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✧༺♥༻∞

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✧༺♥༻∞

Never in your entire life had you worn something so expensive. When the women at the shop had even shown you the kimono on the stand you felt your entire face fall, paling with unbridled horror at how you were to manage wearing such a thing without tripping or getting food on it or just sitting in general. Nevermind the fact you were going to be stuck in the seiza position for god knew how long.

How did people wear such things so casually? The attendants had mistaken your expression for one of displeasure, immediately flocking to you with apologies and attempts to rectify the situation. It was hard to be anything but candid— you had never seen such a beautiful kimono before in your life.

The top was jet black, cherry blossoms adorning the left shoulder and down the length of one black sleeve. Near the base, the color was split, a burst of cherry blossoms dividing where the kimono faded into a deep violet color. The obi was a pale yellow, topped with tasseled ornaments in the same dark purple.

In the past, purple had been reserved only for the most noble— or for the gods. You could think of nothing more fitting for the future bride of Gojo Satoru. The kimono was amazing and splendid and you loved it truly... but it was nearer to a costume than something you would have picked for yourself. That it incorporated your declared favorite color was no doubt simply a coincidence. This design had been in mind for longer than you had held your new position, the Gojo clan emblem stamped unto the back of the high stiff collar.

It would therefore make for a perfect disguise as you played your role as the demure, pleasant bride.

They styled your hair up, a simple twist that was adorned with a cherry blossom comb and matching pins to your kimono. The women remarked casually on the two white strands of hair that framed your face, asking you if you'd like them dyed.

You politely declined.

They scrubbed under your nails, massaged your hands and feet with oils and applied the faintest clear coat, even if it would go unseen inside your tabi socks. Walking on zori was much easier than walking in heels, a fact for which you were grateful.

By the time you were dressed, made up and ready, it was nearing evening. At the end, the women drew you into a room to admire yourself among several standing mirrors, the lighting low and warm to better soften one's features.

You did not recognize the woman who looked back at you. She had your lips, your smile, the stubborn set of your jaw and your eyes— but in the place of the wild, young girl who had once struck a god, you saw an elegant lady... the kind any member of the jujutsu elite would be proud to marry.

In this guise, it was easy enough to disappear. A lift of the chin, lengthening of the neck and spine to stand up tall— straight. Proud. In all the world, there was no match for the Six Eyes.

No one.

Except you.

That was the part you would play... and despite everything that had happened, you felt a sense a gratitude. Gojo was right. If you were to walk into the viper's nest, at least you would look sexy as fuck.

✧༺♥༻∞

One attendant walked with you out of the store, the dim lights of the street already shining and the horizon beyond the far buildings dip dyed with pinks and reds from the dying sunlight. The car that waited was the same that had picked you up for your first "date". Sleek, European, Expensive. The driver waited, hat in his arm as you came to the door and with eyes that lingered a bit longer upon you this time, he held it open.

You thanked the attendant, words soft and formal. The clothes, the hair— it all made it easier to vanish. To tuck yourself away and be what you needed to be that evening.

You slid into the seat, not even bothering to look towards the man who sat at your side.

"Wow."

Came his unsolicited assessment and a tiny, barely perceptible smile flickered on your painted lips.

"— wow."

"As you said."

A tiny glance his direction showed Gojo had seen fit for once to not wear his school uniform to a family event. His own kimono was black, his hakama a dark muted grey that nearly blended in seamlessly with the other dark color. His hoari however, was another matter. Turning to take it in fully, you noted it was the same deep violet shade as your own kimono, the clan crest of the Gojo family on the left side of the open jacket.

He wasn't wearing his sunglasses or blindfold, blue eyes nearly seeming to glow in the dim light of the car now that the door was shut and the driver had taken his place at the wheel.

"I think they might just actually love you. Well, in another universe maybe." Gojo said, his eyes taking several trips, both quick and lingering over your form. You kept your eyes out the window, trying to quell the faint stuttering of your heart in your chest. You had not been to this house since you were a girl and you had left it in disgrace.

The echoes of that night having followed you for years. Now was your chance. Make nice, play pretend, be a good bride-to-be... and all those doors that were once closed to you may open again.

Is that what we want?

A young voice, a child's voice you'd nearly forgotten asked from the depths of your memory.

As the car pulled into the Gojo family compound you felt your chest constrict, passing beneath the open gates and coming to a halt at the main door. Servants waited to guide you inside, the driver exiting the door to get yours.

This was it. No going back. You took in a trembling breath and rose yourself up, putting on your mask.

The soft warm touch of a finger against your cheek drew your attention towards Gojo. You turned, as if called, and looked at him... surprised to find a frown had settled over his lips and furrowed his brow.

It was a short lived thing, notching up into something naughty in a second as he hooked his finger through the neatly combed white lock of your hair and pulled it free. The pale strands fell across your cheek, framing your face.

With one movement, the illusion was shattered. Your eyes sharpened, your mouth twisting into a boarish snarl of acute annoyance as you realized there was no fucking way you were going to be able to fix it without the help of the women who had put your hair up in this fancy ass updo.

"You shithe—"

The door open, your words cutting off as you turned to stare up at the driver and the waiting servants with wide owlish eyes.

So much for first impressions.

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