𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐒𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆. 𝗷𝘂𝗷𝘂𝘁𝘀𝘂 𝗸𝗮𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗻

°⌜ 𝟎𝟓 ⌟°

　°⌜　𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐒𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆　⌟°　

　°⌜ 　 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐕.　 ⌟°　

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Disclaimer: This chapter mentions violence briefly.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

From the earliest recollection of Geto's childhood, the familiar scent of tatami mats wafts through his memory.

The sliding shoji doors surrounding the family area exude an air of tradition that his mother insists is a mark of proper households.

"The family area is where proper families gather," she would say, her words laden with a sense of duty and expectation.

As a young boy, Geto nodded in agreement, taking in the low wooden table at the room's center – the hub of his activities.

The house, for the most part, is a haven of meticulous order.

Shoes align themselves neatly by the entrance, and every decoration, each lingering piece of paper, maintains its designated position. There is no room for disorder.

In this quiet abode, the absence of mind-numbing distractions like video games, television, manga, or board games is conspicuous.

For Geto's parents, literature and calligraphy are the only sanctioned forms of amusement, avenues through which they impart their unique definition of enjoyment and happiness.

In the absence of typical childhood diversions, Geto has honed his recreational skills. His handwriting, as remarked upon by many, is a manifestation of the commitment to decency instilled in him from a young age.

The path laid out for him by his parents is clear: a series of milestones leading to a life preordained.

Success is not a choice but an expectation.

Geto meticulously plots the course in his mind – graduate high school, excel in the college entrance exam, secure a demanding job, find a suitable partner, settle down, have a family, and consider it a life fulfilled.

But then, an unexpected variable enters the equation of his existence.

[Name] Renzuko.

Initially, this unrefined, overwhelmingly kind boy was just another person in the periphery, someone he would acknowledge with a forced smile, an obligatory nod.

However, fate takes an unforeseen turn when you willingly consume a curse on Geto's behalf – a vile, mind-altering experience he was spared from enduring.

This selflessness shatters the walls Geto had carefully built to keep people at a distance. Suddenly, you become more than a distant acquaintance. The involuntary concern for your well-being takes root, evolving into a genuine care that defies the norms of his carefully constructed life.

As others perceived them, improper feelings began to bloom within him.

As a master of emotional concealment, Geto is adept at masking his true feelings, especially the ones deemed inappropriate.

He must appear calm, collected, and impervious to the emotional turmoil. Yet, the unconventional emotions you inspire threaten to breach the composed façade he presents.

Dressed in a crisply pressed kimono, his black hair elegantly tied back, and the usual cascade of loose left-sided bangs tamed, he cuts a look of composed elegance.

Lips pursed and fingers clutching his robe unconsciously, his onyx gaze fixates on the tray you carefully place on a low wooden table. Your hand moves deliberately, pouring hot tea into porcelain cups. As you work, you gently pull back the long sleeve of your dark green kimono, ensuring it stays clear of the cups.

The weight of his gaze suggests that more than a casual tea ceremony is at stake; it's as if their entire future hinges on the success of this meeting.

It does. Desperately.

Yet, even the slightest mishap sends him into a silent panic. His nerves would flare up like a live wire, tensioning as he navigates the delicate dance of formality with his parents.

But with finesse, you present the filled cups to Geto's parents.

However, his father remains impassive, offering no acknowledgment, while even his mother's usual bland smile seems to elude her on this occasion. A dry happiness fails to reach her onyx irises.

Seating yourself alongside Geto, you bow your head courteously to his parents.

The air is heavy with the unspoken formality always accompanying encounters with his parents.

More wary than usual, Geto tends to avoid such instances, his parents capable of inducing fear even without uttering a word.

While it is not a need but a desire for their approval, it lingers as a desperate hope for relief from the fear of disappointing them.

His mother breaks the silence with a gentle swallow before addressing her son directly. "When have these feelings extended beyond the boundaries of friendship, Suguru?"

In an attempt to hide his nervousness, Geto stiffens his shoulders.

His tone is firm. "The moment I realize that when I don't see him, I think about him. When he cries, my heart shatters. When he smiles, my mood lightens up. When he is hurt, I get worried. That is when I started liking him not as a friend but as a man."

His mother, eyes shut, opens them slowly, revealing long black lashes. "You know this relationship is improper within our family. But, I shall understand that you both are too young to grasp the concept of love properly, so I believe you have mistaken this form of sensation as the youth's curiosity to fulfill these lustful urges. Sorry, Renzuko, Suguru, we cannot give you our blessing to continue."

The rejection, though anticipated, has its sting.

Geto braced himself for the aftermath, hoping his far worse fears remained safely tucked away.

If he had to choose between his parents and you -- there was only one obvious answer.

"I didn't come here to ask for your permission," Geto asserts, his voice firm but laced with an underlying truth. "I only gave you this formality to inform you of my relationship with [Name] as a courtesy of you both being my parents. You are mistaken if you believe these feelings will make me abandon my duty as your son."

His father's brooding dark eyes meet his, but before any response, a swift motion—his father's palm smacks across his face. The sharp sound echoes in the room.

"How shameful of a mother I have become for raising a disobedient son," his mother intones, watching Geto sit frozen, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. "You have caused me much pain, son."

Another slap follows.

"Your lies, promising not to make us look bad."

Another.

Dull eyes stare down at the two boys. "Disgracing us to become garbage, parasites to society."

Another.

"Are you even my son? The dutiful son I remember only wanted to repay his parents for the breath he breathes."

The onslaught continues, each slap a painful reminder of the expectations he's failed to meet.

Liquid drips from his nose, smearing his lips before splattering on the wooden floors. Red tints his skin, a visible mark of the burning slaps and the stinging wave of ice over his head. His parents have given him a taste far worse than the curses he consumes.

Worried, Geto looks toward you, hoping for comfort or support.

When he reaches for your hand, you jerk it away and press your head and knees against the wooden flooring in hurried fear. Your fingers curl into fists, hiding the trembling within them.

Tears prickle from your eyes, and even Geto notices them drip to the ground.

"It is my fault! Please do not punish him!" you plead, a tremor in your voice.

His blood runs cold when he hears this. Now, this was his biggest fear.

"[Name]—!"

"See, now this starts to make sense," his mother hums, rising from her cushioned spot to stand beside you. A gentle smile masks the horror in her dull eyes.

The sounds of the woman's feet walking on the wooden floor knock in your ear. They're coming near you. When she tells you to get up, your feet shift, and you slowly stand up, head still fixated on the floor.

Her stare never leaves, much like a hawk fixed on its prey.

"[Name], you always wanted the best for my son," his mother patronizes, head tilted with a condescending air. "If true, please do not corrupt my son's dutiful soul with this unsavoury urge. Keep these improper feelings away from him; do not burden our hearts with this disgrace to our proper family."

Every muscle in your body tightens, eyes locked on the ground.

A moment of silence passes before her hand enters your field of vision. You cringe at the sight of her long, manicured nails, holding your breath as her soft, curled fingers gently guide your face upward.

"May you grant us and my son this kindness to save his future?" The disdain in her tone leaves you feeling strangely inadequate.

Her head tilts, redirecting your gaze to Geto, the red-cheeked boy reflecting an unusual worry in his eyes.

You're too kind, and people exploit that. The last thing you want is to disappoint them further for his sake.

"Don't let them scare you." He pleads.

"I'm sorry, so very sorry..." you whisper, but that apology seems more directed toward Geto than the mother. "I have tainted your son's heart... It is all my fault."

Never has Geto doubted he'd choose you over his parents, regardless of consequences or disappointment in their gaze. But does that certainty exist for you? Why does he worry so much that... you wouldn't choose him?

"Suguru..."

"Suguru... SU-GU-RU! Sugu--!"

Geto snaps back to reality. "Huh?"

"Isn't it unbelievable?! The fact that he is gone... forever!" Gojo tears up, staring at a picture on his phone, "he left us so soon!"

However, after enduring his whines for an hour, Ieiri grows impatient.

"Yeah, that is upsetting, but life goes on, and what's done is done, so let's move on," the girl presses, checking her answers with Geto's page, "What did you get for this question?"

Gojo frowns at her irritably. "Has his sudden tragic death interrupted your studies, Shoko?"

"Yeah," Ieiri flatly admits.

The white-haired boy pouts.

"He was a fish, Satoru," You remind him, jerking Geto's attention -- somehow, part of him feels relief seeing you across the desk.

"Renjo-chan was more than a fish! He was my cherished first pet."

"You put that fish in soda..." You gently chide, tilting your head from your notes to stare unimpressed at the boy beside you.

"I wanted him to try it!" Gojo defends himself. "He lived a spontaneous life."

"Satoru... you're... an idiot." Ieiri doesn't bother looking from her book to say that.

The white-haired boy sulks gently in his chair.

"...The ceremony was nice." Geto lightens the conversation, maybe trying to forget that strange nightmare he dozed off to earlier, "I haven't gone to the beach in a while."

"You're right. I thought the Titanic soundtrack was a nice touch," Ieiri agrees.

You did not attend since it was...for a fish. But knowing all of the details, you raise a brow in confusion.

"The only good thing is that he is back home... in the ocean, with his kind," Gojo hopes.

"He is a freshwater creature." You close your eyes in realization. "Satoru, not only did you put a fresh fish in soda. But you put a fresh fish in seawater..."

Long white eyelashes blink blankly. "So...? Fish live in water."

"Seawater tends to move out of freshwater fish, and their bodies get dehydrated and die." You explain.

"We killed him?!" He whiningly exclaims.

"Well, can't kill something already dead," Ieiri perks up knowingly behind her book.

Gojo inhales, standing from the chair and walking out of the room. "I need to step out... I will collect my golden star later..."

"Oh no... Satoru, come back..." the brown-haired girl mutters, unfocused on the classmate's childish antics.

Gojo tends to have dramatic outbursts whenever he gets bored. He will use any minor inconvenience and blow it out of proportion to satisfy an urge for attention. You three have tried to ignore it, but Gojo makes it impossible to do daily tasks, assessments, and even missions.

So, you decide to embrace these outbursts, and every time Gojo has one, you give him a golden star sticker if he finds a way to manage his emotions and settle down. If he collects five stars, he could exchange them for prizes.

From that, you are satisfied enough to have these incidents reduced to once a month rather than once a week.

For his recent desires, Gojo noticed you like sharing pictures of your pets back home, and he seems to enjoy the reaction of the people you showed. So, his first pet was a recent prize. Geto bought it for him after a mission together, and Gojo showed it to you. He even took pictures and sent everyone updates on his pet.

That fish did not last a week with him.

Ieiri glances at the clock, sighing as she realizes the passing time.

"I'm taking a smoke break," she announces, her voice hinting at weariness.

Nods ripple through the group as they watch her exit the room.

Then, after, your arms are crossed, your chin resting on your forearms. Your eyes wander to your friend, sensing a need to break the monotony of homework with some casual conversation.

However, he sits in an unusual silence, his mind seemingly consumed by something.

"You know... Mako proposed yesterday," You venture, trying to pull him into the world outside the work of homework, missions, and assignments.

Thin black brows twitch in curiosity, and your friend reclines on his chair, letting his pencil slip from his grasp. "I'm assuming his girlfriend said yes."

"The wedding's set for late May," you add with a muffled chuckle.

"Oh, fun," Geto responds, his tone casual.

Curiosity tugs at you, and you decide to pry a bit more. "What do you imagine your wedding to be like?"

He admits honestly, "I never thought much of it. Maybe a simple civil court ceremony."

"Boo! You're boring!" you playfully chide, punctuating your remark with a kick to his shin.

"Don't kick me...!" he chuckles, skillfully sliding back on his chair to evade your attack. "Do you have a better answer?"

"I want a chocolate fountain," you declare with a grin.

"A chocolate fountain...?" Geto repeats, raising an intrigued eyebrow.

"Well, it doesn't have to be chocolate. I want a dipping fountain where you can dip anything and everything," you explain, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "I saw it once in a Western movie, so I want it. The wedding can be big -- small, or just the two of us, but I must have my dipping fountain—no exceptions."

A smile creeps onto Geto's face. "Just the two of us?"

You avert your gaze, feeling a blush colouring your cheeks. "Well, who else?"

Geto contemplates why you haven't confessed your feelings in these fleeting moments. Is it a waiting game, an unspoken understanding that he should take the lead? Or do you both have this silent agreement where the lines between friendship and something more have blurred, leaving the question of 'official' or more permanent status in the air?

As these thoughts swirl, he's relieved that, at least for now, the topic remains untouched—a reprieve from the uncertainty that haunts his dreams like a foreboding omen.

Yet, Geto breaches a topic lingering in him for a while.

"Do your parents know that you like guys?" he asks, his voice hanging like a fragile secret.

"We haven't talked about it formally," you admit, absently scratching an itch on your forearm. "My mom dated one or two girls in high school, so I don't think they would be against me dating guys. But Mako knows."

"Mako hates me," Geto reminisces, a ghost of awkwardness clouding his memory. It was from that one encounter during the first make-out session.

"He has a strong dislike of you only because of overprotectiveness," you explain, your fingers playing with the edge of a loose jacket thread. "But he has been a good older brother about accepting me, and the rest of my family already likes you, so it won't be any different."

Somehow, those words manage to put an easy smile on Geto's face.

"What about your parents?" you ask, your cheek resting against your folded forearms. "Do they know?"

Geto hesitates, his eyes flickering with a mixture of thoughts. 'No, they can't know. I don't want to tell them.' His mind is clouded with worry, haunted by a nightmare that makes him overthink things he hadn't adequately considered before.

"They have never been concerned about my dating affairs," he continues stoically yet awkwardly, "they've been more focused on my studies for the longest time. I don't think their focus will change anytime soon."

Geto hates this, the way the conversation skirts around the inevitable. He hates that he can't fully reassure you of a secure future together, held back by the fear of his parents' reactions and, more importantly, your response.

You, his parents – all three parties share a concern for his future success, but the visions of the future diverge. You want to be with him, while they expect him to be with what they consider a 'proper partner.'

"That's true," you hum, breaking the tense moment. "I guess there is no need for such conversations just yet. We can wait."

In moments like these, Geto feels a reassurance in how you perceive him. He's determined never to lose your feelings to anyone.

There's no need to rush; they should savour whatever they are – friends, more than friends, or secretive lovers.

Yet, you find solace in that his parents aren't probing into his love life. It grants you more time to tackle the only obstacle preventing you from confessing properly – your secret execution.

Now that you can activate your cursed energy, unlocking this cursed technique is inevitable. You'll confess with a heart absent of regret or guilt. Once you escape your execution, you can completely reassure him of a secure future together.

The thought of your impending confession fills you with excitement, a sense of liberation waiting around the corner.

A grin widens as you catch Geto's eyes, and he quickly notices your mischievous expression.

"Stop it; you're doing that face," Geto remarks, his lips twitching.

You break free from your momentary trance, curiosity taking over. "What face?"

"The 'kiss me' face," he gently chides despite the playful glint in his eyes. "We're working, behave."

You can't help but smirk. "Seeing that not everyone's here, there's no point in doing work, so we could... not behave till they come back."

"No, one kiss always leads to make-out sessions—we already have two strikes from Shoko," he teasingly scolds. "Focus on your studies."

But then, he notices your frown.

It's unusual for Geto to reject your suggestion. Perplexed, you're taken aback by the unexpected refusal of his usual spontaneity.

So, to reassure you, he kisses two fingers and reaches out to press them against your lips. A gentle smile plays on his face. "Promise, later."

Annoyance flickers in your eyes as you stare at him.

You seize his wrist before he can retract his hand, bringing it to a halt. Slowly, you lift your lips, and the tip of your tongue traces from the pads of his fingertips to the crook of interdigital folds in one fluid motion.

He looks down at you, speechless and stunned.

Shivers run from those fingers, warmly imploding his heart and flooding his chest.

Goosebumps tingle from the slightest huff of breath your lips release as you pull away, leaning back in your chair.

You hum casually. "I guess I can continue later."

Arousal sweeps low in the dark-haired boy, and heat flares high, flushing his cheeks.

However, the sliding door whips open, revealing an emotionally content Gojo. "[Name]! I am ready for my golden star."

Looking perfectly normal, you blink at the white-haired boy. "Oh, feeling better, Satoru?"

Gojo walks in and blinks, finding Geto slumped over the table with your jacket covering his head.

"What happened to him?" Gojo asks, bewildered.

"He's taking a nap," you smile, standing up and noticing the tension in Geto's shoulders. "It's my turn to get drinks; wanna join me?"

"Yeah, any excuse not to do work," Your classmate agrees, watching you walk towards him and discussing the plan to fetch his usual drink.

Once the sliding door closes, your jacket slips off Geto's head as his back hits the chair, both hands against his face.

"Where did all of this confidence come from?" he mutters, hiding his violently red face.

He lets out the most extended, loudest sigh in history to calm his mind and control his thoughts, slumping against the chair with his knee shaking profusely.

You're getting too cheeky for him.

°⌜　𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠　⌟°

𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋 | 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟓

Perched on the swirly stool in the infirmary, you find yourself writing reports for Ieiri, trying to make her life a tad easier. The air is filled with the tang of antiseptic and the occasional waft of the girl's cigarette smoke as she leans out the window, soaking in the April breeze.

"Supposed to be out on a mission today with Suguru and Satoru, aren't you?" you inquire.

Ieiri takes a contemplative drag from her cigarette, the ember glowing brightly. She releases the smoke into the gentle breeze before turning to you.

"Skipped it—no point healing when those two powerhouses are on the loose. And honestly, being around them is a headache. I'd rather stick to them when you're there to keep the peace."

"I am getting tired of their bickering, too. Next time, I'm running away with you. Let's get a burger while we are at it," you suggest, and your friend grins.

Navigating the dynamics between Geto and Gojo isn't a walk in the park. Gojo, unintentionally oblivious, often overlooks Ieiri, focusing more on his frenemy Geto. She gets irritated when he talks over her or forgets she's there. For him, it's all about Geto or Renzuko, with Ieiri only making it to his radar when convenient.

Not that she minds the solitude; being an avoidant, sarcastic introvert, she's accustomed to slipping away from conflict.

On the flip side, you are a soothing presence. Kind, maybe excessively, you provide her a haven from the chaos. Ieiri occasionally exploits your kindness, roping you into doing her work under the guise of exhaustion.

But it doesn't bother you, and she respects your friendship request, reciprocating the respect you offer her.

Ieiri takes another drag, her eyes lingering on the tendrils of smoke that waltz into the air before a gentle knock from her rolling swirly chair draws your attention. "Hey."

"Hi." A muffled chuckle escapes as she lays her head against your shoulder. "You okay?"

"Thanks for doing this." She smiles lazily.

"Of course. What are friends for?"

Friends... Ieiri's middle school years were devoid of any significant connection. Only a one or two girls penetrated her exterior; the guys were a different story. There needed to be more incentive to form deep bonds.

Without you in the picture in high school, she'd be navigating the halls alone. Sure, there were classmates like Geto and Gojo, but they operated more like a duo.

"I'll buy you a burger on our free day." She promises.

"Thanks~." A cheeky grin accompanies your response.

You restock the box together, and amid mundane tasks, Ieiri drops a nugget of information. "Yaga-sensei is scouting two new sorcerers. They might join as first-years next week."

A raised brow accompanies your question. "You sure know how to collect your information."

"Just because I look uninterested does not mean I am not listening," she shrugs, leaning off your shoulder. "I overheard it."

"So, who are they?"

"Dunno. I saw them briefly once. One's a blonde, already a grade 2. The other one is brunette, but I'm unsure about the grade. I'll keep you updated."

"Blonde?" You perk up. "Sounds foreign."

"Looks foreign but didn't sound foreign," she clarifies with a smirk.

"Hm. Interesting."

Ieiri playfully asks, "How so?"

"Time passes too quickly... we're going to be second years soon." Your honest response reflects a touch of nostalgia. "Then we'll have one more year together."

"Jeez, we're not even second-years yet. You always think too far into the future," she teases.

You have to sometimes.

However, the rhythm of your conversation is disrupted by hurried footsteps echoing in the hallway. Yaga-sensei appears, seriousness etched on his brows. "Shoko!"

"Uh, oh, yeah, sir." Ieiri turns her head slowly. "What's up?"

"You're coming with me. A grade 1 mission requires any available sorcerers for backup. We need you on-site for the injured."

Ugh. It's such a pain. Ieiri was hoping for an easy day with you, but now duty calls. You frown gently, returning to restocking, feeling the annoyance seep in. She hates being called out for missions, especially when she doesn't want to, while you work tirelessly to earn Yaga-sensei's approval, facing rejection after rejection.

"What about [Name]? He's a sorcerer, so he has to come." Ieiri points, catching your attention.

Your eyes widen at her.

Yaga-sensei hesitates, brows furrowed. "He's not the type for the front lines--"

"Then with me. A grade 1 mission is too dangerous for me to be left alone to carry the injured. He's been improving his weaponry and strength, so I could use his help since I don't have Geto's cursed technique to assist me."

That is right, Geto and Gojo are on different missions.

Your sensei's dark sunglasses snap in your direction, suspicion flickering. His mind harks back to Gojo's words about your activated cursed energy, but there's a twinge of uncertainty.

Time presses, though.

Plus, if you're only there to assist Ieiri, and if anything happens, at least you're close by to get healed.

"Get your weapon," Yaga-sensei finally agrees, striding out of the infirmary.

"Seriously!? A grade 1 -- yes!" You cheer, following your teacher with Ieiri smirking at the sight of you finally getting a mission orchestrated by her doing. But hey, what are friends for, right?

Your heart thumps with a mix of excitement and fear. This is finally your first mission. As Yaga-sensei delves into the mission details, your head only grasps 'rescue' and 'non-sorcerers.' The work has expanded suddenly, requiring a healing sorcerer and two more sorcerers.

°⌜　𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥　⌟°

Your breaths are ragged, and your legs push through the unforgiving terrain of the dense forest. Drenched and shivering from the rain, the air pulsates with the distant rumble of thunder under the overcast sky.

Raindrops, relentless in their assault, pound against leaves, creating a symphony of percussion that reverberates through the trees and any surface it touches. The atmosphere is thick with the scent of damp soil, and mist rises from the soggy ground, casting an eerie spell over the surroundings.

The trees sway wildly, branches entwined in a frantic dance with the fierce wind. Your footsteps squelch along the muddy trail, marking your journey through the storm.

"Any more non-sorcerers out here?" you inquire of the small cursed doll tucked beneath your jacket, a companion courtesy of Yaga-sensei.

Silent, the cursed doll offers no response. Considering your legs ache after hours of relentless running, retrieving ten non-sorcerers is a relief. At the same time, fellow sorcerers handle the grade-1 curses scattered deeper in the forbidden zone Yaga-sensei warned you against crossing.

Emerging from the forest's clutches, you step into the open, greeted by the chaotic scene of a makeshift recovery site beneath a tarpaulin-covered tent. The tent flaps dance with each gust of wind, rain drumming an insistent beat on the canvas.

Underneath the shelter, a spectrum of non-sorcerers, young and old, lies on makeshift beds, their faces etched with pain and discomfort.

Amidst the cacophony of cries and groans, Ieiri diligently tends to the injured. Her expression remains stoic as she navigates various injuries, utilizing her reversed technique with unwavering focus.

As the sole possessor of a rare reserved technique, she frequently finds herself immersed in this chaos, grappling with the lives in balance. The weight of it all, the agony and the anxiety creeps up on you, wondering how she maintains such composure without succumbing to the overwhelming pressure.

Perhaps that's why she resorts to smoking, a brief reprieve from the intensity of the moment, an attempt to take the edge off the unforgiving reality surrounding her.

The woman on your back mutters and shifts, catching your attention.

You carefully move her onto a free makeshift bed and adjust her head gently.

"Everything is going to be okay," you comfort the woman with a sad smile when you notice her broken leg. "The medic will treat you soon, so please--."

"What about the others?"

Your heart twitches at first. Did you miss more people? Impossible, you have confirmed that you have rescued everyone.

Your brows furrow. "Huh?"

Her shaken finger points to your uniform, "They wore that too...they are still there..."

Same uniform -- sorcerers, they must have brought her to a safe spot for you to find while they continue fighting the loose curses.

Her tears well up in her brown eyes. "Please, help them...I don't want them to die because of me....please."

You found this woman near the edge of your zone, crawling out of a hollow tree semi-hidden behind bushes when she first spotted her.

A ringing in your ear silences your surroundings with your panicking thoughts and decisions.

"Is that all the non-sorcerers?" A muffled voice flutters in the back of your mind.

Yes. You are done -- your mission was to collect the non-sorcerers and assist in medical care alongside Ieiri. There is no need to go back to search for sorcerers. No need. You did your job.

But why is your heart pounding so much guilt for standing by? It shouldn't matter; that is not your task. You are done.

"[Name], is that everyone?"

But there are sorcerers in there. Injured? Trapped? Alive? Dying? If dead, there is no point in going for the body, right? Is that okay? Right?

"[Name]!" Ieiri shouts for your attention, startling you out of your thoughts when she holds onto your shoulder.

"Is that everyone?" She repeats, slow and more profound.

You blink at her, and your mouth speaks without hesitation, "No."

Brown irises shift to check your facial features. She knows this is your first mission in forever. Are you starting to feel the gruesome weight of it all? Should she need to reassure you? She isn't one for that stuff; her desire to comfort someone is unbecoming.

Yet, her gaze seems to soften, and there is gentleness in her tone when she speaks to you, solely you, "Okay...calm down, we are almost done. You have one last run in you, right?"

You stare at your weapon case on the foldable table, "...Yes."

She wipes your wet forehead, nodding in reassurance. "Then, bring them back. I'm counting on you, okay?"

"Okay." You repeat as if that was the only thing you could muster up to her before turning around with a pale face of anxiousness.

The rain keeps falling, but now you have a new mission, a duty, and the weight of Ieiri's expectations cling to you like a reassuring cloak.

Looking back at her working diligently on the patients, you know you can't afford to fail.

The weapon's case is cold against your hand as you stride out of the tent. You have just now had a reason to use it.

The woods loom ahead, their shadows dancing in the downpour. Even the cursed doll peering from under your chin, its black eyes fixed on the spooky environment.

"Alright, focus!" Gojo's voice echoes in your mind, cutting through the rain's steady drumming.

"Focus," you murmur, unzipping the case and letting it hit the ground with a dull thud.

"Alright, fighting!" Gojo urges, injecting a burst of confidence into your veins, a surge of determination.

"Fighting!"

Your foot takes that first step forward.

Through the dense foliage, your trek unfolds. Laboured breaths mix with the symphony of raindrops, and your heart races, an erratic rhythm matching the urgency of the rescue mission.

Sweat and rain blend, rolling down your forehead, carrying the scent of pine and wet soil. The towering trees provide cover, and you navigate cautiously, avoiding slippery moss-covered patches.

Then, there is a moment of near-disaster as your heels threaten to skid at the sight of a cursed creature in your path.

Panic grips you, but you swiftly raise your spear staff weapon, poised for defence.

The standoff persists, and you exhale as you realize the curse lies lifeless.

With a cautious kick, you roll it over, revealing a blunt-bladed cleaver embedded in its decaying flesh.

Your brow twitches at sight, and tracing the line of the footsteps, you uncover evidence of a brief struggle.

A smaller weapon, stained with purple blood and mud, is left behind. You secure it on your back before you press on through the rain-soaked land.

The run leaves you panting, and you wipe the rain residue from your face, the world blurting through your fingers.

A sudden flinch has you turning. Ears tuned to guttural growls that cut through the forest's silence. Your eyes scan the surroundings, searching for any sign of danger, but it's too late.

A monstrous curse reveals itself in the shadow of towering trees, its mouth gaping wide. The jaws clamp around a brown-haired boy, his desperate grip holding onto a limp body.

"Haibara! Let go!" The plea echoes through the trees, but the curse's tongue tightens its grip, pulling the partner towards its voracious maw.

Your senses heighten, and you freeze, the weight of impending doom settling on your heart.

Raindrops release their grasp, and realization dawns on the brown-haired sorcerer as his partner's hand slips from his grasp, tumbling headfirst into the curse's cavernous mouth.

The blonde-haired sorcerer, enduring the curse's slimy mouth, suddenly jerks to a halt.

His hazel eyes widen in surprise as he gazes at you, gritting your teeth, one hand gripping your spear and the other clutching the fallen boy's ankle.

A stuttering gasp escapes him as he takes in your spear weapon locks between the curse's teeth, defying its strength and insatiable hunger, preventing its monstrous jaws from sealing shut.

The sensation of your arms being pulled apart by the force persists, yet you muster the strength to utter, "Are you alright...?"

It's a feeble inquiry, you realize, given the dire circumstances of someone dangling inside the mouth of a curse.

He refrains from any sarcastic retort, likely considering the audacity of such banter when you've just leaped to rescue him.

"I'm still alive, at least. You?" His response is measured.

Your chin drops slightly, fixing your gaze on his exhausted eyes, peeking through tousled, wet, blonde locks. Relief courses through you; his consciousness remains intact.

"I am now that I got you," you admit, even as a persistent ache pulse in the center of your chest from the exertion.

His eyes twitch, a blend of pain and frustration evident in the inability to move his limbs. You glance over his form, and a ripped hole in his stomach reveals itself as his jacket shifts. A purple bruise creeps up his chest, looking like poison.

"I blocked one hit but missed the one to my side. Didn't expect the spikes to be laced with poison," he explains, his jaw clenching against the sizzling pain.

"Paralyzing poison," you assess, noting the limp limbs and relieved that his paralysis seems incomplete. "How long have you both been out here?"

"Two hours. We were mainly evacuating non-sorcerers, but two curses followed us," he gasps gently.

You weigh the options, realizing there's still time to restore his mobility, but a tough decision looms.

"What's your name?" You ask.

"Nanami Kento."

"Ah, one of Yaga-sensei's recruits, I presume." You connect the dots, considering his distinct foreign features and blonde hair. "And the other guy?"

"H-Haibara Yu!" he blurts out.

"Nice to meet you both. I'm Renzuko, your upperclassman," you offer reassuringly.

Nanami squints, trying to understand the sincerity in your smile, a stark contrast to the dire situation surrounding all of you.

You mumble something, and a cursed doll, concealed within your jacket, slithers out with its pink tentacles. It crawls up your arm, its wings unfurling like a mosquito's as it wraps around Haibara, who observes it with bewildered eyes.

"Renzuko, what are you doing?" the blonde-haired boy questions.

"I have to send you to Shoko to stop that poison from spreading and paralyzing the rest of your body." You then turn to Haibara, adding, "Make sure he gets there."

A sense of panic creeps into Haibara's voice, "You will follow, right?"

"I have to deal with the curse first--."

"Alone?!" Nanami huffs.

Haibara shakes his head, "We can't run away and leave you here — not like this!"

However, your attention is drawn to the vibrating spear staff. It's cracking into splinters, limiting your time to devise a better plan.

If the spear snaps, you'll be too slow to pull Nanami and yourself out. Even if you manage, leading the curse to the recovery site could create more problems. Without a proper weapon, you must rely on your cursed energy as a sorcerer to defeat curses. Crushing it from the inside is an option, but would that mean crushing yourself?

Does your life even matter, knowing Death Pulse courses through your system with a second life?

Yet, you do have that second weapon...

Time's up.

You look down at Nanami, "Nice meeting you, Nanami."

The spear staff snaps.

Splitting pain races up your arm, and with extra strength, you steady yourself. You toss Nanami out into the opening, where Haibara grabs onto his arm. The flying cursed doll releases Haibara from the curse's grip.

From the inside, you fall; their figures grow tiny as the distance between you and them widens.

Haibara's rounded eyes widen when the curse closes its mouth, swallowing you with a guttural hum.

"RENZUKO!"

°⌜　𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐜𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬　⌟°

You blink, disoriented, as darkness envelops you. It's not the cozy, familiar dark of a bedroom at night. No, this kind of dark tricks your senses, making you question whether your eyes are open.

The silence is thick, broken only by the uneasy rhythm of your breath.

You rise cautiously, fingertips grazing an unknown surface that feels foreign yet strangely organic. It's not the belly of some cursed creature; there's no nauseating stench, no visceral texture—just the cool touch of an unseen platform beneath your trembling hands.

Confusion grips your thoughts, a tangle of uncertainty. What happened before the blackout? Nanami and Haibara were there, soaring away, their figures fading into a haze. The details blur, leaving you with a disturbing blank space.

"Am I dead?" you mutter, your voice an uncertain whisper in the void.

No answer comes—no reassurance from the curse.

Silence reigns, but it's a discomforting kind of quiet.

"Death Pulse... are you there?" you try again, your words echoing into nothingness.

The curse remains elusive, refusing to engage.

Frustration creeps into your voice. "Hey, I warned you—no trouble. I let you live inside me and shielded you from threats, and what do I get? Trouble. I have an execution because of you."

Your plea hangs in the dark, unanswered. The weight of despair settles on your features. "You're taking away my life. I never asked for this. I didn't want this. The least you could do is help me survive, give me a fighting chance."

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄

The silence shatters, replaced by the rhythmic pulsing that emanates from every corner of the void.

A bluish glow begins to seep into the dark, revealing the contours of your peculiar surroundings.

The pulsation intensifies, each beat reverberating through your very being.

As your eyes adjust, you discern a massive, reactive heart suspended in the void. Blue veins and arteries form a mesmerizing mesh, pulsating with overwhelming cursed energy.

You approach the heart with cautious steps, driven by curiosity and trepidation.

But the moment you reach out, tendrils of plasmic blue veins shoot forth, entwining your legs and sending you sprawling.

Panic sets in as you desperately try to regain control, hands grasping at the elusive surface beneath you.

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄

The colossal heart responds with a power surge, sending shockwaves through your body. The plasmic veins tighten their grip, restraining you against an unseen force. Fear flashes in your eyes as you struggle against the relentless pull, every attempt to break free met with increasing resistance.

The heart pulses relentlessly, its pressure penetrating your mind like a storm of daggers.

Sensory deprivation washes over you, leaving you suspended in a dark dance with forces beyond your comprehension. Panic escalates as the entangled veins constrict, binding you.

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄

The words reverberate a fuzzy echo in your ears, a persistent whine reminiscent of tinnitus, familiar yet heart-pulsing.

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄

It repeats endlessly, a touch more urgent this time, a little closer, hammering at your ears, the cacophony of noise shrieking painfully.

The repeated phrase might have elicited a whimper or agonizing whine from you, but if it happened, it's drowned in the relentless pounding around you.

"Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop," you think, the words choked in your mouth, though you don't hear yourself say them over the pulsating noise.

Within the noisy pulse, a new sound emerges, gradually separating itself from the chaotic symphony.

At first, it's subtle—a distant murmur cutting through the relentless pulse. Like the tentative rustle of leaves before a storm, it teases the ears, hinting at something distinctive.

Amidst the din, a wild laugh bursts forth, starkly contrasting the surrounding agony.

The laughter echoes through the air, a spontaneous eruption that cuts through the prevailing noise like a lightning bolt. It carries an unrestrained joy, a defiant declaration against the unbearable suffering.

Your attention jerks when a hand reaches for you, yanking you out of the plexus of veins, leaving your limp body paralyzed from the overwhelming sensory assault of pulsing noise.

Pleads drip from your lips like your blood's dark, slick copper—hot on your skin, sticky and warm.

Something wet trickles from your nose. Bile stings on the back of your tongue. The words dissolve into the rest of the white noise as you stare up at a bright light that burns your eyes.

But as your straining gaze adjusts, too saturated for your eyes to process, what your ominous attention could fixate on is a with short white hair and the brightest blue eyes competing against Gojo's. Bandages cover his chest, with loose pants and bare feet pressed against your stomach.

He has a softly defined, childish face with a small chin and nose. His gaze dilates as his lips curl open, his throat releasing a giggle.

"You let me? Your kindness allowed me to live inside of you and protected me from humans who could've easily exploited me, but what do you get in return?" The curse inhales air in amusement, recovering from his bellowing laughter.

"Oh, you poor darling human ~ you needed protecting from me!"

Your eyes widen in shock.

The curse snickers. "Your kind human heart has placed you in great danger! And now you have come to ask for help from the heartless curse that desires to exploit you! If you let your friend eat me instead, you would still have a chance for a future—a continuation of your human life! But you are so easy to take advantage of that you have killed yourself with kindness."

Your mind swirls with questions, puzzling over this curse's intentions from the start, following you around constantly.

"Is that why you have been closest to me... Because I was the easy target?" You remember first seeing this curse after surviving your first accident.

However, the curse blinks, dropping his tone to a genuine normalcy. "No. Your heart beats so deliciously... How could I not take it as mine to eat?"

The shock of white bangs frames his face, cascading down as the curse gracefully lowers into a crouch, inspecting you with a hint of curiosity that sends shivers down your spine.

But then, unexpectedly, the curse tilts its head and lifts its foot off you.

"Aw, don't be too disappointed," he boasts with a cheeky grin. "We can both exploit each other, okay? The moment you die, I get to feast on your human heart, snatch away that pitiful human existence, and then gift you a new life! A cursed technique so alluring—humans have begged me to strip them of their humanity for a shot at godhood! You can do whatever your cursed heart desires with this new immortal life: bring peace, wreak havoc—whatever you desire! All I ask for is your human heart. Simple, right?"

"You haven't taken my heart yet?" You raise a brow.

The curse explains, "We both have to agree before death comes to claim you."

"...You can't take my heart," you repeat, understanding settling in.

However, Death Pulse feels his lips twitch with irritation. "Hey now... you have to agree, or else I can't savour your heart, and you'll die—for good—no second life—no cursed technique! You'll still die as a pathetic human at your execution."

You glare at the curse. "I will not give you my heart. It does not belong to you."

The curse stares blankly at you.

But then, he mutters, "....but I need it."

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄

The shrilling sound pierces your ears as your eyes widen in horror.

"I need it!" The curse yanks at your jacket, pulling your chest up. "Give it to me!"

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄

"The moment you consumed me, death became a rule! Try your hardest to remove me physically, but you can never escape death! Rip your heart out—that's the only way to rid yourself of me from your pathetic human corpse! Without me, you'll lose the chance to be a god, more than your worthless, useless, helpless human self! What more could anyone ask for?!"

The corner of the curse's gaze bludgeons with pulsing nerves of pure anger.

But then, you notice tears prickle from his growing anger, almost like a tantrum child.

"You shall fatten your heart! Fill your life generously, overwhelmingly—so I crave it! Your heart is mine to consume!"

His hands press against your chest, pushing you into the darkness of a void. With a quick hitch of your breath, you fall. You stare up at the curse. Your eyes flinch to notice the tears trickling down his cheeks before he turns away.

Your mind swirls with questions as they puzzle you, starting from the first moment you ate the Death Pulse curse.

Geto's gentle smiling face makes an appearance, then more, then everything after. He consumes your thoughts. Every single thought of him makes your heart swell so much that it feels difficult to breathe.

And the lack of air makes your limbs numb; your eyes roll to the back of your head.

The seconds of your dwindling life flash before your eyes, and memories and regrets enter your brain. They are going so fast. There isn't a moment to process them; your mind races with everything fading into darkness again.

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄

"Come on...!" Geto's eyes are fixed on your face, a ghostly shade devoid of response. "Come on, [Name]...!"

Having already positioned you flat on your back, his trembling hands now rest, one atop the other, hovering anxiously over your chest.

"Breathe! Please!" His voice teeters on the edge of being choked by his saliva as he presses the heels of his palms onto the center of your chest. His arms are stretched out, exerting as much firm pressure as possible.

He keeps a count in the recesses of his mind, but each passing second only amplifies the urgency in his movements. The rhythmic and swift yet forceful compression required turns his face crimson with exertion.

Beads of sweat mingle with raindrops on his forehead.

Pausing, he gasps for air, then tilts your head back. Pinching your nose, he leans close, exhaling air through your system.

A sudden gasp pierces the air. Your chest convulses, causing pain.

As your eyes crack open again, your first thought is that they shouldn't be.

Yet, they flutter open, registering the confusion and disorientation of your senses.

The scent of wet soil, the cold touch of raindrops, and the feel of damp fingertips. Towering, swaying trees surround you.

Your heart aches, and any sound reverberates hollow and loud.

But you realize you are still alive.

"[Name]!"

Your eyes catch the despair of your friend's drenched, dark-haired face. His brows furrow in concern. He anxiously studies you for a prolonged moment as if fearing you might slip back into unconsciousness at any moment.

Then, he extends his hand, one palm supporting the back of your neck, the other pulling your shoulder to lift your chest into the tightest embrace you've ever experienced.

Geto could effortlessly rest his chin on your head, his arms folding around you with hands splayed wherever they find their place. However, this time, one hand remains at the back of your neck, forcing your chin to rest on his shoulder as he presses his face against your ear and jaw, his breath warm against your skin.

Moments linger before Geto releases a shuddering breath as if remembering that exhaling is as vital as inhaling.

Afterward, he loosens the tight hug, gripping you by both upper arms, his fingers deeply entangled in your drenched jacket.

"Sorry, I'm so very sorry," he whispers, his fingers pressing into your skin.

However, you pay no attention; your brain feels defeated.

All that echoes in your ears and resonates through your being is one undeniable truth.

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄

°⌜　𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫　⌟°

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 | 𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐘𝐎 𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇

Yet, at the start of the academic year, Nanami clings to two unwavering truths: Jujutsu sorcerers are a bunch of nonsense, and he harbours no respect for Gojo Satoru.

His piercing azure eyes were unsettling. It's akin to staring down the barrel of a loaded gun despite the glasses perched precariously on his nose. The blonde-haired boy soon realizes that Gojo is a mathematical anomaly, exuding cursed energy that's too wild, too uncontrollable. Nanami senses it the moment he crosses the school's protective barriers. The air is practically saturated with Gojo's overwhelming aura.

Meandering down the corridor, blonde hair catching the light, Nanami can't resist peeking into the second-year classroom. There, Gojo converses with Geto and Ieiri, the latter engrossed in her phone. Nanami contemplates slipping away unnoticed, but an irritating voice interrupts his escape.

"Oh, look who decided to pay a visit~."

Nope. Not the person Nanami is looking for. Again. Determined to erase the entire encounter from his memory, The first year leaves. However, his trajectory is abruptly blocked by a brown-haired boy, his classmate.

"Nanami! It's been a week already! You promised, this time, we can ask them where Renzuko-senpai is."

Cursing inwardly, Nanami realizes that Haibara, his overly enthusiastic first-year classmate, is his alibi for wandering into the second-year corridor in the guise of innocence.

"Right..." He mutters, reluctantly turning back towards the classroom entrance.

Peeking into the room, Haibara can't help but be the first to break the silence, curiosity lacing his words. "Is Renzuko-senpai swinging by later?"

A sigh escapes Gojo, his gaze drifting towards the vacant desk by the window.

"Looks like we're not the only ones missing our darling [Name] these days." He often stares at that empty spot during class, daydreaming about you doodling on your arm, catching him watching, and flashing your smile.

Irk clenches his jaw, a telltale sign of frustration, while Gojo scoffs and turns away. "Honestly, it's like he's acting as if he died when all he's got is a scratch. Not that big of a deal."

"It was his first mission, Satoru," Geto defends, arms crossed as he reclines in his chair. In his expression, a mix of guilt and disappointment is directed at Gojo and himself.

He closes his eyes, brows gently furrowing, recalling the detail of that grade-1 mission. It was last minute when they received a call redirecting them to that location.

All had been well during the grade-1 mission when they arrived. After dealing with the curses, Geto and Gojo checked on Ieiri. That's when they spotted two first-year students emerging from the forest, and Haibara broke the news that 'Renzuko' had been devoured.

Geto didn't hesitate to search for the curse. Finding your shattered weapon heightened his panic, prompting him to send his tamed curses on a search mission. But Gojo stumbled upon you first, nestled within a dead curse. As they pulled you out, eyes widened at the sight of the short, blunt sword you wielded, slicing your way through the curse's stomach, reaching its heart to stab it and then passing out from lack of oxygen.

With a nonchalant shrug, the white-haired boy adds, "All I'm saying is [Name] killed the curse. He should count himself lucky he only fainted!"

Snapping her phone shut, Ieiri almost scoffs at his comment. "Lucky?"

Both boys turn their attention to the brown-haired girl, who crosses her arms. Her lazy gaze shifts back to their perplexed expressions. "Didn't [Name] tell you? Oh, wait. I forgot he's giving you both the cold shoulder."

"Tell us what?" Gojo demands, irritation evident in his lips pursing, annoyed that she brought up your silence at them.

Since discovering that your cursed energy never activated, you have yet to speak to Gojo or Geto. Ieiri had barricaded them from the infirmary, respecting your wishes to avoid their visitations.

With the new academic year underway, they're hopeful for a reunion, eager to finally see and talk to you again.

But you still refuse.

Rolling her eyes, she takes a stand. "[Name] requested a meeting with Yaga-sensei."

Nanami, maintaining his stoic demeanour, eavesdrops on the conversation. Unlike his seemingly uninterested exterior, his classmate hangs on every word the girl utters.

"[Name] is asking sensei if he can be a manager instead."

"What?" Geto lifts his back off the chair, genuinely shocked by this unexpected revelation.

Even Gojo requires clarification. "What about wanting to be a sorcerer? He has been working so hard to be --"

"Well, maybe it's because you both decided to make him believe he can control cursed energy. You both lied to him, and he almost got killed for it." Ieiri calmly scolds.

Hardening his brows, the white-haired boy asserts firmly, "No, [Name] has cursed energy. I saw it--."

"You're a cruel one, Satoru." The girl hums, "Did you get a laugh out of [Name]'s stupidity? Was he so amusing to you to make him believe that he was improving at all?"

"Shoko, that's enough." Geto gently warns, wanting to de-escalate the situation when he notices her words aggravate Gojo; they need to calm down.

Honestly, she didn't deserve to be upset, at least not in the same way you are. They did nothing to her, so why does she even care?

But Ieiri does because you cared for her.

She didn't like closeness; it was too feely, too emotional, and not meant for her line of field. However, you crept up on her, bringing her snacks and drinks. You helped her with homework or sometimes did her homework when she was tired. Remember to remind her to take smoke breaks between reverse technique training. You even did her tedious tasks as a medic.

These small things you did for her were stupid, and what did she do for you in return?

Ieiri remembers months when there have been times when she found you crying alone, frustrated by your inability. She would hide, never ask you about it, never try to comfort you about it, nor did she try to encourage you. She would glance at you during class, and you were muttering under your breath or scribbling training notes down.

Then, random thoughts slip into her mind. Did [Name] eat yet? He is staying in the sun again; where should I place the sunscreen? Here? Will he see this? [Name] forgot his notebook in class; should I bring it to his dorm?

You worked so hard not for yourself but for everyone. She remembers that—she likes that about you.

So, she senses that pure excitement the day you come up to her, excitedly telling her that you have unlocked your cursed energy.

You deserve this; you earned this. So, your happiness emitted a sense of joy that she did not expect to feel.

However, Ieiri is not one to get angry quickly. She hates conflict, confrontation, and sometimes closeness in any relationship, which makes her feel emotions that she does not want to feel when she is staring at a dead body.

What if she were to stare down at your dead body? Would she feel guilty? Sad? Mad? Regret? Ugh, such useless emotions are pathetic!

That is not the worst part; she was why you were on the field. She wanted to make you feel accomplished and prove to yourself that all your hard work has paid off.

However, she still needed to say her piece because these two crazy, freakily strong idiots, who bring trouble with every step they take, have taken advantage of her friend, forcing the only tolerable person in this group to suffer.

Of course, she is mad.

"You are no better." She continues, turning her attention to Geto, "[Name] is extremely kind. People take advantage of that...Even people like us -- sometimes without realizing."

"What is your point here?"

"Feelings aside, what are your intentions with [Name]?" She bluntly asks.

The room falls silent; even Nanami and Haibara share a surprised glance before snapping back to the situation.

"Are you trying to start a fight?" Geto's tone slices in sizzling annoyance.

"I am trying to protect my friend." Ieiri defends her comment. "Yes, you show that you physically like him. There is no doubt about that. But did you hope to earn more of his affection by playing the only saviour?"

"What?" Geto is growing more irritable.

"Break him down at his worst; make him feel that he needs you to save him -- so that he can't even trust himself. Quite the deceiving charmer you are, Suguru."

That answer irks him. She knows she only wants to provoke -- at least for your sake.

However, this time, Gojo retorts. "Both of us did nothing wrong!" He was still trying to find the right words, "we only wanted to motivate [Name], to stop him from feeling so--"

"Pathetic? Worthless?" Ieiri raises a brow, "Well, your mission has successfully failed at that -- hasn't it?"

The weight of those harsh words presses guilt against their heads, almost forcing their minds down to a crippling bow of pure defeat.

"I hope you know that...you almost killed someone...and not just anyone. Someone that cared for us very deeply."

°⌜　𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞　⌟°

Two weeks have ticked by since your inaugural mission. The physical toll has been endured, the limp eradicated.

Now, you stroll down the elongated corridor, winding towards the room of your new sensei, with a new goal of becoming a manager. In this world of non-combatant sorcerers, managers bear the weighty responsibility of overseeing windows, hanging curtains, conducting briefings, and escorting fellow sorcerers.

Yet, their paramount duty lies in safeguarding the public and shielding the sorcery of Jujutsu sorcerers from the prying eyes of non-sorcerers.

Embarking on your second academic year, which commenced a mere week ago, you deliberately shifted your skills and goal here. Not only to safeguard your own life from an abrupt death, just shy of your execution, but also to elude a specific duo of sorcerers.

A polite voice interrupts your thoughts. "Morning! Renzuko-senpai!"

Your eyes flicker, landing on a wiry figure with an unwavering stance. Mid-length black hair contours his head, neatly covering his forehead. Peering through point-dexter glasses, his small black eyes widen in awe.

Honorifics slip out of the conversation. "Renzuko is fine, Ijichi."

"R-right!" He stammers, correcting himself, then glances at your attire. "Oh, your new uniform came in."

"No longer a sorcerer, so a change is in order." You admit, adjusting the suit's shelves. "I look the part of an adult."

"Sharp and ready, as my father says," Ijichi remarks, sidling up to you while you wrestle with a poorly done tie.

"Your dad... he's the current auxiliary manager for this school?" you inquire.

"Yes."

From your gleaned information, Ijichi is two years your junior, having skipped a grade in the middle year. While he'd be a first-year sorcerer, he's chosen to follow in his father's footsteps.

"I bet your dad is proud of you for taking his mantle," you offer encouragingly.

"Well, he said you must be crazy to be a sorcerer. So, some people would want to do something other than that. N-not saying you couldn't handle it, Renzuko! It's just that some people aren't born with techniques, so they'd be at a huge disadvantage in combat—not that you don't have good hand-in-hand. I mean, you took down a grade-1 curse on your first mission. It is impressive—"

"Thanks, Ijichi," you interject, halting the impending compliment. "Your dad is right, though; I wasn't crazy enough to handle it..."

The glasses boy, with his curious mind, purses his lips. You notice his expression and realize he's itching to ask. "My father says the current second years—the one with both the Six eyes and the Limitless technique, and the other a curse manipulator—are the strongest sorcerers in our generation."

Your jaw tightens at that revelation, and you reply, "...Yeah, Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru. They are quite the pair."

As you both stroll outside under the shaded roof connecting the buildings, your thoughts linger on the fact that they haven't approached you yet.

"I don't get it," the younger boy wonders. "One day, they would be fighting, apparently violently and almost to the death, and the next day, they would be sitting and laughing with each other by the vending machines as if none of it had ever happened. I guess it's the type of friendship that could last forever, right?"

Gojo and Geto's constant presence around campus makes them seem like a package deal. Their laughter causes disturbances, earning them detention and Yaga-sensei's ire. The two always find themselves in some trouble.

The school, however, has unwarranted favouritism towards these highly-ranked sorcerers. They get away with it because they are the strongest of their generation, and you're irritated to hear that same line constantly, not just on school grounds but anywhere. It's always Gojo and Geto or Geto and Gojo. It irks you. "...sure. That could last forever..."

"Renzuko...?"

Halting in your walk alongside Ijichi, you both turn to find the two first-year students.

"I remember you two...is something the matter?" A relieved surprise flashes across your face as you see them both physically healthy.

Yes. Nanami thinks as he snaps his glance at his brown-haired classmate.

Since the day of their mission and meeting you, Haibara agonizes over leaving their senpai out to defend himself while they both run away. His worry amplifies when he learns you decided to give up being a sorcerer altogether—he's been blaming himself for being the catalyst of that traumatic mission.

Despite Nanami's assurance of lack of wrongdoing, his classmate still obsesses over it, worrying like a dog chewing at an old shoe.

Nanami is the first to speak. "Can we have a moment of your time?"

You nod, "Of course."

However, they both suddenly bow, startling you and Ijichi.

"We are deeply sorry!" Haibara apologizes. "Because of our lack of skill and strength, you had to fight in our place as we ran away."

Your brows furrow in confusion. They didn't run away; you are the one who sent them away instead. Do they remember things differently?

"Renzuko-senpai, as we appreciate your actions from the last mission, we ask you never to do that again. We would prefer you refrain from sacrificing yourself as bait for our escape." Nanami says.

You agree, "Okay,"

Okay...? That was unexpectedly easy. You didn't even try to put up a fight or agreement on how it is the duty of a sorcerer--.

"I don't plan on being a sorcerer anymore, so you don't have to worry."

Even Nanami's heart twitches in guilt a bit.

However, you notice the brown-haired boy's shoulder stutter, and he stifles his cries in their silence.

You watch as tears splatter to the ground and realize that Haibara is crying right there before you. It even startles Nanami; he didn't know that the stress of his classmate's worries had cracked open a watering dam.

Brainfried in guilt, you shake your hands dismissively to stop them. "No, no! Please, it's okay! I'm alive, see! We are all good!"

However, Haibara lifts his head, crying heavily, making you crumble with guilt from watching him hiccup in his undespairing sobs. "Wil-u-com-bah? So-rry!"

You blink, unable to understand his words.

However, Nanami lifts his head from his bow, staring at your feet, still feeling guilty. However, he manages to translate. "Haibara feels a bit guilty; he believes we are why you quit. So, he is asking you to please return."

Ah. that is what he said.

"No, you both had nothing to do with my decision." You gently reassure. "I decided on my own accord. Plus, Yaga-sensei said I could utilize my time in training to be an auxiliary manager as it will give me time to sort my situation out properly."

Situation? What situation? Are you under some dispensary contract or agreement? Or worst?

However, you manage to smile at them. "Relax, Haibara. You were never at fault, not even once...it just sucks that in this line of work, they have to send kids to do an adult's work."

The boy recovers from his emotional outburst with a red nose and gently swollen eyes.

"Let's start all over! Introductions now! Let's see what we all have in common. Okay! I'm Renzuko [Name]. I don't like wet socks, expired food, and dying! Now, you!" You lighten the mood with a clap of your hands.

Nanami thought that was one strange way to introduce yourself, but at least his classmate found you amusing.

You then point to the next person to go.

Caught off guard, Ijichi stammers, clearly not expecting to be thrust into the spotlight. Awkwardly, he claps, "I'm Ijichi Kiyotaka... I'm not a fan of spicy food, getting scolded, and, you guessed it, dying. Yeah."

And so, you carry on, pointing to the next.

"Haibara Yu, not a fan of curses, examinations, and dying!" Nanami's classmate beams with a happy, amiable, and dopey smile. It sure does its job of lightening the atmosphere.

Then, Haibara points to his friend.

Now, when it comes to Nanami, he's wired differently. Humour isn't his forte; nonsense is a no-go, and he disdains those who aren't serious – Gojo is a prime example. But he gets it; you're just trying to comfort Haibara. So, he'll give it a shot.

"Nanami Kento... I don't like..." He begins.

They all waited.

Nanami stands there frozen, gazing off stoically.

But inside, the blondie battles a storm of anxiety and intrusive thoughts like a dark cloud tethered to his soul. It reflects on his face, a permanent scowl that can be intense and occasionally needs a little softening. Perhaps not the best first impression, but his facial expressions have a mind of their own. Despite his youth, he's already rocking frown lines like grooved question marks between his eyebrows.

Usually oblivious to how he comes off, he's acutely aware now, talking to you in a regular setting where first impressions matter. Yet, fun isn't his forte.

However, he couldn't help but stare at the messy tie knot around your collar.

"Crooked ties..." He mutters.

Ijichi and Haibara straightened up, startled eyes widening at him for daring to correct an upper-level student, given everything they'd been through with you.

You blink, following his gaze, and chuckle. "Is it that bad?"

There was a collective sigh of relief from the other boys.

But then, you look up at Nanami, catching his attention. "You seem like someone who knows how to fix it."

Meanwhile, amidst all this, two of the strongest sorcerers chill in the sun, enjoying their day off with popsicles from the market. Geto scored a white one with a winning prize wrapper, while Gojo got a weirdly deformed blue one – like two popsicles fused. Lucky them~.

Geto watches, particularly you, from a distance with Gojo. "[Name] looks good in a suit."

Even Gojo is staring. "I'll take your word for it."

Slowly, the dark-haired boy nibbles on his popsicle, a habit of his. Conversely, Gojo isn't a fan of biting; it makes his teeth feel weirdly cold.

They observe as Nanami steps forward, skillfully unknotting the messy tie. You smile softly, amused.

And when you smile, Geto aggressively takes a big bite of his popsicle.

Nanami wanted to understand why he decided to do this. It's entirely out of character, maybe fueled by guilt or a desire to repay you for saving his life. But can it even be considered repayment?

"...You're not going to be our senpai anymore?" Haibara frowns, disappointed. "I wanted to train with you, learn from someone strong."

You chuckle nervously, "The other second-year students are way stronger than me. Have you met them? What do you think?"

Ieiri keeps offering him cigarettes, claiming he's too 'up-tight' every time they're together.

Nanami blinks. "Ieiri is consistent, but--"

"She keeps offering you cigarettes? Don't worry; that's how she shows that she cares. She can see that you're an anxious type – like me."

Geto has made himself more approachable, Nanami recalls, offering greetings when they cross paths after class or during sparring. It's a friendly gesture, but he can't ignore his features' undeniable flicker of predation.

"Then there's Geto--"

"He's a good senpai. Show him respect, Nanami, Haibara."

You still seem to respect him despite everything that happened.

"Then there's Gojo..."

You remain silent.

"...Nothing?" Nanami and Haibara are waiting for your response.

"Oh...good luck." You wish to them.

No need for more words.

"Renzuko, I willmeet you inside. It is my turn to organize the notes." Ijichi glances at his watch before strolling away.

You give a nod as Nanami finishes up your tie.

"It's kinda embarrassing that I don't know how to do this," you admit, smiling awkwardly.

"Don't feel embarrassed," Nanami reassures. "You need to make sure that the thicker side is longer than the other--"

"Nanami~!" Gojo slings an arm around the boy's shoulders, pulling him away. "Been looking all over for you~."

"I'm talking to Renzuko--"

"Listen to your senpais. Our training session starts now."

Nanami shifts his gaze to the person beside him. Long dark hair pulled up in a bun, sporting large gauges in his ears.

Dark, brooding eyes flick up, a distinctly dangerous air causing the blonde-haired boy's spine to flinch when those menacing onyx irises shoot him a 'leave' look, accompanied by a tight, unpleasant smile that could probably wilt the innocence in flowers.

Haibara blinks in confusion. "Oh, now? I thought--."

"We've got some free time now. So go, get ready." Your friend dismisses.

"Really?! I can't wait!" gushes the younger boy. "I love physical training and sparring. Bye Renzuko-senpai!"

Haibara quickly bows to you before rushing after Gojo and Nanami to get ready.

You wave.

Unfortunately, Geto's attention shifts to you, but you steadfastly avoid his gaze.

The droop in his eyelids betrays a hint of disappointment. "...You look well."

Your lips purse tightly, a silent response hanging in the air.

"Are you still ignoring me?" The boy tilts his head, attempting to catch your eyes. "[Name]~, are you still punishing me?"

You sense his face leaning in, prompting your footsteps to retreat, moving away.

Undeterred, your friend follows, hands resting casually in his pockets. "Where are you going?"

"I am heading to the meeting room," you finally answer, catching the glimmer of hope in his onyx eyes.

"I'll walk with you," he says, elongating his strides to match your pace.

Brows furrowed, you protest, "You don't need to--."

"I want to," Geto emphasizes.

Despite your reluctance, he persists, "Well, I don't want you to--."

"Well, I don't want you to ignore me," the boy frowned. "Not when I have to tell you something."

You sigh, attempting to calm yourself, "What?"

He begins, "I am heading back to the village next weekend...you should come with me."

Your eyes close briefly. "I am not sure...Yaga-sensei may send me out to talk to a window with Ijichi. No promises--."

"I already asked him to secure us a personal visit next weekend."

"I wanted to catch up on my schoolwork," you lie.

"Ieiri said you even caught her up on next week's lesson..."

Words spill out too quickly, "Then, I should train--."

"This isn't like you," Geto interrupts. "Don't give me excuses--."

"I don't want to go, okay?" Your irritation grows evident, and your vision becomes glassy. "Not with you!"

Taken aback, Geto purses his lips.

"Sorry, I had an uncomfortable sleep for the past few nights. I didn't mean to snap at you like that," you apologize morosely, shoulders sagging in guilt.

You wouldn't have reacted this way if Geto had observed you better. He mentally scolds himself.

"...I was being pushy, sorry." he pauses, and you wait for him to continue, wondering where this speech is headed. "But you know...your parents have been asking about you. At least, that is what Mina has called to tell me. Is everything alright back home?"

Geto notices your growing nervousness when your family calls. They even reached out to him, concerned about your well-being. It feels discomforting to realize you're not communicating even with your family.

"...I have been busy..." You whisper that lie.

He knows you are hiding something, but he doesn't blame you. So, he pushes forward, "I am sorry that I lied...Gojo told me to believe in him that you have cursed energy to help you--."

"I knew you were lying but trusted you had a reason." You retort gently.

"If you think I was doing it to spare you from feeling pathetic. You're mistaken. I never thought you were pathetic."

"No. I am mad because you never thought I could have cursed energy."

"But I believed in Gojo's theory." Geto defends himself.

"You -- did not -- believe in me." You glare at him, hurt. "You were my best friend...and you chose to believe in Satoru than in me. Do you feel more secure with him now?"

'Were...?' Geto's brow furrows, "Are you honestly that hurt?"

There is a moment of silence, only the two of you staring at each other. Then, your eyes prickle with anger, and Geto notices it.

Shit. Those were poor choices of words. He only meant to ask genuinely. Before he could apologize, you turned away, wiping your frustrated tears against your palm.

"Please, fuck off."

Yeah, Geto fucked up big time.

━━━━━━　°⌜ 　𝗣𝗢𝗦𝗧 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗗𝗜𝗧𝗦　 ⌟°　━━━━━━

During the mission...The three classmates stare at the unconscious, pulseless body. 

Geto turns to Gojo: Shit! I thought you were watching him!

Gojo turns to Ieiri: You let him run off?!

Ieiri blames them both: I didn't promise to protect him. You both made him believe he had cursed energy -- what did you expect him to do -- not do shit like this?!

Geto pulls out his phone: Alright, calm down. I will handle this.

Gojo freaks out even more: Do you think [Name] is alive or 'for sure' sure dead?! Hopefully, dying, at least?

Ieiri: How is that even better?!

Gojo shouts: I am trying to determine what to even we do right now?!

Ieiri: CPR, I think--

Gojo: YOU THINK?! You're the medic!

Ieiri: My reversed technique can't not bring back the dead, Satoru! We have to do this the old fashion way. Ugh, so much work.

Gojo sings: Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk. I'm a woman's man. No time to talk~~!

Ieiri: What is this idiot doing?

Geto, phone to his ear, while on hold: I think he is singing Staying Alive to [Name]. 

Gojo: I'm CPR-ing!

Ieiri gets on her knees: You must do chest compressions to the beat of 'Staying Alive!' You need to sing the right part for it!

Gojo shouts into your ear: Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive, stayin' alive!

Operator: Good day, you reached Kagura's support. How may I assist you?

Geto: Do you know how long I have been on hold to reach you?! It's ridiculous!

Operator: Ugh, you again? Listen, Kagura told me to block all calls from this...Geto Suguru guy since "There is no way he can ask for any more sexy time with [Name] as the others need to have a turn at him--"

Geto groans: I'm not calling for that...again... This one is serious! [Name] is unconscious, without a pulse, and not breathing!

Operator: Oh, yeah, all according to Kagura's plan.

Gojo: Don't KILL HIM YET! THE READERS WILL JUDGE US TOO HARSHLY IF HE DIES LIKE THIS!

Gojo holds his breath, his fingers pressing against his forehead.Ieiri: What are you doing now?

Gojo: I am sending [Name] oxygen telepathically. I'm trying out a new reversed technique method.

Ieiri: That's not how it work--

[Name] gasps for air. Gojo cheers: Ha! I am AMAZING!

───── 　❝ 𝗔𝗱𝗱𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗗𝗲𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗹𝘀 ≫≫ ᴛʀɪᴠɪᴀ ❞ 　─────

Ieiri was a lone wolf during her middle school years, but she was able to bond with Renzuko over that. She appreciates his existence in her life.

Mako's girlfriend, now fiancée, is half-American, half-Japanese, with dyed blonde hair. Her name is Yue, and she was the girl Renzuko unfortunately heard while his brother and she were doing...'activities.' Yue is very kind. She even asked each siblings for their blessing to be their sister-in-law due to how much Mako loves his siblings.

Renzuko usually has sleepovers with Geto, but as of recently, it has stopped. However, he is no longer able to sleep alone, even more than ever due to seeing, feeling, and hearing -- "DEATH IS A RULE."

By the end of chapter 5, Renzuko decides to become a manager because if he chooses not to be a sorcerer or be associated with sorcery, his execution gets pulled closer. Yaga said becoming a manager would be the immediate alternative solution.

At the beginning of chapter 5, Renzuko considered removing the 'pants-stay-on' rule when he felt confident of having a potentially secure future with Geto.

Throughout the first year, Renzuko grew accustomed to the spear but wanted to expand his skills beyond one weapon. He also takes on a bow, katana, and short sword. He thought the more weaponry he got familiar with using, the more it would impress Yaga enough to receive his first mission.

Geto is not scared of whether or not his parents will accept his potential relationship with you, but instead, he is scared that their reaction will make you back out. You are a family person, so the fact that you would be why he no longer speaks to his parents would make you feel guilty.

Renzuko helped Mako with the proposal, hoping to get a dipping foundation at the wedding reception.

Ijichi mentions that people would have to be crazy to be a sorcerer. Despite Renzuko saying he could not handle it, he honestly can't unless there is a human life in danger. However, he is too reckless so he would die if it means saving one.

Due to his lack of safety, Gojo is no longer allowed to ask for pets as prizes.

Gojo and Geto are close now to the point they sometimes do each other's missions if the other is too tired even to do it. They even have inside jokes that Renzuko doesn't understand and gets left out.

Nanami had an earlier encounter with Gojo that shaped his perspective of him Nanami's grandfather taught him how to tie a knot at a young age. Meanwhile, Renzuko never had a reason to need a tie, and his father did not like fancy appearances. However, the Renzuko males will need Nanami to teach them for the wedding.

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