𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑺𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑺𝑶𝑹𝑹𝑶𝑾⇢ Gojo Satoru

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈 - 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

GOJO SATORU IGNORED THE MESS, sidestepping around the shattered door and plunging his hands into the dirty blackened water. He didn't think, didn't hesitate, before plunging his hands into the scalding hot water. It burned his hands, burned his skin, but he didn't care. The sorcerer pulled the woman out of the water, skin turning raw as The Omen burned through his flesh.

Satoru didn't stop until she was out of the tub, sputtering for a breath of fresh air while her messy hair framed her face. He could barely register the blisters growing on his fingers as he held her face in his hands, tucking her hair behind her ear and helping her through each laboured breath. Mikazuki fought him every step of the way, recoiling from his touch either because of the singing pain or the awful resentment that took deep roots within her.

The sorceress was quiet and frail, shivering in the cold while she continued to sputter water out of her lungs. She didn't hesitate nor show any signs of weakness, simply swatting Gojo's hand away from her face like he was nothing more than a fly buzzing about her space. Satoru's eyes met hers, something akin to betrayal glowing in his ethereal ocean stare. The flickering feeling was gone in an instant and before Gojo could stop to analyse any of it, he was shoved against a corner, body toppling over and hitting the tile wall with such strength it cracked under his weight.

"What the fuck, Mikazuki!?" He accused, voice laced with anger as he straightened himself and smoothed down the fabric of his shirt. "What's wrong with you!? I'm trying to help you!"

The woman shook her head, ignoring Satoru's presence while she picked the towel up from the floor, carelessly wrapping it around herself in an attempt to conceal her naked body. The sorceress didn't care much for nudity, but this wasn't about modesty or shamefulness. It was about control, about everything that had been slowly and steadily taken away from her over the years.

"I don't want your help." Mikazuki answered curtly, the sharpness in her tone slicing through Satoru's already acrid mood like a knife. "I'm doing just fine on my own."

Suddenly, she was eighteen years old again, fighting for every bit of control she could chip away from her clan's hands. She was still here, same as always, a prisoner held behind the gilded bars of a bespoke prison. Mikazuki hung her head low, slowly draping the piece of cloth around herself, almost as it retreating inside of a cocoon. The hotel towel was small, so short it barely covered her thighs, the scars and tattoos etched on her body as visible as the morning sun. She didn't care, though. There was some safety in these thoughts, in this place – in this moment.

Satoru's eyes turned dark, his beautiful ocean stare slowly darkening until there was nothing but an endless sea of charcoal blue, no kindness or softness in any of it. He stood, cursing silently at his now ruined clothes before turning his judgement on her. Even though he was only a couple inches taller than Mikazuki, he somehow felt taller in his room, his figure towering over her small cowering frame as she sat on the edge of the tub. She wasn't scared nor intimidated, yet her body quivered with something akin to fear, a kernel of it flashing in her golden eyes.

"Oh, you're doing 'just fine'?" Satoru leaned down, the personal space between the two disappearing in less than a second. "'Just fine?' I wouldn't call nearly drowning myself in the tub as 'just fine'. Then again, I'm not you so who am I to judg–"

"I wasn't trying to drown myself." She rebuffed, looking up at him, eyes lit aflame. "I was just–"

I was just... what? Mikazuki paused, letting the thought wander for a bit. She'd been so lost, so disoriented in her goals and her life. What had she been trying to do, allowing herself to submerge under the water, going over her mistakes over and over again? What was the point of it all? It hadn't felt like The Beldam – none of it, not even when she was in that damned forest, fighting her demons. And certainly not when she was laying against the cold porcelain tub, covered head to toe in the water tainted with her sins.