Author's Note:

Sorry for the wait! **Dogeza!**

Note:

Flashbacks and thoughts in italics

I do not condone or encourage any behaviours in this story. It is simply a fictional story.

"The Art Of Water"

CHAPTER 15

READY, SET, GO!

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"You're such a moron. You missed your chance when you had it." How was he supposed to foresee that a mere sophomore in Kyoto Jujutsu High would turn out to be someone else entirely? "She was a treasure box hidden in the ocean." Yuji slapped the hand over the mouth that yapped on his right cheek.

"Shut up. Why would I do that? She's Gojo-Sensei's fiancée." He snarled, increasingly disconcerted by the inconvenience he had to deal with. "And why would you say that when I'm trying to jerk off." His morning wood was upright, glaring at him and giving him the middle finger. If Sukuna thinks he could give him ideas by blabbering nonsense at a time like this, he's so wrong.

"Which is exactly why you should've jumped her bones." Sukuna laughed raucously, probing the borders of his mind for an opening. "I would've done it."

The bathroom tiles were baby blue. He combed his hand through his mane and grimaced at his reflection in the mirror, having given up on trying to take care of his boner like he usually would. The hissing spray chattered with the tiles as soon as he turned the knob. Yuji counted to three, stepped into the cold shower, and let it cool his body as the eyes above his cheekbones flapped open haughtily. "Where is your Sensei?" He put his palms on the walls, upset at the curse in his body. Cold bubbles followed the dips on his back and pooled at his feet. "Gone to pay her a visit? Hahaha." The chortles didn't cease. Itadori had long since stopped trying to shut this monstrosity up. He straightened out the creases on his uniform and began eating his breakfast.

Megumi cracked his knuckles, placed his folded hands on the dining table, and gave him a disapproving stare. "Why're you sulking?" He licked his lips, his digits finding the chopsticks. "Did something happen?" They put their hands on their ears as Nobara pulled a chair back with a blaring squeak and dropped herself to the seat between them. She liked being in the middle. Megumi swatted her hand as she tried to sneak a salted salmon out of his plate. "Kugisaki, you have your own! Stop putting your hands on mine."

Kasumi Ashiya is off-limits, and that will remain the way it is. It has always been a struggle to understand the motives of the demon residing in him. Like, what will anyone again from trying to make Yuji attracted to Miwa-san? That changes nothing. "You have it all wrong, boy. It's me who will be doing it, not you." I could have my way with her when your thoughts align with mine. He was grateful the rest of the sentence got vacuumed, tucked away in the pockets of his mind. No, you can't. You will not. Yuji countered. Megumi and Nobara froze amidst their banter, their foreheads furrowed.

"Who does what?" Nobara whispered to break the icy silence.

Itadori blinked too many times before answering. "He's sprouting nonsense as usual." Bam-bam in the ham. Gahahaha.

"Umm... Is that so?" His friends exchanged glances, and Nobara bumped his arm with her fist, all cheery and batting her lashes. He choked on his food, almost nipping his tongue. She punched him too hard. "Okay, if you say so!"

He chirped a "good morning!" and waved at a shagged out Maki who entered the room for breakfast. Megumi chewed and said she should've slept some more. Yuji wasted no time latching onto it. "Yesterday's mission sucked, huh?" Nobara followed suit after Maki nodded and yawned. Panda came next, rubbing his palms together. He whined about Maki making a fuss about something Yuji didn't care to know. Yuji made a pretense of concern, nodding to whatever Panda was saying. He swallowed the Onigiri, massively relieved to toss the attention off his back.

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Ryu gasped as the doors exploded open in a rush of gold, and a woman with blonde hair stepped in. Her gaze was brown and bright, and her visage striped in pique. She sat diagonally to him on a chair as he mused to fish out a reason to brush her off this time. "You told me that I could marry Satoru. Why didn't you tell me beforehand that he's going to be engaged to a nobody?"

"Who's a nobody? You know what money you could make if you managed to abduct and eliminate her?" He huffed, crossing his legs. Layla needs to be born twice before she thinks she can start ordering him around. "But killing her would be a shame, a waste of potential. The Gojo clan has not stooped that low."

"You promised me I could marry him." Layla pursed her lips scornfully, hunching over, her hands smacking the tabletop of Ryu's study room.

Who let her into this room? Who let her know matters she had no privy to? Must be my good-for-nothing mother. Talk of the devil, his phone pinged with a message. Kaname. Of course, it's his father. It's never his mother. She had stopped checking up on him for over a decade. She firmly believed he was done for, warped and broken, beyond repair, siding with Satoru when he needed her the most. He ignored the text and spoke to the blonde menace towering over him. "Well, that was before. Look, I can't predict the future. But, we still have time. Did you think I would agree to watch and sit dumbly while Satoru married her right in front of my eyes, for nothing?" Ryu gripped his pen tight, pale bangs concealing his eyes as he tucked his chin to strain at the book he had been writing on. "I'll let him be the clan head as long as his father pulls the strings. But that doesn't mean he can have what I had desired even before I knew she was closer to me than I had ever imagined. He doesn't know the first thing about her. He doesn't deserve her."

Layla paced about the room, hands on her hips, the chain on her navy jeans clinging as she zig-zagged about the side of the room. "I don't care. I just want her out of my way." She paced some more before stopping at his desk to snap a question. "Does Gojo know we're working together?"

"How do I know? I don't keep tabs on that prick." Ryu closed his eyes and massaged his temple with a thumb and index finger. When Kaname called him back to Tokyo, saying there were urgent family matters, he didn't expect to be greeted with this tricky turn of events. "It seems like I will have to. I don't care if he gets her pregnant. I want just her."

"What a creep." She put the back of her hand to her forehead and threw her head back dramatically. "I'm glad I'm not her."

She yanked open the drapes, and Ryu cursed as the sunlight blinded them. The sun appeared like a silver coin on the bleak sky, the trees quiet in the windless noon. "I'm glad she's not you." He drawled, half-joking with a slow grin and a raised eyebrow, tapping the pen against the hardwood of his desk.

"Your mother doesn't like me anyway." She folded her arms under her bust and fell into a chair, her mouth twisting as she mentioned his mother. They both shared the dislike. "Satoru is a dick, you know. I wouldn't have gone after him if he wasn't Gojo Satoru." His mother should've married the previous clan head instead of Kaname and been Satoru's mother instead of his.

"What's new about that? He's always been one." Ryu muttered, going back to jotting on his book.

"Why do you want to be the clan head, Ryusei Gojo?" Layla shot him a sideways glance and parted her lips.

"My my, you're up to no good, Lala." Lala was the childhood nickname he'd given her, but these days, he used it to get under her skin. It's one of his pastimes to do so. "Do you want to know why? Come here, and sit on my lap."

Layla gritted her teeth, "Forget about it. I don't want to know." She hated it when he got like this. He liked pressing her buttons and pushing her boundaries. "You don't even want me. Stop acting like you do."

"Why?" He smirked widely, opening and closing his eyes languidly. "Do you want me?"

She turned her face away bitterly. The sound of maids' footsteps echoed through the walls. "Your charms don't work on me, Ryu. I know you well, and you're not my type." What's with him!

He pretended to get up from his seat, feigning curiosity. "Really, why don't we check if that's true?"

"I'm not your test subject. Go try your games on someone else. May be this is why you're not the clan head." She jibed and felt proud that she did.

"Ouch. That hurt." He cackled with a palm to his heart, laughter shaking his chest. "That's a good one."

She played with her earrings, scoffing at his antics before he said, "You should leave. Or the next marriage will be ours." No unwed lad in a Sorcerer clan is untethered from the hounding families and their impulse to tie the knot. It's funny. Ain't it? It sure is, as long as you're not one of those young lads. It's worse for women.

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Satoru couldn't believe he managed to catch some sleep after yesterday's catastrophe. Kasumi had fallen asleep sometime around late night earlier than him. His memory is unclear. Nothing has changed since yesterday. Last night wasn't a dream but a projection of his oversight. The bite marks on Miwa's body. The bruises littered across her skin proved that much. He eyed the white evidence of their erotic activities suffused about her thighs before his gaze darted to her cerise lips. His conscience didn't allow him to espy her bare birthmarks despite having seen it more than once.

A profound emptiness settled in his stomach. This was new territory, newer than when he stepped on the pedals of his bicycle for the first time as a child or when he joined Tokyo Jujutsu High as a freshman in days beyond recall. Satoru scoffed. He had leveled up yesterday. How could he manage to fuck up so bad? He is limitless in every way, isn't he?

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She had ferreted about a wardrobe that looked all too new to be in a frowsty, forsaken place and gotten a crisp set of clothes, which covered her now, but it was not the same building. And here, things popped out of thin air when they were not looking. Seriously, where the hell is this place. Did the room get teleported after yesterday to make it harder to locate them? There was so much going on. How was her brain supposed to handle it all? Because his hands were on the small of her back as she put the laundry on the clothesline. He's been washing his clothes for a while as she cleaned hers. She almost tripped on her feet, taken aback by his body behind her. The image of them like this was so domestic and surreal just as much. It's like they were both husband and wife, romancing and helping each other out with chores on Sundays. But this is impractical because you couldn't compare them with the likes of those who got settled to lead a peaceful life in the countryside. Gojo Satoru will never experience such a life. Neither will she, after everything. "I feel light headed, and I think it's because of your presence. You confuse me." He said, and she thought they should've been her words. Something he could've pried out of her mouth with his willowy fingers. Because she is positive, she didn't confuse him. He confused her, intoxicated her. His breath made the nape of her neck less cold. She had felt his eyes boring into the spot long before, eyes casting on her a warning like the darkening sky before the rain. She had found her clothes at her feet, folded, albeit dirty with dust and sweat. Her phone was dead but not damaged. At least it's her phone and not her that's dead.

Gojo-Sensei came into the room through the doorway with two glasses of water and plates of yummy bread Omelette, and she flinched like a cat that touched a cucumber. She swore she had no appetite, but her stomach had already started playing its hungry flute at the smell of hot food. "I am dreaming. I—Where—What—I..." She had jabbered out a slew of nonsense before she finally said. "It was an illusion."

He sighed, looking anywhere by her. He said, "I found your clothes lying on the floor," and gestured to the blanket that had fallen to her waist. Her face was so hot she could fan it with her hands, but preserving her dignity, or what little was left, is more paramount.

"It was not an illusion." He spoke, taking her folded clothes and giving them to her. "When I woke up, I was able to open the doors." More like he was allowed to. "But this place looks like an impossible Rubik's Cube, a maze that keeps changing. I'm trying figure it out, but it might be a devil's bargain to stray too far, especially when everything we need to survive has been provided to us." How thoughtful of his clan! "It looks like they had planned a whole ass honeymoon inside this prison." A vacation? It reminds her of the blue lagoon, but the couple in the movie weren't kidnapped, only stranded on an island. She snorted at her audacity to daydream about steamy summer romances at a time like this. The last time she went on a vacation was with Yasha, who made the devious plan to sneak out of the damned island without telling Gramps. Or HER. At that time, she didn't know how to yield her power and had gotten on a boat with him for some reason she could not remember. Was she that dumb? They were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the grey sea, by the time she realized her mistake. She had looked around and ripped a wild shriek, grabbing her cousin's collar and shaking him violently.

Satoru scratched his head with his hand. His spikes inclined before swirling back into the cowlick somewhere behind his head. Was he not going to put on his blindfolds anymore? She wrapped the blanket around her, and the déjà vu blew her mind. Shirakawa. Gojo-Sensei and her in the same room, alone, getting to openly admire him in the privacy of four walls, feeling his eyes on her, drenching her like a bucket of fire while he explained and explained the things she couldn't comprehend, even more so because it's him doing it. It's the same shivery, rosy panic, except she had no headache. That's amusing. Because, yesterday, her head was splitting, and she had done nothing to bring it down. Does having sex with Satoru and passing out count? Ugh. If only she didn't have a brain that was hell-bent on overthinking. She shivered at the thought of addressing him by his name, the memory of yesterday burning a hole in her mind. "I'm surprised they went this far to set us up." No, breed would be the right word, but a conscious Satoru is a filtered Satoru. Surprised? She's electrocuted. You know what she wanted to do right now. Climb to the top of a building or a hill and shout at the top of her lungs until she gets closer to normal again.

"Why?" She thought he had plenty to say, or better excuses, up his sleeves.

"I didn't think this would happen." He looked at her apologetically, but it only made her feel emptier.

Did he really need to apologize for taking things into his own hands... Perhaps he didn't tell her because he wasn't allowed to do so. He might've wanted to protect her. But who was stopping him from telling her what she deserved to hear? Suddenly, she felt guilty. Her mind raised to put her arms out and deny it. No, you don't have to say much or apologize to me. You're Gojo-Sensei. I'm head over heels for you so you can treat me like a doormat to your heart's content. She wrinkled her nose. Well, Sensei or not, he was a grown man who could make mistakes. Her people-pleasing tendencies were no good, and apologies didn't work that way.

Old Miwa would've done that, but Kasumi had changed since she met Yasha.

Yasha taught her so much despite being a certified jerk. He made her stand up for herself and actually talk back when needed. Sure, Kasumi is annoying him, but Satoru'll have to bear with it.

"I don't want to be pregnant, Gojo-Sensei." Her voice cracked. "Why didn't you tell me a word about it if you had known! Do you have any idea what I was going through? Why would you keep this from me! This is not just about you, this is about me too."

Gojo knew no matter what he did, Miwa would keep overthinking and hyperventilating about her future. He was mad. He was more than mad. She was asking difficult questions he wished he knew how to answer, but he wouldn't be an asshole. Not now. Her fury was reasonable. He will not argue with that at a time like this.

Love was everywhere and nowhere, and it brought pain along. It's not the process of marriage that repulsed her, but rather the absence of love between two people who were supposed to show you and teach you how love works. Nevertheless, Miwa grew up knowing what to love and what not to love. Above everything else, she knew the first rule of love. Love happens. She loved her brothers. She loved Mai and Momo. But it was a different kind of love. Not any less, but different nevertheless. She believed she lacked an adventurous streak, but getting married, like every other girl, was starting to look less and less attractive as she trained her socks off in Yakushima. Kaboom! And, then today, she had reverted to the childish thought process that is possible only in her daydreams with a flick of Satoru's magical fingertips.

She enjoyed watching the leaves dancing in the rain, garbing nature in green serenity, beautiful like life when life is good. Kasumi imagined clinging to Satoru as the thunder broke the sky and a cold shower washed over their bodies. She dreamed about him with open eyes, looking out into the malachite garden through the shoji. She dreamt about them together, even when they were just five feet apart.

This isn't how she imagined her first time would be. Her body asked to be treated like something that wasn't delicate, and Satoru heard the call and gave it to her. She wasn't misunderstanding trauma for love. There was resentment, but not towards him. He didn't make her feel beaten. Instead of what anyone would expect, she felt like she was being herself more with him. She felt like she had gone from being a drop of water to a sizzling sea. It may be inherent. Like Yasha told her, she was indeed a weapon, a sword. What if this is what her clan wanted from her? What if Satoru was the sheath while she was the sword? Aghh! Her tongue met the dry roof of her mouth. There was nothing to gulp. She was dehydrated and imagined sipping water. The food Satoru brought was right next to her, and it was about time she started digging in. "I feel like I'm about to die."

"No. You're not." The reply came from the corner of the room. They had both taken two corners of the living room, unable to leave one another alone due to the circumstances. Satoru wasn't smiling. He leaved through the pages of a book he had taken from the shelf, biting his lips. She could only see his hands as the rest of him soused in the shadows.

"And I can't... because?" She wasn't expecting an answer because Satoru had gone quiet for a long time.

"You can't because—" Should Satoru really let drop what he's about to say if he's sorry for what he did? Miwa pressed her nails into the pads of her fingers until they hurt her like blades, listening carefully to his agitated breathing. Yes, it is inappropriate, but it isn't far from the truth to say that his cock would've exploded if she weren't there to bear the brunt of it. He crawled on his knees and got near her, even though he knew she might preferably be left alone. Gojo's fingers squeaked over the tabletop, walking towards the bed where she sat. He stood up and stepped forward, eyes never leaving her frame. She placed her hand on his naked stomach, taking a sharp breath. His proximity had her melting into a puddle. He shouldn't come any closer. Who likes to lose their mind?

There is no one else here but them. Gojo and Miwa. Satoru and Kasumi. Here, she got reduced to just Kasumi, the girl with no titles. The naive student who asked for an autograph from the great, strongest sorcerer in the culture festival. She turned her face, and his kiss fell on her cheeks. It's her mind's greatest desire to be accepted without titles, to be accepted for love, and it hovered over her headspace like a ship without a captain at all times. She doesn't let it come down often since no inch of her or anyone was free enough to cater to such hopeless needs.

"Don't be scared." That's a statement he didn't say. It lingered on his tongue like the aftertaste of water and tempted him to unravel more of himself, hoping he wouldn't be guilty if he tempted her into doing the same. He did not quite make her feel safe, but he did make her feel complicated. The fact that she did not feel perfectly fine was a part of the excitement surrounding them bordering on delirium. She was fucked. She was fucked for life.

"I've got to say it." This is a cage they set for two, and from how it seemed, he had an intuition that without the counterpart to help him out, he would've been doomed. The lack of a counterpart didn't mean the curse set to activate beforehand would suddenly vanish. "This is new to me. I've never even heard of anything like this ever happening. This is just—this is just absurd." And mind-boggling. And sad. And what he's saying is very inappropriate. "I don't know how I would've managed if you weren't there by my side."

"Are you scared?" She asked. Asking him to promise that sometime in the future, everything will make sense might be too much to ask.

His digits stroked hers, tracing to the tip of her nails. "I'm sorry..." He answered instead. He touched her shoulders and held her close. He gripped her firmly to provide her with a semblance of stability. "I fucked up. It's all my fault."

He entwined his digits through hers, squeezing the flesh of his stomach into her hands as he leaned in. "I wish I had the willpower to ask you to stay away from me. I think we'll be here for days and I don't want to be alone." He said, and she shrugged after a minute.

She has become a freak in this freakishness, and she feared she couldn't bring back her sense of normalcy. It was the only thing that had anchored her to the ground, an unchanging element, and she didn't know how to be stable or function without it. Peculiar is not an adjective that Kasumi would use to describe herself for her own good, but "plain" worked no more, and she was left with "peculiar."

Kasumi didn't want to be strange. It scared her to stand out. She wasn't weird, and she used to be proud to not be Weird. Alas, some things have to end. Her powers didn't emerge for free, after all. It costs the sense of stability born out of the feeling of "normalcy." It's like her insides were slushing around, sloshing like the contents of a booze bottle in a drunkard's grip. Emotions overwhelmed her evermore, and she felt like a different person in the shell of the person she once was. There was just too much. It's like one wrong move, and she would burst like a balloon bloated with water. But she didn't. She just kept expanding and containing invisibly. It's weird. It's really, Really weird. Bye-bye olden times. Bye bye, stable Kasumi. Welcome, unstable dolly, a weapon, and a toy to be polished and played with. What's more upsetting was the secret that Kasumi liked to be commanded as much as she liked commanding. She was not like this. She used to relish being in charge more than being controlled, but Akira was the opposite, and Kasumi felt like her personality got messed up in the struggle to keep herself sane! Her mind got towed from two conflicting sides, and she should do everything in her power to fight the pull, lest her mind be mauled apart like a captured prey. So, Kasumi had been doing the only thing she could. Run. Run from the sputtering lava mountain that's hot on her tail because she can't let it drown her. She's terrified of what will happen once she stops running and gives in to the power. The silence around them, the room's heat, and the fogged-up windows feel like the calm before the storm, the rolls of waves retreating into the sea before you're whacked with the Tsunami. Kasumi will not let herself be broken. She wanted to live and be good enough to be alive for her family. She wanted to take this chance and let things bloom brilliantly. She hoped to live a long life, a good enough life. She still wanted everything she wanted before, which helped her wait and see even as the nights turned dim and dark. And the days, harder. She will tame the beast inside her no matter what.

Her back stiffened, and pupils dilated when she felt his hands crossing over her chest slowly without touching. He took the cloth from her hands and hung it over the clothesline. Miwa craned her neck, and he strained a smile, saying. "Kasumi. Run." Her heart quickened. "Don't trust my words. Don't trust me. They've done something to me, and it's making it difficult to control myself." The sun is setting. It looks like it's already been twenty-four hours since they came here. Turns out they wouldn't be here for days.

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"Ieiri?" Utahime's phone rang late into the night. When she got the call, she was straddling a handsome man in the cabin at the peak of a Ferris wheel. She was so engaged in kissing, delighted at herself for picking up the enticing black dress for tonight. She looked like a sparrow, her dress gleaming like sleek feathers and lips lined with lust. He put his hands on her, reaching down to grab her ass. He was squeezing too much, but she would let him play. It's been a month since they started dating, and she—"What did you just say?" She panted.

Ieiri turned left, lying on the bed on her stomach, and placed her chin on the pillow. "Yes, it's Ieiri."

"What's wrong?"

"Love, sorry to interrupt your date. But the marriage rituals. They started."

The phone slipped from Utahime's hold, but this time, she caught it before it could shatter on the floor. "Hehh? When?" That's playing dirty. But when have the clans not played dirty? "Isn't it supposed to be next year?" Her voice grew concerned, and so did Ieiri's.

"The clans are preparing for The Hunt."

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Sitting alone on rooftops and slurping ramen while the city was cold sometimes meant brooding. The breeze came with lost loves and regrets, all the moody memories like movies in a theatre you shilly-shallied about watching, but you watched because the tickets can't go to waste. Inumaki's mind was occupied by one of these rumination loops when he was greeted by an uninvited someone. He didn't like it. It violated the rules of his precious alone time, chafing him. He'd rather be in the cave of his mind, touching and teasing each bead on the string of his thoughts.

The shadow splaying over Inumaki's face blazed like the ghost of a torch at night. Orange curls like the possessed flames of some cataclysmic fire. A spell sat at the top of Inumaki's tongue, waiting to be released. But that's when the intruder's lips moved. "Long time no see, Toge." The cadence was reminiscent of a faraway call from the woods. "I need your help. We have to find Kasumi and Satoru." He circled around Inumaki, who laid on his back and squatted at his feet. "Aahh, do you not recognize me now?" He tched, ruffling Toge's hair. "I'm Yasha, you dork."

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