𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑺𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑺𝑶𝑹𝑹𝑶𝑾⇢ Gojo Satoru

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐗𝐋𝐕 - 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄

GOJO SATORU WASN'T SURE WHICH ONE OF THEM FELL ASLEEP FIRST. All he knew was that by the time he woke up the next morning, the space beside him in the bed was empty and cold, sun rays filtering in through the blinds as the summer sun peaked through the cloudy sky. Gojo yawned, padding the mattress at his side and noting it was still warm, the scent of peonies and hair product warming his heart before he deigned to look around the room.

Everything was shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from the bathroom. Satoru frowned. Inhaling deeply through his nose before he slid to the side of the bed, bare feet grazing against the carpet while he tried to take a peak. With the bathroom door still broken, he could see clearly inside of the small space, a soft smile appearing on his lips as he watched Mikazuki checking herself out on the sink mirror.

Satoru watched her for a while, mesmerized by every single detail about the woman. Mikazuki didn't seem to notice, too focused on readying herself for battle. Today was the day; the day they finally took down The Beldam that had been haunting this forsaken town for decades. The sorceress stared at her reflection, pulling her hair up in a tight bun before slowly stabbing two thin pieces of metal through the hairdo.

Cursed pins; thin, sharp and lethal pieces of plated gold that could easily be reached at any moment. Of course, Mikazuki didn't stop there, stuffing a beautiful golden knife on the inside of her combat boots before stacking her two twin blates – Glitter and Gold, if he didn't misremember – on her back, strapped to a wide leather belt she hid under her jacket.

She was a weapon, a lethal and dangerous storm wrapped into a tight body with beautiful curves and sunset eyes. Gods, she was astonishing, as bright as the sun, yet Satoru couldn't bear to take his eyes off from her.

"Does secretly watching people turn you on or something?" Mikazuki's sharp tone pierced through his daze, her expression unreadable as she turned towards him and leaned against the wooden frame of the door. "I could've put on a show for you, shame it's too late now." She tapped the side of her boot, hyper aware of the throwing knife she'd stuffed inside. "Unfortunately for you, I'm already dressed."

Oh, how he would like the idea of that.

"Another day; then."

"Another life." She tightened her ponytail, pulling on the hair tie before adjusting the pins in her hair. "You're still staring." She said after a while, not bothering to take her eyes off from the mirror.

"I–" Satoru looked down, fighting an internal battle before his heart softened slightly. "You look..."

Beautiful. Stunning. Breathtaking. There was a lot more he wanted to say, but the sorcerer could feel his throat closing, like an invisible hand wrapped itself around his neck, making him swallow all of the lies to spare her. Maybe it was anxiety, or maybe it was the better part of him trying to keep him from making this terrible mistake. Satoru didn't want to hurt her – he'd already done that plenty of times, there was no point in fuelling the fire inside of her when he knew he'd just as easily snuff it out the next day.

It was their dance, after all, and after years and years of dallying around each other, it was time for Gojo to move on from this childish obsession. Satoru shook his head, he discarded all of those, clinging to his sanity before ruffling his wild morning hair.

"...deadly." He finally settled on, the truth in his words lingering in the air.

Mikazuki's expression softened, if only temporarily. Soon, her eyes turned hard again, the gold in her eyes as still as the sunset skies he was so used to watching. In an instant, the warm friendly women he knew was gone, replaced by something akin to a darkened shadow; a killer hiding in plain sight. He'd been right, after all – Kinzoku Mikazuki was lethal, every aspect of her honed to be the perfect weapon. It was almost as glorious as it was terrifying.

"I am deadly." She retorted, that familiar sharpness returning to her tone. "I have to be. I'm not letting this thing win again."

There was real anger in her words, but it had less to do with superiority than it had with having to relive the worst moment of her life. Part of her mind, the darkest spots in her psyche, were still there. Still in that damned factory, repeating the terrible cycle of death over and over again until it all blurred together; the blood, the bodies, the pain...

Mikazuki was still there – always would be, if she kept on going like this. It wasn't about the fear or the desperation she felt, it was about the helplessness that poisoned her thoughts. Gods, she was a special-grade, a true shaman with abilities beyond the scope of what the world had ever seen – and yet, on that day, she was a little girl, bested at a game she hadn't been aware she was playing.

"It won't." Satoru answered with far less certainty than he originally intended. "We have a plan, we just need to execute it."

Mikazuki paused, a shadow crossing over her hooded eyes.

"Did you have a plan with Keisuke? Or did you just make it up as you went along?"

Satoru didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Leave it to Mikazuki to bring up her brother at the strangest times. Not that he could blame her; Kei had been an immovable fixture in their lives from the start. For her; since before they were born and, for him, since they were introduced at the tender age of fourteen.

It wasn't like with Geto, with an instant connection and a shared dream, but it was close enough for them to form a tight bunch. Mikazuki hadn't been part of the posse at first, but Shoko was completely overtaken by her kicked puppy face and let her in as one of their own.

"A little bit of both." Gojo answered honestly as he sat at the edge of the bed, mattress dipping under his weight. "We were a good team." He paused, time slowing before he said the next words. "I miss him."

"I know." Mikazuki answered without missing a beat, eyes glassy like she was on the verge of tears but didn't want to allow herself the weakness. "I miss him too."

The sorceress shook her head, adjusting the lapels of her jacket before plastering a mildly fake smile over her saddened face. She was still deadly, but that sense of otherworldly rage she used to carry around was gone. She looked normal – almost human, if that was even possible.

"Get ready." She commanded, leaving little to no room for refusal. "We leave in five."