December 7th, 2007

Satoru Gojō went to bed early on the 6th. Although tomorrow was his birthday, he had no plans to celebrate it. All of his classmates were on missions, and Satoru wasn't exactly well-liked by the other Sorcerers.

He'd celebrate it alone.

Which was fine. He was used to that.

And then the unexpected happened.

Satoru awoke in the middle of the night to a familiar presence. There was a warmth beside him in bed, a sudden shift in weight as someone had laid down beside him. He turned his head, already smiling upon feeling her. It was dark—Close to midnight, perhaps?—with moonlight pouring in from his bedroom window.

"Hello," he said, his voice husky from grogginess. He didn't try to hide his smile. He didn't expect her to visit him so soon.

Did she miss me?

Wouldn't that be delightful?

"You're taking too long to find me," she said, red eyes dancing with affection.

She missed me! HA!

"You're hard to find," he said, grinning. He lifted the covers up and raised an eyebrow as a silent question. She slipped underneath, and he pulled her into an embrace.

Definitely her, he thought. She's warm.

"Did you miss me?" he teased, wondering if she'd make a snide remark or get upset. The girls in his class tended to do that when he teased them.

"Yes," she answered sincerely which pleasantly surprised Satoru. A strong, cute girl who was honest with her feelings? Amazing. 10/10. "I don't like to be kept waiting."

"Forfeiting our game already?" Satoru joked. He hoped so. He sure as hell wouldn't forfeit, and he wanted her in his life. He had so many questions for her. Like, was she behind the France massacre? Why? How could she control time? Where did she normally stay? How strong was she? What else could she do?

Plus, she was hot and clearly into him. He'd have to be exclusively swinging for a different field to not be interested.

Smells like… tea and something floral, he thought. Was it related to where she lived? Did she live near a teashop, maybe? Did she have a garden? She could clearly teleport, but how far?

"No way," she said. "That's no fun. But I decided that I—we—should at least treat ourselves a couple of days in the year, right?"

"A temporary truce?"

"Something like that."

"You being here doesn't count as a victory?" he asked.

"Victory—victory is if you know my name," she said. "Then I'll stay."

"Okay," he said. "So, what's your name?"

She giggled. "Work harder. Come on, go back to sleep. It's your birthday today, so I'll stay with you all day. But for now, you should rest."

"Nah," he said. "I've got a hot girl in my bed, why the hell would I go to sleep?"

She snorted, biting her lip to keep from laughing too loudly. "Because you need to rest. If you go to sleep, I'll make you the breakfast of your dreams in the morning."

"What if that involves you on the table with whip cream—"

She started to laugh. Satoru thought her laugh was the cutest thing.

Wonder if I can get it recorded?

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

While they didn't get to do what Satoru wanted, he did successfully keep her up all night. Mostly by him teasing her and her laughing, then she'd say something to make him get flustered and he'd start the process all over again.

Their conversations were fluid and easy as they laid in that bed until Satoru's alarm went off. They continued to stay there until his stomach growled and she hopped out to make him food.

"I don't really have a lot here," he said, glancing around his sparse apartment. He didn't keep much. Whatever he compulsively bought, he tended to throw away quickly. Money wasn't an issue for him, so he held little value in anything that could easily be replaced. "I—er—tend to eat takeouts."

"I figured, you always did," she said.

"Huh—?"

She shook her head with a smile. "I brought ingredients to cook with. I put them away before I joined you."

"Oh," he said, grinning. "Then what are we having?"

"How do crêpes sound?" she asked.

"Wait are you pulling out flour—you can make them from scratch?"

"You can too if you want to learn," she pointed out.

"And miss out on watching a cutie cook for me? No thanks," he said, shamelessly grinning and sitting on his kitchen counter. "What kind of crêpes we talkin'?"

"Any kind you want," she promised. "While I make them, you can think about what you want as a birthday present."

"What oh what could I possibly want for my birthday?" Satoru tapped his chin. "Hmm. Hmm. Ah!" He beamed. "You."

She giggled, moving to stand in front of him. "Are you forfeiting?"

"Nope, but surely you can for my birthday?"

She wagged her finger at him, a playful smile on her face. "No, try again."

"Really? I can't have you at all?"

"Well—not entirely—"

"Then maybe a little bit?" he pressed, ethereal blue eyes brightening with glee as he found a part of her wavering.

She looked torn. "You should know I'm mentally much older than you. I get what you're implying, and if you're wanting something more than friendship, you need to know that much."

"Mentally implies different from physically."

"Physically I was born 1993, but I have the memories of my past lives," she explained.

That explains some things, but it also generates a hundred more questions.

He blinked. "Like the avatar?"

"Pretty close," she said. "Except some lives I'm constantly in my, um, avatar state."

Satoru cocked his head. "And this is one of those lives?"

"Yeah."

"Ahh. That's cool." Satoru leaned closer to her. "Is that an issue for you? Am I too mentally young for you?"

Again she looked torn. "You're an adult, and I can feel your soul is close to me in age. At the end of the day, it's your choice, but you should have an informed decision."

"Uh-huh," he said, cupping her face. "Consider me informed, and my decision unchanged."

He kissed her, finding that she tasted every bit as sweet and warm as he remembered.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

2010

Yūta

Nine-years-old. That was a big age. Important age. It was right before the big double digits.

Which was why Yūta could not give up.

The young boy was currently bent over his knees, trying to stabilize his breathing. It was hard. Even though he knew he was supposed to take deep even breaths, he was so exhausted he kept wheezing instead.

The person behind his exhaustion stood in front of him: Tōji.

Tōji had his arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes narrowed as he quietly assessed Yūta. Both of them wore simple black t-shirts and loose pants, although Tōji's outfit didn't have any dirt or scratches on it. Yūta's outfit was heavily battered and he had a massive tear across the abdomen where Tōji had sliced him.

The weapons they used could slice through non-organic material, but it would harmlessly pass through living organisms. It made it ideal for training, as it guaranteed neither of them would accidentally stab or cut the other. Mama had specially enchanted it to leave behind a colored mark, too, so now Yūta had a blue line across his stomach where he was sliced.

"You're done for today," Tōji said flatly.

"N-No," panted Yūta.

"You're legs are shakin' kiddo."

Yūta glowered at him.

Tōji was a "retired" assassin. He was the second strongest person Yūta knew—the first being Mama—and for the past year he had been training Yūta.

Mama could teach Yūta, but Yūta didn't really want to spar against Mama. In fact he hated it. But he wanted to be strong like Mama and Tōji. He wanted to be able to handle any threat that came to his family, and one day he wanted to protect Mama like Mama protected him!

Mama could teach him how to use spiritual energy—Cursed Energy Tōji called it—and things like that, but Yūta preferred Tōji teaching him how to fight.

It wasn't easy getting Tōji to agree. It took Yūta months of constant pestering before he finally relented.

Mama made a new door in their home. One that would lead to a place where the two could train in peace. It lead to an open field with grassy mountains surrounding them, and a sky that had two moons. There were beautiful flowers not seen on Earth that constantly bloomed.

It was a pretty place. A nice place.

Yūta shakily wiped the sweat off his brow. "They—are—not."

"You literally look like you're going to pass out again," Tōji casually remarked. He squatted in front of Yūta, smirking. "Want me to catch you this time?"

"Rotzlöffel," Yūta spat out.

"Stop insulting me in languages I don't know," Tōji reprimanded, his eyes narrowed in a glare. "Fucking curse like a normal brat. Japanese too good for you?"

Yūta groaned. "If I said—it in Japanese—you'd try to—hit me."

"It's only fair, you insulted me."

Yūta lost what little strength he had left and pitched forward. He fell into the soft grass, letting out another moan of pain.

Tōji poked his head. "You gonna sleep?"

"No," Yūta mumbled. "Just… give me a moment."

Yūta closed his eyes, promising himself he wouldn't fall asleep. He was only… only resting…

He felt Tōji move and sit down beside him.

Tōji was an odd man.

If Yūta had to describe him, it'd be a puzzle with too many missing pieces.

Quiet. Kind of absent-minded. He used to stare off into space and would forget what they talked about an hour later. He'd also sometimes mumble something incoherent and would get startled at loud noises.

Yūta could never forget the time he accidentally screamed from watching a scary movie, only to have Mama intercept a butter knife that was immediately thrown at him from Tōji. It wasn't the event itself that made it unforgettable, but rather Tōji's face afterward.

Tōji had apologized, his stoic face not showing any hint of sincerity, but Mama waved him off.

"Teach someone to be a weapon all their life, is it any surprise they act that way?" she had asked.

"That's what I'm good at," he said.

"By your choice?" she retorted.

Tōji's brows creased, a rare frown on his face. "Um…"

Mama reached forward and gently brushed his hair aside. "You're not a weapon. You're a precious child."

"I'm not—"

"You are," she disagreed, moving to cup his cheek. "You are precious to me."

Tōji's face after that was what made that memory stick out to Yūta. He had never seen such conflicting raw emotions on the man before. It was quickly suppressed moments afterward, but for those handfuls of seconds, Yūta got to see something truly remarkable.

A man who spoke of murder as casually as the weather, looked at his Mama with a face filled with such strong disbelieving hope, it physically pained Yūta.

What did he go through? Yūta had wondered at the time. What hurt him so much?

Clearly the man didn't have a Mama like Yūta.

What kind of mama did he have?

Yūta had asked Tōji a few times about his family—about his past—but the man reacted poorly each time. He wasn't violent, or loud, but the hollowed look in his eyes bothered Yūta. Mama said he was raised as a weapon—a thing—and Yūta thought that was terrible. Yūta couldn't imagine what that must have been like.

Whoever Tōji had been with before wasn't a real family, Yūta figured. Family were the people who cared about you, the people who took care of you.

It was okay now at least.

Now Tōji had Yūta and Mama.

They could be a family.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Tōji

Tōji quietly carried the unconscious kid in his arms.

It wasn't like he had anything better to do.

He was dead, right? Legally gone. He died on the job, and everything moved on without him. What was he supposed to do? Continue on?

Why?

Lilly—the odd woman who resurrected him—was right. She could take care of him. That was what he wanted, right? To be able to do nothing? To be… done?

That first month of his stay that's exactly what she did. He got to eat good meals every time he was hungry. He had clean clothes. He had a roof over his head. He even had the luxury of a soft bed. He kept waiting for her to ask for something in return, to demand compensation, or to… to do anything other than be nice to him. Even when he accidentally tried to kill her or her son out of reflex, she took it in stride. She didn't yell at him, hurt him, or berate him.

She treated him like a spooked child.

That was what he wanted… right?

What did he want?

He didn't know.

Days were blurry—always blurry—as he went through the motions. He didn't really process what was going on around him. He couldn't remember most of the conversations he had with her and her son. Hell, he forgot their names half the time.

He just… existed.

For a year that was all he did. That was all he could do. He didn't have any direction or motivation for anything else.

She took care of everything.

He still worked out—went through the motions of training—but he did it out of habit rather than desire or necessity.

He didn't need to work. He didn't need to do anything.

It took a year of adjusting before that really clicked with him. He really didn't need to do anything. Nothing was expected nor asked of him. No one in that house was disappointed or disgusted by him. He had everything he needed and more. He was truly, and sincerely, for the first time in his recent memory… safe.

He was safe.

He was protected.

He was cared for.

It took over a year to truly comprehend that, and when he did, he lost control of himself. It felt like a surge of raw, messy emotions bursting out of a heavily fortified dam. It was too much. Memories of a childhood too bitter to think about intermingled with his thoughts. He lost control of himself and blacked out.

He came to maybe an hour later to a destroyed living room. He was laying on his back, his head in her lap. She smiled at him, gently brushing his hair.

"What happened?" he asked.

"You felt something," she said.

"Yeah. I was… angry?" he tried to recall that surge but found it difficult.

"It's okay," she said soothingly. "You don't need to force yourself. It'll come when it comes."

He glanced around the destruction. "Did I… do this?"

"Yes. It's okay, I can fix it."

"I'm… sorry."

She bent down and kissed his forehead. "It's okay. You're going to be okay."

"How do you know that?" he asked.

"You survived this long," she said. "You can learn to handle those memories when you're ready. For now, I will handle them for you."

"Why?"

"Because," she said, "you are precious to me."

Tōji closed his eyes when they started to sting.

He didn't really know how to act after that point. Every so often he'd have another "hiccup" but over the years the "hiccups" became less and less disruptive. He was getting better at remembering the days, and some days he even woke up feeling energized.

Motivated!

Motivated for what? He had no idea.

That magic red door at the front of Lilly's tea shop could take him anywhere in the world. He didn't return to Japan often—he was supposed to be dead after all—but he had no desire to sight see, either. All he did in between jobs was gamble.

He had once, half-heartedly, asked Lilly for money to gamble away and to his astonishment, she gave him a briefcase of American cash and set him to Vegas.

He blew it all in the first night, returned to home the following morning and bluntly told her. She laughed and asked if he wanted more money.

Tōji thought she was joking so he said yep.

She was not.

He felt strangely guilty and returned the money. He only knew how to make money from assassination, so he started accepting civilian contracts in other countries. He'd leave for a week or two and come back with money.

"You don't need to do this," she insisted when he did. "I can take care of you."

"I don't know what else to do," he said.

He didn't. He really, truly, didn't.

"Start small," she encouraged. "Find things you like and take it from there."

What did he like?

What… what did he…?

Did he even have things like that…?

To that day, Tōji was still trying to answer that question. Whenever he had the urge to gamble, he'd take contracts so he could use his own money. He always returned to Lilly and Yūta. Gone for a week, or a month, he always came back.

And bit by bit, day by day, he would figure everything out.

One day he might remember every conversation he had that day. One day he might know what he liked. One day he might even have something he wanted to do.

One day he might have a goal.

He hoped so.

Tōji carried the unconscious Yūta in his arms. He came in through the teashop, heading up to the apartment above it. Lilly was in the living room, painting the Cursed Spirits she and Yūta had adopted. The three of them—Tora the nekomata, Ame the wagasa, Kurai the bird—were holding still for her. Tōji always found it bizarre how well behaved the spirits were, but he guessed it made sense for Lilly and Yūta.

Lilly and Yūta were the definitions of bizarre. They had to be in order to not only take him in, but treat him like—

Well… like family. Good family. The kind of fairy tale bullshit family Tōji thought was made up in movies.

"Hello my babies," she said, red eyes bright.

Tōji didn't bat an eye at how he was included in babies.

"How was training today?" she asked.

"He's better than a slug," Tōji answered.

"Rare praise. You normally only grunt when I ask that," Lilly said brightly. "He must have impressed you."

"Nothing impresses me," Tōji monotonously rejected.

Lilly made a hurt noise. "Three years living with us and I haven't impressed you once?"

Tōji smiled without humor. He lied, "Not even once."

"Oh! So hurtful. You wound me," she sighed dramatically. "Would you please set Yūta down on the couch? I'll start preparing dinner later."

"What are we having?"

"Finally wanting to request something?"

"No," he said. "Everything you cook is good. It's a pain trying to choose."

"Because it's like picking a favorite jewel from a handful of diamonds?" she joked. "I am an amazing cook."

"Your ego could use some work."

"Maybe I should go on one of those cooking shows. Do you think I should?"

"Sure," he sarcastically drawled. "With what credentials? House mom?"

Lilly pouted. "I have a tea shop."

"That's not registered with any country," he pointed out.

"I'm not just a house mom, I make money!" she protested.

"I know," he said. "How?"

"How indeed?" she beamed.

"That's—that's what I'm asking—"

"How indeed?" she repeated. "Oh gosh, would you look at that time? I should get started on dinner. Darling, pets, thank you for posing. You're dismissed."

Kurai, the black bird Cursed Spirit that Yūta had been raising on his own, rushed to the unconscious boy and dove into his shadow. Kurai had become very clingy to Yūta but wasn't allowed to join in their sparring matches because of how protective it was.

Tora moved to lay on the floor in front of Yūta, equally protective of the child. Ame, meanwhile, happily followed behind Lilly.

Fucking weird ass family, Tōji thought.

His lips twitched.

My fucking weird ass family.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

A month later

Lilly

The red door chimed, yet it did not open.

A guest that can't come in? Lilly thought. It wasn't often the door called out to her, asking for her to directly bring someone in.

Must be someone very interesting, she thought. Lilly left her counter, silently moving to the door. She opened it, surprised that it led to a very dark room.

She entered the room, wires everywhere. In the center of the room was a tub, and in that tub was a boy, covered in bandages.

"Are you an angel? Is it finally time for me to die?" the boy whispered.

Ah you poor thing, Lilly thought. This totally looks like a tragic villain story setup or something.

The door gave her Yūta. If her baby was meant to be an antagonist then this boy was destined to be his sidekick or something. Or maybe they were both heroes in their own right and this world was just fucked up.

"Does it hurt?" she asked him.

"Yes," he whispered.

She reached out a hand to gently place it on his cheek, and he flinched away from her.

"May I ask why?" she asked him.

"This is the price for my power," he said.

"What a heavy price for a child to pay." Lilly shook her head. You poor dear.

She wrapped him in her energy, a soft white glow enveloping the boy as she healed. She could feel something stir in his spiritual energy. Tentatively reaching out with her own, she felt a kind of deal.

It was not too dissimilar to rules made by nen, or pacts made by demons.

The boy was given power for the price of a nearly destroyed body.

He's paid the price enough, Lilly thought, urging the deal to be rewritten.

There was resistance, but Lilly had broken far stronger.

She wondered if it was a rule set upon whatever had created the reality tear in the first place. If so, would she draw its ire by rewriting it?

Mn.

It didn't matter. Lilly would handle whatever came her way.

Rewrite and heal. Restore what was so cruelly taken.

The light cleared away.

The boy trembled, tears falling out of his eyes as he stared at his two hands, and two legs. He tentatively moved one leg, then the other. He whispered in a shaky voice, "I'm not—I'm not in pain?"

"No, dear. Would you like a cup of tea?" she asked him.

He started to sob.

"Oh chéri," Lilly said, gently picking the boy up out of the tub and carrying him inside her tea shop. "Chéri, chéri."

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Kōkichi Muta

Kōkichi Muta was born with Heavenly Restriction. It was placed upon him without consent or consideration. It granted him immense Cursed Power, and allowed him to use Puppet Manipulation techniques at a great distance. He used cursed corpses to interact with the world because his body was too fragile and weak to do so.

He couldn't even eat without being in pain.

Every day was horrible.

His entire body was scarred with grotesquely thin, wrinkled skin that would burn even under moonlight. His right forearm was missing, his legs gone, and he had no sensation below the waist. He lived his life on IVs and machines, not even able to breathe fresh air.

Not even able to have more than TV screen light in that dark, dismal room.

He hated his life.

He hated living.

He didn't know how much longer he could endure.

But now?

He was sobbing, so overwhelmed by relief. At ten years of age, he had two arms, two legs, and his skin didn't feel like thousands of needles were digging inside it.

His rescuer, an angel with pink hair, rubbed his back as he wept in her arms.

"There, there, chéri," she soothed. "Oh—oh here."

She brushed back his hair—he had long hair?—and tied it with a ribbon as he continued to sob.

If this is a dream, let me die before I wake up, Kōkichi pleaded, hiccuping.

He cried and cried, unable to do anything else.

Her voice softened and lightened. She sung to him as she cradled him like a precious child, "Bonne nuit cher trésor."

His eyes slowly shut.

"Ferme tes yeux et dors—"

His body sagged, completely relaxed in her embrace.

"Laisse ta tête, s'envoler—"

He fell asleep.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

He awoke sometime later, back in that dark, dark room, but outside the tub.

He still had a strong body.

Kōkichi frantically searched the room for the angel or door, but he couldn't find it. He closed his eyes, trying hard to remember what she looked like. He reached up and touched his head, his heart thumping as he felt something soft and silky.

He pulled out the ribbon.

She tied my hair with this, he thought, his eyes wide in disbelief. It was real. She was real.

He held the ribbon closely.

Angel… thank you… I will never forget this, angel with red eyes…

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Lilly

"I'm home," Yūta called out, hopping inside the tea shop.

Lilly smiled at him, wiping down the counter. "Welcome home, sweetie. How was school?"

"Meh." Yūta noticed the cup of hot tea. "Ah, is that for me?"

"It is now," she said. "I had a guest earlier but the poor thing was crying too hard. I had to take him back home after he fell asleep."

"Oh. I hope he's okay."

"I'm sure he will be," Lilly said, then she beamed. "In fact, I think I might have stopped a super villain back story!"

Yūta giggled at his mother. "Good job, Mom!"

"Thanks baby!"

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Wanted to include a couple more characters in this chapter but it's already long so it got split in half.

Answer: Perfect illusion. Everyone gets to live out their dreams (still aware they need to eat and whatnot) until their bodies decay. The population dies off within one generation because of a lack of reproduction.

Question: Favorite lullaby? Or maybe a certain tune that soothes you?

Reviews are love!