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𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈.
You barely raised your blade in time, the impact of Satoru's iron fist nearly jolting it from your grasp. You did your best to stand your ground. But that's easier said than done against the strongest jujutsu sorcerer.
Sweat trickled down your forehead, stinging your eyes. You and Satoru had been at this for what seemed like an eternity. Your arms ached. Your lungs burned. But you wanted it that way. You told him not to stop unless you told him to.
You had sparred before. But today was different—there was an intensity in his eyes you hadn't seen before. It made you wonder if he'd always held back when he was training you.
In a blur, Satoru seized your wrist—a sharp yank, and your katana clattered away. He kicked it aside, eyes locked on yours. Then came a low, sweeping strike, targeting your legs. You jumped back, barely evading the strike, pain shooting through your ankle. But you forced yourself to stay upright.
"You think too much," Satoru said. "Clear your mind. Feel the flow of my cursed energy. Concentrate on me. Not my attacks."
"It's a bit hard when you're trying to kill me," you shot back.
"You wanted this," he reminded you.
Okay, you did tell him not to hold back, but for God's sake, you've lost count of how many times you've been hit today. And he seems to be enjoying this a bit too much.
Without warning, Satoru lunged forward again. Your body reacted on instinct. You dodged to the side just as his hand sliced through the space where your head had been moments earlier. The rush of air against your cheek the only reminder of how close you'd come to a direct hit.
"Too slow," he scolded.
Satoru reset his stance, poised for the next strike. He was merciless. You gritted your teeth. You barely managed to block and dodge his attacks, feeling the rush of air as his strikes narrowly missed your skin. Your own counterattacks always a split second too slow. The sand beneath your feet shifted with each movement, challenging your balance.
"Come on, focus," he urged.
Your heart pounded in your chest. Gradually, you found yourself driven back, each step taking you closer to the water's edge. The waves lapped at your feet, their cold touch startling against your heated skin. Your breathing grew heavier, each inhale torturous. Your muscles ached.
Suddenly, Satoru feinted to the left but struck from the right, catching you off-guard. You stumbled backwards, lost your balance and fell onto the wet sand.
Before you could straighten up, Satoru stood towering over you. His silhouette etched against the sky. "You need a break?"
You lay there for a moment longer, chest heaving, grains of sand clinging to your skin. "No," you managed to gasp out.
"Then stand," he commanded.
You rolled onto your side, struggling to stand up. You wanted to vomit.
"You're reacting based on what you see," his eyes narrowed. "That won't give you control in a fight. You need to sense my next moves, anticipate my attacks."
"Easier said than done when you have the six eyes," you retorted, finally standing upright.
"You don't need the six eyes to do that."
"And how the fuck am I supposed to 'feel' your attacks?"
"You just—" Satoru made a vague, sweeping gesture with his hands in the air. "—feel it, like—"
"Satoru, has anyone ever told you you're a terrible teacher?"
"Ouch," he shook his head with a smirk. "Let's try something different then."
He stepped closer, his hand delving into the pocket of his training pants, searching for something. "You trust me?" he asked.
"Depends."
He moved behind you, his breath hot against your neck. "Why so cautious, love?"
Darkness enveloped your world as he placed his blindfold over your eyes, securing it with a firm tug that drew an involuntary gasp from you.
"Don't tell me I don't know exactly what you need," his words brushed against your ear. He pulled at the blindfold, tilting your head back, his lips grazing the side of your neck ever so slightly. "—know exactly where to put the right amount of pressure."
Your heartbeat quickened. But no—not now.
"Satoru, are we training or are you trying to fuck me?"
He gave a soft chuff, his lips curling into a smile, "Depends."
He released his grip on the blindfold. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. The cool breeze from the sea gently brushed your face, carrying with it the faint scent of salt as you stood still, waiting for him to continue.
"Focus," he said, his presence circling around you. "Let your other senses lead you." Gently, he lifted your hand and pressed it against his chest. His heart beats steady underneath your palm. "Feel my cursed energy," he pressed your hand even tighter against his chest. "You don't need to see me. I want you to feel me."
You bit your bottom lip in concentration. The sensation of his cursed energy was like a pulsating force, a rhythm you could almost grasp. You vaguely understood what he was trying to teach you. You focused, trying to attune yourself to its flow, to understand its movements and intentions without the aid of sight.
"Good girl," he brought your hand to his lips, placing a quick kiss on your knuckles. Then he stepped back, and suddenly the air around him shifted.
"I won't hold back," he declared.
"Alri—"
Before you could finish, Satoru launched into action. His fist hurtled towards your face with lightning speed. You pivoted, narrowly dodging. But he was quick to follow up. Another attack came from the right, catching you off-guard. It sent you stumbling backward, coughing from the impact. The taste of iron filled your mouth.
He was serious.
He gave you no time to think, only to react. You felt another strike, pushing you even further back. You barely managed to avoid his next move. You held your breath. Dropping to the ground, you dodged a high kick. It was a close call.
Fuck.
He was dead serious.
You tried to focus on the rustle of his clothes, the shifting sand beneath his feet, and the pulsing flow of his cursed energy. But he was so fucking fast. He unleashed a flurry of strikes. You managed to block the first few. Then they started landing, each more painful than the last.
"Focus," he paused for a second. Then lunged at you once more.
You blocked his fist, feeling a brief sense of achievement. But it was fleeting. In a swift move, he seized your ankle. Suddenly, you were airborne. You crashed into the ocean, the sudden biting cold shocking you to the core.
You gasped for air, struggling against the crushing waves. In an instant, Satoru was upon you, pressing you down under the water, his hand tight around your throat. His fist drew back, then shot forward. You jerked your head aside at the last moment. His fist slammed into the sand, inches from your face.
He was for real trying to kill you.
Another wave crashed over you, stealing your breath. Water filled your lungs. In desperation, you slammed your knee up into his midsection. He released his grip and staggered backward. You surfaced, gasping sharply for air.
You struggled to get up, your clothes drenched and heavy. Your left side hurt awfully. Probably a broken rib—a slow heal without Shoko's aid. Blood dripped from the corner of your mouth. You wiped it away and stepped out of the water onto the beach.
You could feel his presence, circling around you like a predator around its prey. You had to pivot constantly, tracking his every move. You could hear the faint sound of his breathing, the light touch of his feet on the sand, feel the movement of his cursed energy. Guiding you—turning you to face him each time.
With a quick movement, you ducked under his next attack, feeling the air shift as his arm swept overhead. You struck back, his cursed energy guiding your arm. Your hand grazed fabric, a near miss, but it was progress. A small smile tugged at your lips.
"Don't get ahead of yourself," he cautioned. Then his cursed energy flared.
It was a warning.
He launched a punch, his fists burning with the blue hue of his cursed energy. You twisted away just in time, the heat of his cursed energy rushing past you.
Is he for real—Is he for real using fucking cursed energy now?
You cursed under your breath. Then, you spotted your katana, a faint trace of your own cursed energy subtly marking its location. It laid a few feet away—behind Satoru.
You lunged towards him, even as he charged towards you. Satoru swiped his leg up, aiming to knock you down. You ducked and rolled under his leg, emerging on the other side. Your hand closed around the katana's hilt, lifting it just in time to counter his next assault. You channeled your own cursed energy into the blade, pushing back against his force.
"Stop holding back!" Satoru yelled. "Fight like you mean it!"
He moved again, his movements a blur. In an instant, he was upon you. His fist jabbed towards your chest. You sidestepped, feeling the air shift as his strike missed. Your katana arced through the air, aiming straight for his head.
Satoru reacted instantly. He spun, dodging your blade. The katana sliced only air. He pivoted, launching a kick. You barely blocked it with your right forearm. The impact sent pain shooting up your arms, but you stood firm.
"Fuck, Satoru, what are you trying to do here?" you gasped, your defenses wavering.
"I'm teaching you a lesson," he replied.
Satoru kept up the pressure, each move sharp and forceful. You were constantly on the defensive, retreating step by step. The soft sand of the beach gave way to the firmer ground as you neared the house.
You backed onto the driveway, but there was no break in his onslaught. Each parry and dodge took all your effort. Suddenly, with a powerful kick, Satoru sent you hurtling backwards against his parked car. The windows shattered instantly upon impact.
The cold metal frame bore into your back. Slumped against the car's hood, you gasped for air, spitting blood. Your vision blurred. But then, something within you shifted. Your senses sharpened, adjusting to Satoru's every move. You felt the energy pulsating from him. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once.
Now, even blindfolded, you could sense him closing in—could sense what he was about to do.
The air around Satoru seemed to thrum with cursed energy. He didn't hesitate. You barely had time to raise your katana in defense, the blade glinting in the fading light. But it was in vain for what was to come.
He aimed at you and unleashed a Black Flash. The surrounding air twisted, his cursed energy darkening to an inky black. The world seemed to slow down.
Your katana collided with Satoru's attack, unleashing a shockwave. It tore through you like lightning, reverberating through every bone. The force pushed you brutally into the car. The metal creaked under the immense pressure until it broke. The ground underneath fractured, stones splitting. You clenched your teeth, fighting against the onslaught.
Was that still part of the training?
Or had he gone mad?
He might just fire a purple hollow at you for good measure.
His fist bore down on the blade, pushing relentlessly even as his flesh sliced through the blade. Another sharp pain shot through you—perhaps a second rib had succumbed to his force. Satoru's eyes burned, never leaving your gaze.
"Fight!" he commanded.
That was the breaking point, the thin thread of control snapping. Your instincts took over. Harnessing your own cursed technique, you reached out to the coursing energy of his attack. You had reversed it once; you could do it again. His cursed energy writhed and twisted, resisting your control, but you held firm.
Then, with a defiant cry, you redirected the Black Flash back at Satoru, pushing the blade against him. His eyes widened in shock. The reversed attack struck him with a force he hadn't anticipated, forcing him backwards.
His feet dragged through the sand, leaving deep trails as he fought for balance. But it was in vain. He crashed into a nearby tree with such force that it splintered instantly upon impact.
Seizing the moment, you leapt into action. Your body moved on pure instinct. Spotting an opening, you feigned a move to the left, then swiftly struck to the right with your katana. The blade found its mark, slicing into Satoru's shoulder—sending a surge of cursed energy through him. He stumbled back, a rare look of surprise flashing across his face.
For a brief moment, everything was still. The only sounds were the heavy breathing of you both and the gentle lapping of the waves on the shore.
You tore the blindfold from your eyes, your gaze immediately found Satoru. Blood oozed from his shoulder. Panic rushed through you. Quickly, you withdrew your katana, the blade slick with blood.
Why didn't he use his infinity?
"I'm so sorry, Satoru, I didn't mean—" Your apology was cut short. In an instant, Satoru closed the distance between you. His hand gripped your neck, pulling you into a sudden, violent kiss. His lips set your skin immediately on fire. Burning away the fatigue and pain that had you felt seconds ago. Making you forget the cold of your drenched clothes.
"Satoru, wait—" you tried to speak, your eyes catching a glimpse of the still-bleeding wound on his shoulder.
"Shut up," he breathed against your lips. "I need you—now."
His hands grasped your waist. In one swift motion, he lifted you up, not once breaking the kiss. You wrapped your legs around him as he moved towards the house. Your fingers weaved through his hair, drawing him even closer, responding to each of his intense kisses with equal fervor. A hunger for more, a need to feel every inch of him, skin against skin, overwhelmed you.
He pushed the door open and kicked it shut behind you. In an instant, he had you pinned against the wall beside the door. Your mouths collided again, taking the breath straight out of your lungs. You didn't care. You didn't need it anyway. All you needed was him.
His fingers worked hastily, peeling away layers of clothing. With his bare chest now exposed, you could see the wound on his shoulder slowly closing. Oh, how you wished you could use reverse cursed technique yourself.
He spun you around, your chest pressed against the wall. His hand found your throat and gripped tightly, a gasp escaping your lips. His other arm stretched above you, palm against the wall, enclosing you in his embrace. You could feel his arousal through his pants pressing against you. You arched into him, rubbing up and down against his bulge. A low moan escaped his lips.
"I swear to God, you could make me come with just that," he murmured before his mouth trailed down your neck, sucking and biting, his breath hot and wet against your throat. Heat floods your body in an addictive rush, setting every inch of skin on fire as you felt how hard he was for you.
"Fuck, I need you so bad," he breathed out. Effortlessly, he lifted you and carried you to the couch, throwing you down. Quickly, he removed both your pants and his.
Leaning over you, he speared his fingers through your hair, forcing your head back. "Open your mouth," he commanded and you complied, your tongue instinctively responding. Spit escaped his lips and fell against your tongue. Then his tongue plunged into your mouth again, sliding against your tongue to mingle his spit with yours.
You moaned into his mouth, hands roaming over his back, fingers digging into his skin, feeling the play of muscles beneath, all your pain suddenly gone. Now there was only desire. He closed the gap, pressing his bare chest against yours.
He groaned your name against your lips, sliding his hand between your thighs. He slid the fabric of your underwear across your clit, expertly using it for friction. Your body responded instinctively, arching into his touch, yearning for more. "Fuck, Satoru," you gasped, your voice laced with longing. You could feel him smirking against your lips.
He pushed your legs further apart to have better access. Satoru hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, smoothly pulling them down. Without a second wasted, he slid two fingers inside you. Deep. Slow. Painfully slow.
Your eyes fluttered shut, a choked gasp escaping your lips as he plunged deeper, his fingers skillfully finding and hitting your core. You clenched involuntarily around him. He smiled, pleased with the reaction he had on you. "God, you're already dripping," he said. "I barely did anything."
"Shut up," you managed to say, stifling another moan. The feeling of his fingers moving deeply within you was overwhelming. He swirled them, pressing against your inner walls. Your need for him grew intense, a craving for more—faster—harder.
You tried to push your hips down to pump his fingers in and out of you, but he stopped you before you could move an inch. A groan of frustration escaped you. "Stop playing around, Satoru," you said breathlessly, staring at him with pleading eyes that sent all the remaining blood in his brain south.
"Oh love, I haven't even started yet," he whispered before his head also went south. His cock already painfully straining against his boxers, but he wanted to devour you whole before he had his pleasure. He lifted your leg over his shoulder, planting kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.
Then, he grasped your hips, adjusting you for a better angle. He pressed his mouth to your clit, his tongue alternating between gentle licks and intense, drawn-out pulls. The sensation was overwhelming. Your hand found its way into his hair, gripping tightly as he pushed two fingers inside you once more. His movements of fingers and tongue in perfect sync. A tight coil of tension built rapidly in your core, teetering on the edge of release.
He forced himself to maintain a slow pace, drawing out each of your cries and moans before gradually increasing the pace and intensity until your arousal dripped down his hand. "God, you taste so fucking good," he murmured, his voice vibrating against you.
Then, replacing his fingers with his tongue, he delved deeper, his hand pressing on your lower stomach. The sensation of his tongue moving inside you was intoxicating, causing you to squirm beneath him. "I'm so close," you whimpered, feeling the tension building relentlessly.
"I know," he said, his warm breath against your clit drawing another moan from you. You almost teared up, crying out his name in pleasure. "Come for me, love," he encouraged. You tried to stifle your loud moans with your fist, gripping the fabric beneath you with your other hand. Then, as the tension finally broke, your body shook around him, waves of your climax making you shudder uncontrollably.
Breathless, you tried to regain your composure as Satoru continued to gently lick and tease your clit, making your legs twitch. "You get so fucking tight when you come," he said, then meticulously licked you all up.
Satoru wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, savoring the taste of you. His blood pounded with arousal, visible in the strained fabric of his underwear.
"What the fuck did you do to me," he said, pulling you towards him and onto his lap. You slowly began to grind against the hard bulge beneath, feeling his desire palpable against you. His hands found your hips, guiding your movements. He tilted his head back, moans escaping his throat—fuck, he was so hot when he moaned.
"I won't last long if you keep doing that," he warned breathlessly.
"You don't have to," you whispered, trailing kisses along his neck.
"Oh, I do," he groaned in response, his words punctuated by moans. "I want you to fucking feel it, every second of it." He pulled down his boxers, his erection springing free, thick and visibly pulsing with need, pre-cum glistening at the tip.
You wanted him, all of him, inside you—an overwhelming need that eclipsed everything else.
He lifted you by your waist, positioning you right above his tip, holding you there. Your arms rested against the couch, finding support as you subtly moved your hips back and forth over him. A soft wince escaped him, his eyes fluttering shut before his mouth found yours again. The taste of you still lingered on his tongue, blending with the flavor you had come to crave.
Yearning to feel him all inside of you, you tried to lower yourself onto him. But his hold remained steadfast. "Fuck, Satoru," you exhaled, "—just fuck me already."
"Where's the fun with that, love?" he teased, his lips brushing against yours. He then allowed you to sink down just slightly, just enough to feel him at your entrance. It was alluring and frustrating all at once. You moaned, feeling him stretch you just a bit. You craved more, needed more.
"Just the tip," he whispered close to your ear, making your mind reel. He controlled your movements with precision, guiding you up and down in a torturous rhythm that allowed only the tip to slip in and out.
His lips found solace against the curve of your neck, trying to stifle his own cries of pleasure. His breath, heavy and ragged, synchronized with yours, reflecting a shared desperation. You couldn't take it any longer. "Fuck, Satoru, who's torturing who now?"
"Ha, you're right." In one swift motion, he pushed you down entirely onto him. The sudden fullness made you gasp, clawing at his neck. His pace was slow, maddening, each thrust deep and consuming, hitting just the right spots to make you moan uncontrollably against his neck.
"That's it," he moaned. "Take every inch, just like that. You take me so good." His words were punctuated by his deep, hard thrusts, each one driving you closer to the edge. You cried out, your mind emptied of all thoughts except the sensation of his cock pounding into you.
He pushed you back onto the couch, your back arched under him. Satoru's fingers dug into your throat, applying just enough pressure to intensify the sensation between your legs as he continued his hard thrusts.
Your eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the growing tension within you, but they snapped open as he tugged sharply at your hair, tilting your head back. "Open your eyes," he commanded. "I want you to look at me while you come."
His grip on your throat tightened, his fingers fitting perfectly around your neck, terrifyingly perfect. "I want you to see exactly who's making you feel this way."
He quickly lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, changing the angle—making it even better. Your skin grew hotter as he increased his pace, thrusting into you with such force that you would have slid up the couch if not for his firm grip on your throat.
Suddenly, your second orgasm overwhelmed you. Your back arched into him, nails digging into the skin of his back as your body tightened around him. "God, you're tightening—so—fucking—much on—me," he gasped, struggling to get the words out under the intensity of the sensation.
At that moment, Satoru reached his own climax, spilling inside you with a sharp hiss of pain. His eyes remained locked with yours, allowing you to witness every detail of his expression—the furrowing of his brows, his mouth agape, his hair damp with sweat and clinging to his forehead.
Satoru remained motionless for a moment, both of you catching your breath. Breaking the silence, he leaned in for another kiss, gentle and soft. Gradually, he lowered his head to your chest, his breath warm against your skin. He adorned your skin with soft kisses and licks, savoring the salty taste of your skin.
"You did so good," he said as he pulled out, his cum dripping down your legs. His gentle voice was at complete odds with the feral way he'd fucked you. Satoru glanced up at you, his eyes smiling at you, his satisfaction written all over his face. He continued to gently caress you until your breathing returned to normal.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked.
"A bit late for that question, isn't it?" you raised an eyebrow.
His mouth twitched with amusement, though his eyes remained heavy-lidded with desire. He then stepped back, beginning to collect the clothes scattered around the room.
"Did I hurt you?" you asked, propping yourself up on an elbow, your eyes tracing the faint line on his shoulder where your blade had made its mark.
"It's fine," he replied nonchalantly, tossing your clothes in your direction. "But it's strange, my reverse cursed technique doesn't heal me from your attacks as fast. Might be something about your cursed technique."
"Then why'd you lower your infinity earlier?" you asked, catching the clothes.
"Lower it?" He let out a light chuckle. "Not when you're coming at me like that."
"What?"
"You pierced through it. Wasn't that on purpose?"
"No, I—I mean, I wasn't really thinking about it."
Pulling on his pants, Satoru paused. His jaw might just hit the ground.
"You—What? You just redirected my Black Flash, intensified its power, found a flaw in my defense, broke through my infinity and outpaced me—all without even realizing it? I couldn't even track your move with my six eyes, and you're telling me it was just instinct?"
"Yeah, it all just kind of happened."
Satoru started to laugh. He walked over to you and gently cupped your face in his hands. "God, you've become so strong," he said, his voice soft with admiration. His lips met yours in a tender, loving kiss. "I fucking love you so much."
"But you need to learn to control it, not just rely on instinct," he added.
"Is that why you tried to kill me?" You tone suddenly cold.
Satoru flinched slightly at your words. "You know as well as I do, it's the only way to really push your limits. You wouldn't have attacked me like that if I hadn't done it first."
Yeah, what to answer to that.
But it was him. The Satoru you fell in love with. He probably did not know any other way to train you—just brute force or nothing.
He was so different from Megumi.
"When will I be able to face Mahito?" you asked.
He considered for a moment. "You've likely already surpassed Kugisaki and Itadori, maybe even Fushiguro. But you can become even better. You just need more time."
More time. The very thing you did not want to spend. You didn't want to hide, to bide your time. Your gaze drifted away.
"Hey, look at me," Satoru said, guiding your chin back towards him with his hand. "You're strong, you can beat him. Training, taking your time—it's not a weakness."
His piercing blue eyes held yours, almost overwhelming in their intensity. "Okay," you simply said.
"Good girl," he stood up. "Want some coffee?"
"No, I'm good," you replied, rising to dress yourself.
Slowly, the adrenaline wore off, leaving you painfully aware of the injuries the fight had left you with. Everything hurt so awful. You walked over to the glass front of the living room and peered out. Each step painful. It was already getting dark outside.
Carefully, you touched the side of your ribs, assessing the damage. Even the slightest pressure sent a sharp pain through your body. Satoru moved to your side, his gaze lingering on you.
"Does it hurt?"
"It's fine," you said, trying to downplay the pain. But a sharp flinch as you probed your abdomen betrayed you.
"Let me," he said, carefully lifting you onto the countertop of the kitchen. Despite your elevated position, he still stood taller. His hands moved gently over your skin, searching for injuries. As he found each bruise and cut, his movements grew more urgent, his brows furrowing.
"Fuck," he hissed under his breath, as if he only now fully grasped how deeply he had hurt you. The sight of your pain struck him deeper than any physical wound ever could.
Frantically, he rummaged through a drawer and returned with disinfectant and bandages. Opening the package with a quick tear of his teeth, he carefully began tending to your wounds. Each touch was gentle, but his hands trembled. You winced as the antiseptic stung the cuts.
Suddenly, Satoru's composure cracked, his voice breaking. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "If only I could use my reversed cursed technique to heal you—or fuck at least teach it to you—,"
He wiped the back of his hand hastily across his eyes. "Fuck, I'm so sorry," he repeated.
Your blood ran cold at his sudden vulnerability, seeing the man who always seemed untouchable, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, now laying bare before you. He looked so young right in this moment. So broken.
"Satoru," you said softly, but he didn't really hear you.
Silence followed. The soft rustle of clothing and the distant lapping of the ocean waves the only sound. Satoru's touch was painstakingly gentle as he wrapped bandages around your abdomen, as if he feared causing you even more pain. He avoided meeting your eyes.
"Satoru, it's okay," you repeated. He did not answer.
"Satoru—," you said again, this time reaching out to grasp his arm, halting his movements. He blinked, as if coming out of a trance, and looked up, revealing his red-rimmed eyes—a sight you had never seen before. It nearly made you cry. You never wanted to see him so broken ever again.
"It's okay," you said, holding his gaze. "That's what we do. We fight."
Your words were meant to comfort, but you saw the subtle tension in his jaw, the catch in his throat that betrayed his inner turmoil.
"I hurt you," he said, as if he couldn't really believe it himself.
"You did, and it hurt," you said, cupping his face between your hands to calm his trembling. "But I asked for it. I told you not to hold back, because I need you to train me. It was my choice."
His eyes, usually so bright and playful, were so dark and unfamiliar. "I should have been more careful. I should be the one protecting you, not hurting you. I should—"
"Stop. Satoru, stop. You've always protected me, more than anyone ever has," you insisted, trying to ease his guilt.
He swallowed hard, the tension in his jawline still evident. "I'm sorry," he repeated.
"I'm fine, Satoru. You could never hurt me. No matter what you do to me."
His gaze lingered on you, searching for the lie in your eyes. He nodded after a second, but the worry didn't fully leave his face.
"And now get me some damn morphine, or I'll pass out,'" you added.
He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He rummaged through the drawers once more, his movements more composed now. Finding what he was looking for, he handed you a pill and a glass of water. "This should help."
As you took the medication, he resumed tending to your wounds, his touch more confident now.
"I think I may need a new car," he quipped, plucking a small shard of glass from your skin.
"Yeah, that's totally done," you said with a chuckle, but immediately regretted it as you felt a sharp pain again. You winced slightly.
"Easy, love," Satoru said, planting a tender kiss on your forehead before returning to tend to your wounds.
A comfortable silence enveloped the room. You turned slightly and gazed out the window, watching the waves crashing gently against the shore. "It's so beautiful."
Satoru looked at you. "Yes, it is."
"You know we could stay here," he eventually said.
You turned to face him. "What are you talking about?"
"No one knows we're here. We could leave it all behind. Forget the chaos." You could see the pain in his eyes. How much he wanted it. Just to be. Nothing more. Here in this house. As a couple. Away from all danger. It broke your heart to say it.
"That's not us, Satoru. We're sorcerers. We know nothing more than the fray, we deserve nothing more than that. That's our reality."
"I'd give it all up for you."
"No, you wouldn't, Satoru. I know that as well as you do. You thrive in the midst of sorcery, in the thrill of battle. It's as much a part of you as it is of me."
"Doesn't that scare you?" he asked, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.
"Does it scare you?" you echoed back.
"You're insane," he muttered.
"Perhaps," you said with a wicked smile. "But I wouldn't want to marry someone who didn't find sheer pleasure in killing curses."
His eyes widened a fraction. "Is that—are you saying yes?"
"Maybe," your lips curved into a smile. "But first, kiss me."
No sooner had the words left your lips than he was upon you, his mouth pressing fervently against yours, moving in perfect harmony. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close, lifting you in a whirl of excitement. "Ahh, Satoru, that hurts," you winced, and he immediately set you down with care. "Sorry, sorry," he apologized quickly.
"I fucking love you," he said as he showered your face with kisses, repeating "I—love—you," with each gentle press of his lips.
You allowed yourself to be enveloped in his affection, savoring each kiss, knowing that whatever was to come was far from easy—far from pretty—far from safe. Dread lingered within you, the feeling that your time together was running out.
You should tell him. Tell him what you're going to do, but—
No.
You didn't want to destroy this moment. You wanted to hold onto this sweet haze a bit longer.
"I love you too, Satoru."
You meant it, more than anything.