the sun in the sky | gojo satoru ✔

a curious routine

There were no known complaints of the Gojo heir, so the girl was to continue serving him. He would always be in his room after his training. She served him breakfast, lunch, and dinner everyday.

It was a torturous routine. The girl feared her luck was just a ticking time bomb—she felt as if there was a time limit to her luck.

So everyday she chanted the same words in her head; Don't make any mistakes, don't disobey, do what is told, do what is ordered of you.

Do what is ordered of you, and you won't get hit.

And by a single tap, a single key out of place—it would all come tumbling down. She would crumble. Just like those two girls, and just like those before them. Before her.

Gojo Satoru, as what was expected from someone in such a high position as him—did not ponder over her existence. The girl simply thought it was better that way. Her job was only to serve the Gojo Heir—nothing more, nothing less.

And then, came the faithful day—her luck had run out.

Or so she thought.

Not even a mere five seconds passed before he said it. "I do not want it."

Oh no. Something was different. Something was wrong.

She panicked.

"I-I'm sorry—"

"It's bland. It's tasteless. I don't want it."

Oh.

"I-I see." She picked up the tray from his side, careful not to even allow a wrinkle to his futon. "I-I will go talk with the cook about your dissatisfaction, Young master."

He didn't give a reply.

She bowed, bowing again at the door and then she slid it close behind her.

When she turned, Akiyama- san stood a few steps away, arms crossed with a curious frown. Her yellow and purple yukata seemed to almost make the little girl dizzy.

"The Young master did not eat his breakfast today, I see." Her voice was a piercing cold, like an icicle had carved itself into her heart.

She avoided her gaze, looking down at the untouched tray of food. It looked luxurious and delicious to her, as she had never eaten food as good-looking as this—and yet—to the Gojo heir, it was bland, and tasteless.

"H-He," she swallowed a lump, yet another one formed just as quickly. "He did not want it, Akiyama-san." Her voice was low and meek, not wanting to disturb the Gojo Heir.

"Oh?" The little girl could catch a flicker of annoyance in Akiyama- san's voice.

Akiyama- san quickly hid her annoyance, however. The young girl could tell. "And why is that?"

The young girl's blood ran cold.

Akiyama- san thought she did something wrong. She thought that she had made a mistake.

That wasn't it!

"He-He said that it was 'bland', and . . 'tasteless'." She tried to control her trembling hands so that she wouldn't cause a ruckus with the tray. "I-I was going to ask the cook about whether he can have something different—"

"Something different?" Akiyama- san repeated. The young girl visibly flinched, immediately regretting both her words and actions. Akiyama-san will hit me, not here, but later.

But to her surprise, the Head-Maid did none of the sort. Instead, she heard her chuckle. It sounded like a bell of death to the little girl.

"Of course. Thank you for notifying me of such concerns, girl."

The young girl paused. She was rarely complimented.

And she still was, rarely complimented. Akiyama- san was not praising her—it was a warning. A warning saying, ' You were lucky. But luck won't always come to you.'

She knew that.

It was only just another reminder that she should keep, polished and never ending in the deep-depths of her mind.