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Song Theme: New Gods by Grimes *next chapter contains lemon*
A stack of old news papers and worn sudoku sitting in a coat of dust rest in the corner of the room next to a persistent lively bamboo plant.
The floor creaked as he walked about it—this homely little house seemed to bend to mother nature's will and persistence, withstanding all possible outcomes—is that where the (L/n) sisters had gotten it from?
Satoru held his hand up and ran his rough fingers over the low ceiling of the living room.
The sleeves of Violet's purple kimono had been tied back. She released her sleeves as she stood up to dust her kimono off.
A futon decorated with a bubbly Sailor Moon design had been set out on the tatami for Gojo. It was a miracle his huge frame could fit into it. Unfortunately, this futon was the only other one in the house Violet and (Y/n) could find.
"Here. I washed these earlier just for the sake of it...I wasn't expecting a guest." Violet said flatly, handing Satoru a folded mens kimono. He held the soft cotton fabric in his hands.
"This is..?"
"My father's." Violet nodded stiffly before walking off. Her eyes were watery as she walked out the sliding door. Gojo read about their father's death, but hadn't known the specifics of how the counsel carried it out.
"Violet." Gojo called out. Violet stopped at the sliding door, she kept her eyes forward.
"Yeah?"
"You feel that too right?" He took off his shirt, beginning to undress; the light illuminated his plump skin. "Someone else is here."
Violet quieted her screaming thoughts, her hand just grazing over the door's wooden material. The sound seriousness in Gojo's voice gave her no choice but to respect his keen gifts. She had no choice to respect him; even (Y/n) hadn't noticed the presence.
"—Oh yeah. Forgot to say I wasn't born with any cursed techniques or energy." She spoke bitterly before leaving, closing the door on her way out. Gojo sighed.
Midnight fell.
(Y/n) put on a loaner coat she had in the closet from her sister. Opening the window she climbed out to the side of building were there was a view of the budding strawberries she had been taking care of. They glowed in the zenith moonlight. The sky above was beautiful, full of dazzling jewels and enlightening celestial crystals—they shone and left an impression on (Y/n).
She placed her hand in the pocket of the jacket to stay warm, and was surprised by the feeling of a pocket knife resting next to her hand. One more look up at the moon, took all the questions she had away.
"Why do I miss this?" (Y/n) asked herself aloud. It seemed like eons since she last seen the stars so bright and full of joy against the black space, the familiar feeling of the cold pinching her cheeks.
