Koi No Yokan (gojo x oc)

29. Independence

March 2009
20 minutes later.

"I got my license last year," Satoru answers a question I didn't ask. The glass of the car window is cold against my forehead, the moon barely a sliver in the dark sky. "Well, I didn't actually get the license, I just figured out how to drive the car without crashing it."

I'm hugging myself atop the leather seat. "How did you find me?"

"Oh that... well... Suguru called."

My eyes close in agony. I try to remember his embrace, but it's fuzzy in my mind. Tainted in betrayal and a lack of sleep. "Such lengths he went to to get rid of me."

"You should be glad he did," Satoru says. "Having you on his side would be a tipping point. With you like this, he could have probably convinced you to kill anyone or turn the country upside down overnight."

"He must really hate me then to give that up."

"I don't think hate is what would make him give up that chance."

I listen to the quiet hum of the car engine, watching the blur of trees and the city go by. "Would you have done it?" Satoru finally asks. "Killed people for him?"

"I don't know."

We don't speak again until Satoru parks the car on an unfamiliar streetside. Tan apartment complexes scale several feet up into the air, dozens of wires crossing between them, clothes dangling from the balconies. A single lamp flickers overhead. He opens the trunk, pulls out a stack of plastic covered clothing items. "Here, hold these."

I take them without objection, not bothering to ask where we are or why. In his own arms he appears to be carrying bags filled with groceries, cereals, eggs, rice wraps, and the like. He leads me into the nearby complex, up the stairs to the third floor, and knocks on a door marked 308. A girl, with a bright face, and hair loosely tied up to the crown of her head opens it. "Oh, Megumi, Gojo-san is here." She helps him load the groceries onto the table, taking the cold items into the fridge.

"Who are you?" Behind me, I see a kid, no more than five or six, staring, arms folded.

"Megumi, this is Uematsu Kaede," Satoru answers, placing the cereal atop the fridge, then onto the counter once he realizes they can't reach. "A Jujutsu sorcerer—a very good one for that matter."

"Is she a better Jujutsu than you, Gojo-san?" the girl asks.

"No, but she's as close as they get." He spots the plastics still in my arms, "Oh, that's right." He takes them, and lifts the plastic up to pairs of clothes in their size. "These are all clean now."

"Bringing strangers into our house," the boy grumbles from behind. In some ways he reminds me of Tomiji, doing his best to speak like an adult. Tomiji was never this callous, though, at least not at this age.

"You must go to Gojo-san's old school then," the little girl says. "You're wearing the same uniform."

The screaming and crying has turned my voice into a gravelly whisper, "I just graduated."

"That's so cool!" she grins. "Are you going to help train Megumi?"

"Megumi?"

"She's not here for that. This is just a visit." Satoru notices the ten o'clock reading on the microwave, "Hey, it's late. Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"We were about to until you got here," the little boy, Megumi, says, already leaving for one of the two small bedrooms.

"Ignore him," the girl tells me, leaving for the other room, "It was nice to meet you. Thank you for the things Gojo-san."

"No problem," he waves. "Good night."

The doors close, and we're left alone in the dimly lit kitchen, silent. "Have you eaten?"

It's been over a day since my last meal, but I'm certain anything I could eat would only force its way back up. "I'm not hungry."

"Suit yourself," he takes a seat at the round dining table, looking up at me, waiting.

I sit down with him, "Who are they?"

"Fushiguro Toji's kids."

I hum in response. "How often are you here?"

"Once a week," he thinks, "Sometimes less. I left a credit card with them in case I can't get back in time."

The longer I sit, the further I sink into the hard wooden surface of the chair. My arms wrap around my cold, empty chest, aching with a variety of sharp pain. "That's good." I look around to the rest of the small place, Satoru's influence obvious from the remnants of a gaming console, a designer backpack for school, and other luxury items strewn about the floor. It was vaguely nice to think Satoru has had something like this to occupy himself, to keep away the all consuming despair I understand too well.

"Is this my fault?" he says suddenly. "You being like this, is it because of me?"

I take a deep, slow breath. "What if this is just how I am."

"Eager to be a criminal?"

"Yes," I say. "A lot can change in two years. Maybe it has nothing to do with you and this is what I want now."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you want to kill everyone?" he says. "And why join Suguru to do something you could have done whenever you wanted."

"Not everything has to be done alone."

"That's what a weak person would tell themselves."

I scoff, eyes traveling to anywhere except where he sits, boiling tears begin to brim at the surface. A heavy, searing lump forms in the center of my throat, and I remember well the hatred I felt when I tried to cut our tether. 

"You're really such an asshole," I say, "All I've ever done was try to be strong for you, pushing myself to achieve the impossible so that neither of us would have to be alone, and you don't even care. Nothing's ever good enough—" I stop, and take another slow breath. There's no point in saying any of it now, in trying to make him pity me for asking the world of me and then leaving regardless.

"I really believed you could do it at first," he says. "Be at my level." I loathe the indifference with which he speaks, the casual way he treats my heartbreak. "Once I realized you couldn't, I had to let go." My fists clench until the knuckles turn white. "Besides, seeing me weeks, sometimes months apart isn't right. At least this way you won't have to wait around."

The anger I want to feel is indescribable, the deep seeded rage that used to overcome me when I first lost Momo and all the others. But the feeling never quite arrives. I'm too tired to make Satoru understand all the ways he has ruined me. "Is that all?"

"Do you want me to say more?"

I get up from my seat, and collapse down into the worn down couch by the tv, ready to sleep for the first time in two days. "I don't want anything from you."