Chapter Text
ETERNAL SUMMER
⸻ 夏は甘くて青い
( 2005 )
Gojo Satoru is born blessed, lotus seeds falling from his lips as he takes seven steps north under heaven's canopy. There is a void inside him that births constellations, dark matter coalescing into celestial bodies. A primordial singularity. It must be fate or divine intervention that leads her to him. With hands bearing fruits of the dead and inviting arms ushering oblivion.
If his eyes could perceive the future, he would have known then the moment his life ended and began. Of how the fates are cruel and destiny is a sword that plunges itself into the depths of his soul. That the stars have written a requiem for the heart he lost within the solstice of his life, the footsteps he needs to walk to find himself back where it all began.
It had been a hot summer day, the sound of cicadas buzzing in his ears. He remembers the blistering heat, the shimmering sun rays. The vacant sky staring back at him in the reflection of his languid gaze. Satoru falls onto the sofa of the common area and closes his eyes against the sultry air as he sucks on a strawberry-flavoured ice pop. He longs for the beach and cooling waves, the taste of seafoam and bleeding sunsets. The humming of the electric fan fills his head with static but he can hear the call of gulls in his mind.
Footsteps break him out of his reveries, brilliant blue eyes opening to peer through the polarised screen of his shades. He sees a girl his age cross the threshold of the dorm with a duffle bag, gaze catching his figure with a tilt of her head. She has an alluring face that would make any goddess writhe in envy, and midnight hair interwoven with locks of snow. Rapture and woe follow in her footsteps, unsung songs and forgotten myths trail in her shadow. Her eyes of crimson-stained death catch his attention; even amongst sorcerers, that's a rare trait to have.
They stare at one another for a moment before she smiles politely in greeting. Her voice is liquid silver and chiming bells, soft and mysterious. "Hello, sorry to disturb you."
Surprised, Satoru pushes himself up on the sofa with bewilderment hanging from his lips and finds himself gawking. He pulls the sunglasses from his face, just to confirm to himself that he isn't still daydreaming. "Who are you?" he finally asks just as Yaga walks in after her.
She bows low. "My name is Kurosawa Sayuri. Please take care of me."
His eyes widen further in astonishment; that explains her unusual appearance then. The Kurosawa clan is an urban legend to most sorcerers. Standing upon the precipice between gods and humans, with uncanny techniques that breach the laws of both heaven and hell. They would have been the Big Four if the Kurosawas hadn't decided to turn their backs on the world. Holding themselves up in some mountain village somewhere, their doors are closed to the entire sorcerers' society. It's said that the day the Kurosawa black gates reopen, the world will come to an end.
"Satoru, you're here, where are the others?" Yaga starts, "This is the new transfer student from Kyoto."
"Who knows?" Satoru gives a carefree shrug before returning his attention to Sayuri. "So why did you decide to come to Tokyo?"
The girl continues to stand straight with hands placed politely in front of her. "Because I'm a rebel and a troublemaker," she replies with audacious nonchalance.
"Heh? You don't look the type," he remarks with an amused smirk.
Sayuri merely smiles in return and Satoru knows from that moment, his life would be forever changed. Crimson meets azure and the stars crash amidst each other, collapsing and exploding in a glorious supernova. The breath dies on his lips, heart screeching to a halt. There is a fatal attraction between them that electrifies every atom of his being.
Summer is the song of a thousand twangling instruments, of velvet sunsets and bruised lips stained with salt where the sky meets the sea in the reflection of the horizon. Streaking fire across the stars and glowing festival lights. Where the sun hangs so low that if he waits long enough, he might kiss the moon as she wakes. And something sparks inside him with an ephemeral, transient ache between his ribs.
Yaga beckons for Satoru after introductions are made. "Since there's nothing for you to do, why don't you show Sayuri around?"
His heart reverberates within his chest and though he would rather not step out into the blistering heatwaves, he finds himself acquiescing nevertheless. Between the noontide and her smile, he isn't sure which is more blinding. The way her midnight hair flows over her shoulders with streaks of starlight intertwined. Her slender neck and the hollow between her collarbones, the cupid's bow of her lips and the silken touch of her pale skin. He wonders how it's possible to feel as if he's known every intimate detail of her body before ever meeting her.
He must be delirious from the heat. "Why does it have to be so hot?" he grouses to himself as they step away from the comforts of the shade.
Sayuri chuckles affably at his attitude. "Thank you for taking me on a tour. How shall I address you, Mr. Tall and Handsome?"
She makes him laugh. "It's Gojo. Gojo Satoru."
"Pleased to be of your acquaintance, Gojo-san," she responds with a dip of her head.
"You're very polite for your age," he comments.
"I suppose I had a very strict upbringing," she says. "I'll try to be more casual."
Despite that, the very aura she exudes is one of appealing calm and ease. They walk towards the main facilities where the classrooms and sports field are located. Though Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical School is like any other ordinary school on the exterior, the halls and rooms are habitually deserted. There are more ghosts than sorcerers wandering the empty corridors, faint echoes of those that came before. An endless cursed cycle.
The gravel crunches beneath their shoes as Satoru buys cold coffee from the vending machine. They sit underneath the stairs and the sound of opening aluminium cans puncture the air. The milky caffeine quenches his thirst and he wipes the beads of perspiration from his temple. From the side of his sunglasses, he glances at her to confirm his suspicions. This girl is hiding something hideous and terrifying.
"You're curious about it," she starts, taking him off guard. "It's okay, you can ask me whatever you want."
"Were you exiled from your clan?" he questions immediately.
"No, I left of my own accord," she answers with a sly smile. "Don't worry, I'm not a bad person. Not really."
He turns to her with interest; it's certainly easy to doubt her when she talks like that. Satoru leans forward as he examines her intently and she merely gazes back at him. "There's something different about your cursed energy."
"I suppose I can't hide it from you, can I? Unfortunately, it's a secret." She chuckles and looks at him. Her eyes are tinged with obscurity and the fatalism of red spun thread. It feels as if he's looking into a mirror that holds an exhibition of his fate.
"I can't blame you, I'm from the Gojo clan after all," he says, unperturbed.
"Our clans do seem to have some history," she comments.
The way she smiles is as if she holds all the answers of the galaxies. Like an enigmatic paradox waiting to be unravelled, Satoru is tempted to reach out and coax the secrets from her lips. There is an undeniable magnetism between them, amplified by the duality of their beings. Two sides of the same coin, the moon as it faces the sun upon the advent of their meeting. Waiting for one to devour the other.
He remembers the summer he lost himself within the sanguine sea of her eyes and the bloom of her lips. She is violets and daydreams fluttering in the wind. Sugar crystals melting between his fingertips, leaving a sticky residue that stains his skin. His heart swings like a pendulum from the earth to the sky.
The taste of first love is always the sweetest and bitterest of all.
