Chapter Text
Sitting on the bed, you stared blankly at the box that peeked out from behind the open closet door. The box was wrapped in purple paper and tied with a satin blue ribbon. Its night-lit edges reflected in your eyes, and the intrusive thoughts wouldn't come out of your head. You were frustrated. However, you weren't angry about why he'd stayed by your side or frightened that he might not change his mind, or if he did, why he hadn't told you. The only regret that settled in your chest was that you'd found out before December seventh.
The feeling didn't want to leave your chest, but you couldn't afford to sit still. As you walked to your closet and slammed the door shut, you glanced at your phone's screen and saw the low battery. You put it to charge and left the room.
From downstairs, you could hear a lot of activity: creaking floorboards, rustling jackets, children running and squealing, Frank's low exclamations, the clinking of cutlery or the clinking of tongues. As you went down to the first floor, each wooden step beneath you made a pitiful creaking sound.
You were barely downstairs when you were nearly knocked over by a passing Mike (who didn't even look in your direction afterward), who was out the front door in two seconds.
"I see ya've got this under control, don't ya?" you asked a panting Frank who was trying to hold a wriggling Tris in his arms while trying to pull off her snow-wet woolen tights to replace them with dry ones. "Now," you squinted taking Tris in your arms. Lifting her into the air, you looked into her eyes. "Either change the tights or no paper planes this year," your words made her chubby cheeks puff up even more, but she immediately went limp and fell silent.
"Ya're not much of a carer," Frank shook his head and sat the little girl on his lap again. "Couldn't ya've been gentler?"
"Weren't ya the one who threatened little me to take away all my toys if I didn't go to bed at nine at night?"
"That was a long time ago and not true," Frank muttered and finally pulled the tights over a motionless Tris.
"Listen," you began squatting down in front of them and began to put warm pants on the girl. "Lock Nael out of town."
Frank raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I thought ya two were allies."
"He owes me, Frank," you said grudgingly, wrinkling your nose. "As soon as he gets the chance, he's gonna set my ass up."
"Watch your mouth," the man snorted and flicked you on the forehead. "I'll shut him out, but aren't ya afraid of further questioning?"
"I think he'll understand why," you waved it off, and not wanting to talk about the subject any further, you immediately moved it. "Are the others outside already?"
"Sent them out to hand out torches to people," Frank informed. "We're already behind schedule today, two hours up the cliff and it's dusk outside."
"Then let's hurry up," you rushed them already pulling on your clothes yourself.
You looked at yourself in the mirror and wrapped the warm scarf around your neck. Even though Frank had assured you that you were fine after your bath that morning, you were still relieved that there wasn't a single blackened strand on your head, just your own hair color.
The steps creaked again, so prolonged and pitiful that they sounded as if they were about to fail, a sign that more than one person had went down the stairs.
Danielle appeared on the steps holding a folded paper plane in one hand and holding her side with the other. She struggled to move her feet, and on the next step, when she nearly stumbled and flew down, Megumi snorted irritably and picked her up.
He gave you a brief nod as he walked by and sat Dany on a stool near the entrance. He silently began to put her shoes on.
"Bun," you turned to the girl worriedly. "Wouldn't ya rather stay home?"
Megumi didn't even let Danielle utter the first word. "I already tried to talk her out of it," he muttered sullenly. "But she's just, she-" he stammered and clenched his teeth with such force that jowls showed on his face beneath his lower jaw. "I'd rather carry her in my arms than change her mind."
"Dany," you said in a quiet voice. "Why don't ya stay after all?" girl only shook her head.
You were just as quietly called out by Frank. "Hey," you turned around, and he gestured for you to come over to him. "I don't approve of her antics, but I think it's especially important for her right now," Frank whispered into your ear, and you kept your eyes on Danielle. "Besides, she has a caring young man. Oh, and I'll see to it, if anything."
You didn't say anything, but just accepted it. You couldn't just lock a fully self-aware and almost adult person in the room. "Whatever ya say. I'll go to others."
The door was right in front of you, but it seemed like a long way to get there: all from worry. What's going on with her? If she's sick, why not go to the doc? Why didn't she say she wasn't feeling well in the first place? She already told you it wasn't pregnancy (and you trusted her) - could it be that it's just some food poisoning? All these questions were beating against each other in your head forcing it to spin.
When you were finally outside the door, the frosty air finally brought you to your senses. You turned your head up into the clear night sky: at first you thought it was stargazing, but when you looked closer, you realized that the stars were the same glowing sparks Axel had shown you earlier. Unlike the stars, it weren't stationary: the sparks were moving from side to side, falling and rising, intertwining with each other as if dancing. One of them seemingly the boldest, flew right up to your face. You gingerly raised your hand and touched it with the tip of your index finger - the sparkle vibrated like a giggle and immediately flew back up into the sky.
It was good that there were no clouds in the sky, so there would be no precipitation that would soak the fragile paper planes. There was no headwind that would have prevented them from taking off.
A loud clamor came from the side of the bridge. You couldn't see the bridge from the corner of the house, but you could see the main street that led to it - even there was a huge crowd. It would be no easy task to break through it and find the others, especially given the mood of the town now: everyone would try to stop you just for chatting or exchange mutual congratulations. That was the way it was done with absolutely everyone who passed by.
Burying your face deeper into your scarf, you avoided the slippery spots and started down the hill straight into the main street.
***
Nathaniel couldn't call himself a pedantic man, but every time he saw a hair or lint on his or someone else's clothes, he was tempted to brush it off, or when a corner of a piece of paper was knocked out of a stack of papers, he'd put it back in place in one motion. Now it was not the presence of an extra pair of shoes in his hallway that annoyed him, but the fact that they stood unevenly.
The man carefully moved one shoe to the other and exhaled in relief, but the next task was more difficult: to deal with the owner of the shoes. He did not hesitate and ignoring the dread hunger immediately went to the ajar door of his office.
At Nathaniel's desk sat a man whose black hair was braided into a tight black braid. He was filling out paperwork, and Nathaniel shuddered when the man licked his finger once more to loosen the sticking sheets.
"Ah, here you are," said Christian looking at him over his glasses. Without waiting for an answer, he buried his face in the papers again, and the room was filled with the sound of a pen squeaking.
"What are you doing in my house?" asked Nathaniel indifferently, clutching his palms together and hiding them in his wide sleeves.
Christian smirked skeptically, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Your job."
Keeping a calm expression on his face, Nathaniel didn't think to react to the barbed remark. "I don't receive guests at this hour. You should go."
"You know...," Christian said in his drawling voice, scratching his chin thoughtfully, and pulled an already-written sheet from the stack. "I had a terrible craving for peaches the other day. I wanted them so badly that I couldn't think of anything else. Big, juicy ones. I can't get those at the grocery store. It's all plastic," he held up two sheets of paper - the one he'd just filled out and the one he'd pulled from the stack. Christian held them up to his face, his eyes running from one sheet to the other as if comparing something. "A lot more of our people have been killed this year, haven't they?" the question was unexpected and clearly out of context. "Now, what am I talking about," Christian looked pensive. "Ah, yes. I had to go to the market. So, I wandered around looking for peaches," he put the sheets back down and swatting at them with his hands, slowly rose from his chair. "And I saw an old lady. Her counter was filled with seeds. Seeds of fruits, vegetables, and... flowers," he walked up close to Nathaniel and abruptly pulled something out of his pocket. Clasping a clear bag of creamy beige dust between his index and middle finger, Christian shook it right in front of Nathaniel's face. "Are you going to explain where a f*cking huckster got the seeds of black orchid from?" he hissed, but broke off into a shout at the last word. "You don't have so many tasks and one of them is to just keep watch and buy up seeds, and if you don't want to do it yourself, you have people to assign it to!" yelled Christian, and Nathaniel phlegmatically brushed the saliva off his cheek with his hand. "What if the demons saw this? What would they do to her? Don't you feel sorry for granny?" he asked in a mocking tone.
"If I remember correctly, we all have equal responsibilities. You have no right to show up at my house and hurl accusations. It's as much your fault as it is mine."
"Remind me who put you in the superior chair?" asked Christian in a low voice squinting his eyes contemptuously.
"Y/N did," Nathaniel replied, co*cking his sharp chin. "And as you can see, I don't kneel at her feet. I'm not going to kneel at yours, either."
Christian's eyes widened with indignation, and his nostrils began to flare with rage. "You are out of line," despite his angry face, Christian spoke in as calm a voice as possible. "She may have helped you, but I could easily get rid of you."
Nathaniel raised his eyebrows defiantly. "Shall we call a council?" he inquired. "So let's do it. I think the rest of the higher-ups who unlike you have relatives and children living in Hopetown, would be very interested to know why you're trying so hard to sneak in.
Christian felt as if he'd been punched in the chest, and he immediately exhaled all the anger out of himself. "How are you-"
"You're not the only one with ears everywhere. Honestly, I don't care why you need to go there. I just want you to remember that just because you've been sitting a hole in a superior's chair longer doesn't make you more important."
Christian took a deep breath. Exhaled. Repeated. He backed up a few steps and leaned against the table. "I wonder why, of the five of us, only you have access to the town?" he asked and threw a bag of creamy beige dust in Nathaniel's face. He caught it with a deft movement.
"Probably because I don't act like an arrogant idiot," Nathaniel pointed out indifferently and tucked his hands back into his sleeves along with the bag. "You have two minutes to leave my house," Nathaniel said and turned on his heels and headed for the door. Pulling the handle toward him, he added: "The lad won't kill her. So leave the two of them alone," Nathaniel tossed over his shoulder.
Christian clutched his hand to his face as if he'd just been punched. "I need to...," he mumbled. "I just need to talk to someone who's doing their job properly. Or else my head's going to burst."
***
At the very path that began at the bridge, you silently pushed the empty crates aside. Your tongue ached from the endless congratulations, and your feet ached from being stepped on at least a dozen times as you made your way through the crowd.
You watched the people leaving the path, and the city seemed so empty now that you could hear the quiet hum of the golden sparks that hovered above it. Kyle's shout of 'torches overhead' was still ringing in your ears, and you shook your head trying to get rid of the sound.
Itadori fidgeted with the unlit torch; he glanced around at the rest of the people present. "Anyone have a lighter or matches?"
"Don't worry about it," you assured him shoving one of the few overflowing torch boxes toward the bridge, away from the path. "Ya'd better catch up with the others. And ya two too," you turned to Danielle and Megumi who was holding her shoulder.
You picked up your backpack from the ground and opened it; it contained a stack of blank sheets of paper and a few dozen pens, the conclusions drawn from past years when someone had either lost their paper plane or it was crumpled and, as a consequence, no longer able to carry fulfill innermost dreams and wishes. "I think I've got everything," you muttered to yourself and slung your backpack over your shoulders.
At the same time, Megumi picked up a weak Danielle in her arms, but watching such a scene you weren't at peace with joy for them, only worry. She'd been holding up fine for a year, had she only just gotten down?
Gojo's voice pulled you out of your thoughts. His tone was childishly whiny, but no less demanding. "Can't we do the same?"
"Nope," you stretched watching their distant silhouettes. "I'm afraid I can't carry you far."
"Bully," Gojo muttered under his breath. "That's not what I meant," he added even more quietly.
You turned around to Kyle who was waiting just for the two of you. "What about ya? Going forward as usual?" Kyle remained silent glaring at the man who stood directly behind you. "Hey," you muttered crossly and snapped your fingers in front of his face. "If ya're gonna kill someone with a stare, do it more discreetly."
Gojo's arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to him. "Don't worry, big brother. I'll take care of her," he said, and smiling broadly, rested his head on the top of your head. Kyle didn't seem to care what he said - he was already vividly visualizing the scarlet trickles of blood coming out of Gojo's nose.
Barely escaping the clutches of his fantasies, Kyle finally turned his gaze to you and looked straight into your eyes - you only blinked slowly, your eyes squeezed shut letting him know that everything was okay. You were comfortable. "Okay, I'll go."
"So what?" you inquired indignantly, exasperated by his terseness. "Not even an annual tutorial?"
Kyle exhaled in relief, laughing softly as a cloud of steam covered his face for a second. "Ya know yourself. Keep an eye on the laggards, and keep an eye out so it's not like last year. I don't really wanna spend all night again looking for a kid in a snowy forest who just happened to fall asleep in his own bed before the procession. That's it, I'll go now."
"Aren't ya forgetting something?" you asked sternly, tapping your forehead lightly with your finger. Kyle gave you a quick peck on the forehead, and then, taking a step back and looking you in the eye, he turned the triangle he'd made with his fingers downward: lights came on the horizon. He hurried out onto the path afterward, and at the same time, the arms around your waist squeezed you as tightly as if they wanted to be one with you.
After standing like that for a moment, you tried to unhook his hands, but to no avail. "I heard from a reliable source that you wanna live in a dumpster."
"What did I do wrong?" he snorted irritably into your hair. You tried to tear his hands away from you, again without any chance of success. It was time for the forbidden moves - you pinched his nose. "Ouch!" he exclaimed quietly and his palm flew to the sore spot on automatic; you immediately jumped out of the embrace. "You know, you act like that and I'll turn on infinity and you'll never touch me again," he mumbled resentfully, rubbing his nose with his fingers.
"Is it worth mentioning that all this time ya've been the first to seek to touch me?" you rubbed your forehead thoughtfully, but when you saw his indignant look and the way he took a deep breath, gathering more air into his lungs, you immediately returned to the original topic. "Look," you began softly. "I know Kyle seems rude, but he just... um," you stammered trying to string the information together into something concise and blurry. "He has some trust issues. So please forgive him for this behavior, but ya... Could ya please not provoke him? At least on purpose."
It was noticeable how he frowned his eyebrows slightly, and the way he clasped his hands together across his chest gave him an even stranger serious look. "What do you mean? I didn't provoke him."
You opened your mouth, but closed it again. His lack of understanding confused you, and what made it even more confusing was that you couldn't tell if he was really serious right now or if it was just part of another joke. "I mean, 'I'll take care of her?' What was that for? There are tons of ways to piss him off, but ya chose this one-"
"Okay, cease," he stopped you, and put his hands on your shoulders for good measure. "Maybe I didn't really think about how it would sound to you from aside, but... ahem," you tried to look him in the eye, but he was trying too hard to avoid your gaze staring somewhere behind you. He kept hesitating to continue, biting his lip, and then opening his mouth again, trying to get a word out. "I just... I really meant it."
You chuckled nervously. "You can't even take care of yourself."
"It's because you spoil me!" he whined in a reproachful tone, and when he heard your impish laugh, he shook you gently by the shoulders. His reaction only made you laugh even more, and he started doing something weird - still holding onto your forearms, he started rocking you back and forth. You shook your head dazedly, drilling him with a questioning look. "What are you-" you didn't have time to say before he turned ninety degrees with you and shoved you into a snowdrift.
You sank into it, but that didn't stop your laughter from spreading, now more like the whistling of a boiling kettle. "What is that-" you barely got it out in a choked voice, your chest refusing to take in air. "That-that's your whole revenge thing?"
"Not revenge," he hissed raking the snow that was on sides with his big hands and dumping it right on your face. "Justice!"
While you were floundering, he's already buried your legs in the snow. As soon as you were able to lift your body up, he shoved you back down.
"Ouch," you squeaked squeezing your head into your shoulders. "It seems I got snow down my back. It's cold!"
"What?" he exclaimed restlessly, immediately pulling you to him. He fussily but gently wiped the melted snow from your face with his palms, and when he reached under your scarf to wipe the back of your head, he felt that it was completely dry.
"Hey ya," you said quietly, squinting your eyes slyly. "The strongest sorcerer in the world as naive as a five-year-old."
He looked at you as if you'd stabbed him in the back with your dagger. Still sitting in the cold snow, he sighed dramatically and turned away from you, hand resting on his cheek. You knew it was just a joke - he'd pulled that trick more than once. Nevertheless, you crawled up behind him and rested your chin on his shoulder. He was lazily tracing patterns in the snow with his finger, not paying attention to you, and you had no choice but to rub your nose against his neck - once you did that, you looked at his profile again. "Some of us won't live to be old," he muttered turning his head slightly toward you. "Perhaps that someone is you. I'll kill you myself."
"Yeah," you said smiling. You started to pinch his sides: maybe it didn't have the same effect through the thick fabric of his jacket, but he started to smile - you could see the corners of his lips lift. "I know," you pulled away from him, but as always you didn't notice the way his gaze dimmed as you did so. "We should go."
It was a joke. Just a joke.
***
To the tinkling music of the heavy chains sang someone's long painful whimper. The woman's hands dangled limply in the shackles, and almost all of her fingers were missing their nails - and the ones that were left had small, thin nails hammered under them. As she struggled to move her arms, she sobbed raggedly and then began to cough up choking on her own blood.
She tried once more to raise herself up, and once more she failed. She couldn't feel her legs at all, and through the shroud of tears and pus she tried to see if they were still there.
As a child, the captive was a decent girl - an obedient daughter, a diligent pupil, always trying not to upset her mother and father. As a teenager, she tried to ignore all of the attentions and was immersed in her studies - she was too concerned about her own future. Of course, she fell in love at university, but is that a sin? With that man, she had a happy marriage, though not without minor scrapes and quarrels, but she never betrayed her beloved husband. They had two wonderful children, to whom the woman tried to give everything, and if it was not enough material resources - she made up for it with all-consuming maternal love.
The captive didn't understand what she did wrong.
She used her willpower alone to force her weakened body to sway sideways - sitting still was much more painful. That made the chains rattle with renewed vigor, and the man who had been tirelessly correcting the painting on the wall before finally turned around. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" He walked over to her and gently cupped his fingers around her chin forcing her to look into his eyes. "Thirsty?" the woman nodded weakly, though it was as her head had just dropped from helplessness.
Pouring water from the carafe into a glass, the man cupped her cheeks and brought the glass to her mouth. Her swallowing reflex was almost non-existent as the water ran down her neck, washing away the fresh blood and soaking the old dried one. "Here ya go," he said softly, scrutinizing her face. "Feeling better?"
The woman only covered her eyes, and he immediately removed his hand from her; the captive's head collapsed back against her chest.
However, the man paid no further attention to her; he put the empty glass on the table and returned to painting. He circled the canvas with his hands, barely touching it - he wanted to feel every stroke of paint, but lacked the courage to apply more force. "One of the three studies of the crucifixion," he whispered reverently, unable to take his eyes off the painted bloody human body writhing on the bed. "Ya really don't know where the others are?"
The captive was silent.
The man exhaled quietly and clenched his teeth only to unclench them and smile again. He turned and walked over to the woman again and squatted down in front of her; the captive clenched into a ball, as tight as she could be with her chained limbs. "Ya're an honorary restorer at the Solomon Guggenheim Museum, did they really not tell ya where paintings were taken?" he gently tucked a strand of her dirty hair (what little was left of it) behind her ear, and the tone of his voice was so soft and enveloping that the woman nestled her cheek against his hand.
"Rei," a voice hit his eardrums, and it was so annoying that the man didn't hear the clinking of chains or the thump against a weakened and gaunt cheek, he only heard the whimpering of the cornered woman. "Not tired of sitting in the shadows yet?"
"Who am I hearing," Ray noted sardonically, getting to his feet and adjusting the collar of his suit. "Ya know I can see better from the shadows," he sat down tiredly on the couch directly across from the newly acquired painting, crossed his legs. "Unless ya wanna offer me something interesting."
"I know what you're getting at," noticed the voice. "No. You treat chances the same way you treat money. Wastefully."
"Oh, come on," Rei waved it off examining the blood painted on the picture. His whole skin itched with the urge to add the real thing to it. "I got too... over-excited that time. This time I'll just blow her head off."
"Blowing her head off won't be enough this time!" came a voice so loud that blood flowed from Ray's ears. He wiped the scarlet liquid away indifferently with the back of his hand. "And as far as your games have gone, that's as far as she's been able to go. It's your fault she's walking around our territory and besides... opening it up to others."
"How much longer ya gonna spray?" asked Rei through clenched teeth. The voice had no right to say things like that: somehow, they were part of the same whole. It was their fault. "Just tell me what needs to be done."
"Let's start with her rear," the voice suggested calmly. "Weaken it preferably, remove it as a priority."
"Be specific."
"Check out the redhead's habits. How she dresses, who she likes to socialize with, how much she sleeps, what she eats, what toothpaste she brushes her teeth with, down to what time and how often she goes to the bathroom.""
"Where has our former majesty gone," Rei sighed staring blankly at one point. "If queens used to sit between our legs while kings licked our heels, now we have to watch some broad in the latrine."
The voice didn't answer.
The captive had long since gotten used to the man talking to himself from time to time, but what she couldn't get used to was his fits of rage right afterward. Each time, she hoped - no, not just hoped - prayed that in a fit of rage he would finally kill her.
She heard his footsteps approaching. Unable to lift her head, she began to sob quietly. An agonized and tearing moan escaped her chest as he grabbed the rest of her hair with a jerk. "So ya're not gonna tell me where the rest of the paintings are?" he bellowed in her face.
The woman wanted more than anything to shout 'I don't know, I don't know, I don't know!" but her voice had long since given up - the words wouldn't come, and she only had to shake her head from side to side.
Rei's face contorted. He grabbed the woman's face squeezing her cheeks - and it was unclear whether it was his gray strands or his eyes that were turning black faster. He was breathing heavily, and the woman felt pain - his growing claws digging into her cheekbones. "Okay," he whispered softly.
A second ago, the room was filled with convulsive sobs, but because the rage was confined within the four walls, it was replaced by the sound of tearing mandibular ligaments. The woman let out one last loud gurgling wheeze, after which everything was replaced by the sounds of blood dripping to the floor and the final clanking of old iron chains.
In the cold December, there was no music more beautiful to Rei than this.
***
The fire seemed to be warming the frosty air and pushing the winter out of its glow, but it was not the only thing warming people now, they were warming each other themselves. Some of them were already walking with their arms around each other, drinking songs; some were stealthily taking a few sips of wine or something stronger from their flask fidgeting around. Tired children were already sitting in the arms of adults comfortably as it was possible; other children, more active, were running from side to side, playing catch-up under the concerned shouts of older ones. Every passing person left footprints in the white snow, there was no better proof than this that someone was here, and that someone was alive.
It was a well-traveled and known road, but still the responsible adults led the younger ones by the hand, and the responsible younger ones led the older ones by the hand. Everyone was looking out for each other - everybody wanted to get to the cliff safely.
Frank had moved Tris from one hand to the other four times already, and she had refused to get off and walk on her own since the beginning of the trail. The man berated himself for it: just as he'd done with the three of you, he couldn't refuse Tris; he pestered himself with thoughts that she might grow up to be too spoiled, but if you hadn't, maybe this time it would be all right, too.
Frank never thought of himself as a good father. He kept going over in his head what he had given you and what more he could have given you, and it didn't seem enough, because he had missed the most important thing of all: your childhood. While you were growing up and trying to learn about the world getting bumps and scrapes, all he did was cut the throats of others. Higher-ups praised him a lot and often, but he hardly remembered it, but he sure remembered Rachel's delight at his first cooked breakfast, Kyle's brief but meaningful nod when Frank finally managed to explain to him how to use his ability of lighting, and your snide laugh when all the infant formula from the bottle he'd just fed Tris ended up on his shirt.
"Ya tired?" turned Frank to Itadori who had already been carrying Mike in his arms for about twenty minutes.
"No!" exclaimed Yuuji tossing the slumped Mike higher on his shoulder and grinning broadly. "I'm very resilient."
"Frank?" Yuta picked up the conversation peering out from behind Frank's big shoulder. "What happened to us? I mean... why did the sorcerers split up?"
"Son, it's been over a couple or three thousand years," Frank chuckled and was about to pat the boy on the top of his head, but remembered his busy hands and snorted unhappily. "I'm not quite sure I can say exactly what it was about. Although... My grandpa used to tell me that it was all because of the promise system."
Yuta tried to catch up with Frank, whose stride could be compared to three steps of a normal person. "Promise system?"
"I think you've met something like that," Frank hummed shifting Tris from one hand to the other. "All of this filth trying to negotiate something one way or another," Itadori looked further away with each word he said. "Long time ago, when the demons started to realize they couldn't cope, they started to negotiate with the sorcerers. Of course, at first, for just a 'small favor' the demons promised mostly more powers. Some sorcerers thought that this is a great opportunity: the more they will have strength, the more people they can protect, and other sorcerers didn't like it, because there is no limit to human greed, and all this will not end well. So we parted ways. I dunno how it happened, and I can't say that we had nothing to do with it... But as time went on, the caste of sorcerers that had given up on the idea began to be covered with dirt, and rumors have two properties: they spread very quickly and in addition, they grow with details that come from nowhere... and years later you look at it and don't understand why it was necessary," Frank sighed heavily. "Ya boys," he nodded his head at Yuta and Itadori. "Ya don't even know what the promise system is at all, do ya? I don't think your older generation is aware of it either... Nor of the existence of demons in general. And we're all just a thing of the past. But be that as it may, and whatever happened between our ancestors... I'm glad we're back together."
Yuta and Itadori looked at each other in confusion.
"We're glad to have met you too," said Yuta, and smiling, got all flushed.
"Stop it," chuckled Frank, and he thought he pushed Yuta lightly with his shoulder, but boy didn't fly off into the snowy bushes only because of his intense training.
"So how the promise system work?" blurted Itadori, and Frank raised an eyebrow in surprise at this unfamiliar pressure. "It's just..." he swallowed the thick saliva that rose in his throat like a cork. "Forewarned is forearmed."
"How-how... Unfairly it works," Frank spat in indignation. "Demons can watch ya for a long time, digging into your head for your most secret desires, and once they know... They come to a person and offer them a deal. If the terms aren't agreed upon onshore, the default is five years. I don't need to tell ya what happens if you don't fulfill the terms... If a person has done everything they were asked for within the specified period, they can also ask the demon to do something for them, and everything works the same way with deadlines. All this works in the opposite direction: a person can first come and ask for something. With one adjustment - the demon can pretty much say no."
"Can't a person refuse a promise?" queried Yuta confusedly.
"Son, ya think those bastards are gonna stick a piece of paper under your nose and ask ya to sign it?" Frank panted so hard that Tris wrapped her arms around his face. "All they need is your mental assent. They don't care what you say out loud. You can tell them fu- ahem, you can tell them no, but if they nailed, you're in trouble. You won't even know it. That's why... That's why hunters are taught not to want anything from childhood, and if they do, to keep it so deep inside that no bug can get to it."
"Why not turn this to your favor?" boiled Itadori. "Why not in return for their wants just ask that they all die?"
Frank marveled at the amount of stilted anger sitting in the pink-haired boy. "We tried," the man shrugged. "But we got the impression that the very concept of death itself was unfamiliar to them. The hunters tried different formulations: 'die' - only the body died, 'fade away' - only the body disappeared, 'burn in hell' - maybe they did burn, but they came back. Hunters tried to set impossible tasks, but if we take into account the fact that we want to keep humanity intact, there is no such thing. Ya can ask for the sun to go out, but there's no way to be sure they can't. But what if they could and would do it? Even if there was something impossible for them to do, all demon 'requests' result in a huge loss of human life, and it is too disproportionate and unfair that several human lives are taken in exchange for one demon life. I believe there is some formulation that will make them finally disappear, but so far, the hunters have not found one. The only two working methods now are judges and void killings. I hope you never fall for such a thing."
Amidst the chatter of all the people walking down the slope, only their voices were hushed - each buried in his own thoughts. Almost every minute each of them caught an occasional nudge on the shoulder and a loud apology as people hurried to the cliff.
Something - if intangible, but something to lean on - began to emerge in Itadori's memories. Their pact with Sukuna. The only thing he regretted now was that the curse had never learned how brightly human rage could burn. "Kid," Itadori yanked back so that Mike nearly fell out of his arms. Kyle, on the other hand, looked into his eyes searching for how he was feeling. "Everything okay?"
The anger in Yuji's eyes was immediately replaced by confusion, confusion replaced by awkward nods of the head. "Yeah," muttered Itadori. "Yeah, everything's fine. Kinda."
Kyle looked calm, but he still didn't relent and kept his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Why don't we wait a while," he pulled him aside and they stopped letting a group of cackling people pass by. Looking around, Kyle noticed that they were separated from the rest of the people by a few dozen feet. "No more bad thoughts popped into your head?"
Itadori's eyes became as round as two shiny coins. "No, no, of course not!" the boy rambled excitedly, and when Kyle was back on the path, Yuji scrambled up beside him.
"Look," Kyle began softly, choosing his words. "It's unlikely that I'll ever fully understand what ya've been through - it's not like I've ever had someone sitting inside me and controlling me intermittently. Besides, I can't promise you that the pain will ever diminish, but what I can guarantee ya for sure that time will change in size," Itadori noted to himself: the more times it was mentioned, the less pain he felt. Did repressed anger sit in him? Yes. Did grief sit in him? Perhaps. However, the pain flowed out of his body like water through the tiny openings of a huge sieve, or it still sat in him, but as a captive and overgrew the vines of a newfound hardness of character. "I know when the fruits of your labors are invisible to the eye, we can't help but wonder what it's all for. After all, the world would look the way it does now without us: calm, peaceful. We completely forget that it looks like this only because we had the courage to take on such a burden. Ya know what I mean?"
Itadori didn't dare blink, afraid that tears would come out of his eyes again, and tried not to sniffle, though his nose tickled unpleasantly. He nodded his head once not daring to answer, fearing that the brokenness in his voice might come out of his mouth.
"Cold today, huh?" asked Kyle casually, wiping his eyes with the palms of his hands. "Even my eyes are watering."
"Yeah," Itadori blurted out and began to wipe his eyes hastily with one hand. "True," he felt a sense of gratitude in his chest, and it came as sharply as the darkness of winter: just a blink, and there was darkness outside the window instead of sunshine.
They had been walking for a long time; the forest around them began to thin giving way to a landscape of bare rocks and cliffs covered with snow. The last turn showed on the horizon, and people along with their lights were turning and disappearing from sight. "I was talking to ya like a child," Kyle said. "Now I'll tell you like a man: you chose it for yourself. Get your balls up and take responsibility," Kyle was surprised at the harshness of his statement. They were already at the turnoff. "Still, there's something ya need to see. I hope that for you this day will be one of those memories that will generally justify living like this. Now look," they finally turned, and Kyle nodded toward the climb up to that very cliff.
Itadori stopped dead in his tracks, and he did it so suddenly that the people walking behind him crashed into his back.
However, he didn't feel it.
***
It was the third time the raven flew over your heads - Gojo kept throwing anxious glances at you, but you didn't seem to notice the bird, only stared ahead.
When the raven stopped silently circling over your heads and finally made a sound as if to attract attention, Gojo couldn't stand it, and behind his back - so that you couldn't see - he jerked his palm sharply, and the raven immediately began to fall straight into the crowns of trees. "Is it still far? " he asked diverting your attention and at the same time watching the bird's body fly downward.
"We'll go around that corner and almost done. We'll just have to climb up."
"If we're almost there, why haven't I seen a single person coming back?"
"We throw them off a cliff," you replied indifferently, shrugging your shoulders. "An annual sacrifice," you continued to tease him, and as he watched not a single muscle on your face flinch, he squinted his eyes suspiciously. "It's just a joke," you chuckled and nudged him lightly with your shoulder. "There's another road back there. The first year we organized all this, we didn't think about the way back. The road got so crowded... So we had to build another one as a matter of urgency."
"We passed one turn into the woods, didn't we," he drawled thoughtfully. The raven just appeared just as you approached it. "You mean that way?"
There was no point in lying now: when you were on your way back, Gojo would realize this wasn't the right road. "Nope," you shook your head. "It's just a cutoff."
It was obvious to a fool that it wasn't a shortcut - there was nowhere to cut. He was about to launch into another joking drama about your mistrust, but he shrugged it off - maybe that was all he deserved.
The last light on the horizon had already gone out; you were inevitably approaching the turn as well. "If that doesn't capture ya spirit, I don't even know what will."
"What are you talking about?" he asked puzzled, flapping his eyes.
You took his hand intertwining your fingers with his and turning the corner, leading him onto the final path. "Look."
He always knew exactly what he was doing: saving lives. He hardly did it out of the goodness of his heart - though he certainly had one - but rather to gratify his ego once again and to feel the power that had been flowing through his body since birth. He'd never seen the result of his labors and he'd never been interested in it, and no one knew or praised his name outside the sorcery world - he hardly cared.
Nevertheless, what was there left to do now with the feeling that filled his gut as inevitably and irrevocably as the coming of tomorrow? That feeling was reflected by hundreds of lights in his glittering eyes.
Those lights stretched and rose upward, and they did so as tenaciously as any hope can survive. What goes hand in hand with hope?
Every man could move a mountain long before he even knew he could do it. You just have to believe - if not in God or mythical creatures, if not in your relatives or science, then at least in yourself. For somewhere in the most secluded corner of the earth, faith kisses the hands of hope tenderly every time and assures it to go forward, no matter what.
What keeps them both going?
He unconsciously shifted his gaze to you - he was scrutinizing your half-hidden profile with an edge of his eye, and your eyes reflected the same lights as his.
The answer held his hand.
"Did you…," he stammered hearing his voice hoarse, and coughed quietly. "Did you do all this?"
"We!" you exclaimed confidently. "We did it all," you added quietly, but still firmly, and exhaled the exhilarating feeling that made your heart beat faster. "Let's go, the only thing missing there is our light," you shook the torch quietly. "I hope ya made plane?"
"Of course I did," he replied trying to suppress a smile.
"Won't ya show me what ya've written?" you asked peering into blue eyes.
"Dream on!" he hissed indignantly, pressing his hand to his pocket.
***
When you came up, there were hardly two dozen people left on the cliff - all the others who had made a wish had already gone down to the town to drink wine, eat delicious food, warm themselves by the fire and tell stories.
Still holding Gojo's hand, you walked around the embracing couple, and then you led him over to the cliff and nodded ahead. He puckered his lips, but you'd never say it was from embarrassment - his face was already red from the biting cold.
He carefully pulled out a paper plane and noticing you somehow furtively peering out from behind his shoulder, he clutched it to his chest with childish stubbornness. "Turn away!" he commanded. You, on the other hand, made a helpless and begging look and tried to peek again. "I said turn away!" you snorted and turned away: for the first time It didn't work out.
There was a quiet rustle and then silence, even the wind was quiet. The silence was short-lived; a few seconds later you heard an indignant cry. "Hey! It's gone!" he turned back to you, and you could barely keep from laughing: that was the look on Tris's face when she found out the snow wasn't sweet at all.
You threw up your hands and shrugged. "They always disappear, there's nothing ya can do about it."
"I thought it was just me," he snorted puffing his cheeks, but there was relief in his voice. "Now it's your turn!"
"Then turn away," you mocked him.
"How dare you!" exclaimed Gojo clutching at his heart.
"Turn away, or you'll leave poor me without wish," you sounded like you were about to cry, and without thinking he immediately turned away. He furrowed his eyebrows in bewilderment, realizing what he'd just done.
A small manipulator, that's who you was.
You turned slowly toward the cliff. You looked down at your empty hands and bit your lip so hard that you could taste the metal in your mouth.
"That's it," you squeezed out a cheery voice with the kind of difficulty that people use to squeeze the remnants of toothpaste out of an empty tube. "We can go."
"Can't we... Stay here a little longer?" he asked quietly. "I know you have a raid in a few hours, but still. I really want to hang out here with you."
"Sure."
Just as you were about to sit down on the edge of the cliff, an indignant shriek reached you. "Y/N!" Itadori was already running towards you at full speed with Mike in his arms, with Kyle running after the boy. "They're all missing, aren't they?" seeing the dumbfounded expression on your face, he added: "Planes! Everyone's missing them?"
"Uh?" you shifted your gaze from Kyle to Yuji confusedly. "I mean… Yes?"
"Thank goodness," Yuuji exhaled in relief.
"That's what I said," Kyle muttered quietly, wrinkling his nose annoyingly.
"Ya look like f*cking yakuza. I wouldn't trust ya too," you wished you could say it to yourself; for under Kyle's gaze, your skin felt like it was starting to burn. "Itadori," you turned to the boy. "Ya okay?"
"I- Well, yeah... Yeah," he looked at you, and the way you regarded him made it all clear to him. "Did you... tell her?" he asked Kyle, and he sounded both embarrassed and ashamed at the same time.
"Just don't take offense to him, no one in our family knows how to keep their mouth shut, but it never gets any further," you assured Yuji. He looked at you, but didn't dare to look up at Gojo, afraid to see the disappointment in his sensei's eyes. "Alright, ya guys go have fun. We'll be here for a while," you patted Itadori on the top of his head, and with a glance you indicated Kyle to keep an eye on him. Your older brother seemed to accept your choice shoving his hands in his pockets and following Yuji out.
There were no people left on the cliff at all - even the couple who had been hugging each other was gone. You were left alone, and now no one could stop you from sitting on the cliff.
"What was that just now?" asked Gojo watching Itadori leave.
You knew what you were going to do. Break the reassurance given to the boy. "He kinda...uh, he tried to kill himself," you muttered quietly, looking down at your swaying legs.
It was too rare to hear him like this, in utter confusion and denial. "What?"
"Didn't he tell ya?" you asked uncertainly. "Those events in Shibuya... Sukuna overran the control and slaughtered people, so Yuji blames himself. We only got there towards the end; we didn't have time to do anything. And besides, Itadori thinks Megumi became a vessel for Sukuna because of him too."
"He...," he couldn't speak normally because of the rising lump in his throat. "He was telling me, but it was so casually, and I really thought that it might bother him, but not that much."
"Ya thought wrong then," you mumbled not taking your eyes off the distant tree crowns. You could hardly see them from here, but you looked like they were the most interesting thing on earth.
Without realizing it, he was looking at you pleadingly, but you refused to even turn in his direction. "You too?" he asked so bitterly that you immediately looked up at him. "You think I'm a sh*tty teacher too? A sh*tty person? A selfish asshole who doesn't care about the feelings of others," the last phrase came out of his speech - it sounded like it was an assertion.
"Satoru," you addressed him softly. The words you were about to say forced you to look away again. "I honestly have no idea if this will mean anything to ya, but... I'm proud of ya," you exhaled and without letting him get a word in edgewise, you began to jabber gesticulating vigorously. "I mean, ya've had so much strength since birth, and where strength is power, and power, it... it corrupts. But just look at ya. I don't care why exactly you're protecting people, but ya do. I don't think anyone taught ya the right thing to do either, so ya're probably just doing what ya can. Ya take custody of children, ya've even defended so many in front of your higher-ups, and most of the curses are sitting in corners shaking like mice just because ya exist, even though ya could have just tucked the world away and enjoyed it. But here ya are," you were so out of breath you had to take a pause. "Ya're here, and instead of burning some city to the ground, ya're throwing a paper plane. So yeah... I'm proud of ya."
You chuckled nervously; sometimes you just wanted to kill yourself for being so chatty. In the silence, you just wanted to tell him not to take it all in stride.
"Wanna be my best friend?" he blurted out and froze - his heart was racing too fast; he wanted to rip it out of his chest for a second so it wouldn't get in the way of hearing your answer.
"I...," you began confusedly. "Ya know, first... I have a question too."
Shut your mouth. Shut up, shut up, shut up.
"Yeah?"
Just be quiet. It's okay; everything was going well as it was, you don't need to break anything with your little hands.
"Is it true?" you asked calmly enough, despite your earlier excitement and equally emotional monologue. "Is your pact with Christian true?" your hand that was resting on the cliff twitched, and a pebble that had been resting under the snow flew down the cliff. Enough time passed for it to finally reach the ground, but Gojo still didn't say anything. "Gonna say something?"
What you heard made you round your eyes. It wasn't his words that surprised you, it was his voice. It trembled. "How long have you known?"
You rubbed your forehead perplexed. Of all the answers he'd chosen, he'd chosen this one? "Yeah I'd love to say something like 'don't take me for an idiot, maybe I'm a fool, but I'm not stupid, and I knew about my position from the very beginning' and blah-blah-blah, but no. Nael told me this afternoon. I guess ya realized it yourself - I don't think ya ran into the storage all out of breath just because ya wanted to help."
His soul was a cloth of rubber threads, and with every word you said the threads snapped one by one. Where before Gojo had been able to sprawl on top of you without hesitation crushing you into the bed to your grumbling of displeasure, now he barely had the courage to put his palm over yours - you could feel that it wasn't just his voice that was trembling. "I-I can explain everything-"
"No doubt ya can," you said indifferently. "Ya must have been promised to be paid well. Maybe not even in money. Or not just money," you listed the options cheekily. "Or ya were simply told who I am and what I've done, and even a man like ya who has a few second chances scattered in his pockets for everyone decided it was best to get rid of me. Ya know what?" a chuckle escaped your lips. "I don't wanna know. I don't know what's worse."
Gojo wanted you to look at him at last. He wrapped his hands around your face and pulled you to his face. When you tried to break free of his grip, though without much enthusiasm, a painful whimper escaped from his lips. Why weren't you angry? He would have been so happy to take a slap from you, or a scream, or just a bucket of slop on his head. However, it was as if you didn't care. "I was so mad- I was so mad at you then. I was just angry, I didn't even know I could do that- And then you came in with those damn mochi and-"
"Enough," you said sternly, and he stopped talking. You struggled to pull his hands away from you - his grip was strong, but you could barely feel it on your face. "Ya've had a year to tell and now any explanation will look like an excuse," he kept looking at his hands and wondering why he missed you. You rose from your place and panic gripped him - he may not have had the right to touch you anymore, but he wouldn't be able to stand it if you disappeared from his life altogether. Still clutching at you desperately, Gojo jumped to his feet and stared into your eyes, shaking his head frantically, as if begging you not to leave. He was unable to say anything. He looked so confused and distressed that you had to soften your voice. "Ya know what we're gonna do? I'm going on a raid for three days, so ya'll have time to think it over," you said backing away from him a couple steps. "Think it over well. If you do stick to your agreement - leave, and if we meet again, we'll talk differently, but if you change your mind, then... just stay. Just stay and we'll never revisit this topic again."
"Okay," Gojo tried to sound as calm as possible, but here were his telltale hands still reaching for you. He barely lifted them, and then yanked back. "Can I... Can I at least hug you?"
"Nope," you shook your head. "We aren't friends yet or anymore."
"Let me..," Gojo began, but immediately fell silent, and you were dying for him to say something already. You could have just kept your mouth shut and everything would have been fine. "Let me walk you out, okay?"
"Deal."
***
Already dressed in your uniform, you raced around the room like a lunatic. If everything at home was a mess, at least you knew it was your mess, but in Hopetown, you had to work hard to find everything you needed.
Without taking off your original mask, you put on your work mask and started screwing filters into it, all in a hurry. When you were done with the respirators, you quickly tied your hair into a ponytail and grabbed your phone - the charger fell out of the socket and clattered on the table. You furrowed your eyebrows - you hadn't pulled that hard. You glanced at the screen. There was almost no charge.
The phone was not charging the whole time.
There was no time to deal with it - the main thing was to remember what date it was. With these thoughts, you grabbed your backpack and started looking for your watch, but everything but it came up. You remembered that you had taken it.
There was a knock at the door. "Come in!" you shouted out in a rush still digging in your backpack.
"Y/N?" asked Gojo quietly. "Almost midnight. You'll be late."
"Yeah, yeah, I know," you were already throwing the contents on the floor in panic. There wasn't even time to ask anyone for watch.
"Hey," he softly called out to you intercepting your hands. "Calm down. What's wrong?"
"Watch!" you exclaimed. "Watch. I can't find it," you mumbled anxiously combing out the loose strands.
He reached for his hand - the clasp clicked. "I'll give you mine, okay? Don't worry," taking your hand, he started to put the watch on you.
You stared at it all in utter shock. You'd never experienced anything like this before - the blood in your ears was rushing so hard you couldn't hear your hitched breath. "Ya... Ya can't do that. Ya can't give them to me."
"It's just a watch," finally snapping it onto your hand, he barely denied himself the urge to kiss your palm. "If it bothers you that much, you can just return it later."
"Oh!" you exclaimed as if it had hit you. "Yeah, sure," you checked the time on your phone screen against the clock. It was all coming together. "We should get going."
You ran out into the street and you took a quick stride toward the deserted place not paying attention to whether he was following you. Two steps across the bridge, you ran past the storage and on to where there was not even a hint of any building or presence.
Gojo followed you. Your quickened gait was like his normal stride, so he could easily keep up. He lacked the resolve to even look at your back, but he couldn't let you go without saying anything. He couldn't.
You had already reached a small and deserted field. The dark rustling forest in the background was eerie; or rather, it would have been if your thoughts hadn't been cluttered with other things. "Okay," you said stopping him. "I'll take it from here," he nodded briefly, and wrapping his arms around himself, watched helplessly as you walked away.
You took a dozen steps and stopped when he called out to you. "Y/N," Gojo's voice was so faint you hardly recognized it. You turned around - there he was, still the same one standing in front of you: tall, with disheveled white hair, and the blue of his eyes could be seen even from the distance that separated you, but you couldn't explain to yourself why the feelings were different now. "You belong in mine now," he said quietly, but it sounded like he was whispering these words right in your ear.
He'd never seen you look like that before; you looked down, and he could tell your mouth was open, but he knew you weren't going to say anything. You shifted your gaze back to him, and he had enough to catch a glimpse of your grateful look that he almost lunged at you. Сlosing your eyes and making a barely visible bow with your head, you turned away. Gojo immediately covered his eyes with his hand to keep from being blinded by the purple flash.
When he took his hand away, he knew he would be alone. Gojo was well aware of that, but he still hoped, and that hope turned into something else: the idea that next time he wouldn't let you go so easily. Maybe, he wouldn't at all.
[Timeless, Void; Time on watch 11:58pm]
Each of the voidrunners had gotten bilateral pneumonia the first time they'd entered the void. Not surprisingly, having come in here for more than the hundredth time, the cold stabbed at your face with sharp blades of ice.
As soon as your feet touched the ground, you began to run. Every step you took left black sand rising behind you, and the dust cloud seemed to chase you. There was nothing but a glowing purple line on the blackening horizon - and you ran straight for it, all the while looking around for something that stuck out. In simple words: anything.
Run.
Trying to distract yourself from the cold and the upcoming hungry and exhausting days, you started playing songs in your head, any kind of melodies: happy, sad, annoying, contagious. The sand under your feet crunched so nastily that it was better to run on broken glass, but you were never offered a choice.
Run.
Your peripheral vision picked up a growing purple flash; you looked back, and it was another rift. So some demon was coming out of that point, and if you were extremely lucky, it wasn't an loner, which meant there might be a settlement nearby.
Run.
You turned toward the rift, looking around much more carefully now. Nothing. You ran up the hill, thanking the creators of this place once again that at least there was no wind - otherwise you'd be tired of getting sand out of your eyes.
As you ran up the hill, your inner instinct barked at you to duck - and you did so obediently and sharply, and something flew over you. Still not slowing down, you looked in the direction from which the thing was thrown - there was a loner standing there. He was covered from head to toe in black ugly patterns that had a life of their own and crawled across his skin, blackened uncut hair falling over his face covering the same dark eyes. Loner looked at you and grinned in a way that showed all of his teeth, and the only thing you wanted right now was to knock them out.
You turned sharply in his direction, and changed from running to pacing.
"Shading."
The demon bent his head sideways unnaturally, and his eyes flickered - he straightened up again, ducked down a little, and began to spin around, seeking.
"Relocate."
Wherever and however he turned, you were always at his back. You looked at the spectacle for a moment, with one hand you dug into his face, pulling him close to you, and with the other, you gave him two quick dagger strokes between his collarbones, before he could even wheeze as he fell to the ground.
Emerging from the black haze, you resumed running, not looking back as the demon you had just killed crumbled into immediately vanishing ash.
You had been running for a long time, but it was as if the rift wasn't getting any closer. Another descent and another long ascent, and finally the purple-colored sand told you that the rift wasn't as far away as it seemed.
Only in that light was an unfamiliar dark spot. Another one?
You've gone back to a step - getting close enough to the figure, you saw that this certain someone was lying curled up, not moving.
You shoved him with your foot, but there was no response. With an annoyed exhale, you grabbed the man's head, and when you saw his face, you let it out in horror. It was Megumi. "Hey!" you exclaimed worriedly, pushing and braking him. You put two fingers to his neck and exhaled in relief when you found a pulse. "Come on," you started slightly slapping his cheeks and shaking him by the shoulders.
It was your fault. Getting rid of Sukuna, you led Megumi through the isolation, but you didn't realize the boy would be so strong that one time would be enough for him. However, how did he end up here? "Come on, open your eyes!" you whined lifting his eyelids with your thumbs. They immediately fluttered open. "Okay, good!" you encouraged him, though you doubted he could hear you. You pulled off your mask and leaned it against his face - it wouldn't fit him because of the customized shape, but it was better than nothing. "Come on, help me," you put his hand on the mask and he clutched at it, whereupon you picked him up by the waist and put his arm around your shoulder and waddled towards the rift.
He was barely moving his feet and almost all of his weight was on you; you were walking with your legs bent about halfway over. "It's okay," you assured him in a cheerful voice. "We're almost there. If you can get in here, you can definitely get out."
Once at the rift, he fell down and pulled you with him. "Pull yourself together!" you said anxiously, picking him back up. "Here," you said taking off your watch and quickly putting it on him. He wobbled from side to side, and you grabbed his shoulder each time bringing him back into place. He looked up at you - from under half-closed eyelids, he was staring at you with a stubborn look as if refusing to leave. "Don't worry, I've got another one, it's fine, just go," you immediately went behind his back not wanting to be under such scrutiny, and began to nudge him towards the rift. "Straight to the doc, got it? That's it, go. I'll be back in three days," you still pushed him to the rift, and he barely had time to turn his head to look at you - he immediately disappeared. You exhaled noisily, and leaned over and rested your hands on your knees, cursing under your nose.
When the adrenaline was finally out of your body, you looked down at your hand where your watch should have been. Pressing your lips together, you pulled out your phone - the screen showed five percent charge. "I guess I f*cked up," you swallowed a lump in your throat and clicked your tongue. You buried your face in the palm of your hand trying to calm down - your hair was starting to darken from the roots.
In three days, you're not coming home.
The only thing left to do was run.
