Resonance
A Jujutsu Kaisen Story, by The Ink Bubble
~CHAPTER ONE: How to Make Friends, Enemies, and Unintended Lovers~
Jujutsu: The art of a cursed technique. An ability either granted to select individuals or to the big three families. An unholy power that could bring destruction, whether that destruction brought death or hope.
CHOMP! Crunch, crunch.
Emi Mamoru, a Second Year at Tokyo Jujutsu High, rolls her eyes as she reads the line. It would be inspiring if there wasn't that stupid chibi drawing of Gojo next to it, winking with the phrase, 'Lighten up, Little Miss Symphony!' She closes the notebook, taking a bit of care to not scrunch up the note. Humming Jpop tunes (Kaikai Kitan's been such an earworm lately…), she fiddles with a jar of gel pens, high pitched tink, tink, tinks accompanying her in the otherwise silent dorm. Gentle sunlight creeps in through gaps in the curtains, like hands prying apart the darkness. Its fingers brush against her exposed ankle. There's the smell of lavender throughout, so faint but so intoxicating. It matches the color of most of her stationery, a collection of writing instruments, memo pads, washi tape, and notebooks, sorted perfectly into small shelves around her wooden desk. Only one of them sits outside, displayed proudly: her journal. Her fingers caress its firm cover.
As she swallows the last bits of her meal, she makes a pit-stop at her dishwasher to clean before heading back to her closet. She opens it, and it's as minimalistic as it can be without being flat out nothing. Three plastic bags dangle from hangers, one of them half-empty with her school attire within. Another contains a large oversized shirt and cargo shorts, a sleek black with cat patterns dotted about. The last is just a lavender tank top and sweatpants. All of them are meticulously folded, so much so that in their packaging, there's not a wrinkle in sight. Perfect. Even if she stares at every miniscule speck of dirt on each bag. She plucks the half-empty one from its perch, reaching inside for her cropped leather jacket, a deep navy blue like her baggy pants. She dances to a display above her bed, pulling down her glasses, and a small box lined with red and finished in matte black.
Her reflection in her nearby mirror reflects the very kinds of girls she dreams about — solid, athletic build, yet slim. Her jacket remains open, revealing fresh bandages tight around her chest, still leaving her abs exposed. Despite her bad case of a bedhead, she enjoys the way her spiky bangs fly free like a jungle, in no way hiding the scar under her eye or on her lip. Marks from an event one year ago, her first true encounter with death and destruction. By now, her museum of a mind holds each of those moments in high regard, even if they are of the past. She opens her curtains, releasing the floodgates that held back the sun, as she looks around the grounds of the school.
And spots a man wheeling a body into the premises.
Ijichi — the resident shy guy — is the one wheeling it, shaking like mad. She sighs half-heartedly. Better be Gojo and not Fushiguro. Put off but undeterred, she turns and picks up her bright purple headphones, its earcups elegantly painted with inky spirals of Jujutsu High. She hits her playlist, humming along and sliding to her front door.
BANG!
It bursts open. Flying at her. Her foot raises high, kicking the door back to resist. The other foot plants itself into the wood floor. Her hand balls into a fist. Fast breath. Waiting. No sound but her. Adrenaline. Eyes scanning. A shadow. Slim, wielding something long and thin. A silhouette she recognizes. "Damn you, Maki." She sucks in a breath and relaxes, pulling her foot off of the door and being greeted with the ever-intense Maki Zen'in (last name sold separately.) "I was up half an hour ago."
"So?" she snaps back, flicking her green ponytail, glaring at Emi through her glasses. Hostile. Predatory. Yet, always with that friendly challenge. The 'I'll kick your ass and make you look bad but probably buy you ice cream after' look. "We've gotta start training like our pride depends on it, now." She marches in, exaggerating her steps like a soldier. Rhythmic clicks hit Emi's tatami floor, an unintentional yet pleasing beat. "I got word that that idiot Third Year got suspended, so we're on our own for the Goodwill Event."
Peeking in from her doorway is Panda, and though he looks like he fell out of a bamboo tree, he's snacking on a bag of dried sausages like nothing's wrong. A cute yellow band is wrapped around his arm, with a large heart-shaped panda on it. "We could ask those new First Years," he suggests through his full mouth. Toge Inumaki also pokes out from behind Panda, chiming in with a quiet, "Sha-ke." He looks the same as he always does — adorably indifferent.
"No way." Maki spins on her heel and pushes past the two into the hallway. If she steps with any more force, she'll break my floor. "I can hardly babysit Megumi. I don't even wanna think about who Gojo stole from the streets this time."
"He's got a point," Emi notes, stopping Maki with her words. She pops off her headphones, resting them around her neck as she takes a confident stance. "Even if they're a bunch of dumbasses," —still nowhere near Gojo's negative IQ since he got one of them killed, she thinks— "at least we have someone else the Kyoto's can rip apart before they hit us. Besides, we only have to stick with them for a month and a half before we ditch them." At least, before you do… I wanna know how they're holding up.
Maki absent-mindedly twirls her polearm, meanwhile Emi exits her dorm and shuts the door. A moment of silence. Panda crunching on his snack. Toge quietly clearing his throat. The rhythmic tap tap of Emi's foot against the floor. Some nature ambience from a nearby window, propped wide open. Birds, peace, harmony, and air. "Fine," Maki relents, leaning on the open window. "Where are they?" The four look through the windows, spotting for a sign of anyone in the otherwise empty yard. Off in the distance at the end of a stone path are two figures, sitting on the steps of the morgue. "There." Before the realization can hit her, as it hits Panda and Toge, Maki is out the window and making a beeline for the figures.
An uncomfortable warmth consumes Emi and her cheeks, flaring red as Panda stares at her. He mumbles, "The… morgue? Wait—"
"Yeah. We should stop her before she makes us out to be monsters."
So, they do exactly that, shoving Panda through the window before Toge and Emi sprint to catch up with Maki. Not how I expected or wanted today to go, Emi muses, keeping a good pace with the other two. It's a good cardio workout, she knows that, but not quite the training regimen she would usually go through at this hour. Repetition breeds results… interruption prevents it. The three catch up to Maki, already walking in on a conversation between her and the First Years. To Emi's relief, she can see that Fushiguro's still alive, though stone-cold as always. A new girl sits beside him, with dyed auburn hair, her knees brought to her chest, skirt scrunched up. She's clearly a bit stumped by the sudden newcomer.
"Don't you dare call me by my last—"
"MAKI!" Panda bellows from behind Emi, waving like someone in the midst of drowning as he runs. "It really happened — one of the First Year boys died just yesterday!" Toge, the closest to panda, affirms with another, "Sha-ke sha-ke."
Maki's head rears back at them, turning like a door begging for death. Emi can almost hear the aged creaks from here. "You, are, a, LITTLE LATE!" She explodes, pointing at both the First Years and Panda like her life depends on it. Her shrieking voice echoes against even the farthest buildings. "NOW I LOOK LIKE A COLD-HEARTED DEMON!"
"Well, you pretty much are!"
"Sujiko."
Emi slips around the conversation, kneeling between Fushiguro and the new girl. Not the time to listen to lofi right now, Emi, she reminds, looking into Fushiguro's eyes to talk. They haven't shared a complete sentence in the little time they've known each other, but a long stare and some elbow grease get the message across. Granted, if someone told her he just got up on the wrong side of the bed, she'd believe them, but she sees the flickers of hurt in his gaze. He'll be fine, for now. She turns to the girl, looking over her stocking-covered legs briefly before smiling. "Emi Mamoru, probably the most sane out of those three." She offers a handshake. "You are?"
The girl blinks a few times, but straightens up and shakes her hand. "Nobara Kugisaki… who the hell are you?"
A calm smirk flickers on Emi's face — beneath the confusion and mild mourning, she can feel a familiar brash energy from this girl. A fire. Or some other inspirational element of nature. Too many of those. "We're your upperclassmen," she says, pointing at each of her peers, who are taking a moment of introspection now that the whole argument's settled. "That's Maki, don't call her by her last name, the absolute best of the best with Cursed Tools in Tokyo. That's Toge Inumaki, our Cursed Speech user. Don't expect much except rice ball ingredients out of him. And the panda is Panda." She stands as Fushiguro does. "We're supposed to have a fifth, Okkotsu, but he's overseas."
"You're not gonna elaborate on the panda named Panda—"
"What's going on, Mamoru-Senpai?" Fushiguro asks, glancing between her settled peers and Emi herself.
Emi joins her peers, standing in front of them all. She rests her hand on her hip, her free hand tapping against her pants. "I know now is probably a pretty bad time," —she allows her face to relax, looking at them with subtle sympathy— "but we want you guys to participate in the Kyoto Sister School Goodwill Event." There's the faintest acceleration in her heart rate as the words leave her mouth. If this goes to hell, I'm blaming Maki.
Kugisaki parrots her, and Fushiguro explains briefly. But his gaze turns back to the group of Second Years as he asks, "But isn't it usually Second and Third Years who participate? Why us?"
Maki butts in, "The only third year got suspended, and four of us won't cut it, so you're in."
"What do we do in the event?" Kugisaki asks. There's a moment where the air is dead with only chirping birds around to fill the void, till two quiet words leave her mouth. "Smash Bros.?"
Poor girl, Emi thinks, shaking her head with begrudging amusement. If only she knew. It should be fun whooping her into shape.
Panda steps forward in front of Maki. "Tokyo High. Kyoto High. Over the course of two days, each principal chooses an event for the day. Every year follows the same pattern — the first day is the team event, the second day is the individual event."
"Against other sorcerers?!" Kugisaki immediately looks at her attire from all angles, even mildly posing to herself. With each look at a different angle, she scrutinizes it more and more, her attempts at dusting off dirt (that isn't even present) working in vain. Her heels, stockings, skirt, jacket, arms, belt, so on. Miss model over here, Emi notes.
"Yep." Maki smirks. "A jujutsu battle where the only rule is no killing."
Emi speaks last, flexing a bit to herself as she stares at both of the First Years. "We've got just enough time to train you up physically so that you can be flung through a building with only a scratch or two. And yes, that's probably gonna happen. Or you get shot. Or… yeah." There's a call in her bright eyes — a challenge. "So. Whaddya say?"
Fushiguro and Kugisaki pause, deliberating. A gentle wave of vulnerability passes over them, and Emi's heart pangs. The relaxing of their eyebrows. Slight lip quiver, or two. Just the slightest wetness in their eyes. I know it's hard for you. I know. But hey, at least you're both alive. Do what that boy would want. But when that fire lights in their eyes, Emi knows well what they'll say. The temptation to jump like a cheerleader at their words is barely resisted, either way. "We're in!" they declare.
Her smile creeps from one ear to the other, and she hits her fist against her hand. "Let's see what you're made out of!"
A few hours later.
Training had gone pretty well with the First Years, though Fushiguro was late and Kugisaki spent most of the time either recovering or being thrown by Panda. Emi could tell that the loss of the other First Year boy must've still been on, at least, Fushiguro's mind, but he seemed ready to keep moving on in spite of it. They had yet another silent conversation, appreciating their company without a word between them. Humming on her part? Absolutely. But no duet. Yet. Soon after Kugisaki shouted, 'this school uniform is a pain! I'm gonna go buy a cute tracksuit!' she did just that. Unwilling to trust her on her own for now, Maki sent Emi after her.
And now, she finds herself wandering the bustling streets, the intense smell of freshly made street food attacking her. Chatter and hustle carries through every inch of the stone ground below her, but the local buildings don't loom. They feel even with her, at most two stories high, but colored like an artist's spilled their watercolors all over it. They were saturated, bright, and painfully reflective in the afternoon sunlight with varnish and glossy finishes galore. Matte is so much better. But in the middle of the street, ogling at a baby pink clothing store, is Kugisaki. Unlike the other buildings, a unicorn must've vomited on this one. "Oi, Kugisaki!" Emi calls, popping off her headphones as she nears. "I'm here to make sure you don't get hit by a truck while shopping."
She scoffs. "These damn outfits — they expect us to fight and run in these?! So… tacky." She smacks down her skirt and adjusts her belt, her eyes scanning every speck of dirt. Emi, again, briefly looks over her legs. "But look! There's so many cute clothes in there, I know it!" Before Emi can turn herself, Kugisaki does it for her, holding her shoulders like a vice.
Oh, god, no, no, no…
Horror swallows Emi whole, the sight that greets her through the window of the clothing store freezing her heart. Either it pounds so fast it's all a headache-inducing blur or she's completely flatlined. Silence. Not even wind strikes her ears. The sky above darkens. The world becomes a void, except the muffled voice of Kugisaki that doesn't pierce the domain around her. Emi only sees one thing — one select thing, its many faces staring back at her. Thin limbs, elongated fingers, the cracking of bones. If she looks away, they'll swarm her and grow sickly mouths with horrid teeth, and do… horrid things. And that's only one of the suppressed nightmares she replays in her head. She hyperventilates, her hand itching to grab her weapon and slice the building in half. But whatever fraction of rationality that remains in her is what holds her back. Still… she would rather stare at the cold floor than what was in that window.
Mannequins.
"…Oi. Idiot-senpai," Kugisaki chides, waving her hand in front of Emi's downcast eyes. "Are you gonna go in with me and check out all of those clothes or what? C'mon, something's gotta look cute on you." There's a thick pout on her pretty lips, her hands resting on her hips. "Even someone like you who loves showing off their abs has to appreciate a good dress for special occasions, no? Even a tracksuit? Y'know — what I'm here for?" She leans back for a second, looking down at her clothes again. "Maybe shoes… scarf… and other stuff. But still! You comin'?"
"Yeah. Just… might be a bit slow," she grumbles, connecting her headphones to her music app and turning on happier tunes that she'd play in the morning, ones that distract her briefly from the man-made horrors around her. Her breathing slows and reality returns to normal, though she acts like the display window for the mannequins is blacked out. Some shopping therapy could help, too… and what the hell was that about my abs?
The two enter the store, and Kugisaki instantly starts blazing through aisles, moving like a rabid animal. Before Emi is even in one of the aisles (farthest away from the other mannequins), Kugisaki has buried herself in several outfits. Emi follows, resting her hands in her pockets, her eyes admiring every article of clothing. I look like I'm in a museum. Eh, I need this. With each step, she slides a little smoother, following along to the uplifting pulse in her ears. Her fingers caress every jacket, dress, shirt, or tank top on display, the variety of textures bringing satisfaction. Gentle satin to thick leather to comfy padding. Colors galore, designs that tempt her. But her true love is lavender, violet, colors of the deepest sunset. And eventually, she finds some clothes that stand out to her. Totally not inspired by my need for an actual tracksuit. She plucks a fitting tank top, lined with red and purple at its seams. Cargo shorts with pockets deep as the sea, fiery red with black flame designs sewn in. And some running shoes, solid purple with very minimal frills. Proud of her haul, she moves for the changing rooms, passing by Kugisaki as she's leaving. Somehow, she hasn't clawed her way out of her mountain of clothes. She might've even added more.
Emi's face remains deadpan, like her tone. "What was that about coming here for a tracksuit, Kugisaki?" Just a hint of amusement creeps through, like stitches in seams.
"I slipped and just so happened to land in a mountain of clothes that I can't get off of me. What's the big deal?" The cutesy scowl is amusing to admire. But their eye contact breaks quickly, as Kugisaki's falls to the few bits of clothing in Emi's hands and arms. "Now now… you're clearly not the girly type." She yoinks the shorts from Emi, examining every inch of it. "Fire patterns, black and red… good match with the purple, though… and I'm kinda jealous of those shoes. So simple. Ugh! I need more clothes." She returns the shorts, engaging in a fierce battle against a grin. She loses. "You're a tough kind of girl, aren't you?"
"You're a girly one, hm?" she teases, poking at a skirt in Kugisaki's arms. "Mm… maybe we could go on another less impromptu haul sometime next week. I'm curious to see what you'd make me wear."
"Hah! Challenge accepted. Be quick in those changing rooms. I don't think you'd want me to find more clothing while you're gone."
Thankfully, the perfect fit of the clothes on Emi means there's no time to throw away more money on clothes, as they leave and pay for their respective items. Kugisaki seems very content with the whole situation, a child-like sparkle in her eye as she holds her blue and white tracksuit closest to her chest. With the chime of a bell, they exit the store and make their way back to Jujutsu High. Along the way, Kugisaki babbles like mad about the cute shoes, skirts, etc. etc. she bought and wanted to buy now that she was in Tokyo. But Emi silently listens all throughout, mostly chiming in with talks about the best restaurants, cafes, and parks. With each mention, that child-like spark in her eyes gets brighter and brighter. She's still gushing about clothes by the time they get back, just in time to see Fushiguro and the other second years packing up for training. Maki seems quite sweaty and drained. "You're late."
"Sounds familiar." She looks over at Fushiguro, who's smiling silently to himself, his hand pressed into the ground of the step below him. "I take it you finally met your match?"
"Pfft. Barely." Maki pushes herself up with the help of her polearm, jerking her head at nothing in particular. "But… we Second Years could do with a snack. Probably a fresh drink, too. Megumi, Nobara — run a little errand for your dear upperclassmen, would you?"
"What about all of this stuff?!" Kugisaki's jaw drops. "I need to show off my new clothes one way or another!"
"Bathroom, you get five minutes. Panda?" And in a flash of black and white fur, four of the bags are out of Kugisaki's arms and hands, leaving her only with the tracksuit. Panda even had the courtesy to hold and store Emi's clothes… somewhere. It looks as if he's holding nothing, otherwise. "Right. We're gonna go take a walk." Maki, Toge, and Panda all turn away, further out of the training grounds and into the courtyard, slow and relaxed. Faint pants come from them as they walk, with Emi moving to follow.
WOOSH! Thunk!
"Ow." Emi stares deadpan at Maki, who playfully holds the end of her staff against Emi's forehead, keeping her in place. Panda and Toge snicker behind Maki, continuing their casualness with that extra bounce in their steps. You little devils.
"You didn't work as hard as we did. Go babysit. I need a break."
"What?!"
"Sorry, Little Miss Symphony. Don't forget to ask for an extra drink for yourself." She flashes a wink, leaving Emi in the dust as Kugisaki returns in her tracksuit.
Oh I am SO calling you 'Zen'in' in that dumb sing-song voice the next time we see each other, mark my words! Emi grumbles, but bites her tongue. Frankly, she doesn't really mind spending more time with these two. Kugisaki's fun, Fushiguro's familiar but still a bit of a mystery. What better way to learn about them then be forced to spend time with them? Ugh, no. I'm coping. I don't wanna have THAT conversation with them… but I am morbidly curious. "Okay," —she starts walking, calling over her shoulder— "you two, I'll take you to our vending machines."
"They're not inside?" Kugisaki asks.
"We're strict with who we do business with," Fushiguro explains, following close behind Emi. "Jujutsu High isn't a normal highschool."
"I haven't noticed." Emi's pace is measured, but her smile fades as she moves. The thought is like a fly in her mind, irritating, escaping at the last moment, never just going away. No amount of music, screaming like Ado or comforting like Yorushika, can keep her mind off of it. By this point, it's only been a day since the First Year boy died, and yet they seem fine. She knows it can't entirely be like that, that he didn't matter to them, but the thought eats at her. Curiosity killed the cat, and damn my cute cat stamp on my jacket for making me curious! "But I've yet to really ask about how you guys are holding up regarding your other classmate. The…" I'm so gonna fuck this up. Agh, screw it. "Dead one." That familiar uncomfortable warmth creeps up from her neck as she turns to see their expressions.
Surprisingly, they seem indifferent at worst and unchanged at best. Based on Kugisaki's face, at least — Fushiguro is as expressive as his corpse of a friend. "Didn't know him for long. He seemed nice… I guess." His lips barely move as he speaks. Maybe he did just wake up on the wrong side of the bed, Emi muses, mostly relieved.
"Dunno. He was kinda annoying." Kugisaki shrugs. Barely a beat passes before she jumps like a schoolgirl and turns to Fushiguro. "Ooh, Megumi! How's my outfit?!"
"It's fine."
Her face falls, but, channeling deep-rooted sister energy, Emi fires a quip over her shoulder. "He's playing hard to get, Kugisaki. Keep trying — maybe one day he'll get on his knees for ya and you can adopt him like a little pup." To her delight, a devilish fire ignites in Kugisaki's eyes, with every bit of color draining from Fushiguro's face. Though he kicks the back of Emi's shin, she walks with more bounce as they near the vending machines. For two massive hunks of metal that she hasn't interacted with once over the past few months, they're pristine and filled to the brim with all kinds of drinks. Sodas, cold milk, hot milk, snacks — someone could empty this thing and have the perfect sleepover food. "I'll pay for you guys. I'm craving some lemonade — Maki loves sugary stuff, Panda loves those dried sausages, and just fetch Toge some—"
"Snack run?" a hauntingly mocking voice asks from ahead, the sound of two different footsteps approaching. One light, smooth yet with purpose. Another heavy enough to shatter the stone pathing below, a thunder in the very ground they all stand on. Emi steps in front of Fushiguro and Kugisaki, staring at the two figures. "Or have you not bothered to do so much as a hint of training?"
The girl, with Maki's jade green hair down in a simple bob, stands wide. Her body is slim but, based on her exposed arms and shoulders that Emi can't get her eyes off of, just as built as her sister's. She's smiling sweetly. Too sweet. A mouthful of cotton candy that would leave Emi with a drilling headache after. Something hides behind her back, but she hides it well. Her partner is a mountain of a man, a scar dancing from his forehead to his left eye, slinging his jacket by his waist, wearing a thin purple shirt that shows… too much. Emi focuses on the girl instead. "You must be from Kyoto," Emi says, digging her heels into the ground. She taps her foot to lofi beats she plays in her head, keeping her heart rate slow. Just trash talk. It's okay. "Welcome."
"Those two behind you," the man calls, "are the replacement for Okkotsu and the Third Year, aren't they." Not a question. A statement. Well, he's not a muscly idiot.
"Yeah. Sorry to disappoint, I guess — not like it's our fault." Her arms inch up to block Fushiguro and Kugisaki.
The girl steps forward, moving with seduction in her step. Like a model in slow-motion, each hip sway and shoulder turn more obvious than the last, now leaving Emi's gaze lost as she avoids looking down or at the man behind her. "Mai Zen'in. Stick to the first name — Zen'in-senpai must be taken by my dear sister," she introduces, winking at Fushiguro. "We heard one of the First Years died… a certain one. I guess you're quite relieved he's gone, aren't you~? That facade of a human — nothing more than a vessel for the King of Curses — dared to call himself a fellow Jujutsu sorcerer. Hmph… well. One less issue, right?"
Either Emi is hallucinating, or the entire world stops at the sound of a record scratch. Her mind completely fails her as the words replay in her brain, she clings to what meaning they hold but they run faster than she can catch. Her lips stop moving. Her body freezes. She's her own little mannequin, full of confusion and the sound of short circuiting wires. Smoke is probably escaping her ears as she can only muster a pathetic, "What?"
Mai's eyes dart to Kugisaki and Fushiguro behind her, and she turns. They're stumped. "You didn't know?" Fushiguro asks.
"Of COURSE NOT! GOJO DIDN'T BOTHER TO MENTION IT?!"
"Mai. Stop talking nonsense." The man steps in front of Mai, and Emi regains control of her body. He looks behind her. "Fushiguro, was it?" He pushes straight past Emi, leaning down with a finger the size of an entire can of soda. Megumi has never looked thinner. "What type of girls do you like?"
"...eh?" The Tokyo kids' eyebrows fly up, minds racing. I don't think Megumi has a type beyond, 'don't piss me off,' Emi half jokes to herself. Her focus is on the man… until…
Rip, rip, TEAR.
"I like tall girls with big butts!" he declares proudly, ripping his shirt off. The First Years seem undeterred… but Emi has completely flatlined in the corner. With a face red as blood and her whole arm shielding her gaze, she turns to the wall and shuts down, the words the only thing her brain is registering. Thought completely escapes her, flying into the wind.
"Why would I share something like that with someone I just met?"
"Kyoto Third Year. Aoi Todo. Introduction over. Now that we're friends, hurry and answer. It could be a guy for all I care. But if you have boring taste, you're boring. I don't like boring. This Goodwill event gives me a rush, and if people like you ruin it, who knows what I might do. This is the nicest I will ever be with you. Answer, and you might keep your bones."
A moment. A breath. Deliberation. Dead air. Gears running. Tension ripping it apart. Emi still glued to the wall with her eyes shut.
"I don't have a preference. As long as the person is compassionate, then I don't need anything else."
"I knew it… you're boring, Fushiguro…"
WHAAAAAAAM!
FUSHIGURO!
"Aww… poor Fushiguro~!" Emi snaps her eyes open, spotting Mai wrapping her arms around Kugisaki's neck. "Hm… if he's lucky, he might be able to walk after. Might, hehe!"
Kugisaki's demeanor hardens, her hand balling into a fist, briefly meeting Emi's eyes with a spark. "I thought you two looked alike at first… but forget that." She glares at Mai. "Maki is a thousand times prettier. You gettin' enough sleep? I can see the pores on your face."
Mai whips out a revolver, jabbing it into Kugisaki's stomach. Any hint of levity in Emi's head vanishes, and, just as quickly, she grabs the black and red box from this morning and grabs its contents. Long, razor-thin piano wire, calling to Emi with an alluring rhythm. Requiem Strings, don't you fail me now. "Let her go or you won't have a face, Zen'in."
Mai pulls back the hammer with a deep CLICK, the chamber loading with a bullet. "Don't think for a second you can direct an orchestra before she'll be riddled with lead. Let's talk like civil city girls, not this country animal." She pushes the gun in deeper, smirking. Even in this hostage situation, Emi's eyes dart to Mai's exposed shoulders. "Tell me, Mamoru, how pretty am I?" Her tone regains the sweetness of honey shoved unwillingly down Emi's throat, but hardens quickly. "One wrong word and you're gonna have to find a replacement."
She stands a little taller, trying — and failing — to maintain eye contact as the words start tumbling out. "It depends on what counts as pretty. You've got the attitude, the walk, and you don't dress… all that… e-er… conservatively, like Maki. But I like it—y'know, the… dress." Her brain begins to scream. Abort, Mamoru! ABORT! DON'T YOU DARE EMBARRASS YOURSELF! Despite the crescendo of unapproving thoughts in her mind, her mouth is already running free. Running right into a bear trap. "Maki is a lot more… athletic… I'd love to see her in a tank top—SHIT!" She snaps a hand over her mouth like it'll stuff the words back in (I wish). Her cheeks flare an almost dangerous shade of red, and her fingers tremble against her lips as if they, too, are panicking. Why did I say that? Why did I SAY that?! Who even talks like that?! Am I possessed? Can you curse yourself with embarrassment? That's probably a technique. I'll invent it. I'll disappear. If the world doesn't swallow me whole right now, I think I'll do it myself. Emi forces her eyes open, trying to breathe.
Both of them give her a deadpanned look, blinking a good handful of times as if they're trying to load the information. Kugisaki seems the most baffled. Mai speaks first, her words torturing Emi's already wounded pride with their lack of speed. "You are… very deranged…." A tinge of pink dusts her cheeks.
"I'd beg to differ," Maki fires back, approaching the situation with her soldiering march. "And I take it you're not treating either of them well. Hands off the First Year."
Mai's face hardens again, pushing the gun further in. It's already tearing a hole or two in the new tracksuit. "You're not worthy enough to have her. You can't even do what I can do, what she can do, what dirty-minded Emi can do — a single basic technique. Let alone imbue anything with energy. Swing your fancy weapons all you like, you're blind and helpless without them." Something washes over Kugisaki, but everyone's too caught up in their own worlds to notice. Thundering footsteps near. Maki and Mai's eyes lock. Their fingers brush against their respective weapons. One move, and it's war. One wrong breath, someone dies.
Maki steps closer, and despite the rage bubbling at the seems… there's a flicker of hurt. Something impossible to hide. "We're both at the bottom, Mai. It's useless. Both of us are useless." Silence. Everyone breathes, but nobody lets up. Maki's gaze almost falls to the ground, but her spine holds strong. Whatever sincerity or pleading in her voice dies a brutal death at her own hands, as she points her polearm at Mai's throat. She doesn't do as much as flinch, seeing Mai push ever-so-slightly on the trigger. Any more pressure, and it's going to fire. "Gimme my errand girls back. I won't ask again."
"You won't have to. Mai. We're leaving," Todo declares, appearing from nowhere. Finally, Mai loosens up on Kugisaki, flicking her revolver and emptying out the real bullets within. Todo nods briefly at everyone else, so lax that Emi would believe he woke up five minutes ago. Good hair routine, though. That's slick… god, what am I thinking?! "Unlike all of you, I've got actually important things to attend to." He draws a ticket, a blinding flash of radiance firing out from the very bottom of his soul, likely accompanied by a loud squeal of joy in his mind. "Takada's meet-and-greet event!" He booms the words so loudly that it's deafening, though the general reaction from three of the girls is a cherry on the cake of utter buffoonery. "I'm not missing the train. It was hard enough getting these tickets, they aren't going to waste. C'mon, Mai. Let's go." He turns and marches. The purpose in his step is almost admirable. Unstoppable, a storm determined to do what it set out to do. A force that none could tame.
Until Emi pipes up. "Todo, was it?" she asks, resting her hand on her hip and widening her stance.
"I don't have the time to talk to someone who hangs out with such boring people—"
"How many tickets ya got?" Scowls and raised brows smash into Emi, but her conviction holds strong under all of the weight. Her expression doesn't betray a lick of how she feels. Except the still strawberry-red spreading from her cheeks all the way down to her core. Tapping her foot against the ground again, she slowly pulls back the redness, stuffing it under her bandages so she doesn't look so fragile.
Todo doesn't turn, but stops and pulls out a second ticket from… somewhere. "I have a spare. What's it to you?" His tone lifts ever so slightly. It's the happiest he's sounded in the past ten minutes, and Emi knows it's gonna sound even better as her next sentence leaves her lips.
"Give it here. I'm not missing out on this either."
"FINALLY!" Todo (for lack of a better word) teleports to Emi and hugs her, lifting her above his head with glee. Her ribs may be broken, but her smile remains intact. "You're not boring! You're GOOD! Maybe there is hope for the Tokyo's after all! You're coming with me!" He drops Emi, shoving a ticket into her hand and running for the hills. Emi winks at the girls, following suit at the same speed.
Kugisaki, Maki, and Mai share a single word that fully embraces this mess.
"What."
Author's Note.
Ah, writing and posting fanfiction... a cycle I remember well. Good day to you all, I'm the Ink Bubble. I've been wanting to write about this OC for a while, though her creation mostly started with traditional art without a background. But I got increasingly invested in her character and, as I picked up writing once again, I figured, 'screw it. I'll write this, post it, and see what happens.' I've done a good amount of thinking about my OC and am gonna follow the manga's event's closely while not being a direct one-to-one. I only have up to Volume 9, though, as of writing. I intend to end this story (which would be part one, assuming I get the rest of the volumes one day) by the end of the Shibuya Incident Arc.
If you've made it this far into the chapter, thank you for you time.
Sincerely...
The Ink Bubble.
