Light A Flame || Gojo Satoru x Reader

Chapter 4

Present...

The resounding impact of your fist against the tree resonated pleasantly within the confines of your ears. The beleaguered wood bore witness to crimson stains, testament to the one-sided assault by your clenched fist, now daubed with your own blood.

This tendency towards violence surfaced as your coping mechanism during moments of anxiety, a means to temper the tempest within, as you would attest.

"Stop, Y/N." the young man beside you finally vocalized, urging you to halt the relentless assault on the tree.

Disregarding his plea, you persisted, allowing your fist to once more collide with the tree, this time with heightened vigor.

"What are you doing?" you uttered with displeasure when the man intervened, firmly grasping your wrist to impede your next strike.

"Stop hurting yourself," he said sternly.

"What? You'd rather I got locked up again in a room and got restrained like a crazy person?" you asked him, recalling the past or what happened after Geto's death.

He sighed out loud. Truthfully, you didn't understand why he changed. After Suguru's death, Satoru had become somewhat friendlier than before, as if he was replacing Suguru's position in your life.

But how dare he?

He'd never be Suguru.

Even if he continued to somewhat act caring like this, you wouldn't give up so easily after what he had done to you, what he had done to Suguru.

"Heal yourself, now." he demanded, urging you to employ your cursed technique promptly.

A remarkable and unique ability known as the Reverse Cursed Technique or Healing Ability, it was originally exclusive to the Saito bloodline, this exceptional technique was handed down through generations.

Over time, however, it transcended the boundaries of the Saito clan and found its way into the hands of other prestigious houses, including the Ieiri.

At some point in history, your ancestor from the Saito clan joined forces with the house of Ieiri. This unveils a familial tie between you and Ieiri Shoko, making both of you distant blood-related cousins.

As a descendant of the Saito clan, you inherited not only the revered cursed technique but also the distinctive golden orbs that set the Saito family apart from others.

Unlike the Gojo clan, renowned for their 'Six Eyes', the Saito clan's golden eyes possess a distinct ability to perceive illnesses, uncover methods of healing, and discern the causes of death without the need for autopsy.

Through generations, it has been documented that individuals born with these golden eyes have the extraordinary capability to heal any form of ailment, even to the extent of regenerating lost body parts such as hands or legs.

Remarkably, some legends even speak of the potential to resurrect the deceased, although the accuracy of such claims remains uncertain.

While resurrection may not be an exact science, the golden eyes of the Saito clan stand as a symbol of unparalleled healing prowess. The rarity of these eyes among the descendants of the Saito house makes each occurrence a momentous event, marking the emergence of a gifted individual capable of wielding the extraordinary powers that come with this unique and coveted lineage.

Amused by his reaction, you jeered, "What are you? My daddy?"

In the face of the man's stoic response, you continued, "How rare, the mighty Gojo Satoru displaying concern for others beyond himself?"

"Y/N." He warned.

Cerulean orbs fixed on you with an intense gaze, his azure depths piercing into your very soul. He eventually relinquished his grip.

"Don't make me repeat myself."

"Seriously, who do you think you are?" The surge of anger coursing through you manifested in uncontrollable heaving of your chest.

"Do you believe you possess the right to feign concern?" you finally snapped, the pent-up rage bursting forth. Your demeanor, typically composed in the presence of the man you held disdain for, now faltered.

It was a sentiment triggered by the sight of the man you loved—more accurately, the vessel of your deceased best friend manipulated by an evil sorcerer. This predicament squarely laid at the feet of the man now confronting you.

Naturally, blame was directed towards him, the executor of Suguru Geto.

"Are you still burdened by the past?"

"You're the one who took his life! If you weren't so apathetic and selfish, you should have finished him off completely instead of leaving him to die. Perhaps then, that asshole Kenjaku wouldn't have seized Suguru's body!"

The past few weeks had led you to one of your episodes. The thought of seeing your dead best friend almost made you go crazy.

Especially now that both of you knew that an ancient sorcerer named Kenjaku had taken Suguru's body. You saw him while accompanying one of Gojo's proteges on a mission.

"Well, if it pains you so, you should have taken his life back then. You're the one who acted like a damn coward, Y/N. Yet, you lay the blame on me?" he inquired.

Satoru's words bore a modicum of truth. Indeed, your reluctance to end the life of the man you ardently loved made you the coward. In contrast, Satoru, Suguru's closest friend, assumed the responsibility of executioner.

He did you a favor, as the authorities had earmarked both of you for Suguru Geto's execution.

Nonetheless, accepting this reality proved insurmountable. Ignoring Satoru's pain over losing his best friend, you held him accountable for the demise of the one you loved.

Despite your previous closeness with Suguru, the camaraderie between you and Satoru had remained strained in the years that followed. You never once cared about him or saw him as a close friend though your room and his might be close, and he reciprocated the sentiment.

The two of you were constantly locked in a battle for Suguru's favor, each vying for his likeability.

"Fuck you, Gojo."

"So eager, eh?" Satoru retorted.

His presence here was solely driven by the last wish of his singular and cherished best friend: to safeguard you. He understood that he could easily win this argument, observing the tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

He acknowledged his own immaturity, approaching every disagreement with you like a game where winning meant making you cry. Yet, for some reason, the way you cried every time Suguru's death was brought up intrigued something twisted in him.

He found himself wanting to elicit more tears from you.