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As soon as Gojo woke up, the first thought that came to mind was that you were pretty. The thought was informed by the gentle hand perched on his chest and the soothing sound of your quiet humming. It was hard to properly make out your features with the sun glaring directly behind you but the light gave your outline a hazy glow and it convinced him you couldn’t be anything but an angel.
The second thought that came to mind, then, was that if you were an angel, then he was dead.
Bleary-eyed and still nauseous, Gojo attempted to sit up but failed when every muscle in his body screamed. His head throbbed so violently it felt like a bass drum was beating from inside of it. When he tried to speak up, he found his voice completely hoarse, as if he had spent the last few days screaming non-stop. His lips were dry and cracked, and the taste that lingered on the tip of his tongue was salt.
“Do not strain yourself.”
Your voice was even more heavenly than he imagined. Gojo didn’t usually take kindly to heeding the orders of strangers but for some reason, he was willing to obey you.
You rose to your feet and began walking away, igniting a panic within him. If he wasn’t so depleted in strength, or aching and sore all over, he would have reached for your wrist and asked you to stay. He didn’t even know who you were, just that your presence, although foreign, calmed him.
The last thing he remembered was being underground.
A train station. He was at a train station.
Shibuya.
Then Gojo recalled the last emotion that washed over his entire being, triggered by a sight that should have been impossible. It was betrayal at first, but the initial shock did not compare to the grief and sorrow that hit him afterward. It had been a long time since anything truly surprised Gojo. Though it lasted only a split-second, it was still a split-second too long because before he knew it, everything faded to black.
The next, he woke up here.
From where he lay on the ground, Gojo tried his best to observe his surroundings. In his line of vision, all he saw was a long stretch of pristine sand. He smelled the ocean if the sound of crashing waves wasn’t indicative enough. In the direction where you left, there stood a luscious green garden that seemed to lead deeper into this mysterious island. The weather was beautiful, with clear skies and a bright sun that kissed his skin in welcome.
The fact that the scenery before him was so picture-perfect jarred him the most. This place looked reminiscent of a postcard from the Bahamas. A tropical paradise. A beach getaway he only ever had the pleasure of going on once—a long, long time ago.
Gojo groaned. Recalling memories seemed to make his head hurt even more.
Then he started remembering names.
Nobara.
Yuuji.
Megumi.
He exerted himself once more to try and sit on his elbows but the force was too much that he briefly slipped into unconsciousness.
When he woke again, you had returned.
You really were beautiful. He could see you a little more properly now. Your eyes seemed to change color the longer he looked into them and your hair glistened under the sun the way light bounced off the ocean surface.
Upon seeing him stir, you touched the back of your hand against his forehead, a touch so tender. Gojo finally decided he couldn’t possibly be dead yet—there was no way someone like him would end up in a place this nice and with a companion so perfect.
“You are not dead, Gojo Satoru,” you said as if reading his mind.
How did you know his name?
“What… Wh—is… this the… prison realm?” It took everything in him to form a coherent sentence and to stay awake long enough to hear your answer.
“The prison realm?” you pondered, a gentle smile gracing your lips. “Sure, if that is what makes sense to you.”
What kind of answer was that?
Before Gojo could say anything else, he blacked out again.
The next time Gojo stirred awake, he was on a mattress.
Relief flushed through him as he felt his strength returned. He sat right up, failing to observe his surroundings beforehand, and hit his head against a cluster of sparkling windchimes and dreamcatchers woven from silver and gold threads that hung low from the ceiling. His gaze swept the entire room and found that all sorts of delicate things hung from above, lanterns, twinkling lights, and hanging mobiles that depicted something resembling the solar system.
Gojo heard light footsteps pad towards the entryway. When you leaned your head into the room, he blinked twice as he truly looked at you again. Your appearance seemed to constantly shift like you were always a little out of focus the longer he stared, a vision that was clearer in his periphery. At first, you reminded him of a movie star he used to have a crush on in middle school, then a teacher he adored in second grade, followed by a gorgeous girl who once asked for his number when he was seventeen (though he never called her back).
He briefly wondered if this was the work of some otherworldly power, but even so, you were so breathtaking that Gojo scarcely had the words to demand you tell him where he was right then and there.
“How are you feeling?” you said.
Still keeping his eyes on you, Gojo rose to his feet. He had to hunch over to avoid the hanging ornaments as he made his way to where you stood outside.
You chuckled at the sight. “You are very tall, Satoru.”
“How do you know my name?”
“Oh,” you said, eyes shifting. “You talk in your sleep.”
Gojo had the sense that you were lying but decided not to push it. You didn’t seem like a threat. Not just because he was so enchanted by your presence but because he realized that he didn’t sense an ounce of jujutsu—
Jujutsu.
Fear crawled up his spine as soon as he realized his jujutsu wasn’t working. In fact, he couldn’t hear the usual subatomic hum of cursed energy that typically coursed through his veins. Now that he thought about it, Gojo couldn’t feel any cursed energy. It was as though he was completely drained of his power.
“My jujutsu isn’t working,” he muttered, turning over his hands as though the answer might be written on his palm somewhere.
“Yes,” you nodded. “Any abilities you possessed before will not work here. Magic, superpowers, supernatural gifts…”
“Jujutsu?”
“Jujutsu,” you repeated with a frown as if you didn’t quite know what he was talking about.
Gojo narrowed his eyes at his environment, trying to discern whether you had put up a veil somewhere. Perhaps this was all a trick, another illusion of some sort to get his guard down. But when his gaze landed back on you, Gojo was overcome with a sense of guilt, like he felt bad for suspecting someone as innocent as you.
He knew better than to fall into blind trust, however, and the face of his old best friend resurfaced as he tried to regain his bearings.
“Tell me who you are,” he finally said. “And where we are.”
You pursed your lips. “I will explain while we eat.”
“You can explain now.”
“You’ve been out for three days. I do not want you passing out again. It took me almost an hour to bring you from the beach and your stomach has been grumbling for the last few hours.”
As if to prove your point, Gojo’s stomach made a humbling noise and his hardened expression melted away as he watched you stifle a laugh.
“Come, follow me. I promise I will tell you everything you want to know.”
The path to the dining room—well, the dining area—practically gave Gojo a tour of the small island where you seemingly resided. You led him through stoned paths that twisted and snaked through the greenery and he grew more impressed with every step. Trees were bearing all sorts of fruits and flowers of varying seasons, blossoming all at the same time. The shrubs were neatly trimmed and not a single weed seemed out of place, as if gardeners tended to this place at all hours of the day. But after walking in silence for about five minutes, Gojo realized there was no one else on this island.
He was about to comment on that when the path suddenly opened up to wide white marbled steps. They led up to an open-air pavilion held up by massive white columns, each bearing intricate carvings that vaguely reminded him of the ancient Greeks or Romans (he couldn’t recall which). Now, Gojo knew absolutely nothing about architecture, but the structure was so magnificent that he instantly felt revered that you invited him to dine here.
The only furniture that occupied the spacious pavilion was the extremely long dining table in the very center and it was completely covered in dishes that Gojo thought you were having a feast for at least fifty people. There were roasted delicacies, soups, baked goods, and a ton of desserts that made Gojo’s stomach grumble again.
Two chairs stood at the far opposite ends of the table, which Gojo thought was quite ridiculous if you only had each other for company. You seemed to agree with the way you sighed but you took a seat anyway, leaving Gojo to stride across the space to reach the other.
“Feel free to dig in,” you said.
Despite all the delicious food spread across the table, Gojo still trained his eyes on you.
“Do we have to sit so far apart?” he said. He could’ve been flirting but Gojo figured it hardly made any sense that there was so much distance between you. You promised you’d explain everything while eating so it just wouldn’t do if you both had to shout just to hear each other.
“Are you not wary of me?”
“I was,” he admitted. “But I get the feeling that you wouldn’t hurt me.”
“You should not trust too easily.” You said softly. If you weren’t so far away, Gojo might’ve thought he heard a little sadness in your tone.
He shrugged, “my instincts are usually spot-on.”
“Your instincts failed you when you needed it most though—” You stopped yourself as if you didn’t mean to say that. It seemed that you knew more than you were letting on. You shook your head, “it’s better if you keep your distance. I could hurt you.”
A false threat.
Gojo scoffed, “I’m sure if you wanted to hurt me, you could’ve done so in the last three days I was knocked out.”
You turned away.
“Come on, you said you’d explain everything and I can hardly hear you from over here.”
You held his gaze for a long moment before raising your hand to snap a finger.
One moment, Gojo was at the far end of the table. The next, he was at your side, his placemat and cutlery having also traveled with him. You casually reached for a plate of roasted chicken, neatly grabbing yourself a serving. You offered him one as well and when he didn’t respond, still staring at you like he couldn’t figure out what exactly you were, you took it upon yourself to scoop a serving onto his plate.
“You said there was no… magic here?” Gojo said.
His memories might have been a blur but he did recall you were confused when he asked if this was the prison realm. It didn’t seem that you were familiar with jujutsu either and just when he thought you might be a regular non-sorcerer, the stunt you just pulled proved otherwise.
“It is my island,” you said. “So I am the only one that can use magic.”
“And where exactly is this island? Are we still in Japan?”
You shrugged. “I’m not sure where we are.”
Gojo didn’t touch his food and he was growing peeved at how nonchalant you were being. “You said you’d tell me everything.”
“I’d tell you where we are if I knew,” you corrected.
“Fine. Then how did I get here?”
You paused, your eyes growing distant for a moment. “I don’t know that either.”
“Then what do you know?” Gojo snapped.
You set your cutlery down. “I know that you’re trapped here.”
“What do you mean I’m trapped—”
“And that I’m the only one who knows how to get you out.”
Gojo raised a brow, feeling his appetite escape him entirely. “So I’m your prisoner?”
You rose from your seat abruptly, an authoritative air to your posture. It was the first time Gojo felt something intimidating about your presence. You placed your neatly folded napkin to the side of your unfinished plate before lowering your head and muttering to yourself, “The food is wonderful. My apologies. I’ve lost my appetite.”
Then, you addressed him. “Please continue without me and get some rest. You’re not fully recovered yet.”
Gojo watched you leave until you completely disappeared. When he turned to the table again, your side of the table had been cleared, as if invisible servants were at work at this unnerving place.
The next morning, Gojo found you tending to a small vegetable garden on the opposite side of the island. It took him longer than he thought to reach you but he couldn’t deny that it was a pleasant stroll.
Golden rays broke through the clouds as the blush of dawn faded to blue. Low tidal waves lapped onto shore, the coolness of the water licking at his toes. Gojo couldn’t even remember the last time he felt this relaxed. You were right about the fact that he hadn’t recovered yet. Although he didn’t sustain any physical injuries, Gojo felt so worn to the bone that when he returned to his cave-like accommodation last night, he passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow.
Perhaps this was a consequence of constantly reinforcing his body with cursed energy all these years. Now that he was completely devoid of his power, Gojo was just… a man. His current state should have worried him, considering how much he enjoyed his strength, which was why Gojo suspected this island housed magical properties that seemed to dampen any thoughts related to the outside world.
For some reason, all he could think about was how he had said something insensitive to you last night and that he needed to apologize for it.
“Good morning,” you said without even turning your head. Your tone was soft and welcoming again, with no trace of that harshness from dinner. With the way you were kneeling in the dirt, your delicate hands soiled from manual labor, it seemed like you knew exactly what you were doing. You’d look more like a farmer if you weren’t wearing a satin slip dress the color of pearls and a thin diamond bracelet though. You were so strange and beautiful that Gojo couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.
“Morning,” he said, leaning over the white picket fence that sectioned off the small patch of red soil from the rest of the garden.
“I’ve been trying to grow some potatoes,” you explained unprompted.
“In this climate?”
You finally looked at him from over your shoulder, giving him a friendly smile. Soil is smeared across your cheek as if you had rubbed your face and forgotten your hands were dirty too. “It is a magical island, remember? I can make any kind of climate or weather appear.”
To demonstrate, the clouds overhead darkened in less than a minute, a soft thunder rolling throughout the horizon. Gojo smelled rain before it fell but with a brief wave of your hand, the skies cleared and the sun shone again, warming your smiling face.
“So you’re the most powerful person here then?” he said, tilting his head.
Your smile falters. Gojo glimpsed the sorrow in your eyes before you returned your attention to the garden. “…I am the only person here.”
“What else have you grown?” Gojo said, eager to change the subject.
Your eyes immediately lit up at his question and you happily obliged, going into extensive detail about lettuce, green beans, and radishes. You confessed that the harvests didn’t always go so well, either the soil did not drain well or there wasn’t enough sunlight at times. You explained that the magic responsible for the island’s climate had a type of auto-pilot function (something Gojo could understand despite not knowing what kind of magic exists here)—that it could automatically adjust to any of your needs—but you didn’t want the magic doing most of the work for you.
“So, sometimes I forget to make it rain and then the soil would get so dry I’d have to start over,” you chuckled to yourself.
Gojo was kneeling at your side now, uncaring for the way dirt sullied his trousers. It felt like he could listen to you talk about gardening for the entire day. He never stopped to think about how much care and effort went into the food he ate and enjoyed. Back in Tokyo, the only vegetables he picked were the ones in the coolers of supermarket aisles and though the Gojo estate had vast farmlands, his privileged upbringing meant that there were always others hired to do the labor.
Gojo had never really been one for deep introspection, but this island gave him the time and space for it.
“Sorry,” Gojo said suddenly.
You looked genuinely surprised when you turned to him. “For what?”
Gojo pulled his sleeve over his thumb and reached out to your face, gently wiping the dirt from your cheek. You tensed at his touch but you didn’t stop him. “For last night. You saved me, healed me, and sheltered me, and I… yelled at you in return.”
You shook your head, pulling his hand from your face. “You wanted answers, and rightfully so, but I’m being honest when I say there are some things I simply do not know.”
“I believe you.”
“What I said was the truth though. You are stuck here until… until you recover.”
“I feel fine though.”
“The island’s magic tells me you’re not yet completely healed. I don’t know what exactly it is, but whoever—or, whatever sent you here,” you said, careful with your words, “really wanted to make sure you couldn’t… return.”
“So, it’s possible to return? It’s possible to leave?”
You nodded grimly. “It is. You’ll know exactly when you’ll be able to. It shouldn’t be long now, I can assure you of that.”
“Well,” Gojo shrugged, rising to his feet and stretching his arms skyward. “It can’t be helped then. Maybe it’s time I take those unused vacation days for once.”
The longer Gojo stayed with you on your island, the more distant his concerns for the outside world became. It was probably a dangerous thing, highly irresponsible for someone of his power and standing. He had duties to fulfill. He was the first sorcerer in centuries to possess both Six Eyes and Limitless. And yet, it was almost impossible to be worried about something so seemingly removed from him when you, breathing and in the flesh, stood right there next to him.
Gojo couldn’t deny he was having the time of his life with you. In the last few mornings, he assisted you with your vegetable garden, which sounded boring but wasn’t because of how excited it always made you. At noon, you’d prepare lunch while Gojo tried weaving a willow wreath. His first one was a catastrophic failure and he was determined to get it right on his second try.
Yesterday, you both raced to the highest point on the island, a grassy hill that stood beyond your vegetable garden. The hill wasn’t too steep of a climb but it dropped off a cliff on the other end, where a hidden lake lay underneath, which you claimed was as deep as the ocean. The race ended with Gojo’s victory, who beat you by a long shot, and as a consequence of losing that bet, Gojo dared you to jump into the lake from that height.
He wanted to laugh at how adorable you looked, staring down at the lake from on top of the cliff with your hands held close to your chest. He already checked and it should be less than a 10-meter drop to the water. You’d be fine.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared?” Gojo teased.
“I am not s-scared, I’m just—AAHH!”
While you were distracted, Gojo snuck up behind you and grabbed your shoulders, bursting into a fit of laughter when you jumped like a cat. You fixed him with a glare and though you did have it in you to look threatening, Gojo couldn’t help but squish your cheeks in his hands.
“Man, you’re so cute,” he laughed.
“I could summon a bolt of lightning to incinerate you right here, right now,” you mumbled.
“Ah, but you won’t,” he said, winking. “Now, c'mon. You’ve got a debt to pay.”
Gojo took you by the arm, leading you to the edge of the cliff again.
“W-wait, Satoru, give me a—”
“We’ll jump together on three!”
“What?!”
“One—”
Gojo lied.
Immediately, he launched off the cliff with you in tow, both your limbs flailing in the air while you free-fell. While Gojo yelled, thrilled by the rush of adrenaline, you, on the other hand, screamed in absolute fear until you both broke through the water’s surface and went under.
Gojo choked on the water when he came up for air, only because he was still chortling as your terrified shriek rang in his ear.
The fun stopped when he realized you hadn’t emerged from the water again. Panic shot through his veins at the realization and Gojo dove back into the water again, descending further into the dark depths as he caught a glimpse of your glinting diamond bracelet. He grabbed you by the arm in an instant, then swam back to the surface.
Thankfully, you weren’t unconscious yet and you gasped for air as soon as he pulled you out of the water.
“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he said, rubbing your back in soothing circles. “I didn’t think you couldn’t swim.”
“I should’ve said something,” you croaked, still offering him a smile that melted his insides in an instant. “It is part of my curse.”
“Your curse?”
The word felt so foreign on Gojo’s tongue. When was the last time he thought about curses? Or jujutsu? Why was he so relaxed about not having his strength or power? Just when did he forget he had left a very dangerous curse user to run rampant in the streets of Shibuya? What on earth was he doing here?
You nodded, unaware of Gojo’s spiraling thoughts. “The curse that prevents me from leaving this island.”
Gojo set his thoughts aside as he focused on you. He had suspected something was amiss on this island but he didn’t want to ask when the subject seemed to pain you, even though you made great attempts to hide it. He didn’t miss the way you grew a little distant when he talked about his favorite confectionary from Sendai, telling you it was a snack you had to have if you ever visited.
Now he realized maybe you never would get to.
“Why are you trapped here?” Gojo asked, thinking it was fine since you brought it up first.
“It is punishment for what my father did.”
“That’s stupid. It makes no sense.”
“No, it is what I deserve. I did not prevent him from waging war.”
“I don’t see how you had to be responsible for that. Shouldn’t your father be punished for his actions?”
“Oh, he is serving his punishment… elsewhere,” you said, that distant look in your eyes returning. Gojo couldn’t help but hold your chin, turning your face back to him, as if trying to anchor you. “‘Standing by and doing nothing as a tyrant oppresses his people is the same as partaking in the tyranny,’” you recited. “That was my sentence.”
Gojo gritted his teeth. He wanted to fight them—he didn’t even know who or what exactly he was up against, but Gojo could take anyone. He could do it.
“How do we break the curse?”
You gave him that sad smile, the one that always made his chest tighten. “You cannot, Satoru. This curse has been bound to me for a very long time. Many have come and felt they could do the same, but…” you shrugged.
“I’m different,” Gojo said, convinced that he could be the one to save you, that he could get you out of here as easily as he pulled you out of the lake. “In the outside world, I’m the strongest jujutsu sorcerer—”
“But on this island,” you gently reminded him, “you are just a man, Satoru.”
Gojo didn’t know what to say.
Inching closer, you pressed the back of your hand against his forehead as if checking for a fever. It reminded him of when he first washed up on this island, which felt so long ago. It had only been a few days though. Now that he thought about it, he wondered how long exactly he’d been here.
“Time passes by differently on the island,” you said.
Gojo started, forgetting you have this peculiar habit of reading his mind. He wondered if it was part of the island’s magic as well or if he’d just been letting his guard down so much his thoughts showed on his face. “It’s almost time. You’ll be able to leave soon.”
“How do you know?”
“The island told me.”
“And how will I get back?”
You pull back your hand from his face but Gojo catches your arm, his skin warmer on yours. “A boat will come for you on the southern shore.”
Gojo didn’t even care about the specifics anymore. A magical boat was going to appear out of nowhere and take him back home? Sure, he could accept that. But leaving you here knowing that you would never be able to leave? Gojo couldn’t stomach it.
“Then get on the boat with me. We’ll leave together.”
“I’m telling you it won’t work, Satoru. Someone once tried already and that was when I found out there was a barrier out in the waters. I’m not getting out of here. It’s fine, I’ve already accepted it.”
“Then I won’t leave. You can’t expect me to just leave you alone here and—”
You kissed him. Gojo froze up for a moment. He admitted he thought about kissing you more than once before but you seemed to always keep him at an arm’s distance. You pulled away just as immediately, the shock of your action evident in your wide eyes. You held a hand over your mouth before putting distance between your bodies.
“Oh no, I’m so very sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Before Gojo could stop you from apologizing and tell you that he didn’t mind it one bit, you jumped to your feet, dusting your legs and wringing out your hair. “W-we should probably get back.”
“Right…” Gojo said but you turned on your heel already.
His steps were heavy as he trailed behind you. It probably wasn’t wise to get involved with you—unless he could figure out a way to break your curse. He wouldn’t leave until he could. Perhaps he had time to mull it over until that magic boat appeared.
Gojo didn’t think your magic island ever saw cloudy days. It was as if a murky blanket had been thrown over the endless horizon. Even the sea was eerily calm as well, lacking that tropical vibrancy Gojo had grown used to.
He could barely sleep last night when he awoke suddenly after dreaming of dead people. He saw the faces of Getou and Toji roaming the streets of Shibuya, and it was enough to make him break out in a cold sweat. Gojo hardly ever had any meaningful dreams but he knew this one was trying to tell him something.
He spent the rest of the night trying to gather his wits. Staring up at the ceiling littered with dangling, twinkling ornaments, he thought about you, your curse, and your tragic fate. There was virtually nothing he could do when he knew so little about you. That little piece of information you revealed to him about yourself told him that you two were part of very different worlds. Gojo didn’t even want to imagine what kind of powers stood over you, how they imprisoned such a sweet girl simply for what her father had done. He wondered what your father’s punishment was, though he didn’t think you’d be inclined to answer even if he asked.
Then his mind went back to Shibuya. Recalling what happened in the moments before his capture was like moving through molasses. It was as if something was forcibly keeping him from trying to remember that night. Was it the island’s magic? Or did the person who put him here do something to mess with his head?
All he knew was that an impostor was wearing the face of someone important to him, which told Gojo that the strange events at Shibuya were aimed at trapping him—at imprisoning him. Of course. If Gojo were some evil curse user fiend with plans for world domination or whatever, his first step would also be to take out the person most likely to stop him.
Hence, the enemy’s goal was to keep Gojo sealed away while chaos and destruction descended over the city. It was simple.
I have to go back. Gojo didn’t know why the alarm only returned to him then. He couldn’t waste any more time here. You told him that time moved differently on the island, but how long did a few days here translate in the outside world?
Moving with a sense of urgency now, Gojo went to look for you but with no such luck. He searched the entire island but didn’t find a single trace of you. You weren’t at your vegetable garden or the pavilion. You weren’t by the lake either. Gojo climbed to the top of the tall hill again, wondering if his voice would carry across the entire island if he shouted for you. Before he had the chance to, however, his eyes caught sight of a wooden raft floating out on the water. You were perched on top of it, hugging your knees close to your chest.
Gojo raced to the waters immediately. He was about to call your name but stopped himself when he realized he had never seen you so aimless and… alone. Everything felt like it was stuck at a standstill. Not a single breeze blew past him even though the ocean stood so vastly before him. Gojo had the faintest feeling that today’s weather was a reflection of your state of mind.
Instead of calling out to you, Gojo entered the water. The waves lapped gently at his feet, then it touched his knees and slowly rose to his mid-thigh. He walked and walked until the water reached his chest and when his toes barely grazed the seabed, he began swimming to your floating raft.
You heard him approach and Gojo’s heart sank when you turned to face him with such a vacant look in your eyes. The expression was gone in an instant, replaced with a forced smile.
“It’s not the best weather for a swim,” you said, scooting over on your raft. The structure barely supported two people but Gojo joined you anyway, the raft swaying to and fro as he pulled himself up. He sat shoulder to shoulder with you, his knees also pulled up to his chest.
“And that’s your fault, isn’t it?” he joked, flicking water at your face.
“Stop it,” you whined, playfully shoving his shoulder. “I cannot control it sometimes. Usually when I’m…sad.”
“So why is the pretty girl feeling sad?”
He felt your eyes on him but Gojo leveled his stare at the line where the ocean met the darkening sky.
The silence that followed was thick with tension. There were several things Gojo wanted to say but he didn’t know where to begin.
You beat him to it. “Your ride back home will arrive tomorrow morning.”
Already? Gojo should’ve felt relieved. He should’ve celebrated the fact that he would be able to return to where he belonged, to a world that needed him and his abilities.
“Well, I’m not leaving until we find a way to break your curse.”
“That boat will not wait for you. If you miss it, you’ll never be able to get off this island.”
“Then come with me,” he tried again as if he could speak the possibility into existence, even though he didn’t understand a thing about the magic and curse that governed your small world.
Without a word, you held up your hand and pushed forward over the edge of the raft until you abruptly stopped in mid-air, as if you had reached an invisible wall. You tried pressing forward again but only succeeded in pushing the raft backward. When Gojo lifted his hand to touch the same place where yours stopped, his limb passed through just fine.
“It is the barrier,” you simply said. “This raft will not sail forward while I’m on it.”
“There has to be a way,” Gojo said, this time unable to hide the desperation that leaked into his voice. “A loophole, a catch, or something—”
“Please do not make me repeat myself. There is no way I’m getting off this island. There is no way you can break the curse unless—”
Gojo snapped his head to you. “Unless what?”
“No, nothing.” You pursed your lips.
“Unless what?”
You shook your head. “I-I didn’t want to say anything but I suppose the curse would not have allowed me to keep it to myself anyway.”
“What is it?”
“I cannot leave this island,” you said, “but you can stay here. I can give you that choice: to leave or to stay.”
“To stay?”
“Yes, to stay here with me, for all of eternity. You’d be granted immortality and we’d just… build our lives together on this magical island. Spend every day like this, forever.”
You made no effort to sell the idea but Gojo found himself considering it with a hazy, daydreaming look on his face. To stay with a beautiful girl on a perfect island where everything could cater to his every whim? To live without rules—free of power, free of responsibility? To be at your side, to always see your radiant smile and hear your windchime laughter?
“That sounds… nice.” He was sincere.
“But you will never choose to stay,” you said sadly. “Because that is also part of my curse.”
“What do you mean?”
“You are not the first hero to wash up on these shores, Satoru. There have been many, many others in the past, and they all had one thing in common—they were men with inexplicable power and strength.”
“I’m no hero.”
“But you are needed. The place you call home is in trouble, is it not? They send me heroes who can never stay, heroes who have a duty to go back. I know how the story goes,” you said. “It always ends the same.”
“You don’t know that,” Gojo said rashly, hating the truth in your words. “I’m not like the others. I could leave it all behind me.”
“Really? And what about those children, Yuuji, Nobara, and Megumi? What about the one who wears the face of your deceased friend?”
Gojo blinked. “H-how do you know all that?”
“I told you, I know how it goes.”
Gojo almost didn’t show up to dinner that night because it felt like a farewell too much already. It would be his last meal with you since you said the boat typically showed up at the crack of dawn and the thought chased his appetite away.
He came by the pavilion regardless, mostly because he didn’t want to waste a second of not seeing you. You were seated in your usual place at the long table, looking as stunning as ever in your glimmering gown, which seemed to subtly change color in the light. You had started on your meal already and Gojo couldn’t help but lean against the column and just watch you for a moment.
“Do not look at me like that,” you said without looking up.
“Like what?”
“Like you pity me. I told you already, I’ve accepted my fate. I’ve been doing this for centuries. Have I told you that I'm way older than you?”
Gojo appreciated your attempt at keeping the mood light. It made him smile. “And have I told you that I’m into older women?”
He walked over to the opposite end of the table and noisily dragged the chair to your side. It was much less graceful than the magic that came with a snap of your finger but it did the job.
“Eat,” you said, lightly tapping your fork against his empty plate.
Despite having no plans to have dinner, Gojo ended the night completely stuffed with food. He almost cleaned out the entire table, which you said made the invisible servants very pleased.
Knowing that you weren't completely alone on this island gave him small comfort, but Gojo didn’t want to say anything and it seemed that neither did you. While taking a stroll down the beach after dinner, instead of retiring like you usually did, the both of you danced around the topics of your curse and his leaving like it was a bonfire neither of you wanted to get close to. It was as if you both did not want to ruin your last night together by bringing it up, as if delaying it could at least lessen the blow tomorrow morning.
Gojo rolled his trousers up to his shins while treading the wet sand. His efforts were futile when you ran ahead and kicked up the water at him.
Gojo grabbed for you as payback, catching you by the waist when you couldn’t escape quickly enough. He lifted you entirely, his knuckles digging into your ribs, making you squirm and giggle. He readjusted his hold to find a more comfortable position, eventually deciding to carry you bridal-style. This way he could launch you into the ocean if he wanted.
Oh, good idea.
“I’m gonna throw you into the sea,” he announced.
“You wouldn’t!”
“Oh, but I would!”
Before he could fling you into the water, you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck and clung for life. With your face buried against his body, Gojo tensed when he felt your lips brush against his collarbone.
“Ah, could you, uh, loosen up?”
“O-oh! Sorry!” you exclaimed, letting go immediately.
Gojo turned his face to the side, hoping with every fiber of his being that you wouldn’t notice the blood rushing to his cheeks.
You did though. The sight was probably so obvious against his snow-white hair. “Wait, you’re blushing.“
Gojo almost jumped out of his skin when you ran a finger down the side of his neck, dropping your weight altogether. "H-hey! Quit it!”
“You’re turning red all over,” you giggled.
“I’m sure you’d turn the same shade if my lips were on your neck.”
You gasped, “I did not do that!”
Gojo kept quiet for a moment as he watched you fluster. He broke the silence with a deep chuckle, combing his fingers through his hair as he took a few steps backward to plop down on dry sand. You followed suit and Gojo threw his gaze to the wide sea as you did. He sighed. When else would he be able to enjoy such an unparalleled view next to a beautiful, beautiful woman?
Gojo made the mistake of glancing over at you again because he couldn’t tear his eyes away this time, neither could he shake the thought that he was going to really, really miss you. He wanted to immortalize this moment forever; you sitting pretty on the sand, your side profile illuminated only by the moonlight, and the soft wind blowing through your loose strands of hair. He knew this whole island practically ran on magic and he was starting to think you were entirely made of it too.
“You’re so enchanting,” he breathed.
No sooner had you glanced at his lips than he closed the distance. Your resistance lasted less than a second. At the same time, he cupped your cheek with one hand, your hands found purchase in his hair. He kissed you deep and slow, yet also chased after you with a fervor that wasn’t present when you first made a move at the lake.
Scratch his previous thought. Gojo wanted to immortalize this moment forever; your soft lips on his, your warm body in his arms, and your nimble fingers running down the length of his chest. You were such an otherworldly presence that Gojo just wanted you to consume him whole.
But then he felt his cheeks moisten, and when he pulled back, he found tears running in rivulets down your face.
You buried your face in your hands as you scrambled to your feet in embarrassment.
“H-hey, what’s wrong?” Gojo said, though he immediately regretted it. Such a question warranted an answer that both of you had been so desperately trying not to mention this entire night. He stood up as well, pulling you into an embrace, your head pressed against his chest. “It’s okay,” he lied. Another regret.
“Oh dear, I did end up falling for you in the end,” you sniffled. “This curse, it always sends me—”
“Heroes that can’t stay,” Gojo finished.
“Yes. But I did not mention another thing. They are…they are also heroes I cannot help but fall in love with.”
Gojo felt the ground shift beneath him as another layer of your curse came to light. You couldn’t leave the island and live on it alone. Then, they would send companions who could never stay, and not just anyone, but companions that you couldn’t help but fall for?
“That’s…that’s too cruel,” Gojo said quietly, leaning back to wipe your tears with his thumb.
“It wouldn’t be a punishment otherwise,” you said, trying for a smile that truly shattered his heart this time around.
Gojo fell to his knees, holding both your hands together and pressing them to his forehead in a kind of prayer. “I can’t do it. I can’t leave you tomorrow.”
“You can and you must.” You gently pulled one of your hands out of his grasp in favor of lifting his chin to face you. Leaning forward, you planted a soft kiss on either side of his cheek and his forehead. “I had the most wonderful time with you here, Satoru. Really. Thank you.”
It was just as you said. The boat arrived on the southern shore as the white thread of dawn appeared on the horizon.
Gojo thought it was strange to board the vessel with no belongings but it wasn’t like he came here prepared either. The only thing he was bringing back was the memoir that hung from his neck. It used to be one of the ornaments that hung from the ceiling where he slept during his stay.
“A keepsake,” you said shyly. “So you’ll remember I was real. That this place was real.”
“I will never forget you,” he said, immediately putting the necklace on.
“Just in case.” Your smile did not reach your eyes and Gojo suspected you knew something else that he didn’t.
Gojo fingered the silver pendant as the medium-sized sailboat began cruising the water on its own. You stood there on the shore unmoving as you saw him off. The color of your long dress resembled seafoam and when the waves lapped onto shore, the sea looked like an extension of your attire. He didn’t take his eyes off of you until your figure was but a speck in the distance. Even then, Gojo still faced the direction of your island, hoping against hope that he could find it again one day.
His vision started to blur just as his head began to ache and before he knew it, his consciousness slipped away.
epilogue.
When Gojo awoke, the chain felt cool against his neck. He lifted the pendant to his face, eyeing the object as if seeing it for the first time. He wondered what it was, where it came from. He was completely disoriented.
He also had the strangest dream, which he could hardly remember. The more he tried to grasp the details, the further they seemed to slip away. What he did recall was a beautiful woman standing on a beach who, despite glowing under the moonlight, had the saddest smile on her face.
The woman said something in the dream. Gojo screwed his eyes shut to try and recollect the words.
We were always doomed from the beginning, Gojo Satoru, even though it could have been beautiful.
Gojo twisted the pendant between his fingers, his heart feeling empty and yet heavy, as if mourning something that never belonged to him in the first place.