Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ever since she had been a child she had believed in angels, beautiful beings of an all powerful God. His trusted heavenly messengers. How could she not believe with the way she grew up? When she saw the beauty in the growth of a flower? When she heard pulchritude in music? When she tasted ambrosia in the simplest of dishes? Going to the old medieval church in her small German home town, her hand in her mothers hand, how could she not believe as she stared in awe at century old architectural wonder that was the St. Andrews church? She had loved the church; not the mass but the building in particular. It was beautiful and talking too loud on its sacred ground had felt like a sin. It had felt like a kind church. And yet an unkind community. And her mother an outcast for being a single mother and a foreigner working full time to provide for her child was not received kindly by the community. Parents talked and children listened and so she had only her mother as the children her age bullied her. Her mother told her about God and Gods messengers and guardian angels and believed that everyone had a guardian angel protecting them. Viktoria took over that belief. It didn't matter how or what kind of moral compass someone followed. Viktoria believed everyone had an angel protecting them though she didn’t know if she should believe in God or not; but in angels her belief never faltered.

When she had been little her mother never told her about hell. Only prayed with her each night and even though they had no one they had each other. It was all Viktoria had known. All she had needed. Together they had lived a small apartment that had become their Garden Eden; or at least its how she remembered things. Until they weren’t alone anymore as her mother had met a man whom she married. For the first time in her life she had felt more lonely than ever and her paradise and refugium had become a place of dread and awkwardness. It had felt as if ten year old Viktoria had lost any kind of safety; as if she had lost her mother, when in fact she had only ever put her mother on a pedestal and romanticized her.

Whenever she had felt lonely, had felt incredibly lost and loneliness had held her in its tight devilish grasp she had imagined an angel by her side as she cried herself to sleep. Her angel whispering to her, holding her, telling her that everything would be alright. She imagined her angel to be fair skinned and beautiful, a man with light hair and beautiful eyes. It never was the same face or the same hair but it was always him. It was childish and stupid and if anyone ever found out she had an imaginary friend they would make fun of her, she was sure of this. So she never told anyone about him, not even her mother. And at nights when she was crying herself to sleep, feeling all alone she found solace in the fantasy of her angels arms. Even if it was just a fantasy and he didn’t really exist and there was no one holding her. She wasn’t delusional after all. Whatever her guardian angel looked like she was thankful.

And then time passed and she found herself in her thirties.

She was in Japan, not for work and neither as a tourist and was standing in a bakery craving something sugary and sweet. Life was too short to refrain from lifes small pleasures and with that thought in mind she had decided to purchase what she craved. It had only been a few days since she had arrived and this was the first day she had walked around the districts streets of her apartment, her anxiety controlled by her new medication. Viktoria didn’t pay the person no mind that stepped beside her to wait for their turn. From the corner of her eyes she saw white fluffy hair and sunglasses but she kept on focusing on the displayed sweets trying to choose which was becoming harder by the minute. Viktoria had to be careful with her spending so she had to carefully decide. Humming softly to herself as her eyes glanced over each treat she strugglered against her indecisivness. One cake would have to do with her limited funds even thought she would have loved to get more than one. Sadly she couldn't. But which one? Leaning over and taking in the pastries while not being able to read the Japanese letters she licked her dry lips in thought. 

„What to get…“, she murmured in English scanning the display and seeing how each pastry looked sweet and pretty. How could she possibly make a choice? Seconds later her eyes landed on something with strawberries and something that looked like chocolate. Choice made she straightened up and pointed towards it and told the girl behind the counter in English: „This one please.“

The woman behind the counter pointed towards one and Viktoria shook her head, pointing to the strawberry cake further to the right and finally she could nod as the girl pointed at the chocolate strawbery cake. There was relief in the servers face as she probably had no idea what Viktoria was saying. It wasn't surprising as she hadn't met many Japanese that spoke English. However, communication wasn't only based on sounds but on gestures as well so not all was lost. Now packing the strawberry chocolate pastry into a small white box for her Viktoria smiled, paid for it and thanked her in Japanese with an accent with a small: „Arigatou gozaimasu.“ A few words were in her repertoire after all.

Turning around she wanted to leave when the man who had been next after her stepped in front of her, his hand raised in front of her chest. He waved someone through and let them go first before he looked at her again and smiled. Viktoria was only confused because she had no idea what he wanted from her. He stepped a step closer and smiled down at her, dark sunglasses hiding his eyes he spoke in perfect English: „You have something there.“

He pointed at her shoulder and she tried to take a look before she wiped at whatever there was with her hand. His smile deepened and he raised his hand.

„What?“, dumbfounded she asked when he simply brushed something from her shoulder, the touch making her shudder as fingertips grazed against her throat, „Is it gone?“ 

„Oh, yes. Looked like a leaf.“, he smiled brightly and she wondered how a leaf had ended up on her shoulder when it wasn’t even windy outside. It wasn't even autumn. Trying to look down at the spot again there was nothing she could see but as he had said it was already gone.

„Thank you.“, this time saying her thanks in English he just nodded: „You’re welcome.“

A small exchange between strangers, nothing more, nothing less. And yet as he went on to order his own choice of pastries while she stepped out of the bakery she couldn't help herself from looking back. There was something strange about him, something she couldn't quite understand like an equation she couldn't solve because she wasn't a mathematician. There was an air around him that made her falter in her steps but she shook her head and didn't look back again as she made her way towards her small apartment. It was an hour later she realized that her neck felt… light. Painless. Usually there was some kind of weight and tension always weighing down on her as if she were Atlas holding the world and carrying it as a punishment. Weird. Maybe her new medication had helped not only with her anxiety but with her pain as well. Truly, she hoped this was the case because if not and this was just a whim of her body she didn't know what else she could do as she had already tried everything there was to stop the painful attacks.

Days later after an appointment with her new doctor who had specialized in cases like hers she was taking a walk, squinting and rubbing against her forehead and temples, again wearing sunglassess. Viktoria adjusted her glasses, trained to never leave without her sunglasses and was glad it was already evening and dark outside. She had had to wait for two hours before her new appointed doctor had finally been able to see her. An emergency, he had declared with an apology when she was sitting down in front of him at his desk.

Viktoria reported to him about the day in which her anxiety had been lesser and her pain had been gone and he had been happy to hear that the new medicine seemingly had helped. It was good news and it made them both hopeful for the future. Imagining a life without pain was something she didn't dare do but now she indulged in this fantasy as new hope bloomed in her chest like a flower after winter.

She wasn’t so hopeful right now.

The pain was unbearable now, feeling as if hot needles were poking from behind her eyeballs into them. A static electric pain that never left were her sinuses were and not being able to take it anymore she beat once, twice, thrice against her forehead with her fists. The pain remained the dull ache of her fists now added against her skull.

She had been in pain for so long she wasn’t even able to cry anymore from it. Although she did want to cry. Desperately. Deeply. With the desperation of a child that got hurt. She just couldn’t. There were no tears gathering in her eyes, just a burn as if she would cry any second but she knew she never would. Then she doubled over, sudden nausea hitting her and she had the urge to gag. Stumbling on the sidewalk until she could lean against the wall with one hand she gagged, ignoring any passerbys that pointed at her or looked weirdly at her. Vikoria didn’t care anymore. She had stopped caring a long time ago when it came to others and what they thought of her having no fucks left to give.

Gagging for a few minutes she finally was able to throw up. There was nothing to throw up as she hadn’t eaten anything the whole day. She had woken up with the pain sitting behind her forehead like an old friend greeting her. On such days she rarely ate as the thought of food made bile rise up her throat. So all that she was able to spit out was a gooey mess as she heaved. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand when she was finished she needed a few seconds to breathe before she was able to collect herself to continue her walk. Of course she could just return to the small apartment she stayed at but she didn’t want to. All she would do in there was lie in the dark anyway feeling restless and trembling because her body couldn't decide if it felt hot of cold. Walking took away the focus from her pain at least a little bit.

„Excuse me?“, someone asked after she had thrown up only minutes ago. White hair. Blindfold. Dark outfit. It felt like a deja vu but she had no patience to try to remember or dwell on it.

„What.“, she knew she sounded rude and quickly continued much kinder and with a smile: „I mean, yes, can I help you?“ Now sounding a lot more welcoming even though she felt anything but she was able to overplay how miserable she truly felt. After dealing with health issues her whole life it was an art she had mastered to act in front of strangers and to mask how she truly felt.

The Kakashi cosplayer stepped closer: „Are you alright? You seem a bit… sick.“

A bitter laugh escaped her at that. A bit sick. Yes, sure, if he wanted to call it that.

„I’m as alright as I can be.“, replying she shrugged him off still smiling and wanting to continue her walk. So she did. However she did not expect a sudden wind from behind her, the gust of wind so strong it nearly made her stumble. Moments later the white haired stranger was beside her again. Viktoria had stopped. What made her stop was not him or the strangeness she felt from him but the sudden relief; a relief so immense small tears escaped her eyes. The burn in her eyes lessened.

„Are you really alright?“, he asked a bit gentler this time and she nodded without looking at him quickly wiping away the tears: „Yeah, I think I will be.“ She heard the smile in his voice when he replied: „That’s good.“ So she started walking again, this time taking the route back to her apartment feeling tears run down her cheeks once in a while. Absentmindeldy she would wipe them away taking deep breaths and not stopping. Not stopping she kept on walking when she slowly realized she was alone and he was gone. Coming to a halt and looking around she realized she was truly alone, the good samaritan nowhere in sight. Something told her it hadn’t been a coincidence. She should have asked for his name. He reminded her of her guardian angel she had imagined all these years ago when she had been a child. 

That same evening she was able to enjoy a hot bath and her dinner, filling her stomach with delicious food she was able to cook herself. It had been ages since she had cooked something for herself. And she was a good cook. It used to be a hobby until the migraines were so frequent and the pain in her body so unbearable she wasn’t able to stand in a kitchen anymore. Not only was the migraine gone, but every small ache, every painful spot felt brand new as if she had never been in pain; as if she was a normal healthy adult woman; as if she had been reborn into a new body. Like magic. Just like that. Not even her back ached. And when she was lying in bed she thought of her guardian angel and imagined him beside her as she thanked him quietly; no matter how silly it was. Her imaginary guardian angel had been with her since she was small but this time he had silvery white hair and a mischievous line in his kind smile.

The next morning she woke up with a slight ache in her ankle a sigh escaping her at the realization. Deciding not letting this small ache hold her back she got up, made herself breakfast and decided to go sightseeing. This was the first morning she had spend without pain, except the ankle, so she would use every opportunity she had to have fun and do whatever she wanted to do. Tokio had a lot of spots to sightsee and she wasn’t incredibly hung up on anything particular other things taking up space in her mind regarding her visit to Japan. Researching places that were easy to access from her apartment she quickly decided on some spots and went on her way after preparing herself.

When she stepped out of her apartment glasses clean perched on her nose she saw three teenagers arguing about something wearing uniforms. Because of their Japanese she had no idea what they were talking about so loudly in bright daylight but all she did was ignore it, only a small part of her wondering why they weren’t at school and going on her way. These kids were not her responsibilty although their uniforms did seem familiar. Shaking her head she stopped dwelling on it.

Strangely enough hours later she found herself face to face with the same teenagers. It was all just a coincidence. It must be. Right? She had simply stepped out of the restroom in the restaurant she had been at when she saw the teenagers frantically looking around and maybe argueing again – while standing by the table she had sat at. Walking towards the table she simply looked at them and then smiled kindly for a second before she walked towards the entrance to leave. It was just a coincidence.

For the rest of the day she didn’t see the teenagers again. If she would have seen them she truly would have started worrying that they were following her. Until that point she had been nearly fully painfree as well except for her ankle. That is until two hours later when another explosive migraine made itself known. It had started with a dull pulsing ache until it quickly turned into something a lot more vicious. Knowing what would come she opened her bag and looked through it until she found the case and pulled out her sunglasses. Regular glasses were put away and exchanged for sunglasses. Much better. The dark shades helped with the sensitivty to light. Shoulders and neck becoming tense she wondered if she should book a massage somewhere near her apartment before deciding against it. Her ankle hurt even more too. But no. She didn’t have the funds at the moment.

Whelp, at least the migraine wasn’t as bad as the last one. It was just a slight throbbing. Yes, it was painful and yes, it was going on her nerves but sadly enough she was used to worse no matter how vicious it was. As it was slowly getting dark she decided to return to the apartment. Maybe a hot bath would help.

Back at the home she chose for her visit to Japan she took her medication, added her triptan as well before taking a hot bath, groaning in pleasure as the heat engulfed her body and relaxed her muscles – at least a bit. The bathrooms lights were turned off and it was dark but she didn’t want to risk anything so the dark it was. Honestly, she enjoyed the dark more than the sunny days too so it wasn’t a big deal to her. If she needed a light she could just use the flashlight on her phone. Slowly she became sleepy, the medication taking its course and with this she knew it was time to leave the bathtub. She didn’t want to drown after all.

The meds made her a bit wobbly and woozy but nothing she couldn’t handle. Taking a towel and quickly drying herself she didn’t bother with any pyjamas and simply went to bed naked. She slept in the nude a lot and she didn’t mind it as she felt more constricted with clothing in bed. Any insecurity she had fell away as soon as a painful attack hit her anyway. There was other shit to worry about and, yeah… she rather be as ugly as a toad and be healthy than the most beautiful but be sick and be breakable as glass.

The pain wasn’t gone the next morning. It was dull and still there but it also hadn’t gotten worse which was a win for her. Sure, it irritated and frustrated her but this was better than the painful attack getting worse.

Viktoria should have known better; should have known it would get worse. And worse it got.

Lying on the floor, blinds down and not having eaten for the entirety of the day once again she pressed her fists against her eyes. After a while she moved her hands towards her hair and started pulling on it until it was painful enough to relief her from the migraine. It was only temporarily but it relieved her nontheless.

Then a thought crossed her mind. Her migraines had stopped whenever she had taken a walk. With new formed hope in her heart she got up from the floor, not bothering with underwear and just pulling on sweatpants and a sweatshirt before pulling on shoes and coat and leaving with her phone, key and purse – and her sunglasses on her nose.

Thankfully it was already dark out. Mindlessly she chose a direction and tried to remember other things when something scratched at the back of her mind. Gazing up she realized she was standing in the street of the bakery she had visited all these days ago. The one with the pastries. Remembering white hair as a deja vu it hit her. That pain had stopped whenever he had been near her. Then she laughed. To a passerby it might have sounded a bit insane but anyone who went through chronic pain all their life would lose a bit of their mind. Why did she laught? Because it was absurd. One man responsible for her relief? No way. That sounded dumb. Stupid. Like magic which didn’t exist.

And yet…

She was desperate. Viktoria was truly incredibly desperate. She couldn’t live one year longer like that. She was in her thirties, no successfull career to her name, no way of making money and having to still rely on her home states social aid and her parents money and just one year away from suicide. So she started on aching legs, vertigo clouding her mind and hoping to find her guardian angel desperation and hope leading her into a random direction. She would look for him and find him no matter how long it would take her. And if she had to crawl at the end, she would find him. She had to.

Her forehead throbbed. Her eyes burned. Needles of lava were prickling into her eyeballs. Her shoulders felt tense, the tension shooting up into her neck and down her spine. She stumbled when a sudden pain shot down her leg. Grinding her teeth she slowed down her hips hurting with each step she took. These type of pains sometimes happend. Just sudden jolts that didn’t seem to mean anything and yet disturbed her life on a daily basis. Oh, now her back hurt too. She felt as if she had aged a hundred years.

One hour later she was ready to scream. Again leaning against a dirty wall with one hand she was gagging on an empty stomach, just spitting out saliva and bile. She was sure at some point she would throw up her organs. As her vision blurred she stumbled forward to finish her walk, pulling on her hair and as she did so a sudden pain shot up directly into her left eye ball. Doubling ever she had to lean with her forehead against the wall, just steps away were she had thrown up the empty contents of her stomach.

Then something dripped out of her nose. She watched as the dark red liquid dripped down on to the side walk, disappearing into the dark and the only light sources being the street lamps behind her.

„Fucking hell.“, she whispered and stared at the drop of blood or what she thought was her blood on the pavement until her vision blurred before pulling her head back and then letting it fall against the rough wall. Maybe if she would beat her head enough times into the wall the pain would stop. One. She felt her skin meeting the rough wall again. The uneven texture of concrete pressed into her skin. Two. And again. Concrete scratched against her skin a bit more forceful. Three. Maybe if she smashed her skull in the pain would finlly stop. It wasn’t the first time she had drawn blood to stop the pain. Not that it had ever worked. But maybe this time… So she leaned her head back to hit it against the wall again. Fou-

„Hey, hey, hey.“, gently someone pulled at her forearms until she stepped away from the wall to stop her from smashing in her skull. The source of the gentle voice turned her carefully around and she wanted to sob when she laid her eyes upon him. The white haired man. Black blindfold above his nose and a kind but mischievous smile on his lips he seemed so otherworldly to her in this moment she didn’t know why. There was an aura around him and to her it seemed as if he were glowing but surely this was just a trick of the light, the street lamps behind him. But God. It was him.

It was him.

The man who could lead her to salvation.

She had been looking for him, had tried to figure out if it was the walks and fresh air or him or both combined that made the pain stop but now that she had both she clinged to it with the desperation of a man in the desert finding a drop of water. He was still holding her shoulders when her hands reached for his shirt. She couldn't control herself as she clinged to him, hands trembling in despair. Gently his hands took hers and forced her to let go of him. His hands felt cold and yet warm at the same time. She wanted to sob.

„Was it you?“, despite the pain she felt she sounded grounded and normal as if she hadn’t tried to hurt herself by hitting her head against some building just moments ago, „Did you make it stop?“

What a stupid question. There was nothing he could have done to stop the pain. He wasn’t some kind of medication she could take, hell, he had never even touched her. Okay, now he had touched her arms to pull her away from the wall but the pain was still there so that was that. He was just a human. No one had the ability to just take her aches away. That would be magic. And magic didn’t exist. Taking a deep shaky breath and letting her head hang, strands of hair falling over her cheeks she felt herself losing any hope she might have felt. Still she held on to him.

„Of course not.“, she whispered to no one and answered her own question, „Sorry for asking. I’m just… I’m just a bit sick.“ The pain throbbed with a burning electricity and there was a buzzing shrill sounding in her ears. She wanted to die.

„Do you want me to?“, he asked instead and she raised her brows as she looked up to gaze at him. Wow. He was really tall.

„To what?“, she asked quietly her voice sounding far away in her own ears.

„Make the pain stop.“

At his words her eyes widened and then he moved his hand in front of him to cross two of his fingers. It reminded her of Naruto and now he truly seemed like Kakashi.

Suddenly a gust of wind and it seemed as if she was the cataclyst of this wind, the eye of the orcan. Out of nowhere relief flooded her veins like rain during a draught, the relief so imminent that she fell to her knees her eyes wide. The burn was gone, her sight returned to normal and all the aches she only had seconds ago she didn’t even realize she had been suffering from… it was all gone. As if all her suffering had never been there.

Taking loud and small breaths and blinking at him her vision was cleared and so for the first time she was able to take a detailed look at the white haired stranger. He was now crouching in front of her, a smile still tugging on his lips and his eyes still blindfolded. Somehow she knew he could see her despite the dark material covering his eyes. Slowly reaching for her he rubbed away some dirt from her forehead and she winced slightly from the pain. Pain that didn’t come from inside of her. A kind of pain she hadn’t felt in ages.

„I’ve never met anyone like you.“, he mysteriously said and she blinked at him again, not asking anything and her not understanding what he meant. Somehow she felt incredibly tired and retoured with a: „Yeah, same. Never met anyone like you too.“ He just grinned at her when she sighed and rubbed at her eyes.

„I’m tired. And hungry.“, she told him and he nodded in understanding, still grinning at her as if it was the most natural conclusion of this evening. Eying him she raised her brows and for the first time she really, truly looked at him. Taking in his throat and jawline, letting her eyes wander over his chin and then to his lips that were turning from a grin into a smirk. Ignoring this she continued her journey from his lips to his nose up, up to his blindfold, wondering for a brief moment what his eyes looked like before stopping at this silvery hair of his.

„Like what you see?“, still smirking he cocked his head to the side, „Am I not incredibly handsome?“

Ignoring that question she simply asked: „Why do you cosplay Kakashi?“

What followed was an offended gasp, hand now on his chest as if she had deeply wounded him: „I’m not cosplaying anyone!“

„Uh huh.“, not quite believing him she kept on eyeing him with suspicion, thinking of people that walked around as Batman and other characters, not being convinced at all.

„I’m really not! This hair is all natural you know!“, he pointed at his hair and she squinted her eyes at him looking at the white strands. It did look incredibly fluffly, she had to admit. A part of her wanted to ask him if she could touch it but she refrained from it. Instead she started moving, slowly getting up into a standing position. Following her he was standing now too, towering over her she only realized now how tall he was. Having to strain her neck a bit she looked up at him. She didn't mind thought. Her neck was free from any tension.

„So… it is you. Right?“, she carefully asked and he hummed softly with a knowing smile. Deflecting her question he asked: „What’s your name?“

„I’m Viktoria.“, she told him, forgetting about the Japanese using their last names first and only using first names in closer relationships. Him not answering she took as a Yes and asked for his name in return: „And you are?“

„I’m Satoru.“, crossing his arms she wondered what he was that he was able to take her pain away. Viktoria wanted to ask although she somehow had the feeling he wouldn’t really give her an answer. Instead of bombarding him with questions of what he had done and how he was able to take her pain away she asked him something simple that wasn’t that simple at all: „And what now Satoru?“

His grin widened.

Chapter Text

The bright neon lights of the fast food restaurant would usually be a cause of great discomfort for her photophobia due to her health issues. Even now the fluorescent light had something she dreaded as they felt plastic and fake to her illuminating the restaurant she was sitting in. Despite all of this there was no pain she had to endure as she sat with her half eaten meal; being able to sit in McDonalds without even needing to wear her sunglasses. Putting another fry into her mouth tasting the salt she chewed as she looked at the man sitting accross from her with his ice cream on the border of being disgusting with the amount of sugary sauce dripping from his spoon.

Putting another salty fry into her mouth she watched him enjoy a spoonful of pure caramel sauce and honestly… she couldn’t blame him. She loved caramel. But she hadn’t eaten anything the whole day and dessert was the last thing on her mind. This McDonalds had been the first restaurant they had come accross as they had started walking after she had claimed she was not only tired but also hungry. She was so hungry she didn’t really care were they ate telling him that they had the time to discuss everything later. Well, apparently it had been the right choice as it seemed he throughouly enjoyed his ice cream.

Taking a sip of her coke she didn’t know how to continue from now on and dwelled on what had happened until now. She rememberd him somewhat from the small bakery and she intended to ask him about that first meeting of theirs. She rememered how she had taken a walk and he had been there at some point. But no clear memories as the pain always were on the forefront of her mind. Her capabilites to memorize things had deteriorated since she had been a teenager. What she knew however was that somehow he was connected to her pain – or he was more likely the salvation she needed to find her freedom from her torment. And she had no intention of letting him go so easily which was why she was glad he was still with her, eating with her in a McDonalds. Not once had he complained.

„You really should learn Japanese.“, he suddenly told her out of nowhere and she slowed down with her chewing, thinking it through before nodding. Because he was right. Until now she hadn’t really been able to learn anything, hell, her issues had been so bad (or still were?) that she hadn’t even been able to hold down a job. And she had tried. She really did. Sadly as often as she had thrown up at her last workplace it just wasn’t doable for her to have a job. Without her pain she wouldn’t even be in Japan sitting with him at this ungodly hour in a shitty fast food restaurant. She was only able to be here because of her elderly parents as they paid for her stay.

„Yeah, I know. But I was always in so much pain I couldn’t really learn it.“, licking the salt from her finger and thumb she shrugged at her words and wondered how long she’d be pain-free this time. Honestly, there have been a few secluded moments in which she had thought that she had become insane from all the pain and had imagined him with his fluffy white hair and weird blindfold even thinking that maybe she was the only one who had been able see him. That is until he had ordered the ice cream by her side at the counter. In this moment it had been clear that other people could see him too thus relieving her of her worries she might have lost her mind. Whelp, it wouldn’t have had surprised her if he were just a figment of her imagination with all the shit her body had already been through. She knew she wasn’t sane anyway.

Neither of them said anything for a bit in which she decided to be bold. Taking a sip of her drink she looked at him and it was when the straw left her lips that she asked him: „So, will you teach me then? Japanese I mean?“

For a moment he stilled and it felt as if he was looking at her through his blindofld when he hummed and tasted his sugary treat. Her question had probably surprised him but really what did he expect? He was the only thing that completely put her out of her misery. And if he were to teach her she’d be able to see him a lot more often. In conclusion she would have many more pain-free days. So, who could blame her? And she didn’t have to funds to pay for a teacher anyway. The most obvious reason why she wanted him to teach her was because of the way he could free her from her pain.

„Sure.“, grinning at her she couldn’t help but feel a bit surprised that he agreed just like that without thinking it through. Deciding not to question it as she was sure she would get her answers sooner or later she decided to just smile and continue eating her meal. And she did have question that burned in the back of her mind but she knew they wouldn’t be answered anytime soon. He didn’t seem like the type of person who willingly gave out information and shared things.

„You’re in luck.“, grin growing a tad bit wider he leaned forward and she looked at him curiously, „Because I’m a teacher anyway.“

Him? A teacher?

„You don’t seem like a teacher.“, replying as she ate the last of her fries she put her ellbow on the table, hand on her cheek as she watched him snicker quietly. Viktoria wondered wat kind of teacher he was and what his subjects were. Maybe English? It did make sense as his English was really good only a slight accent that was only there when one would pay close attention.

„Which is why you’re lucky!“, he proclaimed pointing at her with the spoon ice cream dripping down into his cup. At this point she started to get out her phone and opened up her contacts. Clicking on the ‚new contact‘ button she slid the phone towards him: „Here, gimme your number.“

Viktoria didn’t want to loose this God send man and had no intention of simply letting him go. He was the one who could take away her pain and she simply didn’t want to lose the opportunity he so willingly gave. So when he started to write in his number and name she instantly called to check if it truly was his. When his phone started to vibrate and he showed her that he indeed had given her his real number she broke the call off.

„Don’t you trust me?“, he asked still smiling, always smiling.

„No.“, she told him and finished the last of her fries while he finished his ice cream. This time he didn’t give her a reply.

Soon after the left the restaraunt and stood side by side in the cold. It was still feburary and cold outside which she didn’t mind. She had always been able to handle the winter cold much better than the summer heat.

„Come on, I’ll bring you home.“, he told her and gestured with one hand to follow him. He was tall and with his long legs his steps were much larger than hers which was why she quickly had to catch up to him. When he realized that he slowed down his pace which she was grateful for. She wasn’t exactly the fittest person there was and she had always been quickly out of breath her constituion a weak one.

„You don’t even know were I live.“, she told him after a few moments and without looking at him she somehow knew he was smiling that mysterious smile of his as if he knew things she didn’t know. Though he cocked his head to the side as if he were looking at her: „Then lead the way.“

She did.

As they walked the path back to her temporary apartment a silence hung between them. A silence that wasn’t awkward at all; a silence that despite the sounds that surrounded them never felt intrusive. Not even when he quietly started to hum a song she didn’t know did the silence that floated around them fall away. It remained. That is until they walked past an alley.

„Did you hear that?“, she asked seemingly out of nowhere and she looked around slowing down her steps. Satoru turned his head listening in not sure what it was that she had heard. But Viktoria turned towards the alley when she perked up. Then he heard it too. A quiet rustling sound and then…

„Meow.“

Viktoria stepped into the alley and listened intently and looked around when she heard it again. Then between boxes it emerged. A cat, limping and damp fur, an ugly wound on its eye. It meowed again. Before Satoru could say anything Viktoria knelt down and stretched out her hand, tiredness forgotten.

„Hey baby.“, voice soft with a whisper at the injured animal she hoped it would approach her and not flee back into its hiding spot. Satoru only watched unreadable expression on his face observing how the animal slowly and carefully creeped towards the older woman. It was unexpected that a street cat like that, wounded and on edge, came up towards a human like that. He watched as the small animal bumped its head against the outstretched hand and how Viktoria softly petted it without fear. It was probably dirty and touching it like that was probably dangerous as it was due to bacteria but she didn’t seem to care. Satoru didn't stop her though and simply watched the pair.

„It’s okay now.“, she muttered under her breath before she moved her other hand and picked the animal up. The cat didn’t make a fuss and let itself get handled.

„I’ll take care of you.“, standing up she turned around towards her companion and was a bit surprised that he was still there. A part of her had truthfully expected that he would ditch her because someone like him could only be a dream. She was still perplexed at what he had done even if she didn't fully understand what exactly he had done. It was still unbelieveable that he was the one who took away her pain effortlessly. The question of the how and why lingered on her mind but she didn’t dare ask him as she was also afraid that asking him might scare him away. And now that she had an injured animal in her arms she prioritized not her questions.

Holding the cat tightly she wrapped it up in her coat to the best of her abilites while she still wore it. Pressing it against her chest she looked up at him: „All the vets are probably already closed.“ He only nodded not telling her that he had no clue about vets. He never had owned a pet. She continued: „As I don’t speak Japanese… would you go to a vet with me tomorrow?“ He did agree to teach her English after all so maybe he'd be so nice and help with that too.

To her relief he just smiled: „Sure. Let’s get going then.“

It seemed a bit heartless to her how he didn’t comment or react on the cat and how injured it was. She couldn’t help and look down at the poor thing she had picked up and hugging it a bit more tightly she couldn’t help herself but smile down an it. Gently she cooed at it: „It’ll be okay, I promise.“

After their little run in with the animal it didn’t take long for them to arrive at her apartment complex. It was rather small and nothing special. Every resident living in this building was a foreigner staying here. Students and short-term workers from all walks of life resided in here.

Juggling for a moment she tried to hold the cat with one arm and groaned when she realized her key was in the other pocket. Looking over her shoulder to Satoru an idea crossed her mind before she turned around, marched towards him and told him: „Hold out your arms.“

„Mh?“, surprised at her demand but still having the corners of his mouth turned upwards he did as he was told when suddenly the cat was put into his arms. His mouth fell open for a moment and he seemed puzzled, extremely so. Viktoria ignored it and finally was able to look for her key and found it after a few seconds. Satoru remained silent and his mouth still slightly agape it felt as if he was staring at her. Not caring about him at the moment she opened the door and motioned for him to move. It took him a few seconds before he collected himself and moved, that smile he always wore on his face gone.

„Sorry, you’ll have to carry her. Or him. And thank you.“, going towards the stair case she felt grateful for a brief second as her apartment was on the first floor. When she had moved here she had specifially requested it because of her chronic pain. It helped a lot when she didn’t have to worry about stairs too much in her daily life.

As soon as she stepped towards the apartment door she opened it and took off her shoes at the entrance. Turning around and moving towards Satoru again she was by his side again and stretched out her arms towards him. When she had opened the door he had remained standing in the door awkwardly holding the cat. Quickly she relieved him of the animal in his arms, white fur now sticking to his dark uniform. Which was none of her concern. Rather, she worried more about the cat she now held in her arms again. Soflty she cooed at it as she walked deeper into her small flat.

Advancing to her couch she carefully laid down the street cat on it before she took off her coat. Then she made her way towards the kitchen preparing a bowl of water and a few kitchen towels. However, when she stood by the kitchen she saw from the corner of the eye that Satoru was still standing in the entrance of her small home. He was so tall it looked awkward with his long legs and arms. If she weren’t so worried about her patient she would have giggled.

„Satoru. Thank you for everything. If you want you can come in. Otherwise… please be here in the morning. I – or we – really need to get the cat to a vet.“, a few heartbeats passed in which he didn’t answer and the longer he stayed silent the heavier the silence became. Feeling the need to squirm under his covered gaze it was a wonder she was able to remain still. She didn’t even realize she had held her breath when he lowered his head and broke whatever eye contact he had held: „I’ll be going now. And you don’t have to thank me. We’ll talk tomorrow and… I’ll explain everything.“ Maybe. He still wasn't sure. There were a few things he had to think through. 

Viktoria nodded and then the door clicked shut and she was alone. Well, looking down at the cute furry friend not that alone. Smiling to herself she quickly gave him – or her – a quick pet. It seemed so weak though, painfully weak and it didn't even move that much. The only sign i twas still alive was its breathin and the twitch of its ears. Hopefully it would make the night. It didn’t even open its eyes when she her hand had touched its head.

Sitting down beside her patient she picked up a kitchen towel, let it soak some water from the bowl and started washing her furry friend to the best of her abilites.

The door closed behind him and Satoru looked down at his hands. His Infinity however was still active. Had been through the entirety of the evening. Then how… how had she been able to just force the cat on to him? It had caught him off guard. He had constantly focused on curses that were around them and might attach themselves on Viktoria again which is why he hadn’t expected her to, well, put the cat into his arms. No one could touch him if he didn’t want to and in this moment… he definetely didn’t want to be touched. Infinity had become second nature to him and he didn’t have to think about turning it on and off again. So how?

Of course she had been strange from the beginning with the way curses had followed her, were glued to her. Because they didn’t attack her. Not directly. They had remained calm, calmer than he had witnessed any other curse. There were instances in which curses were calm but the calm had always felt like the calm before the storm. The calmness that inhabitated the curses that were glued to her? It hadn’t felt like a false calmness and didn't lull anyone into a false sense of security. They had seemed relaxed even, maybe sleepy. And then? His Infinity. For her it hadn’t been there. It had simply… moved around her. It had allowed her to move into his personal space.

Remembering the moment he recalled how, yes, his Infinity had remained but it moved around her, carressed her hands and made space for whatever she might have needed from him. More than anything it was worrying. His Infinity was his to contorl, his curesed technique and she wasn't even able to see curses. Otherwise she would have acted completely different around the curses that clinged to her as if she were their mother and they her ducklings.

Removing himself from the door he got his phone out and dialed a number. It didn’t take long for the other person to pick up.

„Satoru?“

„We need to talk. Now.“

The silence told him the other person was worried because when the strongest sorcerer was worried… well, no one should understimate whatever worried the strongest.

„We’ll meet at my place.“, then one of his best friends had to ask after a heartbeat of strained silence, „Anything else?“

„Get Shoko. You two are the only people I can trust about this.“, he explained and the receiver was silent again for a few second: „Alright. I’ll call her.“

„Yeah. Later.“, then he hang up the call. He knew it would take a bit until Shoko would be at Sugurus place which was fine. He intended to take a look at the Gojo-residences library anyway. The Gojo-Clan was still renowd and one of the three most influental Clans in Japan. Not only because of its rich history but also because of Satoru himself. Honestly, he resented his Clan but in moments like these he benefited greatly from the Clan, its influence and everything else that came with being its heir something he could use to his own advantage. Officially his father was the current Clan head and to say their relationship was strained would be an understatement. Best to just teleport directly into the library without being detected. He didn’t want to be seen by any of the Clan compounds residents.

In the library he knew exactly were to look for the books he was looking for, namely the century old books that explained everything about his Six Eyes and Limitless. It took a bit until he had them all together but as soon as he had all of them he teleported directly to Sugurus front door.

Knocking it didn’t take long for the door to open, Shokos cursed energy flickering inside the apartment that welcomed him warmly. He could trust his best friends with everything; with his life. They had been through so much in their lifes who else could he trust but them?

When Suguru saw the serious expression on his friends face he knew it really had to be serious. A part of him had expected some type of prank but looking at the books it only confirmed his fears that something must have happened.

Moments later, books laid down on the table in front of the leather sofa he pulled off his blindfold and massaged the bridge of his knows while the other arm held his upper body weight on his thigh.

„What happened?“, Shoko asked in sweatpants and some comfortable clothing sitting on Sugurus expensive couch. As soon as Satoru entered the living room she had straightened up from her sitting position on the couch as Suguru prepared some snacks knowing Satoru would need the sugar to focus. He had sat down beside her and now he was still rubbing the bridge of his nose before he sighed deeply. Then pulled the blindfold over his eyes down to his throat. He just stared at the snacks that found their way on to the table without really looking at them. The tension as his friends didn’t know what had happened grew with each passing second he didn’t speak until he opened his mouth to explain.

„A few days ago I ran into a woman.“, he told them his voice calm. Shoko and Suguru shared a look and if Satoru weren’t so serious they would tease him about meeting a woman he apparently was interested in.

„I met her at the bakery I told you guys about. She was a foreigner and there were curses hanging off of her. And not just one or two but… but a lot. I’ve never seen so many curses on a single person before.“, he looked up at his friends, „And they didn’t do anything. They were calm.“

Rubbing the back of his neck with his palm he corrected himself: „No, calm is not the right word. Rather than that... they were… relaxed.“ Moving to lean with his forearms on his thighs he rubbed the palms of his hands against each other: „They didn’t seem malevolent. As if they didn’t mean her any harm.“

That was strange. Both friends had to admit that. They’ve never heard of such a case before. But they remained silent as Suguru finally took a seat on his armchair while Shoko remained seated beside Satoru. She felt the sudden itch of her fingers feeling the urge to light a cigarette. Funny. She had stopped smoking years ago.

„Before she left I exorcised them. With the brush of my finger. They didn’t fight it.“, something else that had been strange about these curses that seemed just like any other curse he had come accross, „Two days later I felt a build up of cursed energy. And it was her. Again, curses sticking to her like glue. And again I exorcised them. The next time I met her was tonight. She was taking a walk I think and she…“ He rubbed his temples with his finger tips and sighed: „The curses were back. And they were causing her so much pain she slammed her head against a wall. I stopped her from injuringe herself, exorcised the curses and they were gone. With it her pain. We exchanged contact information and I wanted to bring her to Jujutsu Tech tomorrow. Which is reasonable enough. We need to figure out why the curses were so strongly attracted to her. But... I don't think I want to bring her to the school just yet.“

Shoko nodded and leaned back against the couch and moved her in socks clad feet up, putting her hands on her knees. Suguru rubbed his chin thinking about possible reasons. And he wanted to ask Satoru if he had felt anything weird from this womans cursed energy when Satoru spoke again: „And that’s not all.“

Not all? That didn’t sound good. Shoko and Suguru shared a look once again.

„I escorted her home. Looked out for other curses but I think my presence scared them off.“, taking a look from Suguru to Shoko he continued, „She picked up a street cat and I was distracted by the nearby curses lurking in their hide outs. She wasn’t able to find her keys because she was carrying this cat.“

A short but humourless laugh escaped him: „The animal lived but I don’t think it will survive the night. It was sick and dirty and wounded.“ Satoru shook his head: „And yet she picked this dirty cat up without being worried about getting dirty or getting sick and she just… she used her coat to cover it and she… she just didn’t seem worried at all about her own wellbeing.“

Talking about the foreigner picking up a street cat wasn’t the issue here. Shoko knew it, Suguru knew it. Satoru knew it. But they knew death like the warmth of the sun, knew the carress of death like they knew the colour and smell of blood. They knew when someone was dead or dying and knew when it was impossible to save someone. False hope for sorceres would only lead to heartbreak which was why Satoru was so aggravated about a simple street cat being saved that was fated to die tonight.

For a moment in Sugurus inner eye the image of Amanai Rika flashed and he kissed his teeth. No, not now. Satoru was more important. And Rika wasn’t important anymore. She wasn’t in his life anymore. Instead he had others that counted on him he needed to protect. His friends, Satoru and Shoko, his twins he had picked up and saved with Satorus and Shokos help. Even though the boys had been young back then they had both taken on the responsibilty of fathers. Suguru never would have expected that he would care so much about two young girls as he did now. He was glad they wanted to live at the dorms and that they couldn't listen in on this conversation. (Although he did miss having them around.)

Sighing loudly Satoru let himself lean back and slumped against the couch: „And she just put the cats into my arms. I was distracted by the curses surrounding us she caught me off guard.“ Off guard? Him? Gojo Satoru? How was that possible? The question was answered quickly enough.

Laughing humourless again he added: „I never turned off my Infinity.“

Shokos eyes grew wide. Suguru tensed.

„...what.“, it was Suguru who had said this, not even asking and Satoru turned his head to look at him, head leaned back against black leather: „You heard right. She just…“ He spread his hands: „She turned off my infinity. Or- no, rather than that.“ Blue eyes became thoughtful: „My infinity made room for her. It was still there, never turned off but it led her fucking through.“

Hell. When Satoru had called him Suguru had expected a prank or maybe someone had died, maybe the Gojo-Clan wanted him to finally take over as head. But no. This… this was so much worse.

„What the fuck, Satoru.“, Shoko finally found her voice and moved, turning her upper body towards her white haired friend. Satoru just waved his hands towards the books on the table in front of him and shrugged. He himself had no idea what the fuck that had been. So now here he was.

„Are you sure she isn’t a curse user?“, Suguru asked quietly after a few seconds of stretched tense silence and Satoru nodded: „I’m sure. She seemed like a completely normal human with nearly no cursed energy. Except for the curses. And when she was somehow able to… move my Infinity.“

His head leaned back his gaze flickered up towards the ceiling. He had no idea what to do now. Not once had he ever considered his Infinity could be overpowered like that. When he had researched his new technique as a teenager he had read everything he could get his hands on. The same books and more were now in Sugurus apartment.

„Alright.“, Shoko sat straight up and broke the tense silence as she moved towards the edge of her seat and picked up one of the ancient books that were protected with seals so they wouldn’t waste away with age. Opening the first book she had picked up at the two men that were like family for her: „We need to research. That’s why you brought them with you right?“

A sound of agreement came from the man beside her and she started reading. She heard him groan quietly before he rubbed his eyes and picked up one of the other books. Suguru did the same.

„These books are all about the Six Eyes and Limitless and their history.“, the Gojo heir explained, „I read the most important once as a kid. If you find anything regarding Infinity and how someone would be able to break through it or… move it… let me know.“

The two people he trusted the most in the world nodded understanding how dire this situation was.

„Alright, then let’s get to work.“, Suguru sighed and decided to make some coffee for them at some point. It would be a long night and he was glad he hadn’t taken any missions on for tonight. Shoko had rushed here as soon as he had called her and had explained as much as he had known. It rubbed them both the wrong way that the strongest sorcerer the Jujutsu world had could be potentially beaten by a simple human woman. It just didn’t seem right.

About an hour later Suguru got up and prepared some coffee as the three of them were used to long sleepless nights. This was more important than sleep anyway and Shoko and Suguru had both accepted that even if Satoru was the strongest they would protect him at any cost.

Chapter Text

Someone is standing in front of her. It is a woman and she is moving in slow rhythmic movements. Her words ring in her head and a part of her knows it will be painful, but it was her idea to begin with anyway. Everything would return to its peaceful state after this.

The dancing priestess in front of her, with a sword in her hand and torches lighting up the shrine’s open terrace, cries — and as she turns with the sword towards her she looks at her and whispers:

„I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—“

With a gasp she wakes and startles, sitting upright. Her heart is racing and she places her hand on her chest, expecting to be met with something — but she doesn’t know what. There is also supposed to be pain, but nothing is there. She is completely fine. The only thing she thinks is how heavy her heart feels beating against her ribcage.

For another moment she is disoriented and tries to grasp the reality of things, of her living room, her apartment, her messy life. Her vision clears and she blinks away the tears that had not spilled in her sleep. She takes a look at the apartment she is living in. For a still disorienting moment this doesn’t feel like home, and she should be somewhere else, she is so sure of this — but then she is blinking and rubbing at her eyes and—

Her name is Viktoria and she is in Japan to figure out why she is always so sick from pain. Then a second later she realizes she isn’t in pain. At least not a lot of it. There is just a slight ache on her left shoulder and neck. Probably because she slept on her couch in a weird position in yesterday’s clothing. Then it hits her and she remembers why she is on her couch and quickly she slides over to her small patient lying on a fluffy blanket.

The cat is still breathing with its eyes closed and she is relieved. It’s still alive. Grasping the necklace around her throat, she puts her fist around the small silver cross and thanks God in a quick small prayer. Even though she hasn’t been in a church for years she still sometimes has her moments, remnants of her religious upbringing that show in her necklace and the small prayers she sends to the heavens.

As there is nothing much she can do for the stray cat, she stands up and stretches, dream already forgotten. Walking into the bathroom she takes a look at her mirrored reflection and scowls. There are dark rings under her eyes as always. Her hair needs to be brushed too, and she just looks like a mess. Scowling a bit, she gets her comb to detangle the mess that is her long hair. Taking care of her morning routine she hasn’t really done in ages makes her a bit proud though.

A bit later she finds herself in her kitchen and drinking some water when there is a knock at her door. Opening it she starts smiling.

„Good morning, Satoru.“, she smiles at him and the white-haired man smiles at her. He is wearing sunglasses instead of the blindfold and instead of the black uniform he is wearing a grey shirt, black pants and black coat, fit for the cold weather of late winter.

„Morning.“, he says, but to her his smile feels tense. Maybe it’s just her imagination. She lets him into her apartment by stepping aside. As soon as he enters, his presence seems to take over her small corridor. For a moment the aura around him seems heavy and there is a pressure that makes her shiver. Not trying to dwell too much on it, she closes the door.

„Thank you for coming.“, there is a nervous line in her smile because something in her gut tells her there is something wrong, „I’ll just get a few of my things and we can leave. We really need a vet. It seems so weak. Can you wait a sec?“

„Sure, sure.“, he smiles brightly and doesn’t say much. Usually she would have asked him if he is alright, but her focus is completely on the injured stray. As fast as she can, she gets a box and puts in another warm blanket before she carefully picks up the feline and puts her inside. Its long fur is a mess and she had tried her best to take care of the dirt and knots, but there is not much she can do without the appropriate tools.

Then she quickly picks up a few of her things, puts on her coat and shoes and — not caring about societal norms — she walks through the living room with her street shoes to the couch to pick up the small box. Viktoria doesn’t care if she leaves dirt on the floor with her shoes as there are more important things she’s worried about.

Satoru opens the door for her and she smiles gratefully at him. As they leave her flat she starts to explain: „I found several vets online near us but because I can’t read Japanese it’s a bit hard for me to understand much.“

Her phone with the saved tabs is in her pocket, but she can’t take it out at the moment. He explains as much and replies: „It’s fine. When we’re in the car you can hand me your phone.“

Again she smiles. She really is grateful. He is practically a stranger and yet he had helped with her pain and at the same time he helps with the vet and cat. A very generous man indeed. Of course she isn’t so naive as to think that he wouldn’t want anything in return. He’s even open to the idea of teaching her Japanese. It all seems too good to be true, honestly. Naturally, it scares her. How generous he is. But his smile is reassuring and there is a sick cat in her arms she worries more about at the moment.

Together they step outside and Satoru leads her to a black sleek car. Now, Viktoria doesn’t know much about cars, but it looks expensive. He is so nice he even opens up the passenger seat for her. Finally she sits with the box in her lap and she can get her phone out of her coat pocket. Satoru slides into the driver’s seat just moments later and she shows him the addresses she has picked out. She keeps quiet and is grateful when he starts the car and starts driving, him not saying much either. Maybe he’s just tired though.

The car ride is quiet and neither him nor her say much. All she does is look down at the feline that seems so sickly as if it could die any moment. Viktoria worries and she can’t stop herself from worrying. She constantly glances down at the cat and hopes that it’s not too late. She doesn’t even realize he parked the car until he turns off the engine. Blinking, she takes a look and realizes they arrived at a parking lot.

The parking lot is directly beside a modern white building. After they leave the car he tells her to follow him and they enter the building. A few minutes later they stand in front of a desk, and as Satoru speaks in Japanese to the woman behind the desk she nervously taps her feet from time to time and chews on her lower lip. It makes her nervous that she doesn’t understand a thing they are saying. It feels like hours until he turns around: „Alright, we can sit down in the waiting area.“

„Thank you.“, she tells him in earnest and together they walk to the designated area. She puts the box in her lap when she sits, even if she could put it beside her, brushing her fingers against the fur — more to calm herself down than the cat that hasn’t opened its eyes even once. Viktoria doesn’t hear when they are called, but Satoru does.

The vet is already waiting for them and as Viktoria places the box on the metallic table she watches the vet. As soon as the feline is on the table he goes to work and takes a look at her. He checks everything there is to check, listens to the heartbeat and takes a look at the paws and tail, taking a longer look at the injuries. Surprising Viktoria, he starts talking in English: „The cat looks malnourished. And it seems she has given birth recently.“

The vet’s fingers move across the stomach and with the fur brushed to the side she sees the swollen teats. Her eyes grow wide at the information. Still, she listens as the vet explains they’ll keep her for now. She seems to be doing well at the moment, much better than he expects a cat in such a state, and they will do their best to nurse the cat back to health. What’s important now is finding the just a few days old kittens the feline has given birth to recently. Her heart nearly jumps out of her chest as she imagines small weak babies in the cold without anyone to take care of them.

As soon as they are dismissed she rushes out. However, outside and standing beside the car she has to wait for her companion who hasn’t said much to her since he arrived at her flat. Satoru takes a bit longer before he arrives at the car seeing Viktoria with her arms crossed. When he finally arrives she looks at him and says without batting an eye: „We need to find them.“

Satoru looks at her for a few moments before he quietly nods.

Back in the car to drive back to the vet they aren’t so lucky. The traffic is horrible and they are stuck. Viktoria just wants to bring the cats back so they are safe and with their mother as they meow in her lap. Carefully she moves her hand and her fingers stroke across a little head, eyes still closed.

„They must be so hungry.“, she whispers, and Satoru beside her only nods. At least they are alive and moving. Maybe their mother hadn’t been able to feed them and she had sought out help. Viktoria doesn’t know and she hopes the traffic will quickly disband so they can reach the veterinary clinic.

If she could she would start bouncing her leg but there are vulnerable babies in her lap so she doesn’t. It takes ages to move forward on the busy street. It feels like time doesn’t move and she feels like they are stuck in limbo as her worries rise with each passing second.

„There was an accident.“, Satoru suddenly says beside her. Surprised, she looks at him. The radio is turned off and there is no police at the sides or in front of them. A wrinkle forms between her brows: „How do you know?“

Grinning mysteriously he simply explains: „I have my ways.“

Well, Viktoria doesn’t question him as she wonders how he’s still able to smile. On the other hand she understands. She used to smile through her pain too. Then again it was just a stray cat they had picked up – no, she had picked it up, not him. All he had done was watch her. But it was fine. He was helping her and honestly, she wasn’t so sure as to why she was feeling so emotional about these small newborns in the box she was holding at the moment.

There was also a thought forming in her mind. How will she ever repay him back? He has already done so much for her. He has taken care of her pain in his mysterious magical ways and has helped her with this stray that only she cared about, as he couldn’t care less it seems. And if he was able to remove her pain what else was he able to do? Which abilities did he possess? Looking back at the kittens she tries to relax, the only sound the purring engine and the mewling desperate sounds that tug at her heartstrings. She doesn’t say anything.

Nearly an hour later they finally move forward. And Satoru was right. They move past a wreckage and there is police and they try to make way for all the waiting cars. It must have been an ugly accident and she shudders as she was herself part of a few car accidents (and never the one at fault).

Suddenly a phone rings and it’s not hers. Moving her head to the side to watch Satoru, he listens and talks to the person that called him and he nods, no smile on his face. Strange. She had met him smiling, and without a smile he seems like a completely different person. Maybe his smile was a cover, a mask, to protect himself from the world, she thinks again. That Viktoria understands.

There is a grim line around his mouth as he hangs up. He’s not looking at her because he is driving. He licks his lips and then he tells her about the call: „It was the clinic. The wounds were too severe. She died.“

Her shoulders slump. She stares at him. The words reached her ears but it takes her a bit to process their meaning. Again she doesn’t realize they have arrived, but this time Satoru turns off the engine but doesn’t leave the car and simply looks at her. The car keys tingle in his hands and the sound wakes her from her stupor.

Slowly her head moves to look down at the orphaned felines. With a quiet voice she says: „Let’s go. They need to be taken care of.“

Beside her he nods again and together they leave the car. Again he helps her and opens the door for her so she can carry the box safely. Inside the clinic she remains quiet as Satoru explains the situation to the staff. He leaves his information, just in case, and they wait for a bit until they meet the same vet as before.

At the end the kittens remain at the clinic for now to make sure they are healthy. The question that comes after is one she has dreaded. What will happen to the kittens now? Who will take care of them? She wants to. She really does. But she simply doesn’t have the capacity. She doesn’t know when she’ll be in pain again and Satoru won’t just leave everything behind to help her with the pain anytime. He has a life of his own too, and she has already imposed enough on him.

When they leave the clinic and fresh cool air brushes against her face she shyly moves her hands towards his arm. Gently she pulls at his sleeve. Satoru stops walking with her, the car just a few metres away.

„Thank you. And I’m sorry.“, she looks up at him and only in the back of her mind does she realize how tall he truly is. Has she known it all the time? Yes. But most of the time they were sitting. He is tall and lanky but he also seems strong to her. Leaning her head back a bit she looks up at him: „You’ve done so much for me already. And.. And what about the money? I mean the vet? It was a lot of money, right? I’ll pay you back, I promise!“

Anxiety fills her chest and makes it hard for her to breathe, but she has always been good at hiding these things: „If there is anything I can do—“

Satoru simply smiles down at her and suddenly he flicks her forehead. Surprised she blinks up at him and raises her hand, touching the place his fingers have touched.

„Don’t worry about it. You don’t have to repay me.“, his smile grows into a grin and her heart skips a beat. His eyes are hidden behind his sunglasses and she wonders what his eyes look like: „And I’m a selfish man. If there is anything I want I’ll just take it.“

Viktoria cocks her head to the side and then she is able to smile: „You don’t seem very selfish to me. You are probably one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.“

„Oh, really? Then you must have shitty friends. Or family.“, there is no filter as he says what he thinks but Viktoria isn’t hurt. She prefers honesty even if it hurts. She simply smiles: „You’re right. People haven’t been very kind to me. But I won’t change my mind. I don’t think you are selfish. And even if you are, it’s okay to be selfish.“

That’s the first time he heard someone say this to him. People like to call him arrogant and selfish, a pain in the ass, someone who likes to play around. And yeah, he does, but it’s because he doesn’t have to worry about anything and always has everything under control. So he’s allowed to be a bit arrogant and selfish, right?

„I learned in life that you have to look after yourself. No one will take care of you.“, she explains without hurt in her voice but as if it were a fact. Then she just sighs and looks over her shoulder towards the vet: „May I ask you for a favour?“

Following her gaze he can guess what it is.

„Can you take the kittens in? Take care of them?“

Okay, not fully what he had expected. He thought she would ask him for money. Through his glasses he blinks at her, a bit surprised. But then he quickly waves his hand: „No, no, I can’t. I’m not a caretaking kind of person. Why won’t you take them in?“

„I- I can’t.“, Viktoria tells him honestly, looking down at the pavement under her feet, „I don’t have the money. And what if I have another pain attack again? I never know when they will get me. And I can’t possibly bother you all the time just to help me.“

He hums at that and lets her words sink in, rubbing his forefinger against his thumb when he answers: „Don’t worry. We’ll find a solution.“

The sun shines brightly down at the shrine high in the mountains, white snow burning in her eyes as she dances. The torimono in her hands jingle with each of her steps. She is the oldest miko of this shrine and takes her duties seriously, like every shrine maiden should. Her mother taught her the rites and she is glad her young niece wants to step into her footsteps. Someone has to take care of this old shrine after all when she is gone. Hinode Maiko isn’t the youngest anymore, silvery strands in her silky black hair.

At the moment she is alone. Her niece is young and education is important even if she wants to take over the shrine. They live alone here too, take care of everything that needs taken care of. The villagers of the small mountain village are grateful for it. Her and her niece are the only ones who are able to see curses and exorcise them after all.

The fire in the torches flicker as wind picks up. Snow dances around her with each of her twirls. She isn’t the youngest anymore, but she is still fit, and as long as her body allows it she will dance.

Her nostrils flare as she breathes in the incense and she closes her eyes and focuses on each of her steps, the bells of the torimono and rustling of her suikan and hibakama, focuses on the sounds of nature and the importance of her kagura performance.

The Gods watch her, she feels their eyes on her, feels the prickling on her skin. Her heart is calm in her chest and the winter cold falls into the back of her mind. She doesn’t feel the freezing air in her lungs, only the rush of blood in her veins and how her heart feels in her chest.

She turns and the bells jingle in her hands. The incense enters her lungs, the smell surrounds her like a divine fog and suddenly her body is moving on its own, each muscle relaxed.

Time seems to have slowed down but Hinode Maiko is not worried. The miko keeps dancing, her body being led by outer forces as if strings were attached to her limbs. She floats in the passage of time and then she stands and she sees.

She sees chains and a heart, bleeding, hurting and alive. There are spells hanging on to the chains keeping the heart locked but the chains are rusty and weak.

She sees a woman with a kind smile as she collects a child’s laugh, a first kiss, a couple’s love.

She sees six eyes and nothing can be hidden, the eyes all-seeing and infinite.

There is more she sees, glimpses of places and people, of a past, the present and future.

When she wakes sweat is clinging to her skin, her hair in disarray and her body aches from her body’s continued dancing. The sun is already going down and she realizes that she must have danced for hours. Her heart hurts and is heavy in her chest and with a groan she is able to get up. Wiping the sweat with her sleeve she waits until she is able to breathe again.

Somewhere in her body a bone cracks as she stands up and she massages her shoulder with her hand. The bells are on the floor and as she walks towards them she contemplates her vision. From experience she knows that the mikokagura is able to let a priestess fall into a trance and it has happened to her, but the last time it happened it was around thirty years ago. Trances are incredibly rare, even for a sorceress like her who has followed the century-old traditions of her ancestors’ shrine.

She still dwells on her vision as she cleans the bells and puts them away and wonders what their meaning were. But first a bath. It is only after a relaxing bath that she is opening a hidden passage that follows stairs carved into stone down into the mountain the shrine sits on. As soon as she enters, torches light up the dark hallway leading deep into a cellar that has been kept secret by her ancestors as well.

What she finds are cursed objects and scripts, but she is here for something else. Hinode Maiko of course knows what her vision meant. At least partly. What she doesn’t know is the first scenery she had found herself in: the heart surrounded by water and kept in chains, beating yet bleeding and colouring the water a dark red. Maybe she will find something about this in her ancient texts. And as soon as she knows more she will have to go to Tokyo.

She needs to call her niece and prepare everything for her departure which also takes a bit of time. Her knowledge and the shrine’s old texts and rites will be needed too, she thinks as she looks through the secrets the shrine holds.

The day passed and Satoru feels relieved when he enters his apartment. It’s modern and nothing like the traditional place he grew up in. There are a few photos of his two best friends and him, of Megumi and Tsumiki and other important people in his life, but it’s still not something others would consider homey.

Tsumiki had insisted on these photos, had insisted on decorating it so it would be more homey for him even though he doesn’t spend much time in here.

Rubbing his face as he enters his bathroom he thinks back to the things he had done and he thinks back on Viktoria. He had observed her and not once had he let her out of his sight, even taking care of the small curse on her left shoulder. At times, with his Infinity on, he had brushed against her too to test out if she could touch him and— yes, she could. It was disturbing to say the least.

After a quick shower and dinner he leaves his apartment, sunglasses on his nose, and teleports over to Suguru’s apartment. Shoko isn’t here, probably because she is needed at the school which is fine. She is one of the few people who is able to use the reversed cursed technique on others to heal. Also, she’s a doctor and she has different obligations than her two friends.

With his eyes he’s able to figure out that Suguru is in the kitchen preparing dinner for himself. As Satoru enters the kitchen his best friend glances over his shoulder.

„You’re late.“, Suguru tells him, „Find anything?“

„No.“, Satoru replies and leans against the kitchen counter, „My Infinity was on but she was still able to touch me. And curses are drawn to her. My presence scared them but there was a small curse on her shoulder. I exorcised it. There were other curses that were too… shy.“ At that he laughs and shakes his head: „A shy curse. That’s a first.“

Suguru chuckles although there is nothing funny about the situation they are currently in. But then he becomes serious again as he plates his food and goes into the living room to sit down on the couch, old texts and books scattered across the table. Satoru follows and sits down beside him. He ate before coming here.

As Suguru eats he nods towards an old book: „That book. You should take a look at it.“

A new feeling curls around his heart as he reaches towards the closed book Suguru meant. Is it worry? Anxiety? No. No, he doesn’t become anxious. He’s the Strongest.

The book Suguru suggested is definitely old but due to spells the paper doesn’t break. He opens it and beside him Suguru swallows some of his food and explains: „It’s a diary. I don’t know how important it is but… he had both the Six Eyes and Limitless just like you. His name was Akiyoshi.“

Now intrigued Satoru starts reading.

My Six Eyes and Limitless have always been the source of envy and scorn from my peers. They are jealous and I can’t fault them for that. And yet it is difficult to wield them. I have full control over my techniques but they are dangerous ones. Not only for others but for its user as well. So far I am the first one to wield both the Clan’s techniques so it is unprecedented. Sometimes I feel like I see too much, feel too much and I wish I could make it stop. Sometimes I wish I was a normal man not having to bear my Clan’s responsibilities on my shoulders.

I have full control over my cursed energy, over my sorcery and techniques but sometimes I fear… I fear that I forget what it means to be human. I do not want to forget that I am human.

Satoru pauses and hates that he can relate to these feelings. He at times forgets how it feels to be human. No one can touch him when he doesn’t want to, no one can hurt him. He is the Strongest. But no, now is not the time to think about this. He needs to figure out what the woman is. So he flicks through a few pages.

Beside him Suguru puts his plate away and points at the book: „The page before that one. You should read this. He mentions a girl who can touch him through his Infinity.“

Intrigued, Satoru quickly flicks the page back and starts reading again:

It is the first time someone was able to touch me through my Infinity. It startled me and then it worried me and then… it angered me. The girl is clueless to the power she wields, a mere miko in training. I only met her because she can see curses and doesn’t know what they are. They seek her out, too, and she tends to these curses as if she were their mother. She is not aware of the power she wields.

Satoru takes a deep breath before he closes the book. He never heard of an Akiyoshi being part of the Gojo Clan.

„Have you read the whole thing?“, Satoru decides to ask and his friend nods.

„I have no idea how old he was when he wrote this. But even though he was able to control his techniques he felt like his mind was slipping. Now I have no idea if he really was losing his mind or if it was a fear he was imagining.“, Suguru takes another bite of his dinner and is thinking deeply about the issue at hand, „Maybe…“

He swallows the food: „Maybe if we find the rest of his diaries – if there are any – we will be able to find out why your Infinity is acting strange with this woman. As Akiyoshi met a girl similar to this woman you met.“

Satoru knows that his friend is right but it doesn’t mean that he has to like it. Because that means he’ll have to visit the Gojo Clan’s compounds officially and ask the librarian if he knows more about the diary and if there are more. To look for them he’d have to make a mess of the library and it would be faster to ask the guy responsible for the library anyways. Sighing he leans back and closes his eyes behind his sunglasses.

Suguru finishes his dinner and at the same time Satoru messages the librarian. Of course he has all the Clan’s important contacts saved in his phone, just in case. That he now needs it makes his stomach churn. He hates the Clan and everything it represents, everything they have done to him. Now asking for help is the last thing he wants to do but it needs to be done.

He tells Suguru about it and then, while they wait for the reply that will come for sure, they share what they have done during the day. Until Satoru’s phone rings. But it’s not the Clan. It’s Ijichi. Sighing again he picks up the phone.

It’s another mission, a special grade curse he needs to take care of. Most of the time he doesn’t want to but maybe he’ll be able to let out some steam with this mission.

Chapter Text

Art has always been the only way for her to express herself. She’s never been one who diligently wrote a diary or journal, even if she had tried again and again, only to have most of her notebooks stay empty. In the end a diary simply wasn’t for her; instead of journaling she had a collection of filled sketchbooks with fantasies, characters, and silly doodles. Lines that didn’t make any sense, jokes that were way too childish, and pages adorned with all kinds of colours. Some pages had explanations, others were more serious with ideas for bigger art projects; some were sketched with pencil, others with fineliner, and other pages had watercolour or gouache paint depicting landscapes, trees, animals, and things her mind had come up with.

She loved art. She loved being creative. She loved creating stories and characters.

In the end her career never went anywhere. Not because she was a bad artist, but because of her health and the non-existent support she had received since childhood. Most of the time she suffered from migraines—at times a migraine so intense and annoying it lasted for several weeks, the pain in her cheeks, her upper jaw and nose, her eyes and forehead spreading all over her face. How was she supposed to work in such a condition? When any kind of light or certain colours hurt her eyes? When any kind of sound hurt her ears? Many days had been spent in darkened rooms without any sounds, just her heartbeat in her chest and her breath in her lungs.

Now however? Now that she had met Satoru? A man who had saved her, more than he probably realized? He was her very own come-alive guardian angel—she owed him her life. She owed him more than that, and she had no idea how to pay him back. Because not only was she feeling so much better—no, not only that—but he had given her back the ability to create.

Her motivation and inspiration had returned with full force the day after the visit to the vet. And although she of course worried about the kittens she couldn’t mope around and do nothing the whole day. Not anymore. Now that her life was her own again she was finally able to return to the thing she loved doing the most. It was heartbreaking, really, that most of her life she had lived like someone dead, her bedroom feeling like a coffin while others were healthy, her even being jealous of the ones that were sick but had the support of a loving family. She had none of that. Sure, her parents helped pay for things now, but that was all she received from them. Money. And even that came with strings attached.

After her mother had remarried, after she had fallen deeper into her religion, her mother had changed. As if the daughter becoming an adult was enough to take away any kind of support. Even worse was that her mother was able to change for her new husband. But she had not loved her daughter enough to become a loving mother. At least financially her parents helped her. What choice did they have otherwise? Without their help she would end up homeless and probably dead within a few months. Not even her mother was that cruel. (And it probably was the fact that her reputation was at stake if her daughter ended up homeless.)

So now, here she was in her apartment, the few art supplies she had brought with her just in case. Just in case she would be able to sketch and paint again. And finally she could. It was only the essentials she had brought with her: different whites, reds, blues, and yellows—and dark brown—these colours sitting in a box for gouache, watercolour, oil paint, acrylic paint, all kinds of pencils and other basic essentials for any professional artist. She had gone and studied art, too. Back then, when she had been able to study, her pain had been more manageable, but with each year the chronic pain had become more intense, more annoying, more, more, more.

Finally she was free.

Rotating her right shoulder she still felt a bit of pain in her muscles, but her mind was clear, sounds and light weren’t painful and her head felt light, so she was able to have her curtains drawn open, letting in the light. It’s been so long since she had felt this motivated, especially after having an inspiration that had come from a dream. Sure, she didn’t remember much of it, but enough for her to grab an empty and new sketchbook from her pile and some pencils so she could start sketching what she remembered from her dream.

She was still wearing an oversized T-Shirt as she sat down on her couch and started working on her new piece. Soon enough several pages were filled with random sketches of wings and eyes, her phone sometimes in her hand to look up the anatomy of wings again to remember what she had learned. Notes scribbled to some sketches on each page explained her thought process but messy enough that only she would understand the meaning of her scribbles.

Time flew by and it was only when her tummy growled that she realized how hungry she actually was. She hadn’t eaten any breakfast as well, so Viktoria set out on a mission to find food. But when she looked through her kitchen there was not a lot she could eat. With her migraines she never had a lot of food because she never knew how often she’d throw up. So, she had no other choice but to leave her apartment.

After quickly grabbing a few things she decided to leave for the bakery she had gotten the strawberry cake from. It had been delicious and maybe she could get something else today. Maybe a croissant. With chocolate filling. It’s been ages since she last ate some fresh baked goods.

The little bell above the door chimed as she entered the bakery, welcoming her with warmth and a delicious smell. Someone was filling the pantry with new baked bread and seeing this, Viktoria knew she came at the right moment. As she stood there she took a look at the choices—but this time ignoring the cakes. She had to take care of her finances after all. Too bad that she wasn’t very good at choosing. Looking around, the man beside her ordered some food and by the looks of it he was a businessman. Maybe he spoke English? He was blond too and didn’t look like the typical Japanese man.

„Entschuldigen Sie?—ah, sorry—“ she switched, and smiled at him as he turned to look at her. He wore strange glasses on his face, a blue shirt and a cream-coloured suit.

„Yes?“, his voice is deep and his English is perfect, „How can I help you?“

„Erm… I’m really sorry for bothering you, but I don’t speak Japanese… could you help me for a moment?“

It felt as if he was analyzing her, trying to estimate if she was a danger or not. Under his glasses his gaze felt intense and intimidating and she pressed her hand until her knuckles turned white around the strap of her bag. Blushing at the way he was looking at her she tried not to avert her own gaze. His gaze felt like scrutiny.

„Of course.“, he replied after a few seconds, holding his own bought goods in a paper bag and asking her, „What do you want?“

Fumbling with the end of her sleeves, her heart beating painfully inside her ribcage, she pulled up her shoulders a bit, smiling nervously but grateful up at him: „Which bread do you recommend?“

She hoped she wasn’t getting on his nerves too much, her anxiety screaming at her to leave this poor man alone. He was probably busy and he probably didn’t have the time to take care of some foreign strange woman that took more of his precious time, too. But with his help she would have an easier time choosing bread, and it would be easier to communicate to the cashier what she wanted.

„The Boule is one of my favourites.“, he tells her his opinion surprisingly and points toward a round loaf of bread with his finger. Viktoria knows about Brioche and Baguettes but she’s never heard of this one. With this info she decides to get it and she turns around, smiling at him brightly: „Thank you so much. I’ll just say the name and—“ She waves towards the woman behind the counter, currently talking to another customer.

„What else do you want?“, he asks her instead of leaving, and she has a puzzled look on her face, having thought that he’d leave as soon as he could, before smiling at him again and cocking her head to the side: „Um. I’d like two croissants and one of the Pain au chocolats.“

At that he nods but says nothing else. She’s a bit confused as he waits beside her but understands that he intends to help her order, still wondering why he was being so kind to her. Well, it only showed that you should never judge a book by its cover. He didn’t look kind and his demeanor didn’t either, but without a shadow of a doubt he was.

The customer before her receives his order and leaves, and the woman behind the counter greets her in Japanese. Before Viktoria can say anything else the kind man beside her starts talking in Japanese as well. She understands the words „croissants“ and „Pain au chocolat“, and quickly the ordered pastries are packed into paper bags.

Beside her the kind stranger turns towards her fully and musters her for a second. With his rough fingers he adjusts his glasses: „I ordered for you. You just have to pay. I’ll be going now.“

„Oh, yes, um, thank you! Have a nice day!“, she’s a bit perplexed, but he was quick and efficient in his demeanor, so she could only call out her thanks and good-bye to him as he leaves. The bell above the door chimes and he’s gone. Suddenly she has a déjà vu. In this same bakery someone else had talked to her, had stopped her with an „Excuse me?“ before she had left; before she had felt relief from the pain for the first time.

The memory returns fully and suddenly she remembers when Satoru and her had crossed paths before. It was in this very bakery. She remembers it well because of the way he had touched her, because of his unusual white hair, because of the way her pain had left her. She even remembers what she had ordered. She’s pulled out of her thoughts when the cashier calls out to her. The lady behind the counter is waiting for the payment and flustered Viktoria quickly pays for her purchase.

Walking back home she’s thinking of Satoru and how much he had already done for her. He probably had no idea how much it meant to her; everything he had done so far. For a moment she stops walking and pulls out her phone with one hand from her coat pocket. Unlocking it she searches for his contact info and sends him a message—the very first message to him.

Thank you.

She doesn’t know if he reads it or not, but that’s alright. Her thanks are probably not enough to repay him, but in her opinion still he needed to know that she was thankful. Maybe she could cook or bake something for him? She’s a foodie and loves cooking and baking, but she’s not doing it often due to her health. Although with him in her life maybe she could start cooking more now and focus on her diet. Yeah, maybe she could invite him to some home cooked dinner as thanks? She’s quite fond of the idea and decides to look for recipes he might enjoy. So far she knows he enjoys cakes, so maybe a quiche would be great? The one with eggs, cheese and bacon has always been a favourite of hers too. She could make a pie-based dinner with salad in a thin home-baked bowl, the quiche, and some yummy chocolate cake. The more she thinks about it the more she likes the idea, and she decides to buy the ingredients in the next few days. She needs to plan this if she wants to show him how grateful she is.

A week passes and looking at her phone once again she sighs.

He has never replied to her text. It’s fine though. She’s not upset and she doesn’t expect an answer, although she can’t help but feel a bit disappointed. She does get calls from the vet from time to time, keeping her up to date with the kittens’ condition. She even visits the clinic to see the kittens a few times, holding them and feeding them with someone who is able to speak English.

Her life finally belongs to herself and everything seems to be going great, she even went out to grab the groceries for the planned dinner she wants to surprise Satoru with. It’s just a thank you, not a date. Love is the last thing on her mind and she doesn’t want to romance anyone when she probably won’t stay in Japan anyway. A life awaits her back home—

Her movements falter and she looks down at the knife and the onions she’s cutting in her small kitchenette.

Is there really a life waiting for her back home? Friends? Family? No, none of those. There aren’t even pets. She does have acquaintances she talks to, but it’s not often, and it’s clear to her no one misses her. She’s not even fond of returning back into the city her parents are at.

There is nothing she misses.

Not a pet, not a person, not even the food.

„Das ist deprimierend.“, she mumbles to herself with a bitter smile, her eyes remaining dry. Trying not to think about it too much she focuses back on cooking and the fact that she lives a less painful life. She’s grateful and more hopeful, and she thinks of maybe messaging Satoru again, but she feels too shy and anxious to do that. Everything is going well at the moment anyway. She cooks, she draws, she goes to her medical appointments.

But of course everything was going too smoothly. The half-finished painting in her living room hasn’t been touched for the entirety of the day, the ingredients are all on shelves and stored in the refrigerator, and she hasn’t picked up any of the calls from the vet. She hasn’t neglected her medication and—even if Satoru has freed her from the pain… it returns. It returns with the intensity of a natural disaster.

The last days had been calm, ocean water moving away from the beach into the sea, and it is today returning with the all-might of the destructive giant that is a tsunami. Its magnitude of pain weighs her down in a way she’s not used to, dry sobs leaving her mouth as she shudders on the cool tiled bathroom floor, hair wet from a hot shower she had taken in the dark in her despair. The pain is searing hot, blinding her, and the rhythmic beat of her heart sounds like a drum in her ears. She feels hot and cold, nails digging into her upper arms, holding herself literally together.

In her pain she doesn’t think of calling Satoru. When she had been fourteen or fifteen during her attacks she never woke her parents up for help, not even as she had been sitting on the bathroom floor to empty the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl. She had always been alone in her pain, not used to the idea of calling someone else for help. So she doesn’t.

With a pain attack like this she also feels restless. A restlessness that doesn’t calm, not even with her anxiety meds. It’s usually only when she takes a walk that she feels better, so she forces herself on her feet, picks up her sunglasses for the first time in days and puts on sweatpants, a sweater, no socks or underwear, wet hair in a bun, and with a coat on her shoulders she leaves her flat in the middle of the night. Putting earphones into her ears she hopes some music and rhythmic sounds that are focused on migraine relief will help ease the pain; music that is supposed to be meditative and calming for migraines and neurodivergent people.

At times she picks at her scalp, scratching so much she doesn’t feel the pain when she draws blood that is sticking under her nails with the skin of her scalp. The pain of her pain attack is bigger than the pain of her self-harming. Her hair feels heavier than usual and her neck is in so much pain it feels as if her head weighs several tons. No, she doesn’t feel the pain of the scratched skin on her scalp, the pain of it so minuscule she’s numb to it.

She doesn’t really look which way she goes when she has to round a group of people. With a side glance she sees two girls in school uniforms at the edge of a mixed crowd—men laughing too loud, shoulders jostling; the girls’ mouths tight, voices thin. Viktoria doesn’t understand what they are saying and focuses back on the straight path ahead. It’s not her problem. It’s none of her business. It has nothing to do with her.

Fuck.

Viktoria stops walking and rubs at her forehead, beats at it with her fists before she turns around so fast it worsens the dizziness she feels. The group is gone and she has kept walking further than she had thought. Quickly she walks the way back, ignoring the pain to the best of her abilities. The fear in the girls’ eyes had been real—they were clearly underage and students being shepherded by older men toward the mouth of an alley. Biting her lower lip, she stops at the entrance. Ah. There’s one of the girls—alone now, being tugged forward—no, pushed—by a man with a too-soft voice. The other girl is nowhere, and two other men peel out of a doorway like shadows.

„Scheiße.“

With a deep breath she thinks of how stupid this is and she doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing, but she definitely can’t possibly let this stay a dangerous situation. She wouldn’t be able to forgive herself if she just kept on walking.

„Hey!“, she calls, voice too thin at first. She clears her throat and tries again, stepping into the alley, heart in her mouth. „Hey! Leave her alone!“

The man with the too-soft voice turns lazily and smiles without warmth. He says something in Japanese—she catches none of it—then the smile drops. Another man closes the distance to Viktoria with a kind of gentle inevitability.

„It’s okay.“, she says to the girl in English, even though the girl might not understand, even though Viktoria can barely stand upright. „Run. Go.“

Whether it’s the tone or the shape of the command, the girl bolts. For one relieved second Viktoria thinks—Good, good, she’s running, she’s gone—but the second girl appears at the far end of the alley and a hand closes on Viktoria’s wrist.

Not the girls then. Not anymore.

It happens fast: the men aren’t with the girls anymore. The men are with her.

Two of them cage her in without touching her face, like they’ve done this before. The third checks the street and jerks his chin at a door. It’s an old building, all rotted wood and a metal stairwell sagging inside a narrow entrance. The hallway smells like stale piss and mildew and something sweet that turns her stomach. She tries to wrench free—don’t, don’t, this is stupid, what are you doing, you’re sick, you’re not a hero—but her body is slow and heavy. Her neck screams. Her skull pulses. Her vision flickers at the edges.

They drag her into an empty floor where mottled walls wear old graffiti like bruises. The men aren’t kind anymore. She tries to make her body bigger—tries to plant her feet—tries to talk—tries anything—but it’s three against one and she’s shaking.

„Bitte—“ It slips out. Then, louder: „Stop!“

One of them hisses something at her. Another laughs. The third pulls a door shut with a hollow thud that sounds like a lid being fitted.

They crowd her backward until her knees bump a stained mattress. Two hands shove her down. Her brain tries to split itself into two tracks—stay, breathe, breathe and run, run, run—but stays stuck on somehow—somehow—somehow.

somehowsomehowsomehow

Her throat tightens. She kicks. She claws. A hand smacks her wrist and pain sparks up her arm, white and useless. She screams until her voice is raw and thin and a clumsy mess, and somewhere in the chaos—a sound. Something like a scrape. Something like a door far away.

Her lungs seize. The room tilts. One of the men curses; another says something that might be her name, only it isn’t. The third laughs again, the laugh of someone bored.

The air changes.

It feels like pressure. Like the world inhaling. A hush, sudden and terrible, sweeps through the ruined space — as if every living thing on the floor above has put its ear to the floorboards.

Viktoria’s skin prickles. Her scalp buzzes. The hair on her arms rises, and something inside her — something small and bright and old — presses against her ribs as if it wants out.

She has never seen curses. Not once in her life. She used to picture monsters because monsters are simple—horror with edges you can name—but she’s never seen these things. 

She sees them now.

They bloom in the doorway — out of the corners — out of the dark — and they do not look at her. They don’t see prey in her or anger or snack. They move like fish in slow water, drawn by a current she can’t feel and yet can: a soft pull toward her that relents only at her skin. They curl around her without touching. One leans down, a long smooth head like a polished pebble, and she can see her warped reflection in its slick surface.

The men see them too.

The men scream.

The first curse moves without hurry. It opens without a mouth; it opens with a seam that wasn’t there a moment ago, and the seam becomes a blade becomes a nothing — bright and absolute — and the nearest man is simply less than he was. There’s no clean line to it. He is opened like paper. He drops like a curtain. It sounds like a butcher working.

Red is everywhere.

The second man stumbles backward, slips, tries to crab-walk toward the wall, and the floor catches his heel just so and he goes down hard. A pale, jelly-soft thing slides out from beneath the mattress like a peeled tongue and wraps his throat. He digs his nails in and rakes and rakes, and the thing doesn’t care because it is not made of anything that feels like skin should feel. It squeezes once, twice. The sound he makes is small and ugly and gone.

The third bolts for the door. The door doesn’t open. Not because it’s locked, not because there’s anything physical in the way. It just… isn’t a door anymore. He pounds at it, and his palms slap wood, and the wood is only wood when he stops looking. He turns and in turning runs straight into a shape that wasn’t there, a shape with antlers that branch and branch and branch until they are a forest with no path. The antlers lower covered in guts and darkness dripping down. When they lift again, he slumps down the wall like a coat. He too sounds like a butcher working. 

The door makes sounds like a mouth, loud and smacking with wooden teeth. It crunches and crunches with out breath and the thing made of a forest shrinks and shrinks until all thats left are bones that look like a deer skull. 

Viktoria is on her side on the mattress, shaking, her hands fisted in the filthy fabric. She stares and stares until her eyes burn. The curses turn their heads — if heads is what they are—and look at her in the way cats sometimes look at people who are sad. Not hungry. Not cruel. Just… present.

Her heartbeat is a hammer. Her breath is glass.

She crawls. She can’t stand. She crawls, slipping on something she knows is blood and refusing the knowledge, until she squeezes under the metal stairwell in the hall and folds herself small. The cold of the concrete seeps through her skin. The world shivers.

Her phone is in her pocket like a stone. Somehow she gets it out with fingers that won’t straighten. Somehow she finds his name. Somehow she presses the call button.

It rings. It rings. It rings.

„What is it—“, his voice in her ear nearly makes her sob. Her voice breaks. She swallows hard, shakes, tries again. „Satoru?“

On the other end of the line, a rustle. A breath. A whisper in Japanese. And then, in English, gentle: „Yes? What is it?“

„I’m sorry. I’m—sorry for calling so late…“ Her own voice sounds like a stranger’s, scraped raw around the edges. She presses her free hand over her mouth to muffle it, to keep the sound from skittering out into the hall and finding new feet. „You’re the only person I know in Japan. And—“ She can hear the men’s last scream still ringing somewhere in the bones of the building. She forces the word through her teeth. „And I think I did something bad.“

Cloth slides against cloth on his end. The quiet snick of a TV being muted. „Something bad, yeah? Are you outside?“

She shakes her head before she remembers shaking her head doesn’t carry through a phone. „N–No. I— I’m hiding. It’s— scary. I don’t—“ She gulps air. The earbud in her right ear crackles with her own breathing.

„Alright. Breathe.“, Satoru says, that infuriating, impossible calm pulling the world back toward a center. „Stay where you are.“

„Please—“, she whispers with a sob into her phone, „Help me, Satoru.“

For a heartbeat he doesn’t say anything. Then, that same calm: „I’m on my way.“

The call ends. The relief that follows is a different kind of shaking—hot and brittle.

Under the stairs, curled tight, she listens to the building breathe. The curses move in the hall with the soft glide of something not wholly in this world. They don’t touch her. They don’t even brush the air around her. The pain that had owned her minutes ago recedes in messy little pulls, dragged away like waves tugging at sand. She is empty and full and numb and raw.

Time becomes strange. The hall lengthens. The stairwell groans once. She presses her knuckles against her teeth to keep her jaw from rattling.

Footsteps? No. Not footsteps. A pressure change, like weather shifting. The curses pause, not afraid, but attentive. The air tastes clearer, like ice water.

Gojo Satoru arrives.

He does not walk in like a man. He is simply here, at the end of the hall, at the top of a thought, the way light sometimes catches in corners that should be dark. He takes it all in—the door that is a door again, the red on the walls and windows, the slow curve of curses like a river around a stone—and the only thing on his face is the line his mouth makes when he is paying attention.

For him the curses are calm—as absurd as that is. He’d never truly get used to it. If he hadn’t already witnessed their quiet around her, he would have exorcised the entire floor without a second thought. Instead he walks past them with the casual care you give to sleeping dogs that trust you not to step on their paws.

He doesn’t hurry. He doesn’t need to. He knows exactly where she is.

He stops at the stairwell and crouches. Blue eyes and a blindfold, and somehow she can feel him seeing her anyway. Their gazes meet and something in her chest shatters and softens at the same time. Before she knows it her arms are wrapped around his neck and she is sobbing into the heat of him, the clean scent of soap and cold air pressed to her face.

He stiffens—for less than an instant—because his Infinity is on and she is through it and every instinct he has says no one gets through, no one, and yet his technique simply folds around her, makes room for her the way water makes room for a hand. Like before. Like always, with her.

He breathes once, twice, and smooths his palm between her shoulder blades. „It’s alright.“, he says with a gentle whisper, low, and he continues the same gentleness: „There, there… I’m here now. No need to be afraid.“

„B–But the— the mon— monsters—“, she sobs, and he doesn’t say yes, curses, he doesn’t say I see, he just keeps one hand on her back and one braced on the floor, steady and human and impossible.

He can tell anyway: she sees them now. The reason for her pain has finally taken a shape her eyes can hold.

„Look at me.“, he says softly. She does. „Can you stand?“

She nods and shakes her head at once. He huffs a little laugh, not unkind, and shifts, sliding an arm under her knees, another behind her shoulders.

„I’ll carry you.“

She should protest. She doesn’t. The stairwell tilts, then the hall. The curses part without being asked, making a clean curve around him like a tideline.

They pass the room. She doesn’t look in. She doesn’t need to.

Outside, the night air bites, bright and thin. The city hums at a volume she can stand again. Satoru doesn’t set her down until the building is behind them; when he does, he steadies her with both hands until her knees remember how to be knees.

„Can you breathe?“, he asks, and she nods. He tips his chin toward a quiet slice of sidewalk, away from the lights. „Let’s sit a minute.“

They sit. She focuses on the ordinary: a cracked bit of curb, the scuff on the toe of his shoe, the way a far-off siren folds itself small at this distance. It helps. The tremor in her hands eases by degrees.

„I followed the girls.“, she says finally, the words flat and thin. „But the men weren’t with the girls anymore. They dragged me into that building. I thought— I thought I could just— say something. Do something. And then—“

She swallows. He waits.

„And then they came. The… monsters? I think I— No. Not I. They just— I didn’t call them, I didn’t—“ She presses both palms to her eyes until lights spark. „They killed them. The men.“

Satoru’s expression doesn’t change much, but something in him settles into a line of thought he does not voice. He knows what blood looks like. He knows the shapes of violence. He also knows what it means that the curses did not touch her. Curses have never spared anyone.

„You’re safe.“, he says—not as a promise, just as a statement of what is true in this moment. Then, mild: „And you see them now.“

Viktoria nods, then nods again because it feels like the only thing that makes sense. „I didn’t, before. Never. Only— light, pain, like… noise without sound. And then it was like—“ She gropes for the right image. „Like somebody turned the focus ring on a camera and everything went sharp. I don’t want it to be sharp.“

„It won’t always be this sharp.“, he says, and he believes it. He’s seen people find new sight before. The edges soften with time or they learn to hold them without bleeding. With her—he can’t see her cursed energy the way he sees others. Or rather, he sees it pulled thin and strange by whatever isn’t cursed energy clinging to her, flowing around her. It’s not absence. It’s something else. His Infinity curls away from it, but not in fear. In recognition.

„Can you stand now?“, he asks again after a minute. When she nods, he rises with her, easy as breathing.

„What— what happens now?“, she asks. Her voice is steadier. „Are you going to… tell the police? Or— is there—“

„No police.“, he says, not unkindly. „This is jujutsu business.“ He glances once toward the building, where the night looks like any other night. „They were already dead men. They just hadn’t noticed yet.“

She doesn’t argue. She doesn’t have it in her. She doesn’t ask questons, doesn’t ask him what he means with jujutsu and curses. And she doesn’t ask why he acts so calm and believes her so easy when anyone else would say she must be hallucinating. She takes in a breath that doesn’t hurt and another after that. The city is still there. The stars are not, because the city is the city, but the idea of them is enough.

„Can you get home?“, he asks. „I’ll walk you.“

„Yes.“, she says, and then, because it is true: „Please.“

They walk. He measures his steps to her stride—longer, then shorter when she falters. He doesn’t say anything about the way she leans a little to the left, or the way she keeps one hand curled at her throat as if to hold something there, something that might fall out otherwise. He keeps the other threats on the street at the distance where they are only possibilities.

At her building, inside the small corridor that always smells faintly of dust, he waits while she unlocks the door. She turns to him before stepping in.

„Danke.“, she says. In English, then, because it feels like it should be said twice in different clothes: „Thank you.“

He flicks her forehead, gentle as a touch of wind. „Don’t worry about it.“

„I always worry.“, she says—and he smiles, and for a heartbeat she can see the shape of his eyes behind the blindfold the way you can see the shape of the sun behind your eyelids if you’re foolish and look too long at noon.

„Rest. I’ll call you.“, he says, and then with one last look at her he turns around and he’s gone the way he came, as if the night folded him away and smoothed itself flat.

She closes the door. Leans against it. Slides down until she is sitting on the floor with her knees up. The quiet in the apartment is clean. In the living room, her sketchbook lies open to a page of wings. She stares at it until the lines turn to feathers and the feathers turn to hands.

She doesn’t cry. She thinks she should, but the place where crying comes from is empty and tender. She gets up instead, slow as a person learning how, and goes to the bathroom to wash her hands. It takes a while. She doesn’t look at the water.

In bed, later, the ceiling is just a ceiling, and the dark is only dark. When sleep comes, it is like lying down in a boat and letting the boat know the way.

The mission he had been sent to wasn’t a hard one; especially not for him, but it was still an annoying one. Not only was the curse able to communicate, it was also able to hide its cursed energy by hiding inside of people like some kind of undetectable virus. And a virus it was. The curse had been able to cut itself into millions of tiny particles and it had taken a bit of patience until he had been able to exorcise it in its entirety. Was it any wonder how relieved he was when he was finally able to take a shower?

God, the hot water running down felt like heaven on earth. The only thing that made his return perfect was the mochi he had saved up in his refrigerator. Chewing on the sweet treat with a towel around his hips after the shower, he took a look at his phone. Shoko had already messaged him to tell him that the only thing of use was the diary. They were trying to find maybe a second diary from Akiyoshi without any results. So, he’d have to visit the Gojo Clan again as they probably had more diaries. Good that he had an appointment in two days’ time from now to visit the Clan’s compounds to talk to the Clan’s personal archivist—an old man, older than his father, who was loyal to the Gojos to a sickening degree.

Well, soon he’d meet the archivist and would talk to him; he just needed to find a good enough reason. The archivist probably knew where the diaries were kept too. But he wouldn’t be bringing the diary he already had in his possession back to the library—he wouldn’t even mention it to the old archivist. Suguru and Shoko had both read it from start to finish and he trusted both their judgements regarding the notes they had messaged him. Honestly, he was grateful for his friends. The two of them were busy themselves, Suguru training the twins and the first years during his absence and Shoko being the one responsible for every injured sorcerer that returned from a mission. And now they were helping him too, even with their busy schedules.

For the night though he decided to let his friends have some time off to relax. It was already late after all and he wanted to relax a bit as well. Maybe eat some more of the delicious mochi while he watched a movie. That sounded like an incredible plan. It would help him forget about everything and it had been a while since he’d been able to have an early night. Not that his sleep schedule was healthy in any way, as it would probably take a while until he fell asleep. Still, relaxing in his bed and not having to think about anything for the moment sounded like a very good idea.

So he had walked towards his bedroom as he chewed on the dessert, more of the mochi sitting on a plate to go to bed. Inside his bedroom he put on some loungewear before he lay down on his bed and turned on the TV. There was some drama playing and it was intriguing enough. Grabbing his sweet treat he immersed himself in the love triangle of a high school drama.

And then not even after an hour his phone rang.

The episode hadn’t even ended and falling onto his back he sighed deeply. He had specifically told Ijichi not to contact him for the rest of the night. Sitting up with a quiet groan and rubbing his neck he didn’t look at the display and simply accepted the call.

„What is it—“

„Satoru?“

That… was not Ijichi.

He’d known before her voice finished his name. He muted the TV and listened. He heard heavy breathing. He heard the rasp of a sleeve across a mouth. He heard fear, thin as wire.

He dressed while she spoke. He didn’t stop moving. The blindfold slid into place as easily as a thought.

„I’m on my way.“, he told her, and ended the call, and was gone.

It took him around ten to fifteen minutes to find the signature of her cursed energy—thin, occluded, strangely muffled by whatever other something layered over it like frost on glass. Once again he warped close to her and he found himself in an old building that was used by gangs or homeless people. Curses roamed like dust motes in a shaft of light. Blood striped the walls and windows, red covering nearly every nook and cranny in patient drips.

They were calm around him. It was still wrong. It would always be wrong. But they were, and he had learned to accept the data his eyes gave him even when it contradicted everything else he knew.

He walked the hall, past the room with the sagging mattress, past the door that hadn’t been a door a few minutes earlier. Curses gathered like tidewater around a particular shadow. They parted when he came near.

Under the stairs, a small shape and a phone clutched like a talisman. Eyes too wide. Hands shaking.

He crouched. She collapsed into him. His Infinity made way.

He told her she was safe. He didn’t promise anything else. He carried her out and set her back in a world where the air tasted like air.

Later, when she slept, he stood for a long time on a nearby roof and looked back at the building, his hands in his pockets and the city’s hum in his bones. He thought of Akiyoshi’s diary. He thought of a girl in the diary who could touch through an unbreakable barrier. He thought of Infinity. He thought of curses behaving like ducklings.

He thought of Viktoria seeing at last.

„Interesting.“, he said to the night, and the night—being the night — said nothing back.

Then he left after he was sure that for now she could rest, and the city closed over the space where he had been like water.

Chapter Text

Something buzzed right beside her and she squinted her nose and groaned softly in displeasure with her mouth closed as she rose from a deep sleep, bones heavy, an ache in her limbs that felt unfamiliar — not sharp like pain, not cruel like torture, but thick and dragging, as if her body had borrowed gravity overnight.

Her hand fumbled blindly across the nightstand, searching for the buzz that had pulled her from the dark. Her fingers brushed against the cool edge of her nightstand and her fingers nimble reached her phone, but in the clumsy reach she knocked her glasses to the floor. The soft clatter made her wince, though she was too tired to care.

Her eyes were glued shut, lashes sticking with sleep, crust tugging at the corners. She forced them open in slow, stubborn blinks until the world bled back into shape. The light from her phone burned through the blur, numbers and words swimming until they steadied into a new message.

„I’m outside. Open up, sleepyhead.“

She blinked. Outside? Memories from last night pressed back in unwelcome and painful. Viktoria remembered the shadows, the... curses, and the way her world had tilted from one axis to the next. Her stomach twisted, but before panic could take root, the next vibration followed.

„I brought breakfast ❤️“

Still half-dreaming and grimacing because she refused yesterdays memories to filter through her sleep addled brain, she forced herself out of her bed. With a groan she pulled clothes from her chair not caring what she was wearing and with a grunt following she pulled the shorts over her legs and the top over her torso. Only then did she stumble out of her bedrom to the living room and further to the door, hair a mess, her body heavy with sleep, glasses left behind. When she opened it, there he was: sunglasses perched on his nose, grin in place, a paper bag dangling from his hand clad in what she could only describe as high quality.

„Morning!”, he greeted with a cheeky grin, as if they’d known each other forever. He held up the bag: „Muffin? Oh — and a cinnamon roll, in case you’re one of those indecisive types.” He waved his free hand while he stepped inside, not even waiting for permission. He stepped past her and she let him too sleepy to protest as he made himself at home on the couch. Viktoria just stared, still trying to process his presence now in her apartment with her brows furrowing together.

“What are you doing here?”, she managed, voice hoarse as his presence seemed to spread into ever corner of her messy home, as if a weight surrounded him, pressing and probing and analyzing with each second that passed.

„Bringing you sugar,” he said breezily, tossing the bag onto the table while she slowly blinked. Then, with a lopsided smile: „And waiting for my friend. She’s a doctor — thought it’d be smart to check if you’re, you know, traumatized. Or whatever.” He waved his hand non-chalantly.

She frowned in displeasure as she was not exactly the biggest fan of medical professionals not even mad omat him for just taking over her space: “You think I need a doctor?”

Satoru waved his hand again (he seemed to talk with his hands, always moving, never still): “Relax. She’s harmless. And thorough.” His grin widened: “Besides, she owes me coffee.”

What he didn’t say — what Viktoria couldn’t know yet — was that Ieiri Shoko wouldn’t visit to check her pulse or her blood pressure. She was coming to check for the one thing Viktoria had never noticed: the strange flicker of cursed energy clinging to her like light breaking through cracks in the dark.

Satoru dropped the paperbag on the coffee table and sprawled across the couch as if it belonged to him, long legs stretched wide, one arm slung lazily over the backrest. His sunglasses caught the morning light, tilting just enough for her to see the smirk playing at his mouth as he took everything in.

“Man, you really do live like a college student,” he joked, tapping the arm of the couch with a knuckle gaze locking in on a piece of fabric beside him then quickly averting his gaze. “Tiny place, questionable décor, no coffee machine in sight. And look at that mess. Truly tragic.”

He tossed one knee higher, settling even deeper, so loose in his own body he looked more like he was about to nap than hold a conversation. He looked at the canvas and the blue and white paint an unfinished painting of what he thought looked like a white wings. Paint and brushes were sprawled around, many of her things even on the floor as if she couldn’t quite decide if things belonged into shelves or not. And despite being the man he was he respectfully never mentioned the bra not far from him.

At his words Viktoria blushed emberrassed and she grimaced too recognizing her bra beside him. Quickly she stepped forward but the motion made the room sway. She caught herself against the frame using her hand to balance herself, her breath stuttering in her throat and she realized she hadn’t eaten anything in over 24 hours because of her migraine the day before. It had disappeared during the attack when the monsters had appeared which had completely flown over her head but now she finally realized that the ache in her body felt different than usual.

Satoru’s head tilted, the grin fading just a fraction. He went still. It wasn’t her exhaustion that caught him — he’d seen plenty of people wiped out after curses — it was the crusted over blood on her lip, the angry mark on her cheek, half hidden by sleep-tangled hair. His Six Eyes immediately roamed over her and he found on both her wrists markings from a grip too tight and a broken nail. Evidence of something far more sinister than curses. At least curses were honest in their demands and desires; and with her the curses had never desired to hurt her. Which meant only one thing.

He leaned forward, legs still wide, elbows braced against his knees now. “...That wasn’t there yesterday.”

For someone who could see the smallest crack in a barrier from across a city, it startled him to realize he hadn’t noticed a simple wound on her skin. His eyes had been too fixed on cursed energy, on the intangible. Physical harm was almost beneath his awareness — until it was on her. If he wanted to figure out what she was she needed to be protected and it angered him that simple human beings had done something that he hadn’t been able to stop. It itched underneath his skin, his cursed energy flickering once, making the air tremble faintly a pressure weighing on her skin. His fingers twitched with the violent urge to destroy these men. Not because he had any feelings for her but because these men had unknowingly challenged him by hurting something he had his eyes on, something that had been under his protection.

Viktoria simply shrugged her shoulder and seeing as she wasn’t taking him serious he slowly stood up.

„Hey,” his voice dropped, softer, when she didn’t give an explanation so he pressed furhter, „You didn’t tell me they touched you.”

Confused, Viktoria looked up at him as she kept on leaning against the door frame: „Who?“ His gaze intensified on her and she realized. Of course. The men.

„Oh. Right.“, a humourless laugh escaped her before she raised her hands to rub at her face, once done with that she sighed deeply, „Yeah, they… they dragged me around. They wanted to-“ A shudder ran down her spine and she shamefully lowered her gaze as if she weren’t the victim: „I’d rather have died than go through that.“

Satoru didn’t nod. He didn’t even give her consolation. Instead he left his seat on the couch to step closer and he gently wrapped a big hand around her upper arm. For a moment he paused feeling her skin underneath his fingers, the untrained muscle around fragile bone. He wasn’t used to weakness. Sure, he mocked fellow collegues but even Ijichi trained in his own way because as a sorcerer you had to be physically fit. Usually he avoided talking to non-sorcerers too and if he hooked up with someone it was alwasy someone who came from the same world as him.

He softened his grip on her arm and just as gently he pulled her towards the couch. She stumbled for a moment but his soft grip remained strong and helped her keep her balance. As if she were something fragile she was pushed down on her shoulder to sit and for a moment the crinkling of paper could be heard again as he handed her the paperbag over with the muffin and cinnamon roll he had gotten her.

„You need sugar. When’s the last time you ate anything?“, he asked as he stood over her pushing his hands into his pockets after she took the bag from him. He didn’t even bother stepping away ignoring personal space right now his pants brushing against hers. Calmly he simply looked down at her through his sunglasses. She never caught a glimpse of his eyes.

„Mh, like… two days ago? Or yesterday night? Around midnight or something. I had a horrible migraine when I woke up yesterday.“, she pulled out the muffin as she spoke and her mouth watered at the fluffy dough with chocolate sprinkled over its top. The moment she took a bite out of it a moan escaped her followed by a content sigh.

Swallowing and licking her lips she looked up at him trying to ignore the way he stared at her: „Thanks.“

She didn’t even care what she was wearing right now. She slept naked most of the time and what she had worn yesterday was sullied with blood so she had immediately stripped out of those and thrown them into the corner, ignoring their existence. Before she had opened the door for Satoru a top and some shorts had been quickly thrown on and she didn’t even care if she looked like a mess. After the experiences she had lived through there was no place for shallow insecurities.

Satoru, satisfied with her eating, sat down beside her and leaned back as he waited for Shoko to arrive. While she ate he wondered about normal humans, people that were not like him. He rarely spent time with normies and forgot that most people weren’t strong enough to fight off even lower graded curses. It had completely slipped his mind that even Viktoria, despite her strangeness, was incapable of fighting curses – or even men. It was a sobering realization.

He was pulled out of his thoughts at her words.

„Will we ever… talk about it?“, she quietly asked as she picked on the half eaten muffin asked in a way as she if she was even afraid to voice her question his stare not exactly causing discomfort but it was... strange. Heavy. The way he looked at her.

Satoru nodded once moving with graceful ease and pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose as he sat down and leaned back, sprawling his arms out at the back of her couch; his arm over her shoulders and so close that she could feel his sleeve brushing against her neck.

„Sure. But not now. First I just need to figure a few things out.“

„So… I’m not crazy?“, she asked him with her voice quiet and unsure, worry in her eyes as she looked at him.

He smiled slightly amused: „Nah, don’t worry about that. Just… do whatever it is you do until I have a plan.“

„A plan, huh?“, she asked him even quieter and he nodded: „Yupp.“ No explanation, just the popping sound as he exaggerated the p.

After that they didn’t really speak anymore. In the quiet Viktoria continued eating her muffin sighing at times at finally filling her belly with some sustenance. And it was a really good muffin. Or maybe it was just an ordinary muffin and she just had gone too long without food.

Silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable, just heavy with things unsaid; things Satoru wasn't ready to share yet. Satoru leaned back his head, his one arm draped across the backrest, sunglasses hiding eyes that weren’t as relaxed as his posture suggested.

The sudden trill of the doorbell cut through the quiet. Viktoria startled, the half-finished muffin slipping against the crumpled paper and she looked at him but Satoru didn’t even glance at her. With a sigh, he pushed himself up, stretching long limbs with the ease of someone who had never once felt cramped in a room. „Stay,” he murmured casually, as if she were a restless pet, and padded toward the door with his hands shoved into his pockets.

The door swung open and the faint scent of a recently lit cigarette entered first, followed by a tall woman with sharp eyes and a cigarette packet balanced carelessly between fingers as she was putting them back into her bag. Her gaze met Satorus and it was clear she wasn’t too happy about her current situation.

“Really, Satoru,” Ieiri Shoko said flatly. “I have better things to do than play doctor for you.”

Satoru grinned, leaning lazily against the doorframe now, his sharpness tucked away again. “What, no hello? I bring you free entertainment and you complain.”

Shoko ignored him and just rolled her eyes at the so called free entertainment. She stepped inside and moved past him, calm as a shadow, and her eyes settled on Viktoria sitting on her couch. Her gaze was not unkind, but steady enough to make Viktoria shift in her seat, suddenly aware of crumbs on her lips and her hair sticking out in odd angles and tge mess in her home. Then again this woman was a doctor and she had probably seen people in worse conditions than her.

„Uh… hello.“, awkwardly Viktoria greeted the stranger who didn’t seem put off at all ignoring the mess on the floor, the clothes stewn around.

“So,” Shoko said in English, voice dry but even. “You must be…” Annoyed Shoko turned around to look at Satoru who only grinned at her and switched to Japanese: „You didn’t even tell me her name. Or what I’m supposed to be doing here.“

Satoru only spread his hands in mock innocence, shoulders lifting and grinning. “Figured you’d figure it out. You’re the doctor, aren’t you?”

Shoko exhaled through her nose, clearly unimpressed, but she wasn’t angry at him and the slight tint in the corner of her mouth showed she was to a certain degree amused by his shenengians: “You dragged me across the city for this.” Even thought she knew why she was here images of old books stewn on Sugurus coffee table in her mind.

“Not dragged. Invited. With charm,” Satoru corrected grinning, strolling past her to reclaim his sprawl on the couch beside Viktoria. Like a guard dog returning to his Masters side, Shoko thought, while, Viktoria immediately relaxed at his closeness.

Viktoria blinked between the two of them, the dynamic strange but oddly grounding — like watching siblings bicker, except one of them had shown up unannounced at her apartment with pastries and the other smelled faintly of smoke and antiseptic. At least it had sounded like bickering. They had only talked in Japanese and Viktoria didn’t even have the chance to understand. Satoru had promised her to teach her his language and yet she was still as clueless as before.

Shoko crouched slightly, her eyes back on Viktoria, gaze clinical now, though not unkind: “Fine. Let’s make this quick." Her voice was kinder at her next words switching from Japanese to English. "If you have questions call me Ieiri.“ Putting her bag down and sittinv down on the coffee table and reaching for Viktoria with her hands the examination began: „Pulse first.” Shokos movements were unhurried and efficient, calm with cold and steady fingers. Glancing at her best friend fod a moment she knew Satoru may seem unbothered and nonchalant but he was anything but. He was observant and she knew his Six Eyes were trained on every aspect of her being as she looked over her patient.

„Hold still,” she said simply in English, a faint accent in her words so different form Satorus perfect pronounciation, her fingers cool as they found Viktoria’s wrist. Two fingers pressed down, her gaze flicking briefly to her watch, lips moving silently as she counted. A faint frown tugged at her mouth before she released.

“Other wrist.” Viktoria shifted awkwardly, muffin bag crinkling in her hand. Ieiri repeated the motion, then moved on without comment.

She tilted Viktoria’s chin gently, inspecting the cut on her lip and the mark on her cheek with a detached eye, at the same time inspecting so much more than just her body. The marks on her wrists hadn’t gone unnoticed but they were the least of her worries. No pity, no judgment, just cataloguing. A penlight appeared next, her thumb brushing the switch. “Follow the light.” Viktoria obeyed, blinking, used to these type of examinations.

With a small click the light snapped off and slid back into her bag.

Her fingers traced over the bruises on Viktoria’s wrist, lingering just long enough to feel something else beneath the skin — not circulation, not curse-residue exactly, but a faint hum that made her brow crease.

„Not normal,” she murmured at last.

From the couch Satoru tilted his head, grin sharpening in Japanese: „Told you.”

Shoko didn’t bite. She only let Viktoria’s hand go, sitting back on her heels. She studied her for another moment, quiet, her cigarette-rough voice finally breaking the silence:

„You’ll need rest. Food. A shower wouldn’t hurt. After that…” her gaze flicked briefly to the Strongest, „I’ll want a word with him.”

Ieiri’s instructions ended as abruptly as they began. Viktoria sat back, muffin still in her lap, feeling odd about the whole situation as she continued to eat putting another bite into her mouth. She glanced over at Satoru his sprawl seeming more like an act than ever.

Then the shift came. Shoko’s eyes slid toward Satoru. A look passed between them, wordless but heavy, and when Ieiri spoke again it was no longer in English.

The cadence sharpened, the rhythm too quick to follow. And even if she’d been able to follow she wouldn’t understand anything regardless. Viktoria recognized the sound but not the meaning.

Satoru’s posture changed — less of the lazy sprawl, more of a quiet lean forward, elbows on his knees, sunglasses pushed up into his hair. He answered her in the same tongue, his voice lower now, stripped of teasing. Not once did he glance at her but from time to time she caught Ieiri glancing at her and it unsettled her. (But she didnt know that six eyes were watching her, inspecting each of her movements, observing... guarding.)

Viktoria looked at her lap and picked at the muffin paper, trying not to stare, but her ears strained to catch anything familiar before sge raised her hand to inspect thd broken nail. Nothing came. Only tone, breaths and certain sighs. Ieiri’s clipped, clinical, carrying weight she couldn’t touch but strict as if she were scolding- no, worried about her friend. Satoru’s shorter, rougher, threaded with something she’d never heard from him before. From the corner of her syes she saw his fingers and hands constantly moving while she heard a seriousness in his words he never spoke to her with and she wondered if this was what he sounded like when his mask slipped. Then again she only met the man a handful of times.

Then she thought of the monsters and the men and all the blood that had been spilled and something twisted in her stomach – and she was convinced it was somehow her fault. But whatever they were talking about, it wasn’t just about her health, her pulse or her bruises. Satoru had implied this earlier too but had refused to give her an explanation right now. Which meant right now she wasn’t meant to understand.

Viktoria stayed quiet. Too anxious, too awkward, too exhausted. Her fingers worried at the edge of the muffin paper, ripping piece by piece, her body heavy in a way that made even breathing feel like work. And underneath it all — the ache, the fog, the exhaustion — the memory of yesterday. Shadows curling at the edge of her sight, clinging like smoke, reminding her they hadn’t vanished.

She couldn’t find her voice, didn’t dare speak up or even ask, so she kept still.

Ieiri sighed softly through her nose at some point, the kind of sound that came with long practice and little patience. She straightened, collected her things with a quiet efficiency, cigarette pack slipping neatly back into her bag. She had started afain after Satoru had told her about Viktoria.

At the door she paused, her eyes flicking to Viktoria one last time. Her gaze was steady, unreadable, but not unkind. „Eat. Sleep. Go take a shower. Don’t think too much,” she said in English, her voice rough but certain, „And – and I mean that when I say it – trust Satoru.“ A thing she rarely said, calling him idiot more than she could count, but this... this was serious.

Then the door clicked shut behind her, and the apartment sank back into quiet.

With that it was just Satoru and her.

Shyly, a little anxious, a little tense, she looked at him from the side without raising her head. He hadn’t moved from the couch, only leaned back again as if the conversation with Ieiri hadn’t happened at all. Sunglasses perched low on his nose, lips for once relaxed and not curled in the usual careless smirk, posture meant to be seen as loose but his arm was tense behind her.

And Viktoria knew. She had heard the way his voice had changed when he spoke in that other language, the weight that had pulled at the air between them. From the first moment she had met him she had suspected his aloofness nothing more than a mask he kept for the sake of others, and less for himself.

Her throat tightened. She wanted to ask, wanted to demand what they had said about her, but the words stuck. So she picked again at the crumpled muffin paper, wishing her hands would stop needing to move while she tried to get a peek of his eyes he so masterfully hid from her.

Satoru finally tilted his head toward her, one eye glinting faintly behind the shades. "What?”, he asked, voice light, almost teasing. “You’re staring.”

The heat rose to her cheeks. She ducked her head further, quickly averting her gaze, mumbling: „I wasn’t.”

“Sure,” he drawled confident klike a man too aware of his attractiveness, stretching his legs out further, his grin sharpening, “Guess I’m just naturally captivating then.”

The joke landed the way his jokes always did — half-serious, half-shield. But the space between them still felt heavy, lined with something she didn’t understand. And she knew, she knew with everything she was, he kept things from her. Why, she wasn't sure but the why didntm't matter as much.

Viktoria looked away and bit down on her lower lip for a moment before she looked back at him gathering her courage: „What… What did you discuss with her? Am I- Am I sick? Does it have to do with the monsters?“

At that Satoru let out an amused grunt and moved, turned his body a bit that he was more turned towards her. Because of how tall he was even when they were sitting he was taller than her, keeping his arm leisurly behind her without touching her.

„No. You’re not sick.“, he told her something like a smile on his lips but he didn’t really explain further, didn’t offer any more explanations and she blinked up at him. He clearly didn’t want to tell her anything and so she sighed and got up: „Fine. Keep your secrets. I’m gonna go take a shower. And after-“

As she stood she looked behind her, this time down at him: „You’re going to teach me Japanese. You promised me you would.“ It sounded like a demand, and yes, it was one, bold. And to demand from Gojo Satoru, the Strongest, wielder of Infinity and Six Eyes, heir to one of Japans oldest famikies, it was more than just bold. Then again she didnt know who he was, and it was refreshing to have someone be normal with him. Someone who wasn’t in awe at who he was or what he could offer. All she wanted was him to teach her Japanese. And the occasional relief to her pain.

Satoru tilted his head back to look up at her, one brow arched above the rim of his shades. For a moment, he said nothing, just let the silence stretch. Then his grin curved wider, easy, infuriating. Amused at her boldness: „Japanese lessons, huh? That’s what you’re worried about?”

„Yes,” Viktoria said firmly, though her voice surprsingly clear and without any trembles. Her hands found her waist and she stood over him as if she were his teacher or even mother, as if she wanted to scold him, “If you’re going to talk about me like I’m not in the room, I at least want to know what you’re saying.”

His teeth flashed in something between amusement and approval and he couldn’t help but voice his thoughts: „Bold.” This only confused her and he could see it in the way she drew her brows together a small crease appearing between her eyebrows. He leaned back again, long legs stretched out, looking every bit the man who owned the space, none of his eyes leaving his sight: „Alright, deal. But fair warning—my teaching style’s brutal. You’ll be fluent in no time or crying in a corner. Maybe both.”

She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth tugged upward despite herself in relief. Turning away, she couldn’t help but mutter with her soft smile disappeaering as if it had never been there, the memory of the men too fresh on her mind: „You’d probably enjoy making me cry, too.“

Because she had met men like him. Well. No — not met. Survived them. Men who smiled while they broke things. Men who laughed when women trembled. She knew their patterns too well, and she suspected and feared Satoru wasn’t much different.

The bathroom door shut behind her, and minutes later the apartment filled with the hiss of running water.

On the couch, Satoru tipped his head back, grin slipping away until nothing was left but the line of his jaw set firm. Shoko’s voice echoed in his skull, sharper now, heavier: Trust Satoru.

But Viktoria’s words lingered louder, like a thorn in his side.

For once, he didn’t feel like joking.

Something about the way she had said it made him feel… not uneasy but he wanted to proove to her that he was different, that he wasn’t like most men. He needed her trust. Not because he craved it (though maybe, if he was honest, he did) but because without it, he’d never get close enough to understand her. And he had to understand her. The curses clinging to her, the way Infinity bent around her, the hum beneath her skin.

Her very soul.

And he contemplated the way his Six Eyes seemed to be naturally drawn to her. Because now that he thought back on it, he had found her so easily. Even so far away, that very first time, when he’d exorcised the curses that clung to her like shadows that wouldn’t let go.

It wasn’t chance. He knew that now.

Normally, his Six Eyes picked up the smallest shifts in cursed energy, every flicker of malice and intent scattered across the city. But with her… it had been different. Not like searching. More like finding. As if his gaze was pulled toward her without permission, a thread drawn taut between them.

And when he reached her, when he brushed those curses from her like dust from glass, the relief on her face had struck deeper than he’d expected. Too human. Too raw.

She had fallen to her knees from the sheer relief of his help, and the image had struck him, stayed with him longer than he wanted to admit. Maybe the thing with Riko had carved itself into his memory too, but this… this was different. Riko had been different, had been tragedy. Viktoria was something else.

Satoru leaned his head back, one hand covering his mouth as if he could hide the weight of his thoughts. He hated to admit it, but his Six Eyes weren’t just showing him anymore. They were choosing for him.

Choosing her.

Satoru dragged a hand through his hair, not knowing why his Six Eyes acted out like that, pushing the damp heaviness of her words back into the corners of his mind and decided not to dwell on these things for now; his Six Eyes and her, his Infinity. Some mysteries could wait.

The sound of the shower ran steady, a barrier of white noise between them, and still he couldn’t shake it. She’d spoken from memory, from survival. And for the first time in a long while, his grin wasn’t enough to bridge the distance.

He leaned forward with a deep exhale, elbows braced against his knees, fingers laced loosely together. In the silence, his thoughts crowded too close, circling like curses waiting for an opening. Viktoria had no idea what she’d dropped into his lap, what kind of puzzle she’d become. And he couldn’t decide if he wanted to solve her, or protect her from being solved.

The bathroom door clicked shut, water rushing steady through the pipes.

Satoru let the sound wash over him, the steady hiss filling the small apartment, filling the space she’d left behind. He dragged a hand over his face, palm pressing against his eyes until color flared in the dark. What worried him more than the mystery Viktoria had become was her distrust of men and in turn him. She needed to trust him; needed her to trust him. As it was she suspected he wasn’t much different.

Her earlier words hooked under his ribs, sharper than he wanted to admit. He’d been called arrogant, reckless, untouchable — all true, in parts. But cruel? The kind of man who enjoyed breaking something fragile just to watch it crack? No. That wasn’t him. Not with most people. Never with her- the thought came unbidden, quick and certain. And it unsettled him more than he liked. Because if he wasn’t careful, he’d start caring too much. And caring made things complicated. Dangerous. He already walked the thin line between protecting the world and protecting the people he couldn’t stand to lose. Viktoria didn’t belong on that list. And he wasn’t interested on adding someone else to it.

But the way she looked at him — suspicion wrapped in exhaustion, defiance tucked into trembling hands — it made him want to prove her wrong. Not with words, not with the easy grin everyone saw through, but with time. With presence. With the kind of patience he rarely gave anyone. A humourless quiet laugh escaped him when he realized how great of an impact she already had on him and they had only ever met a handful of times.

His phone buzzed once against his thigh. He pulled it free, thumb swiping without much thought.

„Shoko messaged me. Said you’re wound up. Call me later.“

Satoru stared at Sugurus text, the corners of his mouth twitching as if the familiar name might summon a smile. It didn’t. He tipped his head back against the couch again, phone loose in his hand.

Water hummed on. Viktoria’s presence lingered even with the door closed, like the air had bent around her and refused to snap back.

Suddenly the shower cut off. Silence pressed in, heavier than before as his restless mind burdened him more than the position he held. Satoru leaned back against the couch again, stretching out long limbs, mask of ease sliding back into place just as the bathroom door handle turned. The door opened with a small squeak, and steam curled out into the narrow hall. Viktoria padded back into the room barefoot, wrapped in a towel knotted loosely at her chest, damp hair clinging to her shoulders. She stopped surprised when she saw him.

He was still there.

Sprawled across her couch like he owned it, long legs stretched, one arm slung along the backrest, sunglasses tilted low and yet never allowing her to see the colour of his eyes. He had waited for her and no one had ever shown her this much patience before. She blinked at him as if she had dreamed him up, throat working slow and a raw emotion in her voice: „You’re… still here.”

Satoru tilted his head, grin tugging slow at his mouth though it didn’t quite reach his eyes: „Where else would I be?”

She shifted the towel absently against her skin, not scandalized, not embarrassed. Nudity was something she had never fussed over much. As an artist she had seen her fare share of nudity and once or twice she had thought of becoming a nude model herself. A few times she had made photos of herself in the nude using her own body as a reference. And added to that exhaustion left little room for modesty.

Her voice was steady, almost curious, as she wasn’t even worrying about the state of her undress: „Most people… wouldn’t stay.”

„Most people aren’t me.”. the words slipped easy from his tongue as he let the words hang in the air, deceptively light, but his gaze — even behind the shades — didn’t waver.

Viktoria’s shoulders loosened a little, the knot of tension inside her easing. But she couldn’t tell if it was because of what he’d said, or because he hadn’t left when she expected him to. A beat of silence stretched, too heavy. Then he tipped his head toward her towel, grin sharpening into something more playful.

„You know, Viki, this is usually the part where modest girls blush and scream at me to get out.”, he made a show of lifting his hands, palms up, „You’re ruining my expectations here. How’s a guy supposed to enjoy his clichés if you won’t play along?”

Viktoria just arched a brow, unimpressed, and tugged the towel more firmly around her chest: „Then maybe stop expecting clichés. This isn’t a movie.”

That shut him up for half a second then a whine left his lips: "But it's no fun if you aren't playing along.”

Viktoria arched a brow, the faintest curve tugging at her mouth and a soft airy laugh left her: „Maybe you’re just disappointed because I’m not giving you an excuse to look longer.” The words came out before she had time to second-guess them. Bold. Too bold, maybe. She had never had a boyfriend, never really been wanted in that way — her health had seen to that. But here, wrapped in a towel with his eyes on her, something reckless sparked under her skin. To overplay her awkwardness she turned to leave to her bedroom

Gojo stilled. For once, his easy grin didn’t land right away and before she had been able to slip away he tilted his head: „...Oh?” Shades catching the light: „Look at you, Viki. Teasing me already? Careful. You might give me the wrong idea."

“Maybe that’s the point.”, her voice wasn’t steady, not really, but she held his gaze anyway, even if for just a moment, heart thundering in her ears and a blush on her cheeks. For once she was glad about the shades shielding her from his gaze.

His grin came back then, sharper this time, like a blade wrapped in velvet. But he leaned back against the couch again, giving her the illusion of space: „Bold and a tease. You’re gonna be a handful, aren’t you?”

“Then it’s good you’ve got two strong hands.”, for a heartbeat, silence stretched between them. Viktoria almost regretted it — almost, but her blush betrayed her.

Satoru blinked once, then his grin stuttered before tugging wider, slower, seeing the redness on her cheeks. Not the usual showy smile he threw around so easily, but something sharper, edged with surprise. No one talked to him like that. Girls usually tried to impress him, giggle at his jokes, lean closer like they wanted to bask in his orbit. Everyone else rolled their eyes, brushed him off, or bristled at his cheekiness. But Viktoria? Wrapped in nothing but a towel, damp hair dripping onto the floor, exhaustion heavy in her bones — she hadn’t tried to charm him or chase him off. She’d just… flipped his words back on him.

His head tilted, sunglasses slipping low enough for her to catch a flash of bright blue for just a moment. "Two strong hands, yeah?", he teased, voice just a tad low, and he had half a mind of standing up to truly show her what his hands were capable of. But she was not some flirt he wanted to hook up, not just some one night stand. So he stayed put and relaxed his shoulders keeping his distance and instead continued seeing how his teasing comment made her cheeks flush, her heart race and her blood rush under thin skin.

„You know,”, he drawled, voice softer now, almost thoughtful, „you’re not like the others.”

She suddenly groaned softly, immediately awoken from her emberrassment and gave him a look, not serious but unmistakably exasperated: “Oh God, no! That’s so lame! Please tell me you’re not one of those guys.”

His brows rose above the rim of his shades: „Those guys?”

„The ones who go, ‘oooh, you’re so different from the other girls.’”, she pitched her voice into mocking sweetness, then leveled him with a deadpan stare, „Because I’m not. I’m exactly like every girl you’ve ever met.”

For a moment he just blinked at her. Then — laughter, sudden and unrestrained, spilling out of him in a way that shook his shoulders. He tipped his head back against the couch, one hand pressed over his mouth as if to catch it, but the sound kept coming. Viktoria crossed her arms over her towel, feigning unimpressed, though the corner of her mouth tugged upward despite herself.

„God,”, he managed between chuckles, „you really don’t let me have anything, do you?”

He was still laughing when he finally sat forward, pushing his shades up the bridge of his nose. The sound tapered off into a chuckle, and when he looked at her again his grin was firmly back in place.

„Alright, alright. You win this round.”, he raised his hands in defeat while he rose in one smooth stretch, towering in the small room, his presence filling it without even trying.

Viktoria blinked up at him, arms still crossed, suspicious of him but clearly amused: „Win what, exactly?”

„Doesn’t matter.”, he waved her off, already moving toward the door as if it were his apartment, not hers, „Get dressed. We’re going out.”

Her brows knit together: „Out?”

„Yeah. Early lunch. And after that…”, he glanced over his shoulder, smirk tugging at his mouth, „…we’re buying some things. You want Japanese lessons? Gonna need supplies. Books, notebooks, pens. The works.”

Viktoria frowned, tugging her towel tighter: „You’re just deciding this for me?”

„Yup.”, his words unapologetic and then testing but hidden under his playfulness, „You trust me, don’t you?” The words carried weight she didn’t understand, not yet.

She opened her mouth, then closed it again, sighing: “Fine. Just gimme a few. I need my glasses too, I’m blind as a bat without them.” Finally she turned around and walked towards her bedroom while he gasped behind her: „No wonder you aren’t charmed by my beauty!“

Viktoria snorted, tossing the words over her shoulder without slowing: „Pretty sure beauty doesn’t depend on whether or not I can see it. And you might not even be my type.”

„Blasphemy!”, he shot back, hand over his heart in mock offense, „You wound me, Viki.”

She rolled her eyes at the nickname, but not minding it for once, disappearing into her room and shutting the door with a quiet click.

Left alone, Satoru let the grin linger on his face a moment longer before it softened into something closer to thought. His gaze drifted toward the mess of paints and half-finished canvas propped in the corner. White wings, or maybe not wings at all — he couldn’t tell. But he found himself staring anyway, as if the strokes might explain her better than words.

A beat passed. Then, with a sigh, he leaned against the kitchen counter. He’d give her a few minutes. Not because he was patient, but because this time, strangely, he didn’t mind waiting.

In her bedroom her heart was racing, blush hot across her cheeks. She pressed her back against the door for a moment, towel clutched tighter around her. Was that flirting? Or was she just reading too much into his grin, his ridiculous dramatics? She didn’t know. She’d never known. Most of her life had been spent indoors, her world narrowed down to pain and silence and careful routines. She’d never practiced the art of conversation the way other women did, never learned the subtle dance of teasing and being teased. It didn’t mean she didn’t try because she had… but that had been years ago and it had always left her feeling hollow and lonely.

But Satoru… Satoru unraveled her. Not because of his beauty, though that was undeniable, but because around him she didn’t feel the constant weight of vigilance. He unsettled her in a way that wasn’t threatening, a way that made her pulse trip over itself. 

It was terrifying. And, just a little, relieving.

She shook her head, dragging the towel through her damp hair, and forced herself toward the dresser. Clothes. Glasses. Deep breath.

She didn’t want to keep him waiting.