ABSOLUTION ↪︎ toji f.

04 | fugitive

5 YEARS BEFORE
05 . 14 . 2002

SUMIRE HAD TOLD FUSHIGURO NOT TO SHOWER. It was rule number one of wound care, especially the morning after bleeding out at least half of his blood supply. But honestly, she should've known better than to leave him alone while she went to buy breakfast ingredients.

           So, ever one to get bitten in the ass by her poor decisions, Sumire walks in to Fushiguro sitting against the wall in her shower. Blood steadily seeps from between his sutures, turning the pooling water surrounding him pink.

           Sumire groans, feeling a headache building between her eyes. One nice thing. She does one nice thing and the object of her generosity can't be bothered to listen to her. Typical.

          At that, Fushiguro lazily opened an eye. Long eyelashes catch water, and they seem to glitter in the morning light— it's too pretty. Unfairly pretty for an asshole who refused to listen to her, and far too relaxed for someone who was basically sitting in a pool of his own blood. Fushiguro has the audacity to grin crookedly despite how obviously anemic he was, "Took your time, hm?"

          "Shut it." Sumire bristles and flashes the screen just long enough for him to read the words, "Why can't you just listen to me, god."

           "I felt gross." Fushiguro grunts, grabbing onto the side of the tub to try and hoist himself up. To his credit, he was able to get about halfway until he visibly wavered, looking pale.

          "Yeah well, you'll feel even grosser when your stitches get infected." Sumire types, then bends down to offer him an arm. She pointedly looks away from him, forcing herself to glare at the sink instead of letting her eyes wander across his naked frame.

          Fushiguro notices— because of course he does, the asshole— and Sumire can practically hear the smile in his voice when grabs onto her arm for balance. "Hm."

          A wave of cursed energy washes over Sumire at that moment, and she knows Fushiguro feels it too because he freezes. Sumi purses her lips— the level of control felt like a sorcerer. Not powerful, but one nonetheless.

          "Stay here and don't make noise." Sumire types and reaches over to flick off the bathroom light. As she rushes into the hallway, she sees Fushiguro nod slightly, eyes narrowed in a way that said he was still suspicious of her.

          Sumire swings open the front door and she's met with a gaunt man in a suit and an unfamiliar face. "Miss Kiyoshi Sumire?" He asks, nervously fiddling with his ID card. As if realizing for the first time that it was in his hand, he hands her the paper and bows at a perfect ninety-degree angle. He was an assistant director at Jujutsu Tech, it seemed.

          "Yes, that's me." Sumire signs. To her surprise, the man seems to understand her perfectly well.

"Good— Good morning uh, my name is Ichiji affiliated with uh Jujutsu Tech..." Ichiji seems to be set on looking everywhere but Sumire's face, as his eyes dart away from her's rapidly. "We received word of— of a uh— criminal sorcerer last being seen in this area... Did you happen to see a-anything?"

A million things flicker through her mind at once, but at the very forefront was the realization that Sumire was harboring some kind of fugitive in her bathtub now, apparently. Well that was just wonderful. She didn't care about maintaining appearances with the Elders— honestly, the less desirable she was, the quieter life she could live— but she'd never wanted to be placed in their crosshairs either.

The best thing would be to play dumb.

"Nothing that I can think of." Sumire answers without hesitation, then tilts her head like she's thinking. "Can I get a name and appearance for reference?"

"Well, his name is— um— Zenin Toji, codenamed the Sorcerer Killer... He's about uh, six foot with black hair and green eyes." Ichiji taps his chin, "He's supposed to have a scar over his lip as well. And he's likely heavily injured."

Sumire shakes her head, frowning. "I apologize, I haven't seen anyone that looks like that."

"I see..." Ichiji looks disappointed, and takes a step backwards. "Thank you for the help." As she confirms that Ichiji gets back into his car, she's immediately rushing over to the bathroom.

Fushiguro looks like he's about to say something, but before he can get a word in, Sumire lunges toward him and clamps a hand over his mouth. With her other hand she turns the shower on full blast, ignoring the hot water seeping into her clothes in favor of pressing an index finger to her own lips.

She needed Fushiguro to stay quiet— there was no way to know if that man had placed wards or listening shikigami to monitor the building. Before he said anything, Sumire had to make sure it was clear.

"Jiji." Sumire whispers, calling for her spirit. The black cat appears cautious, nervously flicking his eyes between Fushiguro— no, Zenin? Toji?— and Sumire carefully.  "Sweep the apartment building. Check for surveillance wards and destroy any on sight."

Sorcerer killer, huh? Gods above, what had she gotten herself into?

NOTE!
Ichiji, you forgot to mention his serious bazonka boobies. that's a crime.