Ataraxia 平静 | Gojo Satoru

-'๑'-𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟑-'๑'-

I couldn't see.

I couldn't see anything at all. Only feel the fierce gusts of wind lashing at my ears, my exposed skin. His arms were the only thing keeping me from plunging to my death, blind and scared and vulnerable.

I tried to calm my racing heart. I clung desperately to him, wrapping both my legs and arms tightly around his body, my nails digging into his back like a stranded cat. Hells, he could've tried to peel me off and still would've failed. Limitless or not.

He was mad—Utterly mad, reckless, and idiotic.

Whatever I had anticipated, this wasn't it.

Flying blindly through the open air at breakneck speed had to be one of the most humbling experiences one could have. I didn't need to look to know we were hundreds of meters away from the ground. I could feel it—the pressure in my bones, the thinning of the air. I grasped his clothes tighter.

"Relax, will ya?" Gojo's laughter reverberated over the howling wind, resonating through my very core.

"Are you serious?" I hissed in his ear. "How could I possibly relax—"

"It's not so bad, once you stop digging holes into my back and try to enjoy the feeling."

His words entered my head and mingled with the whirling of blaring alarms, adding to my uneasiness. But there was a part of me, a small voice in the recesses of my mind telling me he was right. It was begging me to breathe, to relax my aching body. As if it knew nothing bad could happen to me, that I was safe; coaxing me to let go, to soar freely like I'd always dreamed of.

And that voice grew louder and louder, drowning my fear in reason.

I am a jujutsu sorcerer. I am strong, and even if I were to fall, my shadows would carry me safely to the ground. Even if I were to fall, Gojo Satoru would be there to catch me.

I breathed, feeling my blood thrum in approval.

Even if I were to fall, I wouldn't have to be afraid.

I breathed. And breathed. And breathed. With every inhale, my mind became clearer; with every exhale, my heart steadied.

I focused on my strained muscles, urging them to relax, to ease their tension. And in doing so, new sensations flooded my body. The wind no longer felt like a dull blade against my skin; instead, it whispered past with a mighty force, cradling me deeper into Gojo's embrace. The void surrounding us ceased to feel like claws, transforming into wings, inviting me to embrace its darkness.

And the heat—gods, the heat. It radiated off his body in waves, nourishing me, slipping into my veins. It felt profanely sweet, tempting me to crawl under his skin, delve further into that fountain of life and get drunk on its essence.

Despite my body's protests, I slowly untangled my legs from his, and he adjusted his hand on my lower back, steady and warm against the biting cold of the night. Inhaling sharply, I urged my numbed fingers to release their grip on his collar, gently pushing off his shoulders.

"That's my girl," he whispered, his hot breath brushing against my face.

Perhaps it was the lingering effects of alcohol clouding my thoughts, the exhilarating rush of flight, or a primal urge I couldn't ignore, but my heart skipped a beat, and my breath caught in my throat.

I wanted to see.

I wanted to see him.

"No," he spoke softly, his hand gently restraining mine when I attempted to remove the blindfold. "Keep it on. We're almost there."