ʜᴏᴜɴᴅꜱ ᴏꜰ ʟᴏᴠᴇ (ᴍ.ꜰᴜꜱʜɪɢᴜʀᴏ)

No. 1

This was her life, at least the past four years of it, boisterous, rude people, dirty ramen bowls, stingy management, shitty payment, and unnecessary stress. She supposed this was what it was like being sixteen and living alone.

She sighed as she wriggled her way through the busy restaurant. She placed the dirty bowl in the bin before wiping her hands on her apron, then brushed the hair out of her face.

"Emi..." The girl perked up at the sound of her name as she looked over to find her coworker motioning her over. "He's here again."

"Huh?" Emiri questioned as she moved to the front of the restaurant.

Her confusion dispersed at the sight of the familiar man. His height was towering, with his white hair pushed up and his usual blindfold covering his eyes.

"Gojo," She sighed as she watched the man linger across the street.

For the rest of her shift, Emiri's mind lingered on Gojo. This wasn't the first time he had loitered outside her place of work.

It wasn't the first time she had caught him lurking around her in general. The sun began to set on the city as Emiri accepted why Gojo stood patiently outside.

Emiri sighed as she exited the empty restaurant, being the last to leave she locked the door behind her. Finally, she turned and looked at Gojo across the street.

The road was silent as she stared down the tall white-haired man. Suddenly he took a step forward and smiled as he neared her.

"Emiri Hara," he chortled as she remained unamused. "Wow, you sure look happy to see me!"

"What do you want?" she crossed her arms not letting up on her serious attitude despite his jokes. "You're acting like I haven't seen you hanging around...watching me."

Gojo laughed as he removed his hands from his pockets and took a stance beside her. He was wearing his usual all-black uniform as Emiri stood in front of him in a mangey yellow and orange uniform.

Gojo's smile never faded as he towered over Emiri, to him she was still a ten-year-old with dead parents whom he had just saved from certain death.

"Gojo," She urged getting sick of his attempts at mystery.

"What? I can't just stop by to see you?" He huffed in response to her annoyance.

She sighed as she untied her apron and shoved it in her bag. Then she unpinned her hair letting it fall to its natural length, stopping just above her hips. Her hair was a mangled mess of black and white strands of hair.

The two-toned hair was a genetic marvel her mother had passed down to her. Emiri recalled when she first met Gojo and how amazed he was by her hair, but she brushed away the faint memory of Gojo.

"When I haven't seen you in six years, no. No, you can't," Emiri stated coldly.

Saturo Gojo was something of a savior to her back then, when she was a naive child. Now she saw right through his attempts to make her a Jujutsu Sourcer. She wanted nothing to do with the matter.

Emiri had grown up around the power of cursed energy and had mastered it at the mere age of seven. Her parents had trained her tirelessly, and subjected her to torture, all in hopes she would follow in their footsteps as assassins.

Gojo was the one who found her the night they were killed, the night they tried to sacrifice their child to save themselves.

"Emiri," Gojo smirked as he raised his finger. "I have a proposition for you-"

"I don't want to go to your school," she cut him off curtly. "I've already told you."

"Yeah, yeah you've sworn off your cursed energy..." Gojo mocked before he turned to her with a serious demeanor. "That doesn't change what you can do. Who you could save..."