Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sorcerers are creatures of habit—they rise with the moon, and set with the sun. It’s been that way since the dawn of time, like two sides of a coin. They are there, reflecting each other, but ordinary humans cannot know of the existence of sorcerers and their curses.

Many see it as a curse itself, a tiresome routine they just have to fulfill. For Umi Minamoto, this is her way.

(Even now, when her eyes are tightly closed and she can only see fire behind her eyelids.)

The girl lets out a small sob, feeling the blood in her mouth mixing with her own saliva: there’s something weird on her ankle, wet and gross, and her thorax is being crushed by something, probably a piece of debris that fell from the sky like Satoru Gojo fell from grace.

A cramp spreads across her neck as Umi tries to turn her head. Her cheek scrapes against the broken pavement and her shoulders feel very stiff, but she achieves her goal. When her eyes land on her ankle, she screams.

A curse, circular and plump and the spitting image of a giant flea, was busily trying to eat her ankle. Its teeth were vividly tearing at the fabric of her school pants and trying to take a big bite out of the skin, splattering blood and saliva on the floor. Without waiting for it to take a chunk out of her skin, she let her body expel a heavy wave of cursed energy that repulsed the flea immediately.

Oblivious to her bodily pain (and probably more than two broken bones) she leapt away from it, staying on her knees and hiding the injured ankle under her thighs. Her hand went to her arm to find her knife, but she didn’t find it, so she deduced that she lost it.

The curse let out a roar in protest and lunged at her again.

Umi screamed back, her fingers locking onto a piece of cement near her knee before hitting the curse straight in the face with it. It drops like a fly to the side, but it’s not enough. The girl repeatedly hits the curse between its eyes with the piece of pavement, hoping in a sick part of her that it’s bleeding the same way her ankle was. But when her eyes clear and the fire inside her calms, she realizes that, indeed, the curse was intact, just dizzy.

She sighs.

A seal materializes as Umi presses her palm under the mouth of the curse, glowing faintly white. The curse twist in place on the ground, until after a few seconds it explodes.

A fleeting thought flashed through Umi’s head: what will she look like right now, all bloody and probably full of dust? That caused a grimace to make its way to her lips.

Pushing herself up with her hands, she struggled to her feet. While observing her surroundings to find out what the hell happened, she tried to tidy her hair and clean her face from the blood, with the image of her grandfather behind her eyelids, explaining to her the role of a woman in this society.

Of course, that lasted until she saw the mess.

On the night of the thirty-one, the higher-ups sent her a message. Short and precise, the details of the mission squeezed into a single sentence (—they sealed Satoru Gojo, and Suguru Geto is causing chaos in Shibuya. Get a grip on the situation.) “Do whatever it takes.”

Automatically, Umi rated this disaster even worse than the Night Parade of One Hundred Demons that occurred last year.

Shibuya looked like a painting of an ancient war. Full of blood and fire. What were once proud buildings and rows full of dressed-up people were nothing more than a mountain of rubble at their feet, with a combination of blood and rot and burnt pork in the air.

If it was difficult to find the location of the curse user before, it would be torturous now.

But that doesn’t have to be a concern for the higher-ups. She’s going to kill Suguru Geto, it’s her responsibility, the only one she has: because of her position in the clan… and because of her position as an older sister.

At the thought of her sister, Umi’s mind seems to calm down. As if someone were whispering a lullaby in her ear.

It is at that moment that she realizes how quiet Shibuya is.

It covers the city like a blanket, and follows Umi wherever she goes. She guesses that everything was engulfed into this torturous silence after the explosions. After Sukuna and that volcano curse lit up the sky like the brightest star, and buildings have collapsed from their fingertips, after Umi went flying through the air and earned a couple of broken bones.

It looked like a bad movie, the kind Shio likes to watch, and more times than not, that moron of Professor Gojo joins her.

The ground feels uneven under her shoes, and her socks are more gray than white inside her zori. Umi looks at the corpses lying around her: some crushed or burned or missing some limbs. After seeing the last ones, she pays more attention to the road than to the dead people, she doesn’t want to fall on one of those and smell bad.

Until a corpse appears in front of her feet.

The body is black as coal, and has none of its limbs. There is no way to identify whether it was a man or a woman, as the only thing that gives it a little shape are the small curves where its eyes were located and the protruding nose bone.

Unable to help herself, Umi pukes.

She has the reflexes not to throw-up on the body, but thanks to that she almost stains her sandals. Her face feels sticky, though, as tears mix with the vomit.

“Get a grip on yourself.”

She said it more to herself, after all she didn’t expect a response to her words in a place like this without having any acquaintances around her.

“Sis…ter?”

She doesn’t feel good. She suddenly feels much more fragile than she should.

Her heart, lodged behind her lungs and beating awkwardly in her chest, weighs more than she thought it would. And she wants to laugh, Umi wants to laugh from the bottom of her heart because she has only one sister, and she is safe because that was what her principal had promised her. Shio Minamoto would not participate in any mission beyond her ability. That was the deal.

Then why is she crying?

She can’t believe it, Umi doesn’t want to believe it. But there’s no denying it, is there? The cursed energy of her sister, dear Shio Minamoto, has never lied. It’s a symphony Umi knows to the letter, on bad days and good ones. How it pulses when she occupies her technique and how It curls into it to rest.

She doesn’t even know she’s screaming until the blood begins to gush from her open mouth.

Her feet act on their own when she decides to throw her body next to her sister’s, feeling the many cracks as she throws herself. Her hands are afraid to touch Shio, not knowing how to touch her so she won’t feel any more pain… she’s not even sure if when she touches Shio, her skin will still be there.

With her hands shaking, she decides to place them as carefully as possible on Shio’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take you to Ieiri, she’ll heal you. You’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.” Oh, what a big, sweet lie.

“Sister…”

Why is Shio here? That was the deal with the higher-ups. Supposedly, if Umi did as she was told, they would keep her sister out of it.

“Yes, Shio? I’m here.”

“I’m so scared… It’s so hot…”

And Umi clings Shio tight to her body as she silently shudders and shakes and weeps and heaves, wracked with her grief and indescribable guilt. The storm swirls savage in the depths of her heart, sparks beneath her skin singing visciously in her ears in a discordant symphony composed by agony and wrath that begs for release lest it tear her apart.

(And Umi wants to laugh as she feels the palm of her hand scorch at such proximity to her sister’s body. As her skin shrivels and the pain sears her bones.)

Fucking worms.

Fucking dirty old maggots.

“Don’t… Don’t worry, Shio. Your big sister will kill everyone who did this to you, okay? So… Stay with me ‘till the end, please Shio please don’t go—“

“Umi.”

At her sister’s voice, Umi leans her head forward as she tries to listen to the faint voice above her labored breaths.

(She notices nothing. Of her hand, of the hurricane of cursed energy surrounding them both, of the amounts of cursed energy her body was providing Shio…)

“Don’t let them kill me, big sister.”

“O-Of course not! I promise, Shio, I won’t let anyone hurt you!”

(It’s like this, how a curse is made.)

Umi feels her ears ringing and her vision begins to blur. Her surroundings are dancing to the tune of the song Shio used to sing to her when they were both much younger. She can no longer see the ashes of Shibuya, nor can she feel her sister’s body beneath her fingers; dizziness slaps her across her face as her eyes can see nothing but blurry images. Where I am?

She closes her eyes, feeling sobs shake her body.

(Until it goes away. Shio and her song and their hurricane. And only she is left in the middle of it all.)

“Oh god, you’re a mess.”

The last thing Umi Minamoto sees before she passes out is a pair of young sorcerers, Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo, with relaxed grins on their faces and ridiculous costumes.

Chapter Text

The first thing Umi expects when she wakes up is to be a good liar.

Not to avoid being on the verge of insanity after seeing the two people she never thought of she would see in a situation like this and well… her age; but for having to pretend to still be unconscious, being that she has been awake for a couple of minutes already, forcing herself to be relaxed in the arms that carry her.

Naturally, she does not open her eyes to know which of the two faces she will see first. Besides, it takes a lot of energy to fight against the fatigue that clings to her body. But even so, the mere thought that Suguru Geto is the one carrying her makes her blood boil, and she just wants to break away from him and scratch her skin until she has blood under her fingernails and any trace of the assassin disappears from her body. Umi knows she can’t do that, though. She doesn’t even have a plan: does she beat the pair? Does she expand her domain? Does she kill them…?

All she has left is to remain composed and manageable.

It doesn’t feel like she’s inside a domain expansion, or the work of some cursed technique (—besides it’s impossible for an enemy to have slipped out from behind her back, she would never make such a mistake. Shio was the only one with her at the time); this simply feels like Tokyo: the only cursed energy she feels is that of the pair next to her. And it’s highly unlikely that this is a dream or hallucination. So…?

Maybe this is all just Shio’s doing.

“Are you sure she’s not dead?”

“I’m sure, Satoru.”

“But are you sure sure?”

These two are idiots.

If these are two of the four special grade jujutsu sorcerers, then it makes sense that the situation has escalated so quickly. They should realize at a glance that she, a mere first grade sorcerer, is quite awake.

It’s not any cursed technique or anything, in fact, Umi may believe in these moments of reflection that her grandfather pulled this out of 1) his ass or 2) some drama; for some reason, her grandfather was quite nervous that Suguru Geto wasn’t doing anything after slaughtering an entire village, and Umi had recently had her technique manifested to her. So, the old man told his granddaughter that he would teach her something she would never forget.

The old man had a cane (apparently a family heirloom) that he used long before he needed help walking. It wasn’t very special, but it had a handful of jewels embedded in the handle. Umi remembers this well, because her grandfather would proceed to take her to the Minamoto state courtyard and viciously beat her in the head until she passed out: leaving a trail of scars in his path that took months to heal.

Her grandfather would repeat over and over again that he would not stop beating her until she controlled how long she passed out. And so the beating went on for months—until Umi achieved the first part of the ‘training’ so they moved to the second part: controlling her cursed energy upon awakening, to pretend she was still unconscious. Since then, the few times Umi has fainted, it has lasted only a couple of minutes.

“I did it because I care about you, and I need to know that you’re safe,” that was what Grandpa would say to her when she was crying from the pain, and he would run a crumpled hand over the crown of her head to soothe her. However, he never put Shio through that training. Not even after…

Well, now she knows that everything that old man told her was a sea of lies, and that he probably colluded with the higher-ups to send Shio to her death. He never cared about Umi. He didn’t see her on the same level as a man, not sure if she was a human being to him at all. He saw her as something he could use as long as he had her younger sister in his clutches—attracting her with his false thorn of paternity. Maybe he didn’t even collude on that with the higher-ups. Maybe the higher-ups already had her grandfather dancing in the palm of their hands from the start.

The memories burned her adrenaline fast. And when Umi gave up her theories and returned to where she was, she could no longer battle the darkness that crept up her limbs to her head.

A very small part of her was grateful that the arms holding her cradled her head carefully, and she let go of the helm of her body to surrender to exhaustion.

▬▬▬▬▬▬

The smell of alcohol and disinfectant stings her nose.

Her eyes feel heavy, and light seeps from under her eyelids. Her body feels unusually heavy, with her right hand numb, but Umi isn’t too keen to figure out why. So she decides to focus on the IV pulsing in her left arm… and the lack of clothing on her body.

She tentatively opens her eyes, observing a blurry image of what she suspects is an infirmary. She decides to inspect her left side first, seeing almost immediately the IV holder with a relatively large bag and halfway through its use; when Umi tries to look further, she meets brown eyes looking back at her.

“You woke up, finally.” It was strange to look at the woman—no, girl, who was leaning against the window frame: leaning back on her elbows and closing the old phone she holds in one of her hands.

Umi had never come face to face with Shoko Ieiri, but she knows her from the stories her teacher enthusiastically talked about her, and has seen her a couple of times from afar in not-so-pleasant situations—Shibuya, for example; but now, her chocolate hair reached no lower than her chin, and there were no hints of bags under her eyes. Like the pair before her, her face had a youthfulness and innocence that adult Ieiri does not possess.

Unenthusiastic about the fact that the girl holds Umi’s gaze undisturbed, her eyes momentarily travel to scan the wall. When she sees a calendar with the year on bold, Umi feels like she’s going to throw up.

Umi tries to support her body weight on her right arm, but her hand doesn’t seem to cooperate with the situation and she falls backwards onto the stretcher.

“Be careful when you move, you had some pretty nasty injuries. And I can only heal to a certain extent.” However, Shoko Ieiri doesn’t seem bothered one bit. What’s more, she seemed almost bored at the predicament. But Umi couldn’t afford to give the girl her full attention when her eyes were still on the calendar.

November 2005.

It is at that moment, that her eyes were fixed on the ceiling without blinking, that a cruel laugh bursts from her throat; oh, but it wasn’t funny, not in the least.

Shio sent her back, and what was she supposed to do now? The answer comes to her mind fast: kill Suguru Geto. It would be so easy, they’re in the same building and he’s still a first grader. Umi couldn’t lose.

There’s nothing more important than that.

Umi looks out of the corner of her eye at Shoko Ieiri, looking at her with bored, but attentive eyes. Those kinds of looks—she’d got all the time: when she was still the only child (and also the only heir to the head of the clan) in the Minamoto state. It was like that until Shio was born, until… well, it turned out that apparently she was also a girl. “Could you call…?” the question teeters on the tip of her tongue. Umi wants to bet everything that Masamichi Yaga, at this point in time, was not the principal. “Your teacher.”

The chocolate girl nods.

“Sure. He told me to let him know when you woke up.” She probably also wanted to hurry out of the infirmary to smoke something.

And so Umi is left alone again, and with the help of her left arm, she sits up on the bed to observe the rest of the room; the walls were cream-colored, and there was a clock resting next to the door: 2:17. There were only three stretchers, and the one where Umi lay was the closest to the door, and she was surprised to find in the corner where Shoko Ieiri used to be a Monster energy drink with a plastic straw—so she didn’t smoke when she was young?

Now, to the topic at hand.

Umi dragged her right arm across her lap, panic making its way through her stomach at the fact that she couldn’t feel her hand at all. The skin on her palm was resident of some vivid red bits of skin while others were slightly pinkish—starting from her fingertips to her wrist; either way, her hand was unusable. She truly hoped that it was merely for now, and that at some point mobility would return. Although it was somewhat doubtful.

She supposed she would have to learn to write and wield weapons with her left hand from now on.

Umi hears the footsteps of two different pair of shoes and hides her hand under the sheet, while through the open door enters a much younger Masamichi Yaga without sunglasses. His companion, the chocolate-colored girl, stands in the doorframe, a few steps behind her teacher.

The man looks at her, trying to examine her quickly, but Umi looks back at him with the same intensity. Then, he looks over his shoulder at his student.

“Thank you, Shoko, for keeping an eye on her. Now you can go, please see to it that Satoru and Suguru are uninjured when they return from their mission… It must be time for them to be back.”

“Yup,” the girl says simply, and one corner of her lips turn up as if she’s grinning before she turns around and disappears down the hallway. Masamichi Yaga closes the door once Shoko Ieiri leaves and stands in front of it, as if still unsure if it’s a good idea to be inside a room with Umi.

His posture is stiff and not at all relaxed. Then he sighs, “You’ve been asleep for two days, after two of my students found you in the middle of Shibuya and decided to bring you in. Here, my other student had you under treatment and closed all your wounds—which didn’t seem light at all, which is strange because we weren’t notified of a single fight that day at that time. So, I think you owe me an explanation.”

Umi absorbs every bit of information the man throws in her direction. She doesn’t like the fact that he’s demanding an explanation, because that’s something those elders would do, and Umi wants to think that Masamichi Yaga is not standing beside them, but against them. At the same time, it is simply logical that he is nervous and wants answers.

Breaking eye contact, Umi occupies her left hand to reach inside her bra, pulling out the small piece of plastic. With some embarrassment, she wipes it against the sheet of the gurney, and extends it in Masamachi Yaga’s direction.

“Here is your answer.”

The man makes a quick inspection of the plastic before taking it in his hands. “Is this a joke?”

Umi shook her head, as the man looked at her ID with a frown. Her Jujutsu Tech student ID, from the Kyoto branch—from the year 2018. The picture showed a happier Umi than the current one, but half of that happiness was feigned if she was sincere. Along with her name and rank; there is also the reason why, she decided to keep her ID in her underwear of all places. It was the most favorable thing to do, after that special grade sorcerer with a soft face told her how he once lost his ID and got it back a long time later.

“In the future, the side of curses and curse users gain an important asset in the fight. It’s already been two years since it’s harder to fight them.” Began Umi, controlling her breathing and muscles so that her chin wouldn’t tremble. “That, and adding that Ryomen Sukuna found a vessel and all it brings with it is destruction—that proves that after a long time, the balance is not in our favor. On October thirty-first, they orchestrated a trap for Satoru Gojo in Shibuya, where they managed to seal him. There were many casualties, from hostages and sorcerers. Ryomen Sukuna started to fight another high grade curse and…” she doesn’t want to think about what happened at that moment. On the corpse or the smell. “I encountered my sister, who possesses the cursed technique of the Minamoto family. Somehow it got out of control, and that brought me to 2005.”

“Your sister… she was the one who cursed you?”

At those words, Umi’s body seems to shrink into herself, and she brings her left hand to cover half of her face—she’s not going to let Masamichi Yaga see one of her eyes fill with tears.

“So, what if it was like that?” she spat. “She had every right. I’m her older sister, I should have protected her from all this.”

Umi doesn’t want to imagine how the man in front of her sees her right now. She feels like a wounded animal. Baring her teeth and looking filthy.

She doesn’t know how long they both remain silent. Studying and trying to decipher each other. But Masamichi Yaga breaks the silence with a sigh. “Stay here in the infirmary until you heal well, try to rest. I’ll think about what to do.”

The man turns around, and Umi panics. Her legs collide with each other as she lunges towards the ground to stop the professor, stretching out the only hand she can use and feeling her right twist at an unnatural angle as her whole body hits the ground.

“You can’t tell anyone!” she yells at him, squeezing the hand she’s holding. It’s hard and a little rough, but Umi would be lying if she says it doesn’t bring her some comfort. “Not to the higher-ups, not to my clan, not to your students! Me… Please, sir, help me get back!”

She is humbled as she lowers her head in a bow. But she needs this.

Umi jumps in place when Masamichi Yaga raises his other hand, remembering all those times when her own grandfather would beat her for saying nonsensical things. Umi closes her eyes, waiting for the impact.

All she gets is a few taps on the crown of her head. Gentle and somewhat uncomfortable.

“Do you really want to go back to a future like that?” he asks her in a soft voice, which Umi thinks she’s imagining. “Satoru is sealed, your sister is… dead. Everything seems to be lost.”

Umi looks through her bangs at the man in front of her, exhausted.

“Instead, if you stay, you can change something. But first, you have to rest. We’ll figure out what can be done.”

Chapter Text

“I see you freaks came back as fast as ever.”

Shoko’s voice enters Satoru’s ears at the same time as his drink leaves the vending machine with a thud. Suguru is only a few steps beside him, sitting on the bench in the area where they regularly practice.

Satoru watches her out of the corner of his eye as he takes a sip from the can, feeling the immediate relief in his throat. Then he grins, “Two grade two curses. Pretty weak.”

Suguru lets out a small laugh from where he stands. With his head tilted back so he can lean his head against the wall.

“I really think he assigns us to these missions to keep us out of school,” then his eyes fall on Shoko, who is still a bit further away from the duo, standing quite alone in the corner. “Are you cold, Shoko?”

“No, not really. But it won’t be long before it starts to cool off. And I didn’t want to have to go to get the scarf from my room later.” One corner of Shoko’s lips lifts, and Satoru can recognize that she’s teasing them both. “Work smarter, not harder.”

Shoko already seems to be one more of the Minamoto clan with her weird deductions.

“Why aren’t you in the infirmary, anyway? I thought you already had roots on that side of the building. Oh, don’t tell me… Did you miss us?” Satoru teases back.

“Nah. Professor Yaga needed to talk about something with the girl in the infirmary, so he told me to come get you guys and see that you don’t have any injuries.”

Suddenly, all the playful air they had created vanished, and Suguru stands up straight in his seat. Satoru rolls his eyes at the behavior. “The girl woke up? How was she?”

It was the first year Satoru could not only watch as the others went out trick-or-treating and fooling around with their friends, but he could go trick-or-treating in the company of his classmates—his very first Halloween; Shoko had, at first, refused to go. Saying she didn’t like candy and wasn’t a little girl anymore. Her refusal lasted until Satoru said they could buy alcohol for when they returned. Suguru, on the other hand, agreed from the start and even proposed the bet of who collected more candy. They had left school that night with a Shoko as Frankenstein, with matching makeup; a mummy, which Suguru apparently didn’t use any toilet paper to create; and Satoru debuted his vampire costume.

It was almost at the end of their tour (when Shoko asked Satoru for his debit card to go buy what was promised and Suguru was overtaking him at the last houses in the neighborhood) that out of nowhere this bloody girl appeared.

“She seemed to have the situation pretty much under control.” She replies after a few moments, her head cocked to one side as her fingers dance on her jaw. “She didn’t talk to me much, she just asked if she could talk to the professor.”

Because of that random, his Halloween plans were completely ruined. Suguru’s basket would have been left forgotten on the streets if it hadn’t been for Satoru picking it up—his friend was too busy cradling the girl in his arms gently to bother with anything else; when they met up with Shoko, she too seemed touched with the stranger and decided to spend the whole night at her side in the infirmary treating her wounds, her alcohol forgotten; clearly they also didn’t conclude their bet of who had collected the most candy since Suguru decided to stand guard over her and tell the story of how they found her to his teacher.

“I don’t know why you would be interested in her. She’s a nobody.”

“We’re nobodies.”

Satoru regrets blurting out his words like that. They were past the stage where they fought over anything with Suguru, and he really didn’t want to go back to it. These days, Satoru really thought things through before saying them in front of his friends.

That doesn’t mean it’s easy to admit that he said it wrong. “That’s not why I was saying it. Besides, you two are strong.” Satoru tried his best smile in his friend’s direction to calm the mood.

“Ump. Professor Yaga!” Bless Shoko that changes the subject, shaking her arm above her head. The professor, who was crossing the grounds at that instant, hesitates for a moment before changing the direction and heading to his first-year students.

“I see you arrived safely,” is the first thing he says.

Suguru smiles, and his eyebrows twitch a little. “We were just taking a break to fill out the mission report.”

“Professor! Suguru is just being polite and what he really want to know is how is Bloody Mary from the infirmary?” Satoru chirps mockingly.

His friend gives him a stinky eye, and he can see Shoko take a step further away from the two of them; Yaga simply sighs.

“She is going to join your class. She had… a family quarrel, try not to disturb her too much. She’s going to stay in the infirmary until she’s healthy enough; Shoko, please return to her side and look after her while I finish the paperwork.”

Family squabble. Well, that sucks. But Satoru knows that most sorcerer clans have family squabbles on a daily basis. She’ll survive, unfortunately.

“What? You won’t even give us her name, Professor?” Satoru snapped back in annoyance when he saw that Yaga was planning to resume his route.

“You’ve got a pretty big mouth, Satoru. Put it to use and ask her yourself.”

▬▬▬▬▬▬

November was a strange month, even for Satoru. He had spent the previous night wrapped in the layers of his bed like a burrito because of the cold that crept under his door (since apparently, the heating in the dormitories is not turned on until winter officially begins). But now, the sun is still high in the sky and beating down on his head.

It’s annoying.

“No, I’m telling you, the correct answer was all of the above.”

Satoru grimaced at Suguru, who was walking beside him very sure of what he was saying. “No! It was A.”

“You know what?” asked his friend, grim-faced. “I’m texting Shoko, and we’ll see who’s right!”

However, his attention is diverted to a figure he catches out of the corner of his eye. There was a girl standing in front of the garden, staring at the tree in front of her; Satoru thought she was dramatic, as she was holding a paper umbrella in her left hand.

He was about to turn his attention back to his friend beside him when he realized who the girl was—it was hard, especially since the one time he saw her, she was covered in blood and dirt and her smell wasn’t very pleasant either; apparently Suguru also realized it after sensing the silence that followed his proposal, because he let out a sound of surprise. Neither of them said anything for a couple of seconds, until Satoru slid a grin across his lips and decided to stride over to her.

“What are the Cursed Womb: Death Paintings?”

The girl stared at him, alternating her gaze between the two boys, seemingly somewhat surprised. But Gojo couldn’t help but examine her posture. For a moment, Bloody Mary looked as if she wanted to run away, like when you light a deer in the face in the middle of the night. But the strange thing was that her heels were still buried in the ground. Her right hand—which Satoru realized was badly burned—was trembling.

However, her face showed no emotion. Her crimson eyes (Satoru had never seen such color in someone’s eyes) followed his. It was funny, because Satoru Gojo had never lost a staring contest, and this was not going to be his first time.

Finally, she spoke. “Nine special-grade cursed objects created with the mixed blood of both a cursed spirit and a human.”

Satoru didn’t have time to react to his bad answer on the surprise quiz Yaga did this morning, because the girl skipped him and walked away.

He, feeling slightly humiliated that he got his answer wrong, and the fact that this random chick knows something that he passed up his ass. And also to create drama, he blurted out. “You’re cursed.”

“Satoru,” Suguru says in warning mode.

Regardless, he didn’t see it coming. (Later, in his room, he would rethink that moment over and over again, cursing the fact that he didn’t have his technique on, until he managed to put the scene together completely).

It was the blink of an eye. After uttering those words, he felt something sharp bury itself quite forcefully in his sternum. His eyes widened in surprise, looking down and feeling a slight cut on his cheek.

Bloody Mary’s paper umbrella was buried deep in his chest, and in the process, the paper had made a gash in the skin of Satoru’s face. He opened his mouth to respond the attack, but the girl’s voice silenced him.

“It is a family thing. So stay out of it.”

“She is going to join your class. She had… a family quarrel…”

Satoru didn’t care about Yaga’s voice in his head at that moment and the fact that yes, he had gotten himself into this shit. He simply raised one of his hands, gripping the umbrella tightly so that he could pull the girl’s body towards him in order to strike her. However, Suguru’s hand landed on top of his, slowly lowering both sides.

Satoru was sure that he had that smile on his face, the one that he occupies with all women and that somehow, gets them to do whatever he wants. But he can’t expect anything else, really. Suguru grew up in a small town far from the city, with a large population of old ladies. Of course he would have a trick or two for the opposite sex.

“You have to excuse him. He’s an idiot.” Says his friend, stepping in front of him and obstructing his view a bit towards Bloody Mary. Satoru expected the girl to blush and lower the ‘weapon’ and apologize between hesitations.

However, her body was frozen in place, and Satoru did not find it necessary to occupy the Six Eyes on her to realize that, what she felt, was fear. She let go almost instantly of her umbrela, which hit the ground by the handle, while the other side was still held by Suguru; it was so bizarre the situation, because all this happened in the course of a couple of seconds. Then, the girl recovered and gave his friend a venomous look.

“How are you feeling?” asked Suguru in a soft voice, ignoring what just happened now, “Do you feel any better?”

Bloody Mary’s face broke into an ugly grimace, crinkling her entire face in disgust; she had the same cut as Utahime, but her hair was inky black and fell down her shoulders to touch her lower back—the shorter strands in front were clinging to her cheeks, probably because she had bathed recently. If she wasn’t such a bitch, Satoru might admit she was pretty. “Control your monkey.”

Satoru’s mouth drops open in shock. His mind circled at the words the girl said that he didn’t even paid attention as she turned and disappeared in the direction of the main building.

Suguru turned around, umbrella still in his fist as he watched him in complete confusion.

“Did she just call you a monkey?” Satoru asks.

“I think she called me a monkey…” states his friend.

Chapter Text

Among all the things Umi thought might send her into a psychotic break, she never thought it would be the lack of sleep.

It is common knowledge that crazy genes reside in the Minamoto family. It goes hand in hand with inherited technique, after all. You have to pay the price for the knowledge bestowen upon you—to be able to see the future that lies ahead and the past humanity left behind, unrestricted. (And despite all that power at your fingertips, you spend your life wasting away on the tatami, eating slices of plum while you wait for your great-granddaugher on her daily visit.)

The girl, naturally, thought she was going to be safe from the family ‘curse’. Her blessed mother, who has helped her even when she is on the other side of the brigde, gave her her cursed technique; which saved her from a handful of things but gave her others (—like those dates she has had since she was nine years old with Naoya Zen’in, where most of the time she was the one who ended up crying; being branded as someone usable, and having to endure her grandfather’s training; being forbidden a lot of things and not being able to interact with her peers freely). Now she knows, it’s not the inherited cursed technique that’s to blame. But the damned bastards who hold their throne above their heads and claim to seek the common good in their society.

Therefore, she cannot believe that against all that, it is the dream that is killing her.

The two days she spent in the infirmary was fine. She might have no privacy, and be mostly sore. But thankfully, there was always someone in the room with her. Yaga always accompanied her at mealtimes, and they discussed what course of action take; Shoko Ieiri, on the other hand, covered for her teacher. Moments with her always passed in silence, but Umi was grateful that she was there; it was almost logical that the nights were the most torturous, simply because she was alone. It was in the moments when the sun was still warm, just hitting the window, and the chocolate girl sat in the corner that Umi could sleep.

But since the morning of the third day everything is simply wrong. That morning, Yaga told her that the preparations were ready, and introduced her to her room. Since then, Umi has not seen a trace of the teacher. And since no one eats with her, she doesn’t feel like eating either. She spends her hours within these four walls, feeling more like a ghost than a person.

And if it’s hard by day, it’s torturous by night.

There is a simple reason behind this: Umi refuses, completely, to let her guard down and sleep while in the same building as Suguru Geto and without weapons. Had she known that yesterday would be the last day she would see Yaga, the girl would have gambled everything and asked for a cursed tool. Hell, it could just be a normal weapon. However, all she has at her fingertips to defend herself, is a toothbrush cup resting on her bedside table.

The thought of going to buy door locks crosses her mind more than once. But she is not in the same condition as in the future. Now, she doesn’t have the money from her clan to support her plans. Simply because of the fact that she doesn’t go out on complicated missions with nothing but her student ID.

Umi sighs, feeling the steam clinging to her wet body. She stands in front of the bathroom mirror, naked and barefoot, after stepping out of the shower. Her eyes scan her crimson reflection, and drift almost reflexively to the slightly pink pools just below; after a bath, your body is supposed to relax... so it shouldn't be hard to fall asleep, right?

Her eyes instinctively drift to where her wounds used to be. Her ribs were already repaired, but the bruises were still there, spreading all over her side; her ankle had teeth marks that still wouldn't fade; and, above all, her right hand, which was what the girl regretted the most. Not being able to bathe in hot water (besides, hot brings back bad memories) or that her hand is unusable or the horrible scars she now bears.

Umi can almost feel her grandfather's presence behind her. Whispering in her ear: You've ruined yourself! Who do you think would want a scarred woman?

She is so irritated by the situation that she has almost burst into tears on several occasions. She has only spent one night alone, but she is convinced that she never wants to do that again. Urgency and terror creep through her body as soon as night falls. It's as if Suguru Geto is beginning to hunt her down in the shadows, waiting for a moment of weakness to eliminate her from his dream utopia. Her light on the bedside table stayed on for more than eight hours, and only went out when the sky began to clear.

...But that's not all.

She can't help but feel disgusted when she looks at her body in the mirror. Her beloved body that was once free of any marks, that was smooth and pleasant to look at (or so she heard anyway). Instead, it now looks like a survival map. All the things that in her weakest moments she wishes to forget are physically there to remind her of everything that happened on the thirty-first of October. And her hand...

Umi knows it's silly what she thinks, how can she think that in this situation, when the important thing is not her and her appearance but Shio's death? But love and getting married was always a recurring theme at family dinners (most commonly the last one.) Who would want to hold her hand when all they were going to feel under their touch are burn marks and rough skin?

Okkotsu comes to her mind. With his kind face and katana firmly in his hands, would he grimace at the sight of her? Umi hopes not, but she learned long ago that waiting and longing means nothing. But she would not stand to see his gentle face contort into something that belongs only to Naoya Zen'in.

Umi blinks until the tears that clouded her vision vanish.

▬▬▬▬▬▬

No matter what position Umi places herself, the bed still feels strange and hard under her body.

It may be because, despite the shower and meditation she tried before getting into bed, her brain is still alert. Suguru Geto is just across the courtyard—beyond her door, the shōji and the garden. She feels the lump in her throat and her whole body is tense.

She can’t stand it; she just can’t stand it anymore! She doesn’t care what time it is, she’s going to search the whole building for Yaga until he gives her a weapon. Or even better: she herself can steal a weapon from the arsenal they keep.

No… not only that.

It's night, it would be easy to sneak out and end this once and for all. She doesn't need any damn weapons, just herself and that new move she started thinking about while she was in the infirmary. If she kills Suguru Geto right now, she'll save herself a lot of headaches, and better yet: she'll be able to sleep her head off.

Umi creeps out of her bed, opting not to put on her shoes and slipping out into the courtyard barefoot. She swallows loudly and walks forward, opening the door without a sound. To avoid suspicion, she also closes her door when she is outside (she can still pass this off as an accident, right?).

However, it all goes wrong.

Her eyes, which were already more or less used to the darkness outside, realise that she is not alone. There's something right where the shōji is open, and does it have some sort of waist? It's too small to be the killer, so it must be a curse. But Umi doesn't feel the cursed energy radiating from it. So...?

The thing turns around. She positions herself to fight, but with her presence still hidden. Umi lifts her leg, ready to—

"Oh, shit!"

Umi startles at the more-or-less-familiar-voice, and loses her balance. She falls forward onto her knees, crashing her head against the back of Shoko Ieiri's neck. The chocolate girl lets out a series of 'Ay ay ay ay ay!' before her tone changes to a harsher one: "How come I already know it's you, Gojo? You fucking weirdo. Don't try to run away, I'll kick your ass."

Umi's cheeks get extremely hot. There's no way she could have failed like this. And for the icing on the cake, she's mistaken for the insufferable Satoru Gojo. Creating space between her and Shoko Ieiri, she brings her left hand to her forehead to slowly swipe her hand, hoping she doesn't get a horn. Really, it was the only thing missing.

"I'm... I'm sorry." She stutters, not being able to look her in the face.

"Oh," the girl sounds genuinely surprised. "It's you."

An awkward silence ensues, so much so that Umi is bothered by it. She senses that she should say more than just an apology, but lately talking is an exhausting task. She also knows that Shoko Ieiri won't speak if she doesn't speak first, which is another problem; it's not like she's not a curious person. In fact, she has a lot of questions: Why were you sitting there? What are you doing in the dark outside? Do you have trouble sleeping too? But none of them sound right to say.

“Thank you, Shoko, for keeping an eye on her…” / “(…) Here, my other student had you under treatment and closed all your wounds.”

"I never thanked you for taking care of me and treating me. I'm sorry for that, and thank you very much." Umi bows slightly before raising her head (even with her cheeks flushed). She finds the girl looking back at her, dark eyes embedding into her own. Her chocolate hair was out of her face, tied at the back of her head in a tomato that looked cute.

Shoko Ieiri let out a sigh, and it came out as a puff of smoke from her mouth. It took Umi a few seconds to process that it was the cold that caused it and not that she was smoking. "You don't have to talk so formal with me. We're the same age, or so Professor Yaga told me. Besides you're my classmate now, so we should be friendlier to each other."

"By the same token, what the hell was that? You've got a hard head; did you just want to sneak attack me or something?"

"It's not that," Umi mumbles. "It's just... I thought you were a curse."

She's surprised when the chocolate girl lets out a small laugh. At the same time, she feels a little offended at the fact that she's laughing at her. "Lately the teacher must be doing his job wrong, so I'll explain it to you. The school has a protective barrier maintained by Tensen-sama, so no curse can enter. Don't worry, you can sleep peacefully."

But if the person releasing the curse is already inside the barrier, no one can stop them. Her very voice echoes in her head, but Umi decides not to speak it out loud. The only thing missing is that aside from Shoko Ieiri thinking she's weird, she's now a madwoman.

"My name is Shoko Ieiri, by the way. My room is right next to yours." The chocolate girl points over her shoulder, returning to her original position and facing the courtyard, her back to Umi.

She swallows, deciding to return to her room as her murder plan fails if there are witnesses. Really, there's nothing for her to do outside. But against her better judgement, she sat down next to her companion—leaving at least half a metre of distance between them. Her bottom rested on the icy ground, as her bare feet fell forward onto the courtyard grass. "I am..."

The introduction dissolves into thin air the moment she realises she has nothing to say. She can't introduce herself as a Minamoto. Absolutely not. But she can't remember her mother's surname.

"Are you?" presses Shoko Ieiri.

"This... Monkey... Saru," Umi presses her lips together, feeling completely frustrated with herself. "Umi Saruwatari."

"I see. Nice to meet you, Saruwatari-san."

Umi blushes again. Mainly because of the fact that she has to lie to a person who has done nothing but care for her. She really doesn't deserve that. "It's fine if you just call me Umi, after all Saruwatari is also everyone in my family."

Umi instantly regrets it after the words came out of her mouth. Even though Shoko Ieiri said it was fine for them to treat each other with familiarity... She can't help but think that she's crossing one of the many imaginary boundaries she's imposed on herself. Yes, it's true that all the chocolate girl has done is care for her, but still. At some point she'll want something in return, in no relationship do you give without getting something in return.

"No, it's okay. You can call me whatever you want—”

“Umi.”

Unable to help herself, she makes eye contact with her classmate once she hears her name leave her lips. It is rare, to be called by a stranger with such familiarity and a hint of warmth entangled between the letters.

Outside of her family (which was limited to her grandfather, great-grandmother and sister; the other members of the clan rarely spoke to her) no one had ever treated her so closely. To her classmates in Kyoto, she was Minamoto-san, even sometimes without the honorific. Perhaps the only one who called her by her first name was her teacher, but that didn't count: Utahime called everyone by their first names. This was the closest anyone had been to Umi since, well... forever.

Did that mean they were friends now? Umi's first friend?

With sparkling eyes and her stomach feeling a little funny, she asked, "So, can I call you by your name too?"

"Sure."

The smile that spread across her face felt somewhat foreign, and she had the urge to hide her red cheeks from Shoko. However, she didn't.

"Your name does you justice, especially when you smile. You're very pretty."

If she was honest, she was used to compliments from grown people. Never had a girl her age told her she was pretty. Plus it feels much more genuine from someone who saw her almost dead; that doesn't mean she knows how to respond. So, she simply said:

"How did you know so easily? People always misspell it, my name."

Her classmate—no, friend, shakes her shoulders. A grin breaks her lips and pulls them up slightly. And Umi can’t help but think that Shoko looks so young and hopeful and unbroken. “What can I tell you, I’m a smart person.”

“You’re very pretty too, Shoko. I like your bun.”

“It’s the only hairstyle I can do. The rest don’t work for me because of my short hair. Even Geto has more options. He has hair a little longer than me, it brushes his shoulders.”

At the mention of the assassin, Umi has to suppress a shudder. She had forgotten him. For one tiny, tiny moment, she forgot that Suguru Geto is resting in the rooms. How could she forget…? Her goal, her purpose.

She struggles against the thousands of orders her brain gives her. Sit still with Shoko, says the tiniest part of her heart. Her head, however, begs her to go back to her room and finish freaking out. But that way she would still be wasting her time. Isn't it better to be awake, talking to a friend; than to be locked inside four walls where your only company is yourself?

"Did you meet them? They're the rest of the first-years." Continues Shoko, fiddling with a box full of cigarettes between her feet. "They're cocky, and idiots. But not bad people."

"You're cursed." Satoru Gojo's irritating voice enters her ears, even though he is not present. With his smug smile and know-it-all air. Then there was Suguru Geto, the assassin, and his act of being a good person with his menacing eyes staring at her. Umi doesn't know which of the two makes her want to vomit more; the girl can't suppress her grimace of disgust. Shoko simply laughs.

"When's your birthday, Umi?" she asks, as she decides to stop fiddling with the box and takes it in her right hand, quickly pulling out a cigarette and dropping the box back onto the grass. Apparently, Umi watched too much, because Shoko noticed. "Want one?"

The girl hesitated for a moment before stretching out her left hand and accepting the cigarette. Shoko hmm'd before repeating the process of taking another from the pack. Then, she reached into her pants pockets for a lighter.

"Do you smoke a lot?" Umi didn't forget about the question her friend asked, she just decided to put it off.

"Mh, not so much. A pack lasts me two months?"

Umi decided to nod. She didn't know how to smoke, not at all. Would Shoko judge her for asking her to teach her?

"I only smoke when I have trouble sleeping. For anxiety."

Oh.

"Shoko?" her friend replied with a Hmm as she tried to light her cigarette. "Will you teach me how to smoke?"

"Sure. Although you can cough a lot at first if you don't breathe properly. Let me light it..."

Umi watched intently as the cigarette nestled between Shoko's lips lit up and then the fire at the tip faded until only a small ring remained. Her friend took a puff. "When I light it, you have to sip it like a little juice. Not too much, or else you might choke. You have to let it go into your lungs and then you throw it away. Simple, right?"

She nodded, trying to copy Shoko's action and placing the cigarette in her mouth. However, she didn't think she'd be able to light it on her own. "Help me."

With the corners of her lips still raised, Shoko closed the space between them and brought the lighter close to her face. As soon as her finger brushed the button and the small flame appeared, memories flooded Umi.

Her sister's charred body, and her sobs; the smell of burning flesh hanging in the air; streets and streets rendered to dust by Sukuna's fingertip; her own hand.

Yet as quickly as the flame was lit it was extinguished. When she came to her senses, the cigarette was lit and Shoko was back in place.

"Remember, puff..."

Umi nods, bringing her trembling hand to the cigarette and clenching it between her index and middle finger. She inhales slowly and when she feels she's done enough she decides to leave it in for a few moments before releasing the smoke through her mouth.

"Not the best taste..." Umi mentions after a few moments.

"There are some flavoured ones. They're more expensive, actually."

"To answer the question from earlier, my birthday is the twenty-first of March."

"For Shunbun? Funny. So, you're a nineties baby... wow. That makes me older than you. November seventh." It was weird, seeing Shoko in another light. "Should I call you Umi-chan now?"

She doesn't suppress the shiver running down her back, nor a disgusted look on her face. "Please don't." Naoya Zen'in would call her that, and it makes her feel sick to her stomach.

Shoko laughs again.

"I'm not a big fan of sweets, but there's a coffee shop near Tachiaigawa Station. Gojo is a fan of sweets there, even though Geto discovered it..."

Oh, so from a very young age the strongest one has had a sweet tooth.

"We should go there sometime."

At the surprise, Umi inhaled a little more than she should have but was able to control herself from having a coughing fit. Her throat protested, however. When was the last time she had done something as mundane as go shopping for sweets...? Maybe when her mother was still alive.

"I'd like that," she replied, smiling a little at her as well. "I don't have much money, though..."

"Aha, don't worry about that. Sorcerers get paid for every mission they're assigned."

Again surprise coloured her face. "Really?"

Her friend nodded wordlessly, puffing on her cigarette; Umi had never been told that, but at the same time, they also gave her money when she needed it (her grandfather's black card was a to-go). Hadn't they told her so she wouldn't try to escape...? Did they want her to feel so cornered and helpless that they used that dirty trick?

"And also, most of the time it's Gojo's treat. Since he has more money than all three of us put together."

"All that does is boost his ego and make him feel needed."

Shoko shook in soundless laughter. "That's true."

Silence became the third member of the conversation. The sounds of nature around them calmed Umi's nerves, plus the fact that right next to her was Shoko. Suguru Geto couldn't attack her like that (or so she wanted to believe).

"I like your hair," Shoko compliments again. "Can I comb it?"

Her friend crushes the butt of her cigarette on the ground beside her, and Umi mimics her. Shoko stretches out her hand when she gives her permission, and Umi plants the carcass of her cigarette in her palm. Her friend disappears into the doorway of her room, and when she re-emerges, she does so with a comb, a pack of rubber bands and an aqua-green ribbon.

Shoko's knees collided with Umi's hips from behind, as if she had an older sister. Carefully, she ran her fingers through the black knotted locks, until she more or less managed to untangle them and decided to run the comb through. "Let me know if I pull too hard."

Umi simply nodded, momentarily shutting her eyes as she felt a pleasant sensation in her skull. Shoko's body also radiated warmth from just behind her, which helped with the cold. The sound of insects in the vicinity was justly soothing. For just a few seconds, Umi decided to pretend that everything was fine.

So she closed her eyes.

▬▬▬▬▬▬

The light was annoying.

Umi scrunched up her face. There was too much light and it didn't matter that her eyes were closed, it was creeping under her eyelids and it was hard to keep chasing sleep. She complained aloud, bringing her forearm up to cover her eyes.

She could feel someone pressing keys (rather hard ones it seemed) very close to her. It wouldn't have bothered her otherwise, but the sound combined with the light, it was a bad thing. Goddamn old phones.

Slowly, Umi decided to open her eyes so she wouldn't end up partially mowed down by the sun. The first thing her eyes caught, was chocolate brown.

"'Morning," Shoko greeted from her place.

"Sorry." Was the first thing she said back, noticing the slightly red bags under her eyes. "Your lap is comfortable."

Her friend smiled slightly, "Don't look at me too much from that angle, my double chin might stand out." But then, she became quite serious. "I think I'll have the dream of my life in a couple of minutes."

Umi blushed, and with the help of her elbows rose from her place on the floor and Shoko's lap. Apparently, after the chocolate girl combed her hair, she let her rest her head on her thighs to simulate a pillow. Her knees must hurt, she thought. It hadn't changed Umi's position much, though. Her butt and knees were in the same place. Shoko simply made her lie down.

"Professor Yaga came a few moments ago. He left this for you." The girl looked over her shoulder, as Shoko patted a paper bag next to her. "He also said you had a mission with the two idiots in... half an hour."

One thing Umi hated, was being late. Ignoring the protests of her legs, she stood up quickly (she got dizzy in the process, but managed it) and wrapped her arms around the bag. She shouted thanks to Shoko as she ran to her room.

"Good night!"

Umi washed her body, taking care with the hairstyle Shoko worked on. She looked at herself in the mirror when it was all done, with her new uniform wrapped around her body and a braid tied with the ribbon Shoko had brought yesterday.

Though at the exact moment Umi spotted Suguru Geto in the distance waving at her, she knew she was completely regretful that she had decided to accompany the assassin on every mission he had. And of course, as a two-for-one package, Satoru Gojo was by his side.

"Minaaaaaaaaami-chan."

And who the hell was that guy calling at?

Chapter Text

The girl rocks slowly, her back mere inches from the wall and shifting the weight of her body between her toes and heels; the truth is she doesn’t quite know what to do with herself—she arrived half an hour ago at the sister school in Tokyo hoping to make the paperwork as efficient and short as possible. However, one thing led to another and here she finds herself: waiting in a Jujutsu Tech office, swimming in clothes that are clearly not hers and her hair tangled in a towel on top of her head.

“I’m back!” announces the ever-enthusiastic Satoru Gojo. “I didn’t know whether you preferred tea or coffee, but since it’s raining, I thought I’d make hot choco.” He frowns (or so Umi assumes) when he finds her standing near the wall instead of sitting comfortably in one of the armchairs. “What are you standing there for? Make yourself comfortable. Here’s your hot choco, so you don’t get sick!”

The teacher sets both cups down on the coffee table in the middle, and plops down in a chocolate brown sofa. Carefully, Umi walks barefoot to the armchair in front of his, taking one of the cups beforehand to place it in her icy hands and gently lowers herself in the armchair.

“So? What did you want to talk about?” he asks. It’s strange, because Umi feels like he’s not demanding something, or not really. There’s no bite in his tone of voice. “You’re one of Utahime’s students, aren’t you? Huh, your name, what was it…? Umi-chan?”

Umi’s lips twist in an emotion she’s unable to recognize. “You weren’t quite sure who I was, but you still let me into your school and allowed me to take a hot bath…? You even gave me clothes to change into.”

“Of course!” he replies, without missing a beat. “It is the duty of adults to protect the young.”

The girl unconsciously tightens her grip on the cup. Her fingers feel icy cold.

"It's your duty, huh..." she whispers under her breath, but she's sure Satoru Gojo heard her anyway. She doesn't really know who is at fault in this whole situation: should every adult behave the way this man does? Or was he just plain weird and the behaviour of his grandfather and Naoya Zen'in was normal?

Umi sighs inwardly, getting up from the couch and setting the mug full of hot chocolate on the coffee table. She then kneels to the side, placing her hands in front of her head and resting her forehead on the floor. "I need your help, Satoru Gojo."

"Uh, Umi-chan. What are you doing? There's no need for that. Don't rest your face on the ground. Here, let me—”

Despite having her entire body sprawled out on the floor, Umi noticed that the professor stood up from his chair as well and closed the distance between them. And even having heard his words, she prepared herself for the worst and simply closed her eyes. The longer you waited for a blow, the more it hurt. Or that was her philosophy. It was her fault, anyway, in trying to trust Satoru Gojo. He was just like all of them: her grandfather, her headmaster, Naoya Zen'in...

However, large, gentle hands (the touch reminded her of Okkotsu) landed just below her armpits, and effortlessly pulled her to her feet. Umi stares in disbelief at Satoru Gojo's face. It was only for a second when everything was simply still: the girl suspended in the air thanks to the teacher's strength, and he, watching her with a toothy grin. With long strides, he placed her in the armchair she was previously in as if she were a Barbie.

"There she is," sighs the man. Squatting down beside Umi. "You don't need to treat me with honour and respect. Think of me as you would a friend. That's my philosophy for teaching! Great, isn't it?"

Umi continued to stare at him, trying to make sense in her mind. Was it really okay to refer to a superior so casually...? "Mister Gojo."

"Nope. Too formal."

"...Mister Satoru."

The aforementioned man clicked his tongue, waving his hand in her direction. "That's better, Umi-chan! And, now, what did you need to ask of me?"

Something inside her hesitates. Something that screams and tugs: if you continue this, Shio will be gone forever.

"Please save my sister." She tells him bluntly, looking directly at his blindfold. "I can't, I'm not strong enough. Please teach her and take care of her, above all, keep her away from the clan."

"Shio, right? She has the cursed technique of the Minamoto..." Gojo places a hand under his chin, as if in thought. "I hear the plans are for her to study in Kyoto under Utahime. I guess they want her there to keep an eye on both of them."

"Then why don't you both study under me?"

Umi purses her lips, clenching her right hand into a fist. "You don't understand. They won't let me go. It's never been about me, it's about Shio. I don't care if they degrade me or treat me badly. But if my grandfather keeps imprisoning my sister like that... well, I think it's worse than any punishment. She deserves to be happy, after all. And that happiness… I can't give her."

"You're important too."

Umi really doesn't know why those simple words had such an impact on her. Maybe it was because Gojo didn't waste a second, didn't hesitate. Or because he sounded so damn honest that a part of her wanted to give her heart to him right then and there and hope he kept it forever.

The girl hid her tears by looking away.

Then the professor sighed, but there was no heavy emotion behind it. He was simply very expressive. "But well. I can't refuse a request from a pretty pupil if she asks me so politely. Besides, Shio herself must have a lot of potential to exploit. And there's nothing I like more than strong people."

"Who's Minami?" Is this some kind of joke? Is he making fun of her? At the mere thought of that being his intention, it makes her want to punch him.

The truth is, she didn't feel any particular way about Satoru Gojo. He was simply... a good adult, and a trustworthy person. But all her expectations surrounding this mysterious person were crushed when she learned that he had let Suguru Geto live.

He is no one but another accomplice in Shio's death.

"That's what your name is, isn't it? Shoko told me," he shakes his old phone in front of Umi's crimson eyes, finally tucking it into his trousers pocket. In that moment, the girl knew that even though he was a smaller version of the man she met, they act similarly. For example, they both love to invade other people's personal space. "Minami Saruwatari... So saying monkey is a form of greeting where you come from? You're funny."

Every word he uttered, he moved closer to her. Until their noses were mere inches from each other. And Umi had to bite back the urge she had to punch him away. Teenage Satoru Gojo was simply an idiot. His tactlessness and taunting language from the other day were still fresh in her memory. "So, you're not even smart. When you learn to read kanji properly, come and talk to me. I might take you seriously then. Albino freak."

Immediately, the eyebrows behind his black glasses furrowed. "What did you say, fucki—“

Suguru Geto decided to intervene at that moment. His hands came to rest on the rabid boy's shoulders and gently pulled him back. Umi had to suppress the shiver that ran down her back as his face became visible once he stopped hiding behind the white-haired boy.

"Excuse him, he's always so lively in the mornings." Says the hypocrite himself. Umi squeezes the hand at her side. "You are officially our classmate. Welcome to Jujutsu Tech. I'm Suguru Geto, this is Satoru."

The girl had to admit that Suguru Geto's face looked softer than what she was shown in the pictures when he ran his cult. Less sharp, less teeth. His face was as stupid as tofu. Still, that doesn't take away the feeling of insecurity that floods her every time she sees him. The sheer terror that sticks to her bones and runs from her skull to her fingertips.

The very act of talking to him—even if it's just talking back—weighs on Umi. She feels that if she neglects herself for a moment, he will devour her. He'll make his curses chase her and push her body to the limit in close combat.

Umi had to remind herself at that moment that this assassin was someone young, and probably not even half as talented as he was in the future. If he attacked her, she wouldn't measure her strength back.

"I don't talk to monkeys," she expressed simply, grateful that she hadn't hesitated. Umi shrugged and raised both arms. "Either way, let's go. There's a mission to complete."

"Monkey?" the assassin repeated. As if that word didn't belong to him. As if he hadn't ruined a lot of people under that philosophy. "Why monkey? The first time we met you called me that too."

Umi clicked her tongue, starting to walk. "I don't talk to monkeys."

But before she could take the next step, a pebble gets in her way almost causing Umi to lose her balance. And just as she was about to turn to look reproachfully at the culprit, she feels a hand tug hard on one of her shorter locks.

Reflexively, she lets out a startled whimper. She quickly turns, frowning at the pair of idiots. She's sure the assassin just touched her hair.

"You should treat us with more respect," Satoru Gojo began mockingly, with a smile that matched Suguru Geto's. As he spoke, he opened his mouth wide. Umi is sure this is an attempt at intimidation. "Tell me, what grade are you? Probably two, you look so damn weak. You know, we're special grades. Show us some more respect, Minami-chan."

Anger flowed freely through her veins like poison. With a large step, Umi cut the distance between them and slammed her open palm into the forehead of both idiots, hard. "Who the fuck do you think you are? You fucking brats."

Suguru Geto looked her straight in the eyes, clearly angry. Almost instinctively, Umi's body screamed at her to run. "I'll take her hands; you take her feet. Let's throw her in the Meguro River."

The goofy-eyed idiot nodded. "We can pretend she was attacked by a curse."

▬▬▬▬▬▬

The journey, Umi can sum it up, was based on nudging in the ribs and shoving.

Unlike in the future, there is no chauffeur or assistant conductor to take them to the mission site, so the method was as follows: take the train, and walk.

It was difficult, especially since the girl was waiting for the moment when the assassin would leave his little role and decide to show them how crazy he was. And being in a more or less small place full of civilians didn't help much. However, no matter how much she looked over her shoulder or tried to catch him off guard, the guy just... wasn't doing anything.

He looked strangely relaxed at all times. When a couple of schoolgirls got on the train for a couple of stations and looked at him with hearts in their eyes? He smiled at them, of course (even as Satoru muttered under his breath that 'they were probably looking at him'). There was no malicious intent on his part against any non-sorcerer.  The only one he ever attempted anything against was her, pulling her hair when, she assumed, he was bored.

Umi wasn't buying it - she just couldn't!

"Are you sure this is it?" asked Satoru Gojo, impatiently.

"I already told you yes. This is the address the professor said," replies the assassin, with very little patience.

"Here, let me see that. I'm sure you read it wrong."

Umi holds in a sigh, listening to the duo of idiots’ bicker. She took a couple of steps forward, resting her arms on the fence that kept her safely facing the river. Thanks to the fact that it wasn't spring, and therefore the cherry blossoms weren't in bloom yet, there wasn't as many tourists in the area. That would make the job easier...

Oh.

The presence of the curse hit her like a punch in the stomach. It was strange, though, because she didn't feel like it was stronger than Umi. Semi-grade 1, perhaps? There was no logic behind how her body reacted to the situation—she felt that her right hand kept burning, even when there was nothing hot in the surroundings to provoke it; her feet seemed stuck to the cement under her shoes; her eyes felt oddly watery.

The volcano-like curse stands in the middle of the skies, like a king looking down on the city it will destroy. Fireballs form at his fingertips and Umi can't control how she flies backwards; there's a smell of putrid flesh, and her sister is...

“Saruwatari!”

Suguru Geto is the one who pushes her out of the way, as she crashes into Satoru Gojo's front in the process. The pavement cracks a little, and the spot once occupied by Umi now has a hideous curse staring back at them. Its body is greenish and human-like, with scales, fins and gills. The curse screams in their direction, baring its shark-like teeth.

"Don't get in the way," the white-haired boy scolds her, tossing her aside not as gently as his friend.

Umi can't force herself to snap back at his attack, because, admittedly, she was in the way. She froze, and if it weren't for (that fucker) Suguru Geto, she would have been injured in the process. How low does it have to get before an assassin, of all people, has to save her?

Nor can she avoid feeling like an outsider in the fight. One look at the pair and she notices that they move in harmony with each other—thanks to their innate coordination, Umi believes the curse was fighting under the impression of having only one opponent in two different bodies. When Suguru Geto threw a punch, there was Satoru Gojo backing him up with a kick.

But Umi knew that this method would not last long. There was no curtain; tourists or locals could arrive at any moment; they weren't counting on the fact that this curse could expand its domain. The girl waited in place, her gaze searching for the exact moment where she could slip in and help. Even without the control of her dominant hand and the daze left by Shibuya, she can still fight.

There are many ways to occupy her technique, after all.

The curse thrusts its hand, swinging its arm in the direction of Suguru Geto, who had to retreat a few steps as Satoru Gojo ignited his infinite that parried the blow. Umi takes this as her cue, running the distance separating her from the curse and slamming her open palm into its back, successfully placing her technique inside the opponent's body.

The thing lets out a scream, probably feeling its cursed energy start to get smaller and not being able to control it very well. Umi smiled in triumph. "Didn't got in the way." She assures Satoru Gojo.

The girl instinctively dodges, narrowly escaping a sphere of water in her direction (after all, who knows what will happen if that water makes contact with her body). However, she realised too late that there was a civilian right behind her. But she wasn't going to make it, Umi wasn't going to catch up, even if—

Out of nowhere, another curse appeared in front of the older man present, taking the blow for him. And Suguru Geto appeared in front of the gramps, blocking his view. "Are you alright?"

Umi simply couldn't believe her eyes.

Her eyes alternated between the curse that shielded to the assassin himself. The one who didn't hesitate to slaughter an entire village, children and elders included. Why... Why is he behaving this way?

But before she could drown herself in that wave of thoughts. Suguru Geto's curse exploded, sending the substance that made up its kind everywhere. Over her shoulder, she heard Satoru Gojo shout:

"Suguru, that cursed spirit is escaping!"

But of course, the boy he was addressing in question was busy inspecting the old man. Who asked aloud what those monsters were. "What monsters? Are you sure you didn't eat anything weird this morning?"

"Fuck it all."

"Satoru?!"

And the boy jumped into the water.

▬▬▬▬▬▬

It was the third time Satoru Gojo had sneezed in a minute.

"Bless you," Umi merely said, remembering how Shio always said it.

"Disgusting," Suguru Geto muttered. He probably salivated. After all, they were both sitting at the station waiting for the train to return to school. The girl, on the other hand, was content to stand not so close with the two men. "That's what you get for jumping into the cold river in the middle of autumn."

"Of course!" he replied aggressively and sarcastically. Clearly very wet (the plastic seat at the stop was also soaked) and his body being assaulted by shivers. "You were so busy helping the civilian, even though we ran into an aquatic curse - I went to all the trouble to catch it ready for you to absorb it! And this is the thanks I get! I even lost my jacket!"

Oh, Umi already knew where this scene was transporting her. She remembers something similar happening to her, back in her first year and the first time she ran away from home. At that time, Satoru Gojo helped her: he let her have a hot shower, lent her some clothes. Heck, he even made her some chocolate.

"Yes, yes. Thank you, Prince Satoru."

She can feel her heart beating in her throat. But what on earth was she thinking of doing...? He can clearly misinterpret her giving him her jacket. Ew, he may even think... she has a crush on him. Men are dumb like that.

"Why didn't you turn on your infinity, anyway?" speaks Suguru Geto again.

"It's just water, so it would be a waste of energy." He clarifies. "Besides, I'm already starting to feel the headache."

But she can't be this unfair.

Umi lets out a sigh, slowly approaching the pair of boys, unbuttoning her jacket. She's sliding it down her arms when she feels something being thrown. The girl watches the pair curiously, watching as Suguru Geto grins in his classmate's direction and Satoru Gojo takes comfort in the warmth of his friend's jacket.

The white-haired man's eyes flashed in something Umi could only interpret as—oh shit.

Umi places her jacket on Satoru Gojo's head. Breaking their little homosexual moment and saving herself from having to witness it. "Dry your hair a bit, or you'll get sinusitis."

"Oi, don't think I've forgotten about you!" the white-haired boy announces, somewhat gruffly. But listening to her all the same. "You didn't help at all in there. You'll have to take over the report."

Umi's claim stuck in her throat. Of course, he would say something like that. How did he think it was so easy to capture an aquatic curse in water if it weren't for her? It would have made him explode, like Suguru Geto's curse, if not for Umi's own cursed energy that she introduced into its body with the seal, which began to block its cursed energy flow and hinder the technique.

“Go fuck yourself,” was the only thing she said.

Besides, she couldn't write. Or not yet. It was harder than she expected to occupy her left hand.

Chapter Text

Her great-grandmother made a tradition of, at least twice a month, reading her fortune and giving her instructions for the future. At first, it was far from easy—because when the higher-ups and by default, the rest of the clan, decreed that Hajime Minamoto was no longer of any use to them, they locked her up in a house hidden within the estate itself. Discarded as a broken toy and labeled as a ‘madwoman’, her own son decided to set her adrift and wait for her time of death to come within those four walls.

A death that never came, by the way.

Umi doesn’t know, and her great-grandmother has never told her, the reason why her life has been so long. Though it is simply thanks to her cowardice, fearing to push her away if she says anything out of line. She knows it’s an irrational fear, because Hajime is a… special person.

She remembers how she would relate to her how many Youtube videos she had watched to learn how to read cards (even though she didn’t need them!) simply to seem more dramatic.

Nothing her great-grandmother ever said to her, however, would serve as a piece of advice right now.

“And what’s with your bangs, anyway? Who made you think you’d be so fashionable? You look like a weirdo.” The girl spat those words with a feeling somewhere between fear and disgust, but without looking at the culprit on the other side of the spoiled Satoru Gojo.

Who, as usual, stuck his ass into something that was none of his business. “If we’re going to criticize hair choices, let’s start with you. Who do you think you are with that cut, some noble lady? You’re nothing but a rude bitch.”

Before she could hit him, an authoritative voice rose above the din of the classroom. “Language!”

Unable to help herself, Umi’s body went completely still. She cursed her instincts inwardly when she realized that the white-haired boy hadn’t flinched at all at the wake-up call. That somehow made her anger rise. Damn men and their bullshit privileges.

The teacher sighs, holding the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“For God’s sake, I only asked what had happened to the report. Do you fight like this all the time?”

Said report was on display in front of them. It was somewhat crumpled, and the penmanship left much to be desired. In addition, as if what she had already mentioned was not enough, the idiot Satoru Gojo included a drawing at the bottom of the paper. It was a girl with devil horns, and with an arrow was written her name.

Umi rolled her eyes.

“I thought that if I left the new student with you, you were going to get some balance,” the professor reproached, glaring at them. “But I find that you forgot to put up a curtain, that Satoru lost his uniform and, besides all that… the report is horrible. There are questionable stains on the paper, the ink is smudged.”

She decided to give the paper a quick read: «No one helped me. The curse appeared: they still didn’t help me. The curse hit: they still didn’t help me. The new student? Incompetent, didn’t know how to do anything; my hair? Wet; my uniform? Lost; the curse? Exorcised; thanks to my work and only my work. Satoru Gojo, only Satoru Gojo.»

The girl in question took a breath of air, replaying in her head the satisfying image of her beating Satoru Gojo repeatedly. However, and out of respect for Professor Yaga, she would not… yet.

“I told nothing but the truth in that paper,” the idiot clarified.

Yaga looked like he was about to hit him as well. But, for some reason, his eyes wandered to Umi and Suguru Geto before making an attempt on his student’s life. “Tell me what happened.”

Satoru Gojo, not catching the memo, decided to speak. Again.

“It may, and I say may! That one of these two, and by that I totally mean Minami to my right, may have forgotten to put up the curtain. And for that reason, Suguru was unable to help me. Since because of that girl, he had to help a civilian, and I was left alone to deal with the curse. Then I jumped into the water to give it to Suguru, and I lost my uniform and almost caught a cold. My conclusion is that it’s all the new girl’s fault. So, you should probably dump her where you found her and make her leave the path of sorcery forever.”

The boy let out a groan as the fist impacted with the side of his head. “What do you think you’re saying, scum? I’ve been doing sorcery since I was born. Giving up would be like asking me to stop walking.”

“Really?” began the idiot again. “Well, it doesn’t show. Your family is just as bad as you?”

Umi lunged at him, pulling a handful of his white hair.

▬▬▬▬▬▬

Umi huffs from her spot, feeling uncomfortable that they put Suguru Geto in the middle of the two to stop fighting. On the other side of the assassin, stands the loathsome gremlin: his mouth sealed with gray tape, and scowling.

“Suguru?” the professor asks him.

Her great-grandmother had never given her any predictions on her true love, or love in general. But the girl had already instated one shortly after meeting Naoya Zen’in: don’t trust men because they’re trash. Especially, don’t trust men in the sorcery world, because they’re bastards.

“I think Satoru is overreacting,” and he dares to smile kindly. Umi feels like she wants to throw up. “It was equally the fault of the three of us. Besides, he shouldn’t have been so hard on Um—I mean, on Saruwatari, being that it was her first mission since… forever.”

It wasn’t enough for him humiliating her by saving her, but now he’s also talking nicely to her teacher about her.

Yaga places his eyes on her, asking her something with his gaze. Umi holds his gaze, gritting her teeth. I did something! She’s trying to say. Not because I’ve only been seen in vulnerable moments means I’m weak.

Trust me.

“Do your wounds still hurt? Was it too soon to assign you a mission?”

Umi tries to conceal the pain that flashed across her face when Yaga didn’t understand what she meant to express. “Not at all, you know what my objective is. But you forgot to give me a weapon.”

That was a lie, of course. Her technique took effect only if she made physical contact with the enemy. But anyway, a weapon would come in handy.

“Oh,” Umi can feel the professor’s tone becoming less reproachful. “I’m sorry. I’ve forgotten. Come with me to the armory later.”

The girl simply nods.

“And for the record, I know what I did wrong. So,” she took a look to her left, at the assassin. His dark eyes watching hers, and Umi couldn’t see his intentions. Her thigh brushed against his, and the slightest contact made the girl want to run away and remove her skin. “I don’t need your pity, or sympathy.”

Suguru Geto smiled. Umi knew he wasn’t sorry at all.

“How is this possible?” muttered Yaga inwardly. “How can you three not get along? At all?”

Slyly, the assassin tugged at her hair. She hissed in his direction, and decided to bury her elbow in his rib.

In response, he tapped his fingers against her forehead.

As if he had a sixth sense for getting into other people’s fights, Satoru Gojo suddenly lunged at them both. Slamming his way to be in the middle again.

Umi so regretted giving him her jacket to dry his hair. She should have left him there, to eventually die of pneumonia.

“Get off me, you fucking bastard! Don’t you even know what soap is?!”

His reaction was something she hadn’t expected.

Satoru Gojo grabbed her shoulders and pulled her body away from his, staring into her eyes. “Really? No way, I always take such good care of my—“

It was in that moment that she knew: neither of them really hated her. Or not as deeply as she hated them.

Umi was thankful that suddenly, Yaga decides to break up the ‘fight’ between the three of them by grabbing Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto from their jackets (which, by the way, Umi noticed they matched). “Listen up, youth. That I have my decree on this.”

The girl swallowed hard, feeling a little sick. They may both be smug bastards, but they don’t want her dead. She wants to convince herself that it doesn’t mean anything, but the night they found her, in Shibuya, comes to her mind. And how Suguru Geto saved that grandpa.

So, what…?

“From now on, you guys are going to have all your missions together. Familiarize yourselves with each other, because you’re going to be the first thing you see when you wake up and the last thing you see before going to sleep. I don’t want any more fights, and if I found out that you turned in such a… sketchy report again, I’ll do this same intervention until you get it right.”

Umi sighed, staying in place as Yaga leaves the classroom (to probably know where Shoko was). She feels Suguru Geto move to her side, settling in the opposite direction as Satoru Gojo lay on his back.

“What’s the big deal about the curtains, anyway?” the white-haired boy mumbles, breaking the silence. “Normal people can’t see anything.”

The girl frowns, feeling like she didn’t hear right. What…?

“We’ve been through this before, Satoru.” Sighs the assassin heavily. “Our job is to keep the non-sorcerers safe and sound. It doesn’t matter that they can’t see them, it’s—“

Umi didn’t stay for the rest of the discussion.

▬▬▬▬▬▬

To be honest, Umi was currently dying of curiosity.

In this world, it was like a taboo to talk about what happened with Suguru Geto. It had become almost an unspoken secret—simething that old people used to do to provoke fear in young children so they wouldn’t step out of line; therefore, she never heard what really happened. When did it happen? Where did it happen? Were others involved? Did he have a motive?

When she was little, those questions were of little or no importance: Suguru Geto was a murderer, and a danger to society. Heck, she even learned in the same battle that Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo had been friends. And that they studied together.

She never thought that knowing the assassin’s background would be useful for a life and death mission. But even if she had asked for it, the higher-ups would never have agreed to give her the man’s file. Because of them, she’s now stuck with something that makes no sense.

Umi sighs, feeling the sweat running down her temples. Her legs ache from the exercise, but she doesn’t give them the break they demand. She would have continued running around the campus had she not caught the figure of her friend approaching her.

“God, Umi. It’s two in the morning.” Was all she said, before tossing in her direction a bottle of water. “Are you a fan of exercise? When I examined you, your body looked fit.”

The girl raised her index finger, taking a breath of air before taking a sip from the bottle. For a girl who wanted to pretend that nothing interested her, Shoko was indeed interested in anatomy and the activities her classmates engaged in. “When I was at home, I practiced every day. And I feel that after coming here, I’ve been a bit out of shape… so I’ll resume my training.”

Of course, she didn’t say that most of the time she had to practice on the quiet and that, her grandfather or someone from her clan saw her, they had permission to punish her. No one is going to want a muscular woman; her grandfather’s voice seeps into her thoughts. He cared for her figure as he would care for a valuable animal: he adjusted her diet constantly, followed her closely when she went to visit, and constantly monitored her weight and musculature.

“Don’t let those idiots’ comments get to you.” her friend says, closing the distance between them and patting her back. “They have a distant perception about strength, probably because they’re freaks.”

Umi tried to give her something resembling a smile.

“If you keep saying things like that, I’m going to start thinking that you’re worried about me.”

Shoko let out an ugly laugh. “Just don’t tell the others, I have to keep up my reputation.”

“Can’t sleep again?”

“It’s not that. My schedule is kind of messed up.”

Umi nodded silently. Then, she decided to sit on the floor and start stretching.

A few moments of silence passed, where she struggled not to open her mouth and let her curiosity get the better of her. But then:

“Shoko, can I ask you something?” she lifted her head to see her friend nod. “Do Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto fight often?”

“Mh, sometimes. They’re almost always very friendly with each other. You should have seen them the first weeks of this year. They fought on a daily basis.”

“Is it because of their difference in… beliefs?”

Umi was indeed very grateful that Shoko didn’t ask unnecessary questions.

“Indeed. I think you must already know, but apparently Gojo comes from this powerful clan. His emotional intelligence is close to zero, and he doesn’t seem to want to defend the weak or whatever; on the other hand, Geto comes from a village in the middle of nowhere. From what he was telling me, he’s used to protecting those who don’t see the curses.”

Umi hummed, to let Shoko know that she was listening. Because she knew she wouldn’t be able to say a word that made sense.

If someone had told her that Satoru Gojo, the very man who helped her and told her it was the duty of adults to protect the children, was the closest thing to a good-for-nothing bastard when he was young, she would have laughed in their faces and probably ended up fighting them. But this was so damn real, and Umi had no power within herself to think otherwise.

But if this was true, and Suguru Geto was the good guy. What happened? At what point did he go from being this to being a murderer?

“What about you, Shoko? What do you think?” the girl asked, because she didn’t want her friend to leave.

“The truth is that all that doesn’t interest me. I’m going to heal who I have to heal, and I’m going to work the way they ask me to work. The rest of the complicated stuff will fall on you.”

So Suguru Geto is not faking his kindness.

Umi really doesn’t know how to feel about it.

She swallows a sigh. It all would have been easier if her great-grandmother had said something to her about it, but they were all weird things like: twins are your warning, or beware of the year ending in nine.

Umi choked on saliva.

That’s it! it’s been in front of her the whole time!

Hajime-san was not talking about her future, but about the past. And if Umi remembers correctly, Suguru Geto had a pair of twin girls in his cult—one with light hair and other with dark hair. And they were the same age? The accident that changed Suguru Geto happened in two thousand and nine, and the girls were involved?

Umi let herself fall forward. Falling with little to no cushioning to the ground.

“What happened to you?”

The girl let out a weird sound. “My brain hurts.”

Chapter Text

The next afternoon, Shoko appears in her room with a grin looking for trouble. She’s out of her uniform, wearing black sweatpants with a brown tee that covers her arms completely, but leaves her collarbone and part of her chest exposed.

“I have good news,” she announces, before plopping down next to Umi on the bed. “Professor Yaga has just left for a mission in the countryside.”

Umi doesn’t know what’s so good about that. “Does that mean… we’ll be able to sleep in?”

Shoko sighs regretfully. "So you're a good girl."

Her friend proceeds to turn around, so that they are both face to face on Umi's bed. Shoko's fingers intertwine with her loose locks of hair, making a small spiral.

"It means we have the campus to ourselves, and Gojo has a nice black card with a lot of money on it. Money we can use to buy booze."

Umi nods, somewhat distracted. It's not that she's a stranger to alcohol—she recalls how her grandfather and the head of the Zen'in clan would meet from time to time and both would end up so drunk they couldn't form a coherent sentence. There was also the fact that, Professor Utahime also liked to drink. Although that didn't mean she was going to invite her students with her. So, Umi never drank alcohol.

"Sounds good," she says not so sure. Still the Suguru Geto thing going around in her head.

"Umi." Her friend calls out to her. "Didn't Professor Yaga give you the pay for the last mission?"

The aforementioned frowns, somewhat more present. "No, why do you say that?"

"You can't walk around in your uniform all the time."

"I'm not always in my uniform, sometimes I have my pajamas on... or those clothes Professor Yaga handed me after I left the infirmary."

Shoko lets out a small laugh, lightly tugging her hand to get up from her bed. "Come on, I'll lend you something of mine."

▬▬▬▬▬▬

Umi feels cheated after two events.

One: after leaving her comfy bed behind and following Shoko to her room, they both realized that because Umi is taller, none of the pants her friend had fit her at all. Until Shoko, after searching for a good few minutes, found a pair of gray sweatpants that had long legs.

"Don't tell me those are my pants,"

And that brings them to point number two: not only did Shoko invite the idiot duo, but also the pants she gave her apparently belong to the idiot Satoru Gojo.

Umi frowns in disgust. "What are they doing here?"

"I invited them, naturally." Shoko says, as if this isn't the biggest betrayal Umi has experienced to date. "Take up Gojo's money, after all. And those pants aren't yours, I remember finding them among my clothes."

"Because you stole it!"

Her friend didn't seem the least bit surprised. Pulling glasses from the dorm's small kitchen and ices from the refrigerator. "Stealing is an ugly word. You gave it to me."

"So what if I want to use it now, huh?"

Umi really is sick of his shit. "Take your fucking damn pants."

Without thinking twice about her next actions, the girl brought her hands to the elastic of the pants and pulled them down. However, as she slid the fabric down her legs, Suguru Geto let out a small cry of surprise and fell forward, covering the eyes of the idiot with glasses.

The assassin's cheeks and tips of his ears were tinged slightly pink. "You don't need to take off your clothes. If it bothers Satoru so much, I can pass you one of my pants so you can give him back his."

Satoru Gojo refused almost instantly.

"Why would you give her your clothes?!"

However, over the idiot's shrill voice, Umi spoke even louder, "No thanks, I don't want to take up a monkey's pants."

Ignoring Satoru Gojo's laughter, and as Suguru Geto again cut the distance between them to hit him, Umi decided to stay closer to Shoko. She didn't know how exactly to help with what she was doing, so she just stood nearby. By the time her friend had finished, the idiots were still fighting in the background.

Afterwards, they all ended up moving to the little table with moss green tablecloth in front of the couch. Shoko made a short introduction of what she had served in the little glasses and managed not to be interrupted by the pain in the ass that is Satoru Gojo.

Umi looked at her glass warily, tilting her head slightly.

To her mind again came her grandfather: lying on the tatami babbling nonsense; teacher Utahime, with flushed cheeks and beer in hand singing karaoke.

She can't help but worry about what she might say if she gets to that level of inebriation. She should stay sober and just hang out with her friend and the idiot duo. But Umi is tired. She just wants to relax for a while, pretend Shio was still alive and happy and as naive as she's always been. Relax for a while and pretend this isn't true.

So Umi drinks.

▬▬▬▬▬▬

Suguru should have sensed—no, he knew that both Satoru and Saruwatari would be a pain in the ass if they both drank too much beer.

"If I can keep standing on my hands longer than you, you owe me a sweatshirt!"

Despite everything, Suguru let out a laugh. In the blink of an eye, the girl was already upside down and waving her feet in the air. Satoru had to maneuver a bit more before placing himself in the same position.

"I think I'm going to throw up."

"Weak."

Satoru fell forward, defeated. Saruwatari celebrated, still standing in her hands.

"Kids sure have energy, heh."

Shoko was sprawled on the tatami, her legs tucked under the small table with empty beer bottles. She stared boredly at her phone, but sometimes her eyes would fall on their classmates fighting in the corner of the room.

"Why do I feel like you did this on purpose?"

The girl smiled. "I just want everyone to get along."

Suguru nodded his head, a smile forming on his lips as well. He remembered earlier this school year, when he and Satoru fought about anything and everything—but now that Umi Saruwatari was added to the picture, they seemed more compatible than ever.

"We don't get along badly," he stressed, feeling somewhat self-conscious. "But it's not like we can engage in normal conversation either. Really, I don't know how you do it, Shoko."

Her friend patted the tatami beside her, and Suguru obliged by lying down beside her. Both of them watching from that position the remaining two first-years.

"I think you and Gojo annoy her a lot," Shoko opines after a few moments. "But, you know, it might just be my point of view."

Suguru simply hummed. He watched quietly as Satoru tried to get smart with Saruwatari and put her in a headlock, but before he could intervene, the girl easily broke free from his friend's grip and threw him over her shoulder.

He was really trying not to look so easy to impress.

The girl sat back down at the table with them, silently. Pouring herself some more ji-sake in her glass.

Compared to the two of them, Shoko and Suguru had quite a tolerance for alcohol. Shoko, from what she sometimes tells him, has always been a somewhat rebellious girl with a lot of curiosity about illicit things. He, on the other hand, was simply used to being offered alcohol by old men in his village when he saw them in the evenings, while they were looking for someone to talk to.

One look at Satoru and Saruwatari, and he can tell that they are both sheltered and spoiled children.

"Give me room," Satoru cuts in, taking up the space between Shoko and him.

Suguru frowns slightly, but listens the request and makes room for him. Satoru lies down next to him: his thigh brushing against his. He can't help the wave of thoughts that come with that simple action (—like, will the smell of alcohol surrounding him like smoke bother Satoru? was his hair in order? doesn't his breath smell, or does it?). At the same time, he can't help but be annoyed by it. Of all the people, of all the men and women he could have liked, why Gojo...?

The boy leans forward and pulls a lock of Saruwatari's hair.

"Ah, look at you. It's not a wig. Since you're acting like a boy, I thought you were one."

Shoko, on Satoru's other side, slaps him on the shoulder, letting out a colorful insult in between. However, Saruwatari's fury is easy to notice. "If you're brave enough to mock me, let's go outside. Domain battle."

Suguru knows that, on the one hand, it's easy for Satoru to make fun of the new girl. But sometimes, there are things he says that are really taken out of context, and he wants to poke a hole in the ground and pretend he doesn't know Gojo at all. He knows he just wants to annoy Saruwatari because they apparently don't get along, but telling exaggerated lies is not the way.

"I don't want to make a fool of you."

Suddenly, everything happens very fast. Saruwatari's figure is stretched forward, and with her fist, she hits Satoru's cheek squarely.

"Ya, I think it's time to go buy something to eat." Shoko interjects, looking proudly at Saruwatari. "Rock, paper, scissors. Whoever loses, stays in school with Gojo."

▬▬▬▬▬▬

He remembers clearly the first conversations he had with Satoru about Saruwatari. The words that stung the jealous when he would divert the topic of conversation and talk about the girl; now that he realizes, maybe it's even all his fault that the two of them get along badly—Satoru's misplaced jealousy and... whatever Saruwatari has, are certainly a bad combination.

«She’s weak,» and Suguru has never been more against it about anything he's ever said. He doesn't know what part of the girl he observed and categorized as weak. To Suguru, Umi Saruwatari was a kind of wild wolf: with snapping jaws and sharp teeth. One false step, and the next thing her teeth would close in on, would be your neck.

But, right now, she looks more like a wet dog.

As soon as they entered the convenience store, the air conditioning hit them full in the face—leaving behind the humidity outside and feeling the warmth inside the four small walls embrace them.

Saruwatari wore her hair loose, falling down to her lower back. And the apples of her cheeks were just as flushed from the heat inside the store.

The two parted inside, and Suguru assumed that Saruwatari wasn't working properly because she simply stood by the counter while he looked for what they needed. Once he found the candy Satoru asked for, and an American snack that caught his eye, he returned to the cashier. Flashing his best smile at the fake ID to be sold the cigarettes Shoko asked for.

More out of habit than curiosity, Suguru looked to his side. Where Satoru should be, but, he's not. And in his place, there's this girl who honestly has him a bit nervous. Her crimson eyes were fixed on one of the shelves on the wall, just behind the cashier. There were some sour, worm-shaped gummies there.

"And one of those gummies, yeah..."

He paid for everything and flashed one last smile before he left the establishment and the cold hit him full force again.

"Here."

And there it was again, that way Saruwatari was looking at him. Like she was looking at someone else. Cautiously, tiptoeing. "I don't have any money."

"I wasn't asking you for money, I just want to give you the gummies."

The girl's crimson eyes alternated between Suguru's outstretched hand to his face. And at that moment it occurred to him that maybe she's used to this. To the high guard and the nerves.

Finally, she reaches her hand carefully towards his own, and removes the small package. "Eat them before you get to school, or Satoru's going to take them from you."

A few moments of silence pass, both of them walking side by side in the direction of the school under the artificial lights. And Suguru was glad that way, because it was peaceful. "Stop doing this kind of thing. It confuses me."

He instantly frowned. "What do you mean...?"

"Stop acting like a nice guy."

If Suguru had been completely sober, he would have pursued that train of thought of Saruwatari. But he wasn't. He was more-or-less drunk, with a girl who apparently hated him to death, and cold.

"Sorry."

Maybe she heard some kind of rumor, and that's why she talks the way she talks to him and Satoru? Did they have such a bad reputation?

"It's even worse if you apologize."

Suguru was silent, because, really, what else was he going to do?

"Here,"

Suguru stopped walking the moment he saw Saruwatari's arm approaching his body. However, the blow he expected from her never came. Rather, a worm settled between his fingers.

"Thank you."

Chapter Text

Umi was… warm.

It had been so long since she had felt this warm and comfortable sleeping, that almost inwardly she thought this had all been a bad dream and she would wake up next to Shio, back home in the Minamoto state. But both situations were different kinds of warm, and Umi, for a moment, thought she could get used to this.

That was, until she opened her eyes and felt the headache pounding in her skull like a drum.

Umi knew how to swallow her plaintive shriek, along with the nausea that was born when she felt the floor shaking under her body. It was at that moment, when she realized (...that the light coming in from under her eyelids was, no doubt, irritating) that she was not in her bed.

She tried not to panic immediately (—and it was quite difficult to push back her vision of how Suguru Geto might have kidnapped her) by internally counting to twenty. In the process, she could clearly identify that she was on the floor on her side, her knees bent slightly and her back was against someone's back. Oh, and her feet were in a very warm place.

That... was not a bad sign, actually.

After many numbers and swallowing quite a bit of saliva, Umi was able to open her eyes and not feel the compelling urge to vomit. She looked over her shoulder carefully, and came upon Shoko sleeping in the same position she was in, only facing the other direction. Umi felt a foreign feeling dance through her chest as she realized that he probably hadn't left her side all night, and had been watching her back ever since.

With the help of her forearms, she lifted her torso slightly (without moving the rest of her body) to look around. Her legs disappeared under the table, and they were also covered by a warm futon. Is that why her feet felt so warm...? But no, something didn't feel right. Umi decided to wiggle her right toes a bit, and felt Satoru Gojo mumble something sleepily from the other side of the table.

She tried again, and she could feel soft skin under her feet. And she regretted it. Because at some point in the night, she had ended up nestling her poor feet into the idiot's damn stomach.

Umi could feel light footsteps coming in her direction, but she didn't have a quick enough reaction. In the blink of an eye, Suguru Geto was standing in front of her, cradling a cup of tea in his hands and looking fatigued. Umi in response scratched her eye.

"Good morning, Saruwatari. I see you woke up before Shoko and Satoru."

After a couple of seconds trying to think about what to do, knowing that it would be rather awkward for her not to say anything to the boy who is literally in front of her and also the only one awake in the room. She opted for what made the most sense to her and simply shrugged, sneaking her feet out of the hiding place they had made in Satoru Gojo's stomach.

She frowned as she felt an extra layer of clothing on her body. Her eyes instinctively traveled to the black jumper she definitely wasn't occupying yesterday—she also doesn't remember when or how she fell asleep.

Wait, wait, that can't be. Something must have happened, some kind of seizure? Suguru Geto must have spiked her drink with some kind of drug?

That's it! The drink. The last thing she remembers is taking drink after drink of whatever Shoko offered her. So, it's not a seizure. It's something much worse: humiliation. What weird things must she have said? Quite a lot, for Suguru Geto to greet her so... familiarly. But maybe that's a good sign, because she must not have talked about Shibuya.

Pleasantly, she wouldn't see a mental hospital today.

As Umi blinks in confusion, trying to remember whatever happened last night, Suguru Geto takes a seat across from her, leaving a meter of distance between them and resting the tea he previously cradled in the space separating them.

That's where he hits her: some worm gummies Umi hadn't seen in stores years ago, him buying them for her; as Umi then gave him one as a reward; the little thank you.

The killer smiles at her, and Umi doesn't know if that really means anything. "Would you like some tea? It's good for a hangover."

Failing to notice if the boy was doing it with hidden intentions, Umi simply nodded her head slightly. Wrapping her hands around the cup of hot liquid. She brought it close to her face, enjoying how the steam hit her nose and eyes.

"Thank you."

Suguru Geto replied with another closed-eyed smile, tilting his head slightly. The girl opted to take a sip of the tea, enjoying its taste and how it passed through her dry throat. However, she's sure she can't eat anything solid without throwing it up.

Umi doesn't understand how the old men of the Zen'in clan can go about completing missions in this state.

"Hey," she begins, because it's time to talk about the elephant in the room. Though why she has to ask him, of all people, she doesn't know. "Did I... did I say something weird yesterday?"

The assassin still had his face cocked to one side, but his smile was gone. He scratched his chin slightly, like a detective in a bad movie.

"You talked about your fiancé... Or is it ex-fiancé?"

Umi swallowed her tea poorly. "What?"

But at that moment she remembered. It was strange, because it was all in her mind, but it felt like it happened in a kind of dream and not in real life.

"You're not so bad after all," Umi admitted, chewing on a sour worm. "I think you're even nicer to me than my own fiancé."

"Wait, what?" to say Suguru Geto was surprised was an understatement.

"Don't be so surprised, I heard that stress causes you to go prematurely bald."

"I don't see how I wouldn't be surprised."

Umi almost laughed. "Yeah, the guy was a complete idiot. It was some kind of political compromise on his grandfather's and my grandfather's part. I don't think it would have bothered me so much if he'd been a better guy, or closer to my age."

"Don't tell me he was an old man and you...."

"Nah, not so much. I think he was older than me by...eleven years?"

"Wow. Wow." repeated the boy, before crouching down in the middle of the trail. "Wait a minute, I need time to process this."

"Don't be exaggerating, it's no big deal."

Suguru Geto went awfully still and silent for a few moments, then, "And no one in your family refused? No one stood up for you?"

"No?" now it was Umi's turn to be confused. "What would they defend me from? Besides, it was just Grandpa, me, and my little sister. My dad went kuku after mom committed suicide, so they're both out of the picture."

The boy was still silent, and in those small seconds Umi came to a bad conclusion, making her eyes fill with tears. "Come to think of it, none of the men in my life played their part well. Do you think it's just bad luck? Or was I really bad in my past life? I have a bad run where men are concerned."

The girl continued to whine on her way to school, drowning her sorrows with her gumdrops and well-timed comments from her classmate.

Umi really couldn't believe it.

"Don't worry," Suguru Geto interrupts her moment of madness, looking harmless and passive in front of her. "I won't tell anyone. I understand if you don't want to talk about this with the guys."

All she really wanted to do was lock herself in her room. Yesterday this happened. What's next tomorrow? Will she start spilling the Minamoto clan's secrets for the next one?

"...You already had tea?"

Suguru Geto laughs, standing up. "Yes, don't worry."

With his hands in his pants pockets, he disappeared from her field of view for a few moments only to reappear with a garbage bag in his hands. Umi watched him as she took sips of her tea, while he picked up empty beer bottles and the plastic candy packets.

It was then that her eyes fell on the empty gummy bear packaging, lying next to the empty bottles. And for some reason, her heart squeezed a little as Suguru Geto simply picked it up and threw it in with the rest of the trash in the bag.

"I'll help you collect!" shrieks Umi out of nowhere, standing up and setting the tea aside. Thanks to being blessed with good genetics, the girl wasn't much smaller than Suguru Geto. In fact, she thinks it's barely five centimeters difference. "You go have another tea. You look tired."

The assassin looked at her quizzically, but passed her the bag anyway. Umi nodded with her mouth closed, feeling the bile threatening to come out. She turned away, taking what trash she could find in her hands and quickly hiding the gummy pack in the pocket of her sweatshirt.

Nothing could be heard but the faint hum of the heater in the common room, along with Suguru Geto's light footsteps. Umi, for her part, was trying to be as quiet as possible tidying up the trash. After she had picked it all up, she took the black bag and tied a knot in its mouth, propping it up in the corner of the room and to the side of the door.

That's why, over the faint sound Umi was used to, the rustling of clothes and sleepy babble stood out.

She looks over her shoulder at the table where the rest of the class is. Shoko is still sleeping, now occupying the space Umi previously occupied as well, and completely taking over the blanket. Satoru Gojo, on the other hand, was more or less awake, sitting on his butt and eyes barely open (his glasses forgotten in some corner of the kitchen).

Suguru Geto is the one who then appears, with his hair loose and covering part of his shoulders. The idiot, upon seeing his friend, rises like a spring from the floor.

“Suguru!”

Umi can't help but blush up to her ears.

Satoru Gojo wraps himself around the assassin, hugging him warmly. Despite being taller than the black-haired boy, he rests his head on Suguru Geto's shoulder, his nose almost buried in the boy's skin. The assassin hugs him back, his arms wrapping around the honorable’s back.

Should she be watching this? It feels like something extremely private.

The boy's light blue eyes collide with hers, and she blushes even more, turning away. "I... I'm going back to my room!"

▬▬▬▬▬▬

Umi lazily looks at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. After a hot bath and a rich soup (which was courtesy of Suguru Geto), the girl almost felt like her soul had returned to her body. Her dry hair fell down her back, as she coiled the dryer cord between her hands.

There is a knock on her door, and she sees thanks to the mirror as Shoko enters her room. Unlike yesterday, today her friend was once again wearing her school uniform. "Feeling better already, Umi?"

Umi nods, finishing with her homework and putting the hair dryer away in the bathroom cabinet. When she returns to her former position, Shoko was already at her side.

"How about you, Shoko? You didn't look much different than usual."

For the first time since they've met, her friend's face takes on a shade of smugness. "I'm quite used to it."

The girl nods again.

"...You were a problem child, then?"

Shoko lets out a giggle, and Umi's lips quiver. "Aren't we all?"

The chocolate girl circles Umi, hiding behind her back. That's when she feels her fingers run through her locks of hair. Without a word, she hands her a brush (which was originally Shoko's) and her friend quietly works on the usual braid.

But, despite how hard Umi bites the inside of her cheeks so as not to ask something strange... well, she ends up failing at her task.

"Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo," she says, knowing that all of Shoko's attention is on her and she has to ask this tactfully if she doesn't want her to be offended. "...What... What are they two, exactly?"

"Our classmates?"

"Are they dating?"

Chocolate eyes are looking back at her through the mirror, but Umi can't decipher what feeling they are expressing. But then, Shoko laughs again.

"Who knows...? I don't." And she sighs. "But what I do know is that all men are weirdos. Maybe it's their way of being friends."

(Shoko said that mockingly. Because clearly Gojo and Geto were not just friends. What she didn't expect, was that Umi wouldn't understand what she was trying to say).

Umi tilts her head slightly, curiously.

Her friend taps her back. "Ready here."

"Thank you."

Umi turned around, facing Shoko and earning a raised eyebrow. Without mentioning another word, the girl tries to curl around her friend like she saw Satoru Gojo do with the assassin. Contrary to what she thought, Shoko's body feels warm against hers. Umi rests her cheek on the smaller girl's shoulder, feeling her body tense slightly before relaxing completely against her and resting her hand on her head.

"What is it?"

Umi was silent for a while longer, closing her eyes. Would she be as intimate with Shoko as Satoru Gojo was with Suguru Geto? Although she could understand that this position itself is quite comfortable. "I was trying to imitate Satoru Gojo."

Shoko doesn't hide her laughter. "So, what's your verdict?"

Umi squeezes her friend a little tighter against her. "It's nice."

▬▬▬▬▬▬

The sky is still relatively clear when they send the entire freshman class on a mission. The November air was a little weird, but Shoko brought her scarf anyway. Even though no one else was wearing one. The trio walked a few steps ahead, having a conversation that Umi couldn't be bothered to be a part of.

Her eyes instinctively go to the men in the group, who were one on either side of Shoko. Her eyes narrowed slightly, examining the matching jackets they both wore.

"But what I do know is that all men are weirdos. Maybe it's their way of being friends."

Umi swallows a sigh, looking around. The streets were as busy as ever, with schoolchildren enjoying their lives after a full day in classes, or adults running around. Quietly, she tries to find more duos of friends who seem as close as Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto, but doesn't find much. After all, the Japanese are reserved people...they don't go around touching each other in the middle of the street.

...Maybe Shoko wasn't right? She herself said she wasn't sure, after all.

“Mh? Are you alright, Saruwatari?”

Her bubble is burst by Suguru Geto, who stopped dead in his tracks when he realized that all his companions were not at his side. Umi saw this and tilted her head to the left, somewhat confused. "Yeah, I was just a little distracted."

The girl quickly closes the distance between everyone, placing herself on the other side of Satoru Gojo as the trio continues their conversation. But observing all the civilians around her without catching anything she needs to is quite tiring, so Umi resigned herself to occasionally glancing at Suguru Geto, who was two people away.

If she's honest, it's much easier to hate someone and spew venom every time you see them instead of...this. And Umi wants to hate him (with all her heart)—but there's a big gap in what she wants to feel and what she feels. Umi Minamoto will always hate the Suguru Geto of the future, the murderer, the reason she's in the past.

But if we talk about the Suguru Geto of the past? Umi doesn't know how she feels about him.

And it's wrong, and she knows it's wrong. Because he's a bastard, an idiot and the murderer. He made Okkotsu and Shio suffer. He killed many civilians while running his cult. He is the definition of evil. He is everything she was taught to hate and exterminate.

Umi just has to remember all that. And forget everything that happened.

(The empty gummy pack weighs heavy in her pocket.)

Satoru Gojo complains loudly beside her. "My head hurts."

Shoko hides her laughter behind her sleeve, while the assassin doesn't disguise it.

"Relax, we'll be done with this mission soon and you can go back to lying down."

The stronger one sighs, and Umi can notice how his body seems to be heavier than usual (by the way he walks). Then, surprising everyone, she said:

"If you're that tired, you can lean on me."

Satoru Gojo watched her, and the girl could sense that he did so rarely.

"No. You're going to beat me weak."

"You're an idiot."

Chapter Text

Umi is an observer. Not by nature, but by force. Her grandfather made sure she noticed everything on the battlefield (…but, perhaps, when she was smaller and freer, she wants to think she observed the little things: lying on her back on a blanket with her mother, pointing out the different shapes in the clouds. Or how the flowers seemed to glow in spring. Or the cats that scurried across the rooftops). It’s something that comes naturally now.

That’s why she’s now in a staring war with Satoru Gojo.

It all started when she arrived at the training area this morning. Suguru Geto greeted her as usual, and Shoko too when she arrived moments later. The headache was making it seem as if her brain was going to explode at any moment, and the assassin noticed the dark circles under her eyes that decorated her face (because Umi has a rule not to wear make-up when she exercises). But there was something else that was bothering her. Then she glanced over her shoulder at the boy in front of her, and Satoru Gojo returned her gaze impassively, his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose loosely.

Of course, that wasn’t what was odd. What was odd was that he hadn’t spoken.

But this wasn’t Umi’s problem, so she didn’t plan to do anything about it. It was no secret that the two didn’t like each other. If he did have a problem, she didn’t have to help. He could just as easily go cry to Suguru Geto or bother Shoko about it.

So, she simply moved on. She acted completely oblivious to his gaze, even when Professor Yaga paired them up to practice hand-to-hand combat (he made Shoko, against her will, practice with the assassin); she may have even been forced to hit harder than she needed to because she wanted the stronger one to take her seriously.

She really tried to put up with it.

“Here are the drinks,”

She can feel the smile in Shoko’s voice as she plops down next to her with two iced teas from the vending machine, and two sodas for the picky ones (Satoru Gojo and Shoko herself).

“Thanks, Shoko.”

Her friend shrugs when Suguru Geto thanks her, while Umi just gives her a small smile and a silent thank you. Her throat is grateful for the liquid after three hours of exercise.

Nothing better than a nice lunch with a tea and then a bath to wash off the sweat.

Besides, lunch looked delicious.

“Saruwatari, if you have trouble sleeping, I can—“

“Are you ashamed of your cursed technique?”

Umi’s spoon stops just inches in front of her mouth, because all of the girl’s attention is on Satoru Gojo sitting in front of her. Surprised, but just a little.

“No. Why would you think that?” the question didn’t sound characteristically malicious, so she decided to indulge him as the spoon came back to rest on the plate.

“You could have used it while we were fighting, but you did not. Even when I used my infinity.”

Umi was ready to answer. Something between the lines of what if my technique doesn’t help with that, or what if I simply want to perfect my combat? But of course, Satoru Gojo had to keep talking.

“Is that why you hate Suguru and me?” the boy rested his elbows on the table and brought his palms to rest against his cheeks. Lips curved into a painfully cruel smile. “You envy us and play hard to get because you’re really just jealous. You wish you were us. How cruel and useless your parents must have been, to not even give you a technique you could be proud of.”

It’s as if after Satoru Gojo uttered those words, Umi’s whole world has gone silent. It’s strange, because he keeps talking, but it’s she who can’t hear anything. For a moment, she wonders if she has suddenly gone deaf, but then she realizes that it is simply anger that won’t let her hear anything else. Throughout her life, she has learned to deal with the insults hurled at her (and, sadly, her sister). But her parents? That’s another story.

Her grandfather insulted her mother twice in Umi’s lifetime. The first was months after her mother died (suicide, they whispered behind closed doors and hands), and her grandfather had recently begun to train her personally. The second was during Umi’s first year away from home, during the little holiday she received at school in Kyoto. While her grandfather was yelling at her about the way she raised Shio.

Let’s just say it wasn’t a very smart decision. Umi had never answered any of her grandfather’s claims, even when they were directed at her sister. But her mother was something completely sacred to her, her greatest treasure and the keeper of her happiest memories (of which there are very few remaining. These days, Umi can’t even remember what her mother’s voice sounded like). It was the only time the girl ever hit her grandfather.

She swears she can make out how Suguru Geto drives his elbow several times into the idiot’s ribs and speaks something Umi can’t quite make out. She quickly stretches out her left arm and grabs Satoru Gojo hard by the back of the neck, being careful to plant the seed of her technique quickly before pushing his head hard against the table.

Some curry jumps at the table and against Umi’s clothes, but mostly at the figure of the boy who is burying his face in the lunch. He doesn’t fight against her grip because her technique should already be taking effect.

She is not sure how long they spent in that position, but at some point, all the anger slowly turned to disappointment. Satoru Gojo was the first (and only) man she trusted completely. He was kind when Umi needed him.

But had he always been this heartless? Was it all a front, only to stab her in the back in Shibuya?

Quietly, Umi removes her hand and turns away, dragging her chair along the floor to walk past and back to her bedroom. The world is still silent and she can feel her heart pounding in her ears, and all she wants to do is cry.

▬▬▬▬▬▬

His whole face felt sticky and hot. However, almost his entire being was concentrated on lamenting over his broken glasses.

Suguru is completely silent beside him, looking at him with eyes full of disappointment that Satoru simply can’t bring himself to look. Shoko, on the other hand, speaks enough for all three of them.

“You’re a fucking idiot. Do you lack of common sense? Even a five-year-old has a greater emotional capacity than you. No wonder from someone whose parents are probably cousins.”

She stops insulting him and turns to look where the girl has disappeared. Satoru is grateful for this, as both of his cheeks are quite flushed with embarrassment. He doesn’t know whether to feel bad about ruining lunch or to be thanked for testing Saruwatari’s patience.

This was going to bother him all day.

“I’ll go take a shower, you guys’ finish without me.”

On the way to the dorms, he tosses the remains of his glasses into the nearest dumpster. What the fuck was that? Saruwatari somehow interfered with his cursed technique and deprived his body of movement. That’s her…?

It’s a great technique, but then, why don’t she use it in class? Come to think of it, that time, it was oddly easy to catch that water curse while they were both in the water.

Satoru closes the door to his room behind him, instinctively reaching for his towel before going to take a bath. Unlike before, he doesn’t close the bathroom door, but he does close the room’s curtains.

Well, then. Tomorrow… tomorrow they’ll go on that mission Professor Yaga told him about, and then Satoru will drag them both to the mall. As an apology, he’s willing to buy Saruwatari some ice cream. Then everything would be fine.

(The plan failed before it even started.)

▬▬▬▬▬▬

Contrary to popular opinion on the subject, Satoru Gojo doesn’t just wear his glasses for aesthetic reasons. It was at the beginning of this school year that, after confessing to Suguru that his head sometimes hurt because of his technique and, Suguru, being the good friend that he is, recommended that he try different methods to avoid it. It wasn’t until he stole a pair of glasses from Shoko (who was hungover) that he discovered the great favour they do him.

That same day he went to the shop to buy some of his own.

That’s why it feels so damn weird to be without them, especially before going on a mission.

“What did the professor needed?” asked Satoru as he watched Suguru approach him.

He doesn’t know if it’s the normal degree of how Yaga squints, but a part of him tells him he’s mad at him too.

“Thank you, Satoru. Because of what you said yesterday, Saruwatari won’t be coming on the mission. So, we’ll have to take over just the two of us.”

The aforementioned simply blew out a raspberry. “It’s not that big of a deal, is it? We’ve been doing these missions since we both entered school. Not having the angry one isn’t going to affect out performance.”

Satoru doesn’t really regret what he says, but he can see in Suguru’s eyes that what came out of his mouth again made him disappointed.

The two of them walk side by side towards the station, and Suguru is waving a finger in the air as he looks over his shoulder as his friend. “Let me put it this way. How would you feel if I had said that? That you weren’t necessary, and gone with Saruwatari.”

Satoru lets out a laugh.

“You would never say that.”

“But if I did say it.”

The guy pouts. What does Suguru expect him to say? Feelings, whether his or of the rest… he’s never quite managed to understand them. As Shoko once called him, he may be emotionally constipated.

Although it’s not his fault that he wasn’t taught any of that throughout his childhood. Shoko and Suguru (and maybe professor Yaga) are the only ones who have treated him like a human being and not just the strongest sorcerer.

“You’d feel bad, wouldn’t you?” Suguru looks at him with soft eyes. And all Satoru can think at that moment is that it’s not fair. “Saying, and even implying that someone isn’t important… it must hurt the other person.”

He simply falls silent, partly because he doesn’t know what to say in response.

“Anyway,” his friend sighs, placing both hands in his trouser pockets after sliding his metrocard through the checker. “Try to get along better with Saruwatari, okay? You guys are pretty much alike, I think you’d get along way better than you think.”

Satoru sticks out his tongue. “Your perception of me is wrong. That girl could never be like me. So, why do you care so much about her? Do you like her?”

Relief creeps through his body when Suguru doesn’t blush at the question.

“No.” He answers, clear and precise. Satoru knows he’s telling the truth, because Suguru isn’t the kind of person who would lie about something like that. “I just feel that… Saruwatari is a very lonely person, and no one has ever cared about her without taking an interest in anything she could benefit from. She could use a friend to confide in.”

You know that better than anyone, don’t you, Satoru? It’s something his friend doesn’t say, but he knows he implies it in his words.

▬▬▬▬▬▬

When the duo left the school, the sun was just beginning its journey across the sky. By now, any trace of the sun has faded and the sky is in that rare lapse where it’s not totally dark, but it wouldn’t qualify as day either.

Suguru sighs as they both enter the convenience store, watching his (somewhat fatigued) body wander to the end to fish out a soda. The smell of cigarettes follows him like a smokescreen, but Satoru can’t bring himself to frown at it. After all, his own friend once confessed to him that Shoko had helped him find a way to get the taste of curses out of his mouth (if only a little).

What he does frown at is the empty cash register. Why wasn’t anyone there? Next to him, Suguru drops the drinks on the counter. “You pay.”

Satoru, unable to help himself, rolls his eyes.

From inside, a woman’s voice is heard shouthing. “I’ll be right with you!”

The boy dares to look over his shoulder at the somewhat bruised face of Suguru, who looks at a packet of gumdrops with great interest.

“You want them?”

“Nah, they’re not my thing. But I know them because Saruwatari likes them. I think she has a secret taste for sour candy. Oh, do you know if Shoko has any cigarettes left? You should buy a pack, just in case.”

Satoru contemplates his actions in silence. A few seconds later, the cashier comes out of the back door.

“Sorry, guys! I had some business to take care of back there.” He’s always wondered why old people have to talk so much. “Oh, are you all right? You look like you just got out of a gang fight.”

Suguru laughs (it’s more out of politeness) because he’s always known how to treat old ladies. “Nothing like that, just fell while skating.”

A small conversation ensues after that, where Satoru can’t see himself inclined to participate because his mind is occupied with another important decision.

“Are you going to take anything else?”

Well, even If he can’t take himself to see Saruwatari, he can always eat the sweets by himself.

“I’d like a packet of every sour candy you have.”

▬▬▬▬▬▬

Satoru couldn’t sleep, but it wasn’t because of the cold.

In situations like this, he was tempted to sneak into Suguru’s room and ask him to make room for him. Although they are equally equipped, the cold is not felt so much when you have someone sleeping next to you (and Suguru is like a human heater, always radiating warmth). Of course, he once made the mistake of trying the same tactic with Shoko, who, by the way, sleeps haphazardly all over her bed. It’s obvious how it ended that time: the girl waking up abruptly and getting angry because “you’re such a fucking weirdo! what are you doing in my room at this hour?” and when Satoru tried to appeal to her feelings and the fact that he was cold, Shoko just kicked him out.

But before that, he has to do something.

For the umpteenth time, Satoru glances at his phone. No messages in the mailbox and the time glowing like an imminent reminder. He lets out a sigh, because his plan is to apologize to Saruwatari before they go to class. Because it’s going to be fucking awkward and humiliating too.

Satoru kicks the sheets off his body, shivering slightly as the cold hits him. He pulls his jacket over his pajamas and wraps a scarf he stole from Shoko around his neck. At the desk he tears a piece of paper from his notebooks and draws a goofy picture of himself with a sorry next to it.

Comfortable with himself, he throws the piece of paper into the bag of sweets and walks out of his room.

His slippers make no sound when they hit the floor, even though Satoru struggles to drag his feet against the surface. The way to Saruwatari’s dormitory is short: just across the small courtyard in between (which acts as a separation between the male and female wings), slide one of the shōji doors, and boom! The door he needs.

He makes his way through the semi-lit darkness that is the school, feeling the crickets chirping in the background. He tries to ignore the embarrassment that begins to creep up his chest and colours his throat with a faint blush. He gently opens the shōji (as he doesn’t want to face the waking girl) and carefully crosses the distance to the door he seeks.

Satoru bites the inside of his cheek, pressing the bag of sweets against his hand. He takes a breath, ready to bend down and slide his packet under the door—

But the door opens, and the face (tired, Satoru notices, with dark circles under her eyes and looking destroyed) of Saruwatari is the first thing that enters his field of vision. She is in sports clothes, and her hair is in a ponytail.

They make eye contact for a few seconds, and without a word, the girl slams the door in his face.

Satoru can’t hide his surprise – did she… just ignore him?

It’s strange, though, because Saruwatari is still standing behind the door. He can feel her presence from his place in the hallway.

He decides to knock on the door, his knuckles tapping lightly against the wood.

If he’s honest, Satoru feels like a loser waiting out there—with his frozen nose and tired eyes. He doesn’t know how long it takes before the door opens, and Saruwatari emerges, looking angry.

“You’re in the way at my door.”

“Oh.”

He steps aside, and the girl passes directly into the courtyard, leaving her door closed behind her.

He doesn’t know what to think. What does this mean? However, all the answers to his worries are in front of him: if he leaves the bag on her bed, then she will notice it immediately when she returns. He doesn’t have to face her and, tomorrow, things will be back to normal.

You should see how she is, his conscience that (strangely) sounds just like Suguru resonates in his head. Didn’t you see her face?

What does it matter to me? He wants to recriminate. He and Saruwatari are nothing. Matter of fact, Satoru doesn’t even consider her a partner. The two don’t know each other at all. If it weren’t for Shoko, he wouldn’t even think of spending his free time outside of missions with her.

“I just feel that… Saruwatari is a very lonely person, and no one has ever cared about her without taking an interest in anything she could benefit from. She could use a friend to confide in.” Without his consent, Suguru’s voice interrupts his train of thought again. And he simply wants to scream and go back to his bed and never leave it again until the next spring comes.

Exactly! This idea was idiotic from the beginning. Why does he have to apologize to that bitch…? She’s not even nice to him! Turning around on his heels, Satoru turns back the way he came through to go back to his room.

However, a small part of his brain eats away at itself. He remembers that Suguru and Shoko were talking about Saruwatari’s situation only once, but he didn’t give it much attention. Shoko’s tone of slight concern was the only thing he could remember about it.

You don’t have to be a genius by now to know something’s up with her.

You must know that kind of loneliness, right, Satoru? Again, he doesn’t know if the voice in his head is his conscience or Suguru. Lately, it’s the same thing. The suffocating kind. Where you realize that no one really cares about you.

Oh, Satoru remembers. His lonely childhood and how the members of his clan (the few that were left and still alive, after all) put him on a pedestal. They treat him like a god, but don’t thank him or bother to ask for favours in a kindly way. Perhaps more than a god, he was a machine which they believed they could control forever.

Suguru was the first to treat him like somebody.

Satoru takes one last look at his door (imagining his bed, waiting for him and radiating warmth) before running after Saruwatari.

He knows where to find her. After all, where else would you go in sportswear if not to the training grounds inside the school?

Of course Saruwatari is there, running across the entire field in a kind of mental circuit. Without his glasses, Satoru can see without restriction the cursed energy and presence the girl radiates.

(He’s an idiot for not seeing it earlier.)

Saruwatari is aware of his presence too, but that doesn’t mean she cares. The minutes passed slowly as Satoru thought about what to say to her, or how to start a conversation, or the apology Suguru has been stressing so much. At some point, the girl stopped running and started doing squats.

That’s when Satoru sees his chance, and decides to approach.

“Do you like exercise?”

Oh god, that didn’t sound good at all.

He wasn’t really expecting a response, but Saruwatari surprised him when she spoke softly. “I don’t know if liking is the best way to describe it.”

“Then why do you do it?”

Satoru firmly clenches the bag in his right hand. This has no right to be this awkward…

“Exercising is supposed to help you fall asleep.”

Against all odds, the boy laughs. “That’s not a very conventional technique.”

So, Saruwatari seems to be battling insomnia. That time, when the four of them were drinking together, she didn’t sleep either? Satoru doesn’t remember. But at the beginning of the school year, when he couldn’t sleep (not because he had problems, but because he just wasn’t tired) Suguru was the one who taught him a technique to get through the night.

“Why don’t you just take a day? I heard that the human body gets knocked out after forty-eight hours awake.”

“I don’t have that luxury,” the girl replies quickly. “It would set me back quite a bit.”

“Mh. Don’t take school so seriously, it’s not like it’s that important. There’s no need to be a slave, you know that, right?”

He wasn’t making eye contact with Saruwatari, but he can still feel her murderous gaze. “What do you know about important things?”

The way she spits out those words brimming with venom escapes Satoru’s mind. What did he know… about important things? He didn’t used to know anything. He thought that all he had to look forward to in life was being part of the sorcerer society and being the headache of every curse user. He didn’t know how sweet ice cream could feel after a mission, or the warmth three bodies can give off while snoozing on the train.

He decides to look at the girl at that moment. Those crimson eyes that never show anything but hostility and anger. Did he have that look too before he met Suguru and Shoko?

“I have another idea to lure you to sleep.”

Now he had her undivided attention. “And what would that be?”

“I need you to sit on the grass.”

Saruwatari furrowed her eyebrows, and he could read in her body language that she wasn’t entirely convinced. So Satoru sat down first.

A few seconds passed before the girl sat down as well.

“What, are you going to practice some kind of hypnosis on me?”

“No, though it would be cool if I could do that.” Carefully (because he’s decided that Saruwatari is like a skittish animal. One wrong step and forget about ever seeing her again) he invades her personal space and places both of his palms on her shoulders, pushing her back. “Lie down.”

Against all odds, Saruwatari listened to him. Though her body was still tense. With a sigh, Satoru dropped down beside her. Staying on the right side of her head.

“What now?”

“Can’t you see them? The stars.” He points out. “At the beginning of the school year, Suguru and I would come to look at the sky almost every night. Sometimes Shoko would join us. But now that we’ve entering winter it’s harder to enjoy being outside.”

Saruwatari remains silent, but it’s a breakthrough that she’s still by his side. Without a word, Satoru reaches into the bag of sweets and pulls out a packet. He holds it out to the girl.

She accepts it with her left hand. Satoru bites his tongue before asking if she is left-handed.

“Sorry.”

Chapter Text

Umi knows that she is not the easiest person to be around. Not as a kind of antisocial, but more on an emotional level. But after all, she supposes it’s no surprise—a weapon doesn’t have to understand feelings or social rules. A weapon just has to be sharp.

However, there are two feelings she recognizes easily: fear (of the Higher-ups, of her grandfather, of Suguru Geto, of Naoya Zen’in…) and anger. She assumes that this is what has kept her alive so far, that they don’t belong to her but she to them. Even if you were to cut deep into Umi’s flesh and get to the very marrow, the stench of anger could not be camouflaged behind the blood that would be spilled.

That’s why her first instinct when she saw Satoru Gojo waiting outside the door of her room was to run away. She was sure he was going to kill her. Otherwise, why would he be so late coming to her door, completely dark?

Here’s the answer Umi never in a million years expected to receive: he went to apologise. And it was kind of a big deal, because no one had ever apologized to her before.

But having never been in a similar situation before, Umi didn’t know how to proceed. Should she have apologized for the punch as well…? She didn’t want to, because it had been something Satoru Gojo deserved at that moment.

They were both lying on the grass in the training area, with the company of insects chirping in the background and the cold licking at their cheeks. Her brain gnawed at itself as she thought of something to say in reply. But the boy beat her by a couple of seconds: from his lips came a series of words in an almost toneless tone, but sounding almost soft. It took Umi a while to understand that what Satoru was saying were the explanation about the constellations.

 When Umi felt a little les tense at his side (the bribe he brought her was to blame) she confessed that she liked certain sweets more than others, and they both agreed that the gummies of a certain brand were too sour.

Eventually they had to retire to their rooms (it was entirely the fault of Satoru Gojo, who almost fell asleep on the wet grass) and Umi fell asleep while her brain juggled with the situation. It’s not supposed to be this hard. Is it still too late to stab Suguru Geto in his sleep?

A movement she catches out of the corner of her eye brings her back to the present.

“Look at that, looks like the idiots have finished the job.” Shoko announces, stretching her arms above her head.

“What did I tell you, Shoko?” the white-haired idiot’s sing-songy voice enters Umi’s ears. “We’ll take care of everything while you guys are the back-up here.”

More of a spectator role, the girl thought. Both had been left out of the curtain. She could understand Shoko being left out, since, despite everything, her technique was not suitable for the field. But what about her?

Before entering the building (which, it should be noted, was more or less in ruins. The structure seemed to be on its last leg and breath of wind away from finally falling completely to the ground) Suguru Geto held her by the shoulders, with Satoru Gojo right behind the assassin’s back, looking over his shoulder in the girl’s direction. Shoko, on the other hand, was already busy in the back—rummaging in her pockets for some change to pass through an energy drink vending machine.

“Now, you stay here,” the bun-boy had told her with his typical closed-eyed smile on his stupid tofu face. Umi was ready to rebut and push his dirty hands off her shoulders, but he was quicker and slowly pushed her back in her friend’s direction. “According to the window, this curse isn’t even that strong. Grade two or one, maybe. And it’s alone. So it won’t be hard. Don’t worry your little head about this sort of thing, we’ll take care of it.”

Umi couldn’t help but show the displeasure on her face. “Don’t try to act heroic with me.”

“Think of it as compensation, for the hard time.” He winked at her as the girl scowled at him. Suguru Geto proceeded to take one of his hands off Umi’s shoulders to bring it up to his mouth and make a gesture of keeping quiet, as if he was going to tell her a secret. “Satoru is a considerate person, after all.”

“Suguru, come on!” called the idiot over the whispered conversation the two were having.

And so it was that Umi was discarded and treated like a damsel in distress by her companions (for the first time, even). She bit her lips, holding back the urge to run after them and punch them both, as she let herself be pulled by Shoko through the vicinity of the poor building—first looking for a vending machine, then looking for a bench to wait on.

“Where is Geto?”

“Consuming the curse. He asked me to leave him alone.”

Umi remained silent, but not out of disgust at the previous situation. A question quickly course through her head at Satoru Gojo’s answer and just remained there: what does a curse taste like?

Out of obligation, she had to read Suguru Geto’s cursed technique file to the point where she could almost recite it on the spot. Being able to control curses if you consume them is in itself very interesting, but at the same time… strange. Also, Umi has never met anyone in her entire life who has the same or similar technique to this person. So it’s not like she can ask a lot of questions about it or on the basis of curiosity.

Must be disgusting…

Satoru Gojo dropped down beside her, stealing Shoko’s place. With his elbow, he tapped her right arm. “Got any sweets with you?”

Umi tilted her head slightly, trying to find some trace of malice in his voice. But there was none, just his usual tone of boredom and disrespect in his vocabulary. “Yes, wait…”

From her left pocket she fished three gummies that had survived the night, and without much thought handed them directly to his slightly outstretched palm.

“Sweet.”

“Gojo, stop manspreading and lemme sit.”

Sometimes, Umi simply had this desire to sit comfortably and watch Shoko interact with Satoru Gojo. Sometimes even with Suguru Geto; there is a stark contrast of her being at this age with the tired woman the girl had the pleasure of meeting only a handful of times. On the other hand, the pair of boys were a completely different story that Umi didn’t know if she could figure out yet.

The heir to the Gojo clan was less friendly, but quite spoiled. He was also rude, and his language was too informal even around adults. But despite all that, Umi had come to learn that underneath it all, he was still a good person (maybe a little).

And the assassin… she didn’t know whether she was dealing with a lying hypocrite or just someone genuinely kind who would later succumb under the waves of despair that sorcerers face, to finally meet the terrible fate: becoming something he was charged with destroying.

In a sense, she can even see the student Suguru Geto in the adult Satoru Gojo. They have the same manner of speech (in a way?) and she can sense the aura of comfort in the teacher she met in the bun-boy. Maybe that’s why Umi also feels somewhat uncomfortable in his presence apart from the obvious reason. It’s tremendously painful to see someone you admired in the person you hate the most.

“Sorry for the wait,”

At Suguru Geto’s voice, the little fight between Shoko and the idiot stops.

“Good job,” Praises the girl. “Wanna smoke?”

“No, Shoko. Thank you.”

The boy’s slender, proud figure was oddly hunched over. A grimace of displeasure crossed his face, completely contrasting his attitude and demeanour from before. It went without saying that he was uncomfortable.

Now Umi had no doubt: the technique was not at all pleasant.

The puzzle pieces that were once scattered all over the place were beginning to take shape in the girl’s hands. For this was, no doubt, another reason why Suguru Geto defected and eventually became an assassin.

“Let’s get going, then.” Satoru Gojo decided, rising easily from the bench. As if it was an instinct for both of them, they began to walk at the same pace. Side by side.

Suppressing a sigh, Umi had to get up from the comfortable but hard bench. This might be a self-imposed mission, but that didn’t take away from the fact that she was bored. And tired.

▬▬▬▬▬▬

They made a détour on the train.

Normally, after finishing a mission, the trio would go straight to school. That routine was something of a normality for Umi (also including the slightly hostile trips or outright ignoring her classmates). Today, however, a couple of stations before their stop, Satoru Gojo got up from the seat he was occupying to make his way to the door.

No one exchanged any words. And Umi couldn’t help but think that it all looked so natural to them: Suguru Geto following his friend without even sharing a glance. Even Shoko seemed within her normality, following the idiot duo before the metro stopped.

The girl found no alternative in her brain but to follow them.

Unlike the stop closest to the school, this one was strangely crowded. Schoolchildren, college students or adults tired after a day’s work—all these kinds of people were milling around the station. Umi couldn’t help but stress that she couldn’t get lost right now because 1. She doesn’t have a mobile phone (or any phone) on her and 2. Her sense of direction sucks.

“Umi.”

Her gaze focused on Shoko, who called softly to her with her outstretched hand. Umi didn’t know at what point she had stopped walking.

“Come here.”

She doesn’t like crowded stations. Her brain can’t help but go down a bad path and remember Shibuya. If she concentrates hard enough, she can hear the desperate screams and the foul smell of that night.

A warm palm engulfed hers, pulling her forward. The contact lasted only a couple of seconds, for when Umi’s body was close enough to Shoko, she slid her hand to her elbow and gave her arm. Umi’s clumsy feet bumped against themselves before she walked side by side with her friend.

“I’ll teach you a technique to be able to walk calmly in a crowded place.” Shoko mentioned quietly, staying close to Umi. And she couldn’t help but wonder if she didn’t feel disgust after touching her right hand with all the scars on it. “You just have to walk behind two giants.”

As usual, Shoko was right.

At some point while dissociating, Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto stood in front of both of them. While Umi wasn’t that short in comparison to the two, there was one thing they both had that she didn’t: they were both males, and, naturally, they respected them more than a poor girl. Thanks to Suguru Geto’s broad shoulders and Satoru Gojo’s somewhat intimidating gaze (since he was without glasses) the group made it safely out of the station.

She lets herself be guided into a mall while enjoying the frosty air. It’s a nice change, she thinks. For lately she feels that her right hand is always on fire. It may be unusable for her and she can no longer wield a dagger or a pencil, but that doesn’t mean that the pains will leave Umi alone. Some nights she can only feel warmth. Flames licking her skin and eating away at her muscles. At times like that, she can even swear she can smell that foul stench of charred pork.

“First stop!” announces Satoru Gojo, excited. He even turns around as he keeps walking so he can look at Umi and Shoko. “I need to buy new glasses.”

“Understood.” Shoko nods, raising her thumb in affirmation. Suguru Geto chuckles softly. “Lead the way.”

In the past (or future…?) Umi never spent her free time at the mall. She didn’t have to. Her clothes were selected by people outside of her, and had to be approved by her grandfather before they even made it to her wardrobe. When she needed something, she simply had to talk to someone in the clan to get it for her. And it’s not like she had any friends who invited her to these kinds of places.

Umi tried hard not to show his emotions on his face, as his gaze wandered around the building Satoru Gojo led them to. As expected, there were quite a few people inside, and it was bright. If it hadn’t been for Shoko who still had her arms intertwined, Umi fears she would have gotten lost.

The four of them together enter a less crowded shop that smells expensive. Whether it was the smell itself or the people circulating inside, Umi couldn’t tell. Unconsciously, she makes a mental map of the quickest way out if something happens.

Of course, she’s the only one with that fear. Satoru Gojo quickly moved away from the group, going forward to a shelf that probably caught his attention. Shoko soon after released her arm, engaging in a debate with Suguru Geto in the section near where the trio stood.

Umi felt it wisest to explore the shop alone.

Not knowing where to start or what to look for (because, after all, Satoru Gojo only asked for company. No opinion nor help at all). She imitated the walk of a rather elderly lady who reminded her momentarily of her great-grandmother. Short steps and eyes over exposed lenses, whether sunglasses or clinical.

To be honest, she was enjoying her little walk in solitude more than she let on. Many times, she wondered inwardly if she could buy herself a pair (since she hadn’t owned some for… years. When her mother was still alive) until she saw the price tags and knew why the shop had the clientele it did.

“Do you like it?”

Umi startled, and quickly turned away from the direction she heard the voice from. She cursed inwardly, unable to acknowledge the presence of the pair of men who stood next to her. No surprise, though, since they didn’t possess a bit of cursed energy in their bodies.

One of the men laughed, but it didn’t have a very calming effect on the girl. “Oh, sorry. Did we scare ya?”

Umi wanted to scowl and send them flying, but a hidden part of her brain remembered all those lessons her grandfather gave her when interacting with men, especially if they were older than her. “No… I should apologize, I shouldn’t have reacted that way.”

In an attempt to bring comfort to herself, she wrapped her own arms around herself.

The man (who the girl thinks spoke to her at first) opens his mouth again. His face was free of wrinkles and frown lines, but it was obvious that they were older than Umi. Maybe in their twenties…?

“So, do you like it? They’d look pretty good on you. You have a face that’s hard to forget.”

Umi merely raised her eyebrows slightly as she nodded her head, was she supposed to thank him? Why did they come over to talk to her anyway?

“You’re in school? I don’t recognize that uniform though. We got out of highschool a couple of years ago. It was a pain.” And he went on and on and on. Would it look really rude if she just told them she was busy and went back to Shoko’s side? “How old are you?”

“Don’t you know it’s impolite to ask a lady’s age…?” Umi immediately bit her tongue. The pain felt similar to when her grandfather beat her.

Again the second man laughed. “What an attitude you have, how fun! How about we make a deal? We’ll buy you the sunglasses you want, and, in return, you come with us for a while.”

Oh.

Oh.

She should have known. She should have sensed it! She stared into the eyes of both men for a fraction of a second, and could see the same reactions she had seen in most of the adults around her since she started growing up and stopped being a child. Their eyes were focused on her, and they were watching her, but not seeing her.

Umi clenched her jaw, feeling absolute disgust fill her body. No matter the time, or the place, men were still just as disgusting anywhere. Without much ado, she thrust her left hand and with the greatest amount of force extended it forward, one of the two men being her target.

However, her fist hit the air, or nothingness. And in front of her was no longer that disgusting sight. Eyes like the sky watched her from above, undisturbed, while his infinity did not allow Umi to connect her punch.

“What do you think of these?” and he wiggled round sunglasses between his fingers.

Before Umi could refute him, or ask where he had come from, or even if he was speaking to her, from behind Satoru Gojo’s back she heard the voices that brought her so much displeasure. However, they were no taller than the boy in front of her, so his body completely covered her view.

“Hey, get out of the way. We were in the middle of something.”

His classmate simply turned his head slightly, not giving the perverts the pleasure of being the source of all his attention. “I think you were imagining things, she wasn’t in the middle of anything.”

Umi didn’t see the grimace Satoru Gojo made, but it must have been unpleasant or bordering on intimidating that they both fell silent.

“Get lost. I don’t think you want all the people in the shop to find out you creeps like to fuck little girls.”

Amid angry mutterings, the pair of weirdos left. Umi made no effort to try to watch their bodies walk away over the shoulder of the boy in front of her, because the faster the memory of their greedy faces and misty eyes faded the better. Satoru Gojo turned his full attention back to her, watching her from above, then turned away, and put a normal distance between them again.

“Why did you intrude?” spat Umi. “It would have been much more satisfying to hit them. That way every time they tried to approach a student, they’d remember the pain.”

“And make a fuss in the shop?”

The girl frowned. “Why would I make a fuss?”

His classmate sighed. With his arm, he reached for a mirror on the other side of the display and placed it in front of him, beginning to fix his hair. “I’ll tell you how things would have gone if I didn’t intervene: you hit the guys, both of them, at the same time. The guard tries to stop the fight, then you would have hit him too, because that’s how you are. At that point, the three of us idiots who came with you are banned from the shop while you are taken out of the place by the police. Next stop would be the police station, where Yaga is going to have to pull a couple of strings behind the scenes to get you out without having to tell your parents. And I would have been out of glasses. Besides, Suguru doesn’t like to make a scene.”

Umi could force herself to put up more of a fight to defend her position, but the narrative presented by Satoru Gojo is quite convincing. Moreover, it was quite striking that, according to his story, she would have ended up in the police station. Needless to say, Umi has never had the need to enter one, or even interacted with a police officer. A very small part of her is somehow grateful for her classmate’s intervention. And if she had fallen into the station, all the first years would have learned that Umi Saruwatari, does in fact, not exist.

“And…?” asks Satoru Gojo again, so Umi turns her attention back to the boy in front of her. Who finished fixing his appearance and now had the glasses previously between his fingers on the bridge of his nose. “What do you think of these?”

“They’re just like the ones you had before.”

He whimpers at the answer. “Of course they are! After all, it’s the one I look the best in.”

Umi wants to deny that statement. Yes, he may want to use something more… youthful and precise now, to emphasize his image as the handsome teenager dream. But in the future, Satoru Gojo is a danger to society (really, both male and female) with those more oval glasses he owns and dons only for activities outside of school or for something extracurricular.

“Mhh,” she took a couple of steps towards the boy. “I think you should have some less serious ones… and maybe not black? Light blue goes well with pink, but I don’t think you want to have—"

“Really?!” Umi’s personal space bubble was burst the moment Satoru Gojo got so close to her that they were nose to nose. “I’ve never been told anything like this before… we should see if they have any pink ones!”

Satoru Gojo’s hand curled into the fabric of her jacket, tugging her in the direction of the shop assistant. And of course, Umi kind of regretted opening her mouth.

Chapter Text

“I’m telling you, Satoru! The American government lies just like all the rest… when, in reality, the earth is flat.”

Umi was tired, quite tired. After finishing the mission to find glasses for Satoru Gojo, she (deludedly) thought they would immediately return to school. She couldn’t have been more wrong. Now, the four of them were walking (in which direction? Umi didn’t know) with the idiot duo behind them and Shoko leading the way; that’s why she can’t help but overhear her classmates’ conversation.

But, surprisingly, the most shocked by this fact was not her.

Shoko stopped dead in her tracks, opening and closing her mouth like a fish before the words began to come out of her mouth like verbal vomit. “Geto, I thought you had some common sense. You went to public school, didn’t you? At least I get it from Gojo, who is a social recluse.”

“I didn’t need to go to a normal school, I had tutors.” Replied the boy who was, unfortunately, left in the middle of the battle. His voice bordered on whiny. Umi didn’t understand if Satoru Gojo was really offended at her friend’s comment or not.

Apparently, he wasn’t truly angry, because with a pout he passed Shoko, grabbing Umi’s sleeve and dragging her forward beside him.

“What are you doing?” asked the girl, genuinely curious. Why were they the only ones moving forward while Shoko and the assassin were still behind? She didn’t pull away from his grip, however.

“it’s a real pain in the ass when Shoko and Suguru fight. It’s best not to meddle,” he comments finally, sticking out his tongue.

Thanks to the distance and Satoru Gojo’s voice, Umi couldn’t clearly hear what they were saying. But she could hear the assassin’s impassive voice, saying something between the lines of curses do exist and don’t you think if they’re lying about that, they’re also hiding more?

She glanced over her shoulder at the exact same moment Shoko’s patience ran out. For a long time, Umi had thought her friend was simply a girl of few words, who didn’t get upset about much and preferred to remain neutral on any topic unrelated to her…

All that perfectly analyzed imagery went out of the window the moment Shoko started talking at what Umi can only relate to the speed of light. Words spilled out of her mouth at a pace that even someone could think she was rapping.

“Have you ever opened a science book? How can you say the earth is flat when the Greeks even went so far as to calculate its diameter? Besides, if the earth were flat, what about the water? They can’t be floating in the middle of space like—“

And maybe it was the fact that Shoko looked so young just then, out of sadness and melancholy. Or that she wasn’t really angry, she sounded exasperated at best. (And Suguru Geto almost glowed beside her. There was nothing threatening about him at that moment: with his stupid tofu face scowling in concentration at the debate. For the first time in a long time since she’d seen him, Umi didn’t have the reflex to reach for her dagger in her clothes.)

“Where are we going?” asked Umi instead, trying to erase any thoughts that didn’t seem logical from her head.

“Ha ha,” chuckled Satoru Gojo slowly beside her, with a smile that clearly looked suspicious. “I realized that, since you came late in the year, you didn’t have the ‘adjustment period’ that we had, or something like that… so I was thinking of a welcoming party. But Shoko said you might not like something with a lot of noise. So, it’s only going to be a welcoming party, but with cake!”

The idiot said it like it was the easiest thing in the world. As if this kind of welcoming and kindness is something Umi really deserves.

"Hey! Are you blushing?" the girl jumped to the side (she didn't move an inch, since Satoru Gojo's hand was still holding her right sleeve) thanks to the surprise of the idiot bursting her bubble of personal space once again. "Don't do it, huh. And don't even think about falling in love with me either because you're not my type."

Umi opened her mouth, shocked. Unintentionally, her cheeks coloured even more. "You're not my type either."

The bastard dared a superior laugh.

"That can't be. I'm everyone's type!"

"Who lied to you like that?" the girl said bluntly, as if she hadn't felt her heart skip a beat when she met Satoru Gojo in her future. "Not everything revolves around-"

"Oh, here we are."

Satoru Gojo tugged on her sleeve again, now to make her stop. They were standing in front of a bakery, with its walls painted a baby yellow and flowers arranged in such a way as to mark a sort of path to the entrance; without needing to turn around, Umi could sense the presence of Suguru Geto and Shoko at their backs (who were no longer arguing).

"Smells good," the assassin comments, and Umi can feel the smile on his face.

"What kind of cake do you like?" her friend asks, peeking over her shoulder. Umi watches her back, then wanders her gaze over the duo of idiots and finally the door of the pastry shop with a pink lettered sign that reads OPEN.

"I don't know much about cakes," the girl confesses. "Do you have any recommendations?

"The strawberry one is a classic but it's very good."

Umi is the one who opens the door, stepping into the cosy little shop before turning and holding the door for the rest to pass through.

"Ladies first," Shoko insisted, pushing Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto inside before entering herself.

As much as she bit the inside of her cheek, Umi couldn't help the small smile that formed on her lips. The line was short, but they had enough time to decide on a dessert to bring before it was her turn.

"Maybe something with matcha...?"

The question was asked by Umi, but it was directed more towards the air or herself than her companions. However, her comment was received in a variety of ways.

"You lost me there. Matcha tastes like grass."

"I think they have a matcha cake with cream and strawberries... or maybe it was a special order?"

"You don't have to like it, Gojo."

As she tried to think if matcha really tasted like grass (...because it doesn't, right? I mean, ever since she was a little girl, Umi has consumed this either in tea or sweets. No, it definitely wasn't true) came to the conclusion that Satoru Gojo's taste buds must have something wrong with them. Her gaze then travelled from her companions to the line, and from there, to the display case. She tilted her head slightly, trying to see the cakes on display from her place.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the people at the cashier's desk, and felt her heart rise in her throat and begin to choke her.

Right in front of the checkout counter, there was a child. Their body was small, too small to be tall enough to see the pastry chef on the other side of the cashier's counter. With a crown of red curls on top of their head that danced around their face as they turned it and matched the traditional clothes they wore. They were holding hands with a tall man (—a man Umi did not know, whom the girl never had the chance to see outside of family photos before they were burned; the same man who in her memories is only a silhouette without form or voice. A presence that is always there but disappears when she thinks too much about it) with curly black hair and sporty clothes.

She only realized she was staring excessively when the red-haired child turned to look at her. Their gazes met, crimson against soft honey. And that was Umi's cue to run.

"I'll go to the bathroom." She said simply before vanishing from her companions’ side, not answering any questions thrown in her direction. She tried to act normal, and not like she felt like her heart was going to explode at any moment. Following a small sign, she entered the only aisle of the bakery that was not restricted until she found the female restroom.

She felt her knees give out under the weight of her body as soon as she closed the door, but she barely felt the pain of the blow. She was thankful, however, that the ceramic was icy cold against her hot skin. Her left hand instinctively went to her chest, feeling the strong pulsations of her heart despite all the layers that divided them.

Umi was probably going to die. She was sure she wasn't breathing. Her nose and mouth were working but the air wasn't circulating through her system and she could feel her heartbeat in her throat and—

The bathroom door opened.

She fully expected Shoko, or even one of the bastards, to emerge from behind the door. That didn't mean she was ready to try to talk to them, though. She could have quickly shooed them out of the bathroom with a cheap excuse (after all, they're idiots like that) or her friend could have retreated herself and later feigned insanity and pretended nothing had happened. That's easy, that's what Umi expected.

That's why, when the person reveals themselves, Umi can do nothing but continue to watch from her place on the ground, her hand still tightly clutching her chest, trying to silence her heart. The world seemed to freeze around her. As if Umi's senses were slowly shutting down and the only one that seemed to cling stubbornly to her person was her sight.

It seemed like a dream, horrifying and unbelievable in equal parts. She hesitated about her sanity for a few moments, then. Maybe this was just a hallucination of her failing brain trying to—

"Big sister?"

A horrible sob clawed at her throat then, “Shi… Shio,”

Her heart cried out to her, implored her to run to the little child just a few feet away. To cradle her in her arms one last time, and for her body to be more than burnt skin and an unrecognizable face. She wanted to run her hand once more through her (now short) red curls that Shio loved so much, and that she only began to let grow when both of their parents withdrew from the picture. She wanted to comfort her and take her by the hand and ask her if she is comfortable in those clothes. To tell her that she had nothing to be ashamed of or try to hide, that she would always be by her side....

But that would be lying to her.

The world is never that gentle.

Umi opens and closes her mouth several times (looking like an idiot in the process), trying to find the right words to say. However, her little sister beats her to the punch in the process—closing the distance between them with short, slow steps. Her honey eyes possessed by something ancient, completely different from when they first met in line.

Shio doesn't stop looking at her, even when they are facing each other and guides her hands (ALIVE, small, warm, soft...) to cradle Umi's cheeks. At that exact moment the girl realizes that she was crying, and that the state of her face was deplorable. Full of tears and drool and sweat.

"You'll get dirty," she scolded her, however, neither of them really paid any attention.

“I am so…rry.”

Umi frowned, "What...?"

What was she apologizing for? It was her who failed Shio, not the other way around—Shio wasn't to blame for anything...! It was her responsibility, and yet— and yet she still failed the girl she always swore to protect! She... Shio was dead because of her!

“Shio-kun?!”

Umi closed her eyes tightly as she felt her father’s cry. She wanted to hug Shio and never let go.

Her little sister didn’t react at the calling. She simply stretched forward, planting a kiss on Umi’s forehead.

And started to walk away.

The girl simply planted her hands on the ground, clinging to it tightly as she watched Shio depart. As she walked away as slowly as she approached, and only turned around to bow to Umi. “Let… see eac-h other a… again, big sister.”

Umi wasn’t brave enough to say anything, or even say goodbye. She automatically regretted it when the door closed behind her small figure and the only trace left of her dear sister was her footsteps towards their father.

Unable to bear it any longer, she buried her face in her hands (why were her hands bloody? Was she hallucinating that too…?) and opened her mouth to let out all the sobs she had held back so far. She tried to fold in on herself to stop the pain inside her. It wasn’t just her heart anymore: she felt like all her organs would explode inside her, and Umi would be nothing more than an empty shell running on cursed energy. (What’s the difference from the current Umi?)

By the time someone came knocking on the bathroom door, Umi was lying on the floor tile—in a strange mixture of blood and tears. Feeling her chest ghoulishly empty.

"Heeeey! What's taking you so long in there, we bought the cake, we have to go now!"

Umi stayed in place on the floor, her throat tight and empty. She vaguely thought about not answering the idiot behind the door, but the only thing she'd gain by doing that was forcing his way in.

“Go without me,” she commanded, hearing a strange voice come out of her own mouth. “I have terrible diarrhea; I’ll stay in the bathroom for a moment. I’ll go back to school when I’m done here.”

The lie worked as she wanted it to, since Umi clearly heard an eww from Satoru Gojo. “Anyway, I didn’t need so many details! Just hurry up, or I’ll eat your cake rations.”

She didn’t bother answering, and the boy didn’t bother sticking around to wait for another kind of response either.

Chapter Text

Saruwatari got lost that same afternoon. And Suguru felt… somewhat responsible for that.

“What’s our first rule?” his teacher had asked between his teeth, standing in front of the first years. Even someone like Yaga, who had his scowl by default, seemed to want to jump out of his skin to go after his fourth student.

Guiltily, Suguru (he could hear the mocking voice of his two friends, were they in a less delicate situation: you’re such a good boy, Geto!) looked down at his thighs. As usual, the three of them were sitting on their knees—with Satoru in the middle of them both, and Shoko glaring at them with disgust and hatred from her side.

“Leave together and come back together,” the heir of the Gojo clan answered reluctantly at last.

Suguru believed that Professor Yaga’s lecture would last a little longer, as usual. However, they did not even reach the ten-minute mark when the adult gave up without further ado, and decided to move on to the important thing: the search for Saruwatari.

“I’ll go to Shibuya,” commented the professor, with no room for complains or curious questions. “If any of you find her before I do, call me.”

“Then I’ll go back to the backery.” Shoko’s comment left no room for complains either. “If I don’t find her there, I’ll ask one of the staff if they’ve seen her. I’ll keep you posted.”

The girl stood up then, probably to leave as quickly as possible in the direction of the shop. Suguru, however, didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know Saruwatari well enough to know which places she frequented and which places she had completely crossed off the map. And that simple thought filled him with shame.

He didn’t let that stop him, though.

“I’ll look for her in the other direction then,” he announced, rising from his spot. “So we can cover more ground.”

“What about me?”

Satoru was the one who blurted out the question, pitifully. Suguru had the urge to reach out and help him pull him to his feet (—so they could both go together on their little quest) were it not for his teacher’s voice keeping him in check. “You will stay here.”

“Why?” he asked back.

“Because you’re just like fucking Marie Antoinette,” Shoko retorted from her place at the door, in a tone that both boys knew (from experience) not to mess with her. “You don’t care about anything but eating fucking cake.”

Yaga cut in before Shoko’s comment did too much damage to Satoru’s ego, “You hold down the fort, Satoru. And maybe Umi will come back while we’re gone.”

Suguru was relieved that the little altercation didn’t reach a higher level, knowing that when Shoko is in a bad mood it’s the best not to cross her… and Satoru is known for sitting on everyone’s nerves. He sighed from his place—over his stingray curse (how come Satoru had called it…? Bob?) as he waited for any sign of his phone. He wasn’t so high up that he didn’t notice anything about the streets, but the darkness didn’t help much in finding their missing companion.

Before splitting from Yaga and Shoko, he wanted to give a couple of words of encouragement to the girl who looked uncharacteristically nervous. But he didn’t dare; from his point of view, he just knew Saruwatari was going to be more or less fine. Come on! We’re talking about the same girl who buried Satoru’s face in his lunch and their mission partner. Suguru knows that no one can hurt her, and that she would resort to hitting before anything else. She might be a little nervous about getting lost, but other than a scare… Suguru thinks she’s fine.

An idea crossed his mind, and the boy quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket. Typing quickly: she’s not at a police station? To Shoko and their teacher. It’s very likely… especially if there was an altercation in the street and the police had to intervene.

The mental image of that scene was so funny that Suguru couldn’t help but burst out laughing. He could picture the whole thing clearly: Saruwatari fighting with everything and everyone, being held by two policemen and refusing to talk until Yaga was contacted.

He kept fiddling with his flip-phone in his hands, even as he realized that neither of them would answer his text. His mind (try as he might) refused to focus on the task at hand—his noisy thoughts beckoned him to sink into them, with only the starry sky and Bob as his witness. He remembers all the times he’s gone for a walk in this same way… with Satoru. How it all started as a bet from Satoru (“I can teleport us both! I bet you can’t do that”) and ended badly. Considering they both ended up at a point between the buildings and the clouds with Suguru clinging as if his life depended on it (it did!) to Satoru’s shoulders, with only the void beneath his feet and his heart beating a mile a minute.

With the first attempt being a disaster, Satoru didn’t push Suguru to try his teleportation again. And it was a couple of weeks later that they both defeated… Bob; then Suguru started using it casually (only before and after missions. If a civilian saw him floating around, he’d definitely be in trouble, and he couldn’t use it at school either) instead of walking. What he didn’t expect was that Satoru would start asking to sit next to him.

“It’s more fun when we’re together,” he stressed when Suguru asked if teleporting didn’t make it easier. And the boy didn’t have the heart to chide him that he still didn’t have a good handle on it… and especially since, in that instant, with the distant glow of the starts and the noise of Tokyo, Suguru couldn’t help but think that Satoru looked really charming.

(That was the first time.)

Unbidden, his cheeks flushed. He felt really stupid. He didn’t need Satoru monopolizing his thoughts right now. He was carrying out a very important task…!

Feeling more embarrassed than anything, he decided to climb down from the curse and continue wandering on foot. The stingray vanished as soon as Suguru’s feet touched the ground of a park, with the empty playground equipment lending a macabre air to the situation. Thanks to the December air, the swings were swaying on their own, and there was a thin layer of mist covering the streets.

Suguru would be too naïve not to realize that something strange was going on right here, but who could be brave enough to ambush a student in the middle of the night? None other than a curse user…

His theory proved true when he spotted a person standing behind the lamppost, their body hard to make out in the dim light. The only thing he could make out among it all was a tall, proud silhouette. There wasn’t a hint of cursed energy around her (how powerful does a sorcerer has to be to be able to pull that off…? Is he all right on his own?) but Suguru could swear that the air around them reeked of the ghoulish. But there was something odd about it, why hadn’t it attacked him yet—?

“Saruwatari?”

The name escaped his throat faster than he anticipated. But there was no way he could have been wrong. He would recognize his partner’s powerful, calculated stance anywhere.

“Suguru Geto.”

He let out a sigh of relief as the girl approached him. He could see her clearly now: standing in the middle of the night, as if she too belonged in the shadows. Her hair and fringes obstructed Suguru’s view of his companion’s face, but everything seemed in order. Her uniform was still there, along with the braid Suguru knows Shoko does in her straight hair every day.

“Nice,” he said again, giving her a smile. “You’re fine. What happened…? Professor Yaga and Shoko were completely—”

“Suguru Geto,” she called him again. Suguru assumed she wanted to tell him something, because she had never called his name so many times in a row. So he remained silent, waiting for her next words. “Would you be willing to do me a favor?”

“Of course.”

Oh, was he dreaming? His most independent companion… asking him for a favor? The smile simply wouldn’t fit on his face.

Suguru expected Saruwatari to stand in front of him, and blurt out the problem she was having without making eye contact. However, the girl never stopped walking. She crossed the distance between them with short but determined steps, and continued walking even when she had already passed Suguru.

“Follow me.”

He swallowed a sigh as he turned around to follow his companion without second thoughts. Suguru felt that somehow, he had expected this. Saruwatari was a girl full of mystery, after all…

Suguru didn’t know what to talk about to fill the void, and Saruwatari didn’t seem like the type who liked to chat (besides, if he asked her too many questions she’d probably think better of this asking-for-help thing, and withdraw into herself again) so he resigned himself to watching her silhouette as the two of them moved deeper into the trees. The girl moved with a grace Suguru had never seen before: wrapped in elegance but with her movements obscured in the shadow of caution. It was as if she were walking on a tightrope with her hands tied, and Suguru had to suppress the instinct that called him to pull her—to bring her back to the shore.

Completely different from Satoru…

Suguru bites down firmly on the inside of his cheek, bringing his mind back to his body. He opened his mouth, ready to fight the silence and surrender to curiosity. But Saruwatari stopped walking before he could get the words to form.

“I’m going to be honest with you,” she began, but Suguru was so surprised that she had spoken without being asked, that he fell completely silent. “Since you accepted my request. I want to fight with you.”

Clearly, Suguru must have misheard. Surely spending so much time in his head instead of the real world is taking its toll on him. “I beg your pardon? I didn’t quite hear what you said…”

“Oh, I know you heard me.” She said, and for the first time all night, Saruwatari turned to look at him. Suguru was confused again, because this didn’t make sense. Sure, the girl might slightly hate him along with Satoru, that’s no secret. But this is something completely different. “I’m not the type to attack from behind… I wanted you to be aware as well. Or else I couldn’t have accepted my victory. Don’t worry, I’ll make this quick. So that everything will be fine again.”

There was something paralyzing about the way Saruwatari watched him, her scarlet eyes forcing him to stay in place. The same aura he felt in the park once again gathered around the girl, and Suguru felt a shiver run down his spine. Her gaze felt empty, and it bared his soul to the point he felt that—

Then, a smile twisted the girl’s lips. Twisted and wrong in every way. “Do your worst.”

Suguru had to run.

But before he could even blink, Saruwatari disappeared. He couldn’t even take a step back as a terrible pain came to his chest and his arm bent backwards, completely unnaturally. She’s too quick, he finally realized when he felt the girl’s bony hand bury itself painfully into his sternum and how it pulled his arm back with a strength Suguru never knew she had; then she released her grip on his torso to concentrate it all on his…

He forced himself not to panic as Saruwatari simply threw him backwards through the air. His back made an expensive, worrying sound as he slammed into the thick trunk of a tree. Suguru had to close his eyes tightly to stop seeing black spots in his vision as he tried not to let the pain distract him too much.

That wasn’t what was worrying, really. It was this alien presence that he could distinguish between his own cursed energy.

Suguru grumbled aloud as two of the curses in his arsenal materialized in front of him. It rushed forward, going to meet Saruwatari and leaving their master behind to catch his breath—but either way, he had to hurry. He knew it wouldn’t hold her back for long.

With as much agility as he could muster, he scrambled to his feet. Suguru took a breath of air and his lungs protested immediately. It is possible that he had fractured a rib…? He was going to have to check with Shoko as soon as he got out of this forest. As he walked towards what he thought was the exit he started feeling around his pockets, and cursed aloud when he didn’t find his phone in either his trousers or jacket.

What is he supposed to do now…? It’s not as if he can just turn around and beat Saruwatari back to her senses—

But that’s the only alternative that’s left. The girl’s cursed technique must be what’s blocking his energy flow, and she’s already exorcised both curses that went after her. She’ll be back in his field of vision any moment now, so he needs a plan…

Still, hitting her is too excessive!

This time, he did feel a movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned at the exact same moment Saruwatari launched a kick in his direction (more specifically, at his head). He was thankful inwardly when he was able to parry the blow with both of his hands, long before it made contact with his face. Seconds seemed to stretch as Suguru debated what to do, before with much conviction he tried to bury his elbow as deep as he could in the opposite direction of the girl’s knee.

But she saw right through him and with her free leg managed to hit him hard enough in the rib to let her go before he could break her knee. Feeling desperate at her agility, he threw a punch that landed perfectly in Saruwatari’s jaw.

The girl stepped back, and Suguru could have sworn he saw his companion’s legs tremble before her eyes fell on him—hate dancing around her irises. He wondered if perhaps Saruwatari remembered someone else…

He opened his mouth, ready to apologize (had she already calmed down?) but all he received was a punch to his cheekbone. The pain caused starts to appear behind his eyelids and his eyes to water, but by some kind of miracle he managed to keep his balance and not look extremely pathetic as he went flying from just a punch.

It was a little difficult for him not to cover his weak spots with his curses, but Yaga had told him time and time again that he couldn’t simply rely on his cursed technique. He just needed to get used to Saruwatari’s pace… which so far is, well, close to very difficult. It’s frustrating to be able to feel his cursed energy diminish, especially since he was sure it was the girl’s doing.

“Did I do something to piss you off?!” he asked between gritted teeth, dodging a nudge that went straight for his throat. If that had hit, he’d be in trouble!

Suguru felt even more pathetic for thinking he would get a response from Saruwatari. Instead, all he got from that pitiful attempt at dialogue was to lose sight of the girl.

The next thing that came was pain.

It was inevitable to try not to lose his balance. Suguru thinks, as he feels his consciousness trying to slip through his fingers, that he is capable of vomiting. His ears were ringing, his whole environment was spinning and—where was he?

Oh, he was so tired. A nap wouldn’t hurt, would it…? Or was he already sleeping? What an irritating dream…

“Hey,”

Suguru frowned, unable to help but feel annoyed. His room was dark but still someone was calling out to him. What a pain in the ass. Is it Satoru again? Did he come sneaking into his bed with his extremely cold feet? No way. If he ignores him, Satoru will shut up.

But why did his bed feel so hard?

He could feel a hand slipping through his hair, and for a moment filled with peace, he thought Satoru would stay still and quiet and not get into any mischief. Then he pulled too hard.

“Satoru!” he couldn’t help but call out, grabbing his wrist forcefully (has he always been this bony?) and pulling him into his body. He pinned him down quickly, and turned around to rest his full weight on Satoru’s chest.

Except at that moment, he realized that it wasn’t Satoru. And that he wasn’t in his room. And that this was definitely not a game; even with his vision blurred, he could identify Saruwatari lying on the forest mud—he wasn’t particularly angry before (he’d always been complimented on his patience, after all) but how dare her pull his hair?

“What’s your problem?” he asked again, anger tinting his voice away from his usual calm tone. “Will you talk or will you try to kill me again?”

 Saruwatari jerked violently under his body, but any attempt to free herself from his grip was in vain—not when his knees where burying themselves on the girl’s thighs, and her arms were being crushed under Suguru’s elbows and across her chest.

(A corner of his mind wondered if that was too rough a position for a girl to be in. Even if it was Saruwatari.)

He should’ve expected that someone like her wasn’t above winning fights without head-butting her way.

Suguru was sure that the blow hurt more because he was still a bit concussed, and the momentum of the rage momentarily left his body. At this point he was sure he was going to vomit—unfortunately it didn’t help that Saruwatari pushed him away, and his body was completely on the ground again.

The girl used a technique similar to Suguru’s to immobilize him, but he held out hope that he could push her aside if Saruwatari left an opening. It wasn’t hard to look for one: with each passing second, Suguru realized how out-of-it the girl was.

When her hands tightened around his neck, that was Suguru’s cue to start fighting again.

They rolled on the ground, kicking up dirt and leaves and with mud sticking to their uniforms. Suguru couldn’t help but show his childish side and attack her classmate the same way she did: by pulling her hair—but he wasn’t going to deny the satisfaction he got from it. Meanwhile, Saruwatari wasted no time in trying to choke him at every opportunity… or scratch his eyes out of his face.

She was too crazy.

“Stop it!” he shouted, pushing her hard by her shoulders against the ground.

As if she were some kind of wild animal, Saruwatari gritted her teeth and let out a growl. Momentarily distracted by the odd action, he earned a punch that took all the strength out of him and the girl was back on top of him.

“Eat dirt, fucking bastard.”

He could feel the bile rise in his throat and the pain seize the right area of his face as Saruwatari pushed his head hard into the ground—

…Wait. Something’s wrong. Why does he feel something wet and sticky on his cheek?

The metallic smell of blood took a few seconds to arrive.

He was sure it wasn’t his blood. As much as Saruwatari has occupied him as a punching bag, he’s sure he is not bleeding (at least, not externally…); so, it’s coming from the girl?

Right, she spent the whole afternoon lost. As soon as she appeared in front of Suguru she asked him to follow… What kind of expression did she had at that moment? Was there so much vulnerability on her face to turn her back on him? and she never says anything. Umi Saruwatari is an enigma that no one knows how to decipher. She never says anything about herself, not even sure if he’s ever seen her smile. She is always with a frown on her face and her eyes full of anger.

He stopped fighting the girl, his heavy body being buried in the mud and some dirt entering his nose. Saruwatari had a terrible temper. She’s too secretive, violent and crazy. She keeps everyone at arm’s length, keeping her problems to herself—like the fact that she only sleeps for a couple of hours and exercises the rest.

How lonely that must be.

Suguru can’t just turn a blind eye to it.

The pressure in his head stops, but he feels strangely light and tingly throughout his body. However, he ignores all that to straighten his face. It was too dark to see Saruwatari clearly, but that wasn’t really his goal. His arm moved slowly and lacking his usual agility, but he struggled with all the strength he could to grab the girl’s wrist and bring her hand up to his eyes.

All the skin on her right hand was brutally burnt an angry red, and though the wound looked old, Suguru couldn’t help the weight that settled on his stomach. The nail of her little finger was nowhere to be seen—with a trail of dried blood around it, and the rest were all broken but clung stubbornly to the flesh, even with blood dripping from between the cracks of her broken skin.

Saruwatari yanked her arm away and struck him again in the cheekbone.

(Suguru wondered if all the punches had been thrown with her left hand, since her right didn’t look fit enough to move.)

His brain was screaming for him to close his eyes and lose himself in the depths of his subconscious. Everything felt heavy and his tongue was too pasty to speak.

He had to try anyway.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, tasting the blood seeping between his teeth.

At the apology, Saruwatari seemed to freeze. Suguru strained to focus his eyes so that he could observe the girl’s empty face.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated again. “You are bleeding. Do you feel pain anywhere?”

Silence fell over them both. And if Suguru had been in better condition he would have paid more attention to his classmate’s breathing or at least searched her face with his gaze. However, he could not find the strength to do either.

He was quite tired.

He doesn’t know how long they had remained in the same position—as if time had frozen in the middle of that forest, but Suguru was forced to open his eyes when he felt something fall on his cheek.

Was it raining…? Not likely, it had been a rather dry and cold winter. Oh, was Saruwatari bleeding from somewhere else—?

He put the last remaining bit of effort into focusing his sight, even though the throbbing in his head was clearly screaming at him not to. And the blurry scene his eyes managed to catch was Saruwatari’s fist above her head, gathering the momentum needed to deliver the final blow.

Suguru resigned himself, letting his eyelids drop. Waiting for a punch that never came.

It came as a surprise to him when a trembling hand fell feebly on his chest, and grabbed a handful of his uniform. At that moment he could tell what it was that had fallen on his cheek—because Saruwatari dropped her head on his shoulder, and let out a sob that Suguru could never erase from his memory.

Chapter Text

Umi had already fallen three times on the small path that had to be crossed to get out of the forest and into the small square.

The first two times, she convinced herself it was a simple slip. Of course, after the third she realized there was something wrong—so she tried to fix her grip on Suguru Geto’s body: who was previously on her back, his head hanging uncomfortably over her shoulder (and who kept falling backwards thanks to his own dead weight) was now on her shoulder, being carried like a rather heavy sack of potatoes. Which was still a challenge. Since the boy’s body was much wider than hers and half of his chest was hanging off her shoulder.

In her defense, what else could she have done? By the time she had calmed down and stopped crying, Suguru Geto’s body was frozen-cold and worryingly stiff. Had it not been for the slight rise and fall of his chest, Umi would have gone into another psychotic spiral.

Her mind had already leapt to see what she could do. Unfortunately, it’s not like she could immediately teleport to the school. That’s when she remembered that Suguru Geto had mentioned that Yaga and Shoko were looking for her. So, she jumped to her feet and searched through the fallen leaves and mud for the boy’s discarded flip phone (which, Umi admits, she had seen flying around after whipping him against the tree).

The next hardest thing was... typing the message. Although Umi didn't take up much of her phone, she was used to touch screens and immediate responses. So, having to press the same key to change letters, having to wait to press another key so as not to confuse the brick in her hand, and waiting a good five minutes for the message to come out almost gave her an aneurysm. However, after much struggle with the device he managed to send the short message to Yaga: found her. We are in xxx park.

It was all this that led her to her predicament. She, walking with a backache that doesn't plan to go away and with bruised knees. With an unconscious Suguru Geto slumped over her shoulder and feeling very hot.

She could feel how her knees wanted to give out under the extra weight, and how her shoulders protested in pain. However, this was not the strongest pain she had ever experienced and she would never forgive herself for giving in to something so easy. Besides, nothing beats the feeling of accomplishment when she sees herself face to face on the swings where they first met. And, as if for the first time in a long time the universe was on her side, she noticed a car speeding in this direction and had no doubt that it was their teacher. After all, there weren't many people who frequented this road.

Umi crossed as best she could to the side of the road, and when the car stopped in front of her she wasted no time. She quickly opened the door to throw the boy into the back seats, avoiding hitting his head on the roof of the car and bending his knees so she could sit down as well before closing the door.

There was a beat of silence. “Oh God. Is he dead?”

“He’s just concussed.”

Shoko, who was previously sitting in the passenger seat, threw her torso back through the middle of both front seats, trying her best to examine the boy in the middle of the moving car.

“Shoko, if we were in a car accident right now, I want you to know you would be the first one to die. Because you don’t have the seatbelt on.”

“Professor!” the girl shrieked, clearly annoyed. “I know we would never crash when you’re behind the wheel.”

"How is Suguru?" the man asked, again in Shoko's direction. However, Umi could feel his eyes burning into her head through the rearview mirror.

"Well, he's not dead." She stated, "He's pretty messed up, though. I think he must have more than one broken bone and internal bleeding. But I can't heal him very well here."

"I'll hurry, then."

The car ride made short work of it. Yaga made good on his word and pressed the accelerator over the speed limit. Even though it was the middle of the night and a weekday, the traffic was no less heavy than on a normal schedule—again, Umi was surprised to arrive at school without any accidents in between.

Umi got out of the car first as Yaga turned it off. Her muscles, which were grateful when she finally sat down in the comfortable seat of the vehicle, screamed again when the girl demanded them to work. She pulled Suguru Geto's body towards her, ready to carry him back over her shoulder when she heard the teacher's voice. "No, no. Let's carry him upright. You take one arm and I'll take the other."

Umi obeyed. She gave Yaga room so that he could stand beside her and they both slipped one arm around the boy's shoulders. The girl found that between two, it was easier to carry one person. Shoko closed the car door and the three of them crossed the driveway to the school. Thanks to the brief rest, Umi found that her body was no longer feverish, and the night air hitting her cheeks helped her concentrate on her task.

Sure enough, until she spotted the silhouette of Satoru Gojo in the shadows approaching them with long strides.

"What happened?" he asks. And the hidden edge between his words almost caused Umi to tremble. She had never been the object of his wrath before. His cool attitude and controlled voice made her more nervous than she wished to admit.

At that moment she realized that she was the first person to ask that question. When she got into the car, neither Shoko nor Yaga asked her what had happened. She didn't know whether to find it endearing because of the trust or just plain dumb.

"Hey, I asked you a question." She really tried not to get too nervous. But her instincts knew better than to be in the presence of an angry man. Thanks to her inner doubt and how memories were trying to consume her in the present, she didn't notice that Satoru Gojo had crossed the space between them until his hand dug hard into her right shoulder, causing her to lose her balance and be pushed roughly backwards. "Did you finally lose your head and hit him?"

"Satoru." Yaga snapped as Umi felt herself falling almost in slow motion backwards. At this point in the night, the girl simply gave up and decided to accept her fall.

Except: the fall never came, but she could feel Shoko's warm hands on her waist as she helped her level herself. She didn't dare look over her shoulder at her friend, but her touch gave her at least some reassurance.

"Of course not!" Shoko defended her. Umi felt more miserable about the fact that she had let the girl down instead of hitting the idi... boy. "Umi's hurt too. It must have been an ambush or—”

"You're right." Umi really didn't see the point in lying. But it hurt her to feel the shocked looks from her friend and teacher. "But I think I hit him too hard."

The silence after her confession was frustrating. Shoko's hands were still there, but the warmth was not. Satoru Gojo was actually silent, staring at her with his sky-colored eyes.

“I don’t want you anywhere near Suguru. Do you hear me? If you dare come near him again, I’ll rip you to—”

“That’s enough.” The teacher’s voice was commanding, and it worked to shut the boy up. However, Umi could sense he also felt somewhat confused about it. “This is no time to fight. Shoko, Satoru, come with me. We’ll take Suguru to his room so we can heal him.”

Yaga didn’t say anything else after that. And Umi felt stupid for thinking she had anything to say to them. She didn’t wait for them to leave her behind as they made their way to the dormitories, and decided to go first.

▬▬▬▬▬▬

The only thing going through her mind at that moment was wanting to take a shower. After so many years in the sorcery business, she knew better than to crawl into a bed with the residue of tainted cursed energy and curse blood. However, as she had her towels in hand while she rummaged through her drawers for some clean clothes, she realized that the most comfortable hoodie she owned was not there.

Then she remembered that it could probably be lying on one of the armchairs in the common room. Because despite everything, Umi has a tendency to leave a lot of her stuff lying around in places it shouldn't be. And at that point, a little trip from her dorm to the common room a couple of doors in didn't seem like a bad idea. Besides, she could probably grab a glass of juice before getting in the shower.

She walked barefoot to her destination. She didn't have the energy or motivation to put on any sort of shoe, as all that occupied her mind was how her muscles would relax when her entire body was submerged underwater. However, she couldn't help but hesitate before opening the door to the common room. A few seconds later, she reminded herself that everyone had accompanied Suguru Geto to his room, so it should be empty.

She slid the door aside, holding back a sigh when she found none of his classmates inside. But then her gaze fell on the table (which is impossible not to stare at, after all, it's the first thing that greets you when you enter the common room. Just behind the table is the small kitchen, and to the right is the small living room and the kotatsu that Yaga had recently brought in to combat the winter and make it more homely) and found a cake—which was probably the cake they were going to buy together, before Umi ran into Shio and everything went to shit—covered in white cream and decorated with strawberries, sprinkled in the middle with a green powder that looked like matcha. Five cardboard plates around the cake, with a plastic cap on top of each. Coloured candles scattered around the table, as if they had been discussing which one to put on top... And right on the wall closest to the table, big red letters hung with a handful of badly cut stars around them: WELCOME.

She looked away from the table abruptly, remembering why she had made this little detour and threw herself into the armchairs, ignoring the little itch she began to feel behind her eyes that felt so much like embarrassment. Luckily, she quickly found her lost hoodie and turned on her heels, determined to return to her cave to methodically clean herself of all the mud and blood.

That is, until she realized that no one but Yaga was standing in the doorway, blocking any kind of entrance or exit.

She looked more imposing than usual. And Umi was getting even more nervous at the thought that she wouldn't be able to fight him—defend against him in this state. Though Yaga had never given her even a hint of being the violent sort, the girl knows better than to trust a man quickly.

So Umi decided to simply resign herself. Her knees ached as they hit the ground in a heavy thump, but she knew it was more from the bruises left over from her fight in the previous hours than from letting herself fall.

She could feel her body shrinking in on itself under the heavy gaze of her teacher. And it was even more disturbing that he said nothing. Again, she felt the shame burn inside her. It was then that the actual consequence of what she had just done struck her: what if Yaga, opting for the welfare of his real students, decides to send her away? what should she do in that case? If he decides to kick her out, she'll really become a pauper. How will she avoid whatever happens to Suguru Geto in the future if she's just a random tramp? Or will Yaga talk to the higher-ups and now it'll be someone else's problem? Will her grandfather come looking for her and finally kill her—?

"I'm so relieved you're okay."

Umi could have sworn she stopped breathing the moment Yaga crouched down in front of her, awkwardly placing his hand on her shoulder to pat her a couple of times.

"You don't know how many police stations I passed by on my way to Shibuya. I even thought about contacting the Minamoto in case anyone had noticed what was going on..."

The girl clasped her left hand in her lap, feeling slightly dizzy. This situation... she wasn't sure how to feel about it. "Yeah... Yeah. I'm fine."

The professor sighed, pulling his hand away from Umi's shoulder. However, he was still squatting in front of her, looking strangely tired.

"I'm going to ask you this, to think of something in case the answer is yes..." he began, rubbing his palm against his forehead. Umi felt that might evolve into a nervous tic. "What happened with Suguru, is that going to present a problem?"

 "No," the girl replied, quicker than expected. "I'll figure it out."

Yaga sighed in relief, and Umi could feel his shoulders releasing some tension. "Okay, okay... Look, we'll continue talking about this tomorrow. It's already late, and I'm tired, and I'm sure you're tired too."

"All right."

Even as the professor stands up and his bones rattle due to the position he was in, Umi can't find the strength to do the same. It isn't until once again Yaga is under the doorway that she notices that unlike her left hand, her right had not stopped shaking.

"Umi. Don't you dare fear me for even a second. I know how I look, but I would rather cut off my own hands than beat up one of my pupils."

▬▬▬▬▬▬

To be honest, Umi didn't know how long she spent under the warm water, with her hair slowly sticking to her body and watching all the dirt and blood on her body run down the drain, until she couldn't stand the heat any longer and had to change the temperature to freezing. Her skeleton let out little shivers every now and then, but anything was better than the irritating heat and the steam that clung to her body like a second skin.

By the time her shower was over, any hope within the girl was quickly dispersed—try as she might, the pain around her entire body stubbornly persisted. Her knees felt dry and bare to the flesh, even though she had taken pains to wipe away any traces of blood. Her face was in no better condition, her cheekbone hurt even more after the blow, and she could only hope that the swelling did not decide to move to her eye. Her biggest regret, however, was her already bruised hands.

...Nothing a handful of anti-inflammatories and ointments won't fix.

She was so deep in her own self-loathing that she didn't notice the footsteps approaching her room. Not until the bathroom door burst open and slammed against the wall. Umi, unable to help herself, jumped out of her own skin (a miracle she hadn't slipped on the wet floor) and clutched the towel around her body as tightly as she could. Only to discover that the person behind all the anger was none other than Shoko.

“What the fuck?”

Shoko didn't bother to elaborate, still standing in the bathroom doorway, her fist clenching tightly on the wood beneath her palm. A blast of icy air decided to enter at that moment, crashing into Umi's half-naked body and managing to make her shiver. But still, with an entry of that level, the girl couldn't bring herself to look her friend directly in the eye. There was a feeling she couldn't identify grabbing her by the throat—no, forget that, Umi could identify that feeling. But she wasn't completely determined to sink into that hole just yet. So, she decided to amuse herself by staring at the ends of her chocolate hair.

"You disappeared all afternoon. You didn't bother to call or warn us. And you had us all running around like headless chickens after you, even Gojo wanted to come out and find you. And then what? You show up looking crazy, with a half-dead Geto in tow. What the fuck is going on in your head, huh? And you don't even bother to explain, even now! I know sometimes either of you idiots can be annoying, but the wounds Geto has aren't simple or superficial at all. You could have killed him—! For God's sake, you're not even looking me in the eye! Do you even care?!"

Umi was afraid. But it was a different kind of fear that she felt for her grandfather and her superiors and Suguru Geto from the future—it was such a complicated emotion that the girl just wanted to ignore it until it went away. Her stomach was doing these weird gyrations, even though Umi knows it's not biologically possible. Her hands were strangely shaky, and the itch behind her eyes was present again. Maybe this had all been a mistake, letting Shoko gravitate so close to her that it was already second nature.

The girl didn't bother to reply or try to defend herself, and Shoko's shoulders slumped further as she let out a pained sigh to fill the sickening silence that hung over them.

"I'm not a nosy person. I wouldn't try to get you to tell me your problems if they didn't concern me. But, as it turns out, they do concern me now. Because at the end of the day, when you decide to knock all sense and consciousness out of Geto's or Gojo's body, I'm the one who's going to have to fix them. I know I'm not the most welcoming person in the world, and I don't go around whining every time something bad happens, but I was hoping that if things got tough, you would choose to talk about your problems with me. I guess it was just my imagination to think we were friends. So tomorrow, when something else happens and you decide to kill your anger with someone else, will you come after me? Will I have to be your punching bag too?"

Shoko's monologue (for, at this point, it could not be called a conversation) was a direct blow to her heart. Her verbal vomit brought to the surface of her mind all the worries she had worked so hard to bury deep within her skin. She felt like a fruit at that moment—a peach violently ripped open by Shoko's hands, left out in the open to rot. Shoko's voice was submerged in anger and despair, so she couldn't help but have to look her in the eye. She wanted to ask her if she really thought that. If she thought Umi was capable of hurting her. But then she saw herself in the dark reflection of Shoko's eyes, how they were struggling not to shed all the tears she had accumulated.

She remembered when Satoru Gojo reprimanded her, the one who was there to tackle and defend her was Shoko. Shoko, who had placed her trust in her and given her so many little pieces for her to keep—her cigarettes, her hairstyles, her clothes—and Umi hadn't even bothered to give her anything in return.

It was similar to the scene with Geto. She had thrown the first blow, and it was she who held his life in her hands. However, when the boy saw that she was hurt, his first instinct was to apologize. In the blink of an eye, any kind of anger had evaporated from around her, and Umi hated herself so much for attacking him, for blaming him for something he wasn't responsible for.

Umi thought she couldn't afford honesty with Shoko. Because, in part, it's true. It was always Shio and her against the world—if she had to tell the (half) truth to Yaga it was because it was an obligation, a means to keep her from being expelled from school and away from her goal. But Shoko has been honest... painfully honest with Umi. And she is her friend. Her dearest, first and only friend. She saved her from death and gave her a space to call her own.

"The night they found me," she began, and dodged her gaze again, because she knew she couldn't tell her this story and look straight at her without bursting into tears right there. "They killed my younger sister. A year younger. She was—she is my whole life. They burned her alive. By the time I found her, she was nothing but singed skin and delirious babbling. The man who killed her-- who was responsible. He... he bears a resemblance to Geto. They're not the same person, but when I saw his face—I wanted nothing more than to kill him. But when I was about to do it, I couldn't do it. I feel like a monster. And at the same time, so, so disappointed in myself. I'm sorry I let my sister down."

She felt strangely naked under Shoko's watchful eye, which in itself was incongruous. She was the one who had put her body back together, inch by inch, and watched that her heart hadn't stopped beating in the worst of times. But this—telling her these thoughts and story so intimate that she hasn't even admitted it to herself, is different.

She expected Shoko to leave as quickly as she came, slamming the door behind her. However, she crossed the distance separating the two of them with long strides and wrapped her arms around Umi, not caring that she was still wet and freezing. Her arms went around her waist, and she gave a squeeze. Her face buried into her shoulder bone, and Umi said nothing as she felt her tears hit her skin and slide down her arm.

“You idiot, that’s what you have a mouth for. To communicate with other people. I can’t read your mind.”

Carefully, as if this was all some hallucination, Umi wrapped her arms around Shoko, giving her a squeeze back. “I would never hit you.”

“I know. But I was angry, I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

▬▬▬▬▬▬

Shoko insisted on patching her up, no matter how much Umi assured her that she would be fine with a few pills and some bumps cream (and she was telling the truth, after all, the Umi of the future never had the privilege of going to a healer for a minor injury like this. When her grandfather or Naoya Zen'in would go overboard with their strength). She was grateful, though. Shoko's fingers felt warm on her skin, and after a couple of minutes her wounds had stopped tugging. She repeated the procedure, scanning her torso for another hidden bruise before finally settling on her knees.

She thought that would be it, so she tried to dodge her friend so she could go put on her clothes, but Shoko stopped her by putting both hands in front of her. Unsure, Umi raised an eyebrow in her direction.

"Your hands. Geto told me about it."

The girl didn't even try to suppress the sigh that escaped her mouth. She thought of Geto, with a concussion and probably with his head deep in the toilet to vomit trying to communicate that to Shoko. Without further ado, she stretched both in his direction, feeling shy; her touch was still warm, while muttering that her nails were going to grow back and completely ignoring the old burn on her right hand. When she was done, she pulled something balled up (socks?) out of her pocket and threw it at Umi's left hand.

"I need to lie down."

She took a few hesitant steps towards the bed and when her knees hit the mattress, she jumped in without a care in the world. Umi was petrified for a few moments, worried, until she began to hear little snores coming from Shoko. She decided to tuck her in, leaving her socks on the side of her pillow before finally getting dressed.

Now that she was in much less pain, it was easier to get dressed. And her hands no longer tugged, which was wonderful. As she was finishing her mission, she decided to take a look at the… gift? from her friend, only to realize that they were not socks, but knitted, Christmas green gloves that felt soft to the touch. If she was honest, she would have cried if she had any tears left.

Feeling warm in her chest, Umi slipped the gloves over her hands and smiled. She also put on her socks and took one last look at Shoko (to make sure she was still sleeping peacefully) before closing the door to her room behind her. The conversation they'd had had helped her see a lot of things, but that didn't mean she wasn't nervous about going to see Suguru Geto. Especially since Satoru Gojo had made it very clear to her to stay away. At least she hoped that, by this time in the morning, they would both be in their respective rooms.

Clearly, she must have guessed that was not the case.

When she was only a couple of meters from the door of the boy she was looking for, the door opened. From it emerged Satoru Gojo—looking tired, his hair disheveled and rather pissed off. Umi stood still in place: if he saw her and was looking for a fight, Umi would simply turn around and go back to her room. Simple. Their eyes met, and Gojo stopped his steps as well.

Of course, he recovered quickly. He stuck his tongue out at her, showing more teeth than necessary, and continued on his way out of the room to his own—leaving Suguru Geto's door ajar in the process. Umi took that as an invitation.

The room was completely dark, and the only light was coming from behind her back—the one coming through the small opening in the door that she was forced to close, lest something disturb the boy (probably sleeping) inside and keep out the December chill. She guided herself as best she could around the room, trying to search the darkness for her classmate’s bed to make sure-she needed to be sure-that he was still breathing and simply in a state of deep sleep.

Her legs bumped lightly against the bed, and she almost wanted to celebrate her good move. Now that her eyes were more or less climaxed, she sought the rise and fall of Suguru Geto's chest. Which was... much harder than he thought it would be.

“Stop being so creepy.”

She was thankful he hadn't been startled by the voice of Suguru Geto—who sounded still one-legged in dreamland, hoarse and tight-throated. Though she could feel her heart rise a little in her oesophagus before it went back down again. Then she heard a click and a dim light tinged the room. More out of habit than anything, she dropped to her knees, watching the boy from her spot on the floor. Would he be more comfortable that way... now that they were both on the same level?

Geto gazed, unimpressed, from his place on the bed. His hair was down, but at this point in time it still wasn't as long as Umi knew it to be—it barely brushed his shoulders, and when he did a bun there were many strands left out of the knot at the nape of his neck. "If you're going to be part of the club now, and invade my room at night, you need to cut that shit out. And don't stand by the side of the bed either."

Umi was silent for a few moments, thinking about what to say. She finally settled on a short, "Okay."

But clearly, whatever the boy was saying to her, she didn't understand, because Suguru Geto let out a sigh, and settled back on his bed.

"Get into bed. The floor is freezing and you must be sore."

"I'm fine here." she replied quickly.

"Of course you are. Get in, even if it's just on the blanket. I won't try anything funny. But I suppose you should know that you are the more dangerous of the two of us inside the room."

Umi weighed her options for a moment. Not that she was against the request because she was afraid... but she had never shared a bed with anyone, not even stuffed animals. Her relationship with Shio was pretty good, but they never needed to sleep near each other either. The intimacy of such an action left her with a pasty tongue. But on the other hand, she also didn't want to make Suguru Geto feel rejected, when he offered his bed to her because the floor was uncomfortable.

She gave up easily. With the help of her arms, she got up from her place and settled herself half-stiffly near the edge of the bed. However, Suguru Geto (at the time he was settling in) had already left a space for her to lie comfortably on that side of the bed. With a little more ease, she settled herself a little further into the mattress, leaning on the left side; already settled, she had no way to avoid the boy's gaze, who was watching her even as he lay on his back.

Finding her courage, she pushed the hand she had mobility in, feeling the soft wool under her fingertips. "Are you angry?"

Suguru Geto searched her face again for something. Umi realized he was looking to see if she was sincere, and she felt like crap again. "Yes." He told her, not mincing words. "Don't ever pull my hair again."

It was an absurd request. He wasn't with don't go back to your crazy side and try to kill me or I'll never follow you into a forest in the middle of the night again.

"Yes," she nodded confidently, maintaining eye contact. The boy's eyes were purple, like an overly coloured grape, or red wine. "I'm sorry for pulling your hair. And trying to kill you. And threatening you... I'm really sorry. Are you still in pain?"

Suguru Geto's body gave a little jump, but Umi tried not to focus on it. He was surprised, and she didn't know if that was good or bad. But she had followed her dear friend's instructions: talk.

"...A little." He hesitated. "I'm sorry too, for pulling your hair. I wanted to get a little revenge."

"Don't worry about it. I kind of deserved it."

The boy laughed, small and short. "What's with that...? No one deserves to be taught by being beaten."

With a few words, Suguru Geto managed to briefly teleport Umi back to her childhood. She remembered his grandfather's cane, Naoya Zen'in's slaps. How they told her they were doing it for her own good, for her education. Then she imagined herself, small and with her hands in fists, trying to hide her tears... And Suguru Geto in front of her, with that strange tofu-like smile and strangely gentle eyes: no one deserves to be taught by being beaten.

"I guess you're right, again."

"May I ask why you did this today,"

Umi bit the inside of her cheek. She had expected this question to come at some point, but not now. "I thought you were someone else."

"Hmm," he nodded, as if almost absent for a few moments. "So? What verdict did you come to?"

"That you two couldn't be more different." She replied without preamble. "I wish I had met you instead."

There was two seconds of silence. Then Suguru Geto smiled, easy and quick and charming. "Does that mean we're friends now?"

Unable to help it, something akin to a chuckle escaped her throat. "I think so. But don't go around calling me Umi-chan, there's no need for honorific."

“Okay.”

The silence that now hung over them was easy, light. And the darkness didn't look as scary as when she was alone, even if the bedside table light was on. She heard Geto struggling with the sheets for a moment, trying to get out of them before he stretched one of his hands in her direction, placing his palm over her eyes.

There was an instinct inside her that told her to get that hand out of her face—even if she had to bit it. But she found herself little threatened, although, if he wanted to, Geto could push his fingers hard against her eyes and pull them both away.

"It's been a long day," he said then, his voice soft. "Rest."

Umi couldn't not listen to him.