𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗲𝘀𝘁 | 𝙙𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙣 𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙧

1

[ PROLOGUE ]
length of time

BLURRY. Everything felt so fuzzy. Like your head was nuzzled under the warmth of a woolen blanket, yet the goo inside the thick skull of your head was spinning. Lurching in cloudless repose, an induced nausea that flared up a headache. One so painful it felt almost lightheaded, so to speak.

Where you were was a question in and of itself. It felt like hours that you laid there, gazing upwards with a total absence of regard. Breathing, in and out, a chore commit in such a drunken daze.

Half lidded, what laid before your glossy eyes were the dull sky, sullen and bleak — it was as though it was on peak of rain. Mundane as it was, there was nothing but the endless drab that hauled the horizon. Streaks of cotton clouds were non-existent, almost hiding from the impending dread that masked the sky. Figurines of trees heeded your vision from above, branches sharp and thick, it jut out in many forms of irregular statures like knives.

You were in a forest, emerged in snow. Laid on your back, with both arms spread out embracing the callous ground. It was christmas all over again: a reminiscent glint of memory. You remembered getting heaved over the ground by the armpits as a young toddler.

Gojo, in all of his youth, had you by his palms, smiling so widely it felt genuine. You heard him remark something about being his little "strongest person", followed by another lift, and there you went up in the air, flailing. What you felt then was terror, you were terrified at how long the ground seemed to stretch —a prolonged death of falling, you tried kicking your legs to alleviate the fear.

Gojo was nothing different. He was the same.

"In we go!" He'd yell and you both would plunge into the marshmellow softness of the snow. Rolling all around, until every heat emergent within your skin were diminished of warmth. When you went silent, struggling with flailing hands to get out from the snow. He'd catch the terrified look on your face and clutch your hands before you would sink further into the embrace.

Delicately he brought you onto his lap, arms holding you close as you blinked airily on your spot. Lightly you shook from the overwhelming cold, burrowing into your scare as petite, plush fingers dug into the seams of his shirt. When you deemed it was safe, you melted against his chest.

"Come on, don't be scared." Doe eyes met his dark ones, and he'd smile, a finger under the rim of his glasses, pulling it up. His curulean eyes shone like the ocean. Your curiosity was peaked and in a child-like trance you stood up, hands reaching up to pad his face, neglecting the earlier fear of your own accord.

"It's alright." A low croon rumbled from his chest, and his palms slowly reach out to cup your cheeks, squishing it as though he was in awe. Your face crinkled in subtle annoyance, but even a child alone can understand the feeling of warmth.

"You're my strongest. My strongest little sorcerer."

It was something warmer than the embrace of a hug.

A fog before the storm. Your fingers twitched lightly, gaining conciousness. It was cold, it felt cold. Alone. Isolated. Your hands were numb, pierced by the sensation of snow. You wanted to move but it was too arduous. Your body felt like a rock, heavy and numb, head reeled with a pain-soaked haze that embezzled your mind like a summer storm. Your vision was slipping in and out, focusing like the lens on a cam-corder — indecisive with what objective to concentrate. Shifting all around on the views of what's an illusion and whatnot.

"Where..." You croaked, lips parted, a hush of breath fanning over the imbued crack of your bruised flesh. "....Glasses...." You hoarsed and rasped a cough that shook your lungs, flared your eyes in moments of stabbing pain. The sensation hardly mattered. What mattered was what you felt. You saw a face, then slowly, your eyes widened in gradual realization.

It was as though the hollowed ice of your body had melted. The water seeping through the inherent cracks of your shell, drizzled and boiled with pops of glutinous flame. Coursing through, wasn't what one would regard as normal. You were calm, but the gradual agitation that continues to lurch within your chest, made you all the more enraged — irritated, exasperated, all that virtues.

" Nanami..." You spat. Teeth gritted, you tried sitting up, but every movement deemed painful the more you moved. Rage gripped your chest like tight coild of metal. Your vision got heavy as you gasped for air. Fingers clawing the ground — jutting against the snow like blocks of icicle sticks. You hated that feeling. Endless indignation, it all and will always be a hassle. "Yu...where—"

Just then, a silhouette, from what you can make out was a figurine, lurked among the vestige. Padded footsteps neared with constant click of gears — a katana perhaps. Though the fog was thick, the land obscured with a heavy blow if blizzard, your electric azure eyes were able to discern even the tiniest speck of dirt on the ground. Lifting your body, you dragged it across the laiden snow. Slumped it against the bark of the tree, and with your hands you and held your palm out in front of you, waiting to blast anything within a moment of flick.

It's right in front of me, maybe if i—

"You're not from around here, are you?" It spoke, and emerged from the wind was a rather young man — preferably around your age. "It seems that your presence differed largely, more so greatly than those demons." He continued to speak, eyes dulled in a morose cobalt blue hue, lips pursed with his expression resting as though everything bore him. "Should I be aware, that you're not a threat?"

His choice of clothing irked you. It was fairly traditional —too traditional for your taste. It was different too, like you were suddenly plunged into another era. And it wasn't long before you established his other hand was hovering over his katana. You can sense the hostility with how tense his fingers were outstretched, ready to clamp around the leather binds in a moment of swiftness.

With a last reluctant step, he halted inches away from your foot and glanced down from his nose —- "I'm sure it's already understandable. Silence does not settle anything. Answer me. " He demanded callously, and with another click, a gust of wind bestowed. The katana now laid inches from your nose. He turned it, blade glistened under the cloudless sunlight. " Who may you be?"

The situation all seemed too enchant you. It was amusing, and you felt like laughing. You haven't got a clue of where you were or the last of what happened. Were you making progress? You didn't know the answers to the questions. Did it, perhaps, make any sense? You didn't know the answer to that one, either. You were in the middle of nowhere, trapped in a cold place — a mountain to your deduction, shivering in the cold amidst a blizzard. Ribs, bones and all that, bruised and broken.

And, now, you were threatened by a stranger, blade pointed inches from death.

"It all never seemed to end."

You looked up, eyes glinted with pure fascination. Giyuu takes a step back, uneased by the notion. A wolfish grin then cracks out between your teeth, prodding your cheeks until your eyes no longer bore the innocent fascination he percieved.

Rather it reigns of lunacy, and unadulterated rage.

"Why," You chortled, locking him into a stare down. "I'm the strongest sorcerer..."