𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 ✧ Jujutsu Kaisen | HIATUS

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓

☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ͙ MOONCHILD

she was, in fact, a child of the moon

wandering around aimlessly, in the dark

bringing light to everyone around her.

•••

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞

ICHIKA MEZUKO learned to survive the hard way. Subjected to child slavery for eleven months, nineteen days, five hours and twenty-four seconds since her mother gave her away at the age of six, she had found comfort in violence.

Perhaps Aiko Mezuko feared her daughter's eyes, how they changed whenever she cried or laughed or scarred. She was a devil born from my womb, she would often recite, unable to sleep even a blink as she would leave her daughter to fend for herself at the cold wood of their living room floor.

A devil in my womb
A devil in my house
A devil with my blood

However, one night when flakes fell down from the sky and on top of her bruised palms, Ichika had lost count of the seconds since her hands were chained. And she loathed forgetting. Time was one of the things she believed she owned—something she had control over, so she continued counting, her eyes blindfolded and her feet bare, allowing the man behind her push her forward to a room with pavements she hasn't stepped on before.

Her striking shifting eyes weren't common, but neither was the demon inside her body.

Ichika didn't mind both.

-

"COME, CHILD. ACCEPT HIM." The man with long, green hair unties the cold metal chains which harshly kept her two wrists together. Young Ichika groans, but a whisper, as she feared for her life that sat between the palms of who bought her.

She was brought to a dark room, full of short cut yellow paper with words she could not read nor understand, hanging from all sides of the small room. She does not question the man, but her head was rampant with words she wanted to voice out, only she couldn't speak. She hasn't for eleven months, nineteen days, five hours and twenty-seven seconds.

"Go on. Let him inside." The man's voice was soothing. Dangerous, but palliative. "Do not be scared, Chika." Her arms filled with goosebumps. No one has spoken to her that way, not as gentle, not as kind. She looked at him, raising her head for the first time, and she finds his dull, grey eyes looking at a direction before her.

Ichika follows, searching for something beyond the darkness. There was only one candle inside the whole room, yet it was of no use. She then focused her eyes on one particular thing.

Archaic, was what she thought. A wooden box wrapped with paper. She has not seen it before in her whole life—but something in it felt familiar. "Open it." Her head whips back to the man behind her. She nods, her feet gathering strength as she tries her best to stand up quickly.

She stumbles with her first steps—it was foreign to stand without the weight of chains on her ankles. The comfort of its harshness made her want to beg for them to be put back on. Her small feet brought her closest to the box half her size.

She could feel it, the darkest of energy.

Yet so serene.

She heard the door unlock behind her, as she turned to look, the man in the suit had already left her alone inside the dark room. For a moment, she was scared. Her head was begging for her to run, not look back, escape.

But that only lasted for three seconds and fourteen milliseconds.

She grabs the cold chains, tearing the talismans away slowly. She noticed it was already unlocked, waiting, begging for it to be unraveled.

Ichika Mezuko opened the box in the middle of the room that winter night.

and she was never seen again.

•••