Note:

Flashbacks and thoughts in italics

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

"The Art Of Water"

CHAPTER 2

Pumpkin Spice

Recollections of that eventful day in Tokyo kept haunting her. Though she initiated attempts to water down her embarrassment of falling asleep, it clung to her head persistently. But as it is said, there's no use crying over spilled milk. Furthermore, giving up is not her cup of tea.

"It's not like I don't have any potential." I might be a late bloomer. That must be the case. Miwa tries to relax the tissues on her face and boost her spirits. Plucking a few daylilies engaged in a golden dance with the flurry, she dawdled alongside the road. At this point, she fretted about her whole life getting wasted running petty errands for the people in the corridors of power. Have they overlooked that she's also a Jujutsu sorcerer, that she also needed time for herself? Wandering beyond the street, she felt the crunch of grass patches underfoot. She had made a beeline for a coffee shop not far from her College. Crossing her arms over her chest, she hesitated, letting such a notion inside her head. Under no circumstances was growing up a bed of roses for her, but who knows, someday things may come up roses for her.

She breathed in the sweet aroma of Irish cream and marshmallows, content. This place offered a taste of amiability and quiet. A delicate jangle resonated against the walls as her arrival moved the bell on the café doorway. Before she apprehends it, she had ordered the same thing again. Miwa had gotten accustomed to the addictive warmth of freshly brewed coffee and chocolate syrup in here. She also hasn't changed, sticking to her hopeless cycle. Bringing her espresso in a white Demitasse cup, the barista flashed Kasumi a toothy grin.

Back when she was a weeping child on the ragged edge of despair, she remained convinced that her future self could do something. But now, like a doll having an existential crisis upon uncovering that it's just a toy, her predicament is something along the same lines. Except unlike the toy, she was running low on sparkle and pink. Her promotion was hanging by a thread. Regardless of how tough she tries, her abilities declined to upgrade with her commitment.

Kasumi hates to be not worth a straw in her group. She is nothing extraordinary. It has been proven time and again. In the end, she will perish and abandon her family in despair, and that part hurts the most. That makes her loathe herself all the more because she is never good enough.

Biting into her favorite Pumpkin Spice Latte Cupcakes was a joy. She couldn't ever go without it. The plain ol' whipped cream bedewed with cinnamon was something else, and the cream cheese melted in her mouth. Many people experience emotional eating at one time or another. Kasumi deserves a treat, and among other sweets, cupcakes are perfectly fine (right?) A bit of stress eating is okay. From the large pot plant placed about the window to the Jacobean floral fabric of the carpet, everything was pleasingly dear to her now. Although it wasn't quite what Kasumi had planned, it was nice to have a place to go and refreshing to have a routine.

It happened while she was mindfully savoring her steaming coffee.

"Hot Macchiato." She would recognize that voice anywhere, Gojo Satoru's smooth baritone. Startled, for the love of God, Kasumi nearly spilled the coffee on her orchid blouse. He cocked his head and rolled his eyes to the right corner of the ceiling in quiet introspection before turning to the counter. She found herself stuck between raising her head to acknowledge him and camouflaging herself on the walls to ignore him. Miwa accepted the former. She barely had enough energy left to converse with Gojo Sensei at the moment. Talk about having a weird hair color. Merging one with the walls seemed like the most nonsensical thing that had ever crossed her mind. Her vibrating phone drew her attention, and she peeped down. There were a few messages from her brother and one from Utahime. Kasumi licked her lips, tearing her eyes off the screen to where Gojo had been. But instead, her curious stare met the barista wiping the countertop with outstretched hands.

Despite the presence of an old couple and three students about her age, three-quarters of the room was empty. She scanned around the side of the table and out the glass panes, yet no sign of Satoru. He must've teleported. So fast, she can't help but admire.

"You come here often, Miwa?" "Gojo S-Sensei!" Kasumi almost felt her heart pole vaulting out of her chest at how loud he sounded, his minty breath on her ears. He wasn't necessarily worried that he might invade her personal space? How come she did not know when he sat; was she that oblivious? An Arctic owl on the hunt, silent like death, levitated across the horizon of her mind. Hiding was a ridiculous approach, after all. This man could probably sense her cursed energy from a mile afar. She sank into the chair and inhaled slowly to calm her racing heart. Squaring an ankle over one knee, he had seated himself on the very same loveseat she was sitting on, on her right, their thighs separated by mere inches.

"Are you relishing the break after a tiring day?" Gojo's eyebrows drew together atop the bridge of his nose as he observed the girl.

After seeing her messages, he says, "Tch. Utahime might be going over the top with homework." He didn't even need to peek. Gojo was taller than her at over six feet. At his height, he can observe anything underneath him like a golden eagle in the sky.

"What are you up to?"

Miwa bit her lip, glancing down and away. He was so handsome. It's like he had plunged in an ichor rain. Any "love" she would have had died before it could be born. He's long out of her freakin meager league. "Actually, I completed my homework." She said in a low voice before rubbing her clammy palms on the fabric of her blue jeans. "That's why I got bored and came here."

"So, you're a regular here." Resting his chin in his palm, he blinked.

"Pretty much."

He gave her a subtle wink. "If you're that bored, maybe we can go watch a movie." Wow. A date with Gojo-Sensei. For real?! This Wednesday couldn't get any better.

"Oh! Thank you." Kasumi beamed at him, effervescent. She liked the idea, but it is too good to be true; impossible. He was joking. "But it's alright, really. I have a mission tonight." She didn't want to go against the clock, unprepared. For all she knows, canceling a mission might bring a large black mark upon her. Although she has never been all set, she can at least get ready to take the toll. Maybe she could request Utahime a weekend off.

"I see. Hold on. You selected this? It looks pretty." Satoru asked, prodding the dainty bracelet loose on her wrist. He ran the pad of his thumb along the stones that slung on a silvery chain. They were emerald green forming cute clover leaves.

"No. It's a gift from my mother, a lucky charm."

"You believe in that?"

"I know it sounds ridiculous." Kasumi acknowledged, nodding vigorously. As a matter of fact, it was a knee-jerk action. "There's a willow somewhat on the back of my room. I knock on it and like to believe it's good luck."

"No. It doesn't." Gojo's shoulders lifted in a shrug. "Believe me, it's lovely. I bet it's a cool spot behind your dorm. Hah?"

"Totally."

"Spice Latte? Mind sharing some with me?" Gojo had a sweet tooth as well as a bottomless pit. People used to say that all his extravagant, sugary dining would catch up with him one day until they got themselves annoyed, apprehending their wasted time concocting speculations on something that could not happen. Back to the subject of food, he appreciated almost anything. If anything, he disliked alcohol. In Izakaya, customarily, he buys melon soda instead. He sidestepped from admitting that there was nothing else the supremely perfect himself couldn't stand but that. "Eh. Of course, Sensei!"

.

Friday came by double-quick.

"Is there something I can help you with, Miwa?"

Utahime looked up from her laptop to Kasumi who stood fidgeting. It's been a month since they got to spend some time together, and she was missing them so badly. On the wall beside the small bedside table is a picture frame of a smiling woman in a wedding gown and a man in an elegant suit. A vine crown prettified her black bob, and a bouquet of purple daisies rested in her arms. Miwa observed.

"Oh. That's my dad and Mrs. Iori." Utahime slid her eyes away from Miwa as she approved the expertly taken snapshot. The supposed couple looked happy, feeling the lakefront breeze and the shells that slept on the salty sand. "Utahime-Sensei, I have something to ask of you."

For a moment, the flower pot on the table distracted her. It had red dots here and there like the ink of blood splattered from a bleeding quill. Utahime grew up in a well-to-do family, so she didn't need to work. But she wanted to do things her way, own her own. An auspicious woman she was. Her parents were pleased when she became an excellently skilled teacher. Drapes, mattings, racks, doors, and everything else in the room fused in blinding white and ruby red. This lady might be obsessed with this particular blend of colors. Even though she had matured over time, Miwa discerned that deep within the nook or her head, she had a bit of irrational jealousy towards lucky people. Utahime was no exception.

"Hmm?" Her eyebrows bumped together in uncertainty as she swigged in the glass of orange juice.

Before Miwa opens her mouth, the ringing of the telephone beats her to it. Iori stops typing to answer the call.

"Oh. Is that it?" Holding the handset to her ears, she frowns. "Unfortunately, I can't."

"My apologies. It doesn't always happen like that. My secretary must've gotten wrapped up in work and forgotten it." Kasumi watches as her teacher jots something down on her notepad.

"I'll send someone else soon." She hangs up the phone and begins pacing the floor. Once again, Miwa reminded herself to make her business quick and convenient and leave. There might be a lot of things going on in her Sensei's head right now. Since the week had gotten hectic, she had added workload.

What would she be thinking? On the spur of the moment, as if an idea hit her, Utahime dials a number and waits for it to ring. "I called to inform that I'll send you one of my students instead."

Kasumi had wanted to ask her the permission to go home to spend the weekend with the brothers. For now, she shall shove those wishes further into that one cramped corner of her mind.

She is presumably that pupil Utahime has in mind. Fortunately, she might be able to finish off this task, whatever it is, today itself. Kasumi sighed.

Author's Note:

So, how was the coffee?

Thank you so much for the favorites, and reviews. They mean a lot.

Thanks for reading.