STIGMA, Jujutsu Kaisen

seven

CHAPTER SEVEN, 七

HOSHIKO WOKE up gasping for air.

"Yo, you're finally awake Kurosawa!"

She spun around only to be lost for words, her mouth left hanging opening. "Gojo?!"

"That's my name."

The woman blinked, flabbergasted at the sight of him – his white spiky hair, black sunglasses covering every inch crystal eyes and soft lips curling into a smirk. It only took her a mere moment to regain her composure. "What the hell are you doing here?" She seethed, not kind enough to spare him of her usual levelled smooth tone.

"I'm touched that you have me as your emergency contact. Really, I am. But just letting you I'm not looking for a relation—"

She let out an annoyed breath, cutting him off, and ran her fingers through her hair. "Don't feel too special. I didn't have a choice, thanks to Yaga. Anyways, what happened?"

"Eh? You really don't remember what happened?"

She sighed and leaned her head back further into the pillow. With the slight movement of her body, a strong wave of pain coursed throughout her muscles, and she couldn't help but wince a little. "If I knew I wouldn't be asking you." 

Hoshiko's body was idle in bed but in the span of a few seconds she was already sitting upright, her legs swung around the side of the bed as she gulped down the glass of water. She wiped her mouth and proceeded to stand up, showing no signs of struggle or fatigue. She turned around and raised her eyebrows. "Are we done here? Can we go now?"

Gojo mirrored her action, standing up from his seat as well. "Someone's in a hurry. What's the rush for, Kurosawa?"

Hoshiko threaded arms quickly through her coat, realising that her arms were bare. Not that Gojo hadn't seen the black dragon that was marked along her forearm. He was one of the very few people that knew about it but what many including him did not know was the scars it hid behind it. Though she was not certain but had only hoped that this was the case. 

Her fingers trembled as she did her coat buttons up though not of the sudden breeze that entered through the windows but because of something else. Her throat was starting to constrict, her heart picking up the beat as her mind started to blur.

Gojo had long picked up the woman's sudden agitation, her shift of behaviour. It was the moment she realised she was in a hospital, lying on the bed. White sheets, white walls, machines, the sterile aseptic smell. She had been through this too many times.

"C'mon, Kurosawa, I think it's best to wait for the doctor to discharge you."

Hoshiko turned around, and what Gojo expected was a stern expression was in fact a smile. "I'm fine, Gojo. Really."

It was not the first time Gojo Satoru saw Kurosawa Hoshiko's scars, she fought desperately to hide. In fact, this would be the second time he had seen it. Ironically enough, both times were when she was lying on the hospital bed. 

He had never questioned her about it, nor did he plan to because he already knew. He knew her story, her struggles, her hardship. The hell she went through. 

Gojo had always thought everyone around him was weaker than him and they were. He grew up with people around him telling him how powerful and strong he was. In fact, he didn't need to be told, he knew. He was born powerful and strong. 

But the only person he never viewed as weak was Hoshiko. Her sheer strength and will to keep living and fighting after everything. Would he have been strong enough to live after all that?