𝐶𝐸𝑅𝑈𝐿𝐸𝐴𝑁. jujutsu kaisen [✔]

𝒂𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚

HE THINKS OF YOU. He misses you. Everyday, constantly—in all things—but mostly your genuine smile that is full of life. Captivating and ethereal. Gently touching the hardened soul from his life as the strongest sorcerer.

Satoru takes out the pearl that you have given him. He always keeps it on his person. Also thinking that this small object serves as a reminder—not of the ocean—but of you.

These past few weeks were a nightmare. Missions after missions were assigned to him nonstop. He wants to see you again—to feel you close to him. But his duty was his responsibility to bear. Behind his well-worn mask is a lost man in a world of political intrigue—the burden as the heir of the most powerful sorcerer family.

“Satoru-sama, it's time for you to take a wife and produce an heir to the clan.” His father's trusted adviser told him. “Your father is now old. The main bloodline of the Gojo Family needs to continue as it has always been for centuries.”

It is the same incessant  peroration over again. They always have this conversation whenever he stumbles upon him in the hallway.

“I don't have plans yet to get married.” Satoru immediately shuts him down like always, waving his hand in a nonchalant manner as he gives his usual retort. He can see the frustration on the adviser's face.

The pearl-haired sorcerer then gave him a forced smile, trying to appease the latter. “But if you want me to marry, then at least let me choose my bride.”

His compromise does not conciliate the old adviser in any way as he hopefully expects. Rather it made him more discomfited.

“B-but, our clan's high priest has already chosen the bride. It has been predestined right before you were born!” He explains, trying to catch up to him. “Y-you cannot just choose any woman! This is the clan's future for goodness's sake, Satoru-sama!” He attempts to let him see reason. His graying hair is dishevelled from sweat due to the long strides made by the special-grade sorcerer.

“Then you cannot expect me to be married off.” Satoru speaks, halting his steps because he takes slight pity on the older man. “The main bloodline of the legendary Gojo Family ultimately ends with me.” He spats.

The adviser is almost a father-figure to him. As a child, he was his teacher. And he acknowledges and respects his continuing loyalty to his family up to this day, but this was a different matter. He needs to fight for his future. He needs to fight for you.

“B-but Satoru-sama—!” He objects and grows aghast at the idea. “Please, can you at least meet her?” He gestures at a specific location in the Gojo Estate. “She and her family have travelled far. She's waiting in the garden gazebo. At least grace her with your presence for a moment!”

“What for?” Satoru asks, remaining apathetic at the adviser's suggestions. “We are wasting each of our time with this nonsense. Let her go home. I don't want to see her.”

Satoru dismisses him once more.

“Give her a minute of your time, Satoru-sama. Not for her sake or for the family's, but for me.” He still insists, practically begging him. “Do this for me. I've helped in raising you as a child until you've grown. I've been with this family for all my life.” The adviser begins to bow his head parallel to the ground. “There's nothing I want more than your security and stability.” 

The jujutsu user releases a deep breath.

“Okay.” He reluctantly gives in, ceasing any further resistance. Contrary to popular belief, he still has compassion for anyone who deserves it. “Only for a minute, and after that—”

A singing voice then stops Satoru. The rhythmic successions of tones are resonating across the halls. Epiphay then grazes him, similar to the first touch of dawn after enduring the long, cold wintery nights.

“I need to go.”