the sun in the sky | gojo satoru ✔

what does a name mean: II

She caught a sakura petal in her palm.

A mindless game, she was playing. She was sweeping the garden in front of the Young master's room, making sure his terrain wasn't messy, nor unappealing.

But the sakura petals kept on dancing around her, moving in a rhythm like those elegant ladies in the paintings she saw around the estate. Sometimes, when she saw those paintings, she would imagine herself gliding from one foot to the other—a long, silky kimono flowing after her.

She was young. Yet she too, also had dreams.

Her hand closed around the petal. Her arm dropped, then, she let go of the pink feather. It fell to her feet, and now she wouldn't know which petal was which.

Dreams, as beautiful as they are, are not worth it if they were never going to come true.

The young girl had many dreams, and she knew that in the end they would only destroy her. She could not live with them.

"Hey, you!"

The young girl swam out of her thoughts, ears alert at the familiar tone. When she looked, it was a maid much older than her—a young women, perhaps. A teenager.

She held a nasty expression. "Don't stand there like a fool! The Young master is back from his training, his lunch is already prepared! Get moving, will you!"

And at that, the girl found herself running before she could even think.

When she opened the doors to his room, he was reading. She knew, of course, that it was the same book. Without even knowing what the cover said, she had already memorized the formation of the lines. The colors. The design.

"Your lunch, Young master." She spoke as she set the plates on the table. It smelled good. Her breakfast this morning had only been rice and pickled plums.

She made sure to set the plate of mochi carefully, afraid to lessen the perfection of the plating.

She tucked the empty tray to her chest. "Please enjoy your meal, Young master." Her small frame bowed. The saying was becoming second nature to her.

"Wait."

She halted in her movements. The young girl was about to get up, but paused at the sound of his commanding voice. Hesitantly, she turned around, facing him. His eyes were still absorbed in his book. "Yes, Young master?" And repeated the words she had said the day before, when he had asked for her name. "Is there something you wish for?"

A sakura petal glided in, landing in the space between them. He turned his head away from his book, still holding it in place, but now—now, he was looking at her. Again.

His bright blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight.

His lips parted. "Stay," He said.

The little girl felt her breath hitch. She felt a mixture of fear and confusion bubbling in her chest and mind. "Y-Young master?"

His mouth twitched. His expression was straight. "Stay." He repeated.

She was not experienced with such a command. Her nimble mind didn't understand the request. "I-I—Young master, I—"

"Must I repeat myself?" Again, irritation laced through the threads of his voice. The young girl has no choice but to obey.

She shook her head, rather quickly. "N-No, of course not, Young master. I'll stay right here." She should not have questioned his command.

He did not speak after that. He simply returned to his book, eating his lunch.

It was torturous.

She could not simply relax. It would be out of the question to. Before her, sat Gojo Satoru—the wielder of the Six Eyes, someone who sat in a position millions of times more higher than her. He had become more approachable, yes—but she couldn't simply forget who he was.

Has she forgotten?

That scared her.

She wanted to leave. She wanted to leave, and go back to her calming work of sweeping the garden. She wanted to leave, and scrub the floors clean until she calmed down. She wanted to leave, and catch her breath. She wanted to leave, she wanted to leave, Oh—how badly she wanted to leave, she wanted to leave, leave leave leave leave leave—

"Hina."

His voice managed to find the shore in her swarming thoughts. She frowned, a small frown, her eyes flickering back to the Young master. Did she mishear him? She wasn't familiar with the word: Hina? What did he mean—

He met her gaze. She felt as if she was being pulled into those blue gems.

"Hina." He repeated. "Your name will be Hina."

She felt her breath hitch. Every limb in her body halted. Her eyes widened significantly, a youthful, surprised expression.

Your name will be Hina.

She swallowed, feeling thunderstrucked. Her chest felt warm, it felt as if something has blossomed—such a rare feeling, she couldn't explain it. She didn't know what it meant.

"Young master," She breathed softly. "Is that—I-I mustn't. I certainly mustn't, as I am rather undeserving of a name given by someone such as yourself—"

"Don't blabber about. It's irritating." The young girl flinched at the tone.

"I'm sorry, I—"

He looked displeased. "It's irritating. I'm just repaying you, and you're giving me these stupid excuses." Gojo Satoru snapped, annoyed. The young girl should have felt scared at his exclamation—in fact, yes—it was more of an exclamation, rather than a snap of irritation.

She was confused.

I'm just repaying you.

Repaying what? For the Young master to repay something—especially to her— it was simply out of the question. Unthinkable.

Her face couldn't mask her emotions now. "Y-Young master, I don't understand—"

"Is that another excuse?"

This puzzled her. "Of-Of course not, Young master, I just—I just don't understand what you mean by repaying—"

"Fine then."

She felt her eyebrows knit together. "Huh?"

"You may leave." His tone was becoming leveled again.

She was too confused to comprehend his command. "Y-Young master—"

"Leave."

"I-I am sorry, Young master, please forgive me—"

"Hina."

Her eyes widened to the dark abyss as she bowed before him.

Your name will be Hina.

Her lips shook. "Of-Of course, Young master. Please enjoy your meal."

No response. A part of her was glad for it—she was saved from having to answer another puzzling thing, out of her experience.

She left the room quietly, bowing at the door then sliding it shut. Her small frame was shaking as she lightly leaned her back against the door. Her body cradled in on itself, hands fisted together. Her hair, a soft shade of black, fell over her face, sheltering her expression.

Your name will be Hina.

Hina.

Hina.

Hina.

She closed her eyes, squeezing them shut. She felt a strange, unexplainable feeling arise in her chest—the blossoming feeling was not absent.

"Hina." It tasted new, foreign.

But she loved it.

She had a name now.