Remember Me? | ɢᴏᴊᴏ ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ

45

God, I remember how long this stupid drive used to take. Whenever there were obligations and duties where, for some inexplicable reason, my presence was requested, my parents shepherded me into the car and sent me off halfway across the country. More often than not - like when there was a ball or a dinner - they came with. Sometimes, though, it was just me and my driver, Tanaka-san.

I always despised that drive. Those were eight plus hours of time wasted that I could have spent on exorcizing curses or hanging out with Lara or my friends. Instead, I had to sit still and listen to either my parents' conversations, which were too boring for a child to listen to, or to complete silence. The only time the eight hours were acceptable was when I was on my own with Tanaka-san, who let me choose the music and sing along while he listened in silence or sang along, too, if I made him.

The problem wasn't only the drive, though. The problem was that there was never anything worth looking forward to at the destination. When we arrived, I would be squeezed into stuffy dresses and have my hair done no matter how much I protested. I'd have to say hello to people I didn't know or care for, and I had to do it with a smile. If I was lucky, there was a single interesting person present that I could spend a few hours talking to before getting bored. I was almost never lucky.

Of course, though, the biggest reason why I hated these drives was that as soon as I got out of the car, Mr and Mrs Gojo stood ready to invite us into their home, and my parents shoved me forward while they shoved their son forward. They were never really subtle, our parents. "Let's leave the kids to it," they would say as if they were of the impression that we were friendly with each other. We were not. And they knew it. They just didn't care.

I remember the way there, and I remember that as a child, I was afraid of our driver going that deep into the forest. Never really grew out of that, but I learned to manage it at some point. I remember the solid road turning into gravel, the wild trees of the forest turning into an avenue, and the iron gates waiting at the end. I remember that while I was afraid of the forest, I wasn't afraid of the guards waiting at the gate, who would try to kill me at a single word from their leaders.

As I drive up to the gates now, the sun is already on its way back down. It's evening, and I'm starving because I didn't eat anything on the whole way here due to my... lack of money. I'm not supposed to be here, I know, but I'm a fucking idiot. I made the impulsive decision of coming here and when I realized what I was doing, I was already too far to turn back around. There were about thirty minutes in which I decided to just change course and continue on to the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, but that would mean I'm running away. I may be many things, but I am not a coward. I have to see this through now.

The two guards straighten up, and I can immediately tell that they're not happy to see a car that hasn't been announced first. I don't know them, but that isn't odd because I haven't been here in a long time. Not since Gojo's parents died.

The woman motions for me to roll down my window while the man paces around my car, checking for I don't know what. "Good eve- oh." Her face falls when she sees and recognizes mine. "Miss (y/ln)."

I try my best at a smile. "Good evening," I reply, sounding as nice as I can. They have to let me through. They just have to.

The man finishes his scan of my car and comes around to the window, too. He, too, looks absolutely horrified at my presence. They both know that if I really want to get through those gates, they can't stop me, but it's their duty to try. They don't want to try. But I also won't force my way through. I didn't come as an enemy, not today.

"Is Master Gojo expecting you?" the man asks.

Master hm? I make a mental note to tease him about that later because God is he pretentious. I almost laugh but catch myself at the last moment and shake my head instead. "No, he is not."