(a/n) sorry i disappeared for a month — i had exams n i was also planning stuff for game deving :3 i was also starting my new job n moving n stuff so its been chaotic ! anyways enjoy the filler chapter its domestic!characters time also also also i feel like one thing i have trouble with in this fic is balancing between story driven moments / more serious stuff & when i just need like , character interaction & no story driving idk ive separated the story into arcs and i think theres gonna be at least 24 to 30 chapters ? we will see yippie
If Himari had to describe the months following the incident, she would choose the phrase unsettling domestic.
It wasn't boring; none of it could be boring with someone like Gojo or Shoko around. Exciting didn't fit either, when all the missions had been low-grade spirits that were easily extinguished. Things felt routine and calm: the ocean settling into a lull at night— a peaceful tranquility unknowing of tomorrow's storm.
Hokkaido High had a saying: "If nothing is happening, you aren't looking closely enough."
It was something that was drilled into every new student entered into the high school, a warning that kept the students alive. The past few months had been filled with nothingness, so Himari had been desperately trying to decipher the nothingness into data.
Had more been accelerating? More earthquakes, tsunamis, deaths? Were the disaster curses working with anyone? Why wasn't she progressing faster? The timeline was speeding up and she was desperately chasing after it, snapping at its heels and begging it to wait for her to catch up.
Her journal entries had slowly dissolved into frantic and desperate attempts to uncover what was happening— and she had been losing more and more sleep until she had finally collapsed during a sparring session.
Himari picked at her skin.
Three of them were gathered at a round table. Geto seated directly across from her, with Shoko on his left, and an empty chair for Gojo beside her.
"Yo," A voice called out from the dormitory entrance. The door creaked open. She could hear the shuffling of a coat being hung up and shoes being kicked off.
Gojo Satoru had arrived.
He stalked toward the table, hands in his pockets, sunglasses slipped halfway down his nose bridge in some lazy attempt to seem cool. His stride exuded arrogance, and he pulled his designated chair out and took a seat at the table.
"This is an intervention."
She blinked.
Shoko looked at her with a softness, and reached across to cup Himari's hands in her own.
"Suzuki, we noticed some concerning behaviour in the past few weeks," Shoko explained, and Himari inhaled sharply.
Her shoulders tensed in anticipation and thoughts began to bulldoze through her head. Had she been careless enough to get caught? Or perhaps Geto had disclosed the incident, and they were here to interrogate her. She met Shoko's gaze and she furrowed her brow.
All the potential excuses and lies rushed through her brain, and it took Shoko's voice to snap her back into reality.
"Satoru reported that you've been out training every night for hours— to the point where you exhaust your cursed energy reserves entirely."
"If he was awake to witness it doesn't that mean he was also—"
"Suguru mentioned that you had previously made an effort to attend team events and socials— but your participation has dropped significantly."
Geto gave an affirmative nod, and Himari glanced from Shoko to the other boy. It was difficult to discern what emotion he was feeling, but from his crossed arms and pursed lips, Himari felt like it was displeasure. She wondered if he had to be coerced to be here, and she winced internally.
The months following the Hanami incident had been awkward. Her declaration was filled with determination, and she had spent each morning waiting outside his dormitory with an invitation to chat, or a snack in hand. It had become a routine, and he had slowly— reluctantly— joined her at various cafes in the mornings.
Admittedly, she had begun to slack a lot during the past month, having shown up at his door only twice in the past two weeks. She assumed he hadn't missed her absence.
"Gojo has stated—"
"You never land a hit on me anymore."
It was blunt.
She flinched at the harshness of his words. The white haired boy caught her in his peripheral, and she stared back with red, hot shame creeping up the nape of her neck.
"I'm sorry I haven't been able to attend events, and that I've been slacking off," Himari began to apologize. It was as if she were a lab rat being dissected, and the trio were scrutinizing her every word. "I've just been so preoccupied with my own thoughts and ideas, and I want to be better, I didn't know— I'm sorry—"
"Why are you apologizing?"
She blinked. It was Geto's voice.
He was glancing off to the side, an almost bored tone lacing his voice as he interrupted her spiel. It felt reminiscent of when he criticized her desire to be liked by people.
"We just think you need a break, is all. Stop practicing at night, stop spending hours by yourself and in your own head, stop asking Yaga for extra lessons. Just loosen up— breathe a little, okay?"
Gojo smirked as he said this, and Himari pulled her hands away from Shoko's grasp. She brought one hand to up to clutch her other arm's elbow, and sighed.
"I'll take one week off."
Shoko's face morphed into a beaming smile, and Gojo's grin widened. Geto's face was not a frown.
"I'm hungry."
The whine made her heave out a sigh, and she marched toward the kitchen cabinets. Somehow, her week off had slowly morphed into a trip to Karuizawa, and then that trip had morphed into babysitting.
Geto and Shoko had been out to visit the shopping district of the town, and Himari had planned to take a moment to curl up and read. Instead— she put out a fire.
A literal fire.
Gojo had placed foil-lined butter in the microwave while absent-mindedly jostling a pan of rice that crackled on the stove. It took mere moments for the microwave to register the foil, and erupt in a smoky, flaming disaster.
Himari walked in on the white-haired boy staring at the fire through the slightly ajar microwave door.
With a palm pressed against her forehead, she wove closer to the incident. Pushing the door shut, she turned to glare at the sheepish man.
"Aluminum in the microwave? Oxygen to feed the fire? The property damage would be insane if I wasn't here," She huffed, one hand on her hip and the other hand clutching her forehead.
"Good thing you were then," Gojo croaked cheekily, a smile danced on his lips as his expressions seemed to dance between a sheepish grin and a grateful smile. His hand clutched the nape of his neck, and as he stared at Himari, the fried rice he had previously been neglecting erupted in flames.
The oil in the pan of rice he was heating up had begun to smoke amidst their conversation, and it look less than thirty seconds to erupt into another fire for Himari to set out.
"I'm hungry."
Gojo whined.
Himari had put out two fires, assessed the property damage, and the boy was complaining to her that he hadn't been fed.
"Shut up."
She sighed, cracking her knuckles and walking out from the kitchen area to the living room. Blue eyes met hers, and she watched in amusement as the man feigned fear. "You're so scary!"
Rolling her eyes, she picked her keys off the counter and slung a messenger bag across her shoulders.
Slipping on a pair of shoes, she balanced on one leg and brought the other foot up to adjust the heel tab, before turning to stare at Gojo.
"You coming?"
He was beside her in an instant.
It was hard for her to describe what Gojo Satoru felt like to her.
Shoko— Himari thought— she had a pretty good read on. The girl was incredibly gentle, funny, with an undertone of calculation. She was a genius in disguise, hidden in the shadows of her teammates. Geto was laidback, polite, and incredibly well-rounded. It was hard for her to know exactly how much of Geto's personality was what he chose to reveal, but she would graciously accept any inkling of data he provided.
Gojo was more like a puzzle.
It felt like she had to piece together completely unrelated components to form a picture without a reference. Like the box had the portrait of a cold, calculating weapon of war— when the pieces painted the picture of a boy who was goofy, charismatic, and fucking annoying.
Admittedly, Himari hummed, it was a puzzle she didn't mind piecing together.
It was a soggy heat that welcomed the two as they stepped outside the apartment. Immediately she regretted her decision, and she longed for the air conditioned room and her book. The croak of cicadas filled the backdrop, and the chatter of distant schoolchildren sparked a sentimental yearning inside her.
"What were you reading?"
The question made her glance in his direction. He was lagging behind her, hands in his pockets, in a baggy t-shirt— something that, no doubt, was Shoko's choosing. Himari snickered at the thought of Shoko spending hours packing Gojo's wardrobe prior to the trip.
"1Q84, Haruki Murakami."
It was a book that had been very recently published, and prior to her leap in time, she had read numerous times.
"Ah, I've read that one."
She blinked.
"I'm surprised, I didn't know you could read," Himari replied, a playful tone wrapped around her voice.
"Contrary to popular belief, I'm actually very good at reading. Principal Yaga actually named me best reader in all of Tokyo— don't check with him, though."
Rolling her eyes, she threw a gentle punch in his direction and found herself pleasantly surprised by the contact she made with his shoulder.
"You just don't really seem like a reader," Himari commented, slowing down her pace and slipping in line with the white-haired boy. "I always thought your life was too fast-paced; y'know, the strongest and all."
A shrug rolled off his shoulders and he glanced at her with a cheeky smile, "Hey, I have to read sometimes. Girls always go for the soft artsy boy."
She punched him again.
"What kind of books do you usually like?" She asked, and he brought a hand to his chin and glanced to the side for a moment, before responding. Closing her eyes, she brought her hands behind her back and grabbed her left wrist with her right hand. She enjoyed the soft hum of his voice as he listed off his favourite novels.
She wasn't sure she deserved to feel content, but the guilty pleasure of the humid summer air against her skin and the warmth in her chest betrayed any self-loathing she had, and she let herself slip into a soft, mellow bliss.
It was quaint. A bit small, a bit cozy; the interior of the cafe they arrived at was decorated with trinkets, and each trinket seemed to tell a story.
"What do you think?"
The two had pulled into a booth near the side of the cafe, and Himari craned her neck and scanned each decoration lined wall.
Himari could tell it was a family-owned business— perhaps it was the warm smiles which greeted her every glance, or it was the way the decorations ranged from crayon drawings to medals won from sports day— it was adorn, head to toe, in familial warmth and love.
She glanced at Gojo, who seemed awfully proud of himself. He leaned back in his chair and held his arms across his chest, staring at her expectantly.
The smell of fresh baked goods, the handprint goose on the wall, the framed set of a spoon family.
"You told me you wanted to help your mom run a restaurant."
The family of spoons had two big spoons, and one little spoon. Etched into the handle of the big spoon were the words: "Best Dad Ever".
Himari glanced at Gojo and blinked. Then she felt a burning sensation in her eyes, and when she brought her hand up to her face, she felt the sting of tears crawling down her cheeks.
Fuck.
"Oh shit," Gojo mumbled and he awkwardly glanced around. A few dirty stares were shot in his direction as he sheepishly reached out to pat her back, and Himari brought her hands to hide her face.
She had been so preoccupied the past few months— so desperately obsessed with cracking Geto, and getting stronger, and reversed cursed techniques, and learning more, and being enough— that she had pushed her parents to the back of her mind.
Best dad ever.
Her parents wanted this. This was all they had ever wanted, and she was seated in the middle of their dream— dining with unfulfilled promises and stolen futures.
Best dad ever.
Gojo was silent as he frantically pat her back, and the sheer awkwardness of his contact changed her silent sobs to a choked giggle.
"Himari— I really look like such an asshole right now," Gojo whispered in a joking tone. It was evident to her that he was uncomfortable, and the thought of his public perception being in her hands brought a louder laughter to the surface.
She lowered her hands down from shielding her face, and swiped a sleeve across her cheeks.
"Thank you, Gojo."
A tender smile replaced his previously knit brows, and he pulled his hand back.
"Let's order."
A puff of light smoke escaped Shoko's lips and lifted into the air.
Wispy smoke tangled and merged with the darker, more pronounced smoke of the campfire, and Himari leaned back in her chair. Soft waves crashed against the beach shore, and the anxiety that had previously gripped her senses seemed to dull— not entirely gone— but currently absent.
Drumming her fingers against the arm rest of the chair, Himari stared past the campfire in front of her and gazed toward the ocean.
The ocean was calm, each wave colliding with the shore in a slow rhythmic tempo. The morning wind had died down, and she closed her eyes. The fire's comforting warmth wrapped around her, and for a moment, she felt a sense of home.
Tokyo's four students were nestled around a large campfire, and the air tingled with a salty breeze and the earthy scent of wood that Gojo had collected. The moment felt suspended in time, and she opened her eyes.
Himari Suzuki had injected herself into the veins of her past, and rewound a decade with one binding vow. She had lost her parents, her friends, her existence, and she had made almost zero progress unraveling the world around her.
In this moment, none of that meant anything.
With Shoko's hand resting on her shoulder, the glow of the fire kissing her skin, and the stars above scattered like spilled ink on a black canvas— everything felt a little less meaningful, and a little more small.
"If you guys could jump back in time and change anything in your life— what would it be?"
The question startled her, and she glanced in the direction of Geto who had prompted the group. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she let out an exasperated chuckle at the thought of being caught.
"Loaded question man," Gojo responded, and Geto merely shrugged.
The silence welcomed the crackling of the fire, and Shoko spoke softly, the cigarette she grasped between her fingers exuding smoke from the angry orange tip.
"I don't think I'd change anything."
"Why not?" Himari questioned, a genuine curiousity captured in her tone.
"Well," She began, taking a puff of the cigarette before responding. "Everything that has happened in my life has accumulated into who I am today, what happens if I go back in time and change something? I might lose everything I am today."
"Not one thing you'd change? Like, something tiny— or like, investing into something?"
Shoko shook her head slowly, and brought her free hand to her chin.
"I don't think so, I don't know any of the consequences of my actions. There's a whole web of connections and small events that lead to one another, I think disrupting even one might change the whole course of my life."
Himari furrowed her brow.
This was obviously something she already knew. It was a hypothetical, but the words Shoko spoke rang through her ears and settled into her brain. The anxiety that was washed away crept back into her bones.
"What if it makes it better?"
Himari paused for a moment, feeling the burning gaze of the three students aimed at her.
"What if you go back in time, you change things, and the world changes for the better. What if, by denying the opportunity, you're losing out on a chance to make everything better?"
"And what if it makes it worse?"
Himari swallowed, dropping her gaze to her feet. A sinking feeling wrapped its hands around her throat and began to squeeze, and the peace was pushed away by the reminder that— after this trip— everything would return to the status quo.
"What about you, Geto?"
Gojo redirected the conversation toward his friend, and Himari felt relief wash over her as she pushed her thoughts further back in her mind. Focus on the moment.
This might be the last chance she gets to relax— focus on the moment.
"I might go back to show more appreciation for my mother," He murmured, "I don't see her often these days, and I was far too much of a brat as a kid to ever make up for it now."
Himari nodded, that— she felt— was a valid response.
"I think I'd want to live a bit more. Maybe I'd rob a bank," Gojo suggested with so much sincerity, Himari bit her tongue, unsure if it was a joke or not.
"Maybe, I'd want to just be a kid— y'know. I grew up surrounded by politics and fighting, I never really got a chance to grow into myself. I don't know the line between Gojo Satoru, your ridiculously handsome fella, and Gojo Satoru, the talented six-eyes and limitless user."
There it was again; the intimacy that Gojo seemed to use so flawlessly to draw in those around him. He switched from sincerity to comedy to inviting— he had this innate ability to connect with people.
"What about you, Suzuki?" Shoko prompted her, and Himari blinked. She didn't have an answer in mind— not when she was already living in the hypothetical.
Instead, she leaned backwards in her chair, tilting her head to stare up at the stars.
"I think I'd try to make the world a better place."
(a/n) jujustroll!
"You guys wanna know a cool thing I use infinity for?"
They craned their necks to look at him. Gojo gave a thumbs up with his right hand and extended his left in a demonstrating motion.
"No mosquito bites!"
He flashed a grin.
Shoko seemed amused with a thoughtful expression on her face, while Geto raised his fist to the white-haired boy and the two made contact in acknowledgement of the skill. Himari clutched her forehead with her hand with exasperation.