October 31, 2018 23:45

In his mind, he visualizes the perfect vacation. White sandy beach, stretching as far as his eyes can see. He is beyond pain, beyond suffering. He is so goddamn tired.

How long has he been doing this? Since he was old enough to attend Jujutsu High. Then there was that miserable five years where he didn't do this. Those five years where he stopped seeing Roxanne, as she climbed to heights in the jujutsu world he never aspired to reach, nor can he. He knows his limits, meanwhile Roxanne has yet to reach hers.

He doesn't envy her power, but he wishes she trusted herself more to wield it.

He wants to kiss her on this beach; wants to see her in that racy yellow bikini, watch her skin glisten in the sunlight, droplets of the ocean caught in her hair like stars. Imagines feeding her fresh fruit in the shade of low hanging palm trees.

The wind pushes him forward along the surf.

She'll laugh at him, for wearing his dress shoes on the beach. She'll wrinkle her nose, and throw her head back, giggling as if she's being tickled.

"Take your shoes and socks off for the full experience, Nanami," she'll say, and give him one of those smiles of hers, the kind that turns his heart upside down. The kind that makes him think that maybe he does have something to live for. He wants to stand on the beach, dig his toes in the sand, and hold her hand tightly.

He lets himself feel it. The salty spray of the sea air, the clean scent, the drip of water from his nose–ignoring the coppery taste in his mouth. He sees her in the distance, beckoning.

"We're on vacation!" She laughs. "Live a little!"

Malaysia. He thinks, swinging his arm to admire the sunlight. The spray of the sea splatters across his face. He detects the scent of death and rot, but it fades to the dream he is living.

"There you go," Roxanne encourages. "That's why you're my favorite sorcerer, Kento."

He smiles at her, can't wait to kiss her good morning everyday.

He's so goddamn tired.

Please walk away with me this time.

Malaysia. A hammock. All those damned books he's never gotten around to reading. Roxanne, draped over him in the hammock, smelling like shea butter and coconut oil. Her skin like black gold, satin soft beneath his touch. Perfect. No curses, no worrying. Perfect.

The breeze dies. The dream begins to fade. He sees Roxanne, looking mournful, as if she wants to say "wish you were here." Wait. Don't go. I'm coming with you.

"You're here," he murmurs, his voice slow and heavy with exhaustion, weary with the truth that the dream is the lie and this moment is the only truth he has ever deserved.

"I've always been here," Mahito's sibilant voice responds, his hand spanning Nanami's muscled back tenderly, like a lover reuniting. Nanami wants to drop his weapon, wants to give up, but the dream is wavering back in, becoming something else.

Haibara…?

Distorted at first, but then yes, Haibara stands before him, looking as real as when he last saw him. But it can't be him, because Haibara is dead. This image of him is frozen in time, enshrined in the necropolis of Nanami's memory. He remembers a late night debate he had with Roxanne in their youth, regarding the nature of what humans experience before they die. Roxanne believes that everyone's psychopomp is different. Nanami does not think anything in particular triggers it, but in this moment he knows.

It's knowledge only the dead can know.

Look back. Haibara's voice whispers in his mind, his apparition pointing with a soft, compassionate smile.

Nanami can feel Itadori's cursed energy, and is thankful the boy has survived. He's more powerful than before, and he thinks perhaps it is okay to be exhausted. It's okay to pass the torch.

"Itadori," he says, hazarding a slow, pained glance over his shoulder at his wide eyed protege. "You take it from here."

"Abaza, what the hell is going on out there?" Shoko asks, looking her over for injuries. Roxanne is awake again, given enough healing to regain her memories, and she jolts awake, frightened in her own [new] skin. She tries to convey to Shoko what is happening, and she looks grim, the shadows under her eyes growing deeper.

God this lifestyle ages one so quickly. None of them have even hit their thirties and Roxanne feels as if she's lived a million lives already with all she's seen. For a moment, she can't blame Geto for losing his fucking mind a year ago. Everyday they spend their lives cleaning up humanity's spiritual filth.

She takes a deep breath.

"I'm the only special grade on site right now, now that Gojo's been sealed, unless someone got Yuki to finally get off her ass and do her part."

Shoko snorts. "You know her, she'll show when she's ready. I think Okkatsu's been called in too. But as of now? Yeah, it's just you."

Roxanne swears. She wishes she'd been wrong about that.

"I have to find Itadori and Nanami," she says, already getting up. Shoko grabs her arm, gentle but insistent.

"Abaza, if you go up against Sukuna he'll kill you," she says. "We can't afford to lose another powerful sorcerer."

"And if Sukuna finds Nanami?" Roxanne demands. "You expect him to fare any better? I'm going. Itadori needs to regain control of his body. And those cursed spirits—at least one of them—is still out there. It needs to be exorcized tonight ."

"Let her go, Shoko," it's Masamichi, for whom Roxanne is grateful. "Gojo is sealed, and she is our best bet if we want to salvage this shit show. Abaza, tell us what you need."

"Nanami's team's last known location," Roxanne says without hesitating. She doesn't care if it's unprofessional, she needs to find him. He's the only other person aside from Mei Mei who is strong enough to support her if she has to fight off a special grade curse and Sukuna. Though she thinks he may have already given control back to Itadori. She thinks of the carnage Sukuna dealt, and shudders. That poor boy.

There's a relay of information from the remaining Windows, and Roxanne nods firmly, securing the information. Nanami's team was not far from where she and Gojo had been fighting. The dent in the floor, she thinks. That must be where the sealing took place.

Roxanne bounds off, and she feels the first glimmer of hope she has felt all night. There may still be a way to salvage this catastrophe. She thinks of Sukuna's destructive rampage and shivers. She thinks of the promise in his voice when he agreed to meet with her after this messy business is concluded. Part of her is anticipatory, the other is angry. Why did Gojo get himself sealed and leave this mess for them all to wallow in?

As she makes her way back underground she hears shouting, distressed and crazed.

Angry.

She hears maniacal laughter bouncing off the walls. Hears the crashing and crumpling of tile and concrete. She hopes Itadori is giving that little cursed spirit hell.

I'm on my way.

She rounds the corner and sees Yuji engaged in desperate combat with Mahito. She halts, following the battle briefly when she sees it.

The entirety of Roxanne's world tunnels down to a fine, condensed singularity. It's only an arm— only an arm —but gripped in its hand is the wrapped blade Nanami carries on his person always.

It's only an arm.

Roxanne's senses strain frantically, and sees what's left of Nanami on the ground. It's only an arm.

She is distantly aware of herself, of an utterly inhuman sound tearing its way up her throat. It chokes and drowns in her mouth, which is dry in disbelief.

"Nana…" Her voice is garbled in the threat of tears. "Nanami?"

His name. He always responds to his name. But there is no response. There will never be a response ever again. He will never side eye, or smile at her, or kiss her, or fuck her, or breathe with her ever again. She feels as if she can't breathe. Time is stretched and slow and distorted around her, and there's no sound from her, only angry tears streaming down her cheeks.

Briefly, Mahito's attention turns to her, and he grins when he recognizes her.

"Oh it's you !" He laughs, and easily knocks Itadori aside. He looks down at Nanami's remains, still smiling. "A shame, I liked him. And I think you liked him a lot too, judging from your reaction. I guess I'm breaking two souls today. What fun!"

He claps his hands like a child, and Roxanne doesn't think, she only moves.

Why do you limit yourself?

If Mahito thinks he has taken the full measure of Roxanne's power he is mistaken. She is a true meteor of cursed energy, and when she strikes him, he feels it in the shape of his soul, stubbornly maintaining its shape. She is on him like a viper on his heels, every strike like a hammer to an anvil, giving him little time to react.

Itadori finds his courage, and joins her.

For a while there is only the sound of Mahito desperately trying to gain the advantage. He knows a domain expansion will only trigger Sukuna to lash out at him, but maybe he can trap her . He's still wearing the blood of her lover on his hands like a warm glove, and he wants to smear it on her face as he transforms her into something truly grotesque and creative. And if he can hurt Itadori in the bargain, more's the better. The other issue is once he uses his domain expansion, if he does not succeed in killing them both, they will kill him one way or the other. He only needs to touch her once.

He is intrinsically aware of his clone above, engaged with another sorcerer. This one is also important to Itadori. Oh good, he can skewer both women's corpses in front of the boy, and tear his soul apart again and again. He will kill everything the boy loves just to taste the bitter ashes of his despair. It will be a glorious thing to usher in the new age.

He thinks of the woman's reaction to seeing her lover's dismembered remains, and grins.

Roxanne grounds her stance, and makes two fists. She pulls and Mahito feels his cursed energy grow heavier within himself. He tries to move, but finds himself slowed.

Itadori takes that opportunity to deliver what Roxanne knows to be a Black Flash. She can feel his momentum building, and can feel his fury powering every strike. She holds Mahito still, and is surprised when he tries to resist her, crying out in surprise.

"How are you doing that?" He cries in petulant indignation. But he sees an opportunity and turns to flee.

"Get the motherfucker!" Roxanne shouts and Itadori takes off. Roxanne is inwardly impressed. The boy's got some afterburners on for sure. She's right behind him when she sees Mahito running toward the stairs.

Hell isn't over, and Roxanne regrets the last 24 hours.

November 5, 2018 02:45

Grief hollows her out.

There has been no time to mourn since the Shibuya Incident. Every moment has been spent hiding with Itadori and Fushiguro, and to her infinite surprise, the half-curse blood user, Choso. There hadn't even been time to collect the remains of their allies to bury.

Everything has gone to shit.

Geto—or rather, the thing wearing his body—has unleashed a plague of curses on Japan. Worse yet, the creature has the Prison Realm, which currently holds Satoru. Roxanne was relieved to know Gojo is still alive, but freeing Gojo will be difficult. For one, she does not know where to even look for Pseudo-Geto, who has been careful to mask his presence throughout the entirety of this ordeal.

They scavenge for supplies, which is easy, considering many people have either evacuated the city, or are dead.

Roxanne is too numb to consider the casualties, sorcerer and non-sorcerer.

Every night since the incident has seen them fighting curses. Every night. It's been nearly one week.

"Miss Abaza," Itadori says to her when they're hiding out one day in a ruined high rise. They climbed as high as they could to get the high ground, and now they settle in for the night after a lackluster dinner of beef jerky and potato chips.

"You haven't been sleeping," Itadori says. "You have to rest or we're all going to be useless in the next fight."

Roxanne leans against a cracked stantion.

"I will stand watch," Choso says, and Roxanne eyes him, her expression unreadable. He bows.

"Please, I know it is difficult to trust me given we began as enemies, but I will always defend my little brother, and those who are important to him." Roxanne doesn't miss Itadori's slight hesitation at being addressed as the half-curse's little brother, but she doesn't respond.

"You tried to kill me," she says in a hollow voice she hasn't heard in days. "I tried to kill you. Let's call it even and move on. Stand watch if you want."

She shuts her eyes, willing herself to sleep.

She wakes up in a sea of red.

"For fuck's sake," she groans tiredly. "Can this wait? I really need sleep. And I don't play about my sleep hours."

Sukuna says nothing at first, merely looking down at her. She makes the climb to him, settling into a seat in a decidedly undignified heap with a heavy and exhausted sigh.

"What took you so long, baby?" She asks, smirking when Sukuna raises a brow.

"I did promise you an audience, didn't I?" He drawls, his tone bored and disinterested. Roxanne chuckles, climbing to her feet. She knows that Pact is pissing him off. He wants to kill her so bad. But then he tilts his head just so, makes a gesture with his fingers, shifts the entire situation off-kilter. Now she thinks he wants to fuck her.

"You never explained what the marks you put on me are for."

"They are so I can find you no matter where you are," Sukuna tells her. "Certain cursed techniques exist that can be written on the human soul. That foolish patchwork puppet had barely scratched the surface on how to manipulate the soul with cursed energy. There are so many more refined applications. None of you sorcerers ever think beyond the manuals and lessons you're fed in that school of yours."

Roxanne's brows go up. "Well damn , I was just asking!" She finds a second wind, climbing to her feet.

"But can't you just track me via my cursed energy?" She asks. Sukuna smirks.

"I never said you had to be alive when I found you."

Roxanne swallows hard. Oh.

She's about to walk away when Sukuna's hand fastens around her wrist, and he pulls her close, holding her steady around the waist.

"Why'd you exorcize that cursed spirit?" Roxanne asks, even as she takes her claim on his lap. He lets her, because he wants her there.

"He offended me," Sukuna says. His other hand reaches up, rests threateningly on her throat. She meets his eyes: all four of them.

"He harmed what is mine alone to harm," Sukuna applies pressure to her throat, and Roxanne's lips part. He rewards her with the tiniest smirk, his thumb pressing along that divine arc. He can snap it easily, or tear her head off to bathe in her blood.

Something crimson tangles around his soul. He releases the pressure, delights in her relieved little gasp as she breathes easier.

"He killed me," Roxanne whispers, remembering. "And then…and then I…"

Sukuna's smirk grows wider. Roxanne realizes she may have erred, but the Pact is binding, and the moment she violates it Sukuna will have leave to kill her. This knowledge lingers between both of them, ever-present, a goad to his nerves, and a trigger for her anxiety. She must outwit him, but he's got a millennium worth of jujutsu knowledge on her. She has only what she has gleaned from the JJH library, and she no longer has access.

She and Itadori have been declared anathema. How not? With Gojo sealed, so went with him any protection that would give Itadori a fighting chance and Roxanne knows the Higher Ups–conservative traditionalists they are—will find any excuse to remove her. Anathema. Likely their executioner has already been dispatched.

"Look at me."

Roxanne blinks rapidly like a waking dreamer, focuses on Sukuna's face. His hand leaves her throat, traces slowly down her collar bone.

"What do you want with the Fushiguro boy?" Roxanne asks and Sukuna's hand tightens on her hip, nails digging into her skin. In response her hips rock forward, and he chuckles, spreading his knees wider, and her legs with them.

"You ask too many questions, little lotus," Sukuna chuckles. "Turn that hunger to more achievable pursuits."

Roxanne doesn't fight him when he leans in, nuzzling her neck. He's like the world's most dangerous feline, and she yelps when she feels something bite her hip. Sukuna holds her body firmly in his lap, chuckling and lifting his hand to show a second mouth in his palm.

"Why didn't you bust that out before?" Roxanne demands, her hands coming up, tangling her fingers in his hair. She doesn't miss the tension that ripples through him like leashed and coiled potential energy, only to relax as her fingers stroke his scalp.

So, even the King of Curses likes his head rubbed.

"Doing this will not bring back the dead," he says and Roxanne's blood chills. "Do not seek succor here."

Roxanne tries to pull away, but he has her trapped there and suddenly there is no pleasure, there is only the fear that she is trapped with him, and Nanami is fucking dead and she will never wake up to him again–

"Let me go…" Her voice comes out in a panicked whisper. Sukuna's eyes flash with renewed interest, tasting her fear. He's put his finger in a wound that has yet to even begin clotting, and now he can watch her come apart. No one said the Pact of the Wheel must be filled with joy. He can make her regret ever binding him to such a thing. He cannot split her open to the bone, as he wants, and have Uraume serve up her heart garnished with pickled ginger and bean sprouts. He cannot allow any harm to come to her.

He runs his fingers over her tattoo, the raven, lingers on the closed eye and smirks.

"Is that what you want, little lotus? For me to let you go?"

Roxanne hesitates, feels the crimson thread pull tighter until her brain is a haze of red, and she can't think anymore, she's grabbing either side of her head, cupping his face in her hands. Sukuna's tongue snakes out of her mouth, running over his fangs. Roxanne doesn't understand why this feels right. Is it grief? Is it the Pact they've made? She remembers kneeling in the wasteland of Shibuya, and Sukuna's satisfied smirk as he surveys his handiwork.

"There is nowhere you can run, you know that, don't you?" He asks and grins wickedly at her frightened yelp when a mouth forms on his cheek to lick her palm. She snatches her hand away from his face and the extra mouth clamps its teeth on empty air.

"Not in this life, nor the next," Sukuna strokes her like one would a nervous pet. It only serves to make Roxanne's blood rush hotter in the pipes of her veins, and the crimson haze makes her dizzy.

"Remember your Vow," and his voice is fierce, and he takes a fistful of her hair, shaking her head. "I will find you no matter where your soul hides."

"Works both ways," Roxanne says defiantly. "The minute you incarnate I'm on your ass, Ryōmen ."

Maybe it's the way she says his name, the venom she pours into it, the way she says his name sounds as good as if he's being cursed. It excites him. He loves to see them struggle and fight, even when it's futile. Sukuna grins, one of his hands sliding down the generous curve of her hip to cup her ass, palming the cheek and squeezing. Roxanne bites her lip on a groan.

"I look forward to it," he says. "But let's not be in such a hurry to leave this era behind." Not like she can. Sukuna felt her death in Shibuya, and then felt her soul return to this era almost an hour and half later. He will never tell her, but that was part of his reason for killing Jogo. He harmed what was only Sukuna's right to harm, and so in Sukuna's eyes he doled out a punishment that fit the crime, even if the cursed spirit didn't realize it until it was too late.

Roxanne's hips rock forward again, momentarily free of grief. She's been outpacing it for days.

Sukuna is denying her.

"Dawn is coming soon," he tells her. "Keep those brats alive."

"Sukuna, don't—"

He banishes her, his lips a mere hair's breadth from her own, and she fades from his domain like an apparition. He can still feel the lingering echoes of her on his lap, the warmth of her skin beneath his hands. Why hadn't he taken her right then and there? There's fun in the anticipation, but he's felt her in the flesh too, albeit only in a caress. Perhaps that's what he wants. To have her when he's wearing actual skin. And it will be amusing to see her desire tie itself up in knots over the coming weeks. He does not want to think about why there's a new and unfamiliar ache in him as well. He saw the ocean of grief in her, knows that she is moving husk hollow, seeking succor he cannot give. He has stripped himself of the ability to offer such things long ago.

The empty cavity of his chest aches when he thinks of her.

Fuck.