Note:
Flashbacks and thoughts in italics
I do not condone or encourage any behaviors in this story. It is simply a fictional story.
Author's Note:
I appreciate constructive feedback since it's always good to understand errors and improve.
Let's dive into the story.
"The Art Of Water"
CHAPTER 1
Red Carnation
.
The man propelled from the ground with a back handspring before he attempted to take the shaman by surprise. In two click-clacks, the soles of shoes pivoted on the mirror-smooth floor as the kicks got ducked quite effortlessly. Over the midnight moon glaring through the picture windows, a bullet pierced. And glass cracked for the first time that night. Shadows swirled and crawled against each other, signaling that the arena had lit up for the commencement of tonight's bloodshed.
In the middle of their clash, something like a violin's screech resounded, which Kento recognized as the sirens screeching from a distance. The doors burst open, knocking over some tables and shooting down the old gothic chandeliers from the ceiling for no reason at all.
Police had arrived. Recklessness followed.
Lucky for them, this place is not of any historical importance, while it should've been added to the list eons ago. Otherwise, the authorities would've had a field day by charging the Curse Technical Schools for irremediable sabotage. Blue fire is tough to tame.
That's wasn't even the critical element in their predicament. Something else needed to be taken care of. The sooner the better. Like the surprise that the curse user had brought along. The creature behind him. Its eyes appeared like leaves. Two scarlet leaves stowed with flesh and blood. Like light penetrating human skin, red under a flashlight, it glowed. A cluster of veins was visible through the translucent skin. It is unnecessary to worry that this skin might pop off like a bubble of gossamer strings. Thanks to Nanami's expertise with curses. He knows it's, by all means, hard as a rock. He is not kidding when he says it's almost like a metal.
That's where this job turns into more of a fight-for-life than fun.
Then again, the man in his late twenties, who has managed to stay alive to this day, has seen better. He didn't even need to kill the curseAll he needed was to finish off this task, after which he could get a comfortable travel home. And eat. Yeah. You heard that right. Eat. Probably some miso soup and sashimi. Because Nanami has become famished like a dead man, going a whole two days without food is now his new history. He hated this mission. It kept getting complicated. The intervention of the higher-ups slowed him more than he would've liked.
If he hadn't told Ijichi to get off his tail, Ijichi too would've gotten a ticket for his starving party by now. The poor guy has too much on his plate already. He could use a breather from hot printed papers and cold-blooded dusks in Tokyo. Nanami was too caught up in his little research on the details of the records that "food" seemed like a fantasy, even though that wasn't very canny of him. Moreover, who knew that the matters were about to catapult into one taxing night? Yet, seeing that Ijichi gets to meet his mother in his hometown, Nanami can deal with this.
"One more warning." Wires of blue blaze came down like confetti from purgatory, incinerating wherever they touched. "Put your knife down." This is ridiculous. Although the man was a bull in a china shop by Kento's standards, that nasty cursed technique he had up his sleeves was no joke. "Get on your knees."
As if. He could've scoffed if matters hadn't gotten worse without notice, unanticipated.
"Crap," Nanami yelled, wrestling his way through the melee. The last thing he wanted was the sorcerers from Kyoto to slip in-out of nowhere-and steal the limelight, which was precisely the last thing that had transpired. What for? That part of their charade remains a grey area. One thing is sure: there is an answer for everything.
Glass crescents rained, a sparkly waltz against the Italian marbles, chandeliers crashing over the curse, a fruitless attempt at distraction. Not only that, but the plan backfired, because everyone who weren't sporting shades and didn't have the power of the sterling six eyes, had to block the splinters from scratching their corneas. The sorcerers busied themselves with shielding their eyesight, creating an opening for the enemy.
Before he knew it, in the blink of an eye, the curse user had leaped into action, feet hammering. So did the curse. In this battle, sorcerers outnumbered them.
Now, it wasn't "fight or flight." It was only "flight." Or die. They stay a minute longer; they lose. And they weren't fools.
.
Smoke wafted through the corridors, bells ringing, many eyes red. A ragtag of men and women bustled out as far as their legs would take them. There was clear evidence of the commotion inside the mansion. The clanging of assorted personal items echoed in the mess. The alarm bell rang out a banshee's wail. The trees burned out like papers, the land ablaze like the setting sun. Climbing the rusted spiral stairs, Kento made his way onto the chambers. He knocked twice, but the door didn't budge.
"The house is on fire!" He rasped out. "Idiot. Are you even listening?"
"You better leave me alone." A masculine voice came from inside though Nanami didn't seem to pay attention to it.
The banging continued. There was a brief pause, and a deafening silence dreaded the air until a loud crack resounded. The door wrenched open. Nanami, who had donned the gravest scowl on his face, was oblivious to the sight awaiting him.
The debris and splinters fell like a downpour. The once marble floor is now a sheer pool of vermilion, lava. The room would collapse beneath the hefty roof. A blizzard cold enveloped him when he saw him.
"I lost him, Nanami." Yuji had the tips of his hair on fire. Face dusted gray with charcoal and ash. Of course, he knew that. He had told Itadori to stay out of this. This mission was not child's play.
"What the fuck, kid?" Who was he kidding? He should've known better. "Jump down the window into the pond outside. I'll get you some clothes."
Itadori's gaped mouth. And his bug eyes proved his terror. What was being commanded to him sank in his mind like Titanic. His shirt and his pants were nowhere to be seen. Might've caught fire from the looks of it. Nanami believed.
Surprisingly, the mission winded up becoming a win, even after everything that ensued, but just not for Nanami. "Well, at least my boxers aren't on fire. I love it because it's red." Gazing down at his boxers, Yuji added in his characteristically cheerful tone.
So? Nanami's face morphed into one that of disgust. "I'm not interested."
Nanami was also a man with a powerful intuition. "Turn around." There was smoke coming from behind Yuji.
The boy tilted his head at him, confused, but complied nevertheless.
He wasn't wrong. "Quick. Jump into the pond if you don't want a burnt butt."
"What?" Yuji squawked, turning his neck to peek behind. "You're right. AARGH!"
.
Killing without touching, the seas of gore had long washed off so much, things that made him feel more like human and less like a weapon.
The illusion that power would always take over the transient sense of emptiness. It had become his castle of cards. The thought of its metaphorical tumbling unsettles him. Though he must not have known the taste of defeat for a long time now, he had known for sure that the frantic notes of downfall were never lovely. Gojo Satoru opened his eyes and stopped overthinking.
He stretched his limbs and yawned when his phone beeped, sprawled out on his sofa after a typical day in Tokyo High. Sliding his thumb on the screen, he pressed it to his ears, expecting that familiar voice. Today, there has been an extreme amount of physical training. He doesn't need to sleep but yawning is fun. "How did it go last night?"
There was a brief silence. "I couldn't get it. Someone else did."
"Mhmm?" He inquired, drumming his fingers on the desk with a lackluster smile.
"They took it before I could." Gojo pursed his lips, raising an eyebrow. "It was deliberate, planned."
"Nanamin..." He drawled the name like a syrupy song. Just so, he could hear the blonde groaning on the other side, irked up. "I hate the suspense."
"Very well, I did whatever I could..." Nanami cleared his throat. "However, the sword ended up within the Kyoto School. They'll be securing it in the private chambers," or in other words, their treasure houses.
Now that he understood what Nanami was hinting at, Gojo sat up to prop his elbow on his knee. "Uh-huh. So that means..."
"It's up to you. If I carry on with this any longer, I'll be wasting my time." He was a no-nonsense man, brutally direct at times.
"Hey, wait—" Nanami didn't give him the time to suggest any more of his schemes. The caller hung up abruptly. "Dammit. This guy is difficult." Gojo muttered under his breath. Tossing his keys into the bottom drawer and prodding it close, he started to flip through his mails and stopped on an unusual-looking one. He used a penknife to open the sealed envelope, pulling the letter out as the flap came free.
The letter had merely one fleeting sentence and a word in a vermillion Inkan.
"Blood will bring us together." Blinking owlishly, Gojo whispered. A brood of cicadas chirped outside when the wallclock ding-donged at 8. Gust swished in through the open doors, hustling past the swell of his cheeks as he undid the first few buttons of his shirt.
Principal Gakuganji has some hard-and-fast rules in his school—break them, and you're out of there. Gojo was no student, but Gakuganji is just a pain in the ass. Gojo has a handful of people in his mind. Nonetheless. Since he will have to chart a plan with Utahime crossed off the list, alternatives are scarce. She would not be letting him breach the contract for an overload of reasons. One: she doesn't have the leeway, two: personal reasons; she doesn't like him. Three, the ones he is not aware of. In case there is no other choice but to retrieve the special grade cursed tool from the school using lowkey, below-the-belt tactics, then he'll do it. Period.
"Who writes me poems?" He chuckled as the paper crumbled in peace inside his crowded dustbin. Another silly letter from a nameless someone. "Time to freshen up."
Author's Note:
I might ramble (in text) about things that I find interesting, regardless of what it is. Skip that part if you don't wanna read it.
*Akira means: Bright, clear, etc [Japanese]
I had been planning on writing a GojoMiwa fanfiction for a while. Now, it is officially one of my favorite ships ever. I was inspired by other beautiful GojoMiwa works, heartwarming stuff.
There aren't many of them. Thank you so much, mates. Don't stop writing!