Chapter Text
“That Gojo motherfucker, I’m going to kill him next time!” A raspy voice shouts, each percussive word causing smoke to billow from his volcanic head.
You watch closely as a curse with a broad, trunk-like frame turns to their partner. You can’t help but wince when their whiny, grating voice reaches your ears: it is painfully distorted, and it seems as though you shouldn’t be able to decipher their words.
A few flowers pop up in their hands as they speak. They bring them close to their face, inspecting their handiwork, “.ecno tsol ydaerla uoY .ytsah os eb t'noD” ( “Don’t be so hasty. You already lost once.”)
The volcano curse glares at his counterpart and crosses his arms. “So the Boss was right before! Whatever! Doesn’t matter, though. I know all his sneaky abilities now. He won’t stand a chance!”
“,ogoJ ,niaga toidi na er'uoy fi uoy pleh t'now I” ( “I won’t help you if you’re an idiot again, Jogo,” ) Hanami sighs while releasing the petals from the flowers. They are carried by the wind; they float delicately in the gentle breeze.
“Psh, like I’ll need it,” Jogo huffs, but his eyes betray him. Recalling his past run-in with the world’s strongest sorcerer has blown his pupils wide. “I won’t let him live again. No sorcerer has bested me!”
“.ereht t'nsaw dik taht fi uoy desicroxe evah dluow eH .devil reve s'taht tsegnorts eht s'eH .lanoisuled eb t'noD” ( “Don't be delusional. He's the strongest that's ever lived. He would have exorcised you if that kid wasn't there.” )
Jogo can only grumble under his breath at that, his giant eye shifting from side to side to avoid catching Hanami’s gaze.
The Jujutsu world is strife with discord, but there is certainly one thing all sorcerers and curses have no choice but to agree with – that Gojo Satoru is undoubtedly the strongest of them all. And he seems to have it all: unparalleled use of curse abilities, his household family name and a hefty inheritance to go with it, unique beauty and height that make others green with envy. His crystal eyes that never fail to take breaths away at first (and second, and third) glance; eyes that one could drown in and still never fully appreciate their complex beauty. And there's something lurking below the surface, something that forces him to veil his crowned jewels: the Six Eyes.
His kaleidoscopic eyes that twinkle even in the dark are more than just objects of beauty. They hold a different sort of beauty, too – a deadly, demented sort. They are all-seeing, all-knowing. It is near impossible to escape once his sights are set; they process information at a much higher, deeper level than what is normal, even among sorcerers. The universe's secrets are all but at his fingertips, if only he sheds his blindfold.
You're not even close to broaching his inhuman strength. Nobody is. But strength isn't your focus: brute force isn't your forte, and your cursed techniques aren't offensive, so you avoid combat as much as you can. Instead, you gather information. First and foremost, you're a tracker, but the other role Yaga commonly assigns to you nowadays is far more exhilarating – espionage.
Your sensitivity to cursed energy is very sharp, and you can pick up even the most faded and faint of residuals. Until now, for you, Yaga’s assignments have been fairly straightforward – stealthily track dangerous curses, pinpoint their location every so often, and relay this information to Gojo. Rinse and repeat. It wasn’t always easy, but you were fairly good at it. Ever since Gojo’s disturbing discovery of highly intelligent curses, however, your work has changed.
It all started with a meeting with the higher ups.
You were randomly summoned by the higher ups. Meetings with them weren’t uncommon, as you often reported on the amount of curses you had encountered within a certain period of time, but those were only held every few weeks, with the last one being just last week. It just didn’t make sense that your presence was being requested again, so you were suspicious as soon as Yaga sent you to see them.
When you entered the room, wrinkled faces turned toward you, their saggy and sunken eyes following your every motion. Whispers quickly broke out and quickly found their way into your ears. You really shouldn’t have been able to hear their utterances so clearly, yet you did. “Are you sure about-” “Our source said that they-” “-useful against those curses.”
A throat clearing from within their group caused the whispers to cease. You honestly weren’t surprised that they shamelessly gossiped about you while you were stood waiting, but it still managed to get under your skin. Despite your irritation, you managed a small bow to your audience. Silence stretched out too long for comfort; you felt their eyes studying you.
“Good evening,” You said coolly. “May I ask what the purpose of my visit is? I reported to you not but a week ago, so I assume it doesn’t concern my current duties.”
Glances were exchanged, and the silence continued for a few more long moments. You inwardly sighed when the infamously corrupt and stubborn elder, Gakuganji, rose to his feet to address you.
“You,” Gakuganji glared up from under his eyebrows. “You have been hiding something from the council.”
You could only crack a sheepish smile, “Sorry, sir, must be a habit. It’s my job to stay hidden, is it not?”
“This is not the time to be joking,” Another elder frowned deeply. “If the rumors are true, then you have been most irresponsible.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t know what you’re referring to,” You said, and tried to shrug nonchalantly. “Let rumors be rumors.”
“Don’t lie!” Gakuganji spat, leaning forward slightly. “It’s useless when we already know. You’re under our control, and you’ll use your ears-”
“Yoshinobu, calm yourself,” Another higher-up, this one appearing middle aged, warned. He then addressed you directly. “The council has decided that your concealment of your inherited technique is highly irresponsible. Not only could this have been useful to our collective causes in the past, but it also now makes you a liability. You know much about our society, and could easily listen for more – if the recently emerging special-grade curses discovered this, it could spell doom for our society.”
“Exactly. There’s a reason I kept this to myself,” You frowned. “Only a handful of people are even aware this ability exists, and I planned to keep it that way. You can at least understand this, yes? As you said, this would be bad in the wrong hands .”
You said the last part pointedly, keeping direct eye contact with the councilman through every word.
“What do you want me to do?” You asked calmly, but your gaze was cutting and fierce.
Their expressions remained unchanged under scrutiny of your eyes; the middle aged higher up simply looked on as he spoke his next words, “You will track the highly intelligent curses – namely, Jogo and his accomplice. You will find their meeting places and listen in on their conversations. Collect as much information as possible, and report back every week.”
You had simply blinked slowly, not wanting to believe his words. Your surprise quickly melted away, exposing your red-hot anger; you had to force yourself to contain your voice, “And why will I do that? That’s stupidly dangerous. I’m not even special-grade, and you know that.”
“No, you aren’t,” An elder smiled smugly. “But this isn’t really up for discussion. Your parents were kind enough to divulge information about your hearing abilities, after all. And others, of course...you have been most secretive. That’s not exactly conducive to a productive member of this society, wouldn’t you agree?”
Your head snapped up at that; an icy dread had washed over you. You shook your head, then spoke firmly, “Keep them out of this. They’re not even sorcerers anymore.”
“They are as equally responsible for not disclosing your abilities to us,” The same elder smirked again. “So, please…indulge us.”
You had grit your teeth, then let angry words slip out, “You bastards…”
“Just do as we say and all will be well,” The middle aged man said. “You are not expected to engage with the curses. Your sole duty is to track them down, listen in, and record their conversations. You are not to discuss this with anyone outside of this room. Understood?”
Your mouth twisted as you considered his words. You didn’t like how this was sounding, but you really didn’t have a choice. “Fine. Yes, I understand.”
That was the end of the discussion, and the beginning of your downfall.
☄. *. ⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ｡･:*˚:✧｡*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:.・。＊*✩*.・✭ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:✧ ˚ ⋆* ☾⋆
Keeping secrets from Gojo has always been impossible. He’s always seemed to know your secrets before you even had the sense the hide them. It was nice sometimes, when you were too scared to spill the beans on yourself, but otherwise his ability to read you was terrifying.
For someone so goofy and seemingly laid-back, he sure has a keen eye for secrets and especially secret-keepers. You’re not quite sure why exactly nothing can slip by him – what exactly grants his this perceptiveness? Is it due to his observational skills, his emotional acuity, his Six Eyes? You often wonder about it, but this answer will most likely evade you until the end of time.
With new secrets swirling around in your mind, you’re avoiding Gojo as much as possible. You’re scared that you won’t have the strength to keep this secret from him, even though you have to – your family might be in danger otherwise. You’re trying to stay away from Jujutsu High, but there’s not much you can do with Yaga summons you: that’s why you find yourself on campus despite your elusive wishes.
By the time you have a second to breathe, you’ve already met with Yaga and visited your dear friend Shoko in the infirmary. Lately, she’s been expressing the urge to restart her habit of smoking cigarettes, even though she quit years ago and has been doing well with it since. Or at least, so you thought, until you accidentally discovered the distinctive red and white box of Marlboro cigarettes in her handbag. You’re not a snooper – you had been rifling through it to find your phone you slipped in it during a night out.
Ever since that night, you’ve been subtly and not-so-subtly trying to wean her off of them again through various methods. So far, the most effective way to stop her from lighting up is to bring her a piping hot cup of coffee. Whenever you find yourself on campus, which doesn’t seem to be very often these days, you always make sure to deliver the caffeine. With the coffee, you carry the hope of stamping out her nicotine cravings.
You’re coming back from one of these routine trips to her infirmary when you develop a wanting for the bitter drink yourself. A cup of it sounds really nice right now – you’ve only just returned from an exploratory scouting mission. You’ve been tracking the curses’ movements for a couple of weeks, taking few breaks as to maintain your knowledge of their specific location, and your lack of rest has been catching up to you.
You head back to the kitchen, nodding hellos to some students you recognize along the way. When you arrive, you’re pretty much dead to the world and don’t bother to check if anyone you know is there; you immediately zero in on the mugs. After you grab one, you turn around, wandering over to the fridge to check if they have your favorite creamer.
Electricity crackles through your nerves as you spot a tuft of white hair from behind the other side the fridge. You turn on your heel, abandoning the thought of brewing a cup of coffee, but he calls out your name before you can take another step.
Damn. You really should have checked.
His wide smirk greets you first. You feel irked by his expression, and feel even more annoyed when your mind drifts to thoughts of how attractive he is.
Gojo approaches you cheerfully, ignoring the frown etched into your features. “Avoiding your favorite sorcerer, sweetheart? I’m wounded.”
You roll your eyes, scoffing, “No, actually, I just saw Shoko a few minutes ago.”
“Ouch. Doubly wounded!” Gojo feigns a broken heart, clutching a hand to his chest. “During working hours?”
“Yeah, jealous?” You ask, your lips pulling into a small smirk. He ignores your deflection.
Even through his blindfold, you can feel his gaze searching your body. “What, are you wounded or something?”
You shake your head, mouth quirking into a half-smile despite yourself. “No, just figured I’d stop by and see if she needed some coffee. She’s always itching to have cigarettes these days, so I thought maybe caffeine could help.”
“That’s good, I thought you’d turned weak again,” Gojo admits sweetly, as if he were complimenting you. You sigh, trying to not let his jab get to you. Of course he’d say that – did you really expect something different?
He continues his douchey behavior with a sickly sweet smile. “You haven’t been calling me lately, sweetheart. Miss me?”
You hold your face in your hands, rubbing your eyes vigorously. You groan, “You’re such an ass. You really haven’t changed since high school, have you?”
“Hey, I’m not the one with avoidant tendencies!” Gojo exclaims, raising his hands to defend himself. “Now tell me, sweets, have you not been on any missions lately? It’s been such a pain to track down these curses myself.”
He speaks so casually that you almost spill the truth. He’s just waiting for you to indignantly tell him he’s wrong, that you have indeed been on missions. He’s fishing for information, but you’re not going to take the bait: two can play at this game.
“Stop calling me those nicknames!” You frown, crossing your arms. “I don’t track curses exclusively for you. And, besides, I’m sure you have other people to help you out.”
He pouts. “But they’re so baaaad, it sucks. I have to do it all myself.”
“Boohoo, the strongest sorcerer is finally getting a challenge,” You scoff.
“You’re so cold these days, (Y/N)-chan,” Gojo shakes his head.
He leans forward a bit, invading your space a bit too much for your comfort. You want to back away, but you’re afraid it’ll make you look weak or submissive, so you stand your ground.
You are definitely in the hot-seat. You feel like it too – sweat springs to your skin, and you take on a flushed look, as if you’ve been exerting yourself.
“So, you are gonna tell me why you haven’t been helping me out anymore? I thought that was your job, sweets. Isn’t it?”
The higher-ups words ring in your head. You are not to discuss this with anyone outside of this room.
“Oh,” You say weakly. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It usually is, but I’ve been assigned some pretty dry work.”
This piques Gojo’s interest – you can tell by the subtle way his head cocks to the side. “Oh, really? Even more boring than usual? That’s hard to believe. You better tell me all about it.”
Although his words are lighthearted and teasing, your palms start to feel damp from perspiration. He knows something’s up.
Your mouth opens and closes as you consider what to say to not rouse further suspicion. Your visible hesitation, however, doesn’t do you any favors.
He eyes you curiously, his near-constant saccharine smile faltering. “Is something going on?”
You shake your head a little too eagerly. “What? No, of course not.”
Gojo sighs, a knowing smile creeping into his expression. “You’re such a bad liar. Always have been.”
“It’s really nothing,” You say quickly. “But do me a favor and don’t ask me again. Please?”
Gojo lifts his blindfold, turning one glittering, intense eye on your form. You swallow, composure crumbling under the scrutiny of his gaze.
“Doesn’t sound like nothing,” Gojo continues. “You look rather nervous to me.”
“Only because you’re putting me on the spot! Look, it isn’t a big deal. It’s not like I’m actually figh-” You cut yourself off quickly. “I’m really not supposed to talk about it. You understand, yeah?”
Gojo shakes his head, large hand languidly dragging down his face to completely slide his blindfold off. “That’s never stopped you before. Keeping secrets from me now, doll?”
His eyes twinkle with amusement, but there’s a darker emotion stirring below the surface.
He leans in closer. “You really shouldn’t be doing that. It’s a dangerous habit.”
You feel yourself getting lost in his eyes – your head begins to swim with dangerous thoughts, and your breath comes short and fast. You avert your gaze, finally tearing your eyes away from his captivating crystals. Shame rushes through you when heat floods your cheeks.
“I’m not the only one with secrets, Satoru,” You say quietly. “But...there’s nothing I can do about this one.”
Gojo says nothing, but his lips twitch as if he’s considering how to respond.
“I could make you a cup of coffee, though,” You offer. You’re not sure why you ask – you know he won’t say yes.
He adjusts his blindfold back over his eyes, expression staying scarily unreadable. He leans into your space even more, making your breath catch in your throat, before firmly gripping your shoulder with one hand.
“You know I only like sweet things,” He refuses your offer lightly, before his tone lowers. “You better call me the next time you find something, yeah? It’s your job, sweets, I don’t care what anyone else says.”
“But-” You begin to refute, but Gojo cuts you off with a finger held in the air.
He’s only inches from your face now. You’re both glad and disappointed that his blindfold obscures his eyes – you’d be an embarrassed, blushing mess, but you’d be able to see his eyes up close again. Regardless of the covering on his face, his closeness has you holding your breath.
You can’t keep your gaze from drifting to his lips, which have quirked up into a smile that you find difficult to read.
He lets out a soft sigh, which you can feel fan across your face, before he clutches your shoulder more tightly. “I gotta go now, but remember what I said.”
There’s an sudden rush of air that swirls around you, the force of it causing you to gasp and shut your eyes. When you blink again, the pressure on your shoulder has been released, and the space in front of you is empty.
☄. *. ⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ｡･:*˚:✧｡*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:.・。＊*✩*.・✭ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:✧ ˚ ⋆* ☾⋆
You had started scouting weeks ago, but it was finally time to get close enough to observe them more thoroughly. To be honest, you were worried about it – you had never been consistently around such high-level curses before.
You start out overly cautious, and not very effective; your roaring heartbeat overwhelms your sensitive ears, and thus hearing their words from afar proves difficult. You hate every second of it. The fear that courses through your veins chokes you, and whenever they stray to your direction, you can only hear your own frantic footsteps as you run away like a scared child.
Despite your concerns, as the days crawl by, you have dared to venture closer. A few steps here, and couple more paces there, and you quickly become their shadow. You are terrified most by one detail: within the last few days, you have begun to enjoy spying on them. The adrenaline that used to fill you with only dread now makes your heart soar, and as you jot their words down, a strange sense of pride wells in your chest.
You are getting comfortable. Too comfortable. Comfort is dangerous for a sorcerer, and you know that – it leads to the ever-fatal complacency. But, you’ve ignored all the signs since you are finally excited about your work again.
So, here you are, the closest you’ve ever physically been to these awful curses. Up until now, you’ve rarely even seen glimpses of them from your great distances away. For today’s spying session, though, you had decided to climb a tree, and you can now peek at them rather well from between the sweeping branches. Your ears appreciate your efforts: their voices are so clear and loud from this short distance. When you close your eyes, it seems as though you’re sat between them. You can quickly write down their words with ease – even Hanami’s strange piercing tones are readily decipherable.
“I hate this,” Jogo rasps out, his voice gruff and dripping with irritation. “That boy won’t leave us alone. I could destroy him, you know...”
You tilt your head curiously at this call-out. Jogo often complains about his ‘Boss’, but never has used his actual name. There are many diminutives of his name he has picked – Boss, boy, idiot, crack-pot fool – but he limits his vocabulary to anything but his real name. You have noticed this, of course, as you have physically recorded every instance of it, but you haven’t thought too hard about it until now.
Hanami exhales loudly, then turns to Jogo, “.stbuod ym evah I” (“I have my doubts.”)
“He told me that I stood no chance against Gojo Satoru, but he was wrong! I’m here, ready to pulverize that pipsqueak the next time I can get my hands on him!” Jogo boasts. “Boss knows he’s weaker than him, so he told me I wouldn’t win to make himself feel better about it. That’s a bit pathetic, don’t ya think so, Hanami?”
“...” Nothing can be heard except for Hanami’s heavy sigh.
“Obviously, since I’m on Gojo’s level, then I could tear Boss to pieces,” Jogo continues, an eerie smile full of teeth stretching wide across his face. “Get-”
Your heart drops into your stomach.
“,t’noD” Hanami cuts him off abruptly, rising sharply. “.gninetsil eb yam ohw wonk reven uoY .eman sih kaeps t’noD” ( “Don’t; don’t speak his name. You never know who may be listening.”)
“Who cares?!” Jogo spits, rearing his spewing volcano-head dangerously close to Hanami’s fire-prone body. “He thinks he’s so cool by making us not say his name. He’s just as arrogant as that sorcerer.”
Hanami doesn’t respond, but you can see their mouth morph into a firm line. They shake their head lightly; they are unphased by Jogo’s anger, having been exposed to it too many times.
Your breath comes short and fast as you try to convince yourself that your ears are wrong. No. There’s no way. There’s no way, but the sinking feeling in your gut doesn’t subside.
“You act like the world is going to explode if I say his name,” Jogo scoffs, making his exasperation clear with a loud puff of air. “Geto shouldn’t care so much. You see how much he likes hearing his name being heard, anyway. What a brat he is.”
You have to cover your mouth to quiet the ragged breaths you’re taking. Your ears are never wrong – you should have known. The sound of your rapidly beating heart fills your ears, blocking out any further words from Hanami and Jogo.
A hand is still clasped to your face from shock as you begin to whisper to yourself. “Geto…is still alive? How…?”
Tears are streaming down your face, and you’re having trouble holding back the sobs that threaten to rip from your throat. You’re coming dangerously close to compromising your position, but you can’t find it in you to care. You need to leave, you need to run away, you need to go , but you can’t. It’s as though your limbs are glued to the tree; you can’t move.
Gojo. He’s trying to take out Gojo.
You suddenly feel the coarse bark scraping your skin as you clamber down the thick branches; hot blood springs to your skin due to your carelessness. Your breath is stolen from your lungs when you land hard on your feet with an audible thud. The force of the fall causes your legs to buckle from underneath you; your arms shoot out to catch yourself, but you still collapse to the forest floor. You’re making noise when you shouldn’t, but you aren’t registering any of your actions. You can’t think of anything except of how you need to get away, of how you need to warn Gojo.
Your heartbeat slowly fades from your ears, and you stiffen at the sound of approaching footsteps. They’re far, but not far enough.
“,gnihtemos draeh I raews I” You hear the flower curse mutter. “.ereh s’gnihtemoS.” (“I swear I heard something. Something’s here.”)
“Probably just another wild animal, like last time you freaked out,” Jogo says disapprovingly. “Are you seriously worried? So touchy just because I said his name…you worry too much, Hanami. And if not, I’ll incinerate this whole forest. There’ll be no place to hide.”
You scramble to your feet, your instincts screaming at you to do what you do best: run .
You’ve never run this fast in your entire life. With each frantic stride, your legs push you as far forward as they can; you’re practically flying. You don’t slow even as your hands dig into a pocket of your jacket to get ahold of your phone. You don’t risk taking a single glance at it; your hands messily speed dial his number before you can even think about it.
You’re vaguely aware of shouting behind you, but you don’t dare to turn to look to see if they’re closing in. You allow yourself to concentrate on the sounds behind you for a few moments.
“–I should go first, I’m better!”
“!ti wolla t'now I !seert ym lla ot erif tes ot gniog er’uoY” (“You’re going to set fire to all my trees! I won’t allow it!”)
“ Fuck your forests, Hanami! You can’t stop me!”
You startle as a voice erupts beside your ear. “Ah, finally calling me on missions again? You must be bored, (Y/N)-chan. Don’t flirt with me too much, okay?”
“Satoru!” You gasp, barely able to choke out the words between your heavy breaths. “He’s back, he’s back! And the two special-grades–”
“Two special-grades? Where are you?” Gojo asks, his prior teasing lilt fading away rapidly. “What’s happening?”
“He should be dead, but he isn’t!” You cry, voice cracking. You’re vaguely aware you haven’t answered his questions – your overwhelmed brain can only spit out your unhinged thoughts.
“I need you to send me your location. Just do that for me, okay?” Gojo asks, a note of urgency threatening to overtake his calm words. “Okay, (Y/N)?”
You nod even though he can’t see you, and then hang up – you don’t have an ounce of concentration to spare right now. You only really have one opportunity to do what you’re about to try to execute: cutting off your cursed energy. It’s a skill that you’ve honed over the years, but it takes so much effort and precision that it’s risky to rely on. At this point, though, you have little to no choice. If you don’t escape now, the chance of your survival will plummet.
With a jolt of newfound energy, you sprint to your left, closer to where the curses are headed. You will your cursed energy to wash over you, coating your surroundings in a thick wash of your distinct energy signature. Almost immediately, you notice a pool of glowing molten rock closing in fast. Everything within its path sizzles as it’s eaten away to nothing. Your breaths come fast – that could be you if you don’t hurry.
A thundering of heavy steps approaches dangerously fast. They’re crashing through the forest with little grace, probably squashing all plant life underfoot – you have to assume its the hot-headed Jogo. You have to abstain from that kind of clumsiness if you’re going to fool them. You need to do this, and you need to do it well, otherwise it will be for naught.
You take a deep breath, your brow creasing and forehead beading with sweat from the amount of concentration you’re pouring into this task. Within seconds, you cut off access to your pool of cursed energy. Everything is so quiet. It’s never this quiet. You can hardly hear them now – you’re not sure if this comforts you or terrifies you.
Without further thought, you eye the encroaching lava one last time before veering off to the side, moving quickly but carefully. There will be no cursed energy trail left behind, no residuals to follow, but you have to ensure there isn’t any physical evidence of your escape, too.
There’s no way for you to be sure they’ve lost your trail, but you slow after a few minutes regardless. You make your way under a huge oak tree, crouching low under its expansive branches, hoping it’ll conceal you enough to allow you to quickly send Gojo your location without being disturbed.
You unlock your phone, opening the text conversation between you and Gojo, your thumb shakily pressing the “ share your location ” button. You wait impatiently to see your pinned location pop up.
It never does. It’s only then you notice two words that make you curse under your breath: NO SIGNAL.
There’s a great rustling from only tens of feet behind you, and you can feel heat begin to lick your back even from here. Jogo roars, “I know you’re there somewhere! You can’t run forever, dirty sorcerer! Let’s see just how quickly you’ll die – take this!”
Before you can react, a cluster of red-hot insects pelts the undergrowth in every direction. Your eyes desperately try to track the insects, but without your cursed energy to guide your sight, you are practically blind. You miraculously dodge the majority of them, but one grazes your right arm, and another singes your left calf. You clutch a hand over your mouth to muffle the scream of pain that is likely to escape otherwise.
You double over, gripping your right arm like its your lifeline, before you snap out of it. You need to get away, you need to go , or else you’ll die .
You rush to your feet and then you’re off like a rocket, brushing past scratchy brambles and running head-on into several overarching branches. There’s no time to pause and rub at your aching soon-to-be-bruises or burns; every time you trip or stumble, you immediately push yourself up and continue your frenzied pace.
You’re being louder now, you know that, but you can’t help it. Ever since your heightened hearing dulled, the primal part of your brain has taken over, focused solely on the flight. Your run-in with Jogo’s insects has only solidified your fight-or-flight response. Right now, only one half-lucid thought springs to your mind: another distractor to lure the curses away.
You rip off your jacket, pour as much cursed energy into the fabric as possible, then fling it as far as you can away from your path. It’s a heavy jacket, and with the energy you’ve imbued it with, you easily throw it significantly further than should ever be possible otherwise.
Once that event is over, you continue to mindlessly tear through the thick vegetation. You try not to think about your bloody, burning calf. You keep going even when your lungs burn horribly, even when they feel like they’re threatening to collapse. There’s also this horrid metallic tang in your mouth that won’t go away – maybe your lungs really are collapsing.
You feel it rip through your body before it reaches your ears: there’s an absurdly loud rumbling from behind you that vibrates through you – it sounds as if the forest is eating itself alive. When you risk a glance behind, you are horrified to see chunks of the forest disappearing into nothing, and thick new trunks cascading into the air, towering higher than any of the other trees. You can’t take your eyes away from the monstrous structure. If you can see their branches, then they can see you, then they can hunt you–
All at once, your feet fall against nothing; there is no satisfying thump against solid ground. Your arms immediately stretch out, anticipating a crash to the ground, but you don’t catch yourself. For many long moments, there is nothing. No sound, no sensation save for your body ripping through the air. It would almost be peaceful if your one-track mind wasn’t wondering if Jogo and Hanami had gotten you, if they had indeed caught up, if they had destroyed you instantly, if this was the end, if you were dead, tumbling into the endless abyss of the afterlife.
You collide with the ground. Sharp gravel digs into your skin upon impact, causing pain receptors to instantly send signals to your brain that you are definitely alive. The world whirls around you violently, dizzying you immensely. When more pain blooms around your body, this time more intensely, you realize you’re rolling down a mountainside. Suddenly you remember the bolded warning on the debriefing: “ steep slopes on the edge of the forest; steer clear ”.
Well, fuck , are the last words that come to your mind before your head jerks up and instantly rebounds back down from a particularly harsh impact. Darkness encroaches on your vision, filling your eyes with patches of dancing spots. They persist even as you slow to a stop, even as blood from your forehead trickles into your vision, obscuring the world through a film of red.
There’s a faint ringing in your ears, and it sounds familiar. Your eyes roll to the right, honing in on a blurry object that’s flashing. You can’t distinguish the caller ID, but you know who it is regardless. You reach out weakly, but your arm can’t quite reach. You summon all the remaining strength you have to reposition yourself, to move , but your consciousness is slipping away. You’re barely aware of liquid dripping down your face – whether it be blood or tears, you can’t decipher – before you fully succumb to the darkness.