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.
"I was just thinking, that is all." She tried again, a slight shake in her voice before she averted his gaze.
She wasn't lying, yet something about the statement felt untrue. Kinzoku Mikazuki wasn't a liar – never had been, not to anyone who truly mattered to her, but she was seasoned about it still. She wasn't trained in it, but she was skilled enough to wear the name of Kinzoku and bear it on her shoulders. Satoru's rage surged, and instead of turning around and leaving, he leaned forward even further, placing his arms at either side of the woman as he gripped the edge of the tub, fingers cracking the porcelain.
He could feel the Cursed Energy swimming in his ocean eyes, the power flowing through his veins, begging to be let free so it could lay it all to waste. Instead, he reigned it in, locking his jaw and steeling his stare while he boxed Mikazuki under his chest, his softly brushing against her sides while the water dripped onto the bathroom carpet.
"This isn't you, Mikazuki." He called out, a fire blazing in his eyes along with the dangerous tilt she could see hiding beneath it all. "You don't let things like this get to you. You don't let the fear take a hold of you. Never."
Part of him sounded disappointed, and maybe that's what gave her the courage to look up, pursing her lips and holding his gaze while the rest of the world faded away. Her lip wobbled for a second, which was just long enough to allow her some respite before burying herself under that heavy armour she always wore around her feelings. Even here, in front of him, she was a soldier wearing her precious armour. All of it just to protect herself from him. He was the one who broke her heart, after all.
"I'm not the girl– the woman I used to be. You can grovel all you want, but the past is the past." She watched him, eyes flickering up and down, slowly taking in his appearance. "And judging by your state, I doubt you managed to get a hit on The Beldam too. Or am I wrong?" She crossed her arms over her chest, ignoring that tingling feeling that made her numb as she towel shifted slightly. "You dare call me out for not living up to your expectations, but what about you?" Mikazuki eyed him once more, her previously big doey eyes turning sharp. "You let The Beldam get away, didn't you?"
Satoru looked down at her, arms turning lax as he finally stepped back. Part of him did it because he still felt undoubtedly dirty, but also because he could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage, a heavy warning against what he knew lurked beneath his surface. He was two seconds away from a mistake, so putting as much distance between them as possible seemed like the best course of action, at least for now. The Gojo heir averted her gaze, scratching the back of his neck as all the anger and lust that had been eating through him vanished like smoke.
"I'm sorry." Satoru said quickly as he nervously wet his lips. "Let's not fight. Please." He asked – almost begged, by the sound of it. "We both got our assess handed to us. We need to gather our strength, come up with a plan and try again."
Mikazuki tightened the towel around her, kneed drawn close as she tried to make herself as small as possible. She was failing miserably, mainly because nothing about her body was small or delicate. She had the body of a grown woman, with luscious curves, thick skin and beautiful lines drawn across her legs and up her chest. Her breasts were full and supple, heavy and yet soft at the same time.
They were more than a handful, at least by Satoru's standards. He was looking; unashamedly, a part of his lustful soul imagining himself closing his hand around her breasts – not that he could, with such large size he'd need bigger hands. But it wasn't that part of him who looked, it was someone else, and in his eyes there was reverence. Some would even dare call it respect.
"We truly are a bunch of fools." The sorceress couldn't help but let out as she buried her face in her hands. "We've been so busy chasing each other we forgot about the real threat." She inhaled deeply through her nose before finally catching his stare, a soft smile playing on her lips. "The time for fighting has passed. You're right, let's... gather our thoughts and come up with a real plan."
Satoru's smile matched hers, a soft tone behind his expression. For a moment, it was like a flash of the past, back when he was a proud little boy and her a pretty innocent flower. It reminded him of the days, not that long ago, where they'd sit with Shoko, Suguru and Keisuke; all five of them with soft smiles and liquor in their hands, revelling on their tiny little slice of heaven they carved out for themselves, away from all the pain and harsh truths that laid awaiting in the distance.
Sometimes, Gojo wished he could go back.
"I don't remember you ever being so reasonable, angel."
Angel. Mikazuki didn't know how much she'd missed that nickname until it came out of his lips.
"And you've never been this agreeable."
