(a/n) hope u all missed me bitches! im v busy with work & game dev stuff :sob: but i luv u guys (my 3 consistent readers) too much - also i want to release more fics but argh so busy ! hope u guys enjoy this hehe !

Himari wished she could say that she awoke to sunlight's kiss and birds chirping.

She wished that the smell of rice and miso soup welcomed her, and that her mother's voice beckoned her to the kitchen where breakfast would be served.

Wishes are a pipe dream, and Himari knew this well when disfigured hands wrapped around her throat.

Green, grotesque arms lead to an amalgamation of humans— or what used to be humans— and they held her up, pressing her body against a brick wall.

Himari brought her hands up to pry the creature's grip from her throat, but the amalgamation's knuckles grew a ghastly green as it tightened its grasp.

"Why," The creature croaked, its voice was jarring; much like its body, its words came in the form of overlapping pitches combined into a grating whine.

"Why did you kill us? Himari, why did you kill us?"

Her voice seemed caught, forced into submission from the pressure applied on her throat.

"Please Himari, why did you kill us? I wanted to expand our restaurant, I had dreams. Did you not love us? Why did you kill us?"

Recognition sunk into her bones, and she felt tears begin to well in her eyes. The primary voices— and the faces starring at her— she knew exceedingly well.

She couldn't answer them.

Himari shot upright in a jolt.

A dense wave of despair flooded her, and an anchor of guilt sunk to the bottom of her stomach. It was simultaneously too hot— sweat lined her brow and drenched her clothes— and too cold— her skin was covered by goose bumps.

She clutched the sheets tightly and her chest heaved for air, the remnants of the nightmare trickling back into her memory as she recalled the feeling of being strangled— the immense pressure on her vocal chords— and of her parents.

Time is cruel in the way it steals recognition.

The faces in her dreams were definitely her parents, but with the almost two year long absence, it was hard for her to recall the precise details.

Did her mother always have a mole under her eye? Was her mother's hair always cut below her ear, or did it ever reach her shoulders. Could her father's gummy smile be a figment of her imagination?

She didn't know the answer to these questions.

Her body slowly shifted back into its normal state, and she closed her eyes, allowing herself to fall back into the safety of the blankets.

"How long have you been having nightmares?"

Himari turned her head to the direction of the voice, burying herself further under the sheets at the realization she had been seen. Gojo was seated in the corner of the room, pale skin coloured with an orange and pink hue contrasting his blue eyes that seemed to glow in the warmth of the sunset. Himari thought he was beautiful.

"I didn't know you were here— did you sleep?"

A smile slid onto his face and he moved toward her, a hand pushing back his hair as he kneeled to the ground. His eye level was still above hers, and she felt heat spread to her cheeks. The previous nightmare's effects on her body seemed to die down, and she almost held her breath. For as annoying as he was, he really was beautiful.

"Sleep is for losers and the weak."

She let out a hesitant laugh as she pushed herself up and leaned against the headboard.

"Shouldn't you be in bed then?"

He raised a hand to flick her forehead, and she feigned a hurt expression.

"So," He began, "Nightmare?"

She sighed. Gojo wasn't great with emotions, or comforting people. He also wasn't great at communicating. In general, she found him to be a person capable of deep thought, but incapable of sharing moments of genuine vulnerability.

Still, his gaze seemed to devour her desire to push away those around her, and drowsiness stole her sense.

"Yeah," She bit her lip. Elaborating on what she saw was difficult without eliciting questions— an amalgamation of humans? What kind of fuck ass trauma would explain away that monstrosity. Instead, she merely cocked her head and mumbled, "I have them pretty much every other night. They really aren't that bad, though."

Gojo raised an eyebrow at this.

"You seemed to be really struggling to sleep, kept shifting and mumbling," He poked her cheek and she swatted at his finger. "I thought you might've been possessed."

"Have you just been watching me sleep, you creep?"

He rolled his eyes.

"My bad for wanting to make sure you don't try to kill yourself again."

It seemed some of the hurt still hung around after the incident yesterday, and she winced at the thinly masked passive aggression masquerading as a joke.

"That's fair," She mumbled despondently, and his face softened at her tone. An awkward silence consumed the pair, and he coughed, "Shoko was also worried about you, and— y'know, as one of the strongest, I had to make sure all my fangirls are safe."

Pushing herself to the edge of the bed, she raised her arms into a stretch and felt a deep soreness settle into her movements. Her critical injuries seemed to have been healed by Shoko, but there was still visible scarring across her thighs and arms where Toji had stabbed. Her muscles also seemed to carry the weight of training, crying out in pain when she shifted.

"Right," She trailed off, "All your fangirls, that explains why I'm the only person here."

Himari placed a hand on the top of his head to steady herself, her vision grew blurry and a sharp pain pulsed through her head as she stood up.

"So you finally admit you're a fan of me, huh," He smirked. "Please, no signatures."

"Always looking on the bright side, huh," She teased. Her left hand clutched her forehead and she paused to let the static muffling her vision dissipate. Gojo stood up and allowed her to grip onto his arm for support.

For a moment, they stood there, and then she broke away.

"I'm okay," She asserted. "I'm okay."

His face was unreadable to her, but he hovered behind her while she stumbled toward the washroom. He never reached out to support her, never took her arm to demand that she rely on him— but he was always behind her.

Closing the bathroom door behind her, Himari fumbled for the light switch, pressing various spots on the side wall until the room filled with brightness.

A few moments passed as she stared into the mirror. Usually mirrors brought waves of dysmorphia and insecurity; the sight that greeted her was her face with marker scrawled across her forehead and cheeks. The word on her forehead said "doofus", and her cheeks had thin stripes like cat whiskers.

Snickers rang out from outside the washroom, and she balled her fist and heaved out an exasperated sigh.

"Gojo," She deadpanned.

"Yes," He called out from outside the washroom, his voice was muffled as to snuff out laughter.

"Is this permanent marker?"

There was a pause, and Himari slammed the door open to a sheepish white-haired boy who burst out laughing upon seeing her face.

"I'm going to kill you."

The morning after— what she dubbed the Toji incident— was relatively calm.

Himari and Gojo had spent the remainder of the sunrise bickering, and it was only when Shoko and Geto trickled into the living room that she felt the sting of failure and anxiety return.

Two days.

There were two days until Amanai's merger.

For Himari, this meant the calm before the storm was over.

Toji had practically announced that he would be coming to kill Amanai, and with the encroaching deadline, it was likely that these attempts would grow both in number and intensity. Part of her begged to be proactive— to go out and push herself to her own limits, but the Toji incident was still raw. Goosebumps decorated her skin and she shivered at the feeling of being held down and stabbed— over and over again.

"Suzuki," Gojo nudged her. She was sitting beside the white-haired boy, with Shoko and Geto on the opposing side. Amanai was in the kitchen alongside Misato. The pair had offered to cook breakfast as their form of thanks, and it was evident by the wafting umami scent and the offkey singing who was the chef and who was the emotional support.

"I have something to tell you guys."

The talk she shared with the white-haired boy had been a turning point for her. Although she knew that revealing the truth about her existence was far outside the realm of possibility, she also knew that continuing to hide the information about Toji would likely result in the timeline's descent into tragedy. The key was being selective.

"Do you guys know what a binding vow is?"

It was a stupid question, and the way everyone looked at her confirmed this fact.

Binding vows were a concept taught to first-years in Hokkaido Jujutsu High, and she expected it to be a similar case in Tokyo High. They were the foundation of the jujutsu world, and can be incredibly subtle— providing information to an opponent in exchange for strength— or world-bending: time travel.

She cleared her throat and crossed her arms across her chest, her elbows resting in the opposing palm. It made her feel guarded: secure.

She chuckled awkwardly, "So there's this fella— big fella— he's about this tall."

Himari extended her arms horizontally to indicate his height.

"He made this binding vow of sorts," She paused for a moment.

The exact nature of his abilities was unknown to her, she had been taught various forms of binding vows in school, but she could never place Toji in any of the categories. For one, she had doubts that it was a conscious choice he made: the Zenin clan practically cast him aside due to his cursed energy levels, and she would be inclined believe he didn't choose that fate himself. Aside from this, his abilities were primal. His strength was not merely augmented; it was a complete transformation, and a violation of the delicate balance associated with binding vows.

"And he's incredibly strong. An average sorcerer would never see him coming, and by the time they notice him, they'd be dead. He's fast, he's ruthless, and he's trying to kill Amanai."

Geto raised a hand.

"What makes him practically invisible? Shoko has perfect cursed energy control, and can basically detect anyone— and Gojo has six eyes."

Her jaw tightened.

"That's where the binding vow comes into play. Toji has no cursed energy."

Geto furrowed his brow. Shoko seemed taken aback as well.

"So what makes him so scary?"

Himari turned to face Gojo and she blinked. The boy had been the only other member amongst the four who had come face-to-face with Toji, and he had ultimately pushed away the assassin without lifting a finger. It made sense that he would be confident— overconfident, even.

"No cursed energy? He's useless, all he has is his fists and any weapons he can pick up, I doubt he could even bypass infinity."

Gojo stuck out a tongue and Himari resisted the urge to punch him (it wouldn't land, but it was about sending a message).

Himari pulled out the notebook she always had with her. Ripping out a page, she took a pen from the table and began to scribble down a drawing.

"Toji is practically unkillable, and he is also incredibly strategic. It goes without saying that overconfidence will be our downfall. We need a precise gameplan for dealing with him," She lectured, shifting her gaze on Gojo when she mentioned overconfidence.

"Sorry—" Shoko spoke up, her voice was soft, laced with curiosity. "How do you know all this?"

Himari knew that this was going to be a question asked of her.

She found it almost comedic how all three seemed to ask variations of the question in different tones: Geto with suspicion, Gojo with concern, and Shoko was curiosity.

"I— My parents— They—"

Although the story wasn't true, her parents' deaths were— and the words got jumbled and jammed in her throat. She felt her tongue betraying her, and she willed the excuse to flow from her mouth as easily as the words to Gojo did.

"Her mother knew Toji when they were still in school."

Himari felt her chest heave with relief, before glancing in Gojo's direction and shooting him a soft smile.

"Alright, so what's the plan?"

Holding up the piece of paper she scribbled on, she began narrating the various drawings.

"I believe that this is a war of information— we have to gauge what he knows and what doesn't, and use that to our advantage. For one, he definitely knows Gojo and Geto are protecting Amanai. There's a chance he knows I'm paired with the group since he's seen me with Gojo, so we should assume he has information on the three of us."

The group stared intently at the drawings on the paper, before Gojo raised his hand.

"Is that supposed to be me?"

The attention fell on the stick figure Himari traced out, and Shoko burst out with a laugh. Himari's cheeks flared with red, and she pouted defensively.

"Okay, I'm not an artist! Sorry that your only recognizable features are your freaky eyes!"

"I literally wear sunglasses!"

"It's a splitting image!"

Himari sighed, before dragging her pen down a line between Geto, Gojo, and herself.

"Chances are, he'll try to find a way to split the three of us up, but there are two things we have to take note of: one, he doesn't know we have Shoko!"

The pen fell onto a sketch of Shoko— a carefully rendered drawing with details down to her mole.

"Man," Gojo grumbled in protest, which Himari responded to with a snicker.

"We should try everything we can to prevent being split up— as soon as we are isolated, it's a death sentence. Obviously with Geto and Gojo, there will be some amount of stalling, but if it's me, Shoko, or Amanai— we'd be dead almost instantly."

"No offense, why aren't you dead then? Didn't he have ample opportunity to kill you?"

The question was brought up by Geto, and her jaw tightened.

"That brings me to another point," She paused. "I don't think he'll kill me. I doubt he has a problem killing anyone else, but I suppose his friendship with my mother is some kind of deterrent."

It was a weak excuse, and it showed in the way Geto furrowed his brow.

"What I'm proposing," Himari began, "Is two strategies. One plan for the case where he doesn't isolate us— and another for if he does."

"In the case where we are separated, the goal should be to live as long as possible, whilst informing the others of their location. In that case, I want the individual who is isolated to avoid fighting him head on— instead, look for any openings to retreat. I'll do what I can to find whoever is isolated first, since he won't kill me. If Toji doesn't manage to isolate us from one another, I believe that Gojo and I should take him in close combat, and Geto should attack from further back. His arsenal of curses should be extremely useful, especially since he isn't able to see curses due to his lack of cursed energy. It'll be like trying to dodge invisible bullets. Shoko will be responsible for taking Amanai and keeping the girl safe— she is not known to Toji, and as such, she's the most likely to be disregarded as a weak enemy to be dealt with afterwards. To prepare for her separation from our group, Geto should summon any useful curses to accompany Shoko and Amanai."

"What about Misato?"

Amanai's voice interrupted the conversation, and she stood with her hands on her hips and puffed up cheeks. It seemed the pair had caught the tail-end of the conversation, and Himari froze. She had forgotten to consider the older woman, and she winced at her own callousness. Misato sheepishly brought a hand to the nape of her neck, and she smiled.

"As long as Amanai is safe, I'm happy."

Himari shook her head.

"No, you'll be Shoko. I want you to be with Amanai before the merger."

A silence was draped over the group. Each time the merger or Amanai's fate was mentioned, there was always a silence.

Shoko cleared her throat.

"Thank you for sharing Suzuki, I'm really happy you chose to confide in us," She smiled softly, and Himari felt a surge of warmth. There were gaps and inconsistencies in her story from her mother's relation to Toji, and how she even came about the knowledge, but questions were warded off— likely from the way Gojo's eyes froze over at the mention of doubt cast upon Himari.

"I agree with the plan— in any case, this should just be a foundation with more preparation to come, and I'm glad someone is taking this seriously."

Plates clattered against the table as Misato brought out the breakfast she had been preparing: grilled salmon, white rice with a single sour plum, mushrooms cooked with butter— for the students, it was a feast for kings. Amanai must have thought it a meal on death row.

For the remainder of breakfast, Himari could not meet the younger girl's eyes.

"Otaru?"

The group had initially planned to remain holed up in the apartment until it was time for the merger, but as time ticked by, people seemed to grow a bit restless. Himari was happy for the change of pace, but Gojo seemed to notice Amanai's sullen face and had a talk with the group, before knocking on Himari's door to propose the trip.

"Yeah! I wanna go see the ocean!" Gojo exclaimed, and his eyes gleamed. Unease filled her stomach at the mention of her hometown, and she fiddled with her fingers.

"I thought that it might be nice to get Amanai out of the house," The boy explained, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms above his head. His shirt rode up, and Himari glanced away from him with a pink glaze to her cheeks.

"I mean, we could. I thought we were worried about Toji, though?"

Gojo grinned, "But you have the two strongest with you guys. Besides, I think Amanai deserves some time outside."

Himari brought a hand to her chin, deep in thought.

"Amanai must feel like a caged animal," She mumbled, an empathetic frown slipping onto her face. The thought of returning to Otaru brought on a wave of sadness, and Himari clenched her fists. Her nails dug into the palm of her hands, calloused from hours of training.

A sigh escaped from her chest.

"Alright," She responded, watching Gojo's face lift with a smile. His sunglasses slipped down the bridge of his nose, revealing the pools of blue.

Loss is a fickle mistress.

It tugged at her seams sporadically, and when her mind escaped the thoughts of her parents, there was always something to drag her back.

In this instance, it was the lull of the ocean.

Its waves gingerly caressed the shoreline and the salty breeze tickled her skin.

The sand beneath her was coarse, and she pulled herself into a stretch as she gazed out at the water. It was uncomfortable, staring at what used to be her home and feeling anything but joy. In her previous timeline, she could never have fathomed a negative association with the water— but with the water lapping at her ankles, she felt unsettled.

It was a reunion between strangers.

The frigid splash of water against her jolted her out of her pensive mood, and the sea water clung to the threads of her hair.

"Motherfuc-" Before she finished her sentence, she spotted a mischievous smile on Amanai's face and she caught herself. The previous gloom that had shrouded the girl's face was entirely lifted, and Himari found a sigh escape from her chest.

"You're lucky I like you," She stated affectionately, cupping water with her own hands and hurling it in the direction of the younger girl.

The younger girl let out a screech as the cold water drenched her clothes, and Himari heard peals of laughter from the direction of the shore. Gojo was keeled over, hands on his knees, pointing at Amanai.

"You look like a wet cat!" He insisted, and Himari giggled as Amanai bristled and stalked towards the teenage boy with her arms spinning like a tornado. The girl dropped to her knees such that she was chest height in the water, and her flailing arms seemed to lift the ocean in the direction of Gojo. The result: another wet cat staring back at the pair.

And a war began.

Himari sprinted to safety— away from the splashing and water guns— and onto the blanket laid out by Misato and Shoko.

"Shoko!" She whined, "I was terrified for my life! You should have seen the look on his face! He wanted me dead!"

Shoko erupted in laughter, allowing Himari to lie down and curl into a comfortable ball. Himari's head fell into the girl's lap, feeling fingers comb through her hair.

"Poor girl," Shoko hummed. It was peaceful, she could admit that. The sun hugged her skin in a way she hadn't felt in so long, and when she closed her eyes, she heard the screams of laughter from her friends.

Loss is a fickle mistress.

It tugged at her seams sporadically, and when her mind escaped the thoughts of her parents, there was always something to drag her back.

The screams of laughter mixed with the splashing of water, and Himari couldn't help but imagine a reality where she was seven again. She was seven, and she still believed in unicorns, and she would pretend to fall asleep in cars for her parents to carry her to bed. She was seven, and her parents were there, and she was happy.

Dampness flooded her eyes and her vision began to blur.

Himari reached up with her fingers to sweep away the tears, sniffling while doing so. Her actions did not go unnoticed, and Shoko's hands slowly stopped stroking her head and began gently massaging Himari's shoulders.

"Suzuki," She began. Misato glanced in their direction, exchanging a nod with the student, before pulling on a pair of earbuds to drown out their conversation. "I think it might be worth it to look into some form of support after this mission."

Himari craned her neck to glance upward at the girl, squinting slightly at the suggestion.

"I'm not exactly a specialist on the mental component of medicine, but I really think therapy or even medication could really benefit you."

Himari paused, it was a suggestion she had pondered over a few times before. But it wasn't as if she was depressed— she just had a lot going on. And it was only for the next few years, and what would she even talk about with the therapist? I'm a time traveller, please give me your advice? To Himari's best knowledge, that was the fastest method to a straight-jacket.

"Let me just lay this out for you: you don't sleep enough, you barely eat, you're constantly overworking, you're anxious all the time, and you stabbed yourself. You literally stabbed yourself."

Himari gulped.

"Just— please consider it?"

Reluctantly, Himari reached her hand upwards with her pinky extended, to which Shoko seemed confused by.

"Thank you for caring, Ieiri."

The girl seemed a little taken aback, before smiling softly, and curling her own pinky around Himari's.

"Suzuki!"

A shudder ran down her spine at the mention of her name. It was uttered in an almost song-like manner, and she pushed herself into a sitting position. Holding her arms out in front of her as a shield, she watched with annoyance riddling her face as Gojo stalked toward her with a water gun.

"Hands up!" Gojo shouted, aiming the gun at the girl. Glancing slightly to her left at Shoko and Misato, she winced at the thought of getting either of the bystanders wet. It would definitely ruin Misato's evening, and if Shoko got wet— she worried for Gojo's life.

"Time weave!"

She shouted, allowing her cursed technique to carry her five feet to her right. The distance was small enough to guarantee no additional casualties, and also to limit the curse energy expended.

A grin exploded onto Gojo's face, and Himari swallowed with fear. With all her strength, she willed herself to speed away from the white-haired boy, but it was futile. Gojo was much faster than her. After a few seconds, she felt a hand under her knees and another supporting her back. The gun clunked to the floor.

"You know you're not supposed to be using your cursed energy reserves at the moment— right?" He scolded, staring down at Himari. She scoffed, folding her arms across her chest

"Long-legged freak," She whined. Slowly, the boy inched toward the water, and Himari waggled her limbs in desperation.

"Listen! We can talk! I promise I'll never call you a loser again! Or a creep!" She begged, knowing that she would never follow through with that exchange. Her eyes pleaded jokingly with Gojo, and his sunglasses tipped down at the perfect angle to reveal a gleam in his eyes.

"Nope!"

And her body met water.

Himari's room at the hotel was huge.

It was a nice change of pace from the cramped student dorms, and the apartment that Geto had rented back in Tokyo. The group was sponsored by Tokyo High, and when Shoko put down the reservation and deposit, she made sure to get the most expensive suite with multiple rooms and a lobby. It was arguably safer for them to all be connected, but Himari had a theory Shoko enjoyed spending money that wasn't her own.

Despite the comfortable sheets and the fluffy duvet, Himari had been tossing and turning in bed for two hours. It was about one in the morning, and earlier that night Shoko had ushered her to bed with a lecture. There was a mention about heart health and cognitive health, but even with the warning looming over, Himari was wide awake.

Some of the blame definitely fell on the anxiety of the mission, but there was an overwhelming addition to her anxieties: the graveyard.

Rolling to the side and pushing herself off the edge of the bed, she stalked to the windows of her room and drew in her curtains, blanketing her room in further darkness by denying the light of the streetlamps.

Hesitation gripped her movements as she rifled through her suitcase, and Himari pulled out a graphic tee and a pair of shorts, slipping on the clothing.

As Himari stepped out of her room and into the lobby, she glanced in the direction of the door. This was far too reminiscent of the incident a few days ago— the one where she was helplessly detained and had to wait like a fucking damsel in distress. She clenched her fists, before releasing her grip and exhaling.

Picking up her phone, she shot Geto a quick text to let him know that she would be out. The teenager was currently on the first watch shift, and she waited for the ellipsis to pop-up, indicating a response, but there was nothing. With a shrug, she slowly stalked toward the exit of the hotel room.

Reaching her hand out to unlock the door, a sudden wave of anxiety raced over her, and the thought of Toji and the graveyard flashed through her mind. Himari's heartbeat quickened, and a chill ran down her spine. Her hand shook as she reached for the doorknob, but she jerked back as if the doorknob was flush with heat.

Fuck. What was wrong with her?

Stalking back toward her room, resolution clung to her frame.

Pathetic. She couldn't even give her parents a proper acknowledgement without being afraid.

Pausing for a moment, Himari took in a deep breath and glanced at the door to a different bedroom on her left. Perhaps she didn't need to be alone.

Her brain begged for her to step away— reminded her that she would be burden if she followed through with her decision, but her body shook with the memory of Toji kneeling on her back, and she took a step forwards. Rapping her knuckles against the door, she felt her hands trembling as the sound of footsteps shuffled inside the room.

It was about one in the morning, and a heavy guilt wracked her chest. The guilt, however, did not outweigh the fear of being alone.

The door creaked open, and half-hooded eyes fell on her. Himari's body tensed and suddenly the floor became incredibly interesting. Her gaze fell on her shoes, and she shuffled her shoes against the wood board floor. Words fumbled out of her mouth clumsily, and she clutched her left arm within her right hand, digging nails into her flesh.

"I'm sorry I had to wake you in the middle of the night, and you can tell me to fuck off if you want, and this might be too much to ask of you, I'm really sorry—"

A hand reached forward to grip her right hand, startling her.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

She glanced up at Gojo, and she choked out a coherent response.

"My parents' graves are in Otaru. I don't want to go alone."

He let go of her right hand with a slow nod.

"Alright, let's go then."

The door closed behind him, and he stepped out with his hands in his sweatpants pockets. His white-haired was tussled and messy, and Himari fell slightly behind his gait, taking in his appearance. It didn't seem like he had just crawled out of bed; in fact, it seemed more like he had been running a marathon.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up," She mumbled quietly as Gojo pried open the door to the hotel lobby, and the pair stood before the elevators in silence.

"You didn't wake me up," Gojo responded, and relief washed over her for a brief moment, before she took in his words.

"Wait— you weren't asleep? Haven't you not been sleeping the past few days as well?"

She glanced in his direction. His hands were still buried in his pockets and he shrugged, staring down at her.

"I can't sleep until the merger is done."

Himari felt as if she was looking into a reflection.

This entire time, she had been so self absorbed into her own happenings; sneak into Tokyo High, save Amanai from death, prevent Geto's destruction— she hadn't taken a moment to consider that she wasn't the only one bearing the weight of the world. For a moment, the profound isolation that came with being displaced in time collided with the strongest weapon in sorcery; they were both prisoners of their realities, and she let out a soft laugh.

"Alright," She responded. In another universe, she would be scolding him for betraying his body in favour of exhaustion, but she knew that she'd be a hypocrite. Himari also knew how it felt to be told to slow down when the whole world spun around at light speeds.

The elevator let out a ding, and the doors opened to the ground floor.

"Do you want a ride?"

Himari raised an eyebrow.

"Like, I can fly."

For the first time that night, Himari burst out laughing.

She pictured Gojo as a bird, soaring through the sky while flapping his wings, and she laughed even harder.

"Man— fuck you, go alone," Gojo retorted with a mock irritation, and Himari wiped tears from her eyes after almost keeling over.

"Sure, let's make this quick, then."

Himari expected a lot of things. She expected his hands to carry her bridal style, or for him to motion for her to get onto his back. Instead, she felt his arms swoop her into the position of a sack of produce, slinging her over his shoulder with mild protest.

The 'ride' over was something.

It was weird to fly— or to be held, while flying. It wasn't as if she hadn't been to such heights before, but the feeling of a complete lack of control made her anxious, and she didn't notice her fingers clutching the fabric from the back of his shirt until he set her down.

The graveyard.

She had been here once before— one time, a full year and a half ago, when she first arrived in the timeline. She never went in.

Himari was never a courageous person.

Her hands reached forward to grip the latch to the graveyard fence, feeling the cool touch of the metal against her palm as she lifted the latch, sliding the door open.

There was an oppressive feeling floating throughout the environment, whether that was the immature curses cowering to hide during their incubation stages, or the knowledge that she was walking closer toward the confirmation of her binding vow— she didn't know.

Each step felt weighed down by layers of bricks, an asymptotic approach where growing closer meant nothing, and she would never reach the graves.

Until she did.

Gojo had followed closely behind her up until this point, and when her gaze fell onto the gravestones, it felt as if a rock had lodged itself in her throat.

"Suzuki, do you want me to come with you? I can stay here," He offered, and Himari glanced up at the taller boy. Her mouth was downturned and her brows were knitted together, and the words couldn't escape her throat. Instead, she reached for his arm in one hand, and she pulled him behind her.

He followed with little hesitation.

As she approached the graves, she noted that there was only one gravestone— the two had been buried together, and some twisted relief flooded her body. At least they had each other. In the fucked up world where their own daughter kills them— at least they had each other.

Himari felt a drop of rain descend from the sky and splatter against her hand, and she kneeled down to read the words engraved onto the tombstone.

'Mari Suzuki & Kaito Suzuki' it read, and she brushed away the accumulated dirt that obscured the words beneath it. 'Lived together, loved together, died together. The Suzuki's will be missed.'

Her fingers traced along the letters of her parents names, and another choked sob wracked her. Her knees trembled, and she felt herself collapse to the floor of the graveyard as the storm drowned out her tears.

Before she visited, she lived in some kind of delusion. Some form of coping that— despite all the evidence of the contrary— her parents were still alive.

She hoped that perhaps it was a cruel, sick joke that the neighbour had played on her all that time ago, and that perhaps her parents were alive, living it large, selling fish at markets, hosting events at their family restaurant. Perhaps another young girl— a better daughter— someone who heeded her mother's warnings, was happy living a small life selling fish and serving customers. And perhaps they would hug each other at the end of the day, and they would go to sleep content— knowing everything would be okay, because they had each other.

The gravestones, upright against time's gentle tide, shattered any semblance of hope she had remaining.

Her mother and father were dead, and everything was worse now.

Quiet sobs took hold of her, and she clutched bundles of grass from the cold, soggy ground.

A gentle hand rested on her shoulder.

(a/n) jujutsu scroll!

"Himari, what's your type!"

She was a bit taken aback. Shoko had never been the type to ask her questions about boys— in fact, they prided themselves on each conversation passing the Bechdel test. It was a bit out of the ordinary, and she felt a blush arise on her cheeks.

"I don't have time to think about guys, Ieiri!"

She felt hands squeeze her sides, and she jumped at the sudden motion.

"Yeah, Himari— what's your type?"

Turning around to face a smug-looking white-haired boy, Himari made it noticeable that she looked him up and down, before grinning.

"A short guy, maybe about my height. No white hair, dresses nice, doesn't need glasses—"