the sun in the sky | gojo satoru ✔

the unimaginable vast expanse

Gojo Satoru's eyes sparkled brighter than any other star she's ever ever seen.

If a candle was lit inside of a dark room alongside him—his eyes would be the one to glow brighter. No candle, no star, no light could glimmer as brightly and as vividly as his.

But, perhaps— the girl thought. Perhaps it wouldn't be right to compare them to any star.

Gojo Satoru's eyes were a deep, yet shallow-water blue. They were blue, yes, like the ocean.

But Gojo Satoru held the Six Eyes. He was born with them. From Head-Maid Akiyama, she heard many stories of the legendary, the glorious Six Eyes. The power it would give to a being. With such power, you are free.

And Gojo Satoru was the first in one-hundred years to inherit such power.

The girl decided that Gojo Satoru was better than to stay in the limits of the ocean. In his eyes, the white hues gave him freedom.

Gojo Satoru was free. The sky was his domain, not even his limit. He could see everything.

He was free.

A scream shook throughout the room.

Maids occupied the room, hushed whispers and eyes of fear. The girl, who's thoughts were filled with the true meaning behind Gojo Satoru's eyes, was crouched in a corner. She clutched her clothes, she bit her bottom lip—she refused to whimper.

Head-Maid Akiyama was angry again. Her dark eyes blazed with true menace—and yet, they seek pleasure.

A girl, not much older than her, crumbled on the tatami floor. Her cheek was stained red.

The girl knew—the crumbled girl tried not to cry. Her chest heaved, and her face quivered. They thought the same— don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, or it will get worse.

"Such a disgrace." Head-Maid Akiyama spat, and the crumbled girl flinched at the tone. Her abyss-black hair was splayed over her face like a curtain drape.

The crumbled girl's lips shook with such fright. "I-I—I am sorry, Akiyama- san. I won't make another mistake—"

She hit her again.

The crumbled girl no longer tried to hold back her tears.

Do not, the younger girl thought as she stared at the scene, unmoving from the corner. She felt safer there. Weak, she thought again. But she was weak too.

Akiyama- san was still a maid. A maid who held power over those below her, however.

"A nuisance who cannot even pour tea correctly." Another slap. "Did you know the temperature of the water? You pathetic," Another one. " Little ," And another one. " Girl!"

The girl who had crumbled had a small stream of a shiny red travel down her face, starting from her nose. The blood mixed with her tears. She chanted her apologies like a prayer— "I'm sorry, I'm-Im sorry, it won't happen again, I'm s-sorry!"

The little girl wanted out.

She wanted to leave. She always had.

But the walls behind her were thick. They were no different from being imprisoned. No matter how hard she pushed, she, herself, was too weak.

And yet, in the center of all the madness, Gojo Satoru was free.

And the amount of freedom he held scared her.

She heard gasps. Akiyama -san was going to hit the crumbling girl again.

And then, a maid older than her, but years younger than Head-Maid Akiyama was foolish enough to try and stop the elder.

"Akiyama-san, that's enough, please—"

The little girl did not want to see this.

Like the coward she was, she buried her face into her knees, covering her ears with her hands. She didn't want to hear it either.

But she was weak. The little girl did hear it.

When she cracked a shaking glance at the scene, there were two crumbling girls on the floor. She heard panicked whispers and heavy breathing—mainly from herself.

Akiyama- san was relentless. Her aim were the older ones now, years older than the little girl. They had names, she did not.

"Lazy, perhaps?" Akiyama- san's tone was venomous. "Is that why you decided to replace yourself with a brat so incompetent?"

An older maid, brown hair tied back, looked devastatingly afraid. "N-No, of course not, Akiyama-san! It—it's the Gojo boy! He-he says he doesn't find it worth his time for us 'older ones' to personally serve him—"

Akiyama- san glared at the girl. No words were said from her.

A sigh. And then, beats later, a chuckle. It passed a shiver down the little girl's body. "That spoiled child. Whenever he doesn't get exactly what he wants, he acts so high and mighty."

The whispers diminished slightly.

The little girl, still frozen in the corner, stared at Akiyama- san with wide eyes. Akiyama-san, she—she had just insulted the Gojo heir!

Her laugh was cold. "In my many years of serving the Gojo Clan, who knew that the first inheritor of the Six Eyes after, so, so, long would be a child like him." Her eyes slowly scanned the room of the fearful maids, still trembling.

The little girl's heart went cold when Akiyama- san's eyes landed on her crippling form.

Stand up, she urged herself. But she was scared. Stand up, or you know what will happen! Stand up! Stand up!

But Akiyama- san was already in front of her, kneeling down so that she was eye level with her trembling eyes.

Akiyama- san's hand grabbed her face, fingers and thumb painfully squeezing her pale cheeks. The little girl could feel her sharp fingernails, carving crescents into her cheeks.

She couldn't move.

"Such a youthful face." Akiyama- san seemed to say, almost dreamily. She then narrowed her piercing-black eyes.

"You. How old are you again, child?" It didn't sound like a question. It sounded like a demand.

The little girl felt her throat clog up. She was too scared to swallow. "E-Eight." That's what she was told, she was.

She hummed, her hand shifting her face as she observed her features. Her yellow and purple flowery kimono was engraved into the young girl's mind. The little girl had nothing about her that stood out—she knew that for a very long time.

She smirked, a poisonous smirk. "The Gojo boy is ten. Splendid. Tell me, child, are you obedient?"

She did nothing but nod. She hoped she was.

"Will you do what is commanded of you, with no hesitation?"

She shakily nodded once again.

After a beat, Akiyama- san's smile widened. "Good." And a second later, "You know what the consequences of your failure will be."

The little girl didn't know what that meant.

She was being dragged by the arm, through the crowd of maids, past the two crumbles who still couldn't get up. There were no protests that came out of her mouth—her throat felt dry and numb.

Not even a whimper.