Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Incident Report: September 8th, 2003
Summary of Events:

On the evening of September 8th, 2003, an unusual phenomenon was reported in [redacted] village. Witnesses described a bright white light emanating from an unidentified source. The light rapidly expanded, eventually enveloping the entire village in what appeared to be a bubble-like structure.

Detailed Observations:
Light Source and Expansion: A bright white light was first noticed coming from an unknown source. The light grew rapidly, forming an enclosure that ensnared the entire village within seconds.

Resemblance to a Veil: Nearby sorcerers who observed the event noted that the bubble bore a striking resemblance to that of a typical veil. This glowing veil persisted for approximately 20 minutes before it disappeared without a trace.

Effects on Villagers: During the 20-minute duration, villagers reported experiencing a sudden and overwhelming sense of calmness, relief, and happiness. These emotions were described as uncharacteristic and intense, contrasting sharply with their usual state of mind.

Traces of Cursed Energy: Following the event, it was noted that traces of cursed energy, typically present in non-sorcerers, were found to be minimal or entirely absent. Taking days or weeks to return to their usual levels.

Impact on Cursed Spirits: It was also observed that nearby schools, hospitals, and other places usually known to harbor cursed spirits showed no signs of these entities during the event. The absence of cursed spirits was particularly noteworthy and raised concerns as well as curiosity among the jujutsu community.

Conclusion:
The source of the bright light and the subsequent bubble-like veil remains unknown. Despite thorough investigations, the origin and purpose of the phenomenon could not be determined. The sudden absence of cursed spirits and the minimal traces of cursed energy suggest a powerful intervention, though the intent and nature of this intervention are still unclear.
Further investigation is required to understand the full implications of this event and its potential connection to broader supernatural occurrences in the region.

Chapter Text

“So..” Yuji took a bite out of his burger, chewing loudly “Gojo and Nanami are pretty close, right?”

Nobara, who sat across from him, screwed her face with an exaggerated groan, “Agh, gross! Don’t talk when you’re chewing.”

“Whar?” He said muffled, “like this?” Yuji leaned in closer to Nobara, managing to chew and grind the food in his mouth somehow even louder. Nobara stared at his mouth for a good second with an utter blank stare. It was as if her soul was sucked out from her, her body an empty carcass.

However she was quick to recover, pulling herself away with a loud yelp, “people are eating, Itadori!”

With a grin full of mushed lettuce and meat, he leaned back into his own seat in triumph, huffing with a look of smug satisfaction. Megumi rolled his eyes at their little childish displays, choosing to ignore whatever he had the misfortune of witnessing. Typical, he thought.

“Well..” Megumi began, “Gojo and Nanami have known each other since their high school years, so I believe that they’re relatively close.”

Nobara raised an eyebrow, “doesn’t mean that they’d be close though?”

“Oh, but Gojo always seems to be excited around Nanami,” Yuji smiled, “he even calls him..” He began to snicker, “ ‘Nanamin’.”

Nobara cringed, “that’s just Gojo being….Gojo.”

“Why are you asking?” Megumi cut in, “seems pretty random.”

Yuji took another bite out of his burger and gulped down, “just seeing Gojo interact with other Jujutsu sorcerers is just so interesting, I don’t really know how to explain it but…” He hummed, tapping the bottom of his chin. “It just makes me wonder more about his past.”

“About his past, huh?” Megumi muttered, perhaps a little too quietly, however distant memories had flashed into his mind.

“I guess that’s true in a way,” Nobara said, “we hardly know anything about the guy.”
Yuji sighed with a solemn look, “so mysterious and for what?”

The two of them looked at each other, their knowing stare shifting into a telepathic conversation beyond their poor companion. Their gaze drifted back to Megumi with a suspicious gleam. “What?” He asked with a twinge of annoyance.

“Fu-shi-gu-ro~” They grinned.

He narrowed his eyes further, “what?”

“You’ve been at Jujitsu high far longer than we have!” Yuji clicked his finger with a bright smile.
“Yeah! So you’d know more about Gojo than we do, right?”

“I suppose so.”

Yuji and Nobara’s grins widened.

“Please tell us more about him!” Yuji pleaded, “like, does he have a cool past? How did he become the strongest? Why does he wear a blindfold??”
Nobara nodded with quick succession, “I know I think Gojo’s weird and all, but I am dying to know more about him! Like what-“

The both of their babbles had blended into an amalgamation of unintelligible mess that Megumi stared at with a blank look. Their abundance of questions had gone into one ear out the other, but beyond the word vomit Megumi’s eyes widened an inch at one. It was only brief really. Just a small insignificant question that went away as quickly as it arrived.

But it had stuck with him even when their insistent questions had come to a stop. It rang loud and repeated in his ears like an unspoken mantra and broken record.

“Hey, do you think we broke the guy?” Nobara poked at Megumi, waving a hand over his eyes.

“I-“

Does Gojo have a girlfriend?

Yuji gasped, “I think he’s coming back to us!”

“You should probably ask him yourself,” Megumi finally muttered, avoiding his friends scrutinising gazes.

The both of them groaned loudly in defeat, sighing with small mentions of ‘I knew he’d say that,’ or ‘no fun.’

“Oh c’monnn.” Nobara rolled her eyes, “y’know damn well he won’t tell us shit!”

Yuji nodded, “I thought we were friends, Fushiguro!”

“Listen, it’s not my place to talk about other people’s personal lives, especially not our teachers.” Megumi shook his head, “Besides, how old are we, twelve?”

“I’m not, but he is.” Nobara pointed over to Yuji, earning an offended gasp.
“Hey! You’re just as curious as I am!”
She rolled her eyes with a dismissive wave of her hand, “well yeah, but you’re just a lot more..” Nobara drawled, “childish.”

“Childish..?” He frowned.

“Yeah.” She stuck up her finger and once again pointed it at Yuji, making sure to punctuate her words with more precision “child-ish.”

He paused before he sighed to himself with a small look of defeat, “…childish.”

While Megumi would shake his head at the sheer absurdity of his friends and question why he even talked to them he only stared at the table silently- more silently than he usually would.

“Girlfriend, huh?” He whispered underneath his breath. Megumi looked outside the window next to him, his gaze glazing over a small patch of flower beds. His hardened eyes softened at the sight of the familiar assortment of soft blue flowers.

“How long has it been?”

Later that same evening…

Yuji stretched out his arms, yawning loudly, “Ah… I’m beat!”

“Usually I’d make fun of you for being tired but..” Nobara breathed in sharply, “that was pretty damn exhausting.” She bent over with a loud groan.

The both of them stood outside the remains of what used to be a nursing home.- now an inhospitable wasteland that was more rubble than actual structure.

“Good job, you two.”

Yuji’s ears perked up at the familiar voice of their ever uptight supervisor. “Ichiji!” He smiled, waving over to him.

“Could use a little less destruction next time,” Ichji grimaced as he looked back at the site, “but nevertheless, good job.”

Nobara picked herself up with a sigh, “Well, what can we say? she shrugged, “the curse was a slimy little bastard.”

Selectively ignoring her comment, Ichiji walked over to the two, his eyes now scanning over the curtain that still encased the nursing home. Cleaning up the site is gonna be a pain. He huffed and put his hand up in a sign that was by now muscle memory, “release.”

Yuji eyed the dark barrier that dispersed in a mere second like clockwork, watching how Ichiji was able to dismiss it without much thought. He never really cared or took note of barriers before- curtains were they called? Or veils? Ah whatever, same thing. but considering that he was out here with Nobara to learn…

“Uh say..” Yuji began awkwardly, “kinda random but, how do veils exactly work?”

“Oh? Interested in barrier techniques?” Ichiji pushed up his glasses, almost amazed at Yuji’s sudden interest.

”I mean sort of…” Yuji mumbled. “ I see you and Gojo use them all the time and I get that they’re meant to lure out cursed spirits and stuff- and make it so non-sorcerers outside don’t see what we’re doing and that.” He watched patiently as the pink-haired boy accompanied his inquiry with a frenzy of wild hand gestures. “But like, how do you actually make one?”

The older man paused for a moment, wondering if it was appropriate for him to be the one to answer Yuji’s question. After all, he wasn’t Gojo. He was merely an acting supervisor who in all honesty- was not getting paid to teach a bunch of first years. Nonetheless, he thought that it would be helpful if they at least knew the basics. ”We activate them using an incantation.”

”An incantation?”

He nodded. “Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure. This is the incantation that we use to activate barriers.”

Yuji held his chin for a moment before pointing to himself. ”Does that mean I’ll be able to make one?”

“You idiot-” Nobara slaps him on the head. “If it was that easy then every student in Jujutsu High would be able to make one.”

The older man chuckled in response. "Miss Kugisaki is correct. Although considered one of the most simplest techniques, creating barriers is far too complex to be achieved at your current level. It requires a degree of control and concentration over cursed energy to effectively direct and cover an entire area. Moreover, this is precisely why supervisors are entrusted with such responsibilities."

Yuji rubbed the back of his head in agony before giving Ichiji a confused glance, causing him to sigh and raise a finger.

“Why is it that you think that we supervisors remain outside of the barriers we cast?” He asked.

”Um… to enjoy the view?” Another wack from Nobara.

"It’s because it becomes more challenging to deactivate the barrier this way.” The two students watched eagerly as Ichiji continued to explain. “When the caster is outside the perimeter, where they remain relatively safe from cursed spirits, the likelihood of the barrier deactivating is significantly reduced. Additionally, this strategy allows us to keep non-sorcerers at a safe distance, minimising the risk of them being harmed or inadvertently discovering our operations."

Yuji snapped his fingers, ”Ahhh… I see!

Ichiji smiles, satisfied with the explanation he was able to provide. ”Alright, with that we should get g-“

“Are there different types of barriers?” Nobara chimes in.

“Well, uh… there are not only veils but domains themselves are primarily contained within a barrier technique, yes. ” He answered as promptly as he could.

“No, I mean like other barrier users. Like Lord Tengen.”

Oh boy.

”Tengen who?” Yuji asked.

” Jesus Christ, Itadori, haven’t you been paying attention to any of our classes?

”Hey I do! I just forgot-

”He’s literally the one protecting all of Jujutsu High!”

As the pair began to bicker, Ichiji could feel his palms beginning to sweat. He really shouldn’t be speaking about this… He thought, gulping down the tight knot that formed in the back of his throat. Loosening up his collar, he adjusted his glasses that managed to slide down his nose bridge.

”Why would you ask that?” He said, not meaning for his voice to sound so hoarse and quiet.

”Well…”

“HI THERE!” A large booming voice had appeared behind them. The colour in Ichiji’s body drained in an instant.

”GAH!” Nobara screamed.

”Gojo!!” Yuji beamed, tackling the man in a bear hug. “What are you doing here!?”

”Finished early. Got a couple of things~” He lifted up his hand to reveal a bag filled to the brim with sweets. “You guys want some? Anyways, I heard you all talking about barrier techniques. If you were that curious you should have just come and asked me about it.” He said, pouting.

”Well you’re not here half the time.” Nobara said plainly.

“I guess that’s true.”

“Ooh, what do you have?” Itadori excitedly rummaged through the plastic bag. “POKI!?” He gasped.

”Yeah, just take it.”

The pink haired boy frantically ripped two of the boxes open and stuffed a few sticks into his mouth, his body melting as he felt the sweet chocolate collide against his tongue. He never knew he’d miss sweets this much. His eyes were tearing as he whispered a small thank you to Gojo, who smiled before directing his attention back to his other student, Nobara, who now had a half bitten custard bun in her hand.

”So what’s with the sudden curiousity?” He began, tilting his head.

”What I was going to say to Ichiji before you interrupted-“ She chewed, not caring for her lack her manners at the moment.”Was that I found something strange in the garden.“

”Something strange?“

”Yeah… I couldn’t sleep so I decided to take a stroll through the campus. And I saw this… glowing flower. Well I don’t know…,
It wasn’t really glowing. It was covered in like this, glowing bubble and I couldn’t get through it for some reason. I figured that it was a technique cast by someone in jujutsu high.” She said, continuing to devour her custard bun.

”Guess who’s eating with her mouth full now…“ Yuji whispers. Nobara rolls her eyes.

”That or maybe i was dreaming. I don’t know! It was really pretty… I just thought that I should ask.“

”Hm… What you saw was indeed a cursed technique. And one of our very own!”

”Really? Who?”

Chapter Text

Quietly and delicately, you held the flower’s stem firmly in between your fingers, being extra careful not to drop it into the abyss that was the floor. What was it? You wondered. An aster? A daisy ? Their petals felt awfully similar to each other.., small, fragile, soft- your fingers tracing over their surfaces like an opening curtain. Moving upwards you felt its head that barely took up any space on your palm, being held up by a skinny and fragile stem that would bend to the smallest gust of wind. This was a small flower. But still, you couldn’t tell which exactly it was. Without any second to spare, you gently brought it towards your nose. And for what felt like the millionth time, breathed in its sweet and fresh scent. You realised at that moment that it was neither an aster, nor a daisy, but instead a chamomile.

‘Mum must have moved them here…” You thought, now standing over what you could only assume was the bed of chamomile flowers that were ordered for today. You had realised that they were there due to you nearly tripping on them earlier that morning, only managing to catch yourself right before you landed on the cobblestone by latching onto one of the wooden tables nearby. You now stood wondering what you should do with it. After all, Leaving it there would be a tripping hazard… You tapped the bottom of your chin thoughtfully.
In what would normally be a non-obstructed pathway stretching from the front entrance of the store to the back, connecting your house and the flower shop together, there was now a large flower bed in the way. Judging from its length and width, it would be far too heavy for you to carry alone. You thought about just remembering where it was so you wouldn't trip and proceed with your morning duties, but then a better idea entered your mind. You hummed, a small smile forming on your lips.
—

“Ah, good morning, mom!” You greeted, stirring the two chamomile teas you had prepared. The tea cups were perfectly warm, your usually cold fingertips eagerly meeting the ceramic that clinked against the metal of the teaspoons. You were sitting inside the greenhouse, aka the flower shop, tucked away in your usual cozy spot in the corner that housed a small glass round table with two metal chairs.
Her familiar voice echoed from across the room, “Good morning sweetheart.” It was groggy and still tired. “How did you know that I was awake?”
Hearing her footsteps that padded softly against the wooden tiles grow louder, you gestured towards the tea, “I could hear you. Here, freshly made,” you smiled, “Happy Mother’s Day.”
“I appreciate the gesture,” she began, pulling the chair open in front of you and sitting down “but, darling, what have I told you about making tea?” You could hear the frown in her voice. “You know how I feel about you handling hot water.”
You sighed, “Mum, it’s fine. I know this house like the back of my hand!’
‘Yes I know but-’

‘I know where everything is. I’ve practiced enough to know when to stop pouring so it doesn’t overflow.” You put the spoon down and picked up her tea, giving her a reassuring smile.“I’m fine!’
Smoothly passing it over the table, you paused for a moment, eagerly waiting for your mother to take the cup from your hovering hands. “I’m not 14 anymore… I’m 21. At this point, I can practically make tea with my eyes closed.’

She chuckled lowly at that joke. Sometimes with how effortlessly you move, it does seem easy to forget that you are indeed completely blind. Ever since middle school, you haven’t been able to see a single thing. Just an eternal, black empty void that stares back at you as you attempt to see far beyond its non-existent horizon. The doctors said that the condition you had was quite rare. While most blind folks retained the ability to sense light, or even see light in the form of abstract colours or shapes, you only saw darkness as if you were inside of a black box, with nothing to see except the flickers of your own imagination. That’s why you developed a habit of keeping your eyelids shut. At least in that sense, you could delude yourself into thinking that the reason why you couldn’t see was because you kept your eyes closed. But in reality, you were fearful of seeing that same unchanging nothingness when you opened them.

You felt the weight of the cup gently leave your fingers. Knowing that she accepted it, you sunk back into your own seat, picking up your own teacup in your hands. “Besides…” You began. “it’s not hot enough to burn me anyways.” You could basically already see the way your mother furrowed her eyebrows and tightened her lips in concern, making you smile to yourself.

Despite colours, places, and faces becoming all but a distant memory now, you are still able to vividly remember them as if you saw them yesterday. Every colour of the rainbow was expressed in the form of the bountiful range of flowers your mother brought into the flower shop every day. You can still recall the perfect blueness of the sky, the fluffiness of the clouds, the sparkling of the sea and the way the water would pool into the yellow sand when your parents would take you to the beach. Even in daily life, how gloriously the sun would hit the glass rooftop of the greenhouse and shower the plants with golden light every morning. You were able to recount it all, replaying it in your mind like memory burned into picture film.

You were spoiled rotten for your choice of colour as a child. And you knew that it was all due to the efforts of your parents that tried to let you see as many things as possible before your condition had the chance to worsen that made it otherwise.
You were especially determined to let her know how thankful you were to her today. Even if your first move may not have made her the happiest.
Your mother sighed, taking a sip of her tea in defeat. “Persistent as ever.”

“I wonder where I get it from.”

“Well it certainly isn’t from me.”

“Is that so?” You hummed, sipping your tea, “must’ve been from one of our stubborn customers.”

Your mother snorted, “Ms Okinawa?”

“Exactly who I was thinking of.” You sang.

“That woman is something else.” You knew she was more than likely shaking her head with an amused grin, “always trying to barter.”

“Remember that time with the camellias?”

“Oh my goodness.”

The both of you looked at each other- well more like she looked at you, however you knew her hollow cheeks were puffed- containing a laugh. You could imagine the wrinkles that probably littered her whole face, her once youthful smile a little aged. The image alone was enough to make you grin before it morphed into a small fit of laughter- your mother joining you.

“T-that situation was so ridiculous” you wheezed.

“She really couldn’t let go of those darn camellias.”

After the laughter had died down you were left pleasantly sipping your tea that warmed the inside of your throat. The both of you were quiet, enjoying the soft hum of the cicadas and the chirps of the early birds outside. You could feel the morning sun rays filter in through the windows, and like a cat you gladly basked in the light that glazed your skin. Mornings like these were always perfect. Quiet and peaceful. Just you and your mother relishing in the company of one another without having the need to exchange any words. And although the idea of homemade chamomile tea and quiet company may seem a bit mundane or simple- it was your definition of perfect.

By the time your teacup was empty and your stomach was filled, your mother had taken it up to herself to wash them. At first you had refused, claiming that you could do it instead, however, she was insistent.. Now you were alone at the table, mindlessly drumming your fingers against the glass. Guess it’s time to open up shop. You sat up from your chair, gently tucking it into the table before heading down the pathway that led to the entrance of the greenhouse.

Passing the counter and shelves, your senses were flooded with the ever pleasant aroma of flowers. A lovely mix of scents that were all unique with every plant you walked by. Citrus, sweet, fresh in varying degrees of flavors and intensities.

Now where were they again?

You continued to walk until your feet collided with a familiar hard wooden surface on the floor, stopping you dead in your tracks. Bending over, you crouched until you sensed that you were mere centimeters away from the flower bed, lifting up an arm to brush your fingers against the thin stems and soft petals of the chamomile flowers. A familiar fresh scent wafted through the air, pleasant and sweet.

The steady sound of heels clacking against hard cobble approached you from behind. Growing louder, it went past you, stopping on the other side of the flower bed. You felt the warmth of the sun against your skin disappear as the figure loomed over you. Imagining your mother in her work uniform and her gloved hands on her hips, you looked up at her, smiling sweetly. “Hi there.”

You could imagine her reciprocating the smile with grace. “Time to get these chamomiles out of the way, hm?” She said. Feeling the flower bed suddenly being lifted from the ground, you gently grasped your fingers around the sturdy wood, the weight of it now heavy on your hands.

“Steady now…” you murmured underneath your breath. You rose along with the flower bed, your back slightly cracking from the strained movement.

“Alright. I need you to move backwards now, okay sweetie?” You heard her say.

“Yep. Got it.”

You continued to move backwards until you heard your mother say stop. Following her directions carefully, the two of you heaved the flower bed across the room with a few wobbles here and there. It took you both about 5 minutes to manage to navigate the path-way safely and steadily, reaching the side of the greenhouse where an empty space on the counter was present.

“This should do.”

Placing it down with a huff, you wiped the forming bead of sweat that began to form on your forehead. “Good job, Hun.” She said softly, patting you in the back. “We make a good team.”

You grinned, nodding eagerly in agreement. “We’re opening up in 5 minutes okay?” .

Hearing her footsteps walk past you and disappear into the back of the shop, you head towards the entrance as per usual. With the obstacle now out of the way, you were able to effortlessly maneuver your way across the room, routinely reaching outwards towards the front door and feeling the familiar wooden sign that hung from its glass surface.

You felt the bumps of braille writing scripted into the wood, flipping it over to the we’re opened side to officially mark the beginning of your shift. Heading back to the main desk, you stood idly waiting for customers. After all, many of the regulars were here relatively early.

Not even a minute later, the bell chimed.

-

Gojo casually strolled down the unfamiliar pathway of the small town he was assigned to investigate. So far, judging from his stay it was a relatively peaceful place. Local businesses and shops were strewn across the streets. Every local who had passed him had also seemed normal, nothing really out of ordinary besides their obvious stares- a mix of curious glances or blatant ogles that he took in stride.

However, none of them appeared to be suspicious in any sense, no nervous gazes that avoided eye contact or looks that blinked in recognition. Just plain, old curiosity. But besides that, it was a little too early to completely make any conclusions. After all, it was pretty early in the morning.

He dug his hands deep inside his pockets, continuing to eye his surroundings with careful precision. While he scanned the local shops and houses behind his dark lenses, a certain place had caught his eye.

It was quite an unusually designed building. One that didn’t follow the typical structure of Japanese architecture and stuck out like a sore thumb against its surroundings. It resembled that of a typical greenhouse, with mostly glass walls and hard-metal framing that effectively shielded all the various plants inside from the elements. But what was most unusual was that there was another building attached to the back of it. Although he couldn’t see it completely from where he was standing, it looked like a typical family home. Where the owners must be staying… He presumed.

Upon closer inspection, there was a wooden sign attached to the right of the front door, reading out “Hamada Flowers”. With a couple of dots jutting out from right underneath it. Considering it was made out of wood, it must have been hand carved… but he didn’t know what exactly the dots had meant.

He really didn’t have to look inside but Gojo’s intuition had said otherwise. He realised that it was a valuable opportunity to interact with the locals and potentially inquire them of any interesting occurrences- or if they were present when the original incident had transpired.

Without another thought, he shrugged his jacket onto his shoulders, and approached the flower shop’s door with a smooth and nonchalant step. Wrapping his hand around the metal of the doorknob, he opened the door to be greeted by a light chime that twinkled across the room.

“Hello! Welcome to Hamada flowers, how may I assist you?” A gentle voice. His gaze drifted to a woman who was tucked behind the main counter, a polite smile upon her lips with her hands clasped together.

“Oh, I’m just passing by,” he said simply, “just here to check out the place.”

“Ah, I see,” she nodded, “well if you need any help just ask me.”

Gojo hummed, “you got it.”

At first glance the lady was also ordinary, however when Gojo stared for just a second longer he noticed how her eyes remained closed. He kept that thought in the back of his mind before taking the liberty of freely snooping around the flower shop with half curious glances. He roamed the small isles that were filled to the absolute brim with a wide variety of plants. Flowers, cacti, succulents and other planty things (?) he didn’t know what they were called- but they were everywhere. Although he wouldn’t really consider himself a plant fanatic by any means, these were impressive. All bright, and colourful with fragrances that almost brought him into a pleasant trance that made him feel the slightest bit woozy.

“Hey, you got a pretty nice place here.” He commented, lightly grazing the leaves of a plant with his fingers.

“Thank you.” She replied.

“Did you grow all of these?”

“Most of them….” The lady rested her chin on the palm of her hand. “With my mother.”

He strolled back to the main desk, noticing a colorful shelf of handmade bouquets that he had seemingly missed.

Now these were seriously beautiful. Vulimous even… swelling with life and colour. Each floral arrangement was unique, being held by large metal buckets that contained fresh water inside. Upon closer inspection, the shelf that they stood upon also seemed to be handmade. Just like the sign outside, those same unfamiliar dots jutted out from the wood below, labeling each bucket with something unintelligible to Gojo. Everything from the signage along with the various other furniture in the greenhouse all seemed to be made out of the same material. He wondered if it was the same person who made everything.

“Interested?” She mused, sensing his presence close to the shelf.

There were Mother’s Day messages attached to the bouquets. “Is it Mother’s Day today?”

“It is! These are on special. Would you like one?”

“Oh… I uh-…”

Almost as if she could hear his voice falter, she quickly retorted. “You don’t have to get them for your mother! It could be for a lover, a friend…”

He thought about it for a moment, placing a finger against his chin. Gojo hadn’t spoken to his mother in years… but if there was anyone in the world that was remotely close to being his mother, that would be…

A cheeky smile appeared on his lips

”Actually, could I get this one?” He pointed to a purple one at the bottom row. “Number 7.”

With that she walked around the counter, patting her dress down with her gloved hands. “This one?” She said, pointing directly at the one he wanted.

“Yes.”

The lady bent down and moved her face close to the bouquet, her eyebrows raising as the familiar scent reached her nose. ”Ah! Lavender and chamomile. Good choice!”

”How could you tell?” He asked (almost too quickly.)

“I actually made this one.” She said smiling before seamlessly taking the bouquet out of its steel bucket. “Annnd I can tell flowers by scent.” The stems dripped with water, falling onto her dress but she didn’t seem to mind.

”Oh, wow’. His eyes widened in surprise. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

Calmly walking back behind the front desk with the bouquet in hand, she gently placed it on top of the wooden table. ”Most people don’t, just like how most people don’t know that lavender and chamomile are great for headaches.” She chuckled, looking up at him. It was strange. It was almost as if she could see him. “Would you like to keep the Mother’s Day message?”

“Nah, it should be right,” he paused for a second before grinning once again, “Could you add his name though?”

His? Her head tilted in brief confusion. “Sure, what’s his name?”

”Kento Nanami.”

Without another word she reached out for a pen and name tag across the table, writing down his name as neatly as she could.

“Kento Nanami…” She mumbled. Gojo watched curiously over the table to see if she was writing it down correctly. To his surprise it was not only legible, but also neat- (arguably even neater than his writing. “What coloured paper would you like?” She asked suddenly, interrupting his snooping.

”Uhh… blue?” Swiftly turning to the wall of wooden drawers behind her, Gojo noticed that they too also had dots imprinted onto their surfaces.“Actually… make it pink!”

Without struggle or hesitance, she swiftly redirected her hands to two other drawers, taking out a pastel pink ribbon with paper to match. Spinning back, she wrapped the bouquet effortlessly, tying a neat bow and inserting the message inside. She fiddled with the arrangement for a moment, making sure it felt nice and neat against her fingertips before holding it out to him, the bouquet rustling.

”That would be 3,960 yen, please.”

Gojo slightly raised his eyebrows and let out a low whistle. She’s surprisingly efficient for a blind person. As soon as he was about to hand her the money from his pockets, he suddenly remembered what he was actually here for. Right- the incident.

”Hey, I do have a question..”

She lifted her head with a polite smile, “yes?”

Before he was about to continue he paused for just a split second. Seeing her there with her eyes fluttered shut, bouquet raised… Would she even notice if there was anything strange happening?

Despite how he just watched her effortlessly customise a bouquet for him, his six eyes only continued to tell him the same story. Not only was she a normal person, but a blind one at that. Her unusual ability to easily maneuver her environment was probably the result of her being here for years, and not because of some latent cursed technique that somehow managed to negate his six eyes. Gojo pursed his lips in thought. If by chance she was there during the incident, she probably wouldn’t have noticed a thing. It’s better to continue letting people live their life in ignorance than to worry them with things they can’t understand, nevertheless have the power to change. Ah, whatever.

”Do you know if there’s any places that sell sweets around here?”

With that one single question, the lady’s calm and professional demeanor disappeared in an instant. ”Oh. My…” She gasped. “Yes I do! There’s a place here called Tatsuya Bakery!”

“Oh? I’ve never heard of them.”

”You haven’t!?” Her voice was much higher now, a bright grin replacing the once subdued smile on her face. “They are mega tasty! And they have so much stuff! They have ice cream stuffed mochi! Macaron sundaes, triple-tier tiramisu, matcha swiss rolls-“ She continued to list her favorites with an accompaniment of wild hand gestures, the sudden shift in demeanor causing Gojo to chuckle at the sight.

“Sounds like quite the menu.“ He said, the amusement clear in his voice. “You go there a lot?”

She paused for a moment, her soft smile returning. ”Since I was young.”

A silence hung in the air for a moment, almost as if she were reminiscing about something before snapping back. Her cheeks turned a subtle dust of pink as she realised she had just gone on a tangent to a new customer. “They have the most amazing flavors!” She almost practically yelled. “ If you want your taste buds blessed then you should definitely go there!”

”I will.”

After paying for the bouquet, Gojo made his way back to the front door, the bell twinkling as he opened it.

”Thanks for the flowers uh-“ He scanned her clothing for any sort of name tag, only to find that there was none. “What’s your name?”

”Y’N!” She beamed. “What’s yours?”

”Gojo. Gojo Satoru. I’ll see you around.”

“I’ll see you! Well… hear you.” She says, causing him to chuckle.

She’s cute… he thought.

He left that greenhouse feeling strangely more pleasant than he did that entire moment . He wondered if it were the scent of the flowers that got to his head or his interaction with the lady but it was definitely unusual. Almost unnatural. Perhaps his body was already getting excited to try that new Tatsuya bakery. There’s just one thing he needed to get out of the way first.

With his new lavender and chamomile bouquet in hand, he reached deep into his pockets to fish out his phone. It beeped loudly as he dialed a familiar number, allowing it to ring for a few seconds before a familiar disgruntled voice responded.

“What do you want? ” it said sharply.

“Oh Nanamin~ Where are you right now?”

—-

“Please make sure to come again with your mother sir, and Happy Mother’s Day!”

“Happy Mother’s Day to you too.”

You could hear the rustle of the man’s bouquet and footsteps slowly echoing away, until the sound of the familiar bell chimed. ”Have a good day!” He yelled before the door clicked and his footsteps nor presence were longer present in the Greenhouse.

“Whew,” you sighed, closing the cash register for the final time today.

“Long day?” The sound of your mothers voice churned from across the room

Massaging the back of your neck you chuckled, “yeah.”

“Ah, it’s always busy on Mother’s Day,” she replied, “but the money's good.”

You could imagine her winking with a cheeky smile, and you couldn’t help but feel your own spread across your face. “I hope the money can pay for the chronic back pain I get from carrying all the heavy pots.”

“Honey, just wait till you're my age, then you’ll know what chronic back pain is.”

Your mother had decided to properly pack up the back of the greenhouse. Currently, you were mindlessly sweeping up any stray leaves or petals that were left on the cobblestone floor. Heels gently clacking on the stone with the brush of your broom gently grazing the ground.

Today was pretty torturous, you frowned.

Just hearing the word “Happy Mother’s Day” over and over again was enough to make you antsy. Unfortunately you hadn’t been able to do much for Mother’s Day considering how busy you were, however, you did have a gift waiting. Actually, it would be a good idea to check up on it. Eagerly you propped up your broom against a shelf and headed towards your room.

At the end of your bed stood a special wooden box, handcrafted by your father like all the rest of the furniture that fill your home. This one was even more special however, your name etched in braille against the hard mahogany top. A final gift in hopes of you storing all your precious memories and items inside.

You opened up the wooden box with perhaps a little with too much vigor considering how the hinges whined with displeasure. Immediately your nose was greeted with the scent of sweet citrus that wafted in the air like a strong but subtle perfume. Smiling gently, you lifted your hand to graze your fingertips over the petals of the arranged flowers that you had been preparing for quite some time.

She’ll definitely like these, you’re certain of it. After all they’re composed of (insert flowers here)- along with her most beloved scents. However… You hummed with a frown. Will this be enough?
If only you get her something a little extra like…

”Do you know if there’s any places that sell sweets around here?”

Ah yes! The bakery! You could definitely get your mother something from there. Maybe some macarons or sweet buns…?

What time is it now?

You weren’t too sure, however you did close up at around 5 today- so it was possibly 5:20.
“They close at around 6…” You whispered to yourself. Carefully closing the cabinet you rushed out of the small room. I’ll have time. I’ll just need to get there quickly. Walking to the entrance of your house right where the doorway was, you could hear the steady sound of soft clinks and running water.

“Hey mum?” You called, earning a small hum in reply. “Is it alright if I go out for a bit? I needa get some things.”

“Where are you going?” she replied. The running water had cut off and the small clangs of dishes had ceased.

“Uhm… just to the bakery down the street.”

You could hear the shuffling of her slippers approaching you, “Would you like me to come with you?”

Her wrinkled fingers cupped your cheek in an all too familiar way. You could envision her concerned smile- soft and tender as always.

“I’ll be safe.” You said simply, gently grasping her wrist with a reassuring rub of your thumb.
A small moment had passed before she sternly replied, “good.” Pinching your cheek she continued, “because if you ever hurt yourself you’ll be in big trouble lady!”

“Ah! Got it, got it!” You cried out. After helplessly squirming around in her tight grip, she finally let you go. You put a hand on your poor cheek and absently rubbed at the skin that was surely red with a small, playful pout. “Was that really necessary?”

“You know me, sweetie.” She patted your shoulder, “it’s always necessary.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning, “of course.”

“Well, I’ve got to start preparing for tomorrow, now.” Your mother gave you a final chaste kiss on the cheek, “I’ll see you later, honey, and be. safe.” She punctuated her final lines with a point of her finger.

“Yes, yes. I’ll be safe.” You sighed, “I’ll catch you later, love you.”

Turning away from you, you could hear her walk away, most likely headed towards the green house.
With a small sigh, you took your messenger bag and walking stick from the hook that stood conveniently right next to your door. Finally, you shuffled on your shoes, making sure that it in fact wasn’t your mothers (wouldn’t want that to happen again.) With all of your bearings in hand, you opened up the door to your house.

I gotta get there quick!

Rushing down the pathway of your beloved home, you barreled down the ever familiar streets with perfect ease. With the speed you were walking at, the tender breeze blew past your hair and tickled your face, cooling your increasingly hot cheeks. As you continued down your path, you made sure to tune in for any footsteps- attempting to ignore your own ones as well as the walking stick that clacked loudly against the pavement. Thankfully, with acute precision you managed to dodge any passerbyers. But then again, most people would avoid a blind lady.

With a small skip to your step, you sighed to yourself in relief, nearly there!

“-Uh, excuse me miss?”

“Wah!” You abruptly paused in your tracks, nearly stumbling over yourself until a pair of hands steadied your shoulders. Catching your breath in an effort to compose yourself, you politely thanked the stranger with an exasperated sigh of relief.

Turning around to where you assume the voice came from, you smiled unsurely “Ah..What's the matter?”

“Uhm… this way miss.” The same man called, tapping the back of your shoulder.
You silently squeaked to yourself in embarrassment, Whoops. Hoping the man didn’t hear you, you awkwardly laughed and once again turned around. “Sorry for that.”

“It’s alright,” he gave his own small uneasy chuckle. “Uh anyways.. Sorry for the inconvenience but the road’s under construction,” he said, “will be for about the next week or so.”

Under construction..?

Unconsciously you frowned to yourself, however you attempted to conceal it with a polite smile. “Oh, I see,” you muttered, “thank you for telling me.”

“It’s all good, miss.” he replied, “and uh, if you need any other directions I’ll gladly assist you.”

Your somber smile widened into something a little more genuine, “really?”

“Of course. Just name the place.”

“Thank you so much!” You clasped your hands with your walking stick wedged in between both of your palms. “I’m headed towards Tatsuya Bakery.”

“Tatsuya Bakery?” He hummed, “Oh wait! Is it that little place down Kawasaki street?”

You nodded, “exactly that one.”

“Well let's see…” He drawled, “if you go down, take a right where Kaza road is and continue walking around the block, it should be somewhere around there.”

“Oh my goodness, thank you so much!” You bowed, “you have no idea how grateful I am.”

“No need for that.” He chuckled, “But, uh, miss it may already be a little too late.”

“Too late?”

“It’ll most likely take you 30 minutes to get there.. 25 minutes if you make a run for it, but I wouldn’t suggest it.”

“What time is it now?”

“About 5:45.”

“Ah..” You sighed, “They close at around 6:00.”

Although you couldn’t see a single thing, you could hear the frown in his voice, “sorry about that.”

“No, no,” You shook your free hand, “you don’t have to apologise for anything!”

Bowing once again with much more composure and grace you continued, “Thank you, you’ve been such a great help.”

“Anytime, miss.” Imagining the man tipping his hard hat towards you, a fond smile etched its way onto your lips. Now standing up straight you waved to the man, bidding him a lovely day and a final thank you.

Well he was nice.

Turning around, you retraced your steps back to your home. The pavement from beneath you this time clacked slow and soft- a contrast to the loud steps and the sound of your heart beating against your chest.

Too bad that damn road was closed... You somberly sighed to yourself, finally letting yourself truly frown without the need to maintain basic decency. Oh it’s fine, you could always bring your mother to the bakery in compensation. Now at least you could enjoy the cool afternoon air and the lull of birds calling their babies back to their nests. Or the ever so present sound of… traffic?

Strange. Today was usually a lot louder than most. You could hear a concerning amount of honks and beeps vibrating from the streets besides you. More frequent than most days- especially for mothers day?

Ah, it must be the road blockage.

Shrugging it off, you decided to ignore the shrill and frankly aggravating whines of busy traffic. However, amongst the usual honks and beeps, there was a loud blaring sound of a siren coming closer. It steadily got louder, and louder, ever so slightly edging towards you like a rising wave- relentless and inescapable. You couldn’t help but feel a surge of nausea, your stomach clenching as your palms started to grow clammy in apprehension.

Suddenly, without warning the roaring alarms blew right past you at the speed of light, the sound loud and deafening. Your ears stung and singed with pain, your body unexpectedly trembling with an overwhelming panic that washed over you violently. Clenching onto your walking stick with unsteady fingers, one thought weighed heavy in your mind.

You needed to get home. Now.

Without another second to waste you bolted forward- feet running and moving like clockwork. Any footsteps besides your own fell on deaf ears, only being able to hear the violent thrum of your own heart beat and the sirens that once again grew increasingly louder. Abruptly, without even realising, you harshly bumped into another figure with a hard pang, sending the both of you backward. You yelped, dangerously close to hitting the hard, cold pavement until you steadied yourself with your walking stick.

“Hey lady! Watch where you’re going!”

“Ah- sorry!” You yelled.

Need to get home, need to get home, need to get home!

“Serious-“

Before they could even continue, you ran right past them- uncaring for their angry remarks. You didn’t have enough time to be polite, you couldn’t afford to fall or run into somebody again. You needed to hurry.

As you inched closer to your house, the heavy smell of smoke had entered your nostrils. The air around you felt hotter than usual- suffocating and humid. By the time you had finally turned the corner to where your house was, the alarms were louder than ever, and for once they didn’t increase or decrease in noise. They just stayed the same. Loud, piercing and horribly stagnant.

You stumbled over to the lawn, the grass familiar and soft on your shoes. The smoke was getting heavier. The air was getting thicker. Your chest fell and rose unevenly, along with the desperate heaves and greedy gasps for oxygen.

“What..” You croaked, “..is happening.”

As your ever growing headache intensified, the overwhelming senses had started to grow dull. The blaring sirens in the background began to become white noise- blending in with what seemed to be muffled voices in the distance.

Your legs trembled and buckled underneath your own weight, the grip you had on your walking stick chipping away within each second. Without even thinking, you used whatever remained left of your strength to feebly walk forward. Each step more excruciating than the last, the only lasting thought that lingered at the back of your clouded mind was to find her. To find the only person who could make sense of what was going on.

As you continued, you could hear faint movement from in front of you. Footsteps?

“Mum..?” you coughed.

Without even meaning to your body finally gave out. Footsteps ceasing and body collapsing, your mind was far too hazy to even care or notice. Before you could collide with the ground, a strong pair of arms had caught you just in the nick of time.

“Not exactly,” A masculine voice replied. Smooth and soothing like honey. Wait- you recognised that voice.

Feeling your body being hoisted from the ground and into the hold of the stranger, you could feel yourself relax at last. Unconsciously nuzzling yourself into his chest, the last memory you had was not the smell of charred flowers and ashes- but the faint scent of lavender and chamomile.