Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Gojo-san, please go out with me!” In the courtyard behind the infamous Namimori middle school was a large cherry tree. A suitable place to confess— that is, of course, if the person was willing to face the wrath of the demon of Namimori for disturbing his rest. 

Standing under the tree now was Emi Aoki, 13 years old, 2nd year at Namimori Middle. She had just both metaphorically and physically risked her life for love. For a good reason, or so she assumes. 

Opposing her was Gojo Satoru. The transfer student that had half the student populace crushing on him by the second day. Not for no reason, of course— athletic prowess and good looks go a long way in that aspect. And Gojo Satoru excelled in both. 

“Um, Gojo-san?” Emi nervously asked when the white-haired sorcerer still didn’t respond. Her stomach squirmed as she tried to stand still. Rejection is fine. I’m not expecting much, but if possible-! 

With newfound determination, Emi steeled herself to look up, face-to-face with Satoru’s unfairly handsome face.

A pair of dazzling sky-blue pupils surrounded by a rim of long white lashes  — comparable to winter’s first snow — met hers with evident disinterest and dissatisfaction. 

“So, where is it?” Satoru asked, yawning as he glanced around. 

“Huh?” she responded, dumbfounded at the man who ignored her confession, opting to search for Gods-know-what instead. 

“The snacks?” Satoru raised his perfectly trimmed eyebrow as if it were obvious and said, “The thing you promised in the letter.”

“This, I-I huh…,” she stammered, struggling to pull her words together again. What snacks? She had only asked him to go to the cherry tree! The letter had only mentioned a place and time to meet, right?

“So?” Satoru held his hand out, clearly waiting for something. 

He doesn’t look like he’s lying. Had I actually promised him snacks?  Did she forget? Oh, Gods, what a blunder. If I-

“Ah? Gojo. You made the girl cry,” a handkerchief gently dabbed at Emi’s eyes. In her panic, Emi hadn’t even realized tears had started to well up. 

With that, Emi came back to her senses. She hadn’t promised Satoru anything. There was obviously no mention of snacks in the letter! It was a confession, for Gods’ sake! With newfound rage, Emi looked up to glare at Satoru, what a scum! 

Satoru was nowhere to be seen. The man had somehow disappeared. 

Asshole!

With her fist clenched and high, Emi declared, “Gojo Satoru! I will never forgive you! I’ll tell everyone how much of a scummy guy you are!” 

Up above her, on the rooftop off limits to all but the Namimori Demon, stood the sorcerer whom she had just cursed out. 

“Wow, you’re good at this, Gojo,” Shoko looked down. The handkerchief in her hand still damp from the girl’s tears. In the time the girl had taken to blink, Satoru had pulled her away and teleported them to the rooftop.

“Obviously, I’m the strongest after all,” Satoru beamed, puffing his chest up as if proud of his actions. 

“More like the scummiest,” Shoko replied with a light laugh, “say goodbye to your reputation.” Emi looked like she would try to keep the promise to the fullest extent possible. Satoru’s aloof demeanor in the hearts of many is going to break. She snorted at that thought. Being classmates with Satoru for two years had broken any sort of atmosphere the white-haired sorcerer had had going for him before. 

“Ha?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Shoko said and shook her head; no use in trying to talk sense to this idiot. With an unlit cigarette in her hand, she reached for the lighter. Hm? Her hand came out empty. Shoko clicked her tongue and asked, “Where’d you put it?” 

“Huh? What are you talking about, Shoko? Why can’t I seem to understand?” Satoru held a hand up to his ear, “is it because you’re too small?” He leaned down to emphasize his point further. 

Shoko reached up to pull at Satoru’s earlobe, dragging him down to her height. “Sorry, Gojo, I couldn’t hear from this low,” She held a hand up in mimicry of him.

“Ow! Ow! Have mercy, Shoko! I don’t want to look like Suguru!” Satoru hurriedly reached into his pocket, pulling out the missing lighter. 

“Should’ve just given it when I asked,” Shoko said between puffs. 

“Wooo, Shoko is a big bully,” Satoru cupped his ear as if wounded, “what should we do, Suguru? Shoko has been influenced by your scummy behavior.” He looked over to the shadowed corner where Geto Suguru stood. 

“...Your skin is really thick, Satoru,” the figure in the corner sighed, his one-sided bang swaying with his head movement, “It’s because of you that Shoko is like this.” 

“Hah? Aren’t you being too much, Suguru?” Satoru gasped, his hands flying up to his mouth, “How could I, the strongest sorcerer ever, set a bad example for my classmate? It’s obviously you and your delinquent-looking hair! Right, Shoko?” He swerved towards her, the cigarette he had somehow snatched away from her hand held high above his head, “I’ll give it back if you say it’s not my fault.”

“What point do you think this would prove, Satoru?” Geto said as he walked closer, his hand reaching out to grab the cigarette, “Shoko’s just going to hate you more.” Once he had the cigarette in hand, he snuffed out the embers, “But of course, it's not good for you to smoke so much either, Shoko.” 

“You’re both scums,” Shoko scorned.

“How could you!” Satoru cried out, clutching his heart in pain as he stepped back, a look of betrayal on his face, “I thought you would be on my side!”

“...” Speechless, Shoko turned away. How did Yaga ever manage to teach with these two around? She could not imagine how Yaga coped with the duo as his students without the aid of medicinal-grade alcohol. 

Shoko decided to properly attend class for at least a week once she went back. Ah, if we go back , she corrected herself. 

The trio, who had still been proper high school students a month ago, were trapped in this alternative universe due to the idiocracy of the one and only Gojo Satoru (Who else would bring an unknown Special-grade Cursed Spirit to his two classmates just because it looked ‘interesting’?). 

“As expected, Geto is still a bit better,” Shoko sighed. 

“Huh? How could you, Shoko? I ca-!”

Ding!  

A translucent screen popped up in their vision, disrupting Satoru’s momentum.

[Countdown: 00:00:00]

“Oh! It ended,” Satoru said as he forsook his act to look up at the screen. Alongside the ‘gift’ of a forced dimension crossing, the Special-grade Cursed Spirit also managed to add a screen to their vision, one annoyingly accompanied by random beeping now and then. 

Leave it to Satoru to find the most useless yet bothersome spell. 

[Welcome, dear users, to another world! We hope you enjoy your wonderful galactic worldline hopping journey.]

“Ha?” Satoru managed to voice out before a barrage of screens covered the trio’s visions. 

[Press here! For the trip of a lifetime!]

[Do you want to power up? Press here!]

[Press…]

“What did you do, Gojo?” Shoko waved at the floating screens, her fingers passing through without deterrents. 

“How would I know,” Satoru shrugged, firing cursed energy at the spamming ads(?), which did nothing except level the treetops directly behind the screen. 

Shoko clicked her tongue, the scalpel in her sleeve slipping out as she prepared to try a different method against the screen. 

Ding!

Suddenly, the screens froze, rapidly diminishing until only one was left. 

[Do you want to meet your great great great great great great great great grandparent? Click here!]

The ‘Click here!’ button was grayed out unlike in all the other pop-ups. 

“Did it auto-select?” Shoko raised her eyebrow. If it could do that, it should’ve just done it before. That would’ve saved her a lot of annoyance. 

“No, I  randomly clicked one,” Suguru responded, “Unfortunately, it seems there’s another countdown.” 

[Countdown: 72:59:48]

“...At least there’s no more beeping,” Shoko sighed. Hearing it once was enough.

“I hope nothing troublesome happens when the countdown finishes again,” Suguru muttered and frowned.

“Eh, who cares! We’ll be able to handle it anyways,” Satoru grinned, pulling Suguru and Shoko closer to him, “We’re the strongest, after all!”

“Don’t include me in this mess,” Shoko frowned, pulling out of Satoru’s infinity-covered arms.

“Boo! You’re no fun, Shoko! What about you, Suguru?” Satoru focused on the black-haired sorcerer. 

Suguru hummed, “I'm with Shoko on this,” he said.

“Ha? Why?” Satoru questioned, “Nothing will happen to me if nobody can beat me!” He patted his chest in assurance. 

“What if they could?” Suguru muttered before he could stop himself. The air seemed to stagnate as Satoru paused. His hands— uselessly dangling in the air.

“... I’ll come back and try again,” Satoru responded with a laugh, “I’ll keep trying until I can beat him.” He smiled, his hand reaching out to slap Suguru’s back, “Come on, were you worried about that happening again? Haha! Don’t worry. I'll protect your fragile wittle heart, ok?”

Suguru never ended up responding to that question as his attention was turned away. “Satoru! Your slap hurts like shit!” he hissed, turning around to grab at Satoru’s white hair, to which he retaliated with a knee to the stomach. The brawl soon turned into a full-on fight as both sides stopped pulling back punches, decimating the rooftop as each relieved stress in the way they best saw fit.

The bystander who saw the scene play out in full, Shoko, lit another cigarette.

Chapter Text

“This is all your fault, Gojo,” Shoko said. The trio had just been summoned to the disciplinary office via the loudspeaker, no doubt because of the trail of destruction they had left behind on the rooftop. 

Unfortunately, they couldn’t have just called for those two. 

“Hey! Suguru was there too!” Satoru complained. For that, Shoko stomped down on his foot. It didn’t reach, blocked by infinity. She clicked her tongue, rolling her eyes as she lowered her voice.

“He’s in a different situation,” Shoko hissed, “besides, you started it.” 

“This is favoritism!” Satoru wailed. His loud voice caused a few to look over with concern, only to look away once they realized who started it. Ah, it seems his glamour has already worn off , Shoko thought absentmindedly, hurrying to block his mouth. The other students stared at him with the same look that Yaga often had. 

She sighed. What did she expect from Satoru? Not even his looks can offset his horrible personality. And , she thought as she glanced at Suguru, who smiled as if he hadn’t seen the two’s suspicious behavior; there’s also this idiot. 

Suguru’s problem became glaring after they came to this new world. 

His actions betrayed a sense of alienation.

Or, to be more exact, a sense of disgust and superiority against non-sorcerers. It hadn’t been like this back in the high school; no doubt the inability to see Suguru much outside of the school had contributed. But regardless, Shoko couldn’t help but wonder when it had become like this. Had it not been for them crossing to this world, she wasn’t even sure she would’ve ever found it, at least not before it was too late.

Although the mechanism of this world was different — the negative emotions of people here no longer manifested curses — his built-up feelings did not disappear. Shoko often caught him flinching at accidental touches and frowning when the children got too close. The most troubling thing was that Shoko wasn’t even sure he had realized it; he’d made no effort to hide his repulsion. 

The idiot who’d usually hide his injuries until Satoru dragged him to the clinic, afraid that she would be too overwhelmed with work, was now willingly showing her his problems? Unlikely. It was much more probable that he hadn’t even realized he was behaving strangely. 

Wasn’t that a terrifying thought? Sorcerers were already crazy enough as they are, now, for one of the only three super-grade sorcerers to start showing signs of defective qualities? The higher-ups won’t hesitate to issue a death penalty. 

And more than likely, Satoru would have to be the one to execute that order. 

They would want assurance that he was still on their side. No matter how rebellious he was, Satoru was still the head of one of the three clans and the strongest sorcerer in the modern era. They needed to ensure Satoru didn’t share the same ideas as Suguru.

Shoko sighed, glancing back at Satoru with pity in her eyes. This unstable guy’s life was already pitiful as it is. If he were to have to kill the only one he considered his friend? She’ll be surprised if it doesn’t end with a large portion of the higher-ups massacred.

“Ieiri-san, please come in,” a cold yet strangely familiar voice interrupted her thoughts. Hm? Shoko had seen the Skylark’s enacted terror upon the school enough times to recognize his voice. This wasn’t him; this voice was lower than the skylark’s prepubescent voice. 

“Eh? What did you do, Shoko?” Satoru looked over in curiosity. Like the other two, he had assumed they got called here because of the rooftop incident, but the person had asked for Shoko, the only one who wasn’t directly involved in the incident. Could it be? Satoru gasped.

“Shoko’s getting bullied!?” He exclaimed. His hands reached up to cover his mouth in shock. 

Shoko looked over at him with the gaze of looking at an idiot and said, “Shut up if you can’t speak.” After jabbing him in the waist, she pushed open the door, revealing the voice's owner. 

A woman in her mid-forties. She had raven black hair, steel grey eyes, and a face disturbingly similar to the skylark’s. 

Ah, and with a face to the voice, Shoko finally pinpointed where she had encountered the lady. 

It had been when they had first arrived in this world.

To sustain themselves in this new world, the former high school students had to find a way to produce income quickly. The house the Special-grade Cursed Spirit had somehow provided them had only come with a week’s worth of food. If they couldn’t get more, even the strongest Satoru wouldn’t be able to survive. 

The problem? The non-existence of spells in this world rendered Satoru and Suguru useless except for being drags and money wasters. Their finances that had already been in the yellow were quickly dragged down to the red in one move by the two idiots. 

Unfortunately, that meant Shoko had to step up and become the person to provide for the trio. Letting out an exhausted sigh, she, with her abundance of medical knowledge and lack of an actual permit, quickly opened a makeshift clinic in their house. 

Thankfully, the townsfolks didn’t question that, nor the three underaged workers. Business went well enough; some of the wounds were questionable—gunshot wounds, knife slashes, burn scars, but she didn’t question it. This world naturally had its dangers; she wasn’t responsible for anything unless it came knocking on the door.

The night Shoko met the woman, business had been dull at the clinic. The atmosphere outside— tense enough that it had become suffocating. The doorbell rang just as she began to pack up. Perhaps it was the poor business that day; Shoko decided to take on this last patient and ignored the excessive warning the two sorcerers had given her about taking in patients alone. 

Donning her disguise — a long black wig and a drop of foundation covering her mole, Shoko opened the door. 

The black-haired woman had arrived at the clinic in a messy state — clothes shredded and bloodied, hair in disarray, and sporting countless bruises — so much so that she had fainted by the time Shoko helped her onto the operation table. 

Her insides were a mess as well: paralyzing poison coursed through her veins, rendering them stiff and immovable; three broken ribs that jutted out in abnormal positions, one of which was dangerously close to piercing her left lung; and internal bleeding just about everywhere her blood could flow. It was nothing short of a miracle that the woman had lived til she met her. 

Fortunately, it wasn’t anything RCT couldn’t fix. Time-consuming, yes, but not hard. The poison was flushed out within a few rounds of Shoko pushing positive cursed energy through the woman’s body. Her bones and bruises healed till only surface wounds were left.

The clock hand was close to 2 by the time she finished. Exhausted, Shoko left the woman, whose condition had stabilized, alone and went to sleep. 

The woman was gone by the time she woke up the following morning.

Thankfully, she had left a stack of notes on the desk, presumably her payment for the treatment. Though, Shoko wondered: how did she know the amount needed? That amount wasn’t something a person would carry on their person for no reason.

“It would seem you still remember me,” The woman smiled, her face coinciding with the bloodied one in her memory.

“How did you recognize me?” Shoko asked. There was no point in hiding her identity. Since the woman was confident enough to call them here today, she had probably already connected the clinic to her well before. 

“Ah, I’m afraid that’s a secret, Shoko-chan,” The woman smiled, “Ah, unless you’re willing to trade, of course,” She added on.

Trade? Shoko frowned.

“Wait, what do you have to do with Shoko?” Suguru extended his arm in front of Shoko, blocking her from the woman. 

“Oh my, it seems she didn’t tell you,” The woman sighed, her long, jet-black lashes trembling in mock distress, “Shoko-chan is my beloved benefactor,” She said, clasping her hands together.

“Oh? I see,” Suguru shot a we’ll-talk-later look to Shoko before focusing back onto the woman, his lips curving up in a perfectly gentlemanly smile, “But…,” He lingered on the pause, “It doesn’t seem quite nice to hound your benefactor like this?”

“Oh dear, is that so? I do apologize, Shoko-chan,” The woman responded without missing a beat.

“It’s fine,” Shoko said; she didn’t mind. With those two constantly hovering around her, a conversation like this was already one of the most polite she’d ever heard.

“That’s quite a relief,” The woman responded, “then please take this as repayment.” She tapped the stack of notes. 

“You’ve paid enough,” Shoko shook her head. She was willing to concede on certain things, namely those that wouldn’t hurt her, but this? No. 

“Hardly, you saved my life,” The woman brushed off her rejection with a smile, “besides, I was rude just now; take it as my apology.”

“Ha? You’d hardly have died there, lady,” Satoru scoffed, pushing down his sunglasses and revealing his brilliant blue eyes. His back straightened to block the mahogany desk in his shadow.

“Oh?” The woman said, her voice filled with more amusement than embarrassment about her lie getting discovered. She folded her arms in front of her, leaning closer in interest. 

“So,” Satoru took a deep breath, forming a mysterious aura that washed over the room, “You can’t bother Shoko just because she’s weak!” He finished with a bunch of pure nonsense, causing Shoko to jab him in the gut once again and a scoff from Suguru to come from behind.

“...ah?” Even the ever-so-formidable woman stumbled. His words had no doubt upheaved whatever image she had imagined. Shoko sighed again in her heart, as expected of Gojo.

Chapter Text

“Ahem,” The woman coughed, “Right.” She took a deep breath and continued, “As I was saying, I would still very much like to repay you, Shoko-chan.”

“Ah! Didn’t I say to stop bothering Shoko?!” Satoru puffed up his checks and yelled. 

Shoko shook her head at the sorcerer’s antics, revealing traces of exacerbation as she shifted to stand in a more comfortable position. Her left hand habitually slips into her pocket for the cigarette box, fuck- she thought. She had lit her last on the rooftop. 

In dire need of a smoke, Shoko leaned forward, whispering, “Geto,” and poked the black-haired sorcerer’s waist. She could only hope he had pocketed the half-used cigarette from this morning. 

“What’s wrong, Shoko?” Geto asked as all three pairs of eyes turned towards the girl. Unfortunately for her, it would seem, everyone in her current presence had above-normal hearing.

“Never mind,” she backed off. Satoru would definitely go into another fit if she were to ask for a cigarette now. The only solution was to quickly end this farce so she could go peacefully buy a new pack. To do that….“Can we leave, Miss?” Shoko addressed the woman once again. 

“Of course, you may, Shoko-cha-”

“Ok,” Shoko turned and left before the woman could finish her words. Satoru and Suguru soon followed, and the woman was left alone in the room again. 

Rather than returning to the pile of paperwork on her desk, the woman took out the dagger holstered to her hip, pointing its tip towards the inconspicuous potted plant in the corner of the room. 

“Have you enjoyed the show, Sun Arcobaleno?”

A figure stepped out from behind the plant— a baby with a yellow ribboned black fedora, a stiff, ironed black suit set, and an otherworldly-feeling pacifier. 

“Ciaossu, Signora Hibari.”

“What were you going to ask Suguru for, Shoko?” Satoru asked once he caught up with the girl outside the office. Suguru had chosen to leave after coming out, probably realizing what Shoko had wanted to ask for and not wanting to get into the shitshow when Satoru would inevitably find out.

“Don’t worry about it,” Shoko brushed off his question, her steps quickening to lose the tail. What was the point of her leaving the office so fast if Satoru was to follow her around? At least, if it had been Suguru, she could’ve argued or bargained with him to ignore her actions. Satoru, however, was an unmovable wall when it came to her smoking habits, even more so since they arrived in this world. 

“It’s not like I can’t just reverse it,” the words that should’ve stayed in her head as a voiceless complaint slipped out of her lips, causing Satoru to stop in his tracks.

“Shoko? You’re injured?” the white-haired sorcerer questioned, his hand latching onto her right arm— tightening, though not to a point she would feel pain. With the unshakable force holding her down, Shoko stopped, her eyes darting around everywhere except where he was. 

“Let go, Gojo,” Shoko tried to pry off Satoru’s hand to no avail; stupid sorcerer with his gorilla-like strength. 

“...what are you going to do if I let go?” Satoru asked, his grip still unshaken and firm, in direct contrast with his trembling voice. 

“Let go, Gojo,” Shoko scowled, “it doesn’t concern-”

“No! Just answer my question, Shoko!” Satoru wildly shook his head, his grip tightening till his knuckles turned white.

Shoko sharply inhaled as she felt something crack at the location Satoru was gripping her arm. Habitually, she began to probe her injury—the ulna, at best, had cracked from the incident, and at worst, splintered. She will have to perform a one-handed surgery if that is the case — the bone splinters can’t stay in her ar- fuck.  

Somewhere in her subconsciousness, Shoko realized just how bad of a problem it would be if she were to leave Satoru alone at this moment, so, gritting her teeth and swallowing her scream, Shoko forced out a nonchalant voice, “I’m fine, Gojo. I just forgot something in the classroom.” Cold sweat dripped down her back as she focused on the minute changes in Satoru’s facial expression: fear, sorrow, and finally, relief. With that last expression, her tense shoulders dropped. 

She had made a critical mistake: failing to monitor Satoru’s mental state. Too busy, Shoko had been, concentrating on Suguru’s disparities that she had ignored the problems of the ever-eccentric Satoru. 

Shoko assured herself, in the fact that she had found the problem, at least, before a point of no return.

“Ah, you scared me, Shoko!” Satoru bounced back as if nothing had happened, though Shoko could see his still trembling hands hidden behind his back. He hadn’t fully believed her; it would seem, the damned six-eyes at work once again. It was less than optimal, but she needed to fix her arm first before tackling that problem, lest she slips up from the pain. 

The girl took a deep breath to keep down the bile, “Let’s talk at home, Gojo, ok?” One of the weights on her heart disappeared when Satoru hesitantly nodded. At the very least, he was still willing to talk. That was something.

The gods seemed to finally favor Shoko as the bell rang soon after, signaling the end of class. Students began to pour out of their classrooms, rushing to their next as if the Skylark was hot on their heels. This wall of students also provided a convenient cover for Shoko to slip away, slightly more assured that Gojo wouldn’t go off the deep end for now. Her mouth tasted of blood from biting her tongue to stop the screams whenever she bumped her arm. Not now, he can still see, she chanted to herself. 

Despite all her misery, Shoko was able to stumble her way onto the ruined rooftop. There was no one present, thank Gods . Ripping off her sleeve with only a sharp piece of stone she grabbed from the ground, Shoko examined her arm. 

It was the worst possible situation; the bone fragments had splintered off and embedded themselves in her muscles. Shit . Even worse, she lacked the tools on hand to fix the problem. Her scalpel had been left behind due to conflict with the school’s rules. 

With no other options, Shoko could only regrow the bone without taking out the fragments. It didn’t help with the pain, but at the very least, her arm was movable again.

Bam!

What now? 

Shoko held back physiological tears as she glanced behind her. Oh, for the love of- As if having to deal with two psychologically unwell high school students and a broken arm wasn’t enough, now there was another kid, zoned out to the point he couldn’t even acknowledge her existence, stumbling towards the railing. 

It barely took a second for the situation to dawn on Shoko, her wobbly legs struggling to stand up before her brain could react. It was not helpful, considering only one of her arms was operable currently. 

As a result, two scraped knees were added to the growing list of ailments. She was really starting to get sick of this place.

Shoko stumbled until she was right behind the kid, her brain buzzing from the injuries and too illogical to properly create reverse cursed energy without the potential of it blowing up in her face. A scolding by the two idiots wasn't even a possibility anymore; it was a certainty. But even then, Shoko couldn’t allow the kid to die in front of her. 

I need to save Yu.

What happened to Yu?

A pounding headache racked her head, bringing Shoko back onto her knees. Yu? Shoko shoved the new problem into the deepest trenches of her mind. Yu was fine, but this kid was not. 

Shoko looked up to see the kid step over.

She quickly reached out and grabbed the collar of the kid’s shirt before he could proceed any further. In her momentary stupor, the kid had managed to climb over the railing, a mere step away from falling; only by pure chance had she been able to latch on at the last moment, causing the kid to dangle precariously. It really did not help that she grabbed with her right hand. The only benefit of which was that the pain coursing through her body right now had jotted her mind awake.

“Ieiri-san?” The kid acknowledged her existence at last. A glimmer of hope flashed through his eyes before quickly being covered by despair. Stupid kid, Shoko thought. He was still wishing for someone to help him even now. Whoever he had thought it would be, it was not Shoko. 

Ironically, this relieved her; at least in this way, she knew that nobody would miss her once she left. 

She wanted to tell the kid to hang on, but-

“Asshole,” the words rushed through before Shoko could even process them, “Why couldn’t you have chosen a different day to do this? Even just a few minutes later would’ve been good, you know!” 

Warm tears welled in her eyes. Combined with everything that had happened on this shitty day, Shoko was really not up to saving a kid from the ledge. Hell, she’d probably jump herself if her self-preservation had not been screaming at her.

“Let go then, Ieiri-san,” the boy replied with a carefree smile, “you want to as well, right?” 

“I-”

Bam!

The door slammed open again, and the person who came out remained unknown to Shoko even as their shoe was mere millimeters away from her head. “Takeshi?” The unidentifiable student said after they approached the railing and looked down, locking eyes with the boy, “Oh shit, you’re trying to jump! I-I’ll go tell everyone!” 

Before either of the two could interject, the pair of shoes had already slipped away, slamming the door behind them again. 

Bastard!

“Please let go, Ieiri-san, your shoulders are shaking,” the enticing offer was issued once again, though this time, with the interruption from before, Shoko was able to clear her mind. 

“No,” she gritted out. It had been her irrational mistake before, almost letting this life slip from her hands, but she was a doctor for fucks sake. 

“But-”

“No.” 

This conversation repeated countless times even as the rooftop door slammed open a few more times, and people trickled in to stand by and watch, sprouting nonsensical words, devaluing the kid, Takeshi, to that of only a good baseball player. 

The propagating crowd formed a wide berth around the two— unnervingly loud and chock full of meaningless words. 

No one tried to step in. 

Where was Kyoya when they needed him?

The door opened once again, though this time, something was different. The crowd had grown quiet. 

“Ah, Sawada! Can you talk to Yamamoto?” One of those who had come relatively earlier asked the new arrival. Their voice sparked something as everyone turned towards the kid.

The crowd pressured the kid to step forward despite his stammering, pushing until his foot landed on the ledge beside Shoko.

“Yamamoto,” The kid spoke with tinges of regret lacing his voice, “I-” 

“Tsuna,” Takeshi mocked self-deprecatingly, “I must look stupid compared to you, right?” 

“No, no,” Tsuna desperately shook his head, “I-I don’t….”

“Ha, you have already grown to despise people like me, huh?”

“No! That’s not it! I mean, I’m not, I, I’m not as good as you, I can’t do the things you do, I’m not as kind as you, and I can’t even look others in the eye. I don’t understand why I can stand here now, and I don’t want to know, but…” Tsuna paused, trying to think of how he should phrase his words.

“Come on, Sawada, you can do it!” A hand came out of the crowd to push the boy, causing his foot to slip as he riled, stumbling over the uneven rooftop until he was over the ledge. 

In a stroke of luck, he managed to grab Takeshi’s leg, causing the two to swing precariously.

Tsuna shrieked as he wiggled and hugged the leg even tighter.

“It looks like we’re in the same situation now, huh?” Takeshi laughed, this time, truly— carefree. 

“Please don’t joke about thi-”

Shoko let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Chapter Text

“Ieiri-san!?” Both boys’ heads snapped up to stare with wide eyes at their sole anchor to the ledge. 

The sound of labored, pain-filled gasps filled the air.

The girl was unresponsive to their call; her hair —drenched in cold sweat— stuck to her cheeks, shadowing her expression. Her eyes —hazy and unfocused— gazed off into the distance. And her shoulders —bony and thin— trembled with every blow of the gentle spring breeze. 

Despite all this, Takeshi’s collar remains firmly gripped in her deathly pale hands. 

Tsuna trembled, not daring to look down, “What should we do, Yamamoto-san?” He asked. The thought, what if she can’t hold on anymore? Unsaid.

“You wouldn’t happen to be able to fly, huh, Tsuna?” Takeshi half-heartedly asked.

“Obviously not!” He yelled.

Takeshi laughed again, though this time, it tinged with worry. Without any other choice, they could only hope that Shoko could hold out until someone, even if it was the Skylark, came and rescued them. 

He looked up at the gathering crowd, yet even now, nobody had stepped up to help. Takeshi’s laugh turned self-deprecating as he realized how blind he had really been to consider these people his friends. Still, even if they weren’t my friends, should they be this impartial to death?  

Seemingly coming to some decision, he looked down and said, “Hey, Tsuna?”

Tsuna responded with a nervous hum. His eyes squeezed shut as he desperately hung on his leg. 

“If you can make it, help me apologize to my Pa, ok?” 

“Wha-!” Tsuna’s eyes shot wide in surprise, “Don’t say that! We’ll definitely be fine! I-I mean- sure, we’re kind of not ok right now, but don’t say that! I can’t! I can’t help you do that, really! Please don’t ask me to do that! I can’t face your dad after that! I-”

An innocuous bee-like buzzing reverberated near Tsuna’s ear in the middle of his ramble. 

“Dame-Tsuna.”

“Reborn!?” he yelped when the vague, meaningless buzzings were suddenly replaced with words. “You’re here! Help us!” Tsuna desperately pleaded, uncaring how strange it must look to the spectators above. 

“No,” Reborn ruthlessly denied Tsuna’s request. 

“Aren’t you supposed to protect me or something?!” Tsuna screamed as his last ray of hope vanished. 

Reborn moved his hovercraft further away, seemingly disgusted by Tsuna’s behavior, “I’m here to train a Mafia boss; if you can’t even survive through this, I’ll just select someone else as the heir,” He shrugged as if the life-and-death of Tsuna was equivalent to only that of an ant’s. 

“Ah,” Tsuna weakly whimpered, the direness of the situation fully dawning on him. He looked up at Takeshi and Shoko before taking a deep breath and turning towards Reborn. He said, “At least save Yamamoto and Ieiri-san! They have nothing to do with the mafia!”

Reborn smiled, his cherub lips curving upward in a crescent, “Let go then, Tsuna,” He whispered, tempting the poor boy with words like that of a devil’s, “They’ll be safe if you let go.” 

“Safe…they will?” Tsuna unconsciously followed along, his hand loosening as he considered the offer. Letting go would reduce the weight Shoko has to carry and increase Takeshi’s chances of getting back up. Having someone set an example for what would happen could also encourage action from the crowd. That could all be possible if he just let go?

“Of course.” 

Tsuna bit his lip. Was it not for the best if he were to trade his insignificant life for that of two others? He, the dame of the school, who couldn’t even run for 10 minutes straight, could exchange his life for the school’s baseball star, Takeshi, and the beautiful and brilliant transfer student, Shoko? It would be like a dream come true for someone like him. 

It's not like anyone will miss him anyway.

“I-” his throat dried; the words won’t come out, and his hand froze in its loosening. It was then that Tsuna realized.

He didn’t want to die. He wanted to see his mom again, sit at the kitchen table to eat her homemade pie, and fall asleep to her soft humming downstairs as she cleaned the dishes. He wanted to make a family of his own, become a dad his could never be, and die watching his grandkids playing in the yard. Deep down, he still wanted to live. Even if his existence was hated, at least he would still exist. 

But- if he didn’t let go, wouldn’t Takeshi and Shoko lose their privilege to do just that?

It’s not like I will definitely die , Tsuna reasoned. Reborn was still there. Though their cohabitation period was short, some feeling must’ve been built up along the way, at least enough to rouse some twisted sympathy in the killer’s heart. 

Yeah. Reborn will at least make sure he won’t die, if not only to make fun of him when he wakes up. He’ll arrive in one of his weird disguises and scare him like the menace he was. It will all be ok.

Taking a deep breath, Tsuna slowly undid his deathly grip, finger by finger. Pinky. Ring. Middle. Inde-

“Stop it, kid,” A warm hand grasped his before he could fully let go. The sudden intrusion of a new person simultaneously broke Tsuna out of his thoughts. He looked up to see-

“Geto-san?”

With the sun as a backdrop behind him, the sorcerer looked divine. He was almost brought to tears —though that could’ve also been because of the sun. 

The black-haired sorcerer had leaned over Shoko’s unconscious body —while being careful not to put his body weight on her— to pull up him and Takeshi. If it hadn’t been for the cracks forming on the wall under Suguru’s left hand, Tsuna would’ve even said he looked relaxed. 

Evidently, though, he was not. Not because of the weight he had to pull up, but rather, something else Tsuna couldn’t quite place his hand on. 

His shoulders were tense in preparation for something to snap; something in Tsuna was now screaming at him to run and hide. Everyone here would die if Suguru, the person who had saved him when no one else even tried, were to lose whatever was currently binding him down. 

Still, even then, he couldn’t restrain his potentially deadly curiosity. 

“Why?” Tsuna asked. Why had Suguru, out of everyone on the roof, be the one to lend a hand? He didn’t know what he expected as an answer. Maybe he simply couldn’t watch him sacrifice himself? Or even that he had a change of mind? Would he even understand what he just asked?

“Shoko would be sad,” Suguru replied. Oh , Tsuna numbly nodded, unexpectedly okay with that. It saddened him that saving him hadn’t been done with him even in mind, but he got saved regardless. That was enough. 

“Thank you,” He bowed to the man who probably wouldn’t have saved him had Shoko not been there. Would he have watched like everyone else if that was the case? Tsuna bitterly thought. 

Suguru didn’t glance towards him even once before leaving with Shoko cradled in his arms. 

At least, Tsuna thought in an attempt to comfort himself, Ieiri-san had people who genuinely cared for her in this place.

The crowd of onlookers dispersed soon after when they realized that their entertainment had ended. It was as if they hadn’t just stood by to watch three people almost fall to their deaths in front of them. One of them, the one whom Tsuna recognized as the person who pushed him off the ledge, Rinku, leisurely strode over to him, patting him on the shoulder and said, “Good job, man, you were super cool!” like he hadn’t almost killed him. 

More people came up to him after Rinku left. Each offered their slightly twisted version of the phrase. It was ridiculous to see the students lined up in orderly rows like puppets, following someone’s command, but it also made Tsuna afraid. Why had the school become like this? And why had he only realized it now? He felt suffocated standing there.

It was like he was a mere pawn on an infinitely stretching chessboard.

“Are you alright, Tsuna?” Takeshi asked as he waved his hand in front of Tsuna’s face, worry etched in his eyebrows. 

Tsuna pursed his lips as he nodded. As much as he wanted to change something, he was, after all, powerless right now. Dragging in other people will only worsen the situation. 

“Alright,” Takeshi smiled, “then I’ll see you downstairs?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, but his feet stayed put. If he were to go back down now, Tsuna felt he would never get the chance again. 

“Are you not going to follow him, Dame Tsuna?” Reborn asked as he looked at Takeshi’s retreating back. He’d have thought that Tsuna would run off the roof with his tail between his legs as soon as the incident blew over. That was how the kid was— or what he was supposed to be. A fleeting thought flashed through his mind before quickly being fogged over again.

Reborn turned his attention back to his current charge—and met with molten gold eyes. 

“We need to talk, Reborn.”

The door slammed closed for the final time.

Chapter Text

“Suguru!” Satoru yelled as he ran through the crowded street, pushing and shoving everyone in his way. 

Still, despite all his efforts, he could not seem to get closer to the blurry figure. Still, the white-haired sorcerer gritted his teeth and continued pushing through. Like he was a drowning man at sea, desperately reaching for a rotten raft in the distance. 

Step by step, he inched till his fingertips touched the wool of the figure’s black sweater. “What the fuck are you doing, wandering around like this?! Shoko’s missing!” He shouted when he finally grabbed hold.

“There’s no one you know with that name, Satoru,” Suguru’s voice rang out from the figure’s face, head turning to face him. 

Satoru jerked back once he fully turned around, his hand retracting as if it got scalded. 

“くそ!” Satoru cursed, taking on a defensive pose.

The person, whom he had assumed to be Suguru, had turned around to reveal a face utterly devoid of features, smoothed down to a shine. There wasn’t even a mouth.

“There’s no one you know with that name, Satoru,” It repeated. This time, Satoru could tell just how it had spoken. The area where the mouth should’ve been —undulated, contorting the already nonexistent features of its face til a hole got created— from which the voice came. 

Satoru wanted to puke.

“There’s no one you know with that name, Satoru.”

“Shut up!” He pushed the being away, amplifying Infinity til a solid foot of blankness isolated himself from the environment, “Shut up!” He screamed at the crowd, his voice growing hoarse, “Shut up.”

Satoru’s throat ran dry when his eyes connected with that of a mother, who, even as she trembled, shielded her child with her body, a determined glint in her fear-clouded eyes. 

Raspy gasps filled the once-crowded alley as Satoru noticed the wide berth created with him in the middle. 

“There’s no one you know with that name, Satoru.” 

The voice did not stop.

A pained sob came out of Satoru’s lips; his once-tall figure curled inward as he continued to heave. “Stop- she, I- I’m not alone…” 

“There’s no one you know with that name, Satoru.”

Nobody reached out to help. 

—

Shoko woke up in darkness —endless, at least where her eyes could see— the only transgressor of which— herself. 

Her head burned with a heavy fever, and cold sweat condensed on her forehead and slid down her chin to drip and pool. Her bone-larded and swollen arm hung limply on her side, numb till when she inevitably had to breathe. Then, it hurts. It hurts like having your lungs forcibly compressed and squeezed until they burst, like a 5-ton truck slamming into the body, breaking the rib cage, shoving the shards into every crevice of your body, like being thrown off a cliff, slamming into each and every rock on the way down. 

Shoko lost track of time by the 3rd hour, perhaps even earlier; the windowless room certainly didn’t help. Neither did her waning concentration, she supposed. With her mind constantly screaming at her not to fall asleep—for the increasingly real possibility that she might never wake again— and her arm, concentrating on how many seconds had passed, that was the least of her problems.

It was in one of these moments of waning consciousness that the door to the void —or what was a room— opened, and another person was dragged in and shoved alongside Shoko.

The person, presumably a woman, yelped as she tumbled, scratching her arms, “Non puoi essere più gentile?!”

As if Shoko wasn’t struggling enough, it now appears she was no longer in Japan. 

Ding!

[Subquest unlocked: Your Friend, the One and Only!]

[A mysterious stranger had crashed into your life all of a sudden! Perhaps this is fate?]

[Help the stranger heal her arm]

[Reward: Auto Translator x2, Sterilized Scalpel x1, EXP x 200, Fragment of  ▊x1]

Shoko squinted in the dim blue glow of the screen, the words blurring through tears from overstimulating her eyes. She bit back a groan as she finished reading, fucking hell.

“Hey, miss,” Shoko began, hoping, at least, to catch the girl’s attention so that she would get close enough for her to apply Reverse Cursed Technique. The girl shuffled over, leaning over at her beckoning. Almost there , Shoko shoved down her brain’s protest and started circulating her cursed energy, multiplying it twice, thrice- now!

Ding!

[Subquest cleared!]

[The rewards are now in your backpack]

[Would you like to use the Auto Translator? Y/N]

Give me the scalpel , Shoko replied in her mind. 

[Would you like to use the Auto Translator? Y/N]

Shoko frowned; the more insisting the Curse was, the less she trusted it. Learning the language shouldn’t preside over the scalpel if it had her best interests at heart. But the problem was that she also couldn’t tell what would happen if she were to install the translator. 

Yes , she decided in the end; if it was so insistent on getting her to make the decision, there was no reason for it to let loose now. Shoko didn’t have the time to argue with it right now, it was becoming increasingly difficult to stay conscious. She’ll just brace for the consequences later. 

[Item: Auto Translator is now in effect. Currently translating: Italian ↔ Japanese]

[Item: Sterilized Scalpel has been retrieved— from the backpack]

With the scalpel finally in hand, Shoko ruthlessly slashed it across all three of her major arm nerves: Radial, Ulnar, and Median. While that would usually render the arm useless, Shoko can sidestep it with RCT. Instead, the severing served another purpose, numbing the pain for what would undoubtedly be a long and awful process of removing the bone fragments. With that thought in mind, Shoko got to work.

Elena Gonzaga, the young lady of the Ducato di Mantova, was currently in a dilemma. She had gotten kidnapped— sure, but she wasn’t surprised about that; that was a routine ritual by this point. Instead, it was her co-occupant that aroused her curiosity. It wasn’t her first time getting one, but rather, the first time she’d gotten one quite peculiar and unique. Before the door had shut behind her as she got pushed into the room, the quickly fading light had allowed her a glimpse of her co-occupant—a young girl dressed in a peculiar, borderline scandalous set of clothing. 

Poor thing , Elena thought —she was a long way from Carampane di Rialto. 

“やあ、お嬢さん,” The girl turned towards her and said. Elena tilted her head. Even though she couldn't understand a single word, the language sounded familiar. Where had I heard it before? Elena leaned closer to better listen to the girl’s words; it seemed she was trying to say something.

A cold grip circled Elena’s wrist before she could even react. It brought a bloom of warm energy that wrapped around her scratches, healing them. 

Elena stretched out her arm after the light faded away, marveling at the smoothness of it. She was becoming even more curious about the girl. Her healing was nothing like that of Vongola’s Sun guardian, Knuckle. It was a shame the girl couldn’t speak Italian to satisfy her curiosity, Elena pouted.

“Can you help me tie this?” Elena looked up at the girl in surprise.

“You can speak Italian?” 

The girl nodded, “I just learned,” she said. 

How marvelous! Elena thought. If what the girl said was true, then she was a genius. “Ah, what did you need help with again?” Elena asked, remembering how the conversation had started. However, the answer became evident when she took a whiff of the air, which had become saturated with the smell of blood. “What happened!?” Elena reached out to gingerly touch the girl’s body til she reached where the blood-soaked cloth was— the arm. She hovered over her arm, hissing as she observed the wounds using her gradually adjusting eyes. Three sharp cuts rendered the girl’s arm useless for the foreseeable future, “Who would do something like this!” The bright mood dimmed as she examined her arm. 

“It’s fine-” 

“No, it’s not!” Elena protested, tearing up. How bad must the girl’s life have been for her to be ok with this? 

“It’s alright, I did it myself,” the girl, who had become flustered since Elena first started to shed tears, said. Her words only caused Elena to scrunch her eyebrows. “...we can talk about this later. First, help me tie the cloth around my arm, ok?” The girl compromised when she realized Elena would no longer respond.

Elena hummed in agreement; stopping the bleeding was good. That would help, at least. And so, she carefully followed the girl’s instructions to wrap the cloth around her arm, tightening it till she could no longer, “Is this too tight?”

“It’s good…can you turn around?” the girl asked.

Although Elena didn’t know why, she still followed her instructions. She should show trust in the girl since she’s already suffered so much. 

“Whatever you do, don’t turn around,” the girl cautioned.

Facing against the darkness, Elena could hear the sound of things plopping onto the ground, bringing an overwhelming stench of blood, “Are you sure you’re alright?” 

Elena thought, this doesn’t sound like a standard treatment process as she bit her lip.

The girl didn’t respond. 

“Miss?” Elena asked again, forcing herself to fight against her instinct to turn around.

“Give me a second,” the girl finally said, accompanied by sounds of ripping cloth. Another few minutes passed before she spoke, “You can turn around now.”

“Thank God, I was worried when I couldn’t hear you!” Elena quickly approached the girl, only to be stopped at arm's length, “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a water stain there. I’ll come towards you,” the girl said. Although Elena felt there was something strange about what the girl said, she held her place as asked. 

“Be careful.”

“Yeah.”

Chapter Text

Satoru yawned as he woke up from his afternoon nap in the sun. “Meow!?” he scrambled to his feet…s? “Meow!” he howled again in grief, “What happened to my perfect body?!”

“Meow?” a Snowshoe approached him, her paw nudging along a small mirror, “You’re finally awake?”

“Meow?” Catoru closely examined the new cat, “Shoko?” he asked after connecting with her all-too-human eyes. 

She bobbed her head. 

“Shooookoo!” Catoru leaped off his bed. Unfortunately, in a very Catoru-like fashion, he failed to take into account the size difference between a Maine Coon and a Snowshoe. 

It would seem that some things don’t change, even if the species does. 

Fortunately, like a rational cat, Snowko dodged the second Catoru showed an inclination towards jumping. As a result, the only casualties in the incident were the floor—scratched full of claw marks and dented by the impact—and the surrounding furniture, swept away by his tail. 

Snowko licked her paw as Catoru near-face-planted into the ground, leveling him an unimpressed gaze, “Meow.”

“Idiot.”

Catoru rolled as he wailed, “You’ve become so mean, Shoko!” His action further intensified the damage to the surroundings.

“Stay away from me,” Snowko replied, moving away in disgust as a layer of long cat hair shed along Catoru’s path of destruction. As expected, no matter the species, Satoru was Satoru. This one was, at least, cute enough she wouldn't get tempted to punch his face whenever he whined. 

“You’re a big bully, Shoko~!”

Shoko took the sentiment back; this cat deserved a punch. Her hair bristled as her claws revealed themselves.

“Breakfast is ready, Shoko,” A Bombay pushed open the door, interrupting Snowko’s murderous thoughts. It was clear who this cat was—the irregularly long strand of cat hair hanging where his bangs—a dead giveaway. 

Snowko tilted her head; that strand didn’t seem to have been there the last time she saw him? She decided to stay quiet about the discovery. Suguru hasn’t done anything too annoying today yet. 

Unlike her silent politeness, Catoru instantly burst out laughing as he noticed the hair, “It’s a cat hair extension!” Even if he had become a cat, Six Eyes was still Six Eyes, and he could instantly differentiate between real and fake hair. His laughter intensified as Bomburu’s tail swung back and forth, “Aww, you’re happy that I realized, Suguru!”

Snowko strode to the ajar door, “Tail wagging for cats and dogs has different meanings, Gojo,” she meowed before leaving.

She didn’t want to stay for the ensuing catfight.

“Meow!” And judging by the sound of objects slamming and crashing behind her, it was the correct choice. 

Without hesitation, Snowko turned around, leaving the two in a Schrödinger-like phase of existence. However, it had become a question not of whether the cats were alive but of the room’s livability. 

She hopped onto the kitchen table, and just as she was about to take a bite of the delicious-looking grilled fish that Suguru had prepared, the doorbell rang. 

Snowko tilted her head. They weren’t expecting guests today, were they?

“...Ieiri-san?” Snowko’s new and improved cat ears picked up the sound muffled by the door and helpfully identified its corresponding speaker. 

Sawada Tsunayoshi is certainly not who she would’ve ever expected.

As Snowko contemplated whether she should open the door, the door was blown open by itself, or rather, by the fedora-wearing baby standing on Tsuna’s shoulder. 

Huh.

Snowko blinked; the doorway was now a gaping hole. The door would be more convenient to fix like this. She casually brushed over the problem—the house had already become a patchwork in the few weeks the trio had stayed here. What’s another door to the count? However, she does hope that the intruders can pay for it. 

Tsuna shrieked, bowing repeatedly on the doorstep as he stammered out apology after apology. 

“Why are you here?” Snowko asked as she approached him, stopping just before his bowed head. 

Tsuna let out another screech as Shoko’s tail accidentally brushed his face, “I’m so sorry! Please don’t haunt me!” he said again. 

Snowko sat there dumbfounded as the boy continued to apologize; did he think she was dead? More importantly— what did he think she would be like as a ghost? A cattail?

“Ciaossu, signora,” the baby jumped off during another of Tsuna’s bows.  

“Hello, you know why he’s being like that?” Shoko asked him out of habit before realizing he couldn’t understand. 

“Dame-Tsuna believes that he had accidentally killed you,” the baby replied.

Or perhaps he could understand. Snowko didn’t dwell on it; the day was weird enough already. Still, she couldn’t help but ask, “Killed me? What? Is he an Ultraman or something?”

“Are you an alien?” Though Snowko thought that should’ve been a roundabout answer in its own right, it didn’t help when that was a real possibility for her. 

“I guess we’ll see what he is in 5 minutes,” she meowed after a brief pause.

The baby hummed in agreement.  

And so they did. 4 minutes exactly, not a second less. By then, Bomburu and Catoru had also come downstairs, each bearing nothing more than slightly ruffled fur. If anything, it just made Snowko more scared for the room. 

“Meow! Shoko! Meow! Why are they meow!” Catoru asked. 

Snowko looked dead in his eyes and replied, “Meow.” 

“It would seem I need to improve in cat-tongue,” the baby said as he listened to the two’s conversation. 

“No, Gojo’s just being an idiot,” the sorcerer had been truly meowing before.

What were you doing by responding then? Reborn tactically chose not to let out this question. 

“What should we do with the kid?” Snowko asked him. Reborn responded by giving Tsuna a kick to the head. 

“Dame-Tsuna! I’ve found their ghosts,” Snowko tilted her head; that’s a unique approach. By logic, he should pass along the information that they turned into cats now, right? “They’re extremely angry with you and are planning to kill you if you don’t get a 100 on your math homework!” 

Nevermind then. The baby had no intention of helping them reconcile the misunderstanding. 

“W-what!? There’s no way that’s true!” Tsuna argued back, “How does that even make any sense!” 

“Of course, it makes sense, Dame-Tsuna. They were students in the middle of their youth, so their grievance will definitely have something to do with school.” The baby stopped for a dramatic pause, “Count yourself lucky that they only want you to fulfill their last wishes.”

“Ieiri-san and Geto-san are always skipping classes, though! Why would they care about this!?” 

“That’s where you’re wrong, Dame-Tsuna,” Reborn pulled out a stack of papers, each with a mark of 100%, “Look at their test results; how could they not care with these scores!” 

“Eh!? T-then, what about Gojo-san?” Tsuna tried as a last-ditch effort.

Reborn only pulled out one sheet of paper this time and, using a solemn voice, said, “he’s the one who wanted you to get a 100 on the homework. Look how pitiful his test result is.” 

Drawn on the piece of white paper was a big, fat, red [3]

“Wow,” Snowko gasped at the reveal, “I didn’t even know that was possible.” Her gaze was full of pity as she looked over to Catoru again. Poor thing. Now that she thought about it, he had gotten homeschooled in that feudalistic world for the first two decades or so, hadn’t he? 

“Hey, Gojo,” Snowko began to ask.

“Hmm?” Catoru looked over, an ominous premonition in his heart.

“What shape is the earth?”

“...” Even Bomburu, who had wanted to join the joke, went speechless. 

“MEOW!!!” Catoru screeched, “How could you, Shoko! How could you! What do you think I am!” 

“A high school student who’s failing middle school-level geometry?” Snowko replied without missing a beat. 

“ME-” Bomburu quickly placed his paws over Catoru’s mouth to muffle the sound. 

“Calm down, Satoru, Shoko said it out of concern for you, right, Shoko?” Like a good mother, Bomburu stepped in before it could escalate further. 

“Yes, Mother,” Shoko nodded in agreement, not forgetting to annoy someone even as she retreated. 

If cat eyelids could twitch, Bomburu’s would be going off right now, “Shoko, you-”

“Pfff-haha! Mother? Haha! Suguru-Okaasan!” 

Here joined another one who couldn’t keep his mouth shut. 

Bomburu smiled as his tail began to swish from side to side once again, “Shoko, I’ll give you 2 minutes to run,” he meowed. 

“Yes, sir!” Heeding(?) the cat’s words, Shoko leisurely pranced over to the repenting(?) Tsuna. 

“Look, Dame-Tsuna, Ieiri’s ghost has possessed a cat to come to talk to you,” Reborn kicked the poor boy once again, snapping him out of his daze. 

“Gh-ghost!?” The boy moved on instinct, scootching back multiple meters before he understood the sentence in his head, “Are you really Ieiri-san’s ghost?” He looked down at the cat. 

“Of course,” Shoko meowed and looked to Reborn for translation.

“She said yes, Dame-Tsuna,” Reborn translated.

Tsuna breathed in relief and continued, “I-I’m sorry for killing you! Lambo’s rocket launcher went off and-!”

“She said that you’ve not gotten forgiven,” Reborn interjected.

“?” Shoko, who hadn’t even meowed once, blinked. The baby was putting words in her mouth again, “Don’t you think you’re being too mean?” She couldn’t help but ask. The jokes had only gone so far with Catoru because of how long they had spent together in school. From what Snowko recalled— the baby seemed to be a recent addition to Tsuna’s family. And from what she’s seen, the brunette’s self-esteem was already as low as you can get and would’ve been a literal time bomb back in their world. 

“The ghost says that you should repent by slapping yourself til your cheeks swell,” Reborn treated Snowko’s words as if he couldn’t hear them.

“Stop it,” Snowko protested, stepping in front of the boy and shielding him behind her, “You’re going overboard.”

“The ghost says that you must repent by-”

“Stop it!”

Reality shattered, people and cats’ faces fragmented til it was impossible to distinguish one thing from another. 

“Oh? You woke up quicker than I thought.”

Chapter Text

The two girls huddled together in the dark—shoulders, and knees touching. 

On one side was Elena Gonzaga, the Mantova Duchy’s young lady, and on the other, the Jujutsu world’s only RCT therapist. It was a combo that would’ve turned their respective societies upside-down if they were to go missing. 

Yet, here they were, kidnapped. 

I hope those two don’t go and destroy the whole town in a fit to find me, Shoko worried, more about the structural integrity of Namimori’s building than herself. 

I hope Daemon doesn’t go too overboard, Elena wished, hoping on a star that Giotto would be able to hold back the man…and the structural integrity of the Vongola castle.

Their thoughts were oddly synchronized at this moment for something so atypical.

Nevertheless, the two girls put aside their— extremely valid— worries to hold a conversation. After all, they certainly had the time now. 

“Ieiri, can you tell me where you’re from?” Elena asked after finally learning of the girl’s name. Goodness! To think I hadn’t had the mind to inquire of her name until just now! She thought, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment, thankful for the darkness shielding her from view. It was as if all her noble etiquette had been for naught! Mrs. Ricci would’ve surely fainted at such an atrocious introduction.

“The east,” Shoko offered a perfunctory response in turn. Are there even ships traveling between Europe and Japan in this era? She pondered, her fingers playing with the scalpel. 

Alongside discovering that she wasn’t anywhere even close to Japan, Shoko realized that she wasn’t close in time either. 

It had been sudden, predictably when Elena had started talking about topics one would converse about centuries ago— the newly invented medical thermometer and the likes—as if it was the most normal thing— Shoko thought her ears had gone awry. 

She smiled as that thought crossed her mind.

Even when life had been at its most chaotic back in high school, it had never gotten this strange. 

But- she didn’t hate this. 

Nobody except the two idiots knew her here, though it meant she had to leave behind so many others; she had lost the ropes that had chained her down in exchange, something she never wanted to lose again.

With a jolt, Shoko came out of her thoughts and frowned, pushing back her rebellious thoughts with a shake of her head, as expected— cohabitation with those two had a horrible influence on me.  

She selectively ignored her trembling fists.

Elena gasped in delight at her answer, clapping her hands together, unaware of her inner turmoil, “That’s amazing! Are you from the same place as Signor Asari?”

Shoko merely shrugged in response, “...perhaps.”   

Elena, who either didn’t notice or had enough tact, did not mention the slight pause and moved on. “The east, huh,” She wistfully sighed, “I would’ve loved to go there someday. It sounds as dazzling as the finest jewels in Signor Asari’s words.”

“It’s… certainly so,” Shoko was at a loss for words. Japan was a beautiful country, certainly, though she had not had the fortune to experience much of it even before her ‘withdrawal’ into the Jujutstu world. 

What she had thought of at first when she heard Elena’s words was the lengths some were willing to go to get their way in that rotten and decrepit world, which had certainly been quite dazzling to her younger self. 

Though , she thought, if she were to fully go through with the analogy…she supposed, Jujutsu society would be like a brilliantly glimmering diamond, a stunning, disastrous one you can’t look away from, even as it leads you over the abyss. 

Her fingers paused as she remembered another diamond present in her life, one the color of a boundless sky. 

Shoko cracked a rare smile, she supposed the saying that only a diamond can polish another diamond rings true in more than one situation.

…

Oh. 

Oh.

She suddenly began to laugh as a tear slid down her cheek. 

“Ieiri? Are you alright?” Elena asked worriedly. Their conversation was left forgotten as she looked over worriedly. Was Shoko's unconventional method to treat her arm now exhibiting side effects?

“I-” Shoko squeezed the words out amid gut-wrenching giggles, “I’m great!” She continued to laugh— despite her dry throat rubbing raw, the phantom pains stabbing into her arm, the deep fear lodged within her heart, and…the realization that just as one diamond can polish another-

It, too, will be polished in turn. 

She covered her face.

Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous , she’s reacting like she cared about the two idiots. When had this catastrophe started? How? Even after all that ? How could you, Shoko, you’re a selfish and disgusting monster , she admonished.

Nobody should have to be put into that position ever again. 

Ding!

[Main quest unlocked: Your Friend, the One and Truly]

[You’re always welcome back, Shishi (^-^)]

[Rewards: A Way Back x2]

“Let’s get going, Miss Gonzaga,” She said as she abruptly stood up.

Elena asked, “Are you really alright, Ieiri?” as she worriedly hovered around Shoko, her hands ever-so-often coming up and falling back to her side again. 

“I’m fine, Miss Gonzaga, I was just happy we’ll be saved soon” Shoko squeezed the girl’s hands, “See? My hands are still warm, aren’t they?” she said, forcing a faint smile.

“...Still,” Elena hesitated.

“Please.”

“Alright…let’s go!” Elena said and clapped in determination, “I-ah?” She stopped in the middle of her sentence.

Shoko frowned, bewildered at Elena’s sudden change, “Miss Elena?” She waved her hand in front of her face. At the same time, she stealthily slipped the scalpel from her other sleeve in preparation for an attack. Is it too late?

“Daemon! I know it’s you!” Elena shouted and pouted at the air behind her, her gaze focused on the illusion only she could see, “Only you would pull such a strange joke!”

It’s someone she knows , Shoko relaxed her guard. That’s good, at least it's one less person entangled in this mess.

The air seemed to ripple as the figure of a man emerged from it, “Nufufu~” 

“Sorry, Elena, I wanted to surprise you,” Daemon held up his hands in surrender, “Was it too much?” he trailed off in a meek tone at the end.   

  “Ah…,” Elena faltered, unable to reprimand him in the face of his apology, “Right! Daemon, let me introduce someone to you!” Elena switched the topic, and gestured towards Shoko, “This is Ieiri. She helped me with my injury.” 

Daemon frowned, “Your injury? What happened?” he asked, his voice full of concern and worry.

“It's alright now! I told you Ieiri helped me hea-bandage it, didn’t I,” Elena fumbled over her words as she chose not to reveal Shoko’s ability. Unfortunately, Daemon caught onto the stutter and his gaze instantly sharpened as he glared at Shoko. 

“Let me see it, Elena,” Daemon asked.

“This-” she tried to look towards Shoko, only for Daemon to step between the two.

He smiled, blocking Elena’s attempts at looking over or around his body, “I don’t believe you would need to talk it over with someone else before revealing your condition, right?”

Elena pulled at the jewels on her dress in frustration. How could she reveal a secret like this without the owner’s agreement? She leveled an aggravated look at Daemon, who only smiled back in return. 

“You can tell him if you want, Miss Gonzaga,” Shoko said from behind. 

With her agreement, Elena finally relented and showed Daemon her arm, where not a scratch could be seen. He raised his eyes to examine her expression and found that she didn’t appear to be lying or using Mist flames to cover up the wound. “You weren’t woun-” he stopped himself in the middle, Elena wasn’t the type to intentionally make people worried about them, if she claimed that she was hurt, she really was at a point in time. So where had the injury gone? 

Daemon turned towards the only variable in this situation, he hadn’t detected any flames from the girl when he arrived at first. Which had him at ease enough to turn his back toward her, but now that he started to examine closely, the girl didn’t seem as weak as he had thought, “A Sun flame user?”

Shoko clicked her tongue, is the translator already malfunctioning? As expected of It’s capabilities . However, seeing that both Italians’ eyes were trained on her, she couldn’t just not respond. 

“No speak Italy,” as the saying goes, ignorance is bliss.

Thankfully, Elena quickly caught onto what Shoko was trying to do and enforced her claim, “Right! I must’ve forgotten to tell you! Ieiri can’t speak Italian!”

“She was talking in perfect Italian just a moment ago, no?” Daemon asked with a smile. 

Flustered, Elena replied, “You must have misheard it!”

Seeing that her face was becoming more and more like a tomato, Daemon stopped teasing Elena and gently flicked her forehead to halt the rambling of excuses, “Alright, I believe you.”

Elena’s eyes brightened.

“But the others might not be so kind.” 

Elena froze while expressing her gratitude, “Alaudi doesn’t hit children…right?” 

“Who knows?” Daemon shrugged, turning towards Shoko, and held out a gloved hand—she could’ve sworn it was bare mere moments before, “Would you care to join, Signorina?”

“No.”

Daemon’s eye twitched, “Unfortunately, I’m afraid you don’t quite have that choice.” An indigo fog enveloped the room just as he finished his words, “May you live long enough for Elena to bid you a final goodbye.”

Chapter Text

Giotto looked up when the indigo fog enveloped the room. The bags underneath his amber eyes seemed to multiply in thin air as he sighed, exhausted. He reached out for the cup of freshly brewed coffee with the hand unoccupied by paperwork. While chugging from the cup like a man dying of thirst, his intuition rang, telling him, just as he assumed, that it would be a very long day.

Once the fog cleared, he saw what would probably cause him to lose sleep for the foreseeable future. A brown-haired girl with facial features similar to his Rain guardian’s. He sighed as he saw her face, she didn’t look like she was brought here willingly. 

Steeling his nerves, Giotto put on his forced smile and asked, “This is?” to Daemon, the only man capable of achieving such a feat as bringing three people into a closely guarded place such as his office. 

“Elena’s cellmate,” Daemon replied with an equally fake smile.

Elena jabbed him in the ribs and introduced him, “Ignore him, Giotto, she’s my friend, Ieiri, Shoko Ieiri.” 

Daemon held her finger in place and chided, “She hasn’t been determined to be safe yet, Elena.”

“Is something wrong with her?” Giotto asked. His gaze dulled as it alternated between the people present. 

Before Daemon could mess with the conversation this time, Elena spoke, “There’s nothing wrong with her! Daemon’s just being needlessly suspicious!”

“I believe it’s quite suspicious if a person can heal without using Sun flames, no?” Daemon retorted back.

Giotto choked on the coffee he had just taken a sip from. His eyes turned erratic as his gaze snapped from the two to the office door, bracing himself for whatever horror he expected to step through it at any second. 

When nothing happened despite his tense wait, Giotto gradually relaxed and turned to Daemon. With a swift move, he reached over and dragged him to his side and hissed into his ears, “Have you forgotten what the Omerta represents? How could you casually mention it in front of a civilian!”

Daemon scoffed and pushed the man away, “Civilian, Giotto? Really? Which civilian that you know carries a personalized dagger on their body?” He gestured to the inconspicuous shine near Shoko’s sleeve, where the end of a slender knife could just be seen.

Giotto swerved his head around, just in time to catch the last hints of a knife being shoved further up the girl’s sleeve. 

The girl nodded when she met his gaze as if nothing had happened just now. 

“Ah…,” Giotto found himself subconsciously nodding back, “I don’t think she’s very dangero-” he said, before being interrupted by misty chains that came to life around him and shackled his head to the table’s surface.

His still shiftable eyes turned towards Daemon, whose eyelid had started twitching, from anger, “Can you use even the slightest bit of your brain? Have you heard anything of what I just said? Sun flame-like healing, Giotto, what do you think will happen if she was to fall into our enemy’s hands?” the blue-haired man questioned.

“They’ll treat her well?” 

Daemon leveled him with an unimpressed look.

Before Giotto could mutter a word in retortion, the door he fully expected the boogeyman of the mafia world, the mysterious group of bandage-clothed creatures, to come out from, slammed open to reveal another equally horrible existence, Vongola’s cloud guardian, Alaudi. 

The man appeared unfazed by the strangeness of the situation present but stopped and wrinkled his nose in disgust when he realized precisely how many people were inside. Opting not to stay in a room with more than one other person, he started reporting about the situation while being just outside the room.

There was an intruder on the premises. 

Giotto covered his face and groaned after he pieced together the sparsely worded statement of the ever-so-aloof man. Based on the fact that Alaudi hadn’t come into the room with the intruder in tow or he himself, a bloodied corpse, he didn’t seem to have engaged in battle with the person yet. That meant bad news, for even the blood-thirsty territorial man to come and report first before engaging in combat himself, the opponent must’ve been strong enough for him to make him accurately judge that he can’t win. 

In the middle of his deliberation, the strange assassin(?) girl parted her lips and asked, “Does the intruder have white or black hair?” She seemed absolutely convinced that there were no additional options except for the two.

Alaudi looked towards Giotto with a ‘What did you drag back to the mansion again?’ look. The mafia leader desperately shook his head and pointed towards his Mist guardian, “Daemon brought her here, not me!” His face flushed as the room became silent with his outburst, “I-I mean…what color was the intruder’s hair, Alaudi?” He seamlessly(?) redirected the conversation away from his blunder. 

“White,” Seeing that nothing would progress if he didn’t speak up, Alaudi reluctantly answered in his typical one-word format.

“Oh,” Shoko blinked and thought, “I hope you guys have already prepared your wills,” she finally said. 

Giotto’s hands, which had just been put down, reached up to cover his face again. 

The girl knew the intruder. 

Great news, she could have helped convince the intruder to stop…had Daemon not kidnapped her. Even if the man had had the best intentions, which Giotto doubts, the girl had still been brought here unwillingly. What good would a kidnappee ever say about her kidnappers? 

The mafia leader took a desperate breath and looked towards the girl, “Can you plea-what are you doing!” he interrupted his plea for help in shock as his eyes took in the scene. The girl that had been standing, prim and proper, just a moment ago, currently had one of her legs hoisted out of the window, with the other one following close behind. 

Giotto shot a look of grievance at the others on the scene, who hadn’t muttered a peep as they watched the chaos unfold.

The girl who had managed to lift her whole body to the other side of the window by this point, looked back towards him and calmly replied, “Running away, of course,” and jumped down. 

In what had probably become his thousandth time mentally screaming in frustration today, Giotto quickly ran towards the window and looked down. 

The girl was nowhere to be seen. 

“Alaudi! Help me-” he let out a frustrated sound as he realized the man had long left during his daze.

He banged his head against the wall and wished that he could faint right then and there. At least then, he wouldn’t have to be here.

“Can you try not to die? I don’t think your friends would let me go if you do,” a dull voice came from above him. Giotto’s eyes instantly shot up and made contact with chilling steel eyes. He had never felt so happy about his Cloud guardian’s swiftness.

Alaudi stood looking down on him from the thrice-rebuilt roof (courtesy of his own efforts) with the girl dangling by her collar in his hand. Shoko, who had just spoken, looked down at Giotto with overflowing resentment.

Giotto almost shed tears of joy when he realized Alaudi had not turned the girl into a bundle of bruises and blood in the few seconds they had been alone. He’s finally growing up! He thought proudly. It was as touching as if his child had abandoned his life of crime.

Then he realized… as if this man would ever change! He sucked in a cold breath as he whipped his head around, coming face to face with a pair of glacial blue eyes. 

Giotto’s throat ran dry.

In his peripheral vision, he could sense that Daemon had created a mist illusion to cover himself and Elena; he was ready to strike at any time. 

With the layer of added insurance, Giotto, despite his sweaty palms, and rapid heartbeats, began to observe, he took in the man’s features, his lethe yet imposing muscles that tensed in anticipation, his pale and long fingers that were held up in a strange gesture, and lastly, his snow white hair that drifted with the gentle breeze.

No wonder Alaudi hadn’t done anything. 

Even if his intuition had not been screaming at him to run and leap out of the window just like the girl, Giotto could tell the man was dangerous. Far more for what he appeared. ‘Monster’, a word came to his lips. Thankfully, his last strand of rationality held his tongue back from uttering the word that could very well cause his death before he even knew what was happening. His fingers twitched, yet could not lift in retaliation as the man stared. 

“Stop it, Gojo,” Shoko said with a sigh as she slipped back into the window with Alaudi in tow, “He’s not an enemy.” 

When the boy didn’t put down his hand, Shoko hesitated. Nevertheless, she pursed her lips and walked closer to him, waving her hand before his eyes, “Gojo?”

Chapter Text

“...Shoko,” Satoru managed to say before, without any warnings, his eyes abruptly rolled back and his body, abiding by gravity, collapsed forward. Shoko grunted as she was suddenly forced into bearing most of the over-180cm man’s weight, involuntarily taking a step back and slamming her heel against the wall. Despite the tears welling up in the corners of her eyes from the impact, she gritted her teeth and continued supporting Satoru’s unconscious body, up until Giotto finally came out of his terror-induced daze and came forward to help lay down the sorcerer’s body on the carpet. Shoko nodded at him, expressing gratitude, before kneeling beside Satoru to examine his condition. 

First, she checked his heartbeat, a bit fast, but acceptable, then his breathing, erratic, but slowly self-regulating, and then finally injected reverse cursed energy into his bloodstream to examine his body at a more in-depth level. She didn’t have the time nor care to shield her movements away from the eyes of the others in the room, even when she was almost certain that at least some of them could sense her usage of cursed energy. 

Shoko finally relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief when all the checking was done and she figured out that Satoru had only fainted from exhaustion. Although the reason for that tiredness was unknown, at least his safety was ensured. Well, of course, that is if she can somehow get past the hurdle now of explaining to her uninvited audience members who she and Satoru were and what the strange energy she manipulated before was. 

If she were to succeed in convincing them that they weren’t threats, however, Shoko planned to leave Satoru in the care of this group of oddities and separate to go elsewhere, hopefully, somewhere It wouldn’t be able to reach, though even the idea of that sounded far-fetched to her. If It can find her across cities and dimensions, what is to stop it from finding her the next time?

But she also couldn’t not leave, not when everyone she’d met, even those with whom she’d only made brief eye contact, would die if she didn’t. At least if she distances herself from others of her own will, based on her past experiences, everyone she’s interacted with would remain relatively safe.

She wondered if becoming a hermit on a desolate mountaintop when even the birds don’t crow was a valid plan after all. It wouldn’t go as far as to kill grass or rocks, right?

“Ms. Ieiri, right?” Giotto asked, slowly approaching her, his hands held up in the air in a sign of harmlessness, an action he performed with such familiarity that Shoko could tell how many had been deceived by this move and tricked into letting down their guards before. 

Shoko nodded and outwardly relaxed her posture, though she still vigilantly slipped out her scalpel, to the point where the tip could be seen gleaming between her fingertips. She moved to stand in front of Satoru before engaging with the man in conversation, “Yes,” she said, deciding to take Alaudi’s example in speech and keep everything to a minimum. Clearly, Giotto could follow her train of thoughts as he shot a look of weak accusation at the man before immediately shrinking his head when their eyes connected.

He took a deep breath to reset his composure, “I believe we owe you a thanks for helping Elena?” He purposefully set the tone at the end to be similar to that of a question, giving Shoko the chance to refuse if she wanted to. 

“You’re welcome,” Shoko plainly said, destroying most of the calculations he had made in anticipation of her answer. She watched as his eyelid twitched, a faint smile appearing on the corner of her lips before being immediately pulled down again. 

She took a brief moment of introspection to wonder if being in Satoru and Suguru’s proximity for so long had somehow corroded her brain. Otherwise, why would she laugh at someone’s annoyance? When Shoko couldn’t come up with a definite answer to her question, however, she decisively pushed the issue away to the back of her mind. 

Whatever it was, it definitely wasn’t her personality that was causing it. 

“May we inquire how you’ve managed to do so? You may refuse, of course,” Giotto pulled through and asked. It was about as much a question as a command. Although it was left unsaid, what would happen if she were to refuse was left easily imaginable, a future she was somewhat keen on avoiding.

However, Shoko wasn’t much in the mood for having a long-winded explanation either, much more preferring to simply attempt to jump out of the window again, but for the sake of the still-unconscious Satoru, she still vaguely elaborated, mixing sparse truths with logical lies, “It’s a technique that aids in fastening the body’s natural wound healing process, nothing more.” 

Rather than saying something like being able to regrow limbs, diminishing the capabilities of her ability seemed slightly better and made herself less up for exploitation. After all, no matter how fast the human body heals, there are certain boundaries it cannot cross with just that. Shoko wanted to leave herself some leeway if they were to ask her to work off the debt for them taking care of Satoru until he was to wake up. 

Although he nodded, seemingly accepting her answer, Shoko could still see the faint doubt in Giotto’s eyes. But there was nothing she could do about that, it wasn’t as if she could go about revealing all her cards right off the bat and leave herself defenseless later. 

“Then,” he parted his lips again. Shoko barely resisted the urge to sigh when he showed his insistence on continuing to question her even though most of the answers he was to get would likely be the same gibberish mess as the first one. 

“Are you and that man assassins hired to kill me who’s capable of using the mysterious powers of the mafia?” he asked, his voice suddenly lowering by an octave as he nervously glanced towards the door to the office.

Shoko balked at his second question, the nonsense she had been preparing slipped from her mind. What in the chūnibyō bullshit is this? Was the world crazy or was she? 

Closely scrutinizing Giotto and everyone else's expressions, Shoko realized that, unfortunately, in this scenario, it would really appear that she was the crazy one, especially since nobody else seemed even a little bit fazed or embarrassed by the man’s words.

What’s next? A white-haired sugar addict with the ability to destroy the world at his fingertips? 

Oh, wait.

That role’s already been filed. 

She bitterly glanced down at the boy at her feet, whose nickname should really be changed to “The Strongest Fainter” soon. 

Gritting her teeth, Shoko made the only decision her sleep-deprived and panic-numbed brain could at the moment, “I Italian no learn. What mafia is?”

Ignorance.

Blind. Fucking. Ignorance. 

So what if she’d been talking in perfect, standard Italian before? Do they have proof? No? Then it was just their delusions. 

What about the fact that all of them would then supposedly have had the same delusion? Well, it’s always good to periodically check the pipes for chemical contamination, and if that’s not able to convince them, then she would just threaten to call the police to come and investigate potential hallucinogenic drug abuse. Shoko didn’t believe that even the nicest mafiosos liked having police searching their bases. 

Sure enough, Giotto backed off once he heard the absurd answer, though this time, there was more confusion than frustration in his eyes. Vaguely, Shoko could hear him muttering, “...intuition can’t…wrong.” Whatever problem he was having now, she hoped that he could think about it long enough for her to leave first. 

She looked longingly at the window again. 

However, this time, instead of seeing the rolling green hills and old-timey villages outside, Shoko’s eyes connected with that of a giant stingray. 

What are the chances this world naturally evolved flying sea creatures?

Although she had hoped, Shoko knew that the possibility was a solid 0%. That idea was further confirmed when she saw the ray rider. 

Shit .

She was tempted to pretend and faint right then and there. Unfortunately, she suspected that if she were to really go through with that idea, the next time she woke up, it’d be in a pool of blood freshly juiced from the inhabitants of this castle.

How better to achieve that splashy special effect than by putting a sorcerer suspected to be one last push away from becoming a curser; two sorcerer acquaintances of his, unconscious by unknown means; and a group of suspected criminalistic ‘civilians’ standing over their bodies?

As she’d thought, Suguru’s attention instantly focused on the fainted Satoru, a myriad of emotions, confusion, fear, and relief, flashed through his eyes before finally settling on anger, “What the fuck did you do to him?” he demanded, directing his question at the closest person to Satoru…her?

Chapter Text

Shoko’s pupils dilated as countless cursed spirits poured out from the crack behind Suguru (?). 

This crazy-! 

She cursed in her mind. 

As if there weren’t enough problems on her plate already, something was now wrong with Suguru (?)’s memories!

“Where have you taken us?”

Shoko took advantage of the fact he was waiting for her to respond to his question to subtly glance at Satoru, who Suguru (?) had taken great care to hide behind himself —guarded by at least 10 first-rank cursed spirits— and specified the problem. 

Rather than as a collective, there was only something wrong with Suguru’s memories of her.

She couldn’t help but assume the problem was being caused by It, that creature that had plagued her childhood and left her with more issues than she was willing to acknowledge.

The young girl collapsed onto the ground, staring fixedly at the REDREDREDRED-

[∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿]

The translucent screen interrupted Shoko before she could continue to reminisce. 

She sighed and shoved the problem down with the rest. Focus on the present , she told herself. 

Although memory loss induced by It wasn’t good either, it usually becomes indefinitely easier to fix as long as she intervenes…though the price of that interference… 

So the present wasn’t good either. Shoko shut down that thought as well before it could progress any further. Focus on the present, Shoko, she enforced to herself.

“I don’t take keenly to my enemies getting distracted in front of me, Curser,” Suguru (?) warned, causing Shoko to jot out of her thoughts and quickly duck behind Giotto’s desk while pulling down the said owner of the furniture as well, narrowly avoiding a cursed spirit’s spit acid attack. Glancing backward at the newly formed ‘window’ told her that unfortunately, the sorcerer wasn’t pulling back any punches today. 

Next to her, Giotto sucked in a deep breath as his eyes took in the damage that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Looking at how he was acting, it was clear to Shoko that she couldn’t get any help from the inhabitants of this world in pertinence to matters of the spell world, not when they couldn’t even see cursed spirits.

She forcefully bit back diverging thoughts that were starting to form. The present is fine. The present is good. The present is great. She repeatedly self-hypnotized herself, hoping that her issues could just go die in a hole right about now.

Everything was fine. Suguru (?) thinking that she’s a Curser for some godsforsaken reason? Great! Being forced to confront him by herself? Amazing! Shoko forcefully tore her gaze away from the window just beyond her reach, which was starting to look more and more tempting. It was fine.

She took a deep breath and tried to properly focus and analyze the situation.

The possibility of talking it out with Suguru (?) was all but nigh nonexistent, as long as their screws are even semi-screwed in, nobody sane would believe such an impossible thing as a person suddenly, menacingly popping into existence over the unconscious body of your classmate, claiming that they were your other classmate, who, conveniently, you have memory loss of. Not to mention, even if Suguru was civilized enough to listen to her, it would take time, time that she was very much lacking currently— in consideration of whatever insane whims It could throw her way.

[00:04:59]

As if responding to her thoughts (It probably really was), a timer popped up in her peripheral vision.

Great. 5 minutes. Shoko was near a mental breakdown. 

As if everything wasn’t enough, she was now supposed to figure out everything in 5. Fucking. Minutes. Shoko couldn’t even bear to think of the opening in the wall that would lead outside anymore, for fear that her body would move before her mind could stop it. 

She was now both physically and metaphorically stuck. 

[00:04:47]

Despite her brain running overtime to try to circumvent the problem, each path she thought of was ruthlessly cut off the next second. She couldn’t run, that would end in a bloodbath; she couldn’t stay, that would defeat the whole purpose; she couldn’t…

Unless-

Suddenly an absurd thought popped into her mind, one that was likely the exact same one as what It had wanted her to come to.

[00:02:45]

Can an item be used on someone without their permission?

[Of course]

Shoko let out a deep breath. 

She was right. A narcissistic existence such as It would not let the world function as it is. Although she didn’t know what the goal of It was, based on experience, letting people go of her own accord had always achieved the best results, so, even though she didn’t want to trust It with Satoru and Suguru’s safety, there is no other way forward unless she is willing to set a wager with the lives of the innocent. 

A small, bitter smile appeared as she realized what she was about to do. Still, she did not go back on her decision. 

[Do you wish to use ‘A Way Back’ x 2?]

“You already know the answer, you bastard.”

[00:00:03]

Suguru (?) didn’t even have time to finish his words before he and Satoru’s figures dissipated into the air, “Yo-” 

“-u!” 

The scenery began to obfuscate before Suguru’s eyes, bringing with it a sense of unexplainable queasiness. From a period before the concept of time was actualized, to the present— Suguru was forced to witness it all, his brain no longer lucid enough to command his muscles to shut around his eyeballs. 

But, just before all his senses were deprived, a pair of cold, yet contradictorily warm hands covered his eyes. 

“………devolve…...nihility……” the owner of the pair of hands said. Suguru couldn’t quite catch most of their words, his brain still too disorientated to even attempt to process the entity’s words. 

The entity didn’t seem to mind much either that their conversational partner wasn’t even coherent enough to pay attention to their words as they continued to talk to themselves, “…annoying……messed…memory……It……combination…your…traits?” they complained, “...death…couldn’t…-pare..e any peace.”

After finally reconnecting his brain with his thoughts, Suguru’s hearing came back into focus right as the entity finished their words, “...Who are you?” he asked. Although he wanted to push away the entity —he assumed a woman, from the entity’s use of あたし to address herself— he still kept in mind what he assumed to be a warning at the beginning. 

Instead, he tried to summon a cursed spirit to try and fix the problem of leaving his back exposed to a stranger. As long as the woman showed any hint of attempting to harm him- Suguru’s heart dropped.

His cursed energy wasn’t responding to him. No, rather than not responding, it was as if they were being erased the second they left his body!

The strange woman sighed, “You’re making my job harder, you know?” she said. 

Suguru’s blood ran cold. With how she said it, there was no doubt that the woman was the one to create this strange phenomenon, “What did you do?”

“Nothing much,” the woman brushed off the topic with a flick to his forehead, “Geez, even Gojo wasn’t this rowdy…well, I guess being unconscious had helped a lot.” 

Satoru!

Suguru began to fiercely struggle again, uncaring for the consequences of his choice, “What did you do to him?!” he demanded, a tinge of desperateness seeping into his words, but just as he was about to successfully turn his head and catch a glimpse of the woman’s face, the scalpel arrived at his neck.  

“Don’t, Geto, it’ll ruin quite a few things if you look back right now,” her voice sounded again, this time, however, it sounded more exhausted and strained to him. Although he couldn’t understand why, Suguru felt a sense of loss as he realized that her words had been directed at him. 

It feels like…he should know her.

He mentally shook his head to clear himself of the obviously ridiculous thought. How could he know someone he couldn’t even remember?

A period of silence followed before the woman seemed to finally collect herself, and let out a long sigh, “You don’t have to worry about Gojo, he’s right next to you, here, you can even kick him if you want, just move your leg to the right a bit. And besides, being exposed to his own domain expansion won’t hurt him.” 

Satoru’s domain expansion? When did that become a thing? 

The woman, sensing his source of confusion, “Ah, the person who established the domain wasn’t the Gojo you know, it's a parallel universe version of him who’s older,” explained as if it would all come together and make sense now that she’d clarified it like that. 

Suguru barely managed to nod along, even if he had no clue what the woman was saying, but at least Satoru appeared to be safe —he kicked just to make sure. But since that problem was temporarily solved…

“How do we leave?” 

“...about that-” Although he couldn’t see, Suguru felt that the woman must’ve looked away before replying, “We’ll have to wait a bit.”

“...”