⚬|𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭|⚬
Jujutsu Kaisen x Reader
He was a mess of snow-like hair, ocean-blue eyes, and swollen lips, beautiful in a way only broken things are. Entirely absorbed in contemplation of her, his thoughts only about how pretty she loo...
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The first time Y/n had manifested her unique technique, she had been no older than fifteen. The memory of that day was shrouded in haze, as if her mind refused to grasp the full weight of it. Yet she remembered the vows—nine in total, etched into her soul like sacred bindings. They were not chains of fear but symbols of reverence, her way of honoring time's sacred flow. Y/n had sworn to never manipulate time freely, knowing the hunger for power such an ability could awaken. That hunger terrified her more than death.
And yet, here she stood.
The desolate sand pitch stretched around her like a canvas waiting to be stained. Her H/c hair was tied in a tight ponytail, the sharp lines of her figure exuding resolve. Above, black ravens circled—a grim reminder of the Elders' mistrust. Their prying eyes, summoned by Mei Mei's technique, loomed in judgment. Y/n exhaled slowly, shifting her gaze from the swirling skies to the familiar, overwhelming presence approaching from behind.
"Have the Elders finished with you as well, Satoru?" she said, her e/c eyes cold and detached. "It's not wise to be here, leave."
A grin tugged at Satoru Gojo's lips as he stepped closer, his white hair catching the faintest glint of sunlight. "Seven years, Y/n. Seven years, and you still treat me like a stranger. Don't you think that's unfair?"
Her scoff was a defense against the sadness pressing down on her chest. "Fairness is a luxury I don't have time for. Whatever you're planning to say or do, it doesn't matter. I have to go." She placed a hand on her hip, her smile strained and fleeting.
"Busy, are we? All right, Wonder Woman, at least allow me to give you a proper goodbye," he said, stopping before her. He extended a hand, his gaze steady yet holding something deeper.
Y/n raised a brow, masking her trembling heart with sarcasm. "What? Am I supposed to shake your hand while you thank me for my years of service?"
"Not quite."
Before she could react, he pulled her into his chest. Her balance faltered, and for a moment, all she could feel was the warmth of him—the steadiness, the weight of the life she was about to leave behind.
"Satoru!" she hissed, her voice cracking with a mixture of worry and exasperation. "Do you realize there are eyes watching us?" Her gaze darted to the ravens, but he didn't seem to care. His hand trailed to her hair, fingers tangling gently, as if trying to memorize the feel of her.
"If I return to the past, I'll make sure to torment you," she muttered, feigning lightness, though her voice wavered with the lie. If she succeeded, she would do everything in her power to avoid him, to rewrite her life without the agony of knowing him.
Finally, he let her go, and she stumbled back, her heart tightening at the sight of him. Satoru's usual teasing smirk was gone, replaced by an expression she had never seen before—vulnerable, almost desperate. His cerulean eyes roamed her face as if he could memorize every feature, every curve, and every scar before they faded into the recesses of memory.
"I'll be going then," Y/n whispered, turning her back to him. She walked to the center of the sand pitch, her steps resolute, even as the weight of the goodbye threatened to crush her. She smiled faintly, a gesture more for herself than for him.
"Goodbye, Satoru."
She raised her arms, palms open as if stretching the fabric of reality itself. Then, with a sharp clap, she brought her hands together and whispered, "Eternal Chronosphere."
A burst of pale blue light engulfed her, growing until it consumed the air, the earth, and the space between them. Through the flickering glow, she caught one last glimpse of him. She had hoped to see a smile, some small assurance that he was at peace. But his face remained sorrowful.
His lips moved, forming words too soft to be heard but clear enough to read:
I love you.
Three words. So simple, yet devastating. They pierced her heart, filling it with equal measures of joy and grief.
And then the light swallowed her whole.
Inside the domain, darkness stretched infinitely, punctuated only by countless pinpricks of light—stars scattered across a timeless void. Floating clocks and hourglasses drifted aimlessly, their surfaces shimmering with fragments of the past, present, and possible futures. The floor pulsed beneath her, showing glimpses of fractured timelines that threatened to overwhelm her senses.
The celestial clock loomed above, its hands spinning with terrifying precision. Time was hers to command now.
She took a deep breath, steadying herself as her eyes scanned the scene beneath her feet. One timeline flickered brighter than the rest. A young girl sat trembling in her bedroom, her back pressed against the door as something pounded on the other side. The terror in the girl's expression was all-consuming.
"October 9th, 2008," Y/n murmured, noting the date on the girl's calendar. Almost a month before Geto's attack on the rural villages near Tokyo. A plan began to form, its risks mounting with every thought. If she could intercept him then—trap him or kill him—perhaps she could change everything.
"Very well," she whispered. "Here goes nothing. Open."
The timeline froze, its edges cracking like brittle glass. Then, with a deafening shatter, a vortex of light and sound erupted, dragging her forward. Time strips twisted and spiraled around her, each one a fleeting glimpse of someone's life on that fateful date.
Her cursed energy wrapped tightly around her body, a fragile shield against the crushing weight of the fall. Pain lanced through her, searing her lungs and squeezing her heart. The pressure was unbearable, and the tunnel of light grew darker with every second, her vision threatening to slip into unconsciousness.
Her ears rang with a sharp, high-pitched noise, and her vision blurred. Every beat of her heart was a battle against the forces that sought to unravel her existence. But through the chaos, something glimmered.
Her hair came loose as a delicate object floated into view. A hairpin—a beautiful, intricate design shaped like a forget-me-not flower, its petals pale blue with hints of gold—hovered just above her head.
The sight of it sent a wave of warmth through her, a memory breaking through the agony.
The Edo-period tradition of exchanging kanzashi, hairpins given as tokens of love. A proposal. A promise.
She had once told him:"It's more meaningful than a ring." And his reply, teasing but warm echoed in her ears: "You'd lose it within a day."
Reaching out, she grasped the hairpin, tears spilling from her eyes as she clutched it to her chest. The pain in her heart was far worse than the physical agony tearing through her body.
The man she loved would forget her.
What he hadn't told her then—what he had left unsaid—was that the hairpin was a gift. He had slipped it into her hair that day, wrapping the petals gently with his fingers, hoping she would notice later. It wasn't just a decoration; it was his quiet declaration. A promise of sorts, though he had never been able to find the words to say it aloud.
And now, here it was, floating in front of her like a ghost of his affection.
Her sobs were raw and uncontrollable, echoing in the darkness. The pain in her heart eclipsed the physical torment she endured. She screamed his name, screamed at the thought of leaving him behind, at the knowledge that the man she loved would forget her.
As the pressure built to its peak, her body felt like it would shatter. She clung to the hairpin, its petals cutting into her palm until her blood dyed its delicate flowers red.
Finally, the fall ended. Y/n collapsed onto the cold ground of the past, her consciousness fading as she whispered one final thought:
