𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑫𝑶𝑴 𝑶𝑭 𝑴𝑨𝑳𝑰𝑪𝑬 ⇢ Gojo Satoru

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐈 - 𝐒𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍

SATORU GRIMACED, the thought quickly turning bitter as he pulled out a tablet from his pocket, the mission log blinking rapidly on the screen. It was certainly a nice update from the old-fashioned notepads – all courtesy of the Kinzoku money, of course.

"It's not a big deal." Gojo said quickly, eyes scanning the report typed out on the tablet. "Let's go, we can chat once this Curse has been dealt with."

Mikazuki narrowed her eyes. She'd noticed the hurried tone, and although she would have loved to complain about his tardiness one more time, something in the back of her mind prevented her from doing so. Satoru already had enough shit to deal with, he didn't need Mikazuki's ill-timed complaints. The pair of sorcerers began walking into the area, the empty parking lot disappearing into the distance as they entered the courtyard.

Mikazuki looked up, taking in the large concrete structure around her. The place looked to be abandoned, with large vines and greenery growing from every crack and climbing up the dilapidated walls while the floor was littered with dry leaves and pieces of concrete that had popped out. The sorceress paused, eyes now set on the structure of what had once been a giant cooling tower with smoke billowing out from the top of the chimney.

Mikazuki turned to Gojo, squinting her eyes at the building and cocking her head to the side.

"What is this place supposed to be, anyway?"

Satoru looked down at the report once again, a heavy sigh falling from his leap.

"This is the Kyoto Power Plant." He began to explain as they made their way across the empty courtyard and into the lobby. "It was abandoned in the late 70's and has served as a station for Curses since then." Satoru described calmly. "Most of the Curses eventually move on, but some linger here and become a danger to the local transient community. It's mostly low-grade Curses, but recently a special-grade decided to set up shop inside."

Mikazuki nodded absentmindedly. She'd read the report – three homeless men had been murdered in the last week, a high death-rate for such low-level Curses. Meaning another Cursed spirit must have claimed the territory, and as such, it was their job to take exorcise it before any more deaths could occur.

"There's been three dead so far, nothing left but their bones." Satoru paused, squinting to read the words on the tablet. "Our task is to clear the area one last time before the demolition crew comes by this Wednesday."

Mikazuki halted her steps, taking another good look. The pair was currently standing in what had once been the lobby areas. The place was nearly completely gone, with walls crumbling and large gaps into the floor along with cracks running down the pavement. Still, there was an eery beauty in it, the kind of beauty that can only thrive from the absence of humans. Nature reclaiming what was rightfully hers.

"It's so pretty for a power plant, though." Mikazuki mumbled, pushing past a half-demolished wall and stepping into another large room. "This place is trashed; I'm surprised this wall is still standing."

Satoru rolled his eyes but followed the sorceress through the gap in the wall.

"The whole power plant is falling to pieces, be careful where you step." He warned, smile falling from his lips the moment his brain registered what he'd said.

It was a habit, one he had from ten years ago and one he didn't realize he could slip back into so easily. Mikazuki knew this, and although she used to enjoy it – back then she didn't know better – now it felt like a stab in the gut, like Gojo could only see her as an incompetent sorceress, unable to take care of herself.

It no longer felt like a compliment, but a reminder of her ineptitude.

The sorceress pressed her lips into a thin line, turning to face the man, a wave of anger lingering behind her golden eyes.

"Why?" She asked, voice shaking with contained anger. "Are you worried I'll hurt myself?"

Are you worried I'll mess this up like I have everything else? That voice that strangely resembled Kinzoku Asahi provided. She'd never been good enough for him – just like she was never enough for Satoru either. Gojo opened his mouth to answer, but before he could say anything at all, Mikazuki tripped on one of the toppled pieces of concrete. The sorceress steadied herself quickly, a silent Curse falling from her lips.

"I'm not a damsel in distress Satoru, I can take care of myself." Mikazuki was quick to retort despite the fact that she'd just been proved wrong by a wonky piece of concrete.

Gojo twisted his mouth, his stare falling on the sorceress before glancing back at the hole they just came through and then on her left leg. The Kinzoku was wearing a pair of black jeans, but even through the thick fabric he could still glimpse the rough edges of the ugly scar that wrapped itself around her left leg. Mikazuki could see the annoyance filtering through is face, that irked expression she knew so well settling on his features.

"If that were the case, then you wouldn't be walking around with a bum leg, would you?" He called back, a ferocious anger settling in on his gaze.

Mikazuki's face flushed red at the mention of her scar, but instead of retreating back into the shy girl she used to be, the sorceress crossed the distance between the two, slamming her finger into his chest. Satoru remained calm, watching as the sorceress quickly retreated back, the Infinity around him repelling her own Eternity. He could see the anger seething under the surface of her golden eyes, yet he could also recognize the intense sadness hidden underneath.

"Here's a word of advice, Satoru." Mikazuki began, spitting his name as if she was talking about a Cursed spirit and not the man she'd been engaged to since she was fourteen. "Keep those thoughts to yourself, because next time I won't do you the kindness of ignoring them." She drew out each word slowly, the words spilling from her lips nearly the tip of the iceberg. "You don't know what I had to go through, what I had to do in order to survive."

Satoru settled down as the words gradually registered into his brain.

You don't know what I had to go through, what I had to do in order to survive. Mikazuki was right. He didn't know – and not only did he don't know, but he hadn't even asked, had he? Gojo had just assumed, pretty much like everyone else working for the Magistrate, like every sorcerer who had crossed paths with the woman.