Note:
Flashbacks and thoughts in italics
I do not condone or encourage any behaviours in this story. It is simply a fictional story.
Author's Note:
In this story, ✯Inumaki can speak. ✯Muta has regained his body.
"Frankincense Burning"
CHAPTER 4
Aren't I kind?
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She stands there for a second like a deer caught in the headlights, then her responses activate, and she beetles for the bag kept on the ottoman near the bookshelf in his room.
The door had jangled open, and Kamo crouched before her with a towel clamped to his face, blocking the air from entering his nose. His knuckles are pinned to the floor, hands curled into starkened fists. "Out of the room before I lose my sanity." His smothered cadence had been reasonably explicit for her to latch on to. Kamo wants to question her dishevelled appearance: her swollen lips, her bruised neck, unruly hair and the shirt with the stench of an alpha that her hands slip out from the place he'd rather not say. But if he takes his sweet time doing that, the omega will not leave here unmarked. "Should I get out instead? Will you be able to make it back home? I'll call Momo!"
It got through his brain that going out in this state was unsafe. Nonetheless, she denied it. "No. I'm fine." She grips her bag. "I didn't know this would happen. I'm really sorry, Kamo-san." She gives him an apologetic smile, turning the door handle to get outside his room chop-chop.
"Miwa, I don't think you should go—" She shut the door upon her departure, not allowing him to conclude.
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"Aa-acho." Muta caught a cold, it seems. He looked around, adjusting the puffy scarf-like collar of his uniform, coughing. He usually kept to himself. She glanced at the window near his head, sensing his attention drifting to her. He did not smile, but his cheeks lifted, the scar stretched on them slanting silkenly. Kasumi rubbed the back of her neck, blinking. Muta had a weak body, couldn't walk or face the sun. This was true before his curse technique manifested fully and before he finished his first year in Kyoto. She remembers the exo frame in which he had hidden himself. To see him in the pink, fighting fit is both a contentment and a confoundment as it took her much time to get used to his new form in the classroom.
There are three alphas, two betas and one omega in the entirety of Kyoto Metropolitan Curse Technical College. They sure have a lot of space for 6 students. Guessing who that omega is, is not even a piece of cake, more like a leftover crumble. Miwa fiddles with her pocketbook and a pen, nauseous. She had a bad feeling about this. It wasn't just that she pegged the opposing team to have strong members who could be pitted against her. She believed in her friends. She definitely did and had confidence in them. But to pull that simple thing she felt for others out of herself is like counting grains of sand on the beach. She kept digging because it had been buried in a cramped space under the weight of that pessimist whispering in her ear and everything else with her.
Miwa clutched to the long vertical rail beside Momo and Mai. The train wasn't packed. So they had a lot of space for everyone. The brunette grumbled. Something about how, unlike their team, the Tokyo gang had only a single beta, how the remaining (fuckers) were alphas. Miwa took in the information with a stoic bearing, her insides shrinking into nothingness. It was one thing to hear the reformative, loud preaches on the importance of secondary gender equality and another to be on the wrong end of the spectrum when it come down to it. She doesn't know what they have in store for her. In life, the biases turn raw, and the underwhelming feeling of being what you are rises like bile from your gut when confronted with what you must fear. This law applies only to omegas since alphas were privileged here, and betas enjoy their safe zone.
Miwa checked the time on her watch. Early hours. Not the crack of dawn, but still earlier than usual. This was because today was a special day. Today is the match between Tokyo Jujutsu High and Kyoto Jujutsu High. When Todo inquired why they didn't have one in the first year, Utahime explained it got cancelled because the higher-ups insisted the students wait until the second year to get thoroughly used to the basics and skilled in their respective cursed techniques. There were also many safety measures taken to prevent any unexpected hassles and fix a day on which all of the participants in both Kyoto and Tokyo would be able to make it without going to heat in the middle of a fight.
The train slid forward, taking them to Tokyo. Athwart Momo's neat Odango, the steely interior reflected Kamo's unimpressed expression, to add to that, the twitch of his left eye after Todo began raving about his favourite idol, with a punch line that everyone who disliked big butts is lame. If she hadn't a lot on her plate right now, perhaps Miwa would have been amused. It's not like he asked for any. Comparatively, this is Todo mellowing it down.
The clouds parted, ultramarine blending well with its blocky landscape, pencil-like buildings rising to poke the sizzling skyline. The Kyoto students descended the steps into the premises where their counterparts in Tokyo trained, minimalist organic architecture nestled in the bountiful flora. Their Sensei had gone off to search for the one here, calling him an irresponsible drama queen who is never punctual. Either she thought she was muttering while it wasn't, or she didn't care. It took less than ten minutes for Mai to start groaning. "This is why ours is better." Scorning, Momo shook her head and tucked the broom under her arm, adding fuel to the fire.
As if on cue, the residents started appearing tout de suit, a trail of them approaching from a distance. Miwa's wandering eyes stopped their movement, freezing dead. The icy vapour that swept to her nostrils caused her eyelashes to waver and her hair to stand on end. Where will she find the courage to lift her head when it was a fragrance she knew overly well?
Inumaki's steps sped up, breaking its regular tempo. It shall not be the person he thought it was, the person he thought was gone from his life for good, the person Toge tried to forget but kept thinking about, the person he expected to never see again. One look at the mop of blue hair, wind-blown hair, confirmed his suspicions. It was indeed the omega he had abandoned, the life he had sacrificed for the position and responsibilities bestowed upon him. More often than not, he needed to reassure himself that he did this for her, to protect her from the world of curses he was entangled in. He was saving her, wasn't he?—which brings him to another question: what did they know about each other when they both believed they knew the other like the back of their hands? Does he have the right to ask what else she is hiding from him after ghosting her?
How come Toge not feel her cursed energy? Was he blinded by her omega? No, her cursed powers could be as faint as Maki's, trained to its precision but not visible to the eyes unless during practice. That must be it. He doesn't even sigh, breath trapped in his chest, unable to go out or in. All the pain he had borne, the effort he took to leave, to walk out of her life, turned out meaningless. What was all of it for if she had already written off her fate like this, only to be ensnared in this deadly loop with him?
What is she even doing here? No, not her, not an omega like her, not someone with a chunk of his heart in her possession, not the one he had wanted to shield even at the cost of his life. She kept her head pointed at her feet. She did notice his presence then. How can she not? His scent was getting colder, a sharper hint for the nose.
Toge examined the bunch of his peers in their uniforms. Three of them permeated a distinct alpha cologne, still and all he could smell, even from this distance, because of the serene nature and fewer people promised the absence of cluttered scents. Without blockers, it would've been thicker. Two of them had no particular smell, or he couldn't discern from a hundred-metre distance, meaning they were probably beta, leaving Miwa as the only omega amongst them, the only one in this sports festival. Toge was about to make an exasperated sound but quickly regained his senses, mindful of the classmates and others following behind him. He bottled it all up, every drop of it, as he fell into step with them.
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Itadori and Kugisaki hung out near a bench not far from the opposing team. The former whistled a tune, sniffing the air. "There's an omega with them. I can smell it." His olfactory might not be as sharp as Inumaki's, but he can undoubtedly feel the presence.
Nobara took her hand out of her pocket, elbowing him on the waist. "Stop. It's gross." Offensiveness is worth noting, even when it doesn't apply to her.
Yuuji rubbed his neck. "You can say that because you're not the one who smells it."
That's not the point! "Stop acting like you've never seen an omega in your life." She could tell him this, but she wouldn't since the two students from Kyoto they had met by far had not been the most polite either. Megumi had told her they were two alphas, but what did they know? This person could be the same as that scum of the earth, Mai. They say birds of a feather flock together.
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Gojo rose in the wind, his body suspended in the air, a finger kinked on his blindfold to drag it up, an eye peeking out to survey the people gathered about the pathway towards the buildings. His orb, aglitter in the break of day, quickly picked out what he was looking for. Gojo jutted his chin, lips parting for a pleasured, sadistic grin. His object of interest was looking at something or someone. It was not lost on him how Inumaki's steps hemmed and hawed. All at once, his grin was replaced with a scowl.
Something about this rubbed him the wrong way. He had been somewhat thrilled for this day, to see the look on her face when she would discover he was the one grading her performance, a wicked smirk only just kept from whisking out. He contemplated getting back at her for not listening to him, disregarding all his warnings. Maybe, make her beg a little? He had chugged down bottles of wine during a function, and the first thing he felt like doing was kissing her. He cannot remember what motivated him to do so, but it had something to do with feelings. On the other hand, he was no teenage bully. He had grown out of that, so maybe he shall not resort to such a ridiculously senseless act while he is meant to be watching over her.
Gojo bends a knee, his body descending to rest one foot over one of the roofs, the other slackening delicately with a click. He was considerably famous. His reputation as "the most" powerful sorcerer, infinity and his six eyes were not under wraps. For all that, his identity, as in his name, wasn't published around as one may expect.
He is kinder to her. Kasumi should be delighted by his alpha instead of weak-mindedly refusing him. Honestly, when she made the rash decision of walking to the lair of an alpha who was not him, he saw red. Trying to tame the fire within had a snowball's chance in hell. Satoru would've marked her out of the sheer possessiveness he doesn't mind, but she did. Beyond everything, he gets it. He was drunk, and why would an omega in the heat put herself in danger by trusting him. She made the right decision, even when she had the nerve to meet an insignificant scum but not him. He accepted that it was partly his fault for getting drunk. If he hadn't, he would've been able to take her home, make love to her however he wanted, and mark her as his.
Satoru feels sickeningly sweet, satisfied and sick all over again. He doesn't put a leash on his thoughts when it is about Kasumi. She didn't even know who he was or how unimaginably powerful he was—beyond what she could even fathom. So he understands. He knew it before he knew that Kasumi, a student of Kyoto sister school, didn't know his name. She must know his name now. He had repeated himself a thousand times just in case she forgot. See, he's kind. Kasumi has only scratched the tip of the iceberg. Wait until she delves deeper.
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