𝑫𝒀𝑵𝑨𝑺𝑻𝒀 𝑶𝑭 𝑺𝑶𝑼𝑳𝑺 ⇢ Gojo Satoru

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐗𝐗𝐕 - 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄

THE KINZOKU HADN'T CELEBRATED HER BIRTHDAY IN A LONG TIME, and although this celebration was certainly not to her taste, she was still grateful they had both taken the time to attend. It didn't matter that Satoru was contractually obligated to accept, seeing as he was her previous fiancé, nor that he had already taken the time to present her with a gift. This party was just a formality, and yet, Mikazuki's heart still swelled when her gaze first met his across the ballroom.

Both Eshima and Satoru nodded; the young Zenin could feel his clammy hand in hers, and although the touch was comforting it also felt like a sort of trap, a prison that had been designed by their elders and that she could only hope escaping from one day. Was that how young Mikazuki had felt when she was engaged to Gojo, like a chess piece being played by their betters, part of a game she didn't have a say in?

The sorceress' lips turned into a fine line as her eyes settled on the couples' joined hands. The woman remained still and although her expression didn't change and her gaze never faltered, Satoru could see a troubled shadow crossing her face. Mikazuki bit her lower lip, unable to take her eyes from their intertwined fingers, almost as if the image itself was enough to offend her. In a way, it was. Despite the four long years during which the two had been engaged, Mikazuki had never been able to touch him like this; so carelessly, without having to worry the world would collapse for a single second of bliss.

And yet, here he was, joining hands with a complete stranger so easily it almost stole her breath away. For some inexplicable reason, this simple gesture felt like a stab in the heart, a knife twisting into her chest, deepening a wound that should have healed long ago. It hurt far more than any of the despicable things Satoru had said since her return, far more than any of the vitriol he and his family had been spitting about her, letting the rumour mill run and paint her as something she was not.

Uh. I really am weak. The woman thought bitterly, blood seeping from her swollen and chewed lip.

The silence stretched into an even longer flash and, when it became clear neither Mikazuki nor Satoru would speak first, Eshima finally decided to take matters into her hands as she pushed her hand into the Kinzoku's space.

"The pleasure is ours." Eshima began, making use of her training and refined manners which she had been taught since a young age. "I'm glad to finally meet you, I've heard very good things about you." She concluded with an honest smile, hand hovering in front of Mikazuki.

The sorceress looked down, golden eyes locking on the girl's hand for a quick second before finally giving up and firmly shaking Eshima's hand.

"I surely hope so, my reputation isn't exactly..." She paused, trying to find the right words before her expression softened. "...the best." She rolled her eyes, seeming bored. "I've had a rough year."

The girl smiled softly, kindness shimmering in her brown orbs.

"Nonsense, word out is you're the best sorceress of your promotion." Eshima gushed excitedly. "I'm sure I will have plenty to learn from you once you join the teaching roster at Jujutsu Tech."

Satoru cleared his throat, brushing the hair out of his face with a cocky expression. Something about Eshima's words had triggered him, and even as he began to speak, Mikazuki couldn't help but snicker as she watched him.

"I wouldn't exactly say the best." Satoru began with an overconfident smile before turning to Mikazuki "I don't really remember you fighting for that title back then." he taunted.

The sorceress smiled, warmth and mirth briefly flickering in her golden gaze. Of course, Satoru was right – as always, and wasn't that his most annoying trait? Back then, Mikazuki didn't care about being the best. She was young, unprepared; she just wanted to do her job and go down the path her family had already set for her. That Mikazuki knew exactly what her future would look like; a first-grade sorceress who would eventually become married (to whoever her father deemed good enough) and who would then put her duties aside to raise her children.