently.

 

“We booked it out entirely,” he said, chin resting on my shoulder now, voice vibrating against my neck. “No other guests. You can… we can all be as free as we want.”

 

My heart thudded once, hard, before speeding up like it couldn’t decide between dread or anticipation.

 

Suguru’s thumb traced along the seam of my oversized shirt absently. “I also… have some research I wanted to share with you. So you can feel more prepared. If you want.”

 

I blinked. “Research…?”

 

Satoru’s grin widened like a shark smelling blood. He lunged forward, grabbing a small folder from the pile of snacks and brandishing it dramatically. “Behold! The sacred texts of sex nerd Geto Suguru.”

 

Suguru immediately tried to grab it back with a scowl. “Satoru.”

 

But it was too late. Gojo had already flipped it open and cleared his throat with exaggerated theatrics.

 

“‘How to safely and effectively manage polyamorous intimacy when one or more parties have never experienced partnered sexual touch before,’” he read in an obnoxiously deep narrator voice. “‘Including tips for aftercare, emotional grounding, and managing overstimulation.’ Wow, Suguru. You’re such a romantic.”

 

My entire face burned hot enough to melt the mattress. “Oh my god, give it back-”

 

“No way, this is gold,” Satoru laughed, flipping through pages with comedic flicks. “Oh look, pictures~”

 

“Satoru-!” Suguru lunged again, finally wrestling it away from him and snapping it shut with a sigh. His ears were flushed red, and even under my embarrassment, I thought it was kind of unfair how pretty he looked like that.

 

He set the folder aside and met my eyes seriously. “I know it’s a lot. I know you’re probably scared. And… excited. I can feel it every time we’re close. I just want you to have all the information so when we do decide to take that step… it’s not scary. Or confusing. Or rushed.”

 

I swallowed hard, feeling the heat spread down to my chest. “I… I am excited,” I admitted quietly, my voice rough. “I just… yeah. I’m scared too.”

 

“Good,” Satoru murmured against my ear, his tone unexpectedly gentle. “Means you actually care about it. That it’s not just… a thing. It’s something real.”

 

Suguru nodded, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. “We’ll go at your pace. We always will. ”

 

I let out a shaky laugh, half hysterical, half relieved. “God, you guys are… you’re so fucking much.”

 

Satoru chuckled and pressed a loud, obnoxious kiss to my cheek. “You love it.”

 

And as I sat there, squished between their warmth and their chaos and their overwhelming, terrifying care. Yeah. Yeah, I really did love it.

 

I shifted on the mattress so I was facing Suguru fully, my knees folded under me, and the blankets pooled around my thighs. Satoru stayed draped against my back like an oversized heating pad, chin hooked over my shoulder, arms wrapped around my waist. It felt grounding having him there. Like if I floated too far away, he’d keep me tethered.

 

Suguru cleared his throat once, twice, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the folder in his lap before he finally opened it again.

 

“Okay,” he started, voice low but steady. “So… I wanted to go over some basics first. Positions, prep, aftercare, safety. I know you’ve probably read some of this in manga or… wherever, but real life isn’t like that.”

 

I looked up at him, trying to focus on his words, but there was something about the way his voice got all teacher-like, the way his brows drew tight with concentration, that made something hot spark low in my stomach.

 

He glanced up at me between sentences, and every time our eyes met, I watched him falter just slightly, his cheeks tinting pink before he pushed forward.

 

“For example,” he continued, flipping to a diagram that looked far too detailed for my brain to process calmly, “this is… well, this is a typical position for first-time penetration. It allows-”

 

I tilted my head, studying it, then looked back up at him, my eyes half-lidded, a lazy little smile curling at my lips. “Mm. You’d look really good like that.”

 

His mouth snapped shut. The tips of his ears went red instantly.

 

“I- that’s not- I mean-”

 

Satoru snickered behind me, his breath warm against my neck. “Oh, he’s flustered flustered. Keep going, baby, he gets so cute like this.”

 

Suguru shot him a glare, then exhaled shakily and tried again, eyes flicking back down to the folder.

 

“Anyway. Um. Prep is… important. Very important. Especially with… with two partners. There’s… stretching. And… and lubrication. And-”

 

I leaned forward slightly, resting my chin in my palm, just watching him with that same quiet intensity. The look that always made him shift in place, like he didn’t know whether to kiss me or throw me down right there.

 

His voice faltered again.

 

“God, Mara,” he muttered under his breath, eyes fluttering shut for a second as his fingers clenched around the pages. “You can’t… you can’t look at me like that while I’m trying to explain-” he chuckles softly.

 

“Like what?” I asked softly, tilting my head the other way, letting my gaze drop to his mouth and then back to his eyes, slow and deliberate. “I’m just listening.”

 

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly, and for a second, the careful composure cracked, something darker flashing across his expression before he forced it back down.

 

“Aftercare is… it’s crucial,” he managed, his voice tighter now, rougher around the edges. “Your body might… shake. Or feel empty. Or… or overwhelmed. You might cry. That’s normal. And we’ll be there. For all of it. We will stop whenever you want."

 

I nodded, my chest squeezing painfully at the raw honesty in his tone. “Okay.”

 

He flipped to another page and tried to continue, but the tips of his fingers were trembling slightly now.

 

“This is… this is about double penetration prep but I don’t think we’re ready for that yet and-”

 

“Yet?” I teased, my voice coming out softer and breathier than I intended.

 

His eyes snapped up to mine, wide and blown dark with heat, and for a moment, he just stared, like he couldn’t remember what language he spoke.

 

When he finally spoke again, his voice was hoarse, and the words came out blunt, stripped of all the careful phrasing he’d tried so hard to maintain.

 

“I want you,” he said, low and raw. “Both of you. I want… I want us to do this right. I want to make you feel so good that you forget everything else. I want you to trust me with all of you. I want… fuck, Amara-”

 

His breath hitched, and he closed the folder abruptly, pressing the heel of his palm to his forehead, his cheeks flushed deep pink.

 

“This isn’t… this isn’t how I planned to talk about this,” he muttered, half to himself, half to me.

 

I reached out and curled my fingers around his wrist, gently pulling his hand away from his face so I could see him fully.

 

“It’s perfect,” I whispered, leaning forward to press a soft, lingering kiss to his knuckles. “You’re perfect.”

 

Behind me, Satoru sighed dramatically, his arms squeezing around my waist. “God, you two are disgustingly hot. Can we go back to the diagrams now or are we making out for the next hour?”

 

Suguru let out a choked little laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners despite the blush still blooming across his cheeks.

 

“Maybe both,” he said softly, his gaze locked on mine.

 

I met his gaze and kissed at him. Making him and me chuckle.

 

Satoru shifted behind me, wrapping his arms a little tighter around my waist as he peeked over my shoulder at Suguru, who still looked like he wanted to crawl under the air mattress and never emerge again.

 

“Y’know,” Satoru drawled, his voice light and teasing, “I think you’re trying too hard, ‘guru.”

 

Suguru blinked at him, brow furrowing. “Trying too hard?”

 

“Yeah,” Satoru said with a shrug, nuzzling into the side of my neck with an exaggerated sigh. “It’s good to know all this stuff, yeah, but… awkwardness and a little confusion is half the fun. Makes it real. Makes it… us.”

 

Suguru let out a breathy laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, the tips of his ears still pink. “Easy for you to say. You don’t care about making it perfect.”

 

Satoru grinned, eyes bright. “Nope. I just care about making it good. And awkwardness can be good. You’re trying to make it like a perfect textbook. But you’re not a textbook. Just… say it how you think it. Even if it’s awkward. It’s less awkward to say it awkwardly than to read it like a damn manual.”

 

Suguru stared at him for a second, then huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You’re… infuriatingly right.”

 

“Obviously. I'm always right.” Satoru beamed.

 

"No. No, you're not."

 

I giggled softly, feeling the warm glow of their banter settle in my chest. Then, with a quick little snatch, I grabbed Suguru’s folder from his lap, flipping it open and skimming through the pages until something caught my eye.

 

“Ooh…” I hummed, my smirk growing as I tilted the folder back to show them the page. It was an entire spread just on positions, illustrations, descriptions, and little notes scribbled in Suguru’s neat, efficient handwriting.

 

“Okay,” I said, biting back my grin as I held it open between us. “Satoru… which one do you think would be the best one for us to start with?”

 

His grin turned downright feral as he leaned forward, scanning the page with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Mmm… this one,” he said, tapping the illustration of me straddling Suguru while Satoru knelt behind me, supporting my hips with his hands. “Definitely. I’d get to watch both your faces. Plus, I’d have the best seat in the house.”

 

My cheeks flushed hot as I shifted my gaze to Suguru, who was watching me with an expression caught somewhere between amused and deeply, deeply flustered.

 

“And you?” I asked, my voice coming out softer, a little breathier than I intended.

 

Suguru swallowed hard, eyes flicking down to the page, then back up to me. “I think… this one,” he murmured, pointing to a gentler position, me lying back against Satoru’s chest with Suguru kneeling between my legs, his hands braced on my hips. “It’s… it would be slow. Controlled. I could see you. Make sure you’re okay.”

 

I nodded slowly, feeling heat pool low in my stomach at the thought. Then I glanced back down at the page, scanning the options with quiet consideration before lifting my finger to one particular illustration near the bottom.

 

“This one,” I said softly, tapping it. Me on my hands and knees, Suguru behind me, Satoru in front, his hands tangled in my hair, both of them close, holding me in place between them. “I think… I think I’d like this one once I get more comfortable with everything.”

 

The silence that followed was heavy with heat.

 

Satoru’s grip on my waist tightened, and Suguru’s breath hitched audibly, his eyes darkening as they locked onto mine.

 

“Fuck, baby…” Satoru whispered, his voice a low, reverent rasp against my ear. “You’re gonna kill us.” he kisses my neck and nips at it a little.

 

Suguru let out a shaky exhale, his hand coming up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing over my flushed skin with quiet intensity. “We’ll make it perfect for you,” he murmured, his voice rough with want and something deeper, something almost like awe. “Whatever you want… we’ll make it feel good...”

 

My breathing was coming in shallow little huffs before I even realized it, my chest rising and falling under Suguru’s gaze. My whole body felt hot. Almost achy. The little swirl of heat in my stomach was spreading, and every nerve felt like it was reaching out for them, even my cursed energy was moving with me.

 

And they noticed.

 

“Oh…?” Satoru cooed, leaning forward until his nose brushed against my flushed cheek, his grin wolfish. “Look at you… getting all worked up just from some little pictures and words. That sensitive, huh, pretty girl?”

 

“Sh-shut up…” I mumbled, though my voice wavered when his fingers danced teasingly down my side, tracing just under the hem of my shirt and making my hips twitch slightly. A tiny sound slipped out of me, a quiet, helpless little whine, and I felt Satoru’s chest rumble with a low chuckle against my back.

 

“God, you’re cute,” he purred, pressing a soft kiss behind my ear. “Every little sound you make… fuck.”

 

Suguru let out a shaky breath, shifting slightly where he sat in front of me. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, but he forced himself to blink and look away for a second, dragging his hand down his face with a quiet groan.

 

“Okay,” he said, his voice lower than usual, a little rough. “We need to… settle down. All of us. If we rush this, we’re going to regret it later. We need to wait.”

 

I nodded quickly, my head bobbing like it wasn’t even attached to me, my breath coming out in soft, shaky little puffs. “Y-yeah… okay… yeah…”

 

“Look at you…” Satoru murmured again, softer this time, brushing his nose along my jaw. “All flushed and dazed… you’re thinking too much, aren’t you, baby?”

 

I nodded again, my eyes hooded and glazed over, heat burning under my skin in slow, heavy waves. I felt drunk. Dazed. Everything felt too loud and too soft at the same time, like I was floating in warm syrup.

 

“Here,” Suguru said gently, reaching over to grab one of the cold cans of soda from the snack pile and pressing it into my hand.

 

I blinked at it, confused, until I saw the little smirk playing at his lips.

 

“Ground yourself, baby,” he murmured. “Before Satoru starts getting ideas.”

 

Satoru snickered softly behind me. “Too late.”

 

I let out a quiet, shaky little laugh and lifted the cold can, pressing it against my forehead with a small whimper at the shock of it, then rolling it down along the side of my neck. The chill made my skin pebble instantly, little goosebumps rippling down my arms and chest, and for a second, the thick heat in my brain cleared just enough to breathe properly again.

 

“Fuck…” I whispered, my eyes fluttering shut as I let the cold ground me. “Okay… okay… I’m good… I’m… I’m okay.”

 

But when I opened my eyes, both of them were still staring at me like I’d just offered myself up on a platter.

 

And somehow… that only made the warmth start to build all over again.

 

Satoru leaned closer, his breath brushing my ear as his hand slid up to rest on my shoulder, fingers curling lightly into the fabric of my shirt.

 

“You sure you’re okay, pretty girl?” he murmured, voice dripping with that teasing gentleness that always made my chest tighten. “Because you look like you’re two seconds from climbing into Suguru’s lap and begging him to finish what his little lecture started.”

 

A strangled little noise left my throat before I could stop it, and I felt my face flame impossibly hotter. My thighs pressed together instinctively, the cold can trembling slightly in my grip.

 

“Stoooop…” I whispered, but it came out breathless, my eyes darting to Suguru for rescue. But he wasn’t much help either.

 

Suguru was staring at me with eyes so dark they looked almost black in the dim light of my room. His chest rose and fell in slow, measured breaths, but I could see his control fraying at the edges. Still, he reached out and brushed a thumb softly under my eye, grounding, soothing.

 

“We’re stopping,” he said quietly, though his voice was hoarse. He looks to Satoru. “We’re stopping… because if we don’t, I’m not going to be able to keep myself from taking you apart right here and now.”

 

My breath hitched again, something fluttering violently in my chest at the way he said it. Honest. Controlled. A threat and a promise all at once.

 

Satoru chuckled low behind me, pressing a soft kiss to the side of my neck. “Hear that, princess? He’s being good… for now.”

 

“Please…” I whispered, not even sure what I was asking for. Space. Silence. More. Less. I didn’t know. I just knew every nerve felt like it was burning and every inch of skin felt too tight.

 

Suguru leaned forward and took the can from my trembling hand, replacing it with his own warm palm against my cheek. His thumb stroked over my skin in slow, soothing circles, his eyes locked to mine with that intense, grounding calm he always gave me.

 

“Breathe,” he whispered. “Just breathe for me.”

 

I did. Slowly. In and out. Feeling the cold sweat from the can cooling on my forehead, feeling Satoru’s warmth pressed against my back, feeling Suguru’s quiet strength cradling my face.

 

After a minute, I felt my pulse start to settle, the thick fog of arousal pulling back just enough to think again. My shoulders sagged as I let out a shaky little laugh, half embarrassed, half relieved.

 

“God…” I whispered, burying my face in my hands. “I think you two are going to kill me before I even get a chance.”

 

Satoru chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind and resting his chin on my shoulder. “Not yet,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the shell of my ear. “We’ve got a bathhouse to get to first.”

 

Suguru smirked faintly, brushing his thumb over my lower lip before letting his hand drop. “And when we do… it’ll be slow. Intentional. And hopefully exactly what you want.”

 

And with that, the conversation shifted, the three of us curling back into each other, settling into soft, quiet laughter as the movie played in the background, my mind humming with anticipation for a future that, for the first time, didn’t scare me at all.

 

 

Chapter 44: Bathhouse Inimacy (NSFW)

Summary:

Smex and long chapter

I didn't know I could feel this many nerves all at once.

 

The knock on my dorm door was soft, careful, but the energy radiating beyond it was anything but subtle. I took one last shaky breath, tugged down the hem of the black lace dress for the hundredth time, and opened it.

 

And immediately regretted it.

 

Because standing there were Satoru and Suguru, and I swear the hallway itself seemed to bow under their presence.

 

Satoru leaned against the doorframe, wearing fitted black pants and a sleek black turtleneck tucked under a cropped navy blue bomber with a white fur collar. Dark sunglasses still perched on his nose.

 

Suguru stood beside him, hair pulled back into a neat bun. He has black slacks on with a black waist corset to cinch his waist and paired with a crisp white dress shirt rolled at the sleeves. His gauges glinted under the hallway light, his eyes dark and steady as they traced over me.

 

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

 

Satoru's mouth actually fell open a little, sunglasses slipping down his nose as he stared. Suguru's gaze roved over my outfit, lingering on the fitted lace bodice that was separted from the skirt, showing a bit of side, sheer details hugged my thighs, and the hint of my piercing under the thin fabric. His throat bobbed once as he swallowed.

 

Finally, Satoru let out a breathless little laugh, a grin curling at the corners of his mouth. "I swear every time I see you that you can't get any prettier and then BOOM you top it tenfold. Always so fucking gorgeous."

 

"Language," Suguru muttered absently, still staring. Then he shook himself slightly and stepped forward, holding out his hand. "You look... stunning."

 

My cheeks burned hot as I took his hand, feeling the way his fingers curled firmly around mine. Satoru stepped behind me, his palm brushing the small of my back as he leaned down to murmur in my ear.

 

"Gonna have to keep you between us all night," he said softly. "Don't think I can handle other people looking at you like this." He chuckles softly. "You're lucky we both know how to fight or else we'd have to start covering all of you up."

 

My breath caught, heart thudding wildly as they guided me down the hall. I felt caged in the safest way possible, Suguru's broad figure on one side and Satoru's impossibly tall frame on the other.

 

---

 

Dinner was quiet. Soft. Warm.

 

They took me to a private rooftop restaurant that overlooked the city, candlelight flickering against floor-to-ceiling windows. We sat in a corner booth draped with sheer curtains, hidden away from the few other guests. Suguru ordered for us, his voice low and confident as he listed off dishes I didn't even recognize but ended up loving.

 

Satoru kept sneaking pieces of food off my plate, smiling every time I glared at him. "What?" he'd say, feigning innocence behind those damn sunglasses. "It tastes better from your plate."

 

"Or," Suguru drawled from across the table, his chin resting on his palm as he watched Satoru with amused eyes, "you could just order your own."

 

Satoru gave him a lazy grin. "Yeah, but then I wouldn't get to see her glare at me like that."

 

I huffed and stabbed a piece of salmon a little harder than necessary. "You're both insufferable."

 

"Mm," Suguru hummed softly, his gaze still locked on Satoru. "That's true."

 

When I glanced up, I saw it, the subtle shift in their energy. Suguru's fingers traced the rim of his teacup absentmindedly, but his eyes were gentle, softer than I usually saw them. Satoru was leaning back in his seat, long legs stretched out under the table, one foot nudging Suguru's calf with casual familiarity.

 

Their eyes met for a moment, and something warm flickered between them. Something old and steady and quiet. Suguru tilted his head slightly, his hair slipping from behind his ear, and Satoru just smiled at him, small and real.

 

It made something ache deep in my chest.

 

Because I could see it as clear as day.

 

They loved each other just as much as they loved me. Tangled and inseparable.

 

Suguru blinked slowly, breaking their gaze to look at me with that same soft warmth. "What are you thinking about, little moon?"

 

I swallowed, shifting in my seat. "Just... you two. You're... I don't know. You're really pretty together. I like seeing you both love each other.."

 

Satoru's brows shot up, his grin returning in full force. "Pretty? Just pretty? I'm wounded."

 

Suguru rolled his eyes but didn't hide the faint flush rising on his cheekbones. "Ignore him. Thank you, Amara."

 

I smile sweetly. "I truly mean it though. You... you make each other better. It's nice to see.."

 

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The quiet hum of the rooftop restaurant surrounded us.. soft music, distant city noise, the clink of dishes from another table. Then Satoru reached across the table, his long fingers curling around Suguru's wrist, thumb brushing along his pulse point.

 

"Hey," he said softly, and Suguru's eyes flicked up to his. "She's right, you know."

 

Suguru snorted under his breath, shaking his head as a small smile tugged at his lips. "You're ridiculous."

 

"And you love it."

 

Suguru hummed, his smile growing as he turned his hand to lace their fingers together. "Yeah," he murmured, his gaze softening as it lingered on Satoru's face. "I really do."

 

Watching them like this, quiet and unguarded, something in me fluttered painfully sweet. Like watching warmth manifest in human form.

 

Then Satoru's gaze flicked to me, bright and playful again. "Don't look so dreamy, pretty girl. You're part of this, too."

 

I blinked. "Huh?"

 

He squeezed Suguru's hand and reached his other hand out to me across the table, palm up. "C'mere."

 

I hesitated only a second before placing my hand in his, feeling his fingers immediately curl strongly and protectively around mine. Suguru's free hand came up and covered both of ours, his thumb brushing the back of my knuckles.

 

There we were. Three souls, tethered together in a silent moment amid the city lights.

 

Satoru tilted his head, his grin softening into something more vulnerable, something boyish and raw. "First date like this," he admitted, almost shyly. "First... everything like this."

 

For a moment, Suguru just looked at him, his dark eyes searching his face, seeing through all the layers Satoru usually hid behind. Then he leaned over and brushed his shoulder against Satoru's, gentle and grounding.

 

"Hey," Suguru murmured. "That's okay. Doesn't have to be anything but what it is, Satoru."

 

I squeezed Satoru's hand a little tighter, feeling the faint tremble in his fingers. "Yeah," I said softly. "You're doing great. I like this. I like being here with you."

 

His eyes flicked to mine, wide and bright behind his sunglasses. For a split second, something cracked open on his face, something raw and unguarded, and then he ducked his head with a quiet scoff, shaking his hair forward to hide the flush rising in his cheeks.

 

"Pfft, don't get all sappy on me," he muttered, voice cracking just slightly as he pulled his hand back to adjust his glasses. "I'll cry and ruin my cool guy persona."

 

Suguru chuckled softly, his shoulder still pressed against Satoru's. "You never had one."

 

"HEY-!"

 

I giggled under my breath, and Suguru's gaze flicked to mine, warm and amused. "Ignore him," he said, brushing his thumb over my knuckles again. "He'll be fine once he's in hot water. Like an angry little tea bag."

 

"I heard that," Satoru grumbled, but there was no real bite to it.

 

Suguru's smile softened as he looked back at him. "Good. You were meant to."

 

"Do you see this Amara? He plays it cool but he can be such a little brat. I'm always called the mean one! Me! Can you believe that!?" Satoru goes off.

 

"Do you see this, Amara? The slander he's throwing around. I'm so nice all the time." Suguru kissed my hand softly looking up at me to defend him.

 

"He's not wrong though." I laugh a little.

 

"HA! TAKE THAT!" Satoru points at him.

 

Suguru's mouth is wide in playful shock.

 

I laughed more. "When Mei Mei pissed me off even before using me as a human shield you stopped helping her out, constantly acted bored talking to her and now you just straight up ignore her like shes doesn't exist." 

 

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. That's one example." 

 

"Oh I can give a list if you want~" Satoru teased.

 

"No. No. You can keep that pretty mouth of yours closed if you know what's good for you." 

 

"Case and point." I laugh.

 

"Well, you both still love me for it." Suguru kisses my hand again. 

 

"I adore both of you and your sass." I kissed both of their cheeks, leaning over to them.

 

I watched them, feeling that ache in my chest bloom into something loving. Something that filled every cold, empty space I thought would always stay hollow.

 

Satoru exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he straightened up in his seat, a crooked grin returning to his lips. "Anyway," he said, pushing the vulnerability away like he always did, "bathhouse plan. We're all set, right?"

 

Suguru nodded, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah. Private rental. Staff will be minimal. We'll have the entire facility to ourselves for the night. You made sure food and drinks were stocked?"

 

"Duh," Satoru said, flicking Suguru's knee under the table. "It's me. I got everything. Drinks, snacks, extra towels, incense, essential oils, fuzzy robes-"

 

"Fuzzy robes?" I echoed, raising a brow.

 

He shrugged. "What? You like soft shit. I'm catering to your tastes, obviously."

 

I felt a flush creep up my neck and quickly looked down at my lap, smiling all giddy.

 

Suguru smirked, eyes flicking between us with fond exasperation. "You spoil her too much."

 

"No, I don't. Too much implies there is a limit out there. I would never limit what I give you two." He says simply.

 

"Sap" Suguru says.

 

"Shut up."

 

The table fell quiet after that, soft and heavy and good.

 

Suguru reached out to brush my hair back behind my ear, his fingers lingering along my cheekbone. "Ready to go, love?"

 

I nodded, swallowing back the sudden lump in my throat. "Yeah. Ready."

 

Satoru stood first, stretching his arms above his head with a groan before tossing some bills on the table. "Alright, lovebirds. Let's get this show on the road. Hot water's calling my name."

 

"And mine," Suguru said, standing and rolling his shoulder out before reaching for my hand.

 

I took it without hesitation, letting him help me to my feet. Satoru grabbed my other hand a second later, and together they led me out into the cool night air, their warmth on either side of me like armor against the chill. 

 

And as we started to walk to the bathhouse I realized something..

 

I wasn't scared.

 

Not of tonight. Not of them. Not even of myself.

 

I was just... ready.

 

---

 

We barely made it down the quiet stone path before Satoru and I were already messing around.

 

It started simple enough, me accidentally bumping my shoulder into him as I walked, sending him stumbling sideways with exaggerated flair.

 

"HEY," he gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like I'd mortally wounded him. "WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING, STRANGER."

 

"Oh, I'm so sorry sir," I said with an equally dramatic bow, voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's hard to avoid your massive ego that's blocking the walkway."

 

His mouth dropped open in scandalized offense, and I turned on my heel with a smirk to keep walking, only to hear the scuff of his boots against stone a split second later.

 

I glanced back just in time to see his grin stretch wide, eyes glinting mischievously behind his sunglasses. "Oh, you're dead," he laughed.

 

I squeaked and bolted.

 

The night air filled with the sound of my giggles as I sprinted down the path, flats slapping against the smooth stones, the hem of my black lace dress fluttering around my thighs. Behind me, Satoru's footsteps thundered, playful and chaotic.

 

"COME BACK HERE YA LITTLE GREMLIN," he cackled.

 

"NEVER!" I screamed back, nearly tripping over my own feet as I glanced over my shoulder to see him closing the distance.

 

I kept running around making sure not to go too far from Suguru. When I turned back around Gojo was gone but the second I turned back toward he was there. Just as I turned, his arms wrapped around my waist. I shrieked as my feet left the ground, and in the next breath, he'd hoisted me up and flipped me over his broad shoulder like I weighed nothing.

 

"Gotcha," he purred, giving my thigh a playful slap as he held me in place.

 

I dissolved into hysterical laughter, the world was upside down, my hair brushing against his back as he straightened to his full towering height.

 

"HELP!" I cried out dramatically, squirming against his grip. "HELP ME, SOMEONE! THIS EVIL CURSE USER HAS KIDNAPPED ME!"

 

"Silence, prisoner," Satoru said in a deep, villainous voice, adjusting his sunglasses with his free hand. "You belong to me now."

 

"SUGURU! MY NOBLE HERO, SUGURU!" I wailed, reaching an arm out toward Suguru, who was trailing behind us, hands in his pockets, watching the chaos with a calm smile.

 

"My lady," he said with a sigh, shaking his head as if in this storyline my capture is a regular occurrence. But his eyes glimmered with amusement as he stepped forward. "Unhand her, foul creature."

 

Satoru scoffed and patted my butt, making me yelp. "You think you can stop me, noble hero Suguru? I have the ultimate hostage."

 

"Suguru!" I cried again, playing up the damsel in distress with my hand pressed to my forehead dramatically. "Save me from his evil clutches!"

 

Suguru's lips twitched as he walked closer, brows raised. "Let her go and I'll spare your life."

 

"NEVERRR!" Satoru bellowed, squeezing my thighs tighter around his broad shoulders. "SHE'S MINE NOW."

 

"Could we perhaps make a deal? I don't want to have to scrape you off the stone." Suguru smirked.

 

Satoru raised his hand over my butt. "No deals! Step any closer and the maidens butt gets it!!"

 

Suguru tilted his head thoughtfully, pretending to consider. Then he nudged a rock with his foot, sending it skittering across the path to distract Satoru. "Oh no, what's that behind you?"

 

Satoru didn't even flinch. "Nice try," he snorted, and with an evil cackle, he smacked my butt again like it was a bongo drum. "KNOW THIS IS YOUR NOBLE HEROS' FAULT"

 

I squealed, face burning with laughter, and went limp over his shoulder, playing dead. "UGH. I AM SLAIN. MY VIRTUE... LOST."

 

Suguru finally broke, letting out genuine laughter as he reached out to flick Satoru's forehead lightly. "You're ridiculous."

 

"Thank you," Satoru said brightly, bouncing me lightly on his shoulder before setting me gently back down onto my feet. I stumbled forward, still giggling, clutching his broad chest for balance.

 

I leaned into Suguru for support, breathing hard from laughter, and he slipped an arm around my waist to steady me, his palm warm and grounding against my ribs.

 

"You two are chaos incarnate," he said, his voice warm with fond exasperation as he pressed a kiss to the side of my head.

 

"Yeah," I breathed, looking between their flushed, smiling faces. "But we're fun chaos."

 

Satoru grinned, looping his arm around my other side and pulling me in close against his chest. "Damn right." he smothered my cheek in kisses.

 

Together, we kept walking toward the bathhouse under the pale glow of lanterns lining the path, laughter still lingering in the cool night air like a promise of everything soft and safe waiting ahead.

 

---

 

The bathhouse was quiet when we stepped in, the steam rising like misty ghosts in the dim golden lighting. Everything was already set up just for us, warm towels folded neatly by the edge of the private pool, candles flickering along the tiled walls, fresh incense curling into the humid air. Soft instrumental music played from hidden speakers, just loud enough to blanket the silence.

 

I felt my chest tighten, not with fear, but with a fluttery, giddy kind of nervousness that made my fingertips tingle.

 

"This is..." I whispered, my voice echoing softly off the high ceilings. "It's beautiful."

 

Satoru grinned and spread his arms wide, nearly knocking over one of the decorative lanterns. "Only the best for my pretty little moon and my broody monk boyfriend."

 

Suguru rolled his eyes but smiled, his hand resting warm and steady on my lower back. "Take your time," he murmured to me, voice quiet. "We'll be right here."

 

I nodded, pressing my lips together to keep them from trembling with adrenaline. "I... I want to undress by myself first," I said softly, meeting both of their eyes. "I'll... meet you in the water."

 

Satoru's grin softened into something gentler, more boyish. "Yeah?" he said, tilting his head. "You sure?"

 

"Yeah," I whispered. "I want to... I want to come in on my own."

 

"Okay," Suguru said, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek with careful fingers. "We'll wait."

 

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

 

The two of them walked together into the locker room, bare feet quiet against the polished stone floors. Suguru was already unbuttoning his high-collar shirt, folding it neatly over his arm as they approached the lockers.

 

Satoru, meanwhile, ripped his black jacket off in one swoop and tossed it dramatically onto the bench like it had personally offended him. "Get this thing off me! What I suffer to look nice." he declared, before pausing to shake out his hair. "God, it's humid in here. My hair's gonna frizz."

 

"It's already frizzy," Suguru deadpanned, opening his locker and tucking his folded clothes carefully inside.

 

"Rude," Satoru sniffed, kicking off his shoes and unbuckling his belt in one swoop. His sunglasses slid down his nose as he glanced at Suguru sidelong, trying to keep his grin cocky. "Hey, uh... Suguru."

 

Suguru hummed in acknowledgment, untying his hair and shaking it loose around his shoulders. "Hm?"

 

"I... uh." Satoru cleared his throat, fingers pausing on the waistband of his slacks. His sunglasses slid the rest of the way down his nose, revealing bright blue eyes flickering with something almost sheepish. "I'm... like... actually kinda... nervous."

 

Suguru paused, blinking once before turning his head to look at him fully. "Nervous?"

 

Satoru huffed, scrunching his nose. "Don't say it like that."

 

"Like what?"

 

"Like... like you're not surprised." He kicked his pants off, stepping out of them with fluid ease, then folded them sloppily and shoved them into the locker. His boxers were next, and he tossed them with zero ceremony before standing there bare, scratching at the back of his neck, sunglasses still half-fallen down his nose. "I mean, yeah, I'm hot as fuck naked. That's not the problem."

 

Suguru snorted softly, his lips twitching. He tucked his own folded pants into the locker, letting them rest neatly on top of his shirt before turning to face Satoru fully, now just as bare. "Then what is?"

 

"It's the... you know..." Satoru gestured vaguely to the general air between them, his hand flapping limply. "The... sex stuff."

 

Suguru blinked again. "The sex... stuff."

 

Satoru huffed, scrunching his nose. "Yes, Suguru, the sex stuff," he snapped lightly, then deflated, rubbing both hands down his face until his hair stuck out in every direction. "I don't know, okay? I know I'm hot but it's... different. Flirting is easy. Being naked is easy. Being good at everything is easy."

 

Suguru raised a brow, faint amusement curling at his lips. "But...?"

 

"But this isn't," Satoru admitted, his voice dropping quiet, words falling out raw and unpolished. "What if I... mess up? Or freak out halfway through? Or say something so stupid that Amara never lets me live it down-"

 

"You always say something stupid," Suguru interrupted gently, his mouth twitching in a faint smile.

 

"That's not the point!" Satoru scowled, his ears tinging pink. He fell silent for a moment, eyes darting away before he finally mumbled, "What if I... can't do it? Like what if I don't even get hard or... perform or whatever. You and Amara actually think about this stuff. You've watched porn, you've jerked off, you know what your parts are gonna do. I don't do that stuff, Suguru. What if I just... what if my dick's like 'nah bro not today' and then you both feel like I don't find you attractive or don't want you."

 

Suguru blinked at him, stunned for half a second before his expression softened into something warm and knowing. He stepped forward and placed his hand flat against Satoru's chest, feeling the wild hammering of his heart beneath his palm.

 

"You're overthinking it," he said softly. "Remember what you said before? Just... go with the flow. It's okay if it's awkward. Just... be there. Be present. That's all we need."

 

Satoru let out a shaky laugh, biting down on his bottom lip, blue eyes flicking up to meet Suguru's. "It's okay if you're awkward," he muttered under his breath. "But me? C'mon... you and Amara are both gonna expect... something, right? I have to be good at this..."

 

"No," Suguru said firmly, brushing his thumb in soothing circles across Satoru's sternum. "She doesn't need a performance. Neither do I. We don't care about... any of that. You're enough just by being there with us. Even if it's awkward. Even if you're terrified."

 

Satoru snorted, scrunching his nose. "God, you're such a sap."

 

"Only for you," Suguru murmured, leaning in to press a soft, grounding kiss to Satoru's forehead.

 

Satoru let out a shaky exhale, tension easing from his shoulders as a crooked grin slid back onto his lips. "Okay," he said, rolling his neck to pop the stiffness out. "Okay, okay, okay. Let's go before my brain catches up and I sprint out of here naked and screaming."

 

Suguru chuckled, shaking his head fondly as he grabbed his towel and slung it over his shoulder, unfazed by his own nudity. "You ready?"

 

"No," Satoru admitted honestly, grabbing his towel and draping it around his neck with a dramatic sigh. "But let's go anyway."

 

They turned together, stepping out of the locker room and into the warm steam curling from the bath entrance, toward the girl waiting for them beyond that glowing haze.

 

Toward everything they wanted.

 

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

 

I peeked around the stone pillar, my towel clutched tight against my chest, feeling my heart flutter so hard it almost hurt. The air was heavy with steam, curling around the lantern-lit edges of the private bath. I could already hear them before I saw them, Satoru's easy laughter echoing off the tiled walls, Suguru's quiet, rumbling chuckles beneath it.

 

When I stepped out fully, they were standing near the water's edge, backlit by a warm golden glow, the steam rising around their bodies like something out of a painting. And... well... everything was just... out.

 

I choked on a laugh before I could help it, quickly clapping a hand over my mouth. "God," I squeaked softly, trying to keep my voice down, "I know being naked is the whole point but it still catches me off guard.."

 

Satoru just grinned, cocky and unbothered, resting his hands behind his head like this was just another Tuesday morning. "Why? You've already seen it," he said with a wink, his blue eyes glittering mischievously behind the steam. "Plus, it needs to breathe."

 

Suguru rolled his eyes, though his lips twitched faintly. His long dark hair was damp from the bathhouse mist, loose around his shoulders, framing the relaxed lines of his collarbones and chest. "He's not wrong..," he said calmly. "But yes, this is part of the plan. Unless you would like to change that."

 

I snorted, feeling my face heat up. "No. I don't want to change anything.."

 

My fingers tightened around my towel as they both looked at me, waiting. Expecting. Not rushing. Just... there.

 

Satoru tilted his head, his smile softening. "You okay, princess?"

 

I took a slow breath in, my chest fluttering with something between nerves and anticipation. Then I exhaled and let the towel fall.

 

It slipped off my body, dragging down my arms, sliding over my hips and pooling around my feet like a dropped petal. The steam licked up my skin instantly, warm and almost soothing, but nothing compared to the way their eyes roamed over me.. hungry, reverent, awed.

 

Seeing me.

 

Seeing all of me.

 

I wrapped an arm around my ribs self-consciously and let out a tiny laugh, shrugging one shoulder. "Feels like we shouldn't... I dunno... touch. Or get too close," I teased, my voice trembling despite the joking tone. "Like we're... desecrating something sacred."

 

Satoru's grin turned sharp and wicked. "I dunno," he said, voice low and playful, "I can think of a few sacred places I wouldn't mind desecrating tonight."

 

My mouth fell open as a laugh sputtered out of me, shocked heat flooding my chest. "Satoru!"

 

Suguru smirked lazily beside him, his dark eyes dropping down my body and back up with heavy intention. "If you think this is sacred now... wait until you feel what we're going to do to you."

 

"Suguru!"

 

They both laughed softly as my face burned, and I moved before I could second-guess it, rushing forward and grabbing them both by the wrists, dragging them with me down the stone steps into the steaming water.

 

The heat swallowed us instantly, cocooning my bare skin in warmth. Satoru yelped dramatically at the temperature while Suguru just exhaled a long, satisfied sigh, his eyelids fluttering shut for a moment.

 

I settled between them, heart still hammering but a laugh bubbling up from my chest, unstoppable.

 

"You two are gonna kill me tonight," I muttered, half-teasing, half-terrified.

 

"Not tonight," Satoru said with a feral grin. "Tonight... we're gonna make you feel alive."

 

Suguru didn't say anything, but the way his hand slid under the water to rest on my hip said enough. I looked at them both, my boys, their eyes dark with want and hearts laid open in front of me..

 

And I felt my fear dissolve into anticipation, hot and heavy and sparking low in my stomach.

 

The water lapped softly around my waist, steam curling over my cheeks as I let my eyes flutter shut for just a moment. Their hands were warm even under the surface, one on each of my hips, thumbs stroking tiny circles against my skin.

 

We'd been like this for... I didn't even know how long. Minutes? Hours? Time felt melted here, like everything was moving at a quiet, heavy pace that left me breathless.

 

"Hey," Satoru said softly, voice playful but rough around the edges. "Can we... touch you more?"

 

My eyes snapped open, meeting his glowing blue gaze inches from mine. His hair was damp and flattened against his forehead, his cheeks a little flushed from the heat. He looked unfairly beautiful like this.

 

I swallowed, my chest tight, and nodded. "Yeah," I whispered. "Yeah... can I...?"

 

Suguru's thumb pressed harder into my hip, grounding. "Of course," he murmured. "Anything you want to touch, you touch, baby."

 

The permission made something hot spark low in my stomach. I shifted closer, my thighs brushing theirs under the water, my arms looping around Satoru's neck as Suguru's hand slid up my spine, making goosebumps race across my skin.

 

They pressed closer until there was almost no space left between us. I could feel them both, all of them, against my thighs and hips under the water. The realization made me squeak out a tiny laugh that quickly dissolved into an embarrassed whine.

 

"Wh... okay, that's... that's a lot," I stammered, biting my lip as heat flooded my cheeks. "Like... a lot a lot."

 

Satoru's grin turned feral. "What, this?" he asked, rolling his hips just enough under the water to make me gasp, the movement sending shockwaves up my spine. "That's not even all of it yet."

 

"Satoru-!" I tried to shove him away but he caught my wrists and pulled me flush against his chest, pressing a quick, playful kiss to my nose.

 

Suguru chuckled darkly beside us, his own hips shifting closer so I was fully caged between them. "She's so sensitive," he mused, his free hand skimming up my side until it brushed just under my chest. "Especially here..."

 

Before his thumb could go higher, Satoru piped up, tilting his head in exaggerated curiosity. "Hey... can I ask something?" His eyes flicked down to my chest, where I knew the piercings were clearly visible. "Those... your piercings. Do they... like... feel different when someone plays with them?"

 

"Wha-" My voice broke halfway through the word, mortification choking me as I buried my face in his chest.

 

Suguru didn't help, his laugh low and rich as he leaned in close enough that his lips brushed the shell of my ear. "That's actually a good question," he said softly. "Does it... hurt? Or make it feel... better?"

 

My skin burned so hot I thought I might boil the bathwater. I peeked up at them through my hair, my voice so small it almost didn't sound like me. "It... depends," I admitted shakily. "Sometimes... yeah. They feel extra sensitive...so I wouldn't go using teeth right away.."

 

Suguru's hand skimmed down my back again under the water. "Noted."

 

Satoru was biting his lip, his eyes wide and bright with curiosity and dark with something else entirely. "God, you're so hot," he whispered, like it was just a thought slipping out of his mouth before he could catch it.

 

I hid my face again, whining softly into his chest as they both pressed closer, the heat and steam and their touch making everything spin in the most intoxicating way.

 

I felt them both breathing against my skin, their chests pressing into me from either side, caging me in with warmth and steady heartbeats that thundered against my ribs like a lullaby and a war drum all at once.

 

"Hey," Suguru murmured, his voice low and quiet under the sound of rippling water. "Look at us, sweetheart."

 

I hesitated, cheeks still buried against Satoru, but Suguru's hand slid under my chin, tilting my face up until both of them were looking down at me. Satoru's grin was soft now, almost shy, and Suguru's gaze burned so deeply into me it felt like he was reading words scrawled across my bones.

 

"Can we... try something?" Suguru asked gently, brushing my cheek with his thumb. "Nothing too much. Just... touching. Just... letting ourselves feel you. Feel each other. No rush. No goal."

 

My chest tightened, but it wasn't fear this time. It was something sweet and aching that settled deep in my stomach and made my thighs clench around them under the water.

 

"Okay," I whispered. "Yeah... I... want that."

 

Satoru huffed out a relieved laugh. "Fuck, thank god," he mumbled, leaning forward to press a kiss to my temple. "I was about to combust just standing here."

 

Suguru chuckled softly and shook his head, dark hair dripping water across his shoulders. "You're always combusting," he teased, leaning in to kiss the other side of my head. "That's your natural state."

 

"Shut up," Satoru grumbled, but he was smiling, his hands sliding under the water to grip my waist and tug me even closer until I was straddling his thigh. The movement made me gasp, the water sloshing around us and sending ripples across the tiled bath.

 

Suguru moved behind me, his large hands sliding up my back to cradle my shoulders, massaging gently. "Relax, my love," he murmured against my ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin there. "We're going slow. Just... tell us what feels good. We'll stop if you ask. We'll stop even if you don't ask and we sense it's too much. You know that, right?"

 

I nodded, my breath coming quicker now as their hands roamed, warm and grounding. "Yeah," I whispered, my voice shaking. "I... trust you."

 

Satoru's hands moved up my waist, thumbs brushing under my chest until he found the piercings again and his fingers trembled just slightly against the bars. "Can I... touch here?" he asked, voice rough and almost boyish in its curiosity.

 

I nodded again, my lips parting with a small gasp as his thumbs brushed over the metal gently. The sensation shot through me like an electric current, making my hips jerk against his thigh under the water.

 

"Shit- sorry, is that too much?" he asked quickly, pulling back slightly.

 

"N-no," I whimpered, my head falling forward against his shoulder. "It's... good. I'm just getting excited.. Keep going..."

 

Suguru's hands slid down my arms slowly, wrapping around to cradle my waist as he pressed his lips to the nape of my neck. "That's our girl," he murmured softly. "Doing so good for us."

 

The praise made something sharp and hot coil in my stomach, and I let out a soft, broken moan before I could catch it.

 

Satoru's grin turned wicked. "Oh... she likes that."

 

"Of course she does," Suguru murmured, his teeth grazing my shoulder gently. "She likes being told how perfect she is. How good she is. How beautiful she looks right now, naked and flushed and trembling for us."

 

I couldn't even form words anymore. My fingers gripped Satoru's shoulders, nails biting into his skin as my hips pressed down harder against his thigh, desperate for friction, desperate for more of their touch, their praise, their everything.

 

"You're stunning," Satoru whispered, his forehead pressing to mine. "Fuck, Amara... you're... god, I don't even have words."

 

Suguru's hands slid around to cup my chest from behind, his thumbs brushing my nipples just under Satoru's. The combined touch made my entire body arch back against him, a sharp moan on my lips before I could swallow it down.

 

Both of them groaned softly at the sound, and Satoru's eyes rolled back for a second before he pressed his mouth to mine in a hungry, desperate kiss.

 

Satoru's kiss swallowed every broken sound I made, his tongue teasing at my lips until I opened for him, letting him taste the shaky breaths spilling out of me. His hands slid higher, cupping my chest fully now, thumbs brushing and rolling the piercings so gently yet firmly that each touch felt like a lightning strike under my skin.

 

Behind me, Suguru pressed closer, his chest flush against my back, his lips moving slowly along my neck and shoulder. His hands gripped my hips, guiding them in small rolls against Satoru's thigh under the water, helping me find a rhythm that made stars burst behind my eyes.

 

"That's it," he whispered into my ear, voice deep and low, vibrating down my spine. "Just like that, love. Let yourself feel it. Let us make you feel it."

 

I whimpered into Satoru's mouth, my fingers clutching his shoulders, nails digging into the hard muscle there as he deepened the kiss, his tongue curling around mine in slow, intoxicating strokes. His hands kneaded my breasts gently, occasionally brushing the piercings in ways that sent jolts of pleasure straight between my legs, making my thighs tremble around his.

 

Suguru's lips moved lower, biting softly at the crook of my neck before he spoke again, his voice rougher now, laced with heat. "Look at you... already shaking for us. You have no idea what that does to me."

 

He thrust his hips forward just slightly, and I felt him.. hard, hot, pressing against my lower back under the water. The realization made my entire body flush even hotter, and a shaky moan escaped me before I could swallow it down.

 

Satoru pulled back enough to breathe, his forehead pressing to mine as he grinned, eyes blown wide with lust and something softer, something deeper. "You hear that, princess?" he whispered, brushing his nose against mine. "You're driving him insane. You're driving me insane too."

 

I tried to respond, but all that came out was a breathy, broken whine as my hips rocked against his thigh, chasing friction desperately now. My mind felt fuzzy, every nerve alight, every inch of skin hypersensitive under their hands.

 

"Look at her," Suguru murmured, his hands sliding up to cup my ribs, holding me steady as I moved. "So beautiful. So fucking perfect. Our pretty little star... making such sweet sounds."

 

Satoru's grin softened, turning almost tender despite the hunger burning in his eyes. "You're okay?" he asked, voice quiet but firm, his thumbs pausing their teasing motions to cradle my chest instead. "You're really okay?"

 

I nodded quickly, tears pricking at my eyes from the sheer overwhelming sensation flooding my entire being. "Yeah," I whispered, my voice shaking with need. "Yeah... please... don't stop. Please don't stop touching me."

 

Both of them groaned softly at my words. Satoru pressed his lips to mine again, slower this time, almost reverent, as if trying to memorize the taste of me in this moment. Suguru's hands slid down to my thighs, gripping and spreading them slightly as he guided my movements with gentle strength, his lips never leaving my skin as he whispered praises against my neck.

 

"That's it... just like that," he breathed, his voice trembling with restraint. "You're doing so fucking well for us, Amara. So good... so fucking good."

 

The praise broke something open inside me, and I let out a sobbing moan, my body jerking against Satoru's thigh as pleasure sparked bright and sharp through my entire being, leaving me trembling and clinging to them both like they were the only solid things in the world.

 

But they didn't let me fall over that edge.

 

Satoru's thigh shifted just slightly, enough to deny me the friction I needed, and a whine tore from my throat before I could stop it. My hands scrambled against his chest, trying to pull myself closer, to chase that fleeting pressure, but he only chuckled, low and breathless, his grin lazy and wicked.

 

"Not yet, princess," he murmured, brushing his nose against mine as his thumbs rubbed gentle circles into my hips. "We're not even close to done with you."

 

Behind me, Suguru's hands slid up my sides, tracing the trembling lines of my ribs before skimming under my breasts, his fingertips barely brushing the sensitive skin there. His lips ghosted over the shell of my ear, and I shivered as his warm breath washed down my neck.

 

"Don't rush it," he whispered, his voice deep and calm but laced with thick desire. "We want to feel all of you... every little reaction. Every little sound."

 

I let out another shaky breath, my thighs quivering with pent-up need, but I nodded. I wanted that too. I wanted everything.

 

Gathering what little strength I had, I pushed up onto my tiptoes, feeling the water ripple around me as I reached for Satoru's face. He bent down automatically, letting me press my lips to his in a soft, clumsy kiss that tasted like desperation. I could feel his smile against my mouth before he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding slowly and deliberately over mine until my knees nearly gave out.

 

Suguru's hands never stopped moving, stroking down to my thighs and back up again, steady and grounding, keeping me upright between their bodies. When I pulled away from Satoru, gasping softly, I turned in Suguru's hold, pressing my chest to his and looking up at him with half-lidded, glazed eyes.

 

He was so tall, so broad, his dark hair dripping water down his chest in little rivulets. I had to stand on the very tips of my toes to reach him, and even then, I could only just brush my lips against his jaw.

 

"Help me," I whispered softly, not sure what I was asking for. Help me breathe, help me think, help me lose my mind entirely, maybe all of it at once.

 

Suguru chuckled low in his chest, his large hands settling on my hips as he bent down, letting me finally catch his lips with mine. His kiss was different from Satoru's, slower, deeper, a possessive roll of tongue and teeth that made my toes curl against the bath floor. I whimpered into his mouth as his hands guided me, pulling me flush against him so I could feel all of him, thick and hard under the water, pressed between us.

 

I couldn't help it, my hips rocked forward just slightly, seeking, testing, and Suguru let out a ragged breath against my lips, his fingers digging into my hips like he was restraining himself from more.

 

"Careful," he murmured, his voice rough and warning. "You keep doing that, love, and I'm not going to be able to take it slow."

 

A shaky laugh broke out of me, breathless and a little hysterical. "Maybe I don't want you to," I whispered back, my hand sliding down his chest, feeling his stomach tense as I explored the lines of muscle there. My fingers inched lower, brushing just above where I could feel his cock pressing hot and heavy against my stomach, and his grip on my hips tightened, making me gasp softly. I rubbed him nice and slow.

 

"Amara," he growled softly, his forehead pressing to mine, eyes dark and blown wide. "Don't start something you're not ready to finish."

 

But his warning only made the heat coil tighter low in my belly, sharp and pulsing. I turned my head just enough to look back at Satoru, who was watching us with parted lips, his blue eyes burning with a desperate, eager need that made my chest ache.

 

"Your turn," I said softly to him, reaching a hand out. "Come here."

 

He moved before I even finished speaking, his hands sliding up my sides from behind, sandwiching me completely between them. I could feel him pressed against my ass now, hard and twitching under the water, and I let out a little whimper that made both of them groan.

 

"Fuck," Satoru whispered, his voice shaky for once, his lips brushing my ear. "You're gonna kill us, princess."

 

I smirked weakly, despite my trembling thighs and flushed chest. "Then die all pretty for me," I whispered back.

 

Suguru laughed softly at that, the sound vibrating against my lips before he kissed me again, his tongue sweeping slow and possessive into my mouth while Satoru's hands slid around to cup my breasts again, then hesitantly put my nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and sucking. He was melting into it. I let out whines and whispers into Suguru's mouth.

 

It was too much and not enough all at once. Every nerve felt stretched thin and blazing hot, every touch sending lightning crackling under my skin. I knew they weren't going to let me finish yet, this was just the build-up, the teasing, the slow unraveling of everything I was until there was nothing left but them.

 

And god, I wanted it.

 

I wanted all of it.

 

I felt their cocks pressed against me, hot and heavy and twitching with every little movement I made between them. Every brush of my thighs against Satoru's hips behind me, every accidental slide of my stomach against Suguru's cock in front of me, it was all sending sparks ricocheting through the tight coil in my belly.

 

My breathing was ragged as I pulled back from Suguru's kiss just enough to look up at him, my hand still curled lightly around his cock under the water. His eyes were nearly black with lust, his jaw tense as he swallowed hard, a thin vein pulsing along his neck.

 

Behind me, Satoru let out a shaky laugh, his forehead pressed to the back of my shoulder. "Holy shit," he whispered, his voice breaking around the words. "She's gonna fucking kill us, Suguru."

 

"You say that like it's a bad thing," I whispered back, smirking breathlessly as I shifted my hips just slightly, pressing back against him while my hand stroked Suguru under the steaming water.

 

I felt Satoru twitch against me at the same time Suguru let out a rough groan that made my chest clench tight with want.

 

"Fuck- fuck, Amara," Satoru gasped, his fingers digging into my hips. I could feel him trembling slightly behind me, his cock thick and hard against my ass, humping me slightly, and something hot and aching filled my chest at the realization.

 

He was hard. Despite his nerves, despite everything, he wanted this. He wanted me.

 

That knowledge made a soft, desperate whimper break out of me before I could stop it, and Suguru's hand shot up to cup the back of my head, pulling me into another kiss, this one rougher, sloppier, his tongue sweeping into my mouth with a hungry possessiveness that left me gasping.

 

For a moment, everything blurred together, heat and steam and the thick, heady scent of the three of us pressed so close that I could barely breathe. My thighs were shaking, my chest heaving, every nerve in my body screaming with want.

 

It was getting hard to think. Hard to breathe. Hard to care about anything except the feeling of their hands on me, their cocks pressed against me, the ragged sounds they made just for me.

 

But just as Suguru's hips rolled forward, brushing against my hand in a way that made his breath hitch, he suddenly froze.

 

His grip on my hips tightened, and he pulled back just enough to press his forehead to mine, his eyes closed, his breathing heavy and controlled.

 

"Wait," he rasped, his voice tight with restraint. "We... fuck- we need to stop for a second."

 

I blinked up at him, dazed and flushed, my lips swollen from his kisses. "Wha- why?"

 

His eyes opened, and they were dark but soft, his thumb brushing along my cheekbone gently. "Because if we keep going here, one of us is going to pass out from the heat before we even get to the good part."

 

Satoru let out a breathless laugh behind me, his arms still wrapped tight around my waist. "He's... he's not wrong," he panted, his voice shaky. "I feel like my head is floating away."

 

Suguru pressed a kiss to my forehead, slow and grounding. "We booked a room here for tonight," he murmured. "Just for us. Let's move there before we overheat in here."

 

I swallowed hard, still trembling with need, but I nodded. He was right. The heat of the bath was starting to make my vision blur at the edges, my pulse thudding slow and heavy in my ears. I didn't want this to end before it even began.

 

"Okay," I whispered softly. "Okay... let's go."

 

Suguru smiled at me, something so warm and full of love flickering across his dark eyes before he kissed me again, gentler this time. "Good girl."

 

Satoru gave my waist a playful squeeze. "C'mon, princess. Time to move this party somewhere we can actually breathe."

 

And with that, they helped me out of the bath, their hands careful and steady as they guided me toward the private room waiting just beyond the steam-fogged glass doors.

 

My legs were weak, my body trembling with anticipation and overstimulation, but as their hands held me upright, their warmth bracketing me on both sides, I felt... safe.

 

---

 

We stepped out of the steaming bath area into the cooler hallway beyond. The air was damp and smelled faintly of cedar and incense. Suguru's hand stayed firmly around my waist while Satoru moved ahead, peeking into the room we'd booked for the night.

 

"Damn," he whistled softly. "They really went all out, huh?"

 

The room was dim and warm, lit only by flickering wall sconces and a low amber lamp beside a massive bed layered with soft cream sheets and fluffy dark blankets. Plush towels were stacked neatly by the doorway, and a quiet electric heater buzzed softly in the corner.

 

Suguru guided me inside, and Satoru immediately grabbed two towels, rubbing his hair dry with comical vigor. His white strands stuck up in every direction, making him look like a spiky-headed ghost.

 

"Here," he said, tossing one at Suguru before grabbing another and crouching down in front of me with a grin. "Your turn, princess."

 

I giggled softly as he started patting me dry, his movements surprisingly gentle despite the playful smirk on his lips. "You're gonna make my hair frizzy," I mumbled, swatting at his hands when he ruffled the towel over my head.

 

"I like it frizzy," he shot back, sticking out his tongue before leaning in to press a soft kiss to my temple.

 

Suguru was drying off behind me, his movements calm and efficient. Once Satoru was satisfied with my hair, despite it now looking like a damp little puff around my face, Suguru stepped forward with his own towel, sliding it slowly down my arms, my stomach, my thighs, until I was completely dry.

 

"There," he murmured, his voice low and warm. "All clean."

 

"Technically we were clean before," I teased weakly, my voice breathless from the attention.

 

"Don't ruin my moment," he said with a small smile, leaning in to kiss the corner of my mouth.

 

Satoru bounced up suddenly, clapping his hands together. "Alright!" he said, a little too loud for the quiet room. "Time to get this show started."

 

"God, you're such a dork," I said, laughing softly as Suguru guided me toward the bed.

 

"Hey, don't insult the talent before the performance," he shot back, wiggling his eyebrows dramatically as he followed.

 

Suguru rolled his eyes but his lips twitched up, betraying his amusement. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling me gently to stand between his spread knees. His large hands rested on my hips, warm and grounding.

 

For a moment, all three of us just... paused.

 

The room was silent except for our breathing. I could feel my chest rising and falling rapidly, my pulse thrumming under my skin like a trapped bird. Satoru stood behind me, his hands ghosting along my shoulders, while Suguru looked up at me with dark, searching eyes.

 

"...So," Satoru said suddenly, breaking the tension with his painfully casual tone. "How do we... y'know... start this?"

 

I snorted a laugh before I could stop it, and Suguru's lips quirked up into a crooked grin.

 

"Really, Satoru?" Suguru drawled softly. "All your dramatic lines and that's what you go with?"

 

"What?!" Satoru squawked indignantly, lightly smacking Suguru's thigh. "You're the one with the research folder! I'm just here!"

 

"God, you two are idiots," I mumbled, blushing furiously but unable to stop the giggles bubbling up in my chest.

 

Suguru laughed quietly, leaning forward to press a slow, grounding kiss to my stomach, just below my belly button piercing. His breath was warm against my skin as he looked up at me through thick lashes.

 

"Let's just... go slow," he murmured, his voice soft but sure. "No script. No plan. Just... feel it out. Together."

 

"Yeah," Satoru agreed from behind me, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "We're gonna be awkward as hell anyway. Might as well embrace it."

 

I turned my head to look at him over my shoulder, and he grinned down at me with that boyish, earnest smile that always made something in my chest ache in the best way.

 

"Okay," I whispered back, my voice trembling but sure. "Together."

 

Suguru tugged me gently onto the bed, and Satoru followed, all three of us moving clumsily as elbows bumped and knees knocked. At one point, Satoru almost kneed Suguru in the ribs while trying to crawl around him, earning a muffled "Ow- watch it, giraffe" and a hissed "Sorry sorry sorry" as I tried to hide my laughter behind my hands.

 

Finally, somehow, I ended up lying on my back with Suguru propped up on one elbow beside me, his hair falling in damp strands around his face, and Satoru sprawled half across my legs, his cheek pressed against my thigh as he looked up at me with wide, soft eyes.

 

"...Hi," he said quietly, his grin crooked and a little nervous.

 

I giggled again, reaching down to brush his hair back from his forehead. "Hi."

 

Suguru's hand slid up to cradle my cheek, his thumb stroking gently along my jaw. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and reverent.

 

"Yeah," Satoru agreed, his tone softer than usual as he pressed a kiss to my knee. "Fucking perfect."

 

My chest felt too tight with how full it was. With nerves. With excitement. With love.

 

With them.

 

And as their hands began to explore me again, clumsy and tender and reverent, all I could think was...

 

Please don't ever let this end.

 

 

Chapter 45: Bathhouse Inimacy Pt. 2 (NSFW)

I shifted under their touches, my breath coming in short, shaky gasps as their hands roamed over my skin. Satoru’s fingers brushed lightly over my ribs while Suguru’s thumb stroked slow circles into my hipbone. My chest felt tight with anticipation, nerves, and a trembling kind of fear-laced excitement.

 

“Hey,” Suguru said softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. “Breathe for me, pretty girl.”

 

I let out a shaky exhale, my eyes fluttering open to meet his calm, steady gaze. Satoru was watching me too, his blue eyes wide and blown dark with desire but also laced with a flicker of concern.

 

“Is it too much?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, almost shy. “We can stop.”

 

I shook my head quickly, my hair rustling against the pillows. “No… I want to… I just…”

 

“Just what, baby?” Suguru asked, his tone patient, his thumb still stroking soothing circles against my skin.

 

“…I want to make you both feel good too,” I whispered, my voice trembling with honesty. “But I… I don’t think… both at the same time… I can’t…”

 

My voice trailed off, embarrassment heating my cheeks. Suguru’s hand slid up to cradle my jaw, tilting my face back up to his.

 

“That’s okay,” he murmured, his dark eyes warm and steady. “We’ll go slow. One step at a time.”

 

He looked over at Satoru, who was hovering by my legs, his expression nervous but eager.

 

“Satoru,” Suguru said softly, his voice taking on that quiet command that always made my chest flutter. “Why don’t you try first?”

 

Satoru blinked, his mouth falling open slightly. “Me?”

 

“Yeah,” Suguru said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “She’s already comfortable with your touch tonight… let her adjust at her own pace.”

 

Satoru swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly. His eyes flicked to mine, wide and vulnerable, and for a moment he looked so painfully human in a way he rarely allowed himself to be.

 

“You okay with that, princess?” he asked softly, his usual teasing edge gone.

 

I nodded, my heart thudding so hard I thought it might bruise my ribs from the inside. “Yeah… I want to.”

 

His smile was trembling as he leaned down to kiss me, slow and tender and a little shaky, like he was trying to ground himself in the taste of me. I kissed him back just as gently, my hands sliding up to cup his cheeks, feeling the faint scratch of stubble against my palms.

 

Suguru shifted beside us, pressing a kiss to my shoulder as his hand rubbed slow, grounding circles into my thigh.

 

“We’re right here,” he murmured against my skin. “Always.”

 

“Always,” Satoru echoed softly against my lips before pulling back just enough to look at me, his blue eyes dark and flickering with heat. His gaze flicked down my body, lingering, and I saw that nervousness bloom into something hotter, heavier, as he finally let himself really look.

 

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “So fucking beautiful.”

 

My chest felt too tight to speak, so I just nodded, my hands gripping his wrists as he settled between my thighs. He looked up at me one more time, his eyes silently asking for permission, for reassurance, for everything, and I gave it to him in the only way I could..

 

With a trembling smile and a whispered, “Please.”

 

He exhaled shakily, his lips twitching up into a soft, earnest grin as his hands began to explore again, his touch reverent and clumsy all at once, making my entire body burn with anticipation.

 

Suguru kissed the side of my neck, whispering soft praises against my skin, I felt that fear start to melt away, leaving only warmth and trust and a bright, trembling kind of love.

 

Satoru’s hands trembled slightly as he braced them on either side of my hips, his wide blue eyes flicking between my face and the space between my thighs like he couldn’t decide where to look.

 

Suguru shifted closer behind him, resting a steadying hand on his lower back. “Slow down,” he murmured softly, his voice calm and quiet like the ocean at dawn. “You’re overthinking.”

 

“I’m not overthinking,” Satoru hissed back, his voice pitching up slightly as his cheeks flushed pink. “I just… I’ve never… I don’t want to fuck this up..”

 

“You won’t,” Suguru said gently, rubbing his thumb in slow, grounding circles against Satoru’s skin. “You’re not going to hurt her. Just go slow. Listen to her body. Listen to her sounds. Watch her face.”

 

Satoru exhaled shakily, his shoulders tensing before he forced them to relax. He looked up at me, his gaze vulnerable and almost pleading. “You’ll… you’ll tell me if it hurts, right? If you want me to stop, or slow down, or… anything.”

 

I nodded quickly, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might bruise my lungs. “Yeah… yeah, I promise.”

 

His eyes softened at that, and he let out a shaky little laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to my knee, then my thigh, then higher still. “Okay… okay… I can do this,” he muttered to himself, sounding like he was trying to psych himself up before a big mission. “I can definitely do this.”

 

Suguru chuckled softly under his breath, leaning forward to press a kiss to the back of Satoru’s neck. “You’re doing fine, love. Just… here.”

 

He reached around him, his larger hand wrapping around Satoru’s wrist and guiding his touch, showing him how to settle his thumb against my hipbone for leverage while his fingers brushed gently against my inner thigh.

 

“Hold her here,” Suguru instructed softly, his voice so calm and confident it made something deep in my chest ache with warmth. “Keep your grip steady. And when you push in… do it slow. Gentle. Let her stretch around you.”

 

Satoru swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly. “Okay… okay…”

 

His gaze flicked back to my face, his blue eyes wide and almost scared. “You sure? You still… want this?”

 

I let out a shaky little laugh, tears pricking my eyes at the sheer earnestness in his voice. “I've never been more sure of anything... I want this. I want you.”

 

His breath hitched sharply at that, his lips twitching up into a trembling smile before he leaned down to kiss me, slow and deep and a little clumsy, but so painfully Satoru that it made my chest feel too small for my heart.

 

As he began to line himself up, Suguru shifted to kneel behind him, his chin resting lightly on Satoru’s shoulder as he watched, his hand still guiding his movements with calm, steady precision.

 

“Good… that’s it,” Suguru murmured softly, his voice vibrating through both of them. “Nice and easy…”

 

And as I felt Satoru begin to press into me, slow and careful and shaking like a leaf in the wind, all I could do was clutch at his arms, my eyes fluttering shut as I let out a trembling gasp, my entire world narrowing down to the feeling of him filling me, the heat of Suguru’s breath against my skin, and the overwhelming, impossible rightness of it all.

 

Satoru let out a shaky moan, his forehead dropping to rest against mine as his hips stuttered slightly. His breaths were ragged, desperate little pants against my lips.

 

“Shit… shit, I… fuck,” he groaned, his eyes squeezing shut tight.

 

"You've got this, Satoru. Nice and slow baby. Make her feel as good as you do.." Suguru kissed his shoulder and gently rubbed his hands up both of our bodies.

 

Satoru starts thrusting slowly and his whimpers are to die for. His voice is shaky and overwhelmed. 

 

"Mmmmm....fuuck...fuck...Satoru...Satoru..." I whine and moan his name and he starts thrusting a bit faster.

 

“I’m… I’m gonna… I can’t… I’m too close already…ehhh...ahhh....” His moans were so pathetic-sounding and unfiltered.

 

I felt his chest heaving, his whole body trembling against mine as he tried to still his movements, his hands gripping my hips so hard I knew there’d be little bruises blooming if I didn't heal so fast. He let out a frustrated whine, muffled as he buried his face against my neck.

 

“I don’t wanna… I wanted to last longer… I wanted to make it good for you, fuck-”

 

Suguru’s hand settled gently on the back of Satoru’s neck, grounding him instantly. “Hey… hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice calm and reassuring. “You are making it good. You always do.”

 

"You feel so fucking good, Satoru. It's okay if you need a minute." I say through heavy breaths still feeling him stretching me.

 

Satoru let out a shaky breath, pulling back just enough to look at me, his eyes glassy and vulnerable. “I think… I think you should take over,” he said, his voice small and breathless as he turned his gaze to Suguru. “I’m gonna… I’ll lose it if I keep going…”

 

Suguru gave a small, knowing smile, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to Satoru’s temple. “That’s okay,” he said softly. “Switch with me.”

 

Slowly, Satoru pulled out, leaving me gasping softly at the sudden emptiness, my body still trembling with the lingering edge of pleasure. He settled down beside me, his large hands stroking gently over my thighs and stomach as Suguru moved between my legs, his movements calm and confident but no less gentle.

 

“Hey… pretty girl,” Satoru whispered softly, his fingers brushing against my cheek as he smiled down at me, a little flushed and dazed but still so devastatingly beautiful. “You okay?”

 

I nodded shakily, my eyes fluttering half-closed as Suguru’s hands slid up my thighs, spreading me open with careful, steady ease. “Yeah… m’okay… just… sensitive…”

 

Suguru chuckled softly under his breath, leaning down to press an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of my knee. “Good,” he murmured against my skin. “That’s exactly how I want you.”

 

Suguru gently slid his fingers over my area, rubbing circles around my clit and then gently fingering me. 

 

"Fuck you're so wet....took Satoru so well and now you're taking my fingers like its nothing. I just want to stretch you out a little more since I'm a bit thicker..." 

 

He adds a finger thrusting them in and out of me with a slight curl of his fingers. 

 

"Is it a compliment to call a girl wet?" Satoru asks softly. 

 

Suguru chuckles lightly. "Kind of. I'm acknowledging how turned on she is. The more excited women get the more lubrication they make." 

 

Suguru pulls out his fingers but replaces them with his left hand, still fingering me deep. 

 

"See?" He shows Satoru how slick his fingers are, covered in my arousal. 

 

Satoru bites his lip. "Can I taste it?"

 

Suguru takes a deep inhale. "Amara, my love, look at us. Look at us, baby." 

 

I looked up and struggled to keep my eyes open and to hold in my moans so I could focus. Satoru looks to me then looks up at Suguru as he takes his fingers into his mouth. Satoru moans and whines, sucking on Suguru's fingers like his life depends on it. My insides flutter. 

 

"You see that, Satoru. Look at her. She loves seeing you enjoy her." Suguru sloppily kisses Satoru.

 

The kiss is quick. Satoru quickly moves to my mouth, kissing sloppily and needy, making me taste myself on his tongue.

 

As Suguru lined himself up and slowly, carefully began to push into me, I let out a choked little sob, my hips arching off the bed as the stretch burned hot and sweet through my entire body. I pulled off of Satoru's mouth leaving a spit string. I leaned my head against his as I moaned and looked to Suguru.

 

“Oh god… Suguru…” I gasped, my hands flying up to clutch at Satoru’s arms, needing something solid to anchor myself to.

 

Satoru let out a shaky, breathless laugh, his hand stroking through my hair with infinite gentleness. “Fuck… you’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, leaning down to press gentle kisses all over my face, my forehead, my cheeks, my lips. “So fucking pretty… taking him so well…”

 

His words made my chest ache with warmth, my entire body pulsing with pleasure as Suguru bottomed out inside me with a low, quiet groan, his hands braced firm and protective on either side of my hips.

 

“Good girl…” Suguru murmured, his voice tight and breathless as he leaned down to kiss my lips softly, his nose brushing against mine. “You’re doing so good for us…”

 

I whimpered against his lips, my entire body trembling as I felt Satoru’s hand slide down between us, his fingers gently brushing over my clit in slow, careful circles to keep me grounded and overwhelmed in all the right ways.

 

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck...mmmm...just like that Satoru...mmmm...fuck!" I whine loudly, arching my back.

 

Satoru doesn't stop he makes sure he keeps doing the exact same thing. Same speed, same motion, same direction, not wanting to mess anything up.

 

“Can… can I help you too…?” I gasped out between ragged breaths, my hand reaching down to Satoru's cock, his flushed tip leaking precum against his stomach.

 

His breath hitched sharply at the touch, his eyes fluttering closed as he let out a shaky laugh. “Fuck… yeah… yeah, pretty girl… anything you want…”

 

And as Suguru’s thrusts stayed slow and deep, each movement sparking fireworks behind my eyes, I wrapped my fingers around Satoru’s length, my touch unsteady and awkward but desperate to give him just a fraction of what they were giving me.

 

Because in that moment, with both of them wrapped around me, inside me, above me, I felt like I was burning alive from the inside out, and I never wanted it to end.

 

My body was shaking, pleasure building so bright and hot I felt like I might burn alive. Suguru’s pace picked up, his thrusts turning rougher, deeper, his grip on my hips tightening to hold me steady as he lost himself in the feeling. His quiet groans were low and ragged, each one sending shivers down my spine.

 

Satoru’s hand was trembling where it stroked through my hair, his other hand braced on the mattress beside my head as he watched us with wide, hungry eyes. His cock twitched in my grip, flushed red and leaking down my wrist, and I could see how desperate he was by the way his chest heaved with every shaky breath.

 

“Please,” I gasped out, my voice breaking around the word as Suguru’s thrusts hit something deep inside me that made my vision go white at the edges. “Please, Satoru… let me… let me use my mouth… I want to… please… please fuck my mouuuthh...”

 

Satoru let out a choked, broken moan, his hips bucking forward into my fist. “Fuck… fuck, Amara… you’re gonna kill me…”

 

But he shifted anyway, moving up onto his knees beside my head, his length brushing against my cheek as he looked down at me with eyes blown wide and glassy.

 

“You sure…?” he panted out, his voice cracking around the question, almost like he couldn’t believe what I was asking.

 

I nodded, licking my lips as I tilted my head to kiss his flushed tip, tasting salt and heat and him. “Want to… wanna feel you both…”

 

“Shit… okay… okay…” he breathed out, his voice shaking.

 

I took him into my mouth, awkward and a little messy, but the desperate moan he let out told me I was doing something right. His hand flew down to cup my cheek, thumb stroking over my jaw as his head fell back, white hair falling away from his face.

 

“Oh fuck… fuck, Amara… your mouth… god, you feel so good…” he babbled, hips jerking forward slightly before he forced himself to still, trying not to choke me. “Too good… too good… I’m not gonna… not gonna last…”

 

Above me, Suguru’s rhythm turned almost punishing, his groans falling quiet and ragged as his forehead pressed to my head, sweat dripping down his temples. His eyes were dark and half-lidded, locked onto mine with so much intensity I felt pinned open by it.

 

“Beautiful girl… our beautiful girl…” he whispered, his voice wrecked, and he angled his hips just right to make me sob around Satoru’s cock.

 

Satoru let out a strangled moan at the vibration, his thighs trembling where they bracketed my head. “Fuck… fuck, baby… I’m gonna… I’m- HOLY FUCK!”

 

He didn’t finish his sentence, just threw his head back with a loud, broken cry as he came, hips jerking forward as I swallowed around him, feeling him twitch and pulse against my tongue. 

 

His noises were desperate and unrestrained, echoing off the walls, filling the room with the raw sound of his pleasure. Satoru came hard, his hips jerking forward against my lips, spilling across my tongue and down my throat in hot, salty pulses that made me whine around him. He made such a mess of me, trembling and breathless, some of it dripping down my chin onto my chest as I gasped for air.

 

“Shit… fuck… sorry- fuck,” he panted, his voice cracking as he pulled back slightly, his hand trembling where it stroked my cheek. His eyes were glazed and dazed, mouth parted, his entire body flushed and shaking.

 

But before he could even wipe my mouth, Suguru let out a low, guttural groan behind me, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. I could feel him twitching inside me, his thrusts turning rougher, almost frantic, like he couldn’t stop himself.

 

“Hold her,” he growled out, his voice wrecked, dark eyes flicking to Satoru with a sharp demand. “Satoru- hold her leg up for me. Just like this.”

 

Satoru blinked, dazed and flushed, but he moved immediately, his large hand curling under my thigh to keep it lifted and open for Suguru. His grip was surprisingly steady despite how he was still panting, his thumb rubbing slow, grounding circles into my skin.

 

“Good boy,” Suguru murmured, his voice ragged as he rutted deeper into me, one hand wrapping around Satoru’s still half-hard cock, stroking him with long, rough pulls that made Satoru shiver and curse under his breath.

 

The sight of them, Suguru’s dark hair falling around his face, sweat dripping down his chest, his hips snapping forward with desperate force while his hand worked Satoru back to full hardness, was almost too much to process. My entire body was trembling, sparks of pleasure and overstimulation burning hot and bright through my nerves as I sobbed out broken moans, my thighs shaking where they bracketed Suguru’s hips.

 

“Fuck… Suguru… please… I can’t… I can’t-” I cried out, my back arching off the mattress as he hit that spot deep inside me over and over, relentless, possessive.

 

“Yes, you can,” he growled, his voice dropping into something dark and hungry as his pace turned punishing. “You can take it. You will fucking take it. You’re mine. You’re both mine.”

 

It doesn’t take long for Satoru to cum hard again with those desperate, needy, choking moans.

 

But Suguru was so far gone, I could see it in his eyes, his pupils blown wide with lust and something deeper, something primal. His hips slammed forward one last time and he came hard with a rough, bitten-off groan, burying himself deep and grinding into me like he was trying to brand me from the inside out. Even covered, it felt like he was trying to breed me, to claim me so fully there’d be no part of me left untouched.

 

My vision blurred with tears of overstimulation, my entire body locked tight around him, pleasure shattering through me so hard I thought I might black out. My nails clawed at his back, leaving angry red lines down his skin, but he didn’t slow down. He kept moving, fucking me through his orgasm like he couldn’t stand the thought of pulling out, chasing every last wave of pleasure until I was sobbing and trembling under him.

 

“Hey- hey, Suguru,” Satoru’s voice cut through the haze, softer, careful, but still commanding. His hand cupped the back of Suguru’s neck, thumb stroking soothingly at his hairline. “That’s enough… she’s done… look at her. She's tired, baby.”

 

Suguru let out a broken gasp as he filled me a little bit more now, draining himself into me. His thrusts slowed as his eyes fluttered open, dazed and wild. He looked down at me, really looked, and his expression crumbled into something softer, something wrecked and vulnerable.

 

“Fuck… fuck, baby…” he whispered, his voice shaking as he pressed his forehead to mine, his hips finally stilling. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to… I just- god, I love you so fucking much.”

 

I could barely form words, my body trembling with aftershocks, but I managed to cup his cheek weakly, pulling him down into a messy, tear-salty kiss. Satoru’s hand rubbed slow circles into my thigh, grounding me as his other hand combed through Suguru’s sweat-damp hair.

 

“Good job, Suguru,” Satoru murmured softly, his voice low and proud as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his temple. “Now come back to us.”

 

And slowly, Suguru did.

 

They moved slowly after that, like the air itself had thickened around us, heavy with spent desire and lingering warmth. Suguru pulled out with a quiet groan, his hands trembling as he immediately bent to press soft kisses along my hips, my stomach, my thighs, anywhere he could reach.

 

“Sorry… sorry, sweetheart…” he whispered between each kiss, his voice hoarse and raw. “I didn’t mean to get so… lost.”

 

I could only hum softly, my eyelids heavy, my body limp and trembling with aftershocks. Everything felt floaty and warm, the world reduced to the feeling of their hands on me.

 

“Hey,” Satoru’s voice drifted down, bright but gentle. “Don’t pass out yet, pretty girl. We gotta clean you up first.”

 

He said it teasingly, but there was a protective undercurrent there, his long fingers already brushing hair out of my face with surprising tenderness. He helped me sit up slowly as Suguru grabbed a warm towel from the small bathhouse cupboard, gently wiping between my legs and down my thighs, careful despite how shaky his own hands were.

 

“Goddamn, Suguru,” Satoru snorted quietly as he watched him work, a lazy grin on his face. “You’re relentless. If you didn’t have a condom on, I swear she’d be knocked up in one go with how hard you were trying.”

 

Suguru shot him a half-hearted glare but said nothing, just focused on making sure I was clean and comfortable, his thumb brushing soothing circles on my knee.

 

“Also,” Satoru continued, his grin widening as he leaned in closer to me, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “that was… fucking hot. But remind me to never let him near you without food and water beforehand. He might actually die trying to fuck the soul out of you.”

 

A breathy laugh escaped my lips despite how utterly dazed I felt, my head rolling against his chest. “You’re such an idiot,” I mumbled softly.

 

“Mmhm,” he hummed with pride, pressing a noisy kiss to my temple. “But I’m your idiot.”

 

Suguru finally finished cleaning me up and tossed the towel aside before standing with a quiet groan, stretching his back. He bent to grab a fresh oversized t-shirt he’d packed and slipped it carefully over my head, letting it fall to mid-thigh. It smelled like him and felt like safety.

 

Meanwhile, Satoru pulled on a clean pair of black boxer briefs, ruffling his snowy hair out of his eyes as he helped Suguru slip into his own loose black pair. Both of them looked impossibly pretty even like this, hair messy, skin flushed, still glowing with the heat of what we’d just done.

 

“Look at you,” Satoru drawled with a grin, reaching out to flick Suguru’s forehead lightly. “All dazed and ruined. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you just got railed into oblivion.”

 

“Shut up,” Suguru muttered, but there was no real bite behind it. He stepped forward to cup my cheek, tilting my face up to his as he searched my eyes with quiet intensity. “You okay, sweetheart?”

 

I nodded slowly, my voice soft and hoarse. “Yeah… just… tired. Really tired.”

 

“You did so good,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss me, slow and sweet, his thumb brushing along my jaw. “Our perfect girl.”

 

My eyes fluttered shut at the praise, my chest filling with something warm and trembling. Before I could even breathe it out, Satoru let out a low groan as he sat back on his heels, surveying the absolute mess we’d made of the bed.

 

“God… we’re gonna have to leave the world’s biggest tip,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand through his messy hair.

 

Suguru huffed a quiet laugh, leaning over to press a kiss to Satoru’s temple. “Good thing you’re disgustingly rich.”

 

“Mm,” Satoru hummed absently as he stood up, his long body stretching out all lazy and languid. “Help me with the blankets.”

 

They moved with quiet efficiency, stripping the dirty sheets off the bed and rolling them up before pulling fresh linens from the room’s storage cabinet. Suguru spread the new sheets out with practiced precision, smoothing each corner while Satoru fluffed the pillows dramatically, tossing them back onto the mattress one by one with little triumphant noises.

 

I watched them with heavy, half-lidded eyes, feeling boneless and floating and impossibly small. When they were done, Suguru bent to scoop me up under my arms, lifting me easily as Satoru pulled the comforter down so Suguru could place me back onto the now clean bed.

 

“Good?” he asked softly, brushing his knuckles down my cheek.

 

“Mmhm,” I hummed sleepily.

 

They both climbed in on either side of me, the blankets settling around our bodies like warm clouds. Satoru tucked his face into the crook of my neck immediately, his long legs tangling with mine as he let out a deep sigh. Suguru pressed himself against my back, his broad chest firm and steady, his arm curling over my waist to pull me closer.

 

For a few moments, there was only the sound of our breathing and the slow pounding of our hearts, each beat echoing against the other like a shared secret.

 

Then Satoru spoke, his voice muffled and quiet against my skin. “I… think I get it now.”

 

I blinked, turning my head just enough to see him. “Get what…?”

 

“This… sex stuff,” he said softly, almost shyly, his eyes flicking up to meet mine before darting away again. “Like… the feeling was… good. Really good. But… I think… it was only that good because it was you two. Because it was us, ya know?”

 

My chest clenched at his words, my breath catching painfully.

 

He swallowed hard, his fingers drumming lightly against my hip as he continued, his voice small and raw. “Like… feeling it… yeah, it felt amazing. But… seeing it be Suguru, feeling it be you… that’s what made me finish. That’s what made it feel right.”

 

Suguru let out a quiet exhale behind me, his arm tightening around my waist as he pressed a soft kiss to the back of my head. “That makes sense,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “It’s not just about the physical for you. It’s… us.”

 

Satoru didn’t respond right away, his gaze fixed on the hollow of my throat, his long lashes trembling slightly. “Is… that weird?” he asked softly. “Like… I don’t think… I could do that with anyone else. I’ve never… wanted to.”

 

“It’s not weird,” I whispered, reaching up to cup his jaw with trembling fingers. “It’s… perfect. You’re perfect.”

 

Suguru hummed softly behind me in agreement. “How did it feel for you?” he asked quietly, his voice gentle and curious. “Like… physically. Was it… okay? For your first time?”

 

Satoru let out a small, breathless laugh, his cheeks pinkening in the dim light. “It… was intense,” he admitted, his grin crooked and boyish. “Like… too intense. I couldn’t… I didn’t last long. But… it felt… fucking amazing. I don’t even know how to describe it. Just… warm. Tight. Good. But… mostly just… overwhelming. In a good way. I think I can get with this whole thing as long as I'm doing it with you guys..”

 

I smiled softly, brushing my thumb across his cheekbone. “That’s… good,” I whispered. “That’s… really good.”

 

He grinned, leaning forward to press his forehead against mine. “Yeah,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering shut. “Yeah… it really was.”

 

Suguru pressed another kiss to the back of my head, his nose nuzzling into my hair as his arm tightened around me protectively.

 

And there, between them, surrounded by their warmth and their love and the quiet, trembling vulnerability that only they ever showed me, I felt it settle deep in my bones:

 

This was real.

 

This was safe.

 

This was home.

 

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

 

The room was quiet, the low hum of the heater filling the silence as Satoru lay tangled between Amara and Suguru, their shared warmth cocooning him in a rare, fleeting sense of peace.

 

Until his phone started vibrating on the floor beside the bed.

 

“Don’t,” Suguru mumbled sleepily against the back of Amara’s neck, his arm tightening around her waist. “Ignore it.”

 

“I’m trying,” Satoru groaned, burying his face into Amara’s shoulder, his hair tickling her collarbone. But the phone buzzed again, and again, and again, until finally he let out a dramatic, frustrated sigh.

 

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, flinging the blanket off and sitting up, the cool air brushing his bare chest as he snatched the phone off the floor. He didn’t even look at the screen before he pressed answer, his voice low and rough with exhaustion and residual intimacy.

 

“What?” he snapped.

 

“Satoru,” Yaga’s gravelly voice came through the speaker, calm but firm. “Where are you right now?”

 

Satoru blinked, his tired brain taking a moment to catch up. He scrubbed a hand down his face and stood, moving to the corner of the room to keep his voice down.

 

“Out. Why?” he asked flatly, glancing back at the bed where Suguru was watching him with quiet, wary eyes. “It’s late.”

 

“You didn’t check in,” Yaga said. “You didn’t tell me where you were going. You didn’t tell anyone. It’s nearly two in the morning.”

 

Satoru rolled his eyes, flopping down onto a small chair by the window and leaning his forehead against the glass. “Yeah, well… I didn’t think I had to report my every move like a fucking child.”

 

“You do,” Yaga said sharply. “Especially right now. You know what’s going on. You know what the risks are. And I have a mission for you and Suguru tomorrow morning.”

 

Satoru’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling around the edge of the windowsill. “Yeah. Of course you do.”

 

“Don’t start,” Yaga said, his tone dropping lower. “This isn’t just about you. The Elders are breathing down my neck for giving you both so much time off already. They’re starting to ask questions.”

 

“Let them ask,” Satoru snapped, his voice suddenly sharp enough that Suguru sat up straighter on the bed, watching him closely. “Let them fucking choke on their questions.”

 

There was silence on the other end for a moment. Then Yaga spoke again, quieter this time. “Satoru… I’m trying to give you space to be young. To breathe. But you know better than anyone that we don’t always get that choice. Especially not with who you are.”

 

Satoru let out a bitter laugh, cold and humorless. “Yeah,” he said softly, his voice cracking just barely. “Because of who I am.”

 

“Satoru-”

 

“Save it,” he bit out, his cursed energy flaring involuntarily, the window vibrating faintly under his hand. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to breathe, to reel it back in before he shattered the glass. He could feel Suguru’s gaze burning into his back, steady and grounding, but it only made the ache in his chest worse.

 

“You want me and Suguru on that mission tomorrow?” he said finally, his voice dangerously calm. “Fine. We’ll be there.”

 

"Is Amara with you?" Yaga asks softly.

 

"Yes. She's with us and safe. Now, Goodnight, Sensi."

 

He didn’t wait for a reply before he hung up, tossing the phone onto the small table beside him and pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, his entire body trembling with the force of everything he couldn’t say.

 

Back on the bed, Suguru reached out a hand, his voice low and careful. “Satoru…”

 

Satoru didn’t look at him. Didn’t move. He just let out a shaky breath, his words barely audible over the pounding in his skull.

 

“I can’t even have one fucking night,” he whispered, his voice cracking down the middle. “Not even one.”

 

Satoru stayed slumped in the chair by the window, his head tilted back, eyes squeezed shut against the low light of the room. His chest rose and fell with ragged, uneven breaths, each exhale sounding like it hurt.

 

Suguru watched him in silence for a long moment, his own chest tight with an ache he couldn’t name. Then he slipped carefully out of bed, tucking the blanket gently around Amara’s sleeping form before padding across the room to Satoru.

 

He crouched down in front of him, resting his arms on Satoru’s knees. “Hey,” he said softly.

 

Satoru didn’t open his eyes. Didn’t move.

 

“Satoru,” Suguru tried again, his voice steady but gentle. “Look at me.”

 

Slowly, Satoru blinked his eyes open. They were glassy with unshed tears, his jaw clenched so tight it trembled.

 

“I just wanted one night,” he whispered, his voice breaking again. “Just one. Where I didn’t have to think about… about any of it. This was a big intimate moment for all of us and now-”

 

Suguru swallowed hard, reaching up to brush his knuckles along Satoru’s cheekbone, feeling the way his skin quivered under the touch. “I know,” he murmured. “I know you did.”

 

“It’s never gonna end, is it?” Satoru asked, his laugh sharp and bitter. “No matter what we do. No matter how strong I get, or how many times I save everyone, it’s never fucking enough.”

 

Suguru didn’t answer at first. He just kept stroking his cheek, grounding him with a gentle touch. Outside, the world was silent, the only sound the distant hum of the city and the soft, sleeping breaths of Amara behind them.

 

Finally, he spoke, his voice low. “You’re right,” he said. “It’s never going to end. Not as long as you’re alive.”

 

Satoru’s eyes flicked to his, sharp and pained.

 

“But,” Suguru continued, his thumb brushing the dampness from under Satoru’s eye, “there will still be moments like tonight. Like earlier. There will still be nights like this one, and days at the beach, and mornings when you wake up with her in your arms and you feel like… like maybe this world isn’t so cruel after all.”

 

Satoru let out a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering closed as he leaned into Suguru’s touch. “It doesn’t feel like enough.”

 

“I know,” Suguru whispered. “But it’s what we have. And right now… right now, it’s ours.”

 

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The quiet pressed in around them, soft and heavy. Then Satoru let out a quiet, exhausted laugh, tipping his forehead forward to rest against Suguru’s.

 

“You’re so fucking cheesy,” he muttered.

 

Suguru smiled, his lips brushing Satoru’s as he whispered back, “Yeah. But you love it.”

 

A small, broken smile curved Satoru’s lips. He turned his head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to Suguru’s mouth, slow and lingering, pouring everything he couldn’t say into it.

 

When they finally pulled back, Suguru brushed a thumb over his bottom lip and nodded towards the bed. “Come back to her,” he said softly. “She’ll wake up soon. She always knows when you’re not there.”

 

Satoru let out a breathy laugh and nodded, letting Suguru pull him to his feet.

 

Suguru guided Satoru back to the bed with gentle hands. Amara shifted faintly under the blankets, her brow twitching at the motion, caught somewhere between dreams and waking.

 

“Hey,” Suguru whispered softly, brushing his knuckles along her cheek. “Sweet girl… can you scoot over for me?”

 

She blinked her eyes open halfway, her gaze unfocused and hazy with sleep. “Mnn… why…?”

 

“Can Satoru be in the middle for the rest of the night?” Suguru asked gently, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “He needs it right now.”

 

Amara’s sleep-rough voice was small and warm. “Is everything okay…?”

 

Satoru let out a quiet, shaky exhale and gave her a soft, crooked smile as he crawled into the bed beside her. “Yeah, peach,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her forehead. “I’m okay. Just… got a frustrating call from Yaga. Need a minute to reset, that’s all.”

 

Her eyes opened just a bit wider at that, searching his face for the truth behind his words, but sleep was already dragging her back down. She gave a small, sleepy nod and shifted closer, curling her body into his chest, her arm looping around his waist.

 

“’Kay…” she whispered, her lips brushing his collarbone. “Stay with me, ‘Toru. I've got you. Shhh shhh.”

 

His chest tightened, but he let out a small, breathless laugh, dipping his head to press a lingering kiss to her hairline. “Always.”

 

Suguru climbed in behind him, wrapping an arm around both of them, his hand splaying wide over Satoru’s ribs as his forehead rested against the back of his neck. For a moment, they stayed like that, all pressed close together in a tangle of warmth and quiet breaths.

 

“I’ve got you,” Suguru whispered, his voice rumbling low against Satoru’s skin.

 

Satoru let out a soft hum of acknowledgment, his fingers threading loosely in Amara’s hair as her breathing evened out again, her lashes fluttering softly against his chest.

 

With Amara’s warmth curled into him and Suguru’s steady strength bracketing his back, Satoru felt the tightness in his chest loosen, just enough to let sleep finally come.

 

 

Chapter 46: A Ghost Amongst Curses

The sun was just barely breaking over the mountains when Gojo and Geto left the dorms, uniforms crisp and hair still damp from their quick showers. Amara had been half-asleep when they left, curled into Suguru’s side with her fingers loosely gripping Gojo’s shirt like she didn’t want to let go. They had just put her back to bed after the long night they had.

 

“Sleep, sweetheart,” Gojo had whispered, brushing her hair back and kissing her forehead. “We’ll be back soon.”

 

Yaga met them at the gates, arms crossed over his broad chest, sunglasses reflecting the early morning light. “Yuki will be training Amara today,” he told them without preamble. “You two have your own responsibilities.”

 

Satoru rolled his eyes, but Suguru only nodded. “Where are we going?”

 

“There have been sightings of high-grade curses too close to the campus,” Yaga said, handing them a map marked with several locations. “Most are likely drawn in by the school’s energy density, but it’s better to clear them out now. Multiple locations, spread out. Move efficiently.”

 

“Easy enough,” Gojo said with a smirk, tucking the map into his belt. “We’ll have it done before lunch.”

 

---

 

They moved quickly, clearing the first few sites with almost laughable ease. Satoru barely needed to activate Infinity, flicking curses out of existence with a single lazy sweep of his hand. Suguru was quieter, his shadow filled with writhing, eager spirits that devoured anything that moved.

 

By the time they reached the final site, a crumbling underground parking structure half-swallowed by earth and rot, both of them were almost bored.

 

“Last one,” Gojo said, stretching his arms high above his head until his spine cracked. “You wanna handle it alone so I can nap?”

 

Suguru ignored him, his gaze scanning the dark structure with quiet intensity. “Something feels off.”

 

“Oh?” Gojo grinned, tilting his head as he stepped forward. “Scared?”

 

Suguru didn’t answer, but his hand shot out, smacking Satoru lightly on the chest. “Six Eyes,” he said firmly. “Now.”

 

Gojo’s grin faltered. He let out a soft hum of annoyance but obeyed, his eyes flashing pale blue as his perception shifted, scanning through layers of cursed energy and concrete alike.

 

At first, it was the same as before. Residual curses. Weak flickers hiding in the shadows. Nothing worth their time.

 

But then...

 

His gaze caught on something near the far wall. Someone crouched behind a collapsed pillar, their cursed energy muted to near nothingness. Almost undetectable… if not for the faint, constant pulse radiating from their core.

 

Gojo’s grin turned wicked, something dark curling at the edges of his smile. “Come out,” he called, voice echoing off the cracked concrete. “Or I’ll obliterate you where you hide.”

 

Silence.

 

His fingers twitched.

 

“Fine.”

 

In a blink, space twisted. The pillar shattered with a thunderous crack, stone and rebar exploding outward in a cloud of dust and gravel. Suguru raised a hand to shield his eyes, his cursed spirits flaring around him defensively.

 

When the dust cleared, the figure behind the rubble was exposed.

 

Tall. Gaunt. Blood dripping down, his whole left side torn open down to the bone. Muscle fibers twitched and stretched visibly. But instead of screaming or collapsing, the man simply… looked to them.

 

And then he started to heal fast.

 

Flesh knit back together in smooth, methodical ripples. Bone reformed. Skin closed over ragged wounds until only bloodstains remained. His eyes, a deep, burning red, lifted to meet Satoru’s glowing ones without a flicker of fear.

 

Suguru felt his chest tighten. That regeneration. That cursed energy signature, muted but dense like packed lead. And those eyes.

 

“That's a neat trick you have there.” Gojo started, his grin faltering into something sharper.

 

The man stood fully now, taller than them by a couple of inches, hair black streaked with dull silver, falling messily over his forehead. His collarbones were thin but his shoulders were broad, arms roped with quiet, unassuming muscle. A cursed collar gleamed around his throat, embedded with old seals and rusted metal. His gaze flicked lazily between them like he was only mildly inconvenienced.

 

He didn’t speak.

 

He didn’t need to.

 

Suguru’s breath came out slow, almost silent. “Red eyes… instant regeneration…” His pulse thudded painfully against his ribs. “Satoru.”

 

Gojo didn’t look away from the man, but his grin returned, wide and unhinged.

 

“Is this our missing daddy?” he asked, his voice high with manic glee. “This is Riku fucking Hoshizuki?”

 

Riku blinked once. His eyes flicked to Suguru, then to Gojo, then away, scanning the shattered garage calmly, as though he was evaluating exits or calculating odds. His expression remained impassive. Hollow.

 

Suguru felt the tension coil in Satoru’s cursed energy, dense and electric, vibrating through the fractured concrete. His fingers twitched again, and this time Suguru moved without thinking, grabbing his wrist hard.

 

“No.”

 

“Let go, Suguru.” Gojo’s voice was quiet, almost playful, but there was a jagged edge under it that scraped at Suguru’s bones. “Let. Go.”

 

“We don’t even know what he wants,” Suguru said, his grip tightening. “Think of Amara.”

 

“I am thinking of Amara.” Gojo’s smile twitched, too many teeth showing. His Six Eyes burned brighter, flickering with violent intent. “I’m thinking of how she’s gonna feel when I tell her I tore this piece of shit apart atom by atom.”

 

Riku didn’t react to the threat. He stood still, silently watching Satoru with those hollow, crimson eyes, his expression flat. Unbothered. But behind that emptiness, something shifted. Studied.

 

He dragged his gaze over Satoru first, taking in the white hair, the glowing eyes, the impossibly dense cursed energy vibrating off him in waves that cracked the cement under his shoes. Then Suguru beside him, black hair tied loosely back, his cursed spirits rippling and shifting like living shadows in the flickering light. Their presence was suffocating, heavier than anything he had felt in years.

 

His eyes narrowed faintly. Just a flicker.

 

These weren’t just any sorcerers.

 

Satoru Gojo. Suguru Geto.

 

He knew their names.

 

He knew their reputations, their strength, and their loyalty to Jujutsu Tech. And now, their loyalty to her.

 

Riku’s mind worked in quick, silent calculations, his eyes flicking between them without shifting an inch of his body. That attack from Gojo, barely an effort, yet enough to tear his body down to the bone before he regenerated. If Gojo really wanted him dead, it wouldn’t even be a challenge. And Geto… he could feel the curse-user’s energy shifting constantly, adapting, prepared to command the space around them in an instant.

 

Could he drain them? Perhaps. But draining a cursed user with control that high would be a gamble. Their energy would taste unstable but worse, draining someone like Gojo could fry his own mind completely, overwhelm him, and leave him exposed. Suguru… his cursed energy was too tangled, too embedded with the rot of his spirits. It would be like drinking poison.

 

So he couldn’t win, not cleanly.

 

But they hadn’t killed him yet.

 

They wanted something. Answers. That meant he had leverage...

 

Riku’s crimson gaze flicked back and forth between the two strongest sorcerers of their generation, his posture loose, almost bored, though Suguru could see the coiled tension in his shoulders, the way his hands flexed at his sides as if testing his own regeneration, checking his options.

 

Satoru tilted his head, his grin razor-sharp. “You look like you’re thinking real hard over there. Run out of brain cells, grandpa?”

 

Riku didn’t react. He blinked once, slow and unbothered, then spoke, his voice as flat and gravelly as ever.

 

“She’s your classmate… yes? Amara.”

 

Suguru’s brows twitched. “Why are you asking?”

 

Riku’s gaze shifted to him. No change in expression. “She must be training.”

 

Neither of them answered, but Suguru felt Satoru’s cursed energy flare hot and biting beside him, radiating off his skin like a sun.

 

“She’s… controlling it?” Riku asked. Still flat. Still empty. But Suguru caught the faintest flicker beneath it, not emotion, exactly, but intent. Purpose.

 

“Why the fuck do you care if she’s controlling it,” Satoru spat, his grin twisting with open hatred. “You didn’t give a shit for twenty goddamn years.”

 

Riku ignored him. His eyes stayed locked on Suguru, studying him like a wolf watching for weakness.

 

“Is she using it? The draining? Regeneration?”

 

Suguru’s jaw clenched, his mind working quickly through the cadence of Riku’s words. He was too calm. Too targeted. Suguru knew when someone was fishing for information.

 

He stayed silent.

 

Riku’s gaze narrowed just slightly. “Or has she lost control completely?”

 

Satoru barked a harsh, humorless laugh. “You’re really worried she’s gonna end up like you, huh?”

 

That finally made something flicker in Riku’s eyes. Not guilt. Not grief. Something harder. Something dark and resigned.

 

“She will,” he said simply, as if stating a natural law. “If she isn’t trained properly.”

 

Suguru felt his stomach twist. He glanced at Gojo, but Satoru was glaring forward, eyes glowing bright with barely restrained violence, his hands twitching at his sides.

 

“You seem to know a lot,” Suguru said carefully, his voice calm but lined with cold steel. “About her. About us.”

 

Riku’s gaze flicked to him again, unblinking. “Your names are in her file,” he said. “Satoru Gojo. Suguru Geto. Then there's Shoko Ieiri. Yu Haibara. Utahime Iori. Kento Nanami.”

 

Suguru’s breath stilled. Satoru’s smile dropped, lips peeling back from his teeth in an animal snarl.

 

“You read her file,” Satoru seethed. “What else did you find out?”

 

Riku ignored the question. His head tilted faintly. “They let her train with that troublesome blonde Yuki Tsukumo.”

 

Suguru stiffened, realization dawning.

 

He’s not just asking to know… he’s asking to measure. To calculate her control. Her training. Her stamina. Riku’s eyes moved with each question like he was filling in an invisible blueprint in his mind, building a model of Amara’s progress with every scrap of detail he could pull out of them.

 

He’s trying to see if she’s stable. Or dangerous.

 

Or dying.

 

Suguru’s chest clenched tight. Before he could speak, Satoru barked another sharp laugh.

 

“You know, for someone who abandoned their kid to rot in a moldy mattress, you sure are curious about how she’s doing,” he spat, his eyes glowing bright with rage. “You think asking questions is gonna make you her dad again?”

 

Still, Riku didn’t react. His eyes flicked to Satoru, studying him now, silent, unbothered by the vitriol dripping from every word.

 

“She will burn out,” he said simply. “If she's not trained properly. Our bloodline is not made for… half measures.”

 

“Yeah?” Satoru snapped. “And what the fuck would you know about half measures? All you do is dress like a bum and dodge child support. At least make what you say believable.”

 

“You'd have to stop talking first,” Riku replied flatly.

 

Suguru felt Satoru’s cursed energy spike violently beside him, cracking the stone under their feet.

 

Riku’s eyes tracked the motion, silent calculation flickering in his stare.

 

“Why do you care,” Suguru asked quietly, voice trembling with controlled fury. “If she burns out.”

 

Riku blinked once. “Because if she or her mentors fuck up,” he said, “she becomes like me. Or worse.”

 

The silence rang between them like an unspoken scream.

 

Riku tilted his head slightly, watching Satoru’s trembling, glowing form and Suguru’s bristling fury with calm, measured calculation. Then he spoke, his voice low and flat.

 

“Make a deal with me.”

 

Suguru narrowed his eyes. “What?”

 

“I will tell you everything I know,” Riku said, his tone almost bored. “About her abilities. About what she will become. About what you cannot train out of her.”

 

Satoru’s jaw flexed. “And in exchange?”

 

Riku’s gaze flicked between them. “You answer my questions. Fair is fair, right?”

 

Suguru scoffed, his cursed energy flickering across his shoulders. “Why would we trust anything you say?”

 

“I don’t care if you trust it,” Riku replied. “You can test it yourself. I’m offering knowledge. Take it or leave it.”

 

Satoru bared his teeth in a grin that held no humor. “You’re just stalling for time.”

 

Riku didn’t blink. “Perhaps."

 

Suguru’s brow twitched faintly. He shifted his stance, studying the older man, weighing each word for slivers of sincerity. “Fine,” he said at last, voice low. “Talk.”

 

●●●●●

 

Riku blinked once, the red of his eyes burning faintly in the dim light. He shifted his gaze between them, calculating, measuring, as if deciding how much to give.

 

Finally, his voice rumbled out, low and flat. “If her abilities are like mine… she will start losing feeling in her fingertips first. Cold, numb, like frostbite under the nails.”

 

Suguru stiffened, his chest tightening painfully. “Why..?”

 

Riku’s eyes flicked to him, unblinking. “Drain and regeneration are not passive. They cycle cursed energy through the nervous system at speeds above most sorcerers' comprehension. If she doesn’t learn to balance them-”

 

“Balance them?” Gojo snapped, his grin gone, his voice sharp. “She’s learning fine. Not that you would know.”

 

Riku’s gaze flicked lazily to him, as if barely tolerating his noise. “Strength isn’t balance,” he said simply. “Drain too much, she fries her nerves. Regenerate too fast, her organs struggle to keep up. She will get tremors. Then pain like her nerves are on fire. Then the pain stops, but that isn’t recovery. That’s nerve death.”

 

Suguru swallowed hard, feeling his pulse hammer against his throat. “And after that?”

 

Riku blinked, slow and hollow. “Then her brain rewires itself to survive. Hunger becomes a craving for cursed energy over food. Pleasure turns to pain. Pain to pleasure. Sleep stops meaning anything. Her mind will focus only on keeping the drain fed, no matter what it takes.”

 

Gojo scoffed sharply, though his hand trembled at his side. “She’s not going to turn into you, old man.”

 

Riku’s eyes shifted to him, studying the glow of Six Eyes, the hair, the absurd height. “She will,” he said flatly. “Or worse. If she drains too much of you-” 

 

His gaze bored into Gojo’s chest, seeing through flesh and bone to the limitless void within, 

 

“-she will start getting addicted to it. Your energy is endless. Something her system craves to run smoothly. It will never be enough and she'll go through withdrawals if you give it to her too much and then take it away.”

 

Gojo’s jaw clenched, cursed energy snapping off his skin like a downed power line. “You’re just saying whatever you think will keep you alive right now.”

 

Riku didn’t flinch. “Test it. Give her the smallest amount every day for not even a week. See how quickly she starts asking for it and then to begging..”

 

Suguru’s grip on his staff tightened, his voice coming out rough. “Why are you telling us this? You didn’t care when she was rotting alone for twenty years.”

 

Finally, something flickered in Riku’s empty gaze. Not guilt. Not remorse. But a brittle, frantic edge, obsession sharpened by fear.

 

“Because if she fails to balance it,” he said softly, each word a hammer blow against stone, “she becomes like me. And if she becomes like me… I will have to kill her.”

 

Gojo laughed hard, grin fully returned, but it was sharp, unhinged. “You think we’d ever let you touch her!? You really gotta be out of your mind, ya freak!”

 

Riku’s gaze slid to him with quiet indifference. “Or,” he continued, voice low, “she becomes like them.”

 

Suguru’s brows twitched. “Them?”

 

“My parents,” Riku said, the words flat as dead earth. “Obsessed with perfecting the bloodline. With making gods. Immortals. Monsters. If she becomes them… she will try to use others to make more. And I will have to kill her.”

 

Gojo’s lips peeled back in a silent snarl. “She would never-”

 

“She is not them,” Suguru growled, stepping forward, his curses bristling like a silent storm behind him. “She’s nothing like you or your twisted family.”

 

Riku didn’t react to the threat in his voice. His eyes flicked between them, reading their tension, their certainty, the raw protectiveness rolling off them like a living thing. His gaze lingered on Suguru for a long moment, then shifted back to Gojo.

 

“Then train her properly,” he said quietly. “Maybe then she'll become better than me. Not that it's hard. But our blood sticks like it's full of thorns, gripping onto our insides. But if she becomes better than me-..”

 

He paused, blinking slowly, the mechanical flicker of a dying fluorescent bulb.

 

“-she will have killed me.”

 

Suguru felt the words sink into him like ice water down his spine. He inhaled shakily, trying to read the hollowness in Riku’s eyes, the exhaustion etched deep into the lines of his face.

 

“What aren’t you telling us,” he demanded softly.

 

Riku’s gaze flicked away, just for a moment, before returning with cold, silent finality. “This is just what might happen,” he said, ignoring Suguru’s question. “If she doesn’t learn balance.”

 

Gojo stepped forward, cursed energy humming dangerously loud. “Why would you care if she survives or not,” he asked, his grin twisted into something cruel. “You planning to play daddy after all these years?”

 

Riku’s eyes flicked up to meet his, red and hollow and unbearably tired. “I care because I don’t want to kill her,” he said softly. “But I will. Because I cannot let her become anything like this bloodline.”

 

Suguru felt his heart crack under the weight of the words. Gojo’s cursed energy pulsed sharp and violent, itching to obliterate him where he stood, but Suguru reached out, grabbing his wrist hard.

 

“Not now,” Suguru murmured, his voice trembling with rage and pity. “Not yet.”

 

Riku tilted his head faintly, watching Satoru with those hollow eyes. “Does she use the family blade? Has she mastered it?”

 

Suguru’s brows twitched faintly. “How do you know about the blade?”

 

Riku sighed softly, the sound flat and devoid of any true feeling. He shifted his weight slightly, gaze flicking between them, studying each micro-expression like a scientist dissecting a frog.

 

“I gave it to a black market seller,” he said, his voice low and clinical. “About a month ago.”

 

Suguru stiffened, his jaw clenching. Satoru’s grin twitched at the edges, fingers curling into a fist.

 

“Why,” Suguru demanded, his voice trembling with restrained fury.

 

Riku tilted his head faintly. “I knew it would pick up the attention of someone close to her. Someone with access to cursed weapon storage. Someone who would put it in her hands.”

 

His eyes narrowed slightly, though his expression remained dead and unfeeling.

 

“It was tuned to me before her,” he continued quietly. “I could feel its cursed signature anywhere. Even across prefectures.”

 

Suguru felt a sick twist coil deep in his gut. “You… used it to track her.”

 

Riku didn’t blink. “It led me to your school,” he said simply. “I knew there was no way I could step even a yard too close without causing a fight… but it confirmed she was there.”

 

His gaze flicked away, scanning the wreckage of the cursed spirit lair with detached disinterest.

 

“It gave me the idea to go elsewhere,” he murmured. “To find the place holding her files.”

 

Satoru’s cursed energy snapped violently around him, shattering pebbles and shards of concrete into dust. “So all of this-” he spat, his grin trembling with murderous fury, “all of this was a fucking breadcrumb trail?!”

 

Riku’s eyes flicked back to him, unblinking, that same flat emptiness but this time he braced himself a bit more than before. As if preparing himself.

 

“I needed information,” he said simply.

 

Suguru felt his breathing turn ragged, his rage trembling under his skin like a hornet’s nest about to burst. “What for,” he demanded, his voice cracking with anger. “Just to see what she's turning into? There's more to this than you're letting on! What are you hiding?!”

 

For the first time, Riku’s expression shifted. His jaw twitched, lips curling downward just barely, and his eyes sharpened like shattered glass.

 

“Watch your mouth,” he said, his voice so low it barely scraped the air.

 

Satoru scoffed, letting out a short, humorless laugh as his grin spread wide across his face, though his eyes burned with murderous light. “Or what,” he taunted, tilting his head with dangerous mirth. “You gonna spank us, old man? Drain us dry? I'm shaking just thinking about it.”

 

Suguru shot him a warning glance, but Riku’s eyes didn’t leave Satoru’s. They were empty again, but something burned beneath them. Something ancient and venomous.

 

“Never underestimate your target, loud mouth.” he said quietly, each word clipped with bone-deep restraint, “even if they’re weaker physically. It only takes a moment to kill someone too cocky to see the blade coming.”

 

Satoru’s grin twitched wider. “Oh, scary~. Should I be taking that as a threat? Gotta say, I'm not too scared of a wife-beater. Only pathetic men feel the need to beat on a woman.”

 

Riku ignored him, his gaze flicking away, scanning the debris and shadowed corners of the broken lair, calculating something silently.

 

And then his lips parted, curling into something colder than a sneer. Something corpse-like in its emptiness.

 

“That woman,” he said, voice dipping into a low, almost curious rumble. “Hana. She was… persistent.”

 

Suguru’s entire body went rigid, and Satoru’s grin faltered, flickering with disgust.

 

“She could’ve lived,” Riku continued flatly, almost clinically. “She could’ve lived if she did what she was supposed to. If she shut her mouth and took care of the kid right. But she didn’t. She opened her mouth and wasted what little worth she had left. I never laid a finger on her until she flaunted how badly she treated the kid.”

 

Satoru’s cursed energy erupted so violently that the air itself cracked, shards of gravel and shattered tile lifting into the space between them like floating glass.

 

“You're disgusting. Truly.” Suguru spoke with barely contained rage.

 

“Why,” Riku interrupted, tilting his head faintly. “You hate her too, don't ya? You have to hate her for what she did to the girl. Just like I do.”

 

Suguru’s eyes widened, his rage fracturing for half a second into something raw and churning with disgust. “You… don’t get to put yourself in the same sentence as us,” he spat, his voice shaking. “You don’t get to compare yourself to us.”

 

Riku didn’t reply. He didn’t need to.

 

Because in that moment, while Satoru’s cursed energy rippled with chaotic fury and Suguru’s control flickered with contained rage, Riku shifted his stance ever so slightly, placing his heel down in just the right patch of rubble to let a thin layer of cursed energy flow into the broken tiles beneath him.

 

Suguru’s cursed spirits flickered at the edge of his senses, too busy trembling with their master’s rage to sense the faint pulse of foreign cursed energy spreading like a thin mist across the ruined floor.

 

Riku’s gaze flicked up once more, meeting Satoru’s glowing Six Eyes dead on.

 

And then—

 

He moved.

 

He didn’t fight.

 

He didn’t even attack.

 

He ran.

 

Satoru’s barrier snapped up instantly, but it was too late. Riku’s cursed energy spread beneath them in a thin, controlled stream, breaking the floor beneath them, forcing them to catch themselves in the air. The loud sound of the breaking floor muffled sound and movement just enough to slip under Satoru’s senses. Riku was already halfway up the crumbled staircase, moving with a silent, predatory grace.

 

“Fuck-!” Satoru cursed, spinning and flicking his wrist to send another blast of Blue after him, but Suguru caught his arm just in time, yanking him back.

 

“Don’t!” Suguru snapped. “He’s gone! He’s using the terrain to redirect the cursed flow, you’ll just collapse the whole building on us!”

 

"We’ll survive! But he might not!" He lines his hands up to the roof of the building.

 

"SATORU!"

 

Satoru’s chest heaved, his Six Eyes blazing bright enough to leave his veins glowing. 

 

He lowers his hand down “He was right here- he was fucking right here-!”

 

Suguru’s grip tightened on his arm. “We’ll find him again. He’s not unstoppable and we know what he wants.”

 

But as they stood there, the ruined building settling back into silence around them, Suguru felt a deep, gnawing sickness settle under his ribs.

 

Because for all their strength, for all their power...

 

Riku Hoshizuki had still walked away alive.

 

And that meant he’d be back.

 

---

 

They walked back through the school gates in silence, Suguru’s hands shoved deep in his pockets, Satoru’s sunglasses hiding the storm in his eyes.

 

Neither had spoken since leaving the mission site.

 

But the second they rounded the edge of the main courtyard, voices reached their ears, light and bright despite the late hour.

 

Amara stood barefoot in the grass, sweat clinging to her collarbones, her new blade clutched loosely in her hand as she moved through wide arcs and sharp pivots. Yuki circled her lazily, arms crossed, calling out small corrections or laughing whenever Amara huffed in frustration.

 

“Again,” Yuki called, grinning. “And this time don’t let your back heel float, little bloodhound.”

 

“I will float your jaw if you keep calling me that,” Amara snapped back playfully, though her breathing was ragged. She wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her wrist before resetting her stance.

 

Yuki just chuckled, her grin sharp and easy. “Promises, promises. But you can't do anything until you learn to swing.”

 

Suguru’s chest clenched tight at the sight. At the normalcy of it. Amara, flushed from training, her aura humming calm and controlled, her smile tired but real.

 

Like the world wasn’t cracking around them.

 

Like Riku Hoshizuki hadn’t just made an appearance.

 

He felt Satoru stiffen beside him, felt the spike in his cursed energy before it quickly dampened back down to a flickering simmer.

 

Amara sensed them before they called out. She always did. Her spine straightened, her shoulders rolling back as she cracked her neck once, shifting the blade to rest against her hip. She turned toward them, eyes flicking between their tense expressions, and in an instant her practiced focus softened into a wide, relieved smile.

 

She lifted her free hand high, waving with that goofy little wrist flick she always did.

 

“Welcome back, guys!” she called, her voice carrying across the grass, bright and careless.

 

Satoru’s chest twisted painfully at the sound.

 

She had no idea.

 

She didn’t know what they’d seen. What they’d almost done. What they still might have to do.

 

But her smile stayed wide and bright, sweat dripping down her temple, her blade glinting under the courtyard lights like a silver promise.

 

And for that moment, even if it was brief,..

 

They forced themselves to smile back.

 

Because that was what she deserved.

 

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

 

I sheathed my blade against my hip, wiping sweat off my upper lip with the back of my wrist. My arms felt like overcooked noodles, my shoulders burned, and my calves threatened to cramp with every pivot, but I didn’t care. The ache felt good. Real. Like proof that I was still here, still getting stronger, still in control.

 

“Welcome back, guys!” I called out, raising my hand in a lazy wave when I saw them approaching across the grass. They looked like hell, both of them. Suguru’s jaw was clenched so tight I could see the twitch from here, and Satoru… something in his walk screamed frustration, his cursed energy flickering faint and ragged at the edges.

 

I tilted my head, studying them as they drew closer. Yuki said something behind me, probably another taunt about my stance, but I ignored her.

 

“Don’t just stand there glaring holes through the grass,” I called out, voice sharp with a grin. “You two look like a kid who dropped their ice cream.”

 

Satoru’s eyes flicked up to mine over his sunglasses. That grin of his flickered onto his lips, automatic, but it didn’t touch his eyes. Suguru didn’t even bother to pretend. His gaze swept over me, lingering on the sweat dripping down my collarbones, the loose tank top clinging damp to my stomach, then back up to my face.

 

“You’ve been training hard,” he said simply, his voice flat but low in that way that told me his thoughts were somewhere far from here.

 

“Yeah, well,” I shrugged, rolling my shoulders back to stretch out the tight muscles. “I don’t like feeling useless. Yuki’s helping.”

 

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Yuki called from behind me. “I’m an excellent teacher.”

 

“You’re a menace,” I shot back, glancing at her over my shoulder before turning my focus back to my boys. “What happened?”

 

Satoru tilted his head. “What makes you think something happened?”

 

I scoffed, shifting my weight to one side and my hands resting on my hips. “Because you’re both walking like you just left a funeral, and because you didn’t text me even once while you were out.”

 

They exchanged a quick look. That alone told me enough. I didn’t press it, though. Not here. Not with Yuki still hovering close enough to eavesdrop. Instead, I lifted my chin, studying them both with narrowed eyes.

 

“You gonna tell me now, or later?” I asked quietly, my voice low enough that only they could hear.

 

Suguru exhaled through his nose, and I watched his shoulders drop half an inch, like my directness knocked the wind out of him just a little.

 

“Later,” he said, his voice softer now. “We’ll talk later.”

 

I held his gaze for another beat before nodding once. “Fine.”

 

I turned back to Yuki and handed her the blade. “We done for today?”

 

“Depends,” she said, arching a brow as she took it from me. “You gonna keep training tomorrow, or gonna let these two sap your energy dry again first?”

 

I snorted. “Both.”

 

She laughed, a short bark of amusement, and slung the blade over her shoulder. “Good answer. Now go clean up. You stink.”

 

I flipped her off without looking back as I walked toward Suguru and Satoru, feeling their eyes on me with every step.

 

---

 

I walked ahead of them down the hallway, not bothering to check if they were following. I knew they were. Their footsteps were too heavy today, too weighted with something thick and sour.

 

I unlocked my dorm room, pushed the door open, and headed straight for the bathroom. The boys lingered by the door like unsure sentries, but I just flicked the light on, turned to them, and jerked my chin toward the counter.

 

“Talk,” I said simply.

 

Suguru frowned. “Amara-”

 

“Talk,” I repeated, slipping my shirt off over my head and tossing it into the laundry basket. I didn’t look at them as I pulled off my sports bra, feeling the sweat-chilled fabric peel away from my skin. “You both came back with your energy twisted and your eyes haunted. Don’t try to soften it. Just say it.”

 

Satoru sighed and leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses still perched on his nose.

 

“We… ran into your dad,” he said finally, his voice oddly flat.

 

My fingers paused on the waistband of my shorts. That high-pitched ringing started in my ears slowly. I felt myself zoning out quickly and my hands shaking.

 

I quickly snapped myself out of it.

 

I didn’t move, just shimmied my shorts down and stepped out of them. The silence stretched until Suguru cleared his throat, filling in where Satoru left off.

 

“We weren’t looking for him,” he said quietly. “We were clearing out some cursed spirits near the outskirts. He was… hiding out there.”

 

I nodded once, stepping into the shower and turning the water on hot. Steam filled the air almost instantly, curling around my legs as I waited for them to continue.

 

“He didn’t attack us,” Satoru added, almost like he couldn’t help himself. “If anything, he avoided it. Bastard just kept asking questions about you...”

 

I let the water run over my shoulders, sinking into the heat, letting it soften the tightness in my chest. “What did he look like?” I asked, my voice small but steady.

 

There was a pause.

 

“He… looked like shit,” Satoru muttered, almost too fast. “Gaunt. Old. His hair’s all streaked through with grey but it’s dark like yours, and he’s covered in scars. His eyes are also red like yours but hollow.”

 

My fingers twitched against the tile, curling briefly into fists before I forced them flat again. The hot water rushed down over my shoulders, stinging against skin still sore from training.

 

Just like mine.

 

Red. Hollow.

 

I swallowed hard, staring at the pale curve of my arm where steam blurred it into something formless.

 

“Did he…” My voice cracked, so I cleared my throat and tried again. “Did he say anything about me?”

 

Suguru answered first, his voice calm but edged in something darker. “He asked questions. Tried to barter information for information.”

 

Satoru scoffed. “Yeah. Like we’d fall for that shit. He kept trying to probe about your training, your control, your draining technique-”

 

“He also mentioned the blade,” Suguru interrupted softly.

 

My chest tightened, breath catching painfully. “The sword?”

 

“Yeah,” Satoru said, voice low now, almost annoyed at the memory. “Said he put it on the black market himself. Knew it would attract someone strong enough to keep it. Said he could track it… that’s how he found the school in the first place.”

 

My vision blurred, the tile in front of me swimming. I pressed my forehead against it, letting the chill of the ceramic counter the burning heat of the shower. It didn’t help.

 

“He… he did all this just to find me?”

 

Neither answered at first. Then Suguru spoke, voice careful. “He said he wanted to see your abilities. That if you don’t train them right… they’ll start to consume you.”

 

A bitter laugh broke out of my chest before I could stop it. It sounded ugly. Too loud against the quiet rush of water.

 

“He cares so much about my technique,” I spat. “About what I can do. But what about… me?”

 

There was silence behind the curtain. Heavy. Dense. Then Satoru shifted, his voice rough with something I couldn’t name.

 

“He’s a piece of shit,” he muttered. “Don’t waste your breath thinking about what he wants. He doesn’t deserve it.”

 

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My throat burned too hot to speak.

 

After a moment, Suguru spoke again, gentle but unyielding. “Amara. He’s dangerous. I need you to understand that. Whatever fragments of him still exist as… a father… they’re buried under everything else. Under what he’s become.”

 

I squeezed my eyes shut, tears mixing with the water. Part of me wanted to scream at them. To tell them they didn’t understand. That it wasn’t that simple. That even monsters can still be fathers.

 

But I didn’t. I know they're right...he's not a good person and maybe never was....but deep down part of me felt a warmth at the idea that he's gone through all of this just to see me....even if it’s twisted...

 

“Did he…” My voice was hoarse now, shaking despite how hard I tried to keep it calm. “Did he look… healthy? Like… like he’s eating? Sleeping?”

 

There was a pause. I imagined them looking at each other with confusion, trying to find the right words for an answer they didn’t think I’d want.

 

“He looked strong,” Suguru said finally. “Not starving. But… hollow. That's the only way to describe him..”

 

I nodded, though they couldn’t see it. My chest felt carved out, hollow, and echoing with too many conflicting truths.

 

“Okay,” I whispered, turning my face up into the water to drown the tears leaking from my eyes. “Okay.”

 

I heard Satoru shift again, his voice trying to be playful but landing somewhere tired instead. “You done in there yet, princess? Or are you gonna turn into a raisin before dinner?”

 

I let out a shaky breath that almost sounded like a laugh. Almost.

 

“Five more minutes,” I muttered.

 

“Take ten,” Suguru said quietly. “We’re not going anywhere.”

 

For a moment, I let myself believe that. That no matter what came next, no matter what truths surfaced about bloodlines or blades or fathers who never wanted daughters… that I wouldn’t have to face it alone.

 

---

 

I stepped out of the shower, water dripping down my legs, steam curling around my skin like a protective veil. My hair clung to my shoulders in heavy, dark waves, and for a moment, I just stood there, staring at them both.

 

Neither of them said a word. Suguru grabs the towel off the hook and just holds it out, his eyes warm but cautious. I took it and dried myself off as best I could, my movements methodical, almost numb.

 

When I dropped the towel to the floor, still damp, Satoru let out a low whistle.

 

“Careful,” he murmured, his grin small and tired. “Keep looking at us like that and we’re gonna end up late for dinner.”

 

I snorted, the sound weak but real. “I'll just eat you.”

 

"Please do~" Satoru purrs a little.

 

Suguru knelt down, holding out a fresh pair of soft black underwear and the oversized shirt I liked sleeping in. I stepped into them without argument, letting him guide my legs, his touch gentle, almost reverent. Satoru tugged the shirt down over my head, smoothing my hair out from under the collar before pressing a quick kiss to my forehead.

 

“There,” he said quietly. “Perfect.”

 

I sat down on the closed toilet lid, breathing out slowly as they finished fussing over me. My mind felt heavy, thoughts drifting like waterlogged paper.

 

“Did you tell Yaga?” I asked softly.

 

Suguru shook his head immediately. “No. We came straight to you.”

 

“You’re the first person we wanted to talk to,” Satoru added, surprisingly serious.

 

I blinked up at them, my chest tightening in a way that made it hard to breathe.

 

“You should tell him,” I said firmly. “He needs to know.”

 

They exchanged a look over my head, silent communication flashing between them.

 

“I want to come with,” I added before they could argue. My voice was quiet, but there was no room for negotiation. “I want to hear what he has to say. About all of this.”

 

Satoru’s mouth twitched, like he wanted to tease me but couldn’t quite find the humor tonight. Suguru sighed, reaching out to brush a damp strand of hair away from my face.

 

“Okay,” he murmured. “We’ll tell him. And you can come with.”

 

I nodded, my eyes stinging. “Good.”

 

For a moment, none of us moved. Then Satoru crouched down in front of me, his sunglasses pushed up onto his head so I could see the full force of his bright, sharp eyes.

 

“Hey,” he said softly. “We’re with you. No matter what.”

 

Suguru’s hand settled on my shoulder, firm and grounding. “Always.”

 

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and nodded again, holding onto the only thing that still felt solid in a world rapidly slipping out from under my feet. Holding onto them.

 

---

 

By the time we reached Yaga’s office, the sun was already dipping low, casting long shadows through the tinted windows. Satoru and Suguru walked on either side of me like silent sentinels, their shoulders tense, cursed energy pulsing quietly beneath their skin. I threw on sweatpants before I left.

 

Yaga was at his desk, stacks of paperwork pushed aside, his sunglasses perched low on his nose. When we entered, he looked up immediately, frowning when he saw me.

 

“I thought it was just the two of you on the mission,” he said, his voice low but not unkind.

 

“I just wanted to be here for the talk,” I said before either of them could speak.

 

His gaze lingered on me for a moment, assessing, weighing something behind his glasses. Then he sighed, leaning back in his chair with a creak.

 

“Fine,” he muttered. “Sit.”

 

Suguru guided me to the small couch against the wall before he and Satoru stepped forward, standing at attention like the trained weapons they were.

 

“Report,” Yaga ordered.

 

Suguru spoke first, voice calm and steady despite the twitch in his jaw. “The mission was routine until the last site. Multiple high-grade curses, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”

 

“Then what?” Yaga pressed.

 

Satoru’s grin was humorless. “Then we found him. Hoshizuki Riku.”

 

Yaga’s brows twitched, the only sign of his reaction. “Direct contact?”

 

“He was hiding out behind the curses,” Suguru said. “Using them as a shield for his cursed energy. He didn’t come to fight. He was avoiding detection.”

 

“And what did he want?” Yaga’s voice was colder now, sharper. His eyes flicked to me briefly before returning to them.

 

“He asked questions,” Suguru replied. “About her.” His voice gentled slightly. “About Amara.”

 

I felt my hands curl into fists against my thighs.

 

“What kind of questions?” Yaga asked, though I could hear in his voice that he already suspected.

 

Satoru snorted softly. “About her techniques. Her training. Her… balance.” His tone darkened. “He said she’s going to kill herself if she doesn’t learn to control it. That her brain will start to deteriorate if she draws too deep. What a load of shit..”

 

Silence settled like dust.

 

“And?” Yaga prompted.

 

“And he knows about the blade,” Suguru said, his tone low with anger. “He gave it to a black market dealer on purpose. Knew it would find her. He followed its cursed signature all the way back to the school barriers.”

 

Yaga’s jaw tightened. “He’s testing her. Watching from a distance.”

 

“More like hunting her,” Satoru spat.

 

“He left before we could stop him,” Suguru added, his voice tight with frustration. “Used the terrain against us. We underestimated how slippery he is.”

 

Yaga was silent for a long moment, his hands steepled under his chin. Then he let out a breath, slow and ragged.

 

“Thank you,” he said quietly. His gaze shifted to me. “We’ll discuss training adjustments tomorrow. For now, I want you to rest.”

 

I nodded once, though my chest felt tight with something I couldn’t name.

 

-----------

 

The abandoned temple stank of rot and old incense. Riku sat in the dark, leaning against a cracked pillar, the stale air swirling faintly around his torn coat. His fingers drummed absently against his knee, the bones still aching from Gojo’s earlier attack, though the ache was nothing compared to the gnawing in his chest.

 

Obsession.

 

That’s what this was becoming.

 

He could admit it to himself in the dark, when no one was watching. The crawling, relentless need to know. To see. To understand what she was becoming under his blood. The cursed blood that had destroyed everything it ever touched.

 

He clenched his jaw so tightly it crackled.

 

Hoshizuki. That name was supposed to die with him. That was the only mercy left in his existence, the one flicker of reprieve in a life defined by violence and decay, that his bloodline would rot with his corpse and no one would ever have to carry it again.

 

Then she was born.

 

The first thing he felt when he saw her wasn’t love. Wasn’t hate, either. It was panic. Pure, bone-deep terror at the idea that there would be another him. Another mistake. Another weapon in human skin, doomed to hollow out from the inside before they even understood why.

 

He remembered holding her at the hospital, the faint baby-sweet smell of her hair, her bright, cooing laughter when she looked up at him with those red eyes. His red eyes. She reached for him like she didn’t know what he was, like she couldn’t sense the rot under his skin.

 

She didn’t cry until he left.

 

His lip curled slightly at the memory, not with fondness, but with a grim, silent disgust that he’d let himself stay that long. That he’d let her look at him like that, like he was something good.

 

He exhaled through his nose, ragged. His eyes flicked to the cracked ceiling, where vines crept through rotting beams, curling down like skeletal fingers.

 

This wasn’t about her. Not really.

 

It was about him.

 

About what his blood could do. What it is doing to him. About whether she was going to grow into something better… or into another him. Another husk. Another walking weapon, taught to eat pain and spit out blood until there was nothing left but instinct and command.

 

If she was becoming like him… like his parents… he would kill her himself before she ever had the chance to continue the nightmare.

 

He could still hear his father’s voice, low and clinical, cataloguing his abilities between experiments. His mother’s soft cooing as she healed whatever part they’d torn out that day, promising it would be okay, that pain meant progress, that he was their hope for perfection.

 

Perfection.

 

His fingers twitched against his knee, the scarred skin stretching over old, half-healed burns.

 

They wanted perfection. But they made him instead.

 

A monster. An unkillable, unfeeling husk of half-regenerated tissue and a mind gnawed hollow by draining too deep, too often, too young. He could barely remember his own name most days. Just commands. Targets. Jobs.

 

He was losing it..

 

His mind. 

 

It was slowly eating away at his brain and soon there would be nothing left of it. 

 

Only instinct and the kill...

 

...Amara...

 

That name didn’t feel like a target. It felt like a flicker of something he wanted to extinguish before it could spread. Before it could root and make more like him. Before it could become something worse.

 

His stomach twisted with something dangerously close to rage. The idea of her… making more of him. Creating another bloodline of living weapons. Another generation of children who would wake up every day wondering if their bones would regrow properly when shattered. Another child with red eyes, clutching a bear at night to muffle sobs of pain so no one would hear.

 

No.

 

His pulse thudded, deep and slow in his chest.

 

If she was strong enough to beat it, to beat their blood, to become something more than what he was, then he would leave her be. Let her live out her soft little life with her friends and her teachers and the luxury of believing she was free. 

 

And then she could finally kill him. He would let her.

 

Maybe even beg her before he lost any more of himself.

 

But if she couldn’t… if she became like him…

 

Then he would end it.

 

Because the only mercy left in his world was making sure there were no more Hoshizuki. No more rotting miracles crawling out of hell wearing human skin.

 

His head dipped forward, silver-streaked hair falling around his face, hiding the flicker of red in his eyes as he let out a breath that was almost a laugh.

 

Either way, he needed to see for himself.

 

And he would.

 

 

Chapter 47: Weapon Training

The training grounds were hot with late summer sun, the wide sandlot shimmering under the glare. I squinted against the light, adjusting my grip on the weapon in my hands. It felt heavy today, heavier than when I was wielding it yesterday, like it knew what was coming and wanted to make sure I didn’t forget.

 

The sword’s sheath was worn, black lacquer chipped at the edges, but the lotus crest at its throat still glimmered faintly under cursed energy. When I first chose it, it felt like a puzzle piece snapping into place. Like it was mine before I ever touched it.

 

But now it felt like… responsibility. Like a weight of something I'll never understand.

 

Yuki stood across from me, arms crossed loosely over her chest. She wore her usual cropped top and jeans, her hair pulled back in a low ponytail that flicked lazily with the breeze. Her expression was as relaxed as ever, but her eyes were sharp, gleaming gold under her bangs.

 

“Don’t grip it like you’re trying to strangle it.” she drawled, nodding toward my knuckles. “You’re not forcing it to submit. You’re asking it to work with you.”

 

I exhaled shakily, relaxing my hold just slightly. My cursed energy pulsed under my skin, simmering hot and eager, too eager, humming up through my wrists into the weapon. The air around the blade shimmered faintly, like heat off pavement.

 

“Too much,” Yuki said immediately, stepping closer and flicking the flat of the blade with her nail. The cursed energy recoiled with a sharp snap, and I winced as it buzzed back up my arm like static shock.

 

“It’s like pouring tea,” she continued, circling me slowly. “Not a firehose. The sword’s cursed nature is delicate. It holds memory. You force it, it’ll remember that too.”

 

I swallowed hard, nodding. “Right… sorry.”

 

“You’re fine,” she said, a hint of a smile curving her lips. “That’s why we’re training.”

 

Behind her, lounging under the sparse shade of a half-dead tree, Gojo and Suguru watched with twin expressions of hyper-focused protectiveness and mild boredom. Gojo had his arms folded behind his head, long legs stretched out on the grass, sunglasses glinting. Suguru sat cross-legged beside him, elbow resting on his knee, chin perched in his palm.

 

I could practically feel their energy from here, Suguru’s steady, grounded weight, and Satoru’s flickering, sparking presence.

 

I tried to ignore the way Satoru narrowed his eyes at Yuki every time she stepped closer to me, like he was ready to throw hands at the slightest provocation.

 

“Alright, again,” Yuki said, stepping back. “This time, don’t think about hitting me. Think about cutting the space between us.”

 

I frowned slightly. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

 

She grinned widely, teeth flashing. “Nope. Try it.”

 

I inhaled deeply, feeling the sword’s handle warm under my grip. I let my cursed energy sink down, rooting into my legs like heavy vines, then I let just the thinnest wisp curl up through my arm into the blade.

 

The air in front of me vibrated, a high-pitched whine only I could hear.

 

Then I moved.

 

The blade cut forward, a clean diagonal slash aimed not at Yuki’s body, but at the empty space just before her. The cursed energy licked out from the steel like a thin red flame, slicing through the air with a faint hiss.

 

Yuki leaned back effortlessly, just out of range, hair whipping with the force of the swing. She laughed, low and approving.

 

“Better,” she said, nodding. “Much better. Your cursed energy didn’t spike that time. You’re learning restraint.”

 

Behind her, Gojo let out an exaggerated sigh of relief, clapping lazily. “Look at our little murder kitten go~”

 

Suguru smacked his thigh lightly without looking at him. “Stop calling her that.” He chuckled softly.

 

“But it’s accurate,” Gojo pouted, tipping his head to grin at me upside-down. “Right, baby girl?”

 

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the small smirk pulling at my lips.

 

Yuki raised an eyebrow at them, then turned back to me with a sigh. “Alright, Hound. Again. This time, try not to look so cute while doing it. It’s distracting your fan club.”

 

I laughed slightly. “Oh, Shut up!”

 

Suguru chuckled under his breath, the sound deep and warm. “She’s not wrong.”

 

I flushed hot down to my collarbones, gripping the sword tighter for a second before forcing myself to relax again. My cursed energy hummed low, vibrating in harmony with the blade now instead of clashing against it.

 

I exhaled.

 

“Again,” I said quietly, raising the blade.

 

Yuki grinned widely and stepped back into position. “That’s my girl.”

 

And under the sun’s relentless heat, with Gojo’s lazy cheers and Suguru’s quiet hums of approval drifting across the field, I swung again.

 

Learning to control what was mine.

 

Piece by piece.

 

I’d lost track of how many times Yuki made me swing.

 

My arms burned with the kind of ache that felt deeper than muscle. My cursed energy vibrated up through my shoulders into my skull, a constant pulse like a war drum. The blade felt heavy but alive in my grip, humming low and restless.

 

Yuki watched me with that sharp, unblinking gaze as she rolled her shoulders loose and shifted her stance.

 

“Again,” she said, voice calm.

 

I exhaled and moved, slicing forward. The blade’s edge gleamed red under the sun, but there was still something missing. Like the sword was holding back, refusing to give me its full weight. It's full voice.

 

Yuki clicked her tongue and stepped back, lowering her hands.

 

“Pause,” she said.

 

I blinked, breathing hard. “Did I… do something wrong?”

 

“No,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “But something’s not clicking for you yet.”

 

I swallowed, sweat trickling down my temple. Gojo and Suguru were still lounging under the tree, watching every move with hawk-eyed focus. Satoru had pushed his sunglasses up into his hair, and Suguru had his arms folded over his knees. Neither of them looked bored anymore.

 

Yuki stepped closer, circling me like a wolf around prey, though her smile was easy. Almost too easy.

 

“Tell me,” she drawled, “when was the last time you saw Mei Mei?”

 

The name slid down my spine like ice. I stiffened slightly but didn’t look away from her.

 

“A while ago,” I muttered.

 

“Hm.” She studied my grip on the sword. “Still hate her?”

 

I didn’t answer.

 

The blade in my hand buzzed softly, almost like a purr.

 

Yuki’s smile curved sharper. “Interesting.”

 

She circled behind me, her voice dropping lower, silk wrapping around a dagger. “You know, she doesn’t think much of you. Mei Mei. She thinks you’re a waste of energy. A charity case. She told Utahime once that you’d probably die before you ever became useful enough to pay off the resources spent on you.”

 

My grip tightened, and I felt cursed energy seep sharper into the blade, the air around it shimmering faintly.

 

But Yuki wasn’t done.

 

“And your mother,” she continued, her voice lilting casually. “She thought the same, didn’t she? That you were just another mouth to feed. Another failure to blame on someone else. Did she ever even call you by your name? Or just the insults she screamed while you worked yourself sick to keep her alive?”

 

My breath hissed out between my teeth. The blade vibrated harder now, humming bright and hot against my skin.

 

Yuki stepped back in front of me, her gaze glittering gold. “And your father… the man you think you hate, but still ache for like a starving dog. He didn’t want you, Amara. He still doesn’t. You’re just another consequence to him. Another disappointment. At best a liability, at worst a tool.”

 

I didn’t move. Couldn’t move.

 

The anger burned silently in my chest. It didn’t scream or rage. It sat low, coiled tight, like molten metal. Steady. Bright. Hot enough to swallow itself if I let it.

 

Yuki’s eyes flicked down to the blade, watching it glow faint red in my grip, cursed energy crackling around it like embers.

 

“Good,” she said softly. “Use it. Fight me.”

 

I didn’t think.

 

I moved.

 

The sword sliced forward with a speed that felt almost unnatural, my cursed energy pooling in and out of it like a second bloodstream. Yuki ducked, the blade whistling over her head, and then I twisted, pivoting on my heel to bring it down again in a clean vertical slash.

 

She blocked it with her own cursed weapon, the shockwave cracking through the training field hard enough to send sand flying in every direction.

 

My heartbeat roared in my ears, but my face stayed blank. Cold. Focused.

 

Yuki grinned widely, baring her teeth as she pushed back against the force of my blade. “That’s it! Show me what you’re made of!”

 

I slashed again, and again, each strike leaving glowing arcs in the air, cursed energy flaring bright and angry red. I felt it pour out of me like a broken dam, all that silent fury I never let out ripping its way through my veins and into every strike.

 

Yuki moved fast, blocking and dodging, her own blade glowing gold with cursed reinforcement. But I could see the edge of her grin faltering. She was having to try. Really try.

 

I pivoted, slammed the hilt into her guard, spun low, and drove the blade up in a diagonal slash that she barely managed to deflect with a harsh grunt. The impact sent vibrations shuddering through both our weapons, kicking up another cloud of sand and force.

 

“Fuck,” I heard Gojo mutter from behind us. His cursed energy spiked, and before I could even register it, he was there, stepping between us with Infinity blazing bright and blue.

 

“Enough,” he said sharply.

 

My blade hit his Infinity with a crack like thunder, the cursed energy rebounding off his barrier and slamming me backwards into the sand. I gasped, pain radiating up my spine as I clutched the sword to my side, eyes wide, vision vibrating from the force.

 

The air was silent except for my ragged breathing.

 

Yuki let out a low whistle, wiping sweat from her brow. “Shit, girl. You almost got me there.”

 

I didn’t respond.

 

The anger was still there, coiled and molten and steady, but it felt different now. Sharper. Focused. Like the blade in my hand was finally awake, seeing me for what I was under all the control and hesitance.

 

Gojo knelt beside me, his hand brushing my hair back from my face, his eyes wide with adrenaline and worry.

 

“Hey,” he whispered, voice softer now. “You okay?”

 

I blinked up at him, sweat dripping down my temples, my chest still heaving.

 

“…Yeah,” I whispered back. “I think I am.”

 

Yuki’s laughter crackled through the settling dust as she reached down and grabbed my wrist, hauling me to my feet with a surprising gentleness.

 

“Nice work!” she said, ruffling my hair like I was a stray she’d just found on the street. Then she turned to Gojo with a sharp grin. “Why’d you stop the fight, Satoru? I was actually having fun for once.”

 

Gojo scoffed, wiping sweat off his brow dramatically. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you were in the mood to get decapitated today.”

 

She raised a brow at him. “Please. She wouldn’t have decapitated me. Probably just shattered my ribs and split my skull. I can take it. That's why we have Shoko.”

 

Suguru snorted softly, walking towards me from where he leaned against a tree, arms folded, his golden eyes watching me like he was cataloging every twitch and breath.

 

I rolled my shoulders, trying to settle the vibrating anger still humming along my bones. Without thinking, I lifted my fist and blew into it, slow and deliberate, like I was pushing out embers from an overfed fire.

 

Gojo noticed immediately. His eyes softened, even as his mouth twitched upward. “New trick?”

 

“Helps,” I mumbled. “Feels like letting steam out of a kettle.”

 

Yuki clapped her hands together. “Alright, meltdown aside, that was good progress.” She gestured to the blade still gripped in my hand. “So? What do you think of your new baby now that we actually started putting cursed energy into it?”

 

I glanced down at the sword, watching the faint red glow fade back into quiet metal. “What’s the point of it?” I asked honestly, my voice still raw from shouting. “If I can already exorcise curses with my technique and cursed energy… why do I need it?”

 

Yuki’s grin flickered into something more thoughtful. She tapped her chin with one gloved finger. “Efficiency, for one. Conserving your cursed energy reserves when dealing with lesser threats. But more importantly…”

 

She paused, eyes narrowing slightly. “There are fights where cursed energy alone isn’t enough. Situations where you need to finish an enemy the old-fashioned way.”

 

“Enemy?” I asked, the unease crawling up my spine faster than I could shove it down. “You mean curses, right?”

 

She tilted her head, expression almost pitying in its amusement. “Sure. Curses. But also sorcerers. You know… traitors, assassins, enemies from other schools or countries. Sorcerers who go rogue. People, not monsters.”

 

I blinked, blood roaring in my ears as my grip slackened around the sword hilt.

 

Yuki kept talking, almost flippant. “You think exorcising curses is the only job you’ll ever have? Someday, you’ll have to kill someone, Amara. A human. Because cursed energy is cursed energy, and if you don’t finish the job, they can heal, or worse-”

 

Before she could finish, Gojo’s hand slapped firmly over her mouth, cutting her off mid-sentence.

 

“Okay,” he drawled with a strained smile. “That’s enough trauma dumping for today, thanks.”

 

Yuki glared at him and shoved his arm away. “Don’t coddle her, Satoru. She’s not a child.”

 

Gojo’s jaw flexed, but his grin didn’t fade. “No, she’s not. But she doesn’t need to carry your war stories on top of everything else she's been going through.”

 

“War stories?” she laughed, harsh and humorless. “I’m telling her the truth. Something you and Suguru conveniently leave out every time you play knight in shining armor.”

 

I glanced back and forth between them, my stomach curling tighter with every word.

 

“What is she talking about?” I asked quietly.

 

Suguru’s gaze flicked to mine, heavy with something unreadable. “Nothing you need to worry about right now.”

 

“Don’t do that,” I snapped before I could stop myself. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like I’m too fragile to hear what everyone else already knows.”

 

Gojo’s expression faltered. Just for a second. But it was enough. Then glared at Yuki hard.

 

Yuki barked out a laugh, stepping away from them both with a shake of her head. “God, you two are pathetic sometimes.” She shot me a sharp smile, full of teeth and understanding. “You’re strong, Amara. Stronger than either of them want to admit. They think hiding the truth protects you. I think it shackles you.”

 

I swallowed, bile burning up my throat. My heart felt like it was sinking into my stomach, heavy and nauseating.

 

The idea of killing curses was one thing. The idea of killing people... of killing other sorcerers like me, with faces and lives they wanted to keep, felt like it hollowed out my chest from the inside out.

 

And the idea that Gojo and Geto… that they’d done it before, and not just once...

 

The sword felt heavier in my grip. Colder.

 

I blew into my fist again, feeling the anger spark and sputter in my chest like a dying ember refusing to go out.

 

Yuki didn’t stop smiling. “When you’re ready to train like a real sorcerer,” she said, “come find me again.”

 

She turned and walked away, whistling under her breath, her weapon slung casually over her shoulder.

 

I stood there, staring after her, feeling the wind rattle the trees around us. Feeling Gojo and Suguru’s eyes on me like they were waiting for the fallout.

 

Like they knew exactly what was burning under my skin.

 

I sat on the training grounds long after Yuki left. The wind was picking up, tugging at my hair and whistling across the metal of the sword resting limp next to me. Suguru and Satoru stayed close but didn’t sit beside me. They stood a few feet away, talking quietly to each other in voices too low for me to catch.

 

I didn’t care enough to eavesdrop anyway.

 

Because my mind was crawling with thoughts that felt like they were biting me from the inside out.

 

What makes my dad worse than any other sorcerer?

 

Is it the way he kills people? The brutality? The efficiency?

 

Or is it because he kills non-sorcerers? Because he’s outside their society, not inside it?

 

Or is it just the amount?

 

Who even decides what makes a killer a monster and what makes a killer a hero?

 

I thought about Yuki’s words, sharp and true. About her calling them pathetic. About her calling me strong. About how Suguru wouldn’t meet my eyes and how Gojo kept fidgeting with the hem of his shirt like he wanted to fold himself out of existence.

 

And something ugly burned up my throat.

 

Because I realized, all at once, that the world of sorcerers was so much uglier than the curses infesting it.

 

Curses were born from fear and hate and pain, but they didn’t pretend to be anything else. They didn’t smile at you with blood on their hands and say, “Don’t worry, it’s all for the greater good.” They didn’t call you ‘kid’ or ‘prodigy’ or ‘special grade’ while plotting which humans deserved to die for balance and politics.

 

Curses just were.

 

Sorcerers… they decided.

 

And suddenly, I didn’t know where I stood. Didn’t know if my father was worse because he never pretended to care, or if these people were worse because they did.

 

I blew into my fist again, trying to calm the shiver building in my chest, but it only made my pulse race harder.

 

Finally, I whispered, not caring if they heard, “Who decides who deserves to live or die?”

 

Gojo glanced up, surprised. “What?”

 

“Who decides,” I said louder, forcing myself to look at him, then at Suguru. “Who decides if my dad is a monster and you’re heroes? Is it because he kills civilians? Is it because he doesn’t follow your rules? Or is it because he kills people that aren’t allowed to be killed?”

 

“Amara…” Suguru started, his voice soft, but I cut him off with a laugh that tasted bitter.

 

“You’ve killed sorcerers before,” I said, the words cracking down my chest like a lightning strike. “Haven’t you? Both of you. Not just curses. People.”

 

Suguru didn’t answer. Neither did Gojo.

 

But the silence told me everything.

 

“Why?” I asked, my voice breaking. “Why do they deserve to die? Who told you they did? The Elders? Yaga? Did you ever ask? Did you care?”

 

Gojo flinched, and Suguru stepped forward like he wanted to touch me, but I pulled back before he could.

 

I didn’t want his comfort. Not right now.

 

Because suddenly, I couldn’t tell the difference between my father and them. Between the killer who abandoned me and the killers who held me at night and called it love.

 

Because maybe there wasn’t a difference.

 

And that scared me more than any curse ever could.

 

Suguru was quiet for a long moment. The wind brushed across the training grounds, ruffling his bangs and carrying the faint scent of salt, grass and summer sweat.

 

Then, with a quiet exhale, he moved.

 

He sat down next to me, close enough that I could feel his warmth but not close enough to touch. I didn’t turn my head. I just kept staring down at my hand curled around my fist, the angry little tremor in my wrist betraying everything I was trying to keep hidden.

 

For a while, he didn’t speak.

 

When he finally did, his voice was gentle. Honest. Like water pouring over raw skin.

 

“You’re right,” he said simply.

 

That made me flinch. Just slightly. But I didn’t interrupt.

 

“You’re right to ask,” he continued. “You’re right to be angry. To wonder why it’s okay for some people to kill and others to be called monsters for it.”

 

I swallowed, throat tight and dry.

 

He went on, voice calm and measured, like he was explaining one of my cursed technique lessons. “Most of us don’t get a choice in this, Amara. When you’re born a sorcerer, you’re born into this system. You either join a clan, or you come to Jujutsu Tech. The only exceptions are the ones who go rogue… or the ones who die before anyone notices them.”

 

His eyes flicked to mine, gold and heavy with truths I didn’t want to hear.

 

“You’re… unique. You went under the radar for almost twenty years. But you know as well as I do, your cursed energy was getting unstable. You saw spirits before you understood them. Your abilities, uncontrolled, could have hurt people. Killed someone you didn’t want to. And if that happened…” He paused, brow tightening. “If that happened, they wouldn’t have let you come to school. They would have put you down.”

 

My stomach twisted so hard I thought I might vomit.

 

“Most of us don’t get to choose this life,” he said again, softer this time. “We’re born like this. And when you’re born like this… you have a duty. To protect those who can’t protect themselves.”

 

Suguru let out a low, quiet sigh, his eyes drifting to the ground between us as if searching for words buried in the dirt.

 

“There isn’t much difference between us and your father,” he said softly. “Not when you strip it down to the bones. We kill too. We’ve both done it. We’ll do it again.”

 

My breath caught, my chest tightening. But he didn’t let the silence stretch long enough to drown me.

 

“The difference is… intent,” he continued, voice calm, steady, heavy with honesty. “Your father kills for money. For survival. Because it’s the easiest way for him to keep existing in a world that never gave him anything else. He uses his strength as the easy way out.”

 

He turned his head then, and our eyes met. There was no judgment in his gaze, no pity, just quiet, anchored truth.

 

“We kill too. But we do it hoping… hoping it makes the world just a little safer. Hoping it spares someone else from having to. Hoping it protects the people who can’t protect themselves.”

 

I swallowed hard, my throat feeling raw. “But it’s still killing.”

 

“Yeah,” he murmured. “It is.”

 

The words felt like lead in my chest. Heavy. True. Ugly.

 

Suguru’s lips twitched, almost a sad smile. “I know it doesn’t make it easier to accept. But it’s the truth. And in this world, sometimes… that’s all we have.”

 

That’s when Satoru moved. He had been silent the whole time, leaning against the fence a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses hiding his eyes. I could feel his discomfort radiating off him in quiet little waves, like a storm waiting offshore.

 

Finally, he pushed off the fence with a sigh and walked over, dropping down beside me with a graceless thud. His knees bent up near his chest, his long arms dangling loosely over them.

 

“I fucking hate these talks,” he muttered under his breath.

 

Suguru shot him a look. “Satoru-”

 

“No, it’s true,” Gojo interrupted, his voice annoyed and tired and something softer hidden underneath. “I hate them. Morality talks are useless. It’s just people arguing about which flavor of shit tastes less awful. There’s no winning. There’s no feeling better afterward.”

 

He tilted his head back to look at the sky, his hair catching the late afternoon light, making him look almost ethereal despite the harshness of his words.

 

“But…” he added after a pause, his voice dropping quieter. “I get why you need to have them.”

 

His head turned just enough that I could see his eyes over the rim of his sunglasses, pale and sharp and piercing in that way only Satoru Gojo could be.

 

“I don’t see the world like Suguru does,” he admitted. “I don’t care about intent or duty or any of that. I care about results. And I care about you.”

 

He reached out and flicked the end of my ponytail, so gentle it was almost a caress. “You need Suguru for these talks. I know that. He’s good at them. He understands people. He understands you. Better than I do, sometimes.”

 

“Satoru,” Suguru murmured, a quiet thread of warmth in his voice.

 

Gojo ignored him, flicking my hair again before letting his hand drop to his knee. “I just want you to be okay. I don’t care how many moral circles we run in. I don’t care if we kill every curse in Japan or none at all. I just want you to be okay. I want all three of us to be okay. I can't lose either of you..”

 

The silence that settled between us wasn’t heavy like before. It was softer. Honest.

 

Suguru exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing as he looked back out across the training grounds. “You don’t have to decide anything now,” he said, voice low. “Not about your father. Not about yourself. Just… let yourself feel whatever you’re feeling. That’s enough for today.”

 

Gojo nodded, leaning his head back until it rested lightly against mine, his white hair brushing my cheek. “Yeah. That’s enough.”

 

I pulled them both closer without even thinking, my hands reaching out to grab fistfuls of their shirts, tugging them into my orbit until Suguru’s shoulder brushed mine and Satoru’s knee bumped against my thigh.

 

“I don’t…” My voice cracked and I had to swallow hard before trying again. “I don’t understand it. Any of it. I don’t know how to feel about it, or… or about him. Or about any of this.”

 

They stayed quiet, listening. Waiting.

 

I took a shaky breath, blinking hard against the sting behind my eyes. “But… I know you two aren’t bad people. I know that. Even if I don’t understand it all, I know… you’re doing good things. Or at least… trying to.”

 

Suguru’s eyes softened, his brows twitching like my words had hit something tender inside him. “Mara…”

 

I shook my head quickly, staring down at my clenched hands in their shirts. “I don’t think… I don’t think I want to do that, though. I don’t want to… kill people. Even if they’re bad. Even if they deserve it. I don’t think I could do it.”

 

The words felt like admitting weakness, like peeling back armor I didn’t even know I was wearing. But neither of them flinched. Neither of them pulled away.

 

Satoru let out a quiet breath and leaned forward until his forehead knocked gently against mine.

 

“Then you won’t,” he said firmly. “You won’t. I don’t care what the Elders say. I don’t care what the world says. You won’t. Not if you don’t want to.”

 

Suguru’s hand came up to cradle the back of my head, his thumb brushing soothingly along my hairline. “He’s right,” he murmured, his voice low and certain. “We’ll make sure you never have to. That’s not what you’re here for.”

 

I closed my eyes, letting their words soak into me like rain in dry soil, loosening something tight in my chest. Their warmth pressed in around me, solid and unbreakable, and for just a moment, I let myself believe it.

 

“Okay,” I whispered, so quiet I wasn’t sure they heard me.

 

But they did.

 

Because Satoru huffed out a soft laugh against my lips, and Suguru pressed a kiss to my temple, and between them, held in their quiet promise, I finally let myself breathe.

 

 

Chapter 48: I Have To Do More (NSFW)

My lungs burned. My arms ached. Every tendon in my legs felt like it might snap at any moment. And still I kept going.

 

“Again.”

 

I pivoted, swung my blade low, channeled cursed energy into the edge until the steel hummed in my grip like it was alive. My vines flared from my free hand, lashing out against the training dummy, slicing through straw and canvas like it was paper.

 

“Again.”

 

My voice was hoarse from shouting techniques, throat raw from breathing so hard. Sweat dripped down my jaw, soaking the collar of my tank top. My hair clung to my neck in damp ropes. I barely felt it.

 

All I could feel was the tightness under my ribs. The angry little knot in my chest that refused to unwind. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face, heard their voices explaining him. What he looked like, what he was after, and how shitty this fucking sorcerer world is.

 

“Again.”

 

The blade faltered in my grip. My knees almost buckled from the force of the pivot. My vision swam with black dots, edges curling inward, threatening to close. I gritted my teeth and forced my cursed energy back into balance, slamming it down through my diaphragm, forcing it into obedience.

 

Again.

 

If I was going to survive him… If I was going to survive this world… there was no other choice.

 

I had to keep going.

 

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

 

Gojo was slumped backward in Shoko’s rolling lab chair, spinning in lazy half-circles, his legs kicked up onto the side counter next to her microscope. Suguru stood beside Shoko, arms crossed over his broad chest, brow furrowed as he scanned the open files she’d spread across the desk.

 

Riku Hoshizuki’s medical and mission records littered every surface. Neurological scans, cursed energy output graphs, early experimentation logs, trauma reconstruction notes, each page more horrifying than the last.

 

“This is… monstrous,” Suguru muttered, his jaw tight with disgust. “Organ removal, reattachment, repeated neural damage… forced drain channeling before he even turned ten.”

 

Shoko lit another cigarette, exhaling smoke through her nose, her eyes shadowed with quiet revulsion. “These scans…” she tapped the back light that was displaying the scans, highlighting the dark scarring across Riku’s frontal cortex. “He has significant structural damage to both prefrontal and motor planning regions. It’s a miracle he can speak coherently, let alone function.”

 

Gojo stopped spinning abruptly, eyes narrowing as he tilted his head to study the scans. His Six Eyes flickered faint blue as he read through layered overlays only he could see.

 

“So… what, his brain’s fried,” he said flatly. “And he’s trying to project that onto her?”

 

“In a sense, yes,” Shoko said, flicking ash into her tray. “His drain and regeneration were forced to overdevelop with no regulatory training. His brain couldn’t keep up with the cellular rewiring. That’s why he’s showing signs of frontal disinhibition, emotional blunting, obsessive fixation. But Amara…”

 

She moved to open a second file, Amara’s recent cursed energy assessments. The graphs were nearly identical in potential output to Riku’s baseline at her age, but the stabilization overlay glowed a steady, balanced green.

 

“Her technique pathways are integrated properly,” Shoko continued, gesturing with her cigarette. “She can balance drain, healing, and regeneration. If she overuses them recklessly, yes, she’ll get sick, possibly damage non-regenerative tissue. But the brain degeneration, the permanent cognitive decline… that’s not her fate. That’s sadly his.”

 

The silence that followed was heavy.

 

Suguru’s brows drew low, his dark eyes scanning the flickering scans again and again, like he was trying to carve the knowledge into his bones. His chest rose in a slow, deliberate breath, shoulders tight with residual tension that wouldn’t leave.

 

“So you’re saying…” he started, voice quiet, careful, “…all those warnings. All that fear he tried to put into our heads-”

 

“He wasn’t lying,” Shoko cut in gently. “But he was… projecting. His deterioration isn’t a direct result of the bloodline. It’s from the forced mutations. The repeated trauma. His regeneration was accelerated without proper neurological rebalancing. It left his brain… fried, for lack of a better term....he would be extremely interesting to dissect...”

 

She tapped the edge of the scan lightly with her nail, clicking against the screen. “Amara’s abilities are integrating naturally. Her drain stabilizes her healing. Her healing stabilizes her drain. As long as she keeps training her stamina and regulating her output, her brain can adapt without the catastrophic loss of tissue he suffered.”

 

Gojo let out a single, sharp laugh that cracked through the quiet like lightning. He threw his head back against the shelf behind him, white hair brushing glass vials and old research binders, eyes squeezed shut with something too bitter to be called amusement.

 

“God- fuck,” he spat, his grin twitching as he lowered his gaze to the glowing scans. “All this time. All this bullshit he’s pulling. All because his own brain melted like instant ramen noodles! Grandpa's gotta see the kids before the dementia sets in!”

 

Shoko smirked faintly, flicking ash into her tray with a subtle snort. “Accurate analogy.”

 

Suguru frowned deeply, glaring at Gojo with that same tight line of disappointment he always used when Satoru’s humor turned cruel. “This isn’t funny.”

 

“Yeah, it is,” Gojo shot back immediately, eyes wide and manic-bright. “It’s fucking hilarious. He’s crawling around in the shadows like some fucked up cryptid, trying to scare her into thinking she’s doomed to rot from the inside out, when really he’s just a half-fried leftover experiment who couldn’t adapt. He's just fucking weak and pathetic.”

 

“That ‘half-fried leftover experiment’ is still dangerous,” Suguru snapped, his voice low and sharp. “He’s still her father. Her bloodline. Her-”

 

“He’s nothing,” Gojo interrupted, his tone flattening abruptly, the humor gone as fast as it came. His eyes narrowed behind the glint of his hair, blue irises glowing cold and precise. “He’s nothing to her except a mistake someone else made before she was even born.”

 

Suguru inhaled through his nose, slow and sharp. He set the file down on the lab counter a little harder than necessary. His gaze flicked up to meet Satoru’s, dark eyes narrowed and steady.

 

“That’s just plain cruel,” he said quietly.

 

Gojo’s jaw twitched. “It’s the truth.”

 

“It’s your truth,” Suguru corrected, his voice low but edged with something biting. “But don’t pretend to know hers. Don’t pretend you understand how she feels about him just because you hate him.”

 

Gojo scoffed, leaning against the window, hands shoved deep into his uniform pockets. “Why does it even matter, Suguru? He’s a rotting experiment with half a brain left. The sooner she realizes that, the sooner she can let it go.”

 

“Because it does matter,” Suguru snapped, his voice rising before he caught himself, breathing out hard through his nose. “Because it’s not about him being cursed, or broken, or dangerous. It’s about him being her father.”

 

Gojo flinched, shoulders stiffening under the line of his uniform collar.

 

Suguru stepped forward, his movements deliberate, planting himself firmly between Gojo and where he was looking until Satoru’s gaze was forced to flick back to his. His golden eyes burned with a quiet, righteous anger that Gojo knew all too well.

 

“You think this is just about bloodline,” Suguru continued, voice low and trembling with restrained emotion. “You think she’s afraid of turning into him because of what he is. And yes, some of it is that. But you’re ignoring the other part. The human part.”

 

Gojo’s jaw clenched tighter, his teeth grinding audibly.

 

“She would be just as affected if he were a normal man,” Suguru said, each word sharp as glass. “A teacher. A doctor. A construction worker. It doesn’t matter what he is, Satoru. It’s who he is to her. Her father. The person who left her. The person who made her.”

 

“That doesn’t change what he is now,” Gojo spat back, eyes flashing with defensive rage. “He’s still a fucking monster.”

 

“And maybe he is,” Suguru agreed quietly. “Maybe he’s worse than any curse we’ve ever exorcised or curse user we've been up against. But that doesn’t erase what he was before. That doesn’t erase the fact that he was the first person to ever hold her. The first person she looked up at with those eyes.”

 

His voice softened, but the edge didn’t dull.

 

“She doesn’t mourn her bloodline, Satoru. She mourns him. The possibility of what he could have been. The person he should have been.”

 

Gojo’s chest rose and fell rapidly, his cursed energy prickling in the stale lab air, vibrating against the metal cabinets and flickering the lights overhead. “Why are you defending him,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

 

“I’m not,” Suguru said firmly. “I’m defending her. Because if you keep spitting venom like this, if you keep trying to turn him into nothing, she’s going to think you’re trying to erase a part of her, too.”

 

Gojo blinked, his eyes wide, almost startled, like Suguru had reached into his chest and ripped out a truth he wasn’t ready to face.

 

Shoko’s quiet exhale of smoke punctuated the silence.

 

“Suguru’s right,” she murmured, her voice low and tired. “You can hate Riku all you want, Satoru. But don’t hate her for the parts of herself she can’t cut out.”

 

Gojo swallowed hard, his throat bobbing visibly. For a moment, his eyes dropped to the floor, his white lashes shadowing the bright, trembling blue beneath.

 

“I don’t hate her,” he whispered, so quietly it was almost a confession. “I could never… hate her.”

 

“I know,” Suguru said softly, reaching out to rest a hand against Gojo’s chest, feeling the violent thrum of his cursed energy beneath his palm. “Then don’t act like you do.”

 

Gojo stayed silent, his eyes flicking sideways to the window again where the sun was dipping low behind the distant training fields. Amara’s faint silhouette was gone now, replaced by long shadows and the quiet hum of cicadas rising with the dusk.

 

He took a slow breath, pressing his lips together before finally speaking, his voice low and rough.

 

“Fine,” he muttered. “But I’m not forgiving him.”

 

“Good,” Suguru said, a hint of grim humor twisting his mouth. “Because neither am I”

 

And in that quiet moment, with Shoko’s cigarette burning low and the sky outside fading from gold to bruised lavender, Gojo let his head drop forward against Suguru’s chest, just for a second.

 

Long enough to gather himself.

 

Long enough to let the rage fade back into something he could carry without it consuming him.

 

Long enough to remember that this wasn’t about him.

 

It was about her.

 

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

 

My arms felt like they were made of lead.

 

Every swing of the blade burned from shoulder to wrist, each pivot sending sharp sparks up my calves, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. Not when the edge still felt unfamiliar in my grip. Not when I could hear Yuki’s voice in my head, barking corrections I had already memorized.

 

Cut through the target, don’t just tap it. Extend your reach with cursed energy. Feel the hum in your core. Again. Again. Again.

 

I dragged the blade down through the last sand dummy, its shredded remains crumbling at my feet. My breath came in ragged gasps, sweat dripping off my nose to splatter across the concrete. My knees threatened to buckle, but I caught myself on the blade’s hilt, forcing them straight again.

 

Don’t fall. Don’t stop.

 

I reset my stance. Raised the blade. Ignored the way my vision flickered at the edges.

 

The door behind me slid open with a quiet hiss, letting in a faint draft of cooler air. I didn’t turn. I knew their footsteps without needing to see them.

 

“Training late tonight, princess?” Gojo’s voice was casual, almost teasing, but I could hear the tightness beneath it.

 

I said nothing, just let out a sharp exhale as I stepped forward and slashed through another invisible opponent. The blade whistled through the air with that faint, hungry vibration it always carried now – like it wanted to cut.

 

“Amara,” Suguru’s voice came from behind me, low and quiet, carrying that tone that always dug under my ribs. “That’s enough.”

 

“No,” I rasped, my voice too hoarse to sound strong. I swallowed, tasting blood from where I’d bitten the inside of my cheek earlier. “I can’t. I’m still… sloppy. I missed a pivot on the last set. My stamina dips after thirty-five minutes. My cursed output is inconsistent in vertical slashes-”

 

“Amara.” His voice was firmer now, echoing off the walls.

 

I raised the blade again anyway. My arms trembled violently with the motion. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, stinging hot from exhaustion and rage I didn’t have words for.

 

I couldn’t stop.

 

If I stopped, I’d think about it. About her body in the morgue. About the ashes I didn’t cry when holding. About the father I hadn’t seen since I was born who now stalked the shadows of my training grounds like a phantom with my eyes.

 

If I stopped, I’d remember how badly I wanted to find him. How my bones ached with the need to hear him say something. Anything. Even if it was cruel.

 

If I stopped-

 

“Enough.”

 

Suguru moved behind me so fast I didn’t register the blur until his arm was sliding around my waist, locking me gently but firmly against his chest. His other hand closed around my wrist, forcing the blade down to my side. I fought it, my arms shaking violently with futile resistance.

 

“Let go,” I rasped, my voice cracking. “I’m not done-”

 

“You are,” he murmured into my hair, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re done for tonight.”

 

I struggled harder, tears burning hot down my cheeks now. “I can’t- I can’t stop- I’ll fall behind- I missed weeks, Suguru- weeks- she died and I stopped and I can’t- I can’t fall behind again I can’t I won't..”

 

“Shh,” he breathed, tightening his hold just enough to keep me grounded but not enough to hurt. “You’re not falling behind. You’re killing yourself.”

 

I let out a choked sob, my knees giving out completely. The blade clattered to the concrete with a harsh metallic clang as my body sagged in his arms. I felt so small. So breakable. Like all it would take was a single push to shatter everything I was still holding together with frayed threads.

 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Gojo’s voice was softer now, closer, as he knelt in front of me. His long fingers cupped my tear-streaked cheeks, tilting my face up to his. “Don’t do this to yourself, pretty girl.”

 

I blinked blearily at him, my chest hitching with short, ragged breaths. His face was a blur of white hair and bright eyes and worry he tried to mask with a lopsided smile.

 

“I have to get stronger,” I whispered, my voice breaking like glass. “I can’t lose control again. I can’t. If I see him- if I find him- I have to be strong enough to- to...”

 

“Shh,” Gojo murmured, his thumbs brushing away the tears I couldn’t stop. “You’re already strong..”

 

“Amara.” Suguru’s voice rumbled low against my back, vibrating through my ribs. “Look at me.”

 

I turned my head slightly, enough to see his eyes, golden and focused, hair falling loose around his face from his hair tie coming undone.

 

“If you keep breaking yourself like this,” he said quietly, each word deliberate and edged in steel, “you’re not getting stronger. You’re just getting hurt.”

 

My chest twisted painfully, a sob tearing itself free from my throat as my arms gave out completely. Suguru caught me with quiet ease, shifting me against his chest and hooking his arm under my knees. He lifted me like I weighed nothing, the blade abandoned on the cracked floor as Gojo gathered it and my discarded jacket and followed silently.

 

I buried my face in Suguru’s chest, hot tears soaking through his uniform as he carried me out of the training room into the cooler, dimmer hallway. Gojo walked beside us, his long strides uncharacteristically quiet, one hand resting lightly against my shin where it dangled over Suguru’s arm.

 

“We’ll take care of you tonight,” Gojo said softly, his voice rough around the edges. “No more training. No more thinking about him. Just us. Just you.”

 

I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing tighter into Suguru’s chest as his heartbeat thudded steadily against my ear. My thoughts still screamed and buzzed under my skin, thoughts of blades and blood and red eyes staring back at me from a stranger’s hollow face... a face so unrecognizable yet so familiar...

 

But for now…

 

For now, their warmth dulled it.

 

For now, I let them carry me away from the ghosts I couldn’t outrun.

 

---

 

Suguru carried me down the quiet hallway with ease, his grip steady under my thighs and shoulders. Gojo walked beside us, humming softly under his breath, the sound oddly grounding.

 

When we reached the boys’ dorm wing, I expected them to turn into Gojo’s room. But instead, Suguru shifted my weight slightly in his arms and nudged his own door open with his foot.

 

I blinked blearily. “Your room…?”

 

“Yeah,” he said, voice soft but tinged with amusement. “Problem?”

 

I shook my head quickly, cheek pressed against his chest. His scent, cedar soap and faint incense, wrapped around me like a blanket. “No… just… rare.”

 

He chuckled quietly, stepping inside and kicking the door closed behind us. “Exactly. Consider yourself honored.”

 

Gojo snorted from behind us, flopping dramatically onto Suguru’s massive bed without waiting for permission. “She’s been in here before, Geto. Don’t act like you’re not obsessed with her finding your hidden manga stash.”

 

“I do not have a manga stash,” Suguru said flatly, lowering me gently onto the mattress.

 

Gojo grinned, rolling onto his stomach to look at me upside down. “Yeah, you do. Don’t lie. She already knows about it.”

 

I giggled weakly despite how heavy my limbs felt. Suguru just rolled his eyes, fingers deftly undoing the ties in my hair so it fell loose around my shoulders.

 

“Clothes off,” he said simply, his tone brooking no argument.

 

My cheeks burned faintly. “You gonna… help with that…?” I mumbled.

 

He smirked, dark and warm all at once. “Of course.”

 

His fingers worked quickly, peeling off my sweat-soaked tank top and sports bra, then sliding my loose pants down my legs until I was left in just my thin black panties. He tossed everything into his hamper with unbothered efficiency before pressing his large palm to the center of my back, nudging me down flat onto my stomach.

 

“Stay,” he ordered quietly.

 

“Woof,” Gojo added helpfully from where he was now lounging against the headboard, one knee pulled up to his chest. “Good girl.”

 

“Shut up,” I mumbled into the sheets, though my lips twitched faintly. I felt Suguru move away for a moment, then heard the quiet rustle of his drawers opening and closing.

 

When he returned, his hands were warm and slightly slick with lotion. He started at my shoulders, thumbs digging into the knots near my neck with expert precision. A small whimper escaped my throat before I could swallow it down.

 

“Mm,” Suguru hummed approvingly. “That’s right. Let it out.”

 

“Yeah,” Gojo added, grinning widely. “Let it out, pretty girl. Don’t hold back. Makes it easier for the massage therapist to know where it hurts.”

 

“You are not helping,” I muttered, my voice muffled by the comforter.

 

Gojo ignored me entirely. “Did you know,” he began in his best faux-professor voice, “that in Digimon Tamers, Guilmon was basically a baby dinosaur who could evolve into this badass dragon knight thing with rocket arms and-”

 

“Don’t mind him,” Suguru murmured, thumbs pressing deeper into the knots along my spine. “He’s just trying to distract you so you don’t spiral.”

 

Another broken moan slipped out of me, my hips twitching faintly against the bed. “God… that hurts… in a good way.”

 

“Everything I do hurts in a good way,” Suguru drawled, his voice low and smug. His hands slid down to my lower back, kneading tight circles into the muscles above my hips. “You’ve been overextending again. Pivoting too deep on your left side.”

 

“How does he even know that just from massaging you,” Gojo scoffed, but there was a faint note of admiration in his voice. “You’re such a freak.”

 

“Takes one to know one,” Suguru shot back easily, his thumbs digging in hard enough to make me yelp.

 

Gojo barked a laugh, leaning forward to flick my ear gently. “She makes such cute noises. Listen to that. You’re enjoying this way too much, Suguru.”

 

“I’m providing a necessary medical service,” Suguru replied primly, though his tone was dark with amusement. “Unlike some people, I actually care about her muscle health.”

 

Gojo gasped dramatically. “Excuse you, I care deeply. I’m just your emotional support Digimon today.”

 

“You’re not a Digimon,” I mumbled, half delirious from exhaustion and the blissful ache in my muscles. “You’re… you’re like… a bootleg Pokémon”

 

“I'm going to pretend you didn't say that and just move on." He narrowed his eyes at me. “Anyway, as I was saying-”

 

He launched back into his Digimon rant while Suguru worked his way down to my thighs, kneading out each trembling muscle with a level of focus that made me whimper softly into the sheets again.

 

“God… Suguru… feels so… good…”

 

“Yeah?” he murmured, his voice warm and teasing as his thumbs dug into the tight band of muscle above my knee. “You gonna fall asleep on me, baby?”

 

“Mmm…” I hummed, too blissed out to answer properly.

 

“Good,” he said, his hands sliding down to my calves, fingers pressing into the aching knots near my shins. “Means I’m doing it right.”

 

Gojo’s voice dropped softer, though still bright with mischief. “She’s so relaxed. She’s gonna pass out and start drooling all over your sheets.”

 

“Better than your drool on my sheets,” Suguru retorted lightly.

 

“You love my drool,” Gojo shot back without missing a beat.

 

I giggled weakly into the comforter. Suguru’s hands moved back up to my shoulders, kneading in slow, final strokes before he wiped them clean on a towel and leaned down to press a soft kiss to my temple.

 

“All done,” he murmured. “Roll over.”

 

I obeyed without thinking, my body feeling boneless and warm and heavy with the pleasant haze of exhaustion. Suguru tugged the blankets up over me, tucking them around my shoulders while Gojo slid down the bed to curl up beside me, his long arm draping over my stomach lazily.

 

“Best massage ever,” I slurred sleepily.

 

“Don’t forget your Digimon lecture,” Gojo teased, his nose nuzzling into my hair. “That was essential.”

 

“Mmhm…” I hummed, eyelids fluttering shut. “Thank you… both of you…”

 

“Always,” Suguru murmured softly, brushing his thumb across my cheekbone.

 

I blinked up at him slowly, my gaze hazy with exhaustion and warmth, but something else stirred beneath the haze. Something low and needy.

 

I let my eyes linger on his, letting them go a little wide, just enough to catch the dim light filtering through his room. I knew exactly what I was doing. The corners of my mouth curved faintly as I let my lashes lower, tilting my head just a touch as I looked up at him.

 

His breath caught, barely audible, but I felt it. The shift in the air. The subtle tension in his shoulders as his eyes darkened.

 

“Don’t…” he warned softly, though his voice trembled with restraint.

 

I rubbed my thighs together under the blankets, the fabric whispering against my skin. His gaze flicked down instantly, tracking the movement like a wolf watching prey.

 

“Suguru…” I whispered, letting the syllables fall heavy and slow from my lips. “M’still so tense…”

 

Gojo let out a quiet, half-asleep laugh from beside me, his arm tightening around my waist as his face pressed into my hair. “Oh, she’s doing the eyes,” he mumbled. “You’re screwed, Suguru.”

 

Suguru exhaled shakily, his thumb brushing across my parted lips before trailing down to my chin, holding it gently. His eyes burned into mine, golden, molten, and dangerous.

 

“You really want that kind of massage right now, my love?” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “After how hard you’ve been training all day? You think your body can handle it?”

 

I whimpered softly at his tone, my thighs pressing together tighter under the blankets. His smirk twitched at the corners, eyes flicking over my flushed cheeks and parted lips.

 

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, leaning down until his forehead rested against mine. “You drive me insane when you look at me like that.”

 

“Like what…?” I whispered innocently, blinking up at him with the same wide, needy eyes.

 

His laugh was low and dark, rumbling deep in his chest. “Like you’re about to beg me for everything I have to give.”

 

Gojo snorted softly, shifting behind me to press his chest flush to my back. His lips brushed my ear as he spoke, voice playful but thick with heat. “She doesn’t even have to beg. She just has to breathe.”

 

“Quiet, Satoru,” Suguru growled lightly, though there was no real venom in his voice. His eyes never left mine as his fingers slipped under the blanket, ghosting up my thigh until I gasped softly, my hips twitching instinctively toward his touch.

 

“Shhh,” he soothed, his lips brushing mine without kissing yet. “Let me take care of you properly.”

 

His hand cupped the inside of my thigh, fingers warm and steady as he pushed my legs apart just enough to settle between them. I sucked in a shaky breath, my pulse thundering in my ears.

 

“Relax for me,” he murmured, his voice dark velvet against my lips. “Let your mind go quiet. Let me give you what you need.”

 

I whimpered softly, my hips shifting as his fingers pressed into the tense muscle of my inner thigh, kneading slow and firm. Each movement sent little sparks of relief and aching heat up through my stomach. My eyes fluttered shut as I let my head fall back against the pillow.

 

“Good girl…” Suguru praised, his voice low and warm. “Just like that.”

 

I felt the blanket shift as he moved further down the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. His hands pressed my thighs apart gently, his thumbs sweeping soothing circles against the trembling muscles.

 

“God, look at you,” he murmured, almost to himself, his breath warm against the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. “Worked yourself until you could barely stand. What am I going to do with you?”

 

My breath hitched as his lips pressed a soft kiss just above my knee, then another higher up. I could feel his hair brushing against my skin, his presence grounding and overwhelming all at once.

 

Gojo’s hand drifted down to rest on my stomach, his thumb rubbing lazy circles against my skin. “She’s been needy all day,” he said softly, his voice husky with sleep and heat. “Kept giving me those eyes during breakfast too.”

 

“Mm… she knows exactly what she’s doing,” Suguru chuckled softly, his breath ghosting closer to my clit where I ached the most. I let out a quiet whine, my hips bucking slightly, and his hands immediately pressed down, holding me still.

 

“Easy,” he soothed. “Let me take care of it.”

 

I felt his mouth then, warm, soft, and devastating. His tongue moved slowly at first, teasing, tasting, until I gasped and my hips jerked up again despite his grip. He chuckled low against me, the vibration making me whimper.

 

“So sensitive…” he murmured against my skin. “You’re lucky I’m in a giving mood tonight.”

 

Gojo laughed softly beside me, his fingers tracing the curve of my waist as he watched, his voice dripping with lazy affection. “She’s always lucky. She’s got us.”

 

Suguru didn’t respond, too focused on the task at hand. His mouth worked me open with unhurried precision, his tongue curling and flicking in ways that made my vision go white behind closed lids. His hands kneaded gently at my thighs, easing out the tension even as he drew out sharp, trembling moans from my lips.

 

“S-Suguru-” I gasped, my fingers tangling in his hair, tugging lightly as pleasure coiled tight in my stomach.

 

He pulled back just enough to speak, his voice dark and ragged. “That’s it, love… let go for me. Let me hear you.”

 

I cried out, my thighs trembling under his grip as he dipped back down, his tongue working me open with a pace that was almost cruel in its perfection. Each flick sent electricity down my spine, my hands fisting in the sheets as heat pooled and twisted tight in my stomach.

 

“Fuck…” I gasped, my voice breaking on a whimper. “Suguru… please…”

 

He hummed low against me, the vibration making my vision go white out. I felt tears prick my eyes from the intensity, my chest heaving as my entire body threatened to come apart under his mouth.

 

“God, look at you,” Gojo breathed beside me, his hand sliding up to brush sweaty strands of hair from my forehead. His voice was husky, almost shaky. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this.”

 

Suguru pulled back just enough to glance at him, his lips wet, pupils blown wide with heat. “You wanna try?” he asked, his voice dark but teasing.

 

Gojo blinked, caught off guard. “Wha- now?”

 

Suguru smirked faintly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before leaning back on his heels. “She’s yours too,” he murmured. “Go on.”

 

I smile all sweetly at him. "Come here baby~"

 

Gojo hesitated for a split second, nerves flickering across his face, but then his eyes flicked down to me, panting, trembling, thighs still spread open and slick with Suguru’s efforts, and something in him shifted.

 

“Yeah…” he breathed, licking his lips, his gaze going glassy with hunger. “Yeah, okay…”

 

He moved between my thighs, his large hands resting on my hips as he lowered himself down, his breath warm against my sensitive skin. I could feel how tense he was, his cursed energy buzzing faint and chaotic around his body. But when he pressed his lips against me, soft, tentative, almost reverent, every part of me clenched.

 

“God…” I moaned softly, my hips jerking up into his mouth.

 

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice muffled against me. “Let me… let me do it right…”

 

His tongue moved slowly at first, testing, learning, before he flattened it against me and dragged upward in a long, trembling lick that made me gasp. I felt his fingers twitch against my thighs, gripping tighter as his breathing grew ragged.

 

“Fuck…” he whispered, his voice shaking. “You taste so fucking good…”

 

Suguru chuckled softly from beside us, leaning down to press a kiss to my temple before brushing his fingers through Satoru’s hair. “Good job,” he murmured, his voice warm with praise. “She loves it, baby. Listen to her.”

 

And I was. I couldn’t stop the sounds spilling from my lips, high and broken and desperate. Gojo’s tongue moved faster now, more confident, his hands gripping my hips so tight I knew there’d be bruises tomorrow if I didn’t heal so fast. His mouth felt so perfect, he let out little moans of his own against me, like the taste alone was enough to undo him.

 

Then he pulled back just barely, his lips slick and parted, his pupils blown wide with blissed-out awe. “You’re… fuck… you’re my favorite thing,” he whispered, like it was a revelation he’d just discovered. “God, I could do this forever…”

 

He dipped back down, his tongue curling and flicking in ways that made my back arch off the bed, my fingers tangling in his hair with a sob moan. I could feel him rutting subtly against the mattress, chasing friction as his moans grew louder, more desperate, vibrating straight through my core.

 

Suguru’s hand drifted down to cup the back of his neck, grounding him. “You’re doing so well,” he praised softly, his other hand sliding between my breasts to feel the frantic beat of my heart. “Look at her. Look how beautiful she is because of you.”

 

That was all it took.

 

With a low, choked groan, Satoru’s hips jerked against the sheets and he came hard, trembling between my thighs as he buried his face deeper against me, licking me through his own release until I shattered with a scream, my entire body convulsing around his mouth.

 

When it finally ended, he collapsed against my thigh, his chest heaving, lips pink and swollen, his white hair damp with sweat. Suguru chuckled softly, brushing his knuckles down my cheek before leaning in to kiss me slow and deep.

 

“You… you okay?” I whispered, still shaking.

 

“Better than okay,” Gojo panted, his voice dazed and bliss-drunk. “That was… fuck… new favorite thing…”

 

Suguru smiled, brushing his thumb over my bottom lip and one over Satoru’s cheek. “You two did so good..”

 

I blinked up at him, hazy and boneless, but his golden eyes gleamed with warmth and hunger. “I want to help you…” I whispered, my voice soft and needy.

 

His lips curved into a slow, wicked smile. “I know you do, baby,” he murmured, cupping my jaw as he leaned down to kiss me again, this one deeper, hungrier, his tongue sliding against mine with a growl deep in his chest. “And I’m going to let you.”

 

Suguru leaned back slightly, brushing his thumb across my bottom lip as his eyes darkened with something deep and soft all at once.

 

“You sure about this, love?” he murmured, his voice rough but careful. “You’re already so tired…”

 

“I want to,” I whispered, my voice shaking but certain. “Please, Suguru… let me…”

 

He groaned low in his throat, his fingers curling against my cheek before he shifted, guiding me gently down between his thighs. He was already hard, thick, and heavy, and my stomach fluttered with both anticipation and nervousness.

 

“Take your time,” he murmured, brushing my hair back with such tenderness it made my chest ache. “Go slow and just... feel me.”

 

I nodded, wrapping my hand around his base as I leaned in, licking a slow stripe up the underside. He let out a ragged breath, his hips twitching slightly, but he didn’t push or rush me. He just rested a heavy hand on the back of my neck, his thumb stroking soothing circles into my hairline.

 

“That’s it, good girl…” he whispered, his voice trembling. “God, you’re perfect like this…”

 

Beside us, Gojo was half-collapsed on his side, still catching his breath, but his glassy blue eyes were locked onto us with unblinking intensity. His cheeks were flushed, lips parted as he watched me take Suguru deeper into my mouth, inch by inch, until I had to pull back with a quiet gag.

 

“Shh, easy,” Suguru soothed, his thumb brushing my bottom lip as he smiled down at me, warm and crooked. “No rush, baby. Just like that… fuck, you feel so good…”

 

Gojo let out a shaky laugh, his voice faint. “She’s… fuck… so pretty like that…” His words slurred slightly, his head lolling back against the pillows. “I’m… gonna pass out…”

 

Suguru chuckled softly, reaching out with his free hand to rub Satoru’s chest gently, his touch grounding and affectionate. “Stay awake for me, Satoru,” he teased softly. “You don’t want to miss this, do you?”

 

Gojo’s eyes fluttered back open, dazed and glassy. “Nuh-uh… don’t wanna miss anything…”

 

I moaned softly around Suguru at their words, and his hips jerked slightly, a deep groan rumbling from his chest. “Fuck… you’re gonna kill me, sweetheart…”

 

I pulled back just enough to catch my breath, stroking him with my hand as I gasped softly. “I want… to make you feel sooooo good…” I whispered.

 

“You already do,” he growled softly, brushing his thumb across my cheekbone. “Always do.”

 

Beside us, Gojo shifted, his body twitching with a faint resurgence of energy as he reached down to palm himself, already half-hard again from watching us.

 

“God…” he groaned, his voice breaking. “I… wanna help too…”

 

Suguru’s lips curved into a crooked smile, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. “Yeah?” he murmured, leaning over to press a kiss to Satoru’s flushed forehead. “Then come here, baby. Let’s take care of each other.”

 

He guided Gojo closer, their mouths meeting in a slow, heated kiss as I kept working Suguru with my mouth and hand, my thighs clenching at the sight of them kissing so deeply above me. Suguru pulled back just enough to murmur against Gojo’s lips, “Touch her too… she deserves it…”

 

Gojo reached down with trembling fingers, brushing them over my hair before sliding them gently under my chin to tilt my face up, his eyes dark and blown wide with love and lust.

 

“Pretty girl…” he whispered, his voice shaking. “Our pretty girl… fuck…”

 

Suguru’s breathing hitched, his hips rolling into my mouth with careful, controlled thrusts. “Almost there…” he panted, his hand fisting in Gojo’s hair as they kissed again, messy and desperate.

 

I felt Gojo rutting against Suguru’s thigh, chasing friction with quiet, broken whines as Suguru reached down with his free hand to wrap around him, stroking him in time with my movements.

 

“That’s it,” Suguru rasped, his voice dark and trembling. “Together… wanna finish with you, Satoru… come on, baby… come with me…”

 

Gojo cried out softly, his forehead pressed against Suguru’s shoulder as his hips stuttered, his entire body trembling with pleasure. I moaned around Suguru as his hips jerked, his release hitting the back of my throat in hot, pulsing waves as he groaned low and broken, his hand gripping my hair tight.

 

“Fuck… fuck… good girl… good fucking girl…” he growled, his voice ragged with bliss.

 

Gojo spilled over Suguru’s hand with a high, shattered moan, his body shaking so hard he almost slumped forward onto us both. His hot cum covered Suguru’s thigh.

 

For a moment, the only sounds in the room were our ragged breathing and the low hum of the AC kicking on. Suguru pulled me up gently, kissing me deep and slow, his taste lingering on my tongue as his hands cradled my face.

 

“Perfect,” he whispered, resting his forehead against mine, his chest still heaving. “You’re perfect, sweetheart…”

 

Gojo flopped back onto the bed with a breathless laugh, his eyes fluttering shut as he reached out blindly, grabbing Suguru’s wrist and squeezing it weakly. “Best… night… ever…” he slurred, his voice bliss-drunk and sleepy.

 

Suguru chuckled softly, his thumb brushing over my swollen lips before pressing a lingering kiss to my forehead.

 

Suguru eased me back onto the bed, brushing my hair from my face with such gentleness it made my chest ache. But before he could stand to grab a towel, I caught his wrist.

 

“Wait…” I whispered, my voice soft and hoarse.

 

He frowned faintly, tilting his head down at me. “What is it, sweetheart?”

 

Satoru rolled onto his side, still flushed and dazed, his long lashes fluttering as he blinked slowly at us. “Yeah… what’s wrong…?”

 

“Nothing,” I said quickly, shaking my head as I sat up slightly, my body trembling from the lingering waves of pleasure. “I just… you always take care of us. Let us take care of you.”

 

Suguru’s eyes widened just slightly, his composure cracking for half a breath before he smiled, warm and small. “You already do, love” he murmured.

 

“No,” Satoru slurred softly, reaching out with a clumsy hand to grab Suguru’s thigh. “She’s right… c’mere, Suguru… lemme clean you up…”

 

Before Suguru could protest, I leaned forward, licking a slow stripe up his softening length, tasting the mix of myself and him. He let out a quiet, broken groan, his head tipping back as his hand fisted in my hair again.

 

“Fuck… you two…” he breathed, his voice trembling with emotion as much as overstimulation.

 

Satoru joined me, licking lazily at his tip, his bright blue eyes glassy but mischievous as he hummed around him. Together, we cleaned him thoroughly, taking turns kissing and licking, until he was twitching with oversensitivity, his deep, ragged moans echoing through the room.

 

“Okay… okay, enough,” Suguru gasped finally, his hands trembling as he pushed us back with careful restraint. “You’re gonna kill me…”

 

We giggled softly, pressing small kisses to his hips and stomach before helping him lie back against the pillows. Satoru grabbed a damp washcloth from the nightstand and gently wiped down his leg and stomach while I pressed slow, open-mouthed kisses along his throat, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse beneath my lips.

 

“You’re so good to us,” I whispered between kisses, my voice trembling with quiet devotion.

 

“The best,” Satoru added, his own voice still slightly slurred as he leaned up to press a messy kiss to Suguru’s cheek. “Our perfect Suguru…”

 

Suguru closed his eyes, letting out a shaky exhale as his arms came up to pull us both close against him.

 

“Don’t say shit like that,” he muttered, but his voice was thick with emotion, cracking just barely on the last word.

 

“Why not?” I asked softly, smiling against his skin. “It’s true.”

 

“Yeah,” Satoru hummed, draping himself half across Suguru’s chest, his messy white hair falling into his eyes. “We mean it… you always take care of us… let us take care of you too…”

 

Suguru sighed shakily, his arms tightening around us both as he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the crown of my head, then to Satoru’s temple.

 

“Okay…” he murmured quietly, his voice breaking just a little. “Okay.”

 

We shifted together on the bed, guiding him to lie in the middle this time. Satoru curled up against his left side, his long leg slung over Suguru’s thigh as he buried his face in his chest with a sleepy sigh.

 

I curled up against his right side, resting my cheek over his heart, feeling its strong, steady rhythm thudding against my ear. His hand came up to cradle my jaw gently, thumb brushing back and forth against my cheekbone with such tenderness it made my throat tighten.

 

“You’re warm,” I whispered, my voice sleepy and small.

 

“You’re both warm,” Suguru rumbled, his voice a low, affectionate rasp. “My little furnaces…”

 

Satoru giggled softly, his breath warm against Suguru’s skin. “We’re your little heaters… gonna keep you nice and toasty all night…”

 

“Mmhm…” I hummed, already half-asleep as I pressed a soft kiss to his chest. “Love you…”

 

“Love you too,” Suguru murmured, pressing another kiss to my forehead before turning to press one to Satoru’s hair as well. “Love you both… so fucking much…”

 

Satoru made a soft, sleepy noise of agreement, snuggling closer until the three of us were tangled together in a cocoon of warmth and quiet, trembling love.

 

And for that night, just that one perfect night, we let ourselves forget the world outside. The curses, the bloodlines, the fathers and fates waiting just beyond the dorm walls.

 

Because here, in this bed, in Suguru’s arms, with Satoru breathing slowly across from me..

 

We were safe.

 

And we were his and he was ours.

 

 

Chapter 49: Meet The Parents

The sunrise was still pale gold when we stepped onto the open dirt training ground outside the east gate. The cicadas hadn’t even started up yet, leaving only the quiet rustle of summer leaves and the steady thud of my heartbeat in my ears.

 

“Okay, sweetheart,” Suguru called, voice low and calm as he crouched down, releasing a half dozen small curses onto the dirt around me. They slithered and scuttled over the ground, their bodies flickering with dull purple-black cursed energy. “Focus on your footwork. Adjust for unpredictable movement.”

 

“Gross,” I muttered under my breath, rolling my shoulders as I drew my blade. “Do you have anything that doesn’t look like a bug?”

 

Behind me, Satoru burst out laughing, his bright grin splitting across his face as he folded his arms behind his head. “She’s got you there, Suguru. Your curses are ugly as hell.”

 

“They’re not for decoration,” Suguru drawled, standing and brushing his hands off on his black sweats. “They’re for training.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Satoru chirped, stepping forward until he stood just in front of me, his Infinity flickering on with a faint electric hum. “Your job is to swing at me without hesitating. My job is to not let you touch me. Go.”

 

I inhaled deeply, planting my feet, feeling the dirt shift under my boots. My blade hummed quietly as I raised it, ignoring the flickering curses scuttling over my toes. Suguru moved around me in a slow circle, observing, his arms folded behind his back.

 

“Eyes up,” he said softly. “You’re focusing too much on your feet. Trust your body.”

 

I swallowed and nodded, pivoting sharply and swinging my blade down toward Satoru’s chest. The force rippled the Infinity like a pond surface, but he didn’t flinch, only grinned wider, eyes sparking under his white fringe.

 

“Faster,” he teased. “Come on, pretty girl, you’re not gonna break me.”

 

“Don’t tempt me,” I muttered, tightening my grip as I slashed horizontally, pivoting back into a defensive stance as the curses surged around my ankles. I shifted sideways, blade arcing down to flick one away, its body evaporating in a puff of shadowed energy.

 

“That’s it,” Suguru murmured, warmth in his voice. “Keep moving. You’re flowing better today.”

 

“Mm,” I hummed, sweat already dripping down my temple as I swung again at Satoru, forcing him to flicker his Infinity on fully to avoid the razor edge. His grin twitched wider.

 

“Tryna cut me down like one of your little vines, huh?”

 

“Shut up,” I hissed, lungs burning, but the smile that curled at my lips betrayed me.

 

Suguru’s phone buzzed against his hip for the third time in ten minutes. He cursed softly under his breath, stepping back and pulling it free, his brows twitching when he saw the name flashing across the screen.

 

He pressed answer quickly, walking a few paces away toward the line of pine trees, his back half-turned to us.

 

“Mom? Yeah… yeah, I’m okay… no, it’s early, I’m just training.”

 

I lowered my blade slightly, chest heaving. Satoru glanced after him with mild curiosity before turning back to me, his grin twitching.

 

“You’ve never asked about our families, how inconsiderate.” he teased, lightly flicking the tip of my blade with a flicker of Infinity.

 

“I… didn’t think you wanted to talk about it,” I said quietly, adjusting my grip.

 

He shrugged lazily, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he said lightly. “Only child. Mom and Dad were nobodies in the Gojo clan before I was born. Then I popped out with these,” he tapped the corner of his bright blue eye with a smirk, “and suddenly they were important.”

 

My chest tightened faintly, but I kept my voice even. “Do you… see them often?”

 

“Not really,” he said, gaze flicking away to the horizon for a moment. “They tried when I was little, y’know. But… I was growing too fast. Too strong. They didn’t know what to do with me, so they just stopped trying. Now they just check in to make sure I don’t die and ruin the bloodline.” He snorted softly. “Family pride and all that bullshit.”

 

I swallowed, forcing a small smile to match his tone. “Their loss.”

 

His grin softened faintly, eyes flicking back to me with something almost tender. “Yeah. Their loss.”

 

I swallowed, shifting my blade to rest against my shoulder as I watched him. The morning breeze lifted his white fringe just enough to catch the light, making his eyes glow like pale fire.

 

“What about Suguru’s family?” I asked softly.

 

His grin twitched wider, something bright sparking behind his eyes. “Oh, his mom’s a sweetheart,” he said, his voice instantly lighter, almost fond. “When we first became friends, she was so excited, y’know? Suguru was… kinda quiet back then. Didn’t really bother with other kids. She thought he’d never make friends.”

 

I smiled faintly at the thought of a little Suguru, sullen and stoic, scaring off the neighborhood kids with his deadpan stare.

 

“She’d always talk about me,” Satoru continued, rolling his eyes but his grin only grew. “Every time I came over it was- ‘Satoru, eat more, you’re so tall but too skinny,’ ‘Satoru, do your parents know how brilliant you are?’ ‘Satoru, teach Suguru how to cook eggs properly so he doesn’t starve at school.’”

 

I let out a soft laugh, the ache in my arms forgotten for a moment.

 

“She sounds… amazing,” I murmured.

 

“She is,” he said firmly, nodding once. “She’s… normal, y’know? No cursed energy, no understanding of any of it. But she knows it’s dangerous, what he does. She worries about him all the time. Still tries to baby him when he visits. She’s an insane cook, too.” His grin turned sly. “She makes this pork miso soup that would make you cry. She made it for me once when I was sick in second year, and I swear it healed me faster than Shoko could.”

 

I smiled wider, warmth blooming low in my chest at the image. “You really love her,” I said quietly.

 

He tilted his head, shrugging lightly. “She’s… a mom, y’know? Like… an actual mom. Even if she isn’t mine.”

 

There was something under his tone I didn’t push at. I knew better with Satoru. But I stepped closer, nudging his side with my elbow until his grin softened again, this time small and a little shy.

 

“She’d love you too, y’know,” he said after a beat, flicking his gaze down to mine. “She’d… probably cry. Seeing Suguru bring you home.”

 

My throat tightened as I looked away, focusing on the faint shimmer of his Infinity still flickering lazily around him.

 

That’s when Suguru’s voice drifted back to us from a few meters away, low and careful as he spoke into his phone.

 

“Yes, Mom… yeah, training’s going fine… No, I’m eating enough, I promise.”

 

Gojo and I both stilled, ears flicking like feral cats as we tried to listen without looking obvious. Gojo leaned down slightly, lips twitching near my ear.

 

“Watch this,” he whispered with a grin. “He’s gonna get flustered in three… two…”

 

“Amara?” Suguru’s voice rose faintly in surprise, and we both perked up.

 

“…Yes, she’s here… No, I… She’s… training with us, yeah. She’s-” He paused, rubbing his temple, his shoulders tensing under his loose uniform shirt.

 

Gojo’s grin widened. I elbowed him to shut up.

 

“…Yes, she’s… um… she’s very important,” Suguru said, his voice dipping lower, almost instinctively softer like it always got when he talked about me. “She… Mom, she’s sweet. She’s… She makes everything feel… easier, I guess. And- no, it’s not like that-”

 

Gojo slapped a hand over his own mouth, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. I felt heat rising up my neck, my pulse fluttering.

 

“Mom- No, that’s not what I meant-” Suguru tried to backtrack, his tone strained but polite. “She’s not my- Well… I mean, I guess she- No, I- That’s not-"

 

He turned away from us further, voice dropping to an urgent whisper. “Mom, please- it’s… complicated. She’s not- I mean… yes. Yes, okay, fine. She’s… yeah. She’s… my girlfriend.”

 

He sounded so defeated saying it that my heart twisted. Gojo bit down on his fist to muffle his snort.

 

“Yes… yes, I promise she’s eating enough,” Suguru continued, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Yes, she’d love to come. And… and Satoru too? Yes, he’s here. He’s fine. He’d… he’d love to come too.”

 

He paused, listening for another long moment, before sighing out a quiet, “Yes, Mom. I love you too. I’ll let them know.”

 

When he hung up, he turned back to us slowly, his face flushed pink across his cheekbones, brows drawn low in guilt.

 

“Before you say anything-” he started, but Gojo cut him off with an obnoxiously loud laugh.

 

“I KNEW IT,” Gojo shouted, pointing at him with both hands. “You cracked like an egg, Suguru!”

 

“Shut up,” Suguru muttered, rubbing his face. He turned to me, golden eyes heavy with guilt. “I’m sorry. She just… she wouldn’t let it go. I didn’t want to deny you but I also didn't want to start something with her...and it just… slipped out. I called you my girlfriend so now she knows that..” His jaw twitched faintly. “I didn’t mention… us, Satoru. I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”

 

Gojo blinked at him once, then scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “Bro, it’s fine. You think I care if your sweet little mom knows we’re fucking? She doesn’t need to know.”

 

Suguru’s brows drew lower, lips pressing into a thin line. “No, Satoru. I mean it. I don’t want you thinking I’m… hiding you. Or ashamed. You’re… you’re my boyfriend too. I love you. You know that, right?”

 

Gojo’s grin softened, losing its chaotic edge. He stepped forward, clapping a hand onto Suguru’s shoulder and leaning in until their foreheads bumped together.

 

“Obviously, dumbass,” he murmured, voice low and warm. “We all know. And your mom’s not gonna care if you’re happy. Plus-” He tilted his head towards me with a wolfish grin. “Now you get to show off your pretty girlfriend and keep your boyfriend. Win-win.”

 

Suguru let out a small, reluctant laugh, his shoulders relaxing under Gojo’s touch. I stepped forward too, slipping my arms around his waist from the side and pressing my cheek against his bicep.

 

“It’s okay, Suguru,” I said quietly. “I don’t mind. I’m… honored, actually.”

 

His eyes flicked down to me, then to Gojo, his expression crumpling into something small and impossibly soft. He let out a slow exhale, curling one arm around my shoulders and using the other to tug Gojo in closer until we were all tangled up in the cool morning breeze.

 

“Thank you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head before turning to brush his lips against Gojo’s temple. “Both of you.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Gojo grumbled, though his grin was brighter than the sunrise behind us. “Now hurry up and tell your mom we’re coming for dinner. I want that pork miso soup again.”

 

Suguru let out a choked laugh, shaking his head. “Greedy.”

 

“You love it,” Gojo shot back.

 

And from the way Suguru’s lips curved down toward mine, and the quiet hum in his chest as he pressed another kiss into my hair, I knew he did.

 

---

 

The weekend came too fast.

 

By noon, I was tearing through my closet like a rabid raccoon, flinging shirts and skirts and sweaters onto my bed in scattered heaps. The sun streamed through the dorm window, catching the frantic way my hands moved as I sorted and discarded each piece.

 

“Too casual… too slutty… too formal… too… me…” I muttered under my breath, tossing a mesh cut-out dress onto the growing discard pile.

 

“Amara, we’re leaving in twenty minutes-”

 

“I KNOW!”

 

My voice cracked, echoing back at me with pitiful desperation. My chest felt tight, my heart hammering too fast. I wanted to look nice. I wanted his mom to like me. But I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard or pretending to be something I wasn’t. I wanted her to see me and think That girl is good for my son.

 

I didn’t even hear the door open until Gojo’s laugh burst through the chaos.

 

“Holy shit,” he cackled, leaning against the doorframe with one hand shoved lazily in his slate-colored slacks, the other fiddling with his blue button-up cuff. “What is this, New York Fashion Week?”

 

“Shut up, Satoru,” I snapped, yanking a hanger out so hard it smacked me in the chin. “Ow- fuck-”

 

Suguru slipped in behind him, adjusting the cuffs of his crisp white button-up tucked neatly into black slacks. His hair was tied back, bangs framing his sharp cheekbones, and the second his eyes landed on me, they softened with quiet worry.

 

“Amara…” he said gently, stepping forward and ducking to meet my eyes. “You’re gonna give yourself an anxiety attack.”

 

I groaned loudly. “I don’t… I don’t know what to wear. I don’t want her to think I’m disrespectful or weird or-”

 

“She’s gonna love you,” Gojo interrupted, though his grin turned a bit softer at the edges. “Trust me. You could show up in my sweatpants and she’d probably cry from happiness.”

 

“That’s not helping,” I hissed at him.

 

Suguru brushed his knuckles down my cheek, thumb catching just under my chin to tilt my face up. “Show us what you’ve got so far,” he murmured, voice low and calm like he was diffusing a bomb.

 

I nodded shakily, stepping back to grab three outfits from the bed and holding them out with trembling hands. “Okay- okay, so… this one’s too casual, right?” I said, pointing to the knit sweater dress with thigh-high socks. “And this one—” I gestured to the fitted black dress with mesh sleeves. “Too clubby. And this one-” I held up a baggy cardigan over a long black skirt. “Too… homeless librarian.”

 

Gojo snorted behind Suguru’s shoulder. “That’s hot librarian to me.”

 

Suguru shot him a glare before turning back to me, his brows knitting together as he considered each piece with genuine focus. His shoulders tensed. “She… she likes modest,” he said quietly. “Nothing too flashy or skin-tight. But she likes… rich colors. Jewel tones.”

 

He moved to the closet himself, flipping through hangers with a frantic edge he rarely showed. “Where’s that plum turtleneck you wore last week… and… and the black pencil skirt-”

 

“Here!” I squeaked, grabbing them from under the pile and holding them up.

 

Suguru let out a quiet breath of relief, taking them from me and pressing them into my chest. “Wear this. Please. With those dark stockings.”

 

“You two are so dramatic,” Gojo drawled, though his grin was wide and amused. He came up behind me, pressing his chin onto my shoulder to look at the outfit. “Nah, that’s perfect. Makes you look smart and hot. She’ll think you’re a nerdy little angel.”

 

Suguru scowled faintly. “Don’t call her that in front of my mom.”

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll call her that privately,” Gojo teased, winking at me when I elbowed him lightly.

 

I slipped into the bathroom and changed quickly, smoothing the dark plum turtleneck down over my chest and adjusting the black pencil skirt to sit high on my waist. I pulled on sheer black tights and stepped into my shiny black loafers. When I stepped back out, both boys froze.

 

Suguru’s jaw slackened slightly, his dark eyes flicking down my figure with quiet awe. “You look… perfect,” he whispered.

 

Gojo let out a low whistle, grabbing his chest dramatically. “Holy shit, Suguru. Your mom’s gonna think we hired a professional girlfriend.”

 

I flushed hot from my chest to my hairline, laughing a little. “Shut up-”

 

“Don’t,” Suguru interrupted firmly, stepping forward to press a soft kiss to my forehead. “He’s right. You look… incredible. She’s going to love you.”

 

Gojo slung an arm around my shoulders, grinning as he pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Now come on, nerds,” he said, herding us toward the door. “If we miss this train, I’m gonna be too hangry to pretend I’m not a horrible disappointment to your dad again.”

 

Suguru rolled his eyes but smiled softly, grabbing my hand as we walked out into the crisp afternoon air, hearts thundering with nerves, excitement, and the quiet hope that maybe today would be a good day.

 

---

 

The train ride down to the countryside was almost three hours long, but Satoru made sure it didn’t feel like it.

 

He forced us into game after game of cards - Speed, Slapjack, Poker, even Go Fish when he got bored. He somehow lost every single time, though I suspected it was just because he kept getting distracted by making dumb jokes or flicking Suguru’s ear every time he tried to concentrate.

 

“Go Fish,” I said for the third time, holding back a grin as Satoru groaned dramatically.

 

“I hate this game,” he whined, flopping over so his cheek smushed against Suguru’s thigh, long legs curled up on the train seat like a giant white-haired cat.

 

“Then stop playing it wrong,” Suguru deadpanned, flicking his forehead lightly.

 

“Mean,” Satoru pouted, though he stayed where he was, eyes fluttering shut contentedly as Suguru absentmindedly combed his fingers through his hair.

 

---

 

By the time the train finally pulled into the small countryside station, the sun was dipping low in the sky, casting long amber shadows across the platform. The air smelled cleaner here... fresh grass, faint woodsmoke, and the earthy bite of late summer starting to curl into early fall.

 

I inhaled deeply, feeling the tight ball of anxiety in my chest loosen just a little.

 

But beside me, Suguru was stiff. His shoulders were squared, jaw tight as he shouldered his overnight bag. It had been… what, a few years since he last came home?

 

“Hey,” I whispered, brushing my fingers over his wrist as we walked down the platform. “You okay?”

 

He forced a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Just… nervous,” he murmured. “It’s been a while.”

 

Satoru slung an arm over his shoulders with a loud, obnoxious yawn. “Don’t worry, Suguru~,” he drawled. “Your mom loves me. I’ll soften her up so you don’t get yelled at for your hair being too long or your pants being too tight or-”

 

“Satoru.”

 

“Right. Encouragement. You got this, champ.” he slaps his butt lightly making Suguru groan loudly.

 

I snorted softly despite myself, earning a small twitch at the corner of Suguru’s mouth. At least it was something.

 

His family home was only a ten-minute walk from the station, down a narrow road lined with tall cedar trees. Small wooden houses lined the street, paper lanterns hanging at the entryways, their soft glow flickering in the growing dusk. Cicadas buzzed low in the distance, fading out as crickets took their place.

 

Suguru’s house was near the end of the road, a modest two-story with a small front garden blooming with late summer flowers. There was a stone path leading up to the genkan entryway, bamboo wind chimes rattling softly under the eaves.

 

He paused at the gate, dropping his bag and turning sharply to us, eyes wide with sudden panic.

 

“Okay,” he said, voice low and fast, “Amara, your hair is-” he reached out to gently fix a few strands that had fallen from my loose ponytail, tucking them carefully behind my ear, his fingers trembling slightly. “And your skirt-” he smoothed it down lightly over my hips, his touch lingering for half a second before moving away.

 

Then he turned to Satoru. “Your collar,” he scolded, grabbing the edges of his button-up to straighten them. “And your hair- for god’s sake, Satoru, did you even brush it this morning?”

 

“I let the wind style it,” Gojo said proudly, earning a withering glare as Suguru tried to flatten down the fluffy spikes.

 

When he was satisfied, Suguru stepped back, taking a slow, shaky breath. I reached into my tote bag and pulled out the small gift I had brought – a delicate box of seasonal wagashi sweets tied with plum and cream-colored cord. Shoko said mom's love this kind of stuff and I chose to believe her

 

“Is this okay?” I asked softly, holding it out to him.

 

His eyes flicked down to the box, then back up to my face, something unbearably soft passing through his gaze. He nodded once, swallowing hard. “Yeah,” he whispered. “That’s… really thoughtful, Amara. Thank you.”

 

I smiled faintly, shifting my grip on the box. “I just… I want her to like me. Satoru paid for it but I picked it out..”

 

“She will love it,” he said firmly, his voice gaining a sliver of its usual steel. “She’ll love you. And she already loves Satoru.”

 

Satoru grinned, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “Damn right! We’re irresistible.” he nudges me lightly making me chuckle.

 

Suguru rolled his eyes but reached for my hand, squeezing it tightly before releasing it to pick up his own bag. He stepped forward, opening the gate and gesturing for us to follow, his shoulders tense but his chin high.

 

“Okay,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Let’s do this.”

 

We slipped off our shoes in the genkan, placing them neatly with the toes facing outwards before stepping onto the polished wooden floors. The faint scent of simmering miso soup and sweet soy sauce drifted down the hall, wrapping around us in a warm, welcoming hush.

 

Suguru exhaled slowly, shoulders dropping just slightly.

 

Then we heard her voice call softly from the kitchen.

 

“Suguru? Is that you?”

 

He swallowed hard, glancing back at us with wide, golden eyes that flickered with relief, fear, and a small glimmer of something close to hope.

 

“Yeah,” he called back, his voice trembling only slightly. “It’s… it’s me. I’m home.”

 

The warm smell of dinner grew stronger as we followed Suguru down the narrow hall. I subtly touched my ears, feeling the small silver hoops I’d left in. I’d removed my piercings before we left, my bridge, nose ring, and gauges, wanting to present myself as respectfully as possible. I felt oddly bare without them, but it felt right for today.

 

The kitchen was bright with soft yellow light spilling from a hanging lamp above the dining table. His mother stood at the stove, stirring something in a small pot. She wore a floral apron over a simple cream blouse and a navy skirt, her long black hair pulled up into a neat bun at the nape of her neck. The ends of her hair curled gently, streaked with faint grays, framing her kind, lined face.

 

When she turned to us, her entire expression lit up.

 

“Suguru!” she gasped, voice rich with relief and excitement. She immediately set down her spoon and hurried forward, wiping her hands quickly on her apron before cupping his cheeks in her palms. “Look at you… you’ve lost weight again. Are you eating properly? You look tired, sweetheart.”

 

Suguru flushed under her touch, his lips twitching into a small, helpless smile. “I’m fine, Mama,” he murmured softly, leaning into her hands just enough to show her he meant it.

 

She tutted under her breath, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones as her eyes flicked to Satoru. Her face brightened even more.

 

“Satoru, darling!” she beamed, reaching out to pat his cheek fondly. “You’ve gotten taller again, haven’t you? My goodness, you’re practically a giant now.”

 

“Aw, you noticed,” Gojo grinned, bending slightly to press his forehead to her palm in a playful bow. “I missed you, Mama Geto.”

 

She chuckled softly, her eyes crinkling with warmth. “You always say that and then you never call me,” she teased, flicking his forehead lightly, earning a yelp. Then her gaze shifted to me, and her entire demeanor shifted into something even softer.

 

“And this must be… Amara, right?”

 

My heart stuttered in my chest. I bowed deeply, keeping my voice clear and respectful. “H- Hello, ma’am. Thank you for having me today. I brought this as a small thank you for your hospitality.”

 

I held out the wrapped box of wagashi with both hands. Her eyes widened faintly before they softened further, and she took it gently from my hands, her fingers brushing mine.

 

“Oh, Amara… what a thoughtful gift. Thank you so much, dear.” She turned it to admire the wrapping before setting it aside on the table. “Please, there’s no need to be so formal. You’re a guest, but more importantly, you’re someone important to my son. You’re always welcome here.”

 

My chest tightened at her words, my eyes stinging briefly before I bowed again. “Thank you… that means a lot.”

 

She reached out and took my hands in hers, her grip small but surprisingly strong. “And you’re so beautiful. Look at this skin, pale and just so many freckles… such clear eyes. And your manners are wonderful.”

 

I flushed hard at her praise, glancing at Suguru for help, but he only smiled faintly, eyes warm with a quiet pride.

 

“Sit, all of you,” she said briskly, releasing my hands to shoo us toward the low dining table. “Dinner is almost ready. I made your favorites, Suguru, chicken nanban, miso soup with nameko mushrooms, and simmered kabocha. And for you, Satoru, I made extra tempura since I know how much you eat.”

 

Satoru perked up instantly, his grin splitting wide across his face. “You’re the best, Mama Geto!”

 

She chuckled softly before turning back to the stove, humming under her breath as she plated the food.

 

Suguru exhaled a shaky sigh beside me, his hand brushing over mine briefly under the table before he pulled it back. I watched him watch her, his dark eyes flickering with emotions too tangled to name.

 

This felt like he was home.

 

Dinner smelled like heaven. My stomach growled embarrassingly loud the moment his mother set the dishes on the table, the scent of fried chicken nanban and simmered kabocha filling the small dining room. Satoru didn’t even bother hiding his excitement, practically bouncing on his knees as he helped place plates, chopsticks, and dipping sauces.

 

“Remember to say it properly,” Suguru warned under his breath, nudging him in the ribs.

 

“I know, I know,” Gojo grumbled, but his grin didn’t fade. “Itadakimaaaasu!”

 

Suguru sighed but echoed him softly. “Itadakimasu.”

 

I bowed my head and whispered it as well, my cheeks already warm. His mother beamed at us from across the table, clasping her hands together.

 

“Eat up, eat up,” she urged brightly. “Suguru, I made your pickled daikon extra mild since you always used to complain about the bite. And Satoru-kun, there’s more rice in the cooker if you want seconds.”

 

“You’re an angel,” Satoru declared dramatically, already reaching for a second piece of tempura before we’d even finished saying grace.

 

Suguru flicked his forehead sharply. “Use your chopsticks properly.”

 

“Aw, c’mon,” Gojo whined, rubbing his forehead but obediently switching to his chopsticks. “Don’t bully me in front of your mom.”

 

His mother laughed softly, shaking her head as she reached to adjust Suguru’s collar absentmindedly. “You two haven’t changed at all… it’s so good to see you like this again.”

 

“Where’s Papa Geto tonight?” Gojo asked again, voice lilting with innocent mockery as he popped a piece of tempura into his mouth. “I was gonna tell him about all the stuff I’ve done recently so I could see that disgusted little eyebrow twitch he does.”

 

Suguru scowled instantly. “Hopefully not coming.”

 

His mother tutted softly from across the table, flicking a damp towel at Suguru’s arm. “Suguru. Don’t be rude about your father.”

 

Suguru stiffened, shoulders tensing as he stared down at his bowl. “I’m not being rude,” he muttered, voice tight. “I’m just being honest.”

 

She sighed softly, her eyes flicking to Gojo with a fond exasperation. “He had to work late tonight. They’re doing audits at the company, so he won’t be back until after ten, maybe later. But I’ll save him some dinner.”

 

Gojo perked up with a wide grin, swallowing his mouthful before leaning back with exaggerated relief. “Great! That means I can eat like a gremlin without being judged.”

 

Suguru shot him a warning glare, his jaw clenching faintly. “Stop it.”

 

But his mother only chuckled, her eyes crinkling with warmth. “Leave him alone, Suguru. Satoru’s just happy to be here.”

 

“Damn right,” Gojo chirped, nudging Suguru’s knee under the table. “Your mom’s the only one who feeds me properly. Shoko just hands me rice crackers and says ‘eat those and drink some water’ like I’m a stray cat.”

 

His mother gasped softly, pressing a hand to her chest. “Oh, that poor girl. She’s always been so thin. Does she not cook for herself properly?”

 

Suguru snorted softly under his breath. “She lives off nicotine and instant miso soup, Mama.”

 

“Mm.” She shook her head, tutting under her breath. “That’s no good at all. I’ll send some frozen meals with you for her freezer.”

 

“I'm sure she'll love that,” Suguru murmured softly, his eyes flicking down, shoulders softening just a fraction.

 

Her gaze moved to me, warm and curious. “And Amara, dear… you’re enjoying the food? You’re so quiet.”

 

I startled slightly, quickly bowing my head. “Ah- yes, ma’am. It’s… incredible. I haven’t had food like this in…” I trailed off, feeling heat rise up my neck.

 

She tilted her head faintly, reading the flicker of sadness in my eyes before she reached out to gently touch my wrist. “You’re welcome here anytime,” she said softly. “You’re too thin. You need more home-cooked meals.”

 

I flushed deeper, glancing away with a shy smile. “Thank you…”

 

Suguru’s lips twitched faintly as he watched us, something small and soft flickering in his gaze. “She likes curry with chicken katsu,” he added quietly, his voice almost bashful. “And… she doesn’t really like raw fish but she’ll eat tuna if it’s cooked. For sweets I really want her to try your matcha swiss rolls. They're just so good and I've never been able to make them like you do..”

 

His mother beamed at him, eyes shining with pride. “You pay such close attention,” she said warmly, reaching out to brush her thumb over his knuckles. “You’re a good man, Suguru.”

 

Suguru flushed faintly, ducking his head. “I… try.”

 

Gojo snorted loudly, shoving another piece of tempura into his mouth. “He’s a sap is what he is,” he teased through a mouthful, earning another flick to his forehead from Suguru.

 

Meanwhile, I was focusing so hard on not messing up my chopstick grip that my fingers were starting to cramp. Every time I set down my chopsticks, I folded my hands in my lap politely, sitting so straight my back felt like it would snap. I kept bowing my head slightly whenever she spoke directly to me, my pulse hammering under my skin.

 

“Amara,” she said sweetly, and I jumped a little. “How long have you and Suguru been dating?”

 

My mouth opened, then closed. I glanced at Suguru helplessly. His cheeks went pink immediately.

 

“Ah- uh, w-we… it’s…” he stammered, scratching the back of his neck. “We’ve been… um… friends for a year at least, but… together… not that long.”

 

She clapped her hands together softly, eyes sparkling. “Oh, that’s so wonderful. I’m so glad he finally found someone as lovely as you. He’s always been so serious, it worried me.”

 

I flushed so hard my ears burned. “I… I’m honored you think so highly of me…”

 

“Oh, of course!” she beamed, reaching out to pat my hand gently. “You’re so polite too. Suguru, you should learn from her.”

 

“Mama,” Suguru groaned softly, hiding his face in his palm as Gojo snorted beside him, slapping his back teasingly.

 

“She’s right, man. You’re lucky she even likes you.”

 

Suguru elbowed him in the ribs, making Gojo yelp and nearly drop his chopsticks again.

 

“Boys,” his mother scolded lightly, though her eyes twinkled with affection. Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, she gasped. “Oh, wait right here!”

 

She stood quickly, shuffling over to a small cabinet by the hallway. I watched curiously as she rummaged through several small boxes before returning with a slim black camera.

 

“Ah- M-Mama, what are you doing…” Suguru started, his voice tight with embarrassment.

 

“Pictures!” she chirped happily, already fiddling with the settings. “I want photos of all of you. It’s not every day my boy brings home his girlfriend and his best friend.”

 

I froze, wide-eyed, as Satoru started laughing so hard he nearly fell sideways off his cushion. Suguru buried his face in his hands again, groaning under his breath.

 

“Mama… please…”

 

“Don’t ‘please’ me, Suguru. Sit up straight.” She shooed Gojo and me closer to him, gesturing for us to gather around. I scooted obediently to Suguru’s side, while Satoru flung his long arms around both our shoulders, grinning like an idiot.

 

“Sei, No!” she sang, clicking the shutter several times. “One more! Ah, Amara, lean your head against his shoulder, yes, like that! So cute… And Satoru, smile properly, don’t just show your teeth like that.”

 

“This is my model face, Mama,” Gojo declared dramatically, tilting his chin up with a smirk.

 

“Your model face is scaring me. Just smile.”

 

He finally cracked, a real grin spreading across his face as the camera flashed again. Suguru peeked through his fingers, his cheeks flushed pink but a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

 

“There,” she said proudly, lowering the camera. “I’ll print these and send them to you, Amara. They’ll be lovely for your album.”

 

“My… album…?” I echoed faintly, my heart fluttering wildly in my chest.

 

“Of course!” she beamed, gently brushing my hair behind my ear. “You’ll need photos to look back on with Suguru one day. It’s important to make memories.”

 

I swallowed hard, my throat tight with emotion. “Thank you… I’d like that.”

 

She patted my cheek softly before returning to her seat, humming as she picked up her chopsticks. “Now, eat up before it gets cold.”

 

Gojo leaned down to whisper in Suguru’s ear, loud enough for only us to hear. “She likes her more than you, y’know.”

 

“Shut up,” Suguru muttered back, but his lips twitched into a small, helpless smile as he watched his mother fuss over the rice cooker again, her shoulders relaxed with quiet happiness.

 

And for the first time in a long time, I saw him look… at peace.

 

---

 

After dinner, when we’d helped clear the table and Suguru’s mother shooed us away from dish duty with a stern wave of her hand, she ushered us into the living room. The tatami creaked under our steps as we settled down around the low table, the warm glow of the overhead light making everything feel soft and golden.

 

“Wait right here,” she said brightly, already rifling through a small chest in the corner. “I’ve been meaning to show these for so long.”

 

Suguru groaned softly under his breath beside me. “Please no…”

 

Gojo perked up immediately, leaning forward on his knees with a grin. “Oh ho? Are we pulling out the forbidden scrolls tonight?”

 

Suguru shot him a withering glare, but before he could respond, his mother turned around with a thick photo album in her hands, the cover worn and corners frayed from years of loving use.

 

“Here we go!” she chirped, settling down across from us and opening the first page. “Amara, come closer so you can see.”

 

I scooted forward obediently, tucking my legs under me as I peered over her shoulder.

 

The first photo was a baby picture. Suguru was a tiny newborn, wrapped up like a pale pink dumpling, with a tuft of dark hair sticking up at the top of his head. His eyes were squeezed shut, his little fists curled tight near his face.

 

“Oh my god,” I whispered, a wide grin breaking across my face. “He’s so tiny.”

 

“He was such a quiet baby,” his mother cooed fondly, lightly brushing her fingertips over the plastic sleeve. “Never cried much. Always just stared up at me with those big eyes… unless I got too far of course. He couldn't stand being separated.”

 

“Mama…” Suguru muttered, his face flushed red as he rubbed the back of his neck.

 

Gojo snickered, leaning forward eagerly as she flipped the page. “C’mon, c’mon, let’s see the next one-”

 

She turned the page to reveal a photo of Suguru at around four years old, sitting in a small inflatable kiddie pool with a red plastic cup, splashing water over his own head giggling, and must have been laughing so hard since the photo is all blurry by the limbs.

 

“Pfft-” Gojo wheezed, slapping a hand over his mouth as tears welled in his eyes. “He’s actually showing emotion. What happened, you brood?”

 

“Shut up,” Suguru grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest as his mother flipped to another page.

 

This one made my breath catch softly. It was Suguru at around ten, wearing a crisp white summer yukata with small indigo cranes printed across it. His hair was tied back neatly, his expression calm and serious, though his cheeks were flushed pink like he’d been embarrassed at being photographed.

 

“He looks like a little prince,” I whispered without thinking.

 

Gojo’s laughter quieted immediately, his grin softening into something warm as he glanced at Suguru’s red ears. “Yeah… he really did.”

 

Suguru cleared his throat roughly, shifting uncomfortably where he sat. “Can we… move on…”

 

“Ah- here,” his mother said brightly, turning a few more pages before pausing. “Here’s one you’ll like, Satoru.”

 

My eyes widened as she turned the album around to show us.

 

It was a photo of Suguru and Satoru together. They looked about thirteen, sitting side by side on the porch outside, bowls of shaved ice balanced on their knees. Suguru’s hair was longer than it was now, tied loosely at the nape of his neck. Satoru-

 

I clapped a hand over my mouth, muffling a surprised giggle. His hair was cut short. Like… really short. It stuck up in spiky little tufts all over his head, the white strands pointing in every direction like an angry dandelion.

 

“Oh… my god…” I wheezed through my laughter. “Satoru… what… what is this…”

 

“NOPE- NOPE GIVE ME THAT-” Gojo lunged forward, trying to snatch the album from her hands, but Suguru caught his shoulder effortlessly, holding him back with a smirk.

 

“Don’t you dare,” Suguru drawled, eyes glittering with amusement despite his earlier embarrassment. “We’re enjoying this.”

 

“YOUR MOM CUT IT LIKE THAT!” Gojo shrieked, pointing at the photo accusingly. “SHE SAID IT’D GROW BACK STRONGER-”

 

“It was so spiky,” Suguru’s mom giggled behind her hand, eyes crinkling with delight. “Every morning it would stick up like that, no matter what he did.”

 

“This is bullying..” Gojo declared dramatically, flopping sideways onto the tatami with a groan. “I'm being bullied.”

 

I couldn’t stop giggling, wiping tears from the corners of my eyes as I studied the photo again. Despite the ridiculous haircut, he still had that same mischievous grin, his sunglasses perched on his forehead, his body pressed close to Suguru’s like it was the most natural thing in the world.

 

“He was always so lively,” Suguru’s mother said fondly, flipping a few more pages to show more photos of them together, Gojo at the summer festival with cotton candy bigger than his head, Suguru trying (and failing) to hold a goldfish scoop steady at the stalls, the two of them napping side by side on the porch, Gojo drooling slightly against Suguru’s shoulder.

 

“He used to come over so much,” she added softly, eyes warm with nostalgia. “I’m so glad he had you, Suguru. You were both always so much happier together.”

 

Suguru swallowed hard, his gaze locked on the photo of their sleeping forms, his expression unreadable. Gojo sat back up slowly, ruffling his short white hair with a sheepish grin.

 

“Yeah,” he murmured quietly. “Same.”

 

And for a moment, the room was silent, filled only with the soft hum of the summer cicadas outside and the warmth of a memory neither of them had ever really let go.

 

Suguru’s mother closed the photo album with a soft, satisfied sigh, brushing her hands over the worn cover before looking back up at me with that same warm, curious smile.

 

“So, Amara-chan,” she said gently, tilting her head. “What about your family? What are they like?”

 

The question made my stomach twist faintly, but I kept my expression smooth, pressing my palms against my thighs under the table. I didn’t want to lie to her. But I didn’t want to… unload the truth either.

 

I forced a small smile and shrugged lightly. “They’re… kinda like Satoru’s family,” I said carefully. “Complicated. Distant. Not very involved.”

 

Her eyes softened with instant understanding, flicking to Gojo, who just grinned lazily and scratched his cheek.

 

“Ahh,” she sighed, her brows pinching faintly in sympathy. “I see… that’s alright, dear. You’re always welcome here, okay? Both of you.”

 

“Thank you,” I said softly, bowing my head. Her kindness felt too big to hold in my chest all at once.

 

---

 

The evening carried on like that for a while longer, soft conversation drifting through the living room. Eventually, the cicadas’ hum outside quieted as night settled fully over the countryside, and Suguru’s mother clapped her hands lightly.

 

“Alright, you three,” she said, standing up with a quiet groan. “Time to show you your rooms for the night.”

 

She led us down the narrow hallway, the tatami cool under our feet. The first guest room she opened was small but warm, with two futons laid out neatly side by side on fresh straw mats. A small vase of fresh-picked cosmos sat by the window, and the shoji screens were cracked open to let the cool evening breeze flow through.

 

“I set these up for you two,” she said brightly, gesturing to the futons as she looked at me and Suguru. “I know you’re dating, but I’d rather you sleep separately under my roof.”

 

Suguru flushed pink instantly, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish nod. “Of course, Mama.”

 

Then she turned to Gojo, who was already pouting dramatically. “And you, Satoru,” she continued, leading him to the smaller guest room across the hall. “You’ll sleep here tonight.”

 

“Whaaaaat-” Gojo groaned loudly, dragging out the vowel like a dying cat. “You’re banishing me to the cold, lonely void, Mama Geto… how could you do this to your favorite... not son-in-law-”

 

“You can’t get in between a dating couple,” she scolded lightly, shaking her head as she slid the door open for him. “Let them have their space.”

 

“But I was his friend first!” Gojo whined, pointing dramatically over his shoulder at Suguru, who only rolled his eyes and chuckled.

 

Suguru’s mom just chuckled, patting Satoru’s cheek affectionately. “Yes, yes. You’re still special, Satoru.”

 

“Damn right I am,” he huffed, flicking his hair back as he stepped into his room. “But for the record, Mama Geto, I’m stealing him back tomorrow.”

 

“You can try,” she teased back, making him grin before she slid his door shut.

 

She turned to me and Suguru with a tired but warm smile. “Alright, you two. Sleep well, okay? I’ll have breakfast ready early.”

 

“Thank you for everything,” I said quietly, bowing deeply before she waved me off with flushed cheeks, muttering something about polite girls making the best wives as she walked away.

 

Suguru blew out a slow breath once she was gone, his shoulders sagging slightly with relief as he turned to me, a faint, tired smile playing at his lips.

 

“Welcome to the chaos,” he murmured, voice warm despite his embarrassment.

 

I just giggled softly, reaching out to brush his knuckles with mine. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

 

Suguru’s mom disappeared up the creaking stairs to her room, the warm scent of tatami and her floral shampoo lingering in the hallway. As soon as we heard her door close, Satoru let out a loud, dramatic groan from his guest room across the hall.

 

“This is where I draw the line,” he whispered harshly, loud enough that it wasn’t really a whisper. “I will lie about many things. I will hide our poly relationship from sweet Mama Geto and pretend to be just the hot best friend. But being denied cuddles? This is a human rights violation.”

 

I stifled a giggle behind my palm as Suguru pressed his thumb and index finger into his brow, exhaling heavily. “It’s one night, Satoru.”

 

“One night too many,” Gojo hissed back, peeking his head out of his sliding door with his hair all rumpled from where he’d been tugging at it in fake distress. “I’m not gonna survive this betrayal.”

 

“Go to sleep, love,” Suguru muttered, pushing lightly at his forehead to shove him back inside, sliding his door shut again before Gojo could protest further.

 

I padded quietly into the guest room, sitting on a stool to begin unrolling my tights from my thighs when I heard the soft murmur of voices in the hallway. I paused, glancing at the thin paper door separating me from the corridor. Their whispers filtered through faintly, blending with the distant hum of cicadas outside.

 

“…would you be comfortable with it?” Suguru’s voice was low, careful.

 

“With what?” Gojo’s tone was casual, curious.

 

“If… if Amara and I were physically intimate without you involved,” Suguru said softly, his voice tighter now, tinged with vulnerability he rarely let slip. “Would that… bother you?”

 

There was a quiet pause. I could almost see Gojo’s thoughtful frown in my mind.

 

“Nah, I'm fine with it,” he whispered back easily, his voice warm and light in that playful Gojo way. “I mean… I get it. You’re feeling a lot right now. Your mom accepts her instantly, wants her here. That’s… yeah. I get it. Gotta get all that 'love' out somehow.” Satoru laughs a little.

 

My chest clenched painfully, warmth blooming under my ribs.

 

“But,” Gojo continued, his tone dipping into teasing mischief, “I will be sneaking in there the second you’re done. And nothing, nothing, is stopping me.”

 

Suguru let out a quiet huff of laughter, and I heard the soft, familiar sound of his knuckles ruffling Satoru’s hair. “Yeah… I'll come get you, don't worry.”

 

“Good,” Gojo said, his grin practically audible. “Because you know I can’t sleep without you two. Even if you are traitorous traitors of traitordom.”

 

"See you soon, Satoru.”

 

“Yeah, Yeah.”

 

Their muffled bickering continued down the hallway, and I smiled faintly, sinking down onto my futon and tucking my legs under the thin summer blanket. My chest felt tight and full at the same time, aching with a softness I didn’t know how to hold.

 

They loved each other so loudly.

 

And I was starting to believe they loved me just as much.

 

 

Chapter 50: Early Morning (NSFW)

I had just slipped my sleep shirt over my head, one of Suguru’s old black t-shirts that fell nearly to my knees, when the door slid open with a soft shhhk.

 

Suguru slipped inside, moving with that quiet grace he always carried, even in cramped doorways and dim hallways. He shut it behind him, the click echoing softly.

 

“Hey,” I whispered, my voice small in the quiet.

 

His eyes flicked over me, and I saw it, the instant softening of his entire face. The tension in his jaw melted, his shoulders dropping as his lips curled into that gentle, smile that always made something low in my stomach tighten.

 

“Hi, sweetheart,” he murmured.

 

Before I could say anything else, he crossed the small space in two strides, cupping my cheeks in his large, warm hands and tilting my face up to him. His thumbs brushed under my eyes, tracing lightly down to my jaw as his eyes roved over my features like he was memorizing them all over again.

 

“God… look at you,” he breathed softly, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud. “You’re so beautiful, Amara.”

 

My chest fluttered and I smiled softly. “You’re not so bad looking yourself~” I teased lightly.

 

His hands slid down to my shoulders, squeezing gently as he looked me over in that deep, searching way that always left me feeling stripped bare in the best way.

 

“You look so fucking pretty like this,” he whispered, his voice dropping lower as his thumbs traced the curve of my collarbones through the soft cotton. “All clean and sleepy… wearing my shirt… knowing I’m the one who gets to see you like this.”

 

A small, needy sound escaped my throat before I could swallow it down, and his gaze snapped to my face, eyes darkening.

 

He smiled faintly, dipping his head to brush his lips against mine in a slow, lingering kiss. His fingers curled into the hem of the shirt, tugging lightly as he pressed closer, his chest warm and solid against mine.

 

“You make the cutest little sounds, y’know that?” he murmured against my mouth, his tone playful but lined with something deeper. His hands skimmed down to my waist, thumbs rubbing slow circles into the soft skin there. “Can’t ever get enough of them…”

 

He kissed me again, deeper this time, one of his hands sliding down to cup the back of my thigh, squeezing gently before letting go. The other drifted up under the hem of my shirt to brush warm, calloused fingers along my bare ribs, making me shiver.

 

“So soft,” he whispered, almost to himself. “So damn soft everywhere…”

 

“Suguru,” I breathed, my hands curling into his shirt at his chest as his mouth moved down to my neck, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses along the column of my throat.

 

“Mm?” he hummed, nipping lightly at the skin just below my ear before pulling back to look down at me again, eyes half-lidded and heavy with affection.

 

“Why are you… being so…?” I couldn’t finish the sentence. My brain was too foggy with his touch, his scent, the heat in his gaze.

 

He chuckled softly, brushing his nose against mine. “Because I love you,” he said simply, like it was the easiest truth in the world. “Because you’re mine. And because tonight… I just want you to feel it.”

 

He kissed me again, slow and deep, swallowing the shaky sigh that slipped from my lips as my knees weakened under his hands.

 

And in that moment, pressed against him in the quiet, lamplit room of his childhood home, I let myself believe it completely.

 

That I was his.

 

That he was mine.

 

Suguru pulled back just enough to look down at me, his thumbs brushing my jaw as his eyes roved over my face.

 

“Lay down for me,” he murmured, voice low but gentle.

 

I smirked faintly, tilting my head as I blinked up at him through my lashes. “Getting bossy already?”

 

His lips curled into a slow, lazy grin. “Always, sweetheart.”

 

But when I didn’t move right away, just stared at him with that same teasing spark, his brows lifted slightly in challenge.

 

“Don’t make me put you there myself,” he warned lightly, his thumbs pressing into my hips just enough to make me gasp.

 

“Maybe I want you to,” I shot back, voice soft but edged with playful defiance.

 

That grin turned sharp. Without another word, he shifted his grip and guided me down onto the futon with a gentle but firm push, his hands bracketing my shoulders as he hovered over me. His hair fell forward, brushing against my cheeks as he dipped down to kiss me again, slower this time, deeper.

 

His tongue brushed mine and I let out a little hum, my hands sliding up to tangle in the loose strands at the back of his neck, pulling him closer. He chuckled softly against my mouth, the sound vibrating down into my chest.

 

“Someone’s needy tonight,” he teased, his lips ghosting across my jaw to my ear. “You’re making those little sounds again.”

 

“Because you’re making me,” I shot back, rolling my hips up just enough to brush against the hardness pressing against his slacks.

 

His breath hitched, and he pulled back just enough to look down at me, his dark eyes half-lidded and burning.

 

“Use your words, pretty girl,” he murmured, brushing his nose lightly against mine. “Tell me what you want.”

 

I swallowed, feeling my cheeks flush as his thumbs traced lazy circles into my waist.

 

“I want…” I started, my voice catching as he pressed a slow, deliberate grind down against me, making my back arch off the mat.

 

“You want… what?” he prompted, his tone teasing but edged with command, his grin curling against my cheek.

 

I narrowed my eyes at him slightly, fingers tightening in his hair as I pulled his face closer to mine.

 

“I want you, Suguru,” I whispered, my voice steady despite the thrum in my chest. “I want your hands on me. I want your mouth. And I want…” I shifted my hips up again, dragging a shaky breath from him. “…all of you.”

 

His grin twitched wider, sharp and wolfish now.

 

“There she is,” he murmured approvingly, pressing a firm kiss to my mouth before shifting down, his hands dragging the hem of my sleep shirt up over my hips. “Using her words like a good girl.”

 

But before he could fully pull the shirt up, I shifted under him and pushed him back just enough to roll us over, straddling his hips with my knees on both sides of him. His eyes widened slightly, and I grinned down at him, leaning forward to press my lips lightly against his.

 

“My turn,” I whispered.

 

He let out a low laugh, hands coming up to rest loosely on my thighs as his gaze roved over me, dark with heat and flickering amusement. “Oh? Gonna take what you want tonight, princess?”

 

“Mmhm,” I hummed, shifting down to grind against him just enough to drag a low groan from his chest. “You started this. Now be good and let me finish it.”

 

His fingers tightened on my thighs at my words, his head falling back slightly against the futon, exposing the long line of his throat. I leaned down and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the pulse there, feeling it flutter wildly under my lips.

 

“Fuck, Amara…” he breathed, his voice ragged now, hands sliding up to grip my waist as I moved against him slowly, deliberately.

 

“You like when I take control, Suguru?” I whispered against his skin, nipping lightly at his collarbone.

 

“Yeah,” he groaned, his hips jerking up into mine as his hands slid up under my shirt to cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples in slow, teasing circles. “Yeah, I fucking love it.”

 

“Good,” I whispered back, pulling back just enough to look down at him with a wicked little smirk. “Because I’m not stopping until I hear you beg.”

 

His answering laugh was broken and low, his eyes dark and half-lidded as he pulled me down into another bruising kiss.

 

“Then make me, pretty girl~” he growled against my mouth.

 

And so I did.

 

I let my fingers drag down the firm plane of his chest, feeling the muscle jump under my touch as I shifted lower, straddling his thighs. Slowly, deliberately, I hooked my fingers under the hem of his shirt and pulled it up, revealing inch after inch of golden skin and defined lines.

 

He sat up just enough to let me peel it off over his head, his hair falling messily around his face. I smoothed it back with my fingers, nails scratching lightly against his scalp before sliding back down to his chest. His eyes fluttered shut for a second at the touch.

 

“You’re so pretty,” I whispered, letting my nails drag teasingly down his stomach until I reached the waistband of his slacks. “Too pretty to be hiding under all these clothes.”

 

His lips twitched into a crooked grin, dark eyes cracking open to watch me. “Then take them off, sweetheart.”

 

“Mmm…” I hummed, unbuttoning his slacks painfully slowly. “Since you asked so nicely.”

 

He chuckled, low and rough, lifting his hips just enough to let me slide them down his long legs. I folded them neatly and set them aside, purposefully ignoring the growing bulge pressing against his black boxers as I let my eyes rove over him.

 

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he warned lightly, his tone dark but playful.

 

“Oh, I plan to finish it,” I said, leaning down to brush my lips against the hard plane of his lower stomach, just above the waistband. He hissed softly, his abs twitching under my mouth. “But on my terms.”

 

His breath stuttered, and his hands moved to grip my hips tightly, fingers pressing bruises into my skin. “Are we getting cocky, now?” he lets out a breathless chuckle. "I think I like this version of you."

 

I laughed softly, shifting back just enough to roll my hips against the bulge in his boxers, dragging a low, broken groan from his chest.

 

"I've got you, baby~" I whispered, leaning forward until my lips were just barely brushing his ear. “Tonight… you’re mine.”

 

His breath hitched, and I felt his chest expand under me as he tried to calm himself. When his hands slid up to grip my waist harder, trying to guide my hips down with more force, I slapped them away lightly, earning a surprised huff.

 

“No,” I said firmly, pulling back to meet his dark, heated gaze. “You don’t get to take tonight.”

 

He growled softly, his jaw clenching. “Amara-”

 

“Ah ah,” I cut him off, pressing a finger to his lips. “You want it?”

 

His eyes narrowed slightly, dark with lust and frustration. “You know I fucking do.”

 

I tilted my head, feigning innocence as I rocked my hips down just enough to make him hiss again. “Then beg.”

 

He let out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut as his chest rose and fell heavily under me. When he opened them again, the heat there almost made me lose my composure.

 

“Please,” he rasped, his voice low and rough around the edges. “Please, sweetheart… please touch me.”

 

I smiled, leaning down to press a soft, teasing kiss to his lips. “Good boy.”

 

His chest rumbled with a broken laugh as I moved lower, my fingers dragging lightly down his sides, feeling every muscle tense under my touch. I kissed down his stomach, feeling the slight tremble in his thighs as I settled between them, my nails scratching gently against his skin.

 

When I finally slid my hand under the waistband of his boxers, feeling the heat and hardness of him pulse under my touch, his head fell back with a low, guttural moan.

 

“Fuck… Amara…”

 

“Shhh,” I whispered, pressing a slow kiss to his hip bone. “Let me take care of you.”

 

Because tonight, I wanted him to feel it.

 

All of it.

 

How much I adored him.

 

How much power he gave me just by letting himself be vulnerable.

 

How deeply he was loved.

 

His fingers curled into my hair, not forceful, just grounding like he needed something to hold onto to keep himself tethered to reality. I flattened my tongue against the underside of his cock, feeling his thighs twitch under my hand as I dragged it up in one slow, languid stroke.

 

“Fuck…” he breathed out, low and rough, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to control his breathing. “Baby… you’re… ngh-”

 

I hummed softly around him, feeling the vibration ripple through his body as his grip tightened in my hair. His other hand pressed over his mouth for a moment, trying to muffle the broken sounds threatening to escape him.

 

“Quiet,” I teased, pulling back just enough to look up at him through my lashes. “You don’t want your mom to hear you, do you?”

 

He let out a strained laugh, his dark eyes flicking down to meet mine, glazed and heavy with lust. “You’re evil,” he rasped, his voice shaking just slightly as his thumb stroked over my cheekbone. “My perfect little demon.”

 

“Mmm…” I hummed, smiling as I pressed a soft kiss to his tip before wrapping my lips around him again, sinking down slowly until he hit the back of my throat. His breath hitched, a quiet, strangled noise escaping his chest before he clamped his hand over his mouth again.

 

His thighs trembled under my hand, and I felt the muscles in his stomach tighten as I hollowed my cheeks, pulling back just enough to tease him before sinking down again, letting my tongue drag along every sensitive inch. He gathers all my hair up in his fist so my hair doesn't get in the way.

 

“Fuck, Amara-” he hissed softly, his voice shaking with the effort of staying quiet. His free hand moved from my hair to cup my jaw gently, thumb brushing over my flushed cheek as he looked down at me with heavy-lidded eyes. “You’re gonna… shit… you’re gonna kill me.” 

 

I pulled back slowly, letting him slip free from my mouth with a soft pop as I looked up at him, my lips swollen and wet. “That’s the plan.”

 

His eyes darkened further, and I saw the moment his resolve snapped. His hand moved from my jaw to grip my hair again, firmer this time, tilting my head back to make me look up at him properly.

 

“You are being such a brat tonight,” he growled softly, his voice low and commanding despite how ragged his breathing was. “If you’re trying to drive me crazy then you've succeeded.”

 

I smiled sweetly, tightening my grip around him just enough to make his breath stutter again. “Not crazy enough~”

 

He let out a low, broken laugh, shaking his head as his thumb brushed over my lower lip, smearing a bit of slick there before pressing it past my lips. I sucked it in obediently, hollowing my cheeks around it just like I had around him, making his eyes roll back slightly as his chest rumbled with a quiet groan.

 

“You’re fucking dangerous,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “So damn dangerous, you know that?”

 

I pulled back just enough to let his thumb slip free, licking my lips slowly. “Then stop me.”

 

His jaw flexed, eyes narrowing as his grip in my hair tightened again. “You want me to take control that badly?”

 

I tilted my head, leaning in to press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of his thigh before meeting his gaze again. “No,” I said softly but firmly, squeezing him just enough to make his breath catch. “I want you to beg for it.”

 

His breath came out in a shaky laugh, his free hand moving to grip the sheets beside him as his thighs trembled under me. “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart,” he warned, his voice low and dark, filled with that dangerous sweetness only he possessed.

 

“Then burn with me,” I whispered back, sinking my mouth down over him again, feeling his entire body shudder under my touch as a muffled, broken sound ripped free from his chest despite his best efforts to stay quiet.

 

Because tonight, I wanted him undone.

 

I wanted him helpless.

 

I wanted him to remember that no matter how dominant he could be… he was just as beautiful when he begged.

 

And I wasn’t stopping until he did.

 

His thighs trembled violently under my hands now, his grip in my hair slipping as his fingers fisted the sheets instead. Every little flick of my tongue, every slow drag of my mouth down to the base and back up, pulled these ragged, desperate little gasps from his chest.

 

“Amara… fuck- baby, please…” he whispered, his voice shaking so hard it cracked over the words. His hand came back to my hair, not to pull me away but to hold on, to ground himself. His other hand pressed over his mouth again, stifling the broken moan that tore out of him when I swallowed around him fully.

 

I pulled back, just enough to catch my breath, my lips swollen and slick with spit as I looked up at him. His face was flushed deep pink, sweat dripping down his temples, eyes blown wide and hazy with lust.

 

“Please what, Suguru?” I whispered, stroking him slowly with my hand as I tilted my head, teasing him with feather-light kisses along his length. “Use your words.”

 

He let out a quiet, strangled laugh, his chest heaving as he tried to focus on me. “You… you’re gonna kill me, baby,” he rasped out, voice low and shaking. “Please… please, I need- I need you. I need to be inside you. I want to be so deep inside you that you can't tell where I end and you begin. Please, baby..”

 

A satisfied smile curled my lips as I rose up onto my knees, slipping my sleep shorts down my thighs before pushing his boxers down all the way. His eyes locked onto me instantly, that sharp, dark hunger flickering in their depths despite how dazed he looked.

 

“Need me to what, again?” I asked softly, straddling his lap, rolling my hips down against him slowly, feeling the way his entire body tensed under me.

 

“Don’t play with me right now,” he breathed, his voice cracking into a quiet, desperate growl. “Please… please, baby, I need to be inside you.”

 

I hummed softly, lowering myself just enough to let his tip push inside, making both of us gasp quietly. I paused there, teasing him, feeling him twitch and pulse under me as I leaned down to press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to his lips.

 

“Beg for it,” I whispered against his mouth, my voice soft but unyielding. “I want to hear you.”

He let out a broken sound, forehead falling forward to press against my shoulder as his hands gripped my hips so tightly I could feel my cursed energy kick in to heal the bruises.

 

“Please,” he whispered, his voice raw and ragged. “Please, Amara. I need you. I need to feel you. I need to be inside you, baby, please-”

 

That was enough.

 

I sank down slowly, inch by inch, feeling him stretch and fill me in a way that made my own breath hitch sharply. His hands flew up to grip my waist, fingers digging in as his head fell back, a quiet, choked moan escaping his chest despite how hard he tried to keep it in.

 

“Look at you…” He rasped, his voice low and shaking as his eyes flicked down to where we were joined before dragging back up to my flushed, overwhelmed face. “So fucking beautiful… riding me so slow… teasing me like this… I love every second of it.”

 

I smirked weakly, rolling my hips in a slow, deliberate circle that made his breath hitch again, his fingers digging deeper into my skin.

 

“I'm glad you're liking the show~” I whispered, my voice trembling with the effort of keeping it steady as I moved on top of him, feeling every inch of him inside me. The stretch burned in the best way, pleasure sparking hot in my core with each slow grind of my hips.

 

His head fell back against the futon, jaw clenched tight, eyes fluttering shut as a broken noise escaped his chest. “Fuck… you’re… ngh… so fucking tight… so good for me, sweetheart… so fucking good…”

 

I kept my pace slow, dragging it out on purpose, loving the way his thighs trembled under me, the way his stomach clenched with every roll of my hips. I leaned forward slightly, letting my hair fall around his face like a curtain as I rocked against him, grinding down just enough to make his breath stutter.

 

“Look at me,” I whispered, my voice shaking as I cupped his jaw in my hands. His eyes fluttered open, dark and glassy with lust, his lips parted as he let out a quiet, broken groan.

 

“Fuck… Amara…” he rasped, his voice cracking as his hands slid up my sides to cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my sensitive nipples through the thin fabric of my top. “You’re… ngh… you’re gonna make me cum just like this… fuck…”

 

I smirked weakly, leaning down to press a shaky kiss to his lips. “Not yet,” I whispered against his mouth, clenching around him just to hear him curse under his breath again. “You don’t get to finish yet.”

 

His breath came out in a ragged laugh, his hands sliding back down to grip my hips again as his eyes narrowed up at me. “You’re dangerous,” he growled softly, thrusting up into me suddenly, making me gasp and clench around him. “Fuuuucckk....You’re- you're everything…”

 

I let out a shaky whine, my thighs trembling harder now as I kept moving, feeling heat coil tighter and tighter in my stomach with every grind of my hips. My breath was coming out in broken little gasps, my hands braced on his chest as my body burned with the effort of keeping my pace steady.

 

But it was too much.

 

The stretch, the heat, the way he looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered, it was too much.

 

My thighs trembled violently as my pace faltered, my breath catching in my chest as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.

 

“Suguru…” I whimpered, my voice cracking. “Please… I can’t… I can’t keep going…”

 

His hands were on my face instantly, cupping my cheeks as he sat up, pressing his forehead to mine.

 

“Shhh, sweetheart…” he whispered, his voice low and shaking as he kissed me softly, his thumbs brushing away the tears that slipped free. “It’s okay… I’ve got you… Let me take over, yeah?”

 

I nodded weakly, my entire body trembling as he flipped us easily, laying me back against the futon as he settled between my thighs. He pulled out for a moment, making me whine at the sudden emptiness, but then he was sliding back in with one slow, deep thrust that made my back arch off the mat, a loud cry ripping free from my chest before his hand clamped over my mouth.

 

“Quiet,” he growled softly, his voice low and rough as he started moving, deep and steady, his hips slamming into mine with enough force to make the floor creak under us. “I love your voice but I need a little less of it right now.” he chuckles softly and breathlessly.

 

The pleasure burned hot and heavy in my stomach, making my entire body shake under him. He pressed his forehead to mine, his breath ragged and hot against my skin as he moved faster, harder, his hand still covering my mouth to muffle the desperate, broken sounds ripping free from my chest with every thrust.

 

“Fuck… you feel so good… so fucking good… my perfect girl… taking me so well… I’m not gonna last, baby… fuck… I’m so close…”

 

I whimpered under his hand, my thighs trembling violently as heat burned through my veins, my back arching off the futon as my entire body tightened around him. I came, gushing around him.

 

He groaned low in his chest, his pace stuttering as his hips slammed into mine one last time before he pulled out quickly, stroking himself with a few rough, desperate pumps before he spilled over my stomach in thick ropes, covering my chest and stomach with a low, broken curse. His breath came out in ragged pants as his forehead dropped to my shoulder.

 

We stayed like that for a moment, both of us trembling and gasping for breath, his hand still covering my mouth as I took deep breaths.

 

Finally, he pulled his hand away, pressing many soft, open-mouthed kisses to my cheeks, my jaw, my lips.

 

“I love you,” he whispered softly, his voice trembling as he pulled back just enough to look down at me, his eyes soft and dark and full of something that made my chest ache. “So fucking much, sweetheart. I would burn down the world for you.” He leaned down to kiss me sloppily.

 

My thighs were still trembling as Suguru pulled back slightly, his breath ragged against my ear. I let out a small, shaky laugh, reaching up to brush his sweaty hair from his forehead before pushing gently at his chest.

 

“Lay down,” I whispered, my voice hoarse and trembling but filled with warmth. “Let me clean you up.”

 

His brows twitched faintly, eyes darkening with tired amusement as he leaned back on his heels, watching silently while I scooted down his thighs. I pressed a soft kiss to the base of his stomach, feeling him twitch as I wrapped my hand around him and slowly, carefully, cleaned him off with my mouth. His fingers tangled in my hair, thumb brushing gently against my temple as he let out a low, shuddering groan.

 

“Fuck… my love…” he rasped softly, trying not to let his hips move, his abs clenching under my touch. “You’re… too good to me…”

 

When I finished, I kissed his thigh softly before sitting back on my heels, my chest heaving as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Suguru smiled, warm and tired, before leaning forward to kiss me slow and deep, tasting himself on my lips.

 

He pulled back with a quiet sigh, tugging his boxers back up over his hips before reaching for a box of tissues on the small shelf beside the futon. He cleaned me up carefully, working silently but efficiently, his fingers soft and sure as he wiped my stomach and thighs, then helped me into my oversized sleep shirt, pulling it down over my trembling body with the same tender reverence he always showed me.

 

“All done,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to my forehead before tucking the blanket around me. I watched, sleepy and quiet, as he moved across the tatami floor, his broad back shifting under his black tee as he stepped out into the hallway.

 

"I'll be right back love." He calls out before fully disappearing.

 

A few seconds later, I heard shuffling and low grumbling.

 

“Suguru … what the hell…?”

 

“Shut up and lift your arms, Satoru.”

 

“Why- oh.”

 

Suguru reappeared, tugging Satoru’s entire futon along the floor by the edge, Satoru still sprawled out on top of it with his limbs hanging off awkwardly. His snowy hair was a wild mess, his sleep shirt lifted up slightly over his pale stomach, one long leg bent while the other dragged across the tatami.

 

Suguru maneuvered the futon expertly, pulling it right up beside his so Suguru was between Gojo and I. Gojo blinked blearily, rubbing one eye with the heel of his hand before giving me a sleepy grin.

 

“Took you two long enough,” he drawled, his voice thick and slurred with exhaustion. “I was gonna sneak in myself, but this works.”

 

Suguru snorted softly, kissing his forehead before flopping down on his other side, pulling his blanket up over his broad shoulders. “Shut up and sleep, brat.”

 

“I am not a brat,” Satoru mumbled, shuffling closer until his long body pressed against Suguru’s, his hand slipping under his blanket to rest warmly on his waist. “You’re both brats.”

 

“Uh huh,” Suguru hummed, rolling closer until his chest pressed against my back, caging himself gently between us. He reached over to brush his knuckles down my cheek, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark with contentment. “Go to sleep, my love. We’ve got an early train back tomorrow.”

 

I smiled sleepily, nuzzling into my blankets as he buried his face in my hair, his warm breath tickling my scalp. Suguru’s hand reached back to settle on Satoru’s hip, his thumb brushing slow circles over the bone as he let out a quiet sigh.

 

"Amaaarrraaa..." Satoru whined.

 

"Satoruuuuuu..." I mockingly whine back.

 

"Give me a kiss before bed.." Satoru says with a pout.

 

I chuckle softly and get up. I lean over Suguru to give Satoru a kiss. Suguru takes the opportunity to just touch and feel my ass. I chuckle softly into the kiss.

 

“Goodnight,” I whispered softly.

 

“Night, sweetheart,” Satoru mumbled, already half asleep.

 

“Sleep well, both of you,” Suguru murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the front of Satoru’s neck before his eyes slid shut.

 

I lay there for a while, listening to their breathing even out, feeling their warmth, and let the quiet comfort of their presence lull me into sleep.

 

---

 

I woke to the faint rustle of sliding paper doors and the quiet whisper of someone kneeling beside me. Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I felt the futon dip slightly under a gentle weight. Suguru’s mother’s warm, lined face came into view, her kind eyes crinkling in a small smile.

 

“Good morning, Amara,” she whispered softly, brushing a stray hair from my cheek. “I’m sorry to wake you so early, dear, but I was hoping you might help me with breakfast before the boys get up.”

 

I blinked, still half-tangled in sleep, but nodded immediately, forcing myself to sit up. “O-of course, ma'am … thank you for waking me.”

 

She smiled wider, patting my knee softly before rising with smooth grace. “Take your time getting dressed, sweetie.”

 

Once she left, I pushed the blankets off, glancing over my shoulder.

 

Suguru was curled up on his side, one arm stretched toward me across the narrow futon gap, his hand resting lightly against my blanket as if making sure I hadn’t drifted away overnight. Satoru was sprawled out on his back, mouth hanging open slightly, his hair sticking up wildly in all directions, a faint snore escaping his parted lips.

 

I smiled softly, heart tightening with affection, before quietly slipping from under the covers. I dug through my overnight bag and changed into a fresh pair of modest cotton pajamas, a simple dark shirt, and loose black sweatpants. I tiptoed out of the room, sliding the door shut behind me.

 

The kitchen was already warm with the scent of miso and fish. Suguru’s mother moved with quiet expertise, her sleeves pinned back as she stirred broth in a small pot, the morning light catching on the silver threads in her dark hair.

 

“Here, Amara,” she said gently, handing me a small towel to dry my hands after I washed them. “Can you slice the green onions for me, dear?”

 

“Of course,” I replied softly, taking the cutting board and knife she offered. I worked carefully, making sure each slice was thin and even, remembering Shoko’s teasing about how everything I cooked usually looked like a raccoon tried to make it.

 

“Such delicate work,” Suguru’s mother praised, smiling at my concentration. “You must cook often at your school.”

 

I flushed faintly, shaking my head. “Not… not really. We have people who handle meals, but I like helping when I can.”

 

She hummed, clearly pleased. After a moment of comfortable silence, she spoke again, her tone curious but gentle.

 

“So… Amara… how did you and Suguru meet?”

 

I swallowed, keeping my eyes on the onions. “Um… we met at school. He was… he was very kind to me when I first arrived. I was kind of a shut-in in but Suguru and Satoru forced me out of my shell a little.”

 

“I can imagine,” she chuckled softly. “He’s always been so responsible. Too serious, sometimes. And Satoru?” Her voice lightened with fondness. “He’s such a bright boy. Always talking so fast I can barely keep up.”

 

I laughed quietly at that, nodding. “Yeah… Satoru is… a lot to keep up with.”

 

She glanced at me, her brows raised faintly. “Was he sleeping in the room with you two last night? I peeked in to see if you needed anything and saw his hair sticking up everywhere.”

 

I flushed, fingers tightening slightly around the knife handle before relaxing. “Ah… yes… um… Satoru… he and Suguru are very close. Like brothers. He… he didn’t want to sleep alone, so Suguru pulled his futon closer.”

 

She smiled widely at that, her eyes creasing. “He’s always been like that. When Suguru first brought him home as a boy, he clung to him like a baby monkey the entire time. I’ve never seen such a fast friendship.”

 

My chest tightened at her warm laughter, and I smiled softly. “They… care about each other a lot.”

 

Her gaze turned thoughtful as she plated freshly grilled salmon and began arranging the side dishes neatly. “And what about you, Amara? Do you… feel at home there? With them?”

 

I blinked, caught off guard by the question. My throat tightened as I thought of Suguru’s warm, calloused hands tucking me in last night, of Satoru’s sleepy grin as he reached for me before drifting off again.

 

“Yes,” I said softly, feeling my chest ache with quiet truth. “Yeah… they feel like home.”

 

She hummed, her smile soft as she reached out to pat my hand. “Good. That’s all a mother can wish for her son… to find someone who feels like home.”

 

I bit my lip to keep from tearing up, focusing on sliding the last of the green onions into the small ceramic dish.

 

“Thank you, Ma'am” I bow.

 

“No, thank you, Amara,” she corrected gently, smiling wider. “For making him happy.”

 

I focused on the green onions I’d just finished slicing, trying to keep the sting behind my eyelids from spilling over.

 

Before I could respond, I felt something shift behind me. A familiar warmth pressed up against my back, and strong arms wrapped gently around my waist, pulling me back into a solid chest. I let out a soft gasp, glancing to the side just as Suguru’s lips pressed against my cheek in a featherlight kiss.

 

“You’re up early,” I whispered, my voice trembling with quiet relief at his touch.

 

“I’ve been up,” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear, his tone low and amused. “Heard everything, you know.”

 

My cheeks burned instantly. “You- you were listening?”

 

“Mhm,” he hummed, squeezing my waist lightly, his thumb rubbing slow circles over my ribs as he tucked his chin into the crook of my neck. “How could I not, when you’re being so sweet… calling her ‘Ma'am ’ like that….being so formal and so sweet..”

 

“Suguru,” I whispered, embarrassed and wanting to melt into the floor, but his embrace only tightened, grounding me in place.

 

“She’s right, you know,” he said quietly, his voice so soft only I could hear. “You feel like home.”

 

Before I could even think of a reply, another figure shuffled into the kitchen with an exaggerated yawn that nearly cracked his jaw in half.

 

“Ughhhhhhh… why is everyone up so early…” Satoru groaned, his hair sticking up in wild spikes, some flopping dramatically over his eyes. He blinked sleepily, taking in the scene of Suguru spooning me from behind as I clutched the kitchen counter, and his mother beaming at us with an amused twinkle in her eye.

 

“Good morning, Satoru!” she chirped, clearly used to his unfiltered morning chaos. “Did you sleep well?”

 

“No,” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes under his glasses with both fists like a grumpy toddler. “I slept on a futon designed for malnourished toddlers. My back is screaming. My knees want a divorce.”

 

Suguru snorted softly against my hair, trying to smother his laugh in my neck. I elbowed him lightly, feeling my lips twitch into a smile despite myself.

 

“Your hair is a disaster,” I teased Satoru softly, trying to ease the flush still warming my cheeks.

 

“Yeah, well,” he sniffed dramatically, flipping a piece back only for another spike to flop forward, “beauty has many forms.”

 

Suguru’s mother laughed brightly, turning back to the stove. “Breakfast will be ready soon, boys. Why don’t you two set the table for me while Amara helps with the miso?”

 

Satoru grunted and shuffled forward to grab the chopsticks and bowls, his pajamas drooping off one shoulder, exposing the pale line of his collarbone.

 

Suguru pressed another kiss to my temple before finally releasing me, his hands trailing off my hips with deliberate slowness that made my breath catch. When he pulled away, I glanced up to see the faintest pink flush on his cheeks, his eyes soft with something unspoken.

 

“Morning,” he whispered, his lips curling into a sleepy, crooked grin.

 

“Morning,” I whispered back, my chest so full I felt like I might burst.

 

And just like that, standing barefoot in his childhood kitchen with the scent of rice and grilled fish curling through the morning air, I let myself believe, just for a moment, that this quiet happiness could last forever.

 

Breakfast was warm and loud, the way mornings should be. Suguru’s mother fussed over all of us, piling more rice into our bowls every time they dipped below half, humming softly as she served grilled salmon, miso soup, and tamagoyaki still steaming from the pan.

 

Suguru sat to my left, calm and composed, but his knee pressed against mine under the table, a quiet grounding weight. Satoru sat across from us, still bleary-eyed and slouched, hair sticking out in every direction as he clumsily used his chopsticks to pick apart his fish.

 

“Eat properly, Satoru,” Suguru’s mom chided gently, laughing when he stuck out his tongue like a child.

 

“Mm tired,” he mumbled, words muffled around a bite of rice.

 

“Then wake up,” Suguru said, flicking a stray grain off his cheek with practiced ease.

 

I watched them bicker and felt my chest ache with something bittersweet. This felt… normal. Like a family. Like a soft, fleeting dream I was afraid to grip too tightly in case it shattered between my fingers.

 

When breakfast was finished and we were gathering our bags in the entryway, Suguru’s mom hurried out of the living room holding something small and glossy.

 

“Amara!” she called softly, her voice warm. “Before you go.”

 

I turned, blinking in surprise as she pressed a photo into my hands. I looked down at it and nearly burst out laughing.

 

It was Satoru and Suguru, maybe thirteen years old, standing in what looked like this exact entryway. Suguru was painfully lanky, all knees and elbows, hair tied back even then, his bangs too long for his face. Satoru stood next to him in a wrinkled polo shirt and black shorts, hair chopped so short it stood up like a thousand tiny spikes. His grin was still the same though, wide and shameless, like the world was his to tease.

 

“I thought you’d like to keep it,” she said, eyes twinkling. “They were such good boys back then. Still are.”

 

My chest clenched painfully. I swallowed around the tightness in my throat and smiled, bowing deeply. “Thank you so much… really… for everything.”

 

She reached out and cupped my cheek softly. “Come back anytime, Amara. You’re always welcome here.”

 

We said our goodbyes, bowing deeply in the entryway, slipping our shoes back on. Satoru teased Suguru under his breath for nearly crying when his mom hugged him tightly, whispering, “Mama’s boy~” which earned him a smack to the chest.

 

And then we were walking down the narrow street, sunlight breaking over the tiled rooftops, the cicadas already singing despite the early hour. The train station was quiet when we boarded, only a few passengers were scattered throughout the cars.

 

The moment we settled into our seats, bags tucked under our knees and the countryside flashing by outside, Suguru and I turned in perfect unison toward Satoru where he slumped against the window.

 

He blinked, blue eyes confused. “What-”

 

We didn’t even give him time to finish. Suguru pressed a kiss to his temple, his cheek, his jaw, while I leaned up and kissed his other cheek, his nose, the corner of his mouth. Satoru froze completely, eyes wide as we smothered him with soft kisses from both sides, each one landing with little mwah sounds that made his ears turn pink.

 

“W-what are you-” he stuttered out, his voice cracking slightly.

 

“Reminding you,” I whispered softly against his cheek, “that you’re loved too.”

 

“You matter to us too,” Suguru murmured, kissing his hairline with quiet affection. “Don’t think we’d ever let you forget..”

 

Satoru swallowed hard, blinking rapidly before a crooked, trembling grin broke across his lips. “Tch… you two are so sappy…” he mumbled, but his voice was thick, his eyes glassy with unspoken words.

 

I pulled back just enough to see his expression, my heart thudding painfully against my ribs. “Yeah,” I whispered, brushing my thumb over his cheekbone. “We are.”

 

“Deal with it,” Suguru added with a small smirk, threading his fingers through Satoru’s hair, ruffling it gently.

 

And as the train carried us back toward the city, the morning sun spilling golden light across our joined hands, I closed my eyes and let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, love like this could last.

 

That maybe, even in a world as cruel as ours, there was still enough softness left to keep us warm.

 

...

 

 

Chapter 51: Midnight Errands

The dream clung to my skin like sweat even after I woke, my pulse thrumming under my ribs in a panicked rhythm. I lay there staring at the cracked ceiling for a long moment, trying to calm my breathing, but every time I closed my eyes, the shadows behind my eyelids twisted back into that nightmare’s shape.

 

I swallowed hard, turning my head slightly.

 

They were both here tonight.

 

Suguru’s long body was curled against my back, his hand splayed wide over my lower stomach under my oversized sleep shirt, his pinky and ring finger dipping into the waistband of my underwear, breathing deep and slow against the nape of my neck. Satoru was sprawled out in front of me, half-hanging off the edge of my twin dorm bed, his white hair fluffed up wildly like a baby owl. His arm was draped loosely over my waist, his lips parted slightly as he snored faintly.

 

I lay there for another minute, feeling their warmth press in on both sides, grounding but suffocating at the same time. My chest still felt tight, the remnants of the nightmare curling cold in my gut.

 

“…Satoru…” I whispered softly, nudging his chest with my knuckles.

 

His bright blue eyes blinked open instantly, clear despite the hour. “Hm?” he hummed, voice thick with sleep but his brain already awake. His eyes flicked over my face, taking in the tension in my jaw. “Nightmare?”

 

I nodded, biting my bottom lip. “I… I can’t go back to sleep.”

 

He reached up and brushed his thumb under my eye, catching the dampness there. “Want me to beat it up for you?” he whispered, lips twitching in a sleepy grin.

 

I huffed a quiet laugh despite myself. “Yes, but I also want to go for a walk. Get snacks or something.”

 

He blinked once. “At 3AM?”

 

I shrugged. “Corner stores are open.”

 

Before he could respond, Suguru let out a soft, grumpy groan behind me. “Why… are we talking…” he mumbled, his voice still deep and rough with sleep, vibrating against my back. He shifted, his arm tightening around my waist as he buried his face into my hair. “It’s… still dark…”

 

“I wanna go out,” I whispered, turning my head to look at him. His golden eyes were half-lidded, unfocused, but he was awake enough to hear me. “Corner store run. Please.”

 

He let out another tired groan but didn’t argue. Instead, he pressed a slow kiss to the back of my shoulder and mumbled, “Ten minutes… to defrost.”

 

“She wants to go now,” Satoru chirped from in front of me, far too awake already, grinning wide as he flicked Suguru’s forehead lightly. “C’mon, lover boy, up and at ‘em.”

 

Suguru grumbled again, but finally pulled away, rolling out of bed after me with a quiet sigh. I stretch my arms above my head with a soft groan. The hem of my sleep shirt lifted, revealing the small silver bar in my belly button and the faint glint of my bridge piercing in the dim lamp light.

 

Gojo let out a low whistle, his eyes dragging slowly down my exposed stomach. “You’re lucky Suguru and I can fight,” he drawled, voice still raspy as he sat up, hair sticking out in every direction. “Otherwise I’d have to start locking you up so no one could see you.”

 

I snorted softly, brushing my hair back into a messy ponytail. “Well lucky for you I'm not going out in my underwear.”

 

“Good.” he chuckled. “You'd have a line of drooling losers and pop stars alike.”

 

I rolled my eyes and reached down to grab the folded pile of clothes by my desk chair. “Speaking of clothes though… look what came today.”

 

I held them up, letting the soft black fabric unfurl in the dim light. Black pajama bottoms printed with little purple skulls and a matching black shirt with a single purple skull on the front. Mine was cropped, hitting just above my navel. The boys’ shirts were normal length.

 

“I used your card like you said I could,” I said lightly, tossing Gojo’s set at his face. He caught them easily despite half-closed eyes.

 

“Worth it,” he mumbled, already pulling his shirt off to change right there in the middle of my room. “Matching fits with my girl and my boyfriend? I'm living the life.”

 

Suguru was slower, still defrosting as he changed out of his loose sleep pants, his movements heavy with leftover sleep. His hair fell forward around his face as he tugged the black shirt down over his toned chest, eyes flicking up to catch me staring.

 

“Like what you see?” he rumbled softly, his lips curling into a lazy, crooked smirk despite his sleepiness.

 

“Always,” I shot back, pulling my crop top on quickly before he could tease me further.

 

Once we were dressed, I slipped my sneakers on and grabbed my phone and keys. Gojo ruffled my hair fondly before shoving his hands in his pockets, slouching lazily as always.

 

“Let’s go, goth skull squad,” he chirped, grinning wide. “We have a corner store to impress.”

 

Suguru rolled his eyes, looping his arm loosely around my shoulders as we stepped into the cool night hallway. “Try not to knock over any displays this time, Satoru.”

 

“That was one time,” Gojo whined as we walked down the dorm stairs, his voice echoing off the quiet walls. “And it was because you distracted me.”

 

I glanced back at him with a sleepy grin. “How?”

 

He smirked, leaning forward to whisper dramatically, “Your boyfriend’s got a great ass.”

 

“Focus, idiot,” Suguru grumbled under his breath, his lips twitching despite himself.

 

---

 

The fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead as we stepped into the corner store, the automatic doors sliding closed behind us with a quiet shhhk. The chill of the AC raised goosebumps on my bare stomach where my crop top ended, and I shivered slightly, reaching for a basket near the entrance.

 

Suguru grabbed one too, yawning into his fist as he shifted it to his other arm. “Get what you want, sweetheart,” he murmured softly, his voice still thick with sleep.

 

Gojo, meanwhile, was instantly wide awake, bouncing between us with chaotic energy, his hair a fluffy white halo under the harsh store lights.

 

“Oooh!” he chirped, grabbing a family-sized bag of shrimp chips and dropping it into Suguru’s basket. “We need these.”

 

“No, you need those,” Suguru deadpanned, earning himself a bright grin as Gojo pivoted to me.

 

“Pretty girl needs snacks too,” he sang, tossing a handful of assorted gummy packs into my basket before I could protest. “For your snack drawer.”

 

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile that twitched at my lips. “I don’t have a snack drawer,” I muttered, reaching for a bottle of peach tea.

 

“You will now. We can't have these snacks in the common room kitchen. Everyone will eat them on me out of spite,” Gojo teased, ruffling my hair again before darting off down the aisles like an overgrown toddler.

 

We drifted together for a while, lingering by the instant curry section as Suguru read the ingredient labels under his breath, his brow furrowed in sleepy concentration. Gojo wandered off again, calling back something about finding the melon pan before the bakery rack was restocked for the morning rush.

 

“I’ll grab some ramen,” I murmured to Suguru, squeezing his arm lightly before turning down the next aisle.

 

“Don’t take too long,” he called softly after me, his voice low with quiet affection.

 

I ducked into the brightly lit ramen section, scanning the endless rows of cup noodles and packet ramen for anything new. My fingers brushed over a limited-edition spicy tonkotsu flavor, and I hummed softly, slipping two into my basket – one for Suguru, one for Satoru.

 

“Hey there.”

 

The voice came from my left, smooth and overly confident. I turned slightly to see a guy leaning against the shelf, hands shoved into the pockets of his dark jeans. He wore a cheap chain around his neck and his hair was styled messily, clearly trying too hard to look effortless.

 

“Hi,” I said politely, turning back to the shelves.

 

“Haven’t seen you around here before,” he continued, stepping closer, his eyes dragging slowly over my crop top and exposed piercings before flicking back up to my face with a smirk. “You from around here?”

 

I forced a small smile, moving a step sideways to look at the instant udon cups. “Yeah.”

 

“Cool, cool… I’m Kai,” he said, his voice dropping slightly as if to sound more attractive. “What’s your name, cutie?”

 

“Amara,” I said shortly, picking up a miso ramen cup and reading the sodium content intently.

 

“That’s a pretty name,” he purred, stepping closer. “Pretty name for a pretty girl. You here alone?”

 

“No,” I said firmly, setting the ramen back on the shelf and reaching for another. “My boyfriend’s here.”

 

He snorted softly, leaning closer until I could smell cheap cologne and stale cigarettes. “Aw, come on. Don’t lie to me. Girls like you don’t need to settle down yet. Lemme take you out sometime. Bet I could show you a way better night than your boyfriend ever has.”

 

I clenched my jaw, ignoring the cold flare of anger that burned hot under my ribs. “I’m not interested,” I said quietly, picking two more ramen cups for Satoru to try. “Please leave me alone.”

 

“Don’t be such a bitch about it,” he snapped suddenly, his voice dropping all pretense of charm. “You dress like that but can’t handle a little attention? Fuckin’ tease.”

 

I felt my cursed energy ripple out violently before I could pull it back, the air around me humming with thick, silent threat. The guy didn’t notice, only scowled at my lack of response.

 

“Hey.”

 

The voice behind me was calm, low, and cold enough to make goosebumps rise up my arms. I turned slightly to see Suguru standing just behind me, one hand in his pocket, his golden eyes narrowed with quiet, measured displeasure. His basket was half full of practical items- onigiri, bottled green tea, fresh-cut fruit. His jaw ticked faintly as he looked at the guy.

 

“You’re in her space,” Suguru said softly, his tone dangerously even.

 

The guy scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Oh, what, you some white knight or something? We were just talking.”

 

Before Suguru could move, another presence appeared on my other side. Satoru slung an arm lazily around my shoulders, his grin bright and manic as he leaned in, his other hand resting casually on the edge of the ramen shelf.

 

“Heyyy,” he chirped, his Six Eyes glinting under the fluorescent lights with unsettling brilliance. “You flirting with my girlfriend? That’s so sweet. Can I get your number too?”

 

The guy blinked, stunned. “Wh- what?”

 

Satoru’s grin widened, stretching too sharp at the edges as he leaned closer, his fingers drumming lightly on my shoulder. “Yeah. She’s got good taste, so clearly you’re cute, right? Let’s go on a date. You and me.” He looks him up and down like meat.  “We can share a love hotel room and see who survives the night.”

 

The guy paled instantly, eyes flicking between Gojo’s too-bright grin and Suguru’s cold, silent stare. His mouth opened, then closed again. Without another word, he turned sharply on his heel and practically jogged down the aisle, disappearing behind the beverage fridge.

 

Gojo let out a dramatic sigh, slumping forward against my shoulder. “Ugh. Why are straight men so gross?”

 

Suguru snorted softly, reaching out to brush his knuckles under my chin, tilting my face up to look at him. “You okay?” he asked, his voice quiet, eyes dark with worry.

 

I nodded then sighed. “Yeah… just… tired.”

 

“Then let’s finish up and get you home,” he murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to my forehead. “Pick a few more. Whatever you want.”

 

Gojo immediately perked up again, snatching two more ramen cups off the shelf and tossing them into Suguru’s basket with a bright grin. “Whatever WE want.”

 

I rolled my eyes fondly. “You’re paying,” I muttered.

 

“Obviously,” Gojo chirped, slinging his arm back around my shoulders as we walked toward the checkout. “My two beautiful babies deserve all the snacks they want.”

 

At the register, I tried to hand Gojo some yen, but he flicked my forehead lightly, shoving my hand back into my pocket. “Nope. My treat.”

 

“Satoru-”

 

“Satoruuu” he mocked. “Let me spoil you.”

 

I sighed but didn’t argue, watching him banter shamelessly with the half-asleep cashier while Suguru wrapped a warm hand around my waist, tugging me into his side.

 

“Let him have this,” Suguru murmured softly against my temple. “He likes taking care of us.”

 

“I know,” I whispered back, pressing closer to him as Gojo turned around with three bags hanging from his arms and the brightest grin I’d ever seen.

 

“Alright skull squad,” he chirped, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet store. “Let’s go home and eat ramen in bed like the sad college students we are.”

 

“Hell yeah,” I whispered, smiling despite myself.

 

---

 

The walk back to the dorms was quiet except for the soft hum of streetlights and the whisper of their feet against the pavement. Tokyo’s distant glow burned low on the horizon, the city that never truly slept casting a ghostly orange over the trees lining the school’s outer walkways.

 

Gojo walked ahead, swaying side to side and when he would adjust the bag he was holding his pajama top would ride up just enough to flash a pale strip of skin every few steps. His fluffy hair glowed white under each passing streetlight like fresh snow in moonlight.

 

He turned around, walking backward, smiling big at Suguru and I. Almost like he missed seeing our faces.

 

“Watch it, Satoru,” I hissed softly, jogging a few steps to catch up before he tripped over his own feet. “You’re gonna eat shit and wake up the entire countryside.”

 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he teased back, tilting his head with a wolfish grin. “Maybe I want you to patch me up, pretty girl~”

 

“Or maybe,” I shot back, smacking his arm lightly, “you could walk like a normal person for once.”

 

Behind us, Suguru chuckled softly, his voice still sleep-rough and low. “You two are gonna wake up the entire dorm with your bickering,” he murmured, adjusting the bags in his grip as his hair brushed against his shoulders. Even half-asleep, he still carried himself with quiet, unbothered elegance.

 

“Then they can wake up and admire our matching pajamas,” Gojo chirped, twisting to walk backwards and flinging his arms out dramatically. “Look at us! Fashion icons of Jujutsu Tech.”

 

I snorted, tugging my oversized crop top down a little where it rode up over my ribs, exposing my piercings to the chilly dawn air. “You’re just mad mine looks better,” I teased, sticking my tongue out at him.

 

He gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “Excuse me- I make this skull print look amazing. You’re just lucky Suguru and I are... well... Suguru and I, otherwise people would be trying to snatch you up off the street looking like that.”

 

“Shut up.” I said flatly, elbowing him as he turned back around, though the flush rising in my chest betrayed me.

 

Suguru only shook his head with a tired smile, reaching out to slip his free hand into mine as we walked up the stone steps to the school dorm entrance. “You both look beautiful,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over my knuckles as he glanced at Satoru with quiet amusement. “But please… don’t make me fight anyone at four in the morning. I will... but I really don't want to.”

 

“In one ear and out the other,” Gojo teased.

 

Suguru sighed.

 

---

 

The dorm common room was dark when we stepped inside, lit only by the faint glow of street lamps filtering through the curtains. The kitchen tile was cold under our socked feet as we moved around each other in sleepy choreography.

 

“Okay,” I whispered, pulling out the ramen cups and setting them down in a neat line. “Suguru, boil the water. Satoru, find the chopsticks.”

 

“Bossy,” Gojo teased, ruffling my hair as he moved to the drawers. “I like it.”

 

“Quiet,” I shot back, though a small smile curled at my lips. I glanced over at Suguru, who stood at the kettle, his hair falling forward in his face as he waited for the water to boil.

 

“What?” he asked softly, catching me staring.

 

“Nothing,” I whispered, leaning against the counter with a soft sigh. “Just… glad you’re both here.”

 

His eyes softened, and he reached out, brushing his knuckles under my chin before tilting my face up to press a warm, slow kiss to my lips. “Always,” he murmured against my mouth.

 

“Oi, lovebirds,” Gojo called softly from the utensil drawer, holding up three sets of chopsticks triumphantly. “Save it for after ramen.”

 

I flipped him off lazily as Suguru chuckled, pouring steaming water into each cup, the scent of miso and tonkotsu filling the quiet kitchen. Gojo set the chopsticks down with exaggerated care, then reached out to pull at the hem of my crop top. My nipples were clearly visible.

 

“Cold?” he teased, poking my side lightly and making me flinch.

 

“Stop!” I hissed, smacking his hand away as Suguru rolled his eyes fondly.

 

“You two are so loud,” Suguru muttered, shaking his head as he snapped the lids closed to let the noodles steep. “Try not to wake the entire campus before sunrise.”

 

“No promises,” Gojo whispered back with a manic grin.

 

We settled down on the couch together, cradling our steaming ramen cups in our hands as we huddled under a thin fleece blanket Gojo dragged off the back of the couch. The only light came from the vending machine in the far corner, casting us in faint electric blue.

 

I lifted my cup to my lips, inhaling the rich scent of spicy miso butter ramen with grilled corn. It smelled amazing. But as soon as I took a sip of the broth, I almost gagged. It was… so buttery. Like drinking melted butter with spice and salt.

 

I swallowed it down anyway, refusing to make a face. Suguru slurped his tonkotsu broth quietly beside me, his golden eyes half-lidded with sleepy contentment. Gojo, sprawled on my other side with his knees folded up to his chest, was already stuffing his face with his own cup of seafood curry ramen, humming softly under his breath.

 

“Do you like it?” Suguru murmured, glancing at me as he used his chopsticks to lift a tangle of noodles to his mouth.

 

“Mmhmm,” I hummed, nodding quickly as I forced down another mouthful, trying to hide the way my throat tightened at the oily richness.

 

But Gojo wasn’t fooled. He watched me over the rim of his cup, his bright blue eyes flickering with mischievous concern. “Hey,” he said softly, elbowing me lightly. “Want to try mine?”

 

I blinked, glancing over at him with wide eyes. “I’m okay, Satoru-”

 

“Try it,” he insisted, thrusting his cup toward me.

 

I sighed softly and took it, lifting it to my lips for a cautious sip. The curry flavor was warm and mellow with a deep seafood umami undercurrent that made my chest bloom with cozy comfort. My eyes widened immediately.

 

“Oh my god…” I whispered before I could stop myself, my shoulders relaxing as the tension melted out of me. “This is… really good.”

 

Gojo grinned lazily, reaching over to pluck my cup from my hands. “We can switch,” he chirped, already starting to slurp down my spicy butter broth without a single flinch. “I’ll eat anything.”

 

I flushed slightly, ducking my head as I wrapped both hands around his cup and began eating in small, eager bites. The flavor coated my tongue in warm, familiar comfort, and before I could stop myself, I let out a small, muffled squeak of happiness and wiggled lightly where I sat.

 

Suguru’s lips twitched into a small smile as he watched me. “Happy, sweetheart?” he asked softly, his tone lined with warmth.

 

I nodded quickly, swallowing another mouthful before shooting Gojo a grateful smile. “Thank you, Satoru.”

 

He only grinned wider, mouth full of noodles as he chewed with obnoxious gusto. “Don’t mention it,” he mumbled thickly, pointing his chopsticks at me dramatically. “Your food wiggles are worth it.”

 

“Food wiggles?” I hissed, flushing harder.

 

“Yeah,” he teased, slurping loudly. “You always do that little shimmy when you really like something. It’s cute.”

 

“Stop bullying her,” Suguru drawled sleepily, flicking him lightly as he finished off the last of his tonkotsu broth. “Though… he’s not wrong. It is very cute.”

 

“Traitor,” I muttered under my breath, though the warmth blooming in my chest betrayed me.

 

Gojo only grinned wider, leaning over to press a quick, sloppy kiss to my temple before slurping down the last dregs of my abandoned spicy broth. “You’re lucky I’m basically a human dumpster,” he teased, licking his lips with exaggerated satisfaction. “Nothing goes to waste on my watch.”

 

I snorted softly despite myself, ducking my head as I ate another mouthful of curry noodles, feeling Suguru’s warm hand settle over my thigh under the blanket.

 

And under flickering vending machine light, with Gojo slurping noodles like a starving raccoon and Suguru’s calm warmth pressed close at my side, the quiet ache in my chest finally eased.

 

Just a little.

 

---

 

Gojo slurped down the last of my abandoned butter ramen, humming happily under his breath like an oversized white-haired cat. Beside me, Suguru shifted slightly, lifting his cup to his lips before glancing down at me with that small, quiet smile that made my chest flutter every time.

 

“Wanna try some of mine, sweetheart?” he asked softly, his voice low and warm.

 

My eyes lit up immediately, and I nodded, setting down Gojo’s curry cup in my lap. “Yes, please,” I whispered.

 

His lips twitched faintly, eyes flickering with affection. He shifted his chopsticks in his long fingers and gathered a neat little bundle of noodles, lifting them carefully to my lips. I leaned forward obediently, parting my lips to take the noodles gently from his chopsticks. The broth was deep and creamy, savory with a quiet sweetness from the pork bone base. My eyes fluttered shut for a second as the warmth bloomed through my chest.

 

When I pulled back, Suguru chuckled softly, reaching up to brush his thumb along the corner of my mouth where a small drop of broth clung. “Messy girl,” he murmured affectionately, wiping it away before pressing his thumb lightly to my bottom lip. His gaze was soft and heavy-lidded, a faint smile curling the edge of his mouth. “Good?”

 

I swallowed and nodded quickly, my cheeks flushing as I squirmed where I sat, doing another quiet happy wiggle before I could stop myself. “Really good…”

 

Beside me, Gojo snorted softly, though his grin was lazy and fond. “There she goes again,” he teased, but his voice was gentle, teasing without sting.

 

“Here,” I said softly, gathering a small bite of curry ramen onto my chopsticks before holding them out to Suguru with a shy smile. “Try some.”

 

He raised a brow faintly, but his lips twitched upward as he leaned forward, wrapping his lips around the chopsticks delicately. He chewed for a moment, then hummed softly in approval. “Not bad,” he murmured. “Better than that butter mess you had.”

 

“Hey,” Gojo cut in dramatically, flicking his chopsticks at Suguru. “That butter mess is fueling my godlike metabolism, thank you very much.”

 

Suguru rolled his eyes but smiled, gathering another bite of his own ramen before glancing lazily at Gojo. “You want some?” he asked softly.

 

Gojo blinked, his blue eyes widening slightly in surprise before his grin softened into something almost shy. “Yeah,” he said quietly, leaning forward with his mouth slightly open.

 

Suguru chuckled under his breath and lifted the noodles to Gojo’s lips, feeding him carefully. Gojo slurped them up with surprising delicacy, chewing quickly before swallowing with a happy sigh.

 

“That’s good,” he mumbled, licking his lips as his grin returned in full force. “You always pick the best flavors, Suguru.”

 

Suguru rolled his eyes again but his expression softened as he watched Gojo, his thumb brushing lightly over Gojo’s chin to wipe away a stray drop of broth. “Messy boy,” he murmured with the same fond chiding he’d given me.

 

Gojo only grinned wider, leaning into Suguru’s touch like an overgrown puppy. “Yeah, yeah,” he teased, but his voice was thick with quiet affection.

 

I watched them, my chest aching with something warm and sweet. Suguru’s calm strength at my side and Gojo’s chaotic brightness curled up against my other, I felt that deep, quiet peace settle over me again.

 

Here, under thin fleece blankets and with the smell of cheap curry broth curling around us, I felt… safe. Loved. Home.

 

And as I slurped another mouthful of curry ramen with a little food wiggle, both of them chuckled softly beside me, their hands brushing lightly over my thighs under the blanket.

 

Yeah.

 

This was home.

 

 

Chapter 52: Alone Date (Suguru)

I found him exactly where I expected, cross-legged on his floor cushion, black hair tied back loosely as he flipped through a small paperback novel. The late morning sun angled through his window, catching the fine strands of his bangs as they fell around his sharp cheekbones. His room smelled faintly of cedar and old incense, a grounding scent that always made my chest feel… calm.

 

“Suguru,” I murmured softly, leaning my arms against the doorframe and resting my cheek on them. “You busy?”

 

His golden eyes flicked up, one brow arching slightly. “Always,” he deadpanned, his lips twitching faintly at the corners. “But come in.”

 

I padded across the wood floors, dropping to my knees beside him and peering at the cover of his book. “Another philosophy text?” I asked, tilting my head with a quiet smile.

 

“Mmm,” he hummed, slipping a bookmark between the pages before setting it aside. “Needed something less violent after last night’s cursed readings.”

 

I chuckled softly, shifting forward until I could curl myself into his lap, folding my legs to the side as I tucked my cheek against his chest. He let out a quiet huff of laughter, one large palm settling instinctively on my hip as the other lifted to brush my hair behind my ear.

 

“What is it, sweetheart?” he murmured, his voice low and warm against the crown of my head.

 

I hesitated, feeling his thumb trace slow circles into the curve of my waist, grounding me. “I… want you to teach me,” I whispered softly, picking at the hem of his shirt. “How to cook… like your mom does.”

 

His chest rose under my cheek with a slow inhale, and when I glanced up at him, his lips were parted slightly, eyes soft with surprise and something deeper.

 

“You… want me to teach you my mom’s recipes?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

 

I nodded, chewing my lip, “You always… you look so calm when you cook. And you love her food so much. I… I want to make you something like that. Even if it’s not as good.”

 

A quiet smile curved his mouth, small and achingly tender as he leaned down to press a featherlight kiss to my temple.

 

“Alright,” he murmured, brushing his nose against my hair. “Let’s go shopping for some stuff then.”

 

---

 

The grocery store was quiet, mid-morning shoppers drifting through the aisles at a slow, meandering pace. Suguru walked beside me with one hand resting lightly against my lower back, guiding me down the produce section. I noticed it immediately, the way he seemed to shrink himself down when people passed, his shoulders tensing as they brushed too close.

 

Without thinking, I shifted closer, placing myself subtly between him and the oncoming shoppers. His hand flexed slightly against my back, and when I glanced up, his mouth was curved in a faint, secret smile.

 

“What?” I asked, narrowing my eyes playfully.

 

“Nothing,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss my nose lightly. “My little guard dog.”

 

“Woof,” I deadpanned, making him snort softly under his breath.

 

We stopped in front of a pyramid of glossy eggplants. Suguru reached out, turning one in his hand with quiet deliberation before setting it back down. “Tell me which one you’d pick,” he said, nodding toward the pile.

 

I blinked, scanning the vegetables before picking out a plump, deep purple one with a small curve at the tip. “This one,” I said confidently, holding it up for his inspection.

 

He hummed thoughtfully, taking it from my hand and turning it in his palm. “Almost,” he said gently, holding it up beside another eggplant he plucked from the pile. “See here?” He tapped the stem lightly. “Yours is good, but this one has a firmer cap and deeper shine. That means it’s fresher. You can feel it too.”

 

He pressed both into my hands, guiding my fingers to squeeze near the stem. “See?”

 

I nodded, feeling the difference immediately. “Oh… yeah… yours is firmer.”

 

He chuckled softly, his voice low and amused. “Story of my life.”

 

“Suguru!” I hissed, smacking his arm lightly as heat flared in my cheeks.

 

“What?” he teased, his grin sharp and playful before he leaned down to press a soft kiss to my forehead. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

 

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile that tugged at my lips as we moved down to the greens. I watched him as he inspected spinach bundles, running his thumb over the stems with slow deliberation.

 

“You always look so serious when you shop,” I murmured, reaching out to brush my fingers over his wrist lightly.

 

His golden eyes flicked up to me, unreadable for a moment before softening. “Food is serious,” he said simply, placing a bundle in our basket. “It keeps you alive. Keeps you strong. It’s… a way to care for people. To help them.”

 

I swallowed hard, feeling my chest tighten. “You’re… really amazing, you know that?” I whispered.

 

He scoffed softly, flicking my forehead lightly. “Stop it.”

 

“No,” I shot back, grinning as I stepped closer, pressing my side against his. “Never.”

 

His quiet laughter rumbled through his chest, vibrating into mine as he leaned down to kiss me, slow and warm, right there under the buzzing fluorescent lights. I kissed him back, feeling the faint scratch of his chin, the solid, comforting heat of his body against mine.

 

When he pulled back, his eyes were dark and soft. “Come on, little chef,” he murmured, fixing my hair lightly over my shoulder. “Let’s get you some rice vinegar and dashi stock. Mama Geto would cry if she saw our pantry.”

 

“I’m learning!” I protested, laughing as I grabbed the basket from his hand and followed him down the aisle, my chest buzzing with something warm and alive.

 

---

 

We walked back through the quiet late morning streets, bags in hand, the cicadas already buzzing with lazy summer heat. Suguru carried the heavier bags effortlessly, his grip loose and confident, while I walked happily beside him, humming under my breath.

 

“What are you singing?” he asked, flicking his golden eyes down at me with faint amusement.

 

“That pop song Satoru kept playing the other day.” I chuckled softly, swinging my smaller bag dramatically so it tapped his leg every few steps.

 

He sighed softly, though his lips twitched with the smallest smile. “You’re in a mood today.”

 

“I’m always in a mood. A happy mood when I'm with you.” I shot back, leaning my shoulder against his arm for a moment before skipping ahead to push the dorm door open.

 

---

 

The kitchen was quiet and bright, the stainless steel counters reflecting pale midday sunlight. Suguru set the bags down on the counter, rolling his shoulders back with a soft groan. I eyed him from behind, my lips curling into a mischievous grin as I slipped my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek between his shoulder blades.

 

“Thank you for teaching me,” I whispered softly, feeling his warmth soak into my chest. “You’re the best.” I kissed his back.

 

“Mmm,” he hummed, reaching back to pat my head lightly. “You’re just saying that so I don’t scold you when you ruin the miso soup.”

 

I pulled back just enough to swat his arm lightly. “Rude,” I pouted.

 

“Honest,” he corrected smoothly, turning around to face me, his broad frame boxing me in against the counter. His lips curled into a slow grin as he leaned down, brushing his nose against mine. “But… if you’re a good girl and pay attention, I’ll reward you later.”

 

A shiver ran down my spine at his low, making me giggle. “Yes, Geto-sensei! Teach me your ways!” I bow deeply.

 

He laughs and lifts me back up.

 

---

 

Cooking with Suguru felt… different than cooking alone. He moved so smoothly between steps, rolling up the sleeves of his black shirt to reveal strong forearms dusted with faint scars from curses and kitchen burns alike. I watched him measure out dashi stock and mirin with that same quiet focus he used on missions.

 

“Okay,” he said, setting down the bottle. “Your turn. Cut the daikon into thin matchsticks.”

 

“Easy,” I chirped, grabbing the small knife he handed me. I pressed the daikon onto the cutting board and started slicing, tongue poking out slightly in concentration. The first few pieces were good then turned thick and uneven, some slanted like sad little wedges.

 

“Amara…” Suguru sighed softly, amusement thick in his voice as he stepped behind me. “Here.”

 

He pressed his chest against my back, his warm solid weight enveloping me as his large hands wrapped around mine on the knife handle. I felt his breath on my ear, his hair tickling my cheek as he spoke low and quiet.

 

“Grip it like this,” he murmured, adjusting my fingers slightly, his thumbs brushing over my knuckles. “And use your other hand to brace the daikon… keep your fingertips curled in so you don’t cut yourself.”

 

“Mm…” I hummed, my cheeks flushed hot as I tried to focus, but his scent and warmth were making my head fuzzy.

 

“Focus, sweetheart,” he chuckled softly, pressing a light kiss just below my ear. “You’re so distracted… just like Satoru.”

 

“Hey!” I protested weakly, giggling despite myself. “I’m nothing like Satoru!”

 

“You’re both geniuses who can’t stay focused for more than ten seconds unless someone’s actively dying,” he drawled, a playful bite in his tone as he guided my hand down, slicing the daikon into perfectly thin matchsticks. “But that’s okay. Makes you interesting.”

 

I pouted, but my chest fluttered at his words. “You think I’m interesting?”

 

He hummed, pressing another kiss to my temple before pulling back slightly to look down at me. His golden eyes were soft, a quiet fondness flickering in their depths.

 

“I think you’re… endlessly interesting,” he said softly, his voice rough at the edges. “And endlessly distracting.”

 

“Mm… good,” I whispered, leaning back against him with a little smirk. “Because you’re endlessly hot.”

 

He let out a quiet laugh, low and rough, before leaning down to kiss me properly, slow and warm, his lips moving against mine in a way that made my knees weaken.

 

When he pulled back, his grin turned sharp. “Back to work, my little sous chef. We’re not done yet.”

 

“Yes, sensei,” I sighed dramatically, turning back to the cutting board with pink cheeks and a buzzing chest as he guided my hands again, his deep voice rumbling low against my ear.

 

Suguru guided my hands for a little while longer before pulling back to let me try on my own. I focused intently, keeping my fingertips curled just like he showed me, carefully slicing each piece of daikon into thin, even matchsticks. The quiet snick snick of the knife against the cutting board filled the dorm kitchen, mingling with the low simmer of dashi on the stove.

 

“Good job,” he murmured softly, standing beside me now instead of behind, his hip brushing mine lightly as he reached for the tofu block. “You’re getting it. See how even they are now?”

 

I glanced at him quickly, feeling my chest flutter at the small proud smile curling his lips. “Yeah… thanks to you.”

 

He hummed, setting the tofu down and pulling out another knife. “Now… cut this into small cubes, like this.”

 

I watched as his hands moved with practiced precision, the knife gliding effortlessly through the soft tofu without crumbling it. He passed the knife to me, nodding slightly. “Your turn.”

 

I swallowed and copied him carefully, moving slower than he did but making sure each cut was clean. We worked side by side in comfortable silence, the only sounds the bubbling broth and the quiet thud of knife against board.

 

Suguru didn’t speak unless he was giving me a small correction or quiet praise, and I didn’t speak unless I had a question. It wasn’t awkward. It felt… peaceful. Like the silence itself was another person in the kitchen, sitting quietly with us, warm and unintrusive.

 

When I finished cubing the tofu, I set the knife down and exhaled softly, glancing up at him. He was looking at me already, golden eyes dark with something quiet and fond.

 

“What?” I asked softly, my voice barely above a whisper in the warm, simmering hush.

 

He shook his head faintly, lips twitching into a small smile. “Nothing,” he murmured. “Just… you’re beautiful when you’re focused.”

 

I flushed, ducking my head quickly as I reached for the whisk to stir the miso paste into the hot broth. “Don’t distract me,” I mumbled, trying to keep my voice steady as warmth pooled low in my stomach.

 

He chuckled, low and rough, leaning down to brush his lips against my temple. “Never.”

 

We continued in silence after that, working in tandem. He chopped the green onions while I peeled the ginger, his quiet humming filling the space between us like sunlight through leaves. Every so often, he would reach over to tuck a stray hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my cheek for a moment before returning to his work.

 

I didn’t try to fill the silence with jokes or chatter like I might have with Satoru. I didn’t need to. Suguru’s presence welcomed calm and comfort. His quiet focus grounded me, anchored me to the warmth of the stove, the smell of miso and simmering vegetables, the gentle rhythm of cooking with someone you loved.

 

And in that stillness, in that soft domestic peace, I felt something bloom warm and steady in my chest.

 

I wanted this.

 

I wanted mornings and nights like this, quiet kitchens and shared meals, his hands guiding mine until I learned to make him smile like that every time.

 

“Hey,” he said softly, breaking the silence as he poured the soup into two small bowls and set them carefully on the counter.

 

I blinked up at him, lost in thought. “Yeah?”

 

He leaned down, brushing his nose lightly against mine. “Taste test.”

 

I laughed softly, picking up the warm bowl and blowing on it gently before taking a small sip. The savory miso and soft tofu melted across my tongue, the flavor rich and deep.

 

I hummed happily, my lips curling into a bright smile. “It’s good! Like actually good!”

 

Suguru chuckled, picking up his own bowl and tapping it lightly against mine. “That’s because you helped.”

 

I flushed faintly, ducking my head to hide my smile as we stood side by side, sipping hot miso soup under the quiet hum of cicadas outside the window, letting the silence settle softly around us like the warm summer night it was.

 

Suguru set his empty bowl on the counter, letting out a soft breath like he didn’t want to break the moment but couldn’t hold something back anymore.

 

His fingers brushed mine, hesitant, like they were asking permission.

 

“…Can I say something a little sentimental?” he murmured, not quite meeting my eyes. “Just- don’t make a big deal out of it... being sentimental is only something I'm okay with around you and Satoru...”

 

I turned to him, my voice soft and sure. “Of course. You’re safe with me, love.” I gently touch his hip.

 

He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, his hands finding my waist like they were drawn there. He leaned down until his forehead rested gently against mine, his breath warm between us.

 

“I feel…” He swallowed, voice lower now, laced with something raw. “I feel like this- you, this kitchen, this soup we made- it’s going to be the memory I go back to when everything else falls apart.”

 

My heart clenched, breath catching as he continued.

 

“You standing beside me, watching so carefully, not just to learn but because you care- it makes me feel things I didn’t think I was still capable of. Like I’m something more than just the power people want to use. Like I’m allowed to be soft. Human.”

 

His hands slid up my sides, fingers tracing slowly along the curve of my ribs, and his voice dropped again, warm and reverent.

 

“You see all of me. The messy parts. The dangerous ones. You don’t flinch. You invite me in. You stay.”

 

He kissed my temple, then my cheek, then the corner of my mouth, soft and slow and lingering like he couldn’t help himself.

 

“I’m overwhelmed by it, Amara,” he whispered. “By how much I want to be close to you. How good it feels when you look at me like this.”

 

His arms wrapped tighter around me, his lips brushing just below my ear now.

 

“And it turns me on,” he added roughly, voice barely more than a breath. “Not just the way you look, but the way you give. The way you trust me. It makes me want to tear the world apart and build you a quieter one.”

 

The way he held me then, desperate, reverent, like he still couldn’t get close enough, made my chest ache. Not with fear or embarrassment, but with something just as intense as what he felt. I didn’t say anything at first. I just took a shaky breath and reached for his hand.

 

“Come here,” I said softly, guiding him gently across the tile and into the open common room.

 

The couch sat empty in the setting sunlight, worn and familiar. I sat first, then pulled him down with me, his body folding around mine immediately, like he’d been waiting for that permission to let go.

 

His hands slid over my arms, my waist, my back- touches not demanding but needing, his forehead pressing to my collarbone.

 

And then, slowly, quietly, I reached for the hem of my shirt and tugged it over my head.

 

Suguru froze, his breath stalling against my skin as I sat there in just my bra and the soft cotton waistband of my pants, heart pounding but gaze steady.

 

“I want you to feel me,” I whispered. “Really feel me. Skin to skin. If you want.”

 

He pulled back just far enough to look at me, his golden eyes wide, searching, reverent. “Are you sure?”

 

I nodded, my hands gently pulling him closer. “Yes. I want this. I want you.”

 

His hand slid carefully up my bare back, fingers splaying between my shoulder blades as he guided me down until I was lying with him half on top of me, the weight of him grounding, anchoring, warm.

 

“God,” he murmured, burying his face in the space where my neck met my shoulder. “You feel like peace. Like something holy. Like I could worship you and still not be close enough.”

 

I held him tighter, threading my fingers through the loose strands of his hair. 

 

“You are so much more than how this society sees you,” I whispered. “You’re gentle. And steady. And good. And just full of so much love and care. I see all of you. And I’m not going anywhere.”

 

He made a sound then, something quiet and broken, something like a thank you wrapped in a sob, and kissed me again, slower this time. Deeper. Not hungry. Just full.

 

And for a long while, we stayed like that. Breathing. Touching. Closer than close.

Two hearts lay bare in the middle of a quiet afternoon, soup bowls cooling on the kitchen counter, and sunlight filtering in like a blessing.

 

Suguru’s breath was warm against my skin, slow and steady as he held me on the couch like he still wasn’t close enough. My shirt lay crumpled at the edge of the cushion, forgotten, while his hands moved in slow, grounding strokes over my bare back, fingertips pressing softly into muscle and bone like he was memorizing every inch.

 

For a while, we just existed in that quiet space, shared breath, shared weight, the pulse of something intimate and unspoken vibrating between us.

 

Then I shifted slightly under him, curling closer, one hand smoothing up the back of his neck and into his hair. My voice was soft when I spoke.

 

“Can I tell you something kind of… personal?”

 

His eyes opened, gaze instantly focused on me, calm and steady. “Always.”

 

I swallowed lightly, cheeks warming, but I didn’t look away. “Since the first time we were together… everything’s been different. With you. With Satoru. You’ve both been… more open with me. Not just emotionally, but physically too. And I’ve noticed we’ve all been more active in that way, especially sexually.”

 

His hand paused for just a moment against my back before continuing, slower now.

 

“Yeah,” he murmured. “We have.”

 

“It’s not just sex though,” I said quickly, wanting him to understand. “It’s the way you both touch me now, like you need to feel me to stay grounded. It’s the way I can tell you’re holding back sometimes and other times you… don’t.”

 

Suguru smiled faintly, his thumb brushing along my spine. “Because every day I feel like I still can’t get close enough to you.”

 

His voice had that low, quiet intensity I recognized, the kind that made everything feel sacred.

 

“There’s nothing more intimate than being inside someone,” he said softly. “Being trusted like that. With someone’s body. Their pleasure. Their mind. Their soul. It’s not about control, it’s about devotion. About giving. About earning the right to be that close.”

 

I blinked slowly, my breath catching a little.

 

“Is that why you always top?” I asked, tilting my head against his shoulder.

 

He chuckled, nodding against my temple. “Yeah. I like being the reason the people I love fall apart. I like knowing I’m the one who made them feel good. Safe. Worshipped. But... you already know that.”

 

My lips curled, heat stirring in my chest.

 

“Even when I topped that one time,” I teased gently, glancing up at him. “You were all over it. Especially when we were trying to be quiet at your mom’s place.”

 

Suguru groaned softly, turning his face into my neck. “God, don’t remind me. You were evil that night.”

 

I grinned, voice low. “You were the one begging for me to stop teasing. All flushed and desperate.”

 

“And you were the one moaning like you were about to pass out,” he shot back with a lazy smile. “I wasn’t gonna let you fall apart alone.”

 

I laughed under my breath, but it came out breathy, warm. “You didn’t hesitate. The second I started shaking and asked for help you just… took control again.”

 

His hands slid up my back, slower now, more purposeful. “Because it’s never just about the moment. It’s about taking care of you. Always.”

 

A beat of silence. Then:

 

“But it’s not just sex for me, Amara. It never is.”

 

I lifted my head slightly as he continued.

 

“I feel that way even when I’m giving you and Satoru massages. When I’m touching you just to help you relax, but then one of you breathes a little differently and it’s like…” He groaned softly. “Someone always ends up a little too excited.”

 

I felt my cheeks flush again, laughing quietly into his shoulder. “That’s not my fault. Your hands are like magic.”

 

He smirked against my skin. “Satoru moaned so loud last week I thought Yaga was going to come kick the door down.”

 

“That was you teasing him!” I protested softly. “You knew what you were doing.”

 

“Of course I did,” Suguru murmured with a grin. “I know exactly how you both fall apart.”

 

He kissed the top of my shoulder, then pulled back just enough to meet my eyes again. His expression was softer now, gentle. Serious.

 

“I need to ask you something,” he said. “Please give me a completely honest answer.”

 

“Okay,” I touched his face lightly. 

 

“Have I ever been… too much? Sexually. With you.”

 

The question made my heart lurch from how carefully he asked. How much it clearly mattered to him.

 

“No,” I said immediately. “Never.”

 

His brows twitched slightly. “You’d tell me if I-”

 

“Suguru.” I placed my hand on his chest, over his heart. “You have never been too much and yes I would absolutely tell you if you were... though... sometimes I wish you were more.”

 

His eyes darkened slightly, his hand tightening at my waist.

 

My voice lowered, shy but honest. “There are times I sit in class and I just… zone out. Thinking about you. About things I want. Things I imagine.”

 

“Like what?” he asked, his voice already dipped into something deeper, strained with restraint.

 

I hesitated but only for a second.

 

“Like… you choking me a little,” I said softly. “Not in a scary way, just… the weight of your hand. The pressure. Like you own me.”

 

He exhaled, a sharp sound through his nose.

 

“Or leaving marks all over me,” I continued, voice quieter now. “My neck, my thighs… places I’d have to hide. Or maybe not. My healing ruins that fantasy though...”

 

Suguru’s eyes were molten now, his jaw tight, his thumb rubbing slow, grounding circles into my bare skin.

 

That look made me only want to keep going..

 

“Public stuff,” I whispered. “Showing me off a little. Like I’m yours. Like you want people to see.”

 

His next breath was shaky, his hands pulling me a little closer like he was afraid I’d float away. He buried his face in the crook of my neck again, breathing deeply, grounding himself in my scent.

 

“You’re going to kill me,” he muttered into my skin.

 

I smiled, but didn’t pull away. I just held him, waiting.

 

When he finally spoke again, his voice was thick, laced with something that sounded like awe.

 

“There probably won’t ever be a time I just take you, sweetheart,” he said. “No matter how worked up I get. Because I’m big on… buttering you up first. Making you feel safe. Worshipped. Ruined slowly. I never want to lose control of that and potentially hurt you..”

 

My whole body shivered in response, his words sinking into my skin like heat.

 

“I want you to want it,” he added, kissing the base of my neck. “Every time. I want you needy and aching and glowing with it.”

 

“I already do,” I whispered, wrapping my arms tighter around his shoulders. “Every time you look at me like that, I’m already halfway gone.”

 

He groaned softly, dragging his lips along my collarbone.

 

“Then I guess I’ll just have to take my time wrecking you,” he murmured, voice like a promise.

 

And as the cicadas hummed softly outside, his arms wrapped tight around me, I let myself melt into him, body, heart, and soul, right there on the couch, where nothing mattered but the way he held me like I was the center of his world.

 

Suguru’s fingers were stroking slowly along my spine, his cheek pressed just under my collarbone where he’d settled after everything I’d just whispered. His breath was warm, steady, and his hand hadn't stopped that lazy, grounding motion since we curled into the couch together.

 

I hesitated for a moment, then murmured, “There’s… something else I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

 

His brow lifted slightly where it rested against my skin. “Yeah?”

 

I nodded, heart thudding. I moved us so I was now sitting on his lap. “I, um… I started birth control.”

 

That got his attention. He shifted, pulling back just enough to look at me properly. His brows drew together. “Wait, when?”

 

“A few weeks ago,” I said softly, brushing a hand along his cheek. “After the second or third time you started doing those little, uh… pumps at the end. You know the ones.”

 

Suguru’s entire face flushed. “Oh my god,” he muttered, covering his face with one hand. “You noticed that?”

 

I snorted, amused but still warm with affection. “How could I not? You always push all the way to my cervix and then do these tiny, possessive little thrusts like you’re trying to push it in.”

 

He groaned into his palm but didn’t pull away, his other arm still locked around my waist. “Okay, yeah… yeah. That’s fair.”

 

“I didn’t mind and I don't now.” I added quickly. “I kind of like it. A lot.”

 

His hand lowered just enough for me to see the bashful but crooked little smile tugging at his lips. “It’s not… intentional. Not exactly. It’s like- my brain just shuts off and that part of me takes over and-”

 

I giggled softly. “You’ve got a breeding kink, Suguru.”

 

“Don’t say it out loud,” he groaned again, burying his face in my neck. “I’ll combust.”

 

I laughed, wrapping my arms tighter around him.

 

But after a moment, he shifted again, eyes flicking back up to mine, slightly more serious now. “But… why didn’t you tell me when you started? About the birth control, I mean.”

 

I softened immediately, brushing his hair behind his ear. “I didn’t want to make a big thing of it. I just… I know how much you like the idea. I didn’t want you to hold back just because we were being safe in other ways too. And honestly?” I smiled. “You kind of made me want it. The feeling of it. Even if there’s no risk.”

 

Suguru’s eyes darkened just a shade, his mouth parting.

 

“But,” I added gently, “you don’t want kids. Right?”

 

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I mean- definitely not now. Probably not for a long time. And Satoru…” He paused, then gave a breathy little laugh. “Satoru’s terrified of the idea. He’ll never say it out loud, but kids freak him out. The thought of bringing something into this world makes his skin crawl.”

 

“Yeah,” I murmured. “I figured.”

 

“But me?” Suguru’s voice dropped again, his fingers trailing gently down my back. “It’s not that I want kids. I just… want to claim you. In every way. My body wants that. It’s stupid and primal and ridiculous. But I think about it every time I’m inside you.”

 

My thighs squeezed instinctively around his lap, and he felt it- his breath hitched, and his gaze flicked downward for a second.

 

He cleared his throat, the blush in his cheeks now matching the heat behind his eyes. “If I wasn’t scared of overwhelming you, I’d… probably fill you more than once. Just because I can. I have to stop myself sometimes. Especially when you’re shaking.”

 

I looked down at him, brushing my fingers along the curve of his jaw. “You’ve never pushed too far. You always check in.”

 

“I know,” he murmured. “But still. That instinct doesn’t go away. It’s like… now that I know you’re on birth control-”

 

His hips shifted subtly, and I could feel it.. the unmistakable hardness growing beneath me, pressed just under the croch of my pants. My face flushed, and he winced slightly at himself, reaching down to steady me on his lap.

 

“I swear,” he said quickly, “I don’t want to have sex right now. Not like this. I want this to stay soft. Emotional. We’re not doing anything.”

 

I blinked at him, startled by his earnestness.

 

“My body is just…” he exhaled deeply, voice half-exasperated and half-amused. “Reacting. It heard ‘I can come inside her now’ and the prehistoric caveman part of my brain just activated like, ‘Do it. Fill mate.’”

 

I burst out laughing, burying my face into his neck. “You did not just say ‘fill mate.’”

 

“I did, and I regret it,” he said through his hands, face absolutely red but still smiling. “God, I’m disgusting.”

 

“You’re not,” I said, trying and failing to keep a straight face. “You’re sweet. And kind of hot. And a little bit of a caveman.”

 

“I’ll take that,” he murmured, then looked at me from under his lashes. “Do not tell Satoru.”

 

“Too late. I’m texting him now: Suguru said ‘fill mate.’”

 

“No- Amara, I’m begging-” He lunged for my phone, and I squealed, rolling sideways with him as we collapsed into the couch cushions in a tangled heap of limbs and laughter.

 

I ended up half on top of him, both of us breathless, his cheeks still pink, his hands warm on my sides. We calmed slowly, breath syncing again, returning to the soft place we started.

 

“…Still not having sex right now,” he murmured, kissing the edge of my shoulder.

 

“No,” I whispered back, nuzzling closer. “But I’m glad you told me. About all of it.”

 

“I’m glad you told me,” he said, voice sincere again. “I want to know what’s in your head, always. Even the stuff that makes me... twitch.”

 

I smiled against his chest. “Then you better brace yourself. Because I have more.”

 

“More fantasies?”

 

“Mmhmm.”

 

He groaned softly. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

 

I looked up and kissed his jaw. “That’s the goal.”

 

Suguru’s fingers traced slowly along the bare skin of my back, his breath soft and steady against the crown of my head. We'd quieted after the teasing, after the laughter, and now the space between us felt… heavier. Not tense, not bad. Just full with something unsaid.

 

He shifted slightly beneath me, then let out a breath through his nose and spoke, low and quiet.

 

“Can I… be really open with you right now?” His voice was rough at the edges, more uncertain than before. “Like, really open. And not get judged for it?”

 

I blinked, lifting my head to look at him. The sincerity in his eyes made my chest ache. I touched his cheek gently.

 

“Of course,” I whispered. “You never have to ask for that.”

 

He didn’t meet my gaze. Instead, he pulled me closer, burying his face into the crook of my neck like he couldn’t stand to look at me while he said whatever was weighing on him.

 

His arms wrapped tight around me tight enough that it felt like he was holding back more than just words.

 

“I get mad at myself sometimes,” he murmured against my skin, voice muffled and low. “Like… angry. Because I think things I shouldn’t think. Things I’m scared to say.”

 

I stayed still, my fingers moving slowly through his hair, letting him speak at his own pace.

 

“Sometimes I want to be rough,” he said, barely above a whisper. “With you. With Satoru. Not in a sweet way. Not in a soft, romantic way.”

 

He paused, shaking his head like he hated himself for admitting it.

 

“There are times when you’re so overstimulated you’re shaking and your voice breaks, and it’s so beautiful it makes my whole body ache. And instead of slowing down, I just want to keep going. Even when you say it hurts and feels good at the same time. Especially then.”

 

My breath hitched faintly, but I didn’t stop touching him, if anything, I pressed closer.

 

“Sometimes I want to spank you,” he said, voice strangled. “Bite you. Grab your hips so hard you bruise. Pull your hair and push your face into the bed while I fuck you from behind, having you crying from pain and pleasure...”

 

A tremor ran through him. “It doesn’t happen all the time,” he rushed to explain, “but when it does… I feel so ashamed. Like there’s something broken in me for wanting to hurt the people I love. I don’t want to cause pain, I just…”

 

He trailed off, breath shaky.

 

“I just want to be so deep, so rough, so all-consuming that you can’t think. That you’re crying and shaking and saying you can’t take anymore. And I know I shouldn’t want that. Not with you.”

 

I sat still for a moment, heart thudding, letting his words settle.

 

Then I leaned back just enough to cup his face in my hands, gently coaxing him to look at me.

 

“Suguru,” I whispered, and waited until his eyes, so full of guilt and vulnerability, finally met mine. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

 

He blinked, stunned by the certainty in my voice.

 

“I think it’s hot,” I said honestly. “All of it. The way you want to be in control. The way you ache to take care of us, even when it looks like it hurts. It’s not about cruelty. It’s about intensity. About being so connected to someone that you want to mark them with it.”

 

His eyes widened slightly, and I saw the flicker of disbelief in them.

 

“I like pain, Suguru,” I whispered. “Maybe not the way Satoru does, he’s chaos incarnate, but I like when it hurts with the pleasure. When you spank me or leave marks or hold me down. When I feel owned.”

 

His hands tightened at my hips.

 

“I didn’t know how to say it before,” I admitted, “because you’ve always been so careful with me. But I think about it too. You taking what you want. Making me cry with how good it is. Even when I’m saying I can’t take more, even when I mean it… part of me wants you to keep going.”

 

Suguru’s mouth parted like he wanted to speak, but no sound came out. His expression was unreadable- a swirling mix of arousal, relief, disbelief, and something raw and reverent.

 

“You’re not broken,” I said softly. “You love us. And that love is intense. Sometimes that comes out soft, and sometimes it comes out rough. Wanting to wreck me doesn’t mean you don’t treasure me.”

 

He exhaled, a shuddering sound, and leaned in to kiss me- slow and shaking, almost desperate in its gentleness. When he pulled back, his cheeks were flushed, but his eyes looked clearer. Brighter.

 

“I’ve always known I’m a little bit of a masochist,” he admitted, his voice rougher now. “But a sadist? That surprised me. Still does.”

 

“You’re both,” I murmured. “And that’s okay.”

 

“I never feel bad with Satoru,” he said, chuckling under his breath. “That man lives to be hit by me too much.”

 

I laughed quietly, nodding. “You’ve seen the way he acts when you step on his thigh.”

 

“Oh, I’ve felt it,” Suguru said, groaning. “But you… you never said anything about pain. I thought I’d scare you.”

 

“You didn’t,” I whispered, nose brushing his. “You never have.”

 

He breathed out a quiet laugh, resting his forehead against mine. “God, Amara. I love you.”

 

“I know, you never make me doubt that..” I whispered back, brushing my lips over his cheek. “I love you too.”

 

There was a pause. A beat of soft quiet between us. Then..

 

“So you’re saying if I bend you over the arm of this couch and slap your ass a little-”

 

“Suguru,” I warned, voice breaking with a laugh.

 

He grinned, eyes twinkling now. “Not now, obviously. But the thought is killing me.”

 

I groaned and buried my face in his shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

 

“And you’re so mine,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

 

Suguru’s phone buzzed on the table. He reached over and grabbed it, glancing at the screen before a small, amused smile twitched across his lips.

 

“Satoru says he’ll be back in a few minutes,” he murmured, flicking his gaze to me. “This is your chance to show off those new cooking skills, sweetheart.”

 

I flushed, my chest tightening with a quiet mix of pride and nerves. “You really think he’ll like it…?”

 

Suguru chuckled, stepping forward to brush his knuckles down my cheek. “He’ll love it,” he said softly, leaning in to press a quick, warm kiss to my lips. “Because you made it.”

 

I bit my lip to hide my flustered smile as he pulled away to start setting out the plates. We moved around each other with easy efficiency, even after the heated moment, plating up steaming bowls of rice topped with crispy golden karaage chicken, small dishes of simmered kabocha and daikon salad, and the miso soup we’d just made together.

 

I focused intently as I arranged everything neatly, wiping the edges of each plate with a clean cloth the way Suguru showed me. My heart thrummed nervously in my chest, but Suguru’s quiet praise every few seconds grounded me.

 

“That’s it… perfect. Just like that… mm, careful with the garnish… there. Beautiful.”

 

When we finished, we stepped back to admire the spread laid out on the small common room table, each dish steaming softly under the fluorescent lights. My chest tightened with pride as I wiped my damp hands on my sweatpants, glancing up at Suguru with a small, hopeful smile.

 

He smiled back, eyes crinkling faintly at the corners. “Ready to show off?”

 

I opened my mouth to answer when the door slid open with a quiet shhk.

 

Satoru stepped in, white hair ruffled from the summer breeze outside, sunglasses perched haphazardly on his nose. He looked… tired. His shoulders drooped slightly under his loose navy uniform shirt, and his gait was heavy as he kicked off his shoes. For a moment, he didn’t even notice us, just scrubbed a tired hand over his eyes.

 

But then he looked up.

 

His bright blue eyes landed on us, then on the steaming plates spread out across the table, and all at once his entire face lit up. The exhaustion in his shoulders seemed to lift as his grin spread wide and blinding across his face.

 

“Wh- what’s all this~?” he chirped, voice cracking slightly with surprise as he stepped forward quickly, eyes darting from dish to dish. “Did you two make this?!”

 

I felt my cheeks flush hot under his bright gaze. “Um… yeah…” I murmured, scratching the back of my neck nervously. “Suguru… taught me. I wanted to learn how to cook properly so… we made dinner for all of us.”

 

Gojo blinked at me once, then twice, before a soft, crooked smile spread slowly across his lips, different from his usual bright teasing grin. This one was smaller, warmer, almost shy.

 

“For me…?” he asked softly, his voice dipping low in a way that made my chest ache.

 

“For you,” I confirmed quietly, my fingers twisting in the hem of my shirt. “You’ve been working hard lately… I thought you deserved a good meal and I got some good bonding time with Suguru..”

 

For a long moment, he just stared at me, his blue eyes flickering with something quiet and unguarded. Then, without warning, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me, burying his face in my hair as his long body curved over mine.

 

“God… what did I do to deserve you two…” he murmured softly, his breath warm against my scalp.

 

Suguru chuckled quietly beside us, sliding an arm around both of our shoulders and leaning down to press a kiss to Gojo’s temple. “Eat first,” he teased softly. “Existential gratitude crisis later.”

 

Gojo snorted into my hair before pulling back with a grin, though his eyes were slightly glassy under the harsh fluorescent lights.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, plopping down onto the cushion in front of the table. “Let me taste my girlfriend’s cooking before I start crying like a loser.”

 

“You already are a loser,” Suguru teased, flicking his forehead lightly before sitting down beside him, earning a playful glare from Gojo.

 

I sat down across from them, my knees tucked under me as I watched Satoru pick up his chopsticks and clasp his hands together.

 

“Itadakimasu,” he whispered softly, before digging in with a bright, eager grin.

 

He took one bite, then another, and then another, his grin growing wider with each taste until he practically vibrated with happiness.

 

“Holy shit,” he mumbled through a mouthful of rice, pointing his chopsticks at me accusingly. “Why didn’t you tell me you could cook like this?!”

 

I flushed, ducking my head. “I… couldn’t. Until today.”

 

“She’s a fast learner,” Suguru added softly, his hand resting warm and heavy on my thigh under the table. “She worked really hard.”

 

Satoru looked at me for a long moment, his grin softening into something small and almost shy again. Then he reached across the table with his free hand, grabbing my hand to kiss it then brushing his knuckles down my cheek.

 

“Don’t ever leave me,” he said, half-joking, half-serious in that way only he could manage.

 

I laughed quietly, leaning into his touch as my chest bloomed with warmth.

 

“Never,” I whispered back.

 

And under the buzzing fluorescent lights of the common room, with the smell of fresh miso and simmering kabocha curling warm through the air, the three of us ate together in quiet, content peace.

 

Satoru slurped down the last of his miso soup with an obnoxiously loud shhhhp, setting his bowl down with a dramatic sigh as he leaned back on his hands. His white hair fell messily over his forehead, his blue eyes bright under the common room lights.

 

“Today was so fucking dumb,” he groaned loudly, stretching his long legs out under the table until his toes brushed my calves. “They sent me out there alone like I’m some disposable little errand boy. Like- hello? Do you know who I am?”

 

Suguru snorted softly beside him, wiping his mouth with a small cloth napkin. “They do. That’s why they send you.”

 

“Still dumb,” Gojo huffed, pouting dramatically as he leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling. “It was just a cursed warehouse cleanup, nothing special. Some lingering spirits from the old textile mill they shut down last winter. Easy exorcism. Boring. Would have been nice to have you guys watch though.”

 

I blinked, tilting my head. “Watch…?”

 

“Yeah~” he chirped, rolling his head to look at me sideways, his hair brushing his shoulder softly. “Most of these ‘solo’ missions are just bullshit training evaluations. They wanna see how our abilities adapt under real field conditions. Would have been cooler if you two were there. At least then I’d get to show off.”

 

Suguru chuckled low in his chest, setting his empty bowl aside. “You just want an audience to praise you.”

 

“Duh,” Gojo shot back with a smirk, sitting back up straight. “What’s the point of being this good if no one’s there to see it?”

 

His grin faltered just slightly, his fingers drumming quietly against his knee as his gaze flicked down to his hands.

 

“Plus…” he said more quietly, almost to himself, “I don’t like… being away from you guys. Like, I know I’m fine. And you’re fine. We’re the strongest. But still… it’s dumb.”

 

I reached out before I could think, curling my fingers around his wrist lightly. His eyes flicked up to mine, wide and bright and a little surprised.

 

“You didn’t like being alone today, huh.” I said softly, not a question.

 

His grin twitched faintly, small and almost sheepish as he flipped his wrist over to lace his fingers through mine. “Nope,” he whispered back. “Didn’t like it at all.”

 

Suguru watched us quietly, his dark eyes soft as he reached out to brush his knuckles lightly under Gojo’s chin, tilting his face toward him.

 

“We’re here now,” he said gently, his thumb brushing the corner of Gojo’s mouth. “You’re not alone.”

 

Gojo’s grin widened, teeth flashing under the fluorescent lights. “Yeah,” he said, his voice warm and bright again as he turned to press a quick kiss to Suguru’s thumb before glancing back at me with a mischievous spark. “And tomorrow~ I’m making you two watch me spar until you admit I’m the coolest person you know.”

 

I laughed softly, leaning forward to bump my forehead against his. “You already are,” I whispered teasingly.

 

“Damn right I am,” he whispered back, his eyes crinkling with quiet joy as he squeezed my fingers tighter.

 

And just like that, the exhaustion in his shoulders seemed to lift again, leaving only the warmth of his grin and the quiet comfort of knowing he was exactly where he wanted to be.

 

 

Chapter 53: Alone Date (Satoru)

I crept down the quiet dorm hall, the early morning light casting pale gold shadows through the tall windows. My socks barely made a sound as I padded to Satoru’s room, though I knew stealth didn’t really matter with him. 

 

Still, I paused outside his door, smirking faintly before pushing it open just enough to slip inside. 

 

His curtains were pulled shut, but faint golden light still filtered in, illuminating his tall form sprawled out diagonally across the bed, half under the thin gray blanket. His hair was a wild, fluffy mess, splayed over his pillow like a snowdrift, and his sleep shirt had ridden up just enough to show a sliver of pale-toned stomach. 

 

I bit back a laugh, padding closer until I stood at the edge of his bed. For a moment, I just watched him, chest aching with quiet affection at how peaceful he looked like this. 

 

Then I grinned, shifting my weight before jumping up onto the mattress, landing with a soft fwump right on top of his long torso. 

 

“Oof-” he grunted faintly, though his arms immediately curled around me before his eyes even opened, his voice low and scratchy from sleep. “Mm… morning to you too, little gremlin.” 

 

I pouted down at him, poking his cheek lightly. “You were awake.” 

 

He cracked one eye open, his lips curling into a lazy, smug grin. “Felt your cursed energy sneaking around the second you stepped out of your room,” he mumbled, shifting to pull me closer against his chest, his hand settling firmly on my lower back. “Thought I’d let you have your fun.” 

 

I scowled, lightly smacking his chest with the heel of my hand. “Ruiner.” 

 

“Mmhm,” he hummed sleepily, leaning up just enough to brush his nose against mine. “What’s got you up so early, princess?” 

 

I huffed, resting my chin on his sternum as I stared down at him. “Suguru’s gone,” I said bluntly. 

 

He snorted softly, his fingers drumming against my back. “Yeah, sweetheart, he left at like… four in the morning. Solo mission training week. You know this.” 

 

“I know, I know this..” I grumbled, pouting deeper as I pressed my cheek against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat. “But I don’t want to just… sit around. You should take me out.” 

 

He arched a brow at that, both eyes open now, bright blue and still a little hazy from sleep. “Oh yeah?” he drawled, his grin twitching wider. “You asking me out on a date, pretty girl?” 

 

I narrowed my eyes playfully, a faint smile curling at my lips. “Maybe I am.” 

 

“Mm…” he hummed, his free hand coming up to brush my hair back from my forehead gently. “Where do you wanna go then?” 

 

I shrugged against him, burrowing closer until I was sprawled half on top of him, half off the bed, my arms folded across his chest as I stared up at his glowing eyes. “Dunno. Somewhere fun. You pick.” 

 

“Gee, so helpful,” he teased, tapping my nose lightly. “Okay, okay… brainstorming time.” 

 

He tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling, his lips twitching thoughtfully. 

 

“We could… go to that weird underground arcade in Shibuya,” he offered, eyes flicking back to mine. “Or get breakfast at that place with the giant soufflé pancakes you like. Or- oooh -there’s that pop-up Ghibli exhibit downtown this week.” 

 

My eyes widened slightly, heart skipping. “Ghibli…?” 

 

“Yeah~” he chirped, his grin smug at my reaction. “All your favorites. Merch stalls, art installations, big statues of Totoro and No Face. You’d look cute posing with them.” 

 

I flushed, burying my face briefly against his shirt before peeking up at him again. “That… sounds really nice actually.” 

 

He chuckled softly, his thumb brushing over my temple. “Ghibli date it is,” he said, voice warm and certain. “We’ll get pancakes after. Then I’ll win you a stupid plushie from a claw machine you’ll pretend not to want but then cuddle all night.” 

 

I smacked his chest lightly again, but my smile gave me away. “Shut up.” 

 

“Mmhm,” he hummed, shifting to sit up fully with me still wrapped around him. He pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to my forehead before resting his own against it. “Go get ready, pretty girl. You’ve got fifteen minutes before I drag your cute ass out in pajamas.” 

 

I rolled my eyes again, but my chest felt so warm and light I thought it might float away entirely. 

 

“Fine,” I sighed dramatically, pushing myself off him and padding back to my room. 

 

Behind me, I heard him chuckle low in his chest, his voice drifting after me through the quiet dorm hallway. 

 

“Ghibli date with the cutest girl in Tokyo~ don’t mind if I do.” 

 

I rummaged through my dresser, pulling out outfit after outfit and tossing them onto the bed in a growing pile of black, purple, and denim. Behind me, I heard Satoru’s heavy footsteps pad into my room without knocking, as usual. 

 

“You picking a fit for me too?” he teased lightly, leaning against my doorframe with his arms folded across his chest, bright eyes tracking my every move. 

 

“No,” I grumbled, shaking out a long black skirt before tossing it aside with a sigh. “I’m picking mine first.” 

 

“Rude,” he said with a dramatic pout, though his grin gave him away. He pushed off the doorframe and padded over to me, peeking over my shoulder at the mess I’d made. “What about your little strappy crop top thing? You know the one that makes Suguru malfunction every time you wear it?” 

 

I snorted softly, rolling my eyes as I grabbed the shirt in question and tossed it at his face. “We’re going to a Ghibli exhibit, not a club.” 

 

“Mm… good point,” he hummed, dropping the shirt back onto the pile before stepping closer, crowding into my space like he always did. “But~” he sing-songed, poking my forehead lightly, “you should still dress up cute.” 

 

I paused, looking up at him with a small, mischievous smile. “You think so?” 

 

“Obviously,” he scoffed, flicking his bangs back dramatically. “We’re the hottest pair in Tokyo today. Gotta let the peasants know.” 

 

I snorted again, shaking my head as I turned to grab my lacy blue underwear set from the top drawer. His eyes flicked down instantly, catching the delicate sapphire lace and sheer mesh details. His breath hitched, barely audible, but I heard it anyway. 

 

“What’s this~” he drawled, his grin turning sly as he leaned closer, eyes locked on the lingerie in my hands. “New set?” 

 

“Mmhm,” I hummed softly, lifting the bra up to admire it before tossing it onto the bed with the matching panties. “Bought it last week. Thought it’d match your eyes nicely.” 

 

His grin faltered, just for a split second, replaced by something softer and warmer that made my chest flutter. Then it returned, even wider than before. 

 

“You gonna model it for me?” he teased, though his voice had gone a little rough at the edges. 

 

I shrugged casually, reaching down to grip the hem of my sleep shirt. “You’re here anyway.” 

 

His eyes widened slightly, the bright blue flickering with interest as I pulled the shirt up and over my head, tossing it onto the pile behind me. Goosebumps rose across my bare skin as the morning air hit me, the cool breeze drifting through the cracked window. 

 

I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my sleep shorts, sliding them down my hips and stepping out of them with practiced ease. I put the set on giving him a small glimpse of my naked body. 

 

Now just in the delicate blue set, I bent down to grab my skirt off the floor, feeling his gaze burn into every inch of exposed skin as I moved. 

 

“Fuck,” he breathed softly, the sound barely audible under his breath. “You’re… you’re unreal, you know that?” 

 

I glanced back at him over my shoulder with a small smirk. “You gonna keep staring, or are you gonna help me get dressed?” 

 

His eyes snapped up to mine, a wolfish grin spreading across his lips. “Oh, sweetheart,” he purred, stepping forward until his chest pressed against my back, his hands curling lightly around my hips. “You don’t have to ask me twice.” 

 

His fingers slid up my waist, brushing over the delicate lace of my bra before drifting back down to the waistband of my panties, tugging them lightly against my skin before releasing them with a soft snap that made me jump. 

 

“Satoru-” I scolded lightly, but he just chuckled, dipping his head to press a slow, warm kiss to the side of my neck. 

 

“You said I could help,” he murmured against my skin, his grin curling against my collarbone. “Now, what are we wearing today, pretty girl?” 

 

I swallowed thickly, feeling my face flush as I reached back to grab his hand, threading my fingers through his. “I… had an idea,” I said softly, my voice trembling slightly despite how confident I tried to sound. “For the exhibit… I thought… maybe… we could dress up.” 

 

His grin widened instantly, eyes sparking with excitement as he pulled back just enough to look at me properly. “Dress up? Like cosplay?” 

 

I nodded, biting my lower lip lightly. “Yeah… like… Howl and Sophie.” 

 

His jaw dropped open, and for a second, he just stared at me, completely stunned. Then his grin returned, brighter than the morning sun streaming through my window. 

 

“Holy shit,” he breathed, his voice reverent with wonder. “You… you’re fucking perfect, you know that?” 

 

I flushed deeper, glancing away, but he grabbed my chin gently and turned my face back to his, pressing a quick, firm kiss to my lips. 

 

“I know a place,” he said quickly, already pulling out his phone from his pocket. “Little cosplay shop near Harajuku. We’ll go after breakfast.” 

 

“After breakfast?” I teased softly, raising a brow at him as I reached down to grab my skirt again. 

 

His grin turned feral as he stepped forward, pressing me back against the edge of the bed, his hands braced on either side of my hips. “Oh, we’re gonna work up an appetite first, princess.” 

 

My heart skipped violently in my chest as he dipped down, capturing my lips in a deep, slow kiss that tasted like mint and sleep and everything that was Satoru Gojo. 

 

And in that moment, standing half-naked in my sunlit dorm room with his hands on my waist and his grin pressed against my mouth, I let myself feel it fully.. 

 

That warm, reckless, overwhelming kind of love that only he could bring. 

 

His fingers traced light, deliberate patterns along the lace edging of my bra, brushing so close to my skin that goosebumps prickled up my arms and chest. I shivered, pressing my thighs together unconsciously as his lips ghosted along my jaw. 

 

“You really bought this for me?” he murmured softly, his voice low and rough in my ear. “All pretty and blue… just like my eyes.” 

 

I swallowed hard, nodding faintly as his fingers dipped lower, brushing along the edge of my panties. “Yeah… wanted… wanted you to like it.” 

 

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against my throat as he dipped down to press an open-mouthed kiss just below my ear. “Like it?” he breathed, his teeth grazing my skin so lightly I gasped. “Sweetheart, I fucking love it.” 

 

His hands slid up, cupping my breasts firmly over the thin lace, his thumbs brushing slow, teasing circles over my nipples until I let out a quiet, shaky whine. He grinned against my neck, rolling them lightly under his thumbs until my knees threatened to buckle. 

 

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he murmured, his voice warm with genuine wonder despite the teasing edge. “All dressed up for me… letting me see you like this… god, Amara.” 

 

“Sa-toru…” I gasped, my voice breaking as I tilted my head back against his shoulder, desperate for more friction, for more of him. 

 

But he just chuckled again, low and wicked, before pulling back completely. My eyes snapped open in confusion, chest heaving as he stepped back, his bright blue gaze roving slowly down my half-naked body with blatant appreciation. 

 

“Turn around,” he said casually, like he wasn’t leaving me trembling with want. “Let’s get you dressed.” 

 

“W-what?” I stammered, blinking at him dumbly as my brain scrambled to catch up. “But… I thought…” 

 

He grinned wide, flashing teeth as he reached down to grab the pile of clothes at my feet. “Oh, you thought we were gonna fuck, huh?” 

 

My face burned hot, but I didn’t deny it, glaring at him weakly. He just laughed softly, stepping closer to tilt my chin up with two fingers. 

 

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he purred, brushing his thumb over my swollen lower lip. “We will. But not yet. Gotta take you out first. Let everyone see how perfect you are… before I ruin you later.” 

 

A soft, broken noise slipped from my throat, but he ignored it, turning to dig through my clothes with a thoughtful hum. 

 

“Let’s see… crop top… yeah…” He pulled out a black ribbed crop top with wide straps and tossed it onto the bed before grabbing a pair of baggy black cargo pants with silver hardware detailing down the legs. “These.” 

 

He held them up to my hips appraisingly before nodding. “Yeah. Perfect. Shows off your waist… and if you pull them down just a little…” He demonstrated, tugging the waistband down half an inch to reveal the thin blue straps of my panties peeking out. “Fuck… yeah. That’s hot.” 

 

I flushed deeper, shifting on my feet as heat pooled low in my stomach. “You’re… ridiculous,” I muttered weakly, but my voice betrayed how flustered I felt. 

 

“Mmhm,” he hummed absently, reaching for the bra straps along my shoulders. “Can this be strapless?” 

 

“Yeah… why?” I asked softly, confusion breaking through my haze as he unhooked the thin satin straps from the cups, leaving the bra snug around my chest. 

 

Instead of tossing them aside, he wrapped one around his wrist, tying it off with a small, practiced knot until it sat snugly against his pale skin like a thin blue bracelet. 

 

“There,” he said with a satisfied grin, flicking it lightly. “Matches your panties.” 

 

My chest twisted painfully with something warm and possessive at the sight, watching him admire the little blue strap tied to his wrist like a trophy. 

 

“You’re… such a menace,” I whispered softly, but I couldn’t stop the small smile curling my lips. 

 

“Mmhm,” he hummed again, leaning down to press a quick kiss to my mouth before pulling back to grin wolfishly. “You gonna make Suguru one now? With a set that matches his eyes?” 

 

I flushed deeper, biting my lip as I nodded shyly. “Yeah… I think he’d… like that.” 

 

He chuckled darkly, reaching out to tweak my chin lightly before tossing me my crop top. “Get dressed, pretty girl,” he said, turning away to dig through his own closet for an outfit. “We’ve got a date with destiny… and by destiny, I mean a cosplay shop and overpriced themed café drinks.” 

 

“Dork,” I mumbled softly, but I pulled the shirt over my head anyway, my hands trembling just slightly as I tucked it down over my chest, still feeling the phantom heat of his touch lingering across my skin. 

 

And as I watched him rummage through his closet with his hair all fluffy and his long limbs knocking hangers aside like an overgrown puppy, my chest fluttered with quiet, overwhelming affection. 

 

Because this, these chaotic, teasing, loving mornings with him, felt like something I could never give up. 

 

No matter what came next. 

 

--- 

 

The little bell above the cosplay shop door jingled cheerfully as we stepped inside, the smell of fresh cotton and hairspray hitting me immediately. The walls were lined with racks of wigs, folded outfits, accessories, and mannequins posed dramatically in everything from magical girl dresses to bleach outfits. 

 

Gojo didn’t even hesitate. 

 

“Morning!” he called out brightly to the half-asleep girl behind the counter. She jumped slightly before bowing and mumbling a quiet welcome. 

 

I felt his hand slip into mine, his long fingers wrapping around my wrist like he was anchoring me in place. His eyes were practically glowing behind his sunglasses as he leaned down to murmur near my ear, his voice dripping with playful mischief. 

 

“Look at them all staring,” he whispered. “Can you blame them though? You’re the cutest thing in here.” 

 

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile curling my lips. “They’re staring at you, actually,” I mumbled back, gesturing to his ridiculous proportions and bright white hair that practically sparkled under the fluorescent lights. 

 

“Mm… nah,” he hummed, tugging me deeper into the store. “They’re staring at us. Power couple vibes, baby.” 

 

I snorted softly as he dragged me over to the Ghibli section. There it was, Sofie’s blue dress with the crisp white apron, hanging neatly on a display hook. Gojo grabbed it before I could even reach out, holding it up to my chest with a wide grin. 

 

“This one,” he said firmly. “You’re gonna look so damn cute in this I might actually die.” 

 

I flushed slightly, running my fingers over the soft fabric. It was surprisingly well-made, with sturdy seams and thick cotton that felt comfortable against my fingertips. I glanced up at him through my lashes, tilting my head slightly. 

 

“And what about you?” I asked softly, though I already knew the answer. 

 

He didn’t disappoint. He turned immediately, plucking a white flowy collared shirt off the rack, holding it up dramatically to his own torso. The sleeves were wide and elegant, and the neckline plunged just enough to show a teasing hint of chest. 

 

He shot me a smirk over the fabric. “Howl. Obviously.” 

 

I laughed, shaking my head as I reached for his arm to tug him closer. “No coat?” 

 

“Too hot,” he said dismissively, already folding it over his arm. “Besides-” He leaned down until his nose brushed mine, his grin wicked. “If I wear a coat, you can’t see my arms. And what’s the point of being Howl if I’m not a little slutty about it?” 

 

“Dork,” I muttered, but my cheeks burned and he knew it. He pressed a teasing kiss to the corner of my mouth before pulling away, walking confidently toward the checkout with both outfits draped over his arm. 

 

“Wait,” I called after him, rummaging in my bag for my wallet. “I can pay for mine-” 

 

“Nope,” he chirped, slapping his card down on the counter before I could even step forward. “My treat. Let me spoil my pretty Sophie.” 

 

The girl at the register flushed bright pink as she rang us up, her eyes darting nervously between us. Gojo didn’t even notice, too busy sliding his sunglasses up onto his head to flash me a bright grin. 

 

“Go try it on,” he ordered softly, gesturing toward the dressing rooms with a flick of his fingers. “I wanna see.” 

 

I rolled my eyes but obeyed, stepping into the tiny curtained cubicle. I slipped the dress on carefully, adjusting the apron ties behind my back before checking myself in the narrow mirror. The long sleeves felt soft and comfortable, and the high collar framed my jaw nicely. It was simple, modest, but undeniably cute. 

 

I tied my hair back quickly, twisting it into a loose braid that fell over one shoulder just like Sophie’s. When I stepped out, Gojo’s reaction was instant. 

 

“Holy shit,” he breathed, eyes raking down my figure with shameless awe. “Okay- yeah. Yeah, I’m gonna have to fight off every old man and salary worker we walk past today.” 

 

I flushed under his stare, fidgeting with the edge of the apron. “It’s just cosplay, Satoru.” 

 

“Yeah, my cosplay Sophie,” he shot back, his grin turning sharper as he stepped forward to brush my braid over my shoulder, letting his fingers skim along the nape of my neck. “God, you’re so cute.” 

 

He turned away suddenly, tugging his Howl shirt over his own torso. The fabric fell perfectly over his broad shoulders, the open neckline revealing his collarbones and just a teasing hint of chest. He ruffled his fluffy white hair and turned back to me with a cocky tilt of his head. 

 

“How do I look?” he asked, his grin wide and knowing. 

 

I swallowed hard, trying not to visibly swoon. “Like… Howl. If Howl was six-foot-three and an insufferable flirt.” 

 

“Perfect,” he chirped, stepping forward to press a quick kiss to my forehead. “Let’s go, my dear Sophie.” 

 

And just like that, he took my hand and led me out of the shop into the bright summer sunlight, our shadows merging together on the warm pavement as he tugged me toward the Ghibli café with a grin so wide it made my chest ache. 

 

Because in that moment, I really did feel like Sophie. 

 

And he really was my Howl. 

 

--- 

 

The pop-up Ghibli café and market was nestled between two narrow buildings on a busy backstreet, tucked under fluttering banners printed with watercolor sketches of Howl’s Castle, Totoro, and Spirited Away bathhouse motifs. The second we turned the corner and I saw the painted wooden sign with Howl and Sophie smiling down at passing customers, I gasped, grabbing Gojo’s wrist without thinking. 

 

“Oh my god,” I whispered, my voice cracking with excitement. “Look at it- look at the little moving castle diorama- Satoru, they have Calcifer pancakes!” 

 

He laughed softly, slipping his fingers between mine as he leaned down to kiss the top of my head. “Yeah, I see it, princess. Come on, let’s go check it out before you combust.” 

 

I rolled my eyes but let him guide me into the crowded market area first, the two of us weaving between pastel stalls lined with themed treats, tiny plush charms, sticker sets, and handmade jewelry. There were little Totoro cream buns arranged in neat boxes, soot sprite cake pops covered in black sugar dust, and steaming trays of onigiri decorated with tiny edible Howl capes and Sophie braids. 

 

“Look,” I whispered, pointing to a rack of tiny Howl’s Moving Castle terrariums, each filled with moss, painted pebbles, and a miniature castle figurine. “They’re so cute…” 

 

Before I could even think about the price, Gojo had already snatched one up and was walking toward the cashier, sunglasses perched on his head, hair gleaming under the string lights above. I grabbed his arm, eyes wide. 

 

“Satoru- no, you don’t have to-” 

 

“Hush,” he said simply, tapping my nose with his free hand. “My Sophie wants it, so my Sophie gets it.” 

 

I flushed furiously, biting back the quiet squeal threatening to leave my throat. As the cashier wrapped up the terrarium carefully in crinkling paper, Gojo pulled out his phone, flicking through it quickly with a small grin before angling it toward me. 

 

“Hey- smile.” 

 

I barely managed to turn my head before the shutter clicked, capturing me mid-pout, eyes wide with surprise. “Delete that,” I whined, reaching for the phone, but he snatched it back with an obnoxious laugh. 

 

“Nope,” he chirped, tapping quickly before I could lunge at him again. “Sent it to Suguru. He should see how cute his girlfriend is today.” 

 

“Why are you like this,” I muttered under my breath, but my heart ached softly at the thought of Suguru seeing the photo, wherever he was training today. 

 

As if reading my thoughts, Gojo wrapped an arm around my shoulders, tucking me in close against his side as we stepped back out into the crowded walkway. “He replied already,” he murmured, flashing his screen. Sure enough, Suguru’s message glowed under the photo. 

 

“Beautiful. Make sure she eats properly and stays hydrated today. And keep her braid neat. Tell her I love her.” 

 

My chest tightened painfully, warmth pooling low in my stomach. “God, he’s such a mom,” I whispered, biting back a smile. 

 

“Yeah,” Gojo snorted, ruffling my braid slightly just to be annoying. “But he’s our mom.” 

 

I laughed softly, swatting his hand away before reaching up to smooth my hair back into place. “Let’s go get those Calcifer pancakes,” I said, pointing to the little café tucked under the white awning. 

 

“Yes, ma’am,” he teased, saluting dramatically before taking my hand again, his thumb rubbing small, grounding circles against my wrist as he guided me through the crowd. 

 

Because even in his chaos, even in his flamboyant arrogance, Satoru never once let go of me. 

 

Not when the world was dangerous. 

 

And not when it was beautiful. 

 

--- 

 

We finally snagged a table near the back of the café, nestled under hanging lanterns painted with little flames and swirling stars. The air smelled like cinnamon sugar and fresh fruit syrup, and I couldn’t stop bouncing slightly in my seat, eyes flicking over the laminated menu again and again even though I already knew what I wanted. 

 

“I’ll take the Calcifer pancakes, please,” I told the waitress softly when she came over, pointing to the adorable photo of the little stack shaped like Calcifer’s round flame body, with whipped cream eyes and caramel drizzle flickers. 

 

“And for you, sir?” she asked Gojo. 

 

“Same for me,” he chirped, flashing her an easy grin that made her blush down to her collarbones. “And two iced coffees. She needs caffeine before she burns the world down.” 

 

The waitress giggled awkwardly before hurrying away, and I flicked his wrist lightly with my napkin. “Don’t tease me in front of people,” I whispered, though I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. 

 

“Mm, but your little angry face is so cute,” he drawled, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms lazily behind his head, his white hair brushing the wall behind him. “Besides… it’s true.” 

 

I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue, instead glancing around at the other couples and friends scattered around the café, everyone taking photos with their themed drinks and desserts. I watched them quietly, feeling the soft ache of something unnameable in my chest until a faint clatter snapped my attention back. 

 

Our pancakes had arrived, bright golden stacks decorated with little whipped cream eyes, a burnt-orange caramel mouth, and tiny sugar flames flickering from the top scoop of butter. I gasped softly. 

 

“Oh my god…” I whispered, my voice trembling with excitement. “He’s… he’s perfect.” 

 

Gojo chuckled, pulling out his phone instantly. “Hold it up,” he instructed, gesturing with his chin. “C’mon, Sophie. Smile.” 

 

I scooped the little Calcifer plate carefully into my hands, holding it up near my face with a wide grin as he angled his phone and snapped several photos in quick succession. When I lowered the plate again, he flicked through them with a smug grin. 

 

“Damn,” he murmured. “Suguru’s gonna die when he sees these.” 

 

“Don’t send him embarrassing ones!” I hissed, reaching for his phone, but he snatched it away, thumbs flying across the screen. 

 

“Too late,” he sing-songed, slipping the phone back into his pocket with a final triumphant flourish. “I sent him the cutest one, though. The one where your eyes are all wide and sparkly.” 

 

I flushed hot to my ears, glaring at him through my lashes before focusing on the little pancake face staring up at me. As I picked up my fork and knife to cut into Calcifer, Gojo leaned forward on his elbows, chin resting in his palm as he watched me with a sly grin. 

 

“You know,” he said softly, voice low and teasing, “in the movie… Calcifer is Howl’s heart.” 

 

I blinked, pausing mid-cut to glance up at him warily. “Yeah…?” 

 

His grin twitched wider, a sharp glimmer flickering behind his pale lashes. “So technically… you’re eating my heart right now. Should I be flattered or worried?” 

 

I stared at him for a long, silent moment before a laugh bubbled out of my chest, so sudden and unrestrained it startled even me. Gojo’s grin softened instantly, turning bright and almost boyish as he watched me cover my mouth, giggling into my palm. 

 

“You’re such an idiot. But to answer your question, both. Be afraid and flattered.” I whispered breathlessly, wiping the corner of my eye as a tear of laughter slipped free. 

 

He only shrugged lazily, leaning back in his chair with a small, satisfied hum. “Yeah,” he said softly, his gaze never leaving mine, “but I’d let you eat my heart if you wanted it.” 

 

My laughter faltered, something tight and warm blooming low in my chest at his words. I swallowed hard, looking down at my pancakes with trembling fingers before reaching out across the table to lace my hand with his. 

 

“Good thing I only want your company today,” I whispered back. 

 

His smile curved slow and fond, his thumb brushing gently over my knuckles as we sat there under the painted lanterns, the sweet scent of caramel and cinnamon curling around us like a blessing. 

 

--- 

 

We spent the next few hours wandering the little market stalls, the entire street alive with themed pop-ups, lanterns swaying softly in the late morning breeze. Everywhere we went, people stopped to stare at Gojo’s ridiculous Howl cosplay, whispering behind their hands about how he looked “just like an anime prince” while he strutted around like he owned the entire sky. 

 

At one point, he bought me a little silver ring with a blue stone that matched the pendant Howl wore in the movie, slipping it onto my finger with exaggerated ceremony. “Now you’re officially under my protection,” he teased, voice dropping low as he brushed a kiss over my knuckles. 

 

I rolled my eyes but tucked the gesture away in my chest like a glowing ember. 

 

We sampled food from nearly every stall, piping hot taiyaki filled with red bean, skewers of grilled mochi brushed with soy glaze, tiny cups of matcha tiramisu. Gojo tried everything without hesitation, declaring himself “a culinary god” for his willingness to mix flavors while I tried to keep him from dipping sweet potato fries into matcha pudding. 

 

At a little trinket booth decorated with floating paper charms, I found a small amethyst beaded bracelet with a single silver lotus charm. I picked it up, rolling it between my fingers thoughtfully. 

 

“For Suguru,” I murmured under my breath. 

 

Gojo, standing behind me and rifling through a basket of keychains, paused and glanced over his shoulder. His grin softened at the edges. “Get it for him,” he said simply. “He’ll love it.” 

 

I nodded, adding it to our growing pile of random finds: a Howl keychain for Gojo, a black enamel pin of Calcifer for Suguru’s mission satchel, and a tiny purple crystal charm for my phone. The vendor wrapped them all up in tissue paper decorated with little golden stars. 

 

We finished with a final sweep through the café, grabbing iced milk teas topped with fluffy whipped cream and caramel drizzle. Gojo sipped his loudly, straw clacking against the ice as he pulled me close with his free arm. 

 

“Photo booth before we go,” he declared, dragging me toward the bright little machine tucked near the café’s back entrance. It was decorated with pastel flowers and a huge decal of Calcifer grinning up at us from the base. 

 

We slipped inside the cramped booth, the scent of sweet tea and his cologne swirling around me in the confined space. Gojo immediately pressed his cheek against mine, his wide grin taking up half the preview screen as he tapped the options with manic speed. 

 

“Three copies,” he said, flicking through the settings. “One for you, one for me… and obviously one for Suguru. Gotta let him see how hot his girl and his boyfriend looked today.” 

 

My chest burned at his casual phrasing, but before I could respond, the countdown started. Gojo grabbed my face between his hands, squishing my cheeks together so my lips puckered. The first flash went off just as I squeaked in surprise. 

 

“Okay, okay, cute one now,” he ordered, smoothing my cheeks with his thumbs. He pressed a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth just as the next photo snapped, leaving me blinking dazedly at the preview. 

 

The third flash caught us both mid-laugh, his head thrown back slightly, my face tipped toward his chest as my shoulders shook. 

 

The last photo he pulled out his phone to show a picture of Suguru and we both quickly kissed the sides of the phone. 

 

When we stepped out, the attendant handed us three glossy strips, each one lined with the tiny captured moments. Gojo flicked through them with a grin before slipping one into his wallet, tucking another into my purse for me, and carefully setting the last one aside. 

 

“We’ll give Suguru his when he gets back,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over the photo of him kissing my cheek. “He deserves to see how cute you were today.” 

 

“We were cute,” I corrected quietly, smiling up at him. 

 

His grin turned sharp and bright, his blue eyes flickering with something unspoken as he leaned down to brush his lips against my temple. 

 

“Yeah,” he murmured. “We really were.” 

 

--- 

 

By the time we reached the school gates, the sun was dipping low, streaking the horizon in hazy lavender and gold. Gojo kept flicking his phone screen to check the time, humming under his breath like he was waiting for something. 

 

As we stepped into the courtyard, I saw him first, Suguru, walking calmly up the path toward the dorm building, black mission uniform still pristine, hair tied back in its usual low knot. His eyes lifted and caught mine, flickering with warm surprise before softening instantly. 

 

“Welcome back,” I called softly, raising a hand in a small wave. 

 

Gojo’s grin split his face immediately. “Sugu~ru!” he shouted, voice echoing obnoxiously across the quiet courtyard as he practically jogged up to him. “You’re home just in time- c’mere, c’mere!” 

 

Suguru sighed softly but didn’t resist as Gojo hooked an arm around his shoulders, steering him into the dorms and up the stairs to my room. I followed behind them, my chest fluttering with quiet relief at seeing him safe. 

 

As soon as we stepped inside, Gojo gestured dramatically at me. “Ta-da~!” 

 

Suguru blinked, his gaze roving over my outfit before a faint smile curved his lips. “Sophie cosplay?” he guessed softly. 

 

I nodded shyly, smoothing the simple skirt down with my hands. “Gojo wanted us to dress up… he was Howl, obviously.” 

 

Suguru’s eyes flicked to Gojo’s unbuttoned white shirt and black slacks, then back to me, his smile deepening into something warm and fond. “You look beautiful,” he murmured. 

 

“She does, right?!” Gojo chirped, practically vibrating as he started dumping bags onto my floor. “And look at all the stuff we got you!” 

 

He rummaged through the shopping bags, pulling out the amethyst bracelet with the little silver lotus charm first. He held it out to Suguru with an exaggerated bow. “For our pretty sorcerer prince,” he teased lightly. 

 

Suguru snorted softly but took it, rolling the beads between his fingers. His gaze flicked to me, golden eyes softening even further. “You picked this out?” 

 

I nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “It reminded me of you.” 

 

He stepped forward, looping the bracelet around his wrist and fastening it easily before cupping my jaw in one hand, brushing his thumb over my cheek with gentle warmth. “Thank you, little lotus.” 

 

Gojo made an obnoxious gagging noise behind us. “Okay, okay, enough flirting with my girlfriend- look at the rest!” 

 

He pulled out the enamel Calcifer pin and pressed it into Suguru’s palm with a grin. “For your mission satchel. So you always have firepower, even when I’m not there.” 

 

Suguru huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he set it aside carefully. “You two are ridiculous,” he murmured, but his voice was tinged with fondness. 

 

“And~!” Gojo dug into his wallet and pulled out the last photo booth strip. He held it up proudly between two fingers. “For you.” 

 

Suguru took it wordlessly, his eyes tracing over each frame, my cheeks squished between Gojo’s hands, Gojo kissing the corner of my mouth, both of us laughing with our heads tipped together, and the one where we were both kissing him, his face dressed with that lazy smile of his. His brows twitched faintly, eyes flickering with something deep and warm as he tucked the photo carefully into his uniform pocket. 

 

“Thank you,” he said softly, glancing between us. “For thinking of me.” 

 

Gojo slung an arm around his shoulders, leaning his full weight into him. “Duh. You’re our favorite third wheel.” 

 

“Second wheel,” I corrected gently, smiling up at Suguru as he huffed a quiet laugh, slipping his free arm around my waist to pull me in closer. 

 

And there we stood, tangled together under the dim dorm lights, smelling faintly of sweet matcha and warm street food. For a moment, it was just us, no missions, no curses, no looming dread. Just the quiet thrum of young hearts beating in unison.

 

 

Chapter 54: Being Young (NSFW)

“Hold still or I’m gonna stab you in the eyeball with this liner,” I warned lightly, tongue poking out between my teeth as I flicked a sharp black wing across Utahime’s lash line. She grumbled under her breath but obediently stilled, gripping the edge of my dresser with white knuckles.

 

“Why do you even need to do this?” she muttered. “We’re just going out to drink, not seduce an army.”

 

I smirked, leaning back to admire my work before grabbing a fluffy blending brush. “Speak for yourself,” I teased, dusting a bit of champagne shimmer over her lids. “You’re gonna thank me when you see how good these pictures come out.”

 

On the other side of the room, Yuki was lounging back against my pillows, scrolling her phone lazily as she waited her turn. Shoko was perched cross-legged on the floor by my mirror, applying her own lipstick with practiced precision. She’d opted for a deep burgundy shade tonight to match her sleek black crop top and cigarette pants.

 

“You’re good at this, bloodhound,” Yuki drawled, glancing up at me with a grin. “Were you a delinquent or a hostess in your past life?”

 

“Why not both?” I chirped back, moving to grab my mascara. Utahime snorted despite herself.

 

A knock sounded at the door just as I finished her lashes. “Come in!” I called, sliding my brush back into its holder.

 

The door swung open to reveal Gojo and Geto, both freshly showered and dressed down but effortlessly attractive. Gojo wore loose black slacks with a soft white tee tucked in, his silver necklace glinting faintly under the collar. Geto had chosen fitted black slacks and a dark olive button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, his hair tied back in its usual low knot, a few strands framing his sharp cheekbones.

 

Gojo let out a low whistle, his blue eyes dragging up and down my body with an unabashed grin. “Damn, baby,” he drawled, sauntering in and resting his chin dramatically on my shoulder. “You trying to kill me tonight?”

 

I smirked, rolling my eyes but feeling heat bloom in my chest. “Shut up and sit down. I’m doing your eyeliner.”

 

He perked up instantly, dropping into my desk chair with a flourish. “Finally. Make me look hot.”

 

“You already look hot,” I teased softly under my breath as I swiped a smudgy black liner along his lower lash line to bring out his eyes even more. His grin widened, his gaze locked lazily on mine the whole time.

 

Geto chuckled, folding his arms and leaning against the doorframe as he watched us. “You’re gonna end up making him look like a Visual Kei groupie.”

 

“And?” I shot back, capping the liner and grabbing my setting spray. “He’d suit it.”

 

Shoko stood, slipping her cigarettes into her little purse before adjusting her dark lipstick in the mirror. “You done with Utahime? My turn to get bossed around.”

 

“Sit,” I ordered with a grin, spraying her face lightly with the cold mist. She closed her eyes with a hum of approval.

 

Gojo reached over and tugged lightly at the lace sleeve of my cardigan, his eyes dragging down to the ripped black dress beneath. “You’re really wearing this out?” he asked, his voice low with something close to possessiveness.

 

I cocked an eyebrow at him, adjusting the neckline so it showed my piercings just a little bit more. “Got a problem with it, Pretty Boy?”

 

●●●●

 

"Nope.." he said popping the p.

 

Gojo's fingers grazed the hem of my dress again, his hand warm and annoyingly persistent against the bare skin of my thigh. I didn’t even glance down as I grabbed a precision brush for Shoko’s eyeliner.

 

“Stop that,” I murmured under my breath, shifting just enough to grab his wrist and guide it away from trying to reach up. “We’re still in polite company.”

 

“Barely,” he muttered, grinning up at me with that incorrigible sparkle in his eyes. “How polite can it be with you dressed like this? I’m fighting for my life over here.”

 

“Try harder,” I said sweetly, patting his cheek before turning back to Shoko. “Look up, babe.”

 

Gojo sighed dramatically and flopped back into the chair like a scolded golden retriever, legs wide, one hand resting on my hip again like I was his favorite stress ball. The moment I leaned forward to fix Shoko’s wing, his other hand slid behind me, fingertips trailing lightly along the back of my thigh.

 

I didn’t even flinch. I just reached back blindly and smacked his hand.

 

“Not there,” I warned.

 

“Just checking!” he whined, grinning even as I narrowed my eyes at him through the mirror.

 

“You really letting him grope you like that in front of company?” Shoko drawled, one eye half-lidded as I swept the liner across it. “Damn, Geto, you okay over there?”

 

Geto just smirked from where he leaned in the doorway, arms crossed casually. “I don’t mind watching,” he said easily, eyes dragging down my legs with a lazy kind of hunger. “She knows she can call me in if she needs help.”

 

That earned a groan from Utahime, who was now sitting on my bed with a drink in hand, clearly regretting every decision that led her to this room.

 

“You people are unhinged,” she muttered.

 

Gojo grinned like he’d just won a prize. “You’re just mad ‘cause I’m prettier than you.”

 

Utahime flipped him off without looking.

 

“Ignore him,” I said to her gently, finishing Shoko’s liner and tossing the brush into my makeup bag. “He thrives on negative attention like a toddler.”

 

“Hey!” Gojo protested, snaking both arms around my waist the moment I turned to face the mirror. “That’s not fair. I thrive on all kinds of attention.”

 

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” I muttered, bending down to get closer to the mirror as I started blending my own eyeshadow. I felt his chin rest on my shoulder, then his hands travel down to cup my chest from behind, thumbs brushing slow, lazy circles against them. I move his hands back down.

 

“You wearing underwear?” he whispered, voice low and playful against my ear.

 

I smacked his leg with my heel without missing a beat. “Satoru.”

 

“What? I'm just checkin’!”

 

Shoko snorted behind me. “You two need a leash.”

 

“Oh, she has one,” Gojo said cheerfully, not even pretending to deny it. “It’s invisible but it’s strong.”

 

“It’s called my voice,” I added, leaning slightly to apply my eyeliner. “If I tell him to heel, he’ll drop like a stone.”

 

“True,” Gojo said proudly.

 

“That’s… horrifying,” Utahime muttered.

 

“You’re just jealous,” he shot back. “You wish someone wanted to worship you like this.”

 

“I’d rather set myself on fire,” she deadpanned.

 

“That can be arranged,” Shoko added, reaching for her drink with a grin.

 

“Oh my god,” Utahime groaned. “You’re the worst.”

 

Shoko winked at her. “And you love me.”

 

“Tragically.”

 

Yuki cackled from my bed, still scrolling. “Honestly, I’m just here for the show. You guys are like a trashy supernatural drama, but everyone’s hot.”

 

“We should start our own show. Think that would satisfy Satoru's need for attention?” I murmured, flicking mascara through my lashes as Gojo rested his head on my back.

 

“Hey Suguru,” Yuki called lazily, “you really gonna let your boy grope your girlfriend like that?”

 

Geto didn’t even blink. “He’s touchy. He’s always touchy.”

 

“He’s a slut,” Utahime offered.

 

“A slut on a leash,” I corrected, running a hand lightly through Gojo’s hair. “And he likes it that way.”

 

Gojo purred. Actually purred.

 

“He really does,” Shoko added under her breath with a knowing look. “Pain and obedience? That man lives for it.”

 

Geto chuckled, eyes glittering. “You say that like you didn’t see him fold last week when Amara used her serious voice.”

 

“I love her serious voice,” Gojo said dreamily, arms tightening around my waist again. “I’d kill someone if she said please.”

 

“Jesus Christ,” Utahime groaned, standing to grab another drink.

 

“Ignore him,” I said again, this time laughing as I finished my lipstick. “He’s mostly bark.”

 

“And bite,” Gojo added proudly. “If allowed.”

 

Shoko laughed softly and looked over at Geto. “You’re real calm about all this.”

 

He tilted his head slightly. “Why wouldn’t I be? I get to go home with both of them tonight.”

 

Gojo grinned up at me from my lap, lips brushing my bare thigh as he spoke. “Dibs on being little spoon tonight.”

 

I smiled down at him, brushing my fingers across his cheek. “If you behave.”

 

He groaned. “You’re so mean to me.”

 

“Don’t pretend like you don’t love it.”

 

“Oh, I do. Deeply.”

 

Shoko elbowed Utahime. “Told you. She’s got him trained like a husky with a shock collar.”

 

“He’d probably like the collar,” Utahime muttered.

 

“Confirmed,” Geto added casually.

 

Gojo beamed. “Absolutely confirmed.”

 

I was almost done.

 

Lips lined, lashes curled, and just one more sweep of highlighter across my cheekbone before I could call it good. I leaned a little closer to the mirror, tongue pressed to the corner of my mouth in concentration as I blended the shimmer with soft, practiced strokes. The room behind me was loud, Shoko bickering with Yuki over lip gloss, Utahime mock-scolding Geto about something he said under his breath, but I was tuned out, locked into the final details.

 

And then I felt it.

 

A warm palm, slipping under the hem of my dress like he owned the place.

 

“Satoru,” I warned quietly, voice low as my eyes stayed fixed on the mirror.

 

“I’m not doing anything,” he sing-songed behind me, which was the most obvious lie in existence considering his fingers were now ghosting along the curve of my ass.

 

“You’re breathing heavy like you just found out they canceled curse laws,” I muttered, shifting just enough to bump him back with my hip.

 

He chuckled, low, smug, and I caught a glimpse of him grinning in the reflection. Slouched behind me, head tilted like he was innocent, but those long fingers were anything but. One finger hooked into the side of my thigh, dragging slowly up the bare skin as I tried not to stab myself in the eye with my mascara wand.

 

“Suguru,” I called sweetly, because I knew the warning didn’t always need to come from me first.

 

“Mmm?” he hummed from across the room, eyes flicking lazily up from the small magazine he’d picked up to keep himself distracted.

 

“Your boy’s misbehaving,” I said without turning.

 

“Again?” he sighed, casual as hell. “You want me to call him off?”

 

I could feel Gojo perk up at the attention. God, he was insufferable when he wanted to be punished.

 

“Nah,” I said smoothly. “Just letting you know.”

 

Suguru got the hint, because a second later, he was saying something to Shoko about a half-finished bottle of sake they left in the common room fridge, drawing all eyes and attention toward the mini-debate that spun off from that.

 

And Gojo took that as a green light. 

 

The moment the others were laughing and distracted, his body pressed up against my back like a slow wave, his hips nudging into mine. His hand lifted the hem of my dress fully this time, cool air kissing the tops of my thighs as he whispered right against my ear.

 

“You’re not wearing tights,” he murmured, delighted. “Naughty.”

 

I felt his hips grind lightly once, cocky and lazy.

 

“I swear to god,” I hissed, mascara wand lowering as I planted both feet solidly on the floor.

 

Then I reached back with the same smoothness he’d used on me, my hand cupping him through his slacks and squeezing.

 

Hard.

 

Gojo gasped, body jolting with a choked groan, his knees buckling ever so slightly.

 

“Behave,” I said, low and warning, my tone clipped and quiet like a command whispered into a storm.

 

His forehead dropped to my shoulder, breath heavy, a shudder rolling through his whole frame as he nodded quickly.

 

“Yes, ma’am,” he rasped, voice tight and shaky.

 

I let him go slowly, savoring the way he whimpered under his breath like I had short-circuited something in his brain.

 

He immediately stepped back, hands at his sides now, eyes lowered like a punished dog sitting obediently at his master’s feet. Suguru gave me a knowing glance across the room, his mouth twitching faintly at the corners. He’d heard that noise Gojo made. We both had.

 

I finished the last swipe of highlighter without another hitch, my reflection calm, collected, glowing.

 

“You done causing problems?” I asked quietly as I capped the brush.

 

Gojo nodded, his voice a breathless murmur. “For now.”

 

I leaned over slightly and whispered with a smirk, “You just wanted to get grabbed.”

 

He groaned softly. “Is it that obvious?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Worth it.”

 

I rolled my eyes, trying not to laugh. He was still flustered, still warm with that mix of embarrassment and arousal only I seemed to be able to trigger. And he looked perfect like that, quiet for once, his cheeks flushed pink, standing just behind me like the world’s most beautiful menace on a leash.

 

We walk back over to the group.

 

Geto smirked softly, his dark eyes roving over my outfit with quiet approval. “You look beautiful,” he said, his voice so soft I almost missed it under the chatter. My chest fluttered.

 

Finally, Yuki hopped off my bed, tucking her phone into her bra as she grabbed her leather jacket. “Alright, ladies and babies, let’s go get drunk enough to forget curses exist for a night.”

 

Utahime groaned softly, adjusting the short hem of her velvet bodycon dress as she grabbed her purse. “Remind me again why I let you talk me into this?”

 

“Because you love us,” Shoko replied breezily, grabbing her cigarettes. “And you’re a lightweight. I plan to enjoy the show.”

 

We made our way down the dorm stairs and out into the warm Tokyo evening, the streets glowing under buzzing neon signs and flickering lanterns. Gojo kept close to my side the entire walk to the first bar, his fingers brushing mine occasionally like he couldn’t help it.

 

Geto walked behind us, quiet but present, his eyes flicking lazily over every passerby, as if cataloguing potential threats despite the relaxed tilt of his mouth.

 

When we finally reached the first bar, I turned to the group with a grin, feeling the electric thrum of city nightlife stir something alive under my skin.

 

“Alright,” I declared brightly, tossing my hair over my shoulder. “Tonight, we’re young. We’re alive. And we’re gonna act like it.”

 

Yuki slung an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close with a wolfish grin. “That’s my girl.”

 

And with that, we slipped inside under the pulsing bassline and neon lights, ready to remember what it meant to live beyond survival.

 

The bar was dimly lit and pulsing with low, bass-heavy music that thrummed through my chest like a second heartbeat. Red and violet lights swept across the dance floor, illuminating glittering drinks and swaying bodies. I could already feel the humidity of sweat and perfume hanging in the air as we squeezed through to claim a tall table near the edge.

 

“First round’s on me,” Yuki declared, clapping her hands together before disappearing to the bar with Shoko trailing behind her. Utahime sighed and sat down heavily on one of the barstools, crossing her legs and pulling her dress lower.

 

I turned to Suguru, who was scanning the crowd with an unreadable expression, and grinned up at him. “Come on,” I said, grabbing his wrist gently. “You’re drinking with me tonight.”

 

He blinked down at me, startled, before his lips twitched into a small smile. “Yeah… alright, sweetheart.”

 

We slid up to the counter beside Shoko and Yuki just as they were grabbing their drinks. I ordered us both whiskey highballs, feeling Suguru’s warm presence behind me as I paid, and turned to hand him his glass. Our fingers brushed, and his gaze softened.

 

“To living a little,” I said softly, raising my glass.

 

His eyes crinkled faintly at the corners as he clinked his glass against mine. “To living.”

 

I downed a third of mine in one sip, ignoring the burn as I grinned at him. “You better drink faster than that, Old Man.”

 

He snorted, tilting his glass back with a lazy roll of his eyes. “Watch yourself.”

 

Behind us, Gojo slid up to the bar, already holding a fizzy melon soda in one hand. “What’d I miss?” he chirped, eyes flicking between us.

 

“Nothing you can handle, lightweight,” I teased, kissing his chest before slipping away into the crowd toward where Yuki and Utahime were dragging Shoko onto the dance floor.

 

“Amara!” Yuki called, reaching out to grab my wrist and yank me into their circle. I stumbled, nearly sloshing my drink over my hand, but laughed as she spun me under her arm. The music shifted into something dark and fast, vibrating through my ribs as we fell into rhythm together.

 

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

 

Gojo leaned back against the bar, crossing his long legs casually as he sipped his soda through a pink straw, his bright eyes locked on the dance floor.

 

Suguru stood beside him, one hand wrapped around his half-empty highball, his other shoved deep into his pocket. He watched Amara with a quiet intensity, his expression relaxed but his eyes focused and warm.

 

Out there, under the red-violet haze of moving lights, Amara danced with Shoko, Yuki, and Utahime. She threw her head back laughing as Shoko grinded up behind her lazily, one hand flicking away her cigarette smoke. Amara’s black shredded dress clung to her curves, flashes of pale skin and piercings catching in the strobe.

 

“She’s beautiful,” Suguru murmured, so low only Gojo could hear it over the pounding music.

 

Gojo smirked around his straw, tilting his head just slightly to nudge Suguru’s shoulder. “Yeah,” he said softly, voice edged with that same quiet fondness. “She is.”

 

They fell silent, watching the girls dance together, their hips moving in fluid rhythm. Yuki tossed her hair back with a wicked grin, grabbing Amara’s waist and pulling her closer until their thighs brushed. Utahime, flushed bright pink, tried to keep up beside them, clutching her drink like a lifeline as she moved to the beat.

 

Gojo hummed softly, his gaze flicking sideways to Suguru. “She’s trying so hard, y’know?” he said, his voice unusually quiet under the music. “To… make us all feel young. Normal.”

 

Suguru’s jaw clenched faintly, his golden eyes flicking from Amara to Gojo and back again. “She’s succeeding,” he said after a moment, his voice rough with something that sounded almost like gratitude. “Even just for tonight.”

 

Gojo’s smirk softened into a small smile. He took another sip of his soda, his free hand reaching out to brush lightly against Suguru’s wrist. Suguru let him, leaning into the touch just enough for Gojo to feel it before their eyes drifted back to Amara.

 

She was glowing under the club lights, her hair swinging around her shoulders as she laughed, her lips curling into a smile so bright it made something twist deep in both their chests.

 

“She’s gonna pull us onto that floor soon,” Gojo said, grin curling back onto his face.

 

Suguru huffed out a quiet laugh. “Let her try.”

 

And together, under the haze of neon and pulsing bass, they stood side by side, watching the girl who made them feel human again.

 

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

 

I don’t know how long we’d been at the bar, but judging by the warm, happy flush in my chest and the way my thighs ached from dancing, it had been at least a few hours. Every time I came back to the table to grab another drink, I made sure to check on them, my boys, still standing where I left them.

 

Suguru had a faint pink flush across his sharp cheekbones, his golden eyes half-lidded and relaxed as he sipped his drink, his hair falling loose around his shoulders in dark waves. Gojo was leaning against the bar, one knee propped up on the edge, sipping his soda lazily while his bright eyes tracked me through the dance floor.

 

“Having fun?” I asked breathlessly, grinning up at them as I wiped sweat off my brow with the back of my wrist.

 

Suguru smirked, reaching out to brush his thumb over my cheek, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “More fun watching you,” he drawled softly, his voice warm and loose from the alcohol.

 

Gojo’s grin twitched wider as he slurped the last of his soda. “Yeah, Princess. You look hot as hell out there. Almost makes me wanna risk my dignity and dance with you.”

 

I laughed and rolled my eyes before Shoko grabbed my wrist, dragging me back into the shifting haze of colored lights. “Come on,” she slurred slightly, her lips curling into a smirk. “Stop feeding their egos and come dance with us.”

 

I let her pull me in, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as Utahime swayed beside us, her cheeks flushed bright pink, and Yuki threw her head back laughing at something Shoko whispered to her.

 

But even as I danced with them, I kept glancing back at my boys, my heart beating faster every time I saw their gazes still locked onto me, like they couldn’t look away.

 

When the next song started, something slow and heavy with a deep bass that thrummed low in my stomach, I spun away from the girls and skipped back to them, planting myself between their tall frames.

 

“Dance with me,” I said, my voice low and a little whiny as I reached out to grab their hands.

 

Suguru raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching. “Here?”

 

“Yes, here,” I pouted, tugging harder. “Please? I want to be sandwiched between my Toru and Sugu…”

 

I watched the way their eyes darkened instantly at those names, Suguru’s jaw twitching faintly while Gojo’s grin stretched wide and wolfish.

 

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” Gojo teased, already setting down his empty cup and straightening up to his full towering height.

 

Suguru sighed, finishing the last of his drink before setting it aside. “You’re lucky we love you,” he muttered, but there was no bite in his voice.

 

“Mm, I am lucky,” I hummed, grinning up at them as I dragged them out onto the dance floor with me. The bass thumped through my ribs as I turned, pressing my back against Suguru’s chest while Gojo stepped in front of me, close enough that I could smell his cologne and the faint sweetness of his melon soda.

 

Gojo’s hands came to rest low on my hips, fingers curling just under the hem of my shredded black dress. “You look so fucking good tonight,” he murmured over the music, his grin lazy and bright as his thumbs brushed my bare skin.

 

Behind me, Suguru’s hands found my waist, one of them sliding up to rest lightly under my ribs as he leaned down to murmur in my ear, his voice low and warm. “Careful, sweetheart. You’re playing with fire dancing like this~”

 

“Then burn me,” I whispered back, tilting my head just enough to brush my lips against his jaw before Gojo rolled his hips into mine, forcing a soft gasp from my throat.

 

I heard Shoko’s loud whistle from the edge of the dance floor and turned just enough to see her smirking lazily, her eyes hooded with amusement as she watched us. Only Ieiri would look at me like that, fond, exasperated, protective, and entirely unbothered by how feral these boys could be.

 

Yuki grinned widely, toasting her drink in the air before leaning down to tease Utahime about her blushing cheeks.

 

But I didn’t care about the rest of the bar. Right now, all I could feel was Gojo’s strong hands gripping my hips, Suguru’s warm breath brushing my ear, and the soft, slow burn of their bodies pressed against mine under the haze of violet lights.

 

Because for tonight, for this one moment, I wanted nothing more than to feel young and reckless and loved.

 

And they were more than happy to give me exactly that.

 

We kept dancing.

 

The bass thumped low and heavy through the floor, vibrating up my legs and into my chest. Suguru’s hands slid down to my hips, gripping them firmly as he pressed closer, his breath hot against my ear.

 

“You’re mine, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and dark, edged with something dangerous that made my thighs clench.

 

I let out a shaky breath, my eyelids fluttering as I nodded, but his fingers curled under my chin, tilting my face back until I was staring up at him through half-lidded eyes.

 

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he ordered softly, his golden eyes flickering in the dim light. “Tell me.”

 

“I’m yours,” I whispered, my voice trembling as heat pooled low in my stomach. “I’m always yours, Suguru.”

 

His lips curled into a slow, lazy smirk, and he dipped down to press a lingering kiss to my forehead before pushing me gently forward, straight into Gojo’s waiting arms.

 

Gojo caught me easily, his large hands sliding up my sides before curling around my jaw, forcing me to look up at him. His bright blue eyes glittered mischievously as he leaned down until his lips were brushing mine but not quite kissing.

 

“And mine too, yeah?” he murmured, his tone deceptively light, edged with a quiet possessiveness that made my heart stutter. “Say it.”

 

“You’re so needy tonight,” I teased breathlessly, but his fingers tightened slightly on my jaw, his grin twitching wider in warning.

 

“Say it, pretty girl,” he whispered, his voice dropping low enough to make goosebumps bloom across my skin.

 

“I’m yours too, Toru,” I whispered back, my voice barely audible over the pounding music. “I’m yours… always.”

 

His grin softened into something warmer, and he finally kissed me. A quick, claiming press of his lips to mine before pulling back with a smug little hum.

 

“That’s my girl,” he purred, brushing his thumb over my bottom lip before turning me back around to face Suguru.

 

Suguru’s hands slid up under my hair, curling lightly around the back of my neck as he pulled me in close, his nose brushing against mine as his dark eyes flicked over my face hungrily.

 

“You have no idea what you do to us,” he murmured, his voice deep and rough around the edges. “Standing there looking like that… letting everyone see you… but knowing you’re ours. Only ours.”

 

A quiet whimper slipped from my lips, and his grip tightened just enough to make my breath hitch.

 

“Do you like it?” he asked softly, tilting his head. “Being claimed like this… knowing we’d never let anyone else have you?”

 

I swallowed hard, my knees trembling as I nodded, but his other hand came up to grip my jaw firmly, forcing my eyes to meet his again.

 

“Words, Amara,” he growled softly, his lips ghosting over mine without closing the distance. “Tell me.”

 

“I… I love it,” I breathed, my voice breaking into a quiet moan when Gojo’s hands slid down to squeeze my hips from behind. “I love it… I love that I’m yours… both of yours.”

 

“Good girl,” Suguru purred, finally slanting his mouth over mine in a deep, slow kiss that made my toes curl in my boots.

 

Behind me, Gojo leaned down to press open-mouthed kisses to the side of my neck, his fingers gripping my waist tight enough to bruise as he chuckled softly against my skin.

 

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmured, his voice vibrating through my chest. “Our perfect girl.”

 

And in that moment, surrounded by the thrum of music, their bodies pressed against mine, their words sinking into my skin like hot iron...

 

I wanted nothing more than to stay theirs forever.

 

-----------

 

“Amaraaaaa!” Shoko’s voice cut through the bass-heavy music as she waved her over from the cluster of girls near the center of the dance floor. Utahime was giggling behind her drink while Yuki rolled her eyes but smirked in quiet approval.

 

Amara whimpered softly between Suguru and Satoru, her forehead pressed to Suguru’s chest as Gojo’s large hands tightened on her hips from behind.

 

“Please…” she whined, her voice muffled against Suguru’s shirt. “Please… I need more of you… don’t stop yet…”

 

Suguru chuckled low, a dark, rough sound that vibrated against her cheek as he cupped her jaw, forcing her to tilt her head up to look at him. His golden eyes glittered under his dark lashes, half-lidded and heavy with heat.

 

“Greedy little thing,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over her bottom lip as Gojo pressed closer behind her, his chest flush to her back.

 

“Think you can handle more, pretty girl?” Gojo teased softly against her ear, his breath hot as he pressed a featherlight kiss to the side of her neck.

 

She nodded desperately, her fingers curling into Suguru’s shirt. But Suguru only smirked, tilting his head faintly as his gaze flicked past her to where the girls were still calling her over.

 

“Go,” he ordered softly, his voice firm but tinged with fondness. “Go dance with your girls.”

 

“But-” she started to protest, only to be cut off as Gojo’s fingers tightened on her hips just enough to make her gasp.

 

“Don’t make us tell you twice, sweetheart,” Gojo purred, his grin twitching wider. “We’ll be right here. Watching.”

 

She let out a quiet whine but nodded obediently, turning to press one last kiss to Suguru’s lips before Gojo caught her chin, stealing a quick, possessive kiss of his own.

 

“Go on now,” Suguru murmured, giving her hip a gentle pat as she reluctantly turned and rushed over to her friends.

 

The two men watched her go in silence for a moment, eyes fixed on the sway of her hips in that ripped black dress as she reached Shoko and the others. Almost immediately, Shoko pulled her in by the waist, their bodies pressing close as they moved in slow, sensual rolls to the beat. Utahime flushed pink but joined in, and even Yuki grinned faintly, looping an arm around Amara’s shoulders as they danced.

 

Suguru exhaled slowly, raking a hand back through his long hair, his dark eyes never leaving Amara as she threw her head back in laughter, her movements fluid and confident under the club lights. Her cropped black dress hugged her hips with every sway, lace sleeves fluttering as she danced against Shoko, their bodies pressed together like they’d done this a hundred times.

 

Beside him, Satoru tilted his head slightly, his pale hair glowing under the dim bar lighting as he sipped lazily at his soda, gaze fixed on Amara. After a moment of quiet, he asked without looking away,

 

“Does seeing her like that… turn you on?”

 

Suguru huffed a small laugh, his lips curling faintly as he tilted his head toward Satoru, golden eyes flickering with amusement. “What, seeing her dance all hot like that?” His gaze slid back to Amara, lingering on the way she gripped Shoko’s hips, whispering something against her neck that made Shoko smirk. “Yeah. Definitely exciting. Especially with Shoko.” His voice dropped lower, almost thoughtful. “She’s attractive. Confident. I don’t mind seeing Amara get like this with her. Plus I trust Shoko a lot and so does Amara. Makes this stuff feel less threatening.”

 

Gojo just hummed softly in acknowledgement, swirling his straw in his drink. His bright eyes stayed fixed on Amara, thoughtful and a little distant in that way he got when he was thinking too hard.

 

Suguru snorted quietly, catching his expression. “What’s that face for?”

 

Gojo blinked and turned to him, lips twitching faintly. “Nothing. Just… you know I don’t really get turned on by stuff like that. I mean… Shoko’s hot, yeah, but it’s just… it doesn’t do anything for me. Unless it’s you or her.”

 

Gojo puts his drink down then holds his hands out in front of him and closes one eye. "If I block everyone out and just focus on her, then I can get turned on. Honestly seeing the others kills my boner. Especially Utahime."

 

Suguru barked a small laugh, shaking his head as he reached out to push Gojo's hands down. “God, you’re such a dork.”

 

Gojo pouted faintly at that, though his grin twitched wider at the edges. “Yeah, yeah. Shut up.”

 

Suguru leaned back against the bar, watching him with amused golden eyes. “Got any more sexual questions to ask tonight, Toru?” he teased lightly, smirking. “You look like your degenerate little brain is turning its gears trying to analyze my filthy thoughts.”

 

Gojo flushed faintly at the tips of his ears, scowling as he swirled his drink again. “Shut up. I’m just… curious. You’re complicated. She's complicated. It’s interesting.”

 

Suguru chuckled low, the sound vibrating through his chest as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing near Gojo’s ear as he spoke in a quiet, teasing whisper.

 

“Want me to tell you everything I’m thinking right now, pretty boy? All the things I’d do to her… to you… right here in front of everyone?”

 

Gojo shivered faintly at the husk in his voice, his fingers tightening slightly around his drink as his throat bobbed in a small swallow. But when he turned to glare at Suguru, his blue eyes were sharp with challenge.

 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

 

Suguru just grinned, slow and wolfish, his dark eyes flicking back to Amara as she laughed against Shoko’s neck, oblivious to the two men watching her like she was the only light in the room.

 

He leaned in again, his breath warm against Gojo’s ear as he spoke low, his voice smooth and quiet, every word deliberate.

 

“You really wanna know what I’m thinking, pretty boy?” he murmured, his golden eyes half-lidded, fixed on Amara’s swaying form. “I’m thinking about taking her home… stripping her down real slow… letting her ride my thigh until she’s shaking so bad she can’t even beg properly.”

 

Gojo swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around his glass, his bright eyes flicking up to meet Suguru’s with a faint tremble in his breath.

 

Suguru’s lips twitched into a small, sweet smile as he continued, his voice soft, almost tender despite the filth dripping from his words.

 

“Then I’m gonna have her lay you down beside her,” he whispered, his thumb brushing lightly over Gojo’s jaw. “Make you watch as I fuck her slow, so slow she’s crying for more, and you’ll be right there… so close… so desperate for it.”

 

Gojo’s breath hitched quietly, his cheeks flushing a deep pink as he stared up at him, chest rising and falling a little quicker.

 

“And then…” Suguru hummed, leaning in so his lips brushed the shell of Gojo’s ear, his voice dropping even lower. “We’re gonna work on you. Get you used to it again… open you up so good for me. Because I want to use more of you next time, pretty boy. I want you under me, crying and shaking while she rides your face… both of you so desperate and so fucking perfect.”

 

Gojo’s knees nearly buckled at that, his free hand clenching into a fist against the bar as he fought to keep his composure, his pulse thundering under his skin.

 

Suguru’s thumb brushed over his lower lip lightly, tilting his chin up so their eyes met, his gaze warm and dark all at once.

 

“And someday,” he whispered softly, his lips curling into a tender smile, “someday… we’re gonna let her take both of us. Let her take control… use a strap on you while I’m inside her… so we can both be hers at the same time. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Toru? Getting pegged by Amara?”

 

Gojo’s breath trembled as he swallowed again, his blue eyes dark and wide with blown pupils, his voice coming out soft and unsteady.

 

“Yeah…” he breathed, almost inaudible under the pulsing club bass. “Yeah… I’d… I’d like that.”

 

Suguru chuckled low, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling back just enough to watch him with that same gentle, predatory gaze.

 

“Good boy,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over Gojo’s flushed cheek. “Now breathe for me. We’re not done tonight.”

 

Gojo shivered under his touch, forcing a shaky smile onto his lips as his eyes flicked back to Amara, watching her dance with Shoko like she was the sun incarnate, blissfully unaware of the quiet storm brewing behind her.

 

And Suguru… Suguru just watched them both with a gaze so soft it hurt, his chest aching with the weight of everything he felt for them, dark and bright all at once.

 

----------

 

I danced with the girls until my thighs burned and my chest felt light with laughter, Shoko pulling me close and Utahime twirling me around by the wrist, Yuki cheering us on from the edge of the dance floor with her drink held high.

 

Eventually, I pulled away, weaving back through the crowd toward my boys. They were still near the bar, half in shadow, the neon lights flickering over their sharp features. Suguru looked calm, his mouth curved into that small knowing smile he always wore when he was three drinks in but still perfectly in control. Gojo, though…

 

He looked wrecked.

 

His hair was a mess, his eyes wide and glassy under the tinted lenses he wore inside, his mouth parted slightly as he stared at me like I was some divine apparition. My heart thumped with smug satisfaction at the sight of him.

 

“Hey, Toru,” I teased, reaching up to cup his flushed cheek with my palm. “You okay? You look like you’ve been through it.”

 

He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing, and he let out a quiet, strangled laugh. “You… you have noooo idea,” he breathed, his voice trembling with something dark and sweet.

 

Suguru chuckled low behind him, wrapping his arm casually around Gojo’s waist as he sipped his drink, his golden eyes warm with amusement. “Don’t break him yet, sweetheart,” he drawled softly. “We’ve still got karaoke.”

 

I blinked, glancing over my shoulder to see Shoko waving me over, gesturing toward the exit. “Speaking of… Shoko just texted Yu and Nanami to meet us there,” I said, tapping Gojo lightly under his chin to make him look at me properly. “We’re moving to karaoke now.”

 

Gojo groaned softly, leaning down until his forehead rested against my shoulder. “Ugh… Yu’s coming?” he whined pitifully. “I have to behave around him… he’s practically a baby.”

 

I snorted, rolling my eyes as I patted his cheek lightly. “He’s literally only two years younger than us.”

 

“It's not entirely about age but about his personality.” Gojo mumbled dramatically, straightening up just enough to glance at Suguru with pleading eyes. “He’s a baby, Suguru. Tell her.”

 

“He’s barely younger than you,” Suguru said with a quiet laugh, shaking his head fondly. “But yes I agree… it doesn't change the plans though so behave.”

 

We headed out onto the cool night streets, the air smelling of distant river water and cigarette smoke. Shoko lit up immediately as we walked, exhaling a slow plume of smoke into the starless sky. She turned to me, offering me her pack.

 

“Want one, Mari?”

 

I paused, biting my lip lightly as I reached for it… then hesitated. My eyes flicked instinctively to Suguru and Gojo walking behind us.

 

Shoko sighed dramatically. “You don’t need their permission, y’know.”

 

Gojo scoffed instantly. “No,” he said firmly, his brows pulling down under his fringe. “Absolutely not. I hate that smell with a burning fucking passion.”

 

Shoko rolled her eyes, flicking ash off to the side. “Oh, grow up.”

 

But Suguru hummed quietly, his hand brushing the small of my back as he thought. “You can have one,” he said softly. “But only one tonight. And…” His golden eyes flicked down to meet mine, dark and heavy with silent command. “You brush your teeth and use gum before kissing Gojo again.”

 

“Yeah,” Gojo added quickly, nodding with wide dramatic eyes. “I can agree to that. You shouldn't smoke anyway. Those things will kill you, you know.”

 

Shoko snorted, blowing smoke out the corner of her mouth as she looked at him like he was the dumbest man alive. “We’re some of the only sorcerers who’ve mastered reverse curse technique, idiot. We’ll just heal our lungs.”

 

I laughed quietly at that, taking the cigarette from her and letting her light it for me. The first inhale burned warm down my throat, the faint bitterness curling around my tongue in a familiar comfort I rarely let myself indulge in anymore.

 

Gojo made a disgusted little noise in the back of his throat, stepping away from me dramatically to wave his hand in front of his nose. Suguru only chuckled, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and tucking me in closer as we walked, his nose brushing my temple softly.

 

Shoko and I walked ahead a few steps, shoulder to shoulder as we smoked, her free hand gesturing lazily as she spoke.

 

“So… you gonna tell me what they were whispering to you on the dance floor back there?” she asked, her lips curled into a small knowing smirk.

 

I smirked faintly, exhaling smoke through my nose as I tilted my head. “Nope.”

 

She chuckled softly, bumping her hip against mine as we walked. “You just mean nope until we're alone.”

 

Behind us, I could hear Gojo whining about the smell again and Suguru teasing him in that low, amused drawl, their voices carrying quietly under the buzzing streetlights. I smiled to myself, warmth blooming deep in my chest despite the cool breeze licking against my bare legs.

 

Shoko and I flicked the last embers of our cigarettes into the gutter before stepping up toward the glowing karaoke bar entrance. Gojo, who had been pacing around dramatically muttering about secondhand smoke like we’d committed a moral crime, perked up instantly.

 

“I’m going in,” he declared, flipping his hair back with an unnecessary flourish. “Don’t take too long, or I’ll steal all the good songs first.”

 

“Like hell you will,” Shoko scoffed, but Gojo just winked and slipped inside, the door jingling softly behind him.

 

Suguru lingered, hands tucked into the pockets of his black slacks, his golden eyes flicking between me and Shoko quietly. He shifted his weight, hesitating for a moment before stepping closer.

 

“I’ll wait out here with you two,” he murmured softly, his low voice barely audible over the distant hum of traffic. “No point in leaving you alone.”

 

Shoko side-eyed him instantly, her lips curling into a sly smirk. “You’re interrupting my gossip time, Geto.”

 

He blinked, brows drawing together faintly in confusion. “Your what?”

 

I snorted, leaning against the railing beside her as I stubbed out my cigarette. “She means I tell her everything,” I said casually, brushing my hair off my shoulder. “Like… everything everything.”

 

His brows lifted slightly in surprise, a faint flush touching his cheekbones. “Everything… everything?”

 

“Mhm,” Shoko hummed, enjoying his embarrassment far too much. “She’s a very vivid storyteller.”

 

Suguru’s mouth twitched, like he couldn’t decide whether to scold me or laugh. “I see…” he said quietly, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well… I wasn’t trying to interrupt. I just… wanted to linger for a smoke before going in.”

 

That shocked both of us into silence for a second.

 

“You… smoke?” I asked, blinking up at him.

 

“Since when?” Shoko added, arching a brow.

 

Suguru rolled his eyes faintly, sighing. “I used to, back home. Before Jujutsu tech. Before… everything.” His gaze flicked to the glowing city beyond the railing, eyes thoughtful and heavy with something unspoken. “I just never do anymore because… well…” He gestured vaguely toward the karaoke bar, where we could hear Gojo’s muffled voice singing already despite the fact that no music had started yet. “He hates it.”

 

Shoko snorted softly and handed him her pack. “Well, he’s not out here now.”

 

Suguru took a cigarette, slotting it between his lips with practiced ease before flicking Shoko’s lighter open with one smooth motion. He inhaled deeply, the tip glowing bright in the dark, before exhaling a thin plume of smoke that curled up into the cool night air.

 

“God,” he murmured softly, his voice low and tired. “I forgot how calming this was.”

 

I watched him quietly, studying the way his broad shoulders relaxed slightly, the way his long fingers curled around the cigarette so delicately despite their strength. There was something achingly human about it… about seeing him like this, just Suguru, not Geto the sorcerer.

 

Shoko lit another for herself, leaning against the railing beside him as she tilted her head back, eyes half-lidded with lazy amusement. “So… you wanna know what she told me about you two, or should I keep the good gossip to myself?”

 

Suguru smirked faintly, smoke curling past his lips as he glanced down at me, his golden eyes flickering with quiet challenge. “Oh, I think I already know,” he drawled softly, reaching out with his free hand to brush his knuckles under my chin teasingly. “She’s very honest… when she’s flustered.”

 

I flushed hot instantly, swatting his hand away as Shoko cackled beside us, her laughter sharp and bright under the buzzing streetlights.

 

“God, you two are disgusting,” she teased, flicking ash over the railing. “I’m so glad Gojo’s inside. He’d be crying about being left out right now.”

 

“Mm,” Suguru hummed, inhaling again before blowing smoke out the corner of his mouth, his eyes flicking toward the glowing karaoke sign with a faint smile. “He’d survive.”

 

“Barely,” I mumbled, earning another quiet laugh from Shoko.

 

 

Chapter 55: Karaoke Night (NSFW)

Summary:

Sorry for all these long ass chapters

We lingered under the buzzing streetlamp, the smoke curling lazily around us like a protective veil. Shoko flicked her ash over the railing, giving Suguru a side glance as he stood quietly, staring out at the city as if he wasn’t listening to every single word.

 

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” she drawled, taking another drag before glancing at me with a lazy smirk. “We were mid-conversation before you interrupted.”

 

Suguru let out a faint huff, shaking his head. “It’s fine. Pretend I’m not here.”

 

“Mm,” I hummed softly, leaning against the railing beside her. The city lights blurred slightly in my tired eyes, and the cigarette burned warm between my fingers as I exhaled. “Anyway… as I was saying… I think I need to get a different lube.”

 

Shoko blinked, then barked out a soft laugh. “Oh? Irritating you again?”

 

“Yeah…” I mumbled, shifting slightly as embarrassment prickled the tips of my ears. “It’s not bad but… it kinda stings a little after. Especially after we go for a while…”

 

“Mm,” Shoko hummed, nodding sagely. “It’s probably the additives. Try something water-based with minimal glycerin. Or just use coconut oil like everyone else who pretends they’re organic. You just can't use it with condoms since it can erode them.”

 

“Honestly,” I muttered, holding the cigarette like it was a stress ball, “I thought about using that strawberry stuff Utahime gave me, but it just made everything feel sticky and too sweet. Like, I don’t want my vagina to smell like dessert.”

 

Shoko burst out laughing again, smoke shooting from her nose as she turned to lean on the railing with her whole forearm. “Oh my god, Mari. That visual is never leaving my brain.”

 

“You’re welcome.” I took another drag, squinting at the skyline before adding, “And I mean, it’s not like it’s awful or anything. It just doesn’t feel right after. Like… It’s not sore sore, but it doesn’t feel like I should be sore.”

 

Shoko nodded, her face a mix of amusement and something sharper, something that said she was listening more carefully than she let on. “You’re not doing anything you don’t want to, right?”

 

“No.” I shook my head instantly, the answer honest and heavy. “God, no. Suguru and Satoru are gentle. Even when they’re not. They never do anything I don’t ask for. I just… didn’t know some of that stuff would sting after. Especially when it gets… you know. Intense.”

 

“Mmm.” Shoko tapped her cigarette on the metal railing, the ash falling like tiny embers into the dark. “You should still switch. Some of those flavored ones have alcohol in the base. Messes with your pH. You need something you’d be okay putting in your eye.”

 

I grimaced. “That sounds like a terrible test.”

 

“But it’s accurate.” She grinned at me sidelong. “And it’s still better than accidentally giving your cooch an acid bath.”

 

Behind us, Suguru coughed softly, one of those half-held-in noises that meant he was trying very hard not to react. I didn’t even glance at him. He’d chosen to stay out here. That was on him.

 

Shoko’s eyes flicked toward him, then back to me, and for a second she seemed to weigh her words before casually flicking her ash and saying, “So… totally unrelated… but I noticed a certain emergency contraceptive went missing from my desk drawer in the infirmary last week.”

 

My stomach twisted, but only a little. She was trying to be subtle. Trying to keep it private, like she always did when she knew I’d hate being called out directly in front of someone else. But we both knew Suguru wasn’t just someone else.

 

“You don’t have to dance around it,” I said, voice quiet but steady. “He’s already listening.”

 

There was a beat of silence before Shoko exhaled through her nose and gave a small shrug. “Yeah. I figured.”

 

She turned more fully toward me then, her expression softening under the city lights. “You okay, Mari?”

 

I nodded, slow and small. “Yeah. I promise. It wasn’t a panic thing or anything like that. We just… got a little messy one night. Heat of the moment. It wasn’t planned, and I wasn’t on anything at the time. So I figured better safe than sorry.”

 

Shoko studied me for a moment, then passed me her cigarette without asking. I took it.

 

“I didn’t even think to tell anyone,” I murmured. “I just… handled it. Like I always do. And then later I realized that’s probably not how this is supposed to go.”

 

“Not when you’ve got people who’d want to know,” she agreed, voice low.

 

I gave her a tight smile. “Yeah. I’m still figuring that part out.”

 

Shoko gave me a long look, the kind that made me feel like she could see through every layer of armor I’d ever put on. I hated it. I loved it. She didn’t say anything for a second, just plucked the cigarette back from my fingers, took a drag, and then passed it to Suguru like it was a peace offering.

 

He blinked, surprised, but took it without hesitation.

 

“You know…” she said, exhaling slowly, “it’s not weird to want to feel in control of something. Especially when it used to be the one thing taken from you.”

 

I looked away, pressing my lips together.

 

“Sometimes it still feels like… if I don’t handle it, it’s going to turn into a problem. Or I’m going to turn into a problem.”

 

Shoko scoffed softly, not unkind. “You’re not a problem, Mari. You’re a trauma magnet with great tits and too much pride. But you’re not a problem.”

 

I laughed under my breath and rubbed the back of my neck. “Thanks, I think.”

 

“I’m serious,” she laughs a little. "You really do have great tits." 

 

I laughed hard and leaned into her she held me laughing harder.

 

She pet my head "Okay, Okay. Actually serious now. “You’re allowed to be cared for. Not just in bed. Not just when you’re vulnerable. All the time. And those two idiots of yours, one of whom is currently pretending not to eavesdrop while cuddling your entire spine, they’re not just there for the fun parts. Or just the bad. They're there for all of it, even the mundane..”

 

“She’s right,” Suguru said, finally breaking his vow of silence, voice low and steady. “And I would like to officially request permission to join this emotionally charged girl chat.”

 

I smiled, biting my lip to keep from laughing. “You were already part of it.”

 

“I know,” he muttered, face pressed between my shoulder blades again. “But I was trying to be polite.”

 

Shoko raised an eyebrow. “And now?”

 

“Now I don’t care.” He straightened slightly and looked at me, one arm still around my waist. “Amara… I hate that you felt like you couldn’t tell me. Not because I think you did something wrong, but because I want you to believe you can hand me the heavy things.”

 

My chest ached in that good, horrible way. The way that made you feel cracked open, but warm. 

 

"You're handed heavy things every day of your life...I don't want to be one more to the pile..."

 

He glanced at Shoko. “Cover your ears.”

 

“I will not,” she said, immediately lighting another cigarette.

 

“I’m serious,” he huffed, though his voice was gentle. “I’m going to say soft things and I don’t want your commentary.”

 

“Fine,” Shoko muttered, making a big show of plugging her ears with her fingers and mouthing la-la-la.

 

Suguru ignored her. His focus returned to me fully now, his gaze heavy but soft.

 

“I need to ask you something,” he said quietly. “And I want you to answer me honestly. No filters.”

 

I swallowed, nodding.

 

“Do you trust me? I mean really. With the hard stuff. With the things you think you need to hide.”

 

I didn’t answer right away. My hands fidgeted at the hem of my dress before I turned to face him more fully, my eyes locking with his.

 

“Yes,” I said. “I just… forget sometimes that I can. Not because you’ve ever made me feel like I can’t. Just because I’ve spent more time being alone than not. I never want to become a burden to you and...I want you to continue to love me...”

 

He nodded, slowly. “I get that. I do. But you will never be a burden to me and I will never stop loving you just because you think loving you is complicated. Loving you has come easier to me than anything else in my life. Love will always be complicated and messy but there's never a time I won't choose yours again and again. I will remind you, as many times as it takes, that I’m here. That we’re here.”

 

My throat tightened.

 

“And,” he added with a half-smile, brushing a piece of hair behind my ear, “for the record, there’s nothing broken about being scared sometimes. There’s nothing wrong with learning how to enjoy something you were taught to fear. That’s strength, Amara. Not weakness.”

 

I let out a shaky laugh, feeling tears prick the corners of my eyes even though I was not going to cry like this. “How are you like this?”

 

“Like what?”

 

I kiss his cheek fondly. “Sappy. And perfect. And just beautiful all around..”

 

He grinned. “You make it come out naturally..”

 

Shoko, still half-faking her ear coverage, snorted. “Heh...Gay..”

 

“Thank you, Shoko, for your amazing input..” he said dryly.

 

I leaned into him again, resting my forehead on his chest with a soft sigh. “Thanks for being gentle with me. Even when I don’t know how to be.”

 

He kissed the top of my head. “Always.”

 

Shoko lowered her hands and took another drag. “Alright, lovebirds. Finish trauma-bonding so we can go inside.”

 

“Come on Suguru,” I kiss his cheek.

 

“Yeah. Let’s go, Gay boy,” Shoko added, poking Suguru in the side.

 

He raised an eyebrow. “Say that again and I’m putting Nair in your shampoo.”

 

“I dare you to try.”

 

Suguru mocks her a little making me laugh. It was always so funny when Suguru showed his sassy side.

 

“Disgusting,” she muttered, pushing off the railing. “Now come on. We’ve got karaoke to ruin.”

 

Suguru stubbed out his cigarette with quiet precision before flicking the butt into the ashtray. He stepped closer, his large hand brushing lightly against my lower back in a silent gesture to follow.

 

And as we walked toward the glowing karaoke bar entrance, the warmth of his touch burning softly through my thin dress, I thought about how right Shoko was.

 

Because no matter how dirty or cute or mundane…

 

I always had them to listen.

 

Before we walked inside, I pulled out my small perfume bottle from my purse and spritzed the air around me, Suguru, and Shoko in quick succession.

 

“Hold still,” I scolded softly when Suguru wrinkled his nose, leaning back with a faint grimace. “I’m not letting you two smell like an ashtray in front of Yu and Satoru.”

 

Shoko chuckled under her breath, rolling her eyes as I shoved a mint into her mouth before popping one into Suguru’s and then my own. She crunched hers obnoxiously loud and smirked. “Look at you, little housewife. So responsible.”

 

“Shut up,” I muttered, tucking the bottle back into my purse as Suguru wrapped his hand gently around the back of my neck, rubbing his thumb over my nape with quiet affection.

 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he murmured, low and warm, his golden eyes flicking down to mine with a soft smile that made my stomach flip.

 

We pushed through the heavy door and found the private karaoke booth near the back. Yu was perched at the corner of the couch, nursing a soda, while Nanami sat beside him, already sipping quietly at a glass of highball, looking as dead inside as always.

 

In the center of the table sat a massive frosted pitcher of some neon-colored cocktail, half-melted ice clinking softly with every movement.

 

“Finally,” Gojo crowed the moment he saw us, his long legs sprawled wide across his seat as he waved us in with both hands. “Get in here. The party was dying without you three.”

 

Shoko snorted, dropping down into the seat beside him and stealing his drink to sip through his straw. He scowled dramatically but didn’t stop her.

 

I slipped off my shoes at the step-up and padded into the booth, the warm carpet soft under my feet. Suguru followed silently, settling beside Nanami with his usual graceful quiet, nodding once in greeting. Nanami inclined his head politely in return, though his eyes flicked faintly over Suguru’s loose hair and slightly flushed cheeks with suspicion.

 

“Amara~!” Yu called out with a grin, waving at me shyly from his seat. “You look so cool and pretty tonight!”

 

“Thank you, Yu,” I giggled, ruffling his hair gently as I passed, earning a faint squeak. “You look cute as always.”

 

I grabbed a mic off the rack and turned to Gojo, holding it out dramatically. “Come on, Satoru. We’re opening this up.”

 

“Hell yeah,” he grinned, bouncing up instantly, his white hair flopping wildly as he grabbed the other mic and scrolled through the songs. “Let’s show these losers what real vocal talent sounds like.”

 

“Talent?” I snorted as I flicked through the song options. “You can’t even hold a note.”

 

“I don’t need to,” he shot back, his grin wicked. “I just have to be hot.”

 

“That is so true,” I sighed dramatically, earning a loud laugh from Shoko as she curled up with her drink, watching us with an amused smirk.

 

We queued up a cheesy pop love song. The second the music started, Gojo threw his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in against his tall frame as he belted out the first lines… in a pitchy, high-pitched falsetto that made everyone in the room wheeze with laughter.

 

He sang every female part in the song, twirling me under his arm and dipping me back dramatically as I tried to keep up, my own voice cracking horribly when I attempted the chorus. Shoko pulled out her phone to record, snickering the entire time as Suguru smiled faintly from his seat, shaking his head with quiet fondness.

 

By the time the song ended, Gojo was on his knees in front of me like he’d just finished a world tour, panting dramatically as if he’d run a marathon.

 

“Thank you, thank you,” he wheezed into the mic, his grin wide and breathless as he reached up to cup my cheek. “Couldn’t have done it without my number one girl.”

 

“Idiot,” I giggled breathlessly, swatting him lightly as everyone clapped half-heartedly, laughing and booing at the same time.

 

“Again!” Yu cheered, clapping with bright eyes. “Do another one!”

 

“Only if Shoko joins,” Gojo said immediately, pointing the mic at her. She rolled her eyes and flicked her hair back dramatically.

 

“Fine,” she sighed, standing and grabbing the other mic. “But only if we do a song with rap. I’m not doing any of that ballad bullshit.”

 

I flopped down beside Suguru, feeling his large hand curl around my thigh, his thumb rubbing slow, lazy circles into my skin as I leaned into his side.

 

“You’re awful,” he murmured quietly, pressing his lips to the top of my head.

 

“Yeah,” I sighed with a grin, watching Gojo and Shoko bicker over the tablet as the opening beats of a rap song started to play. “But I looked pretty doing it~”

 

His chest rumbled with a quiet laugh, his grip tightening slightly on my leg.

 

“Yeah,” he whispered, so soft I barely heard it over the music. “You really did..”

 

---

 

The karaoke booth was a haze of neon lights and vibrating bass, everyone laughing and singing over each other. Yu and Nanami were in the corner together, Yu cheered loudly and was hyping them up while Shoko rapped confidently into her mic, Yuki joined in on the hyping train with claps and whistles.

 

I sat curled up against Suguru’s side, the warmth of his body sinking into mine as I nursed another cocktail, the sweet burn settling low in my belly. Gojo was sprawled out across the other couch, one leg thrown over the back as he sang horribly along with Shoko, earning himself a flick to the forehead mid-verse.

 

I giggled, pressing my nose into Suguru’s neck and breathing him in, letting my free hand drift down his stomach, fingers slipping under the hem of his dark shirt to trace the hard ridges of his abs. His breath hitched faintly, though his voice stayed calm.

 

“Amara…” he murmured, his hand closing around my wrist gently but not pulling it away.

 

I hummed, leaning up to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to his jaw, feeling the way his pulse jumped under my lips. “You’re so fucking hot, Sugu,” I whispered, my words slurring slightly. “I want to take you home… feel you inside me so bad tonight…”

 

His grip on my wrist tightened just slightly, his golden eyes flicking down to meet mine, dark and glittering with restrained heat. “Yeah?” he rumbled softly, his voice low enough that only I could hear it under the thumping bass. “Want me that bad, sweetheart?”

 

I nodded quickly, letting my teeth graze his jaw again as I pressed closer, feeling the slight bulge straining against his jeans under me. “Please… wanna ride you ‘til you can’t think… wanna hear you beg me to stop… I want to beg you to stop...”

 

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, and his free hand slid up to cup the back of my neck, his thumb brushing lightly under my chin to tilt my face up to his. “Fuck… you’re dangerous,” he murmured, dipping down to brush his lips over mine but not kissing me fully. “Always saying shit like that… testing my fucking patience.”

 

“Then do something about it,” I breathed, pressing my hips down against him just enough to make his grip tighten on my neck.

 

He groaned softly, pressing his forehead to mine for a moment, his breath ragged. “As much as I want to… baby, listen to me,” he whispered, his voice gentle but firm. “I love seeing you like this… all needy and desperate for me. But I need you to sober up a little first, yeah?”

 

I frowned faintly, trying to roll my hips again but his grip held me still. “It's fine… I’m not… I’m not blackout or anything… I just feel all warm and clingy~”

 

“I know,” he soothed, brushing his nose against mine with a quiet smile. “I know you’re not, sweetheart. But it would just make me more comfortable. You know I’ll give you everything you want… I just want you clear enough to feel all of it.”

 

I whined softly, pouting up at him with watery eyes. “But I feel fine…”

 

His thumb brushed over my lower lip, his smile warm but edged with restraint. “I know. Be good for me, yeah? Drink some water for a bit. Let me see those pretty eyes clear up, and then…” His voice dropped lower, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered, “Then I’ll ruin you just like you want.”

 

My thighs clenched at his words, heat flooding low in my stomach. I nodded quickly, pressing a soft, obedient kiss to his lips. “Okay… okay, Sugu…”

 

“Good girl,” he praised softly, shifting me until I was straddling his lap properly, my back pressed against his chest as he reached over for a bottle of water on the table. He twisted the cap off and held it to my lips, watching with dark, affectionate eyes as I drank obediently.

 

“Atta girl,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple as I swallowed down half the bottle, the cool liquid sobering me slightly. His arms wrapped around my waist firmly, keeping me close as we watched Gojo belt out a power ballad.

 

I giggled quietly, relaxing back against Suguru’s chest, feeling his steady heartbeat against my spine as his thumbs brushed slow, grounding circles into my hips. I could still feel the hard line of him pressed up against me, but he made no move to push further, just held me there warm and safe, letting the music and lights blur around us as the night carried on.

 

---

 

The walk back to the dorms was a chaotic mess of shushing and giggles under the quiet hum of the campus streetlights. Utahime was trying to keep Yuki from yelling about how amazing her last karaoke note was, while Shoko practically carried Utahime by the elbow as she slurred out her dramatic complaints about being forced to sing pop songs.

 

Yu and Nanami followed behind with Gojo, who was cheerfully narrating the entire walk like an annoying tour guide despite Nanami’s flat stare and Yu’s laughter.

 

Suguru walked on my other side, his hand warm and heavy at the small of my back, guiding me carefully up the stairs as I clung to his arm, my heels clacking messily against the steps.

 

When we finally reached the dorm floor, the group broke apart, everyone stumbling toward their rooms with hushed goodnights and lingering laughter echoing down the hall. I stayed behind with my boys, my body buzzing warm with leftover drinks and the heady rush of Suguru’s hand sliding from my waist down to cup my ass.

 

“Do you two…” I breathed out, leaning into Suguru’s chest as his lips brushed my forehead. “Still… still wanna do something tonight… if you want…”

 

Gojo’s grin was lazy and bright as he slipped behind me, his long arms wrapping around my waist as he pressed himself against my back. “Something like what, pretty girl?” he teased softly, his breath warm against my ear as his fingers traced slow, teasing circles over my hips.

 

I hummed faintly, tilting my head to rest against his chest as Suguru’s dark eyes flicked down to mine, warm and sharp all at once. “Y’know… sexy time… and all that good stuff..” I whispered, my voice dipping shyly despite the buzz still thrumming under my skin. “If… if you still want to of course…”

 

Suguru chuckled, his hand slipping up to cup my jaw gently, tilting my face up to him. “Do you want to, sweetheart?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. “You’re not too tired?”

 

I shook my head quickly, my tongue darting out to wet my lips as my thighs pressed together under their eyes. “No… I'm not tired… I want you both so bad… please…”

 

Gojo groaned softly behind me, pressing his hips forward just enough to let me feel the half-hard length pressed against my ass. “Fuck… she’s so cute when she begs,” he murmured to Suguru, dropping a lazy kiss to my bare shoulder where my dress strap had slipped down.

 

Suguru smirked, dipping his head to kiss me slowly, deeply, his tongue sliding against mine as his fingers dug into my hips. When he pulled back, his voice was low and rough. “Whose room?” he asked, his eyes flicking up to Gojo’s over my shoulder. “Yours or mine?”

 

“Whichever one muffles sound better,” Gojo snickered, giving my waist a teasing squeeze. “Because some people-” he pinched my side lightly, earning a quiet yelp, “-don’t know how to keep their pretty noises down.”

 

I whined softly, glaring up at him as Suguru chuckled darkly.

 

“My room,” Suguru decided, hooking his thumb under my chin to tilt my face back to his. “The walls are thicker.”

 

“Then let’s go,” I whispered, my voice trembling with need as my hands slid down Gojo’s arms to lace our fingers together.

 

They didn’t say another word.

 

Suguru grabbed my hand firmly, Gojo pressed up against my back, and they led me down the hall toward Suguru’s room, their touches warm and possessive on my skin. My heart thundered in my chest, my thighs clenching tighter with every step as heat pooled low in my stomach at the thought of what was about to come.

 

---

 

Suguru’s room was dark and quiet, the faint glow of his small desk lamp casting warm golden light over the floor as he shut the door softly behind us. He didn’t say a word, just moved with calm, deliberate efficiency.

 

I watched, heat blooming low in my stomach, as he crossed to his bed and started stripping off all the blankets and pillows, folding them neatly and stacking them on the small armchair by the window. Then he tugged open the bottom drawer of his dresser, pulling out a thick folded towel.

 

My cheeks burned hot when I realized what he was doing.

 

He laid the towels out carefully over the fitted sheet, smoothing them flat with his broad hands, his movements precise and practiced. I bit my lip, shifting from foot to foot as his dark eyes flicked up to meet mine.

 

“What’s that look for, sweetheart?” he asked softly, his lips curling into a knowing smirk.

 

“N-nothing,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. “Just… y’know… it’s embarrassing… when you… prepare like that…”

 

Suguru chuckled low in his chest, standing to his full height as he stalked toward me slowly.

 

“Embarrassing?” he murmured, his hand sliding up to cup my jaw, tilting my face up to his. “Or is it exciting, knowing how messy I plan to make you tonight?”

 

My breath hitched sharply, my thighs clenching as I swallowed hard under his heavy gaze. “Both…” I whispered honestly, my voice trembling.

 

He hummed approvingly, dipping his head to brush his lips softly against mine before pulling back just enough to look over at Gojo, who was standing by Suguru’s desk, stretching his long arms above his head with a lazy grin.

 

“Satoru,” Suguru said gently, his tone warm but commanding, “clean up and clear out like I showed you the other day, yeah?”

 

Gojo perked up immediately, his grin widening into something mischievous as he lifted a hand to salute. “Yes, sir!” he chirped, his voice bright with excitement as he bounced over to Suguru’s bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him.

 

I flushed even hotter, my fingers twisting in the hem of my dress as Suguru’s dark eyes flicked back down to mine, his smirk turning softer as he brushed his thumb lightly over my cheek.

 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and sweet despite the rough edge under it. “He’ll be back out soon. And then…” His thumb dragged down to brush over my bottom lip, pressing just enough to make my breath catch. “…we can really start.”

 

My pulse thundered in my chest as his words sank into my bones, my knees trembling slightly under the intensity of his gaze.

 

Suguru moved to his bedside table, rummaging quietly through the top drawer as I wandered over behind him. I peeked over his shoulder, watching his broad hands sift through the small box of supplies tucked neatly beside a folded bottle of lube and a pack of mints.

 

“Mm… let’s see…” I hummed teasingly, leaning closer so my chin rested lightly on his shoulder, my arms wrapping loosely around his waist. “Do we have enough tonight…? We’re not gonna run out, are we~?”

 

Suguru huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he pulled out a fresh foil packet, setting it neatly on top of the folded towel he’d laid out earlier. “We’ll be fine,” he drawled, his voice warm with amusement. “Unless you’re planning to absolutely ruin me tonight, sweetheart.”

 

I smirked, pressing a soft kiss to his neck before pulling back just enough to reach past him and rummage through the box myself. “Glow in the dark ones would be fun…” I teased, digging around as if I’d find them there. “Imagine… little neon green lights bobbing everywhere in the dark…”

 

Suguru let out a low groan, pinching the bridge of his nose as his shoulders shook with silent laughter. “Talking privileges are close to being revoked,” he muttered under his breath.

 

I laugh a bit hard, leaning into him more.

 

From the bathroom, Gojo’s voice rang out instantly, muffled slightly by the door. “WAIT- LIKE LIGHTSABERS?!”

 

I snorted, nearly choking on my own laughter as Suguru let out a long, suffering sigh.

 

“No, Satoru,” Suguru called back, his voice tight with exasperated fondness, “we are not dueling with glow in the dark condoms like Jedi knights.”

 

“Why not?!” Gojo yelled back, his tone horrifically excited. “I call green! Suguru can be blue, and Amara’s… well… she’s got both of us so she can be dual wielding-”

 

“OH MY GOD-” I wheezed, my face burning as Suguru clapped a large hand over my mouth, his own cheeks flushed pink despite the stoic glare he shot at the closed bathroom door.

 

“Satoru,” Suguru growled softly, though his lips twitched with the threat of a smile, “just hurry up and prep, you idiot.”

 

“YES SIR!” Gojo chirped back happily, water running again as he resumed whatever overly dramatic cleansing routine Suguru had assigned him.

 

Suguru exhaled heavily, his thumb brushing lightly over my cheekbone as he turned back to me, shaking his head with quiet disbelief. “Glow in the dark…” he muttered, but his grin betrayed him, warm and wolfish under the soft lamplight. “You’re both going to be the death of me.”

 

I smiled up at him sweetly, pressing another kiss to his flushed cheek. “At least it’ll be a fun death,” I whispered softly.

 

His chest rumbled with a low, affectionate laugh as he pulled me flush against him, his large hands gripping my hips firmly. “Yeah…” he murmured, dipping his head to brush his lips against mine. “Fun doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

 

Gojo emerged from the bathroom with a triumphant flourish, ruffling his snowy hair with both hands, his shirt twisted halfway up his chest and his slacks hanging low on his hips, unbuttoned and unzipped.

 

“Ready for action~” he sing-songed, wiggling his eyebrows dramatically.

 

I choked on a giggle at the sight, my eyes flicking down to where the waistband of his boxers peeked above his slacks, the deep cut of his hipbones on display. “Satoru…” I snickered softly, shaking my head. “Your pants aren’t even on.”

 

“They’re gonna be coming off anyway. I just didn't want to completely ruin the foreplay.” he huffed, striding forward and scooping me up around the waist without warning. I squeaked softly, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders as he spun me once before setting me back down in front of Suguru.

 

Suguru just sighed, amused and exasperated all at once, as he reached out to tug my dress strap back into place gently. “Honestly,” he murmured, voice warm with quiet affection, “between the two of you… I’m going to lose my sanity one of these days.”

 

“Question,” I piped up suddenly, tilting my head as I glanced between them. “Why did Satoru have to do all the… prep stuff… but you don’t, Suguru?”

 

Suguru blinked, then smirked faintly, leaning forward until his lips brushed against my ear. “Because nothing’s going in my ass tonight, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice low and smooth.

 

Heat exploded across my cheeks instantly, my knees going weak as I let out a flustered little squeak. “O-Oh…”

 

Gojo barked out a loud laugh, his grin feral and playful as he ruffled my hair roughly. “Aww, baby didn’t realize she’d be seeing her boys taking turns, huh~?” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows again.

 

I shoved lightly at his chest, my face burning hotter as excitement curled low in my stomach. “Shut up…” I mumbled, unable to hide the small, eager smile tugging at my lips.

 

Suguru chuckled softly, his large hands sliding down to cup my hips as he pulled me flush against him. “God, look at you…” He murmured, his dark eyes raking slowly down my body. His fingers slipped under the hem of my dress, bunching the fabric up slowly until it pooled around my waist, revealing the golden lace set hugging my curves.

 

He sucked in a quiet breath, his eyes darkening instantly. “Is this… for me?” he asked, his voice gone low and rough.

 

I nodded shyly, biting my lower lip. “Matches your eyes,” I whispered.

 

Gojo leaned around Suguru, grinning so wide it nearly split his face. “You so planned this,” he accused playfully, reaching out to snap the delicate strap of my bra lightly. “First the blue set for me, now the gold for Sugu~”

 

Suguru’s brows lifted slightly, amusement flickering across his face. “Blue set?” he echoed, glancing at Gojo curiously.

 

Gojo grinned even wider, lifting his wrist proudly to show off the thin blue strap wrapped around it like a bracelet. “She let me keep it after our date,” he said brightly. “Never taking it off.”

 

My heart fluttered wildly in my chest as Suguru hummed softly, his eyes warm and sharp all at once. 

 

Gojo reached behind me, fingers deftly undoing the clasp of my bra before sliding the golden strap free. He lifted it up, inspecting it for a moment before smirking faintly. 

 

“Give me your wrist,” he ordered Suguru softly.

 

Suguru gives Gojo his wrist. Gojo wrapped the golden strap around his wrist carefully, tying it off snug and secure. Suguru flexed his hand once, testing it, then looked back up at me with a slow, wolfish grin.

 

“Perfect,” he murmured. “Now I’ve got my own.”

 

Gojo let out a quiet, dreamy sigh, his bright eyes soft as he watched Suguru. “We’re like… a matching set,” he whispered, his grin turning dopey and fond.

 

I giggled softly, my heart feeling too big for my chest as I reached out and brushed my fingers over their wrists, my golden strap on Suguru, my blue strap on Gojo. “My boys…” I whispered softly.

 

“Damn right,” Gojo growled playfully, pulling me into him for a heated kiss, his hands sliding down to cup my ass firmly through my underwear. Suguru pressed in against my back, his hands sliding up to cup my breasts, rolling my nipples between his fingers through the thin lace until I was gasping into Gojo’s mouth.

 

Within seconds, the three of us were tangled together, lips and hands and teeth everywhere. Gojo pulled my dress up over my head entirely, tossing it aside with a flourish, while Suguru’s large hands slid down to hook into the waistband of my panties, dragging them down my thighs slowly, deliberately.

 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Suguru whispered against my shoulder, his lips brushing hot against my skin. “God… we’re never gonna get enough of you.”

 

“And you’re mine,” Gojo added, his voice gone rough as his hands gripped my waist firmly, his bright blue eyes blown dark with lust.

 

“Yes…” I breathed, my voice shaking as I leaned into them both, my body burning with anticipation. “Yours… always.”

 

Suguru hummed low in his chest, the sound vibrating through my back as he pressed his hips forward, his hardness nudging between my thighs. “Then let’s make sure you remember that tonight,” he murmured, his voice sweet and dangerous all at once.

 

Gojo’s grin twitched wider as he slipped his fingers between my legs, teasing me softly as Suguru dipped his head to bite at my shoulder.

 

“Oh, she’ll remember,” Gojo purred. “She always does and then gets all needy when she thinks about it~”

 

My hands were trembling slightly with anticipation as I reached for Gojo first, tugging his loose, unbuttoned slacks down over his hips. He grinned at me, all teeth and flushed cheeks, his bright eyes glittering with chaotic excitement as I kissed softly along his sharp hipbones.

 

“Someone’s eager~” he teased, voice rough with arousal as he kicked his slacks off fully, leaving him in only his black boxers. His hardness strained visibly against the thin fabric, and I pressed my lips there softly, feeling him twitch under the touch.

 

“Fuck…” he breathed out, his hand sliding into my hair gently.

 

I smiled against him before shifting my attention to Suguru, turning and reaching for the waistband of his slacks. He watched me with those dark, heavy-lidded eyes, his expression soft and sharp all at once as he let me pull his pants down. His cock sprang free, flushed dark and already leaking slightly at the tip.

 

“God, you two…” I whispered softly, my voice shaking with need as I pressed open-mouthed kisses down Suguru’s hip, nipping lightly at the curve where his thigh met his pelvis.

 

He let out a low, quiet groan, his large hand sliding into my hair to guide me closer. “Such a good girl…” he murmured, his voice gone deep and rough. “Always so eager for us.”

 

“I want to taste you…” I whispered, my lips brushing against the tip of his cock as I spoke. He twitched in my grip, a quiet curse slipping from his lips as his fingers tightened in my hair.

 

“Do it,” he ordered softly, his thumb brushing along my cheekbone. “Open that pretty mouth for me.”

 

I obeyed instantly, parting my lips and letting him slide in, my tongue flattening against the underside as I sank down slowly. His hips twitched, a low, broken groan rumbling from his chest as his hand cradled the back of my head, keeping me steady.

 

“Fuck… just like that,” he praised, his voice gone sweet and dangerous at once.

 

I moaned softly around him, feeling him throb against my tongue as I bobbed my head slowly, my hand stroking what I couldn’t reach. I felt Gojo shift behind me, his warmth pressing against my back as he leaned over me to kiss Suguru hungrily.

 

When they pulled away, Suguru’s gaze flicked to Gojo’s face, his free hand reaching down to cup Gojo’s jaw firmly.

 

“Take off your boxers,” he ordered softly. Gojo obeyed instantly, shoving them down and kicking them away. Suguru’s eyes raked down his body, his gaze heavy with affection and hunger. “Get on the bed for me, Satoru,” he murmured. “On your stomach.”

 

Gojo swallowed hard, his cheeks flushing a deeper pink as he climbed up onto the mattress, stretching out on his stomach obediently, his long pale back arching slightly. His hands fisted the blankets under him, his hair falling into his eyes as he turned to look at us with a nervous, excited smile.

 

Suguru’s dark eyes softened faintly as he watched him, his thumb brushing across my lips before slipping free from my mouth. “I’m gonna prep him a little,” he murmured to me, his voice quiet but firm. “But I want your mouth on me the whole time, yeah? Think you can handle that, sweetheart?”

 

I swallowed around the heat burning in my chest, nodding eagerly as I licked my lips. “Yes… please… want to be good for you…”

 

He chuckled softly, leaning down to press a slow, warm kiss to my lips. “You’re always good for me,” he whispered, his thumb stroking my cheek once more before he pulled away, reaching for the small bottle of lube he’d set on the nightstand.

 

“Don’t worry, ‘Toru,” he called softly, his voice gone gentle as he climbed onto the bed behind Gojo, slicking his fingers carefully. “I’ll be gentle. It’s your first time with something back here… I promise I’ll take care of you.”

 

Gojo shivered under his touch, his breath coming out in quiet, shaky laughs as he buried his face in his folded arms. “I know you will…” he whispered back, his voice muffled and sweet. “I trust you.”

 

My chest ached at how soft they were with each other, even as heat pooled low in my stomach at the sight of Suguru’s strong back and Gojo’s trembling thighs.

 

Suguru glanced back at me once, his eyes dark and warm. “Mouth,” he ordered gently.

 

I obeyed without hesitation, sinking back down onto him as his low, broken moan joined the quiet whimper Gojo let out when Suguru’s slicked fingers pressed against him, slow and careful and filled with love.

 

Gojo’s breath came out in shaky, desperate little whines as Suguru’s thick fingers stretched him open, slow and careful, coated in slick. His long, pale body trembled under Suguru’s touch, every muscle taut with need and anxious anticipation.

 

“Doing so well, ‘Toru…” Suguru murmured softly, his lips brushing the shell of Gojo’s ear as he worked him open. “You’re being such a good boy for me… for us.”

 

Gojo let out a quiet, broken laugh, his cheeks flushed bright pink as he buried his face into his folded arms again. “Ffff-fuck… ‘Guru… mara… please… need you both so bad…”

 

I swallowed hard at his needy whimper, my entire body vibrating with heat as I shifted closer, my thighs already slick and trembling. I reached down rubbing slow circles over my aching clit as I watched Satoru's strong back flex with each careful push of Suguru’s fingers.

 

Suguru glanced back at me with a dark, heavy-lidded gaze, his golden eyes burning. “Come here, sweetheart,” he ordered softly.

 

I moved instantly, crawling up onto the bed beside Gojo, my chest heaving as I settled against him, pressing my front to his side. He turned his head to look at me, his bright blue eyes hazy and wet with lust, a quiet smile tugging at his lips despite how overwhelmed he looked.

 

“Hi pretty girl…” he whispered, his voice rough and trembling.

 

“Hi baby…” I whispered back, leaning in to kiss him slow and deep, my tongue sliding against his as his hand moved to cup my cheek shakily.

 

“Let’s try something, yeah?” Suguru murmured behind him, his voice gone low and sweet but with that dark edge that made my thighs clench again. “You two… get into position for me.”

 

Gojo let out a quiet, choked noise of anticipation as Suguru guided us. He shifted Gojo onto his back, then helped maneuver me until I was on Gojo’s lap facing him. My back arched slightly as I adjusted, feeling Gojo’s cock brush against my slick entrance, both of us gasping softly at the contact.

 

Satoru reaches to grab a condom and I help him slide it onto his painfully hard cock.

 

Suguru sat back for a moment to look at us, his hand stroking himself slowly as his eyes roved over our tangled forms. I could see the heat and possessiveness burning there as he reached out to brush his palm over Gojo’s trembling thighs before sliding it up to my bent thigh.

 

“Look at you two…” he murmured, his voice gone rough with want. “So fucking beautiful like this…”

 

Gojo whimpered softly when Suguru pushed against his entrance again, this time lined up with his cock. “F-fuck… please, Suguru… please…”

 

I laid completely against Gojo’s chest so they could still see and interact with each other.

 

“I’ve got you,” Suguru whispered back, leaning down to kiss his shoulder as he pressed in, slow and deep. Gojo’s entire body shuddered under mine, his hands flying to grip my waist as his forehead pressed against my shoulder, muffling his broken moan against my bare skin.

 

My own quiet cry slipped free as Gojo’s cock slid into me, the stretch deep and overwhelming as I clenched around him.

 

“F-fuck… ‘Toru… Suguru…” I gasped, my thighs trembling, my nails digging into Gojo’s back. He whimpered again in response, his hips twitching up into mine as Suguru bottomed out behind him, a low groan rumbling from his chest.

 

“That’s it… that’s my good girl… and my good boy…” Suguru praised softly, his large hands gripping Gojo’s thighs tightly as he started to move, slow and deep, rolling his hips forward into Gojo’s tight heat.

 

Each thrust pushed Gojo’s cock deeper inside me, the rhythm dragging choked moans from both of us as I rocked against him desperately, my clit throbbing with each heavy grind.

 

Suguru’s fingers slid down my bent thigh, gripping it tightly. As he pushes me down onto Satoru gently to watch and get a better view of Gojo being buried inside me. His thumb brushed along my slick folds, making me cry out softly, my walls clenching hard around Gojo’s cock.

 

“Fuck… you’re so perfect like this…” Suguru groaned, his voice breaking slightly as his thrusts picked up pace, slamming into Gojo harder now. “Taking him so well, pretty girl… such a good girl for us…”

 

Gojo’s eyes were squeezed shut, tears slipping free down his flushed cheeks as his body shook between us, each of Suguru’s deep thrusts forcing him deeper inside me. His breath came out in ragged little sobs, his hands trembling against my waist.

 

“S-suguru… Amara… fuck… f-feels so good… too good… I can’t… I can’t…” he babbled helplessly, his entire body taut with pleasure as his cock twitched inside me.

 

“Shhh… you can,” I whispered softly, cupping his damp cheek with shaking fingers. “You’re doing so good… so good for us, baby…”

 

Suguru leaned down, grabbed my jaw, and moved my head to the side so I could meet his dark gaze, his eyes burning with possessive affection as he leaned forward to kiss me, our tongues tangling messily as he fucked into Gojo with rough, desperate thrusts.

 

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixed with Gojo’s soft sobs and Suguru’s low, broken groans, and the slick, wet noises of my pussy clenching around Gojo’s cock.

 

“Gonna… gonna cum…” Gojo gasped out suddenly, his voice breaking as his hips jerked against mine. “Fuck… fuck… I’m gonna-”

 

“Let go,” Suguru ordered roughly, his thumb circling my clit with brutal precision as he slammed into Gojo one final time, burying himself deep with a choked, guttural groan. “Cum for us, Satoru!”

 

Gojo was still trembling softly, his face buried in my neck, his breathing ragged, letting out sobbing moans as his cock twitched and softened inside me. Tears streaked his flushed cheeks, his pale lashes damp as he clung to my waist weakly.

 

“Good boy…” I whispered shakily, kissing his temple, my own chest heaving as I tried to calm the quivering in my thighs.

 

But Suguru and I weren't done yet.

 

His large hands slid under my thighs, lifting me effortlessly as he pulled out of Gojo, guiding me away from his slack body and onto his lap. My legs wrapped around his narrow hips instinctively, my body arching as he lined himself up. He threw the condom he had on to the side and sank in with one deep, slow thrust that made my head fall back with a ragged moan.

 

“F-fuck… Suguru…” I gasped, my nails digging into his broad shoulders as he filled me completely, the stretch burning in the best way.

 

“Shhh, sweetheart…” he murmured softly, his forehead pressing against mine as he rolled his hips into me slowly. “I’ve got you… just me and you for a little, yeah?”

 

I nodded weakly, my entire body trembled around him, every nerve ending alight with oversensitive pleasure. But before I could say anything, I felt another warm body press up behind me, long arms wrapping around my waist as Gojo buried his face in my hair.

 

“You’re so pretty…” he whispered hoarsely, his voice still wrecked from earlier, but there was a quiet awe there that made my chest ache. “So fucking pretty like this… taking him so well…”

 

Suguru’s golden eyes flicked over my shoulder to Gojo, his lips twitching into a small, breathless smile. “Stay close, Satoru,” he murmured, his voice low and rough as he started to move faster, his hips snapping up into mine with a sharp, wet slap. “Touch her… feel her with me.”

 

Gojo let out a quiet whimper as his hands slid up my sides to cup my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples, making me cry out softly as I clenched down around Suguru’s cock.

 

“F-fuck… you’re both… ngh… you’re both too much…” I gasped, my thighs trembling violently as Suguru fucked into me harder now, the wet slap of skin against skin echoing in the quiet room.

 

“Look at you…” Suguru groaned, his hands gripping my hips so tightly I knew there were bruises my cursed energy was healing. “Making such a mess… taking me so deep… so fucking good for me…”

 

Gojo’s lips pressed against the side of my neck, his breath hot and ragged as he whispered, “Let him breed you, baby… you want it, don’t you? Want him to fill you up so good, yeah? Look how fucking wet you are...you soaked both of us in your delicious pussy juice.”

 

I let out a loud, broken sob at his words, my walls clenching down around Suguru so tightly that his rhythm faltered, a low, guttural moan tearing from his chest as he buried his cock as deep as it could go, grinding against my cervix with a brutal precision that made my vision blur.

 

“F-fuck… Amara…” Suguru gasped, his voice breaking as his hips stuttered. “Gonna… gonna cum… gonna cover this beautiful body in it… fuck… take it… take all of me…”

 

“…please….Suguru....please...in meee...” I sobbed, my head falling forward onto his shoulder as my entire body spasmed around him, pleasure burning hot and violent through my core as I came with a loud, desperate wail.

 

Geto quickly knew what I meant and as much as I could tell he wanted to he hesitated.

 

"Just on you tonight, baby. Okay? Just take it like the good fucking girl I know you are."

 

I whined loudly as he thrusted even harder into me. Suguru’s groan was low and broken as he thrust up into me.

 

"Fucking cum for me!" He growled out.

 

And almost like on command, I came hard, needing to bite his shoulder so fucking hard as I sobbed moan his name.

 

His cock twitching violently as he pulled out and spilled cum all over my stomach and tits, the warmth covering me so much I could feel it dripping down me. He didn’t stop, though, he quickly grabbed a condom and lazily rolled it on. He pushed back up into me with a painful gasp. He started rolling his hips, dragging out both of our highs into a blinding overstimulation that left me sobbing weakly against his neck.

 

“Shhh… that’s it, sweetheart…” he whispered breathlessly, his voice shaking as he fucked me through another small aftershock, his hands stroking my trembling thighs gently. “So good… such a perfect girl for us…”

 

Gojo just held me tighter from behind, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered sweet nothings, his soft cock pressing against my ass as he rocked with us, his own eyes glassy with exhausted adoration.

 

When Suguru finally stilled, both of us trembling and gasping from cumming a second time, he pressed his forehead against mine, his sweat-slick hair falling around our faces like a curtain as he whispered, “I love you… I love you both so fucking much.”

 

I let out a small, broken laugh, my body still spasming weakly around him as Gojo kissed my damp cheek.

 

“We love you too,” I whispered back, my voice trembling. “Always.”

 

And with Gojo’s warm arms around us both, Suguru still buried deep inside me, the three of us stayed tangled together, breathing each other in under the quiet glow of Suguru’s bedside lamp, the world outside forgotten.

 

Suguru’s chest was still heaving softly as he kissed the crown of my head, his hands gentle on my thighs as he slowly pulled out. I let out a small whimper at the stretch, my whole body trembling as his cock slipped free with a slick, wet sound, the condom so full it looked dangerously close to leaking.

 

“Easy, sweetheart… deep breaths…” he murmured softly, brushing my sweaty hair away from my flushed face.

 

“Hold her,” Suguru said quietly to Satoru.

 

Gojo’s hands were already there, sliding down my waist and thighs to support me. As Suguru eased out the last inch, Gojo’s long fingers moved deftly down between my legs, pressing softly but firmly against my entrance to block any possible leaking before Suguru could even finish removing the condom.

 

“Good job, Toru…” Suguru praised softly with a small tired smile as he tied off the condom and tossed it carefully into the small trash bin near his bed. “Always so quick with your hands.”

 

Gojo scoffed lightly, keeping his palm pressed snug between my thighs as he leaned down to kiss my shoulder. “I’m not risking shit leaking in there, especially from you,” he muttered, his blue eyes flicking up to mine with a playful but serious glint. “Me and Suguru… we have to be like… freakishly fertile. Genetically engineered breeding machines or something. It just seems like something we'd be cursed with.”

 

I let out a shaky laugh, still catching my breath as I turned to look back at him over my shoulder. “I… I started birth control,” I whispered softly, my voice thick with emotion. “Just in case… I wanted to be safe with you two.”

 

Gojo’s eyes softened instantly, his thumb brushing gentle circles into my thigh as his expression flickered with quiet affection before shifting back into a teasing smirk. “Doesn’t matter. Still not risking it. Not unless we want little mini Six Eyes and Curse Eater babies running around. Sounds cute but frankly not my thing.”

 

Suguru chuckled tiredly as he rolled his shoulders, stretching out his tense arms before reaching for the wipes on his bedside table. “Your parents would be thrilled if you had a kid,” he drawled sarcastically, wiping down his spent cock before tossing the wipe aside.

 

Gojo let out a dramatic groan, rolling his eyes. “Don’t talk about my parents when my dick is out, Suguru,” he whined, making Suguru chuckle harder as he leaned over to kiss Gojo’s temple.

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Suguru muttered softly, his voice still rough and low from earlier. “You’re right… we can talk about them after.”

 

“Gross,” Gojo muttered back, but there was a faint grin on his lips as he shifted his focus back to me.

 

“Alright, my love,” he whispered sweetly, brushing his fingers softly up my inner thighs before carefully removing his hand and wiping me clean with a warm cloth Suguru handed him. “Let’s get you all cleaned up, yeah? Can’t sleep if you’re all sticky.”

 

I hummed quietly, my eyes fluttering shut as I relaxed into their touch, letting them gently wipe me down between my thighs, my stomach, and chest. Suguru pressed soft kisses to my knees as he worked, his large hands rubbing slow, grounding circles into my thighs while Gojo’s gentle touch moved with quiet precision, their combined care making feel all kinds of emotions.

 

“Good girl… such a good girl for us tonight…” Suguru whispered, his voice filled with sleepy adoration.

 

When they finished, Suguru pulled out one of his oversized black t-shirts and slipped it carefully over my head, letting it drape down over my bare thighs while Gojo tugged on clean black boxers, the waistband sitting low on his slim hips. Suguru pulled on his own pair of charcoal gray briefs.

 

They took the towels off the bed, throwing them into the laundry hamper, and remade the bed so we could all lay down and cuddle.

 

Suguru climbed onto the bed, pulling the blankets down and patting the sheets softly.

 

“Come here, loves,” he murmured, his deep voice like a warm blanket itself.

 

Gojo helped lift me into bed between them, tucking the covers around my trembling body. Suguru curled up behind me, his strong arm slipping around my waist as Gojo pressed up against my chest, nuzzling his nose softly against my throat.

 

“You did so good,” Gojo whispered sleepily, his blue eyes heavy-lidded with exhaustion and quiet affection. “Our perfect lover.”

 

I smiled weakly, my eyelids fluttering shut as I let the soft warmth of their bodies wrap around me, their combined scent of sweat, skin, and familiar comfort grounding me deeper than anything else in this world ever could.

 

“Love you both…” I murmured, my voice breaking softly.

 

“Love you more,” Suguru rumbled against my ear, his voice already fading into sleep.

 

“Impossible,” Gojo sighed with a sleepy grin, pressing a soft kiss to my collarbone before letting his breathing even out.

 

And with their warmth pressing into me from both sides, their arms and hearts tangled around mine, I finally let myself drift off into sleep, safe and claimed by the only two souls I’d ever truly belong to.

 

 

Chapter 56: Autumn Lights

I couldn’t stop fidgeting with the sleeve of my yukata, fingers twisting the soft purple fabric as I stared at myself in the reflection of Suguru’s phone camera. My heart was fluttering so hard it felt like my ribs were trembling with it.

 

“Stop fussing,” Suguru chuckled, his deep voice warm as he adjusted the sash at my waist one last time, making sure it sat perfectly. “You look beautiful.”

 

“You’re just saying that because you’re biased,” I muttered under my breath, but I couldn’t hide the small smile pulling at my lips.

 

He hummed softly, dark eyes flicking up to mine as he tilted his head slightly, his tied-back hair brushing his collar. “Of course I’m biased,” he murmured, leaning in to brush a featherlight kiss against my forehead. “But it doesn’t make it any less true.”

 

“Alright, my lovebirds,” Gojo’s voice rang out from behind us, obnoxiously bright and cheerful. “You two done making out in the hallway yet? We’re gonna miss all the good food stalls.”

 

I turned around and smiled brightly. Gojo was wearing the brightest blue yukata I’d ever seen, patterned with silver threads and bold lotus flower designs all over it. It was so Gojo it hurt.

 

“Don’t you look… radiant,” I said, snorting softly as I took him in. "Only you could pull off something so bold."

 

He winked at me dramatically, flicking his white fringe out of his eyes. “Radiant, handsome, beautiful, otherworldly, I’ll accept all compliments today.”

 

I smiled fondly before looking back at Suguru, taking in his simple black yukata. It was understated and elegant like him, but as my eyes drifted lower, I noticed subtle dark purple lotus flowers printed along the hem and sleeves.

 

My chest clenched softly. “You… you’re both matching me…” I whispered, my voice small.

 

Suguru blinked, then gave me that tiny, private smile that always made my knees feel weak. “Of course,” he murmured, reaching out to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. “Gojo’s idea, actually.”

 

“Hey, I have taste!” Gojo protested, sticking his tongue out at Suguru before leaning forward to press his forehead against mine. “We wanted you to feel special today.”

 

I swallowed hard, my heart fluttering painfully as I reached up to cup both their cheeks briefly. “Thank you…” I whispered, my voice thick.

 

“Hey!” Yuki’s voice called out, cutting through the softness like a blade. “Are you three done being gross yet? We’re all waiting.”

 

I turned to see everyone gathered at the front gates, waiting for us. Shoko was in a deep forest green yukata with soft golden chrysanthemums scattered along the fabric, her hair pulled back lazily with a few pins. Utahime wore a dusty rose yukata patterned with small maple leaves, her hair pinned up properly with dangling red beads that brushed her neck when she moved.

 

Nanami stood stiffly in a crisp dark brown yukata, looking exactly like an exhausted college student even in traditional wear. Yu bounced beside him in his navy blue yukata, too young to go to the festival bars but excited nonetheless. Mei Mei was stunning as always in an icy silver-blue yukata with her hair coiled into an elaborate bun, her eyes flicking over me with faint amusement before moving away disinterestedly. Ijichi wore a dark gray yukata with his hair combed neatly to the side, looking painfully awkward standing near Mei Mei.

 

And Yuki… Yuki wore black and gold, her hair down in loose waves, and she grinned widely when she saw me approach. “Look at you,” she whistled lowly, eyes flicking over my dark purple yukata with its simple silver obi. “You clean up nice when you’re not slutting it out.”

 

“Shut up,” I muttered, heat flooding my cheeks.

 

“Alright, alright,” Shoko sighed, flicking her cigarette butt into a nearby can before straightening. “Let’s get going before Gojo starts complaining about being hungry.”

 

“I’m already complaining,” Gojo sang brightly, slipping his hand into mine without hesitation and tugging me forward. “Come on, Amara, you’re buying me takoyaki.”

 

“No way,” I snorted, gripping his hand tighter as Suguru fell into step on my other side, his arm brushing mine softly. “You’re buying me takoyaki. It’s my first festival, remember?”

 

At that, both boys stopped dead in their tracks, staring at me with wide eyes.

 

“What… do you mean your first festival?” Suguru asked softly, his brows drawing together.

 

I shrugged, trying to keep my voice casual as I tugged them forward again. “Just… never went to one before. My mom… didn’t like crowds.”

 

Gojo’s grip on my hand tightened slightly, his jaw clenching before he forced a wide, too-bright grin onto his face. “Well,” he said firmly, his voice carrying an edge of steel under the sugar, “guess it’s a good thing you’ve got us now.”

 

I looked up at him, his hair glowing white like a halo under the streetlights, and then to Suguru, whose dark eyes held something quiet and fierce as he watched me.

 

“Yeah,” I whispered softly, squeezing their hands as the scent of roasted sweet potatoes and candied apples drifted toward us from the festival grounds. “Yeah… it is.”

 

---

 

The second we stepped onto the festival grounds, it felt like walking into a different world.

 

Lanterns glowed in warm reds and golds overhead, strung between booths lined with colorful banners. The smell of sizzling yakitori, sweet caramelized apples, roasted chestnuts, and fresh taiyaki filled the cool evening air. The ground was packed with people drifting between stalls, their laughter rising and falling like music under the faint buzz of festival drums from deeper in the square.

 

I couldn’t stop staring at everything, my eyes darting from the goldfish scooping stall to the ring toss to the lines of food vendors steaming under yellow paper lanterns.

 

“Hey, careful,” Suguru murmured, his hand coming up to rest lightly on the small of my back as someone brushed past me, jostling me sideways. His touch grounded me instantly, and I felt my chest warm at the quiet protectiveness in his eyes.

 

“Sorry,” I whispered, smiling up at him.

 

He just shook his head with a tiny smirk, his dark hair tied back neatly, making him look almost too elegant under the lantern glow. “Nothing to be sorry for. You’re cute when you’re excited. Let's just try to avoid being toppled over.”

 

“Mm, she’s always cute,” Gojo chimed in from my other side, his bright blue yukata practically glowing under the festival lights. He tugged me closer by my hand, looping his long fingers through mine like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Come on, beautiful. What do you want to try first?”

 

I hesitated, glancing around at the endless choices, but before I could answer, Yuki swooped in and slung an arm around my shoulders. “She wants to win me a goldfish,” she declared loudly, smirking down at me.

 

I snorted. “No way. If I win a goldfish, it’s mine.”

 

“Aw, come on,” she teased, ruffling my hair before letting me go and drifting back toward Shoko and Utahime, who were already walking toward the shooting gallery.

 

“Let’s go,” Suguru said softly, nodding toward the stalls. “Before they buy out all the prizes.”

 

We spent the next hour wandering from game to game. Gojo tried the shooting gallery first, effortlessly knocking down every target with a bored flick of his wrist, earning him a giant plush white bear he immediately shoved into my arms.

 

“His name is Satoru Two,” he declared proudly. He pulls his bottom eyelid down. "We even have matching eyes!"

 

“This bear will get better treatment than Satoru one." I giggled, already hugging it against my chest, my cheeks burning.

 

Suguru tried the ring toss next, his sharp eyes narrowing in concentration as he flicked each ring with precision. He won me a small lotus-shaped hairpin, its petals painted in deep purple and black with silver edges.

 

“Lotus for my little lotus,” he murmured softly as he pinned it into my hair, his touch so gentle my chest ached.

 

“God, you two are gross, I love it” Gojo groaned dramatically, but his grin was wide and unbothered as he bought himself a massive cup of shaved ice piled high with syrup.

 

I ended up dragging them to the goldfish scooping stall, determined to try at least once. I knelt down, clutching the paper scoop delicately as the small orange and white fish darted around the shallow pool.

 

“Steady hands,” Suguru instructed quietly, crouching behind me, his breath warm against my ear. “Wait for it to settle… now.”

 

I dipped the scoop into the water with slow precision, lifting it up with a tiny goldfish trembling inside the thin paper ring.

 

“I did it…!” I squealed, eyes wide.

 

“Of course you did,” Suguru murmured, brushing a soft kiss against my temple before standing to pay the stall owner.

 

I cradled the small plastic bag in my hands, staring at the tiny life flickering inside. “I’m naming him… Katsu,” I declared proudly.

 

Gojo blinked. “Like… cutlet?”

 

“Yeah,” I said, smirking. “Because he’s small and silly, like you.”

 

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as Suguru barked out a quiet laugh beside me.

 

We drifted back toward the others after that, finding Nanami standing stiffly with a candied apple in hand while Yu practically bounced in place beside him, talking about all the snacks he wanted to try.

 

“You look miserable,” Gojo said brightly, clapping Nanami on the shoulder.

 

“Only mostly,” Nanami replied flatly, but I saw the small upward twitch at the corner of his mouth as Yu grabbed his wrist and dragged him toward the fried chicken stall.

 

“Come on,” Suguru murmured, his hand warm against the back of my neck as he guided me toward the yakisoba stand. “You need to eat something real before you pass out.”

 

We all sat down on a low wooden bench nearby, the three of us sharing steaming boxes of fried noodles and cabbage while the lanterns swayed above us in the evening breeze. Gojo slurped his noodles obnoxiously loud, making Suguru flick his forehead lightly in reprimand.

 

“This is… the best day,” I whispered softly, leaning my head against Suguru’s shoulder as I watched people drift past in colorful yukata and festival masks. “Thank you… both of you.”

 

Suguru hummed, leaning down to brush a quiet kiss against my hairline. “Anything for you.”

 

“Anything,” Gojo echoed, his grin soft and sleepy now as he rested his head on my other shoulder, noodle box balanced on his knee. “Our little city girl finally got her festival.”

 

And as the fireworks began crackling overhead, painting the sky in blooms of red and purple and gold, I closed my eyes and let myself feel it completely.

 

The warmth.

 

The love.

 

The fleeting, perfect peace of being young and alive under a thousand watching stars.

 

---

 

The fireworks cracked and bloomed above us, painting the city skyline in streaks of gold, purple, and deep blue.

 

Gojo had led us up a narrow metal staircase to one of the old maintenance rooftops behind the temple near the festival grounds. From here, we could see everything, the lantern-lit streets below, the long curve of the river reflecting flashes of color, and the bursts of bright flowers exploding across the summer sky.

 

I stood between them, feeling the cool breeze curl around my ankles where my yukata parted slightly. Suguru’s hand rested warm and steady on the small of my back while Gojo stood a little apart, his long fingers fidgeting at his sides.

 

At first, I thought he was just restless, like always. But then I noticed the slight pink dusting his ears, the way his pale lashes lowered over those endless eyes, refusing to meet mine or Suguru’s directly.

 

“Satoru…” I asked softly, tilting my head. “You okay?”

 

“Hm?” he hummed, jolting a little before forcing a wide grin. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just… shut up for a second.”

 

Suguru raised a brow beside me, his dark gaze flicking between us with quiet curiosity. He started to speak but Gojo cut him off with a small, frustrated noise, turning away from the railing and digging into the deep inner pocket of his yukata sleeve.

 

“I was… gonna wait ‘til we got home,” he mumbled, his voice unusually soft and a little shaky. “But the sky’s pretty and you’re pretty and you’re… you’re both really pretty, actually. So…”

 

He turned back toward us, his long fingers uncurling to reveal two small black bands glinting under the fireworks. My breath caught in my throat.

 

Each ring was carved from matte obsidian-like metal, smooth and thin, with three small stones embedded along the band. A pale purple amethyst, a clear diamond, and a bright blue topaz.

 

Suguru inhaled softly beside me. “Satoru…” he murmured, his voice hushed in that rare, reverent way.

 

“Shut up,” Gojo said again, though his lips twitched into a nervous smile. His eyes flicked up to meet Suguru’s briefly before darting away. “It’s not… it’s not like a wedding or anything, I'm not that crazy. Yet. I just… wanted something for us. Something… permanent. Because… because everything’s always temporary and everyone’s always dying and… and I just wanted… fuck.” He laughed shakily, scrubbing a hand over his flushed cheek. “I just wanted something that’s only ours, a promise to each other.”

 

He stepped forward and slipped the first ring onto Suguru’s left hand. Suguru’s fingers trembled faintly under the touch, his golden eyes soft and shining under the crackling fireworks above.

 

Then Gojo turned to me. I didn’t even realize I was crying until he brushed his thumb under my eye, the pad of his finger catching on the saltwater there.

 

“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice breaking just slightly as he slid the other ring onto my trembling finger. Now having two rings from Gojo that I will never take off. “It’s not allowed. I didn’t do this to make you cry.”

 

I laughed wetly, my chest tightening so hard it hurt as I launched forward and grabbed his yukata collar, crashing my mouth against his.

 

His eyes went wide for half a second before they fluttered shut, his hands coming up to cradle my cheeks as he kissed me back, slow and deep and desperate, tasting the tears slipping down my lips.

 

When I finally pulled back, gasping, Suguru was smiling faintly, his eyes crinkled at the corners in that soft way he only ever looked at us. He reached forward and took the third ring, Gojo’s, from his palm.

 

“Here,” Suguru murmured, sliding it onto Gojo’s long, trembling finger with delicate precision. “Don’t think you get to spoil us without getting spoiled back.”

 

Gojo swallowed hard, his lips quivering into a small, watery smile. “You guys are so fucking sappy,” he whispered, though his voice shook like he was about to cry too.

 

“Yeah,” I breathed, my thumb brushing over his birthstone embedded beside mine and Suguru’s in the thin black band. “We’re your saps though.”

 

He let out a quiet, choked laugh before Suguru pulled him forward into a slow, grounding kiss. I pressed myself against his back, wrapping my arms around his waist and burying my face between his shoulder blades, feeling his quiet, shaking breath under my cheek.

 

The fireworks exploded in a massive bloom of gold, blue, and purple above us, lighting up the rooftop in flickering, fleeting brilliance.

 

And for that moment, with their warmth pressed against mine and our promise circling my finger, I felt infinite.

 

---

 

The night air was crisp, the scent of fireworks and roasted sugar still clinging to my sleeves as we walked back through the quiet festival streets. The crowd had thinned to a lazy trickle, all the excitement slowly melting into the warm hum of a late summer night.

 

Gojo walked ahead a few paces, arms full of plush fluff, my absurdly massive white bear, its round blue eyes staring blankly over his shoulder like a haunted mascot. He had insisted on naming it Satoru Two, even though I told him that made it sound like a cursed doll sequel. He’d just grinned and said "Exactly."

 

Meanwhile, I cradled my tiny plastic bag gently in both hands, trying not to jostle the delicate flicker of movement inside. My little black and white goldfish, with the tiny splash of orange on his head, swam lazy circles. His name was Katsu, chosen after exactly three seconds of debate while Suguru chuckled and shook his head at me.

 

“I still think he looks like a dumpling,” I said softly, holding the bag up so Suguru could peer at it as he walked beside me. His yukata had slipped open a bit at the neck, revealing the dip of his collarbone, and the faint lotus pattern near the hem still shimmered under the streetlights.

 

“He’s too elegant to be a dumpling,” Suguru murmured, giving me a sideways glance. “Maybe a dragon in disguise.”

 

“A very slow, very squishy dragon.”

 

Behind us, Shoko caught up, sipping from the last of her soda. “You’re not seriously planning to keep him in a bowl, right?” she asked, nodding toward Katsu.

 

“I mean…” I hesitated, then gave her a sheepish smile. “I was. I was just gonna steal one of Gojo’s fancy soup bowls, honestly. I don't want to keep him in a bag overnight..”

 

Shoko snorted. “Don’t. He’ll use that as an excuse to buy thirty more.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve got a proper tank in the lab. One of the old cursed creatures finally died, like, actually stayed dead this time, so the setup’s free. It’s got filters and moss and space to swim.”

 

My eyes lit up. “Wait, really?”

 

“Sure,” she said, waving her hand. “I’ll bring you all the stuff you need. Katsu deserves better.”

 

“See?” I turned to Suguru proudly. “He’s already got a better quality of life than I did at his age.”

 

He just smiled, warm and quiet. “Let’s make sure he keeps it that way.”

 

A few steps ahead, Gojo twisted around dramatically, nearly losing his balance under the bear’s weight. “Did I just hear you slandering my soup bowls?” he called, the fuzzy white paw flopping over his head. “Unbelievable. I name you a bear, I carry your prize like some traveling plush merchant, and this is how you repay me?”

 

“You named him after yourself, Satoru.”

 

“That’s called legacy, Amara.”

 

I laughed, biting my lip. “You want credit for carrying the thing you insisted I pick?”

 

Gojo turned forward again with a huff, muttering, “Satoru Two deserves better than this betrayal…”

 

Suguru leaned closer to me, his voice dropping just for my ears. “I don’t think he realizes you’d carry that thing everywhere if it smelled like him.”

 

I blushed instantly. “Don’t say that.”

 

He smirked, brushing the back of his knuckle lightly against mine. “But it’s true.”

 

Ahead of us, Yu was holding a bag of candied nuts and trying to share them with Nanami, who looked about five seconds from retiring on the spot. Utahime was trying to get Mei Mei to admit she had fun. Yuki had taken someone else’s prize fish and was already plotting to keep it in a bowl of sake just to see what happened. Luckily Utahime assured me she wouldn't let Yuki do that and would make her get a proper tank.

 

It was all so normal. Loud. Stupid. Sweet.

 

My heart ached with it.

 

As we walked toward the dorms, the festival sounds finally faded behind us. Satoru Two bounced against Gojo’s back with every step, and I kept glancing down at Katsu, his slow, soft movements glowing golden in the streetlight.

 

Suguru’s sleeve brushed mine. “You happy, sweetheart?”

 

I looked up at him, then at Gojo, then at everyone laughing quietly around us.

 

“Yeah,” I said, smiling softly. “More than I ever thought I could be.”

 

---

 

We barely got back before I was already kicking my shoes off and dropping to my knees in front of the end table beside my bed. Katsu’s little plastic baggie swayed gently from my hand, and I immediately set to work like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

 

“Satoru, can you grab that water jug from the kitchen?” I asked without looking up.

 

“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” Gojo saluted, his voice still playful as he dropped Satoru Two on my bed with a soft fwump. The bear immediately toppled over sideways, half its face squished against my pillow like it was ready to sleep. Now making that 2 giant stuffed bears Gojo has gotten me.

 

Suguru crouched beside me while I opened the tank kit. “Want help with the filter?”

 

“I got it,” I said quickly, then winced and softened my voice. “Sorry. I just wanna do it myself, you know?”

 

He smiled, not at all offended. “I know.”

 

Everything had to be done in order, exactly like Shoko told me. Rinse the gravel. Add the substrate. Test the water temperature. I followed every step like it was a sacred ritual, my fingers moving slowly and carefully even though my dress kept bunching at my thighs and making me uncomfortable on the floor. Suguru loosened my outfit for me so I could sit better and I gave him a soft kiss on the cheek for helping me.

 

Gojo returned with the jug and flopped down beside Suguru, both of them watching me now with quiet interest as I started floating the bag of water in the tank to help Katsu acclimate.

 

Neither of them said a word for a long while.

 

I could feel their eyes on me, not in a heavy way, just… watching. Taking me in. The way my lips pressed into a concentrated pout. The way my fingers barely disturbed the water as I adjusted the bag. The way my voice dropped to a soft hum as I spoke to Katsu under my breath like he could hear me.

 

“There you go, little guy. Almost home.”

 

When I glanced up, both Gojo and Suguru were still there, Gojo lying flat on his stomach now with his chin propped on his arms, Suguru still kneeling beside him, his hand draped casually over Gojo’s back.

 

“You two okay?” I asked.

 

Gojo blinked slowly. “You’re really cute when you do stuff like this.”

 

Suguru tilted his head slightly. “It’s not just cute. It’s… grounding.”

 

I raised an eyebrow. “Because I’m putting a fish in a tank?”

 

“No,” Gojo said, his voice a little softer now. “Because we’ve seen you covered in blood and fury. We’ve seen you half-dead and still fighting. But this? You’re gentle like it’s natural. Like you’ve always been this way. Even when you didn’t get to show it.”

 

Suguru nodded. “We always knew you were protective, but this is different. This is the kind of love that builds things.”

 

My throat went tight.

 

I looked back down at Katsu, his tiny fins fluttering gently in the bag as the water slowly equalized. The little flash of orange on his head shimmered under the bedside lamp. He didn’t know he was mine, didn’t know how deeply I’d already decided I was going to protect him with everything I had, but it felt right. It felt real.

 

“I never got to have a pet,” I murmured, voice quiet now. “My mom said I’d probably kill it. Said I didn’t have the heart for it.”

 

Gojo sat up slowly, his eyes soft behind the pale lashes. “She was wrong.”

 

Suguru leaned closer, brushing a hand gently along the back of my arm. “She didn’t deserve to know what your heart is really like.”

 

I smiled down at the tank. “Well, now Katsu gets to.”

 

 

Chapter 57: Good Hits and Big Hunger

The wind curled around the slope in little flurries, tugging at my sleeves and scattering dry leaves across the stone path behind us. They made a soft whispering noise as they scraped along, like the trees were trying to tell secrets we weren’t quite meant to hear.

 

“Are we almost there?” I called ahead, one hand shading my eyes from the low autumn sun.

 

Gojo turned halfway back, walking backward just to grin at me. “You sound like Nanamin.”

 

“I do not.”

 

“You do,” Suguru added from behind me, deadpan and amused. “But you’re cuter when you complain.”

 

I shot him a glare over my shoulder, but it didn’t land. He was already smiling at me, smiling the way he only ever did when we were somewhere no one else could see him soften.

 

Gojo skipped ahead a few paces, wind tossing his hair in all directions. “This is the perfect spot, trust me. Higher ground, good view, minimal cursed energy. Besides-” he threw his arms wide like he was conducting a symphony of breeze and color, “-look at how gorgeous it is.”

 

The view was ridiculous.

 

The mountainside dipped into a shallow valley surrounded by maples and ash trees, their leaves blazing with red and gold. A thin creek glimmered to the right, and the sky above was that deep, endless blue that only ever showed up in fall, like the sun had carved the clouds out just for us.

 

Suguru came up beside me and gently nudged my hand with his. “Told you it was worth it.”

 

“I never said it wasn’t,” I muttered, letting our fingers brush before tucking my hands into my sleeves again. “You two just didn’t tell me it was a damn hike.”

 

“Cardio is part of training, sweetheart,” he said, and there was something smug and fond in the way he said it that made me narrow my eyes. “Besides, we’re not just here to spar.”

 

I paused. “We’re not?”

 

Gojo winked as he dropped his backpack onto a mossy patch of ground and started unzipping it with dramatic flair. “We’re here to eat.”

 

I blinked.

 

Suguru leaned in and said, quietly, “I packed a picnic.”

 

“You what?”

 

“I packed a picnic,” he repeated, crouching to help Satoru pull out the contents. “It’s autumn. The leaves are pretty. You like warm food. And Satoru wanted to train up here so…” he shrugged. “We figured we all deserved a break. Not just drills and blood every week.”

 

I knelt beside them slowly, watching as they unwrapped container after container: miso soup in thermal flasks, hand-rolled onigiri with salted salmon, pan-fried lotus root, pickled vegetables, warm steamed buns, a tiny jar of honey-glazed sweet potatoes. Even the chopsticks were wrapped in folded napkins and secured with purple twine.

 

“I didn’t make the desserts,” Suguru added quickly, already anticipating judgment. “I tried. It was a disaster.”

 

“That mochi exploded,” Gojo offered helpfully, flopping down on the blanket Suguru had just spread out. “He almost lit the kitchen on fire.”

 

“You distracted me.”

 

“You looked cute with flour in your hair.”

 

I couldn’t help it, I laughed.

 

The sound startled a bird from the nearest branch, its wings flicking into the sky. And for a moment, just a moment, it felt like nothing could touch us here. No missions. No Elders. No history. Just the three of us in the cold sunlight, pretending like this was normal. Like this was ours.

 

I sat down on the blanket, drawing my knees to my chest as Gojo handed me a thermos with a grin. The steam curled into the air as I unscrewed the top.

 

“…Thank you,” I said, softer than I meant to. “Really.”

 

Suguru leaned back on his hands beside me. “You don’t have to thank us.”

 

“I want to.” I looked down at the soup. “It’s always nice when people do things for me. Without a reason.”

 

Gojo was quiet for a second.

 

Then he said, “Our reason is you.”

 

I looked up and found both of them watching me. Suguru with that still, steady warmth that always made me feel like I could breathe a little easier. Satoru with that bright, unguarded look that only showed when he was fully present, fully vulnerable.

 

The breeze shifted again, pulling my hair into my eyes. I tucked it behind my ear.

 

“…You’re my reason too,” I murmured.

 

They didn’t say anything. They didn’t have to.

 

Suguru nudged the basket closer. “Eat before it gets cold.”

 

Gojo was already unwrapping a rice ball with a gleam in his eye. “You guys are so sappy.”

 

“You started it,” I said.

 

He bit into the rice and pointed at me with the other half. “Yeah. But you finished it.”

 

Suguru gave a long-suffering sigh and passed me one of the steamed buns. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

 

I smiled, and this time, it reached all the way to the part of me that had been too quiet lately.

 

---

 

I made the mistake of slightly shivering. Suguru forced me to take it.

 

Suguru’s scarf still smelled like cedar and green tea.

 

I’d tried to give it back, really, I had. But he just gave me that slow, amused look and tugged it tighter around my neck without saying a word. Now it sat snug against my jaw, tickling the corners of my mouth as I chewed on the last bite of sweet potato.

 

“You’re both gross,” Satoru announced, stretched flat on his back across the blanket like a cat soaking in the sun. “Sickening. Disgusting. Unfair. Where’s my scarf?”

 

Suguru, who was calmly sipping soup with one leg tucked under the other, raised an eyebrow. “You’d ruin it.”

 

“I’d make it iconic.”

 

“You’d stain it with whatever sugar you’ve had on your fingers since breakfast.”

 

Satoru rolled over dramatically and took a picture of the sky. Then one of his hands. Then one of me before I could duck. The click was unmistakable.

 

“Satoru-”

 

“Too late.” He grinned, phone already in motion. Another click. Another.

 

“Delete it.”

 

“Never.”

 

“You’re ridiculous.”

 

“You’re beautiful..” He said so softly.

 

I tried not to smile, scarf scrunching under my chin. “That’s not going to work on me.”

 

“Oh, really?” He crawled toward me with mock-serious intensity, snapping another photo from below. “Then tell that to your camera roll in fifteen minutes when you’re secretly checking how hot you look in my lighting.”

 

“I hate you.”

 

“You adore me.”

 

“We both do..,” Suguru muttered, sipping his soup.

 

I threw a tiny rice cracker at Gojo’s head. He caught it in his mouth and winked like he’d won something.

 

We took so many photos after that, some candid, some posed, most absolutely chaotic. Gojo made us do ridiculous angles and forced Suguru to smile more than once. Suguru, for his part, got one where I was laughing so hard I had doubled over, and Gojo had his head thrown back, hair glowing silver-white in the sun.

 

Eventually, we collapsed together in a warm, sprawling heap, Suguru’s arm draped lazily over my shoulders and Gojo’s head in my lap.

 

“Okay,” Gojo said after a long stretch of silence. “New rule. When we’re all eighty, I get to retire first.”

 

“You’d lose your mind in a week,” Suguru said without opening his eyes. “You’d cause an international incident just out of boredom.”

 

“But I’d have the best drip in the nursing home. I would force them to make you room with me.”

 

“I’d hope you’d be dead by then,” Suguru said, voice dry.

 

Gojo gasped, clutching his chest. “You wound me.”

 

I smiled, letting the scarf catch the breeze. “I want a little house,” I said. “Quiet. Not far from a city, but close enough to trees. Somewhere safe.”

 

“Mm.”

 

“We’ll host everyone on holidays. Shoko can bring whatever pretty girl she’s dating. Nanami will pretend he hates it and then fall asleep in the reclining chair like always. Yu will be playing his music way too loud..”

 

Suguru chuckled softly.

 

“And you two,” I nudged them both with my elbow and knee, “will help cook. Satoru makes the drinks. Suguru makes everything edible.”

 

“Hey-” Gojo started.

 

“-And I’ll do the flowers,” I finished, closing my eyes. “I want a garden. With lavender and camellias. And vines climbing the walls.”

 

They were both quiet for a beat too long.

 

Then Suguru said, “If we make it to eighty, I’ll build you that garden.”

 

Gojo snorted. “Suguru building anything? That garden would be cursed from the roots up.”

 

“Excuse you,” Suguru replied, mock offense lacing his voice. “I’ve got hands. You’ve seen them.”

 

“I’ve seen them, I haven’t seen them do manual labor.”

 

“You’re literally allergic to effort.”

 

“You’re allergic to dirt.”

 

"I get plenty dirty."

 

"And then wash your hands a shower for way too long."

 

I tried to laugh, but it caught somewhere in my throat.

 

“And anyway,” Gojo added, still half-laughing, “eighty’s generous. I’m thinking more like… early heroic death in my thirties. Better jawline retention in the afterlife.”

 

“Mm,” Suguru hummed. “Let me know if the veil has skincare.”

 

“I’ll leave you my toner in the will.”

 

They kept talking like that. Like it was normal. Like it was already known, already decided, that this would end short and bloody, and probably unexpectedly. Their words were light, but the weight in my chest felt anything but.

 

I clenched my jaw and stared out toward the valley, scarf tightening around my throat as the wind picked up again. It whistled low through the trees, rustling leaves, stirring that restless pressure under my ribs.

 

I brought my hand to my mouth. Fist closed. A deep breath in.

 

One... two… three.

 

My cursed energy fluttered faintly against my skin, buzzing with effort to contain itself.

 

Gojo noticed the motion first, falling quiet.

 

“…You okay?” Suguru asked, already sitting up.

 

“I want my stupid fucking garden...” I said.

 

My voice was steady. Barely. But the heat behind it boiled up from somewhere deep and too sharp to name.

 

“I want to sit on a porch and drink tea and argue with you two about which plants are weeds and cry over stupid things like spilled milk and laugh about it five minutes later. I want to yell at the crows for stealing my tomatoes. I want to bitch about taxes and kiss my idiot partners in the kitchen while soup is boiling over-” My breath hitched. “-I want to be old and tired and alive.”

 

Suguru’s brow furrowed just slightly. Gojo’s face was unreadable.

 

I swallowed, then added, more quietly, “I want what he wanted for me I guess...”

 

They didn’t need to ask who I meant.

 

Riku’s words, sewn into that damn bear, clawed up from the back of my memory like a thorn..

 

For all his cruelty and abandonment and damage... He really did just this feeling. The stupid. The safe. The mundane.

 

And I hated that it took me this long to realize how much I wanted it too.

 

Suguru looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words.

 

Gojo shifted on his feet, voice uncharacteristically soft. “You might get it, y’know.”

 

I looked at him.

 

“Your garden,” he said. “Stupid crows and all.”

 

Suguru leaned closer, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes I couldn’t quite name... something caught between longing and sorrow, buried deep under the surface.

 

“…If there’s a world where that future exists,” he said, “I’ll make sure it’s yours.”

 

And maybe it didn’t sound like much. Just a promise tucked into a moment. But something about the way he said it made my chest go tight.

 

He meant it.

 

Even if he didn’t believe in it yet.

 

Even if he couldn’t imagine it for himself.

 

He meant it.

 

Gojo, uncharacteristically quiet, slid his arm around my shoulder and tucked himself into my side. His warmth was immediate.

 

Suguru followed a second later, pulling the scarf looser so it wouldn’t catch on my chin as he kissed my temple.

 

For a few seconds, we just sat like that.. pressed together in the cold sun, mountain wind curling through our hair, the scent of soup and leaves fading into something softer. Something still.

 

And I let myself pretend, just for a little while, that the future was certain. That I was strong enough to will it into being.

 

That eighty wasn’t a wish.

 

It was a destination.

 

---

 

It didn’t take long for me to convince them into sparing.

 

“I want a clean fight,” Satoru announced, dramatically zipping up his coat like it was a referee uniform. “No eye-gouging, no hair-pulling, unless it’s hot, and then I call dibs on recording it.”

 

I snorted. “You’re not even wearing a whistle.”

 

“Baby, I am the whistle,” he said, dead serious.

 

Suguru shot him a long look. “What does that even mean-”

 

He puts his two fingers in his mouth and then loudly whistles, making birds fly off in flocks and echoing through the air. Suguru and I cover our ears.

 

"I'm so sorry I asked. Never do that again or I will get violent." Suguru says sternly.

 

Gojo raised his arms like he was summoning divine judgment. “Never doubt my abilities to be loud and annoying!”

 

I sighed through my nose and stepped into the clearing with Suguru, crunching over a scatter of dry leaves. The sun had dipped just enough to cast golden shadows across the mountain grass, and a thin breeze danced at the edge of my scarf, well, his scarf.

 

Suguru was already loosening his sleeves, rolling them back with that same slow confidence that made him so annoyingly good at pissing me off and making me melt all at once.

 

“Alright,” he said, cracking his neck. “Techniques on or off?”

 

“Off,” I replied, bouncing on my toes. “I'll only use healing if I need to. No vines. No shield.”

 

He gave me a look. “You sure?”

 

“I want to fight you for real. Not my cursed technique against yours. Just us.”

 

His expression changed, something darker, something warm. He pulled his hair back into a short, quick bun and tilted his head with that arrogant little smirk I’d come to love.

 

“Well then,” he said, voice low and smooth. “You’re gonna make me work for it.”

 

“Five minutes on the clock!” Satoru announced, using a little stopwatch he brought. “Winner gets post-training mochi. Loser gets Satoru commentary for an hour straight.”

 

I braced myself. “Bring it.”

 

Suguru moved first, fast. Not blinding, not brutal, just controlled. Calculated.

 

I ducked his first swing and went low, aiming for his ribs. He blocked it with ease, but I used the twist of my momentum to slide around behind him and land a solid palm hit to his shoulder.

 

He smiled.

 

Then came the real heat.

 

We moved like water over stone.. clashing and parting, pivoting and colliding. My cursed energy was humming, sharper than it used to be but quieter too, like I was finally breathing in rhythm with it. Every strike that landed, every step I dodged, it felt good. Not perfect. Not even close. But mine.

 

Suguru wasn’t going full force, but he wasn’t handing it to me either. He knew I hated that. His blows were heavy when they landed.. bruising, even.. but they didn’t rattle me like they used to. I could take it.

 

My legs ached, arms burned, and my lungs were starting to catch, but I was still in it. Still keeping up.

 

“Gotta say,” Suguru grinned, twisting to block my elbow, “you’re getting scary good at this.”

 

“Only scary?”

 

“Scary hot, maybe,” he offered, grabbing my wrist to pivot me toward him again. “But I already knew that.”

 

I went to sweep his legs and missed.

 

He caught me by the waist.

 

“Not fast enough, my love-”

 

“Oh shut up.”

 

I hooked my legs around his thigh, twisted, and climbed him, body pressed to his chest, knees locking around his hips as I launched myself backward, dragging him down in a half-tackle.

 

We rolled across the ground, dust and leaves kicking up around us as we wrestled for leverage. My thighs were burning. My whole body felt like a live wire. He shifted under me..

 

And then had the audacity to say, “Should’ve known you’ve improved. You've been able to go multiple rounds with me. I mean in bed to make it clear.”

 

My face went nuclear.

 

“Suguru-”

 

“What?” he grinned, breathlessly smug. “Just praising your stamina.”

 

“You jerk-”

 

I shoved him back with a sharp burst of cursed energy. He slid across the grass, grinning like a devil. His shirt had ridden up slightly, exposing a sliver of his stomach, and I did not notice the way his chest rose with each breath.

 

Gojo snorted from the sidelines. “Damn, if that’s your endurance in a spar, what’s it say about me? I’m down for the count after one round.”

 

“You nap after making out,” I shouted without looking at him.

 

“Exactly my point!”

 

"You just get happy and safe then get tired." I laugh a little.

 

Suguru fixed his shirt. “Don’t blame her for being a little insatiable, Satoru. I am delicious.”

 

I charged him.

 

He dodged, but barely. I used his size against him again, launching off his knee and catching his shoulder with a sweeping kick. He stumbled, caught himself, and his eyes gleamed with something wicked and proud.

 

“That’s my girl,” he muttered, just low enough for me to hear.

 

My heart stuttered. I struck again, fist colliding with his ribs.

 

We kept going like that, moving faster, falling harder. No techniques. No shields.

 

Just raw strength and rhythm and the quiet promise that neither of us was holding back anymore.

 

The spar should’ve ended five minutes ago.

 

But we were still going.

 

Faster. Harder. Louder.

 

Suguru had started smiling less. Not in a bad way, just… focused. His teasing fell off bit by bit, replaced by something quiet and precise. Every step he took felt heavier, more exact, like a thread being pulled tighter around my ribs.

 

He was testing me.

 

And I was working like hell to keep up.

 

My breath burned in my lungs. My muscles screamed. I blocked one hit with the flat of my forearm and spun low, feeling the air shift behind me as he struck again. His cursed energy brushed mine, the pressure, dense and oppressive, and I nearly lost my footing.

 

I didn’t even realize I was gritting my teeth until I tasted metal. My healing was working which meant he was hurting me more than he and I realized.

 

Still, I pressed forward, digging into my stance, waiting for him to come at me again.

 

Suguru’s next hit came faster than I expected.

 

I barely ducked under his elbow, and this time when I moved, I didn’t hold back. I twisted on my heel and brought my fist up, channeling all the cursed energy I could without flaring vines or healing or anything else. Just raw cursed force.

 

My knuckles collided with his cheekbone.

 

Crack.

 

He staggered.

 

Blood bloomed from the corner of his mouth.

 

Everything stopped.

 

Satoru’s laughter cut off halfway through a breath. I saw the shift in his posture from playful to coiled in a blink, ready to step in. Ready to contain something.

 

Suguru didn’t move right away.

 

His hand lifted to his face. Fingers came away red.

 

I froze.

 

I shouldn't have hit that hard..

 

“Shit- Suguru, I didn’t-”

 

He didn’t look at me.

 

Not immediately.

 

When he did, his eyes were darker. Sharper.

 

Not angry.

 

Just... different.

 

Like I’d triggered something he’d worked very hard to bury.

 

My skin prickled. My cursed energy bristled without permission, reacting instinctively to the shift in him.

 

And then, just as fast, it was gone.

 

Suguru stepped back, held both hands up in surrender, and sank onto his knees in the grass.

 

“That’s enough,” he said, voice low but steady. “You win.”

 

I blinked. “What?”

 

“I’m done.”

 

He wasn’t smiling.

 

Satoru stepped closer, still not saying anything, still watching him carefully.

 

I took a half-step forward, unsure. “Are you-”

 

“I’m fine,” Suguru said. “But I don’t want to keep going.”

 

His tone was calm. Not cold. But there was something under it I couldn’t name.

 

“Why?” I asked, still breathing hard. “I’m okay. I can keep going.”

 

“I know,” he said, eyes finally meeting mine. “That’s why I’m stopping.”

 

I stared.

 

He wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, gaze softening just slightly as he looked at me again.

 

“I love that you’re getting stronger. I want you to keep getting stronger.” He gestured vaguely between us. “But when I get hurt.. I don’t always fight nicely. I react. And I’d rather call it before I forget I’m not sparring with Satoru.”

 

The words landed in my chest like a stone.

 

Not because they were harsh. Because they were true.

 

Suguru Geto, for all his warmth and softness and laughter, was a monster in combat. A controlled one. A brilliant one. But a monster, all the same.

 

And for a split second, I’d hurt him.

 

Not startled him. Not impressed him.

 

Hurt him.

 

I’d seen the flicker in his eyes.

 

That switch he nearly flipped.

 

And it hit me, again, for the hundredth time, but this time like a punch to the ribs:

 

I didn’t really understand how powerful they were.

 

Not really.

 

I’d seen Suguru’s curses. Watched Satoru tear cursed spirits in half with a thought. I’d heard the way the Elders spoke about them, the way other sorcerers acted like they weren’t real. Like they were legends.

 

But when I looked at them?

 

I didn’t see gods.

 

I saw Satoru laughing so hard he dropped his phone in the soup pot. I saw Suguru asleep on my shoulder with ink on his fingers.

 

I saw my boys.

 

Not the two people who could level cities if they wanted to. Who could end me in a blink of cursed instinct.

 

And I wasn’t afraid.

 

Maybe that was the problem.

 

How do you even comprehend that your lover, your partner, could not just kill you... but erase you?

No drama. No hesitation.

Just gone.

 

And yet he stood there now, blood drying on his lip, hands still raised in surrender because he didn’t want to scare me.

 

Didn’t want me to see him like that.

 

Didn’t want to risk hurting me just because his body moved faster than his heart.

 

I stepped toward him slowly.

 

Suguru hadn’t moved. Hands on his knees now, like he was afraid even the smallest shift might break the moment.

 

I dropped to my knees in front of him and reached up, brushing my fingers along his cheekbone, just over where I’d struck him. He didn’t flinch. His eyes softened the moment I touched him, lids lowering like the weight of the day finally started to catch up with him.

 

I leaned forward, gently pressed my forehead to his, and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

 

He exhaled, long, slow.

 

I closed my eyes.

 

Shoko once told me how her technique worked, how reverse-cursed energy wasn’t just regeneration, but an act of forcing negative energy backward. Turning destruction into creation.

 

I wondered if I could do it for someone else.

 

If I could share it.

 

If I could fix what I hurt.

 

I reached for him, not just physically, but deeper. I found the wound beneath my hand, that slight fracture in skin and bone where my knuckles had struck.

 

I let my cursed energy flow out, not in an explosion, not like when I shield, or drain, or snap vines through the earth. This was different.

 

A tether.

 

A pulse.

 

A gift.

 

Suguru inhaled sharply through his nose. His body twitched.

 

“...What are you doing?” he breathed.

 

I opened my eyes, barely a whisper from his skin. “I think I’m healing you.” I chuckled softly.

 

His pupils blew wide.

 

His breath shuddered.

 

My cursed energy flowed gently into him, wrapping around the bruising, the fracture, the lingering ache.

 

But it wasn’t like how I healed myself. It didn’t feel instinctual or reflexive. It was a gift, a trade, and with every second it passed from me into him, I felt it sap my strength. Just a little.

 

Like feeding someone a bite of my soul.

 

Suguru swayed forward, forehead pressing harder into mine. “God,” he murmured, “that feels…”

 

He didn’t finish the sentence. His hands landed on my thighs, grounding himself.

 

His whole body went warm under my touch. A glow, not literal, but almost spiritual, settled under his skin.

 

It was like I was kissing every nerve in him with something healing.

 

Something devotional.

 

His breath hitched again. He tried to pull me closer.

 

“Amara-”

 

“Still working,” I mumbled, focus narrowing.

 

But he couldn’t stay still.

 

He was moving, slow but desperate, like he needed to be closer. Needed to feel more. Like he wasn’t just touched by it, he was starved for it. His fingers tightened on my hips, his body pressing forward.

 

“Suguru-”

 

His nose nudged along my jaw, and he whispered, “Don’t stop. Please. It’s- fuck- it’s like you’re inside me.”

 

I flushed hard and wobbled slightly. “You’re not helping my focus.”

 

His mouth brushed my cheekbone like a prayer. “Sorry- sorry- I just- I can’t describe it. It’s like you’re everywhere. I don’t want it to stop-”

 

But it did.

 

It had to.

 

The moment my cursed energy flickered out, drained from sustaining the connection, he gasped and flinched like a cold wind had hit his bare spine. His body locked up.

 

Then it sagged.

 

“…It’s gone,” he whispered.

 

I wobbled on my knees, barely catching myself on his shoulders. “That… took more than I expected.”

 

Suguru blinked at me, as if trying to wake up. His voice came out almost dazed. “That felt… like nothing else.”

 

I swayed again and he caught me, arms looping under mine fast.

 

“Hey,” he said, now very alert, “are you okay?”

 

“Just tired,” I murmured. “I think I pulled it from myself. Not like normal healing, not like draining cursed spirits or boosting myself. I just gave it to you.”

 

His brow furrowed, concern finally overtaking bliss. “That’s not sustainable.”

 

“It might be. First times are always weird,” I muttered, letting my head rest against his chest.

 

Behind us, I heard a subtle huff.

 

Satoru.

 

When I turned, I saw his Six Eyes lit, glowing faint and sharp, dialed in with frightening precision. His smile was gone. His arms were crossed. He looked at me, not Suguru.

 

“…That wasn’t your usual healing,” he said quietly.

 

“No,” I admitted.

 

His gaze didn’t flicker. “I saw your energy split. That circuit you run internally, it reversed direction. You gave it instead of cycling it. That’s not just healing.”

 

“It worked, didn’t it?”

 

“Yeah,” he said. “But it shouldn’t. Not like that.”

 

Suguru glanced back, brows pulling together. “Satoru-”

 

“I’m not saying it was bad,” Gojo cut in. “But I saw how it moved. And that’s not just some ‘oh cute Amara’s got a healing aura’ kind of thing.”

 

He stepped closer, eyes narrowed like he was watching a crack in glass spider quietly outward.

 

“Your cursed energy,” he said, “was kissing everything inside him.”

 

Suguru flushed but didn’t deny it.

 

We’d relocated to the edge of the picnic blanket again, me curled in Suguru’s lap while he gently brushed fallen leaves from my scarf. Gojo stood in front of us, arms moving as he paced, rambling without pause, hair wild from the wind and sunglasses shoved up into his mess.

 

His Six Eyes were lit up like neon.

 

And he was talking fast.

 

Really fast.

 

“I’ve been watching your energy since the first time you used your healing shield, right? It’s weird... structured but organic, like the reverse of mine. Yours doesn’t just generate, it cycles. Constantly. It's low-output but self-sustaining. That’s why you don’t notice the burn on small wounds.. it’s like breathing to your body now.”

 

I blinked. “...Okay?”

 

Suguru hummed behind me. “Mm. Makes sense.”

 

Gojo kept going. “The loop you’re running is like- okay- imagine cursed energy as a power grid. Most people generate and use energy on demand. Some special cases, like Shoko, reverse that current to create healing output. But you? You’re running a battery loop.”

 

He gestured with both hands, spinning one finger in circles.

 

“You’ve got this little circuit constantly cycling reverse-cursed energy internally, healing you, replenishing you, keeping your body in near-perfect balance. Small stuff, scrapes, bruises, fatigue, it’s just looping and fixing on repeat.”

 

I tilted my head. “So that’s why I don’t really notice when I get cut or burned?”

 

“Exactly!” He pointed at me. “Because the moment damage registers, the loop corrects it without needing to pull more cursed energy. It’s already in motion. Like a slow, steady IV drip of ‘don’t die.’”

 

Suguru chuckled behind me. “He’s right. You don’t even flinch when you get nicked anymore.”

 

Gojo threw a finger up. “But here’s where it gets fascinating. That loop? It’s independent from your offensive cursed energy use. Your vines and shield? That’s your normal cursed energy pool. But because your healing loop is always running in the background, your stamina drops faster than most people’s even though your energy is high.”

 

He snapped his fingers. “Because you’re burning calories just to exist. Like if someone were jogging 24/7 even while they slept.”

 

“Wait,” I said, trying to follow, “so that’s why I feel tired faster during long missions?”

 

“Yup! You’re always running something under the surface. Most people only spend energy when they’re fighting. You? Your body’s in a full-time maintenance loop.”

 

I opened my mouth, then closed it. That... actually made sense. In a terrifying way.

 

Gojo paced a tight circle, clearly enjoying himself.

 

“Now. The drain ability? That’s the hack. It acts like a second generator. When you drain something, curse, sorcerer, whatever, you dump that energy into a side storage tank. That tank boosts the entire system, healing, vines, everything, so you feel high because your body’s finally overclocked instead of just surviving. Like you turned on turbo mode.”

 

Suguru was nodding. “That tracks. It’s like she’s suddenly stronger, faster, more aware.”

 

“Exactly,” Gojo said, voice jumping with enthusiasm. “Because the system is flooded. But it’s temporary. And if you go too long without draining-”

 

“I get slow. Sluggish. Like... fuzzy.”

 

He pointed at me. “Because the loop is starving. And your baseline stamina was already down from constantly running it.”

 

I blinked again, a little dizzy just trying to keep up.

 

“Okay... and the healing I just did on Suguru?”

 

“Oh.” Gojo turned to face me completely, Six Eyes bright. “That was insane.”

 

I stared at him. “Thank you?”

 

He ignored me, spinning into another explanation. “When you healed Suguru, you didn’t just share cursed energy. You disrupted your internal loop. You redirected it. That’s why it felt so euphoric to him, it wasn’t just cursed energy, it was life energy. Your cursed technique temporarily synced with his healing pathways and forced his body to mirror yours. You essentially made him part of your loop.”

 

My stomach turned. “So I turned him into... a second me?”

 

“For like fifteen seconds? Yes. And it felt amazing.”

 

Suguru, still behind me, muttered, “It felt like you crawled inside my nervous system and kissed every cell.”

 

I turned scarlet. “Suguru.”

 

“What? I said it respectfully.”

 

Gojo smirked. “Not wrong. But here’s the issue.”

 

He crouched in front of me, serious now.

 

“That loop you redirected? That was your own source. Your own constant. And when you gave it away, you disconnected yourself.”

 

I blinked. “Which means...?”

 

“Which means your body can’t heal itself properly until that loop resets. And unless you drain cursed energy or rest enough to rebuild it slowly, you’re basically a normal sorcerer again. Except worse, because you’ll still burn stamina like the loop’s running, even though it’s not.”

 

“So I’m vulnerable.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

I looked down at my hands.

 

Suguru’s arms wrapped around my waist again, grounding me.

 

Gojo tapped the side of his temple. “You’re not just a healer anymore. You’re a biological battery with an external output. You can give life. But if you’re not careful, it’ll kill you.”

 

He stood up again and crossed his arms.

 

“I mean, not easily,” he added. “But yeah. You could burn out fast if you’re careless.”

 

Silence fell for a beat.

 

Suguru finally murmured, “You should let us monitor it. Record when it loops back. See if we can measure the reset time.”

 

Gojo nodded. “Agreed. And maybe don’t give your soul to someone unless they’re gonna propose first.”

 

“Ha ha,” I said flatly.

 

He beamed. “You love me.”

 

I looked at Suguru. “Do you fully understand everything he just said?”

 

Suguru smiled. “Yeah. Every word.”

 

“Of course you do,” I muttered, sinking back into his chest.

 

"But... what about my healing shield? That heals others in it but it doesn’t feel anything like that.."

 

"That's for minor wounds and slow healing which IS based in cursed energy. The shield helps with the trading process. BUT I have a feeling that your loop healing would heal some crazy stuff! Maybe...maybe you could....hmmm" Gojo thinks to himself for a second after trailing off.

 

"Satoru." I say sternly.

 

"Sorry, sorry. Thinking. Maybe you could regrow organs, bring people back to life, something extreme since you've been impaled and bled out in ways that would have killed you instantly but didn’t."

 

"So I probably should have just used my healing shield on Suguru for something small..." I sigh.

 

"Oh yeah for sure." He laughs. "You definitely wasted a lot of energy for no reason."

 

Gojo plopped dramatically onto the blanket next to us, sunglasses falling back over his eyes.

 

God, he was pretty.

 

Sitting there like a gift. Blue and glowing and warm.

 

His voice tasted like sugar. Like caffeine. Like every reason I’d ever smiled too wide.

 

I crawled toward him before I really thought about it. Palms on the blanket. Knees over soft grass. Suguru said something behind me but I didn’t hear it.

 

He was looking at me- he was. Gojo. My Satoru Gojo.

 

All light and static and too much, but in a good way. He buzzed with it. Saturated in power. I could see it moving under his skin like it wanted to spill into someone.

 

Wanted to spill into me.

 

I slid between his legs, slowly, like I was teasing him. Maybe I was. I loved him. That was all this was. I loved him so much it ached a little. Needed him. Wanted to be close. Wanted him in me- in my mouth, in my lungs, in my spine.

 

He wouldn’t mind. It would feel good. He’d grin and laugh and pull me closer like he always did.

 

I loved him. I loved him.

 

That was all this was. I just needed him.

 

So I kissed him.

 

But then hit a wall..

 

Soft. Cold. Unmovable.

 

His Infinity.

 

The second my lips touched nothing, something in me snapped awake like a wolf flinching out of a dream.

 

My heart jolted. My body stilled. I blinked hard.

 

My mouth was dry.

 

Dry.

 

Why was my mouth dry?

 

My stomach cramped. Not pain, exactly, but the hollowness right before pain. The kind that whispers 'you forgot to eat again, didn’t you?' The ache you ignore until it stops being subtle.

 

I pulled back slightly, confused. Cold. Cold inside, not out. Like something warm had been ripped away from inside me.

 

My breath stuttered. Not from emotion.. from withdrawal.

 

Gojo smiled at me, but it wasn’t all playful.

 

“Mm-mm.”

 

His voice was light. His energy wasn’t.

 

“I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

 

I blinked again, trying to process. “What…?”

 

His fingers reached up, brushing my jaw. The gesture was soft, but the look in his eye? Sharp.

 

“You’re not thinking straight.”

 

I swallowed. It felt like trying to drink cotton.

 

“I wasn’t-”

 

“Yes, you were,” he said gently, cutting me off. “But not on purpose. It’s not really you right now, baby. It’s your energy.”

 

I blinked again. My hands had started shaking a little, I realized. Just a little tremble at the edge of my fingers.

 

“It’s just hungry,” Gojo explained. “That’s all. It knows food solves everything. Doesn’t mean it knows what food is. Or what it does to the stomach that eats it.”

 

I didn’t know what to say.

 

He touched his forehead to mine, his Infinity thinned but still up.

 

“You picked me because I’m the rush,” he murmured. “Not the calm. You didn’t think about it. Your body did.”

 

My body felt… hollow now. Like something was wrong. Like I was unbalanced, off-kilter, like I’d missed a step and was still falling.

 

“I didn’t mean-” I started, small.

 

“I know.”

 

“You’re not mad?”

 

“Nope.” He grinned. “But you still gotta ask.”

 

I hesitated. Then leaned in again, soft, sweet, voice like a little apology dressed up in honey. It snapped to me quickly.

 

“…Please, Satoru?”

 

I tilted my head, tried to smile through it.

 

“I need just a little.”

 

He smiled back, matching my syrupy tone perfectly.

 

“No.”

 

And just like that..

 

My cursed energy flared.

 

Not in rage.

 

In frustration.

 

A little spike of heat that crawled up my spine and bristled against my skin like static, like a child denied a toy. I gasped softly at the shock of it. 

 

Gojo laughed. “Ohhh, there it is. That grumpy loop temper.”

 

“I didn’t mean to-”

 

“I know.”

 

“I didn’t mean to use you.”

 

“I know.”

 

I couldn’t stop the next words. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t-”

 

“Hey, hey,” he said quickly, catching my face in both hands. “Breathe.”

 

“I crossed a line. I wasn’t trying to-”

 

“You didn’t cross it. You tipped toward it. Then I stopped you. That’s the whole point of having a line, sweetheart.”

 

I closed my eyes. My stomach still hurt.

 

Suguru was behind me, silent until now. His hand slid up my spine with slow, steady pressure, like pressing the air back into my lungs.

 

“Your energy’s just doing what it thinks it has to,” he said softly. “It’s never been drained like this before. It wants the easy answer.”

 

“And you’re not weak for wanting that,” Gojo added. “You’re human. You’re figuring it out. And I’m right here.”

 

I stayed quiet.

 

My brain felt clearer now.

 

But my body? My cursed energy?

 

Still screaming.

 

Still wanting.

 

Still hungry and unsatisfied and embarrassed.

 

Like I’d thrown myself at someone in heat, but only now realized it’d been with my eyes closed.

 

I looked at Gojo. Then Suguru. Then down at my hands.

 

“Am I losing it again..?” I asked, my voice smaller than I liked.

 

“No,” they said in unison.

 

Gojo leaned forward and kissed my forehead.

 

“You’re just... new.”

 

Suguru pressed his lips to my temple.

 

“And learning.”

 

I nodded once.

 

Even as my energy bristled. Even as my body ached. Even as shame crawled up the inside of my throat.

 

They held me like nothing had changed.

 

Satoru gently peeled me off his lap like I was something fragile, even though we both knew I’d taken hits harder than that moment. He didn’t tease, didn’t smirk, just reached into the bag and grabbed a bottle of electrolyte water he’d stolen from someone’s dorm fridge. (Shoko’s. Definitely Shoko’s.)

 

Suguru made me drink all of it, slowly. His hand rested on my lower back the entire time, rubbing soft little circles like I was a feverish kid.

 

They packed everything up for me.

 

Didn’t let me carry a thing.

 

Satoru offered me his jacket halfway through the walk down the slope, even though I was already in Suguru’s scarf.

 

“You cold?”

 

“No.”

 

“Take it anyway. I said so.”

 

I let him put it on me. Let both of them hover without complaint. Let myself be cared for.

 

And even though my cursed energy was still huffing and bitter inside my chest, the quiet started to come back.

 

The ache dulled.

 

The hunger softened.

 

I was still embarrassed. Still a little afraid of what it meant, how easy it had been to lose track of myself, but they didn’t treat me like I’d done anything wrong.

 

Just something new.

 

---

 

By the time we reached the school gates, the sky was pale orange. My legs ached. My mouth still felt weird. But I wasn’t dizzy anymore.

 

And then Yaga was there. Waiting.

 

Arms crossed. Expression unreadable, but his aura gave it away.

 

He was proud.

 

And pissed about something.

 

“Welcome back,” he said gruffly. “You three went off the grid again.”

 

“We texted Shoko,” Satoru offered, pushing his sunglasses up lazily.

 

“That doesn’t count.”

 

Yaga’s eyes flicked to me. A beat passed.

 

Then he held out a neatly folded piece of paper.

 

I took it.

 

It was stamped with the school’s mission seal.

 

“Your winter assignments,” Yaga said, voice tight. “You’re being trusted with full solo clearance.”

 

My chest tightened. “Seriously?”

 

He nodded. “You’ve shown control. Power. Tactical improvement. There’s no more reason to keep you in basic support roles.”

 

He looked at me for a long moment.

 

“I’m proud of you.”

 

I blinked.

 

It didn’t sound like a compliment. Not really.

 

More like a resignation.

 

“Then why do you sound mad?”

 

Yaga sighed through his nose. “Because pride doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it. You’re capable now. That means they’ll want more from you.”

 

Gojo’s head tilted. “Who’s they?”

 

Yaga hesitated.

 

Then said quietly, “The elders.”

 

Suguru’s whole body shifted behind me.

 

Satoru went still. Not tense, not flinching, just stilled, like something dangerous was calculating behind his lenses.

 

Yaga looked only at me.

 

“They want to meet with you.”

 

“When?” I asked, too quickly.

 

“Right before your first winter mission. I fought to have them wait until after the holidays..”

 

“Don’t worry about those old geezers. We-” Gojo started.

 

“They said you have to come alone,” Yaga interrupted sharply. “And before you ask, they made it very clear. You two,” he said, eyes flicking to Satoru and Suguru, “aren’t allowed in the room.”

 

Gojo snorted. “Let’s see them try to stop me.”

 

“No.” Yaga’s voice was like stone. “Don’t push it, Satoru.”

 

“But-”

 

“This isn’t a bluff,” he growled. “You want to keep her here? Safe? Then don’t give them a reason to say she’s only strong because you two are holding her leash.”

 

I swallowed hard.

 

Suguru stepped closer to me, hand brushing mine. He didn’t speak, just looked at Yaga with that dangerous, unreadable quiet he used when something really pissed him off.

 

“Amara,” Yaga said, softer now. “You’ll be fine. They’ll talk, they’ll posture, they’ll test you. Smile. Bow. Endure it. Let me deal with the talking and the fighting.”

 

“And if I don’t?” I asked.

 

“Then you give them a reason to decide you’re not worth the risk.” His voice dropped lower. “I won't let you have them decide that.”

 

A long silence fell.

 

Suguru touched my back again, grounding.

 

Gojo, strangely quiet now, just nodded.

 

But behind his lenses?

 

His Six Eyes were glowing.

 

 

Chapter 58: Testing Testing

Summary:

Not fully NSFW but Suguru does finish in his pants 😬

“-I’m telling you,” Gojo said, arms crossed, foot bouncing like a child who drank two coffees and a Red Bull, “it’s balanced. Her cursed energy. Like actually balanced. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

 

“I thought you said that last time,” Yaga grunted.

 

Gojo pointed a finger. “No, I said it was stabilizing. Now it’s done. Like it found whatever final piece it needed to lock into place. This healing-others thing? That’s it. That’s the keystone.”

 

Suguru nodded beside me, quiet but confident. “It’s not just a trick. It changed her whole system. Her energy is flowing and moving appropriately.”

 

Yaga leaned forward at his desk, brow furrowed. “And you’re sure?”

 

“Ask your own eyeball witch,” Gojo said, jabbing a thumb toward himself. “Six Eyes says yes. I’d bet her life on it.”

 

I blinked. “Wait- you're supposed to bed your own life-”

 

"Your life is more important to me." He said so matter-of-factly.

 

"I-" 

 

“Quiet, you.” He turned to Yaga again. “This is a rare moment where everything is actually working. You should let us test it before something ruins it.”

 

Yaga sighed, rubbing his temple. “Fine. Fine! Testing. But I want updates. Shoko signs off on everything. No backroom rituals. No unapproved draining. No kissing energy out of anyone unless Shoko says it’s cleared.”

 

Suguru looked entirely unbothered.

 

Gojo looked way too pleased.

 

I, unfortunately, wanted to crawl under the floorboards and dissolve.

 

“Fine,” I muttered. “Daily reports. No kissing.”

 

“Only supervised kissing,” Gojo corrected.

 

Yaga groaned.

 

---

 

Shoko’s lab was already glowing like a mad scientist’s dream by the time we got there. She had two machines humming, wires everywhere, and a half-eaten takoyaki skewer balanced on top of a cursed energy reader.

 

“Mariiiiii,” she sing-songed when she saw me. “Look at my little beautiful medical anomaly.”

 

I groaned loudly.

 

She didn’t care. She grinned and pulled me anyway.

 

“You’re ready for real science now. I’m so proud. Look at you! Balanced like a grown-up.”

 

“You’ve known I’m a grown-up,” I muttered, embarrassed.

 

She winked. “You say that, but last week you made me watch Spirited Away in complete silence and then cried at the soot sprites.”

 

“That was private!”

 

“You called them ‘squishy widdle babies.’ Out loud.”

 

Suguru snorted behind me. Gojo wheezed and immediately dropped onto the counter like he couldn’t keep standing.

 

“Can we focus?” I hissed.

 

Shoko waved it off and started flicking switches on the machines. “Okay, okay. Here's the plan. Mari, you’re gonna be hooked up to this cursed energy monitor. And someone else will be hooked up to that one. I want to watch what happens to both energy signatures when you heal them.”

 

“Cool,” I said slowly. “So we hurt someone on purpose. For science.”

 

“Exactly! What's science without breaking some moral code?”

 

Gojo raised a brow. “So which lucky volunteer gets bruised in the name of love?”

 

“I’ll do it,” Suguru said immediately.

 

Three heads snapped to him.

 

Even Shoko paused, hand mid-air.

 

“You sure?” she asked, voice cautious.

 

Suguru nodded. “She already healed me once. Makes sense to keep the variable consistent.”

 

But there was something too casual in his tone. Something too soft at the edges.

 

And he wasn’t meeting my eye.

 

Shoko raised a brow. “You just want to feel her cursed energy in you again.”

 

“...No,” he said unconvincingly.

 

Gojo straight-up burst out laughing.

 

“You’re so obvious,” he grinned. “Do you wanna get hurt or just get railed with cursed warmth, because I feel like there’s a line-”

 

Suguru didn’t even flinch. He glanced sideways at Satoru, face cool but ears definitely a little red.

 

“If you ever feel what I felt,” he said smoothly, “you’d beg to be sliced open, too.”

 

Gojo fake-swooned. “Romance isn’t dead after all.”

 

“Shut up,” Suguru muttered.

 

Shoko was already dragging over the equipment with the calm chaos of a woman who’d seen worse and didn’t care. She motioned between us.

 

“Chairs. Here. Facing each other. I want you close so we can track the direct flow.”

 

I sat, pulling Suguru’s chair closer until our knees brushed. She tugged his sleeve up and opened the small kit of sterile blades with a casual hum.

 

“I’m gonna make this cut deep. I need it to take a few minutes to fully heal,” she said, businesslike. “You good?”

 

Suguru nodded without hesitation.

 

But I flinched before the blade even touched him.

 

I could feel it already, his cursed energy twitching like it was bracing for a hit, the strange anticipation crawling along my fingertips like static. I reached for him, instinct loud in my bones.

 

“Wait,” Shoko said.

 

“I can’t,” I whispered.

 

“Just breathe,” Suguru said gently, reaching for my hand with the one she wasn’t about to cut. “I’ve got you.”

 

I nodded tightly. My cursed energy didn’t care about protocol, it wanted to fix him before he was even hurt. It already knew what was coming. It wanted to override me.

 

Suguru saw it happening and didn’t hesitate. He dragged his chair in even closer until one of my legs rested between both of his, and his did the same.

 

We were locked in now. Close enough to share breath.

 

Shoko sliced. I flinched again.

 

The cut bloomed across his bicep, clean and deep. Blood beaded, slow and bright.

 

And my cursed energy surged like a reflex.

 

I reached forward, hands glowing faintly, a light inside my skin that wasn’t there a second ago.

 

Suguru inhaled. Sharp. Controlled.

 

His jaw clenched.

 

White knuckles wrapped around the arm of his chair.

 

He didn’t say a word, but I could feel it, the way his cursed energy opened to mine like a gate left unlocked, like it wanted me back.

 

I touched the edges of the cut.

 

And he shivered.

 

Not from pain.

 

From the warmth.

 

From me.

 

Shoko flicked a switch. “Monitors are live. Don’t stop unless I say. I want you to take it extreamly slow. Don't flood your healing into him until I say so.”

 

My energy slid into him slowly, cautiously, unsure, but it knew the path now. It had tasted him before. It recognized the terrain.

 

And Suguru…

 

His breath hitched once. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek and looked everywhere but at me.

 

“Okay,” Shoko muttered to herself. “Readings steady in both of you. His energy’s reacting fast… Mari, hold it there. Don’t push more unless I ask.”

 

I tried.

 

But he made this little sound, just the smallest, broken exhale. And his fingers flexed on the chair arm like he wanted to grab me and couldn’t.

 

I was glad he was wearing those baggy black uniform pants. I didn’t need to look. I knew.

 

His energy was soaking mine in like a sponge that hadn’t seen water in days. My cursed energy loop strained to keep giving, it was already pulling from me directly, and I was letting it. Because he felt good. Because he needed it. Because I loved him.

 

God, I loved him.

 

And he wasn’t even touching me.

 

But he was breathing like he wanted to.

 

Like he wanted to pull me into his lap and never let go.

 

And I felt high again.

 

But not like last time. Not frenzied.

 

This was soft. Quiet.

 

Something about the way his cursed energy held mine, like he didn’t want to lose it.

 

Like he was afraid that if he let go, I’d stop glowing.

 

The air felt thick.

 

Not heavy, not suffocating, just dense with something I couldn’t name. Like Suguru’s energy had threaded through mine, pulling and pulsing with every breath I took.

 

My knee bumped forward slightly, just barely grazing against the space between his legs.

 

Suguru jerked.

 

His hand slammed into the arm of the chair hard enough to make it creak.

 

“Sorry,” he muttered, voice rough and tight as he covered his face with the other hand. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

 

I blinked.

 

His cursed energy was practically shaking now, vibrating in time with mine like two wires stripped raw and pressed together. Every time I pushed healing into the wound, I felt it recoil and then rush forward again like it didn’t know whether to run or stay.

 

Like it needed me and hated that it did.

 

He was being edged and overstimulated at the same time. I didn’t need to understand everything to feel it. I could see it in the way his breath hitched, in the tension in his thighs, in the way his fingers twitched like he was holding himself together by muscle memory alone.

 

Gojo gave a low whistle. “Goddamn, Suguru. Didn’t know healing felt that good.”

 

“Shut the hell up,” Suguru mumbled from behind his hand, face burning. “This isn’t- I’m not-”

 

Gojo’s grin stretched wickedly. “You’re gonna tell me your cursed energy isn’t dry humping hers right now?”

 

I burst into a snort. Suguru groaned and buried his face deeper, but even he couldn’t stop the twitch at the corner of his mouth.

 

“Technically,” Shoko cut in, not looking away from her monitor, “they kind of are. Their cursed signatures are merging in real time. It’s almost synchronized at this point. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

 

Gojo leaned in over her shoulder. “So it is energy sex. Knew it.”

 

Shoko rolled her eyes. “Can you be useful instead of obnoxious?”

 

“I am useful,” he grinned, flopping onto the edge of the desk. “I’m the comedic relief and moral support.”

 

“You’re a distraction,” Suguru ground out, still trying to regulate his breathing. His voice had that hoarse edge now, like it scraped on the way out.

 

“Distractions keep you from exploding,” Gojo chirped.

 

Shoko scribbled a note, then glanced at Suguru. “Describe the feeling. Try to be specific. And not crude, if possible.”

 

Suguru looked like she’d asked him to do calculus mid-orgasm.

 

“Uh-” He faltered, then dragged his hand down his face. “It’s warm. But not hot. Like- it feels like her. Not just her energy. Her.”

 

I blinked again.

 

“It’s emotional,” he added, quieter now. “It’s like every nerve’s lit up but- comforted. Not just physical. It’s in me, and it knows where to go, and it wants to stay. Like…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “Fuck, I don’t know. It feels like she’s kissing every inch of me from the inside.”

 

Gojo’s face softened just slightly, teasing edge fading for a second. He slid his hand down to Suguru’s thigh and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

 

“Jesus, babe. Next time I stub my toe, you’re not allowed to be the first one to volunteer,” he joked, tone low.

 

Suguru gripped Gojo’s leg suddenly, hard.

 

“You’re getting in the chair next,” he said, almost a growl.

 

Gojo raised a brow. “Oh? Competitive now?”

 

“No,” Suguru said through gritted teeth. “I just want to watch you try to stay cool while she rewires your goddamn body.”

 

I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or crawl under the table.

 

Shoko’s voice brought me back. “Alright, Mari. Go ahead and heal fully now. Let’s see how the readings shift with complete transfer.”

 

I nodded and focused.

 

I let the healing flow all at once, not in drops but in floods.

 

Suguru arched in his seat. One sharp inhale. One broken noise.

 

Then stillness.

 

Total stillness.

 

Eyes shut, body trembling, just a flicker, and then frozen.

 

I pulled my hands away fast.

 

“Shoko,” I said, alarm threading through me. “Did I-?”

 

Shoko didn’t answer right away. Just adjusted the dial and narrowed her eyes at the screen.

 

Suguru’s hand was still clamped over Gojo’s thigh, knuckles white.

 

Gojo gave a half-choked sound.

 

“Okay,” he said, voice cracking like dry leaves. “Did you- uh- finish healing him?”

 

“I- I think so?” I stammered. “Is he-?”

 

“Fine,” Suguru bit out, still not looking at me. “Just. Give me a second.”

 

I looked down.

 

Oh.

 

He was still breathing heavily. Still not moving. His hair clung to his forehead like sweat.

 

And he definitely wasn’t making eye contact.

 

I leaned back slowly.

 

“Oh my god,” I muttered. “Did you-”

 

“No,” he said quickly. Too quickly. “Absolutely not. I didn’t- Shoko, did the machine- did it spike?”

 

Shoko didn’t even blink. “Yup. Like a ten on the Richter scale.”

 

“Fuck me,” Suguru groaned, dragging both hands down his face.

 

Gojo snorted. “You wish.”

 

Shoko didn’t comment further. She was already scribbling notes, her brows drawn together in that hyper-focused scientist face she got when she was too deep in data to process human emotion.

 

I unhooked the monitor pads from my arms and legs with shaking fingers, leaving the wires dangling like I’d shed a second skin. My heart was racing, my vision tunneling slightly from the pull of it all, but none of that mattered right now.

 

Suguru still hadn’t moved.

 

He sat there, hunched over, fingers twisted in his own hair like he didn’t know what to do with his hands anymore. His breath came in shallow little gasps through his nose, like he was holding himself together with the threadbare edge of control.

 

“Hey,” I whispered, already crouching beside his chair, one hand lightly brushing his knee. “You okay?”

 

He didn’t answer, just turned his head a fraction in my direction.

 

I stood and grabbed the water bottle I’d left on the lab bench, then made a beeline for Shoko’s stash drawer, she always had something, granola bars or sugar cubes, or those weird rice crackers she pretended not to like but hoarded like a gremlin. I fished out one of the good ones.

 

When I came back, Suguru’s elbows were braced on his knees, head bowed like he was trying to keep it from floating away.

 

I placed the water into his hands and carefully peeled open the wrapper of the snack bar. The room buzzed with the fading crackle of cursed energy and Gojo’s barely stifled chuckling in the corner, but all I saw was him.

 

“Here,” I said softly, holding the snack near his mouth. “Take a bite.”

 

He blinked slowly, like it took him a second to remember how mouths worked. Then he leaned forward and took a small bite, chewing like someone waking up from anesthesia.

 

His hand wrapped loosely around the water. I watched it tremble as he took a sip.

 

“You didn’t have to take care of me first,” he murmured, voice frayed and low.

 

I smiled, even though the back of my head was pulsing like I’d stood up too fast and my stomach felt like it was trying to digest itself.

 

“I always take care of you first.”

 

Suguru looked up then. And his eyes were… soft. Wide in that way he rarely let them be. Full of guilt and reverence all at once.

 

“You okay, Mari?” Shoko asked from behind me, her voice just clinical enough to hide the concern.

 

“Fine,” I lied quickly. “Just a little lightheaded. I’ll sit in a sec.”

 

“You’ll sit now,” Gojo said, suddenly beside me, hand already reaching to pull over one of the lab stools. “Suguru’s not the only one who looks like they saw God and got sucker-punched by him.”

 

“I’m fine,” I said again, but my knees were already giving up the argument.

 

Suguru’s hand shot out, catching my wrist gently.

 

“C’mere,” he said, voice quieter now. He patted his lap and opened his arms like he needed me there to breathe right again.

 

I hesitated. My body wanted sleep and sugar and maybe a coma nap under five weighted blankets. But my heart-

 

I climbed into his lap and curled against his chest, letting his arms close around me.

 

He kissed the top of my head. Once. Then again. Slow.

 

Gojo watched us for a moment, the chaos in his eyes dimming into something tender and unreadable.

 

Then he turned back to Shoko, pointing. “My turn.”

 

Shoko blinked. “What?”

 

“I’m next,” he said, already flopping into the other chair. “Let’s see if I short-circuit or just orgasm dramatically like he did.”

 

“I did not-” Suguru started, but I felt the rumble of his laugh against my back.

 

I tilted my head up. “Do you want to?”

 

“Kind of want to watch him try to explain it with a straight face.”

 

I grinned, the exhaustion sinking deeper into my bones now, but softened by the warm weight of Suguru beneath me and the sound of Gojo already antagonizing Shoko.

 

My cursed energy purred in the back of my mind. Sated. For now.

 

Suguru wouldn’t let me move for a good ten minutes. Not until he got through half the water bottle and two of the little sugar rice crackers Shoko had tucked away in her desk drawer.

 

Except he didn’t eat them himself.

 

He broke one in half and offered me the bigger piece without a word, waiting until I took it before cracking open another water bottle and pressing it to my lips like I was going to forget how cups worked if left to my own devices.

 

“You’re ridiculous,” I mumbled.

 

He wiped the corner of my mouth with his sleeve. “You say that like I care.”

 

I didn’t fight it.

 

I let him be gentle.

 

Because I could feel him still trembling under it all. That same heat, almost electric, still clinging to his skin like the ghost of my cursed energy didn’t want to let go.

 

Gojo wandered back to his chair, kicking his feet up on the edge of the desk like he was settling in for a show. “So, Shoko. Am I allowed to scream if it’s too good? Or will that ruin the data?”

 

“You scream and I’ll jab you with a scalpel,” Shoko said flatly, not even glancing at him as she adjusted the monitors.

 

“See, I knew you liked me.”

 

“Don't flatter yourself, Satoru.”

 

She looked at me and jerked her chin toward the other chair. 

 

“Test two. Let’s go, Mari. Same setup. Suguru, you good to switch spots?”

 

Suguru kissed my temple once more before standing, giving my hand a squeeze as he passed. I moved toward the other chair on legs that felt like stretched taffy, Gojo reaching out dramatically to steady me even though I wasn’t about to fall.

 

He smiled. “Ready to short-circuit your favorite power outlet?”

 

“Don’t tempt me,” I muttered, still not quite sure if I meant it as a threat or a craving.

 

Shoko rolled up the sleeves of her coat and pulled out another sealed surgical kit. “Same procedure as before. Controlled laceration. We want to compare how your body reacts to both the subject-” she nodded at Gojo, who winked, “-and the pacing of repeated healing output.”

 

I tensed automatically when she lifted the scalpel, even though I knew exactly what to expect.

 

It didn’t matter.

 

Gojo grunted as the blade sliced across his forearm, neat and deep. He hissed through his teeth, more out of habit than pain, and then grinned like a lunatic when blood welled to the surface.

 

“Ooh,” he said, tilting his head toward me. “Make it all better, princess.”

 

I touched his hand, and...

 

SNAP

 

Our cursed energies slammed into each other like fists to face.

 

I sucked in a breath, spine going rigid. My energy rushed forward, eager, ready to soothe, and his pushed back immediately, not cruel but defensive, like it didn’t trust anything that wasn’t its own.

 

Gojo’s grin faltered.

 

The screen beside me spiked. Static hissed across the monitors.

 

Shoko swore softly. “Mari- stay steady.”

 

I tried.

 

But his cursed energy wasn’t welcoming.

 

It fought me.

 

Not like Suguru’s, which opened wide and melted into mine like velvet and warmth. Satoru’s was like a firewall, sparking, flaring, crackling against my presence.

 

It didn’t recognize me, not at first.

 

His energy had never needed anyone.

 

Gojo tensed, mouth parting slightly. I could see the shift in his expression, surprise first, then something more analytical as his eyes glowed faintly with the flicker of Six Eyes activation.

 

And then it changed.

 

It was almost imperceptible, like a breath held too long and finally let out.

 

My cursed energy pulsed again, not demanding, just reminding.

 

It’s me.

 

It’s me.

 

His energy paused.

 

Twitched.

 

Then finally yielded.

 

The blend didn’t come slowly, it surged like a dam breaking. His cursed energy folded around mine in a rush, bright and euphoric. My fingers tightened against his wrist, and he let out a low, stunned breath, lashes fluttering like someone short-circuited his brain.

 

“Holy- shit...”

 

The wave hit him.

 

Harder than he expected.

 

Gojo's head dropped back against the chair, and a low sound escaped his throat, not a laugh. It was something between a gasp and a groan, unguarded and hot with realization.

 

“Oh… oh, that’s what you were feeling?” His voice dropped, hoarse with wonder as he glanced dazedly toward Suguru. “Duuuuude.”

 

Suguru just sat back with his arms crossed, brow twitching like he was trying very hard not to smirk. “Told you.”

 

Gojo's hand found mine again, gripping tighter like it grounded him. His pupils dilated wide behind his glasses. “This is like- fucking fireworks. Are you sure this isn’t illegal?”

 

Shoko didn’t even glance away. “It should be.”

 

Gojo was not containing himself. Not even a little bit.

 

“Oh fuuuuck- yeah, yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, his head rolling lazily back on the chair as our cursed energies synced. “God, Mara- you feel so good in my system- what the hell- how are you real-?”

 

His words spilled like a faucet with no off switch, running hot and loud and embarrassingly sincere.

 

I flushed down to my collarbones, even as I tried to steady my breathing, my fingers still locked around his arm. “Satoru-”

 

“You’re like sunlight in my veins- fuck, I could live in you- swim in you- marry you-”

 

His free hand, the one not hooked to the machine, wandered. Slid up my thigh once, then veered way too close to dangerous territory.

 

I slapped it down, eyes wide. “Satoru.”

 

“Sorry!” he grinned, absolutely not sorry. “Just- god, you’re so pretty, and warm, and I can feel you in me and it’s like.. I get it now. Suguru, I get it.”

 

He looked over to where Suguru was trying his absolute best not to burst into laughter or intervene. His ears were red.

 

“You felt this and stayed calm?” Gojo was borderline whining now, breathless and amazed. “How?! I want to sing! I want to paint! Let’s go adopt a fish again or get married or- Amara, I’m going to marry you. And Suguru. Both of you. I’m so fucking serious.”

 

He tried to put his hand over mine again, squeezing it like a desperate prayer, then his fingers slid under, grazing far too high between my legs.

 

“Satoru!” I hissed, smacking it away again, my face on fire. “Control yourself!”

 

“I can’t!” he half-laughed, half-whimpered. “You’re literally in my bloodstream right now. It’s like having sex with feelings!”

 

“Stop talking,” I begged, gritting my teeth. “Please- just stop talking.”

 

“God, I love you,” he groaned again. “Like, genuinely. Like, you make me feel things. Not like, fun things, I mean the real kind. The ‘I want to make you a cup of tea and buy you fuzzy socks and learn your skincare routine’ kind.”

 

His hand moved again. I caught it mid-wander, moving to his croch, and pinned it to the chair arm.

 

“No.”

 

“But-”

 

“No.”

 

“Okay.” He pouted, lips puffing slightly. “Fine. I’ll be good.”

 

Then leaned forward, so close our noses brushed, and whispered, “Still gonna marry you.”

 

“Shoko,” I called tightly, “how long is this part of the test supposed to last?”

 

She finally looked up, blinking like she’d just realized the energy in the room had shifted from clinical to chaotic bedroom. “Oh. Oh, wow. Uh- five more minutes?”

 

“Five?!”

 

“Hold out, princess,” Gojo murmured against my cheek. “We’re making history. Gonna fill my pants with countless generations. Would prefer you though-”

 

"SATORU- OH- I can't with you right now!"

 

Every part of me was screaming to finish the test, to push through. Just a few more minutes. I could keep going. I’d done worse. I’d fought through worse. I just had to-

 

Burning.

 

Low and sharp.

 

Like a thread dipped in acid dragging up my spine.

 

I winced.

 

Suguru’s eyes snapped to mine instantly. “Mara?”

 

“Something hurts,” I whispered, trying not to sound afraid. “My back... it’s hot. Like burning, not… not in the good way.”

 

Shoko didn’t even look away from the monitors. “Suguru. Her back, please.”

 

He moved behind me fast. So fast the chair rocked. Gentle hands pushed my shirt up. Then..

 

Silence.

 

Not a good silence.

 

I could feel him staring.

 

“What is it?” I asked.

 

Suguru’s voice came tight. “Veins. Black ones. Creeping up your spine.”

 

Gojo sat forward, all the teasing wiped off his face like chalk off a board. “What?”

 

“They’re faint,” Suguru said, jaw clenched. “But they’re moving.”

 

Shoko was already scribbling notes, her mouth a thin, unreadable line. “Mari, we’re ending the test. Go ahead and fully heal Satoru, but quickly. No dragging it out. We need to see what happens when you complete the cycle.”

 

I nodded, trying to breathe through the way my entire body was beginning to tremble. I poured my energy into Gojo, letting it flood him fast, clean, efficient, not slow, not indulgent.

 

He gasped.

 

But it wasn’t the same.

 

Not like Suguru.

 

He blinked hard, shifting, catching his breath. “That felt- unfinished.”

 

I was already moving before he finished the sentence.

 

My limbs felt wrong. Heavy and disconnected. My spine throbbed. My thoughts weren’t thoughts anymore, they were needs.

 

My body knew exactly what it needed. Not sleep. Not food. Not water.

 

Him.

 

I crawled into Gojo’s lap, fingers clutching his shirt like I might fall through the earth without him. “Please,” I whispered, over and over, rocking gently in place. “Please, I need you. Just a little. I need you so bad, just a kiss- I’ll be good- I'll be such a good girl- please Satoru-”

 

He stilled.

 

His hands hovered at my hips, uncertain, his voice soft but serious. “You want to drain me?”

 

I nodded into his neck, my mouth brushing the skin there. “Just a little. I promise. I won’t take too much. I just- please, it hurts-”

 

“Shoko?”

 

She didn’t hesitate. “Should be fine.”

 

Gojo breathed out slowly. “Go ahead, sweetheart.”

 

I bit him.

 

Not hard. Just enough to sink into his skin, to taste the static and warmth that lived inside him like a storm.

 

He flinched, not from pain. From surprise.

 

Little tendrils slipped from my skin, curling gently along his side, across his ribs, brushing the edge of his collarbone. I couldn’t control it. They came when I needed grounding, and right now Gojo was my anchor, my everything.

 

"Gotta say, having your tendril cover multiple parts of my body like this makes me understand some of those weird hentais Suguru likes.." He laughs a little breathlessly.

 

"Shut the fuck up, Satoru. For five seconds." Geto groans into his hand.

 

I felt his cursed energy slide down my throat, coating every nerve like sugar and heat and too much electricity at once. It wasn’t just power. It was him. Bright. Buzzing. Alive. I felt like I could run ten marathons and also sob into his chest for three days straight.

 

Gojo let out a breathless laugh that cracked midway. “You’re using me like a fidget toy.”

 

I nodded against his neck, still holding on. Still sucking lightly, like I was trying to pull the sun into my lungs.

 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, his fingers brushing through my hair, voice barely there. “That tracks.”

 

And even though it felt like a live wire kiss on the inside of my bones..

 

Even though it made my brain spin and my mouth buzz and my spine ache less..

 

I could finally breathe again.

 

Shoko didn’t say anything, just turned and beelined for the lab desk, already muttering to herself and flipping through data like she was cracking a cursed code. Her pen scratched wildly across the page. I didn’t even need to look at her to know she’d already forgotten we existed.

 

Gojo adjusted under me, shifting so he could support more of my weight without jostling my back. He stroked a hand down my spine, careful not to touch the sore parts. I stayed curled against him, head tucked under his chin, breathing him in like incense. Warm. Familiar. Anchoring.

 

Then Suguru dragged a chair over and sat right beside us. He didn’t say anything, just reached out and gently lifted the back of my shirt, cold air brushing the heated skin of my spine.

 

His fingers were careful, slow. Searching.

 

“They’ve gone down a little,” he said softly, thumbs pressing in delicate circles at the base of my spine. “Still faintly there. But not climbing anymore.”

 

His touch moved higher, fingertips firm but thoughtful as he massaged along the path of pain. I exhaled into Gojo’s chest.

 

“I’m sorry,” I murmured after a minute, voice low, raw. “To both of you.”

 

Gojo blinked, peeking down at me. “For what?”

 

I didn’t lift my head. “For not being able to… to make you-” I winced. “You know. Finish. Like Suguru did.”

 

Suguru groaned immediately and dropped his face into one hand. “Mara-”

 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said quickly, but I could feel my cheeks heating up. “It’s just- his body reacted. A lot. I just thought it wasn’t fair. Or maybe it’s because I was too tired, or I did something wrong, or-”

 

Gojo laughed, soft and sunny, petting over my hair like I was saying something truly ridiculous. “Princess, you gave me a cursed high. I saw the fucking void. I’m not mad that I didn’t spontaneously combust in my pants.”

 

Suguru groaned again, louder this time. “Can we please not use that phrase?”

 

Gojo grinned at him. “You did, though.”

 

“Satoru.”

 

I peeked up at Gojo from his chest. “But really, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, or act like that without asking, or-”

 

“Hey.” He tilted my chin up with one finger. His expression was unusually soft. “You were running on empty and trying to survive. You asked when you realized what was happening. That’s all that matters.”

 

I nodded. Slowly.

 

Then Suguru’s hand slid up under my hair, rubbing the base of my neck with slow circles. “Next time,” he said dryly, “you can try not to say the word finish while I’m trying to be helpful.”

 

I choked on a laugh and turned my face into Gojo’s shirt to hide it. “Sorry.”

 

“You’re not.”

 

“I’m a little sorry.”

 

Suguru huffed. “God, I can still feel it. Like you set my bones on fire and then kissed them all better.”

 

Gojo hummed. “Sounds kinda hot.”

 

“Shut up, Satoru.”

 

Gojo grinned at both of us. “Just sayin’. Cursed battery girlfriend does wonders.”

 

“Please never call me that again,” I mumbled into his shirt, trying not to smile.

 

Gojo kissed the top of my head. “Fine. I’ll save it for when I’m proposing.”

 

“God help me,” Suguru sighed.

 

 

Chapter 59: A Strange Man

Summary:

Where his worm at?

Gojo and Suguru were off on a two-day mission together, something border zone near Sapporo. I could still hear Satoru’s dramatic groaning echo in my head from this morning, begging to stay in bed and have me feed him tangerines like a sickly old man while Suguru tried to drag him out the door.

 

I missed them already.

 

But I wasn’t going to waste the rare day off. Not with snow threatening to fall any day now.

 

I pulled my scarf higher around my nose as I stepped off the train, the chill sharper this deep in Tokyo. My boots hit the cracked concrete of familiar sidewalks, ones I hadn’t walked in over a year. No exorcisms. No sparring matches. No whispers of cursed spirits clinging to my heels.

 

Just… old ghosts.

 

The slums hadn’t changed. Not really. A fresh layer of grime over the bones. Same chipped vending machines and flickering neon. Same smell of burnt oil and street meat and rain pooling in uneven pavement.

 

I didn’t stop at the house. Didn’t want to. The building was still boarded up, anyway. Probably condemned.

 

Instead, I walked the long route. The alleys I used to hide in. The hole in the fence near the old temple. The rusted swing set behind the market that creaked in the wind like someone humming low and sad.

 

Eventually, I made it to the racetrack.

 

I used to sneak in through the cracked gate by the west bleachers, shimmy up the drain pipe, and wedge myself behind the railing of the premium booth. No one ever caught me. Or maybe they did and didn’t care. Either way, the view was better up top. It made the horses feel like they were flying.

 

This time, though… I paid.

 

Didn’t want the memory ruined by some security guard dragging me out by the collar.

 

The inside of the premium booth smelled like aged cigarettes and citrus polish. A heater buzzed low from the far corner, warming the soles of my boots. I took the middle seat and let my coat fall half off my shoulder, sipping from the thermos I brought. The racetrack below shimmered, early winter sun glaring off the dirt like dull silver.

 

I stayed there for a while.

 

Just… remembering.

 

The sound of the hooves. The way the riders leaned into the wind. The old man who used to watch from the far box and mutter numbers under his breath like prayers. The way I used to pretend the horses had names like Thunder Vein and Captain Hollow and they were running just for me.

 

I was so wrapped up in it that I didn’t even notice the door open.

 

Footsteps. A weight shifting behind me. I tensed, then relaxed, probably some rich gambler who wanted privacy.

 

But when I glanced to the side, the man who stepped in didn’t look rich.

 

Didn’t look like he belonged in here at all.

 

Early thirties, maybe. Black hair, slightly messy. Tall. Broad shoulders. A scar split the edge of his lips like a blade had once kissed him wrong. His jacket was worn leather and his hands were stuffed into his pockets like he couldn’t be bothered to greet the world with open palms.

 

He looked at me once. Briefly. Then moved a chair over and sat a few feet away without a word.

 

No one else followed.

 

We were alone.

 

I blinked at him. Nothing cursed flickered around him. No traces of spirits. No scent of blood or old death.

 

Still… something felt off.

 

He glanced at the track, then at me again, eyes narrow like he was trying to place me.

 

“You bettin’ or just watchin’?” he asked finally. His voice was low. Gravel smoked.

 

I raised a brow. “Just watching.”

 

He nodded. Didn’t say anything else. Just sat back and pulled a small toothpick from his pocket, slipping it between his teeth like it might shut him up from saying something stupid.

 

I turned back toward the track.

 

But I could feel his eyes on me again.

 

Like he was thinking. Or remembering.

 

Or hunting.

 

I kept my eyes on the horses, but the silence between us itched at the edges of my skin. The kind of silence that asked to be filled.

 

So I said, “You?”

 

He glanced over, toothpick shifting in his mouth. “What?”

 

“Are you betting, or just watching?”

 

A slow grin tugged at the edge of his lip, the scar twisted slightly when he smirked. “Betting.”

 

He didn’t elaborate. Just left it hanging there like I was supposed to guess what that meant.

 

I nodded, blowing softly on my drink and keeping my tone casual. “High risk or just wasting time?”

 

He chuckled. Not loud. Just enough that it felt more real than most of the laughter I’d heard lately.

 

“Little of both,” he said. “Depends on the day. Luck ain't commonly on my side.”

 

I let the quiet stretch again. He seemed like the kind of man who only spoke when he had something worth saying, which somehow made everything he did say hit harder.

 

“So,” he said after a moment, resting his elbows on his knees, “you come here often?”

 

It sounded like a bad pickup line, but the way he said it… it didn’t feel like one.

 

“Used to,” I answered truthfully. “When I was younger.”

 

That seemed to catch his attention. He tilted his head slightly, toothpick shifting again. “Neighborhood girl?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

He hummed, like he was already putting pieces together. “You don’t dress like someone who still lives around here.”

 

“I don’t.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

He leaned back in his seat again, but he wasn’t watching the horses anymore. He was watching me. Not in a threatening way, not yet. Just… taking inventory.

 

“What do you do now?” he asked.

 

I hesitated for a beat too long.

 

“Work,” I said finally, keeping my tone even. “Out of the city.”

 

“That so?” he asked, unconvinced. “Dangerous work?”

 

The way he said it made me glance at him out of the corner of my eye. Something about the phrasing didn’t feel casual.

 

“Sometimes,” I admitted.

 

He didn’t say anything for a second. Just scratched his jaw lazily and muttered, “Mm. Thought so.”

 

I stiffened slightly, unsure what that meant or why it unsettled me.

 

“You don’t talk like a kid,” he added, offhandedly. “But you’re young. Nineteen? Twenty?”

 

“Twenty-one.” 

 

“Right.”

 

Another beat passed. He wasn’t pressing, but I could feel him watching how I reacted. Testing if I’d flinch. If I’d lie.

 

I shifted in my seat, keeping my voice light. “You always ask strangers this many questions?”

 

His mouth tugged into another grin, this one smaller. “Only the ones trying not to look like they’re being vague on purpose.”

 

I bit the inside of my cheek.

 

Got me there.

 

I crossed my legs and leaned back slightly in my chair, letting the silence settle before I said, “You know… you ask a lot of questions for just some average stranger.”

 

He shrugged, unconcerned. “You answer a lot of them for one.”

 

“Careful,” I said, half-smiling. “I’m just a small girl alone with a big man. Might give someone the wrong idea.”

 

He looked over at me, really looked, and for a split second, something sharp flickered behind those lazy eyes.

 

Then he chuckled, low and rasped. “Yeah,” he said. “Most girls wouldn’t risk it unless they had a reason not to be afraid.”

 

My fingers twitched slightly against my cup.

 

There was no weight behind his words, but they landed heavy anyway.

 

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs again, gaze fixed on the track. “You’ve got that feel to you,” he added, almost like it was nothing. “Like someone who doesn’t spook easy.”

 

I didn’t answer.

 

Because he wasn’t wrong.

 

And worse.. he knew it.

 

I didn’t sense a cursed spirit anywhere near him, but there was something about him… the pressure around his presence was too still. Like air before a landslide. Like he wanted me to notice.

 

I sipped from my drink and looked out the window.

 

He glanced at me sidelong. “You ain’t the only one here with a past,” he said lightly. “Just means you watch your corners, right?”

 

Still not a question. Still said like a man who already knew the answers.

 

My jaw ticked slightly. “I watch everything.”

 

He smirked. “Atta girl.”

 

The speaker above us crackled faintly. One hour until first call.

 

He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a pack of gum instead of a cigarette. Offered me a piece.

 

I shook my head.

 

“Suit yourself.” He popped one in his mouth, then gestured lazily to the row of seats in front of him. “You wanna come sit closer?”

 

I raised a brow, lips parting in a dry laugh. “That your way of offering me a drink, old man?”

 

"Ain’t that old." He smirked wider. “You can keep a seat between us. Promise I’ll be a gentleman.”

 

I leaned back, scanning him like I could see through his skin. “You don’t look like a gentleman.”

 

“I’m not.” His voice dropped into something unreadable. “But I know how to act like one when it counts.”

 

Something in my spine bristled. Not from fear. From recognition.

 

I stood slowly and stepped forward, sliding into the chair one seat away. His eyes flicked toward me but he didn’t gloat.

 

He just sat back, toothpick shifting again, like we’d been watching races together for years.

 

I didn’t speak for a long moment.

 

And neither did he.

 

But whatever was between us had changed.

 

Not friendly.

 

Not hostile.

 

Just two ghosts pretending we didn’t notice each other’s chains.

 

The silence stretched long enough to feel almost comfortable. I kept my eyes on the track, trying not to let the way he sat, too relaxed, too quiet, get under my skin.

 

Then, without looking at him, I said softly, “Amara. Amara Hoshizuki.”

 

It wasn’t something I said often. Especially not to strangers. But something about him made me want to draw a line, just to see if he’d step over it.

 

He didn’t respond right away.

 

Then I heard the faintest chuckle under his breath.

 

“…Hoshizuki,” he repeated slowly, like he was tasting it. Then he turned and grinned wide, too wide. “Well, shit. Ain’t that a name I haven’t heard in a long time.”

 

I turned to look at him now. He was leaning forward again, forearms on knees, that grin still playing on his lips but his eyes much sharper than before.

 

“You recognize it,” I said flatly.

 

He didn’t deny it.

 

“Not personally,” he said, almost too casually. “Just the kind of name that sticks. Especially when you run in certain circles.”

 

I narrowed my eyes.

 

“What kind of circles?”

 

He didn’t answer. Just gave me a look like I already knew.

 

I tilted my head. “Did you know someone from the family? Or just heard the horror stories?”

 

His grin softened into something almost nostalgic. “Met one once,” he said. “Didn’t catch a first name. Tall guy, dead in the eyes. Gave me a look that said if we threw hands, there wouldn’t be a building left standing.”

 

I went very still.

 

“That was probably my father.”

 

His eyes flicked to me at that. “Yeah?”

 

“Riku.”

 

He whistled low. “That was him, then.”

 

“You fought?”

 

“No.” He leaned back and crossed his arms. “Neither of us wanted to die that day. Mutual understanding. Went our separate ways.”

 

I studied him. “So you’re a sorcerer.”

 

His gaze slid over to mine, amused. “Didn’t say that.”

 

“But you can see it.”

 

He shrugged. “Doesn’t take a sorcerer to read a storm in the air.”

 

I frowned. “That’s not an answer.”

 

He grinned again. “Didn’t say it was.”

 

The silence returned, thick with implication.

 

He didn’t lie. But he didn’t tell the truth either.

 

And I wasn’t sure which made me more uneasy.

 

He stuck out a hand suddenly, like we were just old drinking buddies meeting for the first time.

 

“Toji,” he said, eyes narrowing slightly. “Toji Fushiguro.”

 

My fingers hesitated before I shook it.

 

His hand was warm, calloused.

 

Strong.

 

But there was nothing cursed about it.

 

And somehow, that made it worse.

 

Toji leaned back in his chair, one arm draped over the back of the empty seat between us. “So,” he said, glancing out over the track, “you get a look at the horses racing today?”

 

I shook my head. “Didn’t pay to go down and see them. Figured I’d stay up here. Better view anyway.”

 

He made a noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff. “So you’re betting blind?”

 

“I was serious when I said I was just here to watch.”

 

He turned his head just enough to side-eye me. “You the gambling type?”

 

“Not really,” I admitted. “Didn’t exactly grow up with spare money to throw around.”

 

That made him grin again. “Let’s change that.”

 

I raised an eyebrow. “Change what?”

 

He reached into his coat and pulled out a crumpled betting form and a pen, tossing it on the seat between us. “Pick a winner. I’ll put the money down.”

 

I looked at him, suspicious. “Why?”

 

“To make it interesting,” he said, eyes gleaming. “You get one right, I’ll answer one question, completely honestly. No bullshit. Scout’s honor.”

 

“You don’t seem like the scout type.”

 

Toji smirked. “Maybe not. But I keep my word.”

 

I glanced down at the form, then back at him. “And what if I get it wrong?”

 

“Then you lose the chance to ask anything at all.” He shrugged. “No punishment. Just bad luck.”

 

My fingers brushed the paper. My cursed energy stirred faintly, like it recognized I was being tested, even if not in combat.

 

“Fine,” I said, grabbing the pen. “But I’m not picking by stats.”

 

“How else do people pick?”

 

I didn’t answer. I scanned the names of the horses on the roster. One jumped out at me, Black Lotus. My heart skipped once.

 

I circled it.

 

Toji leaned over slightly to see which one I picked. “Black Lotus, huh? Hm. Odds aren’t great.”

 

“I’m not betting on odds.”

 

He huffed a soft laugh. “No. You’re betting on instinct and a pretty name.”

 

“Something like that.”

 

He stood and stretched, grabbing the form. “Alright then, Hoshizuki. Let’s see if you’ve got a good gut.”

 

He disappeared down the stairs without another word, leaving me alone with a growing curiosity in my chest, and a name that suddenly carried more weight than I expected.

 

Toji Fushiguro.

 

Why did that name feel like a thread I shouldn’t pull?

 

---

 

Toji came back with a pair of drinks, some kind of canned coffee for himself and a water bottle for me, which he dropped into the cup holder beside my seat without a word.

 

“Thanks,” I muttered.

 

He didn’t reply, just flopped down beside me, not bothering with the seat between us this time. I didn’t move away.

 

The tension between us had shifted slightly. Less like a standoff. More like a game of cards played under the table.

 

The announcer’s voice crackled through the speakers overhead, rattling off the first lineup of the day.

 

“Your pick’s in,” Toji said. “Let’s see what she’s made of.”

 

I hummed quietly. “Nervous?”

 

“Please,” he snorted. “I only get nervous when money’s not involved.”

 

I smirked.

 

"To make things clear. If you win you're not gettin a dime of the winnings. I just answer your question."

 

"I assumed you wouldn't be so generous."

 

We didn’t talk much after that. Not because there was nothing to say, but because the track had started to hum with energy. The gates were being loaded. The horses were lined up.

 

And then..

 

BANG!

 

The gates flew open and a blur of color and thunder exploded down the track.

 

I leaned forward, elbows on knees, eyes glued to the field.

 

Black Lotus was dead last.

 

“Shit,” I murmured before I could stop myself.

 

Toji gave a low chuckle beside me. “Don’t choke now.”

 

I didn’t answer. My pulse was climbing.

 

Black Lotus stayed back for the first half of the run. But then she surged. One length. Two. Her hooves kicked up dirt like smoke. She didn’t lead, but she hunted. Stalked the front horses like prey.

 

Final stretch.

 

Three horses neck-and-neck.

 

Black Lotus came from behind like a bullet.

 

And then photo finish.

 

I jolted upright, gripping the railing. “No way-!”

 

The announcement lagged.

 

Toji exhaled through his nose, calm and unreadable as ever.

 

Then the screen blinked.

 

1st: Black Lotus.

 

My mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding me-!”

 

Without thinking, I turned to him, practically grinning. “Told you!”

 

Toji just leaned back and gave me a look of vague amusement, letting my excitement burn itself out.

 

“You always get this hyped when you win?”

 

“I don’t usually win,” I admitted, still breathless. “That was insane. She was dead last. How the hell-?”

 

“Gutsy call,” he said, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t peg you for someone who bets on long shots. Or maybe you just like an underdog.”

 

I shrugged, still trying to tamp down the adrenaline. “Sometimes they’re the only ones that make it worth it.”

 

He made a low sound, almost approving. “Alright then. A deal’s a deal. One question.”

 

My smile faded a little, more curious now than giddy.

 

He was watching me closely now. Not predatory. Just... sharply.

 

“What’ll it be, Hoshizuki?”

 

I opened my mouth to ask, to cash in my win, when the door behind us creaked open.

 

A man stepped inside, already talking like he owned the place. “Yo, Toji, thought you’d be up here-" He stopped in his tracks. "Didn’t expect anyone else though-”

 

He stopped cold when he saw me standing there.

 

I turned slightly, my hands still resting on the railing behind me. The guy was smaller than Toji, sharper in the face, hair slicked back too neat for someone with a voice like his. His eyes darted between us.

 

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked slowly.

 

Toji didn’t miss a beat. “Depends,” he said lazily. “You wanna watch?”

 

I rolled my eyes and scoffed. “You wish you were that lucky. Honestly, with how your bets have been going, I doubt you’d land a girl like me unless she felt like losing.”

 

Toji barked a low laugh, sharp and sudden, like he hadn’t expected it to come out of him. I could see the other man visibly tense like he was preparing to see me decked for mouthing off. But Toji just leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying himself.

 

“Damn,” he grinned. “You always swing that hard when you’re right?”

 

“Only when the target’s big enough to take it.”

 

The man stared at me like I’d just kicked a rabid dog and lived.

 

Toji gestured lazily toward him with a thumb. “Amara, this is... you can call him Ko.”

 

Ko blinked at me, like my name didn’t register right away. Then Toji added, “And this little firecracker here’s Amara Hoshizuki.”

 

Ko’s expression changed.

 

His whole face froze.

 

His gaze snapped back to me with a flicker of alarm recognition, maybe even a little fear.

 

“Hoshizuki?” he repeated.

 

My eyes narrowed. I didn’t move.

 

Toji clocked the shift but said nothing. Just smiled to himself like he’d lit a match and was waiting to see what burned first.

 

“Something wrong with that?” I asked evenly.

 

Ko shook his head. “Nah. Just… didn’t expect that name.”

 

I kept my face still, but my fingers curled around the edge of the railing.

 

Toji’s grin widened, and for the first time, I realized he hadn’t just introduced me for the hell of it.

 

He wanted to see the reaction.

 

I kept my arms folded as Ko awkwardly stepped aside, still watching me.

 

Toji tilted his head at me again, that same damn smirk on his face like he knew I was about to spring a trap.

 

“So,” I said lightly, “is your question-answer deal like genie rules? Do I have to be super specific with the wording, or are you actually going to answer like a normal person?”

 

Toji chuckled under his breath. “That’s not your question, huh?”

 

“Obviously not.”

 

“Then nah, not genie rules. You ask, I answer. Long as it’s not something stupid like my individual card number.”

 

"Dang. Guess I missed my shot." I teased with a smirk.

 

I didn’t smile. I stepped closer, keeping my voice quiet as I asked the real one.

 

“How can you see cursed energy when you don’t have any of your own?”

 

That made his expression shift.

 

Just a flicker. His shoulders didn’t move, but something behind his eyes tightened, and he studied me now like I was more than just an interesting stray.

 

He leaned back a bit, scoffing once like it covered the moment.

 

“Not the question I expected.”

 

“What were you hoping for?” I asked. “Asking for your phone number?”

 

“Was thinkin’ maybe you’d ask about my line of work,” he said, watching me carefully now. “Or your family. You’re a little young to be asking about body mechanics.”

 

“You don’t look old enough to have weakened cursed energy,” I shot back. “But you have something tying you to the sorcery world.”

 

His grin returned, sharp this time. “You see me as a threat?”

 

“I see everyone as a threat,” I said calmly, “just depends on what kind.”

 

That made Ko glance at Toji again like 'how the hell is she talking to you like this', but Toji didn’t seem bothered.

 

In fact, he looked entertained.

 

He stretched slightly in his seat, arms folding behind his head like he had nowhere better to be.

 

“Heavenly Restriction,” he finally said. “Born with it. My body gave up all cursed energy in exchange for... this.”

 

He tapped his chest, then flexed once. “Super strength, speed, and senses. Every ounce of what most people burn for power, I’ve got boiled into muscle and instinct.”

 

He tilted his head again, studying me.

 

“I can see cursed energy ‘cause my body had it. Once. The restriction didn’t erase my connection to it, it just... rerouted it. I don’t use cursed energy, but I see it. Smell it, even. And people like you?”

 

He smiled, slow and wolfish.

 

“You practically shine.”

 

I didn’t flinch.

 

But I did feel the smallest chill work its way down my spine.

 

He wasn’t bragging.

 

He was being honest.

 

And he wanted me to know exactly how dangerous that honesty made him.

 

“What’s a Heavenly Restriction?” I asked, watching him. “I’ve heard of binding vows, but that sounds like something else.”

 

Toji hummed low in his throat, like he was thinking about how to explain it to someone who wasn’t supposed to know this much.

 

“A binding vow’s something you choose,” he said finally, rolling a toothpick between his fingers. “You offer something up, make a deal with cursed energy, get power in return.”

 

He looked at me now with interest, like he was deciding how much to give.

 

“A Heavenly Restriction isn’t a choice,” he said, tapping his temple. “You’re born with it. Comes from the womb, not the will.”

 

His voice dropped, the easy confidence in it like velvet draped over a blade.

 

“In my case, I was born with zero cursed energy. Zilch. Not suppressed, not sealed, gone. But because of that, my body’s perfect. Strength, speed, senses, all cranked up past what a sorcerer could dream of. I don’t need cursed energy to keep up with you people. I surpass most of you without it.”

 

He grinned, cocky and calm.

 

“I’m not a tank,” he added, “I’m a blade.”

 

I raised an eyebrow. “So… a binding vow made by the universe itself.”

 

“That’s a poetic way to put it, yeah,” he said, then pointed at me. “You got a smart mouth on you. Makes me wonder what kind of freakshow abilities you’re hiding.”

 

I smiled faintly. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

 

Ko coughed awkwardly, probably hoping the tension would drop a notch.

 

It didn’t.

 

Toji leaned back in his seat again, clearly enjoying himself.

 

“Gotta say,” he drawled, “I didn’t expect to be quizzed like this when I came here to gamble.”

 

I tilted my head, expression calm.

 

“I didn’t expect to find someone without cursed energy who could see mine like a beacon.”

 

That grin came back, sharper this time.

 

“And now you’ve got me curious, Hoshizuki.”

 

Toji’s last words hung in the air, and I could feel it, his interest was real, but not kind. Not dangerous either, not yet. Just...predatory. Like a bored animal playing with something it might eat.

 

I sat up straighter.

 

Now that I understood what he was, I didn’t miss how quietly he tracked every twitch of muscle under my skin, how his head tilted ever so slightly when my cursed energy shifted.

 

I stopped pushing so hard.

 

Because I was finally seeing him clearly.

 

He didn’t like sorcerers. Not in a bitter, loud way. It was quieter than that. Passive. Like stepping on an ant and not thinking twice.

 

So I let my voice stay casual. Let the air stay calm.

 

Still, my cursed energy was coiling tight inside me, low in my gut like a dog on a short leash. Just in case.

 

Toji didn’t miss that either.

 

His gaze dragged across me, slow, deliberate, from my boots to my shoulders, to the faint pulse of cursed energy humming around my skin. His eyes lingered, just enough to make his point.

 

I gave him a look, lips twitching. “I know I’m pretty, but it’s rude to stare. You’re making it a little obvious.”

 

Toji didn’t blink. “Not denying it.”

 

I raised a brow.

 

“But,” he added, voice low, “it’s your energy I’m looking at. Not just your face.”

 

That grin came back, lazy and sharp. “Cute how it curls up like that. All tense. Like it thinks it’ll get the first hit in.”

 

I let out a dry laugh. “It might.”

 

Toji shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t doubt that. But it won’t get the second.”

 

That wasn’t a threat. That was a fact. He said it the same way you’d say the sky was blue.

 

Unshaken. Unbothered. Like my power, my curse, my everything, was a gust of wind brushing past a mountain.

 

I tilted my head and smiled, sharp and confident. “I can take quite a few hits, you know. Don’t go thinking I’m soft.”

 

That pulled his eyes back to me with interest. Something flickered behind them. Not heat, not even challenge. Just…curiosity sharpened into a grin.

 

“Oh?” he said, leaning his elbow on the chair’s back. “That a fact?”

 

“Mhm.” I let the syllable hum between us like a dare. “You like gambling, so how about a bet?”

 

Ko made a quiet sound behind Toji, barely more than a sigh like he was already regretting whatever was about to happen. I could see the exasperation all over his face, the way his hand covered his mouth like he was weighing whether it was worth stopping his boss from making another interesting decision.

 

Toji ignored him entirely.

 

“If you win the next race, I’ll tell you about my cursed technique,” I said. “Maybe even show it to you.”

 

“And if you win?” he asked, eyes narrowing just enough to show he liked this.

 

“I get to ask another question. No dodge, no jokes.”

 

That got his attention. He clicked his tongue, leaned back, and grinned wide like a kid who’d found something better than fireworks.

 

“Alright, sweetheart,” he said, tapping the corner of his betting slip. “Pick your horse.”

 

I already had.

 

Ko muttered, “You’ve got a mission tomorrow,” under his breath, but Toji just waved him off like he was a fly.

 

When the announcer’s voice cut through the air, calling the horses into position, Toji shifted in his seat, and casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world, draped his arm across my shoulders.

 

I shot him a look.

 

“What?” he said. “Pals cheer together.”

 

“You’re gonna lose,” I warned.

 

He smirked. “Still worth the seat.”

 

The bell rang.

 

The horses shot forward.

 

And for a moment, neither of us breathed.

 

Their horses stayed neck and neck nearly the entire race. Every second was a flicker between victory and loss, my heart in my throat, knuckles white on the edge of the seat. Toji didn’t flinch once. He leaned forward like a predator watching something cornered, calm and certain, not even blinking as the final stretch neared.

 

And then, his horse surged ahead. Just barely. But enough.

 

The bell rang. The crowd below roared.

 

I groaned dramatically, flopping back in my seat like I’d been mortally wounded. “Ugh. I hate gambling.”

 

Toji chuckled low, smug as hell. He leaned in close, voice low and smooth. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I don’t.”

 

I side-eyed him. “You gonna gloat or cash in?”

 

He grinned. “Both. I’d like to see that technique now.”

 

A deal was a deal. And something told me if I didn’t follow through, it’d be more than just his opinion of me I’d lose.

 

So I stayed true to my word.

 

I reached down to my boot, pulling a small, worn pocket knife from the lining. Toji watched, interested but unreadable.

 

“You sure you wanna see?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as I flipped the blade open.

 

“I wouldn’t’ve asked if I didn’t.” His tone was even, but his eyes didn’t leave my hands for a second.

 

Without another word, I dragged the blade across the inside of my wrist. A clean, deep line. Blood welled—and vanished, instantly pulled back in as skin stitched itself tight, pale and unblemished within seconds.

 

Toji’s eyes tracked every detail.

 

“Well, shit,” he muttered, clearly impressed. “Fast.”

 

I nodded once, wiping the blade off and preparing to put it away, but he stopped me with a quiet: “Again.”

 

I hesitated. “Why?”

 

“Just curious,” he said, too smoothly. “Wanna see if it’s consistent. How fast. If it changes.”

 

I didn’t move.

 

His voice dipped lower, chin resting in one hand. “C’mon. Don’t go shy on me now.”

 

Ko was watching us both from behind, his mouth in a tight line. I could feel him shifting uncomfortably, but he didn’t step in.

 

I let out a breath, rolled my eyes a little, and cut myself again. Another shallow line, this time across the outside of my forearm. The skin knitted shut just as quickly.

 

“Damn,” Toji said, clearly intrigued. “Again?”

 

There was something in his tone. Not quite excitement, more… analysis. Fascination.

 

I narrowed my eyes. “You got a thing for watching girls bleed, or is this scientific?”

 

He didn’t even blink. “Both.”

 

That made me pause.

 

Then I smirked. “Guess we all got our kinks.”

 

Toji’s grin widened, sharp and toothy. But he didn’t ask again.

 

I closed the knife and slipped it back into my boot, resting my healing wrist in my lap, wiping the blood off. My cursed energy hummed, alert but calm. Still coiled, just in case.

 

“So you can heal instantly. That natural, or technique-based?”

 

I shrugged, tone airy. “Bit of both.”

 

“How fast does it work when you’re tired? Can you heal others? Internal wounds? Nerve damage?”

 

I tilted my head, watching him. “You planning to publish a study?”

 

“Not unless it pays,” he said with a smirk, then leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. “You got a cursed technique tied to it, or is it raw cursed energy control?”

 

I didn’t answer his questions.

 

“Drain anything to keep it going? Curse energy input? Reversal-based?”

 

I sighed, more amused than annoyed. “You ask this many questions on all your dates?”

 

He chuckled. “Only when they bleed on command.”

 

I gave a crooked smile, but didn’t add anything. Every answer I didn’t give was enough to keep him curious and certainly not enough to give him the full picture.

 

Still, the way he looked at me… it wasn’t just curiosity. It was calculation. Like he was already figuring out how I’d fight. What I could survive. How long I’d last.

 

So I cut him off.

 

“Are you planning to kill me?”

 

The words fell out quietly but sharp, like the air had snapped between us.

 

Toji didn’t answer right away.

 

He sat back, expression unreadable for a moment. Then, finally, he shook his head. “I don’t kill unless someone pays me to.”

 

Then his gaze shifted, a little sharper now. “Or if they get in the way of me getting paid.”

 

I nodded slowly, letting that settle. “So I’m safe… until I’m worth something.”

 

He smirked. “Aren’t we all?”

 

My cursed energy stirred a little behind my ribs—low, instinctive. But I didn’t let it rise.

 

“You always this honest?” I asked, half skeptical, half curious.

 

He shrugged. “You asked a direct question. I give direct answers. Fair trade.”

 

I leaned back again, folding my arms as the tension eased just slightly.

 

“Noted.”

 

He watched me a moment longer, then let his eyes drift back to the empty track, smirking to himself like we were just talking weather.

 

But I stayed alert.

 

If Toji Fushiguro was being honest, then I’d just learned something important: I wasn’t a target… yet. But there was always a "yet" with him.

 

In his world, all it took was the wrong bidder.

 

And that meant I needed to stay very, very interesting.

 

Or invisible.

 

Whichever kept me alive longer.

 

Toji leaned back, one arm slung lazily over the back of my seat, and nodded toward the concession bar. “You want a drink? They’ve got some decent local bottles.”

 

I eyed him flatly. “You mean alcohol?”

 

He smirked. “Why not? You’re legal.”

 

“I am.” I crossed my legs, voice dry. “But I don’t make a habit of accepting drinks from strange men who ask a million questions and definitely have the not fun kind of body count.”

 

He laughed, head tilting. "I already said I don’t kill unless I’m paid to. And if someone paid me to kill you”, he motioned between us, “we wouldn’t be sitting here talking about racehorses and blood tricks.”

 

I didn’t blink. “There are worse things than death.”

 

That made him pause.

 

Just for a second.

 

His smile didn’t fade, but something behind it flickered, just a sliver of thought, buried too deep for most people to catch. But I did.

 

“That right?” he said, tone unreadable now.

 

“Yeah.” I looked out at the track, voice low. “Plenty.”

 

Toji studied me again, more carefully this time, then let out a short exhale like he was conceding a point. He reached into the small cooler beside him that Ko brought in and pulled out two glass bottles with intact caps, handing it to me.

 

“Here,” he said. “Still sealed. You open it.”

 

I turned it slowly in my fingers. Some kind of plum liquor. Cold from the cooler, label scratched.

 

“I’m a bad man, sure,” he continued casually. “I kill for money. That’s it. Quicker the job, the better. No flair. No games.”

 

I popped the cap with my lighter. “Then why are you here?”

 

He leaned forward, chin in hand. “Curiosity. You’re an oddity. A regenerating sorcerer girl with a sharp mouth and a famous name, sitting alone where no one’s supposed to be.”

 

I gave him a look. “You forgot charming and adorable.”

 

He chuckled. “Nah. I didn’t.”

 

We both took a sip.

 

The liquor burned a little on the way down, tart and sweet. It made my ribs feel warm, my limbs a little loose.

 

“So,” he said, motioning with his bottle. “You said a bit of both.. raw energy and technique. Can you stack it? Boost one over the other?”

 

“You’re obsessed,” I replied smoothly. “You want to know how to kill me or recruit me?”

 

“Just making conversation.”

 

I lifted a brow. “Is this how you flirt?”

 

He grinned, unabashed. “Sometimes.”

 

I took another sip. “Do you always kill sorcerers?”

 

“Only when they ask for it,” he said easily. “Or when they’re worth enough.”

 

I stared at him, curious. “You ever regret it?”

 

Toji actually paused at that. Not long. But enough.

 

“Nah,” he said, then added with a small, wry twist to his mouth, “Regret’s a luxury.”

 

I nodded slowly. “Luxury, huh?”

 

“Tell me more about what you can do,” he said. “That cut healed fast. But what about fatigue? Nerve regeneration? Can you feel pain?”

 

“I can,” I said. “Just… less.”

 

“You got stamina to match?”

 

“You offering to test it?”

 

That earned a low laugh from him.

 

Toji looked over the track again, then back at me, bottle still in hand. “You’re twenty-one. Right?”

 

“Twenty-two in April.”

 

“You’re young for someone who talks like you’ve seen hell.”

 

I smiled thinly. “I lived there.”

 

His eyes darkened a little, not with pity, more like recognition. Or memory. Something quiet. Familiar.

 

He took another swig and nodded like he understood, but didn’t plan to talk about it.

 

Which was fine.

 

Neither did I.

 

---

 

The second bottle was warmer than the first. Not by temperature, but in the way it spread. I was still sitting next to him but I was slouched more now, legs lazily stretched out and one arm hooked over the back of his chair. My boots tapped slowly against the wood railing. I was relaxed in the way a wild dog relaxes, never fully. But I wasn’t pretending anymore.

 

And I think he noticed.

 

Toji hadn’t asked another question in a while. Just sipped his drink and watched me, like the silence was another kind of bet. I could feel the calculation in him, but it wasn’t sharp anymore. It was curious.

 

“You don’t talk like a sorcerer,” he said eventually.

 

“Good.” I let my head fall back against the bench, eyes on the sky. “Don’t want to be one.”

 

“Yet you are.”

 

“By necessity. Not identity.”

 

He snorted softly. “That’s what they all say until the job, the title, or the power swallows ’em up.”

 

I looked over at him. “And you? You never got swallowed up?”

 

“Didn’t let it.” He tipped his drink. “Cut it off before it could.”

 

His tone was so matter-of-fact I knew he meant it. The freedom in his voice was sharp.

 

“You like killing?” I asked.

 

He shrugged. “I like money.”

 

“That’s not an answer.”

 

Toji glanced over, expression unreadable. “It is to me.”

 

I stared at him, considering. “You’re not as hollow as you act.”

 

“And you’re not as invincible as you pretend.”

 

We were quiet again, but this time it wasn’t awkward. Just… full.

 

He finally broke it with a question that made me blink,

 

“You got someone in your bed, or someone who’d come for my head if you ended up in mine?”

 

I blinked, then stared at him. “What?”

 

He grinned lazily. “Just wondering. Some sorcerers are real territorial. Didn’t want to end up on a hitlist for sharing a drink with a pretty thing like you.”

 

I scoffed, half laughing. “If I were in the mood for cheating, you’d be the last person I’d pick.”

 

“Oh?” His grin widened. “Too dangerous or too irresistible?”

 

“Too you,” I shot back.

 

He laughed low in his throat, like I’d said something genuinely funny. The kind of laugh that wasn’t cruel, just amused. He liked the fight.

 

He nodded toward my nearly empty bottle. “You loosen up nice.”

 

“Careful,” I said, slouching lower. “You’re starting to sound like you enjoy my company.”

 

He didn’t answer at first. Just let the silence hang before saying, “I do.”

 

My brows raised a bit at the honesty. Maybe it was the drink. Maybe it was just Toji being Toji, he didn’t lie, he just didn’t say what wasn’t necessary.

 

“Are you single?” I asked, feigning casual.

 

“Yeah.” He leaned back, arms resting across the bench. “Been that way since I lost my wife. Just flings now. If that. Most of the time, not worth the energy.”

 

Something softened under my ribs.

 

There was a small, microscopic sadness in his voice full of truth. The kind of truth that left you cold.

 

“I don’t see a guy like you turning down a pretty girl's advances.”

 

“Pretty doesn’t mean they’re worth my energy.”

 

I nodded slowly. “Rare to meet a hot, emotionally unavailable assassin with standards.”

 

He laughed again, and this time, it was quieter. More real.

 

“You’re sharp,” he said.

 

“And you’re still dangerous.”

 

“Don’t worry,” he smirked. “I like you alive.”

 

“I hope there’s never a time that changes,” I replied, voice steady despite the drink, despite the unease still tucked under my ribs like a blade.

 

Toji tilted his head at that. Not mockingly. Just… measuring.

 

I stretched my legs out, straightened my posture just enough to remind him I wasn’t scared, just careful.

 

“And since I’m laying things out clearly,” I added, “I’m not single. And I have no intentions of sleeping with you.”

 

He didn’t flinch. Just gave me a low, crooked grin like he expected it. “Figured.”

 

“Oh?”

 

He nodded toward my hand. “You’ve got a promise ring on. Expensive. Not a family crest, though. Looks custom. Three stones. One’s a diamond, but it's next to an amethyst and a turquoise. Yours is April, you said it earlier, so the other two have to be birthstones too.”

 

I looked at my ring, then back at him, laughing dryly. “God, I need to say less around you. You collect information like weapons.”

 

“It’s a habit,” he said without apology. “Comes in handy.”

 

“I bet.”

 

There was a pause, the quiet sort where a shift hangs in the air, waiting to see what direction the wind’s going to blow. And then..

 

He said it like it was nothing: “You happy?”

 

My eyes flicked to his, caught off guard by the simplicity of it.

 

“With the ring?”

 

He didn’t clarify. Didn’t need to.

 

I let the question sit in my chest a moment before I nodded. “Yeah. I am.”

 

Toji nodded back, like that answer was acceptable. Like it mattered to him, even if just in passing.

 

“Must be wild for them,” he said, gaze returning to the racetrack. “Two boys… one girl… all that energy. Bet your room’s loud.”

 

I smirked, raising an eyebrow.

 

Then he added, half-casual, half-drunken honesty, “Gonna be real with you though, I’ve had just enough to drink that I’ve absolutely wondered what kind of sounds you make in bed.”

 

My eyes snapped toward him.

 

He was still grinning.

 

So I punched him in the shoulder. Hard.

 

He laughed even harder. A real laugh, not the low amused ones from earlier. It cracked across the room like a misfired bullet.

 

“Alright, alright,” he grinned, blocking my hand. "Enough.”

 

“Keep it in your pants,” I muttered, but I wasn’t actually angry. Just amused, and trying very hard not to let him see it.

 

My phone buzzed against the table, vibrating loudly against the wood. I glanced at it and saw a name light up the screen.

 

Yaga: I know you had the day off but I would like you to return to the school before it gets too dark.

 

I smiled to myself, thumbs ready to reply, but I paused as I felt Toji watching me from the corner of his eye.

 

“Looks like I’ve gotta head out,” I said, setting the phone down.

 

“Was gonna say the same thing,” he replied, standing and stretching with a lazy roll of his shoulders. “Can’t gamble all day. They lock the doors eventually.”

 

I stepped a little closer to him and tilted my head, a sly grin curling my lips. “Well, before you vanish into the night like some tragic antihero… got a number?”

 

He smirked. “Don’t have one I give out.”

 

I clutched my chest like he’d just stabbed me. “Ouch. I thought we had something special.”

 

“We do,” he said, too casually. “That’s why it’s better we don’t keep in touch.”

 

I raised an eyebrow, more amused than hurt.

 

“If we’re meant to run into each other again…” He looked down at me, eyes darker now, a flicker of something unreadable behind them. “We will.”

 

I stared at him for a beat longer, letting the words settle. There was finality in them, not cold, but certain.

 

“Fine,” I said with a dramatic sigh. “But if you show up in my city again, I’m making you pay for drinks.”

 

He chuckled. “Deal.”

 

We walked out together, but parted at the end of the block without ceremony. No handshake. No backward glances.

 

Just a shared understanding that neither of us would say goodbye.

 

 

Chapter 60: Back Home Pt. 1

It was just past five when I opened my eyes.

 

The light through the curtains was a thin gray wash, and the dorms were still silent. No voices. No hallway footsteps. Just that soft, charged stillness before the day really began.

 

I reached for my phone.

 

3:12 AM — 9 Messages

Of course.

 

Satoru and Suguru never knew how to be normal about sleep.

 

---

 

Satoru Gojo <3 — 3:01 AM

 

> alive. cold. suguru fell on his ass trying to skate across a frozen pond like a majestic deer.

i laughed so hard i choked. he got the spirit tho.

 

Suguru Geto <3 — 3:02 AM

 

> I fell because someone thought a surprise snowball mid-technique was funny.

 

Satoru Gojo <3 — 3:03 AM

 

> it was funny.

amara, if ur reading this in the morning: good morning! ur the superior third of this triangle. dont tell suguru.

 

Suguru Geto <3 — 3:04 AM

 

> Don’t believe him. He cried when he lost a rice ball to a raccoon-looking cursed spirit.

 

Satoru Gojo <3 — 3:05 AM

 

> it was a stealth attack. i was emotionally vulnerable.

 

Suguru Geto <3 — 3:06 AM

 

> Anyway. We’re safe. Be back tonight.

Just wanted you to have something to wake up to.

 

Satoru Gojo <3 — 3:07 AM

 

> text us when ur up. or send a selfie. or insult us. or all three *^*?

 

Suguru Geto <3 — 3:08 AM

 

> Hope you slept well, my love.

 

Satoru Gojo <3 — 3:10 AM

 

> if not, SLEEP MORE. thats an order. also I miss u. when i learn to teleport long distances its over 4 all of u

 

 

---

 

I stared at the screen for a long second before typing.

 

> I’m up. I slept okay.

You’re both idiots, but I’m glad you’re okay.

Please be asleep now. You need rest. 

 

[Picture attached of Amara barely awake making a kissy face in bed]

 

My body settled once I knew they were okay.

 

Then I got up.

 

---

 

I didn’t really think it through. Just threw on a hoodie over my tank top, sweatpants, slipped on socks, and stepped into the hallway before I could overanalyze anything.

 

The dorm was quiet. I padded softly past the common room, turned the corner, and stopped in front of Nanami’s door.

 

Why him?

 

I don’t know. Maybe because he’d say yes without making me explain. Or maybe because he wouldn’t lie to me if he thought it was a bad idea or make me cater to his feelings.

 

I lifted my hand and knocked.

 

Once. Twice. Softly.

 

There was a pause.

 

Then the door creaked open halfway, and Nanami blinked down at me, clearly not expecting... well, me.

 

His shirt was halfway buttoned. His hair looked damp like he’d just gotten out of the shower. No tie yet. Just his usual quiet, not-quite-awake stare.

 

“You never come to see me,” he said, voice rough with sleep.

 

“Yeah,” I said. “Sorry.”

 

He opened the door a bit more. “Is something wrong?”

 

I could tell he meant it. Genuinely worried. Not just polite. And yeah, it was weird. We didn’t do this. We interacted on missions mostly, in passing other times, and of course the group events. He wasn’t someone I ever really sought out.

 

But still.

 

“Would you go somewhere with me?”

 

Nanami narrowed his eyes a bit, but didn’t back away.

 

I crossed my arms with a soft sigh. “I want to go back to my old house. Just... for a bit.”

 

He didn’t speak. Just looked at me.

 

I rolled my eyes a little. “I don’t want to go alone. Suguru, Satoru, and Shoko are all gone. And I know you won’t make me talk about feelings or cry or any of that.”

 

There was a pause.

 

Then..

 

“I’m honored by your emotional repression,” he said, flatly.

 

That actually got the corner of my mouth to twitch.

 

“Is that a yes?”

 

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Give me ten minutes.”

 

I nodded, then stepped back so he could close the door. He didn’t slam it, Nanami never did anything loud unless he meant to. Just a soft click, and then I was alone in the hallway again.

 

I leaned back against the wall and tucked my hands into the sleeves of my hoodie. I didn’t want to overthink this, but my brain wouldn’t let me have that.

 

Why was I doing this?

 

I could’ve waited for Satoru or Suguru to get back. I could’ve asked Shoko before she left. I could’ve gone alone, even if the idea made something cold settle behind my lungs.

 

But I didn’t want to be alone today. I shouldn't be alone for this. Part of me knows Gojo and Geto would say this is a bad idea but they think anything that could slightly upset me is a bad idea..

 

And Nanami… Nanami didn’t fill the silence with noise. He didn’t ask for things he didn’t need. He just existed in this calm, steady way that felt… safe.

 

That was enough for today.

 

Ten minutes passed exactly like he said.

 

When his door opened again, he was fully dressed, uniform on, hair a little more dry but still damp at the ends. He didn’t look like he was gearing up for something emotional. Just a student in uniform. Steady. Reliable.

 

“Ready?” he asked.

 

I nodded. “Yeah.”

 

We left the dorms without a word.

 

---

 

The walk wasn’t long, but it felt longer because of where we were going.

 

It wasn’t far from the school. Just past the main streets, into the edges of the slums where the buildings started to lose shape and color. Like someone had painted the world but run out of ink halfway through.

 

We passed a junkyard I used to crawl through as a kid. A wall where I’d scratched my initials so hard they bled. Nanami didn’t ask about any of it. He just followed my pace, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning everything like a curse might crawl out of the sidewalk.

 

He didn’t know this part of me, and I didn’t offer it.

 

Not until today.

 

When we reached the old house, I hesitated. The gate was still hanging on one hinge. Same rust. Same chipped paint. It looked smaller than I remembered.

 

I reached into my hoodie pocket and pulled out the key.

 

It slid into the lock with a stubborn little click, and I gave the door a gentle shove.

 

It opened with a low groan. Like something exhaling after a long sleep.

 

The kind of sound that made your shoulders twitch if you weren’t expecting it.

 

I stepped inside first.

 

It smelled like dust and rot, the kind that sinks into the walls and stays there for years. Not enough airflow. Not enough light. My shoes crunched faintly against scattered bits of plaster and broken glass. No furniture left. No power, either.

 

I kept walking.

 

Nanami followed, quietly. He didn’t ask if I was sure. He didn’t make some gentle comment like “you don’t have to do this.” That’s part of why I picked him.

 

“She used to sit right there,” I said, nodding toward the far corner of the living room. “In a torn recliner. Smoking cheap menthols and watching dramas. She’d scream if I stepped on the wrong part of the carpet. Said it shifted the ‘energy.’”

 

I gave a half-laugh. It didn’t feel funny. Just hollow.

 

“She couldn't see cursed spirits or anything by the way. She just hated me.”

 

Nanami’s eyes flicked toward the stained corner I pointed out. He didn’t ask for clarification. He didn’t need to.

 

I walked ahead, through the living room into the narrow hallway. The floorboards creaked under my weight.

 

“Once she locked me in the bathroom for two days because I broke a dish. There’s no window in there. No fan. I passed out the second night.”

 

Still no comment from Nanami. Just the subtle shift of his weight behind me, steady like a shadow. Grounding, but not heavy.

 

I stopped walking.

 

That corner again. The warped floor. The one they had to tear up after it happened.

 

“She died here I guess...”

 

I crouched slowly, tracing the seam in the floor with my finger. The boards weren’t new, but you could still tell. The coloring didn’t match. The damage was covered, not undone.

 

“I wasn’t here..” I said softly.

 

I wasn’t sure who I was talking to. Him? The house?

 

“She screamed at me before I left. Called me names. Threw things.”

My fingers curled against the wood.

 

“I didn’t answer. I just walked out the door with Yaga. I didn’t even look back.”

 

A long silence stretched between us.

 

Then Nanami’s voice, firm but even:

 

“You don't have to feel bad for her or forgive her just because she's dead. She didn’t deserve kindness in life and she doesn't deserve it in death. At least, that's my opinion on it.”

 

I looked up.

 

He wasn’t looking at the floor. He was looking at me.

 

And it wasn’t pity in his face.

 

Just clarity.

 

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I didn’t say anything. I stood up and wiped my hands on my hoodie.

 

“Come on,” he said, already turning. “Let’s see your old room. I’m assuming it’s down the hall?”

 

I nodded and followed.

 

I didn’t look back at the kitchen.

 

---

 

I pushed open the door hesitantly.

 

It stuck for a second, swollen from the humidity or maybe just time, then gave with a soft groan. The air that drifted out was stale and sour, like mildew, old wood, and something I didn’t have a name for but recognized immediately. I stepped inside.

 

The room was exactly how I left it. The cleaners must have been told to leave it. I wonder why...maybe Yaga said something in case there were things I wanted to come back for. 

 

I wish I had come with him for that. I let him throw out all my mother's nice shit out of spite. Might have been something I wanted to keep...what's done is done now.

 

Hope that bitches ashes got lost in transit and ends up at some secondhand store.

 

The mattress was still there on the floor, stained and sagging in the middle, a ripped corner exposing the foam inside like guts. The dresser leaned against the wall at a crooked angle, one drawer missing, the others half-rotted through. The closet door hung from a single hinge, darkened with water damage. Cobwebs gathered near the ceiling, and dead bugs littered the corners like they all came here to die too.

 

Nanami stood in the doorway for a long beat. He didn’t say anything right away, just looked.

 

Really looked.

 

His gaze moved slowly across the room, cataloging each failure of the space like it was a crime scene. Which, in a way, it kind of was.

 

“The cleaners really left this place a mess..,” he said at last. “Must have tossed all the old stuff they couldn't get rid of in her.”

 

I sat on the edge of the mattress. It crunched faintly beneath me.

 

I smirk up at him. “This is just how it was.”

 

I didn’t mean it dramatically. It was just the truth. This wasn’t some sudden collapse. This wasn’t decay. This was the baseline. The default.

 

Though the embarrassed face he made when he realized what he said made the whole trip worth it.

 

Nanami cleared his throat and stepped further into the room. He wasn’t looking at me anymore, he was staring down at a dark, rusty stain by the far wall. Not fresh. Not even noticeable to someone who wasn’t looking for it. But he noticed.

 

He was quiet, but I could see it in the way his fingers twitched slightly, curling in toward his palms. His jaw tightened behind his collar. He didn’t do the dramatic sigh or the angry pacing thing like Gojo might. But I could feel it coming off him like static.

 

“You’re mad,” I said quietly. Not a question.

 

“I’m… trying not to be,” he answered, measured. “It wouldn’t help anything.”

 

“No, it wouldn’t.”

 

He exhaled once through his nose, then glanced toward the cracked closet door. The hinge creaked even though he hadn’t touched it.

 

“How long did you sleep on that?”

 

I shrugged. “Most of my life? I think I had a crib before this.”

 

More silence.

 

Then, softer, he said, “You shouldn’t have had to.”

 

"Yeah. I know." 

 

I looked away before he could read anything on my face.

 

“You wanna see something cool?” I ask, already crouching beside the warped closet door.

 

Nanami raises an eyebrow. “Cool in the sense of objectively interesting? Or cool in the sense of deeply personal and likely traumatic?”

 

“Bit of both,” I say, pushing the door open with my foot and a chuckle.

 

The closet creaks and snaps like an old ribcage, stale air hissing out like it’s been holding its breath since I left. Inside, it’s exactly how I remember, rotting wood, splinters, that faint chemical smell from old insecticide powder. But buried under a loose floorboard in the back, I pull out a small tin lunchbox. Dented. Rusted. Covered in faded stickers of skulls and stars.

 

“My secret stash,” I say. “I used to keep everything I thought was important in here. Things I didn’t want her to find.”

 

Nanami leans against the closet frame, arms folded but eyes curious. I sit cross-legged and start pulling things out, an old candy wrapper folded into a crane, a cracked hair clip, a torn comic book page, a tiny photo of me when I lost my first tooth. I forgot I ever smiled like that. One of her old boy toys took this picture. He was so excited for me and then of course my mom got rid of him. Too nice she said.

 

“Cute,” Nanami mutters, nodding toward the photo. “You looked proud.”

 

“I was. I pulled the tooth out myself,” I say, managing a smirk. I pocket the photo.

 

I keep digging, flipping through an old hand-drawn map of the neighborhood I made when I was eight, a broken charm bracelet, an empty bottle of purple nail polish. Then my hand touches something that doesn’t belong.

 

It’s clean.

 

Too clean.

 

A small envelope. Cream paper. My name on it. Not "parasite," not "brat," not a nickname she used when she was feeling particularly cruel. Just: Amara. In careful, deliberate handwriting.

 

My stomach tightens.

 

“This wasn’t here before,” I say quietly.

 

Nanami straightens a bit but doesn’t interrupt.

 

I open it.

 

The paper inside is smooth. Uncreased. Fresh ink. It's folded in half once, like whoever left it didn’t want to waste time making it look poetic.

 

I pull it open, fingers slower than they should be.

 

My name is written at the top.

 

Not a nickname. Not a title. Just Amara.

 

--

 

> If you're reading this, I assume you came back here. I didn’t know if you would.

 

I won’t try to justify the past. I doubt you’d believe anything I said anyway. But I know you’re alive now. I’ve seen you. Seen those boys.

 

If you want to speak to me, if there’s anything you want to say, you can write a letter. Leave it here. Flip the flag on the mailbox. That’s it.

 

I won’t come unless you ask me to.

 

--

 

My mouth is dry.

 

The room feels too quiet. Too still. Like the air is waiting to hear how I’ll breathe.

 

I stare at the letter.

 

Not long. Not emotional. No begging. No explanations. No “I’m sorry.”

 

Just… an option.

 

Behind me, Nanami hasn’t moved. I don’t even have to look to know he’s watching.. quiet, respectful, patient.

 

Finally, I speak. “He’s been here. Recently.”

 

“Looks that way,” Nanami says.

 

I nod slowly, folding the paper back along its sharp crease. “He left this for me. It’s… not old. He had to have come back sometime in the last few days.”

 

“It had to be max 3 days ago. It would have at least clung to the dust inside that box if it were longer.”

 

I keep staring at the envelope. My name in that strange, detached handwriting. My stomach churns, but my fingers don’t shake. Not yet.

 

Nanami doesn’t ask what it says.

 

He doesn’t lean in, doesn’t make a noise. Just waits.

 

Not like Suguru, who would already be reaching for my hand, trying to anchor me before I even felt myself drift.

 

Not like Satoru, who would’ve gotten angry and started pacing, muttering about how this was “bullshit” and that I shouldn’t even look at the damn thing, let alone read it.

 

Nanami just lets me sit with it.

 

“You’re quiet,” I murmur, eyes still on the envelope.

 

“I find people usually say more when I don’t interrupt.”

 

I huff a dry laugh. “Dangerous game with me.”

 

“I’ve seen worse.”

 

I look over at him. He’s not watching the letter. He’s watching me. Not intensely. Just… like he’s trying to see me clearly, and not everything around me.

 

“I don’t think I fully hate him as much as I should,” I say. “Is that bad?”

 

Nanami doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink.

 

“I think it’s human.”

 

“He left. He told my mother to get rid of me. And still…” I shake my head. “He kept sending money. He showed up when I was born. He gave me that damn bear.”

 

I glance around the room.

 

“This room was always hell,” I whisper. “But that bear made it feel a little less lonely. It felt like hope. False hope but hope nonetheless..”

 

Nanami leans back slightly, stretching one leg out in front of him. “You’re allowed to carry both truths at once. That he abandoned you. And that he left traces of care behind.”

 

“He’s still watching me. He’s moving. He broke into a records base.” I look at Nanami, finally meeting his eyes. “Gojo and Suguru saw him a few months ago too. He's close. Real close.”

 

Nanami nods once. “I heard.”

 

“You’re not going to tell me to stay away?”

 

“No.”

 

“Why not?”

 

His gaze is steady. “Because if I do, and you’re not ready to hear it, you’ll just hide it. From me. From them. From yourself maybe decide something rash because you think you're alone.”

 

He says it without judgment. Just a fact.

 

“And I don’t think you need to be protected,” he adds. “I think you need to be trusted.”

 

I sit with that. Let it echo in my chest like a room that hasn’t been entered in years. And for a second, I don’t even know how to respond.

 

Isn’t this the part where someone tells me to be careful? To just let Satoru and Suguru handle it? To not get involved, to not overthink, to go rest, to give up on this?

 

That’s what everyone else would say. Suguru, Satoru, even Shoko. They're fixers. They love me, but they fix because it helps them feel like they're doing something. Like if they can clean up my mess, then maybe they won’t have to look at their own.

 

Suguru’s all warm hands and low murmurs. He puts himself between me and the pain before I even know it’s coming. Satoru, for all his power, gets so angry when something hurts me, not at me, but around me. Then he shuts down, tries to make it a joke, like if we just don’t say the word “pain,” it won’t be real.

 

And Shoko… Shoko pretends she’s too tired to care, but I’ve seen the way she watches me like a ticking clock. Just waiting for the next crack.

 

But Nanami?

 

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t lean in or pull away. He just sits with me like I’m a person and not a situation. Like I’m capable.

 

“I’m not used to people saying that,” I say after a while.

 

“Saying what?” he asks.

 

“That they trust me. Not just with cursed energy or a fight or whatever… but with something like this.”

 

I gesture vaguely at the envelope, the closet, the house, myself.

 

He nods once. “Then I’ll say it again. I trust you.”

 

Something in me twists, warm and unfamiliar. “Why, though?”

 

“Because you already proved it,” he says simply. “You knew not to come alone. You asked for help. You didn’t run from this house or what’s in it. That tells me a lot about where your head is at.”

 

I chew the inside of my cheek. “Suguru and Satoru… they’d handle this differently.”

 

“I imagine they would.”

 

“They’d mean well. But they’d still try to steer me. Like… nudge me where they think I should go.”

 

Nanami nods. “Because that’s what makes them feel safer. Not necessarily you.”

 

I look at him. “And you?”

 

He meets my eyes. “I’ll give advice where it’s useful. If I see something you missed, I’ll tell you. But I won’t pretend to know what’s best for you in situations like this. That’s not my place. You understand yourself better than I do.”

 

The longer I sit with it, the more I realize that’s all I wanted. Not someone to hold me together or tape me shut, but someone who believes I won’t fall apart in the first place. Or if I do, that I’ll get up again on my own terms. That I can just be trusted with myself and trusted to know when I can't be..

 

I look down at the letter again. It’s still in my hand. The envelope was smooth, the ink fresh, the weight of it heavier than paper should be.

 

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do about this yet,” I murmur.

 

“That's fine,” he says.

 

I nod. “But I’ll figure it out.”

 

“I trust you will.”

 

I look down at the letter in my hands, fingers pressed so tightly against the paper it crinkles. It’s so neat. So intentional. No blood, no dirt. No smell of iron or rot or old alcohol. Just clean ink on clean paper. Like a performance. Or a peace offering.

 

“Nanami,” I say quietly. “What would you do if it were you?”

 

He doesn’t answer right away. I hear the dull creak of the old floorboards as he shifts his weight beside me.

 

“I’d like to say I’d throw it away,” he says after a long moment. “That I’d take one look at it and know what kind of person sent it, and decide that’s enough for me.”

 

“But?”

 

“But that’s not how people work. Especially not people like you.” His tone isn’t condescending. It’s calm. Observant.

 

“Like me?”

 

“You grew up with a hole someone else dug. You didn’t ask for it, but it’s there. And sometimes, we can spend years pretending it doesn’t exist, until the person who dug it writes you a letter.”

 

I laugh under my breath, but it’s more of a rasp. “That’s poetic.”

 

“Not intentionally.”

 

I turn toward him on the floor. He’s leaning against the broken closet frame now, arms loosely crossed, eyes flicking toward the envelope.

 

“I just don’t know what I’m supposed to feel,” I admit.

 

“You’re not supposed to feel anything specific. You’re allowed to want him and hate him at the same time. Miss him and be disgusted by him. Be furious and still want to understand. You are judged by a bloodline you don’t even know. People look at you like they would him. And you don't even know him. It's understandable you'd want answers to that.”

 

I blink slowly. “That sounds unstable.”

 

“That sounds human. I think everyone needs to be reminded of that more, especially sorcerers.”

 

He shifts again, arms unfolding, resting his forearms on his knees. “I think… if this were me, I’d need to ask myself one thing before anything else.”

 

“What?”

 

He meets my eyes. “What do I want out of this that he can actually give me?”

 

Part of me wants to say nothing. That I don’t think he could give me anything. That he means nothing to me and never did. That the second he walked away, he gave up the right to matter.

 

But that’s not the truth. And Nanami would see through it anyway.

 

“Answers,” I admit quietly. “Maybe… I just want to know if he cares. If he ever did. What he wants with me now after all these years.”

 

There’s a beat of silence between us. The kind that isn’t awkward just filled.

 

“Sometimes I think,” I continue, sifting through the stash again to give my hands something to do, “maybe he left because he was afraid. Or disgusted. Or angry. Or maybe all of it. But he still came to the hospital when I was born. He saw me. Then left again. He could’ve disappeared forever. But now he’s… watching. Writing letters. Leaving instructions.”

 

I glance at the envelope again, the clean fold, the neatly penned name.

 

“Why now?” I whisper. “Why like this? Why… not just show up?”

 

Nanami shifts beside me, crossing his arms loosely. “You already know it’s not that simple. If he stepped foot on school grounds he would be dead. If he steps near you with Satoru and Suguru. He would be dead. Or if he is as strong as people claim, maybe he would have to make a choice he isn't ready for yet.”

 

“I know.” My voice is brittle, but I catch it before it cracks. “But I feel like there’s something I’m not seeing. Something in this that I’m missing.”

 

He doesn’t fill the silence. Doesn’t rush to patch it over like Suguru would. Doesn’t smother it with distraction or sarcasm like Satoru.

 

“I’m full of so many whys,” I say finally, softer. “It’s like I’m drowning in them.”

 

Nanami looks at me for a moment, then says, “Then write one of them down.”

 

I blink. “What?”

 

He gestures to the envelope. “If you want to write something simple to test if he responds, ask a question that matters. One why or what. One you want answered more than the rest.”

 

That makes me go still. Because I hadn’t thought of it like that. I was just going to say something long and emotional.

 

But now my fingers itch to ask something deeper. Not for closure. Just… a crack of light in a wall that’s always been sealed shut.

 

Nanami clears his throat. “And for what it’s worth… I’d be more worried if this wasn’t complicated for you.”

 

I glance at him. “You don’t think I’m being stupid?”

 

“No.” He answers too fast to doubt it. “Wanting family isn’t stupid. Wanting clarity isn’t stupid. Even if the man you’re dealing with is dangerous, you’re not walking into this with your eyes closed. Frankly, I think you've had them more open than most when it comes to him. I don't think he deserves open arms or that you should get close to him but I think writing him off completely as a bad guy blinds people to what his true motives can be.”

 

He pauses, then asks, “Do you want my advice?”

 

“Yes. I do.”

 

He nods. “Then write him. Just once. Keep it short. Honest. And if he responds, decide if it’s worth continuing. If he doesn't… then you have your answer.”

 

“I will,” I murmur, fingers brushing the edge of the envelope. “I think it’s a good idea.”

 

Nanami doesn’t look smug or satisfied. He just gives a simple nod. “You already knew what you wanted to do. You just needed to hear it out loud.”

 

I glance at him, and for a second, I don’t say anything. I just take in the weight of that. He didn’t try to take control of the decision. Didn’t offer to oversee it or demand conditions. He let me be the one to choose. It’s quiet respect. Simple. Steady.

 

I trust him for it.

 

I clear my throat. “What about… Satoru and Suguru?”

 

He gives me a look like he was expecting the question.

 

“How do I tell them?” I ask. “Because they’re not gonna take it like you did.”

 

Nanami folds his arms and leans against the wall. He thinks for a few seconds before speaking.

 

“You already know how they’ll react,” he says evenly. “That’s part of why you didn't wait for them to come back.”

 

I don’t deny it.

 

“Satoru will get upset,” I say. “Try to act like it’s about logic and danger but really it’s because he’s hurt. He’ll think I didn’t trust him. He’ll say I should’ve come to him first.”

 

Nanami nods.

 

“And Suguru…” I trail off for a moment. “He’s gonna stay calm, but I can feel it already, he’s gonna remind me of everything. That Riku killed my mom. That he’s unstable. That he’s dangerous. That he might think he can convince me of something or… get in my head.”

 

“He’s not wrong,” Nanami says softly. “But that’s not the point.”

 

I blink at him.

 

He continues, “This isn’t about who’s right. It’s about why they’re reacting. And that’s fear, Amara. Fear and love.”

 

I press my lips together. It makes my chest ache.

 

“They love you,” he says. “But love doesn’t always know how to let go. Especially when it thinks it’s keeping you safe.”

 

That lands hard. Because I’ve seen it. In the way Satoru hovers, trying to make me laugh when things get too quiet. In the way Suguru touches my arm before I walk into training, like he’s checking that I’m still here.

 

“They’ll be upset they weren’t involved,” I say quietly. “That I didn’t tell them before I did it.”

 

“Then own that,” Nanami says simply. “Tell them you weren’t sure yet. That you needed time to figure out what you wanted before letting in all their voices. You didn’t lie. You weren’t hiding. You were deciding.”

 

I look at him. “And if they still take it personally?”

 

He shrugs. “Let them. Let them be upset. It doesn’t mean they’ll love you less. It just means you’re not giving them control. And sometimes, that’s hard for people who care too much.”

 

I look down at the letter again. “You really don’t think I’m making a mistake?”

 

“I think,” he says, “you’re making a choice. And that’s a lot harder.”

 

We both go silent for a little bit.

 

“You could always write it with them,” Nanami says.

 

It’s calm, simple. A nudge. But I know what he’s doing. He’s testing me, not because he doubts me, but because he wants me to hear what I actually think.

 

I shake my head before he even finishes the sentence. “No. I can’t. If I do, they’ll talk me out of it.. easily. Or worse, I’ll still write it, but I’ll feel everything in secret afterward. All the guilt. All the weight of knowing I hurt them.”

 

He nods slightly, and I know what’s coming.

 

“How would they talk you out of it?”

 

Another test.

 

I sigh, pressing my back against the wall. “Because I’d be too focused on their feelings. They’d look at me like I was betraying them, like this was some kind of choice between them and him. And I’d cave. I always cave when it’s about them.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I love them. And they’ve loved me through shit no one else would. But…” I pause, chewing the inside of my cheek. “One thing that does frustrate me about them is that they always think they’re right. Not in a loud, arrogant way, sometimes, in that quiet, exhausting way that makes you feel stupid for even questioning them. And they only ever correct each other in private. Never in front of me..”

 

I look down at my hands. “I forget how godlike they are sometimes. Like they’re gods protecting their precious little human. They don’t mean to make me feel like that, but they do. Even though I’ve proven I’m strong… I’m just not their kind of strong.”

 

Nanami doesn’t say anything. Just keeps listening, unmoving, steady.

 

“I want to write the letter,” I say. “And I want to do it alone. I don’t want to hide it, but I also don’t want to ask for permission like a kid. He already knows where I am. He’s already been watching me. If he wanted to hurt me, he would’ve done it by now. This… this feels like something else.”

 

He shifts slightly, his voice as calm as ever. “Then why do you feel the need to test it?”

 

I blink. “What do you mean?”

 

“If you believe it’s something else… why write to test it?”

 

I pause, then answer honestly. “Because part of me still doesn’t know what he wants. If anyone could get the truth out of him, it would be me. Put of me believes he cares in some fucked up way. And the other part is terrified that he does, just not for the reasons I want.”

 

He nods slowly. “So you're writing him to find out which part is right.”

 

“Yeah,” I breathe. “Kinda..”

 

He leans back, folding his arms. “And you’d rather hurt them a little now, by telling them after… than hurt yourself later by letting them steer you away from something you already know you need to do.”

 

My chest tightens. “...Yeah.”

 

There’s a long pause, and then he says, “Okay.”

 

Just that. Not approval. Not dismissal. Just… okay.

 

 

Chapter 61: Back Home Pt. 2

The letter isn’t long.

 

> What do you want from me?

 

--

 

Nanami watches me write it, silent but present. His gaze doesn’t hover like Satoru’s would, or twitch with tension like Suguru’s might. He just watches, like a calm wall, not unfeeling, just steady.

 

I slip the letter into the slot where I found his. Then as we walked out I flicked the mailbox’s flag, and it creaked as I lifted it.

 

Then we walk.

 

I don't talk much on the way back. My head feels full of static and heat. Nanami’s steps are slow and even beside mine. He doesn’t try to fill the silence, which, maybe, is what I needed most of all.

 

Before we reach the main path into the dorms, he stops me.

 

“Whatever happens next,” he says, “don’t pretend this didn’t happen. Don’t swallow it down just to keep peace.”

 

I nod. “Even if it goes badly?”

 

“Especially then.”

 

I look down. “They’re gonna be mad.”

 

“I know,” he says. “But they love you. If they’re worth trusting, they’ll listen. Even if it takes them time.”

 

My phone buzzes in my hand.

 

Satoru:

 

> where r u

 

Suguru:

 

> We were trying to surprise you by coming back early. You’re not in your room.

 

Satoru:

 

> plz tell me u didnt do something reckless without us

 

My stomach flips. I stare at the screen, thumb hovering.

 

Nanami exhales beside me. “Go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

I nod, turning toward the dorm.

 

My hands feel a little colder as I walk. I don't run. No point. I’m not sneaking in, I’m walking straight into the storm.

 

---

 

They’re already at my dorm when I round the corner, Suguru leaning against my door like he’s been there a while, arms crossed, gaze pinned to the ground in thought. Satoru’s pacing in that twitchy, agitated way that means he’s not just worried, he’s spiraling.

 

The second Satoru sees me, his head snaps up.

 

“There you are- where were you? Who were you with? You’re never not in your room. No one knew where you were.”

 

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” Suguru’s voice is quieter, but no less tense. “Are you okay?”

 

“Did something happen?” Satoru presses. “Are you hurt?” He looks me over.

 

I hold up both hands. “Can we go inside? I’ll explain everything, just, not in the hallway.”

 

They don’t hesitate. Suguru opens the door, and Satoru brushes in like a storm cloud with legs.

 

The second I close the door behind us, I start. “I went out with Nanami.”

 

“What?” Satoru says, half-spinning to face me. “Okay, but if you cheated on us with Nanami I’m legally required to kill him. I don’t want to, but-”

 

“Satoru,” Suguru sighs, elbowing him hard.

 

“Okay, okay!” He throws his hands up. “Just saying. Wouldn’t be the first time a man was betrayed by logic and clean aesthetics.”

 

I shake my head. “He helped me. I needed to go back to my old place. Something’s been bothering me since… everything with my mom. I just needed to check it out. And I didn’t want to go alone. I just wanted to see it again. Needed to see it again after everything.”

 

That gets them quiet.

 

So I tell them everything.

 

I sit across from them on the edge of my bed, fingers knotted in my lap, back rigid as I stare at the floor between us.

 

“I didn’t plan it,” I start. “I just... woke up thinking about the house. Not in a panic. Not in a spiral. Just thinking. So I went. Asked Nanami and he agreed to come with me.”

 

Suguru doesn’t interrupt, but I feel the small shift of his weight where he sits, alert, listening.

 

“I walked through the rooms. Showed him where I used to hide stuff. Where I used to sleep when I was locked out of my bedroom. The windows I cracked, the baseboards I peeled up. Eventually, I found my stash spot again. And there was a note. Folded. My name written on the front.”

 

I finally lifted my eyes to them.

 

“It couldn’t have been there more than a few days. No dust. Not weathered. It was tucked in the same spot I used to use.”

 

Satoru shifts, eyes narrowing slightly. Suguru leans forward just a little.

 

“What did it say?” Suguru asks, voice calm.

 

I recite it from memory and then breathe through the silence that follows.

 

Suguru’s voice is still quiet. “What did you do about it?”

 

“I responded,” I say. “I asked what he wants from me. That’s all. I left it in the box. Raised the flag. I didn’t even sign it or take the note he left with me.”

 

Satoru’s lips press into a hard line.

 

“You left a note,” Suguru echoes, almost to himself. “Today.”

 

I nod.

 

“And you didn’t wait to take us because...?”

 

“Because I didn’t want to wait for a verdict before I did something for myself.” My voice is steady. “It was mine. My choice. My past. I thought it through and did it safely. I wanted to be able to listen to my own thoughts and feelings before....before they got drowned out.”

 

Suguru folds his hands. He isn’t angry. “What are you hoping to gain, Amara?”

 

“Whatever he's able to even give,” I say honestly. “Answers. Closure. Something that makes it all feel like I'm making progress instead of just waiting..”

 

"He killed your mother, Amara. In cold blood. He's killed countless others. People fear his name for a reason.." Suguru continues gently. "Are you sure you fully thought it out? Weren't just acting on emotions?"

 

I take a deep breath trying to not get upset. "I'm well aware of the weight my name holds. Every time I say my last name I see how people shudder and then look at me like I'm a monster. I thought it out just fine on my own."

 

He nods, slowly. “Did it help? Writing back?”

 

I pause. “It didn’t hurt.”

 

Satoru laughs under his breath. Not kindly.

 

“Wow,” he mutters. “What a fucking standard.”

 

“Satoru,” Suguru warns.

 

“No,” he says, sitting up straight now. “We’re really feeding into this? She finds a note from the same guy who tried gutting us. This is the same freak who told us you’d lose your mind if you kept using your technique like he did, and your first instinct is Hey, let’s have a chat?”

 

“It wasn’t a chat. It was a letter. A single sentence.”

 

“And what do you think he’s going to write back? ‘Sorry about the traumatic childhood, hope you’re doing well’?”

 

“I don’t know, Satoru. That’s the whole point.”

 

“No,” he snaps. “The point is, you didn’t wait. You didn’t ask. You just did it. Like it wouldn’t affect anyone else if it went wrong.”

 

“Because it’s not about you!” I shout back. “For once, it’s not about what you think is right!”

 

“So now I’m the bad guy for caring whether or not you get murdered in your sleep by your psycho father?”

 

“I didn’t say that-”

 

“You didn’t have to,” he says. “You think this makes you brave? Makes you strong? It makes you fucking naive, Amara.”

 

I blink, stunned for half a breath.

 

“So, what? Do you not trust me or something?” I ask.

 

“Not with this,” he spits. “No. Not with him.”

 

My heart slams in my chest. “Then say what you mean. Say I’m stupid if that's what you think. Say I’m a lost cause and you’re just waiting for me to go bad like he did.”

 

His eyes burn. “I can’t protect you from yourself if you’re this eager to fuck up.”

 

“You’re not supposed to protect me like that, Satoru. You’re supposed to believe in me.”

 

He stands suddenly. “Then stop giving me reasons not to.”

 

My cursed energy cracks across the room like a live wire.

 

I stand, too. “You don’t want to talk about belief, Satoru. You want control.”

 

“And you want to play martyr while pretending you’re not flirting with the same bloodlust he was built from.”

 

“Then why are you still here if you think I’m just going to turn into him?!”

 

“Because I’m stupid enough to love you anyway if you do!” he yells.

 

The words hit harder than they should. Not because I don’t believe him, but because it sounds like a confession wrapped in a curse. Like loving me is some kind of failure waiting to happen.

 

I suck in a breath and step forward. “Don’t stand there and talk to me like I’m some helpless idiot.”

 

“I’m not,” Satoru bites back. “I’m talking to you like someone who keeps pretending she’s a big girl when it comes to stupid shit.”

 

“Satoru! I'm not some weakling! I’ve seen my own organs,” I snap. “Ripped open and still breathing. I’ve stitched myself back together when no one else could. I have the ability to be just as strong as you and Suguru but I keep being held back by everyone's fear.”

 

He laughs, but it’s empty. Cruel. “So what, you want a medal? You want me to be impressed that you’ve survived the abuse you keep walking into?”

 

“That’s not fair,” I grit.

 

“No,” he says, stepping forward, eyes glinting. “What’s not fair is you risking everything because you think you can handle a man who has killed more people than you’ve spoken to. Which isn't hard since you were trapped inside by that shithead of a woman he left you with. Which in case you forgot, he's the one who left you with her!”

 

I try to breathe and try to calm down. “It's not like I invited him over for tea.” I fire back. “I wrote a letter. I asked Nanami. I told you the same day. I didn’t sneak off, I didn’t lie, I didn’t invite him into my life.”

 

“You answered him,” he says. “That’s all it takes. You cracked the door open. You think you can control what walks through it?”

 

My chest tightens. I shake my head. “I CAN control it. You just don’t trust me to.”

 

He doesn’t deny it. That silence is louder than anything.

 

“Say it,” I demand. “Say you don’t trust me.”

 

Satoru’s jaw clenches, his voice like acid. “I don’t trust the part of you that wants to hear from him. The part that thinks there might be something human in that monster.”

 

I swallow hard.

 

“Because that part,” he continues, voice low and venomous, “is his. That need to understand, to pick apart and rebuild what should have stayed buried, that’s not you. That’s him.”

 

He points a finger, shaking now. “You get cold like him. You go quiet like him. You look through people instead of at them when you get upset. You break your body like it means nothing, you don't even react to broken bones normally. And don’t think I haven’t seen it, the way you retreat when you’re cornered, the way you calculate. You want to know the truth? You act more like your father every goddamn day.”

 

It guts me.

 

It starts with this deep hollow nothingness until it lights up into a seething rage.

 

“You want me to act like him?” I say, voice shaking. “Fine.”

 

I let the energy rise. Let it hum through my chest and crackle through the floorboards.

 

“I’ll show you exactly what acting like my father looks like!”

 

It erupts. All of it. My cursed energy flares so violently that it rattles the walls. The lights above us flicker, dim. The air warps.

 

Satoru stiffens, shocked, but doesn’t back down.

 

And then, like a blade cleaving through the storm..

 

“ENOUGH!”

 

Suguru’s voice.

 

But it’s not the voice I know. It’s not calm. It’s not warm. It is cold and furious and final.

 

He’s between us before either of us can move.

 

“Both of you. Sit. Down.”

 

We don’t argue. Not because we agree, but because neither of us has ever heard him like this.

 

My cursed energy fades in uneven waves. Satoru is frozen, breath shallow.

 

Something in me jolts when I see his face.

 

It’s not angry, not yet.

 

It’s sad.

 

Disappointed in a way I can’t look at without feeling sick.

 

“Hey,” he says quietly, crouching in front of me. “Breathe.”

 

I do. Barely. It comes out in a shudder.

 

“Look at me.”

 

I do.

 

And the look in his eyes softens something sharp in my chest.

 

“I know why you lost it,” he says. “He pushed you. Cornered you. Made you feel like you had to prove you’re not stupid just to be heard. I get it.”

 

I nod, throat tight, vision swimming.

 

“But Amara,” he continues, voice lower now. “Saying you could show him what it’s like to be your father and flaring your cursed energy like that?” He shakes his head. “You scared me.”

 

The words knock the air out of my lungs.

 

“I’ve never seen you like that. I’ve never felt you like that. And I know you didn’t mean it, not really. But the second you lose your temper like that and start using energy as a threat, you cross into territory you can’t walk back from.”

 

“I wasn’t-” I try, but he lifts a hand gently, not angry, just calm.

 

“I know you didn’t plan it. I know it came out of pain and anger. But you don’t get to wield fear like that, not with us. Not ever. You are not your father. Don’t give in to what people expect just to feel powerful.”

 

The shame lands hard.

 

“You want to make him trust you? Start there. Start by not playing into the story he’s already writing in his head.”

 

I close my eyes. My cursed energy is still buzzing around me like a warning, but I breathe deeper. Slower. I let the weight of Suguru’s words press against it until it sinks back into my skin.

 

He nods slowly. Then stands.

 

And turns to Satoru like he’s flipping a switch.

 

But this time, there’s no softness. No gentleness.

 

Just venom edged in ice.

 

“And you-” he snaps, and Satoru’s head lifts like someone slapped him. “What the fuck was that?”

 

Satoru blinks, like he’s trying to build a defense before Suguru even finishes.

 

“Don’t,” Suguru says sharply. “Don’t you even try. You were cruel. Condescending. You treated her like a child who wandered off the leash, and when she didn’t roll over like you expected, you punished her for it.”

 

“She went behind our backs-”

 

“She told us today.” Suguru’s voice cuts like glass. “You know how many things you’ve done without asking anyone? How many times you’ve risked your life just because you felt like it? Don’t start playing moral superior now.”

 

“She’s not-”

 

“She’s not you.” Suguru’s voice lowers but sharpens further. “And thank god she’s not. Because you’re a nightmare when you’re scared.”

 

Satoru doesn’t respond.

 

“You didn’t want the truth, Satoru. You wanted to feel right. So you cornered her, baited her, and when she defended herself, you made it personal.”

 

Still no answer.

 

“You brought up her father. Her blood. And then acted surprised when she reacted like someone who’s been judged for that her entire life.”

 

Satoru’s jaw clenches, but he still doesn’t speak.

 

“I’m ashamed of both of you,” Suguru says coldly.

 

Silence.

 

Neither of us can meet his eyes.

 

“And I don’t want to hear a single word from either of you until you’ve calmed the hell down. When you speak again, it better start with a full apology. No excuses. No deflection. Just own this bullshit.”

 

He walks back between us with a chair and sits.

 

“You’re not enemies. So stop acting like it. Both of you.”

 

I stare at the floor, heart pounding, chest tight.

 

And for once, Satoru doesn’t say a word.

 

Just like me. Quiet. Held in place by the weight of what we’ve done.

 

And by the one person who never raises his voice..

 

---

 

The silence drags.

 

It’s not a quiet silence, either. It’s heavy. Tense. Like sitting in a sealed room with a gas leak, just waiting for someone to light the match.

 

Suguru doesn’t pace. Doesn’t fidget. He just sits across from us, spine straight, arms folded, one leg crossed over the other with perfect composure. Like a teacher waiting out a class of misbehaving students who know they screwed up.

 

Satoru hasn’t looked at me once.

 

I haven’t looked at him either.

 

My jaw is tight. My fingers are curled into the fabric of my pants, pressing hard enough that I know I’ll leave marks. But I don’t speak.

 

Neither does he.

 

Suguru sighs. “I can do this all day,” he says simply. “But just know… I will call on one of you eventually.”

 

My eyes flick toward him.

 

He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t test me.”

 

Still, neither of us moves.

 

Satoru shifts slightly, arms crossed tight over his chest now, jaw set like he’s holding a grenade between his teeth.

 

I glance toward Suguru again.

 

He’s watching both of us like a hawk. Calm. Steady. Patient in the most terrifying way.

 

“I’ll count to five,” he says, tone deceptively light. “And then I’m picking.”

 

One.

 

Two.

 

Three-

 

My hand goes up. Slowly. Like it weighs too much.

 

His gaze flicks to me. “Go ahead.”

 

I swallow thickly. Then exhale.

 

And try to find the words without swallowing my pride whole.

 

Suguru’s voice is calm, but it cuts through the tension like a scalpel.

 

“Satoru,” he says quietly, “I want you to take note of something before we go any further.”

 

Satoru doesn’t move. Doesn’t even blink.

 

“You hurt her,” Suguru continues, still gentle. “Worse than you probably realize. And even after that, she’s the one choosing to speak first. I would sit with that if I were you.”

 

The silence after is heavy. I glance at Satoru, but he won’t meet my eyes. He just stares past me, jaw tight.

 

Suguru looks at me then and nods. “Whenever you’re ready.”

 

I nod back, feeling my throat tighten before I even speak.

 

“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice low but steady. “I’m sorry for how I fought. For how I raised my voice. For the things I said that were cruel or unfair. I let myself get overwhelmed and I didn’t stop when I should have.”

 

My fingers press into my knees. I keep going.

 

“I’m sorry for the way I let my cursed energy spiral out. I scared both of you. And that’s not something I ever wanted to do. Especially not here. Especially not with you.”

 

I glance at Suguru, and he gives the faintest nod. I know he appreciates the acknowledgment of that part. I breathe through the pressure in my chest.

 

“I know what I said about being like my father was... dark. I was angry and upset. But that’s no excuse for throwing that in either of your faces. It was a threat, whether I meant it that way or not. I know better.”

 

I pause, inhaling slowly.

 

“But I won’t apologize for the letter.”

 

Satoru’s head shifts slightly, but Suguru doesn’t stop me. I choose my words carefully.

 

“I didn’t hide it. I didn’t make any deals or slip out on my own. I told you both the same day it happened. I just... I didn’t want to wait for permission. I needed to decide for myself, and I did.”

 

My voice tightens a little, and I catch myself before I go too far.

 

“I had planned to tell you everything. Calmly. Gently. I- I should’ve said it more clearly, but-”

 

I see Suguru’s subtle glance, sharp, but not unkind.

 

I take a breath. “I should’ve said it more clearly. That part’s on me especially since you two were already worried.”

 

My eyes flick to Satoru’s again, even though he won’t meet mine. My voice softens.

 

“I’m sorry that it hurt you. I’m sorry for what this stirred up in both of you. But I’m not sorry for believing I could handle it. Just a letter. Just a conversation. I never meant to make things get so heated.”

 

Silence settles again. My chest aches from holding everything in. But I sit there, waiting, for judgment, for understanding, for whatever comes next.

 

Satoru shifts in his seat, arms folded tight across his chest like armor he doesn’t want to admit he’s hiding behind.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says stiffly. “Okay? I said it.”

 

Suguru doesn’t even blink. “Try again.”

 

Satoru’s eyes narrow. “I said I'm sorry!”

 

“No,” Suguru says calmly. “You said the words. That’s not the same as taking accountability.”

 

Satoru scoffs, turning slightly away from both of us. “What do you want me to do, write it in blood?”

 

“Don’t be so dramatic. I want you to mean it,” Suguru says. “And I want her to feel that you mean it.”

 

Satoru’s jaw ticks. He stares at the floor like it offended him.

 

I stay quiet, waiting, even though part of me wants to spit something sarcastic just to fill the silence. But Suguru had made it clear he wasn’t playing referee for pride matches. He was waiting for growth.

 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you like that,” Satoru finally mutters, voice low and awkward.

 

“Still not enough,” Suguru says, sharper now. “You’re apologizing like you stubbed her toe.”

 

Satoru groans and slaps his hand against his thigh, frustration bleeding through. “God. Fine.” A pause. Then quieter, “…It’s not easy.”

 

“I know it’s not,” Suguru replies. “Do it anyway.”

 

And something shifts in Satoru then, he rubs his hands over his face like trying to wipe off the version of himself that kept resisting. When he finally speaks again, his voice is tired. Honest.

 

“Amara, I’m sorry. For all of it. I said some really ugly shit because I got scared and couldn’t admit I was scared. I didn’t trust you, and instead of talking about that, I attacked you. I was cruel, and you didn’t deserve that.”

 

He takes a breath, shaky, but keeps going.

 

“And the thing is… this isn’t just about today. It’s been building since we ran into Riku. That piece of shit- he didn’t fight us. He didn’t need to. He knew he’d lose in raw power, so instead he outsmarted us. He made us play his game. Slipped right through our hands. And that- that- was a hit to my ego I didn’t know I could feel.”

 

Satoru glances at Suguru, then at me. His eyes aren’t cold now, they’re heavy. “And when I see you holding that sword, moving like you’d trained with it your whole life… and now you tell me he wrote to you, and you wrote back, it felt like I was losing control all over again. Like he was already inside the gates, and I didn’t even know it.”

 

He swallows, hard. “I didn’t trust you, and I should have. I lashed out because I didn’t know how else to protect you, how else to protect myself from what I don’t understand.”

 

There’s no dramatic flourish at the end. No quip or sly grin to soften it. Just Satoru Gojo, stripped down and bare.

 

He keeps whispering it like it might fix the way he broke it.

 

“I love you. I swear to God, I love you- I didn’t mean it like that, I just- fuck, I’m so scared of losing you, I didn’t know how else to say it. I didn’t mean to- please, I really didn’t mean to.”

 

I don’t say anything at first. I just let the silence stretch.

 

It’s not to be cruel. I’m just trying to feel it. Trying to let the weight of it settle somewhere real, not in the part of me that still wants to scream. He’s still clinging, still afraid, like I might disappear between words.

 

Then, finally, quiet and steady, I say it back.

 

“I love you too, Satoru.”

 

His arms go slack for a second like his bones forget how to hold him up. And then, like he’s been waiting for permission, he throws himself into me, crashing down to his knees and burying his face against my ribs. His breath is hot and uneven. His fingers dig into my back, desperate.

 

I hold him.

 

Not tightly. Just enough to remind him I’m real.

 

Then I turn, catching Suguru’s eyes. He hasn’t moved, but he hasn’t looked away once. Always watching. Always holding the line we drop.

 

I lift my arm and reach out.

 

His expression shifts. Something tender. Something raw.

 

He walks over without a word, drops to his knees beside us, and slides his arms around both our shoulders, pulling me into his chest and anchoring Satoru to my side. His palm smooths over the back of Satoru’s head. His other hand rests on the small of my back, warm and steady.

 

We don’t say anything for a long time.

 

Just breathe. Together.

 

Like maybe if we’re quiet long enough, the worst part will start to fade.

 

 

Chapter 62: Christmas Eve (NSFW)

Summary:

Tw: Crying after sex. Nothing bad happens she just gets emotional but as a heads up in case that bothers people.

Everyone had boxes today.

 

The common room smelled like paper, tape, and a dozen different kinds of homes. Citrus and sandalwood from Shoko’s box, the crisp scent of formal wear from Nanami’s. Yu’s package practically sparkled with sugar and bubblegum-scented wrapping paper. Gojo got something wrapped in thick silver foil, the type of ribbon you pay someone else to tie. Suguru’s came wrapped in brown butcher paper, tied with twine, a handwritten note from his mother tucked into the corner like a blessing.

 

Laughter floated around the room. Crinkling plastic, torn tissue, playful curses when people nearly sliced their fingers opening a stubborn flap.

 

I just sat on the couch, sipping tea that had gone cold.

 

Nanami pulled out a new pocket watch. Something expensive, probably hand-engraved. His parents always sent things like that. Useful. Understated. The kind of gift that said, we see you working so hard but never we miss you.

 

Yu unwrapped a pair of blinking LED sunglasses that spelled out KING across the front, along with endless amounts of candies and sweets. He immediately shoved the glasses on and danced like a dork until Utahime threatened to trip him. His cousins, probably. They always sent him something fun.

 

Gojo pulled a designer scarf out of a velvet-lined box and held it up with both hands. It was bright red with black stitching of the expensive brand name, loud and completely not his style. He threw it around his neck dramatically anyway. “It’s hideous,” he declared. “I hate it. I’m gonna pawn this off to someone else.” He said with a laugh.

 

Shoko got two cartons of cigarettes and a sleek bottle of whiskey with a note: From your favorite enablers. Stay sane. Her parents. Affection disguised as vices. She held up the whiskey and toasted the air before cracking it open.

 

Utahime unwrapped a beautifully folded kimono, white and plum silk, soft and clearly handmade. Her grandmother still sewed, I remembered. She blushed when everyone complimented her but smiled quietly to herself the whole time.

 

Suguru’s box was small, but full of warmth. His mom sent preserved lotus roots and pickled plums, little homemade mochi, and a simple thermos with his initials on it. He passed some of the sweets to Gojo without asking, who immediately stuffed one in his mouth and groaned like he’d ascended to heaven.

 

And me?

 

Well...

 

I had nothing.

 

I always had nothing.

 

I’d told myself this year would be different, that it wouldn’t sting as much, but it still scraped against my ribs the same way. The empty space in front of me seemed louder somehow, like it echoed every time someone laughed.

 

It wasn’t a surprise. My mother was dead. Had been for a while now. Even when she was alive, I didn’t get letters. No boxes. No scribbled notes. Just silence.

 

And my father? A ghost, practically. A man made of rumors and broken bloodlines. I doubt that he even knows today is a holiday.

 

A few days ago, Yaga handed me an envelope.

 

“Winter bonus,” he said simply.

 

But the way he looked at me then… like he was trying to cover a wound with a bandage he knew wouldn’t stick. Like he wanted the money to mean more than it did. It wasn’t just salary, it was kindness. A gesture. A bribe to soften a gap he didn’t know how to fill.

 

I appreciated it. I really did.

 

But it wasn’t a letter that smelled like someone’s house. It wasn’t a dumb sweater in the wrong size. It wasn’t a thing that said: I thought of you.

 

Just money.

 

And I was grateful. And I was still alone.

 

I hated myself a little for how much I wanted something I never even had. For the ache I couldn’t kill no matter how much I told myself I was over it.

 

Because I wasn’t a kid anymore. I had people who cared. Gojo, Suguru, Shoko, Yu, Utahime, and even Nanami in his grumpy way. I had a family here, one I’d chosen, one that chose me back.

 

But there was still this part of me, deep and sour and stubborn, that wanted someone from that broken, bloodstained past to care enough to send me something.

 

Even something I didn’t like.

 

Even if it hurt.

 

Because it would’ve meant I existed to them.

 

I closed my eyes for a second. Breathed in through my nose. The air still smelled like gifts. Sweet and warm.

 

“Hey.”

 

Suguru knelt in front of me, holding out one of his mom’s mochi. “You didn’t eat yet.”

 

I blinked. “I’m okay.”

 

“I know.” He didn’t move.

 

Gojo flopped down beside me a second later, scarf still around his neck. “I saved you the best one,” he said, shoving another snack in my lap. “And also I love you, so-”

 

I bit back a laugh. It cracked through anyway.

 

---

 

The rest of the day passed like a snow globe I wasn’t shaking, quiet and slow, muffled by the weight around it.

 

I trained for hours, letting my body take the lead when my mind refused to settle. Vines cracked through stone, cursed energy hummed like static against my skin, but none of it filled the hollow. Shoko stopped by the field once to offer me water and an arched brow. I waved her off.

 

Suguru texted once:

Come back inside. Rest.

 

I responded with: I will soon <3

 

Eventually, I did drag myself back in, sore, damp from sweat, exhausted. The dorms had gone quiet by then. Everyone tucked away, sleeping or pretending to. The twinkle lights were off. The air had the scent of something baking.

 

I curled up in my room with a blanket and told myself I didn’t want anything else tonight. That I didn’t need it.

 

Then Christmas Eve came.

 

And my door opened without knocking.

 

“Reindeer #1, suit up,” Gojo grinned, holding something brown, fuzzy, and definitely humiliating.

 

Suguru stood behind him wearing the world’s most indifferent reindeer antlers, a brown sweater, black jeans, and a bow tied around his neck like he was a little gift. I stared.

 

Gojo’s Santa costume was loud, plush velvet, glitter in his hair. “Reindeer #2 and I have decided you need an intervention.”

 

“I’m not depressed,” I muttered.

 

“Lies,” Suguru said gently.

 

“You’re depressed and hot,” Gojo added. “The most dangerous combo.”

 

They didn’t leave until I put on the outfit. A fuzzy headband with reindeer ears, a bright red nose that squeaked when I touched it, and a sweater that had little bells stitched into the sleeves. I looked absurd.

 

“You’re beautiful,” Gojo whispered, misty-eyed.

 

“You’re an idiot,” I shot back, but I smiled.

 

They flanked me, arms linked with mine, and we marched down the hall.

 

The second the common room doors opened, I froze.

 

It was glowing.

 

Twinkle lights. Candles. Warm light bouncing off the windows and a tree so big it nearly touched the ceiling, of course, Gojo had picked it out. Ugly sweaters everywhere, music softly playing in the background. Shoko was wearing a “Jingle Bells on the Rocks” shirt and sipping something amber. Even Nanami had a Santa hat pulled tight over his forehead.

 

Everyone was there.

 

Gojo tugged my arm and whispered, “You thought we’d let you have a sad girl Christmas?”

 

“You always think you’re slick,” Suguru murmured, nudging me toward the group.

 

I stood there blinking like a deer in headlights, appropriately, and tried not to let it show on my face how much it meant.

 

They handed me an ornament. A glittery black orb with a tiny amethyst gemstone glued in the center.

 

Gojo had already added his, one shaped like sunglasses.

 

Suguru’s was a cursed charm painted gold, dangling like a tiny ward.

 

Yu put up a fish. “It’s Katsu!” he beamed.

 

Shoko’s was a cigarette. 

 

Even Utahime hung up a grumpy little fox in a kimono.

 

---

 

We decorated. We laughed. We argued over garland placement. We roasted Gojo for nearly falling off a chair twice. Suguru had to stop me from gluing eyeballs onto Nanami’s ornament. Someone spilled cider and blamed the ghost of Christmas past.

 

It wasn’t perfect.

 

It wasn’t family in the traditional sense.

 

But it was the kind that showed up when I didn’t know how to ask for it.

 

That mattered more.

 

Once the tree sparkled and Gojo declared it “a masterpiece,” we migrated to the tables, where Shoko had somehow smuggled in enough alcohol to tranquilize a bear.

 

Nanami didn’t protest. He actually poured the first round.

 

Gojo set out a ridiculous spread.. sweets, spiced bread, curry, warm rolls, and roasted vegetables. He claimed he made it all. Suguru later told me he ordered it from three different places and only made the rice. Still, it was good. Better because it came with laughter, warmth, and the kind of soft bickering that made a space feel like home.

 

We ate. We drank. Yu tried to get a mistletoe kiss from Shoko and got cigarette ash flicked at him. Nanami rolled his eyes so hard I heard it.

 

But then came the games.

 

Charades.

 

Specifically: “Guess the Sorcerer or Technique,” as invented by Gojo in real time with absolutely no logic, and somehow even less structure.

 

He stood in front of the common room like a deranged game show host in his Santa suit. “Alright, alright, alright, it’s time! You know the rules! Or maybe you don’t! Who cares?! Split up! Team Smart vs. Team Pretty.”

 

Suguru: “Aren’t we both?”

 

Gojo: “Oh wow, is that confidence I hear from Team Trauma?”

 

The teams ended up being:

Team One: Nanami, Yu, Utahime.

Team Two: Me, Shoko, Suguru.

Gojo: Supreme Judge, God of Points, and completely sober yet acting more drunk than all of us.

 

“I get to judge because I’d win otherwise,” he declared.

 

“Liar,” Utahime muttered.

 

“Be nice,” Yu beamed. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

 

Round One:

 

Nanami stood up. He immediately adjusted his tie and held his hands up dramatically in front of him like he was pushing something forward.

 

“Gojo,” Shoko called out.

 

“Correct!” Gojo grinned.

 

“Because he’s full of himself?” I asked.

 

“No,” Shoko smirked. “Because he’s annoying and thinks this counts as charades.”

 

Nanami sighed and sat back down.

 

Round Two:

 

Shoko’s turn. She sat in the chair and just started smoking, one leg crossed over the other, a glass in hand, utterly expressionless.

 

“Shoko,” Yu shouted.

 

“Damn right,” she said. “Next.”

 

Round Three:

 

Utahime mimed someone throwing hair over their shoulder, put a fake hand to her forehead, and pretended to faint.

 

“Mei Mei,” Suguru deadpanned.

 

“Yes.”

 

Round Four:

 

My turn.

 

I mimed summoning something. Then flared my cursed energy a bit and put a hand over my mouth like I was feeling sick.

 

Suguru raised a brow. “Is that supposed to be me?”

 

I grinned. “I don’t know, is it?”

 

He sighed. “Yes. Because of post-consumption sickness.”

 

“Ding ding,” Gojo laughed. “Amara bullying her boyfriend on Christmas. Points for courage.”

 

Round Five:

 

Suguru’s turn.

 

He stood still. Completely still.

 

Then he held his arms out slightly and mouthed something, eyes wide, before pretending to collapse.

 

“Yuki?” I guessed.

 

“No, no, it’s…” Shoko trailed off. “Wait. That’s… Ijichi!”

 

“Yes,” Suguru muttered.

 

Even Yu laughed. “Aww, poor Ijichi!”

 

The games went on. Gojo made jokes at everyone's expense. Yu got increasingly competitive, Nanami got increasingly buzzed, and Shoko drank half a bottle of sake while still guessing almost every answer right.

 

Gojo, ever the host, remained stone-cold sober, his voice louder with each round, his smile more chaotic.

 

The room was full of terrible impressions, aggressive cheering, and warm drinks. Suguru’s laugh had that breathy edge to it, the one I only heard when he was really having fun. I had cider in one hand, and my other hand kept brushing his thigh under the table.

 

At some point, Gojo leaned down and whispered in my ear, “You look happier.”

 

I looked up at him, grinning. “I am.”

 

---

 

I tapped Gojo’s shoulder softly and he leaned down to me with a gentle smile.

 

"Yes, sweetheart?" He said sweetly.

 

"I must cause chaos. Put me on your shoulders." I looked up at him with a devilish grin.

 

Gojo hoisted me up onto his shoulders like I weighed nothing, arms steady around my legs as I gripped the mistletoe I had stolen from the decorations. He was grinning, loud, bright, drunk on sugar and mischief.

 

“Hold it steady, princess,” he said. “Let's make the lesbians kiss.”

 

“Satoru,” I hissed through my teeth, trying not to laugh. “Don't say it so loud.”

 

But I held it anyway, dangling the little green bundle right over Shoko and Utahime.

 

Shoko looked up.

 

Then at me.

 

Then at Utahime.

 

And for once in her smug, chain-smoking, all-knowing life, Shoko actually blushed.

 

Utahime rolled her eyes, muttered “Merry Christmas,” and tugged Shoko forward by the front of her shirt, pressing a kiss to her lips.

 

The room exploded in cheers.

 

Yu screamed into a pillow. Suguru clapped slowly like he was witnessing a political victory. Nanami blinked twice and muttered something about decorum, but I saw the smile tucked into his glass.

 

Gojo nearly dropped me from how hard he laughed.

 

“Put me down!” I giggled, smacking his head gently.

 

“Not until you spread some holiday affection,” he smirked. “Nanami next. Go on, give him a cheek kiss. For the holidays. I must see this man blush.”

 

I blinked. “Are you trying to get me cursed?”

 

He grinned wider. “Please. He’ll allow it. That’s the spirit of Nanami. Consent, mild suffering, and awkward blushing.”

 

I slid down from Gojo’s shoulders and approached Nanami, who looked like he was already preparing himself.

 

“Would you accept a Christmas Eve cheek kiss?” I asked gently.

 

He gave a long, patient sigh. “Only if you truly wish to.”

 

“I do,” I said, and leaned in.

 

I kissed his cheek softly, then stepped back.

 

He flushed immediately. Not deep red, but enough. His eyes flicked away and he gave a small nod. “Merry Christmas, Amara.”

 

"Merry Christmas, Kento.." 

 

Yu immediately flailed his arms. “I want one too!”

 

I laughed, walked over, and kissed his cheek.

 

He made the most joyful, high-pitched giggle I had ever heard from him and covered his face, glowing like a little lantern.

 

---

 

Eventually, things began to slow down.

 

Utahime and Shoko slipped off together, not bothering to make excuses. Yu helped Nanami down the hall, both of them swaying a bit. The music softened, the lights dimmed.

 

And then it was just the three of us.

 

Me. Satoru. Suguru.

 

The common room was still. The tree lights flickered gold and blue against the windows. I could hear the wind picking up outside, brushing against the glass.

 

I curled onto the couch and reached for Suguru’s hand, pulling him down beside me.

 

He let out a low hum, pressing a kiss to my temple as he settled next to me, one hand resting lazily on my thigh.

 

Gojo flopped down on my other side, stretching out and putting his feet in Suguru’s lap like he had zero respect for personal space.

 

“Holiday success,” he declared. “No curses. No Elders. No casualties. A lesbian kiss. Cheek kisses. A tree that might be haunted. I call that a win.”

 

I smiled, soft and slow.

 

I hadn’t gotten a box or a letter or anything that smelled like the place I used to live.

 

But I had this.

 

This stupid, soft, ridiculous moment on a couch with two idiots who loved me.

 

Gojo’s laughter had quieted to a lazy hum as he melted into the couch beside me. Suguru was warm at my back, fingers drawing slow, lazy circles into my thigh. The room glowed around us, tree lights blinking softly red and gold, casting halos across the floor. My skin felt flushed, my heart warm and light from the wine and the comfort of being right here, between them.

 

So I turned.

 

First to Gojo. I crawled into his lap, straddling him slowly and easily. He blinked at me like I was sunlight. My fingers found the hem of his sweater and pushed it up gently. He let me. I pressed a soft, reverent kiss to his chest, just over his heart.

 

“Thank you,” I whispered.

 

He shuddered slightly. “What for?”

 

“For everything.”

 

I turned, kissed Suguru next. Pulled his sweater up and nuzzled into the warmth of his skin. His hands found my hips, anchoring me, not pulling, just holding.

 

“You two give me everything I didn’t know I was allowed to want,” I said against his sternum.

 

Gojo let out a sound, half breath, half whimper as I shifted back into his lap, letting my hips roll gently into his. His head tilted back against the couch, jaw slack, eyes just barely blown wide.

 

He looked to Suguru over my shoulder, still panting as I trailed kisses up his neck.

 

“Should we…?” His voice broke. He tried again, low and husky. “Should we stop her? Move? Or just- stop, stop?”

 

Suguru didn’t answer right away. He was watching me closely, his thumb brushing my lower back with that careful, measured way he always had when he was choosing between protector and partner.

 

“Let’s stop for now,” Suguru said softly. “Sober her up. Then we can decide together.”

 

“Nooo,” I whined, dragging my lips back down Gojo’s chest. “I’m fine. I promise. I’m not gone, I’m just fuzzy. Happy. It’s Christmas Eve, and you’re mine. Please don’t make me stop…”

 

Gojo whimpered again, biting the back of his knuckle while Suguru leaned forward.

 

“I believe you, Mara,” Suguru murmured, stroking my hair. “But if you drink some water for me… If you just sit in my lap and sober up a little, I’ll give you so much of what you’re asking for. I’ll make you feel so good you won’t be able to say my name without stuttering.”

 

I flushed, hard.

 

Gojo exhaled in a sharp little laugh. “Damn, that was unfair.”

 

“But effective,” Suguru smirked, nudging the water bottle toward me.

 

I took it. Drank. Let them hold me gently while the room spun in that soft, safe way that only happened with them.

 

And for the moment, that was enough.

 

---

 

Once I felt sobered up I started impatiently dragging them to my bedroom. 

 

"I think her being drunk might have been the only thing saving us." Gojo teases as he follows me.

 

"I'm not looking to be saved." Geto chuckles. 

 

I open the door and push them onto the bed playfully. They both look up at me with rosy cheeks. Satoru is biting his lip and Suguru is gripping his thighs like his life and willpower depend on it.

 

"There's nothing I want more right now than to have you both melting at my touch~" I say as I get on my knees.

 

Gojo swallowed so hard I heard it.

 

“Holy shit,” he whispered, eyes wide, the tips of his ears flushed red. “Okay, I’m dead. You killed me. Congratulations.”

 

I laugh a little. "I haven't even done anything yet."

 

Suguru didn’t say anything at first. He just stared.. low, dark, and heavy-lidded like he’d been holding back for hours. His jaw flexed once, then again, before he finally exhaled through his nose and leaned back on his hands, the tension in his shoulders coiling instead of fading.

 

“You don’t get to say things like that and expect us to stay still,” he said, voice rough and quiet.

 

“Then don’t,” I murmured, crawling between them.

 

I reached out first to Suguru, fingers sliding under his sweater again, dragging it up slowly. His skin was warm, tense with restraint, but he didn’t stop me. His eyes locked on mine, unreadable except for the thin flicker of hunger threading through the calm.

 

Gojo watched us with that breathless awe he always got when he didn’t know if he should be worshiping or begging. I turned to him next, brushing the tips of my fingers up under his shirt, feeling the twitch of his stomach, the way he trembled slightly when I leaned in and kissed just under his ribs.

 

He let out a soft, “Fuck-”, and tipped his head back, hands curling into the blanket beneath him like he needed something to hold onto.

 

I smirked. “Told you I wanted to take care of you.”

 

Suguru’s voice came like a tether, firm but gentle. “Just tell us if you need to stop, my love. Anytime. Promise me.”

 

I nodded and kissed the center of his chest again. “I promise. But tonight, I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.”

 

Gojo reached for me then, tugging me down by the back of my sweater. “Only thing I’m doing is letting you ruin me,” he breathed, his grin crooked and flushed with heat. “Be gentle. Or don’t. I’m in your hands, babe.”

 

“Oh, don’t tempt me.”

 

I helped them undress slowly, no rush, no fumbling. Just careful hands and kisses to every new inch of skin I revealed, down to the soft patch of hair trailing down from his navel. Both of them watched me like I was something holy.

 

I settled first between Gojo’s thighs, kissing the inside of one slowly before running my hands up his hips. His entire body tensed, breath stuttering.

 

Suguru shifted beside us, one hand trailing up and down my back while the other cupped Gojo’s jaw, turning his face toward him. “Breathe, Satoru.”

 

“I am breathing,” Gojo gasped. “Barely. But still breathing.”

 

“You’re doing so good,” I whispered, before kissing just above his hip. “Let me take care of you first.”

 

I planted slow, sweet, and reverent kisses up his length. Every touch intentional, every sound he made melting into me until I could feel him twitching and trembling under my hands and mouth. Suguru kept him grounded, threading his fingers into Gojo’s hair and murmuring low praises between soft kisses to his temple.

 

“Breathe, Satoru,” he whispered. “You’re doing so well.”

 

I took his tip into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it and sliding across his slit. I slowly took him deeper and deeper, one hand grabbing his hip and the other rubbing him gently as I started to bob my head up and down.

 

Gojo trembled under me, one hand clenched in the sheets, the other reaching blindly for my wrist like he needed to anchor himself. His whole body pulsed with energy, tension pulling through his stomach, his breath hitching on every inhale, but I didn’t let him fall over that edge.

 

Not yet.

 

I slowed down, mouth warm and steady, keeping him there. Letting him stay in that golden space between desperate and undone. I kissed down the inside of his thigh, pulling back completely as his hips twitched and a broken sound escaped his throat.

 

“Why’d you stop?” he panted, blinking down at me, dazed and pink.

 

I smiled up at him. “Because I’m not done with either of you yet.”

 

Gojo groaned, throwing his head back against the pillows with a dramatic cry. “You’re evil.”

 

“She’s perfect,” Suguru murmured, and I turned to him next.

 

He was already halfway gone, eyes heavy-lidded, his chest rising and falling with slow, deep breaths. He looked like restraint personified, tense thighs, jaw clenched, hands gripping the sheets at his sides.

 

I crawled into his lap, straddling him slowly, letting my hands trace up his sides, feeling every tight muscle and sharp breath.

 

His voice was a low warning. “I need you, Mara..”

 

“I know,” I whispered, leaning in close, kissing the shell of his ear. “But I want you shaking. Just not yet.”

 

I slipped my hand down between us, fingers teasing his hardened cock through the fabric. His head tipped back with a quiet hiss, hands gripping my waist hard enough to leave bruises.

 

I watched his self-control flicker like a flame in the wind, hot and barely held together. I kissed his neck, his collarbone, and pulled back just as he began to grind up into me.

 

“S-still not…?” he muttered, eyes fluttering open.

 

“Not yet,” I smiled.

 

Gojo whined from the bed behind me. “This is torture. The hottest torture. But still.”

 

I turned back to him and kissed his lips once, soft and slow, before sliding down his body again, settling between his legs. This time, I didn’t tease. I took him into my mouth fully, letting the warmth of my lips and the gentle suction pull a moan from his chest that sounded like prayer.

 

His hands flew into my hair immediately, not guiding, just holding, trembling. Suguru watched from the side, chest heaving, hand sliding over his own thigh like he didn’t trust himself not to move.

 

“S-slow down,” Gojo breathed, but I didn’t. Not this time.

 

He gasped my name, once, twice, "Amara...Ammmmaaarrraaa..." before getting louder, head thrown back, chest heaving as I worked him gently toward the edge.

 

Gojo’s moan cut off sharply in his throat as I pulled back again, slow and purposeful, letting his release hang right on the edge before easing away.

 

“M-Mari,” he gasped, voice ragged. “I was so close- what the hell-?”

 

“You’ll get there,” I whispered, crawling up into his lap, straddling him with slow, intentional pressure. “But I want to feel you inside me when you do.”

 

His breath caught. I rolled a condom onto his length.

 

Suguru groaned softly from the side, the sound guttural, almost pained. He was watching with his lower lip caught between his teeth, one hand clenched around his throbbing length, the other pressed tight to his thigh.

 

I reached between us and guided Gojo to my entrance, watching his pupils blow wide as he realized what I was doing.

 

“You sure?” he asked, voice low, reverent. “You’re okay?”

 

“I’ve never been more sure. Let me ride you, my love.”

 

And then I sank down onto him, slow and steady.

 

His head dropped forward with a choked, broken sound. His hands flew to my hips, gripping hard, trying not to thrust up too fast, too greedy. His whole body trembled with restraint, and I kissed the corner of his mouth as I began to move, grinding slow and deep, taking him fully.

 

I rocked in his lap, arms around his neck, the press of our bodies hot and seamless. Gojo whimpered against my skin, burying his face in my shoulder, breath shivering out of him every time I rolled my hips just right.

 

“God, Maraaaa,” he groaned. “You feel like- like I’m not even alive anymore. Just floating.”

 

I smiled, kissed the side of his head, then reached out blindly to my right, fingers brushing Suguru’s thigh.

 

“Come closer.”

 

My voice was breathy, low but sure, and Suguru moved without hesitation.

 

He knelt beside us, his eyes locked on mine as I stayed wrapped around Satoru, still slowly rolling my hips in lazy circles that made his breath catch in my ear. I could feel the tension in Gojo’s body like a live current, his hands trembling on my thighs, his head buried in the crook of my neck like it was the only place he could stay grounded.

 

But I didn’t stop.

 

Not yet.

 

I reached for Suguru, fingers trailing up his abdomen, then lower, palming his already precum leaking cock until I felt his hips jerk under the touch. His breath hitched hard, and he closed his eyes for a second like he needed to center himself.

 

“You don’t have to-” he started, but I cut him off with a kiss. Soft. Slow. Full of promise.

 

“I want you to fuck my mouth..” I murmured, pulling away just enough to look up at him. “Let me take care of you both.”

 

Gojo whimpered under me, hands tightening on my hips as I shifted, still keeping him inside me, but leaning forward to take Suguru into my mouth. I heard the crack in Suguru’s voice as he tried to say my name, but it dissolved into a low groan.

 

I moved carefully, deliberately, rocking back into Gojo while taking Suguru deeper, using my hands and lips in tandem, letting the rhythm of both guide me.

 

It was overwhelming.

 

Their voices. Their hands. The way Gojo pressed kisses against my shoulder like he couldn’t help it, whispering praise between gasps, his breath shaky and full of awe.

 

“God, Mara- my love- my everything- fuck- how are you even real?” Gojo murmured, forehead against my shoulder.

 

Suguru’s hand threaded into my hair, not pulling, just holding. Grounding. Like if he let go, he might unravel completely.

 

“You’re killing me..” he said softly, voice wrecked with restraint. “You feel so good- look so good taking me deep down your pretty fucking throat- I don’t know how to keep it together like this.”

 

I pulled back for a breath, licking my lips, smiling against Suguru’s cock, mouth covered in saliva, looking up at him all fucked out. “Then don’t.”

 

Gojo let out a broken, half-laugh, half-moan under me. “Okay. That’s it. We’re doomed.”

 

But they still held back, barely.

 

Letting me love them like this. Worship them.

 

Take everything.

 

Gojo was the first to break.

 

His grip on my hips tightened, his breath stuttered, and with a strangled sound muffled into the curve of my neck, he came, hard. His whole body shook beneath me, and I held him through it, never stopping, never slowing, letting him ride it out from inside me, buried so deep I could feel every pulse.

 

“Oh- FUCK... Amara- ooohh...” he gasped, voice cracking. “I’m- God fucking fuck- I’m-”

 

His head leaned forward, forehead pressed to my chest, damp with sweat. But I didn’t stop.

 

If anything, I rolled my hips just a little slower, a little deeper, dragging him through the aftershocks.

 

“Satoru,” I whispered, teasing, “you okay down there?”

 

He shivered. Actually shivered.

 

“Don’t stop,” he breathed. “Please. It’s too much- ahhhh- I can’t- but I need it. Fuck I.. mm...fuuck...hmmmm...I I I.... I need it so baaaaddd..”

 

I smiled, wicked and warm, then turned my focus back to Suguru.

 

He was panting above me, his control fraying, every muscle tight with restraint. His hands had fisted in my hair, knuckles white, his jaw clenched so hard it looked painful.

 

“Still holding back?” I murmured, licking up the length of him before taking him fully again.

 

He groaned, loud, and both of his hands flew to my hair, fingers trembling.

 

“Amara,” he warned, voice low and ragged. “I’m gonna lose it!”

 

“Good,” I said, the word muffled and full of heat.

 

Gojo moaned behind me again, still inside, still hard, again, his hands roaming up my sides like he didn’t know where to put them.

 

“I can’t believe I’m- fuuuck fuuuuck mmmmm again, already- fuck,” he gasped. “You’re insane. You’re perfect. I’m- FFFFF UUUUUCCCCKK-”

 

I rocked harder, grinding into him as my mouth worked faster on Suguru, matching pace, dragging both of them right to the edge.

 

Suguru was the next to fall.

 

"Give me permission! Fuck fuck fuck! Let me throat fuck you please! I love you so fucking much.." Suguru was growling. 

 

I scratched a heart into his thigh, taking that as a yes. Suguru starts pounding into my throat, making me tear up a little but he wipes them away.

 

He came with a low, guttural sound, one hand tightening in my hair as he trembled, his body curling slightly forward like the force of it pulled the breath from his lungs. His free hand clawed at his own thigh.

 

And that was all it took.

 

Gojo and I followed a heartbeat later. Gojo came again, crying out into my shoulder as he bit down hard to muffle himself, just enough to leave a mark. His teeth pressed into my skin as his hips jerked helplessly under me, his whole body convulsing with the force of it.

 

I gasped, the sting blooming sweet and sharp across my shoulder. The second he lets go it heals.

 

They both collapsed around me, trembling and panting, spent and warm and clinging like I was the only thing tethering them to earth.

 

Suguru brushed the hair from my face with shaking fingers and kissed my forehead.

 

Gojo murmured into my skin, still breathless. “I love you. I love you so much.”

 

And I held them.

 

Every inch of me buzzing.

 

Full.

 

Loved.

 

And whole.

 

My arms were shaky. My thighs ached. Every inch of me was flushed and humming, the weight of everything we’d just shared still settling into my bones.

 

But even then, I moved to clean them up, slow, careful, determined, like it was the most important thing in the world.

 

Gojo whimpered softly as I wiped at his stomach, still oversensitive. “You don’t have to, love, just lie down. Please.”

 

“I want to,” I whispered, even as my hands trembled. “Let me.”

 

Suguru reached for the cloth I was using, brushing his fingers over mine. “You don’t have to do everything,” he said gently. “You’re allowed to rest, love. We were rough on you.”

 

“I know,” I said, not meeting his eyes. “I just- I want to take care of you.”

 

They both stilled.

 

Gojo sat up enough to touch my cheek, his palm warm and a little unsteady. “You don’t owe us anything. You know that, right? Like I know we threw a nice party but you don’t need to pay us back for it.”

 

Suguru leaned in, kissing my shoulder, then trailing his lips up to my temple. “We love you in all the ways that aren’t sex, too. The way you get excited about weird bugs. The way you talk to your fish like he understands you. The way you always know when we’re overwhelmed, even when we’re trying to hide it.”

 

Gojo nodded, a little breathless. “You loving us doesn’t have to be performative, baby. You exist, and we’re already full to bursting. And not from sex even though you have us bursting from that too.”

 

I swallowed thickly, trying not to cry, because my chest ached in a way I wasn’t used to, a kind of joy that felt like it might crack me open, plus all the adrenaline and emotions sex brings.

 

“You two always love me so big,” I whispered. “So open. Like there’s no room for fear. And it makes me feel things I didn’t think I could feel. Like I was made for love and not just surviving. And when I see you like that, falling apart under me, trusting me with your bodies and your sounds and your hearts, bringing you to that kind of pleasure and then holding you through it feels like… like the least I can do.”

 

There was silence for a beat. A long, quiet moment where I felt the weight of their gazes sink into me.

 

Then Suguru sat up fully, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders with practiced care. “Okay,” he said softly. “But let us take care of you now. Because loving you means making space for you to feel, not just give.”

 

Gojo nodded solemnly, already pulling his boxers back on and padding over to grab a clean towel from the drawer. “We can finish this conversation, but not while we’re still sticky and adrenaline-drunk and half-naked.”

 

He grinned faintly. “Even though we look amazing like this.”

 

Suguru gave him a flat look. “Focus.”

 

“Right, right.”

 

They cleaned up fast, efficient, gentle, practiced in a way that told me this was just another easy way they loved me. Something so natural to them.

 

Once the bed was fresh and warm and the lights were dimmed low, they pulled me in between them, one arm from Suguru curled around my waist, the other from Gojo wrapped around my shoulders.

 

I melted into them like I was meant to be there.

 

The room had gone quiet again, but not heavy. Just… still. Warm.

 

I lay curled between them, the weight of the day catching up to me all at once. My body was relaxed, but my chest was tight in that too-familiar way, like there were words I hadn’t said yet sitting sharp under my ribs.

 

“I woke up today feeling like shit.”

 

Gojo's hand paused where it had been combing through my hair.

 

Suguru shifted behind me, breath soft against my neck. “Because of the boxes?”

 

I nodded slowly. “Yeah. Everyone had something. From someone. And I didn’t. Again.” My voice caught, and I pressed my face into Gojo’s shoulder, not crying, but close. “I told myself it wouldn’t matter this year. That I wouldn’t care. But it did. It always does.”

 

Neither of them interrupted. They just waited, quiet, patient, listening the way they always did when it really counted.

 

“And then…” I laughed, but it was small and a little cracked. “Then you guys did all that. The tree. The lights. The games. The kiss and the food and the sweater and everything, you made this huge thing just for me. And then you keep doing things for me. Loving me. Giving. Every time.”

 

Gojo’s fingers brushed gently under my eyes even though I hadn’t cried yet. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

 

“It’s not,” I whispered. “I love it. I love you. And I know you’re happy too. I just…”

 

I exhaled hard, a trembling breath that finally cracked something open.

 

“I just feel like I never do enough. I can’t do enough. And this-” I gestured vaguely toward the bed, toward the air around us, “-is one of the few ways I feel like I can give back. Where I don’t feel like dead weight. You both give me so much, all the time, and I just…”

 

My voice broke for real. “I feel like a bad girlfriend. And a worse friend.”

 

Silence stretched. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just careful.

 

Suguru moved first.

 

He sat up slightly, guiding me to turn so I was facing him. His eyes were soft, his brows drawn together like he wanted to reach inside my head and pull the thoughts out one by one.

 

“You still think you have to earn us,” he said quietly.

 

My throat closed.

 

“You still think if you don’t match us, if you don’t give enough or do enough, we’ll decide you’re not worth the effort and leave.”

 

I didn’t answer.

 

I didn’t have to.

 

Gojo wrapped his arms tighter around me from behind, pressing his cheek to my hair. “You know we love you. You do. But somewhere deep down, you still believe that love is a transaction.”

 

Suguru’s voice stayed low, steady. “Because it always was, wasn’t it? The little scraps of care you got growing up, you had to fight for them. Starve for them. Be perfect, or invisible, or useful just to survive.”

 

I nodded. Barely.

 

“I don’t know any other way,” I whispered. “And I hate it. I hate that you love me so openly and I still flinch. That I panic the second I think I’ve failed. That I think I have to earn love that’s already mine.”

 

Gojo kissed the side of my head. “Then let us teach you. Over and over if we have to.”

 

Suguru took my hand and pressed it to his chest. “We didn’t fall for you because of what you could give us. We fell in love with the way you care. The way you show up. The way you see us, even when we try to hide.”

 

Gojo added softly, “We love the way you’re protective. How you remember the things we like without us asking. How you always offer your food to Yu when he forgets to eat. How you tease Shoko just enough that she actually smiles.”

 

“You take up space,” Suguru said. “Not because you demand it, but because you make people feel safe around you. Because when you let your guard down, even a little, it reminds the rest of us it’s okay to do the same.”

 

Gojo nuzzled into my shoulder. “You love with your whole chest even when you’re scared. Even when you think you don’t deserve to.”

 

“And that’s exactly why you do,” Suguru whispered. “Deserve it.”

 

I blinked hard. The tears came quietly, no sobs, just soft, warm streaks down my cheeks as I let myself believe it, piece by piece.

 

They stayed wrapped around me while I broke, slow and quiet and safe.

 

And I didn’t apologize for it.

 

Because maybe, for the first time…

I didn’t feel like I had to.

 

 

Chapter 63: Christmas Day

Christmas morning crept in like a whispered secret, soft light through frosted windows, the scent of cinnamon and brewing coffee drifting through the hallways.

 

By the time I padded into the common room, Suguru was already there, seated cross-legged near the tree, sipping tea and wearing one of my fuzzy socks on each foot, mismatched, of course. Gojo sat beside him, half-buried in a fleece blanket and refusing to relinquish the Santa hat from last night. He greeted me with a sleepy “Merry Christmas, angel,” and a kiss to the top of my head before pulling me into his lap and tucking me under the blanket with him.

 

The rest trickled in one by one, drawn by the warmth, the smell of pastries, and the slow promise of wrapped surprises. Nanami arrived first, in his robe and slippers, carrying a tin of butter cookies. Shoko followed, already smoking and mumbling something about needing coffee before conversation. Utahime brought mochi and a stiff smile that softened as soon as Yu launched himself at her in a sleepy hug.

 

And just like that, we were all there.

 

Like a little family.

 

The tree glowed with soft lights. A few ornaments leaned too far to one side. There were too many mugs on the coffee table, and Yu had already spilled something. It was perfect.

 

Everyone settled in a circle, and Gojo, of course, insisted on playing “gift master.”

 

“Amara’s first,” he declared. “Because she never asks to be first and that’s illegal now.”

 

I rolled my eyes but didn’t fight it.

 

Because this year, I had something for everyone. I’d spent nearly every spare yen I had.. between mission bonuses and the money Yaga quietly gave me. But it didn’t matter. I had planned every gift like I was wrapping a piece of my heart into paper and ribbon.

 

I reached for the first bag.

 

For Nanami:

I handed him a sleek black box, wrapped in a minimalist navy ribbon.

 

Inside was a custom leather planner, dark tan with gold-embossed initials on the corner. Inside the front cover, I had written in small, careful handwriting:

“For the one who holds the world together. May your time be your own, just once in a while.”

 

Tucked into the back pocket was a heavy, silver-plated fountain pen I had found in an old bookstore downtown.

 

Nanami blinked. Then cleared his throat. “This is… exceptionally thoughtful. Thank you, Amara.”

 

Yu bounced where he sat, practically vibrating with anticipation. “Me next! Me next!”

 

I grinned and handed him the wrapped box, white paper with neon pink ribbon, and way too many stickers. He tore into it like it was trying to escape him.

 

Inside were the sneakers.

 

A clean, structured pair of high-tops, matte black with royal blue soles, personalized with my own hand-painted designs. Across the side of each shoe, I had carefully written his name in stylized kanji and bold letters.

 

In between the playful shapes, graffiti-style doodles, and bursts of soft pink and electric green, one phrase curled like a hidden charm along the inner sole:

“Run fast. Come home safe.”

 

He stared.

 

Completely still.

 

His hands gripped the shoes like they were made of glass, eyes darting from the words to the brushstrokes to the bright blue laces I’d swapped in last-minute because he once told me they were his “lucky color.”

 

“I…” His voice cracked. “These are so cool. Like- they’re so cool, but also-” He swallowed. “No one’s ever painted me anything before.”

 

I smiled and bumped his shoulder gently. “Now someone has.”

 

Yu blinked rapidly, then shoved his face into the box with an awkward sniff. “I’m not crying. I’m just... emotionally hydrating.”

 

“Obviously,” Gojo said with mock seriousness. “I hydrate with my eyeballs all the time.”

 

“Shut up,” Yu mumbled, but he was smiling. He was glowing.

 

When he finally looked up, eyes a little watery, he whispered, “Thanks, Amara. I’ll wear them every time we go out. I swear.”

 

“Just keep coming back in them,” I said.

 

He nodded, too hard, too fast, and clutched the box like a shield.

 

Next was Shoko:

 

Her gift was quiet. Small. Wrapped in clean parchment paper tied with dark thread, no glitter, no ribbons. Just simplistic care.

 

She took it without comment, resting her cigarette on the edge of her mug before pulling the wrapping loose.

 

Inside was a cigarette case, elegant, slender, made of dark brushed metal with silver detailing along the edges. Her name was etched across the front in delicate cursive, the kind you only get from specialty shops that ask too many questions and charge too much for beauty that lasts.

 

Inside, nestled in the velvet lining, was a necklace.

 

Thin black chain. One small silver charm hangs at the center.

 

On one side: the kanji for 生 — life.

On the other: 死 — death.

 

She stared at it for a long time, then traced the characters with her thumb.

 

“I know it’s simple,” I said quietly. “But it reminded me of you. Not in a dark way. Just… in the way you carry both. Every day. Without flinching.”

 

Shoko didn’t say anything for a moment. Just reached for her cigarette, lit it with slow precision, then exhaled.

 

“…I love it,” she said simply. “The necklace, too.”

 

“Good,” I replied, relaxing slightly.

 

Then Gojo clapped his hands together. “Okay, okay! Who’s next to cry about how amazing Amara is?”

 

Utahime gave him a flat look. “You’ve got about five seconds before I make you next in a different way.”

 

“I vote Utahime,” I said quickly, handing her a rectangular box wrapped in plum-colored paper with a silver ribbon, careful and clean. She blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting to be called on, or maybe not expecting I’d actually gotten her something.

 

She took the gift delicately, like it might bite her. I saw the way her fingers hovered for a second on the ribbon like she was trying not to hope too much.

 

She opened it slowly.

 

Inside was a traditional tea set.. five pieces in soft, muted ceramic: a pot and four cups, each cup a different color in the same glaze tone, cream, plum, dusty rose, and silver-gray. Mountain silhouettes wrapped around the outside of the teapot in a continuous landscape, and small hand-painted foxes nestled into the ridges like hidden spirits watching from the shadows. Everyone of them wore a slightly different expression.

 

“I found it in a local artisan shop,” I said quietly. “The cups don’t match on purpose. I thought it suited you.”

 

Utahime stared.

 

“I also got the Yaga to seal the pot’s base. It resists curse exposure and heat damage. So… you could use it here. Or during field work. If you wanted.”

 

Utahime’s hand trembled just slightly as she traced a fingertip over one of the tiny foxes. Then she exhaled, long and slow, and gave me the smallest, warmest smile I had ever seen from her.

 

“This is beautiful,” she said. “Really. Thank you.”

 

“You deserve nice things,” I replied. “Ones that aren’t just about function or duty.”

 

That earned me a look, a complicated one. One I wasn’t going to unpack right now, but it stayed with me.

 

Gojo let out a dramatic sigh. “Okay, if I don’t go next, I’m going to explode.”

 

“Tragic,” Nanami muttered.

 

“I will take you down with me,” Gojo threatened, grabbing the largest box wrapped in sky-blue paper with silver stars drawn all over it. “Okay, I know this one is from you, Mara. I recognize the lipstick stamp.”

 

“Maybe,” I said innocently, curling into Suguru’s side.

 

Gojo peeled back the tape with an almost reverent touch. Inside the tissue paper was a sky-blue hoodie, oversized, soft, clearly expensive but cozy. His eyes lit up as he pulled it out and saw the front: a small kiss-mark heart over the chest, printed in dark purple. Not a graphic, mine. I’d kissed a blank patch of fabric in the studio three times to get it right, sealed it with cursed ink, and heat-pressed it myself.

 

On the sleeves, stitched in small, careful script in black thread:

Suguru on the left.

Amara on the right.

 

Inside the left cuff was an embroidered lotus. On the right: a tiny stitched phrase, barely visible unless you looked closely.

“You are loved loudly.”

 

And on the back, huge and unapologetic, was a heart filled with layered kiss marks, all pressed from different shades of lipstick, overlapping and imperfect. All from me.

 

He just stared.

 

“Oh my god,” he whispered, clutching it to his chest. “I’m going to wear this every day. I’m going to cry in this. I’m going to haunt people in this. I’m going to die in this hoodie. Bury me in this.”

 

“There’s more in the box,” I said, smiling.

 

He tore back the paper.

 

Inside:

– A black sleep mask with little wings embroidered across it and the words “shut up, I’m beautiful” stitched in gold. (For the sillies)

– And a rolled-up scroll that opened into a mini star map of the night he was born, framed by a simple caption:

“The sky looked different the day my soul mate was born.”

 

“Okay,” Gojo said, voice cracking. “You want me to sob on Christmas? You planned this emotional assassination?”

 

“Maybe,” I murmured.

 

He buried his face in the hoodie. “I love you so bad it makes me stupid.”

 

“Don’t ruin the poor hoodie about it,” Shoko said dryly.

 

Next was Suguru:

 

I passed him a heavy, flat box wrapped in black paper with a silver lotus stamped on the corner. He didn’t tear into it. He opened it carefully, quietly, respectfully. Like he already knew this was going to be something that meant more than just a holiday present.

 

Inside, on top, was a cloth-bound book. Handmade. Stitched spine, soft cover. Pressed into the front was a title in cursive script:

 

“Things Worth Keeping.”

 

He opened the first page.

 

Photos. From the day we met. Our first training session. A blurry image of him teaching me how to steady my stance by fixing my elbow. A preserved pressed flower I picked during that mission with Yuki. The fortune slip he gave me after our first team night out. A faded receipt taped to the page: ramen for three, Saitama, scrawled Gojo heart doodle on the back.

 

There were notes. My handwriting, his, even a few from Gojo, little captions. Tiny memories I’d saved:

– A ribbon from the first gift he ever gave me.

– A crumpled ticket stub from that horror movie he pretended not to be scared of.

– A dried smudge of cursed ink on a small portion of cloth from the time we trained and I got it all over myself and he didn’t even blink, just cleaned it off like it was nothing.

 

He turned the pages slowly, reverently, saying nothing.

 

At the bottom of the box were three more things:

 

– A new brush roll made of deep green fabric, embroidered with gold-threaded vines and the kanji for “stillness.”

– A bottle of imported ink, the kind I knew he’d never buy for himself but always admired. (Had to have Gojo help me buy that one)

– And a folded letter, tucked into a black envelope sealed with wax.

 

He didn’t open the letter. Not yet.

 

He just closed the album, pressed his hand over the cover, and exhaled shakily.

 

“Amara.”

 

I looked up.

 

He wasn’t smiling.

 

He was glowing.

 

“You kept everything.”

 

“I did.”

 

“Even… the stupid stuff..”

 

I nodded. “Especially the stupid stuff.”

 

Gojo wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. “Alright, I'm calling you out. This bitch cried yesterday, thinking she was a bad girlfriend and a bad friend then pulls up with this shit?”

 

The room erupted.

 

Yu let out an exaggerated “AMAARRRAAAA”

 

Shoko cackled behind her cigarette. "You're so emotional, it's cute."

 

Utahime laughed into her sleeve.

 

Even Suguru huffed a warm, almost tearful sound and leaned in to kiss the side of my head.

 

But the best part?

 

Nanami looked up from his tea, glanced at me with surprising softness, and said, “You’re… thoughtful. And deeply observant. You’ve made each of us feel seen in ways most people never bother to.”

 

I blinked.

 

Then blushed.. hard.

 

The room went silent for half a second.

 

Gojo gasped, scandalized. “You made her blush. Nanami made her blush. This is historical. This is going in the next album.” Gojo immediately takes a picture immediately.

 

I covered my face with my hands. “Oh my god, shut up.”

 

But I was smiling. So much it hurt.

 

---

 

I thought the gift-giving was done.

 

I was still nestled between Gojo and Suguru, fingers tangled in Suguru’s sleeve, Gojo leaning half his body weight into me like a smug, oversized cat. My heart was full. My face hurt from smiling.

 

So I didn’t expect Gojo to clap his hands again and chirp, “Oh wait, there’s more! Yu! Grab the goods!”

 

“No there isn’t,” I said, suspicious. “Right? There isn’t.”

 

“There is,” Suguru murmured, brushing his thumb over the back of my hand. “You didn’t think we’d let you do all that without giving something back, did you?”

 

I blinked. “I- what?”

 

Yu stood up first, nearly tripping over his own feet as he grabbed a small wrapped package and something flat tucked behind his back.

 

“For you!” he said proudly, thrusting both items into my lap. “Merry Christmas to my battle bestie!”

 

I peeled the wrapping away and gasped.

 

The photo frame was uneven and clearly handmade, burned around the edges with little stars and curse symbols carved in. Inside was a slightly blurry but adorable picture of me and Yu during my first training trip, grinning like idiots and covered in dirt and debris. I remembered that day, when we got separated from the group and ended up fighting three curses alone until Utahime found us. I’d taken a nasty hit. He’d helped me up, shaking like a leaf but still smiling.

 

Etched into the bottom of the frame:

“Dynamic Duo. First Team, Forever Team.”

 

“I remember you protected me,” he said, cheeks red but determined. “So I thought we should remember it. You were the first person who stopped at nothing to make me feel safe and you barely knew me.”

 

My throat clenched. Before I could speak, he handed me the second gift.

 

A small, plush black-and-purple crochet bat. Lopsided ears. Button eyes. Little fangs.

 

“I saw it at a market stall and thought, ‘That’s Amara if she was adorable and bitey.’”

 

I laughed, clutching it to my chest. “That’s… honestly accurate.”

 

Yu beamed and flopped down beside me again, satisfied.

 

Next came Nanami.

 

He handed me a small black box, elegant, simple, no fuss. “It’s not much,” he said. “But I know you’ve been writing more but it can double as a small sketch book. I made sure the paper had no lines.”

 

Inside was a smooth leather journal in dark plum with gilded edges. The pages were thick, high-quality. Tucked inside was a pen, silver, heavy, engraved with my full name in kanji:

Hoshizuki Amara.

 

The weight of it settled into my hands like something real. Permanent.

 

“Thank you,” I whispered.

 

He nodded. “You have important things to say. Make sure you write them down.”

 

Then Utahime cleared her throat and passed me a slim, flat package.

 

Inside was a photograph, carefully framed.

 

It was me, Utahime, and Shoko standing under a blooming cherry blossom tree. All of us were laughing, genuinely, arms around each other, wind catching our hair. Someone must’ve snapped it during the spring picnic.

 

“I wanted you to have a reminder,” she said quietly, “of the day you let yourself relax.”

 

I ran my fingers over the glass. My voice wobbled. “I remember that day.”

 

“You smiled a lot,” she said. “You deserve more of those days.”

 

Then came Shoko.

 

She passed me a tote bag that jingled when I picked it up.

 

“Hydration is a hill I’ll die on,” she muttered.

 

Inside: a sleek black water bottle with a soft matte texture, plus a whole bundle of my favorite electrolyte powders, lychee, blackberry, and mint-lime. And a bunch of chaotic stickers: a sleepy bat, a cactus flipping with a middle finger out, a grumpy mushroom with fangs, a skeleton drinking bubble tea.

 

“You’re gonna sticker the shit out of that bottle,” she said. “Or I will.”

 

I laughed. It cracked out of me, half-sob, half-snort. “I love you.”

 

“Obviously.”

 

Gojo reached behind the couch and held out three small gifts. “Okay, these are from the extended family, who couldn’t be here. But they send their love and way too much emotional investment.”

 

Yuki’s package came in sleek black wrapping with a note that read:

“For my bloodhound.”

 

Inside were fingerless leather gloves reinforced with cursed energy-thread, perfect for amplifying my healing shields without dampening movement. On the inside of the right wrist was a stamped paw print.

 

“Now you can punch while protecting,” Gojo read from her note.

 

Ijichi’s gift was unexpected, a little bonsai tree planted in a pot shaped like soot sprites holding it up. It came with a gentle note in tidy handwriting:

“For your room. Thought you might like something small and alive to care for. Besides your fish of course. No pressure.”

 

I stared at it, stunned. “This is… adorable.”

 

Suguru leaned in and whispered, “I told him you liked Ghibli. He panicked for a week trying to get it just right.”

 

Yaga’s box was last.

 

Inside: a thick, cozy comforter in soft purple and white. The note was short. Handwritten.

 

“Everyone deserves to sleep somewhere warm that feels like home. I hope this helps. -Yaga.”

 

That was it.

 

That was all it took.

 

The sob hit me like a wave, loud, sudden, raw.

 

I curled forward with the comforter clutched to my chest, the little bat still in my lap, tears spilling over like they’d been waiting years for permission to fall. My breath hitched. My whole body shook.

 

Everyone stilled.

 

Suguru was the first to move, hands on my back, murmuring my name gently, grounding me.

 

Gojo cradled my face with both hands, his eyes wide, but not scared. Just soft. “Breathe, baby. We’ve got you.”

 

Only Gojo and Suguru had ever seen me sob like this. Shoko had seen me cry once. The others?

 

Never.

 

But no one mocked me. No one pulled away.

 

Yu scooted closer and wrapped an arm around my leg. “We love you,” he said. “Like, a lot. You know that, right?”

 

I nodded through the tears.

 

Gojo wiped my cheeks. “You really had the audacity to cry yesterday about not being a good girlfriend or friend and then pull this shit on us? Still has me flabbergasted. So flabbergasted that I'm using the word flabbergasted.”

 

“Unbelievable,” Suguru added, holding me close.

 

“She even got Nanami to compliment her,” Gojo teased. “That’s like finding a unicorn in the subway.”

 

Nanami, remarkably, didn’t deny it.

 

He just looked at me and said, “You make it easy to care. Even if you don’t believe it yet.”

 

I choked on another sob. “Why would you say something like that while I’m actively bawling my eyes out?”

 

“Because it’s true,” he said, and took another calm bite of his cookie.

 

Laughter broke out across the room—soft, real, warm.

 

Gojo and Suguru gathered me in like I was made of something precious. Shoko threw a pillow at Yu for trying to wipe my tears with his sleeve. Utahime handed me a napkin like a mother hen. Even the tree seemed to glow a little brighter.

 

And for the first time in my entire life..

 

I sobbed in front of people who didn’t run, didn’t flinch, didn’t weaponize it.

 

They just held me.

 

And for once, I wasn’t afraid to let them.

 

---

 

Everything quieted down.

 

Gojo had passed out across my lap after beating Yu in a Mario Kart rematch he took way too seriously. Suguru, halfway through rereading an old book, had kept one hand on my knee the entire time like he couldn’t quite help it. They were warm. Safe. The kind of soft I was still learning how to let myself have.

 

Later in the evening, they were still asleep when I slipped out. We were out of Gojo’s weird fizzy plum soda and Suguru’s favorite bitter green tea, and I figured I’d grab myself something too. Just a quick walk to the corner store. No big deal.

 

I was halfway back, hood up, drink bag in hand, when a man stepped out from between two parked cars, blocking the sidewalk.

 

My hand instantly went to my hip.

 

“I have pepper spray,” I said flatly.

 

He held up his hands in a clear surrender pose. “Not here to hurt you.”

 

“Move, then.”

 

“I was just told to give you something. If I ran into you.”

 

I narrowed my eyes. The man didn’t look familiar. Younger than me maybe. Black beanie. Slouched jacket. Pale eyes that didn’t blink too much. Average height, a little slouched in a way that said he wasn’t used to being watched.

 

“I don’t know you,” I said. “Back off.”

 

“I’m not a stalker,” he said quickly. “This guy just said if I saw a girl with red eyes, pale skin, freckle covered, probably wearing black, to give her this. That’s it. That’s the job.”

 

“That’s a bad job.”

 

He shrugged one shoulder, still holding the package under one arm like it was hot. “Not disagreeing with you.”

 

He looked at me again, slightly longer this time. “Your name?”

 

“Why do you need it?”

 

“Just making sure I’m handing this off to the right person. Can’t give the wrong girl something sharp.”

 

I frowned. “Amara.”

 

He waited. “And?”

 

I squinted at him. “…H.”

 

He immediately relaxed, reaching into his coat and pulling out a small box wrapped in deep gray fabric. “Said you’d know who it’s from.”

 

I didn’t move yet.

 

“You said you don’t know him?”

 

“I don’t. I don’t ask questions. He handed me cash, gave me a description, and said, ‘If you see her, give her this. Don’t follow her. Don’t talk. Just hand it off and go.’”

 

“So why are you talking?”

 

He grimaced. “Instinct. You’ve got the kind of energy that makes people explain themselves before you ask.”

 

He handed me the package, carefully, two hands, like he didn’t want to startle me.

 

I took it with my cursed energy humming quietly under my skin. The weight was familiar. Heavy. Dense. Balanced.

 

“Thanks,” I said stiffly, even if I didn’t mean it.

 

“Don’t thank me,” he muttered. “I’m just the mailman.”

 

He backed off fast, disappearing down a side street. Didn’t run. Just walked like someone trained not to draw attention.

 

I watched him until he turned the corner.

 

Then I stepped into a quiet alley, crouched behind a trash bin, and unwrapped the package.

 

It was wrapped tightly in charcoal-gray cloth, tied with rough twine. No label. No tag. No charm or cursed tag. Just... a box.

 

I opened it slowly.

 

Inside, nestled in dense black foam, was a butterfly knife.

 

Matte black steel. No shine. No engraving. Nothing to catch the light. Nothing ornamental.

 

It was beautiful in a quiet, brutal way. Designed to disappear until the moment it needed to be used.

 

Resting underneath it, just tucked under the edge, was a folded scrap of paper.

 

I unfolded it.

 

The handwriting was harsh. Slanted. Like the writer didn’t have the patience to slow down.

 

---

 

That little pocket knife you used at the track? Dull as hell. You had to push too hard just to break skin. Looked like a joke. Moved like one too.

 

You’re not weak, but that blade made you look it. I got angry watching that thing.

 

So I got you something better.

 

Black steel. Balanced. Doesn’t chip. Doesn’t bend. You don’t need some colored crap that cracks under pressure. You want something cool? Here, it looks good and works. A butterfly blade won’t fight you if you learn to handle it right. 

 

Hit just right and you can crack bone.

 

Little more comfortable to hide in the boot of yours too.

 

This one’s sharp. Don’t be stupid with it.

 

Merry Christmas.

 

-T

 

--

 

The new blade sat in my hand like it belonged there. Sleek, dark, heavier than my old one. I flipped it once, letting the steel glide through the air and lock in place with a clean click.

 

It wasn’t just sharper. It was better.

 

It was still a flex. Still had presence. But it didn’t pretend.

It cut.

It followed through.

 

Just like him.

 

I didn’t smile. Not really. But something in my chest eased.

 

Toji wasn’t the kind of man who left soft things behind. But he had still thought of me.

 

A better blade. A clean line. A warning written like a gift.

 

'Don’t be stupid with it.'

 

I wouldn’t.

 

At least not yet.

 

 

Chapter 64: Possessive and Claiming (NSFW)

Summary:

Tw?: Sex is a little rougher but not too rough, there is breeding mentioned but really he's just filling her up, video recording of sex

It started after I healed him.

 

Not all at once. Not loud. Just... a steady shift in the way Suguru looked at people who looked at me.

 

At first, I thought I was imagining it. The way his cursed energy clung to me when someone else got too close. The way his arm always found its way around my lower back the moment someone started a conversation that wasn’t about sorcery, or school, or business. His eyes would stay steady, calm, maybe even polite. But something just under the surface had changed.

 

And with Gojo gone for the day on a solo mission, it was like that change had teeth.

 

---

 

We were out shopping in a quiet arts district near Omotesando. Suguru said he just wanted a slow day, maybe get a few things for the dorm, walk with me. But I knew what this was. He didn’t like me going out alone, not lately. And without Satoru there, I think he just needed to know where I was. That I was near him.

 

I didn’t mind.

 

Especially not when I felt this free.

 

My outfit was something new. Something I never would’ve worn six months ago. But now… now I had people who made me feel like I didn’t have to hide.

 

A cropped tank in a faded moss green, low-cut with a deep V that showed a fair bit of cleavage and featured a muted graphic of a moonlit fairy perched on a branch. The edges were frayed in a way that made it look soft with time. My pleated slate skirt swayed with each step, and I’d paired it with torn-pattern tights, pale scrunched socks, and my loafers. The layered necklaces around my throat glinted with silver, and a soft breeze lifted my hair as we stepped into the shaded corridor of a handmade jewelry stall.

 

Suguru had seen the outfit earlier. He hadn’t said much. Just stared.

 

He always stared.

 

Not lecherously. Not even possessively. Reverently, maybe. Like something in him wanted to memorize how I looked right now, safe and soft and stupidly pretty, his words, not mine.

 

But I noticed how quiet he got when we left the dorms. How often his gaze slid sideways to the people we passed. Especially the men.

 

We stopped at a booth with delicate silver rings and carved bone earrings. I leaned over to examine a black lotus pendant, resting my elbow on the wooden display.

 

“Damn,” a voice said, friendly and a little too bold. “That color looks insane on you.”

 

I looked up.

 

A guy in a soft brown tee, tousled hair, and sun-touched skin. Sharp jawline. Not threatening, not sleazy, just bold enough to assume he had a shot.

 

He stepped forward with that easy grin. “That design on your shirt, fairy tales, right? Looks like one of those old European prints.”

 

I blinked, surprised, and looked down at the cropped tank I’d half-forgotten was showing off more than usual. “Yeah,” I said. “It’s from an old woodcut, I think. One of those illustrations that looks pretty at first, but the longer you stare at it, the weirder it gets.”

 

His grin widened. “Like you.”

 

I let out a soft laugh, brushing it off. "Odd compliment but not he worst I've heard."

 

He chuckled softly, “You into that kind of thing? The grim stuff, actual folklore, not the movie versions?”

 

And just like that, I was gone.

 

Suguru, standing behind me, knew that look. Knew the way my eyes lit up, how I started talking with my hands. My voice got a little higher when I was excited. My shoulders relaxed. The whole world melted down to the conversation in front of me.

 

“It’s the language of it,” I said, animated. “Like, people think fairy tales are cute stories for kids, but the original versions? They’re warnings. Maps. Sometimes confessions. And the ones from Europe, especially Eastern Europe, were just layered with so much superstition and ritual. They weren’t moral stories. They were like survival manuals to them.”

 

“That's actually fascinating,” he said, tilting his head, his hands in his pockets. “So, like... they buried mirrors or salted doorways because of stuff in those stories?”

 

“Yes! And bells. Little ones, sewn into sleeves or hung on windows. There was one account of an entire town that built all their barns with crooked nails and no right angles because they thought straight lines invited evil spirits. I mean, it probably didn’t help with livestock, but aesthetically? Gorgeous.”

 

He chuckled, nodding along. “God, you really know your stuff. I feel like I’m being let in on something secret.”

 

I smiled. I didn’t realize how close he’d gotten. Or how much I was talking. I didn’t notice the way the dip of my top shifted when I leaned forward to point at a charm on the stall’s display. I didn’t notice the small breeze that tugged at my skirt. I was just… happy.

 

But Suguru noticed everything.

 

The way the guy’s gaze dipped and lingered, not crude, not even disrespectful. Just… appreciative. Calculating. Letting himself look while I was too busy lighting up to catch it.

 

Suguru’s fingers curled inside his coat pocket, cold steel pressing against his knuckle from one of the small rings he kept there. It grounded him. Barely.

 

Because he knew that look. Knew what it meant. Knew how often he had worn it himself when watching me, when I got like this, full of unguarded joy and sharp knowledge. He admired me in those moments, worshipped me, even.

 

But this guy?

 

This guy was trespassing.

 

He didn’t deserve to witness this. Not when he was staring at my legs when I glanced down, or letting his eyes trace the curve of my waist like he was painting a mental picture to keep.

 

Suguru’s jaw flexed. His pulse was steady. His expression was unreadable. But behind his eyes, something old and possessive was curling tight.

 

Then the guy gave up pretending.

 

“You know,” he said, voice low and a little more confident now, “you have one of the best smiles I’ve ever seen. Like, I’m not even trying to flirt. It’s just… you’re kind of stunning when you talk about things you love.”

 

I blinked, caught off guard by the shift. My lips parted to say something, probably thank you, probably awkwardly.

 

But I didn’t get the chance.

 

Suguru moved forward, slow and silent as fog.

 

He didn’t say a word, just stepped up beside me and slid his arm across my lower back with deliberate ease, hand resting just above my hip. Not aggressive. Not territorial.

 

Definitive.

 

The guy’s smile faltered, but he held it. “Hey, man. Didn’t mean anything. Just talking.”

 

Suguru tilted his head slightly, eyes calm. His voice came out soft. Almost kind. “Did I say you did?”

 

The guy blinked, clearly startled. “No. Just making sure.”

 

Suguru smiled, sweet like honey full of glass. "I just think you should learn to keep your eyes up before I pick a direction for them."

 

The guy muttered something under his breath and backed off with a forced chuckle, disappearing into the rest of the crowd like nothing had happened.

 

The second he was out of earshot, I turned on Suguru.

 

“Seriously?”

 

Suguru’s expression didn’t shift. He just looked at me, calm and unreadable.

 

“You can’t just scare people off because they say something nice.”

 

“He wasn’t just saying something nice.”

 

I narrowed my eyes. “And you’re suddenly the judge of that?”

 

“I saw the way he was looking at you.”

 

“So?” I challenged, hands on my hips. “You look at me like that.”

 

“I’m allowed to.”

 

He said it so plainly that it shut me up for a second.

 

And then I stepped in closer, low enough to keep our conversation private but sharp enough to get my point across.

 

“You’ve been acting like this a lot lately.”

 

His jaw clenched just slightly. He didn’t deny it.

 

“Ever since I healed you. Ever since we ran that test. I’ve noticed.”

 

His gaze flicked away, then back. Still quiet. Still unreadable. But something was flickering hot just under the surface of his restraint.

 

Without a word, he reached for my hand.

 

“Come with me.”

 

I let him tug me, mostly because I didn’t want to make a scene, but the way he walked, purposeful and silent, had something thick crawling up my spine.

 

He pulled me into a side hallway between two buildings near the edge of the outdoor plaza, a shady space half-concealed by ivy-covered lattice fencing and a crooked vending machine that probably hadn’t worked in years. Quiet. Private.

 

The second we stepped into it, his hands found my waist.

 

And didn’t stop.

 

“Suguru-” I started, but he was already pulling me flush against him, one hand sliding up under the back of my tank while the other curled around the dip of my hip, fingers dragging against the hem of my skirt.

 

“I don’t want to fight with you,” he murmured, voice low and too damn smooth.

 

“You don’t get to distract me from being annoyed,” I warned.

 

“I’m not trying to distract you,” he said, leaning down, brushing his nose along the edge of my jaw. “I’m trying to talk. I just need… something in my hands while I do it.”

 

I scoffed lightly. “You sound like Satoru.”

 

“Maybe he’s onto something.”

 

I felt his hand slide up the back of my thigh, just under the hem of my skirt, grabbing at my ass. Warm. Possessive. Not pushing too far, but definitely not shy about it.

 

I glanced around and hissed, “Are you serious right now?”

 

“No one can see,” he said, but I still held my tote bag in front of me, blocking the way his fingers were slipping along the top of my thigh, thumb stroking little circles on my pelvis like it grounded him.

 

“You’re lucky I let Gojo get away with this kind of thing or I’d slap you,” I muttered, voice tight.

 

“You let him do it because it makes him feel safe,” Suguru murmured. “It’s the same for me. I just-”

 

He exhaled, pressing his forehead gently to the side of my head.

 

“I didn’t expect the healing to hit me like that. It wasn’t just the feeling... it was you. Being inside me. Your energy. Your trust. That kind of closeness... no one’s ever touched me like that. Not even Satoru.”

 

My breath caught, just slightly.

 

Suguru’s hand flexed lightly on my hips, fingers still warm under the fabric.

 

“I’ve always shared everything with him,” he said softly. “But I’ve never been claimed by anyone. Not until you. And now I feel like I’m wearing you under my skin. Like I finally let someone all the way in. And it’s… fucking terrifying how badly I don’t want to let anyone else near that. Besides Satoru of course.”

 

I stayed still for a moment, the heat of his hand up my skirt almost secondary to the way his voice cracked under the surface of his calm.

 

“You could’ve just said that,” I whispered.

 

“I didn’t know how.”

 

I lowered my bag a little, finally letting him see the way I wasn’t actually pushing him away. My free hand reached up and brushed lightly through the hair at his nape.

 

“Next time, say it. Before you start threatening strangers.”

 

He huffed a quiet laugh. “I didn’t threaten him.”

 

I tilted my head. “You might as well have pulled your earrings out and started cracking your knuckles.”

 

His lips curved against my skin. “I only do that when I’m about to ruin someone.”

 

“And if he had touched me?”

 

“I’d be burying his hands under this vending machine over here.”

 

I rolled my eyes, smiling now despite myself.

 

He leaned in, kissed the edge of my jaw. Then my cheek. Then the corner of my mouth.

 

“I love you,” he said, voice a little rough. “I didn’t say it earlier, but I do. A lot.”

 

I leaned into him, whispering, “I love you too. Next time, just hold my hand instead of nearly getting us banned from a shopping center.”

 

“Can I keep doing this, though?” His hand curled tighter under my skirt, grabbing my ass a bit harder.

 

I squeak. “You can have a few more minutes if you let me pick the next store and you hold all my bags.”

 

“Deal.”

 

He smirked like that answer satisfied him. But then his hands tightened, just slightly, pulling me flush against him again. Closer than before. I could feel the heat rolling off him like a second layer of clothes.

 

His voice dipped low against my ear.

 

“When we get home,” he murmured, “can we have a little fun together?”

 

I blinked, looking up at him, cheeks still warm from everything he’d just said.

 

“I’ve been thinking about it,” he added, nose brushing along the top of my cheek. “A lot more than I should. Especially since you told us about the birth control.”

 

That made my breath hitch, just slightly. My heart jumped.

 

He leaned in just enough that his next words slipped directly into my ear like a confession.

 

“And since Satoru’s not here,” he said, voice velvet-soft and sinful, “I don’t have to hold back. I can actually fill you up and breed you like I've been wanting to~”

 

My face burned. Fully. Completely.

 

I nodded before I even realized I was doing it. Fast. Too fast.

 

Suguru pulled back an inch just to watch my face. His lips curled upward, amused and very clearly pleased.

 

“God, you’re cute like this. All flustered and unbelievably gorgeous..”

 

“I-” I tried, but nothing coherent came out.

 

He chuckled, low and warm, then kissed the side of my face again. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

 

And then, like nothing had happened, he gently adjusted my skirt, fixed a wrinkle in my top, smoothed a hand down my back, and offered me his arm like a gentleman.

 

“Come on. You said I have to carry your bags, right?”

 

I stared at him, still trying to collect myself, then reached for his arm anyway.

 

“You’re ridiculous.”

 

“Ridiculously in love,” he said simply.

 

He lifted my hand to his lips, kissed it once, and tucked it against his chest as we stepped out from the quiet alcove, back into the sun, back into the crowd, back into the world that didn’t have to know how much he wanted me.

 

But I knew.

 

And my legs already felt weak from just that.

 

---

 

We didn’t linger long after that.

 

A few more shops. A shared drink. Light conversation that buzzed just under the surface with something unspoken and hot. Suguru didn’t say much on the train ride back, but he never let go of my hand, not once. His thumb traced slowly, grounding circles against my wrist, like he was keeping himself tethered.

 

The second we stepped inside the dorms, he tugged me forward without a word, bags dangling off one arm, his other hand firm on my lower back.

 

He didn’t even give me a chance to ask if we should put things away first. Just kept walking, down the quiet hall, past the empty lounge, straight to his bedroom.

 

The door shut behind us. He dropped then bags.

 

And then he was on me.

 

His mouth crushed to mine, hot and hungry, fingers already threading through my hair as he pushed me back against the door. The force wasn’t rough, just deliberate, needy. His body pinned me in place, thigh between mine, hands running down my sides like he didn’t trust the memory of my shape anymore and needed a reminder now, now, now.

 

“You don’t get it,” he muttered against my lips, voice already cracked open, “how hard it was not to drag you away back there.”

 

His hands gripped under my thighs and lifted, and I let him, wrapping my legs around his waist as he carried me toward the bed like I weighed nothing.

 

“You’re mine,” he said, mouth brushing along my throat, his voice darker now, quiet but intense. “You’re mine, Amara. Not his. Not anyone else’s. And I don’t care what I would have to do to keep you here with me.”

 

My back hit the mattress, but he didn’t back off. He hovered over me, one hand slipping up under my skirt again, the other braced beside my head.

 

“You can laugh with anyone,” he breathed, staring down at me like I was already undone. “You can talk for hours. Be sweet. Be perfect. But they don’t get to look at you like that. They don’t get to imagine anything. Not like I do.”

 

I swallowed, breath hitching.

 

Suguru leaned in, forehead touching mine.

 

“I’ve been patient. I’ve tried to be. But the second I saw him imagining what I already know, what it feels like to have you underneath me, to have you fall apart from just my hands-”

 

His hand slid higher up my skirt, bold and shameless. 

 

“-I stopped caring if I was being rational.”

 

My whole body trembled.

 

He kissed me again, slow and deep this time, still possessive, still urgent, but now with that twist of reverence he always carried in the quiet moments. Like I was something he worshipped as much as he craved.

 

Suguru didn’t waste time.

 

His hand slid under the hem of my skirt, fingers curling against the thin fabric of my tights like it personally offended him. His mouth never left my skin, pressing slow, possessive kisses along my throat, jaw, collarbone, each one deeper, firmer than the last.

 

And then... rip.

 

The sound of my tights tearing echoed louder in the quiet room than it should have. My breath caught, body jarring from the sudden force of it, but Suguru didn’t pause.

 

“I’ll buy you new ones,” he murmured against my stomach, kissing just below my navel as he dragged the ruined nylon aside. “Ten pairs if you need. But they're currently in my way.”

 

His hands splayed across my thighs, thumbs brushing the soft inside skin as he pushed them open wider, eyes dragging slowly up the line of my body.

 

“You always smell like home when you're like this,” he whispered, more to himself than to me.

 

And then he lowered his mouth, breath hot against my clothed pussy. He rubbed his fingers along the wet fabric. 

 

"You always get so wet for me, absolutely soaked and ready. I could slide in you with ease right now~"

 

I whine a little. "Fuck...Suguru... please touch me..."

 

He moved my underwear to the side, giving him full access to me. "So beautiful...and all for me..."

 

The first press of his lips was hot and reverent. Gentle. But it didn’t stay that way. His tongue slid slowly and purposefully around my clit and slit, mouth sealing with a kind of desperate control that left no room for misinterpretation.

 

This wasn’t just about pleasure.

 

It was about claiming me.

 

I gasped, hips twitching, and his hands gripped tighter, holding me steady like he needed me to stay exactly where he had me.

 

“Suguru-” I managed, voice already fraying, but he just groaned in response, tongue pressing deeper, slower, harder, pushing its way inside me.

 

Every time I tried to breathe, he changed rhythm. Every time I reached for control, he stole it back with his mouth, his tongue, the subtle grind of his jaw that made me lose track of everything else.

 

He didn't rush. He savored.

 

Like I was something sweet and sacred and if he stopped he might not get it again.

 

My hands tangled in his hair, back arching, thighs trembling under him. He slowly rubbed his fingers along my slit, slowly pushing one finger in, causing me to gasp and groan. He quickly pushes in another and my body accepts it instantly causing him to moan into me.

 

He pumps his fingers in and out of me while still showing my clit attention, swirling his tongue and flicking it just to watch me twitch.

 

Right when he could feel me getting close and I was pulling hard at his hair, he pulled away just enough to kiss the inside of my thigh, then again, higher this time, mouth glistening with my arousal as he looked up at me.

 

“You taste like what I imagine a holy nectar made for gods would,” he said, voice rough, low, wrecked. "I'd start wars over this.."

 

And then he dove back in, dragging another whimper from me so loud I had to bite down on my own wrist.

 

His mouth left me dizzy, hot, open, relentless. I was craving his everything. 

 

When he pulled away the second time I knew that this wasn’t the end. Not even close.

 

Suguru rose up over me, breathing hard, his hands already at his waistband. He pushed his pants down just enough, jaw clenched, hair falling loose around his face in wild, dark waves. His cock was so hard it looked almost painful. His tip was glistening in pre.

 

“Keep your legs open,” he muttered, voice low, dangerous.

 

I barely had time to react before I heard another rip, the clean tear of fabric as he shredded my underwear out of the way, tossing the ruined pieces to the floor without a second glance.

 

“You always let Satoru and I play with you like a toy,” he muttered, dragging his hands up my thighs again. “Let us take our time. Tease you. Worship you.”

 

He leaned down, forehead pressed to mine as he lined himself up.

 

“But I’m not patient today.”

 

And then he pressed in.

 

Slow. Steady. Deep. I could feel my body instantly adapt and make room for his size. 

 

I gasped, head falling back, but Suguru didn’t give me room to think, his hands gripping under my knees, pulling me closer, keeping me exactly where he wanted. He pushed my shirt up and pulled my bra down, revealing my chest to him. He leaned down, kissing and sucking on my nipples, worshiping them with his mouth, leaving dark hickeys all over my breasts until my body healed them.

 

He groans a little. "This is the only time your healing is an inconvenience.."

 

I chuckled breathlessly. "You claim me in many other ways. Don't worry too much about it."

 

He chuckles. "Speaking of-"

 

He moved at first with control. Measured, grounding strokes meant to warm me up, to let me feel everything. But that restraint didn’t last long. Not with the look in his eyes. Not with the way his fingers dug into my skin like he couldn’t stand a single inch of me not touching him.

 

“You’re mine,” he said again, voice sharp now. “Say it.”

 

“I- I’m yours,” I breathed, barely able to get the words out.

 

He drove into me harder.

 

“Again.”

 

“I’m yours,” I said it louder.

 

He grunted, sweat starting to bead at his temple. “Say it like you mean it.”

 

“I’m yours, Suguru,” I gasped, voice cracking.

 

He crashed his mouth to mine, biting, claiming, swallowing the sound, and pulling back just enough to growl into my neck.

 

“No one else gets to look at you like I do. No one else gets to touch you like this. No one.”

 

He pounded into my slick pussy until it wasn’t just possession, it was worship through desperation. Like he had to bury himself inside me to make the ache stop.

 

“Say it again,” he demanded, voice nearly breaking.

 

“I’m yours, Suguru. Hhhhmmmm...mmmm....fuuuuccckk all... yoouurrrss..uuuhhhmmmm.”

 

Every time I said it, his rhythm deepened, his body tensing like the words were unraveling him in real time.

 

And they were unraveling me too.

 

Suguru didn’t let up, not even as he reached over for his phone, balancing it one-handed with practiced ease.

 

“Keep going, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low and breathless near my ear. “You look too good not to share with Satoru.”

 

I flushed, but didn’t stop. I couldn’t. The way he touched me, the way he filled every space I had. There was no hiding how much I needed him. How much I wanted both of them.

 

He angled the phone just right, catching the curve of my mouth, the flutter of my lashes as I cried out again. The slick sound of him moving inside me filled the air alongside his voice, possessive and coaxing.

 

“You miss him, don’t you?” he asked, his grip tightening around my waist.

 

“Yes,” I gasped, body trembling.

 

“Say it for him. Let him hear it.”

 

“I miss you, Satoru!” I choked out, my voice shivering between gasps. “I w- wish you w- were here. I love youuuu.”

 

Suguru groaned low in his throat, almost growling.

 

“That’s it,” he said, breath hitching. “He’s going to love this. Seeing you like this, knowing I got to you first tonight.”

 

“W-we’re yours,” I whispered, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m yours. I’m his. Fuuuuuuuuccckkkk...fuck me...fuck meee..”

 

He leaned in closer, pressing his lips against my cheek as he kept moving. The phone was still glowing, catching every breath, every shake of my body as he pushed me right to the edge.

 

Then, just as suddenly, he reached over and stopped the recording, tossing the phone gently onto the pillow without even glancing at the screen.

 

The moment was for him too now. Just us.

 

“Still with me?” he whispered.

 

I nodded, clutching at him, voice barely more than a whimper. “Yes. Always. I love you Suguruuuuu...hhhhmmmmm...”

 

Suguru didn’t slow down. If anything, he held me tighter, his voice rough with need as he murmured, “Say it again.”

 

“I love you,” I breathed. “I love you. Both of you.”

 

His mouth grazed my jaw, his grip iron-tight as he whispered against my skin, “Good girl. Always so good for me. For us.”

 

---

 

I gasped as Suguru slowed, his body trembling with restraint. The room was filled with the sound of our ragged breaths and the soft, wet sounds of our bodies still moving together.

 

"Amara," he whispered, his voice hoarse with need. "Can I... can I finish inside you? I need to. I need to breed your beautiful body. Claiming it from inside out.."

 

I nodded, my voice moaning desperately. "Yes, please!"

 

But he didn't stop there. He kept asking, his voice a low, desperate plea. "Are you sure? I want to hear you say it."

 

"I'm sure!" I breathed, my body aching with desire. "Please, Suguru! I want you to fill meeeee!"

 

He groaned, his hips moving faster, deeper. "Say it again. Beg me."

 

"Please please please please, Suguru!" I gasped, my nails digging into his back. "Please, cum inside me! Fill me will all of it! I neeeed it soooo baaaaddd!" I moan loudly into his shoulder.

 

He starts pounding back into me. Making me bite his shoulder and moaning into it.

 

He let out a low, guttural sound, his body tensing as he drove into me one last time, holding himself deep. I felt him pulse inside me, the warmth spreading, filling me completely. I moaned, my own orgasm crashing over me, waves of pleasure washing through my body. I felt his little extra pumps, making sure it got deep inside me.

 

We stayed like that for a moment, our bodies locked together, our breaths syncing. Then, slowly, he began to move again, his hips rolling in a slow, sensual rhythm. I could feel every inch of him, the way he filled me, the way he stretched me. It was almost too much, but I didn't want it to end.

 

Suguru leaned down, his lips capturing mine in a deep, hungry kiss. I kissed him back with equal fervor, my tongue tangling with his, my body arching against his. He slid one hand between us, his fingers finding my clit, rubbing in slow, teasing circles.

 

"Again," he murmured against my lips. "I want to feel you cum on me again. You've got one more in you, my love."

 

I moaned, my body already responding to his touch. He kept moving, his hips rolling, his fingers working their magic. I could feel another orgasm building, my body coiling tight, ready to snap.

 

"Suguru!" I gasped, my voice breathless. "I'm close. I'm so fucking close."

 

He groaned, his pace quickening, his fingers moving faster. "That's it, sweetheart. Let go. Cum for me."

 

And I did. I cried out, my body convulsing, my inner muscles clenching around him. He groaned, his own release following mine, his body shuddering as he spilled into me once more.

 

We rode out our orgasms together, our bodies moving in sync, our breaths mingling. It was intense, overwhelming, and utterly perfect.

 

Finally, Suguru slowed, his body stilling. He pulled out slowly, a soft groan escaping his lips. I felt a rush of warmth, the evidence of our passion spilling out of me. He looked down, his eyes dark with desire.

 

"Beautiful," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. He reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of my hip, the swell of my breast. "You're so beautiful, Amara."

 

I smiled, my body still humming with pleasure. "So are you."

 

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. His hands warm and soothing against my skin. I let him ground himself with my body, my mind drifting in a haze of pleasure and contentment.

 

As he finished, he pulled me close, his arms wrapping around me, holding me tight. I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, feeling the rise and fall of his breath.

 

"I love you," he murmured, his voice soft, almost sleepy. "More than words can express."

 

"I love you too," I whispered back, my eyes fluttering closed. "Always."

 

And in that moment, wrapped in his arms, I knew I was exactly where I was meant to be.

 

We didn’t say anything for a while. Just lay there, tangled in sweat and warmth and whatever that had just been.

 

My ears were still ringing. My chest rising and falling like I’d just run a marathon. And Suguru, he was somewhere between laughter and disbelief, his mouth pressed to my temple, then my cheek, then the corner of my lips.

 

“You’re ridiculous,” I muttered, breathless.

 

“So are you,” he murmured back, kissing me again. “Loud as hell. You’re lucky the dorm walls are thick.”

 

“You were louder! Don't only throw me under the bus!” I chuckled weakly.

 

“I'm denying everything.”

 

I laughed softly, too dazed to argue properly, and let my head fall against his shoulder. My legs felt like wet noodles. My voice was wrecked. But I’d never felt more… cared for. Claimed. Known.

 

Suguru brushed my hair back with a smug little hum, eyes gleaming like he was one well-timed comment away from another round of teasing.

 

“You know,” he said, tone casual, “if we get a noise complaint, I’m not taking the blame.”

 

“Oh please,” I groaned, voice raspier than I expected. “You were just as loud, maybe louder. At least I don’t growl.”

 

“Growl?” he echoed, mock offended. “I whispered sweet nothings.”

 

“You literally said, and I quote, ‘mine’.. like five times.”

 

He shrugged like that wasn’t the most feral thing in the world. “Still sweet.”

 

I rolled my eyes but didn’t fight him when he started cleaning me up again with those same patient hands. His touch was slower now, more methodical than needy. He tossed the ruined tights into the trash, took my bra and shirt fully off, and tugged one of Gojo's shirts over my head, one of the extra-soft ones that always smelled like his cologne and aftershave. Then came the sweatpants, so big they pooled at my ankles. No underwear, obviously. He tied the drawstring loosely and pressed a kiss to my stomach like it was some silent seal of affection.

 

I swayed a little, still woozy, still floating, and he caught me before I could fall sideways onto the bed.

 

“Sit,” he ordered gently, nudging me down into the pile of pillows.

 

I watched him dress as he grabbed a matching black tee and sweats from the dresser, the same pair I'd seen him lounge around in a hundred times. Still, there was something sweet about it now. I loved that we matched on purpose.

 

He crawled into bed behind me, pulling the covers up as he settled in close. I felt his phone buzz near the pillow and glanced over just in time to catch the devilish little smirk tugging at his lips.

 

“What are you doing?” I asked, suspicious already.

 

"Satoru messaged us to see how we were doing." His grin grew wider.

 

"And?" I raised a brow

 

“Sending Satoru the video,” he said.

 

I groaned. “Suguru-”

 

“It’s tasteful,” he lied, eyes not leaving his screen. “It’s just a little clip. And the way you said his name? He’s going to love that.”

 

I buried my face in the pillow. “You’re evil.”

 

He kissed the back of my head. “Romantic some might say.”

 

The phone buzzed again almost instantly. Suguru turned it so I could see.

 

The phone buzzed once in Suguru’s hand, then again. Then a third time, followed by a million more.

 

I leaned in, cheek still against his shoulder, as he unlocked it.

 

Satoru <3:

ok wait

pause

first of all- why do both of you look so good when im GONE??

i leave for 6 hours and suddenly you're softcore modeling for each other??? </3 T-T

 

Another message came in before Suguru could even respond.

 

Satoru Gojo <3:

you- you sir- have lipstick smudged on your jaw and the smuggest face ive ever seen

and she looks like a dreamy porn star

i hate it here

im calling the UN

 

I broke into a sleepy laugh, burying my smile into Suguru’s shirt. “He’s so dramatic.”

 

Suguru was already typing.

 

Suguru Geto <3:

You’re the one who said ‘don’t wait up.’

We took it personally.

 

Another buzz.

 

Satoru Gojo <3:

i hate you both

(no i don’t. i want to be in that bed RIGHT NOW.)

also: tell her she better be wearing my shirt on PURPOSE

and if not then im going to cry. loudly. on camera. for sympathy.

 

I stretched slightly in Suguru’s lap, tugging the oversized hem down my thigh with mock innocence. “Should I tell him you picked it out for me?”

 

“No,” Suguru said, smirking. “Let him spiral.”

 

Another message popped up.

 

Satoru Gojo <3:

also. send me another video. i want to hear her say my name

and yours too. you look too pleased with yourself. i need balance.

 

Suguru arched a brow at me. “Thoughts?”

 

I giggled into his shoulder. “Give me the phone.”

 

He handed it over, and I hit record.

 

My voice came out sleep-warm and teasing. “Satoru~ we miss you. Suguru’s being mean, and you’re not here to make it worse. Come home soon or we’ll keep looking this good without you.”

 

Suguru leaned into frame just enough to kiss my neck with obnoxious exaggeration.

 

“Really?” I muttered with a half-hearted glare. “Now he’s gonna rewind that part.”

 

“I hope he does,” Suguru said without remorse. “Frame by frame. Suffer a little.”

 

I huffed, but my smile gave me away. My neck tingled from where he’d kissed it. The kind of tingling that lingered with memory, not just touch. My phone buzzed again.

 

Satoru Gojo <3:

i saw that.

i SAW that.

i zoomed in.

you two are evil and im in love with you both and this is a curse.

 

“God, he’s going to explode when he gets back,” I laughed, tapping out a reply while Suguru tucked his chin over my shoulder like he was done sharing me with the world for the day.

 

ME:

Hurry back or we’re stealing all the good pillows and your spot in the bed.

 

Almost instantly:

 

Satoru Gojo <3:

my spot???

MY SPOT????

its called the middle. i invented it. its mine by law.

 

I turned toward Suguru. “He’s definitely teleporting into the hallway in about twenty minutes.”

 

“That’s fine,” he murmured, already pressing a softer kiss behind my ear. “Gives me nineteen more.”

 

I flushed at the casual intimacy, the way his hands stayed wrapped around my waist like they belonged there. I was still in Gojo’s oversized shirt, no bra, his sweatpants hanging low on my hips, and I felt… shameless. Safe. Wanted.

 

I texted one more time.

 

Me:

We love you. Hurry home.

 

Satoru Gojo <3:

i love you both more

and im bringing snacks

dont start without me (unless you’re gonna film it again)

 

I laughed, biting my lip.

 

Suguru peeked over my shoulder. “He’s hopeless.”

 

“Yeah,” I said softly, curling closer to him. “And he’s ours.”

 

"Should we just be naked when he walks in or let him have the fun of undressing us?" 

 

Suguru chuckled into my neck. "Let him open us up like a sweet treat~" I chuckled softly.

 

 

Chapter 65: New Year's

Kyoto Mountainside Shrine – 11:41 PM

 

The stone steps were slick with cold, each one edged with tiny flickering lanterns that cast golden halos against the snow. The mountain air bit at our fingers and cheeks, but no one really seemed to mind. We were all bundled in traditional wear, footsteps crunching along the icy path toward the shrine nestled among sleeping pines.

 

Gojo kept skipping ahead, his light blue yukata flaring behind him like he was on a stage instead of a holy path. “If I trip dramatically on these stairs,” he called back over his shoulder, “You all have to pretend you saw nothing or act like it was some sick trick.”

 

“I'm going to yell loudly about how you fell like an idiot.” Shoko deadpanned, arms folded inside her charcoal kimono.

 

Suguru adjusted my black haori beside me, one hand subtly resting on the small of my back. He’d chosen dark colors with purple threading, and tied his hair in a looser, low bun tonight. He looked beautiful in a quiet way. His features always looked stunning no matter the lighting.

 

“I still don’t understand why we had to come all the way to this shrine,” Yu grumbled from behind us, pulling his scarf tighter. “There’s like twelve in Tokyo.”

 

“Because this one’s higher up,” Gojo said, reappearing beside me with a grin. “Which means our wishes get a head start.”

 

“That’s not how it works,” Suguru replied, not looking up.

 

“It’s the vibe, Suguru,” Gojo whispered. “Let me believe in vibes.”

 

I laughed under my breath, the sleeves of my dark plum yukata swaying as I climbed. Gojo had chosen the pattern for me, a soft lotus motif embroidered at the base, with silver threads that shimmered when the light hit it right. He said it made me look like “a dangerous wish someone made under a blood moon.” I took it as a compliment.

 

“Hey, your hairpin’s slipping,” Gojo said gently, stepping closer to tuck it back into place. His fingers brushed the back of my ear as he fixed it. “There. Perfect.”

 

My cheeks warmed.

 

The shrine came into view as we reached the top. Lanterns lined the walkway and the sound of bells drifted faintly from those already praying. A few other families were gathered, faces lit by a soft orange glow and breath visible in the crisp air. Despite the quiet murmurs of prayer and the chill of winter, it felt warm. Peaceful.

 

Gojo stretched with a dramatic sigh. “Alright, people. Time to purify your souls. Or at least pretend to.”

 

We lined up, the whole group, me, Gojo, Suguru, Shoko, Yu, and Nanami, waiting our turn to step forward, bow, ring the bell, and offer our prayers. I stood between Suguru and Satoru, palms pressed together, my eyes slipping shut.

 

I didn’t pray for strength. Not tonight.

I prayed for time. For more nights like this.

For us to keep finding our way back to each other.

 

The bell chimed softly above.

 

When I opened my eyes, Suguru was still standing beside me, hands clasped in silent reverence. Gojo had already finished and was dramatically shaking out his sleeves like he’d just lifted a curse off the planet.

 

“Now what?” Yu asked.

 

Gojo smirked. “Now we eat dango, watch fireworks, and pretend we’re not all emotionally suffering.”

 

Suguru rolled his eyes. “Speak for yourself.”

 

We wandered over to a clearing just beside the shrine where vendors had set up small stalls, hot tea, roasted chestnuts, and sweet rice cakes. I bought a skewer of dango and shared bites with Suguru, who leaned down to wipe a smear of sauce from the corner of my mouth with his thumb.

 

“You’re messy,” he murmured, though his voice was too gentle to be annoyed. “It’s cute.”

 

“I’m feeding you,” I said flatly.

 

“Exactly.” He took the next bite anyway, eyes warm, and I let myself lean against his side, cheek brushing the soft black of his haori.

 

Gojo returned moments later with a triumphant smirk and three cups of amazake. “Guess who bribed the vendor with charm and beauty?”

 

Shoko, off to the side, muttered, “You can’t use your looks for everything, you know?”

 

“I absolutely can.” He handed one to Suguru, then passed me mine with both hands, pinkies linking for a second. “For warmth,” he said, feigning seriousness.

 

The drink was sweet and creamy and just strong enough to melt the last bit of cold clinging to my throat.

 

“Did you make a wish?” I asked him.

 

Gojo’s lips quirked, then softened. “Yeah.”

 

“Anything good?”

 

His eyes flicked to me, then Suguru. “I think it’s already coming true.”

 

Suguru reached for my hand again, threading our fingers. The way they looked at me right then, Gojo with his light and hunger and Suguru with his quiet devotion, it made my chest ache. It was too much and not enough, all at once.

 

Yu ran past with a sparkler, nearly slipping on the packed snow. “Don’t die, idiot!” Shoko called after him, cigarette still somehow perfectly perched between her lips. She’d tied her hair up in a lazy twist tonight, dark eyeliner smudged slightly from laughing too hard earlier.

 

“I can't die! It's part of my wish!” Yu shouted back.

 

“He’s something else...” Nanami muttered from beside a takoyaki stall, chewing with the grim focus of a man trying to pretend he wasn’t enjoying himself.

 

I peeled away from Suguru and Satoru for a minute and padded over to him, careful on the icy ground. “You doing okay?”

 

Nanami looked at me, expression flat. “I was fine until Satoru told the vendor I had a seafood allergy.”

 

“You don’t?”

 

“I do not.”

 

From behind me, Gojo yelled, “He’s lying! He turns red!”

 

Nanami sighed deeply and handed me the last of his skewer. “Take this before I launch it at his skull.”

 

I grinned. “How very generous.”

 

“Don’t read into it.”

 

I didn’t push, just gave him a nod and moved on, chewing thoughtfully as I weaved through the crowd again. The crisp air clung to my skin like smoke and snowflakes. Laughter chimed from every direction. Somewhere in the distance, a new firework screamed skyward.

 

Yu spotted me first, lighting a fresh sparkler. “Hey, hey! Come here! You gotta write your wish in the air or it doesn’t come true.”

 

I raised a brow. “That’s a rule?”

 

“It is now.” He handed me the sparkling stick with a grin too bright to be legal.

 

I hesitated, then began tracing a messy, glowing loop in the air.

 

“What’d you wish for?” he asked, eyes narrowed.

 

“Peace,” I said without thinking. “And more nights like this.”

 

Yu’s face softened. “That’s pretty lame.”

 

“Oh, shut up.” I laugh softly.

 

He bumped his shoulder into mine. “You look good tonight too, by the way.”

 

I rolled my eyes, but my smile stayed.

 

“I mean it,” he added. "I'm glad to call someone like you my friend." 

 

He patted my back lightly before darting off again, yelling something about buying out the candied orange stand.

 

As I wondered more I found Shoko perched alone on a bench under the awning of the shrine’s side building, flicking ash from her cigarette and watching the sky like she didn’t want to admit she was having a good time.

 

I sat beside her in silence, hugging my knees to my chest.

 

“You happy?” she asked after a while.

 

“I think so,” I said, blinking up at the stars. “More than I’ve ever been.”

 

“That’s good.” She offered me the cigarette. I didn’t take it, but I rested my shoulder against hers.

 

“You seem calm,” I said.

 

Shoko scoffed. “I’m surrounded by morons in decorative robes. I have to stay calm or I’ll start diagnosing everyone.”

 

I laughed. “Thanks for being here.”

 

She didn’t answer, but she nudged her head against mine.

 

Eventually, I peeled away and made my way toward the torii gate again, where Satoru and Suguru were waiting, just slightly off to the side of the shrine path.

 

Satoru spotted me first and lit up like a firework himself. He’d tied his yukata lazily, half of it was slipping off one shoulder and the sash was crooked. Suguru, by contrast, was perfectly put-together and probably the reason Satoru hadn’t ended up with the sleeves tied around his waist.

 

“There you are,” Gojo beamed, tugging me between them without hesitation.

 

I exhaled slowly as Suguru’s hand settled on my waist and Satoru leaned his chin on my head. “You vanished.”

 

“I was making my rounds,” I said softly. “Wanted to see everyone. Just in case.”

 

Satoru blinked, the smile slipping from his lips just enough for me to notice. Suguru’s thumb paused mid-stroke against my cheek.

 

“Don’t say it like that,” Satoru murmured. “Like something’s coming.”

 

I swallowed. “It always does.”

 

Suguru's hand slid fully to my jaw, turning me toward him. “Then we’ll face it. Same as always.”

 

His voice was steady, but his eyes said more. They always did. That deep, dark warmth I could fall into and never hit the bottom.

 

Gojo leaned in again, arms wrapping tighter around me from behind. “Let’s not think about that tonight. You’re here. We’re here. Your eyeliner’s flawless. Your hands are freezing. And Suguru’s been staring at you like a poetry student who just discovered metaphors.”

 

“Because she is one,” Suguru muttered, but his fingers laced with mine anyway.

 

I laughed, breath curling in the cold. “You guys are ridiculous.”

 

“And yet,” Satoru grinned, “here you are.”

 

"And I'll be here always.." I smiled warmly at them.

 

The shrine bell rang out at the top of the hill, deep and full. A dozen other chimes followed, voices raised in soft cheers as midnight approached. I looked up at the paper lanterns swaying in the wind, the scent of roasted tea and pine clinging to the sleeves of my Yukata.

 

“I love you both,” I said quietly, like the words were made of glass. “I don’t say it enough.”

 

“You do,” Suguru said.

 

“You could say it more,” Satoru argued.

 

Suguru sighed. 

 

“She could say it one more time. Right now. Like let the words bless my lovely ears." Satoru continued.

 

I smiled. “I love you both. More than anything..”

 

They didn’t say it back right away. They didn’t have to. Suguru leaned in and kissed my forehead, and Satoru curled tighter behind me, resting his head on my shoulder like he was anchoring himself there.

 

For a moment, we just stood there.

 

The laughter around us dulled, lanterns swaying softly overhead as the wind shifted. Time stretched in that gentle way it only does when you know it won’t last. I let myself sink into it, into them. Into the safety of their arms, the scent of winter on their clothes, the way our bodies knew how to mold together like they'd been made with space for one another.

 

Satoru whispered near my ear, barely audible over the hush of the crowd. “Next year, let’s go somewhere with fewer people. Just us. Somewhere stupidly quiet. You, me, and broody over here.”

 

Suguru scoffed. “I’m not broody.”

 

“You’re literally brooding right now.”

 

“I'm reflecting. There’s a difference.”

 

I laughed again, softly. “You’re both idiots.”

 

“And you're ours,” Suguru said, without missing a beat.

 

That made my heart thump a little harder in my chest.

 

Satoru must’ve felt it. “You okay?”

 

I nodded. “Just… happy.”

 

Suguru touched my cheek again, gently. “You don’t say that often.”

 

“Then I’ll say it again,” I murmured. “I’m happy.”

 

The first firework of the new year cracked across the sky in a burst of silver light, followed by gold, then red. Everyone around us turned their heads upward with awe, but I didn’t. Not right away.

 

I watched the reflection of the fireworks in Satoru’s eyes. The small, stunned smile that played on Suguru’s lips as he watched me instead of the sky.

 

Another firework. Then another.

 

And in between them, just a breath, soft and sure, I whispered, “Thank you.”

 

Neither of them asked what for.

 

Satoru kissed the side of my head. Suguru pressed his lips to my knuckles. And I realized all at once that this was the moment I would carry with me when everything started to fall apart.

 

The warmth. The stillness. The love so obvious it didn’t need to be named.

 

We made our way back to the others slowly after that, fingers laced, shoulders brushing. I let myself laugh with Yu again. Shared one last roasted chestnut with Shoko. Teased Nanami until he gave me a cracked smile.

 

And when it was time to leave, I looked over my shoulder once, just once, to the shrine bells still gently swaying.

 

Just in case.

 

 

Chapter 66: Where Loyalty Lies

Summary:

Tw: The Elders

I thought I knew what cold felt like.

 

Not the weather. Not a cold room or a cold bath. I mean cold. The kind that doesn’t touch your skin, it burrows under it. The kind that climbs up your spine even when you’re sweating. The kind that makes you forget how to breathe for a second because something in the air is wrong.

 

That’s what the Elder chamber felt like.

 

I’d never been summoned before. Never seen their faces. I wasn’t even sure if they were real until today. Just shadows behind policies. Names murmured in warning. I thought the way people talked about them was exaggerated.

 

I was wrong.

 

They were real. And worse than I expected.

 

The room was too quiet. No cursed energy leaking from the walls. No flickering torches or ancient scrolls like I imagined. Just sterile floor, gray stone, and the scent of burning incense so strong it made my eyes sting. Not a ceremonial kind of smell. More like something rotting behind it.

 

There were five of them. Four men and one woman. Draped in heavy robes with eyes like pits and mouths like razors. They didn’t just look through me. They looked past me, like they’d already decided what I was.

 

Yaga stood just a few feet away, stiff and silent. I caught the twitch in his jaw as I was led forward, but he didn’t say a word. Couldn’t. I wasn’t even sure if he was allowed to.

 

I bowed low. My hands didn’t shake, but only because I clenched them so tightly behind my back I couldn’t feel my fingers anymore.

 

“Amara Hoshizuki,” one of them said, voice thin and dry. “Finally.”

 

I didn’t respond. Didn’t know if I was supposed to.

 

“You’ve caused quite a stir,” the woman said next, tilting her head just enough to let her face peek through the veil. Her lips were red. Too red. Like blood against her pale skin.

 

“Your bloodline was meant to die out. Yet here you stand, healing. Draining. Changing.”

 

Changing.

 

That word landed like a needle behind my ribs.

 

“We’ve reviewed your training records,” one of the others added. “Exceptional control over your cursed energy. A tendency toward loyalty. But also…” He trailed off, letting silence do the rest.

 

Another Elder picked it up.

 

“…Dependency. Emotional compromise. Attachment to Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru, the strongest of this generation. You cling to them. Why?”

 

I swallowed, keeping my voice steady. “They’re my teammates.”

 

“They are not your equals, let's make that clear,” the red-lipped woman snapped. “They are your keepers. And you-” she leaned forward “-are a liability we’ve tolerated out of curiosity. Not faith.”

 

My stomach twisted, but I didn’t let it show. I didn’t flinch. I just breathed in the incense and tried not to choke on it.

 

One of the Elders tapped a finger on the arm of his chair. “Your father has resurfaced.”

 

I said nothing.

 

“He left a trail of blood from the slums to our archives. Do you deny he’s tried to contact you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Do you deny you would protect him if he did?”

 

That made me pause. I forced my voice out soft but firm. “He’s a threat. I know that.”

 

A slow, cruel smile.

 

“Then prove it.”

 

My eyes lifted.

 

“There is a rogue sorcerer hiding near Gifu,” the woman said. “A former student. He abandoned the jujutsu world. He harbors curses and interferes with executions. He is a traitor.”

 

Another Elder nodded. “We want him dead. You will kill him.”

 

“You’re giving me an execution order.”

 

“Your first solo mission,” one said mildly. “Consider it your confirmation.”

 

“And if I refuse?”

 

The room chilled even more.

 

“If you fail to complete the mission as instructed,” the red-lipped woman said, “we will deem you emotionally unstable. A threat to the balance. We will reevaluate your place at this school. And your right to call yourself a student or sorcerer.”

 

The words landed like a stone dropped into my gut. Heavy. Sinking. I kept my hands behind my back so they wouldn’t see them tremble.

 

Another Elder shifted, voice papery and sharp. “It would be a shame. All this time, resources, protection, wasted. Just like it was on your father.”

 

My stomach twisted, but I didn’t react.

 

“He was promising once,” the skull-faced man continued. “Gifted. Controlled. Until that control snapped and we learned what happens when the Hoshizuki line is left unchecked.”

 

“He wasn’t raised,” the woman said flatly. “He was engineered. You know that, don’t you?”

 

I stayed silent. The incense in the room burned thicker now. Sweet, bitter, cloying. I felt it in the back of my throat.

 

“Riku Hoshizuki was a family science project,” she went on. “They cut him open before he could walk. Sewed him back together to see what would grow. He was born a sorcerer and turned into a subject.”

 

“You’re saying that like he had no choice,” I said quietly.

 

“No,” the skull-faced one replied. “We’re saying that’s what made him dangerous.”

 

“He killed a random boy his age when he was a child,” another added. “Lost control. Drained him dry in a fit of rage.”

 

“They locked him in his room for years after that,” said a fourth. “Ran experiments. Removed organs. Replaced them. He lived through it all.”

 

“And then, when he finally escaped his family, we tried to help him.” The red-lipped woman’s voice sharpened, like she was the one who'd been wronged. “We admitted him to the Sorcerer Psychiatric Institute. Monitored. Evaluated. Trained him again. He passed all our tests.”

 

She leaned forward.

 

“And then he disappeared. Killed a nurse who had cared for him. Eviscerated three handlers who tried to bring him back. Ripped a bounty hunter in half and reattached his own limb with a smile.”

 

I clenched my jaw so tight I thought I heard something pop in my ear.

 

“You know how hard it is to truly kill a Hoshizuki, don’t you?”

 

Another Elder chuckled. “Clean decapitation with a cursed tool. Even then, it’s not a guarantee.”

 

They were pushing. Prodding. Waiting to see when I’d crack.

 

“He wears a cursed collar now,” said the bark-voiced Elder. “Not for style. For protection. For containment. Even he knows his own neck is his only weakness.”

 

“Tell us, Amara,” the red-lipped woman said, voice a mockery of gentle. “When you look in the mirror, do you see him yet?”

 

My cursed energy twitched.

 

Small. Subtle. But real.

 

They noticed.

 

“Ah,” she said. “There it is.”

 

I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood. My vision went hot around the edges. I could feel the tendrils under my skin, my cursed energy flicker, unstable. It wanted to surge. To strike.

 

To defend me.

 

But I didn’t let it.

 

I didn’t flinch.

 

“I’m not him,” I said again.

 

“No,” one of them agreed. “Not yet.”

 

Then they shifted gears, like the cruelty had just been a warm-up.

 

“This assigned mission will be a test.”

 

The red-lipped woman nodded. “Kirara Tsutsumi. Semi-grade 1. Declared missing four years ago after refusing to return from a solo assignment.”

 

“Three squads sent to retrieve him have not returned,” another said. “This will not be a negotiation. He is to be executed.”

 

I didn’t move.

 

“You will go alone,” the red-lipped woman continued. “No escort. No contact. You will not inform Gojo, Geto, or anyone else. Not even Shoko.”

 

My throat tightened. “They-”

 

“Do not share their missions with you,” one cut in sharply. “And you will not share yours with them.”

 

“Principal Yaga will observe from a sealed barrier. He may not interfere unless your life is moments from ending. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes.”

 

They exchanged a glance. Then:

 

“This mission will also determine your official classification.”

 

I blinked.

 

“You’ve remained ungraded due to… unpredictability,” one said. “That ends now. Your performance, efficiency, judgment, and emotional restraint, will determine if you are to be classified or unfit.”

 

The word unfit was coated in something worse than venom.

 

It was final.

 

If I failed this, I wouldn’t just be failing the mission.

 

I’d be proving them right.

 

A child of a mistake.

 

A walking weapon waiting to misfire.

 

I bowed low. “Understood.”

 

The word tasted like iron. Final. Like I had just agreed to walk into a blade. And still, I said it.

 

Behind me, I heard the shift of fabric. A footstep. Yaga.

 

“There must be another mission,” he said, voice calm but forceful. Too calm. That dangerous kind of calm he only used when he was about to start yelling. “She hasn’t even been classified. You can’t start her with an assassination-”

 

“We can,” the red-lipped woman said, already tired of him. “And we are.”

 

Yaga took another step forward. “You don’t give students execution orders on their first solo assignment. That’s not a mission, it’s a test. You’re setting her up.”

 

“She’s not a normal student,” another Elder snapped. “Or have you forgotten who her father is?”

 

“She’s not him.”

 

“No,” said the bark-voiced one. “But if she is, if there’s even a flicker of that madness in her, it’s better we find out now than later.”

 

“By sending her in alone?” Yaga’s voice rose, finally cracking through. “Against a semi-grade one with confirmed kills? What happens if she hesitates, not because she’s weak, but because she hasn't trained for something like this?”

 

“Then we’ll know she’s unfit,” the skull-faced Elder said. “And we’ll handle it accordingly.”

 

Yaga’s cursed energy flared just a little. Enough that I felt the shift in the air behind me. But the Elders didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.

 

“You push her, you poke her, you drag out every inch of trauma and then act shocked when her cursed energy stirs,” he growled. “And when it does, you call it proof.”

 

The red-lipped woman smiled faintly. “We’ve given you too much room to speak, Masamichi.”

 

“If she were anyone else,” Yaga pushed, “you’d give her reconnaissance, tracking, maybe a retrieval assignment. You’d test her skill, not her soul.”

 

“But she is not anyone else,” the woman replied coldly. “She is Hoshizuki. She is a product of experimentation, of violence, of one of the most dangerous bloodlines we’ve ever recorded. We will not coddle another Riku into existence.”

 

Her words struck with more finality than any curse could.

 

I felt Yaga bristle. I didn’t even have to look. His cursed energy didn’t spike, it coiled. Tense. Contained. Like a blade just shy of unsheathing.

 

“She’s not a product,” he said slowly, voice low but sharp. “She’s a child. A student. One that you neglected until it was convenient to fear her.”

 

“She was never neglected,” the skull-faced Elder drawled. “She was observed. There’s a difference.”

 

“She was abandoned by this system,” Yaga snapped. “Her father discarded her. Her mother mistreated her. We buried her bloodline to keep the records clean and hoped she’d rot into obscurity.”

 

“Yet she didn’t,” said the woman. “That’s the problem.”

 

“She survived,” Yaga growled. “That’s what she did. You want to punish her for it.”

 

“She carries his regeneration,” another said. “His drain. His ability to bounce back from things no one should. If she cracks like he did, if her cursed energy spins out of control like his did, we won’t get a warning. We’ll get a body count.”

 

“Then teach her. Guide her. Don’t throw her at a rogue and call it balance.”

 

“She is stronger than you think,” the bark-voiced Elder said, “and we are more tired than you know.”

 

Yaga’s energy finally broke the surface. Not violently. Not loudly. But like the gravity in the room shifted. Like the floor dipped under his feet.

 

“Find her a different mission,” he said. “Something with structure. Surveillance. A simple cleanse. Hell, send her to reinforce a boundary field. Anything but a kill order.”

 

“She’s not your child,” the red-lipped woman said.

 

“She’s my responsibility,” Yaga said without hesitation. “And I’m telling you this isn’t a fair test.”

 

“Oh, Masamichi,” said the skull-faced Elder. “You haven’t earned the right to speak of fairness.”

 

“I’m Principal of the school-”

 

“And only barely,” the woman cut in, voice steel beneath silk. “Let’s not pretend you weren’t appointed out of desperation. Your track record is scattered at best. Ieiri’s independence. Gojo’s defiance. Geto’s volatility. And now this, another unstable, half-trained child wrapped in tragedy.”

 

Yaga’s fists curled. “She’s not unstable.”

 

The room went still.

 

The red-lipped woman rose slowly to her feet, gaze locked on Yaga with surgical precision.

 

“Do you know why we allowed you to keep your position after the 2004 Evaluation Incident?” she asked softly.

 

Yaga said nothing.

 

“Because you bowed,” she continued. “Because when we told you to muzzle your opinions and leash your projects, you obeyed. You lowered your head like a dog and promised us obedience.”

 

Her tone changed.

 

“So lower it again.”

 

The silence that followed was absolute.

 

I watched Yaga’s broad shoulders freeze. His jaw clenched so tight I thought it might shatter.

 

But then, he did it.

 

He bowed.

 

Slowly.

 

Deeply.

 

The room didn’t applaud. It didn’t have to.

 

It just watched him fold, and let the shame linger.

 

I wanted to scream. To lunge between them. To do something.

 

But I couldn’t move.

 

Not because I was afraid.

 

But because I finally understood.

 

Why he always told Satoru to be careful.

Why he watched Suguru too closely.

Why he kept me at the edge of every battlefield unless he could see me with his own eyes.

 

It wasn’t because he thought we were fragile.

 

It was because he knew what they were.

 

And now, so did I.

 

The red-lipped woman gave a slow, approving nod. “Accepted,” she said, her voice soft and poisonous. “Obedience suits you, Masamichi.”

 

Yaga stayed bowed. Unmoving. Silent.

 

The next Elder to speak was older, thinner than the rest, his voice brittle like dry paper, but sharp enough to draw blood. “Moments like these remind me of your wife’s departure. It was unfortunate. But, in the end, enlightening.”

 

The room went still.

 

Even I felt that word, wife, hit something deeper than the others.

 

“She endured years of your absence, your obsession with this place, your commitment to duty,” he continued, almost mournful. “But when she finally walked away, we understood something.”

 

Yaga’s fists twitched where they hung at his sides.

 

“You’re a man of remarkable loyalty,” the Elder said. “And she helped prove where that loyalty truly lies.”

 

A pause. Cruel and deliberate.

 

“To the school. To us. You chose correctly. Remember to keep choosing correctly.”

 

A ripple of nods followed. As if this was doctrine. A truth etched in stone. That her leaving wasn’t a failure, it was proof that Yaga belonged to them. That his life, his sacrifices, were theirs to claim.

 

“She left so we could keep you,” the woman added, her tone almost serene. “You should be grateful.”

 

Yaga stayed bowed.

 

But something in his energy trembled. Quiet. Raw. The barest fray of a thread stretched too thin.

 

If it had been Gojo standing there, he would’ve snapped.

 

If it had been Suguru, he would’ve smiled and made it lethal.

 

But Yaga did what neither of them could.

 

He endured.

 

And that was why it hurt worse to watch.

 

Finally, the red-lipped woman flicked her wrist as if shooing away dust. “That will be all. You are both dismissed.”

 

Yaga straightened like stone rising, slow, deliberate, silent.

 

He didn’t look at them. He didn’t look at me.

 

I fell into step beside him as the massive chamber doors creaked open. Cold air met us like a curtain parting.

 

We walked through together.

 

They let us leave.

 

Because in their eyes, they had already won.

 

They’d gotten what they wanted.

 

Obedience.

 

And in the world they ruled, obedience was truth.

 

Obedience was law.

 

The doors shut behind us with a deep, echoing thud.

 

The hallway was empty. The air was still.

 

And neither of us said a word.

 

The doors sealed behind us like a tomb.

 

For a second, I just stood there. The air in the hallway felt thinner, too clean compared to the stifling rot behind us. I could feel my heart beating in my throat, and something else too. Something bitter. Something that wanted to come out as words, but..

 

I turned to Yaga. “I-”

 

But nothing followed. My mouth stayed open, soundless. The words were there, somewhere in the back of my ribs, but I couldn’t shape them. Couldn’t even choose one. I didn’t know if I wanted to say I’m sorry or thank you or what the hell just happened.

 

Yaga didn’t look at me.

 

He just exhaled through his nose and said, gruffly, “My office.”

 

Not a suggestion. Not a bark. Just a tired command from someone trying not to come apart at the seams.

 

I nodded.

 

---

 

We moved quickly through the hallway, shoes hitting the tile a little too loud. The corridors of the upper building were always too quiet, too wide. It made every breath feel like an echo.

 

Yaga’s steps were heavy, direct. Mine were fast just to keep up. Neither of us spoke.

 

He made a sharp turn past the training annex, then another, toward the administrative wing. The long way. A path I instantly recognized.

 

He was avoiding the dorms. The main hall.

 

Avoiding them.

 

Suguru and Satoru.

 

I glanced at him, and he didn’t need to explain. I already knew.

 

“You sent them out this morning,” I murmured. “That mission to check on the barrier breach in Mie…”

 

Yaga gave a short grunt. “Didn’t need two of them for it.”

 

“You just wanted them out of range.”

 

“I wanted them out of the building,” he said flatly. “They listen through walls.”

 

I didn’t argue.

 

Gojo could hear a pin drop through five rooms if he wanted to. And Suguru… Suguru didn’t even need to be told something was wrong, he just felt it. I could only imagine what either of them would’ve done if they’d heard what the Elders said about me. About him.

 

They’d burn down the council chamber before I even got a word in.

 

We reached his office. He unlocked the door without speaking, stepped inside, and held it open for me.

 

I slipped in, still quiet.

 

Yaga followed, shut the door with a soft click, and only then did he finally let himself breathe.

 

He slumped into the chair behind his desk, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

 

I stood there for a second, frozen near the wall.

 

“I didn’t…” I tried again. “I didn’t think they’d-”

 

“I did,” Yaga said without looking up.

 

His voice wasn’t angry. It wasn’t soft either. Just tired.

 

“They’ve always known how to break people,” he said. “It’s how they keep them in line.”

 

He finally looked at me, his glasses covering what his eyes could have expressed.

 

“They just tried to do it to both of us.”

 

Yaga sat heavily behind his desk, elbows on the wood, face buried in his hands like he could rub the last hour out of his memory. I stood there, frozen just inside the door, still trying to breathe like a normal person. My throat was tight. My skin felt too thin. Everything buzzed.

 

I finally broke the silence, my voice so hoarse it didn’t sound like mine.

 

“Were they… serious?”

 

Yaga didn’t look up. He didn’t need to.

 

“They’re always serious,” he said quietly.

 

I sank into the chair across from him, my hands curled together in my lap, still shaking. The mission. The rules. The way they said execution like it was an errand. Like they weren’t asking me to kill someone.. they were ordering it.

 

“I don’t even know what I’m supposed to feel right now,” I muttered. “I’m not scared. Not really. I think I should be, but… it’s just this… hollow, tight feeling in my chest. Like the floor dropped out and I’m still trying to find gravity.”

 

Yaga finally looked at me. “That’s normal.”

 

“How is this normal?” I snapped.

 

His face didn’t change. Just tired eyes and a deeper line between his brows. “Because they’ve made it normal.”

 

I looked down at my hands. “I have to kill someone.”

 

He didn’t correct me.

 

If I don’t, I lose everything. My place here. My life. Them.

 

My voice came out smaller than I meant it to. “Did Gojo and Geto ever get a mission like this?”

 

“They were raised in this,” he said, not unkindly. “They don’t talk about it much. But they were sent on assignments like this before they even hit their growth spurs. They weren’t given time to build morals. The system shaped them.”

 

I swallowed hard. “And I came here already half-formed.”

 

“You came here human. That’s the difference.”

 

I didn’t know what to do with that.

 

The weight in my chest sank lower.

 

“How am I supposed to not tell them?” I asked, voice breaking halfway through. “How do I even look at them after this?”

 

Yaga leaned back, exhaling through his nose.

 

“You don’t. Not if you want to keep them from starting a war over it.”

 

I blinked.

 

“The second you say, ‘I can’t tell you,’ they’ll know,” he said simply. “They’re not stupid. You’ll walk into the room, and they’ll see it on your face. The guilt. The fear. They’ll put it together before you even open your mouth.”

 

I stared at the desk.

 

“Then what do I do?”

 

“Lie,” he said. “Or avoid them until you leave.”

 

“Avoid them?” My laugh came out hollow, almost bitter. “Do you know how impossible that is?”

 

He sighed, slow and deep. “Yeah.”

 

He looked at me again, and for a moment, it wasn’t Principal to student. It wasn’t soldier to commander.

 

It was just two people, trapped under the same system, sinking at different speeds.

 

“I know,” he said again. “Believe me.”

 

And somehow, that made it worse.

 

I sat there, the weight of everything folding in on itself.

 

Then it started.

 

Slow at first. A twitch in my jaw. A burn behind my eyes. And then the words came, sharp and bitter and shaking like glass.

 

“Why does it have to be me?”

 

Yaga didn’t answer.

 

“I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t come here to be some experiment or some test case for whether my blood’s ‘too corrupted.’ I survived them. I survived him. And now I have to kill someone just to keep my life?! Just to prove I’m not like my father?!”

 

Still, he said nothing.

 

“Do they even care if I come back? Or do they just want to see if I’ll break? Is that all this is?”

 

And then the sob hit me.

 

Sudden. Ugly.

 

I slapped a hand over my mouth, like I could keep it in, but it was too late. My whole body buckled forward as the weight cracked something inside me open.

 

Tears spilled hot and fast down my face, and my chest heaved, every breath coming out like it was scraping against bone.

 

Yaga didn’t rush over. He didn’t panic.

 

He just got up, crossed the room, and pulled a box of tissues from the shelf behind his desk.

 

He handed them to me, arm stretched out like he was offering a stapler or a printout of my attendance record.

 

Like I was crying over a bad grade.

 

That stupid box of tissues hit harder than any of the Elders’ words.

 

It said more than anything else had.

 

It told me this was normal. This breakdown. This reaction.

 

It told me they all knew what this felt like, and they’d all buried it under paperwork and routine and empty halls.

 

They didn’t comfort because they couldn’t. Because they forgot how.

 

I took the box with shaking hands and wiped my face, even though the crying didn’t stop right away. My body curled around it like I could disappear. Like if I just pressed hard enough into myself, the decision would undo itself.

 

Then my phone buzzed.

 

Once.

 

Twice.

 

I almost didn’t check it, but the glowing names pulled at something fragile.

 

Satoru 🩵:

So?? Did they send you to guard a rice field or some haunted public toilet? We’re placing bets.

 

Suguru 🖤:

I said it’s gonna be a rural curse nest. Gojo thinks it’s a ghost in an old lady’s fridge. Don’t let us down.

 

Another message blinked in.

 

Satoru 🩵:

If it’s too boring, we’ll sneak out and crash it. Just say the word.

 

I stared at the texts.

 

Laughed. Choked on it. Then cried harder.

 

They had no idea.

 

They thought I’d get some beginner-level mission, something laughable, something I’d be annoyed by and come home bragging about. They were teasing me. Trying to make it fun.

 

They didn’t know I’d been told to kill someone.

 

That if I didn’t, I’d lose everything. That if I hesitated, I’d be labeled unstable. That if I failed, I’d be proving that I was just like him.

 

And suddenly… I understood.

 

Not just the boys.

 

Everyone.

 

Gojo’s emptiness behind the smiles. Suguru’s control. Shoko’s emotional distance. Yaga’s quiet anger.

 

Even Toji.

 

Even… my father.

 

They weren’t like this because they were broken.

 

They were like this because there’s no right way to survive something like this.

 

They had all been through a version of this moment, the one where the world stops pretending it’s fair. Where it shows you exactly what it expects of you: kill or be killed.

 

And for the first time, I didn’t feel like a victim.

 

I felt like a soldier who was drafted into a war I never signed up for.

 

And if I was going to survive it… I had to decide what kind of weapon I was willing to become.

 

I wiped my face as best I could and forced my hands to steady enough to unlock my phone.

 

The messages from them still sat there. Bright. Innocent. Loud in a way that suddenly felt very far away.

 

Satoru 🩵:

If it’s too boring, we’ll sneak out and crash it. Just say the word.

 

Suguru 🖤:

You okay? They didn’t give you anything too annoying, did they?

 

I hesitated.

 

I couldn’t tell them. I wanted to, desperately, but Yaga was right. The second I said anything, they’d know. The second I hesitated, they’d push. And if they knew what I was being asked to do, they wouldn’t just be mad.

 

They’d burn the school down to stop it.

 

So I forced the weight in my chest to the side and typed.

 

Amara🦇:

It’s… not a toilet ghost.

Not fun either. I’m okay though. Just tired. Gonna crash for a bit.

 

Three dots appeared immediately.

 

Then disappeared.

 

Then came back again.

 

Suguru 🖤:

Want us to come by? We can smuggle snacks. Satoru’s already trying to shake a vending machine.

 

I stared at the message.

 

God, I wanted that. I wanted to say yes. To let them in. To fall between them on Suguru’s bed like we always did and let Gojo talk nonsense until my brain shut off for a while.

 

But I couldn’t. Not without risking everything.

 

Amara🦇:

Not tonight. I just… need a little quiet. That’s all.

But thanks for checking. Seriously.

 

There was a pause before they both responded.

 

Satoru 🩵:

If you’re lying to protect us, I’m gonna be mad later. But like, soft mad. With pouty eyes.

 

Suguru 🖤:

Take your time. We’re here when you’re ready.

 

I felt my chest squeeze all over again. But I couldn’t cry anymore. Not yet. I didn’t have it in me.

 

I stood, hugging the tissue box to my chest like it was armor, and turned to Yaga, who hadn’t said a word the whole time. He was staring down at his desk, unmoving. Like the only thing keeping him from screaming was staying still.

 

I stepped closer.

 

Bowed low.

 

“Thank you,” I said softly. “For… not letting them chew me up alone.”

 

He nodded once. Still didn’t look at me. “Get some rest, Amara. We leave early.”

 

I left quietly, walking back through the dark halls with soft footsteps and a spinning head. The air outside his office felt colder. My body felt heavier.

 

By the time I reached my dorm room, I was already pulling off my jacket. The second the door shut behind me, I collapsed into the bed without even changing.

 

--

 

My phone buzzed again.

 

Satoru 🩵:

Promise to dream about me at least a little. Or I’ll sulk. No one wants that.

 

Suguru 🖤:

We love you, by the way. In case you forgot.

 

Satoru 🩵:

Yeah but like I love you the mostest

 

Amara 🦇:

I love you both lots <3

 

Satoru 🩵:

I bought us all the newest phones for the emojis dammit. Use em.

 

Suguru 🖤:

(0_0)

 

Amara 🦇:

</3

 

Satoru 🩵:

You're both in time out.

 

Suguru 🖤:

T-T

 

--

 

I held the phone to my chest and let myself sink into the blanket like it might keep me from falling any further.

 

I wasn’t ready to tell them what was coming.

 

But I knew, without question, they’d feel it the second I walked into the room.

 

And I had no idea what would hurt worse.. lying to them…

 

Or watching them realize they couldn’t stop it.

Chapter 67: Kill or Be Killed

Summary:

Tw: Descriptions of killing a PERSON not a cursed spirit, blood, gore, trauma response that can be triggering such as dissociation, numbness, flinching. Throwing up.

I moved through my room like a soldier gearing up for war.. because that’s what it felt like.

 

The black uniform hugged my frame tighter than usual, reinforced at the chest and sleeves. My combat boots clicked into place as I stood up. I threw on the fitted jacket, brushing past my mirror without looking. I couldn’t stomach the reflection.

 

Then the real armor.

 

Promise ring first, the one he gave me, and Suguru the night of the fireworks. I twisted it onto my finger like a lock clicking shut. The dark gauges from Suguru now slid into my ear, then the locket, warm against my sternum. I opened it once, just for a second. Me, Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, Yu, and Nanami. Frozen in time, smiling like nothing could touch us.

 

Then the fingerless gloves Yuki gave me. They were stiff at the knuckles, but the pressure grounded me.

And lastly, Toji’s butterfly knife. It sat against my thigh under the cargo flap, just in case.

 

I couldn’t find my bag.

 

I muttered curses, turning the room upside down. “I don’t have time for this- fuck it.”

 

I flung the door open..

 

And smacked into Gojo.

 

He blinked down at me, already dressed and clearly waiting. “You weren’t gonna say goodbye?”

 

Suguru was beside him, calm but unreadable. He lifted something in his hand. “Looking for this?”

 

My bag. Fully packed. Of course.

 

“Wh- how did you-”

 

“You left it in the common room last night,” Suguru lied smoothly.

 

“I didn’t-” I started, but Gojo was already pressing a wrapped onigiri into my hand.

 

“We made you breakfast,” he said, too casually. “You get cranky on an empty stomach.”

 

My stomach twisted. I took it. “Thanks…”

 

Suguru’s eyes scanned me slowly. “Where are you being sent?”

 

I forced a shrug. “They didn’t say much. Just that I’d get the details when I got there.”

 

Gojo frowned. “That’s not how that works. That’s never how that works.”

 

“They said it was urgent,” I added. “Like… super urgent.”

 

“You suck at lying,” Gojo said flatly. “It’s actually painful.”

 

I swallowed hard, trying to smile. “Guess that’s why they gave me a mission where I don’t have to talk much.”

 

Suguru’s eyes narrowed just slightly. He didn’t say anything, but his silence was worse than words. I could feel him thinking, breaking everything down behind those calm, dark eyes.

 

“So, you don’t even know where you’re going?” Gojo asked, arms folded now.

 

“They said I’d get the rest of the info on-site,” I replied too quickly. “It’s… above my grade level right now. Temporary clearance.” I felt like I was reading from a script. One I hadn’t rehearsed.

 

Gojo stared at me for a long second, then turned his head just enough to mutter, “Bullshit.”

 

Suguru tilted his head slightly. “You’re nervous.”

 

“I’m always nervous before a mission,” I shot back.

 

“Not like this.”

 

I looked down. My fingers clenched around the strap of my bag like a lifeline.

 

Suguru took a step closer. “Amara-”

 

“Enough.” Yaga’s voice echoed from the hallway.

 

The boys turned as the man approached, his footsteps heavy and final. I could’ve cried from relief.

 

“She’s been briefed,” Yaga said, arms crossed, voice unreadable. “She’s not permitted to speak on the assignment. Those are the terms.”

 

Gojo straightened. “So she lied.”

 

“She was ordered to,” Yaga replied. “This comes from higher than me. I’m only escorting her.”

 

Suguru looked between us, then at me. “They gave you a complete solo.”

 

I didn’t respond. I didn’t have to.

 

Gojo ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “You don’t even have to go. You can say no-”

 

“She can’t,” Yaga said firmly. “This isn’t a request.”

 

The silence after that hit harder than any fight.

 

Gojo’s jaw clenched. Suguru stepped back like he needed the space to think. I could see it building in both of them, the need to stop this, the need to protect me.

 

I didn’t let them.

 

I stepped in, fast, arms wrapping around Gojo first. I pressed my face into his chest, memorizing the feel of him, the way he always smelled like laundry detergent this early. Didn't even put his cologne on yet. He hugged me tightly, like he thought he could anchor me here if he held on hard enough. I kiss his cheek then his lips.

 

Then Suguru.

 

His hands went straight to my back, sliding under the edge of my jacket, grounding me without even trying. I pulled back just enough to press a kiss to his jaw, then to his lips.

 

“I’ll be okay,” I whispered, lying so gently it almost sounded like truth.

 

They didn’t believe me. But they let me go.

 

And then I turned and left with Yaga, walking fast enough to keep from hearing the way Gojo said my name one more time.

 

Like he knew.

 

Like they both did.

 

---

 

The car rocked slightly with every bump in the road, but I barely noticed. My thumb hovered over my screen, like maybe if I didn’t touch anything, nothing would be real.

 

Satoru 🩵:

You better be eating the breakfast we packed, btw.

That’s the real mission. Survive onigiri and fruit.

 

I huffed out a tiny breath—almost a laugh. Almost.

 

Amara 🦇:

I did but I ate the strawberries first. You happy?

 

Satoru 🩵:

They were for LAST. Now I’m devastated.

Honestly might cry. Suguru console me.

 

Suguru 🖤:

He’s dramatically clutching my sleeve, if you were wondering.

 

I smiled down at the screen. Just for a second, I let myself pretend this was normal.

 

Then the next one hit.

 

Suguru 🖤:

...but seriously.

Were you briefed or not?

 

Satoru 🩵:

Yeah. Why are we not allowed to know what’s going on?

 

I bit my lip. My fingers moved on their own.

 

Amara 🦇:

It’s classified. They told me not to say anything. I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.

 

Satoru 🩵:

You? Or us?

 

Suguru 🖤:

They made you swear silence, didn’t they?

 

Amara 🦇:

Please stop asking.

 

I knew what that would do. I knew it would make it worse. But I didn’t have anything else to give them. I couldn’t lie and I couldn’t tell the truth.

 

The next texts came faster.

 

Satoru 🩵:

Who gave you the mission?

 

Suguru 🖤:

Is it one of the Elders?

 

Satoru 🩵:

Is it Yaga? Did they threaten you?

 

Suguru 🖤:

Amara. This isn’t funny anymore.

 

My chest tightened. My cursed energy flinched inside me like it wanted out, wanted to scream help me in every direction I’d been told to stay quiet.

 

Amara 🦇:

It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m just doing what I was asked. That’s all.

 

A pause.

 

Then my screen lit up in rapid succession.

 

Satoru 🩵:

Okay but like. That’s the worst possible way to say “I’m definitely not fine.”

 

Suguru 🖤:

You don’t even talk like that. Who coached you into that answer?

 

Satoru 🩵:

Blink twice if you’re being held hostage by crusty Elders.

 

Amara 🦇:

I’m serious.

I know what I’m walking into.

And I’m sorry I lied. I didn’t want to. I just couldn’t say anything.

I would tell you every detail if I could. Hell, I’d make you come with me. But I can’t.

 

Suguru 🖤:

Why can’t you?

You trust us with everything else. What’s different this time?

 

Satoru 🩵:

Unless they threatened you not to say anything.

Did they?

 

My chest ached. My fingers hovered for too long before I hit send.

 

Amara 🦇:

You know I love you both.

You know I would never keep anything from you if I had a choice.

This isn’t about trust.

This is about a whole lot of other stuff..

 

More dots. More questions.

 

Satoru 🩵:

What stuff? Amara. No.

No. What the hell did they send you into?

 

Suguru 🖤:

What’s the target?

Tell me what it is. I’ll handle it.

 

Amara 🦇:

Please. Don’t do this.

I need you both to trust me, just this once.

 

Satoru 🩵:

You’re asking us NOT to tear down walls for you right now and it’s killing me.

 

Suguru 🖤:

We’re not stupid.

This can't be some cursed spirit exorcism.

If it were, you wouldn’t look the way you did when you left.

 

Satoru 🩵:

You’d have made a joke. Or flirted.

You said goodbye like it was the goodbye.

 

“Enough,” Yaga said quietly beside me. “Give me your phone.”

 

I clutched it a second longer than I should have, staring down at the screen, at the nothing, at the weight of my own words.

 

I typed the last thing I could.

 

Amara 🦇:

I love you both so much.

Yaga’s taking my phone. Please don’t do anything reckless.

Just wait for me.

 

Then I handed it over. No more lifeline. No more delay.

 

And with that, the silence swallowed me whole.

 

I stared at the empty space where my phone used to be in my lap, like if I looked hard enough, I could still feel it buzzing with messages. Satoru and Suguru’s names flickered in my head like a warning light.

 

Yaga didn’t look at me. “You shouldn’t have kept texting them.”

 

“I know,” I said. My voice was quiet, brittle. “I just… I didn’t know what else to do.”

 

“You should’ve stayed focused,” he said. “You’re not a civilian anymore. You’re a sorcerer. Your personal life doesn’t outrank the mission.”

 

I bit the inside of my cheek so hard it stung. “They were scared.”

 

“So are you,” he said. “And that’s fine. But if either of them figures out what this mission is really about or where it is and come after you, it won’t just jeopardize the assignment. It’ll jeopardize you.”

 

I finally looked over at him. “I’m already jeopardized, Yaga. I’m being sent to kill someone.”

 

His jaw twitched, but he didn’t flinch. “And if you don’t? If you let emotion slow your hand, or give yourself away, or talk when you shouldn’t? You won’t just fail the mission. You’ll bring the full weight of the Elders down on you. You’ll have more to fear than just taking a life.”

 

I felt the words like a stone dropped in my stomach. “That’s not comforting or helpful.”

 

“It’s not supposed to be,” he said. “This isn't a world that gives comfort. It gives you orders, and you follow them, or you pay the price.”

 

I turned my face to the window and swallowed down the rising panic. My reflection looked pale, mouth pinched, eyes too wide. I didn’t recognize myself in the glass.

 

“I didn’t sign up to be an assassin,” I said.

 

“You signed up to be a sorcerer,” Yaga replied. “And in this system, sometimes that means the same thing.”

 

"If I knew... maybe I would have stayed with my mother..." I say almost too quiet to hear.

 

"You wouldn’t have met the people you have," Yaga added. 

 

"But I wouldn't have had to put my morals aside... I could have maybe met them some other way...I can't take back killing someone..."

 

The silence that followed felt like punishment. My fingers curled around the edge of my coat, clinging to the locket beneath it like it could protect me. I didn’t know what scared me more, the mission… or the fact that this might not even be the worst thing I’d be asked to do.

 

---

 

The rest of the ride was so quiet I could hear the blood in my ears. Yaga didn’t say anything else, and I didn’t ask him to. The weight of everything I couldn’t say filled the space between us like smoke, choking, invisible, and impossible to clear out.

 

By the time we pulled off the road and down a narrow dirt path, the sky had turned that washed-out gray that made the world look flat. Like nothing had depth anymore. Just outlines. Just roles.

 

The car came to a stop. I didn’t move.

 

Yaga killed the engine and got out first. The door slammed. Then mine opened. I must’ve looked frozen because he didn’t scold me, just held out his hand with the radio.

 

“Keep this on,” he said. “Channel three. I’ll be nearby.”

 

I nodded, taking it with fingers that didn’t feel like mine.

 

He turned and opened the trunk, pulling my pack he added essentials into. Then he stepped closer and started helping me gear up. It felt clinical. Like I was being dressed for surgery. Or execution.

 

“I’ve got you mapped into the field grid,” he said, buckling the strap under my arm. “I’ll see everything. If something goes wrong, call it in. You’re not completely alone out there.”

 

I nodded again, numb.

 

He held the last thing out to me, my sword. I took it and strapped it to my back. The weight was familiar, but now it felt heavier. Not like a weapon.

 

Like a sentence.

 

“Treat it like a cursed spirit mission,” Yaga said.

 

I blinked. “It’s not one.”

 

His face didn’t move. “Doesn’t matter. Treat it like one.”

 

My stomach twisted. My hands started to shake, but only a little. Enough to notice. Enough to hate it.

 

I gritted my teeth and swallowed hard, pushing the bile down and the fear deeper.

 

“I’m ready,” I lied.

 

Yaga nodded and stepped back. “Then go.”

 

I closed my eyes.

 

Breathe in.

Hold.

Focus.

 

---

 

The air thickened like syrup around me, and the world fell quiet, not silent, but filtered. Distant wind, shifting branches, the hum of my own cursed energy under my skin. I reached for it, not just within myself, but outward. Further.

 

It was like touching threads, thin, taut, buzzing against my skin. I let them spool around my fingers, trailing like veins in the air, pulling me toward the living traces of cursed energy.

 

One string for each presence.

 

Most were faint, old ghosts of movement. A bird that passed through hours ago. A curse spirit, long dissipated. I brushed them aside.

 

And then..

 

There.

 

Red.

 

A thread pulled sharp and steady toward my chest. Not overwhelming. Not panicked. Controlled. Grounded. It was different than a curse. Human.

 

Alive.

 

I opened my eyes, and there it was, an almost invisible line stretching off through the trees like a laser made of tension and instinct. My fingers twitched. The closer I got, the more it would pull, like a hook in my ribs guiding me straight to the source.

 

I started walking.

 

With each step, the thread grew tighter, vibrating through my fingertips like the low note of a cello. I could feel the heartbeat in it, slow, unaware. Maybe asleep. Maybe not expecting anything.

 

I clenched my hands into fists, trying to shake the tremor. My gloves, Yuki’s, grounded me. The rings Gojo and Suguru gave me pressed tightly against my skin. The locket bounced gently with every step, like a reminder.

 

They’re with me. Even now.

 

The thread tugged again, harder now. Close. So close I could taste the iron in the air.

 

I crouched low, resting my palm against the ground, focusing. Another breath. Another scan.

 

One thread. Still just one.

 

One person.

 

I stood slowly. Sword on my back. Knife at my thigh.

 

I could see the outline of the cabin now, dilapidated, overgrown. One presence inside.

 

The cursed thread pulsed red.

 

I stepped forward.

 

Every step closer made it worse.

 

The pull in my chest, the heat in my palms, the focus it took not to gag from the weight of the cursed energy hanging around the perimeter like old smoke, it all pressed on me like guilt wearing my body.

 

Was this what he felt?

 

My father?

 

Did it start like this? Quiet. Mechanical. Convincing yourself that the line between duty and cruelty is just context. That maybe it's fine if you only kill when you're told to. When the target has a name and not a face.

 

Is that all it takes?

 

I was tracking him like he was prey. A beast. A curse. Like the mission meant more than the man behind the thread.

 

And maybe that's what the Elders wanted. Not a sorcerer. A hunter. A weapon that wouldn't ask questions.

 

I swallowed hard. Is this how he started?

 

Because if it is, I get it now. I hate that I get it.

 

I stopped at the edge of the clearing, the shack slumping ahead like it had given up on standing a long time ago. I stayed in the brush, breathing through the tightness in my throat, staring at the red thread that still tugged at me like it was attached to something already dying.

 

"I won’t fight him unless he fights me," I whispered, almost to myself. Almost like a prayer. "I won’t."

 

But I didn’t know what I’d do if he didn’t fight back. What if he just sat there? Let me talk? What if he was kind? Or scared?

 

Could I bluff the Elders? Say he wasn’t there? Say he died before I got there?

 

What if he wanted to fight? What if he took one look at me and saw nothing but a girl with too much cursed energy and something to prove? What if he thought I was the threat?

 

I pressed my fingers to my temple and whispered, “There has to be another way.”

 

But I already knew the truth.

 

Another way wasn’t the assignment.

 

The Elders wanted a result. They wanted obedience. Not negotiation. Not hesitation. Just a clean kill and a report filed by sunrise.

 

I closed my eyes again.

 

“I’m not him,” I said to the air. “I’m not like him...”

 

But that voice in the back of my head, the one that sounded like his, asked me what difference that made if I still walked through that door.

 

The threads pulsed.

 

Not like they were alive, but like he was. Whoever he was, his cursed energy wasn’t hiding. It was bleeding into the air around me, thickening with every step. The closer I got to the cabin, the louder it got in my head. Not sound, just pressure. Dull, like altitude sickness. Like I was climbing toward something I wasn’t meant to see.

 

My fingertips twitched. Not from nerves, but instinct. My body knew before I did.

 

He was watching me.

 

Neck, crack.

Shoulders, rolled, unprompted.

My muscles locked, like they remembered something I didn’t.

 

“Fuck,” I whispered under my breath.

 

I was being watched. Someone was flaring their cursed energy with enough intent that it tripped my senses like a tripwire. He was close. He knew I was here. And he wasn’t hiding it.

 

Still, I kept walking. Slow. Quiet. Up the hill, toward the cabin half-buried in pine and shadow. The windows were blacked out, but I could feel him behind the walls. My cursed energy sense curled inward. The red string was pulling like a hook in my gut.

 

This was a trap. And I was walking right into it.

 

I told myself I wouldn’t fight unless I had to. I told myself I could maybe talk to him.

 

I reached the door.

 

Then it exploded.

 

Wood shattered into shrapnel, a force barreling out like a freight train cloaked in smoke. I jumped back, barely, just as the entire doorway was torn off its hinges. 

 

The world turned sideways before I realized I’d been hit.

 

Something slammed into my ribs, hard enough to lift me off my feet. My back hit a tree trunk with a meaty crack, bark splintering against my spine. I dropped like a ragdoll onto my hands and knees, already choking, already healing.

 

Pain rippled through my limbs like static. My head was ringing, heart racing against my ribs. Move, I told myself. Get up. Move-!

 

A boot caught my side and flung me through the dirt before I could rise.

 

“Come on,” a voice drawled, amused. “Jujutsu Society sent you, right?”

 

I couldn’t see him clearly yet, just the silhouette moving through the haze of cursed energy like a shark beneath a bloody sea. I scrambled to my feet, arm half-healed, vision swimming. My fingers twitched toward the hilt of my sword, still sheathed on my back.

 

He was faster.

 

He closed the space between us like a bullet. His fist slammed into my sternum, then my jaw, then hooked my shoulder and threw me again, this time into the rotted porch railing, which shattered under the impact. My shoulder dislocated. The bone reset itself as I rolled to my feet, shaking.

 

“You’ve gotta be new,” he said casually, approaching again. “You’re sloppy.”

 

He struck. A sweeping kick took my legs out. I crashed down hard, head slamming into the mud. My ears buzzed. The sky tilted.

 

He grabbed my collar and dragged me halfway up before slamming me back down onto the ground again.

 

“I thought maybe they’d send someone worse,” he sneered, breath hot against my face. “But you? You’re just a fuckin’ kid.”

 

Then his hand wrapped around my throat.

 

I clawed at his wrist, cursing, heart stammering. My legs kicked uselessly, scraping at the dirt. My cursed energy sputtered under panic, a fire choked of air.

 

He lifted me higher, muscles trembling with the effort, then bared his teeth. “I’ve been hunted too long to let some half-baked girl end me-”

 

I spat blood in his eyes.

 

Hot, coppery, thick, it hit him square in the face.

 

He snarled and dropped me. I landed in a crouch, coughing and gasping for air.

 

“You little bitch-!”

 

But I was already moving.

 

My hands hit the dirt. Cursed energy flared out of my palms like a whip, vines bursting from the earth, red and alive and lashing toward him with jagged speed. One wrapped his ankle and yanked hard, throwing him off balance.

 

My blade found my hand in the next breath, familiar weight, humming with my pulse. My spine straightened. My arms stopped shaking.

 

Focus.

 

The fear didn’t vanish, but it sharpened.

 

This wasn’t training. This wasn’t sparring with Suguru, or Satoru, or getting soft with Yuki while she teased me. This was survival. This was him or me. Exactly what I didn’t want..

 

My feet slid into a low stance. I felt the threads of his cursed energy like wires in my jaw, pulling taut, aggressive, reckless. The red line between us yanked tight and I pulled back.

 

He moved first, blade low, not flashy, just fast.

 

Steel met vines. My cursed tendrils whipped up from the ground in a wall of motion, trying to snare, bind, just slow him down, but he cut through them like they were wet paper. His cursed energy crackled along the edge of his sword, not wild like Gojo’s, not suffocating like Suguru’s, just brutal, direct. No frills.

 

I ducked and spun as his blade swung overhead, feeling it slice the air an inch from my scalp. He was relentless. Strike after strike came with no hesitation, just clean, killing intent.

 

I blocked one swing with my forearm, a bad idea. Bone cracked, muscle split. The blade sank deep.

 

I screamed and shoved forward instead of back, using the wound to close the gap. He hesitated for half a second and I slammed my knee into his thigh, followed by a headbutt that made my skull ring. He cursed and stumbled, and I yanked my arm free with a wet, tearing sound.

 

Blood sprayed, but I didn’t fall.

 

Didn’t flinch.

 

The wound sealed over before he could blink. Pink skin stretched tight over still-fresh red.

 

“What the fuck-” he started.

 

I didn’t let him finish.

 

I slashed forward with my father’s sword, catching his shoulder. He twisted away, but I left a clean cut. He recovered fast, too fast, and swept my legs out from under me. I hit the ground hard, sword flying from my grip.

 

He kicked it away and dove for me, blade first.

 

I rolled. Dirt caked my mouth. My shoulder stung from the landing. As I got up to rush for my sword he struck. 

 

Steel drove into my gut. Right below the ribs. Straight through. He threw it at me. He fucking threw it???

 

It hurt. Like ice and fire all at once. Like drowning in your own insides. The tare and pressure would have been nauseating if I had a stomach currently.

 

He panted, waiting for me to fall.

 

Instead, I looked down at the blade still lodged in me.

 

And pulled it out.

 

Blood poured down my front in thick, heavy sheets. My knees buckled, breath hitching on a cough. I nearly dropped to the ground.

 

But the healing came.

 

As it always did.

 

The skin knit together. Muscle reformed. The ragged pain dulled.

 

I stood.

 

And I tossed the sword back to him, let it land at his feet with a dull thunk.

 

“Still your turn,” I rasped, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

 

His face twisted. Not in rage, not yet. Annoyance first. A little disbelief. Then the tension in his jaw snapped tight and he lunged, blade raised high, like he now truly realized what he was facing.

 

I bent low, ducking under the first arc, twisting to the side. He moved like a hammer: efficient, brutal, fast. I barely avoided the slash aimed at my neck. His cursed energy stung every time it came close, like stepping into a live wire’s hum. My sword clanged against his, and he forced it aside again. It flew from my hand.

 

Again.

 

I didn’t panic. I moved around his swings and put my hand out.

 

A crack split the ground and a vine ripped forward like a striking snake, curved around the fallen hilt, and slapped the blade back into my waiting hand.

 

He barely had time to process it before I lashed a separate vine around my ankle, not to ground me but to pull myself toward him.

 

My body slammed into his. Elbow first.

 

He staggered and I landed another hit, my shoulder driving into his ribs, blade swinging up for a close slash.

 

He blocked with his own, but I used the brief contact to loop a vine up behind him, stringing it between two trees like a trap wire. When he backed up to regroup, he hit it hard, off balance, and I used the second of surprise to throw my blade.

 

It buried into his shoulder.

 

His scream was short, more breath than voice.

 

He yanked it out and threw it.

 

I raised my hand. The vines brought it back.

 

“I’m starting to hate that trick,” he growled.

 

“Good,” I spat, chest heaving.

 

I was bleeding from my side again. I didn’t feel it. My body was already sewing itself shut.

 

He rushed again, and I raised a hand, vines split out of the ground, not to trap him, but to guide me. I wrapped one around my waist mid-dash and let it swing me wide, redirecting my trajectory just as he aimed for where I’d been a heartbeat before. My feet hit a high rock, and I launched down from above.

 

He caught my swing with both hands and twisted. We went to the ground hard.

 

Dust kicked up around us, and I punched him in the face. Once. Twice. His cursed energy flared, and a burst knocked me back, slamming me into a tree trunk.

 

My ribs cracked. Then stitched.

 

He stood fast. Wounded, panting, but still sharp. His sword at the ready.

 

“You’re not a sorcerer,” he said. “You’re a creature. Some kind of fucking revenant.”

 

I wiped blood from my lip.

 

“You started it.”

 

We kept going, barely.

 

My legs were heavier now, but so were his. Every strike was slower, more desperate. His swings came in wide arcs, enough force to cleave through trees, but the precision was gone. My vines snared his arm mid-swing and yanked him sideways, sending him crashing to the ground.

 

Still, he scrambled to his feet.

 

Still, he lunged.

 

I ducked low, blade grazing his ribs, and he let out a ragged shout, half fury, half pain. His elbow caught my temple and I staggered, the forest tilting sideways. But I recovered first. My tendrils reared like a second spine and wrapped around his torso, slamming him into the trunk of a pine so hard the bark cracked.

 

This time, he didn’t get up right away.

 

Blood poured from his lip. His hand twitched toward the knife at his hip, but it was a bluff. His cursed energy flickered, unstable, starving.

 

He couldn’t keep going.

 

And neither could I.

 

I stepped forward. One foot in front of the other, until I stood right in front of him. My father’s sword in my hand. My chest heaving. My ears ringing.

 

He didn’t look scared.

 

Not even defiant.

 

Just tired.

 

"You gonna do it now?" he rasped, voice like sandpaper. “You got what you came for... just end it quick..”

 

I raised the blade.

 

His eyes didn’t close. He just stared.

 

Right at me.

 

And something in me cracked.

 

Because I wasn’t looking at a monster.

 

I was looking at a man. Beaten. Bruised. Bleeding. And all I could hear in the silence was my own heartbeat pounding brutally in my ears.

 

He wasn’t trying to fight anymore. He wasn’t even cursing me out.

 

He was just… waiting.

 

Waiting for me to become something I didn’t want to be.

 

My hands started shaking. Bad.

 

I tried to tighten my grip. Tried to remember what this was supposed to mean. What they told me I had to do. That I’d be safe, that I’d be respected, that it would prove I was strong enough. That I could stay in the life I built. That all of this would mean something.

 

But none of that mattered now.

 

I had him. I had the power. I had the weapon. I had the moment.

 

And all I felt was wrong.

 

He saw it.

 

He felt it.

 

The tip of the blade hovered at his throat, and he leaned just barely forward, not in defiance, not to provoke me, but as if to test if I really had the guts to do it.

 

I stared at him. My voice came out raw.

 

“You’re not a cursed spirit.”

 

He blinked slowly, like the admission stunned him.

 

“No,” he whispered. “I’m not.”

 

My arms lowered.

 

And still, he didn’t move.

 

“I can’t,” I said, voice cracking. “I’m not supposed to do this. I- I thought I could, but I can’t. Not like this.”

 

He didn’t speak.

 

Didn’t move.

 

Didn’t ask for mercy.

 

He just looked at me, blood dripping from his nose, mouth, and for the first time, I saw the faintest flicker of something behind his eyes.

 

Not anger.

 

Not hate.

 

Not fear.

 

Just understanding.

 

Like he knew exactly what it meant to be sent to kill someone you didn’t want to hate.

 

And to survive it anyway.

 

My vines slowly released him.

 

The sword slipped from my fingers.

 

I thought I could live with it.

 

With sparing him. With taking the fallout. With knowing I'd made a call that would bite me later.

 

But then he moved.

 

Fast. Desperate. Final.

 

The glint of steel carved through the last of my hope, and I barely registered the impact, just the searing pressure in my gut and the taste of iron blooming in my mouth.

 

His blade went clean through me.

 

And then, my vines reacted.

 

Violently. Without thought. Like a reflex.

 

They erupted from the ground and through his chest, bursting out in a brutal spray that splattered against the ground below him. He choked on something, air, blood, maybe his own disbelief, as his body twisted mid-lunge and hit the floor with a sickening crunch.

 

I stood there a second too long.

 

The pain came.

 

Sharp, cold, then burning hot.

 

I dropped to my knees, staring down at the sword still lodged in my stomach. My hands hovered over the hilt, shaking. I pulled it out before but something was different now.

 

No cursed energy surged to fix it.

 

My body wanted to heal. I could feel it trying, pushing, grinding, but it was too slow.

 

I’d burned too much. I had nothing left to fuel it with. No drain. No reserve. Nothing.

 

A hiccuping breath caught in my throat.

 

My hands curled over the blade. I had to get it out.

 

I had to get it out..

 

But my vision was blurring. My fingers were slipping. The edge of panic was crawling up my spine like frostbite, biting and spreading.

 

“Okay… okay,” I whispered, voice cracking. “Just pull it. Just- just pull-”

 

I wrapped both hands around the hilt, gritted my teeth, and yanked.

 

It didn’t slide.

 

It tore.

 

My scream split through the silence of the forest like a dying animal’s. I doubled over immediately, gasping, coughing blood onto the dirt. My knees hit the ground hard and stayed there, legs too weak to support anything.

 

The blade hit the earth beside me with a dull clatter, but I couldn’t look at it. Couldn’t look at him. Not yet.

 

I pressed my hands against the wound, now open and gushing freely. My cursed energy crawled sluggishly across my palms like syrup. Thick and too slow.

 

“Move,” I whispered to it. “Come on. Heal. HEAL DAMNIT”

 

It sparked. Fizzled. Flickered out.

 

My heart was racing too fast. I couldn’t breathe right. Everything was spinning again.

 

“Not like this,” I choked. “Not like this…”

 

The vines around me twitched uselessly, like they didn’t know what to do without orders.

 

I clenched my jaw so hard it made my ears ring.

 

“Heal...” I hissed.

 

And I meant it this time, not just my cursed energy, but everything. My blood. My spine. My will.

 

I slammed my palms against the wound and forced the heal.

 

It screamed through me like barbed wire catching on every nerve, and I arched backward with a strangled cry as the cursed energy finally surged. But this wasn’t a clean loop. This wasn’t my steady rhythm. This was raw, scraping the inside of my bones, deep, deep where it shouldn’t have to go.

 

The pain hit my lower back like a dull blade forcing a cut up my spine. A flare of heat pulsed under my skin. I’d worry about that later. I don't have time or energy to waste.

 

The wound sealed.

 

My stomach knit itself back together in a burst of pulsing, nauseating pressure, and the moment it did, I rolled over and vomited.

 

Everything came up: blood, bile, the hot sting of adrenaline poisoning. My hair stuck to my face and I didn’t care. I spat into the dirt and wiped my mouth with the back of my shaking hand.

 

The forest was too quiet.

 

Too still.

 

I turned my head.

 

The guy’s body lay crumpled near the broken trees, his limbs heavy and limp.

 

A choked sob broke out of my throat.

 

I didn’t even recognize the sound as mine at first.

 

I crawled toward him slowly, knees trembling, muscles locking up now that the fight was over. My fingers ghosted over the blood-soaked edge of his jacket before I balled them into fists.

 

“I didn’t want to,” I whispered, voice wrecked. “You didn’t give me a choice.”

 

And maybe that was a lie. Maybe I did have one. But I hesitated, and he lunged. And now we both faced the consequences of our choices.

 

I knelt beside him, silent tears sliding down my cheeks, and I bowed my head.

 

Then I forced myself to move.

 

I got under his arm and pulled it around my shoulders, bracing my stance the way I’d seen Nanami do after a mission. My legs buckled on the first lift. My ribs screamed on the second.

 

But I got him up.

 

Dead weight.

 

Still warm...

 

His blood soaked into my clothes and I didn’t care.

 

If I had to take a life, if I was going to be the kind of person who did this, then the least I could do was carry him back with me.

 

He didn’t deserve to be left in the dirt like a dead dog.

 

I adjusted my grip and started walking. The cabin vanished behind me, and I didn’t look back.

 

By the time I cleared the trees, the sky had deepened into that deep dark night, blues and greys coated the sky, I could even see the stars now.. 

 

My steps were uneven. I think I was shaking. I couldn’t tell if it was from pain or shock or both. Probably both.

 

Yaga turned the second he felt my cursed energy approach.

 

The look on his face when he saw me..

 

Not anger. Not disappointment. Just... concern. Deep, immediate, paternal concern that cracked through my chest before I could brace for it.

 

He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t say a word. Just crossed the clearing in fast strides and caught me as I stumbled forward. He looked at the man I was carrying, blood soaking both our clothes, then back at me, at the way my skin was too pale, at the sluggish cursed energy twitching around my spine.

 

"Give him to me."

 

I did. Or maybe he just took him. I couldn’t really tell. One moment the weight was mine, the next it was gone.

 

Yaga laid the body down with a quiet kind of respect, straightening the arms, closing the eyes. He didn’t look at me until it was done.

 

When he finally turned, I saw his gaze track the black veins creeping under my shirt. His eyes narrowed, not in judgment, but alarm.

 

"Your spine," he said low. “How far up?”

 

“Mid-back I think,” I rasped. “Not past my ribs yet.”

 

“How long has it been like that?”

 

“Don’t know..”

 

He muttered a sharp curse under his breath and stepped closer. “Why didn’t you drain before it got this bad?”

 

I blinked slowly. My lips felt numb. “Didn’t want to.”

 

Yaga’s expression twisted. “That’s not how your body works, Amara. You know better.”

 

I didn’t respond.

 

“Are you hearing me?”

 

“I decided not to do it,” I said. The words fell out like they’d been waiting too long. “I was going to walk away. I was going to live with it. But then he...”

 

My voice cracked at the end. Just enough to shake something loose.

 

“I didn’t want to kill him.”

 

Yaga’s face softened. “I know.”

 

“I was done fighting. But my vines... they just moved..”

 

“I know.”

 

I swayed where I stood. My stomach ached where the blade had gone in. My spine throbbed. I felt like I was inside a glass box, hearing everything from underwater.

 

Yaga stepped forward and grabbed my shoulders gently, steadying me. “You survived. You did what you had to do.”

 

“I didn’t want to,” I said again.

 

“I know, Amara.”

 

I stared at him for a long second. His hands were still on my shoulders. The blood on my clothes was soaking into his sleeves. He didn’t flinch.

 

“I’m tired,” I whispered.

 

“I know.”

 

“Can we go home now..?”

 

Yaga looked at me for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Let’s go home.”

Chapter 68: Praise and Obedience

Summary:

Tw: blood, dead body, trauma response that can be triggering such as dissociation, numbness, flinching. Having to be taken care of such as being bathed and dressed (not sexual)

The hum of the tires blurred into the white noise in my head. The only thing keeping me tethered to the present was the bumps in the road, each one nudging me just enough to remember I still had a body. That I was still here. That the fight hadn’t swallowed me whole.

 

The scent of blood clung to me, too strong to ignore, metallic and thick. I could taste it when I swallowed. My hair was sticking to my neck, my shirt still damp and sticking to my ribs. I didn’t look down at my hands. I didn’t need to.

 

In the back of the van, the body didn’t move.

 

Wrapped tight in canvas like a parcel, like a job completed. I hated it. I hated how still it was. I hated how heavy he’d been. I hated that I could still feel his heartbeat on my shoulder from when I carried him, one that didn't even exist.

 

Yaga hadn’t spoken since I had climbed in. He drove like there was glass beneath the tires, careful and silent. When we passed a streetlight, I caught the shadows on his face, tense jaw, tight grip on the wheel. His eyes flicked to me a few times, probably checking on me.

 

We were nearly back when he finally reached into his coat and held out my phone without a word.

 

I took it with hands that didn’t feel like mine, still covered in blood.

 

The screen lit up, buzzing once. Then again. Then it all hit at once, messages exploding in clusters.

 

Satoru 🩵:

Where are you?

 

Satoru 🩵:

Amara.

 

Satoru 🩵:

Please answer. I swear I won’t ask questions. Just answer.

 

Suguru 🖤:

Yaga said you’re safe. But I need to hear it from you.

 

Satoru 🩵:

I’m going to lose my mind. I need to know if you’re okay. I NEED to know..

 

Suguru 🖤:

I know you can’t talk about it. I don’t care. Just send a . or an emoji or a single letter. Please.

 

Satoru 🩵:

I won’t be mad. I just want to know if you’re hurt. I promise I won't overreact or be mean or anything. I'll be whatever you need. Just please please say something.

 

Satoru 🩵:

…You’re not dead, right? You wouldn't do that to me, right?

 

Suguru 🖤:

I’m waiting. We’re both waiting.

 

I didn’t respond right away. My fingers hovered over the screen, and I could barely feel the touch through the numbness.

 

I blinked hard and forced myself to type:

 

Amara 🦇:

Alive. Heading back.

 

The screen lit again almost instantly.

 

Satoru 🩵:

Thank whatever higher being there is..

 

Suguru 🖤:

We’ll be here. We’re not going anywhere.

 

I didn’t have the strength to reply. My thumb grazed the power button and let the screen go dark.

 

Their words were still echoing in my chest, but I just turned my head toward the window and closed my eyes. The vibration of the van rattled in my bones. I didn't cry. I didn’t even sigh.

 

I just sat there, hollow and quiet, with the only proof I was alive buzzing faintly in my lap.

 

---

 

The tires crunched through frozen gravel as we pulled past the outer gates of Jujutsu Tech. The late winter night covered us like it was trying to hide what had been done too. Frost laced the windows, and everything looked too still.

 

Yaga parked behind the dorms, engine idling for a moment longer than needed.

 

“I’ll take care of the body,” he said finally. His voice was quiet. Heavy.

 

I nodded, fingers curled limply in my lap. I hadn’t said a word the whole drive.

 

He turned toward me. “You want me to sneak you in? Avoid the boys so you can get cleaned up first?”

 

I shook my head once. Slow. “They’ll find me before I make it past the path.” My voice was ragged. Thin.

 

Yaga sighed through his nose, pressing a hand over his face. “Avoid everyone else. Go clean up. See Shoko or drain, whatever you need to do to get your spine stable. That’s an order, not a suggestion.”

 

I nodded again. Even that small movement made the raw skin along my back pull tight.

 

Then I opened the door.

 

The cold hit like a slap.

 

January wind peeled through my torn clothes. My own blood had dried sticky and black across my chest and legs, the fabric stiff with it. My boots squelched with each step. Hair stuck to the side of my face, crusted to the curve of my throat.

 

The wind carried the metallic tang of the wrapped corpse in the back of the van, even under the tarp.

 

I didn’t look back.

 

I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want to see myself.

 

I made it past the faculty lot. I could see the dorm buildings in the distance, lights flickering inside. Everything smelled like snow and damp earth and steel.

 

That’s when I felt them.

 

Two signatures flared up from across the courtyard like a flare gun shot into the night.

 

Satoru and Suguru.

 

One blinding, like hot static and summer lightning.

The other grounded, slow and steady, like something ancient blooming awake.

 

They were already moving.

 

The second I crossed into the open, they were there.

 

Suguru stopped dead the moment he saw me, his mouth opened, but nothing came out. He just stared, like his brain couldn’t compute what he was seeing.

 

Satoru stumbled to a stop just behind him, shoulders rising with each sharp breath like he’d just run miles. His glasses were gone.

 

“Amara-” Suguru’s voice cracked.

 

I stood still.

 

They looked at me like they didn’t know where to start. Like they’d rehearsed a thousand things to say but every single one fell apart the moment they saw the shape I was in.

 

My lips cracked when I tried to speak. “I-”

 

Gojo rushed forward first, but he didn’t touch me. He reached out and stopped, hand hovering just short of my cheek. “What the fuck did they do to you?”

 

“I said I’d come back.” My voice wasn’t mine. It sounded too far away.

 

Gojo’s breath hitched. His fingers trembled where they hovered near my cheek, unsure if he was allowed to close that distance. He was always touching, always playful, hands everywhere, but now, it was like he was scared I might shatter if he laid so much as a fingertip on me.

 

“Yeah,” he whispered, finally resting his palm against the side of my face. “You did. And you did...”

 

Suguru moved slower. He stepped around me, eyes raking over every bloodstain, every rip, every patch of skin that shouldn’t have been showing. His gaze stopped at my spine, where the black vein-like markings had crept high up toward my shoulder blades. His jaw clenched, but he said nothing. Just reached out and gently gathered my hair out of my face, tucking it behind one ear.

 

“You’re freezing,” he murmured. “We need to get you inside.”

 

I nodded once, barely.

 

Gojo pulled his jacket tighter around me, like maybe if he bundled me up enough I’d start looking like myself again. I didn’t fight it. I couldn’t. My limbs weren’t really mine right now.

 

They each took one of my arms, not dragging, not holding, just guiding. Like they were afraid if they let go I’d drift away.

 

---

 

The walk to the dorm was short. I didn’t remember it.

 

My boots left sticky, smeared prints all the way down the hallway. No one else was out, or if they were, they scattered fast. I must’ve looked like a ghost. Or worse.

 

Inside my room, Gojo moved first. He turned on the space heater. Suguru found a towel. I stood in the middle of it all, still wrapped in Gojo’s jacket, arms limp at my sides.

 

“You want help getting cleaned up?” Suguru asked gently.

 

I nodded.

 

They didn’t hesitate.

 

Suguru moved first, always the quiet motion behind the chaos. He disappeared into the bathroom, and I heard the soft creak of the faucet and the rhythmic hiss of water heating up. A few seconds later, the steam began curling out from under the door. He came back, eyes sweeping me again, calculating everything I might need before I even knew to ask.

 

“I set up a chair,” he said, voice low and careful. “You can sit while we clean you up. It’s warm.”

 

Gojo was already moving behind me, undoing the clasps on what was left of my uniform. His hands, so often flippant or teasing, felt reverent now. Like touching me was an honor he didn’t deserve.

 

“Gotta lift your arms, sweetheart,” he murmured.

 

I did.

 

He pulled the blood-soaked fabric over my head with careful precision, trying not to tug on the dried bits clinging to my skin. My sports bra had fused with a healing wound, and when he saw that, his breath caught. He didn't say anything, just made a soft, pained sound in his throat before getting it off and moving on.

 

Suguru returned, crouched in front of me, and began unlacing my boots with slow, practiced fingers. He peeled the socks off one by one. My feet should have been raw, blistered from walking too long in soaked fabric, but my body healed, like nothing ever happened. Like always. They worked in silence, Gojo bracing me as Suguru undressed me like he was unwrapping glass.

 

When the last piece was gone, neither of them stared. Neither of them looked away, either. They just helped me to the bathroom like it was the most normal thing in the world. Gojo held one hand at my back, Suguru’s arm under mine.

 

The chair was already set under the warm spray. A towel folded for a cushion. Bottles lined up neatly. Suguru knelt beside it and looked up at me.

 

“Sit slow. Let the heat hit your legs first.”

 

I did.

 

And then I just sat there, letting the water pour over me, the pink of old blood swirling down the drain like ink on paper. My hair clung to my shoulders, skin blooming red under the warmth, but the chill wouldn’t leave.

 

Gojo crouched behind me and began working conditioner into my hair with slow, careful circles. Suguru took a soft cloth to my arms and legs, not scrubbing, just wiping gently, like he was afraid he’d erase something vital if he went too hard.

 

They never talked. Not yet. Not until I was clean, until my body stopped shaking from cold and shock and old pain I hadn’t had time to process.

 

Suguru squeezed the cloth out and brushed it over the black streaks on my spine. I hissed, just a little. He froze.

 

“You okay?” he asked, voice rough.

 

“I don’t know,” I said honestly.

 

Gojo kissed the back of my shoulder, just once. His infinity keeping him dry.

 

“Then we’ll help you figure it out.”

 

And they kept going, rinsing, drying, helping me stand, wrapping me in the softest towel they could find.

 

No one rushed.

 

There were no jokes. No pity.

 

Just love.

 

And I let it hold me.

 

---

 

They got me cleaned up like I was something precious, something that hadn’t just been broken open and stitched shut by sheer force of will. Suguru towel-dried my hair gently, whispering apologies every time he hit a tangle. Gojo handed him my favorite fuzzy socks like it was some sacred ritual, and they both fussed over which shirt would feel softest on my skin.

 

I didn’t fight it.

 

Suguru’s sweatpants hung loose on my hips. Gojo’s shirt smelled like both of them, clean linen, faint sweat, and his obnoxiously expensive cologne. They’d even found a pair of soft, comfy underwear that didn’t cling too tightly. I didn’t know where they’d found them. I didn’t ask. My body just lets them move it around.

 

When they finally pulled me into bed, I sagged between them. Suguru tucked me in against his chest, one leg between mine, while Gojo curled up behind me and rested his chin in the space between my shoulder and ear, running his hands gently up my spine.

 

“Drain from me,” Satoru murmured, his voice warm and close. “As much as you need, okay? Don’t worry about me.”

 

I hesitated.

 

The hunger was crawling again, dull and prickling down my spine. But I was scared, not of draining him, but of what it might erase. Did I deserve to forget yet?

 

Still, my tendrils moved. Hesitant. Sluggish. They curled out from my back, slow and unsure, flickering like something half-alive.

 

Gojo reached out toward one, his fingers brushing the closest one like you might pet a spooked dog. “C’mere, little guy,” he whispered, like he was talking to one of Yu’s stray cat friends. “You’re okay.”

 

My tendrils twitched. One of them actually recoiled.

 

He smiled, that soft smile I only ever saw when he thought no one else was watching. “I know you’re hungry. It’s alright. She’s safe. You’re safe.”

 

They moved again. This time more confidently, curling toward the base of his neck, slow and almost reverent.

 

When they touched, I gasped.

 

Not because it hurt, but because for once, I felt it all the way down.

 

So did he.

 

Gojo shivered slightly. “Ohhh, that’s new,” he mumbled, laughing under his breath. “Feels like-” He paused, scrunching his nose. “Like someone’s tickling my bones.”

 

I blushed, humiliated. “Sorry-”

 

“No! It’s not bad. It’s just… weird. But kind of funny?” He chuckled, clearly not bothered. “Like you’re sipping from my spine with a crazy straw.”

 

I groaned.

 

Suguru snorted from behind me.

 

“Seriously though,” Gojo whispered, voice gentling again, “take what you need. I have enough to spare for every person in this school and still be annoying.”

 

My tendrils fed slowly, cautiously at first, then with real hunger.

 

They wrapped around his shoulder, around his waist, rooting into the curve of his collarbone like vines curling into warm soil. Not piercing, not tearing, just draining, steady and alive.

 

And gods, I could feel every inch of it.

 

His hand stroked over them absently, just like he would pet my hair, and every time he did, I felt it down to my toes. The tendrils responded like muscle memory, curling closer to his touch, almost vibrating.

 

“Yeah,” Gojo murmured, eyes half-lidded. “Definitely like petting a very affectionate ghost.”

 

Suguru’s fingers slid across my lower back, grounding me. “They’re just a part of you,” he said softly. “Don’t be ashamed of what helps you survive.”

 

I nodded, dizzy from the contact, the heat, the rush of cursed energy slowly smoothing out the raw burn in my spine. My eyes fluttered shut.

 

I could still feel Gojo’s pulse under my tendrils.

 

I was still here.

 

And they were still holding me like I wasn’t something awful.

 

Like I was allowed to exist, even now.

 

Even after everything..

 

The drain slowed, then stopped, like my body finally decided it had enough to keep breathing without screaming.

 

The tendrils retreated with a gentle twitch, curling back into my spine like tired limbs crawling under a blanket. One lingered for a second longer against Gojo’s chest, reluctant to leave the warmth. He chuckled and gave it a lazy little tap like, go on, now, and it vanished too.

 

The room felt quieter after that.

 

Lighter.

 

Gojo shifted slightly, hand moving to my lower back with the kind of care he rarely ever showed anyone. “Alright,” he said, his voice low. “Let me see how bad it is.”

 

Suguru was already leaning forward, brushing my hair out of the way with both hands. “Deep breath, hun,” he murmured. “We’ve got you.”

 

They both peeled the oversized shirt up enough to see my back. I stayed still, cheek pressed to Suguru’s chest, heart hammering in the quiet.

 

I felt it before they even said anything, this strange hum under my skin, like something clicking back into place.

 

“Whoa,” Gojo said softly. “Look.”

 

His fingers ghosted over the edge of my spine. “They’re fading.”

 

I tilted my head, blinking through the haze. “The veins?”

 

“Yeah,” Suguru confirmed, voice steady but quiet. “They’re pulling back. The markings are almost gone.”

 

“And the swelling,” Gojo added, “it’s all going down. Her whole system’s stabilizing. Like the drain actually hit a full reset.”

 

My breath stuttered. That constant buzzing ache that had settled into my bones since the cabin, was just… gone. Even the pain in my gut from the stab wound. Even the bruises on my ribs.

 

It was like none of it had happened.

 

Suguru pulled the shirt back down gently, hand resting between my shoulder blades like a weightless anchor. “Your loop’s back online.”

 

Gojo flopped backward with a relieved sigh, one arm thrown over his eyes. “God, I hate watching you break. It makes me want to smash something.”

 

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know how to.

 

I just lay there between them, warm, safe, held.

 

---

 

The knock on the door was firm. “You three have half an hour. Ceremony starts soon,” Yaga’s voice called through the wood, already fading as he walked away.

 

A groan echoed behind me. Satoru shifted, his arm tightening around my waist like a human seatbelt. “Five more minutes,” he muttered into my shoulder, voice hoarse with sleep.

 

“Up,” Suguru’s voice came from in front of me, already sitting up, hair somehow not a disaster. “You too, Satoru.”

 

I sighed and peeled Satoru’s arm off gently, sitting up as the blanket fell off my shoulders. My body didn’t ache anymore, not physically, but I felt heavy. Like my bones had been dipped in lead.

 

I stood, grabbing the black dress folded over the back of the chair. It wasn’t fancy. Just plain, fitted enough not to look messy. I pulled it on without comment, the hem brushing just above my knees. Flats. Smuched waterline liner. I didn’t bother with anything extra. I already had all my important jewelry on.

 

Suguru watched quietly from the other side of the room, buttoning up a charcoal-gray shirt. “You sure that’s what you want to wear?”

 

I nodded. “It’s fine.”

 

“You don’t have to prove anything, Mara,” he said softly. “This is a celebration. Not a test.”

 

“I know.” I reached for a hair tie, pulling my hair into a low pony, messy and a little damp from the night before. “I just don’t have the energy to pretend.”

 

Satoru finally rolled out of bed, groaning dramatically and dragging a hand through his wild white hair. “Ugh, mornings are a crime,” he muttered, catching sight of me and blinking. “Hey… you look good.”

 

I raised a brow. “You’re lying.”

 

“Not when it comes to you,” he grinned, stepping into his navy-blue slacks. “You look pretty. Tired. But pretty.”

 

I didn’t respond. Suguru walked over, setting a hand on my back, firm but warm. “We’ll stay close as long as we can,” he murmured. “You don’t have to say anything unless you want to.”

 

I nodded again. I wasn’t sure if I could speak in front of everyone. I didn’t want to relive it. I just wanted it to be over.

 

Satoru pulled on his jacket, adjusting the sleeves and glancing toward the door. “You ready, sweetheart?”

 

“No,” I admitted, “but let’s go.”

 

They both offered their arms and I took them.

 

We stepped into the hallway, the three of us together, and made our way toward whatever the Elders had prepared. I felt eyes on me the moment we turned the corner, whispers, murmurs, but none of it reached through the thick silence in my chest.

 

Suguru glanced down. “After this,” he said, “we’re going somewhere quiet. Just us.”

 

“Yeah,” Satoru agreed. “Somewhere warm. Maybe with sweets.”

 

---

 

The walk across the campus grounds was quiet. Too quiet.

 

Winter wind slid past bare branches, and even the usual chatter of birds seemed muted under the weight of ceremony. The cold bit at the edges of my sleeves, even through the fabric of the black dress, and my flats crunched softly against gravel as I followed Yaga toward the main hall.

 

Satoru and Suguru flanked me, neither saying much. They didn't need to. I could feel the tension rolling off both of them like static. Suguru kept glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, calculating, quiet. Satoru walked just half a step behind, like he was ready to catch me if I fell. His fingers brushed mine once, light as breath, and I let them linger.

 

The grand hall looked more alive than I’d ever seen it. Curtains pulled open to let in soft winter sun, the warm glow of gold and wood polished to gleam. Rows of students and staff lined the seating gallery, Yu waving wildly the moment he spotted me, Shoko standing beside him, arms crossed but smiling faintly, her cigarette tucked behind one ear like a pen. Even Mei Mei was here, standing with Utahime and Principal Gakuganji, who looked about as pleased as always.

 

And then there were the Elders. A full row of them, like vultures on velvet perches.

 

My stomach twisted.

 

“You don’t have to smile,” Suguru murmured as we approached the first steps. “Just walk.”

 

“Smile and wave, sweetheart,” Satoru teased, his tone airy but his eyes razor-sharp. “Pretend this is where your hero arc really starts.”

 

I didn’t respond. I just kept walking.

 

They made their way to their seats and I made my way to Yaga.

 

Yaga stepped forward first, his hands clasped behind his back. “Today we gather to recognize one of our own,” he said, voice loud and clear across the hall. “A sorcerer who has proven not only strength, but resilience, tact, and sacrifice.”

 

I stared straight ahead. My name hadn’t been spoken yet, but it echoed in every syllable.

 

Yaga paused. “Hoshizuki Amara.”

 

The hall went quiet. I stepped forward.

 

Climbing the steps was the hardest part. My back ached, still sore despite the drain, and my lungs felt too small, like every breath rattled. But I kept my chin level.

 

“Hoshizuki has completed a solo mission under winter clearance,” Yaga continued. “Assigned by the Jujutsu Headquarters themselves.”

 

A murmur rippled through the audience.

 

“She was tasked with eliminating a known threat, one dangerous enough to require an immediate and permanent resolution. Alone.”

 

The Elders, seated in a row like ancient idols, nodded as one. One of them leaned forward to speak, voice cracked and sharp. “Many questioned the decision. But we believed the bloodline would reveal itself in crisis.”

 

My breath stopped. I felt the shift near me, Gojo’s cursed energy pulsed sharply, then muffled again. Suguru’s fingers twitched at his side. No one else seemed to notice.

 

But I did.

 

The Elder kept speaking. “And we were not disappointed.”

 

Laughter. Applause. Formal, restrained. The kind that didn’t feel earned.

 

I stood there in the center of it all, black dress, scraped knuckles still healing beneath sleeves, haunted eyes, and tried not to unravel.

 

They didn’t know. None of them did.

 

The Elder’s voice rolled like smoke across the crowd.

 

“For those unfamiliar with Miss Hoshizuki,” he began, “let us make her accomplishments clear.”

 

I kept my expression neutral. Chin up. Spine stiff. My arms hung at my sides like they weren’t mine.

 

“She is a rare case. One brought in not for lineage or legacy, but for potential. Potential identified and cultivated under direct supervision.”

 

I could feel it then, that shift.

 

The words weren’t for celebration.

 

They were for claiming.

 

“From the moment she arrived, she showed raw cursed energy beyond what is typical for her age group. Untrained, yes. But responsive. Flexible. And most importantly, she was… amenable to instruction.”

 

The Elder’s eyes slid to me like a blade.

 

Obedient. That’s what they were saying.

 

“She did not rebel. She did not resist the structure we offered. She adapted. She grew.”

 

I clenched my teeth behind a closed-mouth smile.

 

“She has since trained under multiple senior sorcerers, including special grade supervision. And despite personal hardships, she has remained focused and receptive.”

 

A second Elder stepped forward now, voice lower, colder.

 

“In combat, Miss Hoshizuki is primarily categorized as a support-class hybrid. Her cursed energy is constantly active in a regenerative loop, giving her the ability to remain on the field longer than most.”

 

He gestured like he was reading from a scroll.

 

“She can recover from internal trauma, blood loss, organ damage, and even high-grade cursed wounds with remarkable speed. While this regeneration is not infinite, it is self-sustaining, and significantly reduces the risk of mission failure due to injury.”

 

There were little murmurs in the crowd now. A few wide eyes. Someone whispering, “She can’t die?”

 

“She can,” the Elder said flatly, catching it. “But not easily.”

 

There were a few nervous laughs. I didn’t join them.

 

“She has also demonstrated the ability to transfer this regenerative field to others. Temporarily. In critical cases. Though it causes her considerable strain, she has done so willingly when commanded.”

 

Commanded.

 

Like I didn’t choose it. Like Shoko hadn’t been the one running the tests.

 

Like I didn’t want to help Suguru back together with my own hands.

 

“Furthermore,” he went on, “Miss Hoshizuki’s offensive technique allows her to summon cursed energy-based appendages, commonly referred to as tendrils, that operate in tandem with her will. These are capable of immobilization, rapid strikes, and localized energy drains.”

 

He paused.

 

“They have also shown unpredictable behavior when she is emotionally compromised.”

 

Gojo shifted hard in the seats behind me. Suguru muttered something I couldn’t hear.

 

“Which is why,” the Elder said, raising his chin, “her discipline is key. Unlike many her age, Miss Hoshizuki has not acted out. She has not questioned her training, nor resisted when asked to push herself beyond comfort. It is that restraint that allows us to trust her.”

 

Trust me to stay in line.

 

Trust me to bleed on cue.

 

“She is powerful, yes. But she is controlled.”

 

No. You think I am.

 

Shoko, from the corner of my vision, crossed her legs the other way and lit another cigarette. Calm. Too calm.

 

“And like all power,” the Elder finished, “there are weaknesses.”

 

I swallowed.

 

“Her cursed energy burns stamina at a continuous rate. She is dependent on draining or rest to maintain stability. If her internal loop is overused, it begins to break down. This presents in physical symptoms, black vein markings, energy withdrawal, and emotional instability.”

 

They were listing it all.

 

Everything. It feels embarrassing.

 

“She is also highly sensitive to emotional stimuli. Her bond with certain peers has proven… motivating. But this may also render her vulnerable if manipulated. In the field, this is both a strength and a risk.”

 

Suguru’s cursed energy flared again, hotter this time.

 

“Suguru,” Nanami’s voice cut quietly through the crowd. “Control it.”

 

Gojo didn’t say a word. But his legs were bouncing, one knee jittering under his slacks like he might teleport onto the stage if one more sentence was spoken.

 

Yu, on the other hand..

 

“YEAHHHH AMARA!!! TELL ‘EM YOU GOT EMOTIONS AND KICKASS ENERGY AND YOU’RE STILL COOL!!”

 

Somewhere in the back, Utahime laughed.

 

I didn’t move and tried to hold back a smile.

 

I just kept standing there and let them keep talking about me like I wasn’t in the room. Like I was a bio-weapon rolled off the assembly line.

 

“And so,” one of the Elders croaked, voice shaking with faux ceremony, “by decree of the Jujutsu Higher Council and under the guidance of Principal Masamichi Yaga-”

 

Yaga stood off to the side, arms crossed. He hadn’t spoken once since the first greeting. His expression had been stone the entire time.

 

“-we hereby assign Amara Hoshizuki the rank of Semi-Grade 1 Sorcerer.”

 

My ears rang.

 

I felt the words before I processed them. My fingers tightened around the edge of the scroll. The weight of the ink. The wax. The fact that this meant I wasn’t just a student anymore. I wasn’t a rescue case. I was a something else entirely...

 

“And with that designation, she is now formally recognized as a Jujutsu Sorcerer in Training,” another Elder continued, the silk of his robes rasping as he shifted behind the podium. “She will be cleared for intensified training and eligible for field missions matching her rank. Additional evaluation will determine when promotion to full Grade 1 is appropriate.”

 

Cleared for field missions.

 

I’d just come back from one. Alone.

 

And now they were telling me I was ready for more.

 

I heard it, even from the stage.

 

“Bullshit,” Satoru muttered under his breath.

 

“Too fast,” Suguru added beside him, voice low but sharp. “She’s barely out of recovery.”

 

“She survived something half the sorcerers in this room wouldn’t walk away from,” Shoko countered gently.

 

“Exactly,” Suguru said. “So why are they already trying to throw her back in?”

 

Yu whooped loud enough to drown out the tension for a second. “THAT’S MY GIRL! HELL YEAH, AMARA!”

 

Someone behind him hissed at him to sit down. He didn’t.

 

I stood there, scroll in hand, spine still healing under the dress I barely cared to put on, my skin humming with borrowed cursed energy and exhaustion.

 

Semi-Grade 1.

 

I was one of them now.

 

I didn’t feel proud.

 

I didn’t feel ready.

 

I felt… aimed.

 

Aimed at something I hadn’t agreed to yet. Something I wasn’t sure I could walk away from again.

 

But I bowed when they gestured for it. Because that’s what they expected.

 

Because I said I’d come back.

 

And I did.

 

---

 

I don’t remember exactly how we got away, just the blur of clapping, the weight of too many eyes, and Yu’s voice echoing somewhere behind me, still cheering like I’d just won a medal instead of… whatever this was.

 

But then Suguru’s hand slid into mine.

 

Satoru’s arm came around my back.

 

And the world funneled into just the three of us.

 

We moved fast, past the side corridor, behind the stage, through a side exit no one else seemed to remember. The sun outside was low and gold, the air cold and dry. It hit my skin like a slap, but I was already too numb to flinch.

 

The second we were alone, they didn’t speak.

 

They just held me.

 

Satoru wrapped his arms around my shoulders from behind, chin resting lightly on my crown, while Suguru pressed in from the front, arms circling my waist like a net.

 

“I get it now,” Suguru murmured, breath warm against my cheek. “They never said it directly, but we know what that mission was.”

 

I didn’t answer.

 

I didn’t have to.

 

Satoru nuzzled into my temple. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

I hesitated.

 

Then I nodded.

 

Just once.

 

Suguru stepped back, just enough to tilt my chin up with his fingers. “Only if you want to, love.”

 

“I do,” I whispered. “But only… to you. Just you two.”

 

They nodded, no hesitation. No expectations.

 

Satoru led us to sit, on the low stone ledge by the side wall, half-hidden from the courtyard, just barely out of view of the lingering crowd. Suguru sat beside me, thigh pressed to mine, while Satoru knelt in front, arms looped over my knees like he was anchoring me in place.

 

So I started.

 

“I didn’t mean to kill him at first,” I said, voice low, eyes fixed on my hands. “I thought I could just walk away…”

 

And as the words started tumbling out, slow, soft, halting, they stayed close, completely still, listening like I was the only sound in the universe.

 

The last thing I saw before the rest of the world faded was Suguru brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, and Satoru squeezing my knee once, grounding me again.

 

And the rest..

 

That was just for us.

Chapter 69: Mourning

Summary:

Tw: dealing with a dead body, talk of death, cremation

The steel door wasn’t locked.

 

That’s what surprised me the most when I pushed it open, how easy it was to slip inside, like the building itself didn’t mind if I came back here.

 

The morgue was cold in a way that bit straight through your sleeves. Not just the temperature. The silence, the tile, the smell. All of it. You didn’t walk in here unless you had to.

 

Shoko’s voice was the first thing I heard. “We’ll keep the record minimal. No kin. No known affiliations.”

 

Yaga’s low voice followed. “Just another footnote. Burn and log.”

 

I stepped in.

 

They both turned, startled, but neither looked surprised to see me standing there like a ghost. I didn’t speak yet. My eyes had already locked onto the body.

 

Kirara Tsutsumi. No family. No burial request.

 

He lay still on the steel table, shrouded in a white sheet, clean and prepared. Like nothing had ever been wrong. Like I hadn’t crushed half his ribs and burned through his nervous system trying to survive.

 

“Amara?” Yaga said, quietly but sternly. “You shouldn’t be down here.”

 

“I know.” I stepped closer. “But I had to come anyway.”

 

Shoko was still in her coat, gloves half-on, a cigarette already resting in the ashtray. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You need something?”

 

My throat felt like it didn’t want to work. But I made it.

 

“I want to cremate him.”

 

Yaga looked confused. “Why?”

 

“Because I killed him.”

 

The words didn’t echo. They landed flat and heavy in the sterile morgue air.

 

Yaga blinked once. Shoko’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t speak. I didn’t look at them, just at him. The man on the table. Kirara Tsutsumi...

 

“I killed him,” I said again, quieter this time. “And now he has no one.”

 

Yaga shifted, arms crossing. “You were ordered. You don't need to prove anything.”

 

“That doesn’t change what it was.” My voice didn’t shake. That surprised me. “He died by my hand. He was trying to kill me, but still. I ended him. He was more than a line in a mission report.”

 

Shoko leaned back against the counter, cigarette burning slowly between her fingers. “You want to cremate him yourself?”

 

I nodded. “Please.”

 

There was a beat of silence.

 

Shoko tilted her head toward Yaga. “Well?”

 

Yaga sighed, eyes scanning me like he was trying to read deeper than the words. “You sure you’re up for it?”

 

“No,” I said honestly. “But I still want to.”

 

They exchanged a look. Something silent passed between them. Yaga gave the faintest nod.

 

Shoko exhaled smoke. “Alright.”

 

She pushed off the wall, gloved up again, and moved to help prepare the final steps. “Body’s been cleaned. No cursed residue. Autopsy done. It’s ready.”

 

I walked over and stared down at him. Kirara looked peaceful. Like someone sleeping through a storm.

 

“Do you want a minute?” Shoko asked.

 

I shook my head. “I don’t want to wait anymore.”

 

Yaga stepped back while Shoko brought over the entry form. “He didn’t have family. No registration beyond mercenary contracts. No personal effects. No one’s coming for him.”

 

That made it worse. It made it feel like his life ended the second he was useful to someone.

 

I moved to the control panel as Shoko guided me through it. “Push here. Confirm identity. Mark cremation approved by Jujutsu authority.”

I did each step slowly, carefully, like messing up would make it all worse.

 

“Ready?” she asked.

 

I nodded once. “Yeah.”

 

The chamber opened with a mechanical hiss. A dry rush of heat swept out, hot but clean. Final.

 

I didn’t say any long goodbye. No speech. Just stood there for a moment with one hand lightly on the sheet covering his chest.

 

“I hope you find peace,” I whispered. “And if there’s something after this… I hope they treat you better than we did.”

 

I slid the body in.

 

The flames rose with a hollow roar. It was fast. Bright. Final.

 

I stood there even after the door shut.

 

Not crying.

 

Not trembling.

 

Just… breathing. And letting the weight of it settle in my spine.

 

Shoko didn’t interrupt. She just stayed beside me in silence. Yaga remained near the door, arms folded, watching with something unreadable in his expression.

 

Eventually, Shoko broke the quiet. “You know most people don’t come down here at all.”

 

“Yeah,” I muttered, not looking at her. “Because it sucks. Nothing good happens in a morgue.”

 

That pulled a low, dry chuckle from her, half amusement, half exhale.

 

“You’re not wrong,” she said. “It does suck.”

 

The silence after wasn’t uncomfortable. Just settled. Like the air had agreed it didn’t need to pretend to be light.

 

I kept my eyes on the closed furnace panel, fingers curling slightly around the hem of Gojo’s shirt that hung too long on me.

 

Shoko eventually spoke again, softer this time. “You know… you’re really different now.”

 

I blinked, then turned to glance at her. “Thanks?”

 

She huffed again, this time more amused. “No, I mean it. But not in a bad way.”

 

I tilted my head slightly.

 

“You’ve changed,” she went on, flicking ash into the tray. “You’re stronger, more focused. You’ve got control now, over your power, your choices. But you’re still… you.”

 

I frowned. “What does that mean?”

 

“It means,” she said, tapping the cigarette once more before setting it down, “you still care. That didn’t get bled out of you. Not even after everything.”

 

I looked back at the furnace. “Does it make me soft?”

 

“No,” she said firmly. “It makes you rare.”

 

The quiet stretched again, her words settling deeper than I wanted to admit.

 

“I didn’t know him,” I said, voice low. “Kirara Tsutsumi. I barely even got his name. But I… I didn’t want to hate him either. He didn’t deserve to be forgotten.”

 

“You gave him something no one else would,” Shoko said. “Dignity.”

 

My throat tightened. “I don’t think I can kill like that again. I will if I have to… but only then. Only if there’s nothing else.”

 

Shoko nodded, not surprised. “That line, the one you just drew, it’s what keeps people like you from becoming people like him.”

 

I didn’t speak, but something inside me loosened.

 

“What you did here,” she added, “shows more soul than anything else you’ve done since I met you. And I’ve seen you drag yourself half-dead through the training yard and fight off three curses at once.”

 

I gave a small, shaky breath. “Thanks… I think.”

 

She smiled, just a little. “You know, for someone who pretends she doesn’t want to be loved, you act like someone who gives a shit about everyone.”

 

“Shut up,” I muttered, cheeks warm.

 

Shoko let the moment sit for a beat longer, then nudged the cigarette into the tray and crossed her arms loosely, the sleeves of her coat crinkling slightly with the motion.

 

“I don’t say shit like that lightly, you know,” she added. “Most people down here are already dead inside before they ever touch a body.”

 

I glanced at her. “You saying I’m not?”

 

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “If you were, you wouldn’t have come down here in the first place. Would’ve let the report close him out and moved on.”

 

“I didn’t know what else to do,” I admitted.

 

“That’s the difference.” Shoko’s tone was calm, but it didn’t pull punches. “You didn’t know, but you still showed up. Most people don’t. I didn’t, not at first.”

 

That made me pause. “You?”

 

She gave a little shrug. “First time I saw a corpse, I threw up in the stairwell. Hid in the stairwell again when the second one came in. The third one I got stuck with alone and had to fake confidence so hard I almost convinced myself I was okay.”

 

There was a small, bitter smile tugging at the corner of her mouth now, but it wasn’t cruel, it was honest.

 

“I didn’t pick this because I’m brave,” she said. “I picked it because no one else wanted it. And because I needed to know why people were dying like this. Why we just accepted it.”

 

I looked at her, really looked, and saw the tiredness behind her sharpness. The steadiness she carried didn’t come from comfort, it came from practice. She was standing because if she didn’t, no one would.

 

“So now I deal with the dead,” she said simply. “And I make sure they don’t disappear without someone knowing they were here.”

 

I stared back at the cremation chamber. “That’s what I wanted. Just for someone to know he existed.”

 

Shoko nudged her shoulder lightly against mine. “Then hopefully you did right by him.”

 

We stood in silence again.

 

I didn’t realize how long until the heat from the chamber started to fade a little, the last glow dying out behind the steel panel.

 

Eventually, Shoko straightened and said, “Come by the med building later, if you want. I’ll save you some chocolate protein bars from the stock room.”

 

I blinked. “That’s a bribe.”

 

“It’s incentive.” She smirked. “You look like you haven’t eaten anything real since yesterday.”

 

“…That’s because I haven’t.”

 

“Then get out of the morgue and go fix it.”

 

I didn’t move right away. But the corner of my mouth lifted slightly.

 

She turned to leave but paused in the doorway. “You’re not alone in this, Amara. You’re never gonna be alone in this. No matter how much it feels like you have to carry things by yourself.”

 

She didn’t wait for me to respond this time.

 

She just let the words settle and left me with them.

 

The morgue door hissed shut behind me with a sound too soft for how loud everything felt in my chest.

 

My steps echoed down the hall, slow, heavy, but steady. I hadn’t realized how tense my shoulders were until I stepped back into the main corridor and felt the weight shift. The air was warmer out here. Brighter. Less final.

 

I turned the corner.

 

And stopped.

 

Gojo was leaned sideways against the wall like he owned it, arms crossed, legs stretched out obnoxiously long. His glasses were pushed up onto his forehead like he hadn’t bothered to fix them properly, hair wild from either wind or his hands. He didn’t speak when he saw me, he just stood up straighter, like it mattered.

 

Suguru was beside him, hands in his coat pockets, calm and quiet the way only he could be. His gaze met mine first, steady, unreadable at first glance, but full of something warmer the longer I held it. His brows lifted just a little, like a silent question.

 

I didn’t answer right away.

 

Gojo tilted his head. “You took your time, sweetheart.”

 

“Wasn’t exactly a quick errand,” I muttered.

 

Suguru took a step forward, voice low. “You alright?”

 

I nodded. “Yeah. I just needed to do it.”

 

Neither of them asked what “it” was. Of course they didn’t. They already knew.

 

Gojo reached out and tugged the sleeve of his shirt where it hung too long on me, frowning slightly. “You’re wearing this like a damn dress.”

 

“Your fault for being built like a coat rack,” I said.

 

That earned the smile I didn’t know I needed. It broke open across his face, sharp and stupid and real. “So mean to me after I waited all patiently and everything.”

 

Suguru didn’t smile as widely, but his voice was gentle. “You want to go back to your room? Or somewhere else?”

 

I didn’t know how to answer that. I didn’t know what I wanted.

 

But then Suguru stepped close enough to touch, and Gojo reached out like it was nothing, like it was easy to just rest his hand lightly against the back of my head.

 

I exhaled, long and slow, and let them pull me in. Suguru’s hand settled between my shoulder blades, grounding. Gojo’s palm stayed at the nape of my neck, warm through my hair. Neither of them said anything for a while. I didn’t need them to.

 

“I slid him in myself,” I said eventually, voice low. “The chamber. I pushed the button.”

 

Suguru’s hand stilled, then resumed its slow, soothing rhythm.

 

Gojo didn’t flinch. “You did the right thing.”

 

“It still sucks.”

 

“Yeah,” he said. “It does.”

 

I felt tired all over again. But not the frantic kind. Just... the real kind.

 

Suguru finally said, “We brought snacks.”

 

That pulled a short breath out of me, almost a laugh. “Are you serious?”

 

Gojo perked up. “Oh, he’s serious. We got sour candy, those chocolate mushroom stick things you like, and, wait for it, actual good tea.”

 

I stared at them. “What, were you planning a picnic outside the morgue?”

 

“Maybe,” Gojo said. “You didn’t show up to breakfast, we got worried.”

 

“I told him to leave you alone,” Suguru added. “But you know he never listens.”

 

I shook my head, cheeks warming. “You guys are ridiculous.”

 

“You love us,” Gojo grinned.

 

"More than anything." I smile softly.

 

“Come on,” Suguru said, stepping back just enough to start walking beside me. “We’ll go somewhere quiet.”

 

“Preferably not near dead bodies this time,” Gojo added.

 

They didn’t take me back to the dorms.

 

I thought they would, thought Suguru would suggest his room or Gojo would drag me to the common room for snacks and half-hearted Mario Kart, but they didn’t.

 

Instead, they led me past the main building, through one of the side gardens where the winter camellias had just started blooming. I didn’t even realize where we were headed until we passed through the broken gate near the old greenhouse, one of those places no one really used anymore.

 

The glass was fogged but intact. Sunlight spilled through the high panes, filtered and soft. The inside was warm, full of old wooden crates, potted herbs, and a few sagging benches that looked like they might crumble if you breathed on them wrong.

 

But it smelled like lavender and earth. It was quiet.

 

Suguru opened the creaky door like he’d done it before. “This place gets sun all day. And no one comes out here except Yaga to occasionally water the rosemary and Yu when he wants to try and plant things again.”

 

Gojo reached into his bag and started unpacking it on the flattest crate. He had a tea canister, a thermos, candy, and a small bento box with my name scrawled in obnoxiously bubbly handwriting on the lid. “See? Not a picnic by the morgue. A picnic after the morgue. Totally different vibe.”

 

I blinked at the setup. “You guys planned this?”

 

Suguru shrugged one shoulder. “We had a feeling today would be… heavy.”

 

“And we’ve been saving this for a day you needed spoiling,” Gojo said, plopping down onto the bench and patting the spot beside him. “Which is apparently now.”

 

I didn’t move for a second.

 

Didn’t trust my face not to betray how much it meant.

 

Then I stepped over, kicked Gojo’s foot out of the way, and sat between them.

 

“Just so you know,” I muttered, picking up a mushroom-shaped chocolate, “this is ridiculous.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Suguru said, handing me a hot cup of spiced black tea. “And you’re loved.”

 

Gojo leaned his head on my shoulder, voice a muffled whine. “Yeah, let us love you, you moody little goth cactus.”

 

“Stop calling me that.”

 

“Never.”

 

The three of us sat in the warmth of the greenhouse, the late morning sun streaking down in broken gold across the old wood and the candy wrappers. They didn’t ask about the morgue again. Didn’t push. Just let me exist there, held between comfort and absurdity.

 

I sipped my tea. Closed my eyes for a second.

 

Let myself be held by the fact that even after everything, even after fire and silence and the worst thing I’d ever done..

 

They still brought me here.

 

And spoiled me, just enough to remind me that I was still alive. 

 

That it was okay for me to still be alive..

Chapter 70: A Real Fight

Summary:

Suguru tentacle kink maybe?

The message was short. He was serious.

 

Suguru 🖤:

Meet us in the back field. Bring your blade. We're training.

 

I stared at it for longer than I should’ve. I didn’t need him to clarify. There was only one reason Suguru Geto used that field. And it wasn’t for flirting though I wish it was..

 

---

 

By the time I made it to the far stretch of open dirt and dry grass behind the school, the one they usually used for domain testing or high-level clashes, he was already there. Dressed in his black sweats, sleeves pushed up, his hair tied tight, showing he was serious but he was calm. Centered. Watching the wind move through the field like it was setting him.

 

Gojo was lounging on the stone steps near the edge of the lot, sucking on a lollipop and squinting at the sky. “Took you long enough, sweetums,” he called. “Thought you were ditching us.”

 

I adjusted the grip on my blade as I walked toward them, the weight of it familiar now, grounding. “Didn’t want to trip and die on the way. That would’ve been embarrassing.”

 

Suguru gave me a faint smile, but it didn’t reach all the way. Not today. “Thanks for coming.”

 

“You gave me a command, not a choice,” I said lightly, trying to play it off. But my stomach was already tying itself into knots.

 

“Maybe,” he said. “But you still showed up. That means something.”

 

I stopped a few feet from him and glanced around the field. “So… what’s this?”

 

“I want to spar,” he said, simply.

 

That alone would’ve been enough to send my nerves crawling up the back of my neck. But then he added:

 

“For real this time. Full strength. You, me. No buffer.”

 

I blinked. “Why?”

 

He looked at me steadily. “Because I need to see it for myself. Your strength. Your control. If the promotion to Semi-Grade 1 was earned… or given out of fear.”

 

My throat tightened. “You think they gave it to me undeservingly?”

 

“I think they gave it to you because they’re trying to make you into something,” he said carefully. “And I need to know if you are choosing to be that, or if it’s just happening to you.”

 

Gojo sat up a little, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’m here to keep things civil, by the way. In case one of you gets dramatic.”

 

“You mean in case I get dramatic,” Suguru said dryly.

 

Gojo winked. “Tomato, to ma to.”

 

Suguru turned back to me. “This isn’t about ego, Amara. I trust you. But trust and equality aren’t the same thing. I’ve fought with you. I’ve watched you grow. But I’ve never gone all out against you. I want to see what you do when you’re not holding back.”

 

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around how you don’t understand how I'm a semi-grade 1. Me and Nanami are in the same grade and you've seen what he can do." I talk a little frustrated, like he's doubting my abilities.

 

"I'm not doubting your strength. For all I know you could be stronger than what they're saying." He sighs. "Amara you went from ungraded to semi-grade 1 with one mission. That's unheard of. I need to know what side of you they saw that I didn't.."

 

That kind of honesty shouldn’t have made my stomach twist in panic, but it did. He wasn’t being cruel. He needed to understand me completely and maybe part of him did underestimate me intentionally or not and now he needs to see what everyone else did. That he needed to fully see me as a sorcerer now and not just his lover.

 

“Okay,” I said. “So what’s the plan?”

 

He stepped back a few paces and gestured to the center of the field. “We’ll start ten meters apart. Cursed techniques allowed. No lethal intent. If I go too far, Gojo stops us.”

 

“And if I do?”

 

Suguru raised an eyebrow. “Then I’ll stop you.”

 

Gojo chimed in, stretching his legs. “We’re also setting safewords. This isn’t just a spar. This is a challenge. It’s supposed to push you to the edge, but not over.”

 

“Safewords?” I repeated, trying not to sound as unsettled as I felt.

 

Suguru nodded. “Pick one. Something you wouldn’t say mid-fight.”

 

“Uh…” I hesitated, glancing between them. “...‘Tiger Lily’?”

 

Gojo snorted. “That’s adorable.”

 

Suguru, despite himself, smirked faintly. “Tiger Lily it is. If you say it, I stop immediately. If I drop to one knee, the fight’s over.”

 

“And me?”

 

“If you slam your blade into the ground I’ll pull back no matter what. This is only in case you can't speak.”

 

I gulped a little.

 

There was a strange silence after that, like the air itself was listening.

 

Suguru looked at me not like a partner, not like a lover, but like a real opponent. Gojo leaned forward, watching us both with that same twitchy energy he got before a big fight.

 

“You ready?” Suguru asked.

 

I swallowed, heart thudding loudly in my ears.

No. Not really.

 

But I nodded anyway.

Because if I was going to call myself a sorcerer, if I was going to live this life, with them, I needed to face this. All of it.

 

Even the terrifying idea that Suguru might not hold back. He won't kill me and he doesn't want to.

 

“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s go.”

 

I barely heard Gojo say “Begin.”

 

Suguru moved before the word left his mouth, fast, clean, and controlled like gravity bent toward him.

 

I dodged sideways on instinct, the air shivering as one of his curses lunged from the dirt, a snakelike thing with serrated joints and a gaping maw. I sliced it clean across the neck, if it had a neck, but the second it dissipated, two more emerged in its place.

 

So this was how it was going to be..

 

Suguru wasn’t just fighting to test my patience or technique. He was testing if I could survive him.

 

I surged forward, slashing low, then pivoted and dragged my heel through the dirt, kicking up dust. My vines snapped out of the ground like whips, grabbing for his ankles. He jumped, not surprised, just adjusting, and three small curses launched from his sleeves in a triangle pattern, boxing me in.

 

I activated my shield mid-motion, forcing cursed energy outward in a burst as I swung my sword wide. The impact of my cursed energy pushing against his was like running full force into steel. I felt it crack through my arms.

 

He wasn’t even sweating.

 

“Don’t hesitate,” he said as I rolled under a curse that looked like a centipede with a human face. “If you hold back, I’ll end this in a minute.”

 

“Don’t give me a reason to,” I growled, snapping my wrist and sending two thorned vines at him.

 

He caught one with cursed energy and ripped it mid-air. The other tangled around his bicep, barely a scratch before he flung it aside.

 

But it was enough.

 

I dashed in, blade humming with cursed energy. I went for his side, feinted, then switched to an upward slash, trying to use the length of my reach to force a gap.

 

He blocked me with a summoned curse, one that looked like a tangle of feathers and bone, and stepped back just far enough to reset the distance.

 

“Good,” he said. “But you’re thinking too much.”

 

“Yeah?” I spat, circling. “Well, you’re a little hard to not overthink, Suguru.”

 

That earned me a twitch of his lip. Then he blurred forward again, and this time, I barely got my shield up in time. His palm slammed against it and sent me skidding back through the dirt, feet dragging trenches in the soil.

 

I gasped for breath. My cursed energy was already buzzing, burning hotter than I was used to. I could feel my loop starting to push harder through my system, trying to keep up.

 

One wrong move and I’d burn out.

One weak block and I’d be down.

 

And Suguru knew it.

 

He was watching me like a predator, he wanted to hurt me because this was the only way he’d know for sure.

 

So I gave him something to see.

 

I dropped low, drove my palm into the ground, and poured my cursed energy into the earth. The vines didn’t slither this time, they spiked. Dozens of them. Sharp, fast, and brutal.

 

Suguru had to leap back, and even then, one of them scraped across his cheek.

 

He touched the blood with a thumb. Blinked. Looked at me properly.

 

“That’s more like it.”

 

He summoned five curses at once. All small, fast, and flying in different directions. I didn’t have time to analyze, just move. My blade took out two. My vines hit one. The fourth bit into my leg before I could blast it off with a pulse.

 

The fifth?

I didn’t even see it coming.

 

It hit my shoulder like a truck, and I crashed to the ground with a grunt, vision blurring for half a second.

 

“Tiger Lily?” Gojo called from the sideline, half-serious.

 

I pushed myself back up, breathing hard. “Not yet.”

 

Blood ran down my arm. My vision pulsed. I healed fast, aggressive, letting the loop burn hotter than I’d trained for.

 

Suguru didn’t let me rest.

 

He came at me with a clean, brutal strike from a curse behind me, testing if I could defend my back. I caught it just in time, spun, and slashed deep into its core with a flash of silver.

 

The feedback blasted my arm numb.

 

I wanted to scream, but didn’t stop. Instead, I flipped forward, used my momentum to launch into Suguru’s range, and dragged my blade in a hard arc at his chest.

 

He blocked with cursed energy, barehanded, and for one split second, our eyes locked.

 

Mine wild and burning.

His sharp and evaluating.

 

“You’re not hesitating anymore,” he said.

 

“I don’t have time to.”

 

He smiled, but this time it was different. Like something in him settled.

 

Then he knocked my sword clean out of my hand with one precise palm strike.

 

The next second, his knee was at my ribs and I was on my back, gasping for air.

 

He didn’t follow through. He didn’t press his advantage.

 

He stepped back. Waiting.

 

I lay there, the sky above me spinning slightly.

 

Gojo walked over and crouched beside me. “Tap out?”

 

I sat up slowly, blood in my mouth.

 

“No,” I said. “I’m still up.”

 

Suguru tilted his head. “Then get up, love.”

 

And I did even if I shook for a second.

 

---

 

I couldn’t remember when I stopped feeling pain.

 

Maybe it was the fourth or fifth time Suguru’s energy cracked across my side, sending white-hot fire lancing through my ribs. Or maybe it was earlier, when the rush started.

 

The next curse missed me by inches, the wind of its movement slicing along my cheek like a slap. I dropped low and rolled, dirt kicking into my eyes, and came up panting, eyes darting.

 

I was on the ropes. Suguru’s curses were small and fast now, keeping me boxed in like a pack of wolves. I didn’t have the stamina left to take them all down. Not without help.

 

So I let the tendrils out.

 

Not all of them. Just three, quiet ones. Slipping from my back and sleeves like ghosts, trailing behind as I darted across the field. Not attacking. Not obvious. Just… brushing past Suguru when I could.

 

A tap on his sleeve. A soft curl at the inside of his elbow. One slid up his spine and pressed gently to the back of his neck, pulsing faintly as it drew just enough cursed energy to keep me upright.

 

I didn’t think he’d notice. Or maybe I hoped he wouldn’t.

 

He did.

 

“Amara,” he bit out, deflecting a slash of vines, “are you draining me right now?”

 

“Little bit,” I panted, dodging a clawed curse and using the breath of space to swing my blade up, carving through it. “Barely a sip. You’ve got plenty to spare.”

 

One tendril slithered across the side of his throat, slow, like it liked him. Suguru shuddered visibly and slapped it away with a flare of cursed energy, but it returned a second later, brushing the corner of his jaw like a kiss.

 

Gojo, perched on a rock now, laughed outright. “Okay, that’s new. They’re flirting and feeding.”

 

Suguru’s brow twitched. He caught one of the tendrils around his wrist mid-swing, holding it taut in his grip. “Do you know what happens if one of these gets hurt?”

 

I skidded to a stop, one foot dragging through the dirt. I furrow my brows.

 

“It hurts,” I said carefully. “They pull back. Then they grow back..”

 

He stared at me.

 

Then, without warning, he sliced through the tendril in his hand with cursed energy so sharp it snapped through the air like a whipcrack.

 

The reaction was instant.

 

I cried out, not loud, but sharp. Like someone had just jammed a needle into my sternum and twisted. I clutched my chest and staggered back, the broken energy recoiling into my core with a searing jolt. The other tendrils vanished at once.

 

Gojo’s head snapped toward us. “Suguru-!”

 

“That trick,” Suguru said tightly, voice hard, “was really starting to piss me off.”

 

I gasped, shoulders heaving, and stared at the space where the tendril had been. Then looked up at him.

 

“That one liked you the most,” I said hoarsely.

 

His mouth twitched. Not in amusement. Something closer to guilt.

 

“They were kissing you,” I added, breath shaky. “They definitely like you a lot less now.”

 

He sighed, jaw tight. “That’s not- Amara, you can’t keep draining mid-fight without risking-”

 

I didn’t let him finish.

 

I launched.

 

I didn’t think, I just moved. Anger and adrenaline blurring together in a raw surge. My vines cracked up from the ground, sharp this time. Thorned and fast. I swung my blade in a tight arc, forcing him to duck, then dropped into a slide and sliced upward from below.

 

Suguru blocked just in time, cursed energy flaring up around his forearm as my sword rang against it.

 

“You said not to hold back!” I snarled, vines curling around his legs before he broke them again with a pulse.

 

“I meant with your strength, not with your cheats!” he growled, meeting me again mid-spin.

 

I pushed in harder. Close enough to feel the heat off him. My elbow jammed toward his ribs, and when he caught it, I twisted and brought my knee into his side.

 

He grunted and shoved me back.

 

“Come on, then,” he snapped. “Show me the side they saw.”

 

I didn’t answer. I rushed him.

 

My cursed energy flared high, wilder than before. My shield flickered on my left arm, sword crackling in my right. Every strike now was meant to land. I didn’t care if I bled. I didn’t care if I burned. The pain barely registered, just fuel.

 

Suguru’s expression shifted for the first time since we began.

 

He matched my pace with a curse that rose behind him like a black-winged centipede, its legs scraping the air. His counters were harsher now, direct, precise, made to test how long I could survive him.

 

And still I pushed.

 

●●●●

Suguru’s curse lunged, just as I pivoted, wrong angle, wrong footing. He struck with a force meant to break through my shield, but I hadn’t raised it. I was too slow. Too cocky on the last hit.

 

The blow landed hard across my stomach and ribs, a crushing sweep that sent me flying backwards and slamming into the dirt with a crack. My body folded over itself, all the wind punched out of me. Blood gushed from my mouth the second I coughed.

 

Suguru froze mid-motion. “Amara?”

 

Gojo didn’t even wait for a word.

 

One second he was across the field, the next he was kneeling beside me, arms already catching my shoulders.

 

“Stop the fight!” he snapped, voice echoing. “It’s over!”

 

Suguru stood frozen in the middle of the field, chest heaving, fists clenched, his curses fading like mist around him. His mouth opened, closed again. He hadn’t meant to hit that hard. I knew he hadn’t.

 

I blinked slowly up at Gojo, trying to sit up but only managing a pained flinch.

 

“Hey,” he whispered, voice suddenly softer as his hands found my face. “You okay, sweetheart? Can you breathe?”

 

“Yeah,” I rasped, wiping the blood off my lips with the back of my hand. “I’m just… winded.”

 

“You’re bleeding out.” His hands hovered over my stomach. “Your loop isn’t catching up.. shit.. Shoko’s gonna kill us if we-”

 

“Satoruuu..,” I breathed, a dazed little smile playing on my lips, “Can I… drain from you?”

 

His expression softened instantly, eyes widening.

 

“Oh- uh of course,” he said. “Sweetheart, thank you for asking me. Just, take what you need.”

 

He leaned in, tilting his head to offer his neck.

 

I touched him gently, fingertips brushing just under his jaw. I moved closer and closer then bit his neck.

 

The second my teeth connected..

 

It hit.

 

Gojo’s cursed energy surged into me in a hot, sparkling wave, not just warmth, but euphoria. Like champagne and starlight and static all at once. My back arched. Every nerve lit up like neon. My breath caught in my throat as my entire body thrummed with him. I moaned out before I could stop myself.

 

The bleeding stopped. My healing loop spun so fast it sang in my bones.

 

I gasped. “Oh fuck, that’s good-”

 

Gojo laughed. “That intense, huh?”

 

“I feel amazing,” I grinned, eyes a little too wide now, manic with the rush. “Like I could run through walls. Like I could-”

 

“Wait, wait- Amara?” he blinked. “You’re not gonna-”

 

I was already standing. Already picking up my sword. Already walking.. no, striding.. back onto the field.

 

Suguru turned, startled. “Amara- what are you doing?”

 

Gojo just sighed, hands falling to his knees dramatically. “I feel used. I feel so used!”

 

“You’ll get over it!” I called, laughing. “Thanks for the boost, my sweet stuff!”

 

Suguru’s jaw ticked. “You should rest.”

 

“I was resting,” I said, rolling my neck, the blade crackling with new cursed energy. “Now I’m back.”

 

The vines burst up behind me again, brighter, sharper, thrumming with Gojo’s energy through me. They curled around my arms like serpents on fire.

 

Suguru exhaled slowly, resigned. “You’re high on him again, aren’t you?”

 

“Oh, absolutely.”

 

And I charged fast, fearless, blade glowing crimson, and daring him to keep up.

 

Suguru’s eyes flashed. “Then I guess I’ve got no choice.”

 

And the fight began again, louder, brighter, wilder.

 

“Come on!” I shouted. “Don’t you hold back now!”

 

Suguru’s jaw was tight, his movements clean, but I could see it, the tension. He wasn’t sure what to do with me like this.

 

I drained again.

 

This time, my tendrils didn’t even ask, they pierced his side and latched to his ribs, crawling under the fabric of his uniform like silk threads with minds of their own. The drain was deeper, not stealing energy but siphoning intention, heat, willpower. It tasted like honey.

 

He stumbled.

 

“You’re starting to feel it,” I cooed. “I’m in you now. You feel me curling around your nerves?”

 

“Stop,” he said, voice lower. “You’re not thinking clearly.”

 

I grinned. “I’ve never been clearer in my life!”

 

And then I charged.

 

I hit the ground once. Twice. I didn’t even feel it.

 

My veins were still humming, no, screaming, with Satoru’s cursed energy. That taste of him was wildfire and lightning and every reckless god-complex impulse I’d ever buried under logic. I couldn’t stop moving. Couldn’t stop feeling.

 

But Suguru could.

 

He didn’t shout. Didn’t flinch.

 

He raised a single hand, and the ground shook.

 

Then something massive erupted behind me, the sound of cursed mass tearing into reality with a low, echoing groan. I pivoted, vines already lashing out to intercept-

 

Too late.

 

The curse’s body slammed down around me like a cage of earth and bone. I was lifted from the ground in one clean sweep, not crushed but immobilized, wrapped like a ribbon in the limbs of one of Suguru’s titan-bound spirits. My head was spinning. My hands trembled with the leftover electric rush of Gojo’s power.

 

“LET ME-” My voice broke as I tried to twist, but the cursed flesh held me in place.

 

Satoru’s Infinity buzzed close to my face, and I turned to see him crouched just a few feet away, face flushed and eyes wide.

 

“Sweetheart,” he said gently, almost laughing. “You just bit my cursed energy like it was a snack?”

 

I panted, still struggling even though my body had stopped obeying me. “Sorry.”

 

He grinned. “No, that was badass. Kinda terrifying. But badass.”

 

Suguru walked over slowly, the curse still holding me aloft like a cursed-sized straightjacket. His brow was furrowed, but not in anger. More like curiosity. Appraisal.

 

He tilted his head. “That was... something else, love.”

 

I didn’t speak. Just caught my breath.

 

Suguru circled the curse once, eyeing me as I slowly relaxed into its hold, my pulse settling beat by beat. The feral haze faded like morning fog, my vision clearing, breath syncing back with the loop of my own cursed energy.

 

“Still with us?” he asked.

 

I nodded, finally slumping. “Yeah.” Resting my cheek on his cursed spirit.

 

The curse loosened, slow and careful, setting me back on the ground.

 

My knees wobbled but held. Barely.

 

Gojo let out a long whistle as he stood beside me. “You scared me there. I thought you were gonna take my whole spine.”

 

I cracked a weak smile. “You do have a lot of energy. It’s like doing all the drugs at once off your body.”

 

“...That’s hot,” he said immediately.

 

Suguru didn’t laugh. He knelt down to eye level and brushed some of the dirt from my shoulder. “You know that was reckless.”

 

“I know.”

 

“You also know that’s the most impressive you’ve ever fought.”

 

I blinked at him.

 

His hand came to my chin, tilting my face toward him. “I wasn’t holding back. And you still made me adjust.”

 

Satoru popped in, grinning like a proud dad and a chaos goblin all at once. “I told you she was spicy when she gets serious.”

 

“She wasn’t just serious,” Suguru murmured. “She adapted. Drew from me mid-combat. Shifted style with every hit. That wasn’t luck. That was evolution.”

 

My cheeks burned, but something in my chest fluttered. Warm and hard to name.

 

“So I didn’t fail?”

 

“Fail?” Suguru scoffed. “Darling, you nearly broke my leg with that last kick.”

 

“You did knock my ass down,” Satoru added, rubbing his ribs. “I mean, I was refereeing, but still. Rude.”

 

I huffed, half-laughing. “Okay. Good. I was worried-”

 

“Don’t be.” Suguru cut me off. “Next time, though… pick your drain source more carefully. If you’re going to use Gojo as a battery, expect side effects.”

 

“I felt like I could fight a god,” I muttered.

 

“Exactly. That’s why I contained you,” he said. “You weren’t in control anymore. But now that I know what your peak looks like…”

 

He stood and offered his hand to me.

 

“I’m going to help you build around it.”

 

I stared up at him, heart pounding for a different reason now.

 

Suguru tilted his head, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, but it was Gojo who moved first.

 

“Her heart rate just spiked.” His voice was playful, but I could hear the satisfaction underneath it. “Like, a lot.”

 

I blinked. “Wait-”

 

“Six Eyes doesn’t lie, sweetheart,” he interrupted, already stepping in closer. “She’s flustered. Suguru, can you believe this? Our little monster’s blushing for a simple compliment.”

 

“I can see that,” Suguru said, voice lower now, amused and gentle. “It's a good look on her.”

 

“I hate you both,” I muttered immediately, trying to step back, only to feel Suguru’s chest at my back.

 

And then it hit me.

 

They’d cornered me.

 

Literally.

 

Gojo was in front, his bright eyes practically glowing with delight. Suguru was behind me, warm and unmoving, his hand resting lightly on my hip like he knew I was about to squirm.

 

“I mean, did you see the way she danced around you?” Gojo said like he was talking about a scene from a blockbuster movie. “Sick. Hot. Dangerous. I almost proposed on the spot.”

 

“Same,” Suguru hummed near my ear, his breath sending a chill down my spine. “And that drain technique? Timed perfectly. Clean control. Smart enough not to take too much, mean enough to take it anyway.”

 

“She bit me,” Gojo said, eyes wide with mock scandal. “Bit me, Suguru. And I liked it. What does that say about me?”

 

“That you’re a masochist,” Suguru said, tone dry.

 

Gojo winked at me. “We knew that.”

 

My face was on fire. “I swear-”

 

“Oh no, don’t even try to argue,” Gojo said, practically vibrating with glee as he leaned in. “You’re fully compromised. I can see your pulse fluttering right under your skin, look at her, Suguru, she’s practically steaming.”

 

Suguru’s hand slid a little further across my waist. “That’s just her body trying to cool off from the cursed energy high,” he murmured smoothly. “Or maybe…” his lips brushed my temple, “...she just likes being praised.”

 

I made a noise I couldn't classify, somewhere between a strangled laugh and a breathless protest, and tried to duck my head, only for Gojo to catch my chin gently, tilting my face up so I was stuck looking right at him.

 

“Hey.” His voice softened. “You were amazing out there.”

 

I blinked.

 

He smiled, and it was real, sweet, proud, overwhelming. “Not because you kept up with Suguru. Not because you tanked every cursed technique like it was a game. Because you fought like you meant it. Because you made me nervous. You made him adapt.”

 

“She was better than I expected,” Suguru added, tone thoughtful but reverent now. “I didn’t hold back. And you didn’t fold.”

 

My chest tightened.

 

Suguru pressed a kiss to the shell of my ear. “You’re not behind anymore, love.”

 

Gojo kissed my cheek from the other side. “You’re one of us.”

 

And that?

 

That shattered whatever defense I had left.

 

I curled forward slightly, hiding my face in Suguru’s chest as Gojo laughed triumphantly and wrapped his arms around both of us.

 

“You’re such a menace when you’re flustered,” Suguru murmured, clearly entertained.

 

“I hate you,” I mumbled into his shirt, voice muffled.

 

“You keep saying that,” Gojo teased, nuzzling my temple, “but the heart rate detection disagrees.”

 

---

 

It didn’t hit me until later.

 

Hours after the fight, after the teasing, after Gojo forced us into his dorm room to “celebrate my survival” with lazy snacks and a too-long bubble bath we all fell asleep in halfway through. We were still warm from the water, wrapped in one of Suguru’s oversized hoodies while Gojo sprawled shirtless beside me, towel still half-hanging off his stupid perfect hair. Suguru sat behind me, towel-drying my hair with rhythmic, careful hands.

 

I’d been humming softly, feeling more relaxed than I probably should’ve, when the sensation changed.

 

A tiny flicker.

 

A little tremble.

 

Not mine. The tendrils.

 

They'd been resting, coiled at the base of my spine like they always were after a hard fight, but now they stirred. Not in warning. Not in hunger.

 

In hesitation.

 

One of them uncurled tentatively, reaching around the side of my arm to brush Suguru’s wrist, and then jolted back like it had touched a hot stove.

 

I froze.

 

Suguru must’ve felt it too because he stilled behind me.

 

Gojo blinked, squinting. “Okay, that one looked dramatic. What was that?”

 

I twisted to glance back at Suguru.. “They’re... nervous around you.”

 

He looked genuinely confused. “What?”

 

“They’re nervous,” I said softly. “They haven’t touched you since earlier. And just now, one of them flinched when it brushed your skin.”

 

Suguru lowered the towel slowly. “Because I cut one.”

 

“Because you hurt one,” I corrected gently. “They remember. They're not sure if you're a threat now.”

 

A heavy silence settled over the room. Even Gojo stopped playing with the edge of the blanket, his fingers stilling.

 

Suguru looked down, his expression unreadable. And then, without saying anything, he moved off the bed.

 

Walked to the center of the room.

 

And dropped to his knees.

 

Gojo’s jaw actually fell open.

 

“Wait- wait, hold on, what are you-?”

 

“I’m apologizing,” Suguru said plainly. “Formally. Since apparently I emotionally scarred sentient cursed extensions.”

 

I blinked.

 

The tendrils stirred again, peeking from under the hem of the hoodie I wore like curious animals. One flitted forward, then another, wavering in the air between us like they weren’t sure if it was safe.

 

Suguru held out his hands, palms up. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was trying to control the fight, not... punish you. Or her. I’m sorry. You were protecting her. I see that now.”

 

A tendril twitched, hovered, then darted back to me.

 

But two more immediately slithered out behind it and curled toward Gojo like they needed a quick reminder of comfort. One flicked his ankle, another climbed his bare leg, and within seconds they were swarming him like moths to a flame.

 

Gojo grinned without even looking down, just flicked the lollipop stick off to the side, and leaned back, hands behind his head. “Ah. There it is. I knew you missed me.”

 

One of the tendrils curled around his bicep like a lazy cat, pulsing warmly against his skin. Another dragged slowly, almost seductively, up the center of his chest, tracing the line between his pecs with teasing pressure.

 

I watched them work with a smirk. “You realize they only like you guys, right?”

 

“I’ve known that since the first time they curled into my hoodie and fell asleep,” he said proudly.

 

Then one tendril dipped low, lower than I’d expected, and Gojo jerked, blinking. “Okay! Boundary breach in progress-! Watch it, buddy.”

 

He reached down with both hands and tugged it free from inside his sweats, holding the wriggling vine up like it was a naughty pet. “Hey! You little gremlin!”

 

I burst into laughter. “Oh my god- put it down!”

 

Gojo cackled and set it on his chest. “There. Stay there. Behave.”

 

The tendril pulsed once, then immediately slithered back down toward the waistband.

 

“HEY-!” Gojo grabbed it again, wheezing. “It’s trying again!”

 

“They have no shame,” I said, half laughing, half horrified.

 

“They’re perverts!” he declared, eyes gleaming. “Cursed spaghetti with no morals!”

 

I was still laughing when I looked over at Suguru and my heart dropped a little.

 

He was watching, trying to hide the hurt behind a small smile, but I saw it anyway. That little flinch in his eyes every time the tendrils swarmed Gojo without hesitation. They’d loved Suguru too.

 

Until the fight.

 

I swallowed my laugh, my smile fading to something softer.

 

“Alright,” I said gently, reaching back and pulsing my cursed energy. The tendrils retracted from Gojo slowly, one by one, though a few lingered on his chest a second longer before finally slipping back toward me.

 

“Aww, come on,” Gojo whined. “I was cuddling them.”

 

“They’ll come back,” I said. Then I got off the bed and moved to Suguru.

 

He didn’t look at me right away, sitting on the floor, his hands resting on his knees. Composed. Quiet. But he was holding himself too still.

 

I knelt in front of him.

 

“They weren’t rejecting you,” I said softly. “They were just scared. And confused. That’s all.”

 

“I know,” he said. But it came out tight. “I still hurt them. Hurt you. I don't like when your energy doesn't sync with me..”

 

“We were sparring.” I reached out, took his hand. “It was a good technique. We were going all out.”

 

He didn’t answer.

 

So I leaned in, brushing my nose gently against his. “They still love you. Just like I do.”

 

I pulsed my cursed energy again.

 

The tendrils unfurled slowly, cautiously, like they were testing the air.

 

One reached toward Suguru’s thigh and stopped just short.

 

I whispered, “It’s okay. Go on.”

 

Suguru didn’t move. Just let his palm open, facing up, resting on his knee like an offering.

 

The first tendril curled around his fingers.

 

Then another slid up his arm.

 

A third, thicker one coiled gently around his torso and slipped under the hem of his shirt, curling around his ribs like a slow-moving hug.

 

He let out a breath, shaky, almost disbelieving.

 

I watched his expression soften, eyes flickering half-lidded as the warmth sank into him, syncing again.

 

One tendril slithered up the side of his neck and brushed just under his jaw. He shivered.

 

“They missed you,” I said. “They just needed to know you were still safe.”

 

“They feel... good,” he whispered, like it surprised him.

 

“You feel good to them.”

 

The tendrils wrapped tighter now, in affection, not fear. One curled under the back of his shirt and pressed against his spine. Another slipped behind his waistband and coiled low along his hip. Suguru shuddered again, closing his eyes as they explored him gently, brushing along his skin with that warm, electric hum.

 

“I forgot how much I liked this,” he murmured, voice low. “It’s... grounding. Like they’re wrapping around my nerves.”

 

“They kimda are,” I whispered, scooting closer, letting them climb over me too, coiling around us both. “That’s how they say they trust you.”

 

One thick vine slipped under his shirt entirely now, wrapping around his waist and pressing flush to his back. Another dipped again under his waistband, curling at the top of his thigh.

 

Suguru’s breath caught, eyes fluttering open to look at me. “They’re getting bold.”

 

I smiled. “They remember how you feel.”

 

He let out a soft laugh. “Apparently, they missed me more than I realized.”

 

Gojo, from the bed, groaned. “I’m gonna be so jealous if they start giving him the good snuggles now.”

 

He sat up a little, arms behind his head, watching like he was witnessing a soap opera unfold in real time.

 

And to be fair… it was starting to feel like one.

 

The tendrils were wrapped around Suguru like silk ribbons now, across his shoulders, around his arms, slipping gently beneath his shirt in soothing, slow patterns. He looked relaxed. Peaceful.

 

Until one of them dipped lower.

 

Much lower.

 

Suguru flinched, barely, but I saw it.

 

His eyes widened slightly, a sharp inhale catching in his throat as his hips jerked just a fraction. He looked down, then instantly away, red blooming across his cheeks.

 

“Amara…” he said slowly, voice tight, “I think one of them just…”

 

My stomach dropped. “Wait- where did it go?”

 

He didn’t answer. He just cleared his throat and pressed his lips together tightly.

 

“Did it…?” I leaned forward.

 

“Yes.” he hissed, cheeks burning brighter now.

 

A beat of silence.

 

Then Gojo exploded into laughter.

 

“No way,” he gasped, nearly falling off the bed. “One of them went below deck? Oh, Suguru, you’re getting the premium cuddles. That’s not even snuggling anymore, that’s a cursed massage with benefits.”

 

“Shut up,” Suguru muttered, shoulders stiff. But he wasn’t exactly moving to remove it.

 

“Oh my god, you’re trying not to move,” I said, both horrified and absolutely wheezing. “Suguru! You dog!”

 

“I didn’t ask it to go there!” he hissed, voice getting higher with each word. “It just- slid in!”

 

“Was it an accident?” Gojo teased. “Or did you shift a little so it had room?”

 

“Satoru-!”

 

“I’m just saying,” Gojo continued, absolutely delighted, “you’ve been sitting very still for a suspiciously long time now. Is it… is it pulsing? Maybe even rubbing a little? I know those things don't sit still.”

 

Suguru covered his face with one hand, his ears red now too. “Oh my god.”

 

I was shaking from trying not to laugh. “Do you want me to pull it away?”

 

That got him.

 

He froze.

 

Didn’t answer.

 

Gojo’s jaw dropped. “You’re thinking about it?!”

 

“I’m not- thinking,” Suguru mumbled behind his palm. “I’m just… evaluating the situation. I don't want to scare them off again..”

 

“Oh, he’s into it,” Gojo wheezed, collapsing backward. “You’re letting her cursed energy fondle you like a curious octopus and you’re just evaluating?!”

 

I bit my lip, grinning so hard it hurt. “Suguru,” I said sweetly, “do you want me to move it or not?”

 

Another beat. 

 

He takes a deep breath.

 

Then, finally, voice low and completely unconvincing, he muttered, “...You can move it.”

 

Gojo shrieked. “HE TOOK TOO LONG!”

 

I burst out laughing, covering my face. “That was not immediate, Suguru! You so want it to stay!”

 

He groaned and sank lower, letting the tendrils slowly slither back up and away, retreating from his waistband like they were sulking.

 

“I hate both of you,” he said, still red, still very much flustered.

 

“You love us,” Gojo grinned.

 

“Unfortunately,” Suguru muttered.

 

And I just leaned against him, still laughing, as the tendrils gently coiled around his shoulders again, properly, this time. Though one gave the faintest flick under his chin, like it was definitely not done teasing him either.

Chapter 71: The Last Calm (NSFW)

Summary:

Kink heads up?: cum eating, double pen of fingers, multiple orgasms, spit roasted, choking and gagging on cock, throat fucking, drool, overstimulation, slight degradation,

The grass was still warm beneath us, heat soaked up from the long afternoon sun. A breeze carried the smell of new blossoms down from the old cherry trees that lined the edge of the training fields, their petals drifting lazy circles through the air like they had nowhere to be.

 

I lay back with my arms folded beneath my head, listening to Suguru and Satoru bicker next to me. Well.. Satoru was bickering. Suguru was replying in disinterested hums and the occasional eye roll that somehow said more than actual words ever could.

 

“Okay, but hear me out-” Satoru stretched dramatically, nearly elbowing Suguru in the face, “If I had taken Nanami’s dessert last night, and I’m not saying I did, but if I had, I think he’s overreacting with this whole vendetta thing.”

 

“You licked the frosting in front of him and said, ‘Claimed by God,’” Suguru replied flatly.

 

I snorted into the crook of my elbow, turning my face away to hide the smile.

 

Satoru beamed. “See? Amara agrees. It was divine intervention.”

 

“I didn’t say anything,” I muttered, but my voice gave me away. The softness in it. The calm.

 

It was one of those rare moments at Jujutsu Tech that felt normal. Real. Not borrowed.

 

Suguru was sitting cross-legged beside me, slowly slicing an apple with that absurd little folding knife he always kept in his pocket. He handed me a slice without looking. I took it without question.

 

A soft plunk of plastic landed beside me. “You all look way too moody for this weather,” Yu Haibara announced, flopping down in a heap and offering up a bag of sour gummies like it was treasure. “Here. Candy. Immediate mood booster.”

 

“I’m fine,” I said, taking one anyway. “But thanks.”

 

Yu tossed one into his own mouth, missed entirely, then tried to play it off by pretending to examine the sky. “Totally meant to do that.”

 

“You’re a menace,” Suguru muttered.

 

Yu leaned on his elbows, grinning. “You’re just mad because I said you were the grumpiest pretty person alive.”

 

“He is,” Satoru chimed in. “Second place goes to Shoko on her hangover days.”

 

“First place,” a dry voice called behind us, “goes to whoever forgot to put the energy drinks back in the med fridge.”

 

We turned to find Shoko approaching, hair pulled into a messy knot, a half-smoked cigarette tucked behind one ear and her usual lazy gait making it seem like she had all the time in the world.

 

“I vote Gojo,” she added, dropping into the grass beside Yu.

 

“Traitor,” Satoru gasped.

 

“You did drink three in one sitting yesterday,” I pointed out.

 

“I had a long day!” Satoru declared, dramatically flopping backward into the grass like a starfish in mourning. “Teleportation burns calories, thank you very much.”

 

“Not enough to justify devouring three energy drinks and an entire tray of sweet buns,” Suguru muttered, his voice bone-dry.

 

“Four buns,” I corrected absently, plucking another apple slice from Suguru’s hand. “You thought we didn’t notice, but you dropped the last one into your sleeve like a raccoon.”

 

Yu burst out laughing. “You’re kidding-”

 

“She’s not,” Shoko confirmed, lighting the cigarette. “He stuffed it in like a damn pocket squirrel.”

 

“I was saving it for later,” Satoru mumbled into the grass, betrayed. “You people have no respect for efficient snack storage.”

 

“You're lucky you're pretty,” Yu said, tossing a gummy into the air and catching it in his mouth this time. “Otherwise we’d have to sell you off.”

 

“Harsh,” Gojo groaned, though he cracked a grin.

 

A silence settled after that, comfortable and familiar. The kind that didn’t need to be filled.

 

I tilted my face toward the sun, feeling the fading heat seep into my skin. Warm. Safe. Like we weren’t all walking weapons being honed to serve a world that only ever saw us as tools.

 

From the corner of my eye, I watched Suguru lean back on his elbows. The breeze lifted strands of his hair and carried them gently across his cheek. His mouth moved slightly, like he was chewing over a thought but didn’t want to say it out loud.

 

Shoko’s voice cut into the quiet, low and deliberate. “There’s been a lot of activity on the faculty channels lately.”

 

Yu blinked. “Like what?”

 

She shrugged, but it wasn’t casual. “Requests. Missions. High-profile ones. Escort detail, surveillance, bodyguard assignments. Some aren’t even flagged through student access yet. Don't ask how I got access.”

 

Gojo’s brow creased. “Didn’t they just send Utahime and Mei Mei out on a tier-two with a blackout protocol?”

 

“Yup,” Shoko said, exhaling smoke through her nose. “And you two-” her gaze flicked lazily between Satoru and Suguru, “-have been getting nothing but glowing reviews in faculty logs.”

 

Satoru didn’t miss a beat. He leaned back on his hands, his smile immediate and insufferably smug. “Tch, finally. Took them long enough to realize I’m the best thing to happen to Jujutsu Tech since reinforced barriers.”

 

Suguru huffed softly, clearly amused. “Correction, you’re the second-best thing. Obviously.”

 

“Obviously,” Gojo agreed, tilting his head Suguru’s way, “we’re the unbeatable duo. Golden boys of the golden age.”

 

“And so humble,” I muttered.

 

Yu Haibara, stretched out on the grass next to us, grinned wide enough to split his face. “Honestly? You guys are legends in the making. Every time I see your names on the mission board I’m like, ‘They’re gonna crush it again.’ And you do. Every. Time.”

 

Gojo puffed up like a peacock, tossing his head back dramatically. “It’s true. We do crush it.”

 

“God complex much?” Shoko deadpanned, ash flicking from her cigarette.

 

“No complex,” Satoru shot back. “I am a god. Ask my fans.”

 

“Like me,” Yu offered brightly, tossing a gummy at Gojo’s head, which he caught with a lazy lean. “I’d join your cult if you had one.”

 

“That makes you the first disciple,” Suguru said, biting back a smirk. “We’ll get you a sash.”

 

I tried to laugh. I did. But it sat wrong in my chest. That heavy, coiling tension had started building again, low and slow, like a headache forming before a storm.

 

They were enjoying the attention too much.

 

The praise. The spotlight.

 

And something about that unsettled me more than I could explain.

 

Maybe it was the way the Elders had been whispering lately, shuffling papers and sealing doors when I passed in the halls. Maybe it was how every mission they sent Suguru and Satoru on had more political weight than the last.

 

I wasn’t on the faculty logs. But I watched people. I felt things. And lately… things felt off.

 

Gojo leaned over, nudging me with his shoulder. “Hey, don’t look so grim, sweetheart. We’re doing great. You too.”

 

Suguru’s hand brushed mine under the blanket. “You’ve been killing it in training. Yuki won’t shut up about your last vine combo.”

 

“Special girl,” Satoru added, exaggerated and soft. “Our precious little gremlin angel.”

 

I let out a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sigh. “You guys are impossible.”

 

“You love it,” Gojo grinned.

 

Maybe I did. Maybe that was the problem.

 

They meant well. But the more they talked like they were untouchable, the smaller I felt. Like I was watching them float higher and higher while I clung to the ground, waiting for something to break.

 

And I hated that the warmth of their comfort only made that gap feel wider.

 

Shoko’s voice cut into the soft breeze. “You’ve been quiet.”

 

I blinked. She wasn’t looking at me, but her eyes flicked briefly in my direction before returning to the horizon.

 

“I’m fine,” I said quickly. Too quickly.

 

Shoko didn’t call me out. She just nodded slowly, tapping ash into the grass. “Mm.”

 

Yu, oblivious to the shift, sat up with a grin. “Well, I say we all celebrate! We’ve got gods on the blanket, a vine-wielding badass, the best medic in the world, and Nanami’s moral compass in my pocket.”

 

“Nanami’s not here,” Gojo pointed out.

 

Yu beamed. “Exactly. That’s why I get to talk about him without being judged.”

 

Shoko rolled her eyes.

 

But as the others slipped back into playful banter, I stayed still, watching the last of the sun catch in Suguru’s hair, the way Satoru’s laugh lit up the whole field.

 

They were being praised too much.

 

And praise like that never came free.

 

Satoru was in the middle of explaining his “Cursed Technique: Infinite Crunch” to Yu, who was hanging on every word with dramatic gasps and the occasional choked laugh.

 

“I’m just saying,” Gojo insisted, waving a half-eaten cracker in the air, “if I can control infinity, why wouldn’t I extend that to snacks? Imagine never running out. Imagine the power.”

 

Yu slapped the blanket. “That’s insane. You’d never have to pay for food again.”

 

Suguru rolled his eyes but smiled. “You already don’t.”

 

Gojo grinned, unbothered. “And now it’s ethical.”

 

Yu snorted, nearly inhaling a rice puff.

 

I didn’t say anything, just leaned into the blanket with my arms curled around my knees, eyes unfocused. Their joy felt far away, like it was happening in a room I wasn’t invited into.

 

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flicker of movement, Shoko tapping her phone to mine

 

I pulled mine out, trying not to make it obvious. One buzz. Then another.

 

Ieiri 💉:

You’ve gone too quiet.

What’s going on, Mari?

 

I hesitated. For a second, I thought about lying. Saying I was tired or zoned out. But I didn’t. Not with her.

 

Amara 🦇:

Something feels off. I don’t know how else to say it. It’s like… everything’s too easy right now. Like the calm before something breaks.

 

Her reply came fast.

 

Ieiri 💉:

That’s not nothing. That’s your gut. Trust it.

 

Amara 🦇:

They’re being praised too much. Satoru’s laughing like the world can’t touch him. and Suguru… he’s soft in a way that feels dangerous. Like he finally let his guard down.

 

Ieiri 💉:

Because he has. With you. With him. With all of us.

 

Amara 🦇:

It scares me. It feels like they’re being set up for something. And they don’t see it.

 

I glanced at Gojo, who was now dramatically reenacting his own fake funeral after Suguru told him his “crunch” idea was dumb.

 

Yu stood over him pretending to give a eulogy.

 

The sound of their laughter made my stomach twist.

 

Amara 🦇:

I feel like I’m going to be left behind. Or worse… left watching.

 

A longer pause this time. I could see Shoko staring at her screen, cigarette burning low in her other hand.

 

Then:

 

Ieiri 💉:

You’re not overreacting.

I feel it too. The weight. The waiting.

 

Amara 🦇:

So why are we the only ones talking about it?

 

Ieiri 💉:

Because we’re the ones who don’t have illusions left. We're forced to stay grounded in different ways. 

 

Amara 🦇:

I think I’d rather have the illusion. At least for a little while.

 

Ieiri 💉:

No, you wouldn’t. You’ve never been that kind of girl.

 

That stopped me. My thumb hovered over the keyboard.

 

Ieiri 💉:

You’ve survived too much to pretend peace is permanent. As much as it sucks. This world has never promised peace.

 

Amara 🦇:

Then what do I do with that feeling? Just wait for it?

 

Ieiri 💉:

No. Prepare for it. Do what you gotta do to push things to a better outcome. Might still be shit but better shit.

 

Another beat.

 

Ieiri 💉:

Stay close to them. Stay sharp. Don’t let your love make you blind.

 

I looked up slowly. Shoko wasn’t watching me, but she wasn’t watching the boys either. Her gaze was fixed straight ahead, thoughtful and still. Her expression didn’t change, but something in the line of her shoulders softened just a little.

 

My phone buzzed one more time.

 

Ieiri 💉:

You’re not alone in this. Even if it feels like it.

 

I swallowed hard, then typed back.

 

Amara 🦇:

thanks.

 

Ieiri 💉:

always.

 

Behind us, Satoru suddenly yelped, “Yu! You traitor! How could you switch teams mid-battle?!”

 

“I was never on your team!” Yu shouted back gleefully, launching a leftover snack at his face.

 

Suguru sighed and muttered, “Children..”

 

---

 

The room smelled like steam and my lavender conditioner. The air was soft and thick, curling warm around the windows while the shower hummed on in the background. Satoru had been in there for a bit now, probably singing into the loofah like it was a microphone. I could hear him between water beats, muttering, splashing, narrating his skincare routine like it was a mission briefing.

 

I didn’t mind. Not really. It meant I got to listen to him be silly and I had Suguru all to myself for a little while. 

 

He was quiet. Not his “thinking too hard” kind of quiet, just peaceful. Intent. His palm smoothed down the back of my thigh as I lay curled on my side in one of his t-shirts, hem riding up high on my hips. The lights were low. Only the small lamp was on, casting a warm, dim pool of gold across the sheets.

 

His fingers were soft. Curious. Worshipful, in a way that made my chest ache.

 

“You know,” he murmured, voice somewhere behind my ear, “I don’t think I’ve seen this one before.”

 

His fingertip traced the dip of my lower back, just beside my spine, where one freckle stood out darker than the rest.

 

“You’ve seen that one,” I said quietly, face turned into the pillow.

 

“Maybe,” he said. “But I didn’t notice it. Not like this.”

 

He kissed it.

 

Then another.

 

And another.

 

I shifted slightly, nervous. “Suguru-”

 

“Shh,” he said, almost absentmindedly, like he wasn’t ready to be done yet. His hand came to rest flat against my back. “You’re… covered in them. It’s like constellations. Whole galaxies.”

 

I huffed a laugh. “I know. Believe me. I got teased for it all the time.”

 

“They’re beautiful.”

 

I didn’t say anything.

 

“They’re you,” he added softly. “Every one of them. A marker. A map. A piece of your story written into your skin.”

 

I swallowed.

 

His hand moved slowly again, brushing up over my ribs, then pausing just beneath the fabric of the shirt. “Can I see more?”

 

I nodded, already shifting, lifting the shirt up and over my head.

 

Suguru didn’t look like he wanted to ravage me. He looked like he wanted to remember me. His eyes moved slow over my skin, like he was drinking in every scatter of freckles across my shoulders, my arms, my stomach. His palm smoothed over my side, thumb catching on the edge of one near my hip.

 

“You have so many,” he whispered. “Even more than I thought.”

 

“Too many.”

 

“No,” he said immediately. “Never too many.”

 

I felt his mouth press just beneath my ribs, right where a cluster spilled across the skin.

 

“You used to be all bones and tension,” he murmured, voice vibrating low against my stomach. “Now look at you.”

 

“Chubby?”

 

“Real,” he said. “Solid. Here.”

 

My throat went tight.

 

His arms wrapped around me slowly, pulling me against his chest, skin to skin. I tucked myself into the warmth of him, letting his breath ghost against my shoulder.

 

“Suguru?”

 

“Mm?”

 

“You’re not just saying that because you’re scared, are you?”

 

He paused.

 

“I’m saying it because it’s true. And because I am scared. So I want to remember how you feel. How you are.”

 

I didn’t know what to say.

 

So I just curled into him tighter.

 

Behind us, the water shut off. A beat of silence.

 

“Sweetheart!” Satoru’s voice called from the bathroom. “I smell amazing. I might never give your shampoo back.”

 

Suguru groaned softly into my neck. “I’m going to strangle him with your towel.”

 

I smiled, small and tired. “Don’t. He’d like it too much.”

 

Suguru’s arms tightened a little, his voice lower now. “Let’s just stay like this a little longer. Before he starts his antics.”

 

And I did. I stayed there, chest to chest with him, memorizing the way he smelled, the way his voice sounded when he was afraid but pretending not to be, the way his hand never stopped moving like it needed to anchor something.

 

Suguru’s fingers skimmed up my spine, gentle and unhurried, like he didn’t want the moment to end. Like he was tracing the lines of a dream he didn’t want to wake up from.

 

And then, without a word, he pulled me in, closer than close, until there wasn’t a breath of air between us.

 

His mouth found mine like a promise.

 

Slow. Deep. Full.

 

He kissed me like we had nowhere else to be, like nothing was looming just beyond the walls of this tiny borrowed peace. His hand slipped behind my neck, thumb brushing under my jaw, steadying me. Anchoring me.

 

I melted into it.

 

His lips moved with that same careful devotion he always showed me when the world felt too big. When things got too loud. When he needed something just for us.

 

I let my fingers curl in the fabric at his waist, pressing into the warmth of him, tasting that quiet ache he never said out loud.

 

He kissed me like he needed it to last.

 

Like he knew it wouldn’t.

 

I could feel it in the way his breath hitched when I moved to straddle him, the way his hand flattened against my back, like he was trying to hold the whole moment in place with just his touch. It wasn’t frantic. It wasn’t hungry. It was reverent. Like worship, messy and honest and afraid.

 

I pulled back just enough to breathe, foreheads touching, eyes still closed.

 

Suguru didn’t let go.

 

“I know he’s coming in soon,” he whispered, almost a sigh.

 

I smiled, a little breathless. “We have about ten more seconds.”

 

“Might only need five.”

 

I kissed him again, harder this time, deeper. Just enough to make him hum into it.

 

And then the door creaked open.

 

“Hey, I-”

 

Suguru barely pulled away, lips still brushing mine. “Satoru,” he said calmly, “I want a more intimate moment right now. Would love for you to join us if you can keep things soft. I don't want too many jokes right now.”

 

There was a pause, and for once, no dramatic entrance. Just the quiet shift of breath.

 

“Yeah... of course…Okay,” Satoru said softly, and the door clicked shut again.

 

I glanced back just in time to see him throw on a pair of boxers and then he padded over barefoot, hair still a little wet and clinging to his forehead, my lotion already sinking into his skin.

 

He didn’t say anything else.

 

Just climbed into bed, slow and careful, like he didn’t want to break whatever was unfolding between us.

 

Suguru leaned back slightly, making room for him, one arm still wrapped around me. Satoru nestled in from the other side, his hand landing lightly on my waist, thumb brushing right under my sports bra.

 

I moved his hand to go under it and bite my lip.

 

Satoru bites his lip too then we both look to Suguru.

 

Suguru sighed with a soft smile. "You two just can't behave for five minutes."

 

"It's been a while..." I fake pout.

 

Suguru chuckled. "You don't need to convince me, I just find it adorable how quickly you both get needy."

 

"Permission to smooch our lady?" Satoru asked.

 

"Permission granted." Suguru chuckled again.

 

Satoru's lips found mine in a deep, passionate kiss, his hands tangling in my hair. Suguru’s mouth explored my neck, his teeth grazing my skin, sending shivers through me.

 

I gasped into Satoru’s mouth as Suguru but down a little harder. My hands reached out to grab at their thighs, pulling them closer. 

 

Suguru pulled away, grabbing my face to face him, his voice a low rumble. “Amara, use your words.”

 

Gojo chuckled, his mouth now moving to my neck. “She’s a little distracted right now,” he murmured, his tongue tracing the shell of my ear.

 

I whimpered, trying to form words. “Can we… can we go further? I want you both...I want to feel good with you...”

 

"Yeah? And what do you want us to do, princess? Come on. Say those nasty words~" Satoru chuckled into my neck as he continued to kiss, bite, and suck on the sensitive skin there.

 

"Hhhhhhmmmm I want you both to finger me...I want to feel you both at the same time..." I whine out.

 

Suguru chuckled softly. "There's my good girl~" 

 

Satoru removes my underwear, helping me slide out of them. "Spread those legs, beautiful. I want to see all of it." 

 

I whine a little as they spread me, blushing hard and biting my lip as they both take control of my body. 

 

Suguru touches my clit softly and lets out a deep controlled breath. Satoru’s fingers gently trace the line of my slit.

 

"Fuck you're so wet...makes me want to eat you out so bad...it's like my favorite thing..." He gently pushes one finger in, making sure I'm ready before adding a second.

 

"Fuuuuck...and you loosened up for me nicely...we must be your favorite people~" Satoru pushes his fingers in deeper, starting a slow steady pace as Suguru swirls his fingers around my clit.

 

"You look so beautiful like this. The way you're looking at me right now is heaven-sent..." Suguru spoke in that soft tone that felt like it could seep into my bones.

 

I let out soft gasping moans until they increased the speed. I start getting loud and shaking a little. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.....oooohhh my gooooddd." 

 

"I don't think you want God hearing this." Satoru chuckled, curling his fingers inside me to hit my spot just right.

 

"I'm more worried about the dorm than God." Suguru chuckles too.

 

Suguru uses his other hand to join Satoru inside me. Their fingers stretching me out, making obscene wet sounds as they finger fuck me.

 

Right as I feel myself getting close to the edge they pull their fingers out, leaving me empty and clenching around nothing. 

 

They put their fingers in each other's mouths, cleaning my arousal off their fingers, moaning softly. I stare and bite my lip hard.

 

"Like the show, baby?" Satoru asked.

 

I nodded, eyes hooded.

 

"We just can't get enough of your taste~" Suguru says sweetly and kisses my cheek.

 

Satoru holds his fist out and his other hand under it looking at Suguru.

 

"Satoru-" Suguru said already tired of whatever Gojo is doing.

 

"Rock, paper, scissors. Winner gets to be inside her."

 

I can't help but laugh a little.

 

"Satoru, I'm not going to do this." 

 

Satoru keeps his hands where it is and looks at Suguru expectantly.

 

Suguru groans and they do it, no words just moving their hands in quick succession.

 

Satoru ends up winning. "Wooo!"

 

Suguru rolls his eyes. 

 

I laugh hard. "You guys are freaks." 

 

"What I am is a winner." He says as he rolls a condom on and pulls me closer.

 

Suguru moves to be by my head. "I don't mind. I like looking at your beautiful face anyways. Just gives me another reason to admire it." Suguru moves my hair out of the way and holds it gently. 

 

I look up at him hooded eyes, mouth open, tongue out.

 

"Hmhmh. Just like that, my love." He puts his tip on my tongue and lets me take over from there.

 

Satoru lifts my legs as he lines his tip up with my entrance, rubbing his tip up and down my pussy. The tip of his cock plays with my clit a little making me whine on Suguru’s cock.

 

Suguru moans softly at the feeling and Satoru chuckles.

 

"You’re so beautiful like this...It's so sexy seeing how much your mouth stretches over me.." Suguru runs his fingers through my hair, gathering it all in his hand to keep it out of my face and out of the way.

 

"Hey, eyes on me too. I don’t want Suguru being the only one getting your full attention~" Satoru teased.

 

"Don’t get jealous, Satoru. It might turn me on too much. Poor thing might not be able to handle it all~" Suguru teased back, pulling my head up a little so I could look at Satoru better.

 

"I think she can handle us just fine. She's made it this far without splitting in half." Satoru chuckles then slowly pushes in with a long moan.

 

I moan onto Suguru cock, vibrating it inside my throat. Suguru groans and pushes himself a little deeper without meaning to.

 

Satoru starts slow but with his impatience for pleasure and always chasing the high, he starts pounding into me much faster, getting super noisy himself. 

 

"Fuck fuck fuck....fuuuckk...you feel s- so gooood." He gets all whiney and whimpering as he stretches me. The beautifully disgusting sounds of wet skin on skin fills the room, my arousal covering both of us. 

 

I keep moaning and whimpering onto Suguru making the very fragile control he has over himself fray. 

 

"Can I take control, love? Tap me if you need a breather." Suguru grips my hair harder.

 

I nodded quickly and let myself be controlled by him. He didn’t even hesitate before pushing himself as deep as he could in my throat, getting off to my moans and gags on him. 

 

"Just like that, baby. Just fucking like that...moan on it beautiful....fuuuckk... you just love taking our cocks like this....being so unbelievably stuffed and spit roasted...." He starts thrusting in and out of my throat. 

 

"Look at what you’re doing to us. You hear those pathetic sounds you have Satoru making? Hmhmh such a good fucking girl." He pushes in deeply again, making me moan, gag, and choke on him. 

 

He pulls all the way out letting me breathe, spit stringing between my lips and tongue, attaching to his leaking tip. Whining and moaning Satoru’s name as he keeps pounding into me. 

 

"So fucking cute~" Suguru hums as he just watched me melt when Satoru finds my spot.

 

"Fuck! Satoruuuuuu don't stop don't stoooop! R- r- right th- theeeerrrree...!" I pathetically moan out.

 

"Fuckkk! You're so fucking soaked...it's just covering me...after we cum I'm going to shove my face in there and taste all of it..." Satoru moans out.

 

I whine moan and cover my face from embarrassment. Suguru enjoys the view rubbing himself. 

 

"Open back up for me, love. I want to feel all your sweet moans on me while he fucks you.." Suguru lines his tip up with my lips.

 

I take him in greedily and he starts thrusting into my throat, matching Satoru’s pace. 

 

Satoru starts gripping my hips hard, the telltale sign he's getting close but trying to hold it. I clenched around him and dug my nails into Suguru to let them both know I'm getting close. 

 

"Fuck fuuuuuck...Suguruuu...Amaraaaa...I'm so fucking close....hhhhh...." Satoru whines out. 

 

"Hold it. I'm close too. Let me finish first so she doesn't choke." Suguru picks up the pace.

 

I moan loudly on him until he pushes deep down my throat, my nose pushing up against him. He cums deep down my throat with a loud groan. His cum slides down my throat with ease with how deep he is and I swallow around him which gifts me with a little extra cum.

 

"Just like that...good fucking girl...take all of it, my love. Fuuuuck.." Suguru moans out.

 

He pulls out fully and I cough and breathe heavily. Satoru pushes my legs up higher and starts pounding deep into me making me get extra loud. Suguru covers my mouth and starts rubbing his fingers on my clit.

 

I practically scream into his hand and Satoru moans loudly with zero regard for anyone else in the dorm as we both cum hard.

 

Satoru collapses on top of me and lets my legs fall.

 

I don’t even know how long we laid there.

 

Long enough for the ceiling to stop spinning.

 

Long enough for my lungs to find their rhythm again.

 

Long enough for the mess between my legs to go from comfortably ruined to maybe we should do something about this.

 

Satoru was sprawled out on top of me, one hand holding my tit like it was for emotional support and his breath tickling my chest in slow, satisfied waves. His chest was rising and falling on top of mine like ocean tides, one arm limp around my waist. He wasn’t even trying to move.

 

I didn’t blame him.

 

My entire body felt like pudding.

 

Melty. Warm. Completely spent.

 

Suguru groaned, soft and low, before peeling himself off the mattress.

 

I blinked up at him, dazed. “Where are you going?”

 

He stretched, his muscles rippling, hair sticking to the sides of his neck from sweat. “To get a towel before you two fuse with the bed.”

 

Gojo made a breathy sound, half laugh, half whine. “Ugh… don’t do everything yourself…”

 

“You say that,” Suguru said, glancing over his shoulder at the battlefield of a bed, “but the mattress has been personally baptized by both of you.”

 

My face flushed. “That’s not entirely my fault.”

 

“It’s at least seventy percent your fault,” he teased gently. Then, with a small, knowing smile, “Not that I’m complaining. It was very cute hearing you both try to outdo each other.”

 

Gojo huffed, arm still around me. “I wasn’t trying to be louder than her. I was just… experiencing things deeply.”

 

“Loudly,” Suguru corrected, already returning with a damp towel and a fresh sheet bundle balanced on one arm.

 

I tried to sit up and immediately flopped back down with a groan. “My legs forgot how to exist.”

 

“That means I did my job,” Gojo mumbled with a grin.

 

“We did our jobs,” Suguru said as he handed Gojo the towel. “Come on, you made half the mess. You’re on sheet duty.”

 

Gojo groaned dramatically but sat up anyway, brushing a kiss to my temple. “Only because I love you both and want clean blankets for round two someday.”

 

“Round two?” I wheezed. “I think I left my soul on the floor.”

 

Suguru chuckled, crouching down beside me with a second towel, warm and damp. 

 

"Wait wait. This is my favorite part!" Satoru gets down on his knees.

 

"Satoru, she's tired." Suguru sighed. 

 

"I'm not asking her to do a thing. May I feast upon you, my love~?" He asks sweetly, looking up at me with those puppy eyes. 

 

I whine. "Yes, you may but don't get too carried away.." I spread myself. 

 

"Hmhmh... I always get lost in you when I do this~" he licks me from bottom to top of my pussy, causing me to shiver.

 

"I'll pull him off if I think he needs to stop." Suguru chuckled and ran his hands through Gojo’s hair.

 

Satoru dives in like a man starved. He pushes his tongue inside me deep, moaning like he's eating a five-star meal. His tongue is exploring every inch of me, tasting all of my arousal and wetness, not wanting to miss a drop. 

 

I start shaking a little and becoming a whiny mess. I cum again which makes Satoru melt into me and moan more and he continues to lick me up. 

 

Suguru pulls Gojo’s head away, his face his covered in my wetness, spit strings attaching us still. He looks high and dazed like eating me out is a drug. 

 

"Hmhmh, you're so addicted to eating her out...I love seeing this look on you~." He chuckles lightly. "But you need to behave now and let me clean her up." 

 

Suguru wipes Gojo’s face. 

 

"Thank you, Sugu~" Satoru chuckles lightly then forces himself to get up so he can clean the bed. 

 

I breathe hard, trying to keep my soul in my body.

 

Suguru gently moved me to my chair, picking me up, so he could finish cleaning me. He gently lifted one of my legs and cleaned me with slow, careful strokes, soft and unhurried. His thumb grazed my knee with each pass, grounding me in all the ways I didn’t know I needed.

 

“You okay, love?” he asked quietly.

 

I nodded. “Floaty. But good. Just… a little overwhelmed. In a good way.”

 

He smiled, leaned in, and kissed my shoulder. “You were incredible.”

 

Gojo returned a moment later, still naked, a freshly made bed behind him and a soft “ta-da” gesture with his arms. “Behold. Clean kingdom.”

 

“You tucked a corner wrong,” Suguru muttered.

 

Gojo blinked. “Wow. Didn't know my handiwork was open to judgment.”

 

“You’re lucky you’re pretty,” I murmured, getting up with wobbly legs and flopping onto the bed.

 

He smirked, then slid back into bed beside me, warm, smug, and sweet. “I am lucky.” He looked at me, then Suguru. “I really am.”

 

Suguru climbed in behind me next, the warmth of his chest pressing gently against my back, his arm curling low around my waist. I let myself sink between them, cocooned in warmth, the scent of clean sheets and lingering skin still thick in the air.

 

Gojo nuzzled into my hair with a sleepy sigh. “That was… really good. I love you both so much..”

 

Suguru hummed behind me. “We both love you too, Satoru.”

 

His voice was softer now. Real.

 

Not teasing. Not smug.

 

Just… full. Like his heart was still catching up to the moment.

 

I turned my face into Gojo’s chest and reached behind to grab Suguru’s hand, tugging it around me tighter.

 

“I love you guys,” I whispered, a little hoarse.

 

“Love you too,” Gojo breathed.

 

“Always,” Suguru added, pressing a kiss into the back of my neck.

 

And just like that, the world felt small again. Gentle. Quiet.

Chapter 72: The Assignment

Summary:

TW: The Elders, insulting, mean Gojo and Geto

I heard them before I saw them.

 

Yaga’s voice was low, clipped, and more rigid than usual. Even from behind the thick wood of his office door, I could hear the weight in it. Then came Gojo’s voice, cutting through like a lazy breeze on a tense day.

 

“A star plasma what now?”

 

A pause. Then Geto’s voice, lower, measured. “You’re joking.”

 

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Yaga said, flat as steel.

 

“Yes,” Satoru chirped. “Constantly. It’s the hair. Screams: I’ve already lost control of my life.”

 

I should’ve walked away right then.

 

Instead, I stood there, arms crossed, back pressed to the cool wall, heart fluttering behind my ribs like it already knew something I didn’t.

 

“This is a direct order from Tengen and the Elders,” Yaga went on, tone stiff. “You’re being assigned to protect the Star Plasma Vessel until assimilation. This mission carries absolute priority. Do not deviate.”

 

Another pause.

 

“That’s it?” Suguru asked. “No specifics? No insight into what we’re protecting her from?”

 

“A bunch of organizations will want her dead. You'll make sure she stays alive.”

 

“Wow,” Satoru sighed. “You sure you're not going senile, Yaga? This is a wild request.”

 

Yaga grunted something inaudible, but Suguru cut in fast, serious now. “We’ll handle it.”

 

Of course they would.

 

They always handled it.

 

When the door creaked open, I stepped back into the shadows on instinct. They didn’t even see me until I spoke.

 

“What the hell was that?”

 

Suguru blinked first. “You were eavesdropping?”

 

“Yes,” I said flatly. “And if I hadn’t, I’d be even more confused than I am right now.”

 

Satoru rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, you’re not on the mission, so-”

 

I blinked. “What do you mean I’m not on the mission?”

 

Suguru shifted beside him, but Satoru didn’t flinch. “I mean exactly that. You’re not assigned. This isn't the kind we can just bring you on.”

 

My stomach turned. “Why?”

 

He looked me dead in the eye. “Well for one they think you’re unstable. But more importantly, they think you’re too compassionate.”

 

Suguru groaned softly and reached out to smack the back of Satoru’s head. “Could you try to say that less like a sledgehammer?”

 

“She doesn’t want nice,” Satoru muttered, rubbing the spot. “She wants the truth right now.”

 

He wasn’t wrong. But it didn’t help.

 

I felt my jaw tighten. “And what about you? Do you think that too?”

 

For a second, neither of them answered.

 

Satoru actually hesitated, eyes flicking to Suguru like he wanted him to say it instead. That told me everything.

 

Suguru sighed. “I think…” He looked at me with that soft, guilty look that always made things worse. “I think you’re more than capable. Physically. But this mission is different, Amara. It’s not just combat. It’s loaded. Politically. Spiritually. Morally.”

 

He paused.

 

“And yeah… I think your heart might get in the way.”

 

I felt something sting behind my eyes, not sadness. Not quite.

 

Anger. Fear. A twist of something hot and sour in my ribs.

 

“I see,” I said quietly.

 

Satoru looked like he wanted to fix it, wanted to joke it away, but I was already turning.

 

I didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t say wait.

 

I just walked.

 

Fast.

 

Straight back to Yaga’s office.

 

“Amara, babe, c’mon- don’t be like that!” Gojo called.

 

I didn’t stop.

 

Suguru added, “Let’s just talk, alright? Don’t go storming off-”

 

I reached Yaga’s office, flung the door open, and slammed it shut behind me. Lock. Click. Done.

 

“Hey! Rude!” Gojo barked from the hallway, rapping his knuckles against the door. “Sweetheart! Hello? I’m not emotionally equipped for rejection today!”

 

“Try knocking with less drama,” Suguru muttered behind him.

 

“I did knock!”

 

“That was the emotional equivalent of throwing yourself at the floor.”

 

“I throw myself into love, thank you.”

 

“Yeah, and she locked you out of that too.”

 

“I’m actually going to cry.”

 

I rolled my eyes and turned toward Yaga, who hadn’t even looked up. His eyes were still fixed on the same paper in his hands. The air felt heavier in here. Not cursed, just tired.

 

“You’re not going,” he said flatly, before I could even open my mouth.

 

I opened it anyway. “I deserve to be there.”

 

“No.”

 

“You’re not even going to listen?”

 

“No.”

 

“You don’t get to make that call alone.”

 

“Yes, I do.”

 

“You know my shield technique has one of the highest success rates in the school-”

 

“Not your call.”

 

“I’m the only one who can heal in the middle of combat without disrupting an offensive push-”

 

“Still not your call.”

 

“I’m not asking for special treatment. I’m asking for logic. I’m qualified. You know it.”

 

He set the paper down, slowly and heavily. “You weren’t on the list, Amara. You weren’t requested. You weren’t assigned. You weren’t included. You weren’t even brought up as a suggestion. That’s the end of it.”

 

I stared at him, searching for something, anything, in his face. A flicker of doubt. A hint of softness. A crack in the stone.

 

Nothing.

 

Just the steady, tired weight of a man who’d already made up his mind before I walked in.

 

“So that’s it?” I asked, voice low. “You’re not even going to consider it?”

 

“I already have,” he said, not looking at me. “That’s why I said no.”

 

“You didn’t even let me explain-”

 

“I don’t need you to explain,” he said, sharper now. “I know exactly what you’re going to say. That you’re capable. That your shield technique is stable. That you’re field-ready, and loyal, and efficient. I know all that.”

 

“Then why-”

 

“Because this mission is dangerous, Amara,” he snapped, finally meeting my eyes. “And because they don’t need three. They need two. Two who are willing to do what it takes. No hesitation. No-”

 

“No compassion?” I bit back.

 

His silence answered for him.

 

I took a slow step forward. “You think I’ll hesitate.”

 

“I think you’re not ready to kill a child if it comes to it.”

 

“You’re protecting me,” I said flatly.

 

“I’m protecting the mission,” he corrected, but there was a flicker in his eyes, guilt, maybe. Regret. Something that only lasted a second.

 

“I’m not some rookie, Yaga. I already killed someone. I carried his body back myself, remember?”

 

“I remember.”

 

“And I didn’t break. I didn’t lose control. I did what was asked of me, what you asked. I've passed all the missions given to me up to this point with flying colors.”

 

His jaw flexed.

 

“So what’s the real reason?” I pressed. “You think I’ll get in Satoru and Suguru’s way? You think I’ll slow them down?”

 

“I think,” he said carefully, “that if something happens to you, really happens, it could distract them. And if they’re distracted during this mission, they die. That’s the truth.”

 

Silence dropped between us like a blade.

 

I swallowed. My hands curled into fists at my sides.

 

“I’m not asking to be their crutch,” I said quietly. “I’m asking to be useful.”

 

“You already are,” he said. “Just not here. Not this time.”

 

I hated how calm he was. How final.

 

Like this decision had been carved in stone from the beginning.

 

“You’re not changing your mind,” I said.

 

“No,” he replied simply. “I’m not.”

 

I stared at him, hard. Something bitter and heavy caught in my throat.

 

I stepped forward again, just enough to make him look up from the desk. “I’m not trying to be reckless,” I said, quieter now. “I’m not trying to get in the way. But I have to be there, Yaga. If something goes wrong, if they need backup-”

 

“I said no,” he snapped, voice suddenly sharp enough to crack through steel. “You think this is about backup? This isn’t some cursed spirit in a mall, Amara. This is a direct order from Tengen. This is politics. Doctrine. Doctrine that gets people killed if you so much as breathe wrong.”

 

He was angry now. Not just frustrated, seriously angry.

 

“Do you even understand what’s at stake on this mission? What happens if the Star Plasma Vessel dies? Or if they fail? Or if you crack for even a second because of whatever mercy’s still left in you?”

 

My mouth opened to respond, but he cut me off again, standing up fully behind his desk, heavy hands braced on the wood.

 

“You want in so badly? Then fine. Go make a formal request to the Elders. Get dressed up. Bow your head. See if they’re feeling generous enough to throw you a bone.”

 

He said it like a punishment, like the idea should make me shrink.

 

Instead, I smiled. Slow. Cold.

 

“Fine,” I said, tilting my head. “I will.”

 

That stopped him.

 

For a second, Yaga just stood there, lips pressed in a flat line, something unreadable brewing behind his eyes.

 

He hadn’t expected me to agree. Not like that. Not without fear.

 

“…Don’t be stupid,” he said, lower now. Less anger. More warning.

 

But I was already turning toward the door.

 

“I’m not being stupid,” I muttered. “I’m being strategic.”

 

The second I stepped out of Yaga’s office, Gojo and Suguru were right there waiting like overgrown watchdogs.

 

Satoru straightened up dramatically, arms folded and his bottom lip jutted out. “You locked us out,” he accused. “I was emotionally wounded.”

 

Suguru sighed, eyeing me carefully. “Did you at least get what you wanted?”

 

I didn’t answer. Not with words. I just stepped forward and kissed Satoru on the cheek, then turned and did the same to Suguru. Neither of them said anything, though I felt their eyes trail me as I passed.

 

I didn’t stop walking.

 

I didn’t want to give myself time to think. To second-guess.

 

---

 

By the time I reached the clinic hallway, Shoko was halfway through lighting a cigarette outside the back door. Her brow lifted before she even finished her exhale.

 

“Don’t look at me like that,” I muttered.

 

“You only come find me looking like that when you’re about to do something reckless.”

 

I leaned against the wall beside her. “I need to know how to make a formal request to the Elders. A real one. The kind that gets stamped and entered into records.”

 

Shoko blinked, then turned to look at me fully. “Why the hell would you want to do that?”

 

I shrugged, playing it off. “Let’s call it… a career move.”

 

She stared for another long second. “Ask Yaga. He’s the one who logs those requests.”

 

“Yeah, no,” I said quickly. “We may or may not have had a small… philosophical disagreement.”

 

Shoko narrowed her eyes. “Define ‘philosophical.’”

 

“Define ‘small,’” I shot back.

 

She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose like she was already regretting being involved. “Amara…”

 

“I’ll owe you.”

 

“You already do.”

 

“I’ll owe you more.”

 

Another long exhale. Another drag of her cigarette.

 

Finally, she turned and flicked the ash over the railing. “Fine. You’ll need to draft a letter of intent with stated mission relevance, submit it with your ranking and credentials, and request an audience with two or more council Elders, preferably the ones who already know your name.”

 

“I know how to kiss ass,” I muttered. “Keep going.”

 

She gave me a dry look but didn’t stop. “If they grant the audience, you’ll have to present your case verbally. Be respectful, calculated. Don’t flinch. Don’t argue. They’ll try to scare you off, and if you’re not damn convincing, they’ll blacklist you from ever requesting again.”

 

“Perfect,” I said, already turning.

 

“Amara,” Shoko called after me, voice low and slightly tired. “Why this mission?”

 

I stopped with my back to her.

 

“…Because they’re my people. And I don’t want them walking into something without every shield they’ve got.”

 

Silence.

 

Then the sound of Shoko’s cigarette tapping out on the railing.

 

“I’ll email you the format,” she said. “Try not to get executed.”

 

“No promises,” I said softly.

 

---

 

Gojo found me first.

 

I barely heard his footsteps before he slid around the corner, one hand braced against the wall like he’d just sprinted through the entire south wing. “Jesus, sweetheart,” he puffed, hair askew and blindfold crooked, “could you not vanish like a pissed-off cat next time?”

 

I didn’t answer. I just kept walking.

 

Suguru’s voice came more gently from behind. “We just want to talk. That’s all.”

 

I stopped at the end of the hall and let them catch up, letting Gojo grumble and huff dramatically while Suguru guided us toward his room, his space. It was cool, quiet, and underlit. Always smelled like dry tea leaves and his cedar incense. My heart slowed the second I stepped inside, the walls thick enough to muffle even Gojo’s voice.

 

They let me sit on my own first.

 

“I’m putting in a formal request to the Elders,” I said plainly. “To be included in the mission.”

 

That silenced them. Satoru flopped backward onto Suguru’s bed like someone had punched him. Suguru stayed standing.

 

“You sure?” Gojo asked, rubbing the back of his head. “Because, like, not to sound dramatic, but this whole thing is one hundred percent cursed.”

 

“Do you trust me?” I asked, cutting straight through it.

 

“Yes,” they said in unison. No hesitation.

 

“Do you trust me with your lives?”

 

“Yes,” again. Quieter now.

 

“Then why are you so scared of me being on this mission?”

 

Gojo sat up slowly. Suguru crouched beside the low table near me, his brows drawn.

 

“Because this mission isn’t just dangerous,” Suguru said carefully. “It’s morally heavy. It’s not going to feel good. It’s not just protecting someone, it’s being willing to do whatever it takes if it goes wrong. We have to keep them alive just so they can die a different way..”

 

“And that includes killing,” Gojo added, voice low for once. “Or watching someone else die. Or deciding not to save someone we could. It’s not fair. And we’re not proud of it.”

 

I stared at the corner of the rug, teeth grinding softly behind my lips. “I know what the mission is.”

 

“We’re not saying you don’t-” Suguru started.

 

“No, you are.” My voice was sharp, but I didn’t raise it. “You keep repeating it like I’m some kid who doesn’t get the stakes. Like I didn’t already prove I can follow orders, that I can end a life if I have to, even if it fucks me up. Do I want to do it again? No. I'd like to avoid it if possible but I won't let someone else get hurt because I didn’t react fast enough.”

 

They were both quiet. I saw the way Suguru’s expression twitched, regret, maybe.

 

“I’m not doing this to prove anything,” I said. “I’m not trying to be a hero or to throw myself into the fire for fun. But I’m not going to sit here and act like I’m okay letting you two walk into something this dangerous without doing everything in my power to back you up.”

 

Gojo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, finally serious. “You think you’re ready to do what we might have to do? To watch us do it?”

 

“No,” I said honestly. “But if I’m there, maybe you won’t have to do the worst version of it. Maybe I can be the thing that tips the scale just a little the other way.”

 

Satoru and Suguru both looked at me then, really looked. Like they were trying to see the cracks, the edges, the part of me that might shatter once this all got too real. But I didn’t flinch.

 

“At the end of the day,” I said quietly, “I’m a protector. That’s what I was made for. That’s what I chose to be. My cursed technique, my body, the way I fight, it’s all designed to keep people alive. And I think… I know I can protect that girl better than anyone else. Not just with power, but with intent.”

 

Satoru’s brows furrowed slightly, his jaw shifting like he wanted to interrupt. I didn’t let him.

 

“I know I’m sensitive,” I said. “I know I feel too much. But if you two can trust me, then let me trust you. Anything you say on this mission, I’ll listen. No hesitation. If you tell me to pull back, I’ll do it. If you tell me I can’t be there for the handoff, I’ll leave before Tengen even sees me. I’m not going to make this harder for you.”

 

They didn’t speak at first. It was Suguru who finally moved, his voice low and unyielding.

 

“If the Elders actually approve this, and that’s still an if, you’ll need to follow our lead to the letter. This mission isn’t like anything else we’ve done with you. There’s a line, Amara. And once we cross it, we can’t come back.”

 

Satoru nodded, his gaze heavier than usual. “We’re serious, sweetheart. You think you know how dark this gets, but you don’t. You’re going to see a different side of us out there.”

 

“I know,” I said.

 

“You don’t know,” Suguru said, firmer now. “And I don’t want you to have to. But if you’re really going to be there, you have to understand, we won’t be soft. We won’t be kind. Not when it counts.”

 

“And I might scare you,” Satoru added, his voice quieter. “You say you can handle that, but-”

 

“I can,” I interrupted. “If that’s part of you, I want to love that part, too. Even if it hurts. Even if it does scare me. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Suguru blinked slowly, like he was trying to take me in all at once. Like he didn’t know whether to pull me into his arms or walk away just to make this easier.

 

But he didn’t walk away.

 

He just sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

 

“You’re so damn stubborn.”

 

I nodded. “And you love it.”

 

“I do,” he said, defeated.

 

Satoru let out a groan and flopped dramatically onto the bed, arms stretched above his head. “We’re all going to hell for this.”

 

I leaned down and kissed the side of his face. “Then I guess I’ll walk in with you.”

 

---

 

It only took a day for the Elders to accept my request. Satoru and Suguru were honestly extremely surprised. 

 

The quick acceptance only made me more nervous.

 

The room was cold, not just in temperature but in weight, like the air itself had been drained of warmth a long time ago and no one ever thought to bring it back. I moved slowly across the floor, steps deliberate, controlled, and came to a stop at the center of the ceremonial circle.

 

“I’m grateful for this opportunity,” I began, bowing at the waist in the shallowest form of respect. “To speak to those who’ve shaped our society, our structure, and our safety.”

 

No response. Just the creak of a chair. A cough.

 

“I know my presence here is irregular,” I continued, dipping lower this time, my hands resting on my thighs, head bowed just a little further. “But irregularity is not always weakness. Sometimes, it’s an opportunity. Sometimes, the unexpected brings clarity.”

 

I waited.

 

When no one spoke, I shifted into full seiza, thighs folded beneath me on the floor. I looked up, just enough.

 

“You are the stewards of our future. Your wisdom, your discernment, it is what holds our world together. You have carried that burden longer than I’ve drawn breath.”

 

Silence. A few of them liked that. I could tell by the slight change in posture, the way some leaned forward a little more, waiting to be flattered just right.

 

I bowed again, deeper.

 

“I understand that obedience and respect are not just virtues. They are necessities. Without order, we are nothing. Without discipline, we fall into chaos.”

 

My forehead hovered just above the floor.

 

“I am not asking to challenge your decision. I am asking to be part of its execution.”

 

Then, gently, purposefully, I lowered my head the final inch and pressed it against the tile.

 

“I offer myself for this mission not out of ambition, but out of loyalty, to the system you’ve created, to the people I serve beside, and to the values you protect.”

 

I stayed like that.

 

The ground was cold beneath my skin, but my heart was burning. Every word felt like poison in my throat but I swallowed it. All of it. Because this was the only way in.

 

“I am ready to be used for the betterment of the Jujutsu world,” I said, my voice soft. “If you find me worthy.”

 

No breath. No shift. No sound.

 

But I didn’t move.

 

I had more pride than most. More fire. But I would smother it all if that’s what it took. For them. For this mission. For the girl. For the boys watching behind me, forced into silence while I sold a version of myself I hoped the Elders would buy.

 

Because they didn’t care about the truth. They cared about usefulness.

 

And I would make myself a perfect tool in their eyes, just long enough to get what I needed.

 

They kept circling me like sharks with nothing better to do than bite into the ribs of the desperate.

 

"You may lift your head." One elder said.

 

“Miss Hoshizuki, what would you do if the Star Plasma Vessel refused to comply with the mission parameters?” another spoke.

 

Oh, you mean the child you're parading like a sacrificial lamb? The one you're pretending is a strategic asset and not a fourteen-year-old girl with too much on her shoulders and a clock over her head?

 

I smiled. Tucked my hands neatly in front of me. Bowed again.

 

“Whatever is necessary to ensure she is kept safe and the mission remains on course. I know my place, and I trust those above me to determine the appropriate response.”

 

One of them raised a brow. “And if your feelings get in the way?”

 

My feelings? Sir, the only thing in the way is your brittle ego and complete inability to see past your own wrinkled foreskin of a worldview-

 

“I have been trained to remain focused,” I said smoothly, “and to defer judgment to those more experienced than myself. I would never allow personal emotion to compromise the greater good of the Society.”

 

I was laying it on so thick I could taste the boot polish on my tongue.

 

Another Elder narrowed his eyes at me, a crow of a man with a cane that clearly existed only to make him feel important. “This is all very rehearsed,” he muttered. “Perhaps we need to hear from those more… involved.”

 

My heart skipped.

 

“Geto Suguru. Gojo Satoru,” he continued. “You’ve worked closely with the girl.”

 

Girl.

 

Not sorcerer. Not semi-grade one. Not comrade. Just girl.

 

“Your opinions?”

 

That’s when I knew.

 

It wasn’t a request. It was a landmine. One wrong word from either of them and I’d be seen as a liability, a distraction. A girl they couldn’t say no to. Not a soldier. Not someone who could handle this.

 

But Suguru, he understood instantly.

 

----------

 

Suguru’s hands rested loosely in his lap, shoulders relaxed, posture effortless. He didn’t even bother to stand.

 

He let the silence hang for a moment before answering, just long enough to make it seem like he was weighing the question, not the trap.

 

“She’s a capable support unit,” he said coolly. “Her cursed technique specializes in close-quarters regeneration and passive shielding. If this mission were to escalate, and it likely will, having someone with her skillset ensures fewer variables can interrupt us.”

 

The Elders remained still. No reaction. Which meant: keep going.

 

“She isn’t a frontline fighter, and I wouldn’t send her alone,” Suguru added with a soft shrug, like this was just another tactical discussion. “But her energy reserves are high, her recovery rate is unmatched, and she listens. We need someone to manage the Vessel if she gets scared. Or in the way.”

 

There was no affection in his voice. No warmth. No slip of my love, no flicker of tenderness in his eyes.

 

Just cold strategy.

 

They treated everyone like pawns, Suguru simply handed them one more piece.

 

Gojo grinned widely before he even spoke.

 

“Oh, were you talking to me?” he asked, like he’d just come back from vacation inside his own head. “Sorry, I was distracted by how old all of you look in this lighting.”

 

A few Elders visibly bristled. One cleared his throat with the sound of gravel being crushed under a boot.

 

Geto didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink. He knew exactly what Gojo was doing.

 

Gojo, on the other hand, leaned back in his seat like he owned the room, legs sprawled, fingertips tapping his thigh in an uneven rhythm. When no one laughed at his jab, obviously, he waved a hand dismissively.

 

“Okay, okay, fine. I’ll behave.” His eyes flicked lazily toward Amara, just once, just briefly, too quick to look affectionate, long enough to send her a signal: I got this.

 

“You wanna know what I think of her?” he said, voice lighter now, but still threaded with that usual lilt of boredom and superiority that made every word sound like it wasn’t worth his breath. “I think she’s good. Real good. Cursed technique’s solid. Discipline’s gotten way better.”

 

He held up a finger. “Still cries when someone else gets hurt though. Bit of a flaw, unless you’re into humanity.”

 

Another Elder raised a brow. “We asked for your professional assessment, Gojo.”

 

“This is my professional assessment,” he said smoothly. “If I wanted to date her, I’d be talking about her taste in clothing.”

 

One of the Elders inhaled sharply through their nose, but Geto didn’t give them the satisfaction of reacting. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, voice low and patient in that way he used when trying to guide Gojo out of his own theatrics without outright telling him to shut up.

 

“Satoru,” he said, tone just firm enough to be brotherly. “Stay on track.”

 

Gojo’s grin curled wider like he’d just been praised.

 

“I am on track,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the Elders with an open palm. “Just laying out the facts. You want useful, you get Amara. You want obedient, you get Amara. You want someone who won’t die the first five minutes into a special-grade clusterfuck?” He gave an exaggerated shrug. “Again. Amara.”

 

Geto cut in smoothly before Gojo could start comparing her to an old pair of reliable shoes or something worse.

 

“Her healing technique,” Suguru began, tone shifting easily into something more calculated, “is unique. Field-capable, reactive, and now transferable to others. That kind of technique gives us an advantage this mission wasn’t designed to account for.”

 

His eyes slid toward Amara only briefly. No softness. Just cold precision, like she was a name on a report, a tool in the arsenal. He hated playing into their narrative, but he knew how to wear the mask.

 

“If she’s present, it reduces our risk by a wide margin,” he continued. “We all know how thin the margins already are.”

 

A pause. Measured. Surgical.

 

“From a strategic standpoint, I don’t see a better use for her.”

 

Gojo hummed in agreement beside him, loud and obnoxious. “Yeah. And if something does go sideways, she’s good bait.”

 

He stretched his legs out like he was bored in class, casually popping his neck. “I mean, come on. Regeneration like hers? We could toss her straight into a nest of cursed spirits, detonate the place, and she’d still crawl out. Pissed off, maybe missing a limb, but fine. Eventually.”

 

A few of the Elders chuckled. One actually raised an eyebrow, interested. Another scratched notes into a ledger.

 

From where she was kneeling, Amara didn’t move, didn’t breathe too deeply. She knew what they were doing. This was the performance. This was strategy. But it didn’t stop her ears from ringing a little at bait.

 

Gojo didn’t flinch. Didn’t look at her. He just kept going, playing the role like a professional brat. “She’s mobile, fast, reactive. Real good at taking hits without dying. I’ve tested it.”

 

Geto, smooth as always, leaned slightly forward. “Her utility isn’t limited to durability,” he added, tone analytical, cold in that way he used to be when he didn’t care about anyone. “She can isolate the target, cut off interference, even heal secondary assets if the situation demands. Think of her as insulation.”

 

He met the Elders’ eyes one by one, voice even. “Tough enough to throw away. Useful enough to retrieve.”

 

Someone in the back nodded slowly, approving.

 

Geto kept going. “If it comes down to it, and we need to force movement, she can provoke it. Nobody wants to talk about acceptable losses in this situation, but if you’re looking to minimize collateral…” He paused meaningfully. “We’d rather burn one of our own than a dozen civilians or a potential national asset.”

 

Gojo made a soft tch sound. “She’s got the stomach for it. Barely flinched last week when we watched a cursed womb rip through a nursery. She’s sensitive, yeah, but she’s learning.” He smiled, charming, sarcastic, just the right amount of indifferent. “She wants this. We’re just using what’s already broken in.”

 

From where she knelt, Amara felt every word like a stone pressed into her back.

 

Insulation. Asset. Bait.

 

She stayed still. Said nothing. She could taste blood on her tongue where she’d bitten it just to keep her face blank.

 

This was the plan. This was how they played the Elders.

 

They were selling her as a thing. And the worst part was, it was working.

 

---------

 

The Elders leaned back, smug and satisfied like they'd just orchestrated the second coming of Jujutsu Christ.

 

One cleared his throat. “Very well. Permission granted. You will accompany them.”

 

Another Elder nodded solemnly like he was bestowing divine wisdom. “Your loyalty to the future of the Jujutsu Society is noted and appreciated.”

 

I hope you trip over your sandals and die in a koi pond.

 

I bowed again, low and grateful. “It’s an honor, truly. I will not let you down.”

 

I’d rather chew gravel than hear your voice again, sir.

 

They dismissed us with a wave like we were servants bringing out their favorite silver tray. Gojo stood first, cracking his back like he’d just woken up from a nap.

 

Then he grinned, bright and awful. “Come on, sweetheart,” he said cheerfully. “Heel.”

 

Oh, you absolute bastard.

 

My eye twitched. The vein in my forehead pulsed once, hard enough that I thought it might blow.

 

I smiled like a geisha. “Yes, Satoru.”

 

I stood, brushed imaginary dust from my knees, and followed him out with my hands folded like I was fresh from the temple.

 

Once the doors shut behind us, I didn’t even get a full step before it snapped.

 

My cursed energy flared, violent and sharp, a vortex of hot, crackling pressure that flooded the hallway like a breach in a dam. Lights flickered. The floor trembled under my boots. I didn’t even realize I’d clenched my fists until I felt my nails bite into my palms.

 

Gojo and Suguru didn’t even flinch.

 

I exhaled hard, then reeled it in. Fast. Tight. Controlled.

 

I took three shallow breaths. Then one deep one.

 

“I’m fine,” I said, voice light and wobbly. “I’m okay. It’s fine. All good. Just need a second.”

 

I looked up at the ceiling. “If I don’t destroy something in the next ten minutes I might spontaneously combust. But it’s fine.”

 

Suguru raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

 

I nodded too quickly. “I just need to break something that isn’t your pretty, beautiful, absolutely stupidly gorgeous faces.”

 

Satoru threw an arm around my shoulder. “Aw, thanks, babe. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me after pretending I was going to throw them into a nest of cursed spirits.”

 

“Congrats,” Suguru said softly, watching me from the side. He meant it, I knew he did, but his voice was cautious, like he already sensed what was bubbling in my throat.

 

“I got it,” I muttered. “I got the mission. Yay me.”

 

I held up the scroll, shook it lightly like a party favor. “Look at this. Fancy little ribbon and everything. You two gonna autograph it for how thoroughly you sold me out in there?”

 

Gojo looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. Suguru sighed, folding his arms.

 

“You know we had to play it like that,” Suguru said. “They were watching us more than you.”

 

“I know,” I hissed. “I know you did. I get it. But it doesn’t make it feel any less-”

 

I stopped walking, clutching the scroll tighter. “I bowed to them. I called them honorable. I acted like some pathetic lapdog. And then I had to listen to you both talk about me like a tool. Like I was disposable. You don’t even know how many of them nodded along when you said I’d make good bait.”

 

Gojo’s voice was low now, careful. “Amara-”

 

“No.” I turned toward them, eyes burning. “It’s fine. I know it was a show. I know it was what we had to do to get me on this mission. And I’m proud I did it. I pulled it off. I played them.”

 

I held up the scroll again. “Look. Proof. I made it. I’m in.”

 

I looked down at it again. The seal. The red ink. The weight of it. It should’ve felt like a win.

 

Instead, it felt like dirt under my nails.

 

“I just- I need to get out of this hallway,” I mumbled, shoving the scroll in my jacket. “And I need to show Yaga before I puke on the floor."

 

I jump up and down a little and shake myself out.

 

"Come on! I gotta tell him how good I did! See if you guys can keep up!" I start running.

 

The hallway flew past in a blur, paper doors and tile walls flashing by like I was racing time itself. I could hear Satoru and Suguru’s footsteps behind me, loud and playful, Satoru yelling, “You little gremlin, get back here!” while Suguru’s laugh rumbled low and fond.

 

I didn’t stop.

 

I skidded to a halt just before Yaga’s office, turned on my heel with dramatic flair, scroll in hand like it was some divine writ, and smacked it against the frame as I leaned in. “I DID IT.”

 

The door opened just a second later, and Yaga blinked at me from behind his desk, eyebrows raised high. His gaze flicked to the scroll in my hand, then to the two loud idiots stumbling up behind me, panting from the short chase.

 

He didn’t speak for a second. Just stared.

 

Then he laughed.

 

Not a big one. Not like Gojo’s sharp bursts or Suguru’s smooth chuckle. This one was low. Sad. A little fond. Like watching your kid grin with a scraped knee.

 

“Of course you did,” he said, like he wasn’t surprised at all.

 

I grinned harder, shoving the scroll forward, practically bouncing. “They approved me. Full clearance. I’m officially on the mission. And I only had to sell my soul a little.”

 

Yaga took it, looked it over, then set it on the desk carefully like it was made of glass.

 

Satoru leaned on the back of my chair and mumbled, “A little? You bowed so hard I thought your spine was gonna eject.”

 

“Quiet,” I muttered, before turning back to Yaga. “Honestly, I think my knees are still buzzing.”

 

He looked at me, and I could feel it, that quiet assessment he always did, the kind where I knew he saw right through the jokes and the sass. His gaze lingered on my face like he was waiting for the mask to slip.

 

“I meant what I said in there,” I offered. “Even if I had to pretend to believe in their sanctimonious garbage. It was awful. Gross. My soul is currently filing a harassment complaint. But I’d do it again.”

 

He nodded once, slowly. “Why?”

 

His voice was quiet. Not pushing. Just… asking.

 

I shrugged, playing with the edge of my sleeve. “Because I love them,” I said, voice dropping low. “And because there’s a girl out there who’s gonna be scared and confused and bleeding, and I know what that feels like. I can’t stand the idea of not doing something. Of not at least trying.”

 

Yaga sighed, leaned back in his chair, and looked at me like I’d already grown too fast. “You’ve got a good heart, Amara. That’s why I worry.”

 

“I know,” I said softly. “Me too.”

 

I let the silence sit for a second longer, let it breathe like a bruise under the skin.

 

“Maybe I’m built like a metaphor,” I said quietly, fingers tightening around the edge of my sleeve. “Maybe that’s just how I came out.”

 

Yaga watched me closely, patient like always, but I didn’t look up at him yet. Couldn’t. Not while I was still shaping the words.

 

“I know I’m more than that,” I went on. “I’m not stupid. I know I’ve got power and technique and value and all that shit you write in reports. But maybe… maybe this is why I’m here. Why I’m still standing when so many others aren’t. Maybe my job is to take the bleeding heart thing literally. In every way.”

 

I glanced toward the scroll on his desk. My name was on it now. My name, stamped and sealed with every inch of performance and pride I’d scraped off myself to get it. The proof that I could play their game.

 

“I think I’ve always been the soft one,” I whispered. “Even when I didn’t want to be. And maybe that’s the point. Someone has to be. Someone has to care enough. Love enough. Hold the line, not just in battle but in all the ugly little spaces after.”

 

I finally met his eyes.

 

“I think maybe I’m supposed to be the one who feels it all. So everyone else doesn’t have to.”

 

Gojo shifted behind me, quieter than usual. Suguru didn’t move at all.

 

Yaga let out a slow breath through his nose, almost like a sigh. Not exasperated, just… tired. Tired in the way only someone with too much hope and too much loss behind their ribs could be.

 

“You shouldn’t have to carry that,” he said, voice low. “But I know I can’t stop you.”

 

I smiled again, faint and crooked. “I think I’d carry it anyway.”

 

Because someone has to hold the hurt. Someone has to hold the hands afterward. Someone has to believe in something gentler, even when it’s covered in blood and ash.

 

And maybe I was made for that. Maybe I was always meant to bleed like this.

 

So they wouldn’t have to.

Chapter 73: Pre Mission Prep

My hands were already numb.

 

Cursed energy pulsed through my fingers like frayed electric wire, barely holding shape. The dome around me shimmered a weak crimson, too thin at the top, too slow to respond along the bottom edge. It was off. I knew it. And worse, so did they.

 

“Again,” Suguru’s voice echoed across the training hall. Calm. Even. But firm.

 

I exhaled through my nose and reset my stance.

 

I could feel them both watching me, one sharp and precise, the other humming with chaotic pressure like a storm just waiting to misbehave. Suguru and Satoru were never easy training partners, but this? This was something else. They weren’t coddling me today. Not even close. Even if I wish they would just a little bit.

 

“You dropped your back line,” Satoru said lazily from his perch on the ledge above the floor, spinning a lollipop around in his mouth. “You do that on the mission and someone’s going to ram a pipe through your spine. And not in the fun way.”

 

“Thanks for the visual,” I muttered, re-centering my cursed energy.

 

Suguru stepped closer, his arms folded across his chest, eyes scanning every part of me. “Don’t speak. React.”

 

I swallowed. Right. No sarcasm. No defense. Just control.

 

The second I started to draw my energy back up, it hit.

 

Satoru dropped his Infinity, just for a flicker, and released a snap of cursed pressure that sliced through the air like a whip. My shield flared. The dome flickered violently before stabilizing again. Too slow. Too damn slow.

 

“Again,” Suguru repeated. “Faster this time.”

 

I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek and nodded.

 

It became a rhythm. A punishing, beautiful, exhausting rhythm.

 

Suguru paced circles around me, releasing small curses one by one like flickering traps. They darted at me from every angle, snapping jaws, clawed limbs, curses shaped like old scars and nightmares. Satoru stayed high, releasing waves of cursed pressure in unpredictable pulses, testing the very edges of my bubble. Seeing if I could maintain it with constant pressure.

 

Sometimes I passed.

 

And when I did, they praised me.

 

“Atta girl,” Satoru said, his grin sharp and wide. “Look at you. Dead center. Clean lines. You could’ve blocked me with that one.”

 

“Better,” Suguru added, less showy but no less sincere. “Keep that level.”

 

Sometimes I failed.

 

And when I did?

 

“That was sloppy,” Suguru snapped, his voice low but cut with authority. “You hesitated on the left side. You do that again, and someone dies.”

 

My pulse jumped. I didn’t argue.

 

“And you-” Satoru leaned forward, eyes flickering with warning even behind his glasses. “If you flinch at every new pressure spike, higher grade stuff will smell your nerves before your vines even hit the floor. You’re stronger than this. Show it.”

 

I swallowed the sting, nodded once, and kept going.

 

They loved me. I knew that. I could feel it in every calculated push, every soft praise tucked between commands, every second Satoru held back, and every curse Suguru dismissed the moment it overwhelmed. They were sharpening me because I asked them to.

 

And god, I wanted to be sharp.

 

---

 

By sunset, I collapsed against the gym floor, sweat cooling against my neck and spine, my entire body buzzing with overworked cursed energy.

 

“You lasted almost two full minutes with Gojo's pressure spike,” Suguru said, sitting beside me. He handed me a cold bottle, and I pressed it to my face with a groan.

 

“Only almost?” I muttered.

 

“Baby, almost with me is better than perfect with anyone else,” Satoru said, suddenly kneeling in front of me. He brushed a loose strand of hair off my cheek, his fingers lingering. “You’re terrifying, sweetheart.”

 

“You mean that?”

 

“Absolutely. I’m scared and aroused. Shaking in my Versace boots.”

 

“Of course you are,” Suguru said dryly, tossing a towel at him.

 

I let them bicker for a second while I caught my breath, curling my knees up to my chest. Despite the ache, despite the mental static still ringing through my bones, I felt something good.

 

I felt ready.

 

Or at least closer to it.

 

I looked at my hands, still trembling, still glowing with faint cursed energy, and whispered, “Again tomorrow?”

 

“Hell yes,” Satoru said.

 

Suguru smiled softly. “We have until we are officially sent out. You'll be ready in no time.”

 

---

 

The next morning I woke up a bit tired but ready. I got dressed in something loose and comfortable. I grabbed a pair of grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt.

 

Now to get back to it.

 

I cracked my knuckles as I stepped into the southern training field, blinking against the haze of morning light bleeding through the trees. My arms still ached from yesterday’s pressure testing but I was here. I was standing. That counted for something.

 

Gojo stood in the center of the field, already stripped down to a white shirt and loose grey sweatpants. He rolled his shoulders like he was warming up for something stupid.

 

Suguru was off to the side, tying his hair back tightly. His cursed energy simmered low, dangerous and quiet. He was wearing a black shirt and black sweatpants.

 

●●●●

“…Wait.”

 

Both their heads turned.

 

Gojo blinked. “What?”

 

I pointed between the three of us. “We matched.”

 

Gojo glanced down, realization dawning like a cartoon lightbulb behind those ridiculous eyes of his. “OH MY GOD.”

 

He practically levitated off the ground with how fast he shot over to me. “Grey sweats. Black shirt. White shirt. Black sweats. Trinity unlocked. We’re coordinated as hell.”

 

I giggled a bit, already feeling better. “You’re ridiculous”

 

“It’s fashion fate, sweetheart,” he declared, hands on his hips like he was posing for a fake Vogue cover. “You, me, and Mr. Brooding over there. We look like a cool underground band about to drop the most banger album of the decade.”

 

Suguru, to his credit, didn’t even look up. “We’re here to train. Not start a boyband.”

 

“That’s exactly what someone in a cool underground boy band would say,” Gojo shot back, grinning.

 

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” I said as I stepped closer, holding up the hem of my shirt like it was some grand prize. “But I mean... we do look good.”

 

Gojo gasped. “Are you siding with me right now? In public? Suguru, are you seeing this?!”

 

Suguru finished tying his hair, finally turning with an exhale like he was truly trying to be strong. “I’m trying to be serious.”

 

Gojo gave me a wide-eyed look. “He’s trying to resist the bit. Babe, help.”

 

I walked up beside Suguru and wrapped my arms around him, pressing my face to his chest. “We’re all matching. It’s cute. Just admit it. You don’t even have to say it out loud. Just, like… blink twice.”

 

He didn’t blink. But his lip did twitch.

 

Gojo caught it too. “Aha! That’s a smirk. I saw that.”

 

“You saw nothing,” Suguru murmured, but there was no real fight in it.

 

“You love it,” I teased.

 

“Only a little.”

 

“You’re going to start planning coordinated fits now, aren’t you?” Gojo added, poking his side.

 

Suguru reached up like he might swat us away, but instead tugged both of us forward with a tired groan and pressed a kiss to my forehead. Then turned and kissed Gojo’s temple, just above his glasses.

 

It was brief. Soft. But effective.

 

We both immediately shut up.

 

Gojo melted. “Oh. Wow. Okay. That was cheating.”

 

I blinked, dazed. “I feel pacified.”

 

“Good,” Suguru said, deadpan. “Can we train now?”

 

Gojo sighed, linking his pinky with mine before letting go and bouncing backwards into a lazy ready stance. “Fine. But we’re absolutely taking a photo later.”

 

“No, we’re not,” Suguru muttered, already walking to the center of the field.

 

“Yes we are,” I said under my breath, just loud enough for Gojo to hear.

 

He grinned.

 

And just like that, the silliness faded, but the warmth stayed.

 

We fell into formation, sweatpants and all, ready to burn.

 

“You’re protecting me today,” Suguru called.

 

My brow lifted. “From Satoru?”

 

“Try to.” Gojo beamed, teeth flashing. “I’m the world’s worst threat today. Gotta keep our boy alive, sweetheart.”

 

I exhaled through my nose, shaking my arms loose. “You two could’ve just said you were bored.”

 

"Satoru will actually be trying to hurt me. I want you to defend me as much as possible." Suguru said as he fixed his hair one last time.

 

I stepped into position, watching as Suguru slid forward, already poised for confrontation. His movements were slow, deliberate, too deliberate. He was purposfully trying to lose.

 

And it hit me like a slap.

 

He was baiting Gojo.

 

Which meant I had to act before Gojo’s next strike landed.

 

“Now!” Suguru barked, ducking low as Gojo’s fist sliced the air.

 

I flung my arm out and the vines surged from the dirt, thickening fast, lashing up into a barrier between them. Gojo’s strike hit it dead-on, and for the first time, it held against him.

 

Only for a second. Maybe half.

 

But it held.

 

Suguru twisted out of the way as I reinforced the vines, feeding them cursed energy with every breath. Gojo was already testing the edge, palms out now, energy buzzing so loud I could hear it hum in my bones.

 

He didn’t go easy.

 

He never did when it mattered.

 

Which was why, when Suguru threw himself wide open and Gojo shot forward with his whole body barreling into my shield.. I panicked a bit.

 

I pushed every ounce of energy forward until the vines tangled and pulled into a dense wall, snapping tight around Suguru’s front like a second skin.

 

The impact hit, and for a moment, the ground cracked.

 

My knees hit the dirt.

 

But Suguru didn’t.

 

When the dust settled, Gojo was grinning again, hair wild and glowing faintly blue at the ends. “That was a good one, babe. You’re finally getting mean about it.”

 

I panted, sweat dripping down my temple. “Tell me that again and I might kiss you.”

 

“You say that like it’s a threat.”

 

“Focus,” Suguru said, stepping up beside me. “You need to reinforce the roots faster. Gojo’s pressure breaks high, but he’s weak underneath.”

 

“Weak?” Gojo whined.

 

“Relatively.” Suguru glanced at me. “Don’t take too long to feel it out. Either wrap me or move me. Pick.”

 

My fingers clenched.

 

They were being harsher today. Precise. Demanding.

 

But not cruel.

 

Not once did they let me fall without a plan behind it. Not once did they make me feel small. Just… sharpened. Honed.

 

They weren’t training the girl they loved.

 

They were training the weapon they’d have to rely on.

 

And I was going to be ready.

 

“Again.”

 

Suguru’s voice was sharper this time. Not angry, just cutting through the haze in my chest.

 

He’d thrown himself directly into Gojo’s path again, letting a cursed insect explode near his ribs. I’d caught it, barely. My vines had slammed upward at the last second, shielding him, but not without recoil. They splintered under the strain, flailing and cracking like a live wire under pressure.

 

I was breathing hard, fingertips buzzing. Dirt coated my knees. My energy was holding but only just.

 

Still, I stood.

 

“Again,” I echoed.

 

Satoru raised an eyebrow, lips tugging into something between pride and mischief. “Your stamina’s getting scary. You sure you’re not a cursed spirit in a cute girl’s body?”

 

“I’m adorable, not monstrous,” I muttered, stepping forward. “Keep your delusions to yourself.”

 

“Adorable and monstrous,” he corrected, eyes flicking to Suguru. “You ready, bait boy?”

 

Suguru gave him a flat look. “You love calling me that too much.”

 

“Only because I know you like it.”

 

Before Suguru could roll his eyes, he moved again, too fast this time. No warning.

 

They blurred into motion again, airborne, relentless, cursed energy slicing the summer haze apart. I stayed grounded at first, vines braced around the clearing, senses on fire as I tracked them.

 

But something shifted.

 

I saw it in the flick of Satoru’s wrist, how his smile dipped too sharply, how his weight shifted midair. A hit was coming, fast and heavy, and Suguru was just barely a breath off. He wasn’t dodging. He was waiting to get hit.

 

And the second I realized it, instinct took over.

 

My vines cracked out from the ground like coiled muscle, making me a human slingshot, launching me straight toward him. I didn’t call out. Didn’t ask. I just tackled him midair, my arms wrapping around his chest as we dropped.

 

But we didn’t crash.

 

The vines caught us, slowed us, curved like a cradle beneath the impact. We tumbled into the dirt in a soft slide of breath and grass, my body pressing against his, hearts pounding.

 

I opened my eyes.

 

Suguru was beneath me, hands braced on my hips, his chest rising fast against mine. I lifted myself to look down at him, hands by his head as I hovered.

 

He looked up at me like I was the center of the goddamn universe.

 

His expression was open, no teasing, no distance. Just something soft and quiet and entirely in awe.

 

“I’m gonna marry you,” he said, like it was the simplest truth he’d ever known.

 

I blinked. “What?”

 

He didn’t even smirk. Just smiled like I’d saved his life in more ways than one.

 

That did it, I burst out laughing, head dropping against his shoulder. “You’re insane.”

 

“Maybe.” His voice was warm beneath me. “Still true.”

 

I stared at him, at those dark eyes steady beneath the soft fringe of hair clinging to his forehead. He wasn’t joking. He wasn’t playing around.

 

“You’re an idiot,” I whispered, not moving.

 

He smiled, lazy and tender. “Takes one to love one.”

 

God. I loved him.

 

I opened my mouth to say something sarcastic, something to cut the intensity before it swallowed me whole, but of course, Gojo’s voice beat me to it.

 

“Okay, I know I said she was good bait earlier, but this is just unfair,” he called, floating a few feet above us like a smug little sky demon. “I feel like I’m watching a romance drama in the middle of a battlefield.”

 

“Jealous?” Suguru asked, still not looking away from me.

 

Gojo huffed, flipping midair and drifting closer. “Of you? Please. If anything, I’m jealous of her.” He winked. “That’s prime real estate.”

 

I groaned. “You two are exhausting.”

 

Suguru chuckled, fingers lingering underneath my shirt a little. “And yet you’re the one throwing yourself at me.”

 

Gojo crouched down nearby, one hand on his knee, the other pulling down his glasses just enough to leer with exaggerated interest. “Not that I’m complaining, but I gotta say, this is the best angle I’ve had all week.”

 

I shot him a warning glare over my shoulder, but he was already tilting his head like an appraising art critic. “Seriously. Perfect form.”

 

“You’re a menace,” I muttered, half-laughing as I pushed myself up slightly.

 

“Don’t worry, love,” Suguru said coolly, reaching out and grabbing a firm hold of my ass with zero hesitation. “I’ve got you covered.”

 

I let out an undignified squeal, slapping at his arm while he smirked up at me, smug and relaxed.

 

“You watch yourself, Suguru,” I snapped through a laugh, trying to wriggle away, but not really trying.

 

“I’m protecting your modesty,” he said, completely deadpan. “With my life. My hands are doing a public service.”

 

“You two are disgusting,” Gojo announced cheerfully, flopping dramatically onto his back in the grass. “And I mean that with love.”

 

“Shut up,” I said, finally sliding off Suguru and flopping between them.

 

“We should spar more often,” Suguru murmured, smugness dripping from his tone.

 

“Yeah,” Gojo agreed. “Preferably when I get to watch her tackle you again. Maybe from a different angle next time.”

 

“I will bury you,” I said sweetly, draping an arm over Gojo’s chest.

 

He just grinned and poked my cheek. “Kinky.”

 

Suguru groaned beside me. “Why do I love either of you?”

 

“Because we’re hot and emotionally damaged but like, sometimes fun about it,” I offered.

 

Gojo nodded solemnly. “It’s the only explanation.”

 

And somehow, in that quiet lull of laughter and aching muscles, with cursed energy still humming low in my veins, I felt safe. Held. Known.

 

Even if the mission was coming. Even if everything could change.

 

For now, I was here. Between them.

 

And they were mine.

 

---

 

The next day, I was back in the center of the training field with cursed energy humming along my skin like a second pulse. My shield flared to life around me, a dome of flickering light laced with a faint red hue, warm and steady like the sun through stained glass.

 

Satoru stood just outside of it, squinting like a kid trying to figure out how a magic trick worked.

 

Then he threw a rock.

 

It bounced with a satisfying ping.

 

Then a coin. That one ricocheted with a little more bite.

 

Then, naturally, his shoe.

 

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you testing the shield’s durability or my patience?”

 

“Both,” he replied, absolutely delighted with himself. “So far, your shield is holding up better.”

 

I made a sound that might’ve been a laugh and re-centered my energy. I could feel the healing aura at the base of the dome now, like a steady heartbeat pulsing through the earth. Still clumsy, but better. I had to keep the healing output balanced without overcharging and accidentally frying someone’s nervous system.

 

Suguru was leaning against the edge of the mat, clipboard in hand, taking notes with all the seriousness of a surgeon.

 

“You’re skewing her field tension,” he said to Satoru without looking up. “Stop throwing shit for five minutes.”

 

“Fine,” Gojo huffed, retrieving his shoe with a little hop. “But you’re all no fun.”

 

Before I could retort, the breeze shifted, and a familiar voice echoed across the field.

 

Yu Haibara jogged up with a paper bag in one hand and two bottles of Ramune in the other. His smile could’ve powered a small village.

 

“Sugar delivery!” he announced proudly, like he was doing God’s work. “And a public service reminder that you guys need to chill. You’re gonna give the whole courtyard a panic attack with how intense your cursed energy’s been.”

 

I blinked at him, still half inside the perimeter of my shield. He stood just outside it, glowing with the kind of joy only someone who hadn’t yet seen the real weight of the world could hold without flinching.

 

Gojo perked up instantly. “Ooh, gimme.” He made grabby hands at the ramune.

 

Yu dodged and tossed a bottle over to Suguru instead, then handed me mine with a little bow.

 

“You get first pick,” he said. “You look like you’re three seconds from vaporizing a butterfly.”

 

I huffed out a laugh despite myself and cracked the cap, the marble clinking down with a fizz. “Thanks, Yu.”

 

He grinned widely. “You’re welcome, Amara.”

 

Behind him, I saw Nanami walking up, shoulders stiff, hands in his pockets like the weight of reason itself.

 

“Don’t tell him why you're training,” he muttered, already annoyed. “He’ll just insist on coming too.”

 

Yu whipped around, offended. “That’s not fair! I didn’t even ask yet!”

 

“You don’t have to. I know you,” Nanami said.

 

Yu turned back to me with a pout that didn’t quite match the glint in his eyes. “So… what are you guys prepping for?”

 

I hesitated, glancing toward Gojo and Suguru, who both subtly shook their heads. We weren’t supposed to talk about it, not out loud. Not around people who weren’t part of the mission.

 

I smiled instead, taking a sip of my drink. “Just a little extra training. I’m trying to level up.”

 

“Which means,” Suguru said dryly, “Gojo throws increasingly stupid objects at her shield to test its strength.”

 

Yu raised an eyebrow. “Like what, dumbbells?”

 

“No,” I muttered. “Shoes.”

 

“One shoe,” Gojo corrected proudly. “And a rock. And a coin.”

 

“And whatever else you decide to later,” I added.

 

“I can get creative,” he said. “I'll throw Suguru next.”

 

"No, you will not," Suguru said with the driest tone.

 

Yu laughed, bright and sharp, and plopped down in the grass. “You guys are wild. I can’t wait for my first real mission. I mean, they let me do field stuff like twice maybe, but only with people like you guys, someone strong enough to keep me from getting splattered.”

 

“You think that’s fun?” Nanami asked, deadpan.

 

“Yeah,” Yu said, kicking his legs out. “It’s like training wheels for sorcerers. But I wanna ride without them already, y’know?”

 

I looked at him then, really looked. He still had that soft face, that eager energy like he hadn’t been crushed under all the things that came after “real mission.” I remembered that hunger. I remembered when it felt like wanting to prove you belonged. Before it felt like surviving meant becoming something unrecognizable.

 

“You will,” I said quietly. “When you’re ready.”

 

Yu smiled so wide it nearly knocked the air out of me. “Damn right I will. Just wait, I’ll be the strongest one out of all of us.”

 

Gojo gasped, mock offended. “Excuse you.”

 

Suguru leaned over and stole a piece of candy from Yu’s bag. “Now you’ve done it.”

 

Yu just grinned, eyes locked on mine like he already saw the future waiting for him with open arms.

 

He had no idea what we were about to walk into. No clue how quickly that eagerness could become something else entirely.

 

But gods, I hoped he got there anyway.

 

I hoped he got to keep that smile.

 

Gojo flopped back onto the grass, one leg bent at the knee as he chucked the rest of his ramune bottle off to the side with a lazy flick. 

 

“You’re not gonna finish it?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

He yawned. “Nah, it lost its fizz. And my attention.”

 

I took it and finished it off.

 

Suguru rolled his eyes and passed me the last few konpeitō from the crinkled candy bag Yu brought. I popped them into my mouth, savoring the rare quiet. The breeze was soft. Our legs were tangled in a loose sprawl near the edge of the training field, and for once, no one was bleeding or yelling or pressed up against the edge of what they could handle.

 

Yu had started making paper stars out of the candy wrappers, lining them up like little offerings. “You guys are cool,” he said around the stem of a lollipop, his cheeks slightly puffed. “Like, scary cool. I hope I’m like that when I’m twenty-two.”

 

Gojo smirked, eyes still hidden behind his shades. “You think we’re cool now? Wait till you see me with my shirt off.”

 

“I’ve seen you with your shirt off,” Yu deadpanned. “You’re much thinner than I would expect. Suguru is definitely more built than you.”

 

Suguru snorted and leaned back on his hands. “He’s not wrong.”

 

I laughed softly, letting it melt through my ribs. Yu grinned at the sound like he’d just won something.

 

Nanami, sitting a little straighter than the rest of us as always, checked his watch with a small sigh. “Time. We have theory class in ten.”

 

Yu groaned, flopping back dramatically into the grass. “I just got comfortable.”

 

“You were never comfortable,” Nanami said, already standing. “You were loud and sticky.”

 

“I’m vibrant!” Yu shouted after him, scrambling up and brushing grass off his pants. “Don’t act like you’re not gonna miss me!”

 

Nanami gave us all one long look. Not judgmental. Not curious. Just quietly watchful. His gaze lingered a bit longer on me, on all of us, and there was something in it I couldn’t quite place.

 

Then he said, “It was good to see you. Whatever it is you’re preparing for… be smart.”

 

Suguru nodded once. “We will.”

 

Nanami looked like he wanted to say more. But instead, he just turned, walking ahead.

 

Yu scrambled after him, waving over his shoulder. “Good luck with the, uh, whatever! Tell me everything after!”

 

“Don’t tell him anything,” Nanami called without turning around.

 

Yu laughed and threw us a wink. “Tell me something at least!”

 

And then they were gone.

 

I exhaled slowly, turning my face to the sky. “He knows something’s coming.”

 

“Nanami always knows,” Suguru murmured.

 

Gojo stretched, groaning. “He knows, but he won’t ask. That’s his way of caring without making it weird.”

 

My chest ached in a way I didn’t have words for. I sat there a while longer, fingers idly braiding the soft ends of my vines into the grass.

 

Yu’s candy wrappers rustled in the breeze.

 

“Do you think…” I asked quietly, “Is he’s ready for a real mission?”

 

Suguru didn’t answer right away. Then, “Not yet.”

 

Gojo lay back beside me. “But he will be. If we keep buying him time.”

 

That hit hard in my chest.

 

Like someone had looped a vine around my ribs and pulled.

 

Maybe that was all we were doing, buying time. Holding the gates closed just a little longer so the younger ones didn’t get swallowed. Yu was barely a grade 2, at best, with how his cursed energy flickered when he thought no one was watching. Still uneven. Still bright. Still warm.

 

Too sweet for the normal world. Definitely too sweet for this one.

 

I stared at the empty candy bag beside me, the little paper stars he’d left behind still lined up in a neat row.

 

Gojo must’ve felt the shift in my breathing, because he turned his head toward me, sunglasses tilted up slightly. “You okay, Mara?”

 

I nodded once, but my voice cracked when I said, “He really thinks we’re cool.”

 

“He’s got shit taste,” Satoru muttered dramatically, flicking grass at me. “He thinks Nanami’s cool, too.”

 

“That’s because Nanami is cool,” Suguru said, leaning forward to start gathering up the wrappers. “In a reliable way.”

 

“But Yu-” I paused, throat tight. “He still thinks it’s all exciting. Missions. Power. Getting stronger. I guess it was all a bit easier for me to realize because I'd been through a lot.. He doesn’t know what it feels like yet.”

 

“Not really,” Suguru agreed quietly.

 

I swallowed hard. “I don’t want him to lose that. I don’t want him to get used to the feeling of blood in his shoes and someone else's heartbeat stopping under his hands.”

 

Neither of them answered.

 

They didn’t have to.

 

Because we all knew that was what was coming for him. What had already come for us. I just didn’t want it to come for him yet.

 

I leaned back onto the grass and closed my eyes. My vines curled protectively around my legs without me asking them to. Like they were trying to shelter me from my own thoughts.

 

“I want to be the kind of sorcerer that makes him believe it’s worth it,” I whispered.

 

Gojo reached over and laced his pinky with mine. “You already are, sweetheart.”

 

Suguru placed one of the little paper stars in my palm and curled my fingers around it. “Let’s keep buying him time.”

Chapter 74: First Contact

Summary:

This is the start of the Riko Amanai mission. So big heads up that things are going to get sad.

The shrill ring of the final school bell cut through the summer haze. It was a little too peaceful. Birds chirped. The breeze was warm. Students streamed out of the building in droves, chattering about exams and boy bands. No one noticed the strange tension in the air.

 

Except for us.

 

"Visual confirmed," Suguru murmured, pressing a finger to his comm. "East gate. She's alone."

 

"Not for long," Gojo said, perched on the roof of the admin building, glasses glinting. "Two Q agents incoming, left flank, third story window. You got them, sweetheart?"

 

I was already moving. "On it."

 

Riko Amanai stepped through the gate, her uniform skirt fluttering as she tried to untangle her headphones. She didn’t notice the man dropping from the roof behind her until my vines cracked through the pavement like a whip and yanked him mid-air.

 

He hit the ground with a satisfying thud.

 

Riko jumped back, eyes wide. "What the—?!"

 

"Stay behind me," I ordered, moving in front of her as another agent leapt toward her from the shadows. Gojo blurred into existence in midair, catching the second assassin by the collar and spinning them into a pillar.

 

Suguru walked calmly into the chaos, curses crawling up his arms. "Secure the girl."

 

"Oh, so now I'm 'the girl,' huh?" Riko snapped, even as I wrapped my shield around her.

 

"Not the time, princess," I muttered.

 

Gojo landed beside me, cracking his neck. "You okay?"

 

"Fine," I said, then glanced back at Riko, who was somehow simultaneously ducking and texting. "Her? Jury's out."

 

The courtyard cracked beneath our feet as we moved, too fast for ordinary eyes, too deliberate to be anything but trained chaos.

 

Gojo flickered beside me for a moment, grinning like a madman, his sunglasses glinting even in the shifting shade. "Ten o'clock, babe."

 

I turned, vines lashing out before I even registered the curse user sprinting toward us with a serrated blade glowing faintly red. He skidded back just in time to avoid getting impaled, but not fast enough to dodge Suguru's curse, a lean, insectile thing, that latched onto his ankle and yanked him down with a hiss.

 

Gojo snorted. “New guy’s got heart.”

 

“New guy’s got a limp now,” I muttered, dropping back beside Riko, who had huddled behind the edge of a broken stair rail.

 

“I’m not helpless, you know,” she said.

 

"In this situation, you kinda are,” I replied flatly, yanking her back as a smoke bomb hissed through the air and exploded near the far side of the lot.

 

From the haze, silhouettes began to form, five, six, maybe more. Curse users. Armed.

 

Gojo let out an exaggerated sigh, stretching his arms over his head. “Man, I was hoping this would be one of those fast ‘snatch the girl and run’ missions, but nooo, we get the full fireworks display.”

 

“Not fireworks,” Suguru’s voice buzzed through our earpieces. “Reinforcements. Some are contract-bound. The rest are curse users. Bounty’s thirty million. Ends in two days.”

 

There was a pause.

 

"...Thir-ty?" Gojo repeated, syllables dragging with a grin.

 

“That’s right,” Suguru confirmed, stepping into view, casually brushing blood off the cuff of his sleeve. “Which means they’ll keep coming until the clock runs out or we end this early.”

 

Gojo whistled. “We should’ve charged them thirty million just to babysit.”

 

A barrage of bullets rang out from the far wall. I ducked instinctively, shielding Riko with my body, only for the shots to stop midair inches from Gojo, who was still standing, smiling, one hand lazily outstretched.

 

"Oooh, close!" he chirped. “I think one of those might have scuffed my uniform. That’s rude.”

 

He turned toward the shooter, who froze as Gojo took a casual step forward. “Now, listen. I don’t want to get yelled at again for going overboard...” He leaned in, sunglasses sliding just low enough to reveal the faint flicker of his Six Eyes underneath. “But if you cry and apologize real sweetly, I might not kill you.”

 

The shooter dropped his gun.

 

"Smart choice!" Gojo said brightly.

 

Meanwhile, I pulled Riko back again as a curse lunged from the smoke. My blade sliced upward, vines threading along the edge like a second skin. The curse screeched as it disintegrated midair, bursting into a mess of sludge and smoke.

 

“We’ve got at least two more flanking from the stairwell,” I called to Suguru, who nodded once and flicked his fingers. Two curses darted from his shadow, slipping through the smoke like shadows through water.

 

He moved with eerie calm, one hand behind his back, the other lazily directing his swarm like he was orchestrating a symphony of violence.

 

I stayed close, circling back to Gojo’s right flank so we were loosely triangulated around Riko. She crouched between us, annoyed but wise enough not to move too far.

 

More agents emerged from the upper levels, one throwing knives, two with cursed chains wrapped around their arms.

 

The knives hit Gojo’s Infinity and dropped like rain.

 

He raised a brow. “Seriously? Knives and guns? Come on, at least get creative!”

 

A taller curse user surged toward me, blade gleaming black with reinforced cursed energy. I turned, vines whipping up to catch his wrist and Suguru appeared beside me, silent as breath, driving his knee into the attacker’s ribs. The air left the man’s lungs in a gasp.

 

“You good?” he asked without looking at me.

 

I exhaled. “Holding.”

 

He glanced to Riko. “You?”

 

“I’ve had worse field trips,” she deadpanned.

 

Gojo reappeared next to me a second later, brushing soot off his shoulders. “Okay, sweetheart, your turn to show off. I’m bored with these guys.”

 

“You’re never bored when I’m fighting,” I muttered, already moving. My vines lashed outward in a wide arc, slamming into the advancing curse users. One hit the wall so hard that the plaster cracked. Another got tangled mid-jump and crashed through a bench.

 

Riko flinched behind me but didn’t scream.

 

“They’re regrouping,” Suguru called from across the yard. “South gate next. I count seven, maybe more.”

 

Gojo cracked his knuckles again. “Oh no, seven? Whatever will we do?”

 

I stayed grounded, breathing through the steady pulse of cursed energy under my skin, staying between Riko and the rest of the world.

 

This wasn’t just a mission anymore.

 

It was a war of attrition.

 

And the clock was ticking.

 

The skyline of the old ward blurred past in fractured shadows and soft gold light. Broken signs, rusted ducts, and worn shingles stretched across the rooftop maze like some forgotten battleground from another time.

 

“Above!” Suguru shouted, hurling a curse like a black arrow. I turned and saw the figure drop from the water tower behind me, lean, armored in ritual bone, mouth sewn shut with cursed thread.

 

Vines shot up, slamming into the edge of the building across from us. I yanked, body launching just as claws scraped where I’d been standing.

 

Mid-air, I spun and redirected, another vine wrapped around a rusted pipe like a grappling hook. I swung low and fast, skimming over a crumbling awning as Suguru’s curse swarmed the attacker behind me, teeth gnashing.

 

“Need a boost?” Suguru called, vaulting a rooftop vent.

 

I landed with a sharp roll beside him. “I’ve got myself.”

 

He gave me a quick grin. “Show off.”

 

“You like it,” I muttered, flinging a vine behind me to spike another cursed user through the knee as they tried to jump us from the rear.

 

Gojo's voice echoed casually across the rooftops. “I knew rooftop combat was the right call. Wind in your hair, danger around every corner, zero regard for public safety, love that for us.”

 

He hovered two roofs over, walking midair, one hand lazily holding Riko by the back of her shirt as she dangled under his Infinity like an annoyed plush keychain.

 

“Seriously?” she deadpanned, arms limp. “You’re just gonna carry me like this the whole time?”

 

“Hey,” Gojo pouted, shifting his grip slightly so she swung side to side. “You’re safer than a first edition manga in a glass case right now. Plus, this is so efficient.”

 

A whistle cut the wind, three more curse users leapt from adjacent buildings, blades drawn, curses crawling behind them like oily shadows.

 

Gojo didn’t even blink. His Infinity expanded just slightly, and all three attackers froze in midair, feet dangling, curses halted mid-lunge.

 

He gave them a smile that was too wide. “Idiots.”

 

He waved a hand. The three were flung back like dolls caught in a windstorm, vanishing with a chorus of pained howls.

 

“Bye-bye.” he finished cheerfully.

 

“God, you’re insufferable,” Riko muttered, still swinging.

 

“Just a reminder I'm the one keeping you alive~”

 

Meanwhile, Suguru and I had closed in on the real threat, another cursed user far stronger than the last, cloaked in ash-colored armor made from the bones of their own cursed spirits. Their arms gleamed with inscriptions. They didn’t speak, but the cursed energy rolling off them was so thick it made the air crackle.

 

“I’ll draw,” Suguru said softly beside me. “You disarm.”

 

I nodded, crouching low as his curses poured out, two of them, slender like blades, slicing toward the enemy from opposite angles.

 

The cursed user parried, spinning into a backstep that almost clipped Suguru’s shoulder. I surged in from behind, vines spiking out of my sleeves like whips. One wrapped around the hilt of their weapon, the other slammed into their side.

 

They twisted midair, flipping between us in a blur, energy blasting outward to break my grip.

 

“Persistent,” I muttered.

 

“Arrogant,” Suguru corrected, already moving again.

 

We circled the user, keeping them boxed in on a narrow rooftop ledge. Suguru’s curses harassed them from the front while I struck from unpredictable angles, my vines snapping from roof beams, gutters, antenna poles.

 

At one point, I launched myself entirely off the roof, anchored by a vine that slung me under and back up like a slingshot. I landed on their blind side and slashed into the cursed armor with my blade. Cracks splintered through it like glass under pressure.

 

Suguru followed through, curse bursting forward with crushing force.

 

The cursed user tried to leap away, well tried to.

 

My vines lashed out again, binding their foot midair. I yanked hard. They fell flat.

 

Suguru landed beside them with a heavy step, gaze calm. “You’re done.”

 

One final curse slammed into their chest, exploding into black smoke and bone dust.

 

Silence.

 

Then, from across the skyline:

“THAT WAS SO HOT,” Gojo shouted, loud enough to echo off every rooftop. “ARE YOU GUYS SINGLE??”

 

"Only for you big boy!" I playfully twirled my hair.

 

"Hubba hubba!" 

 

Suguru and I both laugh.

 

"You guys are disgusting.." Riko groaned, crossing her arms.

 

The moment didn’t last.

 

It never did.

 

Suguru had just dusted his sleeves off when the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. Gojo’s head tilted slightly, shades catching the sun, but behind them, I knew his eyes were moving. Calculating.

 

“Don’t look now,” he said casually, “but we’ve got company. Again.”

 

I spun on my heel just in time to catch the shape emerging from the rooftop stairwell. Another Q agent, but not like the others. He moved with that eerie calm, like a man who knew he wouldn’t survive this and didn’t care. His vest was glowing. Faint cursed inscriptions hummed along the fabric. And in his hand...

 

A trigger.

 

“Shit,” I muttered. “He’s wearing it. The vest. Gojo, it’s a detonation type-”

 

“Oh, I know,” Gojo cut in, smile gone razor-thin. “And I’m guessing that thing’s linked to the entire support structure.”

 

“Four seconds after he presses it,” Suguru murmured, eyes already glowing with cursed intent, “the whole top floor goes.”

 

“Can you stop him?” I asked.

 

“Too many seals,” he said. “It’s locked. The moment he lifts his thumb-”

 

“Then we go,” Gojo said sharply. “Now.”

 

“Jump?” I asked, already backing up, heels flirting with the edge of the roof. “Satoru, even with my regeneration, I’m not surviving that fall.”

 

He turned to me, calm even as smoke began curling from the seams of the building.

 

“Do you trust me?”

 

My heart slammed against my ribs.

 

“Yes,” I said, before I could think too hard.

 

Gojo grinned. “Good.”

 

And then he shoved me off the roof.

 

“GOJO YOU SON OF A-!”

 

Wind screamed in my ears as I plummeted, the world blurring around me in streaks of steel and sky. I flipped once, twice, no control, no balance, and then..

 

A flash of movement above.

 

Gojo, falling backward like a diver off a cliff, laughing with his whole chest, hair whipping wildly.

 

Suguru dove after him, clean and fluid as always, coat flaring behind him like a shadow with a heartbeat.

 

But I was already gone.

 

The air tore at me like claws, roaring in my ears, dragging tears from my eyes. I couldn’t catch my breath. Couldn’t orient. The buildings turned to streaks below, colors warping into nothing but blur and speed. My vines thrashed wildly in the wind, reaching for something that wasn’t there.

 

Too high.

Too fast.

Too far.

 

I tried to steady my arms, to breathe, but the ground was rushing up like it hated me. Gojo’s voice was gone. The fire from the explosion flickered out of my peripheral like the end of a dream. And for one single second, I thought, Maybe this is the one I don’t bounce back from.

 

Then something huge and warm swept beneath me.

 

A cushion of pressure, like falling into a wave that was also alive.

 

Suguru’s manta ray.

 

It bloomed out of nowhere, sweeping under my body like it had always known I would land there. I hit its back with a gasp, the soft surface catching me without a jolt. I was breathless. Dizzy. Arms splayed wide.

 

And then Suguru landed behind me.

 

One knee hit the spirit’s surface, then both arms wrapped around my waist as he pulled me upright. Carefully, reverently, he adjusted me so I was sitting in front of him, his chest flush to my back, knees bent, legs on either side of mine. A perfect hold. Like a seatbelt made of steady breath and quiet strength.

 

His hand settled on my stomach. The other cradled my wrist.

 

“Hey, love,” he murmured against the back of my ear, warm and solid, steadying every shaky part of me. “Breathe for me. You’re okay.”

 

I exhaled. Trembled. Nodded.

 

“I’m okay,” I whispered, still stunned.

 

“I’ve got you,” he said again, firmer this time. “I always will.”

 

He pressed a soft kiss to the hinge of my jaw, the kind that lingered just long enough to mean you’re safe now. His lips were warm from adrenaline. His cheek brushed mine as he pulled me tighter.

 

Then-

 

“EXCUSE ME,” came a very loud, very upside-down voice.

 

Gojo floated into view beside us, hovering at eye-level like some ridiculous smug bat, his legs crossed mid-air and his sunglasses still somehow perfectly in place.

 

“I believe I also risked my life and was very brave and threw you off a building, which, frankly, was heroic,” he said, leaning in. “So where’s my kiss, hmm?”

 

“Satoru-” I started, but he was already holding up a hand and reaching.

 

“Riko,” he called sweetly, “cover your eyes. This is adult business.”

 

Riko, still dangling in his other arm like a disgruntled doll, groaned. “You are so annoying.”

 

“Say it with love.”

 

“I say it with murderous intent.”

 

Gojo covered her eyes with one hand anyway, wagging his brows at me dramatically. “Now. Kiss me.”

 

I laughed, the sound slipping out raw and giddy, like it didn’t belong to someone who just narrowly escaped death.

 

“Greedy,” I muttered, but leaned forward anyway. I kissed his cheek first, light and lingering, and watched his ears flush pink even through the wind.

 

Then Suguru leaned forward with me, still holding me close, and kissed the other cheek.

 

Gojo’s breath caught. Just a little.

 

“…Okay,” he mumbled, blinking. “Okay, that was kind of unfairly sweet.”

 

“You asked for it,” Suguru smirked.

 

The manta spiraled downward gently, guided by Suguru’s touch. The firelight from the explosion behind us cast long shadows over the rooftops, and the wind finally calmed as we dipped below the tallest towers.

 

Riko groaned dramatically. “I hate you all.”

 

“You tolerate us,” Gojo corrected as he floated upright again. “We’re lovable.”

 

We landed softly on the ground. Looks as though we took out most of the bounty hunters. For now.

 

Gojo clapped. "Teamwork! We’re getting good at this. Only took a lot of property damage and a trust fall."

 

"You’re such an asshole, Satoru." I chuckle lightly.

 

"Language," Suguru warned mildly. "There are children present."

 

Riko blew a strand of hair out of her face. "I'm fourteen. Not eight."

 

She said it with a roll of her eyes and a bruised little puff of defiance, like getting ambushed on her school rooftop was just a mild inconvenience. One she’d brush off with a hair tie and a sharp tongue.

 

I liked her immediately. Which… scared the hell out of me.

 

Satoru barked a laugh and pivoted around the edge of the crumbling concrete ledge, blue eyes bright behind his glasses as he scanned the skyline for any lingering cursed energy. Suguru was already kneeling by one of the bodies left over to see if they had any useful information on them.

 

Me?

 

I knelt in front of the girl.

 

“You good?” I asked, trying to keep my voice soft. She’d just watched us destroy a city, hurt a bunch of people, and jump off a building. Her hands were shaking even if she was pretending they weren’t.

 

“I’m fine,” Riko said, lifting her chin. “Didn’t even scream.”

 

She hadn’t. Not when the first one jumped. Not when the second guy swung that rusted cleaver toward her neck. Not when I caught it mid-arc with a vine and Satoru blew his torso in half. Her body had tensed, but she never panicked. Not really.

 

“Scrapes on your arm,” I said, motioning gently. “May I?”

 

She eyed me like I was offering her a cigarette. “You’re gonna do some weird energy thing, right?”

 

I gave her a half-smile. “Yeah.”

 

Riko sighed. “Fine. Just don’t make it feel weird.”

 

My hand hovered an inch from her shoulder as I activated the soft pulse of my bubble. The warmth bloomed instantly, healing the minor abrasions and taking the edge off the bruises. Her cursed energy sparked around mine faintly, still underdeveloped, but not absent. Just enough that I could feel the edges of her stress, even if she didn’t say it.

 

She didn’t flinch. Just watched.

 

“…Do you know why we’re here?” I asked quietly, voice dropping so the boys wouldn’t overhear.

 

Her expression didn’t change much. But I saw it in her mouth, how the corner twitched, just slightly. And her heart rate, still tethered to my cursed energy from the pulse sync, spiked like a stuttered beat.

 

“Yeah,” she said simply. “I know.”

 

I waited. She didn’t say more.

 

That silence said everything.

 

Satoru kicked a broken talisman from the nearest corpse and gave a short whistle. “Q really sent middle-tier hacks. They must be getting desperate if they’re putting this much heat on us. Ah, what 30 million yen will do to people.”

 

“Well, she is the merger. The Star Plasma Vessel. Every second she breathes is a threat to their vision of the jujutsu world.” Suguru replied as he straightened up.

 

Riko rolled her eyes at him. “Wow, thanks for the reminder.”

 

Satoru barked another laugh. I didn’t. My eyes were still on her.

 

“You’re taking this pretty well,” I murmured.

 

Riko shrugged. “I’ve known since I was a kid. The old guy with the glasses told me I’d be 'one with the world someday.’ It’s not like I got much of a say.”

 

Something cold twisted in my stomach.

 

“I didn’t think I’d get to meet bodyguards who acted like freaks, though,” she added, tossing a pointed glance at Gojo.

 

“I’m delightful,” Satoru said, arms crossed. “Ask anyone.”

 

“She’s not wrong,” Suguru added flatly, brushing his hands off on his coat. “We do look ridiculous.”

 

“And yet you love it,” Gojo said, spinning his glasses.

 

“Only because I know you like it,” Suguru replied smoothly, smirking.

 

Their banter faded into background static as I looked at Riko one more time. Her mouth was sharp. Her pulse was steady. Her face was defiant.

 

But her energy told the truth. Underneath all that noise, she was terrified. And she’d been terrified for a long time.

 

I reached out again, just briefly, and fixed her collar.

 

“You’re safe with us,” I said, quieter now. “No matter what they told you.”

 

She looked up at me. “You’re the nice one, huh?”

 

I hesitated.

 

“I guess someone has to be.”

 

We needed to get her to the safe house. That was the plan. Quick, quiet, no detours.

 

But Riko Amanai had other ideas.

 

“Absolutely not,” a voice snapped from across the courtyard.

 

A woman in her late thirties came storming toward us, hair twisted back in a tight clip, pressed blouse wrinkled from panic. Her eyes were sharp and full of fury. Parental fury. Protective fury.

 

“Step away from her!” she barked, angling herself between us and Riko like she was about to throw hands with the strongest sorcerer in the world and two of his even scarier teammates.

 

Gojo blinked. “Ma’am-”

 

“No. No ‘ma’am.’ I don’t care what uniforms you're wearing or what school sent you. You don’t get to swoop in and steal her like- like she’s some precious cargo! She’s a kid!”

 

“She’s the Star Plasma Vessel,” Suguru said gently, like he was trying not to step on a landmine.

 

The woman turned on Riko. “You said you’d stay at school. You said-!”

 

“I know what I said,” Riko cut in, eyes steady. “But they’re the right people. This is the plan.”

 

That shut her up for a moment. Just one moment.

 

“They’re my escort,” Riko continued. “They’re gonna keep me alive until... until I have to go.”

 

The woman looked like she wanted to argue, but she could see it in Riko’s face. The resolve. The resignation. The edge of goodbye. Her mouth opened, then closed again. Her hands trembled.

 

“I don’t want to leave just yet,” Riko said, quieter now. “I want to do normal stuff. Eat crap food. Hang out with friends. Just for a little longer.”

 

Her caretaker’s eyes filled with tears she didn’t let fall. She nodded once and stepped back.

 

That was it. That was Riko’s version of goodbye. Not some dramatic speech or tearful hug. Just: I want to live a little. Just a little.

 

Gojo stepped forward and pulled his glasses down. “You’ve got two days.”

 

She didn’t argue. She just smiled like she already knew.

 

“Two days, then we go to Tengen.”

 

Riko gave a sloppy salute. “I’ll be ready.”

 

God, I hoped she was. Because something about the way she said it made my chest tighten.

 

Like she’d already decided that two days would be all she’d ever have.

 

---

 

Riko waved us through the gates of her school like she owned the damn place. Which, in a way, she kind of did. Every student we passed either did a double-take or full-on stared. And it wasn’t just at her, it was definitely at Gojo, who looked like a lost model slumming it through a campus tour.

 

“She’s gonna get us caught,” I muttered.

 

“She’s not,” Suguru said calmly, his eyes already scanning corners, rooftops, shadows. “She’s too good at this.”

 

“She told the office we’re her cousins.” I raised a brow.

 

Suguru smirked. “You’re telling me you don’t see the family resemblance?”

 

I elbowed him lightly and caught Gojo grinning at us over his sunglasses, fully committing to the role with a casual strut and an infuriating wink at every passerby. A girl tripped over her own foot and barely caught herself. One of the teachers, a grown woman, slipped him her number scribbled on the corner of a lesson plan.

 

“You’re going to hell,” I told him as we passed her.

 

“Already there, sweetheart,” he chirped. “Might as well enjoy the company.”

 

Riko groaned, face flushed as she tried to push him down the hall. “Stop flirting with the staff! You’re ruining my life!”

 

“You invited us!”

 

“I didn’t expect you to be- like this!”

 

We spent the rest of the afternoon trailing her through classes, Riko rattling off nonsense introductions like “This is my emotional support squad,” or “They’re here to observe the superior school system in Tokyo.” Somehow, it worked. Gojo turned on the charm, Suguru stayed quiet and respectful, and I… well, I mostly stayed out of the way and kept one hand hovering near the locket at my throat.

 

There was a game at lunch, something between kickball and tag and of course, Gojo joined in without being asked. Suguru even agreed to a round after Riko begged, and we crushed the first years. Riko cheered for us like it was the Olympics.

 

By the last period, we were sitting in the back row of her music class, trying not to laugh as Gojo mouthed along with the choir warm-ups like he was performing an opera.

 

Suguru leaned close. “He’s unbearable.”

 

“Completely,” I whispered.

 

He smiled then. A real one. Wide and warm and rare.

 

And something in me… stilled.

 

That smile, his smile, wasn't just for me today. It wasn’t even just for Gojo. He was watching her. Riko. This loud, stubborn girl who was still pretending like she didn’t know her whole world was counting down.

 

And I think that’s when it hit me: this mission wasn’t going to go anywhere near the way we wanted. There was too much life in her. Too much that didn’t want to die. And we were the ones making the path toward that ending possible.

 

I looked around then. For Kuroi. Her caretaker hadn’t been far behind us earlier, always shadowing, always watching.

 

But now?

 

Gone.

 

Not a flicker. Not a whisper of cursed energy. My stomach dropped.

 

I leaned toward Suguru. “Have you seen Kuroi?”

 

His smile faded. He shook his head once.

 

Something was off. And I had the sinking feeling this whole school day had been borrowed time.

 

I slipped out of the classroom a few minutes early, letting the background noise of laughter and dismissal blur behind me. The halls still buzzed with energy, teenagers slamming lockers, chattering about weekend plans, and the hum of lights overhead. But something didn’t feel right.

 

Kuroi hadn’t checked in once since lunch.

 

I did a slow lap around the main corridor. No sign of her. Not leaning against the wall outside Riko’s classroom, not by the vending machines.

 

My feet moved faster before I realized it, cutting toward the entrance. The courtyard outside looked deceptively calm. Warm light angled across the pavement. Teachers chatted. Students sprawled in lazy circles.

 

Then I saw it.

 

A folded square of paper was pinned to the front doors with a thumbtack. No envelope. No seal. Just waiting.

 

I yanked it free.

 

The handwriting was rushed and uneven, but the message was loud and clear:

 

> “The caretaker is with us now.

Bring us The Star Plasma Vessel in Okinawa

You get the caretaker and we get the girl.

—Time Vessel Association”

 

I felt everything slow, my breath, my pulse, the familiar tug of cursed energy in my chest.

 

They weren’t even trying to hide what this was. Not a real threat. Not leverage. Just a distraction. Delay. They didn’t want Riko safe, they wanted time. Time to reorganize. To reposition. To strike again.

 

I turned as I heard footsteps behind me, a familiar cadence, fast and purposeful.

 

Satoru’s voice rang out first. “Amara?”

 

Suguru and Riko were right behind him, Gojo lazily twirling a soda bottle in one hand like this wasn’t about to get serious.

 

“Hey, where’d you wander off to?” Riko asked, tossing her school bag from one hand to the other.

 

I handed Suguru the note without a word.

 

His eyes scanned it quickly. His jaw tightened. His fingers creased the page.

 

Gojo took it next, and his whole expression shifted. Gone was the playful glint, he was calculating now, colder around the edges.

 

Riko stepped between them and read it for herself.

 

Silence.

 

“We have to get her back,” she said, like it was the only answer that ever existed.

 

Suguru nodded. “We will.”

 

Gojo glanced at her, sharp and assessing. “We’ll keep you safe too.”

 

I folded my arms, already running routes in my head. “They’re trying to stall us. If we split up-”

 

“No,” Suguru cut in gently but firmly. “We don’t split.”

 

Gojo cracked his knuckles. “Not unless we want them to pick us off one by one. This was meant to slow us down.”

 

Riko crossed her arms, chin high and eyes blazing. “Then we don’t let it. You’re not taking me anywhere unless we get Kuroi back.”

 

Suguru opened his mouth, but she cut him off, voice firm. “If you don’t get her, I’m not doing the merger. I don’t care what Master Tengen or the Elders say.”

 

The final bell rang behind us, a sharp echo of normalcy.

 

Riko turned toward the crowd of students filing out. She waved with a bright, forced smile. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow!”

 

Her voice cracked just slightly on the last syllable. I don’t think anyone noticed but me.

 

She wasn’t coming back. We all knew it.

 

---

 

Evening — Tokyo Haneda Airport

 

Getting a flight to Okinawa last minute was a blur of curses, IDs, and Satoru threatening to teleport us onto the runway. Somehow, Gojo charmed the airline agent into giving us four seats together. Either with his good looks or because he pretended to be a “government agent on assignment.” He said it loud enough to get a few heads turning.

 

When we finally boarded, the sun was already bleeding into the ocean, soft purples and pinks trailing behind the plane windows. I watched the sky change as we took off, that warm hue turning slowly into twilight blue.

 

The moment we were buckled in, Gojo stood up again.

 

“What are you doing?” Suguru asked, already tired.

 

“Just a little reconnaissance,” Satoru grinned, then winked at me. “Don’t wait up.”

 

I sighed, pressing my head against the window.

 

Gojo, true to form, walked the full length of the cabin twice, checking everyone, peeking at carry-ons, smiling at confused businessmen and nervous tourists, flashing his badge, which I’m 99% sure was just a laminated school ID he “modified”. When he finally returned to our row, he flopped down dramatically next to Suguru.

 

“All clear,” he announced, arms behind his head. “No curses, no bombs, no fun.”

 

Suguru handed him a bag of mixed nuts wordlessly. Gojo beamed and leaned against his shoulder.

 

Riko flopped into the seat beside me, curling her knees up and hugging them to her chest like a kid on a sleepover.

 

“This is the first plane I’ve been on without a school trip itinerary,” she muttered.

 

I glanced at her. “How are you doing?”

 

She gave me a grin that was too wide to be real. “Terrified. Excited. Kinda hungry.”

 

I smiled faintly. “That tracks.”

 

We sat there in silence for a while, the drone of the engine settling in like white noise.

 

“Hey,” Riko said suddenly, eyes still on the back of the seat in front of her. “You’ve been watching me. Since earlier.”

 

I didn’t deny it.

 

“Do I look like I’m gonna break?” she asked, almost teasing.

 

I shook my head. “You look like someone who’s pretending she won’t.”

 

Riko leaned her shoulder into mine, just slightly. “That’s fair.”

 

She didn’t say anything else for a long time, and neither did I.

 

Across the aisle, Gojo was already fake sleeping on Suguru’s shoulder, mouth parted slightly, one leg kicked out into the aisle. Suguru rolled his eyes but didn’t move him.

 

And for one strange, fleeting second… it felt like we were just kids on a trip. Like there wasn’t a ticking clock on all of this. Like nothing would ever have to change.

 

But I knew better. I think we all did.

 

Riko had kicked her shoes off thirty minutes into the flight and tucked both legs into the seat, like the airplane was just another corner of her bedroom. She was all elbows and opinions and absolutely no filter.

 

“Okay, but if you had to pick a favorite food that wasn't onigiri,” she said, poking me in the arm, “what would it be?”

 

“I didn’t say it was onigiri.”

 

“Yeah, but your vibe screams ‘onigiri with too much salt.’”

 

I raised an eyebrow. “Is that a compliment or…?”

 

“Debatable,” she grinned, “but you didn’t answer the question.”

 

I leaned back and pretended to think. “Tamagoyaki.”

 

Riko made a delighted noise. “Yes! Okay, I knew I liked you.”

 

“Thought you said I was scary?”

 

“Yeah, but the kind of scary you want on your side, y’know?” she said, shrugging. “Like a feral cat you feed once and then you’re bonded for life.”

 

I glanced across the aisle. Suguru’s eyes were half-lidded, arms folded, one hand loosely curled over Gojo’s arm where it rested on his lap. His mouth twitched like he was holding in a laugh.

 

Riko must’ve noticed too because she nudged me again and whispered, “He listens to everything. He’s totally judging us.”

 

“He’s not judging,” I whispered back. “He’s always listening. There’s a difference.”

 

“Creepy difference.”

 

I smirked. “He’s protective.”

 

“So are you,” she said, softer this time. “You act like you’re just backup muscle, but I can tell. You care more than they do.”

 

“I care differently,” I said.

 

“Because you think that’s all you’re good for?” she asked, not unkindly.

 

I didn’t answer right away.

 

The cabin lights dimmed slightly as the plane cruised over the ocean, casting soft golden edges across Riko’s profile. I turned toward the window, just a little, and said, “No one survives this world without someone who gives a shit.”

 

She didn’t speak again for a while.

 

And then, so quietly I almost didn’t hear her: “You think anyone would’ve given a shit if I said I didn’t want to do it? The merger.”

 

I looked at her.

 

Her chin was up, stubborn like always, but her voice didn’t match the confidence in her spine. It cracked. Barely.

 

“I think you already said it,” I murmured. “Just not out loud.”

 

Riko blinked fast, then looked away. “That’s cheating.”

 

I offered a small smile. “I’m good at cheating.”

 

“Don’t tell me that before we play cards.”

 

“You play cards?”

 

“Yeah. I’ll destroy you.”

 

“You sound like Gojo.”

 

She groaned. “God, don’t say that. He already thinks we’re best friends.”

 

I laughed then, and it felt real, light, like something lifted off my chest. Riko leaned into my side, the motion subtle but familiar. Warm.

 

“Can I…?” she started, but didn’t finish the question.

 

I shifted so she could settle, and she tucked herself against my shoulder like it was second nature.

 

A beat passed, then another. Her breathing slowed.

 

I pulled Suguru’s hoodie from my bag and gently draped it over her, adjusting it so it covered her arms. It still smelled like his cologne, faded and familiar. She sighed softly, melting under the weight of it.

 

Across the aisle, Suguru hadn’t moved, but his eyes met mine.

 

He didn’t say anything.

 

Just watched as I wrapped someone else's kid in his hoodie and curled a hand around her shoulder like maybe, just maybe, I could protect her from what we all knew was coming.

 

And in that moment, I wished more than anything that I could lie. To her. To him. To myself.

 

But two days was still two days. And every hour between now and then felt shorter than the last.

 

---

 

It was early morning when we landed, still dark enough that the runway lights felt like stars trapped on the ground. None of us had really slept, Gojo least of all. He’d closed his eyes a few times during the flight, but I knew he hadn’t gone under. He was listening. Counting exits. Memorizing faces.

 

Suguru and I had taken turns pretending to rest, but tension buzzed low beneath our skin. The kind of exhaustion you just push through. You don’t fix it, you don’t rest, you outrun it.

 

We didn’t waste a second once we touched down.

 

There was no safe house here. No guarantee of backup. Riko was glued to my side as we moved, her steps quiet but steady, the pulse at her wrist thrumming against my fingertips every time I laid a shield around her.

 

The people who had taken her caretaker weren’t trained fighters. They were fanatics. Easy to overwhelm when you had a Six Eyes sorcerer, a curse manipulator, and a walking vine-battery who refused to let anyone touch the girl.

 

We moved like we’d done this a hundred times.

 

Gojo cracked the front doors with a flick of his wrist. Suguru’s curses flooded the narrow halls like smoke. I stayed close to Riko, vines bristling along the floor, wrapping ankles and dragging anyone who so much as twitched wrong.

 

The whole thing was over in under five minutes.

 

When we found her caretaker, tied to a metal chair in a makeshift chapel lit with candles and blood smears, Riko didn’t even wait for us to finish clearing the room.

 

She bolted.

 

“Kuroi!” Her voice cracked as she fell to her knees, ripping at the ropes with her bare hands.

 

The older woman stirred, dazed but alive. Her trembling arms wrapped around Riko like she’d finally exhaled after days underwater.

 

“That’s it,” Gojo said, dusting his palms off. “No more wild card interference.”

 

“Just regular bodyguard duty from here,” Suguru added, though his voice didn’t ease up much.

 

I nodded, glancing around. “Let’s get out before someone decides to escalate.”

 

We slipped out the back, sunrise just beginning to melt the horizon into pale gold and salt-hazed blue. The air smelled like rust, oil, and ocean.

 

It wasn’t over—but it was done.

 

And then, Riko turned toward us, still gripping Kuroi’s hand.

 

“...I want to go to the beach.”

 

Gojo blinked. “The what now?”

 

“I’ve never been,” she said, like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t a dagger to the chest. “You said I had two days. That still counts, right?”

 

Suguru tilted his head. “You realize this isn’t exactly a vacation.”

 

“Exactly why I want to go. You think I’m just gonna sit in some stuffy hotel room waiting to turn into a god?”

 

She had a point.

 

And as much as I wanted to say no, as much as I wanted to stick to the plan and keep her somewhere we could control… I looked at her, really looked at her, and saw a kid asking for just one moment to live before everything was taken from her.

 

I met Suguru’s eyes. Then Gojo’s.

 

“...Okay,” I said softly. “Let’s go.”

 

Riko beamed.

 

And just like that, we were headed for the sea.

 

I don’t think any of us expected to end up here.

 

Not just in Okinawa, not just on this beach, but like this. Laughter rising like ocean spray. Salt in our mouths. Sunlight clinging to wet skin like it didn’t want to let go either.

 

We’d barely checked into the hotel before we were back out the door and walking down the street barefoot, half asleep but determined to find a shop that sold anything remotely beach-related.

 

Gojo immediately made himself the self-appointed fashion consultant. “This,” he said, grabbing an offensively orange zip-up hoodie, “screams summer heartthrob with a mysterious past.”

 

“You’re not mysterious,” Suguru said, rifling through a rack of swim trunks without looking up.

 

Gojo smirked. “That’s what makes it mysterious.”

 

He ended up with plain black trunks and the ridiculous orange hoodie. Riko settled on a green two-piece with a flowy top and a straw sunhat nearly the size of her head. She beamed when she caught her reflection in the mirror, tilting the hat and striking a pose.

 

“Grown and glowing,” she declared.

 

Misato Kuroi raised an eyebrow but didn’t object. She picked a modest black and white crop-top swim shirt and matching bottoms, efficient, clean. Exactly what I expected from someone who clearly spent most of her time worrying about everyone else.

 

Suguru, of course, found a button-up tropical shirt in blue, popped it open, and looked like he belonged in a vacation brochure. I was still pulling the tag off my plain black one-piece when he and Satoru whistled like I’d strutted out of a runway.

 

“Damn,” Gojo grinned, elbowing Suguru. “We’re dating her?”

 

Suguru gave a soft, knowing smile. “We have good taste.”

 

I rolled my eyes, even as my stomach flipped.

 

The beach was warm and wide, with just enough wind to cut the heat. We picked a spot under some tall palms, towels spread out in a crescent. Misato sat close to the edge, keeping an eye out, always scanning the crowd with quiet alertness.

 

Suguru settled beside her with a thermos and a pair of sunglasses he definitely didn’t need, reclining like he had no intention of moving unless provoked. He glanced toward the water where Gojo had already taken off, tugging Riko behind him, her sandals still half on.

 

“Come on, slowpoke!” Gojo yelled. “You said you’d never been! Time to fix that!”

 

“I meant later!” she cried, laughing and nearly tripping in the sand.

 

“You didn’t specify!”

 

Riko shrieked as he scooped her up bridal-style and ran them both into the surf. The splash that followed was loud enough to startle a few seagulls.

 

I sat down near the tide, watching them play.

 

“Hey,” Riko called, paddling back toward me. “Don’t just sit there! This is your break too, y’know!”

 

I lifted an eyebrow. “This is me breaking.”

 

“Ugh,” she groaned, dragging her hands through her wet hair. “You are so a mom friend.”

 

“She is,” Gojo chimed. “But like, hot.”

 

“Pretty mom friend,” Riko corrected, and then winked.

 

God help me.

 

Gojo came back with a bag of water guns he definitely picked up at a shop while we were distracted.

 

“They were on sale,” he said, which didn’t answer the question Suguru hadn’t even asked yet.

 

Before anyone could react, he fired the first shot, straight at my leg.

 

“You jerk,” I gasped, jumping to my feet as cold water soaked my thigh.

 

And then it was war.

 

Riko took cover behind the cooler, arming herself with a neon pistol that Gojo handed off mid-run. I conjured a thin vine to flick water right back at him, and Gojo shrieked like a gremlin as he slipped in the shallows. Suguru finally stood, sighing like this was such a burden, and calmly walked into the chaos with a precision-loaded soaker in hand.

 

He hit Gojo right in the chest.

 

Gojo froze. “You have chosen violence.”

 

“Balance,” Suguru corrected. “I chose balance.”

 

“You were supposed to be neutral!”

 

“I was. Until you hit her first.”

 

Riko laughed so hard she almost fell over.

 

The beach turned into a battlefield. Misato eventually pulled out a folding fan to shield herself from collateral spray, sighing in that long-suffering tone of someone who’d seen enough Satoru's antics to last a lifetime.

 

Riko was sprawled beside me on a towel, her hat half over her face, humming quietly to herself. Gojo lay in the sand dramatically, limbs spread like he’d been slain. Suguru sat nearby with damp hair and a quiet smile, hands folded across his stomach.

 

And me?

 

I looked at all of them, these people I cared about. These rare, warm moments. These quiet, stolen hours.

 

I let myself smile too.

 

One day left.

 

We must’ve worked on that sand kingdom for an hour.

 

It had three towers, a crooked flag made from a broken popsicle stick, and an intricate little moat that Gojo insisted had real defensive value.

 

“You know,” he said, digging a trench like it was a cursed barrier, “if this were a real fortress, it’d be impenetrable.”

 

Riko raised an eyebrow. “You built the front gate facing the tide.”

 

“Strategic flooding,” he replied without missing a beat. “Like a cursed technique.”

 

“Oh my god,” I muttered, patting down the outer wall. “You’re just making things up.”

 

“I’m improvising. It’s a skill.”

 

Riko was giggling, half-covered in sand up to her knees, when Gojo suddenly sprang up and darted toward the shore.

 

“What’s he doing now?” I asked.

 

“I don’t know,” Riko said, shading her eyes.

 

He came back holding something.

 

“Is that-” I squinted. “Is that a sea cucumber?”

 

“Nope!” Gojo grinned, holding it up like a prize. “This little guy’s name is Phillip. Phillip the....the sea cucumber.”

 

Riko screamed, scrambled to her feet, and took off down the beach. “GET THAT THING AWAY FROM ME!”

 

Gojo chased after her, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “PHILLIP JUST WANTS TO HUG!”

 

“HE’S NOT EVEN ALIVE!”

 

“HE HAS FEELINGS, RIKO!”

 

I wiped my sandy hands on my thighs and watched them tear down the shoreline like two unruly kids. Riko was fast, but Gojo had longer legs and infinite chaos. I barely noticed Suguru standing behind me until I heard his voice.

 

“It’s time.”

 

The words landed like a stone in my gut.

 

Gojo looked over his shoulder as he slowed, holding Phillip like a defeated soldier. “Already?”

 

Suguru gave a soft nod. “Sun’s starting to dip. We should eat, get cleaned up. If we leave early, we’ll make it back to school before noon.”

 

Riko skidded to a stop beside us, breathing hard, cheeks red from both running and laughter. “I’m not ready to go back.”

 

None of us were.

 

But she didn’t argue.

 

Instead, she reached for the sunhat she’d lost mid-sprint and set it back on her head. “Alright,” she said quietly. “Let’s go get dinner.”

 

Gojo gently placed Phillip back in the shallows, murmuring, “Thanks for your service, king,” and brushed the sand off his hoodie.

 

Suguru watched me as I bent to collect our towels and the tiny plastic shovel Riko had used to build the castle tower.

 

“You okay?” he asked.

 

I nodded, but it felt more like an exhale than a real answer.

 

Because this day, the laughter, the sandcastle, the momentary illusion of being young and free, was already slipping away behind us.

 

---

 

Dinner was chaotic in the best way. The kind of night that felt like it was held together with chopsticks, soda fizz, and too much salt on the fries. Riko insisted on ordering everything with the word “crispy” in it. Gojo flirted with the waiter and got free dessert. Suguru deadpanned his way through a plate of curry while I tried not to choke laughing.

 

It didn’t feel like a mission. For a moment, it almost felt like we were just people.

 

But the second we stepped back into the hotel, that bubble popped.

 

Kuroi guided Riko into the other room, brushing her wet hair from the shower, rebraiding it, and tucking her in with the kind of tenderness that came from years of late nights and scraped knees. I watched the door close behind them before walking back into ours.

 

Gojo was already by the window again.

 

Suguru had barely taken off his shirt before his voice cut the quiet.

 

“You haven’t turned it off since the plane.”

 

Gojo didn’t look away. Just let his glasses slide to the bridge of his nose, Infinity still humming around him like static.

 

“Can’t afford to.”

 

“Satoru,” I said softly, stepping closer. “Your eyes are red.”

 

He shrugged. “I’m fine.”

 

I didn’t believe him. Neither did Suguru. I crouched down in front of him, between his knees, and reached up, brushing my thumbs just under his eyes. The skin there was hot, tinged with the faintest buzz of cursed energy strain. I sighed, leaned forward until my forehead almost touched his.

 

“You need a break.”

 

“Two minutes,” he said. “Then I’m back on.”

 

“No arguing?” I raised a brow.

 

“Only if you try to stretch it to three.”

 

I exhaled through my nose and stood, easing down into his lap. His hands immediately found my waist. I folded my arms loosely around his shoulders and gently guided his head into my chest, resting his face there. “One condition.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“No peeking. No talking. Just rest. Two minutes. I’ll count.”

 

He huffed a small laugh and nuzzled in like a sleepy cat. “You’re too good to me.”

 

“You’re lucky I like you.”

 

Behind us, Suguru shifted on the bed, the sound of the comforter crinkling as he watched in silence.

 

Satoru didn’t fall asleep. Of course he didn’t. But his shoulders dropped. His grip softened. His breathing evened out.

 

I carded my fingers through his hair slowly, watching the way the city lights reflected off the glass behind him. I didn’t say anything when the two minutes passed. I didn’t move.

 

But he did.

 

“Time’s up,” he murmured, voice warm against my sternum.

 

Of course he was counting.

 

I sighed, kissed the crown of his head once, and let him pull away. He rolled his neck, powered back on like a machine, and stood.

 

I stood too, brushing my hands down my thighs and catching Suguru’s eyes. He hadn’t said a word, but the look he gave me made my stomach flip.

 

Tomorrow, we go back.

 

And the night was far too quiet.

 

Suguru pulled his shirt off with a quiet sigh, folding it like he always did before setting it on the small armchair near the bed. I slipped out of my uniform, trading it for one of his old black t-shirts I’d stolen days ago and never given back. It still smelled like his cologne and summer wind.

 

The bed was soft, surprisingly so for a hotel this last-minute, but it didn’t matter. The second we settled under the covers, I could feel the tension still humming through the room.

 

Satoru stood by the window, posture rigid, arms crossed over his chest like he was trying to fuse himself to the glass.

 

I rolled onto my side, facing him. “Come to bed.”

 

“No can do, sweetheart,” he said lightly, but his voice was tight. “Eyes on the door. Eyes on the hallway. Infinity up. Can’t risk it.”

 

“You need to sleep, Satoru.”

 

“I’ll nap when I’m dead.”

 

Suguru sighed, his voice deeper now that he was lying back. “Not funny.”

 

“Wasn’t meant to be.”

 

I sat up a little, resting my head on my hand. “Okay… compromise.”

 

Satoru glanced at me.

 

“Just sit on the bed. That’s it. Sit down. Let us hold you. You don’t even have to close your eyes.”

 

His jaw shifted. I could see the refusal forming behind his teeth. But Suguru’s voice beat him to it.

 

“She’s right. You don’t have to let go. Just… don’t be so far away.”

 

Satoru looked between us. Then finally he walked over and sat at the edge of the bed, his back to the pillows, facing the room like a watchman. I shifted behind him and slid my arms gently around his waist, pressing my cheek to his shoulder. Suguru moved closer, one hand resting on Satoru’s thigh, the other tucked under me.

 

The three of us just breathed for a while. The AC hummed. The light on the nightstand blinked a little from a loose bulb. Satoru’s Infinity was still up, I could feel it against my skin like static, but he let the edge of it fall just enough for us to touch him.

 

It wasn’t sleep.

 

But it was something.

 

And tonight, that had to be enough.

Chapter 75: Toji Fushiguro

Summary:

Tw: blood, gore, graphic descriptions of bodily harm, guns, memory loss

The sun had barely risen over the Jujutsu Tech gates by the time we reached the long stone path leading up to the main building. The air was sticky with summer, cicadas screaming from somewhere deep in the trees. But inside the barrier, it felt calmer, like the world had taken one collective breath and held it.

 

Gojo was already talking a mile a minute, hands waving above his head.

 

“-And then I told that guy, 'Listen, man, I’m flattered, but you don’t have a chance unless you’ve got abilities like mine.' Which, let’s be real, no one does.”

 

Riko giggled, half-hiding her face. “You’re the worst.”

 

“Oh, I’m the best worst,” Satoru grinned, sunglasses perched crookedly on his nose. “Right, sweetheart?” He nudged me with his elbow.

 

I gave him a dry look. “Your ego has its own orbit.”

 

“Exactly!” he beamed, completely unbothered.

 

Suguru shook his head, smirking slightly as he walked a few steps behind us, keeping a steady hand near the back of Riko’s shoulder. “Just don’t trip on it and break your neck.”

 

“I’d survive,” Gojo chirped. “I’m invincible.”

 

I started to roll my eyes and then everything cracked.

 

A shift. A tear in the cursed energy field.

 

Like reality itself had taken a single wrong breath.

 

Something blurred ahead of us, no, not something. Someone.

 

Tall. Broad. Dressed like he couldn’t care less. The blade in his hand dripped with cursed blood, fresh and gleaming. And the way he stood, casually slouched in the center of the path, was the worst omen I’d felt in months.

 

I stopped cold.

 

Gojo’s smile dropped.

 

Suguru’s cursed energy surged behind me like a shadow stretching long across the dirt.

 

And I...

 

I couldn’t breathe.

 

“...Toji,” I whispered, before I could stop myself. My mouth had already shaped the name like a bruise I’d forgotten was there.

 

Riko stumbled to a stop beside me, confusion twisting her features. “Who-?”

 

“Run,” Gojo said, suddenly deadly calm. “Get her to the Tomb. Now.”

 

“But-” I turned to him.

 

He looked at me, those cerulean eyes cold and sharp like they hadn’t been just seconds ago. “Amara. Go.”

 

My body wouldn’t move.

 

“Amara!” Suguru’s voice snapped through my bones, low and firm and urgent. His hand closed around mine, hard. “We have to move.”

 

Everything inside me screamed, but I grabbed Riko without thinking and hauled her over my shoulder like she weighed nothing.

 

“HEY-” she shouted, half-panicked, legs kicking in the air.

 

“Hold on,” I gritted out, already running.

 

Suguru was at my side immediately, one hand steadying me, the other forming seals as his curses sparked into life around us. The forest path exploded behind us, Gojo had engaged.

 

He didn’t yell. He didn’t joke.

 

All I felt was the boom of cursed energy detonating in waves behind us as trees split apart like paper.

 

“What the hell is happening?!” Riko shouted into my back.

 

“Someone who was not supposed to be part of this,” I said tightly. “A killer.”

 

“A sorcerer?”

 

“No,” Suguru growled beside us. “Worse.”

 

The Tomb wasn’t far now. The stone doors were visible up ahead, glowing faintly with the pulsing energy of Master Tengen’s protective barrier.

 

The gravel kicked up beneath our feet as we tore through the barrier gates of Jujutsu Tech, the weight of Riko in my arms barely registering compared to the heaviness pressing down on my chest.

 

Toji Fushiguro.

 

I knew this would happen. I knew.

 

The way he looked at me at the track, the way he asked about my cursed technique, how he handed me that blade like it meant nothing but everything all at once, it wasn’t just a weird flirtation or a one-off meeting.

 

It was a warning.

 

And I ignored it.

 

Part of me wanted so badly to believe he wouldn't cross that line. I had no reason to think we would be hunted. That the tiniest flicker of something human I saw in him was enough. But people like us, people like him, don’t get saved by kindness. They survive. They kill. And when someone offers the right price?

 

They take.

 

This is my fault.

 

If anything happens to Satoru…

 

I shook the thought out of my head and kept running. We had to move. We had to get Riko to safety. Gojo could handle it. Of course he could. This was Satoru freaking Gojo.

 

“Should’ve let me fight him,” I muttered under my breath.

 

“You were frozen,” Suguru said beside me, not unkind, just honest. “Not like it mattered. He’s dead meat either way.”

 

I nodded, too hard.

 

That’s what we told ourselves, anyway.

 

We reached the temple gates, massive stone doors etched with age and cursed seals. They loomed in front of us like they had been waiting centuries for this exact moment.

 

I dropped to a crouch and gently let Riko down. She was catching her breath, her hair sticking to her cheeks, eyes wide but calm.

 

“We’re almost there,” I said, brushing some hair from her forehead. “Just a little further.”

 

Suguru turned to me. “Let’s go.”

 

I stood, looked back the way we came, and hesitated.

 

My stomach twisted. I didn’t feel right leaving the path behind us unchecked. Not with Toji out there. Not with that look in his eyes.

 

“Suguru,” I said quietly. “You take her. I’ll wait by the entrance.”

 

He furrowed his brows. “Why?”

 

“If that guy’s got backup, I want to see it coming.”

 

He hesitated. “You think Gojo can’t handle him?”

 

I shook my head. “I think Gojo’s fine. I just don’t like surprises.”

 

Suguru exhaled through his nose, the faintest grin on his lips. “You’re a terrible liar.”

 

“I’m a great liar,” I corrected, my smile brittle. “Just not with you.”

 

His expression softened. He nodded once.

 

“I’ll come get you once we’re inside.”

 

“I’ll be here.”

 

He hoisted Riko again, and she gave me a quick wave as they turned and disappeared into the cool mouth of the temple.

 

I stood at the stone threshold, alone now.

 

Eyes on the path.

 

Ears tuned to the wind.

 

Waiting for the moment my chest would crack open, and everything would fall apart.

 

It didn’t take long.

 

The sound of sandals scraping against stone sent a chill ripping down my spine. My fingers twitched at my sides. The cursed energy around me stirred like smoke caught in a still room.

 

And then he was there.

 

Toji Fushiguro.

 

Same relaxed posture. Same dead calm expression. Same fucking scar slashing his lip like it had been carved there for this exact moment.

 

But something was different.

 

There was blood on him.

 

His blade was dripping.

 

And Gojo wasn’t with him.

 

No- Gojo wasn’t coming.

 

I couldn’t breathe.

 

“Toji,” I whispered, the name breaking against the back of my throat. My feet locked in place even as my cursed energy surged. “Where is he?”

 

He rolled one shoulder like he’d just walked away from stretching, not from murder.

 

“Satoru Gojo?” he said casually. “Dead. Got in the way.”

 

I didn’t move. Not yet. I couldn’t. My stomach dropped so hard it felt like the ground cracked under me.

 

“You’re lying.”

 

“I’m not.”

 

His voice wasn’t just cold. It wasn’t just cruel. It was…factual. Like he was reading off a grocery list. No joy, just the clinical delivery of a man who knew death wasn’t a line. It was a currency.

 

“I told you,” he continued, tilting his head slightly. “I don’t kill unless I’m paid. And someone paid a lot for this girl.”

 

He took a step forward. I stepped in his way.

 

His expression didn’t change.

 

“I don’t want to kill you,” he said. “You’re interesting. But if you stay in front of me, I will.”

 

My fists clenched so tight my knuckles burned. “You wanted to see my technique, right?”

 

He paused.

 

A faint twitch of interest behind his otherwise blank eyes.

 

“Well,” I said, voice low and shaking with fury, “you’re gonna get the full show.”

 

I surged forward.

 

My vines erupted from the ground, thick and writhing like coiled snakes. They cracked through stone and swept toward him in a tidal wave of cursed energy, forcing him to leap back with frightening speed.

 

Toji drew a blade I didn’t recognize, short, jagged, glowing faintly with something wrong. Cursed tools. Of course he’d have them.

 

He moved like a ghost. No cursed energy, no presence, just motion, fast, brutal, efficient.

 

I ducked low as the edge of his sword sliced the air above my head, twisting vines up in a spiral shield to buy me breathing room. He cut through them like paper, even as I tried to reinforce them with hardened energy. That blade wasn’t just sharp, it chewed cursed matter.

 

I skidded back across the stone floor, panting, calculating.

 

No cursed energy meant he was immune to most tracking techniques.

 

But I wasn’t trying to track him, I was trying to trap him, buy Suguru some time.

 

I slammed my hand into the ground. The vines beneath surged outward again, this time more erratically, more frantically, like a living minefield across the walkway. A cage of wild growth and thorns.

 

Toji landed in the middle like it was a playground.

 

He was smiling now, barely, but it was there. He liked this. Liked me like this.

 

“Not bad,” he muttered. “That loop in your core is finally burning bright.”

 

I snarled and threw a heel kick that split the air. He caught it with his forearm, cursed blade swinging low toward my exposed ribs. I wrapped a tendril around his wrist and twisted, forcing him to disengage or lose the limb.

 

He did, smoothly.

 

We both landed hard on opposite ends of the entry hall. My chest rose and fell like thunder. Blood dripped from a gash on my thigh. 

 

Fuck he got me..

 

He was watching me now, not assessing. Admiring.

 

“You’re fast,” he said.

 

“I’m beyond furious.”

 

“That helps.”

 

I growled, throat raw. “You killed him.”

 

“Yeah.” His head tilted. “Damn, sorcerers always think their better than people like me. It's always great to watch their faces when a damn monkey like me who can't even use Jujutsu wipes the damn floor with them.”

 

I screamed and charged again.

 

I could only hear the sound of my pulse hammering in my ears and the scrape of his blade against the ground.

 

Toji moved like smoke, like a ghost in the body of a man built for killing. No cursed energy, no warning. Just silence and violence.

 

I tried to breathe around the ache in my ribs. They were healing, slowly, knitting back together beneath the skin. But not fast enough to keep up with how hard he hit.

 

"You don't look surprised," he said lazily, circling me. “Guess you figured this was coming.”

 

I coughed and wiped blood from my lip. “I figured you were a piece of shit. Not a traitor.”

 

He snorted. “Traitor? Nah. I never claimed to be on your side.”

 

He lunged again. I summoned a shield of vines, thick as tree roots. His blade cut clean through them. I put up my shield bubble and he shattered it in an instant.

 

“You said you didn’t want to kill me.” I ducked a kick and slammed a curse-lined punch into his ribs. He grunted but barely flinched. “Liar.”

 

“I don’t,” he said honestly. “But I will.”

 

Our movements blurred, curse energy and brute force slamming into each other in bursts. My tendrils lashed his back. He whipped around, gun in hand, and grazed my shoulder with a shot. I winced, hissed, and kept going.

 

"You’re wasting my time, girl."

 

My vines coiled, snapped, and struck from behind.

 

He twisted at the last second, letting the whip skim his shoulder. “Messy.”

 

“You’re one to talk!” I screamed. “You- you left me that knife. You wanted me to live.”

 

He didn’t answer. His eyes, those cold, hollow eyes, just narrowed.

 

He moved faster this time. So fast I didn’t see the blade until it was in me.

 

Straight through the stomach. Right below the ribs. His cursed blade drove through flesh and stone alike, pinning me to the floor with a sickening crunch.

 

My lungs seized.

 

My healing kicked in fast, flesh desperately crawling over metal, but it wasn’t enough. I was stuck.

 

Toji crouched beside me, pulling the handgun from his side holster with the same casual air as someone cracking their knuckles.

 

“I was curious,” he said, tone almost gentle. “Wanted to see how far it goes. How unnatural you really are. But at the end of the day, all you sorcerers are the same.”

 

He pressed the barrel to my skull.

 

My breath stuttered.

 

“Now, can you come back from this?”

 

I lifted my chin, blood running down my jaw.

 

“Go to hell.”

 

I spat blood at him.

 

It hit his cheek.

 

He blinked once. Wiped it with the back of his hand.

 

Then he shot.

 

-----------

 

Riko smiled through her tears.

 

“I want to live,” she said, voice shaking, but sure. “I want to stay with you guys.”

 

I felt it, something soft blooming in my chest. Relief. Pride. Hope.

 

I smiled. “Then we’ll make that happen.”

 

Behind me, I felt Amara’s absence like a phantom limb. But I didn’t worry. She was waiting at the gate. Just in case. We thought Gojo would handle it. That Toji was just another cult mercenary trying to delay us.

 

Satoru would wipe the floor with him.

 

That was the plan.

 

I nodded at Riko. “Let’s go back.”

 

Bang.

 

The sound was too loud.

 

Too sharp.

 

Too close.

 

I saw it before I felt it, Riko’s body collapsing forward, red blooming across her forehead like a cursed flower opening in full bloom.

 

Blood hit my cheek.

 

I didn’t move.

 

Not at first.

 

My hands were still open where they’d been reaching for her.

 

My brain struggled to understand what my eyes already knew.

 

She was gone.

 

Just like that.

 

“Riko-” My voice cracked, disbelief still holding back the grief.

 

Then I saw him.

 

Stepping through the shadowed corridor like a ghost that had always been there.

 

Gun still raised.

 

“Job’s done,” he said casually. “You can go home now.”

 

My arms tightened around Riko’s body.

 

The words didn’t make sense. Couldn’t make sense.

 

I looked up at him again, like maybe he’d explain it better if I stared hard enough.

 

But he just stood there.

 

Smug.

 

Indifferent.

 

And alive.

 

If he was here…

 

That meant-

 

My cursed energy shuddered.

 

If he was here-

 

Then Satoru-

 

No.

 

And Amara-

 

No. No.

 

No.

 

Toji wouldn’t have made it here unless he’d already killed them both.

 

She would’ve fought him.

 

She would’ve stayed behind, her hand on her blade, waiting.

 

And Gojo…

 

If he was gone too-

 

Then I was alone.

 

I lowered Riko gently, hands shaking.

 

My chest was burning. My ears were ringing. My cursed energy spiked so violently that it felt like my own soul was trying to claw out of my skin. I didn’t even look up at the man standing across from me. I already knew.

 

Amara was gone.

 

Satoru was gone.

 

There was only rage now.

 

Without a word, curses exploded out in a twisting storm of grotesque shapes and sharp shrieks. Blackened spirits with gnashing jaws and shadowed limbs coiled around me like smoke, ready to strike.

 

The man, the assassin, Toji Fushiguro, stood there with that same dead-eyed look, lazily flicking blood off his blade like he was bored already. "You done mourning?"

 

I didn't answer. I didn’t need to. I pointed.

 

They surged forward.

 

He moved like nothing I'd ever seen. Not with cursed energy. Not even the pulse of a technique. Just raw muscle, sharpened instinct, and unholy speed. One curse lunged, jaws open wide.

 

One slice.

 

It collapsed midair, brain matter and cursed energy bursting like smoke. Another twisted into ribbons with one swing of that massive blade he carried.

 

But I was already moving too.

 

My foot slammed into the ground, propelling me forward as I launched a flurry of curses around him. Some hit, biting at his arms and legs. Others got sliced down before they reached.

 

He ducked under a tendril of cursed shadow, flipping his blade and drawing a gun with the other hand. Calm, methodical, terrifying.

 

I summoned the Slit-Mouthed Woman.

 

She crawled forward, gliding more than walking. Long black hair dragged across the stone. Her mouth split ear to ear, gleaming red under the half-mask she wore.

 

She tilted her head at him, voice lilting like wind through a funeral shroud. "Do you think I’m pretty?"

 

Toji paused.

 

"Not really my type."

 

He slices her over and over again. Her body flailed, dispersing into spiraling cursed ash.

 

"You bastard," I growled, voice rough.

 

"You people rely too much on tricks," he muttered, already holstering the gun.

 

I didn't answer. I launched more.

 

Tornadoes of cursed spirits twisted around him, the hallway cracking from the sheer pressure. I could barely keep up with how many I was throwing, but it wasn’t enough.

 

He moved through them like a reaper through grain.

 

Blood sprayed. Stone cracked. The ground shook under the pressure.

 

I couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t.

 

He killed Amara.

 

He killed Satoru.

 

There was no version of this where he walked away alive.

 

I would burn every curse I had to the ground to make that true.

 

The world had narrowed into blood, rage, and purpose.

 

I launched every curse I had, massive, grotesque, gnarled things of sorrow and violence. One after another. Swarms of spirits howling from sealed charms, desperate to avenge the girl who had just cried for her life. For peace. For family.

 

And he was still just a man. Just a human.

 

He dodged my chained curses like he could read their breath. When I summoned a tier-1 beast with venom-soaked tendrils, he dove into its mouth, blade-first, and carved out its jaw from the inside.

 

My strongest binding curse hit the ground with a crash, barbed and blazing with dark flame. He stepped under it. Under it. It was meant to crush buildings.

 

And all the while, he didn’t even look angry. He looked bored.

 

“You done?” he muttered, brushing sweat from his brow. “Or are you gonna cry, too?”

 

I grit my teeth, blood pouring from my shoulder, my ribs cracked and caving under pressure. I could barely stand. My last few curses flickered beside me, trembling.

 

“You killed her,” I spat. “You killed them.”

 

Toji tilted his head. “That white-haired brat was loud. But she… the girl… she could’ve lived. She just didn’t listen.”

 

“You too innocent lives.”

 

He gave a half shrug. “Not my job to have morals. Just to end the mission.”

 

With that, he surged forward again.

 

I barely blocked the next attack. His cursed tool carved through the air with terrifying precision. My defense shattered, and his boot connected with my chest. I slammed into the wall, coughing blood as my vision spun.

 

I tried to pull more curses. None answered.

 

I didn’t even realize I’d fallen until the cold floor touched my cheek. My arms wouldn’t move. My legs wouldn’t respond.

 

Toji stood over me, not gloating. Just done.

 

“You sorcerers,” he muttered, shaking his head. “So dramatic. Like the world owes you something. Remember this, a monkey like me took down the two strongest sorcerers of this time.”

 

He turned, walking toward the corridor like he was just heading home from a long shift. “Damn waste of a morning.”

 

The light from the hallway washed over his back. His footsteps faded.

 

And I was left there, bleeding, with nothing but the soft echo of Riko’s voice in my ears.

 

I want to live.

 

But none of us were getting that today.

 

----------

 

I wasn’t dreaming.

 

I knew that much.

 

But I wasn’t awake either. I was somewhere. Somewhere cold and wide and dark, like my mind had cracked open and poured into the void. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t feel anything. Couldn’t even tell where my limbs were. Couldn’t tell if I had any left.

 

Everything felt... wrong.

 

The world was bent sideways. Sounds came in like echoes through water. A high-pitched whine pierced through it all, constant, like a cursed frequency was rattling the inside of my skull.

 

If I still had a skull.

 

Was I dead?

 

My thoughts weren’t lining up. They were coming in chopped, backward sometimes. I’d think of a word and forget what it meant. Colors flared behind my eyelids, but I wasn’t sure if they were my eyes anymore. Were they even open?

 

It felt like I was glitching out of my own body.

 

Something was leaking.

 

Not blood. Not cursed energy.

 

Me.

 

I couldn’t feel time. Couldn’t feel gravity. My own sense of self was unraveling thread by thread. I tried to remember Gojo’s laugh. Suguru’s voice. Riko’s wide smile.

 

But everything was slipping.

 

Then, something snapped. Sharp and sudden and electric.

 

Pain. Pure, radiant pain. Like my nerves were catching up to what had happened and firing all at once.

 

The memory hit:

A gun.

Toji’s voice.

A click.

Then white.

Then-

 

My brain. That’s what he’d hit. That’s why everything was slipping sideways. My healing was confused, scattered. I couldn’t think clearly because the part of me that thinks was broken.

 

And it was getting worse.

 

Vision flared in my left eye, too bright, too fast, and then gone. My right eye pulsed, blurry and red-tinted. I couldn’t remember how to breathe properly. My lungs were moving, but the rhythm was jagged, uneven. I forgot what words sounded like. Forgot what I looked like.

 

And I panicked.

 

That panic was the thing that saved me.

 

Because somewhere, deep inside the twitching static of my dying brain, a primal part of me refused. My body knew I was alive. And my cursed energy? It was screaming to catch up.

 

But I didn’t have enough left. My healing loop was trying to restart but couldn’t stabilize. The command center, my mind, wasn’t sending signals right.

 

Then something else inside me lit up.

 

A second instinct. A deeper one.

 

You don’t need full power.

You need one function.

Heal your brain first.

 

The idea didn’t come like a sentence. It came like a jolt, like lightning coursing through dying veins. I couldn’t repair everything. Couldn’t fix the whole body.

 

But maybe I could borrow.

 

Trade.

 

Organs. Muscle. Tissue.

 

My cursed technique, my whole body’s cursed energy loop, was self-sustaining. But what if I broke it on purpose? Disrupted the natural balance and rerouted it? Not to everything. Just to the brain.

 

Just get the brain online.

 

I reached for it, not with hands, but with energy, with instinct. I found my liver first. Stagnant but rich with nutrients. I drew it out. Pulled it through the channels. I felt it shrink as the healing passed through it. Then my right kidney. My left lung. Parts of my gut.

 

I felt myself deteriorate into pieces. Organs failing. Systems stuttering.

 

But my mind, my mind was flickering back online.

 

Thoughts began to thread. Not whole, but real. I remembered Suguru’s hands on my cheeks. Gojo’s stupid grin. My name.

 

My name.

 

“Amara,” I whispered, or thought I did.

 

My hearing came back next, distorted but stronger. I heard the wind. Footsteps. Something moving.

 

I wasn’t dead.

 

Not yet.

 

I blinked once, and my eye obeyed. I coughed, blood bubbling up, but my lungs caught the rhythm this time.

 

I was bleeding out. Half my body was dying. But my brain was awake. And I was still here.

 

Still healing.

 

Still fighting.

 

I’m not done.

 

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

 

Toji walked out of the temple at a calm and comfortable pace, only the sound of his shoes on stone.

 

The sun was almost blinding, peeking through the clouds as the sun was starting to make its way down but as his eyes adjusted, he noticed a familiar body standing in his way.

 

“…Hey there,” Gojo drawled.

 

Toji stopped a few feet away, blood on his blade. On his boots. Amara’s blood. Suguru’s. Riko’s.

 

"Are you for real?" Toji asks just staring him down.

 

"Oh, I'm for real real." He reveals the scar where Toji had hit him.

 

"Reverse curse technique..." Toji stood ready like a coiled spring.

 

Gojo said, laughing quietly as he took a few steps forward, dragging a hand down his face. “You really thought you did it, huh? Thought you killed me. Me.”

 

He let out a sharp, breathless laugh, unhinged. “You know, I thought I was dead, too! Really, I was! Stabbed through the throat, bleeding out! I could never figure out reverse curse technique until now! Until I was on the brink of death!”

 

Toji’s expression didn’t change.

 

Gojo kept talking, his voice rising with each breath, frantic and euphoric like a man too far gone to turn back.

 

"Something's off.... is this guy on something?" Toji mumbles to himself.

 

“But in that moment- right at the edge- I saw it.” He tapped his temple hard enough to leave a red smear. “It all clicked. Every piece. Every thread. My technique. My body. The world. And now you're going to lose because you didn’t chop my head off!”

 

"I won’t make the same mistake twice."

 

Toji’s blade moved. Fast. Sharp. Lethal.

 

But Gojo was gone.

 

Not vanished.

Just elsewhere.

 

A whisper of white cloth. A glint of light.

 

Toji turned.

 

Gojo was behind him, floating effortlessly, like his feet no longer remembered the concept of gravity.

 

The air shimmered faintly around him. Each motion flowed like silk drawn through water, unnatural in how smooth it all was. Detached. Serene. Terrifying.

 

He raised a hand.

 

“Cursed Technique, Reversal: Red.”

 

The moment Red fired, it warped the air with a violent hum, a compressing void slamming outward.

 

Toji moved on instinct, blade swinging up just in time. Metal met cursed force...

 

BOOM.

 

The impact shattered the air and hurled Toji back like a ragdoll, slamming him through the temple wall in an explosion of dust and splintered stone.

 

From within the rubble, a low groan. Then movement.

 

Toji stood, slowly. Dust rolling off his shoulders, blood trickling down his jaw. He cracked his neck once. Then again. Rolled his shoulder until it popped.

 

“Okay…” he muttered, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth. “So that’s how it is.”

 

He tugged at something from his waist, unhooking the long, coiled chain, his blade now locked onto it.

 

Toji spun the length once and cracked it forward, the sound splitting the air like a whip. The blade arced upward, impossible to track with normal eyes, the full force of Toji’s strength and precision behind it. It should’ve torn flesh from bone.

 

But it didn’t.

 

Because Gojo didn’t move like a man anymore.

 

He leaned slightly to the left, casually, like adjusting for a breeze, and the blade missed. Not by luck. Not by chance. It missed because it had to. Because the space around Gojo no longer belonged to ordinary physics. He twisted away from the next slash, slow and fluid, his coat catching the wind in elegant sweeps, the torn edges fluttering like feathers at the hem of something holy.

 

He looked down at Toji, not in judgment, not in pity, but as one might regard the flicker of a lantern in a temple: small. Distant. Already fading.

 

Then he rose.

 

One breath, and he was higher. Above the broken floor. Above the blood. Above it all.

 

And in the stillness that followed, Satoru Gojo stopped being present in body.

 

Because his mind, his awareness, had gone somewhere else entirely.

 

The sound fell away.

 

The pain. The dust. The history. Gone.

 

In his mind, everything was quiet. Clear.

 

He didn’t feel the weight of the world anymore.

 

He felt the shape of it. The rhythm.

 

He felt like he was part of it.

 

No- like he had always been at the center, and had only just remembered.

 

Riko is dead.

 

The thought passed through him without resistance.

 

But there was no rage.

 

No need for vengeance.

 

And yet I’m not angry. Isn’t that strange?

 

Gojo let his thoughts move like light through water. Unforced. Pure.

 

If you’d asked me an hour ago, I would’ve said I’d kill Toji the moment I saw him. I would’ve said he deserved to suffer.

 

But now? I feel nothing like that.

 

I don’t bear him any grudge.

 

I don’t bear anyone a grudge.

 

Because right now…

 

Right now the world feels…

…wonderful.

 

It feels like it’s mine.

 

He spread his arms slightly, palms soft and open to the sky above him. The sunlight caught in his snowy hair. Cursed energy pulsed in a quiet rhythm through his limbs, glowing faintly beneath his skin like starlight made flesh.

 

There was no struggle anymore. No striving.

 

There was only understanding.

 

The way everything fit. The way every thread in the fabric of existence now moved in time with his breath.

 

Gojo exhaled slowly.

 

I’m not righteous. I’m not holy. I’m not good.

 

But I am, undeniably, beyond.

 

There is no one like me.

 

No one who can do what I do.

 

No one who sees what I see.

 

He tilted his head back, and the light pooled along his jaw. For a moment, he looked like a statue left behind by the gods, or perhaps the god who never left.

 

And then, quietly, without drama, without pride, the truth passed through his mind:

 

"Throughout heaven and earth…"

 

His heart beat once.

 

The chain snapped again from below.

 

He didn’t even look.

 

"…I alone am the honored one."

 

Toji moved again.

 

Blade and chain lashing through the air in a vicious arc, carving up shattered temple stone, whipping into columns, turning the battlefield into ruin.

 

Gojo didn’t flinch. Didn’t speak.

 

His arms remained loose at his sides, fingers half-curled, drifting like kelp in the deep. The blade didn’t touch him. Not once. Because it couldn’t.

 

The moment it approached, it slowed. Hesitated. Halted. As if the very concept of momentum forgot itself at the edge of his Infinity.

 

A chunk of wall shattered behind him. Debris hurled through the air. A slab of stone screamed toward his back.

 

It crumbled on contact with the invisible field that embraced him like a womb.

 

He didn’t react. Because he wasn’t really here.

 

Funny thing about cursed techniques.

 

Gojo’s thoughts were soft, almost amused. His expression serene.

 

They get passed down, generation after generation. Bloodlines, rituals, and training since birth. In a way, that’s the blessing. You get handed an instruction manual.

 

But it’s also the curse.

 

Because it means everybody knows your playbook.

 

Another flick of the chain.

 

Another explosion of dust as the blade rebounded off nothing.

 

Gojo hovered just above it, still gazing downward like a teacher watching a child scribble angrily on the walls.

 

Toji knows mine.

 

Of course he does.

 

Zenin clan. I’d bet anything he studied every scrap of information on the Limitless the moment he got the chance. Ratios. Activation times. Gaps. Counters. Probably thinks he knows all of it.

 

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering.

 

And sure, most people in the Gojo clan only ever master a few tricks. Red. Blue. Domain if they’re lucky.

 

But there’s one technique…

 

Gojo raised his hand.

 

Just one.

 

Not fast. Not dramatic.

 

Just a slow, almost lazy gesture, like flicking dust off a table.

 

…most of them never even get close to it.

 

The air warped.

 

Not violently. Not yet.

 

But the space between Gojo’s middle finger and thumb began to collapse in on itself. A glint of red sparked at the fingertip.

 

Toji paused mid-swing.

 

Something was wrong.

 

Gojo didn’t smile. His voice didn’t rise. Even his thoughts stayed calm, reverent, like a priest reciting a sacred name.

 

"Imaginary Technique…"

 

The particles began to swirl now, Red and Blue folding into one another like ink bleeding through water. Opposites converging. Not canceling. Not fighting. Becoming.

 

"Hollow-"

 

Gojo exhaled.

 

"-Purple."

 

The space in front of him ruptured.

 

Not like an explosion.

 

Like existence itself lost track of what should be there.

 

A spiraling, spiraling beam of annihilation roared forward, slow in appearance, but impossible to dodge. It didn’t burn. It didn’t crush.

 

It erased.

 

The technique carved across the ground like a divine eraser dragged through flesh and stone alike, vaporizing everything in its path with that quiet, unstoppable force.

 

And when the dust finally settled-

 

Toji was still standing.

 

But just barely.

 

The right side of his body was missing, not torn, not crushed, but gone. A clean, merciless arc had been carved through his chest and shoulder, and with it, his arm, and half his ribs, had simply ceased to be. Flesh ended in nothingness, a smooth line where Hollow Purple had kissed him.

 

Blood poured freely down his side. It soaked into the fabric of his pants, pooled around his feet, and dripped in rhythmic taps onto the ruined stone below.

 

He stared ahead, blinking slowly, breathing shallow.

 

Then, to Gojo’s surprise, Toji lifted his remaining hand and grabbed at the air, just shy of where his arm should’ve been. His fingers flexed once. Twice. Then curled into a trembling fist against his own empty side. Blood pouring over his hand.

 

Blood smeared across his hip. His jaw twitched.

 

But he didn’t scream.

 

He didn’t curse.

 

He just… kept standing.

 

Gojo, for the first time since he descended, lowered himself to the ground. His feet touched down with a whisper. The wind circled lazily around him, as if even nature itself had lost the will to challenge his presence.

 

He stepped forward, hands loose at his sides.

 

When he finally spoke, his voice was calm. Measured. Distant.

 

"Have any last words?"

 

The question hung between them like dust in a sunbeam, delicate, weightless, already beginning to fade.

 

Toji didn’t answer right away.

 

He stood there, bleeding out in real time, the hole in his side steaming faintly, like his body hadn’t yet realized how dead it was. His remaining hand rested limp at his hip. He stared, not at Gojo, not at the sky, but past everything. Eyes distant, empty, like he was watching something only he could see.

 

“…Not really,” he muttered eventually, blood leaking out of his mouth, down his chin.

 

But he didn’t drop.

 

Didn’t fall.

 

He just kept standing, swaying faintly in the breeze. A second passed. Then another.

 

Gojo said nothing.

 

Toji blinked once, slowly.

 

“In two or three years from now… my kid will be sold off to the Zenin clan.”

 

His eye flicked up at Gojo one last time.

 

“Do what you want with that.”

 

Silence.

 

No righteousness. No guilt. No pity.

 

Just the dull thrum of divinity buzzing inside Gojo’s skull like a swarm of locusts, holy and hollow all at once.

 

He didn’t reply. Didn’t ask why. Didn’t wonder what kind of man sold his own child.

 

Toji’s head slumped down. His body went still.

 

Just dust in the wind.

 

----------

 

Everything hurt.

 

No- not even hurt. That word felt too human. Too alive. This was something else. Like my body had turned into wet ash, and my soul was just dragging it forward out of spite.

 

The tunnel stretched ahead of me like it never ended. My legs were moving, but not because I told them to. It was just instinct. Like my body remembered the shape of survival better than my mind did.

 

My vision was still wrong. Blurry. Colors too bright, then too dark. The back of my head throbbed like it was trying to split open. My limbs twitched randomly, sometimes my fingers would lock, or I’d stumble like something short-circuited mid-step. Everything was firing out of order.

 

But I kept moving.

 

Suguru. Satoru. Riko.

 

Over and over. A prayer. A chant. A curse.

 

My foot kicked something soft and I fell to my knees. The wind was knocked from me, but I didn’t care, because when I looked down, I saw her.

 

Riko.

 

No blood. No wounds visible. She looked like she was dreaming.

 

I reached for her, but stopped. My fingers hovered in the air, trembling inches above her face. My heart broke into a hundred pieces I didn’t have the strength to gather.

 

I couldn’t. Not yet.

 

I pressed my forehead to hers, just for a second. “I’m sorry.”

 

Then I pulled away and forced myself forward.

 

I had to find him. I had to find..

 

“...Suguru.”

 

I saw him slumped against the tunnel wall a few meters ahead. Blood streaked across his chest, curses twitching faintly around him like they were just as close to collapse.

 

My legs buckled and I stumbled forward.

 

“Hey,” I choked, my voice ragged. “Hey- don’t pass out.”

 

He blinked. His eyes found me. Confused. Disbelieving.

 

“Amara?”

 

“I’m here,” I whispered. I dropped to my knees beside him and touched his arm, cold with sweat and blood. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

 

“You-” He looked me over, and his expression shattered. “You’re- your- your stomach- your eyes-”

 

“I know.” I smiled, or tried to. “Don’t look too close. I’m not exactly in top shape.”

 

“You died.”

 

“I got better,” I rasped, breath hitching. “Come on. Help me get you out of here.”

 

His hand twitched. One of his curses, thin, half-formed, but still obeying, slithered toward us. I wrapped my arm around his shoulders and dragged us up with it, leaning on each other like broken scaffolding.

 

Everything in me screamed. My healing was still glitching. My organs were working against each other. I could feel my lungs filling too slowly, my liver trying to overcompensate. The scar on my stomach burned like it still remembered the sting of Toji’s blade.

 

And still, we moved.

 

We were almost at the corridor entrance when I heard it, footsteps. Sharp, fast.

 

“Amara! Suguru!”

 

Shoko.

 

She ran toward us with wide eyes and glowing hands. The second she saw us, she dropped to her knees.

 

“Holy shit- you’re both- what happened?!” Her hands hovered, not knowing who to heal first.

 

“Just- don’t let him die,” I mumbled, pushing Suguru forward.

 

“Are you kidding? You’re barely standing-”

 

“I’ll stand later.”

 

Suguru groaned as Shoko eased him down, cursing under her breath as she pressed glowing fingers to his chest.

 

He looked at me again, staring at the blood crusted along my jaw, at the pale grey tone under my skin, at the scar carved deep and wrong into my gut.

 

“You… you really came back,” he whispered.

 

“I wasn’t gonna leave you.” My voice shook. “I can’t.”

 

I collapsed beside him, vision swimming again.

 

But we were alive.

 

Somehow, we were still alive. 

Chapter 76: The Aftermath

Shoko finished with Suguru. His wounds were sealed up neat and clean. He was still sore, still stiff, but he was alive. Whole.

 

Me?

 

Not so much.

 

They moved toward me slowly, like I was a cornered animal. Like I might vanish if they got too close.

 

I was lying on the ground, legs half folded beneath me, my whole body trembling with each painful breath. My vision swam in double, no, triple, overlap, like the world couldn’t quite decide what angle to show me. My heartbeat throbbed in my ears, loud and uneven.

 

“I got shot,” I said softly, because it felt important. “Right through the forehead.”

 

Shoko stopped short.

 

Suguru froze.

 

I tapped the spot with shaking fingers. “It was clean. Didn’t feel like anything. Just light. Then… nothing.”

 

Shoko knelt fast, hands already glowing with cursed energy, eyes wide and scanning.

 

“I couldn’t even drain,” I said. “Everything was stone. I had to pull… from other things. Inside. Organ tissue. Muscle. I think… I think my stomach gave out halfway.”

 

Shoko hissed quietly. “Jesus, Amara-”

 

“And I didn’t know who I was,” I kept going, because if I stopped I was going to fall apart. “I couldn’t remember my name. I couldn’t remember Suguru’s face. Or Satoru’s voice. Just… this awful cold in my head. Like I was lost somewhere deep and rotting.”

 

Suguru lowered to the ground, eyes locked to mine like he’d forgotten how to blink. Like I was a ghost.

 

“I kept crawling,” I whispered. “Even when my body was dying. Because I had to find you. I had to know if you were okay.”

 

Shoko’s hands shook against my temples, cursed energy trying and failing to map something coherent in the mess behind my eyes. “When we get back, we’re doing a full scan. If your speech is slurred and your motor balance is still off, there’s brain trauma. And that scar on your forehead- fuck.”

 

Suguru reached for me then. His hands on my shoulders, his eyes glossy and bloodshot. “You were dead,” he whispered, like the words had been caged in his chest. “You were-”

 

“I know,” I said. “I was.”

 

And then I leaned forward into him.

 

And he held me.

 

Shoko got me stable enough to stand, but everything still felt like it was wrapped in static. My limbs moved like they weren’t mine, heavy and slow, cursed energy stuttering like a dying engine. But I was upright. That was enough.

 

Suguru was already looking at me, eyes wide but unreadable. He didn't say anything. He didn’t have to. We both knew what came next.

 

We had to find Satoru.

 

We moved fast. Down corridors, through crumbling arches. I felt my heartbeat crawling behind me, like it hadn’t caught up since I’d clawed my way back to life. But I kept going. We passed the ceremonial halls, empty, and rounded the corner toward the sanctum.

 

That’s when I noticed.

 

Riko’s body was gone.

 

My stomach dropped.

 

Suguru reached the massive temple doors first. He paused, barely a breath, then pushed. I helped, shoulder to wood, muscles screaming.

 

The doors groaned open and the noise hit us before the light did.

 

Cheers.

 

Voices echoing off the high ceilings. Applause.

 

And walking down the long stone aisle, flanked by smiling worshippers. Celebrating. Celebrating her death.

 

His white uniform was splashed with dried blood. He walked slowly, almost reverently, with Riko’s body in his arms. She was wrapped in white fabric, completely covered.

 

I froze.

 

Suguru beside me stopped breathing.

 

And Satoru… looked at us.

 

Not surprised.

 

Not relieved.

 

Just… hollow.

 

“You’re alive,” he said quietly, stopping just before us. “Shoko?”

 

“She got us up,” Suguru said, his voice hoarse. “Just barely.”

 

Satoru stared at us, then at the crowd.

 

Then back at us.

 

And in the softest, flattest voice I’d ever heard him use..

 

“Suguru, Amara… should we just kill them all?”

 

He didn’t blink.

 

“With the way I am now,” he murmured, “I don’t think I’d feel anything.”

 

I felt something crack open in my chest. He wasn’t joking. Not like he usually did when the world got too loud. This wasn’t Satoru being dramatic.

 

This was real.

 

Suguru stepped forward just slightly, voice low and steady. “It wouldn’t matter.”

 

And it wouldn’t. Not now.

 

Not to her.

 

Not to us.

 

Satoru nodded once, then turned away, walking ahead again with Riko in his arms. The crowd kept cheering like a fourteen year old girl wasn't just slaughtered.

 

As we followed him in silence, Suguru at my side, my own legs shaking beneath me, I knew one thing for certain:

 

We weren’t going to be the same after this.

 

None of us.

 

---

 

I didn’t remember getting back to the school.

Just a blur of steps, someone lifting me, and the smell of antiseptic. I think I passed out somewhere around the east courtyard.

 

When I came to, it was too bright.

White sheets. Dull IV drip. That faint, buzzing hum of cursed energy stabilizers in the walls. I was in the infirmary wing, hospitalized, probably for the first time in my life. I couldn’t move without it hurting. Couldn’t sit up. Could barely breathe without my body reminding me that it had rebuilt itself from scratch. Wrong. Off. Hungry.

 

Shoko stood at the foot of the bed with her arms crossed and a tired, unreadable look on her face.

 

“Your body’s still cannibalizing itself,” she said softly, scanning a clipboard. “Organ degradation’s slowed down since I gave you the stabilizer. But your healing loop’s still pulling energy from places it shouldn’t.”

 

I wanted to answer. Ask how bad. Ask if I was dying.

But I couldn’t even get my throat to work. I just blinked.

 

She looked at me again, quieter this time. “You should’ve been dead.”

 

I didn’t argue. Not like I could anyway..

 

She adjusted the monitors, then dimmed the lights without asking. “Sleep. I’ll be here in the morning.”

 

But I wasn’t alone.

 

Because when I turned my head, barely, there they were.

 

Gojo. Geto. Squeezed awkwardly into the two visitor chairs beside me. Satoru had his legs kicked up on the foot of the bed, fingers threaded behind his head, eyes distant. Suguru leaned forward, elbows on his knees, just watching me breathe like he didn’t quite trust it was real.

 

Neither of them spoke. They didn’t have to.

 

I saw it in their faces, the weight. The grief. The confusion. That look in Satoru’s eyes that told me something snapped. That he probably hadn’t even blinked in hours. Suguru’s knuckles were pale where they pressed into his thighs, like the only thing keeping him grounded was the ache in his hands.

 

“I’m okay,” I croaked. Talking felt like coughing up glass.

 

They didn’t believe me. I didn’t either.

 

But Suguru reached forward anyway, brushing his fingers gently over mine.

 

Satoru didn’t say anything. He just sat there, the strongest man alive, staring at the girl who’d crawled back from the edge of death and wondering if any of it, any of us, would ever feel clean again.

 

Outside, Yaga was arranging what was left of Riko.

 

Inside, we sat in silence.

 

---

 

The daylight behind the curtain was faint, washed out, and pale like I imagined my face probably looked. I felt like I’d been set on fire and then stitched back together with string and spit.

 

But I was breathing. Conscious. Alive.

 

When I turned my head, I saw him.

 

Suguru.

 

He was seated in the old vinyl chair pulled up close beside my hospital bed, elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped. His brows were drawn, face unreadable, until he realized I was awake.

 

“Morning,” he said gently, like he hadn’t almost lost me. Like he wasn’t holding something back behind his voice.

 

“Hey,” I rasped. My throat was dry. Everything felt distant and heavy. “Where’s... Satoru?”

 

There it was. The tiniest hitch in his breath. Almost invisible.

 

He didn’t sigh, didn’t scoff. He just shifted in his seat, gaze sliding briefly toward the window.

 

“Dealing with all the bullshit,” he murmured. “The Elders want answers. The clans want confirmation. They’re calling meetings and issuing statements like any of it matters.”

 

His voice was calm. Tired. But under the calm was something else, something coiled.

 

“I told him I’d stay here with you. He didn’t argue.”

 

I stared at Suguru for a long moment. Then I swallowed.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

His brows pinched.

 

I kept going. “I should’ve stopped Toji. I knew something was off the moment he showed up. I just stood there, and then... I wasn’t fast enough. I let him get to Riko. I let him get to you. I-”

 

“Stop.” Suguru leaned forward, hands wrapping around mine, firm and grounding. “You survived. You saved me. You dragged yourself through hell and still got us to Shoko.”

 

“But Satoru-”

 

“Satoru’s fine,” he said, a little too quickly. “He’s fine, Amara. And even if he wasn’t, none of that would be on you.”

 

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. Guilt sat like a stone in my gut.

 

Suguru looked down at my bandaged hand in his, fingers tracing the edge of the tape absently.

 

Then he spoke again, voice quieter, darker.

 

“You know what I keep thinking about?” he asked. “How everyone...everyone...just... let this happen. They knew what we were doing. What we were risking. They sent us out there with smiles and nods, and now they’re acting like we’re heroes for surviving a massacre they orchestrated...”

 

I looked at him sharply.

 

He didn’t meet my gaze. Just stared at our joined hands, his jaw tightening.

 

“She was just a kid,” he said. “And they applauded her death.”

 

Something in my chest ached.

 

“They don’t care,” Suguru finished softly. “Not about her. Not about you. Not about any of us.”

 

He finally looked up, and though his expression was composed, something in his eyes was shifting. Cracking.

 

I squeezed his hand.

 

“I care,” I whispered. “About you. About him. About all of this. I still do.”

 

His shoulders relaxed a little. He leaned closer, forehead pressing against mine, careful of the bandage.

 

“I know you do,” he murmured. “And that’s why I’m still here.”

 

But even as he said it, I felt it, the subtle shift.

 

The beginning of a storm.

 

Shoko pushed the door open with her foot, a tray of machines rattling ahead of her as wires dangled like sleepy vines.

 

“Don’t get too excited,” she deadpanned. “It’s just your favorite brain activity quiz. No prizes though.”

 

“Damn,” I muttered hoarsely. “And here I was hoping for a sticker.”

 

“You get a diagnosis if you’re lucky.”

 

Suguru didn’t laugh. He stood next to my bed with his arms crossed tight over his chest, sharp eyes locked on everything Shoko did. He was cataloging everything.

 

Shoko adjusted a few monitors and pulled a small penlight from her coat. “Let’s start with the basics. Follow the light.”

 

I did, even though it made my head throb behind my eyes. She ran me through the usual tests: pupil response, grip strength, motor control, sensory alignment. Everything below the neck was mostly functional, slow, weak, but functional.

 

It wasn’t until she moved on to memory recall that things began to bend.

 

“Can you tell me the date?” she asked, tapping keys.

 

I blinked. “Uh… it’s… July? Maybe?”

 

“Year?”

 

“Two thousand…” I paused. “Two thousand seven. No- two thousand eight. No- two thousand nine... I think?”

 

Shoko gave no reaction. Just kept typing.

 

“What’s your full name?”

 

“Amara Hoshizuki.” That one came fast.

 

“And what’s the last thing you remember clearly?”

 

I hesitated. “I was… running with Riko. Satoru said something- and Suguru… no, wait. I went outside first. Or was that after she…?”

 

My words slowed. My mouth moved but the pictures in my head started flickering, stuttering out of order like a warped tape. I could see the memories, shadows of them, but they were scrambled, floating in the wrong sequence. It felt like knowing a story by heart but having the chapters ripped out and shuffled.

 

“I remember everything, I swear,” I said, but it came out more like a question. “I just… I can’t put it where it belongs.”

 

Suguru’s hand curled tighter at his elbow. He was trying to stay calm, but I could see the glint of panic in the corners of his eyes.

 

Shoko looked at the monitor again, then back to me. “You’ve got retention but not placement. Fragmented storage, likely from the forced repair paths your cursed energy created. You rerouted your brain like a short-circuited power grid. Impressive, but messy.”

 

“Can you fix it?” Suguru asked, low and clipped.

 

Shoko sighed. “I can monitor it. I can help her learn to ground what’s there. But fix it?” She glanced at me. “No one walks away clean from a bullet to the prefrontal lobe. She's lucky to be alive let alone speak.”

 

That explained the constant dull ache behind my eyes. The way even thinking felt like trudging through ankle-deep mud.

 

Suguru stepped closer, brushing his fingers near mine on the bed.

 

“You’re still here,” he said. “That’s what matters.”

 

Shoko pulled over a rolling stool and let out a sigh, cracking her knuckles like she was about to start surgery on a dying motherboard.

 

“Alright, let’s give your system a boost. I’ll do a bit more internal healing, focus on clearing any residual swelling or energy snarls around the cranial nerve clusters. Don’t bite your tongue, unless it’s on purpose.”

 

I blinked slowly. “Can’t make promises.”

 

She pressed her hands over my temples, cursed energy radiating through her palms in a steady pulse. It was warm, like a heat pack tucked into the folds of my skull, but not comforting. Just pressure. Like my brain was holding its breath, unsure if this would help or hurt.

 

Suguru stood close, arms folded again, jaw tight. He hadn’t moved from his spot at the edge of the bed.

 

I felt the shift first in my lungs. Breathing came easier. The aching weight behind my eyes eased, and I could flex my fingers without the clumsy delay.

 

Most of the pain sank away. My ribs reset. My spine loosened. Muscles stopped twitching randomly. It was progress.

 

But my head, my system, still flickered.

 

I could feel it in the way my focus slipped when I tried to grab hold of something specific. Like someone had dimmed the lights in certain rooms of my mind and locked the doors.

 

Shoko pulled her hands away after a few minutes and checked my vitals again. “Physically? You’re nearly there. Still overstrained, but stable. System’s not eating itself anymore. That’s good.”

 

“Brain?” Suguru asked, cutting straight to the point.

 

Shoko hesitated just a beat before answering. “Still scrambled. Like I said, functioning, but fragmented.”

 

“Let’s try another round,” she said to me, grabbing her clipboard. “Rapid fire. Just say what you remember.”

 

“Okay…” I sat up a little more, head swimming from the effort.

 

“Name your classmates.”

 

“Yu Haibara, Kento Nanami, Shoko Ieiri, Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto.”

 

“Your teacher?”

 

“Yaga.” Easy.

 

“Where did you meet Satoru?”

 

“Jujutsu High,” I answered, then paused. “No. Wait. The dorms. No- it was the courtyard. I think?”

 

“Your cursed technique?”

 

“Regenerative loop… and external transfer. I have vines. And tendrils. I-” I frowned. “There’s… a shield? A healing field? I know how it feels, but I don’t know how I learned it.”

 

Shoko scribbled something down.

 

“Describe Riko Amanai.”

 

“Dark hair. Kind of a brat. Funny. She-” My voice caught. “She liked sweets. Hated cucumbers. She called Gojo a ‘sparkle idiot’”

 

“And what happened after you left the main gate with her?”

 

I opened my mouth.

 

Stopped.

 

Something about Suguru’s hand, gently pressing down on the mattress near mine, anchored me.

 

“I… don’t know,” I admitted quietly. “I remember the air was hot. And we were running. Then I saw- no, I heard…”

 

I trailed off.

 

Suguru’s voice was low. “It’s okay.”

 

But I saw the shadow behind his calm. That flicker of guilt in his eyes. Like he blamed himself for even letting me try.

 

Like he didn’t care that the words were jumbled, just that I was still breathing to say them.

 

Shoko jotted more notes, then set the clipboard down.

 

“It’s all there,” she said, softer now. “But some of it’s tangled. Give it time.”

 

Time. I wasn’t sure how much more of that I had left to burn.

 

But Suguru was still here. So was Shoko. And somewhere in the halls of this cracked, cursed school, so was Satoru.

 

And for now… that had to be enough.

 

---

 

The room had grown dim by the time Suguru returned. Fluorescent lights above buzzed quietly, the machines beside me pulsing in rhythm with my stubborn, recovering body. I hadn’t realized how tired I’d become until the scent of something familiar cut through the sterile air.

 

“Hey,” Suguru said softly as he nudged the door open with his foot, hands full of takeout containers. The smell hit me first, soy, sesame, warm rice, a hint of citrus. My favorite.

 

I blinked slowly, mouth tugging up. “You didn’t have to…”

 

“I know,” he replied, setting the food down on the tray beside my bed. “But I wanted to.”

 

He pulled up the chair again, opening boxes with careful hands. A few bites in, the warmth hit my chest harder than it hit my stomach. Even half-broken like this, my body still remembered what comfort felt like.

 

We ate in quiet for a while, the kind of silence that didn’t itch. Until I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

 

“Still no Satoru?” I asked, not looking up from the rice I was stirring with my chopsticks.

 

Suguru’s chewing slowed. He swallowed, then leaned back slightly in his chair. “No. He’s… still handling the higher-ups. The fallout. Everything.”

 

I looked up. His expression was unreadable at first, but then I caught it. The slight clench of his jaw. The distant focus in his eyes like he was watching something I couldn’t see.

 

“He’s changed,” Suguru said quietly. “Since he woke up. Since he… became whatever he is now.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

He let out a breath that didn’t sound quite like a laugh. “You remember how they used to say special grade sorcerers were the pinnacle? The highest recognized level? That no one could go beyond it?”

 

I nodded slowly.

 

“Well… they were wrong.” He looked at me now, really looked. “He practically made a new grade. Just for him. He’s not ‘special grade’ anymore. He’s Satoru Gojo. His own classification.”

 

I blinked. “You’re serious...”

 

He gave a single, tired nod. “Yeah. I am.”

 

The bitterness in his voice didn’t come from jealousy. Not even close. It was something more complicated. Something softer and far more wounded.

 

“He doesn’t look at people the same way,” Suguru said. “Doesn’t even look at me the same way. Not always. He’s up there now, floating above the rest of us. Everything feels lighter to him. Or maybe… too heavy to hold at all.”

 

I set my food down, my appetite fading.

 

“I don’t think it’s power that changed him,” Suguru added. “It’s the fact that now, there’s no one left who can stop him. And when there’s no limit… you start to wonder if you’re even human anymore.”

 

His voice went quiet.

 

“Maybe he’s wondering if it even matters.”

 

I didn’t know what to say. But I reached across the bed slowly, my fingers brushing his.

 

He looked at our hands.

 

And for the first time since waking up, I felt the absence of Satoru not as a wound, but as a weight we were both still learning how to carry.

 

Once we’d picked through the last of the rice and vegetables, the room settled into a hush again. The overhead lights buzzed low and tired, like even they were trying to fall asleep. I shifted a little, groaning quietly at the pull in my side.

 

Suguru noticed immediately. “Want me to move?”

 

“No,” I said softly. “Want you closer.”

 

He stilled for a second, then his eyes flicked up to mine. There was hesitation there but also relief. Like I’d opened a door he didn’t know he was waiting in front of.

 

I nudged the blanket back, just a bit. “There’s room.”

 

He didn’t speak. Just rose from his chair, quietly setting the empty containers aside. His movements were slow, reverent almost. Like climbing into bed with me was something sacred.

 

He lay down beside me with such care that it made my throat tighten. No sudden movements, no weight dropped too fast. Just warmth. Quiet, constant warmth pressing against my side, his breath brushing the edge of my collarbone.

 

I reached up, fingers slipping into his half-loose hair.

 

He sighed like a man starved.

 

I found the tie holding it back and gently loosened it, letting the dark strands spill over his shoulders and across the pillow. My fingers combed slowly through the tangles, tracing his scalp in soothing circles.

 

A low hum vibrated in his chest.

 

“Feels nice,” he mumbled, voice thick with exhaustion.

 

“Yeah?” I whispered. “Good.”

 

He didn’t move. Didn’t even try. He just melted, shoulders dropping, jaw slackening, the stress stitched into every part of him finally beginning to unravel under my hands.

 

I kept stroking his hair, my body aching but my heart… quieter than it had been in days.

 

Eventually, his breathing slowed. Deepened. I wasn’t far behind.

 

We didn’t talk. We didn’t need to.

 

We just drifted, tangled in each other, caught in the stillness of knowing we were both still here. Alive. Together.

 

And finally, finally, asleep.

 

---

 

It had been a few days since they said I was officially “cleared.” Whatever that meant. I was walking again. Eating. Talking. Breathing without feeling like every inhale scraped the edge of something broken.

 

But I still wasn’t sleeping well. Not with Satoru still gone.

 

Suguru had been sent out that morning, some minor exorcism in the countryside, just enough to keep him from pacing holes into the infirmary floor. I watched him leave with his usual calm, but I knew him too well. He hadn’t fully relaxed since the temple. Not since the look in Gojo’s eyes that day.

 

And Satoru… he hadn’t come back. Not really. Not for me. Not for Suguru.

 

I called his phone. Four times. No answer.

 

I tried the commons. His dorm. The training field. The vending machines by the old courtyard.

 

Nothing.

 

So I went to Yaga.

 

The second he saw me, his expression broke. He crossed the courtyard with heavy steps and pulled me into a hug so solid I almost dropped.

 

“You really don’t know how to die, do you?” he muttered, his voice thick.

 

“I guess not,” I said, muffled into his chest. “I’m starting to think it’s a problem.”

 

He chuckled, stepping back to look me over. “Shoko says your vitals are still fluctuating, but you’re healing. Slower than expected, but healing.”

 

“I’m fine,” I lied. “I’m just looking for Satoru.”

 

Yaga’s smile faded a little.

 

“Gojo’s been… busy,” he said after a pause. “Bigger missions. Cleanup, negotiations, special-grade threats. The higher-ups are using him like a scalpel now, cut fast, deep, and move on.”

 

“Do you know where?”

 

He hesitated again, then reached into his coat and scribbled a few addresses on his notepad, ripping the page out for me. “These are his next known locations. One of them should hit.”

 

I folded the paper into my palm. “Thanks.”

 

He gave me a firm nod and a softer look. “He’ll talk to you, Amara. Eventually.”

 

I didn’t answer. I just left.

 

---

 

I took a train across Tokyo to the first location: an old railway station halfway swallowed by ivy and concrete. Empty. Not even the echo of a fight left behind.

 

Second spot: a rooftop garden overlooking Shibuya Crossing. Two Jujutsu agents were there, whispering about him.

 

“He dropped the curse in five seconds.”

 

“Didn’t even blink. Just laughed.”

 

“Did you see his eyes? He was smiling. Like it was a game.”

 

I didn’t interrupt them. I didn’t have to. I knew.

 

Satoru wasn’t hiding.

 

He just didn’t feel like coming back.

 

---

 

The third address was a high-rise near the edge of the business district. I walked into a shattered glass lobby, boots echoing on the cracked marble, and there he was, standing by a wall of broken windows, his uniform pristine as ever, hands in his pockets.

 

He looked over his shoulder as I stepped in.

 

And smiled.

 

Not the bright, annoying grin I’d memorized, but something cooler. Slower. Like he was seeing me from across a veil.

 

“Oh,” he said lightly. “There you are.”

 

“You’ve been hard to find,” I said, voice low. “No messages. Nothing.”

 

The curse lunged behind him.

 

It didn’t get far.

 

Gojo flicked his wrist without looking, the air cracking with a silent pulse of reversed cursed energy. The creature, a bloated, shrieking mass of claws and spit, shuddered mid-air before crumpling into dust like paper caught in flame.

 

Not even a blink.

 

Then he looked back at me, like I was the only thing he saw anyway.

 

“I’ve been busy,” he said, half a shrug, half an apology.

 

I stared at him. “Too busy to text?”

 

“Would you believe me if I said I dropped my phone in a cursed womb and didn’t want to risk retrieving it?”

 

“No.”

 

He smiled, small, quiet. “Didn’t think so.”

 

He stepped closer. Not enough to crowd me, but enough that I felt his presence settle over the space like a weighted blanket. Not heavy. Just warm. Familiar.

 

But he didn’t feel the same.

 

There was a weird calm to him now. Not the childish deflection he used to rely on. Not the bravado. This was the stillness of someone who had nothing left to prove to anyone but himself.

 

And maybe not even that anymore.

 

I folded my arms, trying to stop the flood of things I wanted to say.

 

He beat me to it.

 

“I thought if I stayed away long enough, it would hurt less. You know,” he said, looking off toward the temple ruins in the distance. “The guilt. The noise. What I did. What I didn’t do.”

 

His jaw shifted like he was grinding down a thought he didn’t want to say out loud.

 

“But it doesn’t,” he said finally. “Not really. It just gets quieter.”

 

“I missed you...”

 

He looked at me again. Really looked this time. The sunglasses were off, and I could see the full weight of his Six Eyes trained on my face, like he was cataloging every new scar, every shift in my energy.

 

“I know,” he said. “I missed you too.”

 

He gave a breath of a laugh. “Suguru’s probably mad at me, huh?”

 

“Furious,” I said flatly.

 

He nodded. “Fair.”

 

There was a pause, and then, his tone shifting back to that infuriating mix of playful and sincere, he added, “You hungry? I was gonna grab takoyaki before heading back. We could split a plate.”

 

I blinked.

 

“You’re offering me octopus balls like you didn’t vanish off the face of the earth for a week?”

 

He raised his hands in surrender. “What can I say? I cope with snacks.”

 

A breath hitched in my chest.

 

Then I laughed.

 

Just once.

 

It wasn’t enough. But it was something.

 

Gojo grinned. “There she is.”

 

We walked together. The sun was high, warm through the clouds, but not enough to make me forget how heavy everything still felt.

 

Gojo walked beside me with his hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed, but I could feel how aware he was. Like he’d been living in a state of constant readiness since that day. Like he didn’t know how to rest anymore, not really.

 

I started talking, quiet at first.

 

“I don’t remember most of it. The moment I got shot. Just flashes. The noise, the smell, the cold.”

 

He didn’t interrupt. Just listened.

 

“I had to rebuild myself. Literally. I pulled energy from my organs to get my brain working again. I was so afraid I wouldn’t remember you. Or Suguru. Or… me.”

 

Gojo’s jaw ticked.

 

“I’m still sorting through it,” I added. “But I’m here.”

 

He stopped walking for just a second. Then started again.

 

“And Suguru?” he asked.

 

I exhaled, slowly. “He’s… holding it together. Barely. They’ve got him on long shifts. Mission after mission. He doesn’t even talk when he comes home, Satoru. He just… collapses.”

 

Gojo’s fingers twitched at his sides.

 

I looked over at him. “And where have you been?”

 

He blinked.

 

“Seriously?” I snapped. “Where the hell were you when we were in the hospital? When Shoko was patching us back together?”

 

He turned his head slightly, not looking at me directly.

 

“I saw you carry Riko’s body through a cheering crowd like it meant nothing. And then you disappeared.”

 

I stopped walking.

 

“You left us, Satoru. I thought we were a team. That we were supposed to be together in this.."

 

He turned, just slightly, and met my eyes.

 

There was no smugness. No grin. Just that eerie calm he’d carried since waking up a god.

 

“I didn’t know how to be with you,” he said.

 

“You didn’t even try.” My voice cracked. “I needed you. We needed you.”

 

He ran a hand through his hair. “If I’d seen you in that bed… still half-dead… or Suguru- if I had to look at what I let happen-” His voice caught, briefly. “I don’t think I would’ve come back from it. There was things that needed to be taken care of and I'm taking care of them so you two don't have to.”

 

I stared at him. “We’re your significant others, Satoru. You don’t get to ghost us just because it hurts.”

 

He swallowed hard.

 

Then he nodded once. “You’re right.”

 

That stopped me cold. No excuse. No deflection.

 

Just: You’re right.

 

He looked up at the sky, then down at the ground.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said.

 

And for once, it wasn’t sarcastic. It wasn’t casual. It wasn’t Satoru Gojo trying to be clever.

 

It was just him.

 

Raw. Real.

 

I reached out and took his wrist. Not his hand. Just enough to anchor him.

 

“I'll forgive you,” I whispered. “if you don’t run anymore.”

 

He looked down at where I held him.

 

“Then I won’t.”

 

“Satoru,” I said again, slower this time. “Touch me.”

 

He blinked like he hadn’t quite heard right, like the request cracked something fragile under the surface.

 

“What… do you mean?” His voice lost that usual lilt, the silliness tucked away for something more careful.

 

I held his gaze. “Are you still my boyfriend?”

 

That got him. He looked almost hurt I had to ask. “Of course I am,” he said instantly, voice low and fierce. “Why would you think-”

 

“Then touch me like I’m still yours,” I whispered. “Like this. Now. Not how I used to be. Just… me.”

 

A flicker of realization moved across his face. His whole frame exhaled. Like he understood. Like it clicked.

 

He gave a crooked little smile, gentler than usual. “You know,” he murmured, “I was planning a whole dramatic speech to win you back after vanishing like a jackass. But I think I like this better.”

 

I laughed under my breath, and it made my throat hurt.

 

Then he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me, slow and warm. His chin rested lightly on my head, and I could feel the tension leave his body all at once, like touching me made it real.

 

“You smell like sweat and cursed ash,” he mumbled against my hair.

 

“You smell like smoke and candy,” I shot back.

 

“That’s because I’m amazing.”

 

I rolled my eyes, but my arms were already curling around his waist, fingers digging into his back like I didn’t want to let go.

 

Then he shifted.

 

Without a word, he dipped down and scooped me up, hands gripping behind my thighs. My feet left the ground and I gasped, reflexively wrapping my legs around his waist to stay steady.

 

“Satoru-!”

 

“Shh, hold still,” he said, voice vibrating with a kind of energy I hadn’t heard from him in days. Weeks. “I’ve been dreaming about this. Holding you. Kissing you. Just like this.”

 

He tilted his head and started pressing kisses down my face, cheek, jaw, temple, and tip of my nose. Slow, reverent kisses like he was memorizing me again. He brushed the scar just above my eyebrow with his lips and murmured something I didn’t quite catch.

 

Then he leaned back, holding me like I was precious, his breath caught somewhere between laughter and grief.

 

“You’re still beautiful,” he said. “Even if your hair’s a mess and you’re clinging to me like a gremlin.”

 

“I’m a very powerful gremlin,” I muttered, curling tighter against him.

 

He laughed, soft and real, then kissed me again. Long and deep this time. No more teasing. Just Satoru. Mine. Here.

 

Alive.

Chapter 77: Yu Haibara

Summary:

All I can say is I'm sorry

The common room felt colder than usual.

 

Even with the windows cracked open for the summer air and the lingering scent of incense from whatever Shoko had been burning earlier, it felt… still. Too still.

 

I sat curled on one end of the couch, legs pulled up, a loose hoodie hanging off my shoulder. Satoru was across from me in one of the wide chairs, sunglasses on, head tilted back like he wasn’t watching, but I knew he was. Always was.

 

Suguru sat nearby on the floor, back against the couch near my knees, flipping through a book but barely turning the pages. He’d been in and out all week, barely sleeping. There were bags under his eyes that no one dared to mention.

 

None of us said anything.

 

Since I got out of the med wing, we’d fallen into this kind of… limbo. Still close. Still us. But something had shifted. Or cracked. Or maybe it was just finally showing.

 

Satoru hadn’t said a word about Riko. Not really. Not once.

Suguru hadn’t mentioned what he saw back at the temple when I wasn’t breathing.

And I couldn’t stop hearing the way Satoru said, “Should we just kill them?”

 

The only sound in the room was the flip of Suguru’s page and the slow hum of the overhead fan.

 

Then the door slammed open.

 

"GUESS WHO’S A REAL SORCERER NOW!" Yu Haibara’s voice burst into the room like sunlight through stained glass. Bright, boyish, completely oblivious to the heaviness in the air.

 

I blinked and looked over the top of the couch just as he skidded into the room, practically vibrating with excitement.

 

Satoru finally lifted his head, pushing his sunglasses down just enough to peek over the rim. “You switched to a cursed womb and no one told me?”

 

Yu paused mid-spin. “Wait, what? EW. No! I got a mission! My first mission!” He held up a sealed envelope like it was a trophy. “With Nanami! It's like, barely a grade 2. Mostly just an investigation. But still!” He grinned. “Actual field work. I'm joining the big leagues!”

 

I smiled without meaning to. Suguru closed his book and looked up.

 

“Congrats,” Suguru said, voice low but warm. “You’ll be great.”

 

“I know!” Yu beamed, cheeks flushing. “They said it’s just a haunted apartment, but Nanami’s treating it like we’re going into war. He gave me a full gear checklist. Like ‘bring a flashlight, but not the cheap kind.’”

 

“Sounds like him,” Satoru muttered.

 

“Right?!” Yu flopped into the chair next to Suguru, almost falling off it in the process. “He’s so serious. I mean- I get it, but also… I don’t know. I feel like this is the start of everything, you know? Like finally, I get to help.”

 

The room went quiet again. Just for a second.

 

And that silence hit like a punch to the chest.

 

Suguru stared at his hands. Satoru didn’t move. And I realized all three of us were thinking the same thing.

 

Yu was still bright.

 

Still hopeful.

 

Still unbroken.

 

“Hey,” I said, forcing my voice steady. “You’re gonna do fine. And if anything feels off, anything, you pull back. You get Nanami. You come home. Got it?”

 

Yu nodded quickly, a little surprised. “Got it, got it. Totally. I mean, it’s just one curse. Barely even a real threat. Plus I have my lucky shoes you made me on!”

 

I chuckle softly.

 

Satoru finally smiled, just a little. “That’s what we all say the first time.”

 

Yu laughed, tipping his head back. “You sound like Nanami now.”

 

Suguru reached out, ruffling Yu’s hair the way a big brother would. “Be careful anyway. We like having you in one piece.”

 

Yu rolled his eyes dramatically but grinned so wide I thought he might float.

 

“Man, I can’t wait. I’m gonna wear the jacket and everything.”

 

He kept talking, about the cursed apartment, about Nanami’s stoic mission voice, about the new I made him. And the three of us sat there, letting him talk, soaking in the warmth like we hadn’t just all watched the world fall apart.

 

He didn’t know yet.

 

Didn’t know what this world could really take from you.

 

And for now… maybe that was okay.

 

We needed him like this.

 

Even if it made the silence afterward just a little harder to bear.

 

--------

 

The narrow hallway smelled like mold and something sour. Yu wrinkled his nose as he stepped carefully behind Nanami, flashlight beam trembling slightly in his hand. The apartment complex had been abandoned for years, boarded windows, cracked walls, and graffiti that looked more like desperate warnings than vandalism.

 

"Stay close," Nanami said, voice clipped. He walked ahead without hesitation, his blade wrapped and resting against his shoulder.

 

"Got it," Yu said quickly, adjusting his jacket. He grinned to himself. First mission. Real gear. With Nanami. He couldn't mess this up.

 

They moved from room to room. The deeper they went, the heavier the air got, like something was pressing against their skin. Nanami stopped in front of a half-rotted door and gestured for Yu to flank the other side. Yu nodded and circled wide.

 

Nanami counted down with his fingers.

 

Three. Two. One.

 

He kicked the door open. Yu burst in right behind him, cursed energy flaring around his knuckles. The room was empty, except for a low, pulsing mark on the far wall. A cursed seal. Still active.

 

"It's binding something," Nanami muttered, stepping forward. "This isn't a simple infestation."

 

Yu swallowed hard. The tension in the air shifted.

 

From the ceiling, a fleshy arm snapped down like a whip.

 

"MOVE!"

 

Nanami shoved Yu back just as the cursed spirit burst from the shadows, a writhing mass of limbs, eyes, and teeth. Far too large. Far too fast.

 

"That's not a grade two!" Yu shouted, ducking as claws raked the floor where his head had been.

 

"No," Nanami confirmed grimly, activating Ratio Technique. "This is at least a high grade one. Possibly special."

 

The spirit roared.

 

Nanami struck first, his cursed blade slamming into the spirit’s side, a clean hit, precise. But it didn’t fall. Its skin pulsed, absorbing the impact with a sickening squelch.

 

Yu jumped in, landing a punch to distract it. It turned. Too fast.

 

It swatted Yu across the room.

 

"Yu!"

 

Nanami turned, eyes flashing. That moment’s hesitation cost him, the spirit slammed a fist into his gut and threw him back.

 

Dust filled the air. Yu groaned, trying to stand. Blood ran from his temple.

 

"I- I can still fight," he muttered, pushing up. Nanami had landed hard, ribs cracked. His vision blurred.

 

Nanami gritted his teeth, standing tall. "Focus, Yu. Don’t rush. We need to fall back. Call for help and get out of here."

 

The spirit howled, lunging for Yu again.

 

Nanami blocked it with his body.

 

He felt the bones crack. His breath caught in his throat.

 

Yu screamed, fists lighting up with cursed energy again. "GET AWAY FROM HIM!"

 

Yu moved fast but not fast enough.

 

His body jolted as the cursed spirit slammed him into the wall, ribs crunching on impact. He gasped, eyes wide and unfocused, blood flecking the corner of his lips. His knees started to give as the curse reared back, its grotesque arm spiraling with jagged cursed energy.

 

"Yu-!" Nanami shouted, too far. Too slow.

 

The curse's arm shot forward, driving straight through Yu's chest.

 

There was no final word. No last swing. No desperate yell.

 

Yu Haibara died with wide eyes and a soft, almost confused look on his face, like he couldn't believe this was how it ended. His body crumpled as the curse yanked its limb back, as if shedding something useless. A smear. A mistake.

 

He didn’t scream. He didn’t have time.

 

Nanami’s blade moved in one clean, effortless arc, Ratio Technique. The curse was cleaved in half mid-turn, its shriek ending in a wet sputter. Blood and black mist soaked the air, bitter and acrid.

 

And then... silence.

 

Nanami stood over Yu's body, the broken shape of a boy who had laughed his way into danger and didn’t make it back. His hands trembled at his sides, not from exertion, but from something quieter. Something darker.

 

There was no triumph. No pride.

 

Only a hollow rage pooling in his chest.

 

He sank to one knee beside Yu, staring down at the remains of someone who’d only wanted to help. A kid with a crooked smile and a hundred things left to say.

 

Nanami didn’t speak. There was nothing to say.

 

This was the kind of death sorcerers feared the most.

 

The kind that didn’t mean a thing.

 

--------

 

It was quiet near the gate. That weird kind of calm before night really settles in, sky turning purple-blue, cicadas starting up. I was just going for a walk to clear my mind. Take a breather.

 

And then I saw him.

 

Nanami.

 

Dragging himself down the path, his uniform stiff with dried blood and dirt. And cradled in his arms-

 

Yu.

 

“No-” My voice cracked as my stomach dropped. “No, no, no-”

 

I ran to him without thinking, legs moving before the rest of me could catch up. “Nanami! What- what the hell happened?! We have to get him to medical- Shoko’s still on campus- I don't know if my healing will work since-”

 

“To the morgue,” Nanami said flatly, eyes forward, voice like a blade.

 

I froze mid-step. “What?”

 

“He’s gone, Amara.”

 

The words hit like gunfire. But Nanami didn’t stop walking, so I didn’t either. I blinked hard and shoved the panic down into my chest and moved to his side to help, one arm slipping under Yu’s legs.

 

He was still warm.

 

I kept hoping I was wrong. That maybe Nanami was wrong. That maybe this was another near-miss and Yu would cough or groan or blink and it would all be okay..

 

But he didn’t.

 

We carried him in silence, down into the concrete halls of the morgue, the weight of it more than just in our arms. I reached for the switch and opened the door, and that sterile chill hit me all at once.

 

We laid him down on the autopsy table. Nanami’s hands lingered a little longer on Yu’s shoulder before he stepped back, fists clenched.

 

I pulled my phone out, fingers shaking as I hit the emergency line Shoko always made us use. She picked up on the first ring.

 

“It’s Yu,” I managed. “Nanami brought him in. Come to the morgue now...”

 

She didn’t ask anything. I heard the slam of a door on her end and then nothing but footsteps.

 

Less than two minutes later, she burst in, breath ragged, hair messy from being tied too fast. Her eyes landed on the table, and then everything about her went still.

 

She moved fast, anyway. Gloves. Light. Her tools.

 

And behind her..

 

“Suguru?” I said, breath catching.

 

He’d clearly followed her without knowing what was going on. His steps slowed the moment he saw Yu’s body.

 

His eyes snapped to mine.

 

And then to Nanami.

 

Then to Shoko.

 

And then, finally, back to Yu.

 

He didn’t say a word.

 

The room felt like it was swallowing itself whole.

 

It was just after 5 PM. Satoru was still out. And Yu was gone.

 

No last words. No hero’s end.

 

Just a boy who smiled too brightly, reduced to stillness on a steel table.

 

The silence stretched so long it started to ache.

 

Shoko worked with a kind of mechanical calm, prepping Yu’s body with practiced movements, but even she kept blinking too fast, jaw tight as she adjusted the sheet.

 

Suguru hadn’t moved.

 

He stood at the foot of the table, eyes fixed on Yu like he was waiting for him to sit up and crack a joke. His face was unreadable, but I could see the subtle tension in his throat, in his shoulders. The kind of stillness that wasn’t peace, it was pressure.

 

CRASH.

 

A sharp metallic sound exploded from behind me, making me jump.

 

I turned just in time to see a metal stool slam against the tile wall, cracking it. Nanami stood there, panting, face blotched red with something sharp and raw. He didn’t look at anyone. Just grabbed the nearest chair and sat down hard, leaning back, his arm over his eyes.

 

At first, I thought he was just hiding himself.

 

But then I saw his chest shudder.

 

He was crying.

 

Not loud. Not sobbing.

 

But quietly. Helplessly.

 

I don’t think anyone noticed but me.

 

Suguru didn’t flinch at the noise. He just kept staring, his hands twitching at his sides like they didn’t know what to do.

 

Yu’s mouth was still slightly parted. His fingers had curled up slightly at the edge of the sheet.

 

Like he was almost still here.

 

I took a step back and leaned against the cold counter, heart racing.

 

“I just saw him…” I whispered to no one in particular. “He was so excited…”

 

Suguru’s voice came a minute later. Quiet. Flat.

 

“This world eats people like him,” he said. “Bright ones. Hopeful ones.”

 

I looked up. His eyes were still locked on Yu’s.

 

“He wasn’t weak,” Suguru continued. “He just… didn’t stand a chance. And that doesn’t mean anything to them. To the Elders. To the people who keep asking us to clean up their filth. They’ll write a report. Stamp it. And keep moving like he was a number on a page.”

 

He looked at me finally, and for a split second, I saw something dangerous behind his calm.

 

“This world doesn’t deserve people like him.”

 

I didn’t know what to say.

 

I reached for Nanami’s shoulder, squeezing it softly.

 

And in that room, where the walls were too white and the air too cold, I watched something quietly crack in all of us.

 

Yu Haibara was dead.

 

And the world kept turning anyway.

 

“Out. All of you,” Shoko said flatly, not even looking up from the tools she was laying out. “I’ll take care of him now.”

 

The finality in her voice left no room for argument.

 

Nanami stood immediately, wiping his face without a word. He didn’t look at us as he walked out, his footsteps heavy and fast, like he couldn’t get away from this room fast enough.

 

I wanted to follow him. I wanted to say something to Shoko. I wanted to scream.

 

But I didn’t move.

 

Not until Suguru turned and walked.

 

No words.

 

No glance back.

 

Just walked, like a shadow peeling itself off the ground and drifting down the hallway.

 

I looked to Shoko then back to him and followed.

 

I didn’t know what else to do.

 

I didn’t want to be alone.

 

He didn’t speak the whole way, his shoulders tight under his uniform, his pace slower than usual but still purposeful. I kept a few steps behind, like I wasn’t sure if I was invited.

 

When we reached his room, he opened the door like muscle memory, but didn’t hold it for me.

 

He just walked inside.

 

I stopped at the doorway, suddenly unsure.

 

Everything in my chest was coiled. I didn’t know if he wanted me there or if he was trying to be alone. He hadn’t looked at me since we left the morgue. He hadn’t touched me. Hadn’t even said my name.

 

I stood there, arms wrapping around myself, the hallway too quiet, the air too heavy.

 

“Suguru…” I said, barely audible.

 

He paused by his desk, hands braced on either side. His back still to me.

 

For a second, he didn’t answer.

 

Then, still not turning around, he said quietly..

 

“You can come in.”

 

But his voice didn’t sound like Suguru.

 

Not the one I knew.

 

Not the one who kissed my temple at night and whispered that he loved me like it was oxygen.

 

This one sounded hollow. Like the words were carved out of something old and bitter and tired.

 

I stepped inside anyway.

 

It was awkward at first.

 

He sat at his desk with his back to me, pen scratching quietly across a mission log or maybe a report for Yaga, maybe just journaling. The only light in the room was the soft amber glow from his desk lamp, casting long shadows against the wall. His shoulders were hunched forward, tense, unmoving.

 

I hovered near the doorway, hands curled into the hem of my sleeves.

 

“...You shouldn’t be standing,” he said eventually. His voice was even, but not cold. Just tired. “You’re still recovering. Sit.”

 

“So are you,” I said softly.

 

He didn’t respond.

 

I stepped in anyway, slow and careful like approaching a wounded animal, and closed the door behind me. It clicked too loudly in the quiet.

 

He didn’t turn around.

 

I didn’t know what I was doing, not really. But I remembered the way he used to pull me in when my grief got too sharp to hold. How he made tea without asking, or sat silently beside me until the ache became something I could carry.

 

So I did what I could.

 

I crossed the room and picked up the kettle from the shelf near his bookcase. He always kept a small tray of tea things in the corner, subtle, minimal, but warm. Familiar.

 

He still didn’t look at me, not even as I moved quietly through the steps. Boiled the water. Picked his favorite blend, the one with dried plum leaves and chrysanthemum. I remembered the smell.

 

When I set the mug down beside his hand, he paused mid-sentence.

 

His pen stilled, hovering just above the paper. His fingers twitched slightly. But he didn’t move to touch the cup.

 

“I didn’t know what else to do,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “But I thought maybe… this was a start.”

 

Finally, he looked up.

 

His eyes were tired and red at the corners, not from crying, but from the effort of holding it all in. That, somehow, was worse.

 

“I don’t deserve your kindness right now,” he said.

 

I sat on the edge of his bed, the mattress creaking softly beneath me.

 

“That’s not how this works,” I said. “You didn’t let me push you away when I was like this.”

 

“I’m not like you.”

 

“No,” I said gently. “But you’re still someone who hurts. And you’re allowed to be taken care of.”

 

For a moment, I didn’t think he’d move.

 

But then Suguru slowly turned in his chair and walked over. His movements were stiff, mechanical, like his body hadn’t quite figured out how to relax again. He sat down beside me on the bed, close but not touching.

 

I reached for his hand anyway. He let me take it.

 

His fingers were cold.

 

I tucked his hand in both of mine and held it between us.

 

“I miss you...I miss him too,” I whispered.

 

He closed his eyes.

 

And in that fragile, heavy silence, we just sat together. Two broken people, trying to be a soft place for each other because the world hadn’t offered one.

 

“Do you… want to talk about it?” I asked softly. “Your feelings. What you’re thinking. Anything.”

 

Suguru didn’t look at me.

 

He was still holding my hand, but it felt like he was holding onto something else, like a lifeline or maybe the last bit of warmth he could allow himself.

 

I leaned in a little, trying to catch his eyes. “You don’t have to say the right thing. I just want to know where you are.”

 

He shook his head.

 

It wasn’t harsh. It wasn’t dismissive. It was just... final. Like he’d already made up his mind not to go there tonight.

 

I didn’t push him.

 

But I knew he was bottling it up, the way he always did when the pain was too big, when anger and grief twisted together in his chest and he couldn’t find the words fast enough to separate them. I knew the signs. The silence. The tension. The way his fingers trembled just slightly where they curled against mine.

 

“Okay,” I whispered. “Then come here.”

 

I tugged him gently by the wrist and slid back on his bed, pulling the blanket aside as I went.

 

He hesitated for half a second before finally letting out a shaky breath and following. He laid down beside me, then shifted again, resting his head carefully against my chest like he was afraid he might break something. Or maybe afraid he was the one breaking.

 

I pulled the blanket over us and wrapped both arms around him.

 

One hand slid into his hair, pulling the tie loose with practiced ease, putting it around my wrist. His long dark strands fell across my shoulder, soft and a little tangled. I combed my fingers through it gently, again and again, until I felt some of the tension ease from his back.

 

His breathing evened out slowly.

 

“You don’t have to be okay yet,” I murmured against the crown of his head. “I just want you here.”

 

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t pull away either.

 

I felt him melt into me, little by little, like his body remembered what it meant to let go. And even if the weight in his chest hadn’t moved, at least it didn’t feel so heavy alone.

 

So I kept stroking his hair in slow, careful motions, my other arm holding him close as the room dimmed and quieted around us.

Chapter 78: Something Soft

I didn’t even flinch when the curse shrieked and lunged anymore..

 

Same thing. Same movement. Same broken neck as I twisted my body and brought the blade through its side.

 

It dissolved into ash before it hit the ground.

 

I stood there for a second, listening to the silence, waiting to feel something. A tremor of fear. A jolt of satisfaction. Anything.

 

But there was just the wind.

 

I turned on my heel and made the call in.

 

“Target neutralized. No casualties. Minor property damage.”

 

My voice felt like it belonged to someone else.

 

“Heading back to school now.”

 

---

 

The train rocked gently as it moved. I leaned my forehead against the cool window, watching the buildings blur past. My reflection was faint in the glass. I looked... fine. Fine enough to keep passing as fine.

 

The missions weren’t hard. Most of them were barely grade 3. One had been a curse haunting a vending machine. Another was a semi-grade 2 that I finished in under five minutes.

 

Go in. Kill. Walk away.

 

No backup. No jokes. No Satoru shouting about how easy it was going to be. No Suguru quietly analyzing the scene with that little half-smile.

 

Just me.

 

I used to want this. Independence. Autonomy.

 

Now it just felt like being alone all over again..

 

---

 

By the time I reached the school, the sun was already dipping low in the sky. That dusky orange light made the campus look almost gentle, like something out of a storybook.

 

My boots scuffed over gravel as I walked toward the dorms. No one greeted me.

 

I didn’t expect them to.

 

I was halfway to my room when the side path creaked open.. and there he was.

 

Suguru.

 

He looked like hell.

 

Dried blood spattered his collar, his uniform jacket was only half on, and there was something dead in his eyes. Not emotionless. Just... dulled. Burnt out.

 

He saw me but didn’t say anything.

 

Neither did I.

 

We just walked.

 

Side by side. No words. No warmth. Just the soft drag of our feet across the stone path and the brittle evening air slipping into the folds of our silence.

 

His shoulder bumped mine once, lightly. I didn’t know if it was on purpose or not.

 

I didn’t ask.

 

He smelled like rot and metal, blood and old incense. Not the comforting kind, the kind that clings to someone who's been somewhere awful and hasn't had time to wash it off yet.

 

When we got to his room, I pushed the door open first, like muscle memory. He followed me in like he always did.

 

The scent of his room hadn’t changed, warm incense, faint linen, the dull burn of cursed energy lingering like a second skin. I walked in first, the way I always did when he was too tired to think, too drained to lead.

 

Suguru didn’t say anything.

 

He closed the door behind us, slow, like the effort cost him more than it should. Then he moved to the middle of the room and stopped, as if unsure what to do now that he wasn’t fighting for his life.

 

His hands went to the button of his uniform pants.

 

He tugged once.

 

Then again.

 

But I could see it, his fingers were shaking. Subtle, but there. The way they twitched at the knuckles, like every motion was being sent through a filter of static.

 

His jaw tensed.

 

I watched the third time he fumbled the button, and the sound of his breath catching in quiet frustration made something in me twist.

 

“Hey,” I said softly, stepping forward.

 

“I’ve got it,” he muttered, barely louder than a breath, not looking at me.

 

I didn’t stop.

 

He tugged again, more forceful, but his fingers slipped, and the button stayed put.

 

“Suguru.”

 

He froze.

 

I reached out and rested my hands over his, gently guiding them away.

 

“You don’t have to do everything alone,” I said. “Let me take care of you..”

 

He didn’t fight me. Just… stood there, breathing heavy, shoulders pulled in like he didn’t know how to be held anymore.

 

I undid the button with a single flick. Slid the zipper down slowly.

 

I didn’t look up right away.

 

I just peeled the heavy fabric away from his hips and let it fall to the floor, pooling around his ankles.

 

His legs trembled under the weight of everything he wouldn’t say.

 

“You’re not sleeping,” I murmured.

 

He didn’t answer.

 

“And you’re swallowing too many,” I added, brushing my fingers against the side of his thigh, warm, tense, scarred.

 

Still, no answer.

 

So I pulled the rest of his clothes off quietly, folding each piece with care, like reverence. Like maybe if I was soft enough, he’d stop unraveling in silence.

 

I left him in his boxers and reached for the towel I’d left near his bed earlier the other day, it was warm from the radiator. I pressed it against his back, wiping away the sweat and dust and old dried blood from the nape of his neck down to the curve of his spine.

 

He flinched once when I reached his ribs.

 

“Sorry,” I whispered.

 

He shook his head. “Not you.”

 

I didn’t push for an explanation.

 

Just kept going, cleaning him off with slow, steady movements, soft cloth, and softer hands. My own body moved like it had done this a hundred times before. Maybe it had, in spirit. Maybe I’d always known I’d have to learn how to hold the pieces of Suguru before he shattered.

 

I wiped down the last of the dried blood from his side, then rested my hand on the small of his back.

 

“Lie down,” I said gently. “Face down.”

 

He didn’t argue. He never did when I said it like that. Just gave me a tired look and moved to the bed, climbing onto it with heavy limbs. He slumped forward onto his stomach, the weight of the day pressing him flat.

 

I climbed on top of him slowly, straddling his lower back, legs spread comfortably over his hips. He exhaled like just that, me being there, anchoring him, released something in his chest.

 

“You’re all knots,” I muttered.

 

“Mmm.”

 

I grabbed my lotion from his bedside table. The one I always used, the one that smelled like lavender, a little vanilla, and something deeper, violet maybe. 

 

Me. It smelled like me.

 

I warmed some in my palms, then rubbed it into his shoulders. His back arched faintly beneath me at the first press of my thumbs, a low, barely audible sound escaping his throat.

 

“Sorry,” I murmured. “Too hard?”

 

“No. Keep going.”

 

I worked slowly, kneading into every hardened coil of muscle in his upper back. My fingers moved with practiced purpose, pressing in deep, circling where I knew he held the worst of it, between his shoulders, just below the nape of his neck, right above his ribs.

 

But even my fingers weren’t enough.

 

So I called them out.

 

Thin tendrils, quiet, pulsing lines of my cursed energy, slid from my back, gliding over his skin like a second set of hands. They moved with a strange intelligence, responding to the places I focused on, helping me press deeper, more thoroughly. One coiled at the base of his spine, working the stiffness loose. Another wrapped around his shoulder to pull tension as I pushed into it.

 

He didn’t flinch.

 

Didn’t speak.

 

Just let it happen, breathing low and steady beneath me. If I was lucky I would get a soft moan out of him.

 

The longer I worked, the more he loosened. Muscles slackened, hands unclenched. His head turned into the pillow, face half-buried, and I saw it, his eyes fluttering closed, not in sleep, but in something close to peace.

 

I pressed the flat of my palms into his lower back and leaned forward, letting some of my weight sink into him. Not enough to hurt, just enough to remind him: I’m here. I’m real. You’re not alone.

 

“Do you want me to stop?” I asked quietly, brushing his hair back from his face.

 

He shook his head again. “No. Please don’t stop.”

 

My tendrils moved slower now, more rhythmically. I traced gentle patterns into his back with them, circles, lines, a soft spiral near the base of his spine. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but I could tell it helped. The way his body had stopped flinching. The way he wasn’t pretending to be fine anymore.

 

“You’re so tired,” I whispered. “You don’t have to hold it all the time, y’know.”

 

His fingers curled in the blanket.

 

I didn’t push him to answer.

 

I just kept moving, kept caring for him in all the ways I knew how.

 

Because I remembered how it felt when he did this for me. When he gave without asking, held without demanding, and made me feel like I was still human even when everything else said I wasn’t.

 

Now it was my turn.

 

And I wasn’t going to stop.

 

Not until he remembered that someone was still here. Still with him. Still choosing him, curse and all.

 

After a long while, the weight in his body seemed to settle. Like the tension had finally eased its grip on him, even if just a little. His breathing had slowed beneath me, calm and quiet.

 

I slid off his back and crouched next to the bed.

 

“C’mon,” I whispered, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “Sit up for me, Suguru.”

 

He blinked at me, slow and a little dazed. But he moved.

 

I helped him the way he’d helped me too many times to count. I pulled a soft black shirt over his head, threading his arms through gently with careful hands. I even paused to press my cheek to his shoulder for a second, grounding us both. He smelled like my lotion now. Like me. It made something tender curl up in my chest.

 

Then came the pants. He tried to handle them himself, but his fingers fumbled again, catching on the fabric like they weren’t fully listening to him anymore. I didn’t say anything, just knelt down and finished for him, pulling the waistband up and tying the strings.

 

“There,” I said softly. “Good as new.”

 

He didn’t look at me. Just murmured something like thanks, too low to catch properly.

 

I kissed the side of his head and stood. “Let’s go eat.”

 

“I’m fine,” he said, standing slower than usual. “You don’t have to-”

 

“You eat,” I cut him off. “Or I don’t.”

 

He blinked at me, caught off guard.

 

“I mean it.” I crossed my arms and tilted my head. “I’m not eating unless you eat with me. So if I waste all this food, it’s on your conscience.”

 

A slow sigh escaped him, and something almost like a smile flickered, barely, in the corner of his mouth.

 

“Blackmail,” he muttered.

 

“Loving blackmail,” I corrected. “Now come on.”

 

---

 

We made it to the common room. I settled him on the couch, tucked a blanket over his lap even though he didn't ask for it. His body slouched back immediately, exhausted but present. I turned to the little kitchen and got to work.

 

Soup. Something light, but warm and full of things I knew he liked, soft rice, slivers of carrot, miso broth with a tiny bit of ginger. I even sliced the tofu thin the way he preferred.

 

Every few minutes, I peeked over my shoulder.

 

He didn’t move much. Just sat there in the golden haze of the overhead lights, eyes flickering over the floor like he was watching shadows fight each other.

 

“You’re not allowed to zone out,” I called gently. “You said you’d eat.”

 

“I didn’t say anything,” he replied, dryly.

 

“But you’re here, which means you’re agreeing by proximity.”

 

He let out a breath, the smallest laugh buried in it. It warmed me more than the steam from the stove.

 

When it was done, I brought him a bowl and handed it over like it was something sacred. Then I curled beside him, tucking my legs under myself and setting my own bowl in my lap.

 

We ate in silence for a while. But it wasn’t the bad kind, not this time. Just soft. Necessary. Like sitting in the eye of a storm and knowing it’ll pass eventually… just not tonight.

 

He was halfway through his bowl before I said it.

 

“I’m really proud of you, y’know.”

 

He didn’t say anything. But his spoon paused in the broth.

 

I reached over and touched his knee. “I see how much you’re carrying.”

 

Suguru didn’t look at me.

 

But he kept eating.

 

---

 

Eventually, I brought him to bed. He looked exhausted. We tucked into bed together, him behind me, arm tight around my waist. He kissed my head and quickly passed out.

 

In the middle of the night, I felt it. 

 

Satoru’s cursed energy.

 

I shifted slowly out from under Suguru’s arm, careful not to wake him. His fingers twitched when I moved, but he didn’t stir, just sank deeper into the pillow, his breath warm against it. The hallway was quiet, the kind of quiet that came with late hours and too many thoughts left unsaid.

 

That’s when I felt it get closer.

 

That unmistakable hum in the air, like the world holding its breath. Satoru’s cursed energy brushed against mine before I even saw him, like it always did.

 

I opened the door a crack and there he was, halfway through unlocking his door across the hall, dressed in his uniform but missing the blindfold. His white hair was pristine as always. He didn’t turn the knob. He looked at me instead.

 

We just stood there. Staring.

 

His eyes scanned me like they always used to, but slower now, heavier. He looked tired, but not in the way Suguru looked tired. This was different. Like whatever was burning him wasn’t from the outside in, but the inside out.

 

He gave a little smirk, too late to be playful. “You’ve been in his room a lot lately.”

 

I stepped into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind me, as quiet as I could. “I’d be in yours too,” I said. “If you were ever here.”

 

That landed. I saw it in the way his smirk dropped just slightly. In how his jaw clenched before he tried to brush it off like it didn’t matter.

 

“I’m here now,” he said.

 

I shrugged. “Not really.”

 

He didn’t respond. Didn’t joke. Didn’t deflect. Just stood there and looked at me, all six-foot-whatever of him wrapped in silence.

 

“I made soup,” I said, softer now. “If you want some.”

 

He blinked slowly, then nodded once. “Yeah. I’ll have some with you.”

 

We go to the common room together, footsteps muffled by the quiet. The lights were low, just the glow above the stove and the soft flicker from the hallway casting long shadows across the room. I went straight to the fridge and pulled the soup out of the container I’d tucked away for later, pouring it into a small pot to reheat.

 

Satoru hovered behind me like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be close. Not like before. Not like when we used to fall into each other without thinking.

 

I reached for the spices I knew he liked, white pepper, soy, a little garlic, and stirred them in without looking back.

 

“Can I…” His voice was softer than usual. “Can I hold you while you cook?”

 

I didn’t answer right away. I felt him waiting behind me, patient for once, not pushing. 

 

Eventually, I gave the tiniest nod.

 

That was all he needed.

 

His arms wrapped around me from behind, slow, careful. Like I’d break if he touched me too hard. He buried his face in my shoulder, lips brushing against the skin of my neck. Then a kiss. And another. And another, trailing lower toward the dip of my shoulder.

 

I exhaled through my nose, stirring the soup without reacting. “Kisses aren’t going to make me less upset with you,” I said flatly.

 

He stilled, his breath catching for just a second. Then he rested his forehead against my shoulder, arms tightening slightly. “I know,” he said. “But they’re all I’ve got right now.”

 

I stirred the soup a little more forcefully. “No, they’re not. You’ve got words, too. You just don’t use them.”

 

Gojo didn’t let go of me. If anything, he held tighter.

 

But his voice was steady when he spoke next, quieter than before. “I know it looks like I’m heartless. Like I didn’t care. About Riko. About Yu. But that’s not it.”

 

I didn’t say anything, I just let him keep going.

 

“I did grieve,” he said. “I do grieve. But it’s not like you or Suguru. I don’t have time to drown in it. If I do… someone else dies. That’s the equation. That’s all it ever is. Riko died. And I had to accept that I can't save everyone.”

 

His voice was still calm, but his words had a sharpness under them. Not anger. Just truth.

 

“When I felt Riko’s body cold under my hand, I knew I couldn’t undo it. Couldn’t go back. Couldn’t fix it. And if I let that break me, I wouldn’t be able to stop the next one. So I just… kept moving. That’s how I survive.”

 

He finally pulled back to look at me. “Yu too. You think I didn’t want to stop everything and fall apart when I heard he was gone? I did. I still do. But if I sit down and feel all of it, I won’t get back up. And there’s still so much left to fight for.”

 

I stared at him, searching his face, and for the first time in a long while, I didn’t see the playful mask. I didn’t even see the grief. I saw what was underneath all of it, resolve. Cold, forged-in-blood resolve. The kind of strength that had come at the cost of his softness.

 

“But you still needed me,” he said. “And I should’ve shown up anyway.”

 

I swallowed. “I needed you to show me it wasn’t all breaking.”

 

His hand came up, brushing hair from my face. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to make you carry that alone.”

 

I closed my eyes. “Suguru and I are still stuck in it. Riko, Yu… it mattered. It hurts. But sometimes it feels like you’ve already stepped over it.”

 

He didn’t deny it.

 

“I had to,” he said instead.

 

We sat in the quiet for a moment. The soup sat forgotten between us.

 

Then I whispered, “I’m not mad that you kept going. I just wish you would’ve checked on us once in a while..”

 

He exhaled, like that cut deep.

 

“Okay,” he said. “Then let’s walk together now. All three of us. You, me, Suguru. Let’s stop pretending this distance is normal. Let’s make a night for us. Not as sorcerers. Just as us.”

 

I nodded slowly.

 

“Yeah,” I said. “Just us.”

 

Gojo didn’t give me a warning, he just bent and scooped me up like I weighed nothing, cradling me against his chest as I let out a soft, surprised breath.

 

“Satoru-” I started, but he didn’t give me the chance to finish.

 

He held me tighter, one arm under my thighs, the other across my back, pressing me against him like I was the only thing tethering him to the ground. Then his lips found my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, the corner of my mouth, kisses that were fast and greedy, like he’d been starving without realizing it.

 

I felt my hands grip the front of his shirt instinctively.

 

“I missed you so much it made me stupid,” he mumbled between kisses, brushing his mouth against my jaw. “I thought if I kept moving, I wouldn’t feel it. But then I’d smell something that reminded me of you, or see some idiot in a leather jacket and think, ‘God, she’d insult the hell out of that guy,’ and suddenly I’d be aching for you.”

 

“Satoru…” I whispered, my voice already catching.

 

He slowed then, less frantic, more reverent. He kissed my temple gently. Then lower, near my ear.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said again, quieter this time. “I won’t shut you out like that again. Not you. Not ever.”

 

I leaned my forehead against his. He smelled like the night, cold wind, a hint of rain, and the familiar static of his cursed energy. My throat burned.

 

“Just… stay,” I said, voice small. “Tonight. Be here.”

 

“I’m here,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

And I believed him. For now, at least, I believed him.

 

He kissed me once more, slow and soft, before resting his chin on my shoulder. Neither of us moved for a while. The soup on the stove had long gone cold again. But I didn’t care.

 

For the first time in weeks, I didn’t feel like I was reaching out in the dark.

 

I felt held.

 

Even if it would only last tonight...

Chapter 79: Broken Promises

The sun was high and slow today, warm and lazy over the grass. It made the pavement outside the school sticky with heat, but I didn’t care. Not when I had them, all of them, together for the first time in what felt like forever.

 

Shoko leaned back on the bench beside me, one leg propped up like she couldn’t be bothered to sit normally, cigarette tucked behind her ear for once instead of between her lips. Gojo was in front of us, animated, hands carving through the air as he demonstrated some tiny trick he’d refined with his technique. Something about distorting light at a pinpoint distance, micro-refractions, or whatever. I didn’t really get it, but I didn’t care.

 

I laughed at everything he said. Maybe too much. Maybe I was trying too hard.

 

But he was here. And Suguru was too, standing further back, leaning against the school wall in full uniform like it wasn’t ninety degrees. His hair stuck to the back of his neck, and the shadows under his eyes looked worse than ever.

 

Still, he was watching Gojo. That was something. That meant he was still with us, right?

 

I sat cross-legged on the grass, arms resting on my knees, soaking in the moment like it could last. Like it wasn’t going to slip out of my hands again as soon as someone’s phone buzzed or another mission order came through.

 

“I forgot how smug he gets when he’s showing off,” Shoko murmured beside me, elbow bumping mine.

 

“Yeah, but he looks good doing it,” I said, grinning. “Let him have it.”

 

Shoko gave me a sideways glance. “You’re really trying to squeeze this dry, huh?”

 

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.

 

Because I was.

 

---

They both kept promising.

 

“Just after this mission, I swear.”

 

“I’ll make it up to you, dinner, all of us, next week. Promise.”

 

“We just need to get through this month.”

 

But next week came and went. Dinner turned into takeout boxes left outside my door. And the longer the month dragged on, the less they were even around to say sorry.

 

When we were together, it wasn’t like before. Suguru barely spoke, his shoulders always tense, his voice tighter than it used to be. Gojo still smiled, still cracked jokes, but his eyes didn’t crinkle the same. Like he was already halfway gone before he showed up.

 

And me? I was tired of pretending not to notice.

 

---

 

“You gonna die of heatstroke in that?” I called to Suguru, shading my eyes as I looked up at him. “Seriously, you look like a vampire.”

 

He didn’t look down at me. “I’m fine.”

 

“Wouldn’t kill you to wear something lighter,” I added, forcing a small smile.

 

“Wouldn’t change anything,” he replied flatly.

 

I felt that one all the way in my chest.

 

When Gojo finished his demonstration, he gave a little bow, overly dramatic as always, arms wide.

 

“Thank you, thank you, I’ll be here all week, unless I get sent to Kyoto again, in which case, Sugu, you’ll have to cover my fan mail.”

 

"I'll make it Yaga’s problem," Suguru said with little inflection.

 

Gojo turned toward me, smiling like he hadn’t noticed. “What’d you think, sweetheart? Cool, right?”

 

“Yeah,” I said quietly, standing to brush off my pants. “I think you’re brilliant.”

 

The smile he gave me faltered a little, just for a second. Then it was back. Bright and paper-thin.

 

“Don’t go getting soft on me,” he teased.

 

But I didn’t laugh. I just looked at him.

 

“When?” I asked.

 

He blinked. “When what?”

 

“When are we all gonna hang out again? Just… us. Not in passing. Not between missions. Just us.”

 

Gojo’s smile dimmed. “Soon. I swear.”

 

Suguru didn’t even acknowledge the question.

 

I don’t know which part hurt more, the promise Gojo made so easily again, or the way Suguru didn’t bother lying anymore.

 

The sun was still warm, the sky still blue. But I felt cold. Left standing between two people I loved more than anything, who were both slipping through my fingers in different directions.

 

"Hey, Suguru, have you lost some weight? You doing okay?" Gojo asked gently.

 

"I'm just tired from the heat and training. I'll be fine."

 

"Okay, if you say so," Gojo said as he reached into his pocket.

 

Gojo got another call, he checked his phone, cursed softly, and waved goodbye. Said he’d be back later.

 

Suguru followed not long after, muttering something about paperwork, not even looking back.

 

And me?

 

I stayed on the grass until the sun began to fall. Until the shadows stretched long enough to swallow the place where we’d been happy for half a second.

 

I was the only one who hadn’t broken a promise yet.

 

But I didn’t know how many more I could wait through..

 

The grass had cooled beneath me, the heat of the day slowly bleeding out into the evening air. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until a soft thump of shoes on dirt pulled me out of it.

 

Shoko dropped down next to me with a grunt, legs stretched long in front of her, hands braced behind her. She didn’t say anything at first. Just lit her cigarette with one of those fancy silver lighters she liked and took a slow drag, letting the smoke curl lazily toward the dying sun.

 

“You’re gonna give yourself a complex sitting out here like some tragic girlfriend in a shōjo manga,” she finally muttered, exhaling smoke through her nose.

 

I huffed a small laugh, but it didn’t reach my chest. “What if I already have one?”

 

She flicked ash off to the side, eyes scanning the horizon. “Then maybe it’s earned.”

 

After a moment, she leaned over slightly, bumping her shoulder into mine. “You’re not stupid, Amara. You see what’s happening. You’ve been seeing it.”

 

“Yeah,” I said. My voice felt small. “I just… I keep thinking that if I wait long enough, maybe they’ll come back. Like really come back.”

 

“People don’t come back the way you remember them,” she said simply. “Especially not in this line of work. Not when they’re forced to keep choosing between who they are and what they’re told to be.”

 

I swallowed hard. “I miss them.”

 

Shoko looked at me finally, her gaze softer than usual. “I know.”

 

I blinked down at my hands in my lap. “Do you think… I’m the reason they’re drifting?”

 

Shoko scoffed. “Don’t do that. Don’t pull that martyr shit. If anything, you’ve been the only reason either of them still pretends they’re human. That they’re trying to hold on.”

 

“But they keep leaving,” I whispered. “They keep choosing to leave.”

 

“They’re drowning,” she said bluntly. “In different ways. And they’re trying to stay afloat the only way they know how. But they’re forgetting you don’t survive by pushing away the people who know how to swim.”

 

I went quiet again.

 

Shoko took another drag. “You’ve done more for them than most would. Hell, more than I would. But if you don’t start choosing yourself once in a while, you’ll sink too.”

 

I looked at her. “So what do I do?”

 

She shrugged. “Start small. Eat dinner. Sleep in your own bed. Let them chase you for once.”

 

I stared at the grass. The wind tugged gently at it, soft ripples moving like waves. My voice felt like it cracked against the weight in my chest when I spoke again.

 

“What if they don’t?” I asked. “What if I wait, and they never do?”

 

Shoko didn’t answer right away. She pulled her cigarette from her mouth and studied the ember at the tip like it could tell her something she didn’t want to say out loud. When she did speak, her voice was quiet, low enough that I almost didn’t hear it.

 

“Then they’re not the ones who should’ve had you in the first place.”

 

It cut deep. So clean, so simple.

 

I looked at her then, searching her face for any trace of cruelty. There was none. Just honesty. Soft, tired honesty. The kind you only get from someone who’s seen too much, lost too many, and stopped sugarcoating anything years ago.

 

“I know you love them,” she said, flicking the ash off to the side. “And I know they love you. But love doesn’t mean shit if they keep choosing something else over you.”

 

My throat tightened. “It’s not that simple.”

 

“I didn’t say it was. But it is true.”

 

We sat there in silence, the kind that hurts more the longer it stretches.

 

Shoko eventually sighed and leaned back again. “You’re not built to be someone’s afterthought, Amara. And if they’re too wrapped up in their own shit to remember that, then maybe you need to stop reminding them.”

 

My chest ached. I wanted to argue, defend them. Defend him. Both of them. But I knew in theory she was right...

 

Shoko gave me a sidelong glance, her tone softening just a little. “You don’t have to give up on them. Just stop setting yourself on fire to keep them warm.”

 

I exhaled, shaky. “I don’t know how to do that.”

 

“You learn,” she said. “Or you burn.”

 

Then she stood, brushed off her pants, and started back toward the dorms.

 

I didn’t follow right away.

 

I stayed sitting in the grass, the sun fully gone now. The warm glow that had lit their faces earlier was gone, and the cold creeping in felt too familiar.

 

---

 

I told no one where I was going. I just… needed to breathe.

 

The house was smaller than I remembered. Or maybe I had just grown too much since the last time I stood at its edge, bones still too soft to hold everything I carried. The door creaked like it always did, hinges rusted and protesting, but I slipped inside anyway, boots quiet against the floorboards I used to crawl across like they were lava.

 

No messages. No hidden gifts. No new markings on the wall.

 

But it wasn’t empty.

 

At first, I thought it was a squatter. Some stray cursed user or drunk idiot taking up space in the corpse of my past. But then I saw the eyes, sharp, red like dried blood. Not glowing. Not cursed. Just... alive and wrong all at once.

 

He stood in my old room, the one with the cracked window and water-damaged closet I used to hide in when Hana got mean. He was just staring at something on the wall, an old bear sticker maybe. One that had somehow survived.

 

Then he turned, and we both just stopped.

 

He didn’t move like someone caught. He moved like someone calculating. Quiet. Controlled. Careful.

 

But behind all of that, I still saw the surprise.

 

He didn’t hide it fast enough either. That flash of something behind his eyes, recognition, maybe. Or disbelief. Not fear. Definitely not fear. I got the sense he didn’t feel that anymore, not in any real way.

 

And me? I didn’t even know what I was feeling.

 

We both just stood there. Like statues carved from bad dreams and bloodlines.

 

“…You’re real,” I muttered.

 

It was a stupid thing to say, but it was all I had. I’d seen the file, read the testimonies, heard the warnings. Riku Hoshizuki. Special grade. Regenerator. Murderer. Coward. I didn’t even have a face to match the name, just scattered words and a string of horrors that led straight to my veins.

 

And now here he was. Standing in my childhood room. Like some cruel joke fate decided to run a rerun of.

 

He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at me like I was some relic he never expected to see again.

 

“You’re not dead,” he finally said. Flat. Certain.

 

“Sorry to disappoint.”

 

That got the faintest twitch out of him. Not a smile. Just… something alive behind his face.

 

“I didn’t think you’d ever come back here,” he said.

 

“I could say the same.”

 

Another silence.

 

The house seemed smaller now with both of us in it. Like the air didn’t know which one of us to wrap itself around.

 

“I didn’t think I’d see you until-” he stopped.

 

“Until what?” I asked.

 

He looked at me with those hollow red eyes and didn’t blink. “Until it was too late.”

 

His eyes flickered, just once. A twitch that cut sideways toward my forehead.

 

I saw the shift.

 

He noticed the scar.

 

It was barely visible now, just a faint raised crescent hidden in my skin. But it hadn’t always been like that. Shoko did her best with it, and I kept it covered most days. But today I hadn’t bothered.

 

His eyes lingered. Longer than they should’ve.

 

Then the faintest crease touched the skin between his brows.

 

He didn’t ask. He didn’t have to.

 

“It was a bullet,” I said anyway. “Mission went sideways. He got a clean shot.”

 

Still, no words. Just a slow inhale that didn’t quite make it to his chest.

 

“I healed it up,” I added. “I didn’t die from it, clearly.”

 

Something in him twisted. I saw it, some internal recoil. Not quite grief. Not anger either. More like… disgust. Not at me. At the idea. At the truth that someone else got that close. That someone tried to kill me. That they almost succeeded.

 

Maybe it reminded him of something.

 

“You let them send you into a situation where someone shot you in the head,” he said finally, voice low. Not a question. A quiet judgment.

 

“I didn’t let anything happen,” I snapped. “It’s my job. I’m a sorcerer.”

 

“You’re a weapon.”

 

My mouth opened. Then closed. My skin felt too tight all of a sudden.

 

“You think they care if you survive?” he asked, voice cutting now, brittle like cold glass. “You think they’ll weep over your body if your regeneration fails next time?”

 

“Don’t act like you care-”

 

“I don’t,” he said quickly. Too quickly. “But I know the pattern. I know what they do to people like us. They’ll push until your mind breaks. Until your body isn’t yours anymore.”

 

I didn’t realize I was breathing harder until my chest ached.

 

“I’m not like you,” I told him again, almost spitting the words this time.

 

“You are,” he said. “You just don’t know which part yet.”

 

He took a step closer.

 

I didn’t move.

 

“You think it’ll stop at one mission gone wrong?” he continued. “They’ll keep testing you. Keep cutting you open, metaphorically or otherwise. You think that scar’s the last one you’ll get if you keep being useful to them?”

 

“Why are you really here?” I asked again, voice sharp and shaking. “Just to freak me out? Remind me I’m a ticking time bomb? What- are you waiting for the moment I go nuts so you can be the one to clean it up?”

 

“I came to confirm,” he said. “Your eyes. Your skin. Your scars. Your cursed energy signature. I needed to see what stage you were at.”

 

“What stage?”

 

He gave me a flat look. “How close you are to me.”

 

“You mean to madness?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

I hated how cold he sounded.

 

And I hated that deep down, some part of me wasn’t sure he was wrong.

 

I stood taller, clenching my jaw. “Well? What’s the verdict? Am I a monster yet? Should you kill me now, or do I get a grace period?”

 

He didn’t answer right away.

 

He just looked at me. And for once, it wasn’t hollow.

 

It was tired.

 

Bone-deep, soul-rotting kind of tired. Like the kind that makes your joints heavy and your memory soft at the edges. The kind that comes from holding too much for too long.

 

Then his eyes dropped to my forehead again. That scar.

 

“You ever take a shot to the head again,” he said, “you might not come back the same.”

 

I narrowed my eyes. “I healed it.”

 

“That’s not what I mean.”

 

He took a step closer, his voice low but steady.

 

“Every time you force cursed energy through your brain to regenerate it, you burn something else out. Not just the injury. Memory. Reasoning. Inhibition. Emotional tethering. All of it starts to blur. You don’t feel it at first but it adds up.”

 

I swallowed, suddenly too aware of the warmth pulsing behind my scar.

 

He tilted his head. “You think I was born like this? All red eyes and rotted empathy? I lost pieces of myself. Every time I had to come back from the edge, something else stayed behind.”

 

A pause.

 

“I don’t remember my sister’s name.”

 

I blinked.

 

He went on.

 

“Or what my mother’s voice sounded like. Or what food I liked as a kid. I know facts, vaguely. But the texture’s gone. My memory’s a sieve, and I’ve stopped trying to patch it.”

 

My throat tightened.

 

He kept speaking, quieter now.

 

“Some days I wake up, and the first hour of my life feels like it belongs to someone else. I have to read the note I left beside the bed just to remember what I’m doing. Who I am. Why I haven’t ended it yet.”

 

I didn’t know what to say.

 

Then he looked at me again, and something inside him steeled. Like this was the part that mattered most.

 

“I’m not following you to hurt you. Or protect you. Or test you.”

 

His voice dropped to almost a whisper.

 

“I’m following you because I’m running out of time.”

 

I stared.

 

“I’m going to lose everything,” he said. “What’s left of my mind. My memory. My will. And when that happens, I don’t want anyone to get to me first. I don’t want to be used, controlled. I don’t want to be turned into something worse than what I already am.”

 

My hands were shaking. I didn’t even notice until I curled them into fists.

 

He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, until we were nearly shoulder to shoulder.

 

“I want it to be you.”

 

I shook my head once. “No.”

 

“You have to.”

 

“I won’t-”

 

“You have to.” His voice didn’t rise, but it pressed down like a weight.

 

He looked down at me. “When the time comes, and it will, I need you to be stronger than me. I need you to be clear enough, sane enough, whole enough… to see what I’ve become.”

 

He took one step back, his face unreadable again.

 

“Because no one else will.”

 

I stared at him like he’d just told me the sky was fake. Like the world I’d been trying so hard to make sense of had just shifted again, and this time there was no floor underneath me.

 

My voice cracked before I could stop it. “I didn’t come here for this.”

 

He didn’t move.

 

“I didn’t come here to be handed some cursed mission. Some awful request you’ve clearly been sitting on like it’s reasonable.” My chest started heaving, and I wasn’t sure if it was from anger or heartbreak. “I came here because… I thought maybe, maybe you’d say something real. Something human. Maybe a sick, twisted part of me thought you’d apologize for leaving me. For letting her hurt me. For never being there.”

 

His face stayed blank, and that made it worse.

 

“I didn’t want answers. I didn’t want some war prophecy or your death plan.” My hands clenched at my sides, nails biting skin. “I wanted a father.”

 

I laughed bitterly, swallowing a sob before it could claw out. “I wanted someone who would tell me it’s okay to be tired. That I’m doing okay. That they’re proud of me. Not this. Not-”

 

I cover my face as tears stream down. “Not another goddamn job.”

 

He looked like he wanted to say something, but I kept going, voice rising. “You were supposed to be the one person left who could give a shit about me in a way that wasn’t about being useful. And now you’re standing here asking me to kill you.”

 

His jaw tightened. I saw it. The faint twitch. The shadow of something that might’ve been guilt if he’d had more of himself left.

 

“You are the only family I have,” I said, voice sharp now, almost shaking. “Do you get that? You’re it. I don’t even know what love from a parent is supposed to feel like. I don’t even have memories of you, and now you want me to be the one who ends it all.”

 

Still, he didn’t interrupt. But something in him softened, barely.

 

Then he spoke, slow and rough. “The only memories I still have, clearly, without that fog, are of you.”

 

I froze.

 

His gaze lowered, like he couldn’t bear to meet my eyes. “Holding you… just once, right after you were born. Your skin smelled like laundry and powdered milk. You were tiny. Loud.” He almost smiled, but it didn’t make it to his eyes. “You looked at me like I was the whole world. And I was afraid of you. Didn't know I could still feel that.”

 

My breath hitched, just for a second.

 

“I remember that moment, Amara. I remember it exactly. I don’t know why that one stuck. Maybe because I was so sure it’d be the last time I saw you. Or maybe because it was the only time I felt like I hadn’t ruined everything.”

 

He stepped closer, his voice turning raw.

 

“I don’t want to lose that memory. I don’t want to lose you. And that’s why it has to be you.”

 

I shook my head, but he held steady.

 

“Because I know you won’t use me. You won’t let them turn me into a weapon. You’ll burn my body, burn what’s left, and let it die with me. You’ll let me rest. No experiments. No resurrection. No war trophy.”

 

My throat tightened so hard it felt like a wire had snapped inside it.

 

“I don’t trust anyone else,” he said, firm now. “But I trust you. Even if you do it out of hate.”

 

And that was worse than any curse. Worse than any mission. Because it meant that despite everything, some fractured, fucked-up part of me still wanted to be what he saw.

 

Still wanted to be worthy of that trust. Still wanted that memory of powdered milk and safety to be real.

 

But I couldn’t say yes. I didn’t even know if I’d ever be able to say yes.

 

So I just stood there. Frozen. Scared. Furious. Hurting.

 

And I whispered, “I hate you.”

 

His eyes didn’t flicker. “I know.”

 

I wiped my face. I turned around and walked away. Slowly. One step at a time, like my feet had turned to lead. The hallway felt smaller now, like the air itself was holding its breath.

 

I found my way through the house by memory. Past the peeling paint, past the door I used to sleep behind. Everything was smaller than I remembered. Everything had that ghosted feeling of a place that used to mean something and now didn’t know what to do with itself.

 

The back door stuck when I opened it. I had to shove my shoulder into it like always. The screen banged once behind me.

 

And then I was outside.

 

The porch creaked under me as I sat, arms wrapped tight around my knees. The air smelled like rain that never came. Dust and memory. I used to sit out here when I wanted to disappear. Funny how some things don’t change.

 

A few minutes passed before I heard the slow, steady weight of him walking out behind me. He didn’t say anything. Just sat down next to me, heavy like he carried the whole world on his shoulders. Maybe he did.

 

We stared out at the yard. Overgrown. Cracked sidewalk like spiderwebs. The fence half-rotted where I used to press my fingers through the slats. I waited. Let the silence grow heavy and stretch. He didn’t fill it. He just sat.

 

“…Can you pretend?” I asked softly, barely above the wind.

 

He turned his head a little.

 

I swallowed. “To be a dad. Just for a few minutes.”

 

The silence held its breath.

 

Then he said, low and quiet, “I can try. But I promise nothing.”

 

That was enough. Or maybe it wasn’t. But it was all he had to give, and I took it.

 

I picked at a loose thread on my sleeve. “I don’t know who to talk to anymore. Not really. Everyone keeps telling me to rely on the people around me, but they’re never around.”

 

He didn’t interrupt.

 

“I’ve been doing these solo missions,” I went on. “Easy stuff. Clean, cold. But I come back and the boys are always gone. Or half there.” I looked down at my knees, voice dropping. “Suguru… he’s not okay. And I don’t think he wants to be.”

 

That finally made him shift. Just a small motion in my periphery.

 

I kept going. “He’s getting darker. He doesn’t talk like he used to. And I don’t mean quiet, I mean heavy. Like there’s something under the surface that’s swallowing him. I think he’s starting to believe in the worst parts of himself. I think he’s… slipping somewhere I can't follow...”

 

Riku said nothing. But I felt his focus sharpen.

 

“And Satoru,” I said, exhaling hard. “He’s on a whole other plane. He’s got this… mission, this higher sense of purpose. He’s brilliant and bold and strong, and it’s like he’s stretching toward the sun and I’m just... waiting..”

 

I bit the inside of my cheek. “I’m tired of being the one who waits. I’m tired of fighting just to get scraps of closeness.”

 

Riku finally spoke. “And you think they don’t care?”

 

I shook my head. “I think they do. I think they love me. But I don’t think that’s always enough.”

 

The words felt sour.

 

He looked out again. “Love doesn’t cure damage. Doesn’t fix the cracks.”

 

“That’s the thing,” I murmured. “I’m not trying to be fixed. I just want to be chosen.”

 

A long silence.

 

“I remember sitting out here,” Riku said, voice like gravel. “Before I left. Before I decided you were better off without me. I thought… if I stayed, I’d make you into something like me. Hollow. Dangerous.”

 

He glanced sideways. “Looks like the world managed that without my help.”

 

I didn’t reply.

 

He shifted, the wood groaning under him. “If they love you, but can’t be there… then you have to ask what version of love you can survive on. What kind of silence you can carry. Because one day, you’ll run out of reasons to wait.”

 

It hit harder than I wanted it to.

 

“I don’t want to run out,” I said, so quietly I almost didn’t hear it myself.

 

He was quiet for a second longer. Then he shifted, elbows resting on his knees as he stared ahead.

 

“I can beat them up for you.”

 

I blinked, then snorted before I could stop myself. “Seriously?”

 

He shrugged one shoulder, deadpan. “That’s what fathers do, right? Scare the boys when they mess up.”

 

That caught me off guard, more than anything else he’d said so far.

 

“That’s the most dad thing you’ve said all night,” I said, half-laughing. “Took you long enough.”

 

He made a small, dry sound. Could’ve been a chuckle. Could’ve been a cough. Hard to tell with him.

 

“Do you want me to?” he asked after a pause.

 

I glanced at him sideways. “Beat up the two strongest sorcerers alive?”

 

He didn’t flinch. “I’ve done dumber things.”

 

That made me laugh again, full this time, brief and soft. And maybe a little sad. The kind of laugh that comes when you’re not sure if it’s better than crying or not.

 

He let me have that moment.

 

Then he cleared his throat and turned his head, like he was trying to pick his words from a pile of sharp rocks. “But seriously,” he said slowly. “The Suh guru one-” he butchered the name. “-the quiet one. You said he’s getting darker. Do you think he’s in a dangerous place? Like... dangerous to himself? Or to other people?”

 

I paused.

 

That one was harder.

 

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “Sometimes it feels like he’s just tired. Like all the weight he’s been carrying is finally pushing him under. But other times... yeah. I see it. The way he talks about people. About the system. There’s a shift. Like he’s looking for a reason to believe in something worse.”

 

Riku nodded once, slow. “He’s the kind that breaks inward first. Implodes before he explodes.”

 

“That’s exactly what I’m scared of,” I whispered.

 

He didn’t look at me. Just stared out across the yard, eyes faintly glowing in the shadows. “Then don’t wait for the break. Don’t just sit and watch. If he’s worth your heart, he’s worth shaking by the shoulders.”

 

“And Satoru?” I asked, softer.

 

Riku was quiet for a while. “He’s already on the edge of godhood. The higher you climb, the fewer people you can hear.”

 

That hurt. Because it was true.

 

“I think he wants to be here,” I said. “With us. But I don’t think he knows how to come down anymore.”

 

“And you’re still trying to catch them both,” he said, matter-of-fact. “That’s a good way to get crushed in the middle.”

 

“Yeah,” I murmured, voice rough. “I know.”

 

We sat there a little longer. Quiet again. The porch creaked like it remembered both of us. Like it was holding the weight of everything we couldn’t say.

 

Eventually, I leaned just slightly against his shoulder.

 

He didn’t move. But he didn’t pull away either.

 

And I thought, for just a second, that maybe this was what it was like. To have a father. Not a perfect one. Not a kind one. Just someone who sat beside you in the dark, ready to fight the monsters if they ever came too close. Even if he was one of them.

 

I let the silence sit between us for a while, thick and ugly, like damp smoke that wouldn’t leave your clothes no matter how many times you washed them. My nails dug into the wood of the step beneath me. I wasn’t even looking at him anymore, but I felt Riku shift beside me, adjusting his weight like this conversation was physically pressing on his ribs too.

 

“So… what do I do then?” I finally asked, voice low, hoarse. “Shoko told me to back off. Let them come to me. If they don’t, then it’s not real.”

 

Riku snorted before I even finished. A sharp, dry sound with no humor in it.

 

“Yeah, well, your friend’s got a brain that works. But she’s not wrong for the wrong people.”

 

I turned toward him slightly. “What does that even mean?”

 

“It means…” He rubbed at his temple like this was starting to hurt to talk this much. “In a normal world, where feelings aren’t a battlefield and brains aren’t melting from cursed exposure, maybe that works. But boys, especially these boys, they’re not built like that. Especially not when they’re all emotional.”

 

He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, eyes still burning ahead like he was watching something I couldn’t see.

 

“If you pull away now? They’re not gonna come running, sweetheart. They’re gonna take it as proof. Proof that they’re too much. That they were right to stay away. That they’re already alone.”

 

The weight of it settled on my shoulders like fresh snow, deceptively soft until it crushed you.

 

“They’re not just stuck,” he continued. “They’re sinking. You think people that far under can reach out? No. They’ll just watch you walk away and convince themselves you’re better off. And that’s it. You lose ‘em.”

 

I swallowed, throat tight. “Then what… what do I do?”

 

He was quiet for a second. Then he shifted again and tapped a knuckle once against my knee.

 

“You pick one,” he said. “And you hold on.”

 

I blinked. “Pick one?”

 

He didn’t flinch. “You can’t split yourself in half for both of them forever. One’s starving. The other’s a god, he’ll survive. He thrives on crumbs. Throw him a bone and he’ll turn it into a feast.”

 

I winced a little, but he wasn’t wrong.

 

“The quiet one…” Riku's jaw twitched. “He’s dangerous. Not ‘cause he wants to be. But because he’s too far gone to tell the difference between the people hurting him and the people trying to help.”

 

I thought of Suguru. The way his eyes were starting to look past people. The way he didn’t flinch at death anymore.

 

“You don’t feed that kind of hollow,” Riku said, “and he’ll either turn it inward and disappear, or worse, turn it outward and make everyone else disappear with him.”

 

My chest ached. My fingers curled tightly against my thighs.

 

“I don’t know how to save him,” I whispered. “I don’t even know if he wants to be saved.”

 

Riku tilted his head toward me. “Doesn’t matter. You don’t wait for someone to want saving. You just don’t let them drown. If he pushes you away, you grab harder. If he says ‘go,’ you sit down and stay anyway.”

 

I looked at him, really looked at him, for once not just with hatred or confusion, but this tired kind of understanding.

 

“Sounds like love.”

 

He laughed once, bitterly. “It’s obsession. But in this world, the line’s thin. Might as well make it mean something.”

 

He glanced at me then, and for a fleeting second, there was something human behind the red in his eyes.

 

“You don’t have to fix him,” he added. “But if you’re the only one who still sees the boy under the weight… then don’t let that version of him vanish.”

 

I closed my eyes for a second. The sun had gone behind a cloud, casting everything in gray.

 

“And Gojo?”

 

Riku shrugged. “Give him compliments. He’ll make a throne out of it.”

 

That made me huff a half-laugh. “He’d probably like that.”

 

“Course he would. He’s already the strongest. All he needs is to believe you still want to see him.”

 

And just like that, I knew what I had to do. It wouldn’t be easy. None of this was.

 

I stood slowly and brushed my hands on my thighs.

 

“I should go.”

 

Riku didn’t stand. Just nodded once. “Yeah. You should.”

 

I lingered, just for a breath.

 

Not because I was hoping for some miracle redemption. But because walking away felt too final, too much like sealing a door I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to open it again.

 

“We’ll see each other again.”

 

He didn’t move, but his eyes cut toward me at an angle, like he was calculating the exact kind of pain that sentence carried. Like he could already see the outcome, and didn’t like what it looked like.

 

“When that happens,” he murmured, “it probably won’t be the happy kind.”

 

“I know,” I said. My throat burned, but I didn’t let it crack. “But at least… at least I can help you not hurt anymore I guess. At least it's an interesting story to tell at the end of the day..”

 

That finally made something shift in him, barely, just the faintest hitch in his shoulders. But it was real. Real in the way that mattered, even if nothing about this would ever feel okay.

 

He didn’t respond. Didn’t nod. Just went quiet again.

 

So I turned.

 

The broken porch creaked beneath my weight, the same way it used to when I was little, when I’d sit outside alone and watch cars crawl by in the dark. I stepped down onto the overgrown path, weeds tugging gently at my boots like they didn’t want to let go either.

 

The air smelled different here, older. Like blood and smoke and something that used to be warm. I didn’t look back, not even once. He didn’t call out to me.

 

But I felt him watch me disappear down the street

 

It was a long walk back to Jujutsu High.

 

The dirt path turned to stone and climbed steadily upward until I could see the tops of the school buildings cutting into the sky like clean knives.

 

My legs burned. I didn’t care.

 

I needed the ache.

 

The physical reminder that I still had something in me to burn through. That I could still keep walking.

 

By the time I crossed through the outer barrier and stepped onto campus, the sun had dipped just enough to cast everything in long shadows. The dorm windows glowed warm in the distance.

 

Home.

 

Or something close to it.

 

I exhaled, steady.

 

And then I kept moving.

Chapter 80: Exhaustion

Suguru came back just after dusk.

 

I heard the door before I saw him, how it shut just a little too softly, like he was trying not to wake someone who wasn’t asleep. I was on the stairwell just above the entrance hall, sitting with my sketchbook open and pencil still in my hand, even though I hadn’t drawn a single thing in hours.

 

He didn’t see me.

 

Not that it mattered.

 

He walked like he wasn’t fully inside his own body, head lowered, posture slack, one hand gripping the insides of his pockets like it grounded him. His uniform was soaked in cursed fluid and streaked with dried blood. It clung to him, heavy and dark, outlining every part of him that had grown too thin over the last few weeks.

 

The black beneath his eyes had gone past exhaustion. It looked bruised now. Sickly.

 

He didn’t notice the way his right hand shook.

But I did.

 

Later, I found him in the dorm showers. His personal shower broke weeks ago but he didn’t want anyone in his room so no one had come to fix it.

 

I didn’t go in. I just sat on the floor outside the door with a towel in my lap and a sealed bottle of water. The sound of the spray hitting tile echoed for a long time, far longer than anyone should need to be in there.

 

When he emerged, steam clinging to his shoulders, he looked… transparent.

 

Not literally. Not the way curses or techniques make someone fade.

 

I mean he looked like a reflection, someone you see in glass right before it cracks.

 

“You’re out late,” he murmured, not quite meeting my eyes.

 

“Was waiting for you,” I said, passing him the towel. “Thought you might be cold.”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

He always said that now.

 

---

 

They said he’d swallowed over sixty today.

 

One of the Kyoto students bragged about it behind the weapons shed, like it was something to envy.

 

“He didn’t even blink. Just stood there, let ‘em crawl into his mouth. Didn’t even flinch.”

 

Like he was a myth. A ghost story.

 

Not a person.

 

---

 

Suguru hadn’t eaten anything with substance in days.

 

He said it upset his stomach after missions. Said the curses left a film on his tongue he couldn’t scrub off. I offered to make soup. He didn’t respond. I left it outside his door anyway.

 

The bowl was still full when I checked the next morning.

 

---

 

“Your boyfriend looks like shit,” Shoko said bluntly one afternoon as we sat in the courtyard smoking. The summer sun was too bright. I didn’t answer.

 

“I mean that medically,” she added, flicking her lighter. “You know he’s not supposed to be taking in that many at once. It’s not even about the energy anymore, it’s what it’s doing to his body. His brain.”

 

I nodded. “I know.”

 

“He’s not sleeping.”

 

“I know.”

 

Shoko took another drag from her cigarette, slow and deliberate, and gave a tired shrug like the weight of the conversation didn’t quite belong to her.

 

“Well,” she exhaled, smoke curling like a sigh. “He’s a big boy. He’ll figure it out or he won’t.”

 

I blinked. “What?”

 

She didn’t look at me. Just tapped her lighter against the bench absently. “I mean, come on, Amara. We’ve all got shit. Missions, reports, expectations. He’s not the only one drowning. If he wants to spiral, fine. But dragging you down with him? That’s his choice. Not your problem.”

 

I stared at her.

 

“That’s not fair,” I said, voice too quiet. My hands clenched in my lap. “You don’t mean that.”

 

“I do,” she replied flatly, finally looking at me. Her expression was neutral, maybe a little tired. “You’re not his babysitter. You’re barely holding yourself together half the time and now you’re trying to patch him up too? That’s not love. That’s codependency.”

 

A sharp breath caught in my throat.

 

“You think I don’t know that?” I said, my voice sharper than I meant it to be. “You think I haven’t been running the math in my head every night trying to figure out how to keep him breathing without losing me in the process?”

 

Shoko raised a brow, slowly. “Then maybe let him crash. Maybe he needs to hit bottom to come back up.”

 

I stood.

 

I’d never raised my voice at her before. Never needed to.

 

“Maybe he won’t come back up,” I snapped. “Did that ever cross your mind? Maybe the bottom is a gun in his mouth. Or a curse in his veins too strong for him to hold.”

 

Her expression barely flickered. “Then that’s on him.”

 

“No, it’s not,” I bit out. “Not when I’m the only one who still looks him in the eyes like he’s human. Not when everyone else keeps walking past him like he’s already dead.”

 

There was silence. Only the rustle of leaves and the low buzz of cicadas in the hedges.

 

Shoko tapped ash off her cigarette. Her face was unreadable now. She’d pulled that wall up, the one she used around the morgue when emotions weren’t useful.

 

“You’re angry.”

 

“No shit.”

 

She nodded once, like she respected that. “Don’t drown trying to save a man who doesn’t want to be pulled from the water.”

 

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. My hands were shaking.

 

Shoko stood and walked away without another word.

 

I sat back down and stared at the dirt. My throat felt thick. My chest felt like something had cracked.

 

Because I loved her. Because I knew she was hurting too. Everyone was hurting.

 

But if no one else was going to try for Suguru..

 

Then I would.

 

Even if it broke me.

 

---

 

I felt it the second his cursed energy entered the building, low, volatile, too quiet. Like a thunderstorm holding its breath.

 

Suguru was back.

 

I didn’t even bother with shoes. Just shoved my door open and followed the weight of his energy down the hall. It was thicker now, darker than it used to be. Not loud like Gojo’s, never that. Suguru’s cursed energy had always felt like silk over a blade. But now, it was rusted iron under ice. Heavy. Cold. Rotten at the edges.

 

He was in the dorm bathroom, door cracked open like he hadn’t even thought to close it.

 

I stepped inside.

 

He was hunched over the sink, his back rising and falling with deep, strained breaths. His shirt was balled up on the floor, soaked through with curse fluid, black, tacky, and stinking of acid and bile. His bun had come undone, hair plastered to his neck, and his hands gripped the porcelain so tightly I thought it might shatter.

 

“Suguru,” I said softly.

 

His shoulders twitched.

 

“Don’t,” he muttered. “Not right now.”

 

“I felt you come in.”

 

“You should be in bed.”

 

“You’re hurt.”

 

“I’m fine,” he snapped, a little sharper than before, but it wasn’t anger. It was fear. Worn-thin fear disguised as control.

 

I walked to his side anyway, standing just behind him. “Please let me see.”

 

He let go of the sink. I thought he might move away. Instead, he looked up into the mirror.

 

And in the dim light, I saw what he meant.

 

His eyes were ringed in bruised purple, the whites tinged red like he'd burst every capillary in his face. His lips were cracked, the corners of his mouth smeared with dried black blood from a curse rupture. He had a split on his temple and burn marks up his arms, some fresh, some healing.

 

But what scared me wasn’t the blood or the bruises.

 

It was how blank he looked.

 

Suguru used to be warmth under pressure. Fire forged into control. Always steady. Always sure.

 

Now, his reflection was a stranger.

 

“Did you swallow curses again today?” I asked gently.

 

He laughed without smiling. “Less than sixty like other people were saying. Still a lot. They were small though. It was fast.”

 

"Are you okay..?"

 

"Sure.."

 

“That’s not an answer.” I furrowed my brows a little.

 

“It’s the only one you’re gonna get.”

 

“Suguru-”

 

He flinched when I reached for the side of his ribs, where his shirt was torn and something deep purple was starting to bloom.

 

“Let me heal it,” I said softly.

 

“No.”

 

“Suguru-”

 

“I said no.” His voice didn’t rise. It dropped, low and cracked, like something brittle giving way.

 

I kept my hand hovering just short of him. “You used to love the feeling.. That it felt like I was kissing every nerve in your body..”

 

He looked at me then. Really looked. His eyes were hollow and quiet, but something underneath flickered, shame, maybe. Or guilt. It twisted his mouth into a crooked, humorless smile.

 

“Yeah,” he muttered. “But I don’t deserve it right now...”

 

I didn’t say anything. I just stared at him, heart pounding. 

 

Then I moved to the door and I locked it for protection. We both needed a place where no one else could walk in. Where I could take care of him without questions or eyes or expectations.

 

The showers didn’t have doors, just rows of nozzles, dividers, and bare tile. The kind of utilitarian design that made the air always smell like mildew, like bleach over something worse.

 

Still, I stripped down without comment and turned the water on.

 

I stepped into the stream and let the heat burn into my muscles, washing away the day, the waiting, the ache.

 

“Suguru,” I called softly, tilting my face back under the spray. “It’s warm now.”

 

Silence.

 

Then the rustle of fabric. The shuffle of boots. A pause.

 

“This is completely against campus rules,” he said finally, voice dry and scratchy.

 

I smiled faintly. “We’ve already broken half of those. What’s one more?”

 

Another pause.

 

Then I heard his footsteps.

 

He stepped in slowly, bare, his skin marbled with bruises, bite-like curse wounds, and small cuts along his hips and shoulders. I noticed the X-shaped scar that went over most of his body, where Toji had gotten him. His eyes didn’t meet mine. He kept them down, like he was afraid if he looked up, he’d unravel.

 

He walked under the water and just stood there for a second, arms hanging limp, jaw clenched so tightly I could see the muscles twitch.

 

I didn’t move closer.

 

He did.

 

Just enough to rest his forehead against mine. His breathing was shallow. His hands never rose.

 

But he was here.

 

“I don’t deserve this,” he murmured again.

 

“I’m not giving it because you earned it,” I whispered. “I’m giving it because I love you. I choose who I give my love to and I'm choosing you and I will continue to choose you.”

 

He didn’t respond.

 

But his fingers brushed mine.

 

I reached up slowly and cupped the back of his neck, holding him there, our bare chests barely touching, heat curling off the water between us like a second heartbeat. My thumb stroked a line just under his ear where his pulse was uneven.

 

I let a slow, careful thread of cursed energy slip between us, subtle, soothing, a balm rather than a fix. He flinched.

 

“Don’t,” he muttered, voice tight and low. “Stop healing me.”

 

“I’m not trying to fix everything,” I whispered. “Just... ease it.”

 

He didn’t move.

 

Didn’t stop me either.

 

I kept going. Small touches, over a gash at his side, the torn bruise across his collarbone. Each one sparked a twitch of his muscles, but nothing more. His breathing was shallow, like the feeling of my healing warmth was unnatural to him now.

 

Then, without warning, his hands slid down to my waist and he hoisted me up with effortless strength. I gasped, instinctively wrapping my legs around his hips as he pressed my back gently against the tile wall.

 

It was familiar, this way of holding me. Satoru did it too. Both of them always lifted me like I was something light. Something safe to carry. And Suguru needed that now. The weight of someone soft in his arms, not another burden. Not another curse.

 

Water rolled over his shoulders, his neck, down my spine where it met his hands. His forehead pressed into mine, eyes closed, lips parted, breath hitting my cheek in slow, warm bursts.

 

“You’re stubborn,” he murmured, voice quieter than before. “You don’t listen.”

 

“I listen,” I said gently. “I just don’t always obey.”

 

He huffed out something close to a laugh. But it was pained. Strained.

 

I tucked my chin into the space between his neck and shoulder and wrapped my arms tighter around him, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat. My cursed energy continued its quiet rhythm, knitting into his frayed edges.

 

“I don’t deserve this,” he said again, barely audible.

 

“I don’t care what you think you don’t deserve,” I said into his skin.

 

There was a long pause, so long I thought maybe he’d shut down again. Gone flat and numb like he had so many times lately.

 

But then I felt it.

 

A tremble in his chest. Barely there.

 

His breathing caught, and I moved gently, cupping the back of his head, the same way he used to cradle mine when I couldn’t stop shaking.

 

I shifted my cursed energy. No more holding back, no more threads.

 

I let it flow fully.

 

Soft and warm, wrapping around his injuries like a second skin. It moved through him slow and steady, anchoring into every bruise, every cracked rib, every tendon pulled too far, stretched too tight. The echo of cursed energy he'd consumed, dense and angry, recoiled at first, then quieted. Let itself be soothed.

 

And Suguru broke.

 

It started with just one breath, shaky, uneven. 

 

Then another.

 

Then I felt the first drop hit my shoulder.

 

His arms tightened around me, fingers digging in as his forehead dropped back to my neck, and I felt the heat of his tears on my skin.

 

“I’m so tired,” he whispered, barely audible. “I’m so fucking tired.”

 

“I know,” I murmured, my own voice unsteady. “I know, love. You don’t have to hold it all.”

 

He didn’t sob. Suguru didn’t sob.

 

He just... cried.

 

Quietly. Continuously. As if his body didn’t know how to stop anymore.

 

I held him through it, cursed energy still weaving its way into him with every shaky breath he took. My vines trembled beneath my skin, but I kept them still, kept my own exhaustion buried.

 

Because he needed this.

 

Because this, this quiet, trembling boy in my arms, was Suguru.

 

And I wasn’t going to let him disappear.

Chapter 81: The Real Questions

I don’t know what time Suguru got in last night.

 

But I know the exact moment his cursed energy settled, thin and sour, like a burned-out candle, and I knew if I waited, he’d just rot there in bed until noon. Maybe longer.

 

So I didn’t wait.

 

I shoved the door open with my shoulder and carried in the tray myself, balancing it with the kind of precision that only comes from years of waitressing in places where a mistake could get you hit.

 

“Morning, darling,” I said as lightly as I could manage, even though the room felt like it had been starved of sound for days. “Time for me to ruin your sulking streak.”

 

His room was a mess to put it nicely. Everywhere I stepped there were clothes, none of his stuff was put back where he liked it, books scattered, and ash covering his bookcase from where his inscent holder is. I know what it’s like to live like this. To feel like this. I didn’t judge... I worried. 

 

He didn’t even lift his head at first. Just an unintelligible grumble from the tangle of sheets and sweatpants on his mattress. His hair was loose, the long strands damp and stuck to the curve of his cheek. His black t-shirt looked like it had been slept in and fought in.

 

“You didn’t lock the door,” I added, setting the tray down on the low table and crouching to open one of the little thermoses.

 

“Didn’t think anyone would be stupid enough to come in,” he mumbled.

 

“Good thing I’m an idiot,” I chirped.

 

Still no smile. But his head turned slightly toward the smell of miso soup and rice. Just enough to let me know he wasn’t planning to kick me out.

 

I’d been careful.

 

Just one perfectly round rice ball. One soft-boiled egg, peeled and marinated in soy and mirin like the ones he used to pick off my plate when he thought I wasn’t looking. A small bowl of miso with tofu and scallions. Green tea with honey. Nothing that required effort. Nothing that looked like too much.

 

“I know you’re not hungry,” I said as I sat beside him on the floor, knees crossed. “But just eat something. One bite. Then you can go back to playing corpse.”

 

“I’m not-” he started, but his voice cracked in the middle, raw and unused. He cleared his throat and gave up halfway through. “I’m not hungry.”

 

“I know,” I said. “But this isn’t about being hungry.”

 

His jaw twitched, but he didn’t argue. Just shifted slowly into a sit, dragging the blanket with him. He looked smaller like this. Slumped and half-swallowed by fabric. Like he was collapsing under the weight of his own ribs.

 

“I can’t promise it’ll taste good,” I muttered, handing him the spoon for the miso. “But I tried not to fuck it up.”

 

He took it.

 

Took one slow sip.

 

And then another.

 

He didn’t say anything, but I watched his shoulders relax by the tiniest degree. Enough to know it wasn’t horrible.

 

I reached for the rice ball and tore off a small piece, holding it out. “Don’t make me feed you.”

 

He glared at me, but it was so weak it wouldn’t have scared a kitten.

 

“You’ll just stare at it,” I said gently, “so let me make it easier.”

 

After a second, he took it from my fingers with his own. Ate it. Chewed slowly. Swallowed like his body didn’t know what to do with it.

 

But he did it.

 

And I didn’t praise him, didn’t make it a moment.

 

I just tore another piece.

 

“If you want more, I have extra,” I murmured. “But this isn’t a test. Just enough. You tell me when.”

 

The silence between us wasn’t the same kind it used to be. It was heavier now. Full of all the things he wasn’t saying.

 

And maybe I wasn’t ready to hear them.

 

But I could sit with him here anyway. Make sure he ate. Make sure he stayed.

 

He drank the rest of the miso. Ate half the egg. Touched the tea but didn’t finish it.

 

Good enough for now.

 

I didn’t say anything, just rose slowly and started collecting the dishes. The room was dim, curtains drawn and air stale, the scent of old sweat, cursed fluid, and burnt incense clinging to every corner. I started with opening the window to air out the room, opening the curtains a small bit to let in some natural light.

 

I moved the tray aside and began gathering laundry, not with judgment but with quiet efficiency. I didn’t make a show of it. Didn’t comment on the overflowing waste bin or the cracked talismans under his bed. Just picked things up like I’d done a hundred times in my own dark spirals, when cleaning something small was the only way to keep from drowning.

 

Suguru watched me from the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, eyes vacant.

 

I threw a stained towel in the hamper.

 

“She asked me what I thought of non-sorcerers,” he said suddenly, voice low and toneless.

 

I didn’t turn around, but I stilled.

 

“Yuki?”

 

He nodded. “Said it was important I think about it.”

 

I stood slowly, meeting his eyes in the reflection of the mirror above his dresser. “What’d you say?”

 

“That I didn’t hate them,” he replied. “I said I understood why we protect them, why it’s necessary. But…”

 

He paused, looking down at his hands.

 

“She said humans are the source of all curses,” he continued. “Because they can’t control their cursed energy. Because it leaks out of them, fear, regret, resentment, and festers. Takes form. Becomes something real. Something dangerous.”

 

“I know the theory,” I said carefully, folding a shirt that hadn’t seen wear in weeks. “But Yuki doesn’t want to hurt people. She just wants to find a way to stop that cycle. A solution.”

 

He nodded, slowly. “She said that too. Said it’d take a madman to try anything violent. That it wasn’t a real suggestion. Just a thought experiment.”

 

I turned around, arms full of laundry. “Okay. So it was hypothetical. Just a-”

 

“What if it’s not?”

 

That’s when I looked up and really saw him.

 

Not just tired. Not just worn thin. But listening to that hypothetical like it had roots growing under his skin.

 

“What if there really is no way to fix it unless you cut out the cause?” he said. “What if… protecting them is just preserving the disease? What if every time we save them, we let another curse fester?”

 

My throat went dry.

 

“Suguru,” I said, forcing calm into my voice. “You’re not talking about a theory anymore.”

 

He met my eyes. There was no fever in them. No anger. Just… clarity. And that scared me more than anything.

 

“If humans no longer existed,” Suguru said, voice low and even, “there would be no more curses.”

 

I froze mid-movement, hands hovering over the pile of empty food containers I’d been gathering.

 

“No more missions,” he continued. “No more special grades ripping through villages. No more kids being born with cursed energy just to be sent to their deaths by the time they’re old enough to shave. Just silence. Just peace.”

 

I tried to breathe, tried to find a foothold in the conversation.

“You mean, hypothetically?” I asked carefully. “Like… as a thought experiment?”

 

He tilted his head slightly, almost amused.

“You always need it to be hypothetical to hear it, huh?”

 

I narrowed my eyes, throat tight. “I’m just trying to understand what you’re really saying.”

 

“I’m saying I’ve been watching the world rot from the inside out since I was a kid,” he replied. “And I keep thinking, what if it was never supposed to be like this? What if cursed spirits aren’t the disease? What if they’re just the symptom?”

 

I sat on the edge of his bed, heart hammering. “Suguru. I get that you’re angry. You should be. You’ve seen- we’ve seen what the world does to people like us. But you're not seriously saying-”

 

“If it were just us,” he interrupted gently, “Satoru wouldn’t have to carry the whole world on his back. He could just be. You wouldn’t have to fight until you collapse just to prove you’re not some cursed freak. You wouldn’t have to keep dying to save people who would spit on you if they knew what you were.”

 

I flinched.

 

He saw it.

 

“And me,” he said softly. “I wouldn’t have to be this… vessel. This thing that swallows death every day just to keep the next idiot from getting flattened in their apartment because they didn’t know how to control a damn emotion.”

 

His fingers twitched like they wanted to dig into his scalp, claw the thoughts out.

 

But he didn’t move.

 

“Satoru will survive,” he said, like a mantra. “He’ll always survive. You give him dirt and he turns it into stars. But I see people’s insides, Amara. I eat them. I know what festers in the average human. It’s not just fear. It’s rot. Greed. Rage. If we were the only ones left, we could build something better.”

 

“Suguru…” I swallowed, trying to sound calm. “Are you saying that like a theory or are you… thinking about how to make that happen?”

 

He looked at me. Really looked.

 

And for a second, it felt like the world shifted under my feet.

 

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “But I think about it a lot.”

 

A silence stretched between us like a fault line.

 

“I’m not asking you to agree,” he added. “I just… needed to say it to someone who might understand why I don’t sleep anymore.”

 

“I do understand,” I whispered.

 

And I did. That was the terrifying part.

 

“But I also think peace built on ashes isn’t peace at all. Just another kind of curse.”

 

He leaned his head back against the wall, eyes closing, expression unreadable. “I figured you’d say that.”

 

I didn’t move right away. I stood there for a few seconds, watching him, letting the quiet fill the space between us like steam off cooling tea. The smell of old incense and something sterile lingered under the window. Dust swam in the sunlight that slipped past the blinds.

 

“I’m not trying to fix you,” I said, voice low, even. “I’m not here to talk you out of everything. I’m just here.”

 

His lashes flickered at that. A barely-there nod. 

 

He didn’t open his eyes.

 

“I will always be here for you and I love you more than anything,” I continued, stepping forward, lowering myself to sit on the floor in front of him. “But if you keep sinking like this, you'll go somewhere I can't follow, you know that, right?”

 

Finally, his eyes opened. And the look he gave me..it wasn’t cold. It wasn’t cruel. It was just… hollow.

 

“I know.”

 

I exhaled slowly and leaned my head against his thigh. “You scare me sometimes.”

 

“I scare myself,” he said, almost absently. “More and more lately.”

 

We sat like that for a while. His breathing eventually slowed, and I could feel the faintest tremble still lingering in his bones, like the curses never fully left him even after he swallowed them.

 

“You know Yuki didn’t mean it,” I whispered, after a long silence.

 

“I know,” he said again.

 

“She just wanted to talk it through. She was trying to imagine something better.”

 

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue.

 

“You’re not crazy for thinking it,” I said. “But it matters what you do next with it.” I moved to sit next to him on the bed, resting my head on his shoulder.

 

He leaned his head against mine, heavy and warm. The weight of it was grounding. Familiar. Like the way his hand used to steady my blade mid-swing, or the way his voice used to guide me through breath work when I was too shaky to hold cursed energy still.

 

“I know it’s a lot,” he said after a beat. His voice had softened, careful now. He was trying, maybe not to walk it back, but to cushion the blow. “I’m not saying anything has to change. Not today.”

 

I swallowed hard, my cheek brushing his shoulder. “But you want it to.”

 

“I want peace,” he said. “For all of us. For you, especially.”

 

I turned my head slightly, not enough to look at him. “Even if that means hurting people?”

 

He didn’t answer right away. But when he did, it wasn’t sharp.

 

“Not you. I’d never want to hurt you, Amara. No matter where my mind goes.”

 

That cracked something in my chest, small but sharp.

 

“I just-” I started, then bit it back, grounding myself in the feeling of him beside me. The solidness of him, despite how fragile he looked lately. “You talk like I’m still some soft thing.”

 

“You are,” he said quietly. “And that’s not weakness.”

 

I shut my eyes. “Then why does it feel like I’m not enough to keep you here?”

 

He shifted slightly, just enough to let his hand brush mine. Not holding it. Just touching.

 

“You are,” he repeated. “But this place isn’t. This world... this system... it’s poison. You’ve survived it better than anyone should have to. But I see what it’s done to you. I feel it too.”

 

“You think killing off all the non-sorcerers is the answer?”

 

He paused. A beat. Two.

 

“I think,” he said slowly, “that love shouldn’t have to cost this much. That you and Satoru and Shoko shouldn’t have to bleed for people who’ll never understand you. Who’ll never stop creating monsters just by existing.”

 

I shook my head. “It’s not that black and white.”

 

“I know,” he said again. And he meant it. “But it’s getting harder to see the gray.”

 

He lifted his head just enough to look down at me, eyes dim but not dead. Not yet.

 

“You asked me to try and be here with you. I am. I will be. As long as you ask.”

 

His fingers finally laced with mine.

 

“But just know... if it ever comes down to choosing between peace and pretending, I’m not going to pretend anymore.”

 

I stared at him, heart heavy, but voice steady.

 

“I’m not going to let you go without a fight.”

 

He smiled faintly, eyes dark and tired.

 

“I know,” he whispered. “That’s why I haven’t left yet.”

 

I kept my voice level. Careful.

 

“Let’s say… let’s say you did do it,” I murmured, staring ahead. “Let’s say there was a way to get rid of non-sorcerers. Clean. Quiet. No suffering. Would that actually fix anything?”

 

Suguru didn’t answer right away. I felt the slow inhale against my shoulder, his chest barely rising. His thumb stilled against mine.

 

“You’re testing me,” Suguru said softly, not accusing just… observant. “You think if you say the right things, you’ll figure out how far I’ve gone.”

 

I stayed quiet.

 

He didn’t sound hurt. If anything, it was like he expected it.

 

“You’re not wrong to be scared,” he added, watching me. “But don’t act like I haven’t always told you the truth.”

 

I nodded once. “Then tell me now... do you still believe in that future? That garden I wanted?”

 

Suguru’s expression shifted, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “I told you. I’d make sure it was yours.”

 

“But at what cost?” I whispered. “Who pays for it?”

 

He looked at me like he wanted to lie, wanted to tell me it wouldn’t be so bad, that the pain would be justified. That maybe it wouldn’t reach me. But he didn’t.

 

Instead, he said, “If the world won’t make space for you to live in peace, then I’ll carve it out myself.”

 

My chest felt too tight. “Even if it means tearing everything else down?”

 

He didn’t answer at first. His silence was the answer.

 

I stepped closer. “And what if I’m in the way? What if I can’t stand behind you when it starts?”

 

Suguru met my eyes, steady, calm, not cold, just painfully resigned. “Then I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

 

The words landed hard.

 

“That’s not good enough,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I need to know if you’d stop if I asked.”

 

He looked down, breathing slow. “Amara-”

 

“Would you?”

 

A pause.

 

“I’m done talking about this,” he said quietly. “If you’re here to push, I need to be alone.”

 

My throat tightened. “Suguru-”

 

“I love you,” he said, still gentle. Still heartbreakingly calm. “But I’m not going to argue with you like I owe you permission to think. If you want to stay, stay. But don’t try to change my mind right now. I’m too tired to pretend it’s up for debate.”

 

He turned away from me, the mattress creaking beneath his weight as he crawled back into bed. The movement was slow, exhausted in a way that wasn’t just physical. Suguru Geto, the boy who used to spar me until sundown, who used to talk about the future like he could hold it in the palm of his hand, now curled beneath the blanket like someone trying to disappear from the world one hour at a time.

 

I stood there for a breath longer, then quietly followed.

 

My legs barely made a sound as I slid under the blanket behind him, careful not to crowd but close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his back. When I reached out, his hand was already there, waiting, not reaching, not pulling, but open.

 

I slipped my fingers into his and felt his thumb twitch. A quiet, wordless acceptance.

 

His breathing slowed first.

 

Then his shoulders relaxed.

 

Then nothing. Stillness, like sleep had finally come to claim him.

 

But I stayed awake.

 

My head rested lightly between his shoulder blades, one hand curled over the dip of his waist where his shirt had ridden up just a little. His skin was warm. Alive. And for a second, I could almost pretend nothing had changed.

 

But it had.

 

Everything had.

 

I stared at the far wall, letting my eyes blur. My heartbeat wouldn’t calm down. It didn’t matter how steady his was.

 

I thought about his voice when he’d said it: “Then I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

 

Not I’ll stop.

 

Not I’ll try.

 

Just hope.

 

The kind of hope that dies quietly when no one’s looking.

 

I squeezed my eyes shut, lips pressed to his back. He didn’t stir. He was too deep under now, finally quiet, finally still. And maybe he needed that. But my mind wouldn’t stop spinning.

 

What if this was the last version of Suguru that would let me hold him like this?

 

What if this was the moment I’d look back on one day and say, this was when I lost him and didn’t know it yet?

 

I didn’t know how to stop any of it. Not with love. Not with reason.

 

So I held him tighter. Just in case.

Chapter 82: Falling Out

The wood was cold under my shoulder.

 

Not unbearable, just enough to remind me I wasn’t home. That I was in a hallway, outside a locked door, curled into myself like waiting could hold someone together.

 

It must’ve been close to 3am. The campus was still. Even the air had that stale nighttime quality, like the building itself had exhaled and gone still.

 

Suguru still hadn’t come back.

 

I kept telling myself he would. That he had to. He always did.

 

Even if he barely looked at me anymore.

 

Even if the lights in his room stayed off more than on. Even if the only thing I saw of him these days was the faint echo of his cursed energy somewhere off-campus, weighted and slow.

 

So I waited. Hood up. Knees to chest. My back leaned against the door he didn’t open anymore.

 

And at some point, I must’ve fallen asleep.

 

It was footsteps that woke me.

 

Soft but steady. Familiar.

 

“Sweetheart?”

 

I blinked. The brightness of white hair blurred into view. Gojo’s voice cut through the haze, gentle and sharp with concern.

 

“What the hell… what are you doing out here?”

 

He crouched beside me, dropping his bag without looking, one hand already reaching to cup the side of my face like I might disappear if he didn’t ground me with touch.

 

I sat up slowly. My joints ached. “Waiting.”

 

His brow furrowed. “Waiting? For what?”

 

I didn’t answer. Just looked at the closed door behind me.

 

Gojo followed my gaze and when realization hit, his whole body went still.

 

“Suguru?” he asked, voice dropping.

 

I nodded.

 

Gojo sat back on his heels, exhaling slowly. “Babe… you’re freezing.”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“You’re not fine.” His hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, gentle but firm. “C’mon. Let’s get you inside.”

 

“I want to wait.”

 

He paused. Really looked at me this time. The shadows under my eyes. The subtle tension in my shoulders. The way my fists were curled in my sleeves like I had to hold myself together or unravel completely.

 

“How long have you been out here?” he asked.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

He reached for the handle of Suguru’s door. It didn’t budge.

 

Locked.

 

Of course it was locked.

 

“Satoru-”

 

“I haven’t even seen him in over a week,” Gojo said quietly. “I thought he was on assignment. Yaga didn’t say anything about-”

 

“He’s been avoiding us.”

 

Gojo’s expression darkened just slightly. “Avoiding you, you mean?”

 

I looked down.

 

He sighed. Then sank down beside me, crossing his long legs in front of him with a soft grunt. “I just got back from a four-day mission. I came up here to crawl into bed and maybe wake you up for cuddles-”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“-but instead I find you sleeping in a hallway like a sad little raccoon.”

 

A soft laugh escaped me, too tired to be real.

 

He looked down, eyes shaded beneath the fall of his silver-white hair, something unspoken moving behind them. And then, without another word, he scooped me up.

 

I groaned, half-heartedly. “Satoru…”

 

“Nope,” he said firmly, readjusting his grip as I slumped against his chest. “You’re not sleeping out here like a kicked puppy. Especially not if he’s avoiding you.”

 

“I just didn’t want to miss him,” I murmured, voice small in the fabric of his shirt.

 

“I know,” he said softly. “But sleeping outside his door like this? That might just push him further away. You know how he is, thinks he ruins everything he touches.”

 

I didn’t answer. We both knew Suguru was slipping. And Gojo… Gojo was doing what he always did. 

 

Catching what Suguru couldn’t.

 

“Sleep with me tonight,” he said, nudging his door open with a toe. “We’ll talk. I’ll hold you. And if he comes back, he’ll know where to find you.”

 

He brought me inside, shutting the door with a quiet click before gently lowering me onto the edge of his bed.

 

The room was warm, dimly lit by the amber glow of a small lamp near the window. It smelled faintly like his cologne and laundry soap, something clean and familiar.

 

“Hey,” he said, kneeling in front of me. “Can I dress you in my clothes?”

 

I blinked at him, caught off guard. “You want to play dress-up?”

 

He grinned, but it was quieter than usual. “I missed this. Doing little things for you. Makes me feel useful.”

 

I nodded, and his smile deepened.

 

He pulled open one of his drawers, tugging out a soft black tee and a fresh pair of briefs. “These are gonna be a little tight. You’ve got way more ass than I do.”

 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

 

“Oh no, sweetheart, it’s my favorite thing. Just don’t blame me when the fabric gives up halfway through the night.”

 

I rolled my eyes, but let him help me undress. He was slow, careful, no hurry in the way he moved. He slid off my sweater first, lifting it over my head like I was made of glass. Then my pants, throwing them onto the chair near the bed.

 

He slipped his shirt over me next. It hung loose at the shoulders. Next was the boxers, they clung a bit over my hips and thighs, riding up slightly once I sat down.

 

“See? Told you,” he said, tugging the shirt gently down. “Shameless. You’re lucky I’m a gentleman.”

 

I raised a brow. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to throw you across the room.”

 

He snorted, then pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I'd let you.”

 

He stripped off his own clothes down to his boxers, tossing them into the nearby hamper with practiced ease. Then he climbed into bed beside me, pulling the covers over us in one long motion before curling around me from behind.

 

I sank into the warmth of him, letting his arm drape over my waist, his legs slotting easily behind mine. He was always so much bigger, always able to make me feel small and protected without trying.

 

“I missed you,” I whispered, fingers brushing his forearm.

 

He nuzzled into my neck, breath warm against my skin. “Missed you too.”

 

I felt his hand slide up gently, palm splayed across my stomach beneath my shirt.

 

I turned around slowly, tucking myself into the curve of his chest. My fingers curled against his ribs, and then the tears hit. Not quiet ones, real ones. The kind that started in your throat and refused to stop once they began.

 

Gojo’s arms locked around me instantly, strong and warm, the scent of his skin grounding me. He tucked my head under his chin and held me like something sacred.

 

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice uncharacteristically soft. “Please.”

 

I tried to breathe, but it all poured out at once, raw and unfiltered.

 

“It’s Suguru,” I choked, barely getting the words past my tongue. “He’s not just shutting me out anymore- he’s… saying things, Satoru. Things that don’t sound like him.”

 

He went still.

 

“About people. About non-sorcerers. He said the world would be better without them. That cursed spirits wouldn’t exist if humans didn’t. That if it were just us, we’d finally be safe.”

 

Satoru’s hand stilled against my back. I felt the subtle tension in his chest, like he was trying not to react too fast. But I could hear the quiet edge in his breath. He was listening. Really listening.

 

“He said I wouldn’t get hurt anymore,” I whispered. “That you wouldn’t have to be the strongest. That he wouldn’t have to keep exorcising and eating and fighting this cycle over and over again.”

 

I shook my head against his chest.

 

“And the worst part? He meant it. I could see it in his face. He’s not just hurting. He’s… deciding.”

 

Satoru’s arms tightened around me.

 

“And I’m scared,” I said, voice cracking as the sobs clawed their way up my throat. “Because what if I can’t stop him? What if he’s already too far? And I can’t even talk to you because you’re never here and he’s locking his door and Shoko’s too busy and Nanami’s considering leaving and I-”

 

I broke.

 

My sobs came in hot, shaking waves. Ugly, breathless, helpless. The kind of cry I hadn’t let myself have in years. Not even when I was a kid, not even when my mother hurt me, or when I thought I was going to die. This was something worse. This was grief before the loss. It was mourning a future that hadn’t happened yet.

 

Satoru’s voice cracked when he spoke again. “Baby…”

 

He rolled fully onto his side and wrapped me up so tightly I could barely move, pulling the blanket up around us like a cocoon.

 

“I didn’t know,” he whispered, and his voice sounded raw, frayed. “I didn’t know you were carrying all of this.”

 

He kissed the top of my head, again and again. His hands kept moving, my back, my spine, my cheek, like if he stopped, I’d disappear.

 

“You should’ve told me,” he whispered, almost like he was mad at himself. “I would’ve come home sooner. I would’ve- God, Amara, I should’ve been here.”

 

“I tried,” I sobbed. “I tried to fix it. I tried to talk to him. I even played along, fed into his hypothetical, to try and see where his head was at. And he caught me.”

 

Satoru didn’t say anything, but I could feel the storm brewing behind his silence.

 

“I brought up the garden,” I whispered.

 

That got him.

 

I felt it, like a gut punch to his ribs. That memory… it belonged to all three of us.

 

“He said he’d do anything to make sure I had it,” I said. “Even if that world doesn’t have people in it.”

 

Satoru let out a breath that wasn’t quite a sigh. More like a contained quake.

 

“And my father,” I whispered. “I haven’t even told anyone what happened. I went back there. I talked to him.”

 

He pulled back enough to look at me. “You… what?”

 

I nodded, wiping my face. “He’s not what I expected. He’s not evil, but he’s… wrong. Like something unfinished. He told me regeneration of my brain will eat me from the inside out. That it’s already happening since the gunshot..”

 

Satoru’s eyes flicked to my scar. Like he couldn’t see the damage in real time. He’d seen the results of my last brain test. He knew how real the damage was.

 

“And then he asked me to kill him,” I whispered. “When he loses his mind completely. He doesn’t want to die in a lab or get turned into some puppet. He wants me to do it. The only person he thinks might still have enough care or even hate left for him.”

 

I buried my face in Satoru’s chest again, voice breaking.

 

“I don’t want to be someone who kills their own father. I don’t want to be someone who watches the people they love fall apart. I don’t want to be alone.”

 

He didn’t say anything right away.

 

But I felt his throat tighten against my forehead.

 

Felt his breath stutter.

 

Then, so quiet I almost missed it..

 

“You’re not alone.”

 

I blinked, stunned by the tremor in his voice.

 

“I’m here now,” he said, firmer this time. “And I’m not going anywhere. I don’t care what’s happening with Suguru, or your father, or the Elders, or the whole damn world. You’re mine. You’re ours. And if you’re scared, you don’t carry that alone anymore.”

 

That broke me open. The part of me that had been held together by stubborn silence and too many half-slept nights.

 

I hugged him fully, nuzzling my face into his chest, the tears slipping faster now. He didn’t flinch, just gathered me tighter, his hand splaying against my back, warm and steady.

 

“I didn’t need you to fix it,” I choked out. “I just… I just needed you to be here.”

 

His breath caught.

 

“I didn’t need the Six Eyes, or Infinity, or the strongest sorcerer alive. I just needed you... stupid, soft, annoying you... sneaking snacks into my bed, or watching dumb movies with me, or making everything feel a little less impossible just by being there.”

 

His fingers curled against my spine, like that hurt more than anything.

 

“I couldn’t talk to Suguru. I couldn’t talk to Shoko. And you weren’t here,” I whispered. “I didn’t want to ask for help because I didn’t even know how to explain it. I just… I missed you.”

 

He didn’t say anything at first. Just tucked his chin over the crown of my head and breathed deep, arms holding me like he was terrified I’d disappear if he let go.

 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered finally, voice cracked and raw. “You shouldn’t have had to miss me.”

 

I nodded against his chest, the sobs quieter now, but deeper. More tired than frantic.

 

“I fought with Shoko,” I murmured. “She said I was drowning trying to keep Suguru afloat. That I should let him sink since that's his choice. I told her she didn’t understand, she put up her wall and left..”

 

Gojo said nothing, but his arms never loosened. His heart thudded steadily against my cheek.

 

I didn’t need him to speak. Not right now.

 

I just needed him to stay.

 

I kept crying into him.

 

Not loud anymore. Not broken. Just tired. Just worn through.

 

Gojo didn’t ask for more. Didn’t pry or shush me or offer false hope. He just held me, one big hand splayed over the back of my head, the other curled securely around my waist. His chin stayed tucked against my crown like he was guarding something sacred.

 

Like if he just held on tight enough, the world couldn’t pull me apart again.

 

The blanket shifted as he moved slightly, just enough to lean back into the pillows and pull me fully into his lap. His thighs bracketed mine, and he rocked us slowly like we were on a boat, like the tide would carry us someplace quieter if we just let it.

 

“‘M sorry,” I mumbled through a fresh wave of tears. “I didn’t wanna ruin your night…”

 

“You didn’t,” he said softly, lips brushing my hair. “You’re the only thing good in it.”

 

I didn’t answer. My throat ached from crying. My ribs hurt from holding it in too long. But I didn’t feel so cold anymore. Not with his arms around me. Not with the way he was rocking me, slow and patient, like I was something delicate he knew how to care for.

 

“I’ve got you,” he whispered when my breathing hitched again. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. You don’t have to be strong right now.”

 

My fingers clutched at him. The last of the sobs faded into shivers, into soft exhales, into nothing but weight and warmth and the quiet hum of his heart beneath my cheek.

 

And finally, when the tears had run dry, and the ache behind my eyes was heavier than the sky, I let myself drift. Still in his arms. Still safe.

 

He kept rocking me even as my breathing slowed into sleep.

 

And he didn’t let go.

 

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

 

Gojo didn’t sleep.

 

Even with Amara curled into his chest, her fingers curled loosely against his skin, her tearstained face finally relaxed in sleep, he couldn’t shut off. Couldn’t stop hearing the sound of her sobs echoing in his skull like a curse that wouldn’t lift. Couldn’t stop remembering how small she looked when she whispered that Suguru was scaring her.

 

She had begged him without even realizing it.

 

He stayed until her breathing evened out, until her grip slackened and the weight of exhaustion truly took her. Then, slowly, he shifted. Slid one arm out from under her, kissed the corner of her mouth when she stirred, and slipped one of his shirts over a pillow to nestle in her arms.

 

She clutched it like a lifeline, nose buried in the fabric, breath catching just once before settling again.

 

Gojo didn’t bother grabbing pants, only threw on a shirt. He moved fast, soft on bare feet, cursed energy half-suppressed as he turned the corner into the hallway-

 

Just in time.

 

Suguru was standing at his door. Hoodie up, key in the lock, hand paused like he could already sense Satoru coming.

 

“You’re really not going to say anything?” Gojo said, voice soft, dangerously soft.

 

Suguru didn’t turn. Just rested his forehead against the door for a second longer, like he was debating whether to even acknowledge him.

 

“I’m not doing this right now, Satoru.”

 

“You don’t get to make that call,” Gojo said, stepping closer, calm as water over a knife's edge. “Not after what I just walked in on.”

 

That made Suguru glance back. Just slightly.

 

Gojo’s arms were folded, posture loose but his energy anything but.

 

“She cried herself to sleep, Suguru,” he said. “In my arms. Not because you’re gone. Because you’re still here and pretending she doesn’t exist.”

 

Suguru’s shoulders tensed. “You don’t get it.”

 

“Then make me understand.”

 

There was a beat of silence.

 

Gojo tilted his head. “She said you’re scaring her.”

 

That landed like a punch. Suguru blinked. His jaw twitched. “I’m not-”

 

“You are,” Gojo cut in, stepping forward again. “You’re shutting her out. You’re talking about killing humans? You’re avoiding her like she’s the one who broke something. What the hell is going on with you?”

 

“I’m tired,” Suguru muttered, eyes shadowed under the hallway lights.

 

“So is she,” Gojo snapped. “She’s falling apart. You know that, right? You know she’s barely holding herself together? You haven’t even asked her about the mission, about what she’s been through. About her father who she apparently met-”

 

Gojo’s voice cracked, just slightly, and he drew in a slow breath to steady himself. “You used to be the one who noticed everything. What happened to that?”

 

Suguru didn’t answer.

 

Gojo took another step, quiet and firm. “I’m not Amara. I’m not going to cry or beg. But you and I.. we’re not kids anymore. You don’t get to just decide when we do and don't matter to you.”

 

Suguru’s eyes flicked up at that. Something flared in them, hurt, guilt, maybe even shame, but it dimmed almost as quickly as it came.

 

“I’m doing what I have to do,” he said.

 

Satoru didn’t respond right away.

 

He just watched him, brows pulled together beneath his fringe, lips pressed into a line. He looked so much softer than usual, tired in a way Suguru rarely got to see. No cocky smirk. No jokes. Just him. Just the man who used to sit beside him in the back of the classroom whispering nonsense into his ear until they both got detention. The one who looked at the world like it was breakable, but fixable, too.

 

“I’m sorry,” Satoru said quietly. “For not being around. For missing everything. I’ve been trying to carry too much again. I always do that.”

 

Suguru’s fingers tightened around the key in the door.

 

“I know,” he replied. “You don’t have to apologize.”

 

“Yes, I do,” Gojo insisted. “You’re not the only one hurting.”

 

A long silence stretched between them, taut and raw.

 

“I don’t want to do this tonight, Satoru,” Suguru said finally, his voice clipped but calm. “Please.”

 

“Too bad,” Gojo shot back, stepping forward. “We don’t see each other enough now to plan another date.”

 

That earned the slightest glance, just a flick of Suguru’s eyes in his direction.

 

Gojo huffed a soft laugh, bitter at the edges. “You used to be better at pretending to care.”

 

Suguru’s jaw tightened.

 

And then, with a softness that didn’t match the storm just beneath the surface, Satoru asked, “Is it true?”

 

Suguru didn’t answer.

 

“About killing them. All the non-sorcerers. Is that really what you want?”

 

Still, no answer.

 

“Suguru.”

 

“I want peace,” Suguru said carefully, deliberately. “I want a world where people like us aren’t slaughtered to protect people who don’t even know we exist. I want Amara to have her garden. I want you to stop looking over your shoulder. I want to sleep without dreaming of corpses. So if you're asking me if I'd burn this world down to make that happen-” he paused, eyes catching the dim hallway light, “-then maybe.”

 

Gojo just looked at him. His whole face was unreadable now.

 

“‘Maybe’ is a coward’s answer,” he said flatly. “You don’t get to be cryptic about genocide, Suguru.”

 

“It’s not genocide,” Suguru replied, calm in a way that made Gojo’s skin crawl. “It’s protection. Prevention. Purification.”

 

“Stop.” Gojo stepped forward again, now barely inches from him. “You can’t twist it into something noble. You’re talking about murdering people- children, families, people who’ve never even heard of cursed energy. You’re not God, Suguru.”

 

“No,” Suguru said. “But I’m tired of being prey.”

 

Gojo’s breath caught in his throat.

 

“And what about her?” he asked. “Amara. Would you kill her if she didn’t have cursed energy?”

 

Suguru flinched. Just barely. But Gojo saw it.

 

“She has cursed energy so it doesn't matter,” he said, too fast.

 

“But that’s the point, isn’t it?” Gojo said, voice low. “You want to play executioner, but you’re still clinging to names. Exceptions. You know it’s wrong.”

 

“I know it’s necessary.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

Suguru’s face shifted then, all soft cruelty. “You’re not used to people disagreeing with you, Satoru. Must be so exhausting having the strongest opinion in every room.”

 

Gojo clenched his jaw. “Don’t do that. Don’t make this about my ego. This is about you shutting us out, about her crying herself to sleep because she thinks you’re disappearing in front of us.”

 

Suguru didn’t flinch this time.

 

His eyes lowered, slowly, like the weight behind them was more than physical. “I didn’t ask her to wait by my door. I didn’t ask either of you to keep chasing after me like strays.”

 

Gojo’s breath caught, a bitter laugh escaping before he could stop it. “You didn’t have to. You think we’re doing this because we have to? God, Suguru, you really don’t see it, do you?”

 

“I see plenty,” Suguru replied, voice cool. “I see how everything keeps going around in circles. Same curses. Same bodies. Same blood on our hands. At some point, I just stopped pretending it wasn’t pointless.”

 

“And what- so now you're too enlightened to feel anything? You don’t have to isolate yourself to be right, Suguru.”

 

“I’m not isolating. I’m choosing peace.” The words came slow, sharp. “You call it running, I call it clarity.”

 

“Clarity,” Gojo echoed mockingly, eyes flashing. “Right. ‘Clarity’ is locking your door, disappearing for days, making the girl we both love feel like she doesn’t know you anymore. That’s not clarity, Suguru. That’s cowardice.”

 

Suguru’s jaw tightened.

 

“You don’t understand what I’m carrying,” he said, tone flat and low.

 

“Maybe because you won’t let me,” Gojo snapped. “You keep acting like you’re the only one hurting. Like no one else could possibly understand the weight. But she’s bleeding for you. I’m bleeding for you.”

 

“That’s not my fault,” Suguru said, cuttingly quiet.

 

Gojo froze, anger faltering for a second. “So that’s it? You’re just… done being responsible for anyone but yourself?”

 

“I’m done pretending this world is worth saving the way it is.”

 

Gojo took a slow step forward, chest heaving. “So you really are serious. You meant what you said to her. About killing everyone who isn’t a sorcerer.”

 

Suguru didn’t answer.

 

Gojo laughed again, but there was no humor in it this time. “God, you’re not even denying it. Do you even hear yourself? You sound like someone I’d be sent to kill.”

 

“And maybe you should,” Suguru murmured, not looking at him. “At least there would be a point to that.”

 

That silenced Gojo for half a beat. Then he exhaled, voice trembling with restrained fury. “Don’t say shit like that. You don’t get to make me into your executioner just because you’re too scared to be loved while you’re rotting away.”

 

Suguru’s lips parted like he was going to say something, but whatever it was, it curdled into something colder. “You think I want this?” he snapped. “You think I enjoy any of this?”

 

“I think you’re hiding in it,” Gojo shot back, voice sharp. “I think you found a cause big enough to drown in so you don’t have to deal with how fucking tired you are of trying.”

 

“You’re goddamn right I’m tired,” Suguru hissed, stepping forward. “Tired of watching this system eat people alive and calling it duty. Tired of pretending we’re the heroes while innocent people die so the weak can sleep soundly.”

 

“And killing all non-sorcerers is your fix for that?” Gojo barked, incredulous. “Is Amara part of that solution? I’m not. You think I’ll just stand there while you throw the world into a meat grinder?”

 

Suguru’s voice dropped to a dark, quiet growl. “If I do this, I’ll be doing it to save you. To save her. You don’t get to play the noble one when you haven’t been around long enough to see how broken it’s all become.”

 

Gojo froze, stunned.

 

And then, quieter, cutting, he asked, “Are you serious? You think I haven’t seen how fucked this world is? You think I left because I wanted to?”

 

Suguru’s fists curled at his sides. “You left because you couldn’t bear to look at the cracks long enough to figure out how to fix them.”

 

“And you’re acting like a sledgehammer will fix them better?!” Gojo shouted.

 

They were both breathing hard now, too close, too loud, too frayed at the edges.

 

“You don’t get it,” Suguru said, voice hollow with conviction. “This is the only path left that doesn’t end with us dead and forgotten.”

 

“No,” Gojo snapped. “It’s the path where you get to choose who lives and dies. That’s not justice, Suguru. That’s delusion.”

 

Suguru’s mouth twisted. “I’d rather be deluded than complicit.”

 

And with that, he turned, shoved his key into the lock, and threw the door open. Gojo reached out as if to stop him, but it was too late. Suguru stepped inside and slammed the door shut with a violent crack that echoed down the hall.

 

Gojo stood there, breathing hard. The wood was still humming from the force of it.

 

He stared at it for a moment, his shoulders tense, before he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to the doorframe.

 

“...I shouldn’t have yelled,” he muttered. “I’m sorry. I just… you didn’t hear her, Suguru. I held her while she bawled her eyes out because you weren’t there. And I get it, okay? You think this is going to save us. But she doesn’t need to be saved from the world right now. She just needs you, needs us.”

 

There was no answer. Just the sound of Gojo’s own breath catching in his throat.

 

“I’m going back to her,” he said softly. “She’s still asleep. And I’m not letting her wake up alone again. But this-” he placed a palm flat against the door “-this conversation isn’t over.”

 

He lingered just a second longer, then turned and walked back down the hall, quieter this time. A hollow ache in his chest.

 

Behind the door, Suguru sat on the floor with his back pressed to it, head bowed, hand still trembling slightly.

 

He closed his eyes.

 

And for just a second… he wanted to believe Gojo was right.

 

But belief was dangerous.

Chapter 83: The Search

Since that night, Suguru hadn’t set foot on campus.

 

No lectures. No casual walks between buildings. No cigarette breaks behind the medical wing. Just… nothing.

 

I kept expecting to feel him. To sense his cursed energy brushing faint and familiar against mine. But there was only static. Silence.

 

It wasn’t like him to ghost us. Not fully. Not for this long.

 

So when the ache in my chest finally outweighed my patience, I went to Yaga’s office. No knocking. Just walked in and stood there until he looked up from his papers.

 

He blinked at me, pen paused mid-stroke, then set it down slowly.

 

“Amara,” he said, voice gruff but not unkind. “Is something wrong?”

 

I didn’t answer right away. Just stood there, staring at the desk, at the corners of scattered files and mission forms. One of them had Suguru’s signature on it. I could tell by the handwriting, neat, overly formal. Like he still believed in appearances.

 

“I haven’t seen him, Suguru,” I finally said. “Not since Satoru and him got into a fight. He’s not coming to class. Not training. He’s just… gone.”

 

Yaga exhaled through his nose and leaned back in his chair. “He’s still checking in. Taking assignments. Sending updates. Everything looks normal on paper.”

 

“Except it’s not normal,” I shot back, stepping further into the room. “None of this is normal. He’s avoiding us. Locking his door. Dodging every question. You think that’s fine?”

 

“I think people go through things,” Yaga said, patient in that maddening way he always was. “Especially people like us. Questioning the system, your place in it, it’s not uncommon.”

 

My jaw clenched. “This isn’t just him having doubts. You didn’t hear what he said to me. Or to Satoru. He’s not just questioning the system, he’s circling something darker...”

 

Yaga didn’t respond right away. His eyes flicked to the window, toward the soft gold light outside.

 

“He’s on a mission now,” he said eventually. “Out in the countryside. Close to his parents’ village.”

 

That made something drop in my stomach. “Doing what?”

 

“There were reports of two children showing signs of cursed energy with speculation there might be abuse from their caregivers. Isolated community. No other sorcerers in range. Suguru volunteered to check it out. Said he could handle it alone.”

 

“Did he request backup?”

 

“No.”

 

My pulse spiked. “And that doesn’t bother you?”

 

Yaga gave me a long look. “I think if Suguru wanted to disappear, he wouldn’t be filing reports. He wouldn’t be choosing jobs with children.”

 

I stared at him. “You think that’s a good thing?”

 

He sighed again. “I think he saw kids who might be scared and thought he could help. He’s done that before, Amara. This isn’t new.”

 

My fingers curled into fists at my sides.

 

It should’ve been comforting, the idea that this was just another mission. That maybe he was just trying to help. But that gnawing weight in my gut told me something different. Something deeper. Something wrong.

 

And if I told Yaga that?

 

He’d be obligated, forced to report Suguru. Maybe worse. Even if he didn’t want to.

 

I straightened, tucking the chaos back into my chest. “Thank you,” I said, soft and respectful. “For the information.”

 

Yaga’s eyes narrowed just a fraction. “Amara.”

 

I was already halfway to the door.

 

“What do you think is going on?”

 

I paused.

 

The air between us thinned like a pulled thread. I could feel his concern bleeding through the cracks in his voice. But I didn’t turn around.

 

Because if I looked him in the eye, he’d see it. He’d know.

 

“I’ll take care of it,” I said instead. My hand tightened on the doorknob. “Please… just trust me.”

 

Silence.

 

Then, a quiet, reluctant nod behind me. “Be careful,” he said.

 

I didn’t reply.

 

I stepped out into the hall, shut the door gently behind me, and ran.

 

My fingers trembled as I jabbed at my phone screen again, breath tight in my chest as it rang. No answer. I called again. And again. Gojo still wasn’t picking up.

 

“Dammit, come on-”

 

I scrolled through my contacts and hit Ijichi’s name without thinking. He’d been Gojo’s assigned driver for the last few weeks. If anyone knew where he was, it’d be him.

 

The line picked up after two rings, Ijichi’s voice breathless. “Hoshizuki?”

 

“Where is he?” I gasped, already jogging toward the front gate of campus. “Satoru. I need to find him. Now.”

 

“He’s- he’s on a site,” Ijichi said quickly. “Big infestation in the ruins outside Nakano Industrial. I dropped him off there thirty minutes ago. Four curses- uh um- maybe five. High-level ones. He told me to stay in the car.”

 

Of course he did.

 

“Is he okay?” I asked, already vaulting over the low fence instead of waiting for the gate to slide open.

 

“As far as I know,” Ijichi said. “I haven’t heard from him since he walked in, but the building’s still standing so I assume that means-”

 

“I’m on my way.”

 

I didn’t wait for him to finish.

 

---

 

I ran like my ribs were going to snap. I grabbed the first campus vehicle I could get my hands on, a patrol bike parked by the barracks with the key still in the ignition. I’d return it later. If anyone complained, they could take it up with Satoru.

 

The wind clawed at my clothes as I weaved through traffic, cursed energy sparking at my fingertips just to keep my balance steady on the turns. I didn’t even know what I was going to say when I got to him.. I just knew I needed to get there and tell him about Suguru.

 

Suguru was out in the countryside, alone, near his parents’ village. With children being hurt by non-sorcerers.

 

He hadn’t responded to any of my messages. Not even the ones I sent before I fell asleep in Gojo’s bed. No smart remarks. No reassurance. Nothing.

 

And that kind of silence from Suguru wasn’t silence, it was distance.

 

And I couldn’t take it anymore.

 

---

 

The bike screeched to a stop outside the collapsed perimeter of the Nakano Industrial complex, asphalt cracked and scattered with shards of blackened concrete. The air was thick with cursed energy, cloying, suffocating, rotten.

 

I could feel him.

 

Satoru’s energy cut through the dark like a lighthouse beam, bright, focused but dangerous if you got too close. He was still fighting. That meant he was still safe.

 

The worry of Suguru drove me forward.

 

He was alone in his family's old village..

 

That part stuck in my ribs like a thorn I couldn’t dislodge.

 

Because it felt like a goodbye.

 

Like a quiet, final lap before something irreversible.

 

Like maybe he was visiting ghosts before becoming one.

 

I didn’t know what he was planning, but I knew how Suguru worked. How he overthought and buried things under layers of calm detachment until they collapsed all at once. How he could convince everyone, including himself, that his decisions were logical, even when they were desperate.

 

And if this was his way of preparing to walk away from everything, from me, from Satoru, from the school, I didn’t want to find out too late.

 

I didn’t want to be standing over the crater he left wondering if I should’ve run faster.

 

---

 

I broke into the open just as a curse fell, its shriek swallowed by the static crackle of Gojo’s technique snapping it apart. The energy in the air was thinning now, the threat already dead.

 

He stood in the silence of it, shoulders rising and falling like he’d just punched a hole through the world. His blindfold hung around his neck, and for once he looked… older.

 

Like the weight on his back had grown heavy again the moment the fighting stopped.

 

“Satoru,” I called, breathless as I reached him. “We need to go. It’s Suguru.”

 

His head whipped toward me. Concern snapped through his expression like lightning.

 

“What happened?”

 

“I don’t know,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “Yaga says he’s fine. Said he’s just checking on some kids with cursed energy. But he’s alone. Near his parents’ place. He didn’t tell anyone. He hasn’t talked to me in days, and I just-” My voice cracked. “It doesn’t feel right.”

 

Gojo took one step toward me and cupped my face gently with both hands, grounding me with the kind of focus only he could give.

 

“Breathe,” he said softly. “You think he’s planning something?”

 

I nodded, throat tight. “I think he’s saying goodbye.”

 

Satoru’s expression darkened, just slightly, but enough.

 

Then he straightened, sharp and deliberate. “Okay. Then we don’t let him.”

 

I pulled out the folded piece of paper from my jacket, coordinates I’d scribbled in Yaga’s office the second he told me where the mission was. I pressed it into Gojo’s palm.

 

“Then let’s go now.”

 

And without another word, he turned with me toward the exit, hands already lifting to call in Ijichi.

 

“Mission’s wrapped,” Satoru said as soon as the line picked up. “Clean up what’s left and report to Yaga.”

 

Ijichi’s voice crackled faintly on the other end. “Understood. Do you want me to prepare transport back to campus?”

 

“No. I’m heading out on something more important.” His tone didn’t invite questions. “Don’t call me unless it’s something only I can handle. And I mean only me, Ijichi.”

 

There was a pause. “Yes, sir.”

 

Satoru ended the call without another word and slipped his blindfold back on, his jaw tight.

 

We didn’t speak as we moved, cutting through back roads and shadows like we were late to something that might vanish if we blinked.

 

It was too far into the countryside to drive—not if we wanted to make it in time. The area was buried in mountains, winding rural paths that narrowed until they turned to gravel. No reliable roads. No signals. No quick detours.

 

So we headed for the station. First train out.

 

The platform was mostly empty, just the wind and the low rumble of an incoming line echoing across the concrete. I could feel Gojo vibrating beside me, not with fear, but with tension. The kind of pressure that builds before a dam breaks.

 

I clenched my fingers around the strap of my bag. “Do you think he’d really… do something like this?”

 

Gojo didn’t look at me, but his voice was low and grim.

 

“I think Suguru’s been playing chess against his own heart for months now. And I think he’s running out of pawns.”

 

I swallowed hard, the cold evening air sticking to the back of my throat.

 

The train pulled in with a screech of brakes and a gust of wind. We boarded fast, taking the furthest booth near the back, where we wouldn’t be bothered. I collapsed into the seat beside him, and he reached over without a word, resting his hand over mine.

 

Not just trying to comfort me but anchoring himself as well.

 

Because whatever we were heading into, it was already in motion. And neither of us knew if we were trying to stop Suguru from doing something terrible…

 

…or from becoming someone we couldn’t reach anymore.

 

The train pulled away from the station with a shudder.

 

The trees started to blur.

 

And the silence between us said everything.

 

---

 

The train groaned to a halt, brakes squealing against rusted rails as the countryside station came into view, more a platform than a stop. No attendants. No voices. Just the sound of crickets and the hum of cursed energy pressing at the edges of my skull.

 

Gojo was already moving before the doors fully opened, long legs carrying him down the steps two at a time. I hit the ground right after him, the wind catching the hem of my jacket as I focused in.

 

I could feel him.

 

Suguru’s cursed energy rippled in the distance like a steady pulse. Calm. Too calm.

 

But what struck me was what lingered just outside that signature, two smaller, flickering energies. Children. Anxious. Tired. Alive.

 

My chest tightened. I reached for Gojo’s sleeve instinctively. “They’re still alive. The kids.”

 

He stopped just short of a dead branch cracking underfoot, turning to face me. His expression was sharp in the moonlight, all hard lines and shadows, but his voice softened.

 

“Where?”

 

I closed my eyes briefly and let my cursed energy expand, not enough to alert Suguru, just a pulse wide enough to feel the weight of the forest.

 

“There’s a small house... Right on the border of the old farmland trail. They’re inside. Hiding.” I pointed where it was further out on the hills. “Suguru isn’t with them. His energy leads past it..”

 

Gojo looked up toward the hill, toward the dark stretch where trees clustered like teeth against the sky.

 

His parents’ house.

 

I nodded before he could ask. “That’s where he is.”

 

We took off again, feet pounding against the soft dirt, trees blurring past. My lungs burned, but I didn’t care. All I could think about was how quiet the children’s energy felt. How it didn’t spike at our approach. They didn’t even know help was coming.

 

We crested the last slope before the trail split, one path veering toward the old house, the other down to the building where the kids waited. But the moment we passed the tree line..

 

Gojo jerked to a stop.

 

So did I.

 

Three bodies. Slumped in the brush. Faces turned down into the mud.

 

Gojo’s cursed energy flared in a wave so sharp it made my teeth buzz.

 

“They’re… they’re dead.” I forced the words out even though I already knew.

 

Gojo didn’t answer.

 

He crouched next to one of them and peeled back the jacket collar.

 

I stood behind him, trying to keep my breath steady.

 

No crest. No cursed tool. No identifying talisman. Just a threadbare uniform with a grease stain near the hem and a stitched name patch.

 

Gojo shifted the jacket aside further and brushed two fingers over the man’s wrist. “No cursed energy. Not even a flicker.”

 

I knelt next to the second body. Same story. Older, maybe late fifties. His knuckles were swollen from years of hard labor, and the plastic ID badge hanging from his belt clacked against the gravel when I turned him.

 

“Satoru,” I whispered, “they’re just people.”

 

Gojo didn’t say anything at first. He just stared at the three bodies, their quiet, bloodless stillness under the pale sweep of moonlight. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse.

 

“He said it once, didn’t he? That someday, he might start believing humans don’t deserve to exist.”

 

I swallowed. “But these- this isn’t some massacre. There’s no chaos. No panic. It’s precise.”

 

His gaze didn’t leave the corpses. “They did something to piss him off..”

 

My voice cracked. “You think it has to do with the kids?”

 

“Has to,” Gojo said. “But we don’t have time to stand here guessing.”

 

I nodded quickly and straightened. His tone had shifted, clipped, focused. The way it got when something in him had already made the call. I matched his pace as he started moving again, both of us drawn to the pulsing line of Suguru’s cursed energy just beyond the path.

 

The kids’ signatures were still there. Dim, like a low-banked fire.

 

Alive.

 

I didn't look back at the bodies.

 

I couldn’t.

 

Because if I did, I might start asking myself the one question we didn’t have time to answer right now.

 

What if this wasn’t a step toward something?

 

What if it was the first real act of a man already gone?

 

The gravel path crunched under our feet as we neared the edge of the property.

 

I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath until I saw the shadow of the gate, tall, wooden, familiar in the worst way. It opened into a modest courtyard, the kind you’d see in old family homes still clinging to quiet countryside values. Stone lanterns lined the walkway. Peaceful. But the air wasn’t peaceful now.

 

Gojo and I froze at the same time.

 

There it was.

 

The cursed spirit, long-limbed, twitching, hovered low to the tatami-matted engawa of the house, just barely visible in the moonlight. It pulsed with Suguru’s energy, thick and oppressive, and wrong in a way that made my stomach curl. It wasn’t watching for intruders. It wasn’t guarding.

 

It was waiting.

 

Waiting for a signal.

 

Gojo whispered, “He’s already inside.”

 

I nodded once, eyes scanning the house. The paper screens were drawn shut, but light flickered faintly from inside. Candlelight. Not electric. As if he wanted the silence. As if he didn’t want them to hear anything unnatural before he did something.

 

That’s when it hit me.

 

He wasn’t saying goodbye to his parents.

 

He was testing himself.

 

If he could kill them, two harmless, aging humans who raised him with care and homemade meals, then he could do the rest. Then he could kill the world.

 

I swallowed hard and stepped closer to the wall of the house, pressing my palm to the grain of the wood.

 

“Satoru,” I whispered, shaking. “They’re just- just people. They’re asleep. They don’t even seem scared yet.”

 

Gojo’s jaw clenched. His voice was low, edged. “Then he hasn’t made up his mind.”

 

“Or he already has,” I said. My eyes burned. “And he’s numbing himself...”

 

A wind swept through the yard, rustling the wind chimes under the eaves. They jingled softly, like laughter from a past life.

 

I remembered his mother’s smile. Her tea. The photo she gave me of him and Satoru when they were kids, Suguru in his messy hair, Satoru’s buzzcut sticking up wildly.

 

And now he was inside. Seeing all of that. Smothering it under his curse.

 

Gojo took a breath like he was about to break something. “We go in together.”

 

“We have to stop him,” I whispered. “Without making him feel cornered. If he thinks it’s too late…”

 

“He’ll do it out of spite,” Gojo finished, voice flat. “Or guilt. Or pride.”

 

I looked at him. His eyes weren’t glowing anymore. They were just blue. Scared.

 

I took his hand.

 

We didn’t even have time to look at each other. The second we hit the edge of the house, I felt his cursed energy spike, fractured, volatile, on the edge of detonation. He felt us.

 

We bolted.

 

The old porch creaked under our weight, and the sliding door cracked open just as Suguru turned in the hall. His cursed spirit was floating near the back of the house, quiet and pulsing with pressure. He’d been seconds away. Seconds.

 

We slammed into him, Satoru from the front, me from the side, and the three of us hit the tatami like a dropped boulder. Something on the shelf clattered, a lamp toppled over, but the rest of the house stayed still. We froze.

 

Satoru hissed, “Quiet. If you wake them up, so help me-”

 

Suguru bucked violently under us, teeth clenched, face twisted in pure fury. “Get off!”

 

“No,” I growled, tendrils already coming up from the ground. Two wrapped his wrists. One pressed tight over his mouth before he could summon anything else. “You're not doing this. You're not taking them.”

 

His eyes widened when the tendrils hit, but it wasn’t fear, it was anger. Deep, hollow, resigned anger.

 

He thrashed again, this time hard enough that we all slid a little down the hall, my elbow knocking a wooden beam. Satoru cursed under his breath, throwing up a sound barrier with a flick of his hand.

 

“Did you think we wouldn’t find out?” Satoru snapped low, his tone sharp enough to slice glass. “You think we’d just sit back and let you go through with it?”

 

I leaned down, breath shaking. “Suguru- these are your parents.”

 

He stared up at me, panting through his nose, eyes dark and unreadable. My cursed energy was pulsing around him like a net, tight and trembling.

 

Then-

 

Footsteps.

 

Soft. Bare. Coming from down the hall.

 

Shit.

 

Gojo reacted first, faster than either of us could breathe. He gripped Suguru by the collar and yanked him off the tatami with a sharp grunt, dragging his body across the floor like dead weight. I followed, tendrils flexing to keep Suguru bound and silent as Gojo pulled him into the living room and away from the hall.

 

As soon as we cleared the threshold, Satoru snapped his fingers. A flash of cursed energy buzzed against my skin like static, a faint dark blue barrier formed, fanning across the walls before sealing shut around us in a dome.

 

A small barrier. Just enough.

 

Enough to trap a curse.

 

Or hide three jujutsu sorcerers from a mother who didn’t know her son was about to become a murderer.

 

Everything outside blurred, muted color, stretched light, as if we were underwater. I could see her silhouette in the hallway, pausing, head tilted like she sensed something. But she couldn’t see us.

 

Gojo’s barrier held.

 

My tendrils shot forward and latched to the wooden floor with a sick snap, anchoring Suguru in place. I used the thickest vine to gag him tighter, wrapping around his jaw and pulling back until I heard the breath get knocked out of him.

 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do this.”

 

Suguru thrashed against the vines, not like before, this wasn’t fury. This was frantic. Like something inside him had cracked under the pressure and all he had left was a drowning man’s instinct to claw for air.

 

Gojo dropped to his knees beside him, one hand braced on the floor, the other steady at Suguru’s shoulder.

 

“You were really going to do it,” Satoru said, voice flat. “You were actually going to do it.”

 

Suguru shook his head. Or tried. But even the small motion looked desperate.

 

“She’s just a person, Suguru,” I said, heart hammering. “She’s your mother. They’re not part of this. They’re not part of your war.”

 

He didn’t answer, didn’t blink, didn’t look away. Just breathed quietly through his nose, his jaw tight beneath the tendrils coiled around it.

 

The sound of soft footsteps echoed beyond the shoji screen.

 

My heart stopped.

 

We all froze, Gojo holding his breath beside me, Suguru straining to listen beneath me.

 

Then a pause. A sleepy sigh. The whisper of retreating steps and the gentle click of a sliding door shutting.

 

She’d gone back to bed.

 

Only then did I let out the breath I’d been holding. My vines trembled slightly, not with effort, but with the sudden drop of adrenaline. I didn’t loosen them. Not yet. Not until we knew we had him. Not until he knew we had him.

 

Gojo exhaled too, rubbing a hand down his face, his Infinity flickering out. He crouched next to us, elbows on his knees, blue eyes rimmed red from strain and something deeper.

 

“Suguru,” he said quietly. “This isn’t it. You know that, right? Please tell me something deep down knows how crazy this is. That you know this isn’t the way.”

 

Suguru didn’t look at him.

 

“Whatever you think this proves,” I added, my voice steadier now, “killing them won’t make it easier. It won’t make you right. It’ll just hollow you out more. Until there’s nothing left.”

 

His mouth twitched at that. Like I’d hit something too close to the truth.

 

Gojo leaned forward. “You think we don’t get it? That we don’t feel it too? Every goddamn mission we go on, every kid we find too late, every parent that turns their back on their own child because they can’t see cursed energy?”

 

I saw Suguru flinch.

 

“You’re right that the world’s broken,” Gojo continued, quieter now. “But you’re wrong if you think this is the only way to fix it.”

 

“We can change it,” I said. “Together. I know what it’s like to be cast aside... my mother beat me for it. I've seen what a freak people can see us as...”

 

He looked up at me slowly. Eyes glassy. Not hopeful. Not angry. Just tired.

 

I pressed on. “We could become teachers one day. All of us. Take over from the inside. Raise a new generation the way we should’ve been raised. Protect them. Give them everything we didn’t get.”

 

Gojo nodded, lips twitching toward something that might’ve been a smile if it weren’t so sad.

 

“Like Yuki,” he said. “She’s trying to do it in her own way. She's proving it’s possible.”

 

“And she hasn’t given up on that hope,” I added. “Neither have we.”

 

Silence fell.

 

Suguru stared at the tatami mat between us, breath shallow, shoulders pulled tight beneath my vines. The room smelled like his mother’s incense, soft and nostalgic. Homey in a way that made my chest ache.

 

“You’re not gone yet,” I whispered. “So don’t pretend you are.”

 

His throat bobbed. Just once. Then again.

 

“Don’t make this your line in the sand,” Gojo said. “Please, Suguru.”

 

Still nothing.

 

But he didn’t fight the vines.

 

Didn’t reach for a curse.

 

He just stayed there, on the floor, surrounded by the two people who loved him most, staring at the place where his parents had almost died.

 

I loosened my tendrils slowly.

 

Just a little. Just enough so he could breathe easier.

 

And I whispered, “Come back to us. Please.”

 

Suguru’s arms were still bound, wrapped in tight coils of my cursed vines that flexed with every shift of his body. I’d given him just enough room to breathe, to speak, to feel something other than the pressure of his own rage, but not enough to lash out.

 

He wasn’t fighting the vines anymore, but his eyes were wild with restraint.

 

“Let me go,” he growled.

 

“No,” I said, calmly. “Not until I know you’re still in there.”

 

His shoulders strained against the vines, not with force, just pressure. Testing. Like he needed to be sure he could break free if he really wanted to.

 

“I said let me go,” he snapped again, sharper this time. “You don’t get to decide this for me.”

 

“She’s not deciding shit,” Gojo bit out, stepping closer. “You’re the one who came here in the middle of the night to kill your fucking parents like it’s a warm-up act.”

 

Suguru’s eyes snapped to him, something furious burning behind them. “They’re not special, Satoru.”

 

“Bullshit,” Gojo fired back instantly, hands clenched at his sides. “They are to you.”

 

“No. That’s the problem.” Suguru’s voice shook, low and venomous. “The second I start making exceptions, I lose the right to change anything.”

 

I knelt beside him, my tendrils flexing slightly as he moved. “So this is the plan now? Kill every non-sorcerer, every man, woman, and child, because some of them hurt you? Because some of them hurt kids like us?”

 

“They're all blind to the suffering they cause us,” he hissed. “You think it’s just a few bad people? No. It’s systemic. It’s cultural. Every time a sorcerer child dies because their parents locked them in a room out of fear, that’s on all of them.”

 

“You’re not wrong about this being a rotting system,” Gojo said, stepping in now, voice cold. “But you’re still not right. You think killing them makes you better than them? It makes you exactly what they already believe we are.”

 

“They already believe we’re monsters,” Suguru spat. “So let’s be monsters. At least then we’re honest about it.”

 

Gojo scoffed, bitter. “Oh, that’s brilliant. Real noble. Mass murder as a moral high ground.”

 

“Satoru,” I said, warning, glancing up at him. “You’re not helping.”

 

He looked down at me, jaw tight. “He’s trying to justify genocide, and I’m supposed to be nice about it?”

 

“No,” I said gently, turning back to Suguru, “but yelling won’t reach him either.”

 

Suguru was breathing harder now, his cursed energy rippling under his skin like boiling water, but he didn’t break the vines. He didn’t even try.

 

“You think I want this?” he asked, voice raw. “You think I like this? I hate it. I hate all of it. But it’s the only way.”

 

“No, it’s not,” I whispered. “That’s just the voice of someone who’s been hurting too long and too deep. I know that voice. I have that voice.”

 

He finally looked at me again.

 

“You’re trying to be merciful,” I said. “To the kids like us. You want a world where no sorcerer is ever afraid again. But what about the ones who aren’t like us? What about the non-sorcerer siblings? Friends? Caregivers who do protect us?”

 

“They’re rare,” he snarled. “And that rarity is exactly why this has to be done.”

 

Gojo knelt down beside him now, hands braced on his knees. His voice was sharp, unflinching. “And when you’re done, when you’ve bathed the world in blood, what happens to the kids who are left? The ones who see you as a savior? What kind of example are you setting for them?”

 

“I’ll protect them.”

 

“No, you’ll ruin them,” Gojo said, leaning in closer. “They’ll grow up thinking love is conditional. That justice is only found through slaughter. That vengeance and salvation are the same thing.”

 

Suguru didn’t move, didn’t speak. But I saw his throat bob again. The tiniest tremble.

 

I reached for his face, my hand barely brushing his cheek. “You don’t have to become the thing you’re trying to destroy.”

 

“They already made me that,” he muttered.

 

“Then let us help unmake it.”

 

Suguru’s eyes narrowed, but his voice stayed level. Controlled.

 

“You’re still under the illusion this is something I can come back from,” he said. “It’s not. There’s no redemption here, Amara. No happy ending. Just the part where you walk away before I drag you down with me.”

 

“Not happening,” Gojo said before I could answer, leaning casually against the wall. “You’re stuck with us, big guy. Like a bad tattoo. Or herpes.”

 

Suguru didn’t even look at him, his focus stayed on me, heavy and unblinking.

 

“You’re clinging to me like you’re trying to prove something to yourself,” he said. “Like saving me makes all the damage in your own head worth it.”

 

The vines at his ribs tightened, enough to make him draw in a sharper breath. I didn’t look away.

 

“I’m here because I love you,” I said. “Not because I need you to make me feel better about myself.”

 

His mouth curved, faint and humorless. “You call it love. I call it martyrdom. You’d set yourself on fire if it meant keeping me warm another night.”

 

“Sounds romantic,” Gojo cut in with a grin. “Write that down. We could sell that on cards.”

 

Suguru finally glanced at him. “And you.. still joking because you can’t handle a serious moment. Still pretending you’re above it all, when really you’re just scared I’ll leave and take half of you with me.”

 

Gojo smirked wider. “Half? Oh, baby, you wish you were half of me.”

 

Suguru turned back to me, ignoring him entirely now. “Last chance. Let me go.”

 

I moved closer. “No.”

 

“Not happening,” Gojo echoed.

 

Suguru’s eyes darkened. “Then you’re giving me permission to hurt you.”

 

The vines coiled higher around his torso, squeezing slowly and steadily until I felt the resistance in his breath. I leaned in, close enough that my words brushed the space between us.

 

“I’m not afraid of you,” I murmured, calm as my cursed energy hummed between us. “If you try, I’ll stop you. I’ll hold you down as long as it takes. And when you break, I’ll put you back together myself.”

 

His jaw tightened.

 

“Not because I hate you,” I continued, softer now. “But because I love you enough to hurt you if it keeps you alive.”

 

For the first time, something flickered in his eyes... hesitation. Not fear. Not shame. Just… pause.

 

Gojo crouched beside us, voice light but edged. “She’s good at this, huh? Love and death threats all in one package. I’m a little turned on, not gonna lie.”

 

Without even thinking about it, I smacked the back of his head, sharp and quick, the same way Suguru does when he’s had enough of his mouth. Gojo made a dramatic, wounded noise and rubbed the spot, mumbling something about “assault in front of a witness?? I thought you were good cop..”

 

Suguru’s eyes followed the motion. For a moment, there was something familiar in his face, almost like he’d been about to say something from another life. Then the look hardened.

 

“You two really think this is loyalty,” he said. “That staying here with me proves something. But all it proves is that neither of you knows when to quit.”

 

Gojo tilted his head lazily. “You’re welcome.”

 

Suguru ignored him, locking onto me instead.

“You keep throwing yourself at a fight you can’t win. Wasting your time on me like it’s going to change the outcome. You don’t see it for what it is. You’re just-”

 

He stopped mid-sentence. The pause was sharp, his eyes narrowing slightly as if testing the words before saying them.

 

“You’re just like…” He inhaled slowly, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. “Like someone trying to… dress up something that’s already-”

 

He broke off. Jaw tight. The rest of the sentence got stuck somewhere in his throat.

 

I knew he could’ve finished it. Knew he’d been reaching for something meant to hurt me. But he didn’t.

 

And in that hesitation, his gaze flickered, not soft, not warm, but human.

 

It was the smallest thing, a shift in his eyes, a faint loosening in his shoulders, but it was enough to make my grip on the vines ease without thinking about it. Not gone, just… not strangling him anymore.

 

Gojo noticed too. His cursed energy shifted, the sharp edges smoothing out. He wasn’t looking at him like a threat in that moment... just Suguru.

 

Suguru’s eyes moved between us, and for a moment, the tension in his mouth eased. “You two…” he murmured, the corner of his mouth tugging faintly upward. “Still hovering over me like a pair of overprotective parents.”

 

It wasn’t biting. It wasn’t cold. It was… almost familiar.

 

Gojo let out a quiet huff. “You say that like you’re not the kind of kid who’d run straight into traffic.”

 

Suguru’s gaze slid to him. “I didn’t say I didn’t need it,” he replied, and the faintest trace of something like amusement crossed his face. But it was muted, heavy, like the sound of a memory too far away to touch.

 

I felt something in my chest pull tight. “You’re still in there,” I said softly.

 

His eyes flicked to me, and for a second, I thought I saw him about to answer. But instead, he shook his head faintly, the smile fading almost as soon as it had appeared. “Not the way you remember.”

 

The quiet that followed wasn’t hostile. Just… heavy.

 

“I’m not killing people for sport,” he spat. “I’m trying to make sure the next generation doesn’t suffer like we did. Like they did.”

 

He looked up at us, and for the first time since we tackled him, his voice trembled, not from rage.

 

From something closer to grief.

 

“There are two girls here,” he said. “Nanako and Mimiko Hasaba. Five years old. One of them sees curses so clearly it gives her migraines. The other… she tried to claw her own eyes out.”

 

My breath caught.

 

Suguru didn’t blink.

 

“Their uncle kept them in a storage cellar under the house. Said they were possessed. Tied them down with rope and stuffed their mouths with prayer cloths so they’d stop screaming about the ‘monsters.’”

 

He took a slow, shaky breath, and for a moment, I saw the horror flash across his face again. Raw. Real.

 

“I killed him. Slowly.”

 

No one spoke.

 

Gojo leaned back, rubbing a hand over his face.

 

“They’re upstairs now,” Suguru said. “I got the locks off. I wrapped them in blankets. I told them the monsters were gone.”

 

He swallowed.

 

“But they didn’t cry. Didn’t move. Just stared at me like they were already dead. Like I was the next person who might hurt them.”

 

I looked at him, at all of him.

 

He wasn’t wrong.

 

He just didn’t know how to live in the gray.

 

“They were born like us,” he whispered. “And the world punished them for it. You tell me, Amara.. what do I do with that?”

 

I crouched in front of him, close enough to touch if the vines hadn’t been there.

 

“You care for them,” I said softly. “You don’t make them your reason to give up. You make them your reason to stay.”

 

His brow furrowed.

 

“You raise them into something the world’s never seen. You fight beside us. You teach them that their pain doesn’t have to end in blood. That they can choose something else.”

 

Gojo nodded. “You don’t have to become the villain to beat one.”

 

Suguru looked between us, and for a long time, he didn’t say anything.

 

Then his voice dropped.

 

“Would you have still have gone through all this trouble if I had killed my parents?”

 

Gojo didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

 

I whispered, “Of course.”

 

Suguru looked down.

 

And for the first time all night, his shoulders sagged under the weight of it all.

 

His head dropped, chin brushing the top edge of the cursed vines coiled across his chest. His breath caught, once, twice, and when it finally slipped out, it shook like something breaking apart inside him.

 

“I can’t do this,” he said, barely audible. “I can’t keep watching you both slip away.”

 

My stomach twisted. “Slip away…?”

 

“You’re becoming what they want,” he whispered. “Weapons. Saviors. Perfect soldiers in a broken system.”

 

His voice cracked.

 

“They’ll burn you out, Amara. They’ll feed off you until there’s nothing left. And Satoru-” He choked on the name. “He keeps pretending he's fine. Like he doesn’t notice how they chain him with responsibility and call it power.”

 

I felt Gojo still beside me. But he didn’t interrupt.

 

Suguru lifted his gaze then, tear-tracked and furious and raw. Not at us, never really at us, but at the impossible weight he’d been carrying.

 

“I just want to build something else,” he said. “Somewhere quiet. Somewhere safe.”

 

His voice got thinner, smaller.

 

“A world where you could have your garden, Amara. Even just a small one. With the silly little plants you talk about. And stupid socks hanging on a line.”

 

My throat tightened.

 

“A world where Satoru could sleep in, actually sleep, and not wake up to some mission or curse or Elders needing him to play god.”

 

Gojo turned away slightly, like the words hit too close.

 

Suguru blinked fast. “A world where I could breathe without this weight on my ribs. Where I’m not always calculating which of us is next. Where I’m not thinking about Yu’s laugh or Riko’s voice and wondering why they’re gone and we’re not.”

 

Gojo crouched down beside him again, rubbing the back of his neck like he couldn’t decide what to do with his hands. Eventually, he reached forward and rested his palm over Suguru’s knee. Gentle. Grounding.

 

“I want that world too,” Gojo murmured.

 

I nodded, the pressure behind my eyes threatening to spill over.

 

“So then let’s make it,” I whispered. “Even if it’s only a little corner of it.”

 

Suguru shook his head. “You can’t. Not with them still in power. Not with-”

 

“Then we tear it apart slowly,” I said. “Together. But we do it in a way that leaves us intact. Not… this.”

 

I squeezed the vines around him just slightly. Not to hurt, just to remind him he was still here. Still held.

 

“Don’t make us your proof, Suguru,” I said. “Make us your reason.”

 

His eyes met mine.

 

And they shook.

 

Not with fury. Not with righteousness.

 

But with grief.

 

And for the first time in too long, Suguru Geto began to cry.

 

Not the quiet, noble kind. The shaking, snot-nosed, body-curled kind of crying that comes when the weight is finally too much. When the righteous armor cracks open and you remember there’s a person underneath it.

 

He cried like he didn’t know how to stop.

 

Gojo pulled him into his arms anyway, awkward around the vines, cradling him like he’d never let him fall again.

 

And I just held on tighter.

 

Because we were still here.

 

Still fighting for him.

Chapter 84: Putting Everything Together

The vines slipped away, retreating into the floor like breath drawn back into a chest. Amara’s hands trembled slightly as they left Suguru’s shoulders, but her face didn’t waver. She looked at him like he hadn’t just tried to cross a line he could never come back from. Like he was still hers.

 

Then her arms wrapped around his neck.

 

Gojo followed, clinging to his side like a stubborn child, arms thrown over both of them. They said nothing for a moment, just held him in silence thick with relief, cursed energy humming low between them like a lullaby. Then Amara leaned close and whispered:

 

“Let’s go home.”

 

And somehow… he followed.

 

---

 

The shed was cold and dark. Old hay clung to the corners. The air smelled like mildew and wood rot. But the girls inside...

 

Didn’t scream.

 

They flinched, pulled back, held each other in the dark, but didn’t scream.

 

Gojo’s silhouette filled the doorway first, broad-shouldered and unnaturally still. His presence, even dulled and unarmed, was too much. The taller girl’s fingers twitched toward each other, gripping harder.

 

But Amara moved in beside him, low and gentle, crouching like she was greeting a skittish animal in the woods. Her voice was soft, hands open, eyes wide and kind. She didn’t ask them to come closer she just made it safe to.

 

And then Suguru stepped through the light.

 

Mimiko blinked first. Her expression shifted the moment she saw him, not relief, exactly, but recognition. And then… belief.

 

“It’s him,” she whispered to her sister. “That’s the one who let us out.”

 

Nanako hesitated. But when Suguru didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t even look at them directly, her shoulders dropped a fraction. She didn’t run.

 

Amara didn’t rush them. She stayed where she was, still crouched, sleeves slipping down over her hands like always. Her voice stayed low, warm.

 

“Hey, there,” she murmured, tilting her head. “You’re okay now. Nobody’s gonna hurt you. I promise.”

 

The smaller one, Mimiko, inched forward first. Cautious, wobbling, eyes darting between them all until she reached Amara.

 

Amara didn’t scoop her up.

 

She opened her arms.

 

That simple.

 

And that was all Mimiko needed.

 

She collapsed into her chest with a quiet, shuddering sob. And Amara held her like she’d known her forever. Like there was nothing strange about having a tear-streaked five-year-old pressed against her shoulder at midnight in a rotting shed.

 

Suguru didn’t move. Couldn’t. He just watched.

 

Nanako followed next. She moved slowly, but deliberately, curling against Amara’s side until both girls were bundled against her like little shadows clinging to warmth.

 

Amara whispered to them, healing softly. Letting her cursed energy settle into their tiny limbs like it was natural to soothe instead of destroy. She didn’t overdo it. She didn’t rush. She just ran her fingers over bruises with such tenderness that Mimiko let out a hiccuped giggle between breaths.

 

Suguru felt something in his chest… break.

 

And just behind him..

 

“Careful,” Satoru muttered, voice low near his ear. “You’re making that face again.”

 

Suguru startled. He hadn’t heard him move.

 

Satoru tilted his head with a lazy smirk, eyes hidden behind tinted lenses. “The ‘if I had a ring I’d marry her on the spot’ face.”

 

“Shut up,” Suguru said reflexively, but it came out soft. Breathless.

 

Satoru bumped his shoulder. “It’s okay, you know. You almost threw everything away… but you didn’t. And now you get to look at her like that for the rest of our lives.”

 

Suguru didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.

 

Because when Amara looked up just then, Mimiko still curled in her arms, Nanako leaning against her chest, her expression warm and alive and gentle, her eyes found his.

 

And she smiled.

 

Soft. Knowing. Forgiving.

 

Like she already saw the man he was trying to be again.

 

And Suguru felt, for the first time in months, like maybe that man was still there after all.

 

---

 

Gojo had slouched sideways in his seat by now, one arm slung behind Suguru’s back, fingers brushing faintly along the hem of his shirt. It was subtle, comfort disguised as casual touch, but Suguru felt every pass of his fingertips like a tether pulling him back to center.

 

Across from them, Amara was seated with both little girls nestled against her like twin shadows. Mimiko had all but climbed into her lap, her knees tucked tight to her chest, while Nanako leaned into her shoulder, hands still in motion as she retold what had to be the third version of a dream involving “a flying raccoon with magic.”

 

Amara didn’t flinch. Didn’t interrupt. She just nodded, wide-eyed like it was the most important thing she’d ever heard.

 

“Oh my god, was it the same raccoon from the other story?” she whispered, scandalized.

 

Nanako grinned. “No! This one had glasses!”

 

Mimiko gasped. “Like Gogo!”

 

Gojo perked up, peeking over his own frames. “I knew I had a double out there.”

 

Amara leaned over, stage-whispering to the girls. “Honestly, he’s probably the raccoon. Think about it. Too fast. Always hungry. Causing all kinds of mischief.”

 

“Hey!” Gojo cried.

 

But the girls burst out laughing again, Mimiko snorting against Amara’s stomach. Amara shot him a smirk and Gojo mock-pouted like his honor had been wounded.

 

Suguru, silent beside him, didn’t laugh.

 

He just watched.

 

The whole cabin felt warmer than it should. Gentle. Like the walls were softer. Like the floor didn’t creak so loud when you walked across it. And maybe it didn’t. Maybe it was just what Amara brought with her, some quiet glow of steadiness Suguru had spent so long convinced he didn’t deserve.

 

He leaned back slightly, just enough to feel Gojo’s fingers trace the curve of his ribs, anchoring him. Gojo didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. His touch was enough.

 

Suguru looked at Amara again, and something inside him went soft in a way that hurt.

 

Her sleeves were pushed up to her elbows. One of the girls had tied a red hair elastic around her wrist like a bracelet, and Amara hadn’t even noticed. She was smiling, but not for anyone else, just this quiet little smile she got when she was thinking about something warm.

 

He couldn’t believe he’d almost erased that.

 

Almost burned down the world with her still in it.

 

Suguru let out a shaky breath and dropped his head back against the seat behind him, eyes flicking up toward the dull lights of the train ceiling. Gojo shifted subtly beside him, shoulder pressing against his. Not demanding, just there.

 

“I was gonna kill that,” Suguru murmured.

 

Gojo turned, eyes hidden behind his glasses but his expression unreadably soft. “You didn’t.”

 

“Barely.”

 

Gojo shrugged. “You came home.”

 

The words hit harder than they should’ve. Suguru didn’t answer. He just dropped his head forward until it hung between his knees, hands fisted in his shirt, breath caught somewhere between a sigh and a prayer.

 

Across from them, Amara brushed Mimiko’s hair behind her ear, humming something soft and tuneless. Nanako had finally started to nod off, curled into her side like she’d always belonged there.

 

Suguru looked up again, and Gojo tilted his head toward him, murmuring under his breath.

 

“She’d be a good mom, huh?”

 

Suguru’s chest clenched.

 

He nodded.

 

Couldn’t even say it.

 

Because yeah.

 

She would be.

 

And if he wanted to ever have a world where that future was possible, where kids like Nanako and Mimiko were safe, where Amara could grow flowers without looking over her shoulder, where Gojo could laugh without guarding his heart, he was going to have to fight for it.

 

Differently this time.

 

-----------

 

The girls were limp against me, all soft weight and slow breathing. One of them, Nanako, I think, had her cheek pressed into my collarbone, her breath warm and even now. The other was slumped against my hip, hand still tangled in the loose hem of my shirt like she was scared to let go.

 

“I’ve got one,” Suguru said gently.

 

I turned my head just in time to see him stepping closer, hands outstretched. He wasn’t looking at me, he was looking at the girl. Tender. Careful. Like she was glass.

 

I hesitated. Just for a second.

 

Then I let him take her.

 

She didn’t even stir when he lifted her into his arms.

 

“Alright, sugarplum,” Gojo murmured, stepping up beside me and tapping Nanako’s little back lightly. “Come on, I’ll take her. Your spine is crying for mercy.”

 

I didn’t laugh, but I did let her go. She folded naturally into Gojo’s arms, her head resting on his shoulder like she’d done it before. His hand came to the back of her head, holding her steady. Protective.

 

We walked the rest of the way in silence.

 

The second we stepped into the dorms, Yaga was already waiting in the entranceway. His eyes locked on the children first. Then on the three of us. His frown deepened instantly.

 

“What the hell is this?” His voice was low, but there was steel under it.

 

I stepped forward before the boys could say anything, hands raised slightly in a kind of silent truce.

 

“They’re safe,” I said. “They were locked in a cage in their family’s basement. Starved. Beaten. They've got cursed energy, high sensitivity, maybe the highest I’ve seen in kids their age. They weren’t being protected. They were being punished.”

 

Yaga’s expression darkened further. “Amara, you can’t just take children. There are procedures- channels you’re supposed to go through. Even if their family was-”

 

“Their family is dead.”

 

That made him pause.

 

I held his gaze. “I killed them.”

 

Behind me, I felt Suguru flinch. Gojo didn’t move.

 

I kept going.

 

“I walked into that house and saw two kids chained up like animals. I did what I had to do. I don’t regret it. And if anyone wants to punish me for saving them, they can go ahead and try.”

 

Yaga was quiet for a beat too long. He scanned my face, like he was trying to find the cracks in what I just said.

 

“You sure it was you?” he asked finally. Too quietly.

 

I didn’t blink. “Yes.”

 

I wouldn’t let Suguru carry this.

 

He stared at me a few seconds longer, then exhaled, running a hand down his beard. “The Elders will ask questions.”

 

“Then I’ll answer them,” I said. “But not tonight. Tonight, they need sleep. Food. Medical attention. And someone to make sure they know the world doesn’t hate them.”

 

Yaga looked between the three of us again. “And what am I supposed to tell the Society? That three of my most high-profile students ran off on an unsanctioned mission, killed a family, and returned with two traumatized girls like stray dogs?”

 

I didn’t back down. “No. You tell them we responded to a cursed energy anomaly. That there was a threat. That we neutralized it and rescued the victims. You tell them what you always do when the truth doesn’t fit neatly into their system.”

 

He sighed again, slow and heavy. “You sound more like me every day.”

 

I smiled softly. “That’s not the worst thing.”

 

For a long moment, it felt like he might push back. But then he just stepped aside.

 

“Get them to Shoko. I’ll handle the paperwork.”

 

I nodded and turned back to the boys. “Let’s get them inside.”

 

Suguru was already watching me, eyes soft, unreadable. Gojo just smiled gently and adjusted the weight of the girl in his arms like it was second nature.

 

And for the first time in days, something like peace cracked through the fog around my ribs.

 

We hadn’t saved the world.

 

But we saved two tiny pieces of it.

 

And that had to count for something.

 

I pulled out my phone the second we left Yaga’s line of sight. I tapped Shoko’s name. The screen lit up, 1:37am.

 

She picked up on the second ring, her voice groggy but alert in that classic medic way. “This better not be Gojo with a papercut again.”

 

“It’s me,” I said quickly. “We have two kids. Five, maybe six years old. Malnourished, minor surface wounds. One has a swollen ankle. They were kept in a cage.”

 

Silence.

 

Then, sharply awake: “Bring them to the medical wing. I’ll meet you there in ten.”

 

The call ended before I could thank her.

 

Behind me, Suguru shifted, his arms still curled securely around Mimiko. His voice was low, rough. “You didn’t have to do that. You didn’t have to lie for me.”

 

I turned to look at him, walking backward for a moment to face him fully. “Yes, I did.”

 

He frowned, clearly still struggling under the weight of it all. “I could’ve handled it.”

 

“No, Suguru,” I said, softer this time. “You’re going to be on medical leave. You’re going to rest. You’re going to spend time taking care of them, Nanako and Mimiko. You’re not going to sit in front of some twisted council who only wants to dissect what broke in you. Not right now.”

 

His throat moved like he was trying to swallow something bitter. “And if they ask where I am?”

 

“They’ll talk to me.”

 

“Amara-”

 

“No.” I stopped walking and looked at him seriously. “You’re tired. You're hurt. You’re grieving in a world that doesn’t give anyone time to do that right. I’m not letting them rip into you just to prove you’re still ‘useful.’ You get a break. Whether they want to give it or not.”

 

Gojo shifted beside him, balancing Nanako’s sleepy head against his shoulder with a sigh. “Honestly? I’d take the deal, Suguru. You ever seen her argue? She could sell water to the ocean.”

 

I cracked a small smile. Suguru didn’t, but his eyes softened just slightly.

 

When we reached the doors of the medical wing, the light above the threshold flickered faintly, bathing the hallway in a sleepy haze. Shoko stood just inside, tugging her lab coat over a dark tank top and sleep shorts, a cigarette tucked behind her ear.

 

She blinked at us. Then at the girls. And then, without a word, she opened the second door wider and waved us in.

 

“Bed two and three,” she said. “Gently.”

 

We moved quickly but carefully. The girls stirred a little as we laid them down, but they didn’t wake. Shoko was already pulling on gloves and snapping them tight.

 

“Vitals first,” she muttered, scanning them with her cursed energy already active. “Gojo, grab the portable monitor. Suguru, sit if you’re gonna hover. You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

 

He didn’t move right away. Just stared at Nanako and Mimiko like they were fragile little stars he didn’t know how to hold.

 

I walked back to him slowly, reached up, and brushed my fingers through his hair, then down his arm.

 

“Sit,” I echoed gently. “Let her do her work.”

 

He blinked slowly… and then finally nodded, letting me guide him to the bench along the wall.

 

For now, we were safe. The girls were safe.

 

But more than that, Suguru was still here. Still with us.

 

---

 

The medical wing was dim and quiet, the kind of hush that made even footsteps feel too loud. I knelt beside the hospital bed, brushing a few stray strands of hair from Nanako’s cheek. Her skin was pale under the fluorescents, her small frame barely denting the mattress.

 

“Mimi… Nako…” I whispered, using the names Suguru had gently repeated earlier. “Hey, sweethearts. I need you to wake up just for a little bit, okay?”

 

Nanako stirred first, her brows pinching in confusion, lips parting on a dry little breath. Mimiko blinked awake a moment later, bleary-eyed and startled, hands clutching at the blanket like she thought it might disappear.

 

“Hey,” I said, smiling softly. “You're safe. You’re at a place called Jujutsu Tech now, and this is my best friend Shoko. She’s gonna check on you and make sure everything feels better.”

 

Shoko stepped up beside me, her voice a little hoarse from sleep but kind. “Hey there, ladies. I’m the doctor around here. I promise this won’t take long.”

 

The girls looked wary, eyes darting between me and Shoko. I nodded to them, tapping a gentle rhythm over the back of Nanako’s hand.

 

“And guess what?” I added, grinning just a little. “If you’re really brave and let Shoko do her checkup, she’s got something special.”

 

Shoko raised an eyebrow, then gave a soft huff of a smile. “That’s right. If you do a really good job, I’ll give you each a sticker and a lollipop. But only if you promise to be my very best patients.”

 

That got them. Nanako blinked like she couldn’t believe her luck, and Mimiko sat up a little straighter with the cautious seriousness of someone very determined not to mess this up.

 

“Okay,” Mimiko whispered.

 

“Do we get to pick the sticker?” Nanako added, her voice raspy and small.

 

“Of course,” Shoko said, already grabbing her tools and letting her cursed energy settle into a warm hum. “Only the coolest options. I think I have one with a panda on a skateboard.”

 

Nanako gasped. “Pandas can’t skateboard.”

 

“You’d be surprised,” Gojo chimed from the bench, sprawled sideways and somehow managing to look like he lived there. “I've seen Yaga make something panda-like do a kick flip.”

 

Suguru didn’t say anything... just watched quietly from his chair, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of his mouth. His eyes never left the girls. Or me.

 

I kept my smile soft and steady, holding their little hands while Shoko checked their vitals, murmuring encouragement the whole time. The girls were nervous, but they were so good, letting Shoko examine their bruises, testing their reflexes, even wincing through the disinfectant with only the smallest flinches.

 

Suguru exhaled slowly beside me.

 

“You see?” I said softly, not looking at him. “You saved them. You did something good.”

 

He didn’t answer.

 

But I felt his fingers brush the back of my hand, barely there. Just a touch.

 

He was listening.

 

Shoko looked between the four of us, me, Satoru, Suguru, and the two tiny girls now blinking sleepily on the edge of their hospital beds, and raised a brow.

 

“So,” she said, peeling her gloves off with a snap, “are you going to tell me what the hell happened, or am I going to have to diagnose emotional trauma with vibes alone?”

 

I gave her a tired smile, brushing a hand down the back of Nanako’s hair as the little girl leaned heavily into my side. “Once they’re asleep,” I promised. “I’ll tell you everything.”

 

She squinted at me, lips twitching. “You better. And it better be good. I woke up for this.”

 

“They’re worth it,” I murmured, glancing down at the girls as Mimiko let out a massive yawn and curled up against my other arm like a sleepy cat.

 

Shoko sighed and stretched her arms over her head. “They’re clear for now. Minor bruising, superficial cuts, light dehydration. I’ll keep them overnight just to be safe. They’re going to need a few check-ins over the next week or two, especially for PTSD symptoms, but physically? They’ll be fine.”

 

Mimiko blinked up at her. “Do we get our stickers now?”

 

That made Shoko crack a full grin. “You did so good. You each get to pick one.”

 

“And candy,” Nanako added helpfully, just to make sure the transaction was honored.

 

Shoko rolled her eyes and pulled open the side drawer, offering them a rainbow of lollipops and a small sticker sheet full of absurd designs, sparkly frogs, pandas doing parkour, and a suspiciously buff cat in a karate gi.

 

The girls giggled as they picked. Mimiko chose a roller-skating penguin and a blue raspberry pop. Nanako took the glitter panda and cherry, then immediately turned on her heel and ran straight across the medical wing floor, right into Suguru’s lap.

 

He stiffened for a second, startled, and I felt Satoru tense beside me.

 

But Suguru didn’t push her away.

 

In fact, he blinked, stunned, as Mimiko quickly joined her sister, both girls holding their stickers up like prized jewels.

 

“Do you like them?” Mimiko asked, eyes wide. “They’re our favorite.”

 

Suguru looked down at them, his expression unreadable for a heartbeat, and then something shifted. The corners of his mouth softened. He leaned forward just slightly, one hand hovering protectively behind Mimiko’s back as he examined their sticker choices with the gravity of a curator at a museum.

 

“They’re perfect,” he said softly. “You have excellent taste.”

 

Nanako grinned and showed him the panda again. “This one looks like it can do backflips. I want to color pandas doing backflips.”

 

“Think you could draw it for me sometime?” he asked. “I’d hang it up.”

 

They beamed.

 

Satoru smiled behind his hand. “Oh, he’s in deep.”

 

I elbowed him gently, my heart thudding with something warm and aching all at once. Suguru hadn’t looked that soft in weeks. Months, maybe.

 

And now, with a five-year-old in each arm and a crooked smile on his face, he looked like something he didn’t believe he could ever be again.

 

Human.

 

Loved.

 

Home.

 

---

 

Suguru came back out into the hallway with a soft, careful click of the door, his footsteps quiet like he didn’t want to wake a single dust mote in the air. His hair was a bit messy, shirt wrinkled from bending over the girls’ cots, but there was a strange peace in his expression now, an echo of the boy he used to be. The one who used to fuss over Yu Haibara’s tie being crooked and sneak dango into the dorms with Satoru.

 

“They’re asleep,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

 

“Come sit,” I said gently, patting the bed beside me. “You’re next.”

 

He rolled his eyes faintly but obeyed, lowering himself beside me. Shoko had already lit a cigarette, letting it burn between her lips as she pulled on gloves with the other hand.

 

“Alright, sad boy,” she said. “Shirt off.”

 

“Don’t call him that,” I mumbled, but Suguru was already sighing and pulling the fabric up, revealing a deep purple bloom along his left side.

 

Shoko whistled low. “That’s a nasty set of bruises. How many ribs?”

 

“Three,” he muttered. “Maybe four. She got me good.”

 

I scowled. “You weren’t listening..”

 

He smiled at me, soft and tired. “I know. I’m not mad.”

 

“Oh, you’re not mad?” Shoko snorted. “Because I am. You let yourself get tackled by your girlfriend and choked out like a training dummy. What the hell were you thinking?”

 

“He was thinking ‘maybe murder, maybe emotional collapse,’” came Satoru’s voice from across the room as he leaned dramatically against the doorframe. “Real productive night.”

 

Shoko gave him a flat look. “You contributing or just narrating?”

 

“Emotional support.” Satoru grinned and strutted in, crouching on the other side of Suguru. “Like a mascot. A very sexy, powerful mascot.”

 

“God,” Suguru muttered under his breath, wincing as Shoko pressed her palm gently to his side. Her cursed energy started to pulse into the fractures, glowing faintly under the skin like light warming through old paper.

 

“Hold still or I’ll make it worse,” she warned. “You’re lucky she didn’t pierce a lung.”

 

“She was holding back,” Suguru said, and gave me a glance that was half pride, half chiding. “That’s the terrifying part.”

 

I shrugged, trying not to smile. “I love you, not gonna break your bones unless I have to.”

 

Satoru gave a mock gasp. “So if I went feral you’d shatter me?”

 

“Like a glow stick,” I deadpanned.

 

“Ohhhh,” he moaned dramatically, flopping onto the floor. “Kinky.”

 

Shoko didn’t even blink. “I’m leaving that comment to die in the air where it belongs.”

 

Suguru chuckled under his breath, eyes closing for just a moment as the warmth of Shoko’s cursed energy soothed through his ribs. It was still tender, still painful, but he was alive. We all were.

 

And somehow, against every twisted knot of fate and trauma and violence…

 

We were still here.

 

Together.

 

---

 

Shoko finished the healing with a final pulse of energy, her fingers drifting back as she pulled off the gloves and flicked her cigarette into the nearby tray.

 

“Alright,” she muttered, stretching her neck. “Ribs are set, fractures healed, but you’re still a walking flight risk.”

 

I turned to her, voice softer but steady. “Ieiri… can you give him medical leave? Just a few weeks. Something official. So the Elders can’t touch him for now.”

 

She looked at me, blinking behind her bangs. “That’s not really-”

 

“Please,” I said. “Call it post-mission strain. Mental fatigue. Cursed technique overload. Whatever makes it real on paper. He just needs time.”

 

Suguru stayed quiet, but I felt his shoulder shift beside mine. I didn’t need to look at him to know that he was watching me, like he didn’t expect me to fight this hard on his behalf, and couldn’t decide if he deserved it.

 

Shoko exhaled slowly and rubbed her temple. “You’re asking me to falsify a report.”

 

“No,” I said firmly. “I’m asking you to tell the truth. That he’s not ready for another mission. That he needs rest. You know it. You see it.”

 

There was a long silence. Then Shoko tilted her head toward Suguru. “You okay with this?”

 

He hesitated. “I don’t want pity.”

 

“It’s not pity,” I cut in. “It’s protection. From them. From yourself. Let me give you space to just… be. With the girls. With us. No missions. No orders. Just breathing.”

 

Shoko stared at us for a beat longer, then nodded, tired but resolute. “Alright. I’ll file it first thing in the morning. I’ll tell Yaga it’s an urgent recommendation based on today’s findings. Emotional destabilization, physiological stress, and combat wounds. Enough to sideline you for two to three weeks.”

 

“Thank you,” I whispered.

 

Shoko just shrugged, but her eyes softened as she looked at Suguru. “You need to rest. And not just your body. You’ve been holding your breath for months, Geto. Maybe it’s time to let someone else hold the weight for a while.”

 

He nodded once, eyes lowered. “Yeah… okay.”

 

Gojo, who had gone suspiciously quiet, leaned in between us and grinned. “Aaaaand just like that, Daddy Suguru’s on paternity leave.”

 

I snorted. “Satoru.”

 

“What?” he smirked. “You saw how fast they clung to him. They’ve already claimed him. You're their weird vine witch mom, I’m their cool uncle who sneaks them candy, and he’s the responsible one who reads them bedtime stories and teaches them to curse people politely.”

 

Suguru gave him a tired but genuine smile, brushing a hand through his hair. “If you teach them to curse people, I’ll exorcise you.”

 

“I’d like to see you try, love.”

 

Shoko rolled her eyes. “You’re all exhausting.”

 

“Yep,” I said, leaning back against Suguru’s arm. “But now we get to be exhausting… together.”

 

And for the first time in what felt like ages, Suguru let out a small, honest laugh, one that cracked at the edges but didn’t break. Not yet. Not while we were here.

 

Shoko stretched, flicking off the overhead medical light and pulling her coat tighter over her shoulders. “I’ll stay in the back with the girls,” she said, voice already mellowing into that late-night kind of tired. “Their vitals are stable, but I want to be nearby in case either of them spikes a fever or panic in their sleep.”

 

She gave Suguru a glance, then me. “You three can stay here if you want. Just… don’t crowd them, yeah?”

 

I nodded. “We won’t. I promise.”

 

She gave a quiet grunt of acknowledgment and made her way to the back, her footsteps soft as she passed the sleeping twins. Just before disappearing behind the divider curtain, she paused and muttered over her shoulder, “And try not to start any more wars tonight.”

 

Gojo saluted. “No promises.”

 

I smacked his arm lightly, and Shoko’s low chuckle followed her into the dimness.

 

Then it was just us.

 

The room was quiet again, dimly lit, cool with the low hum of old vents. Suguru sat on the edge of the hospital bed, spine bent slightly forward, his hair spilling loose around his face, arms resting on his thighs. Gojo stood nearby, rocking on his heels, unusually still for him. I stayed where I was, not quite ready to move. None of us spoke.

 

It was Suguru who broke the silence first.

 

“I meant it,” he said, voice hoarse but low. “About wanting a world where you don’t have to be warriors. Where the girls don’t have to learn what a curse is. Where Satoru can just… be himself without needing to carry everything.”

 

My breath caught in my chest.

 

Gojo scratched the back of his neck and smiled faintly, eyes soft. “That world might never come,” he said, “but maybe we can carve out something close. Here. With them.”

 

Suguru didn’t answer right away. I could see the war behind his eyes again, but it was different now. Less like a storm and more like the quiet ache of someone trying to believe in peace after years of battle.

 

“They like you, y’know,” he murmured. “The girls. Both of you. A lot.”

 

I walked closer, stopping in front of him. “Then they have good taste.”

 

He huffed a breath, and it almost passed as a laugh.

 

Suguru sat still in the half-light, the sound of his breath low and unsteady, like the air itself wasn’t sure it deserved to fill his lungs.

 

Gojo’s arm moved to be around Suguru's shoulder, loose but steady, fingers drumming softly against the fabric of Suguru’s sleeve. I moved to crouch in front of him, one hand resting on his knee without pressure. Just there. Just present.

 

The silence stretched, not heavy, but full. Full of everything we hadn’t said in all the moments we’d lost to grief and distance.

 

“You know,” Gojo said finally, voice quiet, “I used to think if I just worked hard enough, I could fix everything. Like… just being strong would be enough.”

 

Suguru didn’t lift his head, but his brows pulled inward.

 

Gojo smiled a little. “It’s not.”

 

“I know that,” Suguru murmured.

 

“Yeah.” Gojo’s fingers stilled. “But you still tried to carry it alone.”

 

There was no accusation in his voice. Just that soft ache we’d all grown too familiar with.

 

Suguru rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his palm. “I didn’t want either of you to see me like that.”

 

“Well,” I said, leaning forward a little, “too late for that, isn’t it?”

 

That earned the tiniest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” I added. “I made that promise the second I said I loved you..”

 

He blinked slowly.

 

“And I will always be here no matter how tough things get... But if you ever try to do something like that again, I’m going to throw you through a damn wall.”

 

Gojo snorted. “Make it two walls. I’ll even help carry him.”

 

“You two are ridiculous,” Suguru whispered, but his voice cracked around it.

 

“You love it,” Gojo said.

 

“I do,” Suguru admitted, barely audible.

 

I reached up and touched his cheek gently, guiding his gaze to meet mine.

 

“There’s still a future here. One we can build. Not perfect. Not always peaceful. But real. One where you’re still in it. With us.”

 

His eyes shimmered but no tears fell this time. He just leaned into my hand, then glanced toward the back of the room where the little girls lay sleeping.

 

“What if I’d gone through with it?” he asked. “What if you hadn’t stopped me in time?”

 

“You didn’t,” I said simply.

 

“And now,” Gojo added, “you get to show them what kind of man saved them. Not the killer you thought you had to be.”

 

Suguru looked away, exhaling slowly. Then he nodded. Once. Sharp. Certain.

 

“I’ll stay,” he said. “Not just physically. I’ll try… to be here.”

 

I smiled, even though it hurt a little. “That’s all we need.”

 

Gojo leaned in, resting his head briefly against Suguru’s shoulder. “And now that we’ve gotten through the dramatics… do you want snacks?”

 

Suguru groaned softly. “You never change.”

 

“I’m the emotional glue holding this disaster together,” Gojo grinned.

 

I stood up with a stretch. “You’re the glitter glue. The loud, shiny, barely-functional kind.”

 

“Wow,” Gojo said. “Hurtful.”

 

Suguru smiled. Not fully, not freely. But it was real.

 

And that was enough for now.

Chapter 85: The Flow (NSFW)

Summary:

Imma be honest idk what happened here okay. The devil took over and wrote straight debauchery.

This chapter is long and full of smut. My apologies? Idk

Kinks: double penitration oral, oral sex, cum eating, getting cummed on, degrading, praise, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, drooling, biting, scratching, squirting

Nanako and Mimiko were starting to act like kids again.

 

Not all the time, there were still days when they went quiet and small, but there was color coming back into their faces. Yaga had gotten them their own room on the same floor as the students, with a nanny who actually listened when they spoke. Suguru checked on them every day, sometimes twice, always with that soft, careful voice like he was speaking to something fragile.

 

Gojo had been busier lately.. missions, paperwork, Elders breathing down his neck, but this time, he was trying harder. Not just for me, but for Suguru too. He’d appear between assignments just long enough to lean on my shoulder or pull Suguru into some ridiculous conversation before disappearing again. I could tell he was making a point of it, even if the effort was clumsy.

 

I’d been trapped in a different kind of work.

 

The Elders called it “clarification,” but it was interrogation in slow motion. Endless meetings in the same dim room, the smell of old paper and incense clinging to my clothes when I walked out. They wanted a full map of what happened, every word Suguru said, every step I took, how the girls reacted, as if breaking it apart into neat little pieces would make it more palatable. Make me slip up and admit what he was actually going to do and did.

 

They talked about Nanako and Mimiko like they were inventory.

 

They talked about Suguru like he was a crack in the foundation.

 

I learned fast to keep my answers tight and my voice even. Give them nothing extra to twist. Still, I left every time feeling like I’d been peeled open without a single mark on me.

 

Suguru never asked what was said in those rooms. He just…knew. There’d be a mug of tea on my desk some nights, or he’d stand in my doorway until I looked up and let him in. Sometimes, he’d sit close without saying a word. Sometimes, I needed that more than anything else.

 

Gojo was different, intercepting me in the hallway, sliding a coffee into my hand with a grin.

 

“Sweetheart, tell me you at least made one of them cry,” he’d say.

 

I hadn’t. But I’d let him think I did.

 

The twins had started testing the waters with me, too. Mimiko whispered a “goodnight” once; Nanako tugged at my sleeve the other day just to show me a bead bracelet she’d made. Tiny things. But they mattered.

 

I wanted them to keep feeling like this place could be safe, for them, for Suguru, for me, even if the Elders were sitting behind their closed doors, waiting for the first crack to show.

 

---

 

The Elder Chamber felt smaller every time I walked into it.

 

Same faces. Same low voices dripping with false patience. Same smell of dust and incense.

 

I didn’t sit with the same straight-backed obedience anymore. I leaned an elbow on the armrest, chin propped against my hand, answering their questions in a tone just shy of bored.

 

“Yes, I already told you that’s what happened.”

 

“No, nothing else changed.”

 

“I’m not speculating, you asked what I saw, I told you.”

 

They pressed about Suguru. Pressed about the girls. Tried to corner me with “concerns about stability.” I let my expression stay neutral, but I didn’t cushion my words the way I used to.

 

One of them leaned forward, voice slow and deliberate, asking me to “reconsider” my loyalty if things escalated. I met his gaze evenly.

 

“I don’t reconsider facts,” I said.

 

The room went quiet for a beat. Then the next Elder changed the subject.

 

By the time they dismissed me, my head was buzzing, not from fear, but from the kind of irritation that sticks to your ribs. I gave them the smallest bow possible without outright disrespect and left without looking back.

 

The walk to my room felt longer than usual.

 

When I opened the door, Suguru was there, sitting on the edge of my bed like he’d been waiting the whole time. His hair was loose around his shoulders, hands resting loosely on his knees.

 

“Rough day?” His voice was quiet but warm.

 

“The usual.” I shut the door. “They keep circling the same questions, hoping I’ll trip.”

 

He tilted his head, studying me for a moment before patting the bed. “Come here.”

 

I expected to sit beside him, but the second I was close enough, his hands slid around my waist and pulled me right onto his lap.

 

I blinked at him. “You could’ve just asked.”

 

He shrugged, not even trying to hide the small smile tugging at his mouth. “Didn’t feel like asking.”

 

His arms wrapped around me, one snug across my back, the other resting at my hip. Not suggestive, just… holding. It was warm and heavy and steady, the kind of touch I hadn’t felt from him in weeks. His forehead dropped lightly against my shoulder, hair brushing my cheek.

 

“You smell like the Elders’ chamber,” he muttered. “Not a compliment.”

 

I huffed a laugh despite myself. “That bad?”

 

“Mm. Death threats and ancient thinking.” His voice was low, almost lazy. “You should stay here until it wears off.”

 

His hands kept moving, not urgently, just wandering, smoothing over my thigh, tracing the line of my spine, brushing my hair back over my shoulder. It wasn’t sexual, but it was… consuming. Like he was memorizing the shape of me all over again.

 

“You okay?” I asked quietly.

 

He didn’t answer right away, just pressed his cheek against my collarbone. “Yeah. Just...been a long time since I got to have you like this. Not…thinking about anything else.”

 

Something in my chest loosened at that. He’d been distant for so long, buried under missions, curses, twisted ideals, and exhaustion. This felt different. Like he’d finally decided to let himself need something again.

 

“Stay here a while,” he murmured, his fingers curling lightly into the fabric of my shirt. “Don’t move yet.”

 

"I'm all yours, love." I chuckled softly and kissed his cheek.

 

“Do I have permission to be all over you then?” he asked quieter, almost shy.

 

“Always.”

 

The word barely left my mouth before his lips were on me, slow, deep, lingering kisses that melted one into the next. My cheeks, my jaw, the corner of my mouth, the spot just below my ear that made me shiver. His hands cradled my face for a moment, thumbs brushing my skin like he needed to memorize it.

 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured between kisses, his breath warm against my skin. “I missed you so much. I hate that I let it get like this. I love you. I love you.”

 

The words tumbled out in a rhythm with his touch. He kissed my temple, the slope of my neck, the top of my shoulder. His fingers slipped under the hem of my shirt, pushing it up slowly.

 

“Turn around for me,” he said softly.

 

I shifted, and his hands guided me back onto the bed until I was lying down. He leaned over me, lifting my shirt higher, his lips brushing over the bare skin of my stomach. Each kiss was deliberate, down my side, across my ribs, then higher, over the edge of my bra.

 

He didn’t rush, didn’t make it about anything but giving. His mouth lingered over my collarbone, my throat, back up to my lips for another kiss that felt like it belonged to a different lifetime, before the distance, before the exhaustion.

 

“I just want to love you,” he said against my skin, his voice low and certain. “That’s all I want right now.”

 

And he did, everywhere he could reach, like he was afraid to leave any part of me untouched.

 

His kisses slowed, but they grew heavier, his mouth dragging a little more with each one. I felt the faint scrape of his teeth at my ribs, then the gentle pinch of a bite just above my hipbone.

 

I let out a small sound, not quite a laugh, not quite a gasp, and he did it again, lower this time, his lips following with a warmer, sloppier kiss.

 

He loved to leave marks on me but they were always pointless, my skin healed instantly, but the intent still landed.

 

His hands wandered, thumbs brushing over the waistband of my pants before slipping up to the buttons on my shirt. He worked them open slowly, like he was testing if I’d stop him, then slid down to toy with the fastening on my pants in the same deliberate way.

 

I arched a brow, my fingers finding his hair. “You know I can tell what you’re doing, right?”

 

He didn’t even look up, just smiled against my stomach. “Can you?”

 

“Yes,” I said, drawing the word out. “Testing how far I’ll let you go.”

 

“Mm.” His teeth caught on the curve of my waist again, biting just enough to make me twitch. “And?”

 

“And you’re not hearing the word ‘stop,’ are you?”

 

That earned me a low chuckle, his breath warm against my skin before another kiss. “Good.”

 

The way he said it sent heat curling low in my chest, not just from the contact, but from the fact that it wasn’t about pushing me, it was about pulling me closer. I missed being this close to him.

 

The smirk faded into something softer, more intent. His fingers worked at the button of my pants without hurry, sliding them open and easing the fabric down over my hips. He watched every inch of skin revealed like he hadn’t seen it a thousand times before.

 

“Beautiful,” he murmured, almost to himself, before leaning in to press his mouth to the top of my thigh. His hands followed the shape of me, over my hips, my sides, my waist, as though tracing a map he’d been away from for too long.

 

Piece by piece, he coaxed my clothes away, folding them in a pile at the side of the bed like this was a ritual. His lips trailed after each new line of skin, reverent, deliberate.

 

He kissed along my calves, the inside of my knees, up over the curve of my hipbones. My stomach, my ribs, the hollow at the base of my throat, my breasts, not a single place left untouched. His fingers brushed over my collarbone before his mouth followed, pressing kisses there like he could anchor me with them.

 

“I’ve missed loving you like this,” he said, his voice warm and low as his hands framed my face for a moment. “All of you.”

 

Every kiss felt like a promise. Every touch was an unspoken apology. He was giving everything to me, over and over again, until I felt almost weightless beneath the care in it.

 

Suguru shifted, sliding down the bed until his knees hit the floor. His hands curled around my thighs, guiding me toward the edge, and in one smooth motion, he lifted my legs over his shoulders.

 

The air between us changed, heavier, electric, and I could see it in his eyes. That quiet, aching need mixed with the kind of devotion that made my breath catch.

 

His fingers traced idle patterns against my skin, his mouth just barely brushing the inside of my knee when..

 

A knock at the door.

 

Suguru’s head dropped forward with a low, frustrated groan, the sound vibrating against my leg. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

 

I opened my mouth to say something, but then a familiar voice called through the wood.

 

“It’s me.”

 

Suguru’s head lifted instantly, the annoyance gone in an instant. “Satoru?”

 

“Who else?”

 

A smile tugged at Suguru’s mouth, sudden and unguarded, and I knew exactly what that meant, the shift from wanting me to himself to wanting all three of us in the same room.

 

“Come in,” Suguru called, still keeping his hands on me like he had no intention of giving up his spot.

 

The door creaked open, and Gojo stepped inside, shutting it quickly behind him with a sly grin. “Well… looks like I showed up at a good time.”

 

Gojo wandered over with that lazy, self-satisfied swagger of his, but his eyes… his eyes weren’t leaving me for a second. He stopped beside Suguru, crouching low, and without asking, lifted my other leg onto his shoulder.

 

The two of them between my legs now, one on each side, and I felt my pulse spike at the heat in both their gazes.

 

Gojo’s grin curved slowly and deliberately. “You two were gonna start without me?”

 

“Maybe,” Suguru said, smirking, but he didn’t give him a chance to keep teasing. He leaned in, closing the space between them until their mouths met.

 

The kiss started soft, but quickly deepened, Suguru’s hand sliding into Gojo’s hair, Gojo’s grip tightening on my thigh as he leaned into it.

 

I pushed up onto my elbows, then sat fully upright, my hands moving instinctively into their hair, running my fingers through dark silk and pale fluff, tugging just enough to make them both react.

 

They broke apart for just a second, both turning their attention back to me, but not letting go of each other. My breath caught at the way they looked, like I was the center of gravity holding them there.

 

Gojo and Suguru shared a glance, the kind of wordless communication they’d perfected long before I’d met them, and then my world tilted.

 

Suguru adjusted his grip, sliding me closer to the edge until both of them could fit between my knees. Gojo’s hands slid under my thighs, lifting just enough for Suguru to mirror the motion, holding me open between them. 

 

For a heartbeat, all I could do was breathe, my chest tight as they leaned in together, their faces brushing close to my pussy. Their mouths start working in unison, licking and swirling their tongues all over me.

 

It was dizzying. They would practically make out with each other with my clit in between their tongues.

 

Gojo let out a low, pleased hum against my pussy, and Suguru’s laugh rumbled against the other side, the vibrations shooting straight through me. The heat of them, the sound of their breath mingling, the way they didn’t break contact with me or with each other, it was overwhelming in the best way.

 

“Sweetheart,” Gojo murmured, and I wasn’t sure if it was meant for me or for Suguru, but it made my fingers clutch tighter into their hair all the same.

 

Their rhythm built, slow but maddening, until every nerve in my body felt tuned to them. Suguru’s tongue pressed in deeper inside me, deliberate and thorough, while Gojo licked my clit, tracing lazy, teasing patterns that made my thighs tense against their shoulders.

 

“Relax for us,” Suguru murmured against me, his voice low and warm. Gojo gave a soft hum of agreement, the sound sending a shiver straight up my spine.

 

I let my head fall back, one hand clutching Suguru’s hair, the other buried in Gojo’s, my breath catching with every shift, every change in pressure. They weren’t rushing. They weren’t just trying to get me to cum, they were worshipping me, in their own, different ways, and it left me unraveling.

 

Gojo glanced up at me through his lashes, smirking when he saw the expression on my face. “Look at her, Suguru… she’s already so far gone.” He said right up against me then continued his assault on my body.

 

“Good,” Suguru replied without missing a beat, the heat in his voice sending another pulse of sensation through me.

 

It felt endless... their mouths, their hands, their shared warmth... until I could hardly tell where one of them ended and the other began.

 

When they finally pulled back, their mouths were a mess... lips slick, chins damp, breathing uneven. Gojo grinned like he’d just gotten away with something, and Suguru’s smirk was softer, dazed in a way I didn’t see often.

 

They kissed again, sloppy and unhurried, like neither wanted to let the taste of me go just yet. Then they moved up, each taking their turn pressing their mouths to mine, Suguru first, slow and grounding, then Gojo, quick and greedy.

 

Suguru’s hands rested on my hips, Gojo sliding in behind me, and before I could think too hard about it, I was helping Gojo tug at Suguru’s clothes. Gojo’s long fingers made quick work of buttons while I pushed fabric off Suguru’s shoulders.

 

Suguru’s gaze stayed on me even as his hands found Gojo’s waistband, but it didn’t take long before we had him down to bare skin too. Layer by layer, the teasing fell away until there was nothing left between any of us.

 

I dropped to my knees without a second thought, and Gojo followed instantly, shoulder brushing mine as we settled in front of Suguru.

 

For once, it was Suguru who looked caught off guard, a flicker of pink coloring in his cheeks, a small breath sucked in through his teeth. He liked being in control, and we both knew it… but Gojo and I? We also knew exactly what we wanted to start with.

 

His hands hovered at his sides, as if debating whether to stop us or just let go.

 

Gojo shot me a conspiratorial little smirk. “Think we can change his mind, sweetheart?”

 

I tilted my head, letting my lips curve into the kind of slow grin that I knew made him twitch. “Change his mind?” I murmured, letting my fingers trail lazily up his thigh. “The fact you think he’d say no to us is funny.” I chuckled softly.

 

Suguru’s mouth quirked, but it was brief, the moment my head dipped closer, his hand slid into my hair, gathering it in one sure motion so it stayed out of the way. His other hand threaded into Gojo’s ridiculous fluff, fingers tightening when Gojo leaned in too.

 

The first sound that left him when we both started licking his length was low, deep, and completely unguarded. I could feel the way his muscles went taut under my palms, the way his breathing hitched.

 

It wasn’t just the sensation, it was us. His gaze kept dropping down, watching the two of us there together, unbothered by the mess our saliva and his precum was making, he was encouraging it.

 

"Just like that, my loves. Fuuuck...you both look so beautiful like this..." He bites his lip lightly.

 

Gojo, of course, made it a little competitive, glancing at me with that gleam in his eye before doubling down. I rolled mine at him but didn’t slow, and soon enough his free hand slid over my thigh, thumb brushing higher with each pass until his fingers met my clit.

 

I returned the favor, letting my own hand slip to his hip, fingers tracing over his cock as we both worked Suguru together. The air between us was thick with heat and the faint sound of wet, unhurried rhythms, broken only by Suguru’s sharper exhales.

 

“God, you two…” he murmured, voice rough, and his grip in both our hair tightened just enough to make my stomach flip and moan into him more.

 

Gojo shot me a mischievous glance, and without a word we both shifted, mouths meeting sloppily around Suguru’s tip, the faint brush of Gojo’s lips against mine sending a sharp jolt through me. It was messy, heated, and deliberate, our tongues brushing just enough to make Suguru’s breath catch audibly above us. Our tongues brushing around each other and Suguru's aching tip, covering it in our drool.

 

“Fuck…” he exhaled, voice a shade lower than usual. His hand flexed in my hair, then in Gojo’s, like he couldn’t decide which of us to hold tighter.

 

We fell into an unspoken rhythm, one of us taking him in fully while the other trailed lower, kissing and sucking his balls, then switching seamlessly. Every time we swapped, Suguru’s jaw tightened, a barely-contained shiver running through him.

 

I could hear the difference in his breathing when it was me, the way he murmured, “That’s it, love… perfect,” in a tone that went straight to my chest. And when it was Gojo, his voice shifted, low and fond, “Sato… you’re gonna kill me.”

 

Gojo laughed softly around his dick, pulling back just far enough to say, “That’s the goal,” before giving him another slow drag that made Suguru’s hips twitch.

 

The compliments didn’t stop though, he seemed incapable of holding them back, every word a mix of reverence and raw need. “You’re both so damn beautiful like this… so good to me…” His voice wavered slightly, his thumb brushing along my jaw as if to anchor himself.

 

Between the praise, the warmth of them both, and the messy intimacy of it, the air felt electric, charged with more than just physical heat.

 

Suguru’s breathing shifted.. sharper, more ragged.. and I felt the way his thighs tightened under my hands. His grip in our hair grew just a fraction more insistent, a silent warning and plea all at once.

 

Gojo noticed too, glancing at me with a wicked little smirk as we both rubbed him. “Think he’s there, sweetheart?”

 

“Mmhm,” I hummed against him, pulling back just enough to kiss his tip, Gojo’s lips following a heartbeat later so we were both working him in sync.

 

Suguru’s head tipped back, a low, broken sound leaving him. “God- you two are… you’re gonna ruin me. Fuck- I-”

 

“Let yourself be ruined, love,” I teased, tightening my grip just slightly.

 

We kept our rhythm steady, drawing him to that edge until his hips jerked once and then we were both there, leaning in close so his cum landed across our faces, tongues catching what they could.

 

It was messy and deliberate, neither of us rushing to wipe it away. Gojo darted his tongue over his lip with a grin, and I caught the way Suguru’s gaze dropped instantly, pupils blown wide as he took in both of us like that.

 

He swallowed hard, still trying to catch his breath. “You two are… fucking dangerous,” he said, voice rough, but there was no mistaking the fondness laced through it.

 

Gojo just leaned into me, bumping his shoulder against mine. “Guess we’ll take that as a compliment.”

 

I turned toward Gojo first, catching the cum along his cheek with the flat of my tongue, slow enough to make him grin like an idiot. He didn’t let me finish before cupping my jaw and returning the favor, licking the mess from my skin like he was tasting something he couldn’t get enough of.

 

The faint, familiar taste of Suguru lingered between us and Gojo seemed to notice it at the same time I did, because the second we broke apart, we both leaned toward him.

 

Suguru didn’t even have time to react before we were kissing him, deep and messy, his flavor still warm on our tongues. He groaned into it, hands coming up to grip the back of our heads and pull us in tighter, like he could drink the moment straight from our mouths.

 

When we finally pulled back, breathless, I saw it, that flicker in his eyes that meant his restraint had officially snapped.

 

“Bed,” he said, low and certain, the word not a request but an order. “Now. Both of you.”

 

Gojo laughed, clearly thrilled by the shift, and I just raised a brow as I let Suguru’s grip guide me backward. Whatever exhaustion I’d felt earlier was gone.. replaced by the sharp hum of anticipation at the way his voice had dropped.

 

Suguru’s hands were firm on my hips as he sat back, eyes dragging slowly over me before flicking to Gojo. Then, back to me.

 

“Think you can handle both of us, love?” His voice was smooth, but there was a flicker of heat underneath, the kind that made my pulse stutter.

 

I hesitated for a beat, then gave a small, steady nod. “I’m certainly willing to try..” I looked up to both of them through my lashes.

 

The sound Gojo made could only be described as a melt.. part groan, part laugh, like the thought alone had undone him. “Oh, sweetheart, you don’t know what you just signed up for.” He was already leaning in, brushing his mouth along my shoulder, his hands skimming over my sides like he couldn’t keep still.

 

Suguru’s smirk deepened, but there was nothing careless in the way they started. Gojo settled behind me, pressing slow kisses to the back of my neck while Suguru laid in front, his palms sliding over my thighs.

 

They didn’t rush, every touch was purposeful, coaxing my body to ease and open under their hands. Suguru’s thumbs traced slow circles at the insides of my knees before parting them just enough for Gojo to slip a hand lower, teasing my pussy in a way that made me shiver. Fingers sliding in and out of me with ease.

 

“You’re already so good for us,” Suguru murmured, leaning down to mouth at the top of my thigh while Gojo’s teeth grazed my shoulder. “Let’s make sure you’re ready for everything we want to give you.”

 

The two of them worked in tandem, warming me up with both of their fingers, mouths, and words until the tension in my muscles melted away completely, every slow stretch and careful kiss making me ache for what was coming next.

 

By the time Suguru shifted forward again, I was loose and aching, every nerve tuned to the heat of their hands.

 

Gojo caught my chin in his fingers, leaning in to kiss me lazily while Suguru moved closer between my legs. I felt the brush of his length first then the solid press of Gojo’s as he adjusted behind me, their hips almost flush together through me.

 

They glanced at each other over my shoulder, a silent check-in that made my chest tighten. Then Suguru’s voice, low and steady. “Just the tip for now. Warm her up to it. Don't get too excited, Sato. You don’t want to stretch her too fast.” Suguru chuckled lightly.

 

"Hhmmmm yeah yeah, I'm behaving.." Gojo chuckled.

 

Gojo’s hand smoothed over my stomach, holding me steady as they pressed forward together, slow enough that I could feel every fraction of movement. The first stretch made me gasp, a soft sound swallowed instantly by Gojo’s mouth on mine.

 

Suguru groaned under his breath, his forehead lowering toward my shoulder. “Fuck, this is perfect. Feeling both of you at the same time like this..”

 

It wasn’t deep, just enough for me to feel both of them inside me, the warmth and weight of it sparking something heady in my veins. They held still like that for a moment, letting me breathe through it, their hands stroking over my hips, thighs, ribs.

 

Gojo chuckled softly against my ear. “Sweetheart, you’re taking us so well already.”

 

The praise and the closeness wound together in my chest, making the initial sharpness melt into something molten. I could feel them both resisting the urge to push further.

 

"You can take a little more, can't you, my love? Hmhmh." Suguru kissed my neck, nipping softly.

 

They slowly push deeper made my breath catch.. that sharp, dizzy rush of fullness blooming into heat. My fingers twisted in the sheets, and for a second all I could do was let it wash over me.

 

Gojo let out a broken laugh behind me, his forehead dropping to my shoulder. “Sweetheart… oh, fuck…” His voice cracked on the last word, that rare unguarded tone that always sent a shiver through me.

 

Suguru wasn’t much better, his jaw tight, eyes half-lidded as he rocked forward another inch. “You feel… incredible,” he groaned, the sound almost a growl.

 

When they finally started to move, carefully at first, then finding a rhythm together, the sensation made my head tip back against Gojo’s chest. They rubbed against each other inside me with every thrust, the friction pulling low, desperate sounds from all three of us.

 

It was impossible to keep quiet. Gojo was already gasping into my neck, messy and unrestrained, while my own voice tangled with his.. high-pitched, helpless noises breaking between breaths.

 

Suguru’s hands clamped tighter on my hips, his pace syncing with Gojo’s in a way that made my whole body quake. “God, listen to you two,” he rasped, even as his own voice wavered with each movement. “Fucking music.”

 

Gojo’s laugh was breathless, almost delirious. “We can’t help it,” he said, his words melting into a moan as they drove in deeper together, every motion drawing another sharp cry from my throat.

 

The next push went deeper, the stretch overwhelming but it tipped straight into pleasure so sharp it stole the air from my lungs. My thighs trembled, slick and messy where they moved together, every motion spreading more of me over both of them.

 

Gojo cursed against my skin, hips stuttering before he bit down on my shoulder, trying to muffle his sounds as he tried to hold out so he didn’t cum first.

 

Suguru’s groan rumbled low in his chest, and then his hand was over my mouth, palm warm and steady while his lips dragged down to my chest. He kissed my tits, slow and open-mouthed between the rhythm of their thrusts, his teeth grazing lightly before soothing with his tongue.

 

“Too loud, love,” he murmured against me, though there was a smirk in his voice. “We’ll get caught.”

 

Gojo laughed breathlessly, but it broke into another moan as they found a faster pace. His free hand clutched my hip tight, his chest pressed to my back like he couldn’t stand even an inch of distance.

 

Every movement had them sliding against each other inside me, every shift painting them with more of my heat. Suguru’s hand muffled my gasp as my head tipped back, eyes fluttering shut, body caught between their mouths, their hands, and the relentless press of their cocks inside me.

 

Their hands found my hips at the same time, fingers tangling together like they were anchoring me between them. The shift in grip made their thrusts sharper, deeper, the pace suddenly quick enough to make my voice climb without control.

 

I couldn’t hold it back, the sound was raw, messy, my mouth falling open until I was practically drooling, every cry breaking on their names.

 

“Sa- sa- toruuu-”

“Su- su- su- guruuuuu-”

 

It all spilled out in a desperate tangle until pleasure hit me hard, my body tightened around them, my vision going hazy at the edges.

 

They didn’t slow, if anything, the way I clenched around them made them push harder, each groan against my skin rougher, hungrier. Gojo’s forehead pressed into the side of my neck, Suguru’s jaw tight as they chased their own edge.

 

I felt them both tip over almost together, Gojo with a ragged, shuddering gasp, Suguru with a deep groan that vibrated against me. The heat of it flooded inside me, so much it made my breath hitch again, my body trembling in the aftershocks.

 

Their hands stayed locked on my hips as if they didn’t want to let me go yet, their chests heaving, skin slick with sweat and my touch.

 

They should’ve stopped, I could tell from the way my legs trembled and the way my voice kept breaking, but Gojo had that glazed, wrecked look in his eyes that meant he wasn’t done.

 

He and Suguru rocked forward again in sync, slow at first, then with more intent, each push forcing more of their cum to spill and smear between us. The sheets were ruined. My body was ruined.

 

Gojo shuddered suddenly, grip tightening, and I felt him spill again. His laugh was half-delirious, half-proud, forehead pressing to my shoulder like he could hide the fact that he was coming apart so easily.

 

“Already?” Suguru teased, breath warm against my ear, voice low and smug. “I barely even touched you that time.”

 

Gojo groaned into my skin. “Don’t care.” He pulled back just far enough to look between us, like the sight alone lit something reckless in him. “I can go again.”

 

Suguru gave a quiet, amused hum.. not believing him, but not stopping him either.

 

And then Gojo proved it, hips snapping forward again, chasing the feeling with sloppy, heady determination until he groaned low in his throat and finished for the third time. The rush of warmth made me gasp, my body twitching helplessly, every nerve overwhelmed.

 

By the time he stilled, I was a wreck.. shaking, boneless, and more of a mess than I thought was possible, my breathing uneven.

 

Suguru’s rhythm deepened, the kind of steady, claiming pace that made my body hum with every push. He wasn’t rushing this one, he was savoring it, eyes darting between my face, Gojo’s blissed-out expression, and the way we were both already dripping with everything they’d given me.

 

Gojo was trying so hard to hold his orgasm, teeth gritted, but I could feel the tension in him. Then another wave hit me, sharp and hot and overwhelming, and I cried out again. That was it. His whole body stuttered against mine, and he came with a shiver, breath catching like he’d been holding it for hours.

 

Suguru’s smirk was audible in his voice. “That’s four times you’ve broken already, Sato.”

 

Gojo could barely lift his head, still pressed against my back. “Shut up-” he mumbled, but it was lazy, fond, and completely undone.

 

“Mm,” Suguru hummed, still moving, “don’t want to. Not when you look like that.”

 

The teasing only made Gojo melt further, his arms tightening around my waist like he needed to anchor himself. Suguru’s pace finally shifted, the control fraying as he chased that last edge. And when he found it, he didn’t bother hiding a thing.. His voice cracked low, spilling sounds I almost never heard from him.

 

It was raw, unfiltered pleasure, and it sent heat rushing up my spine. He stayed pressed to me through the aftershocks, breath heavy, and for a long moment, all I could hear was the three of us breathing in sync, the air thick with warmth and satisfaction.

 

It took a while before anyone moved. My breathing was still uneven, Gojo’s forehead rested between my shoulder blades, and Suguru’s hands stayed locked around my hips like if he let go, the moment would disappear.

 

Eventually, the heat eased enough for them to shift. Their hands were gentle as they guided me through the slow, careful pullout, both of them murmuring soft praise that made my skin buzz all over again. The stretch and the warmth lingered, and when they moved back, the mess we’d made was just… there, glistening, obscene. All of it leaking out of me.

 

Gojo’s eyes locked onto it like a man possessed. His lips parted, his grin curling wickedly.

 

“…I want to clean it up,” he said, voice hoarse but playful. “Like a good boy...”

 

Suguru barked a short laugh, already knowing where this was going. “Of course you do.”

 

Gojo glanced up at me from under his lashes, that sugar-sweet pet name right on the tip of his tongue. “Sweetheart… can I?”

 

I nodded quickly, barely able to speak.

 

Gojo didn’t even hesitate, he dropped down between my thighs, big hands spreading me open so nothing was hidden from him. His mouth was on me before I could even catch my breath, it was hot, wet, unashamed in the way only he could be.

 

I let out a broken sound, my hips jerking, but he only pressed me down harder into the mattress with one hand, tongue working like a man who hadn’t eaten in days.

 

“Good girl,” Suguru murmured from beside me, his voice low and slow, fingers stroking lazy circles on my ribs. “You’re taking it so well… both of you.”

 

Gojo made a muffled noise of approval against me, and Suguru’s smirk turned sharp.

 

“That’s right, Satoru… clean her up. Every drop. You wanted to be a good boy.. show me you can be one.”

 

Gojo’s pace picked up, almost frenzied now, his breathing ragged between licks.

 

“Pathetic,” Suguru went on, but there was warmth under the bite. “So desperate to taste her you’d kneel here all night if she let you. You just love it, don’t you?”

 

Gojo’s groan vibrated against me, making my whole body shiver. He didn’t stop, didn’t even slow, just doubled down until I was clutching at the sheets and Suguru was chuckling softly, brushing my hair back so he could see my face.

 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Suguru praised, looking between us like we were something holy. “You’re taking him so well, even though you're so fucking overstimulated and practically gasping. Hmhmhm. You’re both perfect like this.”

 

Gojo didn’t let up for a second, mouth moving like he was locked in on some primal need, his breath hot and messy against me. My thighs trembled around his head, but Suguru’s voice was constant, deep, smooth, wrapping around me like it belonged under my skin.

 

“That’s it, love… just let him take care of you,” he murmured to me, thumb brushing my cheek, eyes never leaving my face. Then his tone shifted, sharp and deliberate, aimed down at the man between my legs. “And you, Satoru- don’t get lazy, now. I want her shaking when you’re done.”

 

Gojo groaned into me, like the words themselves wound him tighter.

 

Suguru’s hand suddenly slid into his hair, fisting it and yanking his head back. Gojo’s lips were glossy, his chin wet, and his tongue lolled slightly with the heavy, dazed breaths spilling from him. His face was smeared with all of us, our mess shining on his skin.

 

“Show me,” Suguru ordered, and Gojo tilted his head back further, mouth open wide so Suguru could see every bit of it.

 

Suguru’s smirk deepened. “Good boy.”

Then, without warning, he leaned forward and spit directly into Gojo’s open mouth.

 

Gojo shuddered, swallowing hard with a muffled sound that was half-moan, half-plea.

 

“Now,” Suguru’s voice dipped low, commanding, “get back down there. Finish what you started.”

 

Gojo obeyed instantly, diving back in with even more hunger than before, and Suguru’s praise for me never faltered, soft, warm, steady.. while his words to Gojo stayed razor-sharp, a perfect mix of affection and control.

 

Suguru’s gaze slid down Gojo’s body, his mouth twitching into something between a smirk and a growl. His hand drifted lazily over his own thigh, and I caught the subtle shift in his breathing, he was already hard again.

 

“Tell me something, Satoru,” Suguru said, voice velvet over steel. “You been keeping yourself ready for me?”

 

Gojo didn’t lift his mouth from me, but his hum of acknowledgment was guilty and needy all at once. “Mmhm… almost every day since you got back,” he admitted, his words muffled against my skin before he dove right back in.

 

Suguru’s chuckle was low and dangerous. “You needy little thing… couldn’t even wait for me to ask?” His hand fisted in Gojo’s hair, tugging just enough to make him gasp before shoving him back down again. “Good. At least you’re useful when you’re desperate.”

 

Gojo moaned at that, the sound vibrating into me, sending another shiver up my spine.

 

“Lift your ass up,” Suguru ordered suddenly, his tone brooking no argument. “But don’t-” he leaned forward, his lips brushing the shell of Gojo’s ear, “-you dare stop with her. You keep eating her out until she's crying.”

 

Gojo obeyed without hesitation, arching his hips up while never breaking rhythm on me. His fingers dug into my thighs like anchors, holding me in place as he worked me over, his breath coming hot and erratic.

 

Suguru shifted behind him, the bed dipping with his weight, his hands settling firm on Gojo’s hips. The air between them felt charged, like it was only seconds before Suguru would take exactly what he wanted, and Gojo would let him.

 

Suguru’s vantage point was perfect, close enough to see every twitch of Gojo’s mouth against me, every little flinch of my thighs, and every glazed, blissed look that crossed my face when I met his eyes.

 

“Fuck… look at you two,” he breathed, his voice rich with possession. “My perfect little messes.”

 

His grip on Gojo’s hips tightened before he pushed in with one sharp, claiming thrust. Gojo’s muffled moan vibrated through me, and my hands fisted in his hair, holding him there.

 

“Take it, Satoru,” Suguru murmured, low and dark, pulling back only to drive in harder. “Knew you were ready for me… knew you’d keep yourself open, just waiting for it.”

 

Gojo was making these shameless little noises against me, moans breaking into breathless whimpers every time Suguru’s hips met his.

 

“That’s it,” Suguru praised me now, eyes burning into mine over Gojo’s bowed head. “You’re so good for me, love. Just keep letting him worship you while I ruin him.”

 

The mix of praise and degradation tangled in the air, hot and thick. Suguru’s rhythm stayed relentless, his pace sharp and unyielding, each thrust rocking Gojo into me harder, making my voice catch in my throat.

 

Gojo looked wrecked already, and Suguru was clearly far from done.

 

Suguru wasn’t just taking him, he was owning him. Every thrust was sharp, perfectly placed, pulling these desperate little sounds from Gojo’s throat that vibrated right into me. He didn’t slow down once, just kept grinding deeper, dragging his hips like he wanted to carve his name into him from the inside out.

 

And Gojo… god, Gojo was trying. His mouth was all over me, tongue delving so deep I felt it in my spine, licking up every drop like it was the only thing keeping him alive. His grip on my hips was almost trembling from the effort of keeping me still, even as Suguru’s rhythm shoved him forward again and again.

 

“Pathetic thing,” Suguru rasped, voice low and filthy in Gojo’s ear. “Shaking like this just because I’m inside you. And you’re still drooling all over her like you’re starving. You’re leaking already, don’t think I don’t feel it.”

 

Gojo whined, shameless and wrecked, his head tipping into my thigh for a second before diving back in. He licked like he had something to prove, sloppy and greedy, burying his mouth against me until my legs tried to close around his head on instinct.

 

I was shaking so hard I thought I might collapse, biting the inside of my cheek just to keep from tipping over the edge again. Because if I came now, I knew my body would just keep going, spiraling into one release after another until I couldn’t breathe.

 

Suguru noticed, of course. His gaze flicked up to my face, sharp and knowing, and his smirk went slow and dark. “Hold it, love. I want you to feel every second of this before I let you fall.”

 

And with that, he slammed into Gojo harder, making him moan into me so deep I thought I’d lose it right then.

 

Gojo’s tongue was relentless, quick, greedy strokes, then slow, drawn-out drags that made my toes curl. My thighs clamped around his head without me meaning to, and he just groaned into me, the vibration sending me toppling over the edge.

 

I came hard, right on his mouth, and the sound he made was nothing short of shameless, loud, drawn-out, and cracked with pleasure.

 

Suguru’s hand fisted in his hair, yanking his head back just enough so I could see his face. His mouth and chin were glossy, his lips swollen, eyes glazed like he’d just tasted something he’d kill to keep. He licked his lower lip, still panting.

 

“Look at you,” Suguru murmured, voice dripping with dark amusement as he rolled his hips into him again. “So fucking desperate you’re moaning into her mess while I’m splitting you open. You like that?”

 

Gojo actually nodded, dazed and wrecked. “Yeah- fuck- yeah, I like it-”

 

And then, without hesitation, his hand slid between my thighs, fingers finding me instantly. He started fingering me deep with the same fervor he’d had with his mouth, curling deep, thumb circling my swollen clit.

 

Suguru wasn’t slowing down, not for a second. He kept his pace brutal, filthy words spilling from his lips as he degraded Gojo for every sound, every twitch, every shiver. And Gojo… Gojo just soaked it up, leaning into every word like it was gospel, letting Suguru wreck him while his hand moved faster in me, determined to wring another finish out of me even as he was coming apart himself.

 

Suguru’s laugh was low, amused in that dangerous way that made my pulse skip. His hips didn’t falter against Gojo, each sharp snap pushing a broken moan out of him, but his eyes were on me now.

 

I looked to him practically begging, biting hard onto my lip.

 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he drawled, voice a velvet knife. “You want me to talk to you like I do him? Think you can take it?”

 

I swallowed hard, biting my lip so tight it hurt. His grin sharpened.

 

“Look at you,” he said, tone dropping into a slow, deliberate taunt. “Sitting there letting him drool all over you, clenching on his fingers like the desperate little thing you are. You’d take anything we gave you, wouldn’t you? Just open yourself up and let us ruin you until you’re too fucked out to remember your own name.”

 

A sound tore out of me, half moan, half whimper, and Gojo groaned right into my skin, his lips wet and hot against my thigh.

 

Suguru’s chuckle was low and knowing. “Oh, she likes that. Hear her? Our sweet little mess, trying so hard to keep it together while you work her open.”

 

Gojo’s shoulders shook with his own needy noises, his tongue dragging against me between each curl of his fingers. His moans vibrated right through my skin, and when I glanced down, he was glassy-eyed and wrecked, his mouth glossy, breathless against me like he couldn’t bear to stop.

 

Suguru’s voice curved around us both. “Good boy. Don’t stop. Make her fall apart for us.”

 

Suguru’s grin was sharp and cruel, eyes flicking between both of us like he was weighing who he could break first.

 

“Look at you,” he said, voice low but laced with venom, “both of you falling apart just because I’m telling you what you already know. Pathetic. Our needy little whore, too greedy to choose between us, so you take everything we give you and still want more.”

 

The words made my breath hitch hard, heat clawing up my spine. My hips jerked into Gojo’s fingers without my permission, chasing that high like a starved thing.

 

Gojo, though, was gone. His head bobbed between my thighs, sloppy and wet, and he was talking, half-moan, half-mumble, every filthy self-insult spilling out between kisses and licks.

“Yeah, I’m pathetic… made for it… fuck, I’m so easy, I’ll open up for you anytime, just keep using me-”

 

Suguru’s thrust into him knocked a louder cry from his throat, but he didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down with his mouth on me.

“I’m disgusting- look at me, I can’t stop- just a mess for you both, always your mess-”

 

That string of babbling was what broke me. My vision went white at the edges, my head falling back as another wave crashed through me, sharp and electric.

 

Suguru’s jaw tightened, a sharp exhale through his nose as he muttered, “Fuck, keep talking, Satoru- talk yourself right into coming on me like the pathetic thing you are.”

 

Gojo moaned so loud it vibrated against me, his hips rocking helplessly back into Suguru’s.

 

We were all right on the line.

 

Gojo’s voice was wrecked, but he wouldn’t shut up even if he could.

“Fuck, I’m- god, I’m such a slut for you- look at me, leaking all over you, just a hole for you to fuck-” His words slurred around a groan as his tongue faltered for a second against me before coming back wetter, hungrier.

 

"Let me hear you too, beautiful. I know you’re fucked out just like he is." Suguru sped up.

 

I did as I was told. My own voice was ragged, words breaking between sharp breaths.

“Mmmm I'm pathetic- can’t stop- just let you both do whatever you want- god, I’m made for this- fuck meeee- uuh...” My head tipped back, chest rising fast, my thighs trembling hard against Gojo’s shoulders.

 

Suguru’s laugh was low and pleased, that deep, rich sound curling like smoke in my chest.

“That’s it. Both of you. Look at yourselves.. perfect little messes, ruining each other for me. You sound desperate enough to beg for more, even when you’re seconds from passing out.”

 

He rolled his hips forward hard enough to drag a sharp cry from Gojo, then pushed in deep and held there, one hand gripping the back of his neck, the other sliding around my thigh to spread me wider for Gojo’s mouth.

 

Gojo’s free hand shot up to hold Suguru’s wrist, not to stop him, but to anchor himself, his head dropping between my legs again like he couldn’t bear to stop touching me.

“Please- please don’t stop, I’m so close- I'm going to make such a big fucking mess... such a disgusting fucking mess for you both...” he gasped, voice shaking.

 

Suguru looked between us, his mouth twisting into that slow, dangerous smirk.

“Then give it to me. Both of you. Right fucking now.”

 

We were seconds away from falling apart.

 

Gojo was whining into me, fingers curling deep, his hips rocking helplessly back against Suguru’s thrusts.

“I’m such a- fuck- I’m just your dumb slut- gonna make a mess all over you- please, please let me-”

 

My voice was high and cracking. I bit my lip hard just to keep from breaking early.

“Your filthy little toy- god, I’ll take whatever you give me- just let me come- please, Suguru-”

 

His grip on both of us tightened, his pace brutal now, every push in making Gojo jolt and moan against my thigh.

“Not yet,” Suguru growled, and there was that sharp edge in his voice that made both of us obey instantly, even as we shook from the effort of holding it. “You don’t come until I say. You understand?”

 

“Yes, Suguru!” we both gasped, overlapping and desperate.

 

He drove into Gojo harder, his hand gripping my hip to pull me toward his thrusts through Gojo’s body. His words turned filthy and mean, dripping in satisfaction.

“My perfect little holes, so easy to ruin, fuck, you love being used like this, don’t you? Just made to get messy for me.”

 

That did it, both of us breaking into choked moans, unable to stop even as we tried to hold it in.

 

“Now,” he ordered, his voice rough, and we shattered.

 

Gojo’s moan was loud and wrecked as he spilled hard all over the bed, trembling against my legs, his mouth and fingers still working me until I cried out and came with him, squirting all over his hand and getting a little on his face. Suguru followed, grinding in deep and spilling with a low, guttural sound, pulling us tight against him as he finished.

 

It was everywhere, on my thighs, on Gojo’s face, dripping down between us, and Suguru didn’t seem to care in the slightest. He just breathed hard, smirking faintly as he looked at the two of us trembling and ruined in his hands.

 

“Beautiful,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Absolutely fucking perfect.”

 

Gojo slid his fingers free with a shaky sigh, immediately bringing them to his lips. His tongue wrapped around them greedily, sucking until they were clean, eyes half-lidded in that dazed, drunk-on-it way that made my stomach flip.

 

Suguru eased out of him slow, too slow, drawing a soft, broken sound from Gojo’s throat. The mess of cum spilled down Gojo’s thighs, pooling hot against the sheets, and Suguru’s breath hitched into a low groan.

 

“Fuck… look at you,” he murmured, voice deep and thick with filth, his palm pressing into Gojo’s lower back. “Leaking like you were made for me.” He dragged his gaze lazily over both of us, heat curling in every word. “Both of you… perfect little wrecks.”

 

Gojo let out a weak laugh, but it was frayed at the edges, his body trembling as he flopped sideways into me. Suguru followed, guiding us down into the mattress until we were tangled in a heap of bare, sore limbs.

 

The room felt heavy and warm, the air thick with the scent of sweat and everything else we’d left all over each other. My chest rose and fell in uneven pulls, still catching from the comedown. Gojo’s head rested on my shoulder, Suguru’s arm draped possessively over both of us, his fingers tracing lazy circles against my hip.

 

No one rushed to move. The ache in my thighs, the hum still running through my veins, the heat pressed against both sides of me, it was enough to keep me exactly where I was.

 

Gojo was up and moving again before either of us had the strength to think about it, padding around the room with that post-battle spring in his step only he could manage.

 

“God, this room reeks,” he groaned dramatically, grabbing a towel and wetting it with warm water. “Like… in a good way. But still. My poor delicate nose.”

 

Suguru snorted from where he had me pulled against his chest, his palm stroking slow circles along my hip. “Maybe if you didn’t make it a competition, it wouldn’t smell like-”

 

“-victory?” Gojo cut in, grinning over his shoulder. “Exactly.”

 

I barely managed a tired hum, my cheek pressed to Suguru’s collarbone. Every muscle in my body felt heavy, boneless, like I could sink straight through the bed if they let go of me.

 

“Alright, time to keep my prince and princess nice and clean,” Gojo announced with mock regal authority as he knelt beside the bed. He started with me, his long fingers and the soft towel gentle as he wiped me down, murmuring little “good girl” and “there we go, sweetheart” between jokes.

 

When he finished, he turned to Suguru with the same deliberate care, leaning close as he worked. “You, my love, have been an absolute menace tonight. Gotta make sure you’re spotless so you can keep up your evil little reputation.”

 

Suguru’s eyes narrowed with faint amusement. “Careful. I might start expecting this level of service.”

 

Once they were both done, Gojo tossed the used towel aside and stood to stretch, only to be caught by the wrist.

 

“My turn,” Suguru said, rising from the bed just enough to pull Gojo closer. He took a fresh towel, dampened it, and pushed Gojo down to sit. “You don’t get to fuss over us and think you’re walking away untouched.”

 

Gojo smirked but didn’t fight it, letting Suguru crouch between his knees and work over him with slow, thorough passes. “You’re very romantic when you’re tired, you know that?”

 

“Shut up,” Suguru muttered, but there was no heat in it just a quiet fondness as he finished and tossed the towel aside.

 

Suguru didn’t even hesitate, he scooped me up like I weighed nothing, cradling me against his chest as if I wasn’t already melting from exhaustion. My head lolled on his shoulder, eyes half-lidded, but I still caught the little smirk he gave Gojo over my hair.

 

“Careful, she’s fragile right now,” he teased, though his voice was all affection.

 

Gojo surveyed the sheets with an exaggerated grimace. “Yeah, fragile… and apparently a walking flood warning. These poor sheets never stood a chance.”

 

"I am not the only one all over those sheets..." I mumbled into Suguru’s shoulder.

 

"No but you are the only one who's still covering multiple surfaces~" Satoru smirks, dragging his hand down his mouth and chin.

 

I blush hard and hide my face in Suguru’s shoulder which makes Suguru laugh a bit.

 

"Be nice Satoru. She can't control her....lovely geyser..." Suguru teased too, kissing my cheek as he held me tighter.

 

I whine loudly. "I've never done that before! I'm blaming you both!" 

 

“Blaming us, huh?” Gojo’s grin widened as he knelt back down, running the towel over the sheets with lazy swipes that didn’t really do much. His snow colored lashes caught the glow of the bedside lamp, his grin sharp as ever. “Sweetheart, I didn’t even know girls could do that. Not like I know much about this stuff buuuut, you nearly drowned me.” He pressed a hand dramatically to his chest, feigning horror. “And don’t get me wrong- I’m used to getting covered in cum, but usually it’s Suguru.”

 

Suguru groaned, resting his forehead briefly against the top of my head. “You’re impossible.”

 

“Impossible and hydrated,” Gojo shot back, wagging his brows. “Seriously though… that was so hot.” He dragged his palm down his chin like he was remembering it, voice dropping low. “Got all over my face, too. Didn’t taste half bad either.”

 

“God, Satoru,” I whined, shoving my face harder into Suguru’s shoulder, mortified.

 

But Suguru, of course, had to be clinical about it. He huffed out a slow sigh, his voice calm but carrying that tiny smug lilt. “Technically it’s called female ejaculation or squirting. It happens when the Skene’s glands release fluid through stimulation. Perfectly natural. She’s just never been pushed far enough before.”

 

Gojo froze mid-wipe, his grin twitching as he tried, and failed, to keep a straight face. He turned, his blue eyes sparkling like he’d just been handed the funniest joke in the universe. “Suguru. Sweetheart. Love of my life. Did you just give us a science lesson about squirting?”

 

The tips of Suguru’s ears went faintly pink. “I was clarifying.”

 

“Oh no, don’t stop now.” Gojo dropped the towel on the mattress with a wet smack, leaning against the dresser with his arms crossed, grin wide enough to split his face. “What’s next, huh? You got a little diagram tucked under the mattress to show us angles and pressure points?”

 

Suguru closed his eyes, patience thinning. “Satoru.”

 

Gojo tilted his head, eyes narrowing with wicked amusement. “Wait. Is this one of those things you’ve got in those hidden magazines? Right next to the tentacle ones? You always talk so educational about your kinks like that'll make us think you don't get off to it.”

 

That made my head snap up from Suguru’s shoulder, my eyes widening. “Wait. Tentacle ones?”

 

Suguru groaned, dragging a palm down his face. “Satoru.”

 

I turned toward him slowly, blinking in disbelief before a mischievous smile tugged at my lips. “You actually have those kinds of magazines?”

 

His cheeks flushed deeper now, betraying him even as he kept his voice steady. “The only reason he knows is because he goes through all of my things.”

 

“Which means it wasn’t a joke,” I sing-songed, biting back a laugh. “Oh, this is so unfair. You’re over here all blushy about it, and I don’t even get to see these infamous magazines? I feel left out.”

 

“You’re not left out,” Suguru muttered, eyes sliding away as though the ceiling was suddenly fascinating.

 

Gojo cackled. “Oh, this is gold. For a top, you sure do get blushy about this stuff. Look at you- all pink and pouty.”

 

“I don’t pout,” Suguru snapped automatically, which only made Gojo laugh harder.

 

I stretched my hand out, letting a few of my tendrils slip free. They curled and slithered like lazy snakes over Suguru’s arm, winding up his bicep, rubbing his thighs, and brushing against the side of his neck. His sharp inhale was immediate, his head jerking back slightly.

 

“Amara,” he warned, his voice dropping into a dangerous low.

 

I just grinned, sliding one of the thinner vines teasingly along his ribs. “What’s the matter, darling? Don’t like it when I use my cursed technique on you like this?”

 

His composure cracked, a desperate little whine slipping from him before he caught it. He shot me a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Stop.”

 

I giggled, pulling the tendrils back immediately but not without one last playful brush across his stomach. “Maybe next time I’ll try topping both of you with them.”

 

Gojo barked a laugh. “Oh my god, yes. I don’t care where I’ve gotta be, as long as it’s with you two.” He pointed at me like he was making some grand declaration. “Sweetheart, you can put those things anywhere you want.”

 

Suguru pinched the bridge of his nose like he was praying for strength. “You’re both impossible.”

 

Gojo walked over and leaned in close to Suguru’s ear. “You like impossible. That’s why you keep us around.”

 

Suguru let out a long-suffering sigh and shifted me higher against his chest, his voice quieter, more honest. “Being a bottom isn’t exactly my favorite thing.”

 

Gojo smirked instantly, catching the word choice. “Ah, but you didn’t say it wasn’t something you’d do.”

 

That earned him a glare so sharp I thought the air might split. But Suguru didn’t deny it.

 

And Gojo, smug as hell, leaned back against the headboard, stretching out like a cat. “Guess that settles it. Next time, we’re breaking out the tendrils.”

 

“Over my dead body,” Suguru muttered, but the flush on his neck and the faint curl of his lips gave him away.

 

“See?” Gojo grinned, throwing an arm over my waist. “He doesn’t even mean it. He’s already imagining it.”

 

I laughed, pressing my face into Suguru’s chest to hide the warmth rising in my cheeks. “You two are the worst.”

 

“The best,” Gojo corrected instantly, his fingers slipping up to brush over my jaw. His grin softened just a little as he leaned close enough for our noses to brush. “The very best.”

 

I nuzzled back into Suguru while Satoru started cleaning up. Gojo had the ruined bedding balled up and tossed into the corner with a dramatic sigh. 

 

“Alright, crisis averted. I’ll grab fresh sheets so my darling loves can have a pristine nest to wreck again tomorrow.”

 

“You’re not funny,” I mumbled into Suguru’s neck.

 

“Tell that to my fan club,” Gojo shot back as he moved around the room, making quick work of laying down clean, cool sheets and fluffing the pillows like he was prepping a five-star suite.

 

Suguru didn’t even bother setting me down while Gojo worked. He just kept rocking me slightly, kissing the side of my head, rubbing slow patterns into my back. Every time my eyes drifted shut, he whispered something soft, little reassurances, lazy praises, like he was determined to keep me wrapped in that warm, safe haze.

 

Gojo scooped me into his lap the second Suguru let go, his long arms wrapping around me like he’d been waiting for his turn. He leaned back a little, rocking me against his chest, the steady thump of his heart under my ear.

 

“Mm, you’re all warm,” he murmured, voice lazy but tinged with that satisfied edge. “Like my own personal heater. Guess I’m never letting you go.”

 

I could hear Suguru moving around behind us, blankets snapping softly as he made the bed fresh again, the faint scrape of a lighter before incense smoke curled into the air.

 

Gojo’s fingers idly traced patterns against my hip. “Sweetheart, you know I love you so much, right? Too good for me and Suguru combined… but you keep loving us anyway.” His tone was teasing, but there was an unspoken softness under it.

 

Across the room, Suguru lit a few candles near the dresser to help clear the air, shadows flickering warm against the walls.

 

Gojo pressed his chin lightly to the top of my head. “You’re staying put. No moving. I’ll carry you if I have to.” He said it like it was a joke, but we both knew he meant it.

 

Suguru rustled through drawers for clean clothes, black boxers for himself, pale blue for Gojo, and one of his oversized T-shirts for me. Gojo watched him for a moment, then looked down at me again, a crooked smile on his face.

 

“My sweets,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over my knuckles, “still the prettiest thing in the room… and that’s saying something, considering Suguru’s in it too.”

 

Gojo eased me down onto the freshly made bed like I was something fragile, the mattress dipping under me as he straightened the hem of the blanket. Suguru came over with the clothes, tossing the boxers toward Gojo and setting the big T-shirt at the foot of the bed.

 

Gojo shot him a look as he tugged his own boxers on. “Oh, so we’re just putting her in your shirt, huh? Bold move, Geto.”

 

Suguru smirked while stepping into his own pair, the candlelight catching in his hair. “Well, if you wanted her in your shirt, Gojo, you should’ve been the one picking out the outfits.”

 

I groaned softly, mostly from exhaustion but partly because I knew they could volley like this for hours. Gojo glanced down at me and grinned. “See? She’s on my side. Right, sweetheart?”

 

I didn’t even get to answer before Suguru leaned over, sliding the T-shirt over my head with gentle hands, his voice warm but sly. “No, she’s on mine. She looks better in my clothes anyway.”

 

Gojo snorted, helping guide my arms through the sleeves. “She’d look good in a trash bag, Ge-to, your argument is invalid.”

 

Suguru laughed under his breath, smoothing the hem down over my thighs as he straightened. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I have better taste than a trash bag. Go-jo”

 

Suguru had me tucked against his chest now, my head pillowed against the steady rise and fall of his breathing. Gojo was sprawled half over my legs, one arm slung lazily across both of us like he couldn’t stand to not be touching. The incense curled lazily in the corner, mixing with the faint warmth of candlelight. It was quiet, soft, the kind of aftermath where everyone was a little wrung out but still floating.

 

Suguru’s hand was slow and deliberate on my back, rubbing in little circles like he was coaxing the last of the tension from my muscles. “You sure you’re okay, my love? We pushed pretty hard tonight.”

 

“Yeah,” I mumbled into his chest, “I’m fine. More than fine.”

 

Gojo tilted his head toward me, eyes half-lidded but alert in that way he gets when he’s still reading me for any signs of discomfort. “No aches you don’t want, sweets? No spots I need to kiss better?” His grin was soft, teasing without being sharp.

 

I gave him a small smirk. “I’m good. But…” I paused for dramatic effect, making both of them glance down at me. “Next time, I want to take your place, Gojo.”

 

Gojo let out a low whistle, but it was Suguru whose expression actually shifted, his brows lifting just slightly before a faint, warm color crept up his cheeks. “Didn’t realize you’d like it rough like that too,” he admitted, his tone a careful mix of curiosity and surprise.

 

I tipped my head so I could see him better. “I think you should degrade us both more, too. Really lean into it.” I chuckled lightly.

 

Suguru’s eyes narrowed, and for a second, he looked like he was fighting to keep his composure. “You’re going to make me blush harder than you already have.”

 

From the other side of me, Gojo broke into a smug grin. “Knew it. She’s just as much of a masochist as I am.”

 

That made heat crawl up my neck, and I hid my face briefly against Suguru’s chest. “I’m not-”

 

“Oh, you are,” Gojo cut in cheerfully. “Don’t try to play innocent now, sweetheart. You were practically glowing when Suguru got mean.”

 

Suguru’s thumb smoothed over my hip in slow, grounding strokes, his gaze flicking between us. “Maybe,” he said finally, the smirk returning, “I’ll make you both regret telling me that.”

 

Gojo just grinned wider. “Promises, promises.”

 

They shifted until the positions felt right, Gojo pressed in behind me, his long frame curling easily to fit mine, and Suguru stretched out in front, close enough that I could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing against my cheek.

 

Gojo’s arm looped around my waist, his fingers slipping under the hem of the oversized shirt Suguru had picked for me. He found the cool metal of my bellybutton ring and started fiddling with it absentmindedly, rolling it between his fingers, brushing over the skin just enough to make me twitch. It wasn’t teasing, not really, more like a sleepy habit, the way some people twirl hair or tap their fingers.

 

Suguru had one hand resting against my jaw, thumb stroking lazily at my cheekbone as he looked at me with that softened, post-exhaustion warmth. “Goodnight, my love,” he murmured, leaning in to give me a slow, gentle kiss.

 

“Night, darling,” I whispered back.

 

Gojo leaned forward enough to press a kiss to the side of my head, his lips brushing my temple. “Night, sweetheart,” he mumbled, voice already thick with sleep.

 

"Goodnight, love." I kiss back softly.

 

Suguru kissed me again, then reached past to press a kiss to Gojo’s mouth as well. Gojo hummed against it, smiling without opening his eyes.

 

The candles cast a faint amber glow across Suguru’s features, his hair spilling forward as he tucked himself closer to me. Gojo’s fingers stayed loosely hooked in my bellybutton ring even as his breathing deepened, his chest rising and falling steadily against my back.

 

I closed my eyes, caught between them, the warmth of their bodies and the soft press of their goodnight kisses pulling me under.

Chapter 86: Leaving For Better

The infirmary smelled faintly of antiseptic, coffee, and that oddly comforting aroma of Shoko’s cigarettes. I sat on the exam bed with my shirt rolled up so she could run the cold metal of a stethoscope over my back, jotting notes on the clipboard balanced on her knee. 

 

“You’ve been pushing yourself again,” she said without looking up. “Don’t bother denying it. Your cursed energy levels are higher than last week, but your loop is stuttering. It means you’re overcompensating somewhere. Just not sure where exactly..” 

 

I rolled my eyes half-heartedly. “Maybe I just like keeping you in business.” 

 

She smirked, swapping the stethoscope for a penlight to check my pupils. “Oh, sure. Every tenth overuse episode gets you a free lecture.” 

 

I was about to make a comeback when the door creaked open. Nanami stepped inside, closing it behind him with quiet finality. That alone was enough to make me and Shoko both glance up. Nanami didn’t interrupt unless it was important. 

 

“Do you both have a moment?” he asked, eyes flicking between us. 

 

Shoko gestured at the chair by the wall. “If this is about a curse-related injury, take a number. She’s mid-evaluation.” 

 

“It’s not,” he said, and there was something in his voice.. measured, but… heavier than usual. 

 

Shoko arched a brow but set her clipboard aside, leaning back against the counter. I turned fully toward him. “What’s going on?” 

 

He adjusted his plain button-up shirt, the movement precise, almost rehearsed. He hadn’t been wearing his school uniform.. “I’m leaving the Jujutsu Society.” 

 

The words dropped like a stone between us. 

 

Shoko was the first to speak. “You’re serious?” 

 

“I am,” Nanami said simply. “I’ve given my notice. There are… personal reasons, but the core of it is this: I want a life that isn’t defined by death and orders from people who don’t care whether we survive them.” 

 

Something twisted in my chest. “Is this about-” 

 

“Yes,” he interrupted gently, but firmly. “Haibara. And the Riko Amanai mission.” His gaze shifted to me, steady but not unkind. “I saw what it did to you. To Gojo. To Geto. That mission should never have been assigned the way it was. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, and Haibara’s death only made it clearer. I refuse to keep feeding myself, and others, into a system that doesn’t value us as people. I'm tired of seeing all this death.” 

 

I swallowed hard, heat prickling at the back of my eyes. I remembered Haibara’s laugh, bright and unguarded. Riko’s smile. The way Gojo had shut down after. The way Suguru had... 

 

Shoko’s expression softened, but her tone stayed dry. “And what will you do? Open a bakery? Sell insurance?” 

 

“Something normal,” Nanami said, and for a moment, there was almost a smile. “Something where I’m not counting the days until the next funeral.” 

 

He looked at me again, like he was making sure I was hearing him. “You don’t owe this place your soul, Amara. None of us do.” 

 

I let out a slow breath, shaking my head. “I don’t think I’m built for normal, Nanami. Never was.” My voice came out quieter than I meant. The thought of sitting behind some office desk, or even living in a quiet neighborhood, felt… alien. I didn’t even know if I’d recognize myself there. 

 

Nanami’s mouth quirked, not quite a smile. “Perhaps not,” he said, and there was no judgment in it, just acknowledgment. “But that doesn’t mean you have to give everything to this life.” 

 

I opened my mouth to say something, but he beat me to it, his tone still even, almost matter-of-fact. “I’ll still keep an ear to the ground. And when the time comes, if it comes, I’ll make sure to attend your funeral.” 

 

It took me a second to process that. Shoko’s head snapped up from her notes. “Wow. Inspirational,” she deadpanned. 

 

But Nanami just met my eyes steadily, as if the statement was meant to be comforting. And in a twisted way, it was, someone promising to see you through to the end, no matter what. But it also made something cold settle in my stomach. 

 

Because it wasn’t morbid to him. Not really. In our world, death was… routine. Expected. Something you penciled into the calendar. And here he was, talking about it like it was just another part of the job. 

 

I tried to find something to say, something that wouldn’t make the room heavier than it already was. But all I could manage was, “…Guess I’ll try to make it a closed casket, so you don’t have to see the mess.” 

 

That earned me the faintest, almost invisible twitch of his lips. “Do as you like.” 

 

He lingered for a moment instead of heading straight for the door, his eyes shifting between me and Shoko. “You know,” he said, tone still calm but softer around the edges, “you’re the first people I wanted to tell.” 

 

Shoko arched a brow. “What an honor.” 

 

“I’m serious,” Nanami said, and the way he looked at us made it clear he meant it. “There aren’t many here I trust to understand my reasons without turning them into gossip or pity. You two…” He paused, adjusting his tie like it helped him find the right words. “You’ve both seen enough to know when it’s time to step away. And you don’t waste time judging someone for it.” 

 

Shoko smirked faintly, like she was brushing it off, but I could tell it landed somewhere deeper for her. 

 

I leaned back on the infirmary cot, meeting his gaze. “Guess that means we’re special.” 

 

He gave a slow nod. “In my book, yes. You’ve both earned that.” 

 

It wasn’t exactly a warm goodbye, but it was the kind of sincerity Nanami dealt in, no fluff, no pretenses. And for some reason, it sat heavier in my chest than any dramatic farewell could have. 

 

I shifted on the cot, feeling the paper crinkle under me as I sat forward. “Well… for what it’s worth, I’m gonna miss you, Nanami.” 

 

He tilted his head slightly, as if the concept of anyone missing him was mildly surprising, but he didn’t interrupt. 

 

“I mean it,” I said, pressing my palms against my knees. “I wish you the best. Wherever you end up, whatever you end up doing… I hope it’s good. Really good. And when you get settled in, shoot me a message. We’ll get tea somewhere decent, not the garbage they serve here, and you can tell me all about your new, thrilling civilian life.” 

 

Shoko snorted under her breath, clearly amused by my attempt to make it sound light, but she kept her eyes on the clipboard in her hands. 

 

Nanami regarded me for a moment, then nodded once. “Tea,” he repeated, like he was mentally cataloging it alongside whatever other plans he had. “I’ll hold you to that.” 

 

“Good,” I said, and before I could overthink it, I slid off the cot. My bare feet touched the cool tile as I stepped closer. “Now… I’m gonna do something I don’t think I’ve ever done with you.” 

 

He gave me a wary look. “That sounds ominous.” 

 

I didn’t give him time to retreat. I wrapped my arms around him, firm but careful, mindful of the fact that Nanami wasn't a hugger. 

 

He went stiff at first but after a beat, I felt him exhale, the tension in his shoulders easing a fraction. His arms came up, a bit slow, a bit awkward, like he was unfamiliar with the choreography. But when they settled around me, there was weight in them. Real weight. 

 

“You’re making this harder,” he murmured, just low enough for me to hear. 

 

“That’s my job,” I said against his shoulder. “Making people’s lives difficult.” 

 

It was quiet for another moment before he stepped back. Not abruptly, just enough to look at me again. There was something faintly softer in his eyes, though his voice stayed even. “Take care of yourself, Amara.” 

 

“Always,” I lied, because we both knew the truth was messier than that. 

 

He gave Shoko a final nod, then me, before heading toward the door. His hand hesitated on the frame, but he didn’t turn back, just kept walking until his footsteps faded down the hall. 

 

The infirmary felt a little too still after that. 

 

Shoko set her clipboard down on the counter. “You’ve got a weird effect on him.” 

 

I raised a brow. “Me?” 

 

“You,” she confirmed. “Nanami’s not the type to open up to just anyone. But with you… I think he’s got this brother thing going on in his head. Worries about you in his own, stoic way.” 

 

I shrugged, climbing back onto the cot. “Maybe. Or maybe he just likes that I don’t treat him like a machine.” 

 

Shoko gave me a look. “Don’t discount it. People like him… they don’t get much softness without strings attached.” 

 

That made me pause. “You think he’ll be okay out there?” 

 

Shoko leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. “He’s smart. Knows when to cut his losses. If anyone can figure out a normal life after all this, it’s him.” 

 

I thought about the way he said I didn’t owe this place my soul. Like he’d carved those words out of something sharp and left them with me to keep. “Yeah,” I said softly. “Guess you’re right.” 

 

But even as I said it, I felt that familiar heaviness like another thread in this frayed web we all held together had just been cut. 

 

--- 

 

Later that evening, I found myself walking the long way back to my dorm. The corridors were mostly empty, just the hum of the lights overhead and the muted sound of the wind outside. 

 

My mind kept looping back to Nanami’s face, that barely-there softening when I hugged him. The fact that he’d said we were the first he wanted to tell. That meant something, even if he wouldn’t ever spell it out. 

 

It wasn’t just about him leaving, it was about what his leaving represented. Another person deciding that this life, this endless cycle of blood and missions and loss, wasn’t worth the cost. And it made me wonder how many of us would stay if we actually had the choice. 

 

By the time I reached my door, I’d made a quiet decision: if he really did send that message one day, I’d be there. No matter what was going on, no matter how far I had to travel. Because maybe, in a world where funerals were more common than reunions, keeping a promise like that actually mattered. 

 

--- 

 

The next day, I found myself back in the infirmary. Shoko had wanted to follow up on the tests. She didn’t say much about Nanami, but I caught her glancing toward the door once or twice, like she half expected him to walk in again. 

 

“He’s not coming back, you know,” I said finally. 

 

“I know.” She adjusted the settings on a monitor, her expression unreadable. “But habits are hard to break.” 

 

We worked in silence for a while after that. At one point, she caught me staring off and flicked my forehead. “Don’t get sentimental on me. You’ve still got two overgrown idiots who’d lose their minds if you disappeared.” 

 

I smiled faintly at that, picturing Gojo and Geto’s faces if I ever told them I was leaving. Yeah… that would go over well. 

 

Shoko glanced at me again, her voice quieter. “You okay?” 

 

I considered lying, then didn’t. “I will be. Eventually. Just have a bad habit of worrying..” 

 

Shoko made a little noncommittal noise in response to my “Eventually,” and went back to adjusting the cuff on my arm for the blood draw. The soft beep of the machine filled the room while she checked numbers, scribbled notes, and muttered about protein levels. 

 

We went through the motions, blood, reflex checks, cursed energy flow scans, until I started zoning out to the faint hum of the lights. It wasn’t until she said I could go that I realized how much time had passed. 

 

I hopped down from the cot, tugging my sleeves back into place, and headed for the door.. only to pause when I spotted Gojo and Geto just down the hall. They were standing close to Nanami, all three of them in that oddly serious bubble you could feel before you even heard the conversation. 

 

I stepped closer, and Gojo’s head tilted just enough to register me without breaking his line of sight from Nanami. 

 

“…so that’s it,” Nanami was saying, voice even. “I’ll be leaving. I wanted you both to hear it from me before you overheard it elsewhere.” 

 

Gojo’s expression shifted, still trying to stay breezy, but the stiffness in his jaw gave him away. “You’re sure about this?” 

 

“I am,” Nanami said simply. 

 

Suguru’s tone was softer, but still edged with concern. “What’s next, then?” 

 

“Nothing for a while. I plan to… rest. Live without assignments hanging over my head for once.” 

 

I stepped up beside them, and Nanami gave me the same small nod he’d given earlier in the infirmary. 

 

Gojo, of course, was already leaning forward, grin edging toward too wide. “Well, if you’re going to ditch us for a life of eating breakfast at normal hours, we’re at least throwing you a proper send-off. Big thing. All your favorite food, the good sake, maybe even some cake with your boring little face printed on it-” 

 

“No cake with my face,” Nanami cut in, though there was the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. 

 

Suguru smirked. “You’d come off better as a cake than you think, Nanami.” 

 

Nanami’s sigh could have powered a small wind farm. “You don’t need to go through all that trouble for me.” 

 

“Trouble?” Gojo scoffed, throwing an arm over his shoulder with absolutely no regard for personal space. “You’re worth the trouble.” 

 

Suguru nodded, more measured. “Tomorrow, then. Everyone you actually like, your favorite things. We’ll make it a night you’ll remember when you’re sitting in some quiet apartment thinking you don’t miss this place.” 

 

Nanami didn’t quite meet his eyes at that. “I… suppose it would be nice.” 

 

But as he said it, I caught something in his face, subtle, but there. Not reluctance to the idea itself, but to what it might do to him. 

 

He wasn’t worried about us going to the effort. He was worried about himself. About what might happen if he saw us all in one place, laughing, making him feel like he belonged here. Like maybe leaving wasn’t the right call. 

 

The realization sat heavily in my stomach. This wasn’t just a clean break, this was him trying to slip away before anyone could tie a thread to him and pull him back. Before he could see the look on our faces and decide to keep taking hits in a job he no longer believed in. 

 

I didn’t say anything right then. Just kept my hands in my pockets, watching Gojo and Geto bicker lightly over whether Nanami would be allowed to veto karaoke at his own going-away party. 

 

But in the back of my mind, I was already thinking that if he really meant to leave before tomorrow, we might not get that chance. And I wasn’t sure I was ready for another goodbye that happened in silence. 

 

Gojo and Suguru were halfway into what sounded like a very loud, very stupid debate over whether Nanami would be “obligated” to let Gojo pick the playlist for the party, when my hand moved without much thought. 

 

It was muscle memory by now, something I’d done countless times to steady Gojo when he was vibrating out of his own skin, or to keep Suguru anchored when he got that faraway look. My fingers brushed Nanami’s sleeve, just a quiet little point of contact. 

 

Normally, he would’ve shifted back politely, in that way he had that made you feel like he’d drawn an invisible perimeter around himself years ago and hadn’t let anyone cross it since. But this time… he didn’t. 

 

His gaze flickered to me for half a second, unreadable as ever, and then, just as faint as the sound of Shoko lighting a cigarette two rooms away, he turned his hand, letting his fingers rest lightly over mine. 

 

The weight of it was subtle. Deliberate. Not exactly an embrace, but the kind of gesture you made when you didn’t mind being held onto. 

 

I tilted my head, my voice low enough that it wouldn’t cut through Gojo’s half-shouting. “You’re planning to leave in the middle of the night, aren’t you?” 

 

Nanami didn’t answer. 

 

My chest tightened, but I held his gaze. “…Don’t lead us on. Just be honest.” 

 

That finally made him flinch. Not much, but enough to shift the line of his mouth, to make his jaw tick like he’d bitten down on something hard. 

 

He looked past me for a long second, maybe at the wall, maybe at nothing. Then his voice dropped lower, quieter than I’d ever heard it in a hallway. “If I stay longer, I won’t leave at all.” 

 

The bluntness of it knocked the air out of me, even though I’d already known. 

 

Nanami went on, his tone even but threaded with something heavier. “You-” his eyes darted briefly to where Gojo and Geto stood, oblivious in their argument, “-and they… You make it almost seem worth it. Like I could tolerate the missions, the politics. The idiocy. But that’s the lie, Amara. Temporary. Sooner or later, the reasons I want to stay get buried under the things I can’t stand to watch happen anymore.” 

 

He looked at me fully then, and for once there wasn’t a wall between us. There was just the weight of how much he meant it. 

 

“The people,” he said quietly, “are worth being around. The society isn’t.” 

 

I swallowed hard, wishing I had something to say that didn’t sound like begging. “We’re not going to hold you here, Nanami. Not if it’s hurting you. But disappearing without a word? Don't end it so bluntly for once..” 

 

Something in his expression shifted, pain, maybe, but softer than the kind that made you pull away. He gave my hand one more faint squeeze before letting go, stepping back just enough to reestablish that careful boundary. 

 

Gojo finally noticed we were both too quiet and leaned over, grinning. “Hey, what’s with the serious little huddle? You plotting my murder?” 

 

“Not today,” I said, managing something that passed for a smile. 

 

Nanami cleared his throat, not in the polite, almost bored way he usually did when someone was rambling too long, but in a way that cut through Gojo’s next smart remark before it even got out. 

 

“You can stop planning the party,” he said, his tone as steady as a scalpel. “I’ll be leaving tonight.” 

 

Gojo froze mid-grin, like someone had just yanked the floor out from under him. “Tonight? As in… in a few hours tonight?” 

 

Suguru’s brow furrowed instantly. “That’s early. You said you were going to-” 

 

“I know what I said,” Nanami cut in, not unkindly but firm. “If I wait until tomorrow, you’ll talk me into staying longer than I should. And then I’ll stay past that, until I’m right back where I started.” 

 

Gojo opened his mouth to argue, but Nanami kept going. “This place… the work… it’s not sustainable. I’ve been lying to myself about how much I can tolerate. I watched what happened with Riko. With Haibara. And I saw what it did to all of you.” 

 

The air in the room shifted. Suguru didn’t look away from him, his jaw tightening in the way it always did when someone mentioned Riko’s name. 

 

Nanami’s voice stayed level, but it was clear he was speaking from somewhere far less detached. “Haibara was one of the most optimistic people I’ve ever met. He thought there was good in everything. That optimism didn’t save him, it got him killed. And Riko…” His eyes flickered to me and Suguru both. “I saw the way you carried that loss. All three of you. And I decided I wasn’t going to wait until I broke in the same way.” 

 

Suguru’s gaze softened in a way that told me he understood better than either of us wanted him to. He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, not challenging the words, just absorbing them. 

 

Gojo, for once, didn’t try to fill the silence with something loud or flippant. He just shoved his hands into his pockets and gave a faint nod, his mouth pressed into a thin line. 

 

“It’s not that I don’t respect the work,” Nanami went on. “I do. I respect all of you for still doing it. But I can’t pretend the system isn’t rotten. I can’t pretend I don’t see the way it grinds people down until there’s nothing left except a weapon where a person used to be.” 

 

I felt Suguru’s attention flick toward me for just a second. 

 

“So that’s it,” Gojo said finally, his voice quieter than I expected. “You’re going to go… what? Sell insurance? Work in an office?” 

 

“If that’s what it takes to have a life that’s mine,” Nanami said without hesitation, “then yes. A normal life. Away from this.” 

 

Suguru’s mouth twitched, not in mockery, but like he was holding back the weight of agreement. I knew exactly why. Out of the three of us, he was the one who most understood the draw of walking away completely, of finding somewhere far from the Society’s reach and never coming back. 

 

Nanami’s eyes moved between the two of them, his tone softening just a fraction. “I wanted you to hear it from me before I go.” 

 

Gojo’s mouth curved faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Suguru gave a slow nod, like he was filing the moment away, keeping it somewhere safe. 

 

I didn’t say anything. It felt like the kind of truth you didn’t rush to answer, the kind that settled into the air between everyone and stayed there long after the conversation ended. 

 

Nanami glanced at me briefly before straightening his shoulders, his usual composure sliding back into place. “I’m not asking for your blessing. I just want you to understand why I’m not waiting for the right time. There isn’t one.” 

 

Suguru tilted his head, studying him for a beat. “…I get it,” he said finally, and the sincerity in his voice made my throat tighten. “More than you probably know..” 

 

Gojo let out a breath, not quite a sigh. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” 

 

“You don’t have to,” Nanami said, and there was no bite in it. “But if you try to stop me, you’ll make it harder than it needs to be. For all of us.” 

 

The three of them just looked at each other for a moment, no posturing, no smugness, just an understanding. 

 

I finally spoke, my voice quieter than I meant. “…I hope you find what you’re looking for. Normal. Calm. And I still expect that message about getting tea..” 

 

Nanami’s eyes softened almost imperceptibly. “I wouldn’t dare miss it.” 

 

I decided to push my luck a second time and I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him. It was awkward, of course, but then his hands came up, slow but deliberate, and for a moment he actually leaned into it. 

 

It lasted just long enough to feel like it meant something. That he needed it too. He rested his head on mine which made me internally squeal like when your friend's cat finally lies in your lap. I didn’t want to breathe too hard or change my breathing in case it ruined the moment. 

 

Gojo tilted his head at the sight of me still wrapped up in Nanami’s arms, his grin sharp as a blade. “Well, well, well. Look at that. Our sweet Amara just traded us in for Mister Boring. Can’t believe I lost my girlfriend to a man who voluntarily wears khakis.” 

 

Nanami sighed, but he didn’t push me off. He just gave Gojo that flat, unimpressed look he always seemed to keep in his back pocket. “You do realize your jealousy makes you sound ridiculous.” 

 

“Oh, I’m not jealous,” Gojo chirped, already sliding his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose like he was gearing up for a show. “Just concerned. You can’t just swoop in here, Nanami, hug her like that, and not expect us to notice.” He leaned forward conspiratorially, stage-whispering, “He’s stealing our girl, Suguru.” 

 

Suguru arched a brow, but there was a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Hm. If he is, he’s being very quiet about it.” 

 

I laughed under my breath, then tipped my chin up toward Nanami, who was already loosening his arms around me. “Guess I should start updating my résumé then,” I said, catching his tie before he could step too far away. The silk felt cool between my fingers, and I tugged lightly, bringing him just close enough that he had to look down at me. “Think you need a secretary in that normal little life of yours?” 

 

The faintest flicker of surprise crossed his face before he smoothed it away. “I can assure you,” he said, voice dry, “I don’t plan on hiring anyone who dislikes authority as much as you do.” 

 

I gasped dramatically, one hand over my chest. “Oh, come on. You’d have the most organized desk in Japan with me around. Tea on schedule. Files alphabetized. And if anyone annoyed you, I’d glare them into next week.” I tugged his tie a little more, leaning closer with mock sweetness. “You’d look very powerful with me sitting in your office.” 

 

Gojo howled. Suguru pressed a hand against his lips to smother a laugh. 

 

Nanami, to his credit, didn’t yank away. He simply blinked down at me like he was recalibrating the entire concept of personal space. “You’re persistent,” he said finally, his tone edging into that subtle dryness that could be mistaken for flirting if you weren’t paying close attention. 

 

“Persistent?” I fanned myself with my free hand, laying it on thick. “You hear that? He likes me.” 

 

That earned me a slow blink. “That is not what I said.” 

 

“But it’s what you meant,” I shot back, leaning into his chest just enough to test how far he’d let me go. His shirt was crisp, his tie perfectly straight, and I could feel his posture stiffen as I pressed closer. For half a heartbeat, one of his hands brushed my hip, a reflex more than a choice. 

 

His eyes flicked to where his fingers had landed, and he jerked them back like he’d touched fire. Both hands went straight into his pockets. “You might not respect personal space,” he said evenly, “but I do.” 

 

That only made me smirk wider. “Mmh, but you're the one who just touched, Nanami~” 

 

Gojo pounced like a cat that had been waiting for the perfect moment. “Oho! You heard her! Hip contact confirmed! Nanamins cracking!” 

 

“It was reflex,” Nanami said, deadpan. 

 

“Reflexively touching her hips?” Gojo gasped in mock offense. “That’s practically a proposal in some cultures.” 

 

I leaned back against Nanami’s chest, dramatic as ever, one hand still hooked in his tie. “You’re making me blush, Nanami. First you hug me, now this? I’m scandalized.” 

 

He exhaled through his nose, the faintest edge of exasperation in his voice. “You are not scandalized. You’re enjoying this.” 

 

I gave him wide, innocent eyes. “What? Me? Noooo.” Then, with deliberate flair, I tilted my head back like some fainting actress and pressed the back of my hand to my forehead. “Oh, Nanami, you’re so stern. It’s, dare I say, attractive.” 

 

Gojo nearly bent in half laughing. “You hear that, Nans? She never listens to me or Suguru, but the minute you tell her off, she’s melting all over the floor.” 

 

Nanami’s gaze sharpened just enough to make me feel like I’d pushed the line. “That’s because I don’t confuse authority with noise.” 

 

“Oooh.” I fanned myself again, exaggerated. “Say it again. Louder. Maybe I’ll actually behave for once.” 

 

Suguru coughed into his hand, clearly amused but choosing not to intervene. 

 

Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose, but when his eyes met mine again, there was that rare flicker of something, half irritation, half… amusement, maybe. “You’re insufferable.” 

 

I grinned up at him, unbothered. “And yet you hugged me back.” 

 

“Once,” he corrected sternly. “Don’t expect it to become a habit.” 

 

“Too late,” I sang, tugging his tie again just enough to prove I wasn’t letting the joke go. “I’ve already written it down in my diary. ‘Nanami Kento, hug number two. Pending hug number three.’” 

 

Gojo clapped his hands together like a child at a magic show. “Oh, I like this. I like this a lot. NormalMan’s got game. Deadpan, grumpy, possibly into my girlfriend, welcome to the poly club, Nanami.” 

 

“I am not joining any club ran by any of you,” Nanami said flatly. 

 

“Aw, come on.” Gojo slung an arm across Suguru’s shoulders. “We could use someone with a real job. Balance out all our chaotic energy.” 

 

“I am a very monogamous person,” Nanami said, his tone cutting through the nonsense with clinical precision. “And I assure you, I wouldn’t be able to handle any of you for more than an hour.” His eyes landed briefly on me. “Not even her.” 

 

Instead of being offended, I clutched at my chest and gasped like he’d just stabbed me through the heart. “Nanami! Rejecting me in front of everyone? Cruel.” 

 

His mouth twitched. Just barely. “I trust you’ll survive.” 

 

I leaned against him again, sliding down a little like I was wilting against his pristine shirt. That was when his patience snapped. His voice dropped into that sharp, stern register that could cut cleaner than Gojo’s Infinity. 

 

“Enough.” 

 

It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. The single word carried enough weight to make me straighten immediately, though I put on an exaggerated pout for show. 

 

For once, though, I didn’t push. I let go of his tie, smoothed the fabric back into place, and quickly straightened his collar where I’d mussed it. My fingers brushed down his chest in a brisk little pat, and I stepped back half a pace as if conceding. 

 

Nanami’s eyes followed the movement, his expression unreadable but his posture expectant.. like this was exactly the natural consequence of my antics. You act out, you fix it. Balance restored. 

 

Gojo laughed so hard he had to lean against the wall for support. “Oh my god. She actually behaved. I’ve been trying to get her to do that for years. What’s your secret, Nanami?” 

 

Suguru tilted his head, eyes glinting with amusement. “I’m taking notes. You’ll have to tell me the trick. One word and suddenly she’s all order and efficiency.” 

 

Nanami’s brow twitched, the smallest betrayal of how absurd he found the conversation. “There’s no trick. I set my boundary, she understood she crossed a line, and then corrected herself.” 

 

Gojo jabbed a thumb at me. “No, see, that’s the thing, she never stops when we tell her to. She gets even worse. But you? You pull the stern tone out for two seconds, and she’s adjusting your tie like a model employee.” 

 

Suguru smirked faintly. “Maybe we should borrow Nanami next time she ignores us.” 

 

“I am not for rent,” Nanami said flatly. 

 

Gojo clutched his chest in mock agony. “Cold. Just cold.” 

 

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide the little laugh that slipped out. “Don’t get used to it. He just caught me off guard, that’s all.” 

 

Nanami gave me a pointed look, one that said he didn’t believe me for a second, and I had to look away before I cracked. 

 

Suguru leaned forward a little, curious. “So, what exactly did you do differently? Was it tone? Timing?” 

 

“Are you interviewing me?” Nanami asked, deadpan. 

 

Suguru’s mouth quirked. “Call it research.” 

 

Nanami sighed, long-suffering. “It’s not complicated. People respond to consistency. If you mean what you say, they listen. If you don’t, they test boundaries until they know where the line is.” 

 

Gojo threw his head back. “Hah! You’re saying we’re inconsistent? Rude.” 

 

“I'm saying you let her walk all over you. Which neither of you seem to mind,” Nanami replied, unbothered. 

 

I pressed a hand to my mouth to smother another laugh. 

 

Nanami’s gaze flicked over the three of us, and for a moment it almost seemed like he might entertain the banter further. But then his shoulders tightened again, the composure snapping back into place. 

 

“I don’t have time to continue this banter,” he said finally, his tone still even but with an edge of weariness. “I still have a great deal to prepare before tonight.” 

 

The humor drained a little from the air. My smile slipped, Suguru’s amusement faded into something more thoughtful, and even Gojo’s grin softened at the edges. 

 

Gojo was the first to fill the silence. “We know,” he said, voice lighter than usual but not dismissive. “We were just trying to make you forget for a minute..” 

 

Something flickered across Nanami’s face, regret, maybe. He adjusted his cuffs with precise movements, as if buying himself a second before speaking. “…Then I apologize. I didn’t mean to ruin that.” 

 

I shook my head. “You didn’t ruin anything. You just don’t handle serious stuff the same way we do, and that’s okay. We’re… loud about it. You’re not.” 

 

His eyes landed on me, steady as ever, but I thought I caught the faintest softening at the edges. “Thank you,” he said simply. 

 

We all stood there a moment, the weight of what was coming hanging between us. No more jokes, no more distractions... just the quiet truth that by tomorrow, Nanami wouldn’t be here. 

 

He straightened his tie himself this time, adjusted his shirt, and gave us each a small, polite nod. “I should be going. There are still things I need to put in order before I leave.” 

 

Suguru inclined his head, calm as always. “Take care of yourself, Nanami.” 

 

Gojo shoved his hands into his pockets, his grin not quite reaching his eyes. “Don’t forget, if you get bored with normal life, we’ll still be here. Karaoke, chaos, all of it.” 

 

Nanami gave him a look that managed to be both dry and almost… fond. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

 

When his gaze shifted back to me, I lifted a hand in a little wave, not trusting my voice to come out steady. “Don’t forget the tea,” I said. 

 

His mouth quirked the tiniest fraction, almost a smile, but not quite. “I won’t.” 

 

And with that, he turned, walking down the hall with the same measured, deliberate steps he always had. No hesitation. No pause. Just steady forward motion. 

 

We watched him go until he disappeared around the corner. 

 

The silence stretched a little too long before Gojo finally let out a sigh. “Man. He’s really doing it.” 

 

Suguru crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall. “He is.” 

 

The whole time, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the last time we’d see him in these halls. That we would never be like this again. 

 

--- 

 

The countdown had started, and Nanami was just moving through the hours until it hit zero. He’d said his goodbyes already, in his own way. That should’ve been enough for him. The polite, clean exit. No lingering. No dragging it out. 

 

But I knew him too well by now. And so did everyone else. 

 

Which is why, when the hallway outside his dorm room was still and silent just before midnight, there were five of us standing in the shadows by his door... me, Gojo, Suguru, Shoko, and Utahime. 

 

Gojo was grinning like a man about to commit a crime. Suguru had his hands in his pockets, leaning casually against the wall, but his eyes stayed fixed on the doorknob like he was daring Nanami to try it. Shoko looked more bored than anything, but I knew her well enough to read the faint curl at the corner of her mouth. Utahime… well, Utahime was only here because Shoko had dragged her into it, but she didn’t protest once she realized why. 

 

We didn’t have to wait long. 

 

The lock clicked softly, and the door opened just enough for Nanami to step out, hair neat, tie straight, suitcase in hand, like he was just heading out for a morning errand instead of walking away from all of this for good. 

 

He froze the second he saw us. Not a flicker of surprise crossed his face, just that slow, deep inhale like he’d already resigned himself to the fact that we wouldn’t make this easy. 

 

“Evening,” Shoko drawled, arms crossed. 

 

Nanami’s eyes moved over all of us, landing on me last. “…You were supposed to be asleep.” 

 

“Yeah, well,” I said, stepping forward, “you were supposed to have a party before leaving.” 

 

Gojo grinned like the cat who’d just caught the canary. “Surprise, Nanamin~” He whipped a tiny confetti popper from his sleeve and popped it right in Nanami’s direction. The little burst of paper streamers was almost comically small against the immaculate beige of his coat. 

 

Nanami closed his eyes briefly. “You can’t possibly think this is appropriate.” 

 

“Appropriate? No,” Gojo said cheerfully, stuffing the spent popper into his pocket. “But memorable? Absolutely. I have 4 more of these bad boys in my pocket.” 

 

Suguru pushed off the wall, his voice dry. “We weren’t going to let you slip out without saying goodbye.” 

 

“I already said goodbye.” 

 

“Sure, mostly,” Shoko said, nodding toward herself, Gojo, and Suguru. “But not a true final goodbye. One where we walk you out.” 

 

Utahime crossed her arms. “You think we’re just going to let you vanish without a word to the people who actually care? Not happening.” 

 

Nanami’s gaze moved back to me, maybe because I was the only one not crowding him with words. “You planned this.” 

 

“Obviously,” Gojo cut in, beaming. “You didn’t think you could out-sneak me, did you?” 

 

“I wasn’t sneaking,” Nanami replied evenly, but there was a faint shift in his voice like he knew arguing was pointless. 

 

Suguru stepped closer, his tone softer than the rest of ours. “We get why you’re leaving. We’re not here to stop you. We just… didn’t want it to end in an empty hallway.” 

 

That seemed to land. Nanami’s shoulders eased just slightly, his grip on the suitcase loosening. 

 

Gojo leaned on the doorframe like he owned the place. “So. What’s the plan, Nanamin? Walk down the hall all stoic? No hugs? No speeches? You’ll break Amara’s heart.” 

 

Nanami’s eyes flicked toward me again, and I didn’t even try to hide the small, sad smile tugging at my mouth. “I wouldn’t go that far.” 

 

“Too late,” I said, stepping in front of him. “You already did. Now you’re going to stand here and let us be sappy about it.” 

 

He sighed, deep, long-suffering, but didn’t move to step around me. 

 

Shoko was the first to break formation, coming forward and clapping him lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t get soft out there. You’ll get eaten alive.” 

 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. 

 

Utahime’s goodbye was quieter, a small smile and a “Take care of yourself” that Nanami actually returned with something almost like warmth. 

 

Suguru lingered a moment before holding out his hand. Nanami took it without hesitation, their grip firm. “Don’t come back unless you mean it,” Suguru said quietly. 

 

Nanami nodded once. “I won’t.” 

 

Then it was Gojo’s turn. Of course, he went for the hug, full arms around the shoulders, pulling Nanami in like they were old friends instead of barely-tolerant colleagues. “If you get bored with your normal life, you know where to find us.” 

 

Nanami actually let himself be hugged, though it was stiff at first. “I’m counting on not having to.” 

 

Finally, it was me. I didn’t hesitate, I just stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him the same way I had before. 

 

“Text me,” I said quietly. “About the tea. I really mean it. I don't want you to forget.” 

 

“I would never miss the opportunity..” he said and I believed him. 

 

When I stepped back, Gojo tried to lighten the air again. “So… no parting gift? Not even a tie clip?” 

 

Nanami gave him a look. “I think surviving this long is a gift enough.” 

 

We all laughed, softly, but it was enough to keep the moment from feeling too heavy. 

 

Nanami adjusted his grip on his suitcase, scanning all of us one last time. “Goodbye.” 

 

It wasn’t grand or sentimental, but it didn’t need to be. We’d all remember it anyway. 

 

He started down the hall, his steps measured and steady. None of us followed. We just stood there, watching until he turned the corner and disappeared from sight. 

 

Gojo let out a low whistle. “Well… that’s it.” 

 

Suguru’s gaze stayed fixed on the empty hallway. “Yeah.” 

 

I didn’t say anything. Not because I didn’t have words, but because the ones I wanted to use wouldn’t have made any difference now.

 

Shoko was the first to turn away. “Alright. I’m going back to bed before this turns into a group therapy session.”

 

Utahime muttered something about early mornings and followed her.

 

Gojo looked at me, his usual brightness dimmed but still there. “You okay, sweetheart?”

 

I nodded, even though I wasn’t entirely sure it was true. “I will be.”

 

Suguru’s eyes softened. “We all will.”

 

We stayed there for another few seconds, just listening to the quiet, before Gojo slung an arm around my shoulders and started steering me back toward our dorms.

 

But even as we walked away, I couldn’t shake the image of Nanami’s back as he disappeared down that hallway, and the way it felt like the building was just emptier without him in it.

Chapter 87: What Has To Be Done

I got a letter.

 

The letter wasn’t in my mailbox.

 

It wasn’t under my door, or slipped into the crack of a window, or tucked in a book like some spy novel scene.

 

It was sitting on the stone wall just beyond the barrier line of Jujutsu High, plain as day, a single cream envelope weighed down by a smooth black river rock.

 

I’d been heading out for a walk when I saw it. At first, I thought it was just trash, some flyer or paper blown up from the footpath below. But the second I stepped over the faint shimmer of the barrier, the air shifted.

 

No cursed energy. No sound except the faint rustle of leaves.

 

But I knew.

 

The handwriting on the front wasn’t careful, wasn’t neat. It was jagged, rushed, like the writer didn’t have time to sit still. My name, not the school’s. Not even my full name. Just:

 

Amara

 

I didn’t have to open it to know who it was from.

 

Still, my hands worked automatically, sliding a finger under the flap. The paper inside was thick, creased in two neat folds. The smell hit me first, not cologne, not paper dust, but that faint metallic tang I remembered from the night at my childhood home.

 

I unfolded it.

 

------

 

Amara,

 

It’s happening faster than I thought. My memory is starting to go, and I can feel the cracks in my head getting deeper. I don’t know how many more days I have before I start forgetting things I can’t get back. Names. Faces. Yours.

 

I told you it would come. You need to understand that I don’t want to be here when I stop recognizing you. Or when the Society realizes what I am and decides to keep me breathing for their experiments.

 

Meet me at the old house. You have three days. After that, I’ll be gone. Either by my own hand, or someone else’s. If you don’t want to come, I won’t blame you. But if you do, it would mean a lot.

 

– Riku

 

------

 

I stood there for a long minute, the words ghosting behind my eyes even after I folded the letter back up.

 

Three days.

 

Not “if you have time.” Not “when you can.” Three days, like the whole damn world was on a stopwatch.

 

I turned and walked straight back inside.

 

Gojo was sprawled across my bed when I found him, reading one of my manga upside down for no reason except to annoy me. Suguru was perched in the chair by the window, sipping tea like he’d been there for hours.

 

“Sweetheart,” Gojo said without looking up, “I thought you were-”

 

“Got a letter.” My voice was flat.

 

That got both of their attention. Gojo sat up, sunglasses sliding down his nose. Suguru leaned forward, cup balanced on his knee.

 

“From?” Suguru asked.

 

I handed it over. He scanned it in silence, then passed it to Gojo, whose face shifted from curiosity to something sharp.

 

“So,” Gojo said, snapping the letter lightly between his fingers. “We going?”

 

“You’re not,” I said automatically.

 

“Amara.” Suguru’s tone was low. “You’re not walking into that alone.”

 

I met his gaze. “I can handle him.”

 

“That’s not the point,” Gojo said, a little too quickly. “You think we’re going to just sit here while you stroll back to your old house to meet your possibly-unhinged, memory-rotting, murder-hobby dad?”

 

“He’s not-” I stopped, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Look. I know what this is. I knew it was coming. He wants to talk. I can’t risk either of you setting him off.”

 

“Then give us rules,” Suguru said, leaning back again but not relaxing.

 

I hesitated. “…Fine. If you come, you don’t touch him unless I tell you to. No cursed energy. No attacks. No interference unless he tries to hurt me.”

 

“Can we at least be sassy?” Gojo asked, already grinning like he’d found the loophole.

 

I gave him a long look. “…You’re Satoru Gojo. I can’t stop you from being sassy.”

 

He clapped his hands once. “Then we’re in.”

 

Suguru didn’t smile, but the line of tension in his jaw eased. “When?”

 

I glanced toward the window. “We’ll go tomorrow morning. He gave me three days. I’d rather not wait until the last one.”

 

Gojo twirled the letter in his fingers before tossing it back to me. “And you found it outside the barrier?”

 

“Yeah. Means he didn’t want to get close.”

 

“Or he knows the alarms would trip if he did,” Suguru said.

 

The thought didn’t make me feel any better.

 

Gojo caught the shift in my face before I could hide it. His usual teasing grin softened into something quieter, and he patted the space beside him on the bed until I sat down.

He hooked an arm around my shoulders and tugged me in until my temple rested against his chest.

 

Suguru didn’t stay in his chair. He set his tea aside, came over, and crouched in front of me, resting one warm hand lightly on my knee. “Talk to us.”

 

I let out a shaky breath. “It’s not just… the letter. It’s what it means.” My fingers twisted in the edge of Gojo’s shirt, holding on without realizing it. “Three days. He’s telling me that’s all I have before he’s gone. But what if he’s already halfway there? What if I go and he’s… not him anymore?”

 

Gojo’s hand came up to rub slow circles between my shoulder blades. “Sweetheart-”

 

“It’s not just that.” I swallowed hard. “When I got shot in the head-”

 

Both of them went still, listening.

 

“When I got shot,” I repeated, quieter now, “everything after is still… broken. I mean, I remember it, but not in the right order. There are pieces missing, and pieces that don’t belong to the same day, and sometimes when I try to put it together I feel like I’m pulling at a thread that’s tied around my own throat.”

 

Suguru’s thumb brushed against my knee, slow and grounding.

 

“My dad’s telling me he’s losing everything.” My voice cracked, but I forced it steady again. “I’ve lived with just pieces before. I still do. But watching someone else lose all of it… It’s like watching what could happen to me someday, if my brain keeps taking hits like that.”

 

Gojo tightened his arm around me, pulling me fully against him until my knees bumped against his. “Not gonna happen,” he said, firm enough that it almost sounded like a fact.

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“Don’t need to know it,” he said without hesitation. “You’re not him. You’re not gonna turn into him. And even if... even if something happens, you’ve got me and Suguru. We’ll remember for you.”

 

My throat tightened. “…You make it sound so easy.”

 

“It is,” he said, because he had to, because Gojo always had to make the impossible sound like something he could beat with a coin flip and a smirk.

 

Suguru shifted closer, his hands warm where they bracketed my knees. “You’re scared,” he said simply. “Not just of him losing himself but of what it’ll mean for you to see it. And of how much you’ll see yourself in it.”

 

I didn’t answer.

 

Suguru’s gaze softened, and his voice went quiet in that way he only used when it was just for me. “Then we go together. We stand where you tell us to. We keep our hands to ourselves. And we don’t let you carry it alone.”

 

I looked between them.. Gojo’s steady hold, Suguru’s grounding touch.. and some of the tightness in my chest eased. Not gone. But lighter.

 

“Okay,” I whispered.

 

Gojo pressed a kiss to the side of my head, quick but certain. “There’s my girl.”

 

Suguru squeezed my knee, then stood and reached for his tea again like we hadn’t just carved the air open between us. But his eyes stayed on me, quiet and watchful.

 

---

 

Morning light cut in low through the blinds, striping the floor in pale gold. My clothes were laid out across the bed, black cargo pants, boots, my usual fitted top, but I hadn’t moved in minutes. Just stood there in my bra and underwear, staring at them like they were someone else’s things.

 

Behind me, I heard Gojo rummaging through the closet for something, probably one of the many shirts I've stolen, and Suguru setting something down on the dresser with that quiet precision he always had in the mornings.

 

I didn’t look at either of them when I spoke. “How do you dress for something like this?”

 

Silence. Then Gojo’s voice, softer than I expected. “Sweetheart…”

 

Suguru came up beside me, gaze following mine to the bed. “You don’t have to,” he said, calm but certain. “We could handle it for you. No questions asked.”

 

For a heartbeat, I wanted to say yes. To let them take it, to let this whole thing slide out of my hands and into theirs like it wasn’t my responsibility. But I knew how that would sit in me later, like an unfinished breath, a door left open.

 

A regret soaked into my bones.

 

I shook my head. “No. This is something I have to do. It has to be me.”

 

Gojo leaned his shoulder against the wall, sunglasses dangling from one hand. “Then you dress like yourself. You don’t need to put on something for him.”

 

Suguru nodded. “The clothes aren’t for him. They’re for you. What you can move in. What feels like armor without pretending you’re someone else.”

 

I glanced between them, then back at the pile. My black cargo pants, the ones I’d broken in enough to feel like a second skin. The reinforced boots Yuki had helped me modify.

 

Not a costume. Just mine.

 

I pulled on the pants and boots first, the motions steady, almost mechanical. The top slid over my head without catching. I adjusted the locket hidden under the fabric, the promise ring catching briefly on the hem.

 

Gojo watched without a word now, but his eyes tracked every movement. Suguru stepped away to put on his own clothes, but I could feel his focus like a steady weight at my back.

 

I threw on my coat and when I was done, I met my own eyes in the mirror. Same face. The only difference was the line in my shoulders, the set of my jaw, and the bags under my eyes.

 

“I’m ready,” I said, even though a part of me knew that wasn’t entirely true.

 

Suguru adjusted his coat and gave me a single, solid nod. Gojo spun his sunglasses once between his fingers and slipped them on, like we were stepping out for any other mission. But there was nothing casual in the way he looked at me before we left, like he was memorizing me, just in case.

 

The air had that crisp, thin bite that only came in early autumn, sharp enough to wake you up, not yet cruel enough to sting. The leaves in the trees above were just starting to turn, flashes of gold and rust breaking through the green. I kept my hands in my pockets as I walked, boots grinding against the gravel path just outside the school’s barrier line.

 

Behind me, I could hear the softer, almost syncopated rhythm of Suguru’s steps and the lazy, unhurried scuff of Gojo’s. They weren’t in uniform. Gojo was dressed like he’d stepped out of some glossy fall catalog, long, dark coat over a cream sweater, tailored pants, and his sunglasses like always. Suguru, in contrast, wore a simple black sweater and loose charcoal pants, his hair tied back, posture easy but watchful.

 

I didn’t need to turn to know Gojo’s eyes were flicking over the trees, the road, every line of sight, while Suguru’s cursed energy brushed the edges of our surroundings like a silent perimeter check.

 

Their voices carried low between them.

 

“I’m not a fan of this,” Gojo muttered, not quite under his breath. “Your dad-” there was an edge in the way he said it, like the word itself left a bad taste, “-is on my list right next to your mom.”

 

I didn’t turn around, but my brows tightened.

 

Suguru’s voice came quieter, steadier. “Satoru. Behave.”

 

“I am behaving.”

 

“No, you’re talking like this is about you.”

 

There was a beat of silence, the kind that meant Gojo was giving him that narrow-eyed look. “It’s not about me if I’m right,” he said finally.

 

“It’s not about you,” Suguru repeated, slower this time. “And it’s not about being right or wrong.”

 

The crunch of their steps shifted slightly, like Gojo had shoved his hands deeper into his coat pockets. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

 

“You don’t have to like it,” Suguru said. “You just have to be here.”

 

I kept my pace even. The wind pushed through the branches overhead, scattering a few pale leaves across the path in front of me. I stepped over them, eyes fixed on the bend ahead where the trees started to thin.

 

Gojo’s voice came again after a moment, softer but no less stubborn. “I still think this is a bad idea. I mean- she’s walking into her old house to meet the guy who killed her mother, abandoned her then stalked her and is now losing his mind. Not exactly the best meet-and-greet.”

 

Suguru let out a quiet sigh. “It’s not for us to decide.”

 

“Maybe not,” Gojo said. “But it’ll be me who drags her out if he tries anything.”

 

“If he tries anything,” I said over my shoulder, “you don’t touch him unless I say.”

 

“Sweetheart-”

 

“I mean it, Satoru.” I slowed just enough to glance back at both of them. Gojo’s jaw was tight, Suguru’s eyes were sharp. “You promised.”

 

Gojo didn’t say anything right away. The wind caught his coat, snapping the edge of it against his leg. Finally, he gave a shallow nod. “Fine. But if he so much as looks at you wrong-”

 

“Then I’ll handle it,” I cut in.

 

The three of us fell quiet again, the sound of gravel underfoot and the restless rustle of leaves filling the space. The air smelled faintly of woodsmoke from somewhere far off, that dry, smoky scent that always meant the season was turning for good.

 

As we moved farther from the barrier, I could feel the faint static of the school’s protections fade away, replaced by the emptier, colder weight of open air. The absence of that hum in the back of my head made me hyper-aware of every sound around us, the distant creak of tree branches, the faint drip of water somewhere in the undergrowth, the steady rhythm of my own breathing.

 

Suguru eventually closed the space between us by a step, his voice just behind my shoulder. “You’ve got a plan for what you want to say?”

 

“Not exactly,” I admitted. “Plans fall apart when you’re talking to him. Better to see how he wants to play it.”

 

Gojo made a quiet, annoyed sound at that but didn’t add anything.

 

The path started to widen into the cracked asphalt of the old road leading toward the edge of town. We weren’t far from my old neighborhood now, if you could still call it that. The houses would be hollow by now, siding peeling, windows either boarded up or left to gape empty.

 

It wasn’t lost on me that this was the same stretch of road I’d taken the day I left for good. That same stubborn wind was here, lifting strands of hair into my face, carrying that same heavy quiet. The only difference was, this time, I wasn’t walking it alone.

 

Still, I didn’t look back again until we reached the corner where the first house came into view. The old paint was stripped to bare wood in places, and the fence was half-collapsed. My stomach tightened, but my boots kept moving.

 

Gojo and Suguru’s conversation had gone completely silent by then, but I could feel the unspoken weight of it hanging between them, and over me.

 

The streets narrowed the closer we got to my old block, the cracked asphalt giving way to patches of dirt and weeds that had been winning the war for years. Most of the houses here were empty now, their windows dusted over from the inside, curtains rotting in place. A few still had lights on behind thin drapes, but they were the exceptions, people who hadn’t given up on pretending this was still a neighborhood.

 

I slowed without meaning to when my house came into view. The age of it was starting to show peeling pale-blue paint, porch sagging deeper, warped shutters that creaked in the wind. The fence out front had collapsed in one corner, and the yard had swallowed it halfway, tall brown grass leaning over the wood like it was trying to hide the bones.

 

The house always did look like shit but seeing it actually age and rot away felt almost symbolic. Maybe I was thinking too hard about it...but this damn house always seemed to reflect something inside me...

 

Neither Gojo nor Suguru had ever been here before. The only ones from Jujutsu High who’d seen it were Nanami and Yaga, and even then, that had been for a lot nicer of reasons, not for… whatever this was.

 

I stopped at the gate, fingers brushing the rusted latch. “It’s worse inside,” I said with a soft chuckle.

 

Suguru’s gaze followed the lines of the house, taking in every warped beam, every broken pane. “You really grew up here?”

 

I nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

 

Gojo, because he couldn’t help himself, tipped his head toward the porch and said, “What’s the over-under on raccoons in there?”

 

Despite myself, I snorted. “Two, maybe three. If you count the basement.”

 

“Basement raccoons don’t count,” he said, mock-serious. “They have their own economy at that point.”

 

I shook my head, but the faint smile tugging at my mouth felt real. I knew that was the point, he wasn’t trying to erase where we were going or why, but he could keep it from suffocating me before it had to.

 

The gate groaned when I pushed it open. The front steps were the same uneven boards I’d memorized as a kid, the third one from the top still tilted just enough to trip you if you weren’t paying attention.

 

Inside, the air hit like a wall, stale, faintly damp, carrying the ghost of old cigarette smoke and mildew. The wallpaper was peeling in long, curled strips, revealing water-stained plaster beneath.

 

Suguru stepped in after me, eyes scanning slowly. “How much of this is from before you left?”

 

“Most of it,” I admitted, running my hand along the edge of the hall table. “Mom wasn’t exactly a deep cleaner. I used to do little routines to keep things from feeling like… this. Guess the little upkeep I did do was the only thing keeping this place together..”

 

“Routines?” Gojo asked, closing the door behind us with a hollow thump.

 

I shrugged. “Dusting the picture frames every Sunday. Sweeping the kitchen before bed. Wiping down the doorknobs when I had extra time.” I hesitated, then added, “I used to open the curtains every morning before school, even if I knew I’d close them again ten minutes later. Just… made it feel less like a coffin.”

 

Gojo gave a low whistle. “Guess that explains why your room’s the neatest one at the dorms.”

 

Suguru shot him a look, but I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, well. If I didn’t do it here, no one would.”

 

We moved through the narrow hallway, the floor groaning under our steps. I avoided looking at the wall by the kitchen, where a faint rust-colored smear still clung stubbornly to the plaster. My hand twitched, almost reaching to touch it before I shoved it back into my pocket.

 

"Is that where-" He asked softly. He didn’t need to ask the full question for me to know.

 

"Yeah.."

 

"Hm."

 

Gojo gestured toward the living room. “Looks like the raccoons took over this room.”

 

I glanced over. The old couch was still there, cushions sunken and fabric frayed, the coffee table listing slightly to one side. “I’d sit here after school when Hana wasn’t home yet. Sometimes she’d be in a decent mood when she walked in, sometimes not. You learned to read the way the door shut before you said anything.”

 

Suguru’s eyes softened, but he didn’t interrupt.

 

We moved out of the main room towards the back door. I stopped in the frame for a second, listening. No voices. No footsteps. Just the faint creak of wood from somewhere beyond the door.

 

Gojo shifted beside me, clearly ready to push ahead, but I shook my head. “I want to go first.”

 

He pressed his lips together, but didn’t argue.

 

I pushed the door open. The hinges complained, a long, slow groan that carried into the open air of the backyard.

 

And there he was.

 

Riku sat on the back porch steps, elbows braced loosely on his knees, staring out at the overgrown yard like it was something worth studying. His hair had more silver in it than the last time I’d seen him, streaking through the black in uneven lines. His coat hung loose on him, collar pulled up against the wind. From where I stood, I could see the faint, almost unnatural stillness in his posture. 

 

I didn’t move for a long moment. Neither did he. Then, without turning, he said, “Didn’t think you'd come.”

 

His voice was rougher than I remembered, like it had been dragged through gravel.

 

I stepped out onto the porch, boots thudding against the boards. “You gave me a deadline.”

 

A small huff of sound, not quite a laugh. “Deadlines work.”

 

Gojo and Suguru followed me out, taking up position a few paces behind. Suguru, a quiet, steady anchor; Gojo, a live wire coiled and waiting.

 

Riku’s eyes finally slid toward them, taking their measure in a single, sweeping glance. Something flickered there, recognition. Amusement, maybe. But he didn’t comment. Instead, his gaze returned to me.

 

“This yard,” he said, nodding toward the wild tangle of grass and weeds, “used to be shorter.”

 

“Because I used to cut it,” I said flatly.

 

He tilted his head, just enough for one corner of his mouth to curve, not a smile, not really. “Guess some things don’t change. Still doing the work no one else will.”

 

The wind cut across the porch then, tossing a few brittle leaves between us. I didn’t answer right away. My pulse was steady, but it felt too loud in my ears.

 

Gojo’s voice came low from behind me, teasing but careful. “You know, sweetheart, I’m starting to think he’s just mad the raccoons moved in without paying rent.”

 

It broke the tension for a second, just enough for me to snort. Riku’s eyebrow lifted slightly, but he didn’t look away from me.

 

“You bring them for moral support or to keep me in line?” he asked.

 

“Both,” I said.

 

His gaze lingered on me for a long moment, then flicked toward the yard again. “Then you’d better come sit. We’ve got a lot to talk about, and not much time.”

 

I didn’t move yet. I just stood there, staring at the way the silver in his hair caught the fading light, and thought about the letter that had brought me here... and the clock it made tick in my head.

 

Riku’s hands moved slowly, deliberately, to the base of his throat. The heavy metal collar that had been locked there for years caught the dull autumn light, its edges worn and scuffed but still intact. With a burst of cursed energy, the faint sound of metal grinding against itself broke the silence as he unlatched it.

 

When it came free, the skin beneath was shockingly pale, almost translucent, like porcelain that had never seen sun or wind. It was so stark against the weathered tan of the rest of him that it barely looked like it belonged to the same man.

 

Riku exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders back like the absence of the weight was its own kind of relief. “Forgot what it felt like,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Been so long.”

 

The air between us felt heavier somehow, like that small act had changed the entire balance of the porch. Without the collar, he wasn’t untouchable anymore. Not fully.

 

Behind me, Gojo and Suguru moved in sync to the small couch tucked against the opposite wall of the porch. Gojo dropped down first, legs sprawling, and immediately flared his Infinity. His aversion to dirt was one thing, but here, in this place, I knew it was also about control. Nothing in this rotting yard or this cursed conversation was going to touch him unless he wanted it to.

 

Suguru settled beside him, posture deceptively relaxed. I could feel both of them watching, each in their own way, Gojo like a guard dog itching to bite, Suguru like a shadow keeping the shape of the situation in his periphery.

 

Riku let the collar rest loosely in his lap, his thumb idly tracing one of the gouges in its metal. “I took a hit to the head last month,” he said finally. “Bad one. Should’ve dropped me for good.”

 

My stomach knotted, though I tried not to show it. “But it didn’t.”

 

“No,” he said, “but it did something worse. I healed it, instinct, habit, whatever you want to call it, but…” His gaze drifted out toward the yard again, eyes distant. “It sped things up. I can feel it. The gaps in my memory are wider now. The fog comes faster. I start a thought and lose it halfway through.”

 

I swallowed hard. “How bad?”

 

He shrugged one shoulder, the motion too casual to be honest. “Bad enough that I’m starting to get lazy. You heal a hundred holes in your chest, and it stops being impressive. But you lose a second too long in a fight? That’s the difference between walking away and bleeding out in the dirt.”

 

I stayed quiet, letting him keep going.

 

“People already wanted me dead,” he continued, voice low and even. “Or alive, depending on how useful they thought I’d be. Now, though? They’re getting bolder. Word’s out that I’m slipping. Makes me more dangerous, sure, but it also makes me more tempting. Imagine what they could do with my body if they got it intact.”

 

I knew exactly what he meant. My mind went to the experiments I’d read about in Yaga’s restricted files, the ones I wasn’t supposed to know existed.. half-dead sorcerers wired to cursed tools, abilities pulled from their bones like poison from a wound.

 

“Make you into a weapon,” I said flatly.

 

Riku’s mouth pulled into something that was almost a smile, but not the kind you wanted to see. “Make me into a machine. One that doesn’t get tired, doesn’t get distracted, doesn’t forget which way the blade’s supposed to go.”

 

The autumn wind picked up, carrying the dry scent of leaves and rust. It hissed through the porch rails like it was trying to join the conversation.

 

I crossed my arms, partly against the chill, partly against the ache building in my chest. “So this is why you called me here. Because you’re done.”

 

His gaze sharpened, locking on me in a way that made the air between us feel like glass. “I’m close. Close enough that I need to make sure you understand something before it’s too late.”

 

I waited.

 

“When I go,” he said, “I want it to be by you. Not them. Not anyone who’ll drag me back in pieces and turn me into something worse than I already am. You. You’d make it quick. Clean. You wouldn’t let them keep a scrap.”

 

Behind me, I felt Gojo’s cursed energy flare.. brief, sharp, like a spike driven into the porch boards. Suguru’s voice came quiet, steady, a hand on the wheel. “Satoru.”

 

The pressure eased, but only barely.

 

I stared at my father, every muscle in my body taut. “You think I want that?”

 

“No,” he said simply. “I think you don’t want it, which is why I’m asking you. Because I trust you to do it anyway.”

 

The weight of the words sank into me, cold and heavy. I thought about Toji’s bullet tearing through my skull, about waking to a world that felt like shards of glass and fog. I thought about how close I’d come to being nothing but a shell with a heartbeat, and how easy it would’ve been for someone to take what was left and twist it, change it. Make me something I never was. 

 

What if the Elders had gotten ahold of my confused body..? Would they have killed me? Stored me? 

 

“I already told you,” I said, my voice quieter now. “I wanted a father, not another mission.”

 

Riku’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away. “And I told you I can’t be both.”

 

For a long moment, the only sound was the wind in the grass. Gojo shifted on the couch, the faint creak of the boards under his shoes carrying across the porch. Suguru stayed still, but I could feel his attention sharpening, like he was tracing the fault lines between us.

 

Riku finally leaned back, bracing himself on his hands. “I’m getting tired, Amara. Tired enough that I stop checking the corners. Tired enough that I let things get too close. That’s how I got this-” He tapped two fingers lightly against the side of his head. “-and next time it’ll be worse. You don’t keep making mistakes like that and stay you for long.”

 

I exhaled slowly, my breath fogging faintly in the cooling air. “So what? You want me to stand by until you can’t stand anymore?”

 

“No,” he said, and for the first time since I’d stepped onto the porch, there was something like urgency in his voice. “I want you to be ready. To know what you’re walking into.. and to not waste time trying to make it into something it’s not.”

 

Gojo’s voice cut in, sharp and edged. “Or- and hear me out- you could stop letting people get close enough to put a hole in your skull.”

 

Riku’s eyes slid toward him, unbothered. “You sound like you think I haven’t tried that.”

 

Gojo leaned back, stretching his legs out. “Sounds like you’re bad at it, then.”

 

Suguru’s elbow nudged him lightly, a silent enough gesture.

 

I didn’t move. “You said you’ve been getting lazy. That you’re losing reasons to keep going. Why?”

 

His gaze came back to me, and for a heartbeat, I thought he might not answer.

 

“Because I’ve already outlasted everything that mattered,” he said. “And the longer I stay, the more I see how much I’ve turned into what they wanted. The more I start to think maybe it’d be better if I stopped before I get any worse.”

 

The collar in his lap caught a glint of fading light as his hand shifted, the metal clinking softly. “But I’m not going to hand myself to them. If I’m going out, it’s going to be on my terms.”

 

I didn’t know if it was anger or grief twisting in my chest then. Maybe both. I wanted to tell him to fight anyway, to keep going just to spite them, but I could already see the answer in his eyes.

 

The collar wasn’t just a comfort thing.

 

It was the sign.

 

Him taking it off wasn’t just to feel the air against untouched skin, it was him putting the choice in my hands.

 

He wanted this to end today.

 

“I’m not here to waste your time,” he said after a long silence, voice steady but hollow at the edges. “I’ve got maybe… a handful of days left before it all turns into static. The furthest back I can fully remember now is when I met those two-” he flicked his gaze at Gojo and Suguru “-the first time.”

 

I blinked. “…That’s it?”

 

He gave a short, almost self-mocking huff. “Bits and pieces from before, sure. Like when you were born-” His mouth twitched, like that memory hurt more than it should have. “-and killing your mother. Breaking into places, taking files, following any hint of where you might’ve been. But my own childhood? Gone. The faces from it, too. Can’t even picture my parents anymore. All I remember from back then is the pain… and that’s useless to me now, since I can’t even feel that anymore.”

 

There was something worse than losing a memory, it was losing the proof that you’d lived it at all. 

 

What even makes us... us... if not for memories... experiences... living..

 

“I want to die still being able to remember you,” he said plainly. “I can’t make you choose, but you should know… I’ve already tried doing it myself.”

 

My chest tightened. “And?”

 

“It doesn’t work,” he said flatly. “Not unless it’s fast. Clean. Which means…” He gave a slow, humorless smile. “Unless I find a cursed energy–infused guillotine somewhere, my body just stitches itself back together like it didn’t happen.”

 

Behind me, Gojo shifted sharply, a low sound in his throat, but Suguru touched his knee, probably the only thing keeping him from snapping something back.

 

I didn’t turn to look at them. My eyes stayed on my father. 

 

“You really want me to do this...” 

 

“I'm not forcing you to do anything. I just trust you not to let me turn into a husk they can use,” Riku said. “There’s a difference.”

 

“Feels pretty damn similar from where I’m sitting.”

 

He tilted his head slightly, considering me in a way that made my skin prickle. “It’s your choice. But I’m not leaving this place alive.”

 

The porch boards creaked under my shift of weight. The wind had gotten colder in the last few minutes, pushing the smell of the overgrown yard between us. I could almost hear the dry stems knocking together in the garden I’d once been too small to reach.

 

“Why today?” I asked finally.

 

“Because I can still hold onto you now,” he said, his voice softening, not in kindness, but in admission. “Because I can still remember the sound of your voice when you were small, even if I can’t remember the words. Because I can still see your face without having to guess at it. And I’m telling you right now, Amara… those things are slipping. Fast. They’re going to be gone soon.”

 

I felt something hot crawl up my throat. “And you’d rather die than lose them.”

 

“Yes.” No hesitation. “Because once they’re gone, I’ll just be a weapon with your blood in it. And you’ve seen enough of those to know they don’t stop until someone breaks them apart.”

 

He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, the collar still in his lap. His voice dropped lower, just for me. “Don’t let me become what I killed to keep you from being.”

 

The words pressed into me like a brand. He wasn’t asking for forgiveness, or for me to care, just for me to understand. And that was somehow worse.

 

I wanted to scream at him. To tell him I didn’t care if he lost every memory except this moment, that he didn’t get to just decide when I’d have to live with killing my father.

 

But there was a part of me, small, bitter, and exhausted, that understood exactly why he’d decided this way.

 

Gojo’s voice finally cut through, sharper than before. “You’re real generous with giving her impossible choices, huh?”

 

Riku’s gaze slid toward him. “You’d rather I leave it up to someone who’d chain me to a table?”

 

Gojo’s jaw flexed, his Infinity humming faintly around him. “I’d rather you stop making her clean up your mess.”

 

“Mess?” Riku’s tone didn’t rise, but it didn’t need to. “She’s my blood. This isn’t a mess, it’s legacy. And I’m making sure she decides what’s done with it.”

 

Suguru spoke before Gojo could. “Legacy or not, you’re asking her to carry something that will change her. That’s not nothing.”

 

“I know,” Riku said simply. “And I also know she’s strong enough to live with it. Which is more than I can say for anyone else in this business.”

 

The wind stirred again, scattering a few brittle leaves across the porch. My hands were cold, but I didn’t move to warm them.

 

“You said you can remember meeting them,” I said slowly, gesturing toward Gojo and Suguru. “Why them? Why’s that the line your memory won’t cross?”

 

Riku gave a faint shrug. “Probably because that’s when I started thinking maybe you were more than just a ghost I’d missed my chance at. They knew where you were. They talked about you like you were...real... not a rumor, not a file, not a job. And that stuck.”

 

His eyes locked on mine again. “You’ve been real to me ever since, Amara. Even if we’ve barely spoken. Even if most of what I’ve done is watch from the edges. I’m not letting that part get eaten by the static.”

 

The silence stretched, long enough that the house creaked in the wind. Gojo shifted beside Suguru, but neither of them spoke now.

 

Finally, I said, “You really think I can do it..?”

 

“I know you can,” Riku said, without a flicker of doubt. “And I know you’ll make sure it’s clean. You’re not like me, you won’t make it ugly.”

 

He sat back again, gaze turning toward the dead yard. “I’m not asking you to decide this second. But I’m not walking far. You’ve got until nightfall to make up your mind.”

 

It was the closest thing to mercy I’d ever seen from him.

 

And it still felt like a blade pressed to my palm, waiting for me to turn it.

 

The wind rattled the porch rail again, and somewhere deep in the house, a door shifted in its frame.

 

I let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, my breath catching halfway through.

 

“Can you… pretend to be a dad again?” I asked, the way you might ask for something fragile you weren’t sure you deserved. “Like last time?”

 

Riku didn’t blink at the request, didn’t flinch or sneer or make me regret asking.

He just nodded once. “I can try.”

 

Something loosened in my chest. Not in a way that made it easier to breathe.

 

“Nanami left,” I said, my voice softer. “He tried to sneak out without saying goodbye in the way we wanted, but… we caught him. Me, Gojo, Suguru, Shoko, Utahime... we were waiting outside his door. Gojo had one of those stupid little confetti poppers.” I smiled faintly at the memory, then shook my head. “It was a whole thing. He pretended not to like it, but I think he did.”

 

Riku made a low sound, acknowledgment, not opinion. His eyes stayed on me, steady and unhurried, like he’d decided nothing I said was going to be dismissed.

 

“And… Suguru,” I went on, hesitating for just a beat. “Last time we talked, I told you he was going to a dark place. You mentioned how dark it could get and... It was worse than I thought could happen. He was… he was almost gone, actually.”

 

The words felt heavier when I spoke them aloud, and for a second, my voice caught. Riku didn’t interrupt, didn’t push, just waited.

 

“But we pulled him back,” I said, a little sharper than before, because I wanted that part to land. “Satoru and I- we didn’t let him go. It wasn’t easy, and there were days I thought I’d already lost him, but… he’s here. Now.”

 

I didn’t turn to look at him, but I knew Suguru was behind me, listening. Probably with that quiet expression that didn’t give away much but still said more than most people could.

 

I looked back at Riku. “That’s the thing, isn’t it? If we’d given up, we wouldn’t be sitting here. He wouldn’t be sitting behind me.”

 

“That’s different,” Riku said finally. “He’s not me.”

 

“Yeah,” I said, my voice dipping low. “But you’re still my dad.”

 

That earned me a flicker of something in his face, not guilt exactly, but a faint shadow of recognition.

 

I swallowed and, without thinking, held out my hand so he could see the ring. The silver band caught the weak afternoon light, glinting just enough to make the purple amethyst stand out.

 

“Satoru got us these,” I said, turning my hand so he could see it properly. “For me and Suguru. Said it wasn’t a proposal, but it’s… basically a wedding band if you think about it. I know I had it on when we talked last but...I don’t know... I wanted to officially show it off..”

 

Riku leaned a little closer, his gaze sweeping over the stones. “Expensive,” he murmured, almost to himself.

 

“Yeah,” I said, and for the first time in a long time, I heard myself sounding younger than I felt. “And there’s an amethyst for Suguru, a diamond for me, and a blue topaz for Satoru. It’s stupidly sweet. He just… showed up with them one night. No warning, no reason. Just said he wanted us to have something permanent.”

 

Riku’s eyes didn’t leave the ring. “Sounds lame like him,” he said finally.

 

I laugh lightly, swatting his shoulder. “ Rude. But yeah... he's cheesy like that..” I agreed. My mouth tilted up at the corner, just a little. “And Suguru wears his every day. Even when he’s working. He says it’s because if he takes it off, he’ll forget to put it back on, and then I’ll think he’s mad at me.”

 

I could hear Gojo huff softly behind me, probably trying not to interrupt with a joke.

 

“I’ve been wearing it every day, too,” I said. “Even when I’m on missions. It’s… I don’t know. It’s nice, having something that means we chose each other. Not because we had to, but because we wanted to.”

 

For a moment, I forgot why I’d come here. I forgot the collar in his lap, the time limit he’d put on the day. I was just talking, the way a daughter talks when she’s not thinking about how few times she’s been able to.

 

“I think…” I hesitated, searching for the words. “I think I’ve been more myself lately. Or maybe I’ve just been better at pretending I am. But there are still days where I feel like I’m waiting for the rug to get pulled out from under me, you know? And then they-” I gestured vaguely behind me, toward where Gojo and Suguru sat, silent shadows. “-do something stupid or thoughtful or both, and I realize they’re not going anywhere. That they’re… mine, in the same way I’m theirs.”

 

Riku’s expression shifted in the smallest way, his gaze flicking over my shoulder just for a heartbeat before returning to me. “You sound like you believe it.”

 

“I do,” I said, and realized I meant it. “Even if it took me a while.”

 

The porch had gone quiet again. I thought about the way Suguru had looked at me that night on the rooftop when Gojo gave us the rings. The way Gojo’s voice had gone soft when he explained why he picked those stones, like he was letting us in on a secret he’d been holding for too long.

 

“I wanted you to know that,” I said, softer now. “Before… before whatever happens today. I wanted you to know that I’m not alone. And that I have people who will fight to keep me from going the way you’re going.”

 

Riku’s jaw shifted, like he was about to say something, but then he just nodded once. “Good,” he said finally.

 

And for a second, just a second, it felt like I was a kid again, telling him about something at school, waiting for his approval.

 

I leaned back slightly, my fingers still resting against the cool touch of the ring. “Do you remember last time we talked, here? You told me to stop splitting myself between them, to choose who I was going to save?”

 

“I remember,” Riku said.

 

“Well,” I said, glancing down at my hand again, “I chose. I think I'll keep both, at least for a little while..” I chuckled.

 

That got me the faintest smirk, barely there, but enough to make my chest tighten.

 

“Reckless,” he said.

 

“Maybe,” I agreed. “But you’re one to talk.”

 

He huffed something almost like a laugh, leaning back again. The porch boards creaked under his weight, the sound oddly familiar despite how long it had been since I’d heard it.

 

For a moment, it was almost normal, me talking, him listening, the boys behind us keeping their thoughts to themselves. Like we could pretend the rest of it wasn’t hanging over our heads.

 

Almost.

Chapter 88: What Has To Be Done Pt. 2

I studied him for a long moment, the curve of his shoulders, the pale strip of skin at his throat where the collar used to be. His hair was messy from the wind, silver strands catching the light like worn steel. He looked tired, tired in a way I didn't think had much to do with his body.

 

"Are you really sure about all this?" I asked finally, my voice quieter than I wanted it to be. "You could... I don't know, try to live normally. We could have more moments like this. Just- talk. Sit out here. Not have the clock running down."

 

Riku's gaze slid to me, and for a second, I thought maybe I'd landed a hit. But then I saw it, the faint narrowing of his eyes, the recognition.

 

"You're doing that thing," he said.

 

"What thing?"

 

"That hero complex thing," he said, matter-of-fact. "You did it with Geto. Probably with a bunch of others too."

 

I didn't answer, because he wasn't wrong.

 

"You see someone heading toward the inevitable," he went on, "and you start talking about hope. About what they could still have. Doesn't matter if it's real or not. You're not trying to save their life. You're trying to save their will."

 

I swallowed. "And what's wrong with that?"

 

"Nothing," he said simply. "Except with me, it won't work."

 

I shook my head, a frustrated little laugh catching in my throat. "You can't know that."

 

"I do," he said. "And it's okay if you're not ready to let go. But I am."

 

The words landed with a weight I wasn't ready for.

 

"It's not because I don't want more moments like this," he added after a beat, his tone softer now. "It's because I don't want to forget moments like this. And I don't want to taint them by staying too long, by turning into something that isn't me. By maybe... being forced to hurt you when my body isn't mine anymore."

 

I felt my throat tighten, hot and aching.

 

"It's not fair," I said, my voice cracking before I could stop it.

 

"Life's not fair, Amara," he said. "You know that better than most."

 

And just like that, it broke me. The tears came fast, faster than I could blink them away, and my shoulders jerked with the first sharp breath that made it past my teeth. I tried to press my lips together, to stay composed, but it was already too late.

 

Behind me, I felt rather than saw the shift, Gojo straightening from his lean, Suguru's energy spiking just enough to tell me he was ready to move. Both of them ready to get up, to close the space between us and pull me out of this.

 

But before they could, Riku reached out, his hand settling at the back of my head, warm and steady. He pulled me into his side like it was nothing, like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to do, even though we'd never had this, not once in my childhood.

 

The fabric of his coat was coarse against my cheek, smelling faintly of rain and steel and something sharp underneath. His fingers worked slowly through my hair, more pressure than gentleness, but it was grounding all the same.

 

"I'm tired of this all not being fair. I just want things to go right... I want good things to stop being taken away from me..." I start crying hard, sobbing into him.

 

"I'll be just lying in bed crying, thinking I want to go home, I just want my dad, and I've never had either. And then the one time I do I have both I have to either give them up or bleed myself dry to keep it..." 

 

He keeps rubbing my head. "I know. I know.."

 

I cry even harder and for a bit, no one speaks. Just my echoing sobs and the sounds of birds chirping.

 

"Ya know, you look ugly when you cry like this," he murmured.

 

It was the kind of thing that would've stung coming from anyone else. From him, it was almost... gentle. An attempt at teasing.

 

A broken laugh shuddered out of me, wet and uneven. "You're not much of a looker and you're not crying."

 

"Takes ugly to know ugly." 

 

"Shut the fuck up." I cry laugh into his chest.

 

He made a low sound in his throat, something between a grunt and a hum, and kept his hand in my hair, rubbing slow circles against my scalp.

 

It was strange. We barely knew each other, and yet sitting here like this felt... inevitable. Like we'd stumbled into a rhythm that had been waiting for us all along, even if we'd missed the years when it should have started.

 

I thought about all the things we didn't have, the birthdays he wasn't there for, the scraped knees he didn't clean, the nights he didn't tuck me in. The years I spent learning to live without the idea of a father at all. And yet here he was, doing it now, with a clumsy sort of ease that told me he might've been good at it if he'd actually been there.

 

Gojo and Suguru stayed quiet behind us, though I could feel their eyes on me. Gojo's Infinity hummed faintly in the background, a constant barrier between him and the world. Suguru's energy was pulled in tight, coiled and watchful, like he was holding himself back from crossing the porch.

 

I stayed there against Riku's side for a long moment, my tears soaking into his coat. He didn't move to push me away, didn't make any attempt to stop me. Just kept that steady pressure of his hand, the ghost of a father I could've had pressing itself into the present.

 

"You're still here," he said quietly, almost to himself.

 

I pulled back just enough to look up at him. "What?"

 

"You've had enough reasons to walk away from me already," he said. "Most people would've. But you didn't."

 

I blinked at him, trying to read the tone beneath his words. "You say that like it surprises you."

 

"It does," he said. "Not because I think you'd abandon me, but because... you've learned to cut your losses. You've had to. And yet, here you are, wasting time on a man who's already halfway gone."

 

"It's not wasting time," I said, my voice steady despite the rawness in my throat.

 

Riku didn't answer right away. He just looked at me for a long moment, like he was memorizing my face... or maybe making sure he still could.

 

Finally, he nodded once, a sharp, certain motion. "Then let's sit a little longer."

 

---

 

The sun shifted lower, throwing long shadows across the overgrown yard. Somewhere behind us, Gojo shifted on the couch, the faint creak of wood giving him away. Suguru didn't move, but I could feel the subtle warmth of his gaze, the silent promise that he'd be there if I needed him.

 

I knew they were both fighting the urge to come closer. To be the ones I leaned on. And part of me wanted that too. But right now, it was Riku's shoulder I stayed against, the weight of his hand in my hair anchoring me to the moment.

 

A moment that shouldn't have existed, but somehow did.

 

I glanced toward the yard and felt my stomach dip. The sun had slid lower without asking permission, all copper and smoke at the fence line. Shadows pooled under the persimmon tree like ink. We'd run out of afternoon without noticing.

 

Riku followed my gaze and didn't say it, but the weight of his silence said enough. His hand fell from my hair to my shoulder, squeezing once.

 

Behind us, the couch creaked. Gojo's voice floated over, unusually careful. "We... don't have to do this today."

 

Suguru's tone matched it, steady as a hand on a knife. "Truly. If this is too much- if you want time we'll make sure nothing touches him in the meantime."

 

I swallowed. "It's not that I want to rush." My mouth felt like paper. "It's that he doesn't want to wait."

 

Riku gave me a sideways look that was almost fond. "Girl can listen."

 

"Sometimes," Gojo muttered, and I shot him a look that made him press his lips together.

 

He lifted both palms in mock surrender. "I'm serious, Amara. You don't have to carry everything yourself. If it has to happen, we can do it. I can do it." His mouth twisted. "I want to. I volunteer."

 

Suguru's elbow found his ribs without looking. "Behave."

 

"I am behaving. I'm offering a humane solution in a timely manner. Very philanthropic of me."

 

Riku's mouth twitched. "Charm like a brick through glass."

 

As we both stood I took a breath that scraped both lungs on the way in, then turned so I was angled toward the boys. "I appreciate it. I do. But if it's going to be done... I need to be the one to do it." I felt my voice steady as I said it out loud. "I promised him I would."

 

Suguru's eyes softened, the kind of understanding that had nothing to do with words. "Then we'll stand with you."

 

I nodded, then looked at Gojo. "I... might need your help though.."

 

His head tipped, lenses catching the last of the sunlight. "Say the word."

 

"I don't have a technique that... ends things cleanly." My throat jumped on ends things. "If I try it my way, I'll make it worse. And he doesn't want pain." I glanced at Riku and found him already watching me. "You don't want pain."

 

He offered a dry hum. "I've sampled plenty."

 

"So." I turned back to Satoru, feeling the decision settle into my bones. "You'll do it. But I'll be with you while you do. Your hand." I held mine out like proof. "I'm not handing it off. I'm asking to do it together."

 

Gojo's bravado slipped for a heartbeat, blue eyes suddenly bare behind the tint. He stood slowly, like he didn't trust his knees, and closed the distance until the toes of his sneakers touched the sun-bleached boards of the porch. "Together," he echoed softly. "Okay."

 

Suguru rose too, not stepping in front of me, not crowding, just aligning himself at my back so his presence felt like a spine I could borrow if mine gave out. "I'll veil the yard," he said. "Keep eyes off us."

 

He smirked, then nodded toward the yard. "Let's not do it on the ugly porch. I don't want to haunt splinters."

 

"Picky," Gojo said, even as he reached to the side, space yawning almost imperceptibly around his fingers as he tested pressure, distance, whatever math lived under his skin. Infinity purred, obedient as breath.

 

We moved. The boards complained under our weight. Dry leaves sighed at our ankles as we stepped down into the grass. The persimmon tree threw a long, tired shadow across the patchy yard, and the air had that autumn bite that tasted like iron on the tongue.

 

Riku shrugged his coat off and folded it over the porch rail like he'd been raised with manners and old wooden hangers. Underneath, he wore a simple black shirt. He reached up and touched the pale ring at his throat, a ghost of the collar that had been there for years, then let his hand drop.

 

"How do we do this..?" I asked, because the 'how' mattered now. Not just the 'what'.

 

Gojo answered without swagger. "A thin cut," he said. "Spatial severance. You won't see it. You won't hear it. No splash." His mouth pressed tight. "It'll be the last millisecond, and then nothing."

 

Riku grunted his approval. "Clean. I like clean." He shifted his weight, looking at the tree, then at me. "Here's fine."

 

Suguru's veil rose like dusk layered over dusk. The air dimmed at the edges, sound dampening until even the far road went quiet.

 

I reached for Satoru's hand and he was already there, palm up like he'd been holding it out for years. He stepped in close enough that his chest touched my shoulder and his arm curved around my middle. Infinity dropped for me.. Behind me, Suguru's warmth lined my spine; his knuckles rested at the base of my skull, a silent "I'm here."

 

Riku stood with the persimmon tree at his back and the yard in his eyes, collar gone, throat ring-pale. He looked cleaner without it, lighter, like a man who'd finally put down a too-heavy bag and decided to walk with just his pockets.

 

Satoru squeezed my fingers once. His voice was quiet, almost conversational. "Any last words? And, I swear, if you say something about a secret child we don't know about, I'm going to lose it."

 

The corner of Riku's mouth pulled. "I don't breed often," he said, dry as the boards under our feet. The joke landed crooked. He rolled one shoulder. "No speeches."

 

He looked at me, and the humor fell away from both of us. For a second, I forgot how to hold my face.

 

My voice surprised me by not breaking. "I'll miss you, Dad.."

 

Something in him cracked, audible only because of the veil, because the world had gone still enough for quiet things to be loud. He didn't flinch away from it. He let it show, just for me.

 

"Don't miss me too much. I was never worth missing," he said simply.

 

Satoru didn't grandstand. He didn't count down this time. He let me look exactly as long as I needed to, and then he shifted, and the world thinned to a line I couldn't see.

 

I didn't hear anything.

 

I felt Suguru's palm close over my eyes the instant before absence replaced shape. His other arm cinched around my ribs and pulled me to his chest, steady and firm. Behind my lids the dark went soft. My mouth forgot breath for a beat and then remembered, dragging air that tasted like persimmon leaves and blood.

 

Satoru moved away from me to "take care of it." He did what needed doing to make this all easier on me. There was no thud, no spill, no scrape... just a pressure change and then the tiniest chime from the porch, old metal knocking once in the breeze like a thought passing by.

 

Suguru kept his hand where it was for a moment longer, forehead bent to the crown of my head. "It was clean," he murmured. "He asked for clean and you gave him that."

 

I nodded against his shirt and only then let my eyes open. Satoru already has his body wrapped in an old quilt that must have still been inside the house. 

 

None of this felt real. I felt like my soul and body separated. All I could feel was numb as I watched Gojo carry my father's lifeless body back inside. 

 

The wind moved through the tree with a dry hush. The veil held and then thinned at Suguru's subtle call, like dusk deciding to leave.

 

Satoru exhaled and looked up into the branches, assessing. "It's a pretty tree," he said, stepping toward it. "We should take a cutting. Plant it back on campus."

 

"Yeah," I said, and surprised myself by meaning it. "He'd hate that and love it."

 

"Sounds perfect to me," Satoru murmured.

 

Suguru eased his arm from my middle but didn't leave my side. "Stay with her," he told Satoru, and then, to me, softer, "I just want to check on things. I'll only need a minute."

 

I caught his fingers before he stepped away, squeezed once, then let him go. Satoru tipped his head toward the lowest branch. "Here," he said, almost to himself. He reached up and the air complied, space obliging just enough that a thin runner drifted into his palm without snapping. He handled it to me gently.

 

"It'll root," he said. "I'll bully it into thriving."

 

"You do that with everything," I whispered.

 

He glanced down at me and, for a heartbeat, let the lenses slip: blue eyes soft and naked with the relief and grief he never shows anyone else. He slid the cutting into an empty water bottle from his pocket, then offered it to me like a tiny, green promise.

 

I took it. The little arc of leaf bobbed once in the water, ridiculous and stubborn. "We'll plant it by the greenhouse," I said. "Near the door so I can check it every time."

 

"Done," he said.

 

Suguru returned without ceremony. He scanned my face, always taking stock, always measuring, and then his thumb swept once under my eye, catching a tear that had fallen. "Do you want to sit?" he asked. "Or go. Or yell at the wind chime until it apologizes."

 

"I'll save the yelling for later," I said, and swallowed. "Can we just... stand a little longer?"

 

They closed around me again like they were built for that. Satoru pressed our joined hands between both of his. Suguru's palm flattened between my shoulder blades, heat sinking into bone.

 

The yard looked the same and not. The porch was still ugly. The fence still leaned. The wind chime still sounded like it was on its last limb. Everything felt so familiar and different all at the same time. Part of me just wanted to melt into the earth so I didn't have to deal with all these emotions... feelings... realizations...

 

There was like too much just trying to cram its way into my brain.

 

We walked the yard once, slowly. Satoru bumped my shoulder with his lightly. "You want me to... say anything official? A line? A stupid little prayer I make up now? I can be ordained pretty quickly."

 

"Please don't get ordained," Suguru said under his breath.

 

I shook my head. "He didn't want ceremony."

 

"Then we won't give him any he didn't ask for," Satoru said, accepting it easily. He turned toward the tree again, palm skimming the bark. "You sure you don't want the whole tree?"

 

"I think bringing a whole persimmon tree onto campus would make Yaga ask questions I don't want to answer," I said. "Cutting's enough."

 

"Cutting's enough," he echoed softly.

 

We went back up the steps. The wind chime knocked once more like it wanted the last word. I looked at it and decided not to be angry at the old metal. It was just filling the silence that I couldn't.

 

At the porch rail, Riku's coat still hung where he'd draped it. Suguru lifted it down, folded it quietly, and offered it to me. "For later," he said. "Decide when you're ready."

 

I shook my head. "For now, you keep it. If it's near me tonight, I'll either set it on fire or sleep in it. Neither feels... correct."

 

"Understood," he said, and tucked it over his arm like a promise deferred.

 

Satoru lingered a second longer, listening to the air the way only he can. Whatever he heard, or chose to hear, satisfied him. He nodded to himself and then to me. "We should go while it's still... soft," he said. "Before the night gets teeth."

 

I didn't argue. We left the porch the way we'd found it: messy, familiar, refusing to be anything else. On the path, I looked back once. The persimmon leaves shivered. Somewhere on the other side of the fence, a dog barked. 

 

The world continued to spin.

 

We cut across the street together. The bottle in my hand crinkled lightly against my knuckles with each step. Satoru didn't let go of me. Suguru didn't stop orbiting the distance I needed.

 

At the edge of the neighborhood, the wards of the school would pick up our scent and hum. I felt their promise like heat through glass. Satoru glanced at the bottle and then at my face. "We'll plant it by the greenhouse," he said again, as if repetition could stitch the day into something that held.

 

"It's a pretty tree," I said, and found that I could smile without it hurting everything. "Even if he'd complain about the effort."

 

"Effort wasn't his favorite," Suguru said. "But he did at least try near the end.."

 

---

 

We walked the rest of the way without filling the air. The silence wasn't empty. It held exactly what we needed it to hold: the last word that mattered, the chime, the clean line of mercy, the small green promise bobbing in water.

 

By the time the wards tingled over my skin, I knew what I wanted on the little label we'd stick to the tree.

 

"I think 'Bittersweet' would be a good name for the tree," I said aloud.

 

Satoru's thumb brushed my knuckles. Suguru leaned in just enough to hum. "Then Bittersweet it is."

Chapter 89: Graduation

This spring season smelled like soap, rain, and cheap setting spray.

 

Shoko and I were half-dressed in front of my mirror, sports bras, pajama shorts, bare shoulders sticky with lotion, knees knocking as we crowded the little vanity tray like raccoons at a buffet. I’d already done my base; she’d done nothing, of course. Instead, she sat there with her bangs clipped back by a pair of ridiculous pink alligator clips and a cigarette tucked behind one ear like a forgotten pencil.

 

“Don’t,” she warned, eyes narrowing as I came at her with the eyeliner.

 

“Blink and I give you wings to heaven,” I murmured, bracing her cheek.

 

“Such a flirt,” she said, but she went still in that perfect medic way, pulse steady, lids obedient, trusting me not to stab her. Outside the window, the campus was slick with old rain and cherry trees shaking out their blossoms like confetti. Somewhere down below, first-years were already screaming and sprinting like today wasn’t partially about them, too.

 

Behind us, the boys.

 

Satoru had stripped down to slacks and socks while at war with a cufflink, complaining to the room like it had personally betrayed him. Suguru had already slipped into his black dress pants, shirt still unbuttoned, hair half-tied. The two of them were living proof that “getting ready” is a collaborative sport for men: one loudly incompetent peacock and one quiet adult putting out invisible fires.

 

“It’s a conspiracy,” Satoru muttered, peering over his glasses. “Why are these little guys so annoying to place?”

 

“Because you bought cufflinks by price, not convenience,” Suguru said without looking up from fixing his outfit.

 

“They add to the look.” Satoru smirks.

 

“They’re tacky.”

 

“You’re tacky.”

 

Shoko coughed a laugh and I smacked her with the flat of my brush to make her hold still. “Hold still, I'm not redoing anything if you mess it up.”

 

“I just trust you not to mess up. Are you saying I shouldn't have my utmost faith in you?” she said, deadpan.

 

“Don’t even,” I said, switching to a warmer shadow. “Close.”

 

After I finished with her makeup I caught myself in the mirror by accident. I look more aged than I'd like. There were fine little lines at the corners of my eyes that hadn’t been there last spring, the kind you earn by squinting at sorcerer bureaucracy and smiling on purpose more. The promise ring gleamed on my right hand, twin to the bands Satoru and Suguru wore. I kissed it without thinking and felt both of them watch me in the reflection like synced weather vanes.

 

"Don’t get too distracted. You still need to finish up and get dressed." She rubbed my back gently.

 

Behind us, Satoru had lost the cufflink fight and drafted Suguru. “Just let me-” Suguru murmured, stepping in close to slide cold silver through stubborn fabric. Satoru went uncharacteristically quiet while he worked, eyes low, mouth soft. When Suguru finished, he didn’t step back. He buttoned Satoru’s shirt with patient fingers, one, two, three, smoothing the placket like he was erasing wrinkles from a bad day.

 

“Thanks, baby,” Satoru said, too bright.

 

"I swear you do this stuff on purpose just so I can do it for you.." Suguru grumbled a little.

 

"Hmhmh... maybe a little~" He kissed the side of Suguru's cheek, making that slight smirk rise.

 

I finished up the last touches of my makeup and Shoko leaned over me with a soft smile. 

 

"You look beautiful, Amara. You might even shock the Elders dead with how pretty." Shoko chuckled softly.

 

“God, I hope so,” I said, and stood to shimmy into my dress.

 

The kind of black that eats light. Velvet with a soft bloom to it, long sleeves that flared at the wrist like a bell, a deeper neckline framed by delicate lace, corset seaming that stitched me back into myself. The skirt fell straight and heavy, slit high enough to remind me I could still run if I needed to, hem kissed with tiny jet beads that caught the window’s pale spring sun like drops of ink.

 

“Okay, Morticia,” Shoko drawled, cigarette still tucked behind her ear. “Devour them.”

 

"Stop hitting on my girlfriend, Shoko!" Satoru yelled playfully which only made Suguru chuckle a little.

 

“Don’t get jealous,” I said with a small smirk, turning to present my back. “Zipper?”

 

I didn’t have to ask twice. Two sets of footsteps, two shadows in my mirror, two mouths already behaving badly. Satoru slid in first with a grin that should be illegal, cool fingers finding the zipper tab. Suguru braced a hand at my hipbone, steady, reverent, then leaned to press a kiss between my shoulder blades, right where the lace dipped. Satoru followed suit at my shoulder, warm and smug, lips brushing the curve where strap met skin. The zipper climbed an inch. Another kiss. Another inch. Another kiss. I huffed a laugh I couldn’t quite swallow.

 

“Focus,” I warned, only half-meaning.

 

“Hyperfocused actually,” Satoru said, voice muffled against my skin.

 

Suguru’s reply was quieter. “We’re commemorating the moment.”

 

“With your mouths,” Shoko said, deadpan. “On a timer. Move, idiots. We have to be somewhere soon.”

 

They behaved, barely. The zipper found home between my shoulder blades and Suguru’s knuckles brushed my spine as he settled the lace. He hooked the tiny button at the top with surgeon-careful fingers, breath grazing the shell of my ear. Satoru kissed the spot just below my jaw, a quick spark of heat that made the jet beads at my hem tingle like they were alive.

 

“Thank you,” I managed, smoothing my hands down the dress.

 

Shoko changed with the ruthless efficiency of someone who has pulled on trauma gowns in hallway corners. She wore a crisp white shirt that hung loose at the collar, sleeves sharp against her wrists. A dark black waist corset clung her her frame followed by dark black high-waisted slacks and her comfortable black flats she always wore.

 

She shoved the pink clips from her bangs into my palm, stole my mascara for a last swipe, and turned in the mirror to check the line of her eyeliner with a surgeon’s squint.

 

“You two done practicing public indecency?” she asked without looking, snapping her compact shut.

 

Satoru struck a pose; Suguru didn’t bother pretending he hadn’t been about to kiss the slope of my shoulder again. I reached back and squeezed his wrist in a small promise and stepped away before we wasted too much time.

 

The robes were next, deep indigo lined in matte black for our cohort, the Society’s sigil embroidered small at the breast in antique gold, because even institutions with dust in their bones like to peacock on special days. I slipped mine on, the weight of it settling across my chest more like a reminder than the celebration it was supposed to be for. Suguru eased my hair out from under the collar with patient fingers. Satoru, in a move so gentle it didn’t even read as Satoru, straightened the fall of my lace cuffs where they flared past the robe sleeves.

 

The caps really made this all feel ridiculous. Shoko jammed hers on with zero ceremony. Satoru put his on, took it off, raked a hand through his hair, put it back on, and then glared at it as if cursing the world for making such ugly hats. Suguru settled his at an angle that somehow made him look both bookish and dangerous, which, to be fair, was accurate. Mine sat as normally as it could, only making me look slightly like a dork. But at least we all looked like dorks together.

 

This day felt bigger than campus. Banners hung crisp on the main area, cherry blossoms shook like applause, and someone had dusted the old stone steps until they flashed. But beneath the polish was something electric, whispers at breakfast, a hush in the corridors, staffers in the admin wing talking with their hands. First class to cross together. First class to cross with the strongest among them not dead or resigned or disappeared into political errands. First class with a medical prodigy, a pair of impossible beings who refused to break, and one difficult zombie who refused to shut up in the Elder chambers.

 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Shoko said, noticing my face. “You’re going to cry and then I’ll have to fix your face.”

 

“I won’t cry,” I lied, and then checked for my necklace to make sure I still had my locket close. I pressed it to my mouth. “Okay. Maybe later.”

 

“Definitely later,” Suguru murmured. “After you terrify a room full of Elders."

 

Shoko flicked the corner of my cap. “Speaking of terrifying rooms- please remember there are cameras.”

 

“What? Afraid I'll say something stupid?” I smirked a little.

 

"No. More afraid your shadows will start sucking on your face in front of everyone." She glanced back to them.

 

"We're the strongest scorers alive! If we want to suck on our beautiful girlfriend's face we will!" Satoru grabs my face and gives me a big loud kiss on the cheek, smushing me into him.

 

"SATORU! My makeup!" I giggled and tried to push him off.

 

Suguru smirked at us and then looked at Shoko. "We clearly have this under control."

 

Shoko rolls her eyes. "Well don't blame me when half of the Jujutsu Society clutches their pearls at your scandalous relationship." 

 

"They clutch their peals at the sight of me anyway. My looks can knock people dead. Really, three died last week just from my sheer beauty~"

 

Suguru shook his head and kissed Gojo on the cheek. "Settle the ego for just a moment, love. It's going to make us late." 

 

Satoru settled a bit and chuckled. "Alright, alright. Let's get this show on the road," he said happily, and opened the door.

 

The hallway carried that pre-ceremony hum, footsteps doubled by stone, laughter caught and tossed along by plaster, the perfume of too many flowers and too-strong cologne. Utahime texted a threat about where to meet, appended with a selfie of her rolling her eyes in full makeup looking illegally good. I sent back a row of black hearts. She replied with a knife.

 

We passed a classroom with first-years pressed to the glass like we were zoo animals. Satoru lowered his shades and smirked at them. They squealed and girls were fanning themselves. Shoko checked her pager and pretended it wasn’t just for show. Suguru squeezed my hand once, enough to ground me, then let go before anyone could accuse him of sentiment.

 

“Remember,” he said, low. “We walk in together.”

 

“We always do,” I said, smiling up at him softly.

 

---

 

Outside, the sky had decided to perform: a clean, damp blue after rain, clouds blown thin like silk. The lawn was already freckled with petals and programs, chairs set in crisp rows. The stage looked temporarily dignified. Elders like ravens on a rail. Yaga at the podium with sunglasses and an expression that screamed I’m fine. The twins were somewhere near the front with the nanny, socks already dirty, legs swinging, Nanako halfway out of her chair like the idea of stillness was painful.

 

The four of us fell into the procession where we were supposed to, but the air tilted; people leaned, cameras rose, murmurs moving through the crowd as they recognized the moment was about to start. You could feel the Society’s old bones creak, making room.

 

We took our seats. The speeches would be speeches; the ritual would be the ritual. There would be a line, a bow, the weight of a diploma that was more metaphor than paper. But in the way the spring light fell, in the way shouts slid into quiet without being asked, in the way our classmates kept glancing over as if to remind themselves we were real, breathing and here, not just rumors people spread around.

 

Next to me, Shoko bumped her knee to mine. “You did it,” she said, which in her language means we did it and also I’m glad you’re alive.

 

Satoru angled his cap so the tassel didn’t tickle his cheekbone and smirked at the Elders as if he could set them aflame by charm alone. Suguru breathed in, breathed out, and let his shoulders drop in that way he does when he chooses peace before battle.

 

I tucked my hand under the edge of my robe where the lace met my wrist and felt my pulse. Trying to ground myself.

 

Shoko leaned closer without. “You two are going to behave on stage, right?”

 

“Define ‘behave,’” Satoru whispered back.

 

“Don’t make me sedate you,” she murmured.

 

“Today is too beautiful, they'll have to do something to keep things balanced,” I said, eyes on the cherry trees.

 

Shoko sighs. "So, what's the plan after today? Go back to the same old routine?"

 

“We build the school we wanted,” I spoke softly.

 

"Just like that?" Suguru teased. 

 

I chuckled softly. "Just like that.."

 

He didn’t say anything, but I felt the agreement in the way his fingers curled once on his knee, knuckles pale, then loosened.

 

The band struck its bright, slightly off-key note. Yaga adjusted the mic, coughed into his fist, and chose mercy: short, sincere, almost no platitudes. The eldest Elder chose violence: long, ornate, pet phrases flying like dust motes.

 

Names began. Shoko; Geto; Gojo; Hoshizuki, the crowd broke its own rhythm. We crossed one by one, then stood side by side, a row of problems and promises in blue and black.

 

Yaga put a hand on each of our shoulders in turn. His palm was heavy on mine. “Proud of you,” he said, too soft for the mic.

 

I bowed softly, trying to keep my tears to myself. When I looked up, the twins were on their chairs, hands cupped around their mouths, shouting our name like we scored a goal. Suguru’s smile tilted toward them without breaking.

 

Later there would be hands and hugs and photos and paperwork and the strange quiet that follows noise. Later there would be students and syllabi and meetings where I brought tea.

 

Later there would be a lot of work.

 

Now there were four of us on a spring day, dressed like a prayer and a threat, a class that made it all the way across together, and a Society forced to clap for the future it couldn’t quite control.

 

Shoko’s shoulder nudged mine again. “Don’t cry,” she whispered.

 

“Not yet,” I said, and let myself smile.

 

They called his name with just enough ceremony to make it sound like a challenge.

 

“Valedictorian,” the Elder announced, her mouth curling like the word was hard to swallow. “Satoru Gojo.”

 

Predictably, Satoru popped up like he’d been waiting all morning for his cue. His cap sat slightly crooked and sunglasses firmly in place. He gave the crowd a little bow that wasn’t deep enough to be respectful and wasn’t shallow enough to be outright mockery, a sweet spot only Satoru could manage.

 

“Thank you, thank you,” he said into the mic, and the sound tech flinched. “Don’t worry, I won’t talk too long. I know how easily my speeches could start a religion.”

 

The laughter started immediately, some amused, some begrudging. He soaked it in like sunlight.

 

“So, uh, being valedictorian…” he gestured lazily with one hand, like he was directing applause. “Not a huge shocker, right? I mean, I’m me. You’ve seen the record books. Strongest in like a 1,000 years, undefeated in basically everything that matters… modest, too.”

 

A ripple of laughter moved through the crowd again, though a few Elders already looked like they were counting the seconds until he shut up.

 

“But!” he said, raising a finger. “Even someone as perfect as me had help getting here. And, uh, despite what you might’ve heard, I am capable of sharing credit.” He grinned. “Sometimes.”

 

He turned just enough to look down at Suguru in the front row, his smile shifting from public showman to something softer, more personal.

 

“This guy right here- Suguru Geto. I’m supposed to be the strongest, yeah, but if I’m being honest? I’ve never thought of him as second to me. We’ve been side by side since we were kids, missions, training, fighting, surviving. Every time I walked into something thinking I’d crush it, there’s a decent chance Suguru was already halfway through making it happen. If you’ve seen me win, you’ve seen him make it possible.”

 

Suguru’s jaw tightened, eyes narrowing slightly.

 

“And for the record,” Satoru added, “it’s not just that he can go toe-to-toe with me. It’s that he’s better at things I’ll never be good at, things like patience, making people follow his lead even when they think they don’t want to, strategy that doesn't involve brute force. He’s the reason I didn’t flunk out my first year. Or my second. Or probably my third. He made me understand that why I do this is just as important as being able to do this.”

 

A quiet murmur rolled through the crowd, some surprised, some confused. The idea of the strongest man alive calling someone his equal wasn’t something the Society liked to hear.

 

Satoru stretched out a hand toward him. “C’mon, Suguru. Don’t let me look good up here alone.”

 

For a long beat, Suguru stayed seated. His expression didn’t move, but I could feel the tiny flare of irritation in his cursed energy, equal parts embarrassment and resignation. Finally, with a sigh sharp enough to cut glass, he stood and took the steps up to the stage.

 

The applause was immediate, warmer than the crowd had been for most of the morning. When Suguru reached Satoru, he didn’t take the mic. He just stood beside him, hands loose at his sides, the picture of someone who could endure almost anything.

 

“And since I’m already ruining the schedule,” Satoru continued, “let’s talk about the rest of our little disaster crew.”

 

My stomach dropped when his eyes cut to me.

 

“Amara Hoshizuki,” he said, and I could already hear the trouble brewing in his tone. “If you’ve heard her name, you’ve probably also heard half a dozen rumors about what she can do. Healing, vines, shields, energy transfer… yeah, all true. What you won’t hear from the Elders is that she did it all with less training time than the rest of us, more obstacles than most of us could even imagine, and without ever letting this place turn her into something she’s not. And, uh-” he gave a little shrug, “-she’s also saved my ass, like, a lot. Which is really inconvenient, because now I owe her.”

 

There were scattered laughs, but Satoru’s voice stayed warm in that way he reserved for exactly three people.

 

"But the most important part about Amara besides her being super badass is her kindness. This world can eat you up and spit you back out a completely different person, and trust me, it's tried with her many times. But the strongest asset that Amara has is her humanity, her resistance, the world could break her down and she'll still make sure the stranger next to her is okay. It's something I truly adore about her and it's something you won't see often in this line of work."

 

He smiled softly at me and winked.

 

“And we can't forget Shoko Ieiri,” he went on, turning toward her, “She’s the one who's going to keep half of you alive long enough to regret your life choices. No one else I’ve ever met can pull someone back from the edge with that kind of skill and then scold them for being stupid in the same breath. She’s the reason we all walked across this stage instead of getting carried here in an urn. You’re welcome, by the way, for all the trouble we caused since it really helped you master your skills.”

 

Shoko lifted two fingers in a lazy salute, unimpressed but not unamused.

 

Satoru glanced back at Suguru. “And now, because I’m generous, and because I know how much he loves being put on the spot, Suguru Geto will say a few words.”

 

The audience laughed. Suguru didn’t.

 

“I hate you,” Suguru murmured under his breath, which the mic unfortunately picked up.

 

“Love you too,” Satoru replied cheerfully, handing him the mic.

 

Suguru took it with the kind of grace that suggested he was weighing exactly how much of a public scandal he was willing to cause. He stood there for a moment, scanning the crowd, his posture easy but his eyes sharp enough to cut stone.

 

“I wasn’t planning to give a speech,” he began, voice smooth and unhurried, “so forgive me if this isn’t the polished kind you’re used to hearing.”

 

There was a faint edge under the calm, the way a knife might feel if you ran your thumb along the flat instead of the blade.

 

“When we started here, none of us were the people you see today. Some of us were arrogant. Some were reckless. Some were barely holding themselves together. The work changes you. The Society changes you. And sometimes it’s not for the better.”

 

A ripple moved through the Elders’ row. Suguru didn’t blink.

 

“But if you’re lucky,” he continued, “you find people who keep you tethered. People who pull you back when you’re one bad day and one bad decision from changing your whole course of life. I had that here, in Satoru, in Ieiri, in Amara. That’s why we’re all standing here together. Not because of rankings, or test scores, or whatever title the Society decides to hand out this year. Because we refused to leave each other behind, no matter how much easier it might’ve been.”

 

His voice dropped just enough to make the next part feel like a dare.

 

“I hope the people in charge are paying attention. Because whatever comes next- the missions, the politics, the danger- you’ll get better results from sorcerers who want to fight for each other than from ones who are just scared of failing you.”

 

A few claps broke out, hesitant at first, then gaining momentum. Some Elders clapped, some didn’t. Suguru let the noise rise for a beat, then handed the mic back to Satoru without another word.

 

Satoru took it, grinning like he’d just gotten away with something. “See? Told you he was good at this.”

 

They both stepped back from the podium, the applause following them down the steps. When they reached our row again, Satoru dropped into his seat like he’d just finished a marathon, and Suguru sat with the poise of someone who would never admit he’d enjoyed himself a little.

 

Shoko leaned past me to mutter, “You’re both exhausting.”

 

Satoru only grinned wider. “And unforgettable.”

 

The ceremony rolled on, but the air felt different, like the speeches had cracked something in the room. The polite, polished atmosphere had a new undercurrent now, something sharper, something honest.

 

And when I caught Suguru’s eye a few minutes later, the corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile, but close enough to say he knew it too.

 

They called us up one by one for the second time, this time to actually hand over the paper proof of what three brutal, glorious years had done to us, and the little bit of pageantry they’d decided to tack on.

 

The Elder with the too-tight collar and the too-thin smile read our names like he was announcing weather conditions.

 

“Gojo Satoru.”

 

Predictably, Satoru strode up like the stage belonged to him, tassel swinging, sunglasses still in place. They handed him his diploma and a small, ornate badge pinned to a velvet card.

 

“Acknowledged for… unmatched service in the protection of high-value targets, skill beyond sorcerers of our time, and the advancement of sorcerer defense strategy.”

 

Even I had to admit, that was actually kind of nice. Satoru grinned like they’d just announced him the king of the world and gave a little bow before strolling back, badge in hand.

 

“I’m gonna make this into a necklace,” he whispered when he passed me.

 

“Make sure to pin it to your Ego before it pops” I whispered back.

 

They moved down the list.

 

“Ieiri Shoko.”

 

Shoko walked up with her robe swishing and a little smirk like she’d already guessed what hers would say. She took the diploma and badge.

 

“Acknowledged for… exceptional service in the field of medical cursed technique, with recognition for setting a new standard in reverse cursed energy application.”

 

That got her a decent round of applause. Shoko gave the tiniest of two-finger salutes and stepped down, glancing at the badge like she was considering if it was worth pawning.

 

Then...

 

“Geto Suguru.”

 

Suguru stood slowly, shoulders loose, hair looking amazing as always as he made his way to the stage. They handed him his diploma and then, with a tone that carried just a little too much of a smirk..

 

“Acknowledged for… unparalleled control in the consumption and retention of cursed spirits, despite the inherent risks of such methods.. even if there were many complaints.”

 

The words hung there for a second, less a compliment, more a reminder of exactly what they thought of his technique while also adding that subtle and unnecessary jab.

 

Suguru’s mouth didn’t move, but his eyes sharpened as he took the badge. When he turned to leave the stage, he caught my eye, and I felt the message in the look we traded, mutual annoyance wrapped in the calm we’d learned to wear in public.

 

“Amara Hoshizuki.”

 

My turn. I walked up, preparing myself for whatever backhanded compliment that was in store for me. They passed me my diploma and then, with the same careful tone they’d used for Suguru..

 

“Acknowledged for… persistence in the development and control of a volatile bloodline technique, with ongoing potential for safe deployment.”

 

And there it was. Just as expected and just as dehumanizing. Rather they just gave me a badge for good grades.

 

I took it without reacting, turned, and made my way back down the steps. Suguru’s mouth curved, just a sliver, when I sat, like we’d just been given the exact same insult in different wrapping paper.

 

Once we were done the official ceremony dissolved into chaos.. 

 

Pictures, congratulations, and the usual crowd of lower-year students buzzing around as if they were trying to catch a glimpse of a celebrity.

 

We grouped up for photos first. Satoru pulled me between him and Suguru, one arm thrown over my shoulders, the other holding Shoko like he was trying to physically pull us all into one frame.

 

“Smile,” the photographer called and I actually caught Suguru with a genuine smile.

 

We did the normal shots, the formal shots, then the less formal ones.. Satoru picked me up and spun me until my robe flared out, Shoko pretending to strangle him in the background.

 

Then Yaga joined us. He stood between us with a rare, almost-proud smile. Satoru’s grin softened for a fraction of a second, and I realized this was one of the few people he might actually be nervous to disappoint.

 

After the obligatory shots with faculty, we filtered into the milling crowd again. I had already ditched my heels somewhere around the first round of congratulations, my feet didn’t care that they were gorgeous-looking shoes. Satoru, of course, scooped them up without comment and had been carrying them around like some kind of loyal but mischievous valet.

 

“You look like Cinderella if she had a bodyguard,” Shoko said, already tipping a shot back like the ceremony had just been the pre-game.

 

“She doesn’t drink like Cinderella,” Satoru added, smirking. “She drinks like a Russian sailor on shore leave.”

 

“You’re just jealous,” I shot back.

 

Shoko shoved another glass toward me, and I didn’t hesitate. My abilities filtered alcohol fast enough that I’d need a borderline-lethal amount to stay drunk for long, but it didn’t make it any less fun.

 

“Drink more with me,” Shoko said, grinning, her cheeks already flushed.

 

“Gladly,” I said, and we clinked glasses before tossing them back.

 

Satoru leaned against a nearby table, watching us like we were his personal entertainment for the evening. “You two are going to try to outdrink each other, aren’t you?”

 

“Obviously,” Shoko said.

 

I laughed, warmth blooming in my chest more from the atmosphere than the alcohol. “You’re just mad you can’t join in.”

 

He held up his hands. “You know I can’t. Infinity and tequila don’t mix.”

 

“Boooooring,” Shoko declared.

 

“Responsible,” Satoru corrected.

 

Shoko’s grin was already sharp with mischief when she hooked two fingers into Suguru’s sleeve and hauled him toward the table of bottles like she’d just landed a particularly stubborn fish.

 

“Come oooon,” she sang.

 

“No,” Suguru replied, voice flat, but he didn’t move to actually break her grip.

 

I moved in from the other side, boxing him in like a co-conspirator. “Yeah, come on.”

 

He gave me that look, half stern, half faintly amused, that was supposed to make me back off. It didn’t.

 

“You know I don’t like drinking.” he started.

 

I pressed a shot into his hand gently, rubbing my thumb across his knuckles. “You don’t have to get drunk, just celebrate with us a little.”

 

Shoko clinked hers against his. “Welcome to graduation, Suguru.”

 

With an almost theatrical sigh, he tipped it back. The wince that followed was subtle but satisfying.

 

“See? Not that bad,” I said, already reaching for another to press into his palm.

 

He didn’t resist this time, and by the second glass, his arm was draped lazily around my waist like he’d been planning it from the start.

 

The thing about Suguru was, no matter how much he pretended to be above my and Shoko’s antics, he never actually pulled away once he was in them. And if those antics meant he got to keep a hand on me, he’d play along without complaint.

 

And boy did he use every excuse to touch me..

 

It started with a hand on my back guiding me through the crowd, then an arm around my shoulders while Shoko told some story too loud for the occasion, then fingers brushing my hip when he leaned in to murmur something only for me.

 

It didn’t take long for Satoru to notice.

 

“Woooow,” he drawled from where he leaned against the table, still holding my heels like some personal assistant. “You’re really milking this for all it’s worth, huh, Suguru?”

 

Suguru’s mouth curved, lazy. “She doesn’t seem to mind.”

 

“Yeah, well, I do.” Satoru pushed away from the table, a spark in his grin that was more challenge than complaint. “Scoot over. I’m not sitting on the sidelines while you hog her.”

 

I arched a brow at him. “Then stop sitting on the sidelines.”

 

That was all the invitation he needed.

 

The next thing I knew, Satoru’s arm was looped snug around my waist from the other side, his shoulder pressed against mine, leaning in like we were posing for an invisible camera. Suguru didn’t move away, if anything, he pulled me closer until I was caged between them, the two of them tossing lazy jabs at each other over my head.

 

“You’re crowding her,” Satoru accused.

 

“You’re one to talk,” Suguru countered.

 

I laughed, the warmth in my chest having very little to do with the alcohol.

 

From somewhere behind us, Shoko’s voice cut through, dry as ever. “You all need to behave unless you want the entire Jujutsu Society to know what goes on behind closed doors.”

 

Satoru tilted his head back and groaned. “You’re no fuuuun.”

 

“I’m the only reason you'll still have your teaching license,” she shot back, tossing back another drink like the conversation was over.

 

Before either of them could retort, a familiar voice joined in. “Looks like we showed up just in time to catch the scandal.”

 

I turned to find Utahime making her way toward us, her robes hanging loose, she looked like she'd been on her feet all day. Mei Mei was just behind her, impeccable as always, fan in hand and a polite smile that never reached her eyes.

 

“Congratulations,” Utahime said, giving me a quick hug before moving on to Shoko and Suguru.

 

“Utahime,” Satoru greeted with a grin that made her roll her eyes. “You missed my speech.”

 

“I wish I did. Maybe I'd be in a much better mood.” she deadpanned.

 

Mei Mei’s gaze landed on me, cool and assessing as always. “Hoshizuki.”

 

“Mei Mei.” My tone was polite, neutral. We didn’t like each other, but we’d learned, begrudgingly, that outright hostility wasn’t worth the trouble.

 

She inclined her head slightly. “Well done today.”

 

I nodded back. “Thank you.”

 

Utahime glanced between us like she was just relieved neither of us had drawn a weapon yet. “You all clean up well,” she said, redirecting the conversation smoothly.

 

Satoru beamed. “We always look good. Just now we’re not being forced into uniforms.”

 

Shoko snorted into her glass. Suguru’s arm tightened at my waist, and I leaned into him without thinking. Mei Mei’s gaze flicked to the movement, then away, as if filing it for later.

 

The conversation drifted, Utahime asking about Shoko’s clinic work, Mei Mei making an almost-sincere comment about our class’s graduation rate. I let the chatter wash over me, the steady heat of the boys at my sides grounding me more than the alcohol ever could.

 

Graduation or not, the Elders or not, there were some things I didn’t plan on letting go of. And being between them, here and now, was one of them.

 

---

 

By the time the sun had dipped behind the far buildings and the courtyard lanterns were lit, the whole celebration had shifted from polite applause to something warmer, louder, borderline rowdy in certain corners.

 

Even Suguru, who usually paced himself with drinks had given in. I could see it in the way his posture had gone looser, the faint rosiness in his cheeks, the sly smirk he didn’t bother hiding.

 

Which meant, by default, Satoru had been crowned our designated shepherd for the night.

 

“Alright, sweetheart,” he murmured as his hand found my elbow for the hundredth time in five minutes, guiding me through a cluster of tables. “Let’s not start a fire, okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” I protested, only slightly too brightly. My words weren’t slurred, but the warmth under my skin made every grin a little wider, every laugh a little easier.

 

“Sure you are,” he said, the way someone might humor a toddler.

 

Suguru was worse, at least in his own subtle way. He was pressed close on my other side, his arm looped lazily over my shoulders like he had no intention of letting go. When we passed one of the Elders, he didn’t even straighten up, just let his fingers drift over the bare skin at the back of my neck until goosebumps bloomed down my spine.

 

I shot him a look. He smiled, slow and knowing.

 

Satoru noticed. “Hey,” he said sharply, more for show than anything, “you two trying to get me in trouble?”

 

“Yes,” I said immediately.

 

Suguru didn’t bother answering, he just let his hand slide down my arm in a way that made Satoru’s jaw flex.

 

He was trying to keep us in line. We knew it. Which made it that much more tempting to see how far we could push him.

 

By the time we reached the far end of the courtyard, we were practically draped over him, me with my arm hooked into his from one side, Suguru with his from the other, the three of us walking like we’d been glued together.

 

“Sweetheart, you’re testing me,” he warned, but there was a faint, telltale edge to his voice, the one he got when he was fighting not to blush.

 

I tilted my head toward Suguru. “We’re testing him.”

 

Suguru’s smirk widened. “Oh, I know.”

 

I reached up to fix the edge of Satoru’s collar, letting my fingers linger on the exposed line of his throat. Suguru leaned in at the same time from the other side, murmuring something low enough that only Satoru could hear.

 

His breath hitched.

 

The crowd was still buzzing around us, but all I could focus on was the way Satoru’s eyes narrowed, not in real anger, but in that quiet, determined way he got when he decided he was going to win a game he hadn’t agreed to play.

 

“Alright,” he said suddenly, voice pitched low. “We’re going.”

 

“Going where?” I asked innocently.

 

“Somewhere you can stop trying to scandalize the entire Society.” He started steering us toward the side gate, keeping his Infinity up just enough that no one could brush against us in the crowd.

 

Suguru went along without complaint, though I could feel the faint hum of amusement in his cursed energy. I didn’t fight him either, not when I knew exactly where this was leading.

 

“You’re no fun,” I said, even though I was smiling.

 

Satoru shot me a sidelong look, his grin all teeth. “Sweetheart, you have no idea.”

 

Behind us, I caught a glimpse of Utahime and Shoko. Utahime with a steadying hand on Shoko’s back, guided her toward the dorms. Shoko was tipsy enough to be openly affectionate, her head tipped toward Utahime’s shoulder. Utahime, for all her usual restraint, looked… almost happy about it.

 

By the time we slipped out of the courtyard, the night air was cooler, the hum of the crowd fading behind us. Satoru kept us moving at a quick, casual pace, like if we didn’t get to his room soon enough we might suddenly forget how to behave.

 

“You realize,” Suguru said mildly, “that the more you try to be responsible, the more we’re going to make you work for it.”

 

“I’m counting on it,” Satoru replied without missing a beat.

 

His hand brushed against mine as we walked, fingers curling just long enough to pull me closer between them.

 

Suguru’s gaze flicked down at me, and then at Satoru. “You think he’s flustered yet?”

 

Satoru huffed a laugh. “Not even close.”

 

That was a lie. I could feel the faint shift in his cursed energy, subtle, but there. And it made me want to push just a little harder.

 

By the time we reached his door, all three of us were tangled enough that if someone had been watching, they might not have been able to tell whose arm belonged to who.

 

Satoru got the door open, ushered us in, and shut it firmly behind him.

 

Then he exhaled, slow and deliberate. “Now,” he said, “you can misbehave all you want.”

Chapter 90: Celebration (NSFW)

Summary:

Kinks: oral sex, cum eating, getting cummed on and in, degrading, praise, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, drooling, rougher penitration

The door had barely clicked shut before Suguru and I moved as one, hands already on Satoru, tugging at the loose buttons of his shirt. 

 

He barked out a surprised laugh, even as we got the fabric down his shoulders. “Whoa- hey- at least buy me dinner first-” 

 

“Pretty sure we’ve bought you a lot more than dinner,” Suguru murmured, grinning against his ear as he pushed the shirt down to the floor. 

 

Satoru’s grin was wide, but there was color in his cheeks, the faintest crease between his brows, his telltale oh no, they’re serious look. “You two are ridiculous,” he said, though he didn’t move away. 

 

Then I tried to get my own dress off. Which was fine, until the neckline of my dress caught on the inside seam. 

 

“Oh, nooooo,” I said flatly. Then louder, with a theatrical sigh, “Help meeeee.” 

 

Both of them looked over like they’d just been handed a gift. 

 

“Can’t you-” Satoru started, then stopped when I made an exaggerated little wiggle, trying and failing to reach the zipper. 

 

“I can’t,” I said, turning half toward them so the problem was obvious. “I'm stuck.” 

 

Suguru’s eyes warmed with interest immediately. “You heard her,” he said to Satoru. “She needs us, Toru~” 

 

Satoru groaned. “Don’t make it sound like-” 

 

“Like exactly what it sounds like?” Suguru interrupted, already stepping in behind me. 

 

I tilted my chin over my shoulder, batting my lashes in the most over-the-top damsel impression I could muster. “Please, kind sirs, save me from my cruel, complicated dress.” 

 

"Dramatic little menace..." Satoru muttered softly. 

 

Though he was already moving in front of me, fingers brushing my arm as Suguru toyed with the zipper at my back. 

 

It really was stuck. Which meant they both had to take their time. Suguru held the fabric, and Satoru brushed his fingertips down my side as if he were trying to “steady” me. 

 

“You’re enjoying this,” Satoru accused, though it was unclear if he meant me or Suguru. 

 

“Yes,” we both said at the same time. 

 

The zipper gave a reluctant inch, then stopped. I made a soft, frustrated whine, half real, half for effect, and Suguru chuckled low in my ear. “Patience, love,” he murmured, tugging the fabric gently. 

 

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Satoru added, his grin going a little wicked now that he’d decided to lean into it. “Can’t rush a rescue.” 

 

Between the two of them, it became less about actually getting me out of the dress and more about seeing how many ways they could make me squirm while pretending they were still trying. 

 

When the zipper finally came all the way down, Satoru eased the dress off my shoulders, slow and deliberate. Suguru caught the fabric before it hit the ground, folding it over his arm like. 

 

“Free,” Suguru murmured, his hand lingering at the small of my back. 

 

“Took you long enough,” I smirked devilishly. 

 

“Worth it,” Satoru said, and his voice had dropped just enough to make my skin prickle. 

 

The dress was gone, gently folded on my chair, and the way Satoru’s eyes kept flicking down and back up told me he hadn’t decided if he wanted to make a joke or just stand there and stare. 

 

Suguru didn’t give him time to pick, he reached for Satoru’s belt loop and tugged him forward. “Your turn.” 

 

“What- hey, no, I was helping-” Satoru started, but I was already stepping in to kiss along his back and shoulders while Suguru tugged his belt loose from his pants. 

 

“Oh, so we’re doing this,” he said, voice going a little higher as the second button popped. 

 

“What did you think we were doing?” I asked, sliding my hands under his boxers a little. 

 

“I don’t know- undressing for fun? Teasing me until I cry? You two are unpredictable.” 

 

“Could still be all of those things,” Suguru said, and I saw the corner of his mouth twitch. 

 

Satoru’s ears went pink. “Wait. Are we, like… doing it doing it?” 

 

The way he said it made me snort, and Suguru actually laughed out loud. 

 

I tilted my head at him. “You do know you can say no if you don’t want to, right?” 

 

That earned me a look so offended I almost stepped back. “Excuse me?” 

 

“I’m just saying-” 

 

“No, no, sweetheart, you don’t just say that. Like I’d say no to you two. The audacity.” He slapped a hand over his chest like I’d insulted his honor. 

 

Suguru’s laugh deepened. “If it's a yes then say it plainly, Toru~ You know I hate dancing around the yes or no.” 

 

Satoru bit his lip. "Yes, please, fuck me..." his eyes hooded a little. 

 

I caught his belt, tugging it open with a slow pull while Suguru got his pants down over his hips. He stepped out of them, now standing in just his boxers, and yeah, the excitement was… obvious. 

 

“Like what ya see?” he said quickly when my eyes flicked down, but his grin gave him away. 

 

“Always~,” I said, smirking. 

 

“We'll free him soon,” Suguru said with a chuckle, and I knew he noticed Satoru’s erection too. 

 

I turned to Suguru, walking my fingers up his chest. “Your turn.” 

 

Satoru made a mock gasp. “Oh, so he doesn’t get the ‘you can say no’ disclaimer?” 

 

“Please,” Suguru said dryly as I started tugging his shirt over his head. “For once I'm the main instigator. It's usually you two who can't keep it in your pants.” 

 

It didn’t take long and once his shirt was gone, Satoru crouched to help me work his pants down. Suguru’s boxer briefs left about as much to the imagination as Satoru’s had. Seeing them both this excited always made me so wet, just the anticipation of them inside me.. 

 

“Wow,” I said, grinning between the two of them. “It’s like you’re both in competition.” 

 

Satoru gave Suguru a sidelong look. “Don’t make me start keeping score.” 

 

I laughed, and then, because the moment was just too perfect to pass up, I slid my hand into my own underwear, pointer finger sticking straight out, and angled it toward them like I was trying to join the club. 

 

Both of them froze for half a second before bursting out laughing, Suguru’s low and warm, Satoru’s loud enough to echo. 

 

“Oh my god,” Satoru managed, clutching at his stomach. 

 

Suguru was grinning widely. “Careful, love. You’re setting expectations now.” 

 

I wiggled my “boner” at them. “What? Feeling left out.” 

 

Satoru leaned in, still laughing. “Sweetheart, if you had one, you’d win. No contest.” 

 

I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my underwear and slid them down, my bra following without hesitation. Both pairs of eyes followed the motion, heated in different ways, Suguru’s dark and deliberate, Satoru’s bright with that sharp edge of impatience. 

 

I didn’t give them a chance to talk about it. I stepped between them, dropped to my knees on the wood floor, and let my hands glide slowly up the inside of each of their thighs. Muscle under warm skin, the way they both went still under my touch, it was enough to make my pulse trip over itself. 

 

Looking up at them from this angle, they were impossible not to compare, Suguru towering with his weight balanced on one hip, gaze steady like he had all the time in the world, and Satoru practically vibrating with restless energy, blue eyes locked on me like I might vanish if he blinked. 

 

“Want both like this?” Suguru asked, voice low enough to crawl over my skin. 

 

I nodded, slowly, and opened my mouth in answer, just enough to show exactly what I meant, tongue hanging out expectantly. 

 

Suguru’s eyes narrowed the way they did when he was savoring something, his hand sliding casually over himself through the thin cotton of his briefs. “Yeah… I can work with that.” 

 

Satoru, on the other hand, wasn’t interested in working with anything except getting there as fast as possible, his boxers were already halfway down his thighs before Suguru even got a thumb under his waistband. 

 

“Impatient,” Suguru muttered without heat. 

 

“You’ve been monopolizing her all night,” Satoru shot back, stepping out of his boxers and letting them hit the floor with a careless flick of his foot. “I’m just leveling the playing field.” 

 

I glanced between them, my palms pressing firmer against the insides of their thighs, and smiled, small, knowing. “You can share, ya know.” 

 

That earned me a quiet laugh from Suguru and an almost sheepish grin from Satoru, though he didn’t slow down. The air felt thick, heavy with the heat of them both this close. Every inch of me was aware of their presence..Suguru’s calm control to my left, Satoru’s hungry impatience to my right.. and the way their gazes kept dropping to my mouth. 

 

I tipped my chin up, letting my nails scrape lightly against their skin, and waited. 

 

Satoru twitched first. Of course he did. 

 

My palms smoothed higher, fingers curling just enough to draw quiet, sharp breaths from both of them. The heat of their skin under my hands made me shiver, though my focus stayed locked on their faces. First Suguru’s.. watching the way his expression barely shifted, but his gaze sharpened, his breath coming slower and deeper.. and then Satoru’s, who was already biting down on his lip. 

 

"Do you want something for your knees, love?" Suguru asked as he ran his hand through my hair. 

 

"I should be fine. I don't want to make whatever I put under me messy~" I bite my lip a little. 

 

Satoru and Suguru both groan at the statement, clearly thinking about how wet I must be getting. 

 

I shifted closer on my knees, my thumbs brushing the base of both of their cocks. I spit into my hands and moved in slow, even strokes, wrapping firmly around their girth and jerking them off in an even rhythm. 

 

“You’re beautiful,” Satoru mumbled. The grin he threw down at me was bright, crooked, and just a little shaky. 

 

“Beautiful doesn't even begin to describe how good she looks right now..” Suguru said, voice low, though his eyes didn’t leave mine. 

 

I wrapped my mouth around Satoru's tip first, keeping my other hand moving on Suguru without pause. My lips brushed the head of him in a feather-light pass before I took him into my mouth. I was slow at first, letting my tongue trace against him, warm and deliberate. I tilted my head just enough to look up through my lashes, catching the way Satoru’s grin faltered into something rawer, his hand twitching toward my hair before he caught himself. 

 

My other hand never slowed, sliding over Suguru’s length with steady pressure, my thumb teasing at just the right spot at the tip of every stroke. 

 

“God, sweetheart…” Satoru’s voice cracked with that mix of disbelief and want that always made me feel like I’d stolen the ground out from under him. 

 

I let him slip free with a slow pull, my lips dragging before I turned my head toward Suguru. My hand on Satoru didn’t stop, didn’t even hesitate, as I leaned in and took Suguru into my mouth, tasting the difference instantly, and feeling a different kind of stretch. 

 

Suguru inhaled sharply through his nose, his hand lifting this time to thread into my hair with a quiet deliberation, not forcing but guiding just enough to tell me what he liked. 

 

I kept my eyes on him, letting my mouth work slowly and deeply while my hand on Satoru squeezed tighter, stroking him just the way I knew made his legs tense. 

 

It was deliberate, calculated, switching back after a moment, my mouth sealing around Satoru's cock again while my hand on Suguru stayed in perfect rhythm. The sounds between us blurred.. Satoru’s muffled groan, Suguru’s quiet exhale, the soft wet sound of my mouth moving, and the slight gagging when I'd try to take them too deep. Suguru enjoyed that sound more than he'd like to admit. 

 

They were both so close I could feel it in the way their muscles shifted under my hands, in the way their breathing lost its steady pace. And still, I didn’t stop looking up at them, trading my gaze back and forth between the bright chaos in Satoru’s eyes and the heavy, steady heat in Suguru’s. 

 

Suguru’s hand slid from my hair, curling instead around Satoru’s hip, pulling him in until their sides were flush. Satoru made a surprised noise, but he didn’t move away, instead, his arm came around Suguru’s waist in return, their bodies pressing together from shoulder to thigh. 

 

From where I was kneeling between them, the sight was enough to make my stomach tighten. That easy physicality between them had always been there, but now it was heavier, charged. They were close enough that I could feel the faint shift of their hips as they adjusted to the proximity, the heat radiating from both of them where they met. 

 

I shifted forward onto my knees, my hands finding both of them again. I let my fingers curl tight around the base of each, the warmth and weight of them solid in my grip, my saliva coating them, making them slick and easy to jerk off at a faster pace. I leaned in, tilting my head just enough to line them up in front of me. 

 

Their eyes stayed locked on me as I opened my mouth, pressing the tip of my tongue to the underside of one and then the other, until both rested against my lips. My jaw eased open wider, stretching slowly until I could take both tips into my mouth at the same time. 

 

The sound Satoru made was quiet but shaky, like he was trying not to let it slip out. Suguru didn’t say anything, which meant he was cataloging the sight, but the muscle in his jaw shifted as he exhaled through his nose, his gaze heavy on my face. 

 

It was a stretch, enough that I had to take it slow, my lips and tongue working carefully to keep them both in place. My spit began to pool at the corners of my mouth almost immediately, a warm, slick mess I didn’t bother trying to contain. I knew exactly what I looked like, on my knees, mouth full of both of their cocks, eyes flicking up just to watch the change in their faces. 

 

My hands moved in opposite rhythms, one stroking upward as the other pulled back, keeping them both in constant motion. I could feel them pulsing faintly against my tongue, and every shift in pressure or angle drew another quiet sound, another twitch of hips I could sense without looking. 

 

When I pulled back just far enough to breathe, there was a thin line of spit connecting us, catching the low light in the room. I didn’t wipe it away, just let it hang for a second before leaning in again, my tongue moving in slow, deliberate passes along the seam where they met before I took them both in once more. 

 

From above me, I could feel their focus narrowing in, could sense the way they were leaning just slightly toward me without even realizing it. Suguru’s hand slid to the back of Satoru’s neck, not pulling him closer but keeping him there, anchoring them together as they watched. 

 

It was messy, slow, deliberate, exactly how I wanted it. And judging by the weight of their stares, the way their breathing had shifted to something deeper and uneven, they wanted it exactly like this too. 

 

Suguru’s fingers curled around Satoru’s hip, tugging him closer if even possible, heat radiating between them. The sight alone nearly knocked the air out of me. Two of the strongest sorcerers in the world, standing there like that, close enough to feel each other breathe, eyes fixed on me like I was the center of gravity. 

 

I leaned in without hesitation, letting my lips part as I guided them both toward me once more. The stretch was obscene, my jaw working to accommodate them at once. The faintest shiver rolled through me at the weight of it, at the way their mixed scents and heat filled every inch of my mouth. Drool slipped down the corner of my lip, catching on my chin before sliding lower, and I didn’t bother wiping it away. 

 

Satoru’s breath hitched. “Fuck, sweetheart…” His voice was already frayed around the edges, his hand twitching against Suguru’s side like he was resisting the urge to bury his fingers in my hair. 

 

Suguru’s gaze was heavier, hungrier. “Messy already, love? Didn’t take much.” 

 

The mix of his sharpness and Satoru’s praise lit me up from the inside. I pulled back just far enough to run my tongue over both of them, my hands still stroking, never losing the rhythm. Then I dipped forward again, working them deep one at a time, first taking Satoru until he let out a low, stifled groan, then Suguru until his shoulders rolled in quiet satisfaction. My lips tingled, my throat burned, but the sound of their reactions kept me chasing more. 

 

“Look at her, Suguru,” Satoru murmured, voice low enough that it was meant for him but loud enough for me to hear. “She’s perfect.” 

 

Suguru’s smirk was subtle, almost hidden in the way his jaw tightened. “She’s trying to be,” he said, voice dropping into that dangerous calm. “Work harder, baby. I want you to feel it tomorrow.” 

 

The words made me gasp around him, and I felt my own excitement drip down the inside of my thigh, hot and unignorable. They saw it too, Suguru’s eyes flicked down, Satoru’s went wide, both of them feeding off it. 

 

The room felt too small, too warm. I couldn’t decide which of them to hold onto longer, so I didn’t, switching back and forth, tasting them, making sure my hands and mouth never stopped moving.  They’d taken over my entire focus, my own pulse thrumming in my ears louder than anything else. 

 

Suguru let out a quiet chuckle above me, his tone curling into something darker. “Careful, love. You keep looking up at us like that, we’ll never let you up again.” 

 

Satoru’s fingers brushed my jaw in contrast, gentle where Suguru was sharp. “You’re doing so good for us, sweets. So, soooo fucking good.” 

 

The praise made me hum against them without thinking, the vibration drawing two very different reactions, Satoru’s breath caught hard, Suguru’s hand tightened on his hip. I couldn’t help it; I wanted them both right there, lost in the way I was losing myself in them. 

 

Suguru always lasted longer. Always. 

 

It wasn’t because Satoru couldn’t hold it, he could, if he wanted to. But Gojo burned through control faster, rode the high harder, like he was addicted to the edge and didn’t care about pacing. Suguru, though… he could drag a moment out until your bones ached for it. 

 

Which was exactly why I focused on him first. 

 

I shifted my hand on him, tightening just enough to make him grunt, while my mouth worked over Satoru, deep, fast, letting my tongue flick in a way I knew would make his hips twitch. I could feel Suguru’s patience slipping, his body shifting forward the tiniest bit, that faint tremor in his thighs telling me I had him. 

 

Satoru groaned above me, his tone breathless but still boyish. “God, sweetheart… you’re gonna make me-” 

 

“Not yet,” Suguru cut in smoothly, voice a knife at my ear. His hips rolled slow against my palm, deliberate, making me feel every inch of his weight there. “She knows better than that.” 

 

I swallowed around Satoru and hummed low, keeping my eyes up on Suguru as I pulled back, spit stringing between my lips and his tip. His mouth twitched, half a smirk, half a warning. I gave him exactly what he wanted: focus. 

 

Switching, I took him deep until my throat ached, my hand sliding my slick along Satoru at the same time. They were both throbbing under my touch, both breathing harder, both reacting to me in completely different ways. 

 

“Good girl,” Satoru murmured, brushing his knuckles along my cheek. His voice softened like I was something fragile, even with the heat building in him. “You’re so perfect for us, you know that?” 

 

Suguru’s reply overlapped his, a low rasp that made my stomach flip. “Pathetic little thing, dripping all over the floor like that. You like being on your knees for us that much?” 

 

I did. God help me, I did. My thighs pressed together reflexively, but it didn’t help, my own arousal was already slick against my skin, and I knew they could both see it from where they stood. 

 

Satoru’s gaze dropped, and his breath caught in a laugh that was more of a groan. “Oh, that’s filthy. You’re making a mess, sweets.” 

 

“Keep going,” Suguru ordered, his tone cutting and precise. His hand came down to the back of my neck, not forcing, but holding me there just enough to remind me he could. “Make it worth it.” 

 

My head was swimming with it, their voices, the heat, the way their hips moved toward me without coordination but still somehow in sync. I worked them faster now, taking Suguru deep and pulling back to taste Satoru, then switching before either could lose too much control. 

 

I could feel it when Suguru got close, his breath came heavier, his grip on my neck tightening fractionally. I pushed him right to the brink before letting my mouth fall away from him and focusing on Satoru. My hand stayed on Suguru, pumping in a rhythm I knew he couldn’t ignore, while my mouth worked Satoru deep enough to make his knees shift. 

 

“Fuck, sweetheart-” Satoru’s voice cracked, and his head tipped back. 

 

“Don’t you dare finish before me,” Suguru growled at him, but his voice was strained now, his control unraveling. 

 

I worked them both in tandem, my hands slick, my mouth full, my pulse so loud I barely registered my own breathing. Their bodies tensed above me, each on that knife-edge, and I doubled down, tongue swirling, hands squeezing, every movement timed to push them over together. 

 

When it hit, it was almost at the same time, Suguru’s low, guttural sound breaking through first, Satoru’s sharp gasp right after. I pulled back just enough for both of them to spill hot ropes across my lips, my chin, streaking my skin and chest in uneven warmth of their cum. 

 

Suguru’s hand stayed on my neck until he was done, his thumb stroking lazily over my pulse like he was claiming it, using his free hand to help me jerk him off a little more to cover me in more cum. Satoru bent slightly, his hand cupping my jaw as he looked down at me with something almost reverent in his eyes. 

 

“Look at you,” Satoru murmured, voice thick. “So fucking beautiful like this.” 

 

Suguru’s gaze dragged over me, lingering on the floor beneath me where my own mess had spread in a glistening patch. “You’re disgusting,” he said, but the smirk curling at the corner of his mouth was all pride. 

 

And I couldn’t stop the smile that broke over my own lips, even as my chest heaved for air. 

 

Satoru didn’t waste a second. 

 

The moment I sat back on my heels, catching my breath, he was already kneeling in front of me, hands bracketing my thighs. He dipped his head without a word, dragging his tongue slowly up the curve of my breast, licking the cum off my skin before chasing a stray drop down my stomach. The warmth of him, the ridiculous tenderness of it, made my cheeks flush even hotter. 

 

“Of course you’d go straight for it,” Suguru drawled from behind him, his voice low with amusement. “No shame. You look like a starving dog.” 

 

Satoru laughed into my skin, the sound vibrating through me. “What, jealous?” He glanced up at him with a smirk before going right back to lapping at me like I was his favorite sweet. 

 

“Hardly,” Suguru shot back, though the edge in his voice made me think he liked watching just as much as he liked mocking. “Someone has to keep you from drowning her in that mouth of yours.” 

 

“I think I can survive him,” I breathed, my fingers sliding into Satoru’s hair. He grinned up at me like I’d just given him a medal, then sucked one last drop off the swell of my breast before leaning back on his heels. 

 

Suguru stepped forward then, catching my chin in his hand and tilting my face toward him. “Bed,” he said simply. Not unkind, but in that tone that left no room for argument. 

 

Satoru didn’t even pretend to resist, he took my hand, tugging me toward the mattress with an eagerness that made me laugh under my breath. Before I could even climb up, Suguru caught my wrist and gave it a quick tug. 

 

“We’re switching this time,” he said, eyes flicking between me and Satoru like he was setting the terms of a deal. “I’m bending you over, and you’re going to keep putting that mouth to use. Good thing you can heal lockjaw~” 

 

I arched a brow, heat curling in my stomach at the way his voice went a little rough on the last words. Satoru, though, Satoru’s eyes lit up like a kid being told he could eat dessert first. 

 

“Yes, please,” he said immediately, already sprawling back on the bed like he’d been waiting all day for this. His lean frame stretched out completely naked, his erection already starting to grow again, making my mouth water. He propped himself up on his elbows to watch as Suguru maneuvered me into place. 

 

I crawled toward him, my knees sinking into the mattress, but before I could get close enough, I felt Suguru’s hands on my hips, steady, warm, and grounding. He guided me down until my elbows rested on the bed, arching my back just enough that I knew exactly what he wanted. 

 

The first brush of his fingers on my clit stole my breath. He didn’t rush, tracing along the slick heat there before sliding two fingers inside me with ease, causing me to bite my lip. 

 

“Already this wet for me,” he murmured, the words low and smug right against my ear. “Didn’t take much, did it?” 

 

"Mmmmhhhmmmm...." was all I was able to get out. 

 

Satoru was in front of me, grinning like I was the only thing in the world he wanted. He sat up a little as I leaned in, pressing soft kisses along the inside of his thighs, dragging my lips higher each time until I could feel him twitch against my lips. 

 

Suguru’s mouth replaced his fingers without warning, his tongue dragging hot over me, making my knees threaten to give out. The combination, the heat of him behind me, the smell and sight of Satoru in front of me, made my pulse roar in my ears. 

 

“God, sweetheart…” Satoru’s voice dropped, a low, almost reverent sound as my mouth brushed teasingly across his length. “You’re really gonna make me lose it already.” 

 

“Better hold out,” Suguru said between slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue. The vibration of his voice through me made my fingers curl into the bedding. “She’s got work to do.” 

 

I slipped my hands up Satoru’s thighs, feeling the muscles flex under my palms. The sound he made when I wrapped my hand around him was nearly as good as the way Suguru groaned against me from behind. I stroked him slowly at first, dragging my tongue along the length before taking him in fully, savoring the way his breath hitched. 

 

"Fuuuuuuccck.... I could fuck your mouth for forever.... fuck the way you- hhmmm -swallow around me..." Satoru moaned out. 

 

Behind me, Suguru’s pace shifted, his tongue shoving inside me while his fingers kept working at my clit. It was like he was pushing me to focus and distracting me all at once. 

 

I moaned around Satoru without meaning to, the sound making him buck slightly into my mouth. 

 

“Fuck- do that again,” he gasped, his hand coming to rest gently on the back of my head. Not forcing, just there. “Feels sooooo good, sweets.” 

 

“Keep your head still,” Suguru told me, rolling his fingers in a way that made my hips jolt. “Let him move if he wants it.” 

 

I obeyed, letting Satoru’s hips guide the pace while I kept the seal of my lips tight around his cock. Every time I moaned from what Suguru was doing to me, Satoru shuddered, his breath catching. 

 

It was dizzying, being between them like this, every nerve lit, every sense pulled in two directions. Satoru’s praise washed over me like warmth, Suguru’s control grounded me like steel. 

 

And I didn’t want either to stop, if anything I wanted so much more. 

 

Suguru’s fingers slipped away, the wet heat he’d been working me open with replaced by the slow drag of him lining himself up. My pulse jumped hard enough that I could feel it in my throat. 

 

“Breathe, love,” he murmured, one hand sliding up my spine in a steadying touch. “And take your mouth off Satoru for a second.” 

 

I pulled back, lips glistening, looking over my shoulder in confusion. “Why-?” 

 

His mouth curved, sharp and knowing. “So you can actually breathe through what I’m about to do.” 

 

That… made my stomach flip in a way I wasn’t ready for. He’d been careful with me every other time, even when he was bossy about it, but I remembered the last time I’d told him, in a quiet moment, that maybe I wanted to see what the rougher side of him felt like. 

 

Apparently, tonight was the night. 

 

My fingers clenched into Satoru’s thighs. “Suguru-” 

 

“No running~” he said simply, voice like silk over steel. 

 

And then he pushed in, all at once. 

 

The stretch stole every bit of air from my lungs in one hot, dizzy rush. It was too much and exactly enough, my nails dug into Satoru, my back arching instinctively. Satoru being a masochist started rubbing himself as I was hurting him, moaning just as loud as I was. 

 

“Oh my god-” The sound broke off into a sharp, high-pitched squeal before I could stop it. 

 

Behind me, Suguru’s laugh was low and pleased. “There it is.” 

 

In front of me, Satoru’s grin cracked wide, his cheeks already pink from watching. “Sweetheart-” He actually snorted, leaning down toward my face. “You just squeaked.” 

 

I dropped my head in embarrassment, which only made them both laugh harder. 

 

“Shut up,” I mumbled into Satoru, but my voice came out thin and breathless. 

 

Satoru reached down, threading his fingers into my hair and tilting my face back toward him. “C’mere,” he said gently, though the excitement flickering in his eyes gave him away. 

 

I let him guide me forward, still reeling from the fullness of Suguru behind me, until the tip of his cock brushed my lips. My mouth fell open automatically, and Satoru wasted no time in easing himself past them, sighing out a soft, “God, yes… keep gripping me like that..” 

 

Suguru shifted behind me, drawing his hips back only to slam them forward again. The force rocked me toward Satoru, making me take him deeper than I expected. I choked around him, heat flaring in my cheeks. 

 

“That’s it,” Suguru said, his tone bordering on wicked. “Keep her steady for me, Satoru.” 

 

“I can do that,” Satoru said instantly, one large hand cradling the back of my head. He didn’t force, he never did on purpose, but he held me right where he wanted me, letting Suguru’s rhythm dictate how far I took him. 

 

The push and pull between them was dizzying. Every time Suguru drove in, it shoved me deeper onto Satoru, the sound of my muffled moans vibrating around him. Every retreat gave me a breath of air, only for the next thrust to steal it away again. 

 

I could feel Suguru’s hand wrap around my hip, gripping hard enough to anchor me, the warmth of his skin a counterpoint to the rough drag of him inside me. 

 

“You’re taking it so fucking well,” he murmured like a reward, the words sinking into my bones. “Knew you could.” 

 

“She’s so good for us,” Satoru added, his voice breaking on a soft groan when I swirled my tongue along him just to feel him twitch. “Look at her, Sugu- ff- fuck- she’s perfect.” 

 

“Perfect,” Suguru agreed, though his tone was edged with something darker, hungrier. 

 

It was too much and not enough, every nerve firing, every breath caught between them. The rhythm built until my body trembled from the force of it, digging my nails into Satoru as I tried to hold myself together. 

 

I didn’t want them to slow down. Not even a little. 

 

Suguru’s grip tightened on my hip, and the next thrust was harder, sharper. My arms buckled for a second, forcing more of Satoru into my mouth, and I heard both of them react, Suguru with a pleased hum, Satoru with a choked, “Oh, fuck-” 

 

“Still breathing there, love?” Suguru’s voice was deep, amused, like he already knew I couldn’t quite form words. 

 

I made a sound around Satoru that could’ve been yes, could’ve been please, could’ve been don’t stop. 

 

“Greedy,” Suguru drawled, his hand sliding from my hip to press between my shoulder blades, keeping me right where he wanted me. “Can’t even decide who you want more, can you?” 

 

The words made heat shoot down my spine. I shook my head, not in denial but in a helpless kind of agreement, because he was right, I didn’t want to choose. I wanted both, I wanted them both so bad and they knew it. 

 

Satoru’s fingers flexed in my hair, his breath hitching every time my tongue curled around him. “She’s perfect like this,” he said, his voice cracking into something filthy-soft. “Pretty mouth, pretty sounds, God, Amara, you’re making me feel so good.” 

 

“Listen to him,” Suguru said, voice dropping lower, rougher. “He’s already half-gone from you.” Another thrust, deep enough to make my eyes roll, had him chuckling. “Bet you’re soaking the sheets, too. Making a mess just from being used.” 

 

I let out a noise that was definitely agreement, and Satoru groaned at the vibration of it. 

 

“Shit- yeah, do that again,” he said, eyes locked on mine. He was flushed, lips parted, his usual smugness traded for something more raw. 

 

Suguru’s pace picked up, and I could feel him watching us, his breaths heavier now. “You hear yourself? You’re loud for me, love.” His words were a little mean, a little mocking. “Can’t hide it, can you?” 

 

I shook my head again, jaw aching in the best way from taking Satoru this long. 

 

“That’s it,” Satoru murmured, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth like he couldn’t get enough of touching me. “God, you look so good between us, so fucking good.” 

 

Suguru laughed quietly, low and approving, before leaning forward just enough that his voice was right at my ear. “Don’t you dare stop.” 

 

Like I could and fuck did I love not having the choice. 

 

Every push from behind drove me forward into Satoru’s lap, my lips sliding down to take him as deep as I could before pulling back just enough to suck, my tongue teasing the underside. Every pull forward from Satoru’s hand lined me up for Suguru’s next thrust, the motion rocking me between them until all I could do was hang on and give them what they wanted. 

 

The air was thick with our sounds, Suguru’s measured breaths slipping into gritted moans, Satoru’s shameless gasps and praises tumbling out with no filter. 

 

And underneath it, the steady thud of my heartbeat in my ears. The heat coiling low in my stomach. The way my thighs trembled from the force of Suguru’s pace. The disgusting sounds of wet flesh on flesh. My gagging and choking. 

 

I wasn’t sure which of them I’d push over first. I just knew I wanted to take them both there until they were done with me. 

 

Suguru’s thrusts were coming harder now, sharper, his fingers digging into my hips like he was determined to leave me feeling it tomorrow. 

 

“You’re filthy for us, love,” he rasped, his voice low and cutting through the haze in my head. “Drooling all over him while I fuck you- look at the mess you’re making.” 

 

I couldn’t look, not without falling apart completely, but Satoru was already groaning at his words, his hips twitching up into my mouth. 

 

“Don’t- don’t say it like that, I’m- fuck-” Satoru’s voice cracked, his fingers flexing in my hair, but he didn’t pull me off. “God, she’s perfect. Just like that, sweetheart, you’re so good for me- fuck fuck fuck! Grip harder! Hurt me so fucking good!” 

 

I gripped hard enough that I heard him groan loudly. The mix of his breathless praise and Suguru’s sharp, knowing tone was wrecking me. I could feel how obvious my own arousal was, the heat in my cheeks, the ache between my legs. My thighs were just covered. 

 

Suguru’s grip shifted, one hand at the back of my neck, the other at my hip, and his pace went from rough to relentless. “Taking it all, aren’t you? You like being passed between us like this, used like you were made for it.” 

 

Satoru’s groan hitched into a laugh, breathless and messy. “She was made for it- look at her, Suguru. Fuck, look at her-” 

 

I was drooling now, shameless, saliva slicking my chin as my lips stretched around him. It dripped down over my hand where I still stroked him between thrusts, the wet sounds making Satoru’s thighs tense under me. 

 

He suddenly tightened his grip and pulled me up, my lips slipping free with a wet gasp I couldn’t hold back. I was a noisy, panting mess, my chest heaving, eyes glassy. 

 

“Breathe, sweetheart,” Satoru said, brushing a thumb over my swollen bottom lip like he was both teasing and checking on me. “You’re all fucked out already and we’re not even close.” 

 

A shaky laugh left me, and before I could answer, he was guiding me right back down onto him, his other hand threading into my hair. 

 

Suguru groaned at the sight, his thrusts picking up again. “That’s it. Take him while I ruin you.” 

 

I could feel it building, tight and hot and inevitable, curling up my spine with every sharp push of Suguru’s hips and every low, filthy word falling from Satoru’s mouth above me. 

 

“Almost there, sweetheart,” Satoru groaned, his hand pressing me down a little harder on him. “You’re so fucking good like this, I could keep you here all night just cumming over and over again.” 

 

Suguru’s breath was heavier now, his rhythm starting to lose that perfect control he always kept. “She’s close. I can feel it- fuuuuck- you gonna cum for us, love? All messy with his cock in your mouth while I fuck you stupid?” 

 

The way his voice dropped made my knees tremble. I moaned around Satoru, the sound muffled but enough to make him buck under me, a curse falling from his lips. 

 

“That’s it-” Satoru’s tone was breaking, that telltale crack that meant he was right there with me. “You’re perfect, baby, just like that- don’t you stop.” 

 

Suguru’s thrusts grew rougher, almost desperate, his grip bruising on my hips. “Cum for us, Amara. I want to feel you fall apart, show us how much you fucking love this.” 

 

It hit me like a wave, sharp and loud, my whole body clenching around Suguru as a cry tore out of me, muffled by Satoru still filling my mouth. My nails dug into both of them without thinking. 

 

The second I broke, they followed, Satoru groaning deep and raw as he spilled down my throat. Suguru’s hips drove forward one last time with a harsh, low sound as he finished inside me. I could feel his hot cum coating my insides. 

 

It was messy and hot and so much...their voices, their hands, the taste of Satoru on my tongue, and the deep, pulsing heat from Suguru, the aftershocks making me shake between them. 

 

For a long moment, none of us moved, just breathing hard, the air heavy and warm. Satoru’s hand stayed in my hair, gentle now, while Suguru’s grip softened against my hips, both of them still holding me like they weren’t ready to let go yet. 

 

They both eased back from me at the same time, movements slow now that the sharp edge had burned off. Suguru slipped out of me and I felt his warm cum leak down, the sudden absence making me shiver. He stayed there for a moment, looking down at the mess he’d made like it was something he’d crafted. His palm traced the inside of my thigh, slow and warm, his voice dipping back into that deep, even register that always came out when he’d gotten what he wanted. 

 

“Look at you,” he murmured, almost to himself. “A goddamn work of art.” His thumb brushed along my skin, collecting a streak before wiping it away gently. “You took all of it to the point you couldn't fit anymore... Good girl.” 

 

From in front of me, Satoru tipped my chin up with one long finger, his grin lazy and smug. “And you didn’t waste a drop.” He tapped the corner of my mouth lightly. “Swallowed every bit like you were born for it. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.” 

 

I laughed a little, breath still ragged, trying to sit up without my legs giving out. Satoru leaned in to kiss me quickly before falling back on the bed with a satisfied sigh.

 

Suguru’s hands were already moving over me, steady and deliberate, switching gears into that sweet, careful version of him that always came out after he’d been rough. He reached for a towel from the nightstand, his touch tender as he cleaned me up between my thighs, not missing the little shivers that still ran through me. “Easy, love,” he murmured. “You’re all wound up still.”

 

He wiped his hands, then shifted to Satoru, tossing another towel at him without breaking his rhythm on me. “Sit up,” he told him.

 

Satoru groaned but did as he was told, even letting Suguru wipe his stomach and hips without complaint. “Man, you’re bossy,” he said, though the faint smile gave him away.

 

“I’m thorough,” Suguru corrected, voice flat but with the faintest upward curl.

 

Once they were both taken care of, I sank back onto the bed, muscles boneless, letting the warmth of the afterglow settle into my chest.

 

Satoru glanced at me, then at the bedspread, one brow lifting. “Hey,” he said suddenly, “you kept the bed clean this time.”

 

“Didn’t know that was an achievement,” I muttered, still catching my breath.

 

“It is when it’s my bed,” he shot back, looking far too pleased with himself. “Proud of you, sweets-” He stopped mid-thought, leaning over the side and peering at the floor. “-oh.”

 

“Oh?” Suguru’s voice was dry.

 

Satoru’s grin spread, teeth flashing. “You made a mess on my floor, though. Right where you were on your knees.”

 

I covered my face with both hands, groaning. “You’re unbelievable.”

 

Suguru didn’t miss a beat. “Clean it up.”

 

Satoru glanced at him, still grinning. “Kinda wanna leave it there. As, you know, a memento.”

 

“Disgusting,” Suguru deadpanned, throwing the damp towel at his chest. “You’re cleaning it.”

 

Satoru caught it, tossed it on the floor without looking, and sprawled back beside me, still laughing under his breath. “Worth it.”

 

Suguru just shook his head, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like hopeless as he stretched out on my other side. His arm slid under me, pulling me close until I was tucked between them, their warmth boxing me in, the faint scent of sweat and soap in the air.

 

The mess, the teasing, the ridiculousness, it all faded into that soft, heavy quiet that only came after the three of us had burned through every bit of energy and still found a way to fit together perfectly.

Chapter 91: Inheritance

YEARS LATER

 

Gojo found us in the faculty lounge.

 

Not the official one with the little nameplates on the lockers and a coffee machine that barely worked- the unofficial one. The one that was really just an unused mission planning room Suguru had claimed because the lighting was better, the couch didn’t smell like mildew, and there was a window you could actually open without ripping the frame out of the wall. We had slowly claimed it, adding our own coffee machine, decorations, blankets, books. A home inside a cage.

 

Suguru was on that couch now, legs stretched out, reading a report with scrunched eyebrows. I was at the table with my laptop open, pretending to handle paperwork but mostly just reorganizing student schedules for the fifth time because some of these kids had no concept of pacing their cursed technique training.

 

The door banged open without warning, which meant it was Gojo. Only he treated doors like an inconvenience.

 

“You two,” he said, pointing at us like he was accusing us of something. “Get up. Field trip.”

 

I blinked. “We’re working.”

 

Suguru didn’t even look up. “You’re working,” he corrected, flipping a page. "I'm just getting aggravated at this point.."

 

Gojo strode in, plopping himself onto the edge of the table. “There’s something important I need to do. And I want both of you there for it.”

 

That got Suguru’s eyes up. Not because Gojo wanted us there, he always wanted us there, but because of the way he’d said important. There was a certain tightness in his voice that he rarely let slip through unless something mattered enough to him that even he couldn’t hide it.

 

“What’s the mission?” Suguru asked.

 

Gojo leaned back on his hands. “Not exactly a mission. More like… recruitment.”

 

That got my attention. “For the school?”

 

“Mm-hm.” His mouth curled at the corner. “Kid’s name is Megumi. Megumi Fushiguro.”

 

I felt my shoulders stiffen before I could stop it. That last name wasn’t just familiar- it still carried the weight of blood, steel, and a nearly fatal memory of a man who changed our entire lives.

 

I wasn’t the only one who caught it. Suguru’s brow arched just slightly. “Any relation?”

 

“Oh yeah.” Gojo’s tone was casual, but the look he flicked at me was anything but. “His dad.”

 

I let out a slow breath. “Toji?”

 

“The one and only,” Gojo said. “Don’t worry, he doesn't seem to be anything like his father, not if I can help it. But the Zen’in clan’s sniffing around, and if they get their hands on the kid…” He let the thought hang in the air, heavy and obvious.

 

Suguru’s eyes narrowed. “What’s the situation?”

 

“Megumi’s ten. Has an older sister, Tsumiki. She’s not blood-related to Toji. He’s been living in the city with her. He’s got inherited technique potential, Ten Shadows. If the Zen’in get him, he won’t just lose Tsumiki, they’ll chew him up and spit him out until there’s nothing left but a weapon with their name stamped on it. You've seen how the Zen’in work. I want to avoid that.”

 

That familiar twist of anger curled in my gut. The Zen’in clan were vultures at the best of times.

 

“So what’s our play?” Suguru asked.

 

“I give him the choice,” Gojo said simply. “Jujutsu High, or the Zen’in clan. But I’m not letting him walk into their hands without knowing exactly what he’s trading.”

 

“And if he’s a brat about it?” I asked.

 

Gojo’s grin sharpened. “Then I’ll just out-brat him.”

 

I raised a brow at him from where I was sitting cross-legged on the table. “You’re going to out-brat a ten-year-old?”

 

“Sweetheart, please,” he said, tugging his blindfold up just enough to wink. “I’ve out-bratted Elders older than the dirt they walk on. Kid doesn’t stand a chance.”

 

Suguru, leaning back with his ankles crossed, gave a long, slow blink. “You’re not worried he might remind you of his father?”

 

That took a fraction of the shine out of Gojo’s smirk, but only for a heartbeat. “If he does, it won’t be in the ways that matter. He's only a kid and as much as that man still urks me even in death, that kid isn't his father and hopefully never will be.”

 

I glanced between them, feeling that old ripple in my chest, the one that came whenever Toji’s name made its way into the air between us. I still remember the way his shadow had looked over me on the ground, how close I’d come to not walking away at all. We all lived it. Gojo… well, Gojo had ended it.

 

Not that he ever talked about it much, except in that half-offhand way he handled most of the things that might’ve killed him.

 

“Where is he now?” I asked.

 

“Park in the city,” Gojo said, pushing off the table. “I’ve already scoped him out. Sister’s at school for the day, so it’s just him. Figured it’d be better to talk without her there, she’s not part of this world, and I’m not about to drag her into it if I don’t have to.”

 

Suguru stood, brushing invisible dust from his black slacks. “You want him at the school.”

 

“I want him with me,” Gojo corrected. “If the Zen’in get him, they’ll strip every last bit of his life down to the technique and wear him out before he’s even old enough to know what he’s lost. They'll practically make another Toji. That’s not happening.”

 

There was no brag in his voice this time, no joking lilt. Just cold certainty.

 

---

 

The city air was brisk when we got there, that early-spring chill that seeps through your clothes if you stand still too long. Gojo led the way through the park like he already had the place mapped, and I guessed he probably did.

 

“Dark hair, spiky, permanent frown,” he murmured as we rounded a corner. “Looks like he’s already unimpressed with the world.”

 

I spotted him first, perched on a low retaining wall by the park’s cracked fountain, hands jammed into his pockets. He watched people, not the pigeons. Eyes sharp. Jaw set. Like he was already unimpressed by anything that took more than one glance to sum up.

 

Gojo slowed a step beside me, then peeled off his blindfold and looped it around his wrist as if to make a point. “Megumi Fushiguro?” he called, tone easy.

 

The kid looked up at him and Gojo’s face shifted. Just a flicker, like a card turned over so fast you only catch the edge. Shock, grief, recognition. All three. The air pulled tight for half a heartbeat.

 

“What’s wrong with your face?” the boy asked flatly. “You look like a freak.”

 

Suguru leaned in to me, not bothering to hide his smile. I bit mine down and failed.

 

Gojo blinked, schooling his expression into something bright and lazy. “Rude. I’m gorgeous. I just-” His mouth twitched, then steadied. “You really look like him is all..”

 

Megumi didn’t blink. “Huh?”

 

“Nothing, it's a me issue,” Gojo said, just as even.

 

A moment stretched there, thin as wire. The breeze rattled the dead leaves clinging to the winter-burned hedge. My chest did that ugly twist it always did when Toji scraped across memory, the flash of steel, the rank smell of gun powder, Suguru’s breath hitching near my ear as we both bled and Gojo was somewhere else... I let it pass through me and out. Trying to let the memories come and go instead of sending me into a spiral.

 

“Anyway,” Gojo continued, lightness snapping back into his voice like a rubber band, “introductions. I’m Gojo Satoru.” He tipped two fingers off his temple. “This is Geto Suguru. And this is Amara Hoshizuki.”

 

Megumi slid his eyes over us like he was flipping through a catalog and didn’t like the prices. “You’re tall,” he told Satoru.

 

“And you’re short.” Gojo crouched until they were eye-level. “Balance is important.”

 

Megumi’s mouth ticked downward, which I think was his version of a smile. He looked at me next, and I gave him a small nod that said both hello and I see you, even if you’re trying not to be seen. He didn’t nod back. He didn’t look away either.

 

“We’re here to give you a choice,” Suguru said, smooth as river stone. He always pitched his voice a little lower with kids, softer, steadier. “Two, actually.”

 

Megumi’s chin tilted a notch. “Let me guess. Both suck.”

 

“Well, one sucks less,” I said.

 

Gojo’s eyes crinkled. “Look, so about your dad, he's from this big shot Jujutsu sorcerer family and frankly they're a bunch of scumbags. So your dad left and had little ol you. But since you come from that bloodline now you’re one of the few people that can see things that no one else can. Crazy, I know." 

 

As Gojo talks Megumi is just taking in all this information with a blank stare. But Gojo keeps talking.

 

"I'm sure you've noticed the power within yourself too. Well, this Zen’in clan just loves strong power and strong power exists within you. Most show potential around your age and younger so this is the perfect time to sell off a kid! Uh- which your father did. So- about that dad of yours-"

 

Gojo is cut off by Megumi. "I don't care. I have no interest in anything about him. It's been so long I don't even know what he looks like."

 

That shocked Gojo a little.

 

Megumi toed a chip in the concrete with the edge of his sneaker. “Tsumiki’s parents still haven’t come back.” The words came out flat, matter-of-fact, like he’d practiced making them sound not like abandonment. “She’s been… taking care of things. Guess they left too like everyone else. Probably living a better life without us.”

 

"Damn.." I mumbled under my breath. 

 

I related to Megumi more than I thought I would. Both forced to grow up too fast with a family that thought they'd be better off without us or that we'd be better off without them..

 

"Well, since you're so smart, let's move onto those options, yeah?" Gojo stood back up and stretched out a little.

 

"Option A: You join the Zen’in clan. They’ll train you, feed you, and turn you into a very pretty and useful knife. You’ll probably survive. You won’t be happy.” He didn’t sugarcoat it anything. “Option B: You come with us to Tokyo Jujutsu High. We train you. You still become a knife, but we teach you to choose when to cut.”

 

Megumi absorbed that without flinching. “What about my sister?”

 

There it was, the real question. Not him. Not power. Not pride. Her.

 

“If you go to the clan,” Gojo said, “they will separate you two. Immediately. They’ll decide when you see her and for how long if at all. I doubt they'll even tell you where she is.” He didn’t blink when he said it. He didn’t soften it. I felt a thread of relief tug free in my chest.

 

“And if I go with you?” It wasn’t hope in Megumi’s voice. It was an audit.

 

“Then I’ll take guardianship,” Gojo answered, quick, like he’d already filed the forms in his head. “I’ll make sure Tsumiki’s at a good school with a safe dorm. You can see her whenever you want. She just can’t live on campus with you. Too dangerous.” He paused, then added, like it was a promise, “I don’t separate people who love each other.”

 

Something flickered behind the boy’s eyes. Not trust. Not yet. The shape of it, though.

 

Megumi’s gaze cut to him, then back to Gojo. “Could we be… happy at the clan?”

 

Gojo didn’t even let the question finish forming. “No. Not a chance.”

 

Megumi’s brows twitched. He took that in. Then he asked, “Would we be happy with you?”

 

“Not every day,” I said, before Gojo could perform. “It’s not a happy job. But you won’t be alone. And no one will take her from you.”

 

He looked at me properly then. His shoulders dropped a millimeter.

 

“What do you get?” he asked, eyes back on Gojo like a negotiation was only fair if everyone admitted the price.

 

“Headaches,” Gojo said cheerfully. “And a student who’ll make the Zen’in gnash their teeth until they need dentures by thirty. That’s payment enough.”

 

A small gust tugged at Megumi’s spiky hair. He glanced past us toward the far end of the park where the street carved a noise through bare trees. I could pick out the shapes of curses he could feel, draped like soot in the branches, curious about the four little suns on the path.

 

“Okay,” he said finally, like he’d landed the same place we’d been guiding him for the last five minutes anyway. “I’ll go with you.”

 

Satoru didn’t grin. Not big, anyway. He just lifted a hand and ruffled the kid’s hair once, quick, like he couldn’t help himself and then he remembered he wasn’t supposed to touch without permission. “Good choice.”

 

Megumi scowled and smoothed it down with both palms like Satoru had personally insulted each strand. “Don’t do that.”

 

“What, this?” Gojo reached as if to ruffle again, then tucked his hand back in his pocket when Megumi’s eyes flashed dagger-bright. “Noted.”

 

“When do we leave?” Megumi asked.

 

“Later in the week,” Suguru said. “We still have to get everything set up properly even if Gojo likes to rush into things. Is Tsumiki at school until evening?”

 

He nodded. “She’s got club.”

 

“We can talk to her after,” I said. “Tell her what you chose. We can come by with food.” It came out of me before I planned it, old habit, triage, stabilize the people that the system forgets to care for.

 

Megumi squinted at me, suspicious. “You’re weird.”

 

“Accurate,” I said, deadpan. “Come on, weird recognizes weird.”

 

That got him again; it was quick, but the corner of his mouth gave up a fraction. He slid off the wall and he stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets and fell into step at Gojo’s side.

 

We crossed the park like that, Satoru long strides half-checked to match smaller ones, Suguru a shadow’s distance behind, me matching Megumi’s rhythm rather than Satoru’s. People’s heads turned, because they always do when Gojo is in a radius, but Megumi didn’t look. He walked like someone who had learned that the safest way through a crowd is to become an uninteresting object.

 

“You have Shikigami,” Suguru said after we’d gone a block, not a question but almost an invitation.

 

Megumi didn’t look up. “I can call dogs.”

 

“Good,” Suguru said. “We’ll start with them.”

 

“You’re going to make him summon them on day one?” Gojo asked without looking away from the crosswalk.

 

“On day zero,” Suguru said. “Not for fighting. For walking home with him at night.”

 

Megumi’s head angled, just enough to show he’d heard, that he was filing it somewhere.

 

Gojo glanced down at him. “By the way, you can call me Satoru.”

 

Megumi didn’t miss a beat. “No.”

 

“Satoru-sensei?”

 

“No.”

 

“Handsome genius?”

 

“No.”

 

“Dad?” Gojo tried, beaming.

 

Megumi stopped dead. “Absolutely not.”

 

I snorted so hard a nearby pigeon hopped sideways.

 

“Fine,” Gojo said, unoffended. “Gojo-sensei.”

 

Megumi’s silence wasn’t a yes exactly, but it was close. He started walking again.

 

We took the long way to his apartment because Gojo insisted on stopping at a convenience store, then a different convenience store because the first one “had unworthy onigiri,” and then a third because “that one had the good melon soda.” By the second stop Megumi pegged what was happening and leaned against the fridge case while Satoru debated chip flavors with himself.

 

“You’re stalling,” he said.

 

Gojo opened his mouth like he was going to lie, then closed it. “A little.”

 

Megumi’s eyes narrowed, the way a cat might squint at something suspicious on its territory.

“So… this is about that Zen’in clan thing, isn’t it?”

 

Gojo rocked back on his heels, hands in his pockets, giving the kind of lazy smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

 

“That’s part of it,” he admitted. “But don’t get hung up on the details, kid. I’ll take care of everything. You won’t have to worry about it.”

 

“That’s not really an answer,” Megumi muttered, scuffing his sneaker against the wall he’d been perched on. He looked away, clearly annoyed.

 

Behind me, Suguru’s mouth curved in the faintest smirk, and I could feel his quiet amusement pressing against my awareness like a soft hum of cursed energy. Gojo always underestimated how transparent he was with kids who were smart enough to see through him. And Megumi… he was sharp.

 

Gojo only hummed, unfazed. “You’ll understand once you’re older.”

 

“Mm.” Megumi clearly didn’t like that answer at all. His little jaw tightened, his brows pulling together in a stubborn line, but he didn’t argue outright.

 

We fell into a slow walk after that. The late spring air had that faint, green smell to it, all grass and warm concrete, the sun spilling gold over the rooftops. Suguru drifted to Megumi’s other side, hands tucked into his black coat, his gaze watchful but not intrusive.

 

I brought up the rear, keeping an eye on both of them, not because I thought Gojo couldn’t handle himself, but because there was something about Megumi’s quiet that felt loaded. A kid that age should have been more obvious in his emotions. Instead, he was carefully folded up, the way I used to be.

 

It wasn’t long before we turned down a narrow residential street and spotted the small, weathered house tucked between two larger buildings. The curtains in the front window stirred in the faint breeze, and I could see someone moving inside.

 

Megumi sped up a little, glancing toward the doorway like he was checking something only he knew to check. When we were a few steps away, the front door creaked open and a small girl stepped out onto the porch. She had dark hair, tied back messily, and her smile was quick and bright the moment she spotted her brother.

 

“Welcome back!” she called, waving enthusiastically.

 

Megumi’s posture softened, just a fraction, before he turned to look at Gojo. “Come here,” he called over his shoulder to her. “He’s gonna explain something.”

 

Her footsteps were light as she ran down the steps, bare feet slapping against the warm concrete. She stopped a little short when she reached us, glancing between Gojo, Suguru, and me with curious eyes.

 

Gojo crouched slightly so he wasn’t looming, though, even like that, he was still a wall of height compared to her. “Hey there. You must be Tsumiki.”

 

She nodded shyly. “Uh-huh. Who are you?”

 

“I’m Gojo Satoru,” he said, tone easy, friendly. “These are my friends, Geto Suguru and Hoshizuki Amara. We’re… teachers, sort of. And sorcerers.”

 

Her brow furrowed, clearly not understanding the second part, so Gojo’s smile shifted into something a little softer. “What we do is complicated, but the short version? We keep people safe from things most people can’t see.”

 

Tsumiki tilted her head, glancing up at her brother, who was watching all of this like he was grading Gojo’s performance. “Why are you here?” she asked.

 

Gojo hesitated just a heartbeat before answering, not because he didn’t know what to say, but because he was translating it in his head to something a normal eleven-year-old girl could understand. “I’m here because your brother’s got two paths he can take,” he said finally. “One of them is with me. The other is with some… family members he’s never met. That second option would mean you two couldn’t live together anymore.”

 

Tsumiki’s little frown deepened. “Why not?”

 

“Because those people, the Zen’in clan, care more about what Megumi can do than who he is,” Gojo explained, his voice never losing that calm, even tone. “They’d take him in because he’s got a special ability. But they don’t care about keeping you together. They’d send you somewhere else. And I’m not okay with that.”

 

She glanced up at Megumi, confusion written plainly across her face. “Would it be… better for my brother there?” she asked, echoing her brother’s earlier question, both showing how deeply they cared for each other.

 

Gojo didn’t even let the silence settle. “No,” he said firmly. “Not for either of you. You wouldn’t be happy there. You wouldn’t be safe there.”

 

Tsumiki nodded slowly, still processing, and Gojo leaned his forearms on his knees so he was eye-level with her. “If you let me, I can take guardianship over you both. I’ll make sure you’re safe, that Megumi learns how to use what he’s got, and that you can go to a good school. You could dorm there if you want, we'd find you a good school, you’d make friends. And Megumi would be able to visit you whenever he wanted. But you wouldn’t have to be apart.”

 

“You’d really let me see her whenever?” Megumi asked, the first real note of urgency in his voice since we’d met him.

 

“Kid, I’d make sure of it,” Gojo promised without missing a beat. “Nobody’s keeping you two apart if I’ve got anything to say about it.”

 

The silence that followed was thoughtful rather than tense. Tsumiki shifted closer to her brother, their shoulders brushing, and I saw her small hand curl into the hem of his shirt. He didn’t shake her off.

 

Suguru finally spoke, his voice quiet but steady. “It’s your choice. But you should know… if you stay here without making one, someone else might make it for you.”

 

Megumi looked between all three of us, his expression difficult to read, stubborn, yes, but also… cautious. Protective. The kind of look you saw on someone who’d already had to make too many hard calls for his age.

 

Finally, he let out a small breath through his nose and glanced at Gojo. “If I say yes… it doesn’t mean I owe you anything.”

 

Gojo grinned, that sharp little edge curling back into it. “Kid, you don’t owe me a damn thing. I’m doing this because I want to. Because someone’s gotta make sure you don’t end up in the wrong hands.”

 

Megumi studied him for another long moment, then gave the smallest of nods. Tsumiki mirrored it almost instantly, trusting her brother’s choice.

 

“Alright,” Gojo said, standing back up to his full height. “Then it’s settled. I’ll handle the paperwork and make sure the Zen’in clan keeps their distance. You two just… keep being yourselves.”

 

The way Megumi’s eyes narrowed told me he’d already decided “being himself” might involve giving Gojo hell at every opportunity. And judging by the faint smirk on Suguru’s face, he’d be cheering him on the whole way.

 

We saw them back to their door, Tsumiki waving again before they slipped inside. As the latch clicked, Gojo turned toward us, hands sliding back into his pockets like it was just another afternoon.

 

“That went well,” he said, all nonchalance.

 

Suguru’s brow arched. “You think a kid calling you a freak and doubting your every word is ‘well’?”

 

Gojo’s grin widened. “Yep. Means he’s smart. He’ll fit right in.”

 

And maybe, though none of us said it out loud, it meant that this time, we could actually save someone before the world tried to chew them up.

 

---

 

Gojo stretched his arms over his head, the late afternoon light catching in his hair like it had been dusted with silver. “You know,” he said with an easy sigh, “now that we’re officially moving out of the dorms to make room for the new brats, we should get a place together. Somewhere nice. Not our offices. Somewhere with a real kitchen and windows that don’t rattle every time the wind hits.”

 

Suguru gave him a sidelong glance, mouth quirking faintly. “And by ‘we,’ you mean…?”

 

“The three of us, obviously.” Gojo grinned like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “C’mon. You think I’m letting either of you have a separate address? Not happening.”

 

Suguru’s smirk deepened, but he tapped his chin in exaggerated thought. “Fine. But I’m picking the place. I don’t want anything over-dramatic that screams ‘Gojo lives here,’ but I do want garden space for Amara. Somewhere she can sit in the sun, plant things, and maybe not stare at concrete all the time.”

 

I blinked, warmth curling in my chest. “You want a garden for me?”

 

“It’s not just for you,” Suguru said, though his tone was softer. “But yes. Mostly for you.”

 

Gojo tilted his head. “A garden’s fine with me. I don’t care where it is as long as we get a king-sized bed. Queen’s not cutting it anymore. As much as I love squishing you two, my legs fall asleep.”

 

I laughed under my breath. “God forbid your legs fall asleep.”

 

“Exactly,” he said, pointing at me like I’d proven his point. “Plus, I can just teleport us to school whenever, so we don’t have to live on campus.”

 

Suguru hummed, already pulling his phone from his pocket. “Good. Then we have options. We’re not settling for some shoebox.”

 

I tugged my phone out too, leaning into Suguru’s shoulder as we both started scrolling. The excitement was easy, warm, the kind of domestic energy I didn’t get to feel often. It wasn’t just about moving out of the dorms. It was about building something that belonged to us. We all settled onto a bench as Suguru and I kept scrolling.

 

Gojo leaned over the back of the bench we’d sat on, peering between us without even pretending to respect personal space. “Ooh, show me.”

 

I tilted my screen toward him, showing a little two-story place with white walls, wide windows, and a big fenced yard in the back. “This one’s cute.”

 

Suguru leaned just enough to see it before shaking his head. “No. The bedrooms are too small, and the yard is flat dirt. You’d hate it in a week.”

 

“Okay, picky,” I muttered, flicking to the next. “What about this?”

 

He reached over, tapping the screen. “Better. Look at the covered patio, you could set up a little bench swing there. And there’s already a flower bed.”

 

Gojo grinned, resting his chin on my shoulder. “I’ll build you a koi pond. Or a fountain. Or a statue of me.”

 

Suguru didn’t even look up from his own screen. “Last part’s a dealbreaker.”

 

Gojo gasped dramatically, clutching at his chest. “You wound me..”

 

I bit back a laugh, scrolling through another list of houses. My phone buzzed against my palm as Suguru angled his toward me. “Look at this one. Large living space, kitchen opens into the main room, and there’s a spare bedroom on the first floor we could turn into an office.”

 

“An office?” Gojo leaned forward, peering at him. “Why do we need an office?”

 

“So we each have our own space,” Suguru said simply. “Somewhere to hide away if we want to. You can decorate yours however you want. Same for Amara.”

 

I hesitated, glancing at Gojo, and judging by his raised brow, he’d had the same thought I did. Neither of us really liked hiding away. Not the way Suguru did.

 

Gojo’s lips curved in a small, knowing smile. “If it makes you happy, we’ll do it.”

 

Suguru gave him a faint look, but I could see the corner of his mouth twitch. “It will.”

 

“Then it’s settled,” Gojo said, wrapping his arms around our shoulders. “You two pick the place, pick the furniture, pick the paint colors- I don’t care. Just make sure we get the bed. And maybe a hot tub. And maybe a rooftop so I can stand dramatically while I sip tea.”

 

Suguru gave him a long-suffering sigh. “We’ll see.”

Chapter 92: The End

Summary:

I wanted to thank everyone for all the love on this story! I'm still trying to figure out Ao3 and the tagging system and stuff like that and I think I have the basics down??

It's been so wild seeing people like my stories 😭
I've been just writing these for fun while I cope with life stuff and I know I'm not a great writer and I'm very repetitive and overstay my welcome BUT I'm glad people are enjoying this at least a little bit.

Thank you all so so so so so so so much! I'll definitely be writing more fanfics as I try to learn my writing style and try to grow as a writer.

Thank you all so much🩷

We found the place on a Tuesday because Suguru refused to look at anything on a Monday...“bad omens,” he said dryly, though we all knew it was because Mondays dragged his patience down to bedrock with student grading.

 

Gojo insisted we go back for a second viewing at sunset so he could “feel the light,” which meant he and Suguru had already scouted it out and decided it was worth my time.

 

It wasn’t over-dramatic, not in the way people would expect from Satoru Gojo. No towering glass box or gaudy skyscraper suite. This was an old-modern Japanese house, built with wealth and care: a low, elegant structure with pale plaster walls and black-tiled rooflines that curved just slightly at the eaves. Wide sliding doors opened onto a deep engawa veranda that wrapped around two sides of the house, made for sitting with tea while summer storms rattled through the garden.

 

The lot itself was absurd for Tokyo, an enclosed estate, really. Stone pathways cut through raked gravel and mossy stepping stones that led toward a generous garden tucked at the back. Plum and cherry blossom trees dotted the edges, already mature enough to throw shade, and there was enough open space for more plantings, even a vegetable patch if I wanted one. A tall bamboo fence gave privacy from the street without closing off the sky.

 

Inside, the main hall opened beneath polished cedar beams, the scent of wood still faint in the air. The floors were pale hinoki in the central rooms, with tatami laid in the guest wings. The kitchen was strikingly modern for such a house.. dark lacquer cabinets, smooth stone counters, an island designed for gatherings. It was the kind of deliberate contrast that made it clear this wasn’t a relic, but a carefully curated blend of old and new.

 

“The rooms?” Suguru asked, practical to the end.

 

“Four in total,” the realtor said, already charmed by the way Gojo smiled with his eyes. “Two in the garden wing, two upstairs. Tatami rooms with alcoves, but of course they can be fitted with beds instead of futons if you so wish.” She looked at the three of us with that polite curiosity people always had, but kept her voice professional. Technically, we’d already learned our lesson about being recognized- one mistake was when Gojo forgot to put up a barrier and people saw him floating in the air. The Society had to work double time to curb people's attraction. We were more careful now...hopefully. Still, money has its own gravity, and Gojo was practically a planet.

 

“The master’s this way,” she added, sliding open a set of fusuma doors.

 

We followed. The room was generous in a way space rarely was in Tokyo. A full wall of glass opened onto the veranda, overlooking the garden, with wooden latticework that could be closed for privacy. Built-in cabinetry lined one side, enough to swallow Gojo’s winter coats and still have room left over. The raised alcove was simple but elegant, waiting for a scroll or a flower arrangement. The floor wasn’t tatami, this was one of the house’s concessions to modernity, done in polished wood, with more than enough room for a western king-size bed that Gojo demanded having.

 

I stepped toward the glass, pressed my palm against it, and imagined mornings where sunlight filtered through the lattice and air carried the smell of cherry blossoms instead of blood. For once, a room that felt like it was made to hold us, not just survive us.

 

“We’ll take it,” Gojo said, because of course he did.

 

Suguru pinched the bridge of his nose. “Inspection-”

 

“Already called,” Gojo said, flashing a text thread he’d started on the rooftop ten minutes earlier. “Cash offer. Close in a week.”

 

I gave him a look. “You planned that before we walked in.”

 

He shrugged, unrepentant. “I just needed to see your face when you saw it..”

 

---

 

Moving day was a strange kind of joy. We’d done so many grim relocations, burning cursed remnants out of rooms, packing lives into bags between missions, that hauling boxes marked “blankets” and “tea” felt borderline illicit. Suguru labeled everything in his neat script. Gojo wrote incorrect labels on every third box and then smirked when Suguru frowned at him all disappointed then quickly relabeled them.

 

The master bed arrived first, because Gojo had placed that order the same hour he put in the offer. It was obscene: a custom king with a thick, soft platform base and a headboard upholstered in something so plush it made Suguru close his eyes for a second when he touched it.

 

“We can finally fit four,” Gojo said, spreading his arms across it.

 

I arched a brow. “Who’s the fourth?”

 

He turned his head and grinned. “My ego.”

 

“Get out,” Suguru said, but there was laughter in it.

 

The guest rooms went simple: one with a bunk bed for Mimiko and Nanako when they stayed over, spare but soft, a low bookshelf already half-filled with their little collectable. The other with a gentler mattress for Tsumiki when she visited, paper-star lights hung along the window and a desk positioned perfectly to catch afternoon sun.

 

Megumi insisted he didn’t need a room, he had his dorm, and then quietly started leaving a hoodie on the back of the desk chair and a box with a spare pair of shoes under the bed. Gojo pretended not to notice and then put a shallow tray on the floor by the sliding door, in case his dogs came in muddy.

 

It was Suguru who quietly made space in the entryway closet. He didn’t announce it, he simply shifted coats until a gap appeared, a single hanger set aside with a plain black jacket already on it. A month later, Megumi was pulling it out without hesitation, and the matter was settled without anyone speaking a word. That was how most things went with Megumi: quiet claims, small unspoken permissions, the steady building of a place that was his even if he never said it out loud.

 

Tsumiki, on the other hand, bloomed visibly in her space. She pinned photos to her corkboard, some of her with school friends, some of her and Megumi, one of all of us at the summer festival when Gojo had bought her the biggest candy apple at the stall. Utahime helped her hang a lavender curtain over her closet door, and Shoko slipped in a small cactus on the desk one evening, a small bit to show she cared in her own... spikey way.

 

The twins treated the house like a refuge. Mimiko and Nanako sprawled on the living room floor with textbooks and snacks, teasing Gojo whenever he tried to help and botching the answers on purpose to rile him up. Tsumiki baked cookies once and nearly set the oven mitts on fire, but Suguru caught it and laughed quietly when she waved him off with embarrassed determination.

 

The garden became the anchor of everything. The persimmon clipping, carefully transplanted, took root with more resilience than I expected. I’d sit out there in the mornings, tea steaming in my hands, watching the leaves uncurl. Sometimes Megumi joined me without speaking, his divine dogs padding in the grass while the sun rose over their shoulders. Other times Gojo would lean against the porch post, hair still mussed from sleep, and murmur about putting in a koi pond. Suguru planted herbs in neat rows and pretended not to notice when I rearranged them to suit my sense of balance but would always help me.

 

It wasn’t just a house anymore, it was proof that we could make something lasting, that despite the scars and ghosts, we could create a space with open doors and with laughter spilling out of windows.

 

The house filled in piece by piece, but the part that surprised me most wasn’t the furniture or the paint, it was how quickly it became the place. People gravitated here, like the walls had been waiting to soak up voices. At first, it was just the kids drifting in, Megumi to sprawl with his dogs, Tsumiki with her neat handwriting at the desk, Mimiko and Nanako with their laughter echoing down the hall, but soon enough it was everyone else too.

 

Shoko was the most natural. She’d always had a way of making herself at home wherever she ended up, but here it was different. She claimed one of the stools at the kitchen island like it had a nameplate. Sometimes she showed up with groceries tucked under her arm, muttering about how Gojo would starve us if left in charge. Other times she appeared with nothing but a new pack of cigarettes and a tired smirk, and Suguru would wordlessly set a cup of tea in front of her.

 

Her smile was always small but here, it was always real, one of the ones she didn’t give to anyone else. We stayed up late more than once in my garden corner, knees touching, whispering over her smoke until the stars faded pale. Shoko was my anchor in a way that was different from Satoru and Suguru, she was a reminder of blood and bone, of someone who’d seen me at my worst long before I had a home worth inviting her into.

 

Utahime came more reluctantly. She had a Gojo-shaped chip on her shoulder, and Gojo made damn sure to keep it there. The first night she came by for dinner she lasted twenty minutes before snapping, “Do you ever shut up?” when he bragged about seasoning the fish himself.

 

“Why would I?” he replied with a grin, tilting his head. “My voice is a gift. People would kill to sit where you are.”

 

Suguru hid a laugh in his glass. I caught Utahime’s twitching eyes and mouthed, 'I know', which earned me a long-suffering sigh before she softened. The thing was, she respected Suguru, and she trusted me. That was the only reason she kept showing up. 

 

Over time she started leaning into Shoko more, quiet comments in the kitchen, little touches when they thought no one was looking. Eventually, it wasn’t just glances anymore. Shoko would tip her chin up with two fingers and kiss her cheek, and Utahime, flushed but steady, would kiss her back.

 

Gojo never let it slide without teasing, of course. “Finally!” he’d yell. “I’ve been rooting for these lesbians to get together for years!”

 

“Well, I'm rooting for you to shut up!” Utahime would snap, and Shoko would smile into her wine glass like she was watching a comedy only she understood.

 

Even Yaga was starting to come by..

 

One night, Yaga came. Just Yaga, no paperwork, no Elders breathing down his neck. He showed up at the door with a bottle of sake and a wary kind of fondness in his eyes. We cleared the table for him, no kids, no chaos, just the four of us and him, and sat down to eat.

 

The conversation was easy, if unusual. Shoko teased him about his tie, making fun of him for dressing up too much just for dinner, Gojo rambled about how he's still upset Yaga took his old Digimon cards until Suguru kicked him under the table, and I poured drinks until the air hummed with warmth. Somewhere between courses, Yaga leaned back in his chair and gave us a long, measuring look.

 

“I won’t pretend I understand how the three of you make this work,” he said bluntly. “But I can see that you’re… steady. Happier than most sorcerers get to be. That’s enough for me. Breathing and being happy at the same time is a big ask from this life... I'm glad I got to live to see it..”

 

Suguru inclined his head, quiet thanks. Gojo winked at me across the table like he’d just won a bet. I just smiled and refilled Yaga’s glass. For once, there was no interrogation, no demand to prove ourselves, just an older man, a father figure, who’d seen too much, willing to let us carve our own space. And he was cherishing every minute of it.

 

That dinner turned into a habit. Yaga came back a few more times, and though he never asked about our arrangement again, I caught the way his gaze softened when he watched us move around the kitchen, three bodies in an easy orbit.

 

And slowly, almost without trying, the house became everyone’s second home. Shoko had a toothbrush in the upstairs bathroom. Utahime left a scarf draped on the couch. Even Yaga eventually brought over a stack of books he said he was “too busy” to read but wanted to keep somewhere safe.

 

There were nights when the living room was packed shoulder-to-shoulder, kids on the rug, Shoko in her usual seat, Utahime rolling her eyes at Gojo from across the table, Suguru pouring tea like a true host while Gojo played the fool just to make kids laugh.

 

It wasn’t perfect. Gojo still pushed Utahime’s buttons, Utahime still snapped at him, Suguru still sighed like he was raising two unruly children, and I still had to threaten to ban Gojo from the kitchen more than once. But the edges softened. The fights didn’t stick. And in between the chaos, there was this: family.

 

But something was still missing...

 

Nanami had been barely speaking to me these past years. At first, I thought it was just the natural ebb and flow of adult life, missions piling up, paperwork sucking the air out of him, that subtle way he always pulled back when he needed to re-center himself. But as the weeks turned into months, turned into years, the silence was eating at me.

 

I kept sending him things though. A picture of the herb garden at dusk, the rosemary glistening after Suguru watered it. A snapshot of Satoru’s ridiculous attempt at cooking, burned rice still stuck to the bottom of the pan, smoke curling into the vent. A line from some philosophy book he lent me ages ago that reminded me of him. Sometimes, after a day, I’d get a thumbs-up emoji in response. Sometimes nothing at all.

 

“Maybe he’s just… busy,” I said one night, showing Suguru and Satoru my phone. Nanako had just gone to bed, Mimiko was curled up on the couch reading, and I was perched at the end, staring at the empty message thread.

 

“Busy,” Satoru repeated flatly, rolling over and propping his chin on his palm. “That guy’s been busy for years. Pretty sure he’s just hiding in his apartment listening to old people jazz and drinking.”

 

“Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to me,” I whispered. My throat pinched as I said it. “I mean, I’m not stupid. I know I chose to keep being in this world. I chose you two. But still… I miss him.”

 

Suguru’s gaze softened, and he sat up enough to squeeze my hand. “Love, I don't think he’s cutting you off. He just… doesn’t know how to hold people... especially after..”

 

He didn’t need to finish that sentence..

 

“Yeah,” Satoru muttered, though his eyes slid away, their usual glint dulled for a moment. “It’s not you.” He tugged me off the couch to bring me to bed, burying his face in my hair like he was staking a claim, like he needed to remind himself I was still there.

 

So I kept trying. Little messages, never demanding. A photo of my new work boots scuffed from sparring. A picture of a stray cat that reminded me of the one that used to hang around the school. A bad pun I knew he’d groan at.

 

Most went unanswered. 

 

Once, he replied with a simple, "That cat looks as judgmental as Geto" Another time, two weeks later, just a single “…” that I chose to interpret as a laugh, maybe. It wasn’t much, but I clung to it, because it was something.

 

Shoko noticed. She always noticed. One evening, she sat beside me at the table, her elbow brushing mine, her hair loose instead of in its usual knot. “Mari, you don’t have to bleed yourself dry to keep him afloat. Nanami’s a grown man. You can’t 'save' him just by… sending cat pictures..”

 

“It’s different,” I told her. “With Satoru and me, it’s loud. It’s… obvious. Suguru, too, even when he’s quiet. But Iri-” I paused, trying to put words to the ache. “If I stop knocking, I’m scared he’ll never open the door again. And then what?”

 

Shoko studied me for a long moment, her eyes softer than her tone. Then she leaned in and pressed her lips against my temple. “You really are too much, you know that?”

 

I laughed, the sound catching in my throat. “Takes one to know one..”

 

---

 

Weeks later, the message came. Not a curt acknowledgment or a dry joke. Not silence. A whole paragraph, written in that precise way he had, always written like a formal email.

 

--

 

Kento Nanami ☕️:

 

Amara,

I owe you an apology for not replying all this time. It wasn’t that I didn’t read what you sent—I did. I just couldn’t bring myself to answer without feeling insincere.

This is short notice, and I know it’s asking a lot, but I would like to see you tonight. Just you. I’ve had more to drink than I intended, and I think what I need right now is a friend, not more silence.

If you can’t, I’ll understand. But if you can, it would mean more than I can properly put into words.

 

-Kento

 

--

 

I was lying in bed when my phone lit up. The boys were already sprawled on either side of me, Suguru’s long hair brushing my arm as he read something in the glow of the bedside lamp, Satoru half-asleep but pretending not to be.

 

“What’s got you looking like that?” Satoru asked, opening one eye barely.

 

“It’s… Nanami.” My voice cracked on his name. “He wants to meet tonight..”

 

Suguru looked up, finally closing his book. His eyes were tired but gentle. “Then go. He wouldn’t ask unless he needed you.”

 

I hesitated. “You don’t mind?”

 

He squeezed my hand again. “Amara, we both know he doesn’t talk to anyone. If he reached out, you should go.”

 

Satoru groaned theatrically. “Yeah, yeah. Go be a good friend. Just don’t let him bore you to death with the stock market.”

 

I shot him a look, which only made him grin wider. He leaned across me to steal a kiss, grumbling, “Don’t stay out too late.”

 

“I'll try my best,” I said against his lips and kissed him back, then turned to press a quick kiss to Suguru’s lips. He let it linger just long enough to ground me.

 

When I pulled away, they were both watching me like they always did, soft, gentle, and always loving. 

 

Suguru tucked my hair behind my ear. "Be safe, please."

 

"Always." I grabbed my coat and left before I lost my nerve.

 

---

 

The city air was crisp, damp with the faint smell of rain on pavement. I shoved my hands in my pockets, walking fast to keep the knot of nerves in my stomach from tightening too much. Nanami had never been one for late-night meetups, let alone bars. The fact that he’d asked me specifically told me something had shifted.

 

The bar was tucked down a quiet side street. I spotted him immediately: sitting alone in a booth near the back, posture straight, jacket folded neatly beside him. He wasn’t the Nanami I remembered from our student days, hair now cropped close, not falling into his eyes, a sharper suit that looked more “salaryman” than sorcerer. But the cheetah-print tie… that was new. And somehow, despite the seriousness written into his shoulders, it made me want to smile.

 

“Kento,” I greeted softly as I slid into the seat across from him.

 

“Amara.” His eyes lifted to meet mine, steady as ever. But there was something softer there, hidden beneath the hard edges. He raised a hand to signal the bartender, then set it back down, fingers folding neatly together. “Thank you for coming.”

 

“You asked,” I said, shrugging lightly, though my chest was tight. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten.”

 

His mouth twitched, almost a smile. Almost. “I owe you an apology for that. For a great deal, actually.”

 

I blinked at him. “That’s… a lot of words, coming from you.”

 

“Yes. Which should tell you I mean them.” He adjusted the cuff of his shirt, buying himself half a second of order before continuing. “As you know, I left Jujutsu High because I thought I wanted something else. Stability. A life that didn’t chew me up and spit me out by twenty-five. So I became a stockbroker.”

 

I tilted my head. “Did you hate it as much as it sounds like you did?” I chuckled softly.

 

He huffed out something between a laugh and a sigh. “More. It was... meaningless. Every day felt like pouring water into a cracked jar. I worked for hours on end, pushing numbers, lining other people’s pockets, while convincing myself it was responsibility.” His gaze flicked briefly to his glass, then back to me. “The truth is, I was miserable... I am miserable.”

 

I stayed quiet, letting him unspool it. He was always more deliberate with words than anyone else I knew. He didn’t speak unless he’d already measured the weight of it.

 

“One day, during a break, I went to a small bakery,” he said. “I told myself it was for bread, but it was envy, really. I visited that place often.. The woman working there… her customers appreciated her. Thanked her. Smiled at her. I realized I hadn’t been thanked in years. No one at my office even remembered my name most of the time.”

 

I frowned a bit imagining it. Nanami standing there in one of his perfect suits, staring at loaves of bread and a girl who still had light in her eyes while he was fighting to find his..

 

“She fell asleep at the counter once,” he continued, his voice lower. “I saw the curse on her shoulder. Small, weak. But it was feeding on her exhaustion, gnawing at her. I couldn’t ignore it. I exorcised it. Told her to see a doctor if it didn’t improve.” He paused. “The next week, she thanked me. Genuinely. Said she’d been sleeping better.”

 

The corner of his mouth pulled tight, something like guilt threading through. “That moment mattered more to me than the years I spent in that office.”

 

“Kento…” My voice broke without warning. I reached across the table, covering his hand with mine. He went still, but didn’t pull away.

 

“That’s when I knew,” he said, eyes fixed on mine. “This work is cruel. Dangerous. It will kill me too early one day. But it has meaning. More than anything else I tried to chase. If I can make someone’s life lighter, even for a week… it’s worth it.”

 

The silence between us swelled with everything unspoken. All the months I’d kept sending messages into the void, hoping he was still out there somewhere. All the times I’d wondered if he regretted knowing me, knowing us. And here he was, telling me he’d found his way back.

 

“I know this must have been a hard decision... but honestly I'm glad to have you back..” I smiled softly.

 

His hand flexed under mine. “I don’t regret leaving... But yes. I plan to return as a sorcerer.” He exhaled slowly, almost like he was bracing himself. “It’s dangerous. I know what it costs. But this is the life where I can actually protect people, guide others. And hopefully that will be enough.”

 

I didn’t try to hide the tears that burned behind my eyes. “Guess you understand my reasons for staying a bit better now, huh?” I wiped my eyes with a breathy chuckle.

 

Nanami studied me across the table, the rim of his glass catching light as he turned it once between his fingers. “I do. More than I wanted to admit.” He took a slow sip, the amber burning down his throat. His shoulders softened with it. “When we were younger, I thought you were reckless. Clinging to childish ideals. I told myself you’d burn out eventually. That you’d either die, or the world would break you into something unrecognizable like it did to everyone else around us.”

 

I gave a crooked smile. “That’s still a possibility.”

 

“Perhaps.” His mouth twitched. “But I was wrong about you. It wasn’t naïveté. It was… conviction. And it cost you more than I was willing to see at the time...especially that day...”

 

The words sat heavily. He wasn’t drunk enough to ramble, but he was drunk enough to be unfiltered. 

 

That was rare for him.

 

“You mean Toji?” My voice softened.

 

His gaze held mine. For a long time, the air between us was just the faint hum of the bar, glasses clinking, rain pattering faintly outside. 

 

Finally, he nodded. “I heard what you did from Shoko. That you took a bullet to the head and… forced yourself back. That you walked half-dead through the compound until you found Suguru, because even in that state you were still trying to protect him, to save others..”

 

I felt my throat tighten, a phantom echo of blood and fire in my skull. I reached for my glass instead of answering.

 

Nanami’s voice was low, steady. “When I first heard it, I dismissed it as reckless. I thought you were trying to be a martyr. It wasn’t until years later, when I remembered the story in detail, that I realized how hideous it truly was. How much it must have cost you to survive like that. Not brave. Not reckless. Just… monstrous.”

 

“That’s one word for it,” I murmured, my laugh sharp, brittle. “I would call it more desperate than anything..”

 

“Desperation doesn’t make you weak,” he said, surprising me. “It makes you human. But desperation moves you to survive, not save. You could have found Shoko on your own but you were determined to save someone..And it’s what made me see you differently. You didn’t survive. You refused to die, not until you at least saved someone. That’s… enviable.”

 

I blinked. “You envy me?”

 

He leaned back, tilting his head slightly. “In some ways. I spent years convincing myself I wanted distance from this world, that I was above it. You… you never saw that as a choice for you. You were born into ugliness, yet you still chose to stay, knowing exactly what it costs. That’s something I couldn’t do until now.”

 

For once, I didn’t have words. I just let the whiskey burn through my chest.

 

Nanami finally broke it. “Do you ever think about what your life might have been if Yaga never found you?”

 

“Sometimes.” I stared down at the wood grain of the table. “I could’ve had something quiet. Maybe. But quiet isn’t the same as safe. And it’s definitely not the same as living. I hated my life before Jujutsu Tech… but it was still better than what this world throws at you, in some ways. And I still stayed and continue to choose to stay. You know why?”

 

His eyes didn’t leave mine. “Because someone has to?”

 

“Because someone has to,” I echoed softly. "And who better for the job than me?"

 

He nodded, as if the answer confirmed something he’d already known. “And even when the Society fails, even when it eats its own… you’re still here. Still fighting. It’s remarkable. And infuriating. And… necessary.”

 

We sat there, two people with too many scars between us, speaking truths we’d never risk with anyone else. At least I had Satoru and Suguru but Nanami... I don’t think Nanami has anyone...

 

“You remind me of Haibara sometimes,” Nanami said suddenly. His voice was careful, weighted. “Not because you’re a lot alike, you’re not. He was… lighter. But the way I feel around you. The way I find myself wanting to protect you but knowing I can't. It’s familiar. It scares me.”

 

My chest ached. “Kento…”

 

“I cared for him like a younger brother,” Nanami continued, his jaw tightening. “And losing him nearly made me walk away forever. But with you… it’s different. I don’t see someone fragile. I see someone the world tried to break in every way it knew how, and somehow failed. You’re still here. Still yourself.”

 

“Not all of myself,” I said quietly. “Pieces got left behind. Some of them I’ll never get back.”

 

“Perhaps,” he allowed. “But the core remains. That is more than most of us can claim.”

 

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “You give me too much credit.”

 

He arched a brow. “No. I’ve given you too little, for too long.”

 

The weight of it settled warm and heavy in my chest. Something not easily named. Just a strange, fierce bond.. intimate in its honesty, in the way we could sit here with our walls down and not be less for it.

 

The bar was nearly empty now, just the bartender drying glasses and an older man asleep in his booth by the door. The low jazz hummed in the background, and the street outside was slick with rain, neon smudging the windows.

 

I’d started the night across from him, but at some point.. maybe after my third drink, maybe after his fourth.. I slid around the booth and settled beside him. Close enough that my shoulder brushed the edge of his sleeve. I expected him to shift away, to put a wall back between us. But he didn’t. He just glanced down, sighed, and muttered, “If Gojo walked in right now, he’d probably throw a fit.”

 

I laughed into my glass. “He’d probably make some dumb speech about you finally giving in and joining the poly thing.”

 

Nanami made a noise that might have been a laugh or a groan. “Absolutely not. I have enough stress with friendships. A relationship, let alone one that complicated, would be intolerable.”

 

“Tragic,” I teased, resting my chin in my hand so I could look up at him. My bangs slipped forward, brushing against my lashes, and I didn’t bother to push them back. “So you’re saying you could never see yourself with anyone? Not even some poor soul who brings you pastries and actually remembers your name?”

 

He let out a long, exasperated breath, eyes sliding toward the ceiling as though he could will patience down into himself. “You don’t make this easy.”

 

“I’m not supposed to.”

 

Silence stretched, but it wasn’t heavy. He finally said, “No. I don’t think I could. Not in the way people expect. I leave too much behind every time I walk into a fight. I couldn’t do that to someone who asked me for more.”

 

I didn’t tease him this time. I propped my chin into my palm, elbow on the table, my hair brushing forward in a curtain I didn’t bother to push aside. The whiskey made the edges of everything glow, but I could still read him, see the way he cataloged me like he was taking stock, steady eyes moving over the curve of my bangs, the slope of my shoulders, the little upward twist of my smile.

 

When we were kids, he’d have flushed under the weight of me staring at him like this. Now he just studied me back, unreadable for a moment before something shifted in his gaze.

 

There was no dodge, no crisp retort. Just a slow exhale through his nose. He didn’t look away.

 

“You’re staring,” I said softly, half-teasing, half-curious.

 

“I am.” His mouth quirked, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “It’s just… I understand why Gojo and Geto are so enamored with you. Why they’d..” he paused, corrected himself, “..why they’d do whatever you asked.”

 

That earned a startled laugh out of me. Too loud in the nearly empty bar, it cracked and tumbled into something quieter, gentler. “Kento, you can’t say things like that. I’ll start thinking you’re trying to flirt with me.”

 

His sigh was audible, as though I’d called him out. “Don’t be ridiculous. You know me better.”

 

“I do.” I tilted my head, watching him as the lamplight brushed warm against his cheekbones. He really hadn’t changed, not in the way people think. The edges were sharper now, yes, worn down by years of work and loss, but the core of him, the bone-deep steadiness, the refusal to turn away, that was still there. It was probably why I couldn’t help but look at him this way. “Kento... Have you been with anyone...ya know intimately? Physically or emotionally? You don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable. And, without dodging this time, would you see yourself being in, ya know, a serious relationship?”

 

He set the glass down with deliberate care. “The truth is… no. I don’t think I’ll ever see myself in a relationship. Not in the way you mean.” His hand tightened briefly into a fist against the tabletop before relaxing again. “Friendships are already… complicated. Heavy. I’ve already accepted that if I die, I die. I don’t want anyone bound to that. And when it comes to the physical stuff..” he finished his drink and cleared his throat. "Only twice."

 

I nodded slowly, letting the words sink into me. “You do have a hard time with that stuff. Being open. Letting people care about you.”

 

A ghost of a smile tugged at him again. “And yet you sit here, staring at me like I’m going to give you something profound. When we were younger, I’d have walked out the door just to avoid this conversation.”

 

“Yeah,” I said, grinning faintly, “and now you’re drinking whiskey with me and saying I’m pretty. Big improvement.”

 

That drew a real laugh from him, low, rough around the edges. “You see? You can make anything light. You even laugh when you’re cornered.”

 

“Sometimes you gotta laugh at the absurdity of it all. Sometimes a laugh is the only thing that can stop you from breaking down,” I said. I sipped at the last bit of whiskey.

 

Nanami’s gaze softened. “You think you lost parts of yourself after… that day. And maybe you did. But what you kept... that spark... that’s what matters.”

 

I looked up at him. For a second, the noise of the bar faded. It was just us, his tired eyes locked on mine, his mouth set in that stubborn line I knew so well.

 

“Thanks,” I murmured. My voice was quieter now. “It means something to hear that from you.”

 

He only hummed, but his knee brushed against mine under the table and didn’t move.

 

I hesitated, then pushed, my words softer than before. “So… two people? You’ve only been with two people? Ever?”

 

His sigh was heavier this time, edged with the warmth of whiskey. “Yes.”

 

“And?” I asked, smiling faintly, tilting my head in mock suspicion. “Did you at least enjoy it?”

 

Nanami swirled what little remained in his glass, watching the amber whirlpool. “I suppose,” he said. “But I was… indifferent. Detached. Perhaps if I had cared for them more, I might have felt differently.”

 

“That’s what I mean.” I leaned closer, lowering my voice. “You make it sound like feelings are a liability. Like caring for someone is something you have to ration.”

 

“Because it is. Not every person is like you.” He didn’t flinch this time, didn’t look away. “Every connection is a weight. I can’t afford to carry more. When one of us dies, and it will happen sooner or later, I will have to keep walking. That is the life we chose. I’m not going to… bind myself to someone and then leave them with a corpse.”

 

I didn’t respond right away. The weight of what he wasn’t saying pressed between us: that he’d already seen what love could do when it was torn away. That he still carried Haibara’s absence like a stone in his chest.

 

I propped my chin in my hand again, eyes never leaving his face. The years had carved subtle lines around his eyes, but the same constancy shone through. The little twitch of his brow when he thought too much. The way he tightened his jaw before he said anything vulnerable.

 

“You’re ridiculous,” I said finally, letting a small laugh escape.

 

His lips quirked. “So I’ve been told.”

 

“Gojo would hate this,” I teased. “If he walked in right now and saw us sitting here like this? He’d lose it. Probably demand you sign a contract to join his little… collective arrangement. I'm starting to think he has a crush on you.” I chuckled softly.

 

Nanami gave a slow shake of his head, closing his eyes briefly. “Absolutely not. I don’t… share. And I don’t join.”

 

That made me laugh harder, and he watched me with that same unflinching gaze, as if he couldn’t help himself. The warmth in my chest twisted into something bittersweet.

 

By the time the bartender called out “last order,” the place was nearly empty. The lights had dimmed to a soft amber glow, and the rain outside had softened to a silver mist across the streetlights.

 

Nanami pushed himself out of the booth first. His movements were deliberate but not stiff, more like he was reminding his body how to be solid. He offered me a hand. I took it, letting him pull me up beside him.

 

“Do you need a ride home?” he asked.

 

“Nah, I'm walking,” I replied, tugging on my coat.

 

“Of course you are.” He sighed, then glanced at me sidelong. “I’ll walk with you. Make sure you don’t fall into a gutter.”

 

I bumped his shoulder with mine. “Chivalrous and insulting. Classic Kento.”

 

He didn’t deny it, just pushed open the door for me. The air outside was damp and cool, the smell of rain drifting through the air. We walked in silence for a block, the only sound our footsteps and the hiss of tires on wet asphalt.

 

Finally, I broke it. “You know,” I said, “for someone who doesn’t do relationships, you’re awfully good at being… whatever this is.”

 

He kept his eyes forward. “Companionship is manageable. I can be present without… expectation.”

 

“Is that what this is?” I asked, half-teasing. “Companionship?”

 

His jaw worked. “It’s… necessary. For me. And I suspect for you as well.”

 

I nodded, tucking my hair behind my ear, but it just slipped forward again. He reached out without thinking, brushed the strands back for me, and let his hand fall. The gesture was so gentle, so careful.

 

“You know,” I said after a moment, “in another life, maybe…”

 

“Don’t.” His voice was sharp enough to cut, but softer than it would have been years ago. He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again, resigned. “In another life, perhaps. But in this one, no. You have them. And I-” He stopped, choosing his words with surgical precision. “I am not built for that kind of tether.”

 

I smiled faintly. “I know. I’d never ask you to be.”

 

For a while we just walked, our shoes splashing through the shallow puddles where the rain still clung to the road. The neon signs buzzed above us, humming pink and green against the wet pavement.

 

But my curiosity didn’t let me stay quiet long. “Do you think you’d ever… try again? That kind of intimacy, I mean. Physical. Emotional. Or do you think you’re just done with it altogether?”

 

Nanami slowed, his hands sliding deeper into his coat pockets. His head tilted just slightly toward me, enough to let me know he was actually considering the question. The silence stretched until I thought maybe he wasn’t going to answer at all.

 

Finally, his voice came low, even. “I’m done with it.” His gaze shifted to me, steady and unblinking, carrying the same weight his words always had. “That isn’t for me. Not anymore.”

 

I opened my mouth, about to tease, but the look he gave me stopped me cold. A look that said plainly: Don’t push.

 

I caught the message, smiled despite myself, and chuckled as I bumped my shoulder against his. “Fine, fine. I’ll behave. For once.”

 

The corner of his mouth twitched, almost a smile. “That’ll be the first time.”

 

We turned down the familiar street, the lights thinning into the quiet of the residential blocks. The sound of our footsteps filled the silence between us, comfortable and even.

 

When the house finally came into view, its dark roofline rising against the soft glow of the garden lamps, I felt the same warmth I always did seeing it, like walking into the one place in the world that was mine.

 

I stopped at the gate, turning toward him. “Do you want to come in? I could give you the grand tour. The boys are asleep, but I can show you around. The garden too.”

 

For a moment, I thought he might say yes. His eyes lingered on the warm spill of light from the kitchen window, the faint shape of the persimmon tree silhouetted against the fence.

 

But then he shook his head, adjusting his collar. “Another time. Tonight… I think I need some time to myself.”

 

Something in my chest softened at that. Another time. Not a dismissal. Not avoidance. A promise that he wasn’t going to disappear again.

 

“Okay,” I said, smiling. “Another time then.”

 

He gave me a short nod, then turned away down the street, his broad shoulders disappearing into the misty dark.

 

I stood there a moment longer, letting the quiet settle, before slipping through the gate. The house smelled faintly of incense and cedar when I stepped inside, shoes lined neatly in the entry. The silence was warm, alive, not empty.

 

I padded into the bedroom, the familiar sight of them both sprawled across the massive bed making something in me loosen all the way down to the bone. Satoru was half on his stomach, one arm slung dramatically over Suguru’s waist. Suguru lay on his back, book closed on his chest, breathing deep but not quite asleep.

 

They stirred when I climbed in.

 

Satoru cracked an eye open, his mouth already curling into a grin. “Oh, look who decided to come home. Should I be jealous?”

 

I leaned down to brush a kiss across his lips, quick and sweet. “Always.”

 

“Mm.” He made a content little noise, burying his face back into the pillow like that settled it.

 

Suguru, though, he waited. Watching me, eyes half-lidded but sharp even in the dark. I shifted closer, lying down between them, and as soon as my head hit the pillow he turned toward me. His hand moved down to my hip, pulling me into a kiss that wasn’t soft at all. His mouth was hot, insistent, tongue sweeping against mine like he meant to claim something back.

 

When he finally broke for a breath, his lips still brushed mine as he murmured, “You taste like expensive liquor.” His voice was low, rough with sleep. “Nanami was definitely spoiling you.”

 

I laughed into the kiss, breathless. “That’s one way to put it.”

 

He didn’t let me pull away. Another kiss, deeper, slower, his teeth grazing my lower lip. He spoke between them, words rumbling against my mouth. “I think I’m going to get jealous if he keeps spoiling you like this…”

 

His tone was teasing, but there was something under it, something that wanted me to answer.

 

I cupped his face, pressing my forehead against his. “You have nothing to be jealous of,” I whispered. “You and Satoru are everything to me. No one else. Not like this.”

 

His eyes softened, and for a second the playfulness eased into something raw. He kissed me again, slower now, lingering, like he was taking in every ounce of reassurance I gave him.

 

Suguru’s kiss left me flushed and breathless, my lips tingling when he finally drew back. He stayed close, though, his mouth brushing mine as he murmured, “Better. Don’t let him think he can buy you with whiskey.”

 

I smiled against him. “He can’t.”

 

From behind me, Satoru groaned, flopping dramatically onto his back and throwing his arm over his eyes. “Unbelievable. I’m literally right here, and you’re giving him the jealous boyfriend special? What about me? Where’s my comfort kiss?”

 

I turned my head toward him, hair falling in my face a little. “You want one too?”

 

“Obviously,” he said, lowering his arm just enough to peek out at me with a lopsided grin. “I can’t sleep knowing you taste like pricey whiskey and you’re only sharing it with him.”

 

Suguru snorted. “So buy your own bottle.”

 

“Not the same,” Satoru said, scooting closer until his chest pressed flush to my side. He hooked an arm around my waist and hauled me half onto him, his grin widening as I yelped. “C’mon, babe. Gimme my share.”

 

I rolled my eyes, laughing anyway, and leaned down to kiss him. Where Suguru’s kiss had been slow and claiming, Satoru’s was rough and playful, his teeth grazing mine before he nipped at my lip just to hear me squeak. I giggled into his mouth, trying to push into the kiss, but his hand slid up under my shirt and tickled my ribs.

 

“Satoru-!” I gasped, squirming against him, trying to swat his hand away even as he caught my wrist and pinned it to his chest.

 

“Stop what?” he teased, kissing the corner of my mouth, then the edge of my jaw, then the tip of my nose. “This? Or this? Or this?”

 

Each kiss came between bursts of laughter I couldn’t hold back, my whole body writhing under his grip as he kept at it, relentless. I tried to keep the kiss going just to spite him, stubbornly pressing my mouth back to his even while he was grinning too much to take it seriously.

 

“Sweetums, why’re you moving so much?” he asked against my lips, his tone dripping with false innocence. “Trying to escape me? My heart is shattering. Can you hear it?” 

 

He pinched me a little making me make a high-pitched squeal. 

 

"See? That's the sound it's making." He teased.

 

I smacked his shoulder, breathless. “You’re- awful-”

 

“Handsome,” he corrected, grinning wider.

 

“Annoying,” I shot back, still laughing.

 

“Gorgeous,” he said, punctuating it with another kiss.

 

Suguru had propped himself up on one elbow, watching us with a look I knew too well, half exasperated, half amused, the faintest smile tugging at his mouth. He didn’t intervene, didn’t pull Satoru off me the way he sometimes did. He just watched, dark eyes warm, like seeing me laugh until I couldn’t breathe was all he ever needed. Seeing his lovers be in love.

 

Satoru finally relented, pressing one last loud, obnoxious kiss against my cheek before flopping back with a satisfied sigh. “There. Balance restored. Now I can sleep.”

 

“Freaks,” Suguru muttered, tugging me back toward him as if to reclaim me. His arm slid firmly around my waist, anchoring me against him.

 

I let my head rest on his chest, still giggling softly as Satoru’s arm draped lazily over us both again. Their warmth closed around me, one steady, one ridiculous, both constant. My eyes slipped shut.

 

---

 

After that night, Kento started making his way back into our lives.

 

The first time Kento came to the house, it was almost comical how natural it felt. I had invited him, half-expecting he’d decline, but he showed up right at six, punctual as ever, a bottle of wine tucked neatly under one arm.

 

Satoru spotted him first. “Nanamin!” he crowed from the kitchen doorway, grinning wide enough to split his face. “Look at you, Salaryman Barbie! You finally escaped your cubicle?”

 

Kento adjusted his tie and gave him a flat look. “Gojo.”

 

Suguru came to the rescue, stepping forward with a small smile. “It’s good to see you again, Nanami. Come in.”

 

And just like that, he was folded in. Shoko slid him a drink on the porch later, murmuring, “Kento,” with the kind of warmth she rarely showed anyone else. Utahime gave him a once-over and said, “About time you showed up,” before turning back to stir the soup. Even Mimiko and Nanako, who had only ever heard my stories about him, looked at him with wide eyes before welcoming him in the way only kids could, blunt and unfiltered.

 

That night, we crowded the table. Too much food, too many voices, laughter spilling into the hall. Satoru kept trying to pile extra dumplings on Kento’s plate just to see if he’d react; Suguru finally reached over and slapped Satoru’s hand away. Kento didn’t say much, but I caught him once, pausing with his chopsticks midair, looking around the table like he’d forgotten what it felt like to sit somewhere and belong.

 

When his eyes met mine across the chaos, he gave the smallest of nods.

 

From then on, he came more often. At first, only when I asked. Then, on his own, after missions or on quiet evenings. He’d bring bread from that same bakery, setting it on the counter without fanfare. He’d sit at the end of the table, sipping tea while the rest of us argued about chores or missions. He never demanded the spotlight, he didn’t need to, but his presence became another thread in the fabric of the home we’d made.

 

And when he left at the end of the night, there was always food packed neatly for him to take. He never asked but we never let him leave empty-handed.

 

---

 

Time moved, as it always does. The persimmon tree grew taller, its leaves turning gold every autumn, its roots tangled with ash and memory. Tsumiki visited on breaks, filling the house with her laughter. Mimiko and Nanako carved out their corner of safety with us, learning, growing, finding something like family. Shoko and Utahime became inseparable, their bickering turning to banter, their stolen touches turning into something steady. Even Yaga came by sometimes, grumbling about the noise, but staying for seconds at dinner.

 

And Nanami...Kento... became part of it. Not every day. He was still Nanami: steady, private, unwilling to linger too long in any one place. But he came. He stayed. He let us matter to him.

 

---

 

Years passed, stitched together with missions and mornings and meals.

 

Megumi grew taller, his jaw sharper, his eyes steadier. Sixteen now, his dogs trailing behind him like shadows, his shoulders set with the weight of responsibility he never asked for but carried anyway. He still pretended not to care when Satoru teased him, but he never missed a Sunday meal. Tsumiki’s room was still hers, the star lights glowing softly in the evenings, her books piled on the desk.

 

The house was alive with voices, footsteps, laughter, the steady hum of people who had chosen to stay.

 

And then one evening, the calm cracked. Megumi came through the door, his jacket slung over one arm, his dogs restless at his heels. His face was pale, his eyes sharper than I’d ever seen them. He dropped a folder on the table where Suguru and I were sorting papers.

 

Inside: a photograph. Old binding talismans, brittle with age, wrapped around something that looked like a finger fossilized. A cursed object.

 

Suguru’s eyes darkened as he sifted through the report. Satoru, leaning against the counter with a snack half-raised to his mouth, went still.

 

“A Sukuna finger,” Megumi said, his voice quiet, almost clinical. “I found a lead.”

 

The air in the house seemed to stop moving.

 

For a long moment, no one spoke. Then Satoru set his snack down carefully, his mouth curving into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Well. Looks like the brats are going to get a real education.”

 

I reached across the table, resting my hand on Megumi’s. His jaw softened just a fraction, though his eyes stayed hard.

 

“We’ll handle it,” I promised.

 

Outside, the fountain trickled. The persimmon tree rustled in the evening wind. The house held its breath, bracing for the storm to come.

 

But inside... inside there was still this: a family built of chaos and choice, of stubbornness and love, of people who had once walked away but always found their way back.

 

And whatever came next, curse, claw, teeth... fingers... we would meet it together.