The next moments were a rushed blur. Shimizu and Fujiwara had called the police, and Daiki's father was arrested for harming school teachers. Imai was devastated at herself, and Hina told her that it wasn't her fault.
"He was constantly missing school." Imai bit out, cradling in on herself. She had bruised her ankle when Daiki's father pushed her. "He was constantly missing class, and I never ... he always smiled, and he always apologized for his wrongdoings, but I just never—his parents always refused to have a conference ... and I just .."
Hina looked down at her solemnly. "Don't blame yourself too much. We all should have noticed." Hina couldn't say anything more. At the end of the day, what happened happened. There wasn't a way to go back and fix it—all they could do now was deal with the present.
And right now, at the present—Hina was sitting on the rooftop of the apartment complex, leaning her back against the concrete fence. The air was cool—not so cold that shivers of ice would crawl up her arms—but not hot enough to make her sweat. The sky was dark, and Hina found herself trying to count all the stars she could find. It wasn't a lot.
"Having trouble sleeping?"
Her eyes, which were once closed, shot open. Her head whipped around, and Hina found herself laying her eyes on Gojo, who was standing on the ledge.
"Young master!"
"Hina." He greeted in return.
"What are you doing? Get down from there, people will see you!" She stressed, confused whether or not she should stand—but her legs felt like jelly.
He simply hopped off the concrete barrier and seated himself next to her. Hina sighed heavily, looking at him with an emotion even she herself couldn't explain.
She looked away. "Do you think he'll be alright?"
Gojo tilted his head to the side, humming in thought. "Who knows. He'll meet new friends, but his happiness isn't guaranteed."
Hina cradled in on herself at the thought of Daiki. In this society, not everyone accepts foster care. She would only have to hope that Daiki was now living a better life than he was before.
After a beat of silence, Gojo spoke. "You were angry."
Hina blinked. ". . . I was."
"Why?"
Why? Hina didn't know how to explain it. Yes, anyone would get angered at the thought of a parent abusing their child—but there was something else biting at Hina, telling her that this is personal, and you let your own personal feelings show.
"Anyone would be angry." Hina says instead.
"But," He continued. "Why were you?"
She frowned. "I . ." She trailed off, confused. Just what answer did he want? What did he want from her?
"Hina." He said quietly. It made her feel weak.
"He was being . . . hurt." She started, choosing her words carefully. "And he was—he was only a child, and I love children—so I can't help but feel . ."
Her cheek tingled. What Hina went though—it was never to that extent—Daiki faced far worse than her, but she could still imagine and just feel—
She remembered the dark, candle-lit room.
And then she thought of the dim classroom.
Her fingernails dug into her arm.
"I understand people have problems . . . it's because we are human—"
You are human. You can think. You can feel.
She doubted he remembered his words now.
"—and this society, the society we live in—it creates us, then breaks us apart, and then it puts us back together again—but never in the same way as when we were born."
Kaito wasn't the same after his father died. Toko wasn't the same after she lost her husband. What happened today would leave a mark in Imai's mind forever. Even Shimizu was starting to change.
And Gojo definitely wasn't the child he used to be.
And Hina . .
She looked at her hands.
Has she changed as well?
"And that doesn't," She inhaled. "That doesn't make it right for people to do such things, and it doesn't give them an excuse—but what I'm trying to say is that I just wish that . ."
She trailed off.
That what?
Was she trying to be fair? And she was trying to, not naturally? Was it too personal to her, so personal that she couldn't see why anyone could do those things? Of course, she knew that there would be factors and reasons—but did that make them innocent?
Did that make it okay for them to harm others?
Glimpses of the past flashed in her mind—she remembered that candle-lit room, she remembered the screams of the other young girls just like her, she remembered how sharp those fingernails were, how sharply they pierced her skin, drawing blood and bruises and she remembered the pain so vividly, a pain that ate her from the inside out and crushed her small body—
So, don't you try to play all innocent, you putrid, insolent brat—!
She was clutching her face now, her breaths heavy as she breathed in and out, and in and out.
Hina was too selfish to forgive her.
And she was a terrible person for that.
"Can't we . ." She swallowed, sighing shakily. "Can't we be better?"
Is it possible for us to be better, so that those who come after us will also be better?
"Are you crying?" Gojo inquired, and Hina almost laughed.
She shook her head. "No, no. I'm just thinking about a lot."
"Then," He began. "That cursed technique of yours seems kinda interesting. Care to share?"
Ah.
He was changing the subject.
But why this particular subject?
"What do you mean?" She questioned, wanting to play aloof on this matter for just a little while longer.
"You know what I mean."
"Yeah, well," She laughed dryly, looking at her hands again. "It's not anything strong, or—or powerful."
"I know." Gojo says, tapping his bandages with his index finger. "It's just kinda weird. So I'd like to hear it from you."
"Is this that favor you were talking about?"
"Wha? No. I'm saving that for something else. But I'd really like it if you did tell me."
She lifted a brow.
"Pleeease." He begged. "It's not like you did much to try and hide it, anyway."
Ah, she really didn't. It has been sitting somewhere at the back of Hina's mind—amongst many other things—but she always wondered why she never put in much effort to hide her abilities from him. Perhaps it was because she assumed he would find out anyway—after all, he did have quite special eyes. But there was something else, something she wasn't sure on how to word yet.
She'll figure it out later.
Hina, ever so slowly, reached out her palm to him, mirroring the time he showed his Infinity to her. He tilted his head to the side in curiosity.
"Are you scared?" She joked.
He scoffed. "Oh, I am absolutely terrified." He lifted his hand, which was so much bigger than hers, and softly touched it with hers. It reminded her of the rain that day when they were sitting in her apartment.
Hina inhaled quietly, letting her cursed power flow from her mind, her heart, her stomach, allowing it to run down to the center of her palm to the tips of her fingers.
Then she let it run through him.
She imagined running water, breaking into smaller streams. She imagined Toko's hands, how she used to mend and fix her clothing when the buttons fell out. She imagined raindrops trickling down the window.
For a second, he didn't move. Hina only noticed the small movements after, the shift of his blindfold as he creased his eyebrows, the way his lips slightly parted then closed again, how his shoulders shifted in place.
She drew it back, cutting off the stream.
Hina retracted her hand, and so did he.
"That was weird." Gojo said after a second.
"I know." She says, sighing.
"Sharing feelings, huh?" He nodded slowly, somewhat amused. "And quite literally too."
"Yup."
"What were you even feeling?" He asked. "You got me confused. It's just a jumble of a bunch of emotions."
"A lot happened today."
"Woah," He scratched his bandages. "Sharing feelings is weird."
"It's not just sharing feelings." She countered. "I can feel what another person is feeling. I can numb feelings. I can enhance a feeling that is already felt by someone at that moment."
As a teenager, Hina always noticed how tired and drained Toko was—especially in her mind. She was no mind reader, but she could tell how much a person's mind affects their emotions. When Toko really needed it, Hina would put her to sleep.
"But that kid." Gojo added. "How'd you know about the bruises? They were external pain, weren't they?"
"I feel like you know this already." Hina pointed out.
He shrugged innocently. "Maybe I do, maybe I don't. I just wanna hear it from you."
Hina played with her sleeves. "External pain . . . it can impact a person's own internal feelings." She explained. "As long as that link is there, I can connect to it. I can feel it."
"Can you . ."
Hina raised a brow at his inquiries.
He held his hands up innocently. "Just curious! Can you make someone . . let's just say, scared outta their mind? Like seeing a clown in those horror movies?"
A clown? Hina shook her head. "I . . I never really tried to make someone unwillingly scared, but . . I have tried to make someone feel happy."
Her hand, reaching for Toko's arm.
"Did it work?" Gojo asks.
"Don't be sad." She had said. "Isamu-san said he doesn't like it when you're sad."
"No, it didn't." She answered.
Her eyes remained blank.
"It's because . . It's because I also have to feel happy. Or scared. Or angry, or whatever feeling I want them to feel. If I'm not feeling it, then my . . my empathy won't be strong enough."
"Huh." Gojo says. "That really isn't a useful technique for battle." He notes nonchalantly, leaning his cheek on his knuckle.
Hina chuckled. "I know it's not. To be honest, I don't even know why I have it."
"That's actually understandable."
Her head shot up from her knees. "You are so . ." She shook her head in amusement.
"So what?"
"Do you," She paused before continuing. "Forgive my rudeness, but do you think before you speak?"
Gojo looked offended. "What? Of course I do!" He tapped his head with his finger. "This brain's running on lollipops and ice cream. It's thinking, alright."
Nevermind. Hina sighed, leaning forward until her chin rested on her knee. She eyed him carefully.
"And what about you?" She asked.
She felt his eyes on her. "What about me?"
It was rude of her to ask this question. It was unthinkable. If she were still within the walls of the Gojo Estate, she would be punished dearly for this.
But she was feeling a lot right now. Her emotions stirred unpredictability, which led her to these strange inquiries.
"Do you, Gojo Satoru," She started, his full name tasting strangely heavy on her tongue. "Know why you were born with what you have?"
Do you know why you were born the strongest sorcerer alive?
It was a heavy question. Hina didn't really know why she asked it—it was as if they were getting closer, and Hina allowed herself—dared herself to ask these things, to treat him as such.
But just as they got closer, he would pull away from her.
And Hina would too.
But at the moment, she was vulnerable. Before he would pull away, before he would leave for another mission—she would allow herself to indulge in this.
He still looked pensive. Maybe she brought it too far.
"Nevermind—"
"Why are you up here?"
Hina blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"You didn't answer the door, and I ended up finding you here. Why?"
"Change of scenery, I suppose?" She chuckled in confusion. "Sometimes I feel confined there, and when I do I come up here. It's the highest spot I can go."
Hina stood up, looking over the view of nighttime Tokyo. Gojo stood up after her, following her gaze.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" She turned to him, pulling strands of hair over her ear but to no avail, as the wind blew them apart. "I like it up here."
Gojo lifted his hand, pulling at the white bandages at the back of his head.
"Do . . . you?" She breathed, then almost stopped completely.
Hina saw the bandages unravel like thick threads loosening from its seams.
And a second later, she found herself staring up at his crystalline, sky-blue eyes.
"We're not very high up, Hina." He says, looping his blindfold around his wrist, tying it off tightly.
"We're not." She said quietly, although disagreeing with her own words—she let herself be taken by the tide once more, and Gojo was keeping her from escaping. It's not like she's ever climbed the Tokyo Tower, or had ever been someplace higher than that.
His hair fell over his eyes every so often, and to Hina he almost looked like a completely different person. It was the first time she'd seen him in years with his eyes completely shown, irises sharp and icy.
He looked so much like that boy she served all those years ago.
"We can go higher."
We can, Hina almost said. She felt a tingle in her fingertips, her heart beating with an unknown anticipation. Something was going to happen.
A gust of wind tickled her skin, and she suddenly felt arms travel around her waist, bringing her close.
She screwed her eyes shut.
The next thing she knew, the ground beneath her was gone.
Wind rushed through her hair, hitting against her skin as Hina flailed for support, almost screaming. They were in the sky. They were floating—standing in the middle of the sky—no, Gojo was. How? Was he always able to do that? What is even happening?
The ground was so far down.
Hina was going to die.
"Oh my goodness—!" She felt wind rush up her ankles. "Young master, put me down!"
"But the air is nice up here."
"Young master!" She yelped, looking down at her feet. The ground seemed so far, and if Hina fell surely she would—
"Young master please—!"
"The temperature's perfect today, don't you think?"
"Young master!"
Why was the wind so strong up here? Another gust of wind blew across her face, causing her to quickly enfold her arms around Gojo's neck and back, pressing her face against his shoulder with her eyes closed shut.
Her breath shook, "Put-put me down, please."
He was silent for a moment, and all Hina could hear was the wind blowing against her ears, all Hina could feel was the coldness of the wind, the fear bubbling in her chest and stomach—
How warm he felt against her.
...Where did that thought come from?
The arm around her waist tightened. "Don't be scared." He told her quietly. "I've got you."
Hina tried to even out her breathing, focusing on the warmth of which her face was pressed up against, the scent of whatever detergent or cologne he used.
I've got you.
She trusted him.
Hina slowly opened her eyes, blinking at the dark sky. She hesitantly looked around, even daring to look beneath her.
She had either calmed down, or was now crazy, because looking at Tokyo beneath her feet didn't seem to scare her anymore.
Her lips broke into a wide smile, almost chuckling at the sight of it. It was beautiful. The sight was beautiful—and the sky—she's never been this high up before.
She brushed a hand in the air, feeling the strong breeze in between her fingers.
She was free.
Hina laughed, relishing at the feeling of being unbound, unburdened, even if just for a moment.
-
After a while, they returned to the rooftop of her apartment complex. Hina stepped down first, carefully dropping her foot onto the concrete. She sighed in relief, her legs somewhat shaky. It took her a moment to regain her balance.
Gojo stepped down beside her, his hands in his pockets as he spoke simply, "Are you gonna throw up?"
She shook her head quickly, using the concrete fence as leverage to balance herself. "I'm—fine."
Hina sat down, leaning against the concrete. She looked up at him, "Do you think people saw us?"
He shrugged. "Meh. Who knows."
"Young master . . ."
"It's fine!" He beamed with a grin. "It was worth it anyway, right? It looked to me like you enjoyed it."
Hina felt her cheeks redden from embarrassment. "I—I did." She swallowed, shying away from his gaze. "Thank you, Young master."
"Now now Hina, why so shy?"
"I'm not." She insisted.
"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows, eyes glistening in the moonlight. "What's this? It was fun for you, wasn't it?"
"It—it was."
"Then?"
"Then what?" She crossed her arms, looking off to the side.
"I can take you again if you want to, you know. We can stand on top of the Tokyo Tower—"
"Absolutely not!" She laughed, her embarrassment residing, amusement drawing in. "Then we would definitely be seen!"
"You're no fun." He pouted.
"You talk as if you've stood in the Tokyo Tower before."
He didn't answer. He looked incredibly guilty, whistling off to the side with his arms crossed. Oh, this boy.
"Young master!"
"Hina!" He shot back, turning back to her. His eyes were wide and so, so bright.
And she stared at them, not counting the seconds ticking by.
Gojo Satoru's eyes sparkled brighter than any other star she's ever seen.
Hina snapped out of her trance when Gojo blinked a couple of times, grimacing as he looked off to the side, rubbing his eyelids slowly—pausing as he took a breath.
Hina watched in realization.
Why do you cover your eyes?
She watched as he took his hand off his eyes, untying the white bandages around his wrist. He unraveled it, about to start wrapping it around his face again.
"Wait."
His movements stopped. Eyes still showing and hair still falling over his eyebrows, he glanced at her wordlessly.
Hina pushed herself up, advancing towards him. She stopped in front of him.
"Let me."
He blinked.
"Please." She tilted her head, holding her hand out. "Let me give it a try. It can't be that hard, can it?"
Gojo raised his eyebrows at her, expression pensive and thinking. His eye twitched—and it was so slight and so brief that Hina wouldn't have noticed it if she wasn't looking as closely as she was.
"Don't you strangle me now."
He bunched the bandages up into his palm, placing them in her waiting one.
She chuckled. "I won't."
Hesitantly, she started by reaching out her free hand, her palm brushing against his forehead as she tried to lift his bangs up, standing on the tip of her toes (her shoes made it hard to stay still, however—she had chosen to wear ankle boots with two-inch heels today).
His eyes flickered to her hand then back to her, watchful and observing.
Hina frowned. "You're . . too tall." She dropped her hand from his forehead.
"I get that a lot." He joked.
Hina almost rolled her eyes, a smile lingering on her lips. She looked around, unsure of what to do for a few seconds before spotting the ground.
Oh. That could work.
"Let's just," She shuffled awkwardly, before sitting down on the concrete, looking up at him. "Sit down, so I can . . do it properly."
He blinked down at her, looking somewhat lost. Still, almost.
It was strange to look at—he ought to stop that.
"Well, come on." She ushered him with a hand. "I don't bite."
His eyes moved from hers, traveling down to her hand, then back to her eyes.
"You don't bite."
He sat down in front of her, resting his arm on his raised knee as the other leg folded under the arch. Hina's eyes flickered momentarily to his folded legs, then back to the bandages in her hands.
He really is tall.
She stood on her knees, pulling the bandages around the back of his head, eyebrows furrowing as she tried to figure out which way to go first.
"Do you usually start it from the front or the back?" She asked, adjusting the bandages in her hands.
He raised an eyebrow at her. "I thought you said you knew what you were doing."
"I never said that."
"Huh."
Hina sighed, pulling at the bandages. They had a smooth texture. They were flexible, but firm.
She huffed, pursing her lips. Here goes nothing.
Hina went with instinct. Did she wear bandages around her head to cover her eyes? No. Did she injure herself on a daily basis? No, she didn't. She led the bandage around his head, tucking it over his ear, making sure it was comfortable but secure. She lifted each strand of hair, tucking the bandages under so that his hair swooped upwards. She felt concentrated as she handled them, pulling in the white cloth in between her fingers. It was a task she took on, and now it was her job to fulfill it.
Before covering his eyes, Hina locked eyes with him for a second, blinking at him as he blinked back at her in return.
She gave him a quick smile, and after a second, he let out a small grin back.
His eyes closed, and the bandages overlapped one another.
After unraveling and redoing, she finally tucked the end of the bandage under itself at the back of his head, making sure it was securely locked in place.
"There." Hina finally said, shifting backwards. She was surprised herself to see that it looked decently good. It looked the same as how she would usually see it on Gojo, so she considered it a win.
"Feeling better?" She asked, stretching her fingers out.
She watched as he patted his blindfold, fingers running across the lines. He whistled, sounding somewhat impressed. "Not bad, Hina. I might just ask you to do it for me from now on."
She felt her cheeks heat up slightly. "No."
"No?"
"No." Hina repeated. "How would that even work?"
"Good point." Gojo nodded, smoothing out his hair with his palm. "This was very kind of you, Hina. Thank you."
She ignored the light feeling in her head when he said that, and the way her stomach fluttered and just how affected she felt by it. But something else clouded it, allowing her to speak clearly.
"I think that's the first time you've ever thanked me for something, Young master."
His mouth gaped. "Wha—huh? No it's not!"
"Oh of course it's not."
"It's not! I show my gratitude all the time, Hina!"
"You have odd ways of showing it—"
"And you're becoming too bold!"
She raised her eyebrows. "I am?"
"You are." He nodded, before they heard something buzz. Gojo took out his phone from his pocket, the screen lighting up his face. He was still for a few seconds, and by watching him, Hina already knew where this was going.
It was unfortunate, really. She didn't want this night to end.
"Ah, duty calls." Gojo sighed, sliding his phone back into his pocket as he stood up.
"This late?" She asks, standing up after him.
"It's never too late for exorcising curses, Hina." He says, smoothing the bandages over his eyes. There was something unreadable in his tone, an underlying meaning that she couldn't understand. It was something that she, perhaps, wasn't supposed to know.
But she wanted to know. She wanted to know more about him.
"Okay." She says, the quiet breeze brushing against her skin. He turned to her, giving her a steady look.
"I'll stop by when I can." He told her, before warping away.
She found herself staring at the spot, the spot where Gojo had stood only seconds ago. He left no trace, no indication to tell her that he had been here. All Hina could rely on was her own memory.
She wanted to tell him to be careful, or at least ask him when.
Hina stayed up there for a little while longer after.
And when she finally decided to leave, to return back to her apartment and retire for bed, Hina couldn't shake off the strange feeling that seemed to dance on her hands, one step after another. She thought back to the rooftop, recalling their sudden soar into the sky, and the way the bandages felt in her hands, how her fingers lightly brushed against his brow, the skin next to his eye, the feathery texture of his hair and oh my god why was she even thinking about that?
She needed to sleep.
So she did. Hina forced herself to sleep, but not before contemplating the highly regretted, unexpected boldness that she demonstrated that night.