the sun in the sky | gojo satoru ✔

like a rat

Akiyama-san had been told of her crime.

The elderly women had called her into another room. The young girl knew, oh, she knew—she knew that her actions wouldn't hav even ignored for much longer.

"I find it amusing, really, child." She smiled, a cold smile. She stood with her back faced to her, and the little girl's eyes blazed into her kimono. Yellow and purple. Flowers. What type of flowers? She didn't know.

But she did know to stay quiet.

She could do that with ease.

Akiyama- san turned around. She could see her wrinkly faces from the candle light.

"We thought it was a mouse. Or a rat. Perhaps we weren't wrong."

The young girl trembled. She knows.

"Like a rat, slipping away under our noses wasn't so difficult." Akiyama- san edged towards the counter, picking a rounded-lid up, revealing a plate.

A plate of the squishy-sweet snacks she has stolen for a few weeks. The mochi, Gojo Satoru had called them.

Her eyes were stock still on them.

Akiyama- san picked the plate up. "Delicious, aren't these?"

She was waiting for an answer. The little girl's throat felt still. "I-I—"

"You would know, wouldn't you?" She smiled again, head lolled slightly to the side. The candle light shifted on her face. "You rat."

She flinched.

The elderly women placed the lid back over the plate. "We have these pre-made for the child's mother, you see. She's such a kind women. She enjoys such things."

She enjoys such things.

The young girl has committed treason. Such a small, act—worth every coin and life in her body.

"Now, now, child." Akiyama- san stepped towards her, each step making the little girl colder, and even more small. Akiyama- san kneeled, eye-level with the young girl just as she did the day she had given her the command. Akiyama- san clawed her cheeks with her fingernails as she pinched her face in her palm, just as she did before.

Her lips opened, a terrible sign. "Did I teach you to steal, girl?"

She could not answer. You did not, Akiyama-san. It is my fault. I am guilty. She knew the answer, but she feared making the slightest of sounds would cost her everything.

And then, the elderly women slapped her face. It didn't hurt until a second later.

A tiny whimper escaped her small lips.

"Answer." A command.

She did. "N-No, Akiyama- san. I am guilty!" She tasted blood inside her mouth, the taste mocking her to her very core.

A pause. Then, Akiyama- san's lips curved into a smile. A wicked smile, so very wicked. She hummed. "I thought so." Her cold hand lightly caressed the girl's inflamed cheek.

It stung. Yet, she stayed silent.

Akiyama- san let go of her face. She stood up, walking past the young girl.

"Resume your duties, child. The Young Master seems to have some queer interest in you, which is why your presence is still needed."

The young girl clenched her small hands, scratching a part of the tatami floor.

"Do not step out of line again, rat."

The door slid shut behind her.

(The young girl wanted to scream).

Gojo Satoru had returned late that night. His training must have been longer. It worried her, yes—a worry for him seemed to cloud the burden in her chest. But she should not be worried for him. For he would turn out to be one of the greatest Jujutsu Sorcerers—worry was the last thing she should do for him.

When she opened his door, he was sitting with his legs folded underneath him. He was reading the same book, a book in which she recognized yet could not read. His face glowed with the glow of a small candle light, and yet—his eyes glowed brighter.

Her cheek throbbed, and she pushed away that useless curiosity.

"Your dinner, Young master." She managed to speak without a stutter. Gojo Satoru had become more approachable, of course.

She bowed after setting his food down, a small, small smile on her lips. The candle light in Gojo Satoru's room was different from the candle light Akiyama- san had. It was warm.

To her surprise, Gojo Satoru looked at her.

He rarely did. He spoke to her, yes—but looked? This was the first time. Or second time? She didn't know. It was too rare to keep track.

She was taken aback. The candle light burned softly, the hazy flickering noise of the flame small in her ears. She too, had the glow of the candlelight dancing on her face. Her cheek stung and throbbed—yet, she payed no attention to the trivial matter.

Because Gojo Satoru's eyes were beautiful.

She knew they sparkled. She knew they glowed brighter than any star, she knew they were more intense than any ocean she had seen in the few paintings scattered across the Estate walls.

But this was the first time she acknowledged about how beautiful they really were. Not the power they held, the fear they caused—but the pure beauty of those sparkling ornaments.

His eyes were slightly wide, his poker face discarded momentarily as he gazed at her. It was like the first moment he had tried the sweet, delicious, so-called mochi. The dragonflies on his yukata design flew, buzzing around.

She stared.

And in that moment, she realized that she had been staring.

She panicked, but a small panic. "Please forgive me, Young master. Please enjoy your meal."

His face was pensive in the corner of her eye. She wanted to leave.

The Young master did not utter a word in her presence, even as she left the room.