the sun in the sky | gojo satoru ✔

a sweet treat

She had to do something.

It was the middle of the night. She could barely sleep. Some maids—her elders—had already gotten up, scrubbing the floors at this very moment. The ones around her age were still sound asleep.

Except her.

She knew they wouldn't change his meals. What he ate was what the Heads requested of their son, so he could wield the family power with pride and strength.

So she couldn't do it. The young girl was too frightened—she couldn't step into that room knowing what Gojo Satoru might do. It was the will of his parents, but he was still the heir.

She trembled. She always did. She was to live life in fear of what might happen to her if she disobeyed. The Young master wished for something different. The Heads of the house, his parents, already decided what is best for him. Akiyama- san obeyed the parents more than she did with the Heir.

Who was she to obey?

Akiyama- san, of course. But she served the family, meaning she also served the family. And currently, her job was to serve Gojo Satoru.

She was to serve Gojo Satoru.

Her breath hitched to a pause, before resuming. No. No, she was crazy. She would be mental if she was to actually do such a thing.

It's bland, it's tasteless, he had said.

She got ready, slipping her simple grey yukata on. She stepped over the sea of her fellow maids, apologizing internally to them.

Her footsteps were light as she walked herself closer and closer towards the kitchen. Her feet felt cold. When she entered, it was dark. She switched a small light on, not wanting to get caught.

She searched the kitchen, looking for anything that she could add to the Young master's meal. She came across a fridge, and her worry increased.

She should not be doing this. If she got caught by the cook, she would get punished.

But still, a foolish part inside of her felt the need to do something for the Young master she served.

When she opened the fridge, she spotted a plate of odd-looking, powdery balls. It had a plastic wrapped around it. What was it? Was the cook making this for the Heads? Herself, perhaps?

She carefully took the plate out, closing the refrigerator quietly enough to not make a ruckus. She removed the plastic wrap, then picked up one of the balls. It was squishy, yet the outside was dry. Odd.

With great fear, she took a bite out of it. It surprised her when it stretched from her mouth. She chewed it the best she could. Swallowed it. Hopefully, she didn't make a mess.

It tasted good. She had never tried anything like it before. The inside was red and sweet, and the outside was plain but soft. A nice contrast.

She ate the rest of the one in her hand, a small blush on her cheeks.

Food as delicious as that existed. It was amazing, really.

She quickly snapped herself out of her trance, putting the plastic over the plate again. She shifted her body, unsure of what to do for a moment.

She had to go. She had to hide it, and never get caught with it.

Eating one was already a harsh punishment—but stealing—this would get her punishment to become even more terrifying.

But the Young master mattered more.

She had hid the delicious snack in a cupboard, praying that it wouldn't get too warm. She pretended to sleep, but deep down inside, she was in a swirl of panic.

Then came the moment. She was given the tray of the Young master's breakfast—which was the same as its always been.

She managed to hide the plate of the mysterious, delicious soft snack as she arrived in front of his room. The young girl could feel her heart beating erratically. Her eyes found the plate—it still looked like it was in good condition. That was good.

And then she knocked with her trembling, small hand. The sunlight streamed behind her. "Young master, are you awake? I have your breakfast."

She held her breath, closing her eyes through the silence. She was afraid.

"Come in."

She opened her eyes, swallowing. Shakily, she slid the door open, bowing. She brought the tray over to his side, bowing again. She wasn't looking at him, but she always noticed how he was reading a book—the same book. She couldn't read, but she could tell the cover looked the same as he placed it down beside him.

A pause.

She could tell he was staring at the tray. Possibly the new plate.

"What is this?"

She was correct.

"Ah, well," Her blood ran cold. She had no idea what it actually was.

"Well, I," She swallowed. "I'm not so sure, but I know—I hear it tastes good." She hoped that Gojo Satoru shared similar taste buds to her—if he didn't, then she would get into big trouble.

Another pause.

"Is that so?"

Her breath hitched. Did he know? Was it the work of his Cursed Power, his Six Eyes that knew? "W-Well . ."

She trembled. This was not going well.

He did not wait for her to answer. He probably already knew. She panicked when she heard a click—he was going to eat it.

She bit her lip. What if he doesn't like it? What if he's offended that I stole something, instead of having something specially made for him? Would that make him feel lesser? Yes, that will happen. He will hate it and I will get punished. Akiyama-san will not like it.

I will get punished.

Her body trembled underneath her robe at the thought of it.

She heard him make a small sound. A small, slightly surprised sound. The young girl found herself moving her eyes up for the very first time, looking at his face for the very first time since the day she first saw his eyes.

A thick string of the squishy food stretched from his mouth like a leaf, to his chopsticks. His eyes were slightly wide, staring at it.

"U-Um," She panicked. "It's quite . . strange from other foods." She quickly tried to explain, her hands motioning was she spoke. They trembled, of course, too.

Luckily, the white-haired boy managed to bring the whole of the mysterious edible into his mouth swiftly. He chewed it.

The girl wanted to know what he was thinking.

He swallowed, then afterwards, he paused.

And then, "It's good."

The young girl felt a foreign feeling blossom in her chest. Was it reassurance? The feeling of being in the safe zone?

For the first time in a long time, the young girl smiled, a small, nervous smile. "Indeed . . . it is."