(a/n) this was a hard chapter to write because i wanted everything to be perfect yk, but anyways here it is, no big authors note this time lol
Himari held up two dresses in front of her
The dress in her left hand was a solid baby pink, with a length that stretched past her mid-thigh and tightly hugging her figure. The right hand was a floral blue design with a flowy skirt and an open back.
Clutching the hangers for the dresses, she pressed the fabric of the pink dress against her body and stared into the mirror. It had been awhile since she had the luxury to think about her appearance, and mornings when she had the chance— she winced at what she saw.
"I'm not sure what looks best," Himari mumbled to herself.
She turned to the girl near her, a smile painted on her face as she cocked her head and asked.
"What do you think? Pink or blue?"
The girl had a junior high uniform on, with long dark hair that spilled over her shoulder, and a white hairband taming her locks.
She blinked, seemingly taken aback by Himari's question.
A brief silence stood between the two, and the girl brought a hand up to her chin, squinting her eyes before smiling in response.
"Blue— pink would wash out your complexion."
Himari grinned.
"Let me try it on real quick— do you mind waiting and giving your opinion?"
The girl nodded her head and leaned against the wall, arms crossed as Himari stepped into the change room.
There was a floor-length mirror clinging to the wall of the small room, and she stared into it, tracing her insecurities and her curves with her peripheral, before hanging up the clothes she was wearing and slipping on the blue dress.
Stepping outside, she posed with her hands outstretched by her sides.
"What do you think?"
"Do a spin for me?"
It was light and soft, the hem of the dress tickling at her skin as she did a quick twirl, and the girl beamed in response.
"Perfect!"
"Thank you," Himari exclaimed, extending her hands to clasp the girl's hands. "What's your name?"
But Himari already knew the girl's name.
She ran through a mental check list in her head. Images of Riko Amanai had been released in her timeline— pictures of a bright, hopeful girl juxtaposed with the caption: "WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE".
She had spent the last two weeks carefully planning her steps and analyzing the situation. Based on the acceleration of the timeline— the increasing rate at which events occurred, Himari had determined that the star plasma vessel would be due for Tengen's transition within a few days. Himari had discovered the school Riko attended, and had found the common spots surrounding the school where the students would often congregate.
She had even drawn a composite sketch from her memory of the star plasma vessel in her timeline— this was scrapped immediately after Himari realized she wasn't an artist for a reason.
It was all for one purpose: to engineer an encounter between the two, and for it to seem as natural as possible.
Himari did feel a bit like a stalker— and Shoko seemed to notice her absence from some of the group's hangouts— but she had to do this. She had given away so much of herself, there was only a small side of herself which had the energy to object to seeking out Riko and befriending her.
"My name is Riko Amanai, it's nice to meet you!"
And Himari knew she had succeeded.
There was a pause, and Himari steeled her nerves before speaking once more. To Riko— this was likely an insignificant event; something that she would briefly recall at the end of the day before discarding the memory in favour of more important ones. To Himari— this was everything.
"My name is Himari Suzuki— it's nice to meet you too!"
She grinned, "Your headband's so cute— where'd you get it from?"
Riko reached up and brushed her hand against the headband bashfully, pushing the strands of her hair behind her ear.
"My uh—" Riko paused, "Caretaker gave it to me. But it's not like, caretaker, in a weird way. She's more like my mom."
Riko bit her lip, almost like she was restraining herself from oversharing. Himari let out a light chuckle, she remembered what it was like to be fourteen— though the Star Plasma Vessel's life was likely far different from hers— the desperation to be accepted and the stumbling over words was familiar.
"It's pretty, suits you well. I've always wanted to wear headbands, but I have a weirdly square head." Himari lamented, framing her face with her hands.
The vessel smiled in response, "There's a cute shop around the corner with makeup and accessories. I can show you where it is if you want!"
"I'd love to! What's it called?"
"Daisy and Rose," Riko replied, and Himari reached a hand forward to lace fingers with Riko. Before she could speak, a stressed voice called out.
"Riko Amanai!"
Himari turned to the side to stare at a woman dressed in a long black dress, with a white skirt layered atop atop the black skirt.
"I've been waiting outside school for thirty minutes— why weren't you there?"
"Didn't you get my message, Misato?" Riko replied sheepishly, pressing a hand to the nape of her neck and smiling. "I told you that I didn't need a ride home today."
A huff exhaled from the older woman, and Himari assembled her thoughts and figured the woman was the caretaker Riko had previously mentioned, and she let out an awkward chuckle as the caretaker lectured the student.
"Who are you bothering now?" The woman demanded, and Himari bowed.
"Himari Suzuki— I was getting Amanai's opinion on my outfit."
She did a spin, and the caretaker smiled warmly.
"Thank you for watching Riko, she's getting more rebellious with every day that passes."
The star vessel let out a groan in protest, and Himari laughed.
"We're similar in age, I know was that way a few years ago."
Misato feigned disappointment and shook her head at Riko, jokingly retorting. "Of course you would become friends with a bad influence."
Himari let out a genuine laugh, and she watched as Misato tussled the hair of the younger girl.
Time passed by excruciatingly slow. Each second has its own chorus, and it inched through the verse at a pace which had Himari biting her nails.
It was a familiar feeling— back in her timeline, she felt similarly waiting for a text from her fleeting hallway crushes— except now, she was waiting for a signal that her plan succeeded.
A jingle rang out from her phone, and Himari swerved from her chair at her desk and launched herself across her bed to snatch her phone.
The screen flickered to life, and anxious anticipation griped her heart.
An hour ago, there had been a rapid-fire series of texts from Shoko outlining the mistakes the group had made during the last mission they had taken on— to which, Gojo eloquently responded: "ur mom".
Frustration wracked her body and she slammed her phone against her bed before landing with her face against the soft fabric. An annoyed screech erupted from within her, muffled by the blanket, and she kicked her legs against the mattress.
It had been three days since she had given her phone number to the star vessel; three days of radio silence. She wondered if she had come on too strong— Himari definitely seemed a bit too interested in being friends— but she thought she played it off well.
Rolling off her bed and settling back into her chair, she leaned back and brought a hand to her chin.
The newest evidence of timeline acceleration came in the form of tsunamis flattening towns, heatwaves invading cities, and discoveries which reinvented the foundations of society. Events scattered amongst the timeline far earlier than expected, and Himari stared down at her notebook on her desk. There were three main events she had considered in her calculations: the release of the first iPhone being early by a few months, the Paper Box serial killer being caught before the bulk of his crimes, and the Tokyo Lantern Festival disaster occurring nearly a year prior to its existence in her timeline.
It was proof to her that the timeline was not just fast-forwarded— it was accelerating.
Her phone rang out again.
A tenseness seized her senses and she crept toward her phone, bracing herself for another stupid text or a lecture from Geto.
"Hi! this is Riko!"
Raising her fist and pumping it into the air, Himari broke out into a giddy dance. Spinning, she held her phone out in front of her and let out a laugh constructed from relief and exasperation.
A flash caught her off guard, and she turned in horror at stare at the boy peering into her doorway with a smirk and his phone camera directed toward her.
"Keep dancing, you look dumb."
Himari felt warmth flush her cheeks, and immediately she grabbed a book off her nightstand to toss at Gojo. The boy caught the spine of the book in his palm, cocking his head with a teasing grin on his face.
"What are you doing here?" Himari exclaimed, sinking to the floor of her room and hiding herself behind her bed. She peered at him with the top of her head poking out, and Gojo let out another chuckle.
"You look like the sun when it's dusk, and like, it falls beneath the horizon."
This would almost be a compliment, that is, if he meant it metaphorically.
From his point of view, he could see nothing of Himari but the top half of her head poking above the edge of the bed.
A frustrated groan escaped from her lips, and she stood up.
"Shut up."
"Relax, I'm just checking on you— Shoko told me that your reverse cursed technique training is— well," The boy made a thumbs down with his right hand and stuck out his tongue, "Also Masamichi wants to talk to us."
Himari rolled her eyes, and pushed herself to her feet, slowly treading closer to the boy.
"Well, it's just hard. I suck at it, and I get the theory behind it, I just can't control my cursed energy the way she does."
Gojo nodded, bringing right hand to his chin as he held the door open, and she stepped out from her room.
"Hey, not everyone can be perfect like me," He replied cheekily, and Himari punched his shoulder.
"So perfect, you can't even reverse your own technique. What primary colour are you missing again? Red?" She quipped, and Gojo let out a laugh in response. His laugh was soft and buttery, Himari couldn't help but grin in response.
Their friendship had been a lot of teasing and bickering, but she had slowly begun to appreciate his company.
The two made their way to the initial room she had been recruited from. It was a stark reminder of the time that had passed since she arrived— almost a full year since her arrival— she had accomplished only one of her five steps.
Shoko's form leaning against the exterior of the chamber was accompanied by Geto, who stared intently at the two approaching.
"You're late," Shoko scolded, her arms were folded across her chest, and Gojo grinned sheepishly.
The wooden doors to the room swung open, and Masamitchi welcomed the group. The room was dank— shrouded by a darkness only broken by the dimly lit candles. A resounding slam followed her steps, and the room was sealed.
"I have an important mission for you four."
Himari glanced in Shoko's direction and exchanged a gaze.
This was highly unusual.
If there was ever an important mission, it was always assigned to Gojo and Geto. Himari was often assigned lower urgency missions: extinguishing low level curses, retrieving a cursed object, sometimes even just investigating suspicious activity.
Shoko almost never left the campus.
Her ability to use reverse cursed energy was far too valuable as an asset, and she was often confined to healing various sorcerers who had been injured on the field.
Himari had asked her why she never requested to be more of a combat medic, and Shoko had shrugged with the nonchalant response, "Who's going to heal the injured if I'm dead?"
"Tengen specifically requested you four," Masamichi continued.
"Frankly, I had doubts about the two of you," He directed his gaze toward Gojo and Geto. "But I'm sure Shoko will keep you in line. Your mission has two goals: protect the star plasma vessel, and then erase her."
His announcement prompted a myriad of voices from the group.
"Erase her?"
"Star plasma vessel?"
"Protecting some brat?"
Masamitchi stared down at the group and frowned, raising an arm to quiet each individual.
"She is the key to renewing Tengen's cursed technique. This mission is of utmost importance, which is why I have assigned the four of you to the role of protecting her."
Shoko raised a hand.
"Why not just Gojo and Geto— I doubt anyone is stronger than the two combined."
To this, Gojo rolled up his sleeves and flexed his bicep, giving the muscle a gentle kiss.
"Suzuki was an addition specifically requested by Tengen. I decided that you would join this mission specifically as a preventative measure. This mission is far too important to leave in the hands of," He once again indicated toward Gojo and Geto, "These brats."
"Understood."
Himari blinked. Tengen had specifically requested her?
She was surprised Tengen had even heard of her name. She wasn't a part of any large sorcerer family— which was quite beneficial to blending in to this timeline— but she also lacked any significant cursed technique.
"Your primary opposition: group Q, a group of cursed users who aim to prevent Tengen's merger in hopes she will descend to madness, and the Star Religious Group, a wealthy organization with the primary goal of maintaining Tengen's pureness. Both groups have immense resources and memberships, and this will likely be their last ditch effort to prevent the merger occurring in two days."
Masamitchi's gaze swept over the group, and Himari gulped. Gojo stood with his hands in his pockets and an arrogant grin on his face, Geto leaned against his shoulder with a small smile, Shoko stared off in the distance with a disinterested gaze, and Himari was terrified.
"Failure is not an option."
Staring into the mirror, Himari gripped the mask she had found at a nearby dollar store. Tracing her fingers along the smooth curves and sharp edges, a chill ran down her spine. It was an Oni mask— one with dulled horns and flaky paint splashed haphazardly across its surface. She had purchased it from a nearby store, and Himari hastily slipped the mask on, tucking the strap behind her ears.
Electricity sprinted through her veins, and the warm summer breeze had settled amongst the stadium. A stretched canvas fabric draped itself over the stadium seats, shrouding the stadium in a comfortable shade.
The stadium was separated into two distinct sections: the top patrons, and the desperate gamblers. A heavy negativity hung over the gamblers as they shouted and gripped the edge of their seats, each blindly ignoring her, fixated on the horses sprinting across the field. It was a breeding grounds for cursed spirits, and she instinctively held her breath.
Pushing past the hard plastic seats of the lower section, Himari slunk toward the back of the stadium near the restrooms, her mask still adorn as she closed her eyes and whispered under her breath, "Time weave."
And she was in the washroom of the upper level.
It was times like this she felt her ability was incredibly convenient. Beads of sweat lined her forehead, and the mask felt suffocating as she pushed past the bathroom door. The majority of the gamblers in the stadium were clustered in the lower level, and the top patron seats were relatively vacant. Scanning the rows of seats, her gaze settled on the far corner where a man with broad shoulders leaned backwards in his seat.
Himari held her breath and withdrew her cursed energy— she had chosen the stadium specifically due to the immense cursed energy emanating from the masses, it was an excellent cover for her cursed energy— but taking chances was not something Himari could afford.
"Which did you bet on?"
Her voice was steeled, barricaded with confidence.
The man craned his neck to peer at her, and his hooded uninterested eyes seemed to bore into her.
Stepping forwards and sliding down the aisle to a seat a few meters away from the man, Himari cocked her head and returned his stare.
"White one— you?"
She had heard legends and rumours about the man— the Zenin clan reject, the man who murdered the vessel, the ruthless coldblooded killer.
Toji Fushiguro.
"Brown one with white speckles— you can tell he's well trained from his strides," She lied. She knew nothing about horse racing.
The man paused with a pensive look, glancing at the horses and then leaning back in his seat. Himari took the brief silence to speak again.
"You look like you really want to win," She teased, "Did you bet everything you have on that horse?"
"What can I say— I live a destitute life," He replied with a shrug, a smirk on his face. "How much did you bet?"
"Not enough," She complained, her eyes fixed on the race. Each rider was stood beside their mount, and the announcers ran through the introductions and names for each horse.
"I'm curious about you— alone at twelve in the afternoon betting on horse races. I wonder what kind of lifestyle lets you live that way," Himari's voice was sultry, and brimming with curiosity. "Are you a business man? Or a deadbeat gambler throwing away all his money?"
She crossed one leg over the other and shifted her weight in her seat.
"Drop the act. What do you want?"
Himari blinked, and her innocent attitude dissipated.
"Straight to the point, huh?" She attempted a joke, a slight waver in her voice betraying her cool demeanour. "I know who you are."
It was a hook. If he wasn't interested, the conversation was already over.
"Oh? And who might I be?" He replied, clicking his tongue.
The atmosphere seemed to have shifted around the two. Her eyes remained fixed on the horse race— she didn't know whether it was genuine interest, or fear of losing her cool if she met his gaze.
"The sorcerer assassin."
She felt his arm around her shoulder.
There was no time to react.
"And what does that mean to you?"
She drew a sharp breath.
"I have a proposition for you."
Himari had determined her approach to saving Riko. Her initial plan of befriending the younger girl had been enacted— her second plan involved directly approaching her assassin. With the man beside her, Himari cautiously released her concealed cursed energy and funneled a discrete minimal amount into manifesting a future image.
"I don't take jobs from little girls who play dress-up and cower behind masks."
"This isn't a job," She retorted, shrugging his arm off her shoulders. "It's a threat."
Toji blinked, before a wide smile gripped his face and he burst out into a laugh. A loud eruption of cheers echoed through the stadium nearly masking the thunderous clap of hooves against track, and Himari forced herself to turn to face the man. A scar traced the outer curve of his lip, and she noted his eyebrows perked in amusement.
"I need you to understand, Fushiguro," She began, enunciating his name. "That I know everything about you. I know your arrogance, and I know your skills. I know you could kill me right now if you wanted to, but I know you're too smart to do that."
She was bluffing again— she only really knew the information that was taught in her class regarding the individual. She was betting that in this timeline, that she had more information than what was publicly available after the Zenin clan had erased records of his existence.
"I also know, that within two days, you will be hired by the Time Vessel Association for thirty million yen to kill a teenage girl."
The man was still, and the deafening cheers felt distant. The cool summer breeze, the racing beating of her heart, and the roar of adrenaline from within her body— it was all so far away. In that moment, it was just her and the Zenin clan failure.
"And I know, that if you take this deal— you will die."
A hand reached out to grip her shoulder, and she felt his hand squeeze her flesh tightly, digging nails into her skin, and Himari refused to flinch.
"Who are you?"
"Someone you know nothing about, who knows everything about you. Aren't you scared?"
His grip got tighter, and the announcers voice boomed throughout the stadium, declaring the brown horse Himari had chosen was the winner.
"Stay the fuck away from Riko Amanai."
His hand shot forwards to grab her mask, and her eyes flashed.
"Time weave."
And she was gone.
Her vision blurred, and her ankles seemed to have been screwed on backwards as she wobbled down the alley she was currently in. It was the furthest time hop she had completed, and it showed in the pounding headache that wracked her brain. Maintaining her future image throughout the conversation required precise cursed energy control— and to maintain it at a level which was relatively undetectable but still present consumed far more of herself than she anticipated.
Gripping the strands of her mask and leaning against the brick wall in the alleyway, Himari lifted the mask and dropped it down beside her. A nausea hugged her entire being, and she lurched forwards as she expulsed the contents of her stomach onto the floor, and she pressed her body against the wall for support as she moved further down the alleyway.
Bringing her hands in front of her face, she felt her knees give way and her back slide down the wall. She was shaking. Her whole threatening demeanour was a farce; a pathetic attempt to ward off the assassin. In reality— with her trembling limbs and the harrowing pit in her stomach— she was terrified. Another wave of nausea rolled over her, and she felt limp against the alleyway wall.
Himari would rest.
And she closed her eyes.
(a/n) jujustroll!
"Geto's on a date!"
Gojo exclaimed, letting out a breathy exhale to indicate he had just run. Shoko exchanged a glance with Himari— the two had just finished sparring, and they laid against the floor drenched in exhaustion and sweat.
"What do you want us to do about it?" Shoko responded.
"We get it, you miss your little boyfriend." Himari rolled her eyes.
"He's on a date— with Utahime!"
Instantly Himari was on her feet. Gojo lead the two frantically down the stairs leading toward a more secluded area of the forest. The winding staircase was followed with a beautiful scene: a laid out picnic blanket, a trickling waterfall, and a bloody napkin.
"Utahime! You can't date that loser!" Himari whined, and she watched as the two figures separated.
It was definitely Utahime. And it was definitely not Geto. It was a man dressed in a casual t-shirt and jeans, with long black hair tied into a pony-tail.
Red flushed Utahime's cheeks, and she buried her head in her hands.
Himari turned around to face Gojo with her mouth agape, and the man accompanying Utahime frowned.
"What do you mean loser?" He asked, clearly offended.
Gojo had his hand on the nape of his neck and a grin on his face.
"Whoopsie!"
Utahime glared at the boy. "I hate you."