𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑺𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑺𝑶𝑹𝑹𝑶𝑾⇢ Gojo Satoru

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐗𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈 - 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄

FOR A MOMENT, THERE WAS ONLY SILENCE. The two sorcerers sat there, the music fading out into the background, nothing but the beating thrumming of their hearts. Mikazuki sat still, cheeks flushed red from the alcohol and the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She could feel the ghost of her own heart beating wildly inside of her chest, the sound rushing in her ears like an overflowing river.

The Kinzoku licked her lips, eyes cast down in anticipation, a set of savage words dancing on her tongue. There was some beauty in it, the quiet calm before the storm lashed out, the silent ray of sunshine gleaming atop the waves, the reflection so bright it was blinding. And there, here she was, ready to swallow it all away, sweep the entirety of it into her storm. She was chaos. Untethered, flying free across the waves, the chaos unfurling from her like a cape of nightmares.

"Can you really look me in the eye and tell me The Magistrate hasn't done some fucked up things?"

The question burned Gojo as it lingered in the air, the weight of it so heavy he could feel it settling on his shoulders. It ignited him, slowly smouldering his insides and spreading the same vitriol he could see burning in her sunset eyes.

Mikazuki was hard as stone, the expression on her face a perfect mirror of how he'd looked at her earlier in the street. There wasn't any pity in them, no kindness and not a morsel of any emotion or feeling other than the sticky otherness he could feel radiating off of her like candid waves filled with judgement.

Satoru squared his jaw, hands balling into fists before tearing his gaze away from hers. He couldn't bear the weight of it, the judgements singed into those stunning golden orbs.

"Everyone makes mistakes." He wet his lips slowly, swallowing past the lump in his throat before finally daring to finish his sentence. "Sometimes there is..." he paused, trying to find the right word which rolled out from his tongue slowly. "...collateral damage."

Mikazuki blanched, replaying the words in her mind, allowing them to fill her thoughts until everything else became nothing but a chaotic blur. Collateral damage. The word seemed to pretty, so innocent when spoken from his lips. But the Kinzoku knew better – she knew the ugly truth that trailed behind the pretty word, all the gritty nitty things hiding in the shadows, the small portions of honesty The Magistrate liked to sweep to the side, making space for their truth.

The sorceress could set the world ablaze with the fury currently flowing in her veins. She could burn it all to the ground, and it would sit aflame for centuries. But she didn't let it out, swallowing back every bit of hatred and anger and filing it in her brain, hoping it would resurface when the time was right. Instead, she pressed her lips into a thin line, her expression vacant as she held his stare.

"Oh, collateral damage... is that what people call it, now?" She began, her tone glacial. "You're fucking pathetic and, if you think The Magistrate is trustworthy, then you're more fucked over than I thought."

She was still calm, still carefully controlled so he couldn't glance at any if the sharp edges he could glimpse behind her composed front. Her serenity was almost as daunting as her unemotional stance. Mikazuki used to be raw, she used to feel real, like if he could reach out and touch her if he wanted to. Now, she was a fortress made of ice, an armoured tank. There was nothing approachable of her, nothing reachable. She was in front of him, and yet, she was also a hundred miles away.

"Careful with the way you talk to me." He warned, so quietly she barely heard it.

Mikazuki didn't give a fuck, though. She pushed into his space, baring her teeth wildly. She was glorious, half animal and half person. This was the roughest form of her he'd ever seen, the realest part of the woman he'd once called his fiancé. It seemed so long ago now, but he could still remember it in vivid detail. For a while, he would have died for her, killed for her. Now, he could barely bear to look her in the face.

"Or what?" Mikazuki challenged, a feral expression on her usually soft exterior. "Are you going to stare me to death? You can't touch me without ripping a hole through reality."

The quiet sizzling turned into a glaring fire, wild flames yapping around the Kinzoku. Satoru didn't stand down, standing his ground as he pushed out a thin yet powerful wave of cursed energy. The sorceress was unfaced, meeting the blast with a stiff lip and a careless attitude. She was wild, tonight. Completely untethered and unhinged. Her father's influence couldn't reach her here, neither could the tendrils of her own self-control.

"I might risk it just to prove a point, so don't tempt me." Satoru cut back, the bite in his tone palpable in the air as the tension between them rose.

"Tempt you?" She sneered, her face mirroring the primal urge to tear him to shreds. "If we could touch, I'd fucking end you." The anger filtered out, trickling out of her lips like a string of curses. "You're lucky the universe keeps us apart or I would have torn you to shreds the moment you showed your ugly face at the funeral."

The funeral. The chapel. Keisuke's rotting corpse between them. Everything rushed back to him, the memories trickling into his psyche.

Satoru could still see himself, standing there, under the moonlight glow while his friend was split open and rotting on a marble desk. He'd stood there, sprouting vitriol and hatred to his friend's sister. Kei's sister, the woman he adored. The same sister who he'd died for – not that Gojo Satoru could have ever known that.

In hindsight, everything Kinzoku Keisuke had ever done was for his sister's sake. And she was wasting it.