Ataraxia 平静 | Gojo Satoru

-'๑'-𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟕-'๑'-

Nobara hastened her steps to join us, her breath forming wisps in the chilly air.

"They only had one size left in that color," she lamented, struggling with the ridiculous amount of bags she carried.

Shoko and I exchanged a glance, stifling our laughter.

"I'm sure she'll love the skirt as it is," I patted her shoulder.

"But Maki-san isn't really into fashion," Nobara sighed. "What if she thinks I'm being superficial?"

"She won't," Shoko chimed in, flicking her lighter open.

As we strolled down the bustling street, Shibuya's buildings twinkled with festive lights and decorations. The holiday spirit was palpable, families and couples filling the plaza with laughter and warm embraces.

A soft smile curved my lips as I watched a little girl tug on her father's sleeve, pointing excitedly at a hot chocolate cart.

"Do you want some, Pebble?" Shoko asked, leaning in beside me.

I waved her off. "No, no, thank you. I was just lost in thought."

"Have you finished buying everyone's gifts, Sensei?" Nobara asked, linking her arm with mine.

"Most of them," I murmured, my gaze drifting to the large bag I carried. "I still need to find something for Gojo."

The days crawled by agonizingly slow following my quarrel with Yaga, drowned in a sea of contracts, papers, and tedious phone calls. Gojo's visits were scarce, limited to requests for assignments, while he appeared preoccupied with the students. But I saw through the facade.

He was avoiding me.

Or rather, he was waiting for me to make the first move. It had been convenient to bury myself in work, using it as a shield against his fleeting glances and teasing smirks. But after our altercation a few days back, things started to feel. . . different.

If I wasn't already bewildered by my own conflicting emotions, his cryptic confession had thrown me completely off balance. Once, I couldn't stand the sight of him, couldn't bear to hear his voice without feeling resentment flare up. But now. . . his aura, once a challenge, had become something strangely alluring, beckoning.

A promise for something dangerous.

I knew it was a trap of sorts. My pride screamed for restraint, yet thoughts of Gojo occupied my mind more than I cared to admit. That 'game' he spoke of, its full meaning eluded me, but still, I couldn't shake the question. Was everything a game to him?

Was I?

If my mind wasn't already swirling with doubt and confusion, my sleep had deteriorated further. The dreams persisted, haunting me night after night until I questioned my own sanity. The dragon's breath, the searing pain, the plummet—it all felt etched into my very soul, as though a mere blink would thrust me back into the nightmarish cycle.

And then there was the voice in my head. . .

"Pebble?" Shoko nudged me with a hand. "Did you even hear a word I said?"

I snapped my eyes to her narrowed ones. "Oh."

"That's a no."

"Sorry, what were you saying?" I managed a tight smile.

She eyed me for a beat longer before sighing in defeat. "I asked what you're planning to buy for the idiot."

Nobara and I snickered in unison.

"Well, I'm not sure yet. Usually, you'd go for something hobby-related, but he barely has any since he's so 'good at everything'," I rolled my eyes.

"Men are simple creatures," Nobara remarked casually, scrolling through her phone. "Gojo-sensei is no exception, Infinity and all that. Get him a Lego set."