TIME MOVED FAST AFTER THAT. So fast, in fact, Mikazuki barely had any time to catch up to what was going on. In a whirlwind of flurry and action, the Kinzoku heiress suddenly found herself surrounded by a crowd of people. Shoko was on her left, wiping away the remnants of dried blood with a piece of wet cloth. On her right, Tajima – who at some point had returned brining reinforcements – slowly peeled the pieces of her gown away, exposing her skin to the hot summer air. Meanwhile, a band of servants moved seamlessly around her, fixing her hair and making sure she was presentable for the opening ball.
There was something incredibly odd at the way they all worked together, a spinning group of people, all completely focused around her and working like clockwork, as if they'd done this plenty of times. Knowing her family and her father's temper, they probably had to wash blood off of him more than once.
Mikazuki held her head high and gritted her teeth, the feeling of Tajima's hands unzipping her dress almost enough to make her skin crawl. Tajima was a kind soul, and as the family Window he'd seen himself in this position countless times. To him, this was just work, and undressing Mikazuki was his latest task.
He did so mechanically, his eyes focused on the fabric until he finally managed to undo the elaborate lace at the back and stepped away to watch the dress pooling at her feet. And then, like a gift from the Gods descending upon them, Akari showed up with a garment bag hanging from her arm. The woman was dressed well, the clan colours splayed on her skin while her outfit was a simple black button down shirt with a pair of similarly-coloured pants.
Her red hair was up in a neat updo, golden lines painted on each side of her face and running all the way down to her arms. She was like a piece of furniture, another gilded fixture owned by the Kinzoku. For a moment, Mikazuki wondered how much time it would take her to pay her father's debt, how many more years she had of servitude. Something crawled inside of Mikazuki's belly, the sentiment of shame – for the sins of her family, for the many atrocities they'd committed in the name of gold – settling deep into her gut.
But, just like the gilded princess, Akari was resilient, a survivor. Which is why even with the gilded lines painted at either side of her pale face, she did not look miserable nor like any of the other servants. She didn't make herself small, standing tall as the corners of her mouth raised upwards. Shoko's hands rested on Mikazuki's arms, the sudden contact jarring enough to pull the sorceress out of her trance.
"Let's do this." Shoko commanded, an inkling of her doctor persona slipping through her words as her fingers lingered against Mikazuki's cold skin. "Let's get you dressed before anyone notices your absence."
As if on cue, another person appeared in the confined space, Nina's dark curls engulfing the light as she stepped through the corner and positioned herself right in front of Mikazuki, side plastered to Shoko's thin form. The seamstress' eyes wandered to the torn pieces of the dress, the midnight fabric pooling at Mikazuki's dress while golden stains muddied the perfect black backdrop, the glittering stars painted on it barely visible through the golden mess that reigned over the whole thing. Nina stifled a cry, dramatically dropping to her knees as she gathered the torn pieces of the gown in her arms.
"No! This is terrible!" She cried, her cheeks puffing out and turning to a crimson colour. "What's happened to my dress? It took me days to sew the fabric together!" Her angry eyes turned to Mikazuki, who simply let out a huff and shrugged.
There was nothing to be done about the dress and, although Nina's theatrics were overexaggerated, she was right about it being one of her most beautiful creations. Of course, it was ruined, now, and washing blood away from it was not an option. Instead, the seamstress rose from the ground and adjusted her glasses before turning to Akari and retrieving the garment bag, pulling the zipper all the way down.
"Thankfully, I had enough foresight to know something like this might happen, which is why I always have a back-up." Nina beamed, pulling out a beautiful dark dress with spaghetti straps and holding it out so they could all bear witness to its beauty. "It's not as grand as my masterpiece, but it will do for the rest of the night."
Again, Nina was right. This dress was in no way as magnificent as the first, but it was still breath-taking enough to make the sorceress pause. Mikazuki stood silently, her body exposed to the elements as she reached out with her hand to caress the fabric. The cloth fit snuggly in her fingers, the touch of velvet making the hairs of her arm rise. Undoubtedly, this was the most exquisite piece of clothing Mikazuki had ever set her sights on. And yet, it somehow did not feel like enough.
The dress was beautiful, but it was black. Black and gold – the clan colours, the colours she had forsaken a long time ago, and also the colours she had once promised she would never done again. To her, this wasn't a simple piece of clothing or a garment. It was a statement, one she did not agree to. Mikazuki's hand dropped at her side, her expression faltering for a second as she made up her mind.
"It's a beautiful dress, truly." The woman spoke softly, the words somewhat catching in her throat "But it's not made for me."
This dress had been for the other Mikazuki. The Kinzoku heiress, the little girl who would abide by her father's rules, the girl who never put on a fight, the girl who– it didn't matter, because that girl was dead and Mikazuki had come here to dance on her grave. Black wasn't her colour, after all.
Shoko stepped away from her friend, a confused expression settling over her face as she scanned Mikazuki's tranquil features. She looked at her for a moment, taking in every detail, every freckle and every mole. But that's not what caught the doctor's attention. Instead, it was the dead stillness currently visible in Mikazuki's golden eyes.
"Okay." Ieiri conceded, slowly nodding. "Then, what do you want?"
Mikazuki grinned, her golden gaze falling on Shoko's still figure and openly taking in the woman's fire engine gown, the red so vibrant it seemed to spill from the seams and into the floor. The dress suited Shoko perfectly, the crimson colour reaffirming her already thin figure while also making her brown eyes seem auburn, but that's not what Mikazuki was searching. Where Shoko saw her dress as a mere fitting choice – a bold one – for a birthday party, the golden sorceress saw something else entirely. To her, it was rebellion. And what better way to break the mould of her family than by showing up wearing fucking red.
Mikazuki's shoulders sagged slightly, a smile still etched into her face.
"Let's switch dresses." She announced, the excited tone behind her words nearly toppling Shoko over in surprise.
"What? No!" The doctor scrunched up her nose, slowly backing away from the sorceress. "Are you crazy? I'm wearing red." Her voice dropped low, a semblance of fear appearing on her otherwise calm expression. "If your father sees you in anything but black and gold he'll kill you. Hell, he might even kill me."
Mikazuki's smile only widened.
"I'd like to see him try."
YOU ARE READING
𝑫𝒀𝑵𝑨𝑺𝑻𝒀 𝑶𝑭 𝑺𝑶𝑼𝑳𝑺 ⇢ Gojo Satoru
Fanfiction❝𝑯𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆'𝒔 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒂𝒚?❞ Contrary to popular belief, forgiveness was never easy. It was the hard road, uphill and a constant struggle that never truly stops. An...