𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑺𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑺𝑶𝑹𝑹𝑶𝑾⇢ Gojo Satoru

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐕𝐈𝐈 - 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓 𝐔𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑

LÉA CRACKED HER KNUCKLES, readying herself to summon the cords of the vow once again, almost yearning for him to fight back so she could pull him back with the pain and suffering she wove around his heart. Satoru let out a huff, well aware that he didn't have a choice in the matter. Instead, he nodded carefully, stepping forward until he was right in front of her, the only thing between them being the heavy wooden desk. Léa joined her hands, elbows on the desk while she rested her chin on her interlocked fingers.

"Go on, mon chéri." She beckoned, her smile as fake as the earrings dangling from her ears. "I'm very eager to hear about your little mission."

Satoru narrowed his eyes, catching the condescending tone as he straightened his back. The Gojo heir had made sure to keep Mikazuki's call out of the report, but it appeared someone had gone and blabbed about it to Léa – otherwise, this meeting made no sense, not when she didn't have anything to use against him. Not yet, at least.

Give it a few years. She'd said, knowing that although he could never love Eshima, she would still warm his bed. Satoru didn't want children, but he wasn't naïve enough to believe Léa would go to extreme lengths for him to sire an heir regardless. And just like she'd used him against his parents, she'd used his children against him the moment he had them. It was the cycle of life, a cruel yet very beneficial cycle. For Léa, that is.

"I'm not sure what you need me to say." Gojo said dryly. "It seems you already know all there is to know."

Léa smiled, the gesture rotten to the core even when hidden behind a shade of burgundy and pretty chestnut eyes. The woman blinked slowly, as if weighting his words before she flicked her wrist. Satoru felt the pull before it happened, the thorned chains of the vow materializing around his heart and squeezing hard.

The pain was unimaginable, it shot through him like a bullet, except that instead of being fleeting and quick, it kept on coming. Satoru fought back against it, holding on to the back of the chair to keep himself from toppling over. This was the hardest she'd ever used it, the agony blinding him to everything else while Léa cackled in the distance.

"That's right. I know everything." She spat angrily, holding her hand out as a soft mirage of Satoru's heart appeared in her palm, the black chains of the vow ensnared around it as it squeezed harder and harder with each beat. "I'm the Head of the Magistrate, not some foolish higher-up you can toss around whenever you feel like it." Léa leaned in, her perfume hitting Satoru's nostrils as he gasped for air. "Tell me, Satoru..." Her fist closed around the small heart, the pressure slowly building up. "Why did you lie in your report?"

"I didn't li–" He tried to defend himself, yet the wind was knocked out of him with another harsh squeeze.

Satoru fell to his knees, eyes bloodshot as he fought with his shirt, trying to claw at his chest in an attempt to relieve the pressure. Léa watched him carefully, unamused. She gave his heart another squeeze, a sound of joy escaping her lips as she saw him squirm. Blood began dripping from his nose, droplets of it staining the Persian carpet below.

"A lie by omission is still a lie, Satoru." The Frenchwoman reminded calmly, like she wasn't holding his life in her hands, like she couldn't just give one last squeeze and end it all right then and there.

Satoru writhed on the floor, the pain blinding every other sense as he began drowning in a pit of despair. There was only pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Everything else began to fade, darkness appearing on the edge of his vision, taunting him like Léa's worlds titled on the edge of a sword. He was tired, so so tired. But the pain continued, whatever little rest he got wasted in a deep breath before he was back in a sea of agony.

"Tell me the truth." Léa commanded, the full force of her Cursed Energy filling her words and the barbed wire of the vow.

"I–" He chocked, gasping for air in an attempt to clear his thoughts. "She– she got a call, right at the end."

"Who was on the other end?"

"I don't–" Another squeeze, another painful jolt to his heart. "I don't know! I swear I don't know! She was–" His eyes watered, tears filled with blood running down his cheeks. "She was upset! Like something happened, like–"

Like. Like. Like– Satoru closed his eyes tyring to think, trying to remember exactly what had happened, but before he could clear his thought, Léa nodded, snapping her fingers. The pain faded away, the chains loosening around his heart as Satoru slumped forward, lungs filling with air without the harsh weight of the vow restricting his heart. Gojo heaved, bile rising in his throat while Léa simply crossed her legs, scribbling a note on the margin of the page and closing the file with an elegant move.

"Thank you for your candour, Satoru." She smiled at him; a smile painted on her red lips. "That will be all. It's been a pleasure doing business with you."

Léa stacked the paperwork in front of her, keeping a watchful eye as Satoru picked himself up from the floor, skin pale as a ghost. The Gojo heir stumbled, nearly toppling the chair over as he straightened himself and smoothed down his clothes. No one could know about this. No one – not his grandmother, not his siblings, not Mikazuki... If anyone knew just how much power Léa had over him, the world would collapse under it. Léa took a deep breath, as if debating with herself before she finally built up the courage to speak, lowering her glasses to look directly at him.

"The Kinzoku..." She began, her tone oddly soft for someone who had just spent the last thirty minutes torturing a man. "They're not good people; don't let yourself be tricked by their golden exterior, they...they cannot be trusted." The woman pursed her lips, carefully thinking over her words. "Here's a piece of advice, mon cheri. Stay clear from that family."