𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑺𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑺𝑶𝑹𝑹𝑶𝑾⇢ Gojo Satoru

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐗𝐕𝐈 - 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓

KAGOME LEANED BACK, a sigh escaping her decaying lips as her body basked in the warm morning sun. The smell permeating the beach was horrible, the natural stench of rotting flesh inundating her nostrils with each breath, but the curse didn't seem to mind that much. After years of being dead, Kagome had gotten more than used to the sensation.

By now, she wore the smell like a second skin, an addition to her deadly pale ghost body. Mortals couldn't see her anyway, meaning there wasn't much to do about it. Besides, this way, she got the whole side of the beach to do as she pleased, no mortals in sight, as they'd been creeped out by the nauseating smile.

The Ghost Sprit smiled, adjusting her hat and lowering the rim just enough so it covered her eyes. Although dead, Kagome was still extremely sensitive to light, especially on a day like this. Summer never agreed with her, especially when the air was scalding hot against her skin and when she felt the stench of death following her wherever she went.

Kagome adjusted herself, ignoring the sting of the sun rays on her pale flesh as she darted her gaze towards the others. They were a lively bunch – some of them, at least. Cruses were lonely creatures, like spiders crawling through the cracks of reality and feeding from every negative emotion dancing in the air.

Twisted was a child at heart, and like the deceased boy he'd once been, he sat on the hot sand, playing around and making castles only to giggle when they fell apart. Mahito was laying under the shade, his scars so sensitive to the light he could barely survive the summer. Jogo was on an assignment, completing whatever task he'd been given and taking advantage of the warm tint of the ambience to ignite his own flame.

And then there was him. Suguru Geto – Kenjaku, the man spearheading this whole operation and, currently, her worst fucking nightmare. Kagome pressed her lips into a thin line, the annoyance visible in her pale face despite the blinding sun. She'd been staring at him for a while now, unable to take her eyes off from the man like she couldn't quiet figure him out.

Kenjaku had carefully planned every painstakingly small detail of their operation, and yet, for some unfathomable reason, The Pattern was almost two phases behind schedule. Kagome had never been a stickler for the rules, but she'd designed their plan to perfection, and Kenjaku was letting his feelings get on the way. Except, they weren't his feeling, were they?

"You've been ogling me for almost an hour, either spit it out or quit your whining." Kenjaku cut in, his tone as cold as ice, dropping the temperature almost by a full degree.

But Kagome wasn't one of his lesser lackeys, she was his partner in everything but name, and although the god wearing a man suit considered her only as a means to an end, the ghost knew exactly how crucial her calculations were to his plan. The girl furrowed her brows, removing her sunglasses and grilling the man with one of her signature stares. She'd been too young when her life was taken away for her, but even as a puny little mortal, Kagome had been ruthless.

"Those are some very big words for someone who's behind on his timeline." She replied, her tone as chilling as the one he'd used, the challenge clear behind every word. "I thought we had a plan, a strict schedule to follow."

Kenjaku rolled his eyes, the gesture somewhat inhuman enough to make a shiver go down the ghost's spine. Kagome wasn't sure what he was, but the power spilling from his veins was ancient. As was the power he'd stolen from the man he was currently wearing.

Kenjaku was like a supercharged atomic bomb, waiting for the right moment to implode and take everything within a hundred-mile radius. He was the sun, and Kagome, with her stunning little brain, was his moon, guiding him towards his final destination. It would be such a pretty dynamic if Kagome was stupid enough to believe it. Still, Kagome pushed, half expecting to be violently shoved back but also somewhat wanting to unravel the thoughts hiding behind his sublime brain.