𝑫𝒀𝑵𝑨𝑺𝑻𝒀 𝑶𝑭 𝑺𝑶𝑼𝑳𝑺 ⇢ Gojo Satoru

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐗𝐋 - 𝐈 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔

GOJO SATORU HELD HIS HAND OUT, a soft smile playing on his lips as he tilted his head towards the sorceress. Mikazuki hesitated for a second, her golden eyes trained on his gloved hand as images danced in front of her vision, the memories of it all blurring together. They'd been here before – more than once, in fact. History had a tendency to repeat itself, and in every single iteration of it, Mikazuki found herself in the exact same position.

It was always the same story, with the same man. Except, this Mikazuki wasn't the same one from before. Young impressionable Mikazuki never had a choice, she never got to see the world outside of those gilded bars of her prison, she never got to fly free. This Mikazuki, however – she had a choice.

The Kinzoku heiress took a deep breath, her gloved fingers slowly interlocking with Satoru as she pulled him towards the centre of the ballroom. The violins picked up the tempo as the pair positioned themselves under the chandelier while Gojo's other hand slowly sneaked around Mikazuki's waist, the touch of his fingers igniting a fire on her skin despite the thick fabric of her gown.

Even now, protected by layers upon layers of clothes, she could still feel Satoru's power calling to hers, a waterfall of Cursed Energy crashing against her perfectly constructed barrier while the air sparked around them. The moment lingered, the weight of the space between them growing heavier by the second. Mikazuki looked down, her eyes sweeping over the floor as an old habit crawled up her mind. One. Two...

"Two steps." Satoru answered for her, his words mirroring the worried frown on her face before the woman finally relaxed in his arms.

"You counted."

"I always do."

Mikazuki's shoulders sagged in relief, the feeling of Gojo's hand on hers nearly punching the breath out of her lungs. The habit was so engrained in her head, it had become an integral part of she was – who they were. The potential of what they could do. One touch. That's all it would take. One touch, skin to skin, for more than a second, and the whole world would be blown to pieces.

For a moment, Mikazuki considered it. The sorceress closed her eyes, imagining both the chaos and the release it would cause. She pictured her hand in his, their fingers brushing against one another, a gentle touch with the power of destroying a whole nation. The thought was brief and it lasted less than a second, but it was apparently long enough for Gojo to catch it. Her expression betrayed her and Satoru had become quite adept at reading her moods.

The two began to move, the motion so slow Mikazuki didn't realize they were no longer standing on the same spot but gliding around the dancefloor. Her Eternity clashed against Satoru's Infinity like a silent storm, the chaos of their intertwined magic so violent and familiar it stole the breath out of their lungs. Mikazuki was used to this by now, but it didn't stop her from being swallowed up by the feeling, as if floating on a cloud of sinful pleasure mixed with the eternal quiet.

Everyone's eyes were on the pair, a thousand stares perched and waiting to witness this moment between the two most powerful sorcerers in the world. They had an audience of political figures, skilled shamans and a gaggle of dark-haired Kinzoku relatives and yet, none of it seemed to matter. This moment, this feeling, was suspended in time.

Mikazuki and Satoru were in a gilded bubble, completely oblivious to the world around them while they continued to dance hand in hand. The Gojo heir pulled on the sorceress' hand, slowly guiding her towards him until the space between them was less than a breath. The air around them turned electric, their barriers clashing with such force the buzzing noise could be heard across the whole ballroom. None of it mattered, though.

Satoru held her arm up, twirling Mikazuki with a swift wrist move while she simply smiled placidly. The people around them became mere blurs as he twirled her around, his gloved hand carefully draped over her waist while the other one led hers. The Kinzoku heiress closed her eyes, hoping the moment would extend and become eternal, yet the moment her eyelids became shut, she was assaulted by a memory. The sorceress paused, the sudden loss of rhythm catching Satoru off-guard as he guided her back into his chest.

"What's wrong?" He asked, brows knitted together in worry as he scanned her face.

Mikazuki's expression didn't change, yet something incredibly sad flickered in her gaze.

"You never asked me again." The woman mumbled, her pale face illuminated by the light from the golden chandelier.

"Asked what?" Satoru asked, confused.

The sorceress took a deep breath before letting go of his hands. One step became two, and then three and four. The world stopped spinning and Satoru suddenly found himself alone. Mikazuki was right there in front of him, at less than an arm's width, and yet, it was like she was worlds apart. Her eyes were not cold, the golden of her irises turning quiet instead. The sorcerer stood there, unsure on what to do as he watched her face change, her expression turning into a sad smile. Her lips curved upwards, but her stare never changed.

"After that night." She began, the words so soft he could barely hear them over the chatter of the room "You never asked if I killed my brother again. Why?"

For a moment, Satoru reeled back, as if he had been slapped. Truth to be told, a slap might have hurt less. No, scratch that. Anything would have hurt less. Instead, he pulled on the fabric of his shirt, straightening the cloth before he finally built up his courage to meet her sunset gaze which was still set on him. Satoru didn't know what she was talking about. Was she talking about his poor interrogation in the tunnels while they chased around the Mother of All Rats? Or was she talking about their dance shortly after her return? More importantly, why was she asking it now?

"I'm sorry about what I did, I should have never–"

I should have never doubted you. I should never have trusted Léa. The words died in his throat as Mikazuki vehemently shook her head, hand moving towards him until she gripped his biceps. Satoru turned silent, the sensation of Mikazuki's hands on him mudding his brain as he watched her fingers tightening around his muscle.

"You haven't asked me. So... go on." Mikazuki repeated, her grip tightening for one more second before she let go, her gaze meeting his.

There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to look away. Just those frozen pools of pure gold which bore into his soul, as if trying to discern what was going on in that head of his. Figuring out who he was trying to be. Mikazuki took a deep breath, as if bracing for impact.

"Ask me again."

Satoru mirrored the woman, inhaling sharply through his nose as he held on to her gaze. He couldn't look away, not when she was pleading like this. Begging, even. Mikazuki didn't need to say it with words, he could see it in her eyes, he could see the internal struggle waging inside of her soul. She wanted to trust him and, for the first time in a while, Satoru wanted to show her she could. So he did.

"Did you kill Keisuke so you could come back to Japan?"

Mikazuki let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, the relief of hearing those words once again washing over her like a rain of deliverance.

"No, I did not." She answered truthfully before swallowing past the lump in her throat. "But that doesn't make me innocent, does it?"

"No, it does not." Satoru conceded.

The conversation could have ended right then and there, and that was clearly what Mikazuki was expecting, as she started to turn away to meddle back into the crowd. Satoru watched her, his ocean eyes trained on the grey-haired sorceress as he waged his own internal war. He could let her go right there and then – he should let her go. Gojo Satoru and Kinzoku Mikazuki, two strangers at both ends of the spectrum. Two powerhouses pulled apart by fate and tied by destiny. He should let her go – Gods know he already had, plenty of times.

He should let her go.

Satoru crossed the ballroom with long strides, hand grabbing Mikazuki's forearm and pulling her towards him with a yank. The sorcerers let out a strangled gasp, the words dying in her throat as Gojo held her gaze.

"It doesn't make you innocent. But it doesn't make you guilty, either."

I know you don't need redemption. He didn't say. But, I'll give it to you anyway.