A/N: Sorry for the late chapter everyone! I do plan on continuing this story, though the next chapters might be late. Lately, I feel like changing a lot of stuff in this story. Plus, I can't help but doubt the way I write. I am still trying to get better at expressing things, but I suppose it will take time.
I can no longer change it the way I want to, but I will work with what I have started, and try to make it more and more realistic and enjoyable. But then again, Gojo is the toughest one to work with. I may have understood his personality, but still do not get how his brain works. He is not a nice guy, not a hero, and certainly not a savior. He doesn't exorcise curses out of the goodness of his heart, but I imagine he wouldn't be needlessly cruel either. At least not to those who do not matter to him. Striking that balance between these two aspects of his personality is just a lot of work. Still, I try. Hope you guys stick around.
The term Arya has been mentioned 36 times in Rigveda, the earliest text of the Indo-European language. Aryans migrated to India in several waves and came into conflict with indigenous inhabitants called the dasas and dasyus.
Aryans divided themselves into five tribes called the Panchjana. The Battle of the Ten Kings took place when Bharata and Tritsu were the ruling Aryan Clans. Bharata was opposed by a host of ten chiefs and a battle was fought between them, known as the Battle of Ten Kings.
Sanvi put her book down when the school nurse, Izumi-sensei, turned off the light. The infirmary door closed behind him, but not before he gave her a stern glare. The auburn-haired girl couldn't help but shudder as the doctor's unbearable presence left her.
She wonders how Shoko-senpai handles him.
He looked like he hadn't slept in years, always irate and short-tempered.
Is he really that good? Aren't doctors supposed to be all calm and collected sort of folks?
Considering he was responsible for keeping a large population of jujutsu sorcerers alive, the dead look in his eyes made her feel hopeless. There really was no happiness in this world of shamans, was there?
She turned on the lamp on her bedstand and snapped her book open. It was an old history book from back home. This old history book was full of facts and stories she considered priceless. It was such a shame listening to people call all of this a bore, or a waste of time.
It was grade 5th when she opened a history book for the first time. Day and night, she would sit poring herself over the books. When the textbooks were done with, she would go to the library and get more history books issued. Her parents were amused but definitely not taking her choice seriously. Her cousins used to tease her for being 'boring' and 'nerdy'.
If her parents knew what she was doing now, they would have definitely sacrificed her career for the Humanities.
Situating herself against the pillows comfortably, she nestled in the blanket, trying very hard to not worry about the fact that she would have to go to school tomorrow.
And see Nanami.
Also...Gojo.
But mainly, Nanami.
As her thoughts gravitated toward the blond, she turned to her side, nuzzling against the pillow while her eyes kept moving over the same sentence over and over again.
Her bed was in the furthest corner of the large room, stuck against the wall, and the window was only a few inches away from the foot of her bed.
The weather appeared to be deteriorating as winds howled outside. She could hear the rain thumping heavily against the building, and thunder rumbling in the sky. She felt her hackles rise when her only source of light, the small bed lamp, went out. Through the curtains, she could see the lights outside flickering before they shut down, pushing her into more darkness.
Her heart was thudding in her chest, and even her hands stopped being visible to her. She heard what seemed like footsteps outside before she pulled her cover over her face.
In a foreign country, all on her own alone in a darkened infirmary, after almost dying as the storm raged outside - she felt more alone than ever.
A strong wind blew outside, and with a howl, the window beside her table burst open. Her hand tightened over her cover, and she pushed her head into the pillow more.
A small knock on the door resounded before she heard it creaking open.
"Getting scared?"
Her body tensed, before she closed her eyes. She thought she would be furious hearing his voice, but the anger was nowhere to be found. All she felt was shame and guilt and embarrassment.
She understood that reaction, but probably it was better suited when she faced Nanami. But here he was, the white-haired menace in her room. And instead of all the bitter things she thought she would feel, all she felt was a weird concoction of emotions...defeat, guilt, shame but at the same time, relief.
The door closed behind him softly, much in contrast with the storm raging outside. She could hear him pacing around before she heard the windows being shut and curtains being drawn closed.
She pulled her covers back over her face, curling into herself even more.
A screeching noise filled the room, and she winced at the ear-splitting sound. She heard him situate himself on the chair, the bedside table rattling as his shoe connected with it with a thud.
She pulled the blanket away from her face slowly and looked at him incredulously. Pulling herself up against the wall, she pushed the blanket up to her shoulders and curled into herself. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she looked in the direction of the window.
He definitely had something to say, but she could not find it in herself to have a debate with him.
It didn't help that she was not really the confrontational type. And this would be no useless banter either.
She heard him sigh, and from the corner of her eyes, she saw him rubbing the back of his neck as if to massage a kink away.
Gojo Satoru was not even looking at her.
Merely his presence was enough to upset something in her. She did not want to see his face, which she knew was surely looking down at her. She could already feel it on her, the sharp, beautiful features of his face pulled into an ugly sneer.
For being a burden, for being so stupid, and careless, and weak and useless.
"You should not be a shaman."
He said finally, a tone of finality that dared her to complain.
She glanced away from him without a sound.
As if she did not know that.
"Your cursed energy is stronger than the average, and I am sure so is your cursed technique, whatever it is."
She continued staring at the window, eyes focused on a point where the curtain was. The lights outside flickered before they came back to life, bathing the curtains white and leaving shadows behind.
"For whatever reason you are here, I would suggest you stay back and let others do the work. Because not only you are useless in a fight, you are also apparently very stupid."
Her lips wobbled at the irate tone of his voice and she squeezed her eyes shut as if it would stop the tears from forming. But somewhere inside her, ego reared its ugly head up. Deep down she knew what he said was true, but how dare he accuse her of being weak? How dare he, no older than she was, raise his voice at her?
No one, not even her father or her mother had talked to her with a raised voice. And definitely never with that tone- filled with anger, disgust, and contempt for the weak.
"What the hell were you thinking? Nanami could have died. Or did you not gather the seriousness of the situation? Tell me! Is this all a game to you?"
His chair screeched and she felt his hand slapping the bedtime table with a loud bang. If he saw her jump, that did not soften him down.
"You just gambled with Nanami's life! And what is your excuse? That it was a gut feeling? That you were trying to save my life?" His bitter, sarcasm-laced voice hurt more than anything, and she rubbed her eye vigorously. He clicked his tongue at the sight of her tears, hands coming to circle her wrists before pulling them away harshly.
She chanced a quick glance at his face and instantly regretted it. His glasses were nowhere to be found, and he was glowering at her tear-stained face as if he could handle the vision of her.
Back home, she had always been everyone's beloved, the youngest as she was. But for the first time in her life, someone looked at her as if merely being in her presence tainted them.
"What if your hunch was incorrect? Nanami would have been in the morgue right now, and not in his room resting. And help? Why would I ever need the help of a little brat like you? You, who can't even control her cursed energy, will protect me? What a fucking joke. Not only are you incapable of defending yourself, but you put in danger that one person who was actually fighting to save you. I am still struggling to understand if you are just fucking around and wasting everyone's time or are just this fucking idiotic."
His grip on her wrist tightened painfully. The corners of her bracelet dug into her skin painfully, but she kept her mouth closed.
"And for fuck's sake, STOP crying! What? Were you expecting any sort of compassion from me? Or did you think that doing this will get you in the good graces of the strongest sorcerer?"
Hearing his cruel words, for once her mind cleared. She felt red-hot anger clouding her, and when she turned to stare him in the eye and defend herself, she felt her anger disappear. For the first time ever, she found himself on the receiving end of a stoic and apathetic expression that she didn't think was possible for him.
Just then, his cursed energy flared. Cold, dark, and terrifying, she could only stare at him in utmost fear, unable to move. His cursed energy engulfed her completely, paralyzing her. She didn't how long he used his cursed energy to subdue her. When he deemed her scared enough, he stood up, returning his curse energy back to normal. He proceeded towards the door, only stopping once to look back at her.
"You may have won over the others with your waterworks, but I won't let you put anyone else's life in danger, and certainly not our classmates. You hear me?"
That night, Sanvi cried. From anger, guilt, and loneliness. All she wanted, was to go home.