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Shoko’s phone buzzed by her face. She picked it up to turn it over. The light flashed in her face. A second text came through.
"Shokoooo! U up?"
There was no name tied to the contact. She could tell who it was.
Shoko’s fingers flew across the keypad, clicking her answer back in. “Nope. I’m sleep texting." She had barely hit enter when an answer popped back.
"Ha ha. Funny! XD !! "
“I know,” Shoko typed back, well aware he wouldn’t catch the sarcasm. She rolled over, hiding a yawn.
It was already 1pm, but it was a day off. If Shoko had a choice, she could have stayed in bed all day. It was a rare luxury to sleep in, let alone for it to be quiet. Now that she saw the screen, she knew why.
“Shoko! What do little girls like???!” Satoru’s text flashed in her face.
If it wasn't already on the pillow, Shoko would have dropped the phone.
It was a weird question. It was the kind of weird question where, if Satoru asked in person, Shoko would have laughed in his face.
The phone stayed alight. Each time it could have turned off, a new text flashed through.
“Like if you wanna make one really excited, what do you do?
Horses?
Girls like horses, right?
Nay-neigh?”
Shoko flopped into the pillow, ignoring it. She groaned.
Even on a day off, Shoko should have been awake by now. It wasn’t like she was sick. She was just more comfortable burying herself in blankets and shadows. Since Suguru defected, if Shoko wasn’t in class or on call, she couldn’t find many reasons to leave.
If she stayed in bed, locked in the darkness, most people would forget they could bother her for something. If they did remember, then they knew not to try asking regardless.
Most people weren’t Gojo Satoru.
The phone kept buzzing.
“Can you make a princess?
They like princesses, right???!”
Shoko stretched. Her back flattened on the mattress, her heels balanced on the floor as she stretched halfway between standing and laying down. She picked up the phone.
The phone didn’t even ring. The second she’d pressed the number, she heard him on the other side.
“Shoko–!”
“You trying to kidnap someone?” Shoko tried interrupting. Satoru did it right back.
“Shoko! Can I be the princess?”
Shoko puffed. “You? Never. You’ve got too much junk.”
“What junk? Like, junk food?”
“More like the family jewels,” Shoko held back a snicker.
“Why not? Princesses love jewels.”
“Think about it.”
“Princesses have to think? Since when?” Satoru asked. He sounded so genuine, Shoko couldn’t help but shake her head.
“Since Princess Diana.”
If Satoru heard the criticism, he ignored it. “What about Sailor Moon? Could I do that?” He asked, still eager.
“Nah. You don’t have enough hair.”
“With a wig, then?”
Shoko kept the phone to her ear. She rolled off the bed, dragging her blanket along with her. Her toes wiggled into the carpet. “What’re you doing, anyway? Trying to infiltrate a kindergarten? Most curses aren’t five.”
“Yep! Not five! Six!” Satoru agreed far too quickly. “I can count!”
Shoko yawned. “I’d hope you can count.”
“Yep! So can you! You can count… on me!”
“Mhm…” Shoko nodded into the phone. It was easier than arguing with Satoru. When he got like this, it was easier to let him go on with his madness and stay out of the way.
What would have been a welcome quiet carried through the other side of the phone. At least, it would have been welcome, if it could last.
A second voice called in the distance, far enough away to be muffled, yet just enunciated enough to be clear. “She’s seven.”
Satoru’s voice joined in, twice as loudly. “Yep! That’s what’s after six! Seven!”
Shoko had never heard the other voice before, but she could hear enough to recognize something important. That was a child.
“Satoru.”
“Yep! That’s me!”
“Where are you?”
“Outside!” Satoru answered with such enthusiasm, Shoko could practically hear his smile.
“Which part of outside?”
“The park!”
“Which one? There’s a lot of them”
That time, Satoru didn’t answer. She pictured him looking around, increasingly confused. “...Huh.”
Shoko pressed the phone to her ear and listened for silence. The silence wasn’t there. Wherever Satoru was, it wasn’t quiet. “…You’re not really kidnapping someone, right?” Shoko asked, clearly skeptical.
“Of course not!” Satoru said. “No kids napping, here! It’s too loud!”
Shoko held back the urge to sigh. “Not that kind of napping.”
“What other kind is there?”
The wind carried through the phone. Whatever else was on the other side, Shoko understood one thing. Whatever Satoru would tell her, it wasn’t the truth—but he wasn’t the only one she could talk to.
Shoko put her phone down, freeing her hands to get dressed. She raised her voice to speak clearly. “Hey, kid. What’s the park?”
“Oh! I know!” Satoru shouted. “Parks are cities for trees!”
“Not you. Not the point, either. What’s the park’s called?”
“Park!” Satoru answered.
At the end of his shout, a different voice joined in. “Toyoso Gurui.”
At least someone could answer.
Shoko wrestled with her t-shirt. She pulled it down. “What’s it look like, where you are? Anything weird?”
“Except Gojo?” The kid spoke, first. .
“Hey!” Satoru snapped. Shoko held in a snort.
“Yeah. Yeah. Except him.”
“I’m not weird!” Satoru insisted. He was wrong.
“Nothing weird,” the kid said. “There’s swings, though.”
He was right. That wasn’t weird by park standards—but that was still enough to go on.
Shoko pulled on her sneakers, then took her keys from the desk by the door. It would take a while for her to get from campus into Tokyo, but if she knew where she was going, it would take less than an hour. “Stay there. I’ll come—“ Shoko started to say. She didn’t finish.
The call failed. Her phone went silent. A pop carried over her shoulder.
Shoko turned over that shoulder. “You hear of doors?” she asked, less shocked than she could have been. She knew well before she turned around who she would see.
“Sure did! They’re a band, right?” Satoru asked, casual as ever.
Shoko’s eyes fell, unimpressed. “Think you can knock, first? I’m not dressed.”
“Why? I’ve seen it,” Satoru tapped on his sunglasses, the blackout lenses shifting, as if to remind both of them that he wasn’t facing her directly. The way that Satoru perceived people, through the outlines and flow of cursed energy, didn’t leave much room for modesty, or clothes.
Shoko’s arms crossed her chest. She looked down.
If it was just Satoru who barged into her room, he’d have a point, if a bad one. It wasn’t just Satoru in her room. He’d brought someone. A very short, unusually spiky haired someone.
Shoko had never seen this kid before in her life.
His hair stood in every direction at once. Either he’d never met a brush he could use, or he was destined to be a cartoon character. He stared ahead with a lack of enthusiasm Shoko would have thought kids reserved for math lectures.
Satoru snickered. “Badtz-Maru today? Stylish.” He pointed at her character print underwear—thereby proving that he clearly could tell what she did or didn’t have on.
Shoko leaned towards the wall. “Shut up. I thought you’d seen them.”
“Nah. Last time was Hello Kitty.”
“I don’t have Hello Kitty. Must have been some other girl you walked in on.” Shoko sighed. She turned towards the kid. “Don’t listen to him. He’s weird.”
The boy nodded, his spikes bobbing like a sea urchin.
While the two of them were talking, Satoru tilted his head. His grin twisted to match. “You sure, Ieiri? There was definitely a kitty in—“
Shoko grabbed a pillow off her bed. She threw it at Satoru. The infinity around him sent it bouncing straight off.
“Hey!” Satoru’s cheeks puffed, pouting. She ignored that.
Shoko stepped towards the wall. She snatched a blanket off her bed, covering herself. At the same time, the kid grabbed some jeans off the floor. “These?”
Shoko patted the boy’s head, smushing the spikes down. “Sure. Good boy.”
Shoko shimmed into her jeans. It wasn’t until the button snapped that she noticed the kid was staring.
Unlike Satoru, this might have been the first time he saw a girl in her underwear. Shoko hoped this wasn’t about to be some future trauma. The kid pointed towards her. “Why Badtz-Maru?”
The question was so flat, it took Shoko’s other concerns away.
“Because. I’m a Badtz girl.”
Shoko tugged her t-shirt down. She sank to her knees, so she could look the kid straight in the eyes. She put her hand on his shoulder. “Hey, kid. Did the weird man touch you?”
The kid nodded. Shoko moved closer. “Did he touch you like this? Like, your head? Or was it a no-no place?”
The boy’s expression didn’t change. “What’s that?”
“Shookoooo! Stop talking like I’m a weirdo!”
Satoru crept behind her. He shook her shoulders and pulled her up to standing, all but pleading.
Shoko didn’t flinch. She just turned over her shoulder. “You are weird.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to say it!”
It was, if nothing else, at least an admission she was right.
Shoko held back a sigh, but not her judgment. “Who let you watch a child?”
“No one! I found him.”
Satoru’s smile didn’t shake. That he faced forward made Shoko doubt it that much more. She pressed a hand on her hip. “You don’t just ‘find’ kids.”
“You don’t? Why not? They’re all over the place!”
“That doesn’t mean you just take them.”
“I didn’t!” Satoru raised his hands beside himself, as if flashing surrender. The more dramatically he stood, the less Shoko believed it. “Shoko…!”
The whine didn’t help.
Shoko stayed on her knees. She crouched in front of the kid, peering through the black puff ball of his hair to try and catch his eyes. The boy watched her right back, his blue eyes not blinking. Shoko blinked, first.
“So… you’re a sorcerer, huh?”
The kid nodded.
“Which clan?”
“Who said clan?” Satoru interrupted. Shoko raised her hand, shooing him off.
“He did.”
“When? He barely talks! He just kinda stands there, like a troll doll with pants on!” Satoru threw his hands over his head, waving wildly.
Shoko leaned as close into Satoru’s face as his infinity would allow—which, given how it worked, was damn close. When she was near enough for his face to blur, she spoke to him, and only him.
“You teleported him here, and he didn’t freak out. That’s a cursed technique. Only kids born in sorcery families know this stuff that early. When I was his age, I thought I was a changeling,” Shoko said. “And, Geto—“
She caught herself before the thought could finish. It wasn’t fast enough to keep her from remembering.
“What’s a changeling?” Satoru asked, as if he hadn’t noticed.
It wasn’t the question he meant to be asking. It wasn’t the answer she meant to give. Shoko lowered her head just the same.
“Fairies,” she said. “Fairy rejects, specifically. Their parents switch their kids with people, to take the human ones to be slaves.”
“A fairy? Really?” Satoru looked down, thinking. He spent one second thinking. Then, he snapped over his head. “You could be a fairy, couldn’t you? You’re so short! You—!”
“Gojo.” Shoko cut him off, remembering something important.
The name was enough to make Satoru stop. “Yeah?”
“You said girl, right? Little girl.”
Satoru nodded along. “Yep.”
Shoko kept her hands on the kid’s shoulders. “This is a boy.”
“Yep! Sure is!”
“Then, where’s the other one?”
Satoru’s glasses stayed in place. Despite the blackout lenses, Shoko could see his eyes pop. “Oh! Right! School!”
“And he isn’t?”
The boy didn’t move. He didn’t even blink. “I left.”
“That’s bad,” Shoko said, knowing this should have been obvious.
“Oh, it’s fine! I found him!” Satoru stretched his arm as far as he could.
“That’s why it’s bad.”
“C’mon. How could that be bad, huh? I’m responsible!”
Satoru pulled the boy towards himself, then shook him by the shoulder. The boy didn’t blink. His head bobbed from side to side, his expression flat as he could make it. However clear his lack of enthusiasm was, it was just as apparent he wasn’t running away.
Shoko looked back towards the kid, and only the kid. “Where’re your parents? I’ll call.”
It should have been an easy question. At least, Shoko thought it would be.
“Why would I know?” the boy asked.
It was the kind of question that made sense from a kid, if they weren’t paying attention. From the way this boy looked, Shoko didn’t think he was oblivious.
“So, what? You’re like a runaway? That’s not gonna end well. You end up with creeps like him.”
Shoko pointed towards Satoru, expecting an argument. He shrugged. “Better me than the Zen’in.”
Shoko rolled her eyes. “Yeah. And better to step in dog poop than fall in a sewer.”
She expected a laugh. She didn’t get one.
“Those are his options. Them, or me,” Satoru said. “They tried to buy him.”
It was such an odd statement that it made Shoko look up. She crossed her arms over her chest and watched Satoru, expectant. “The three clans are buying kids, now?”
“Tried to buy him,” Satoru said. “I got him first.”
The way Satoru said it, Shoko heard more questions than answers. “So, you did kidnap him…”
“Sorta, kinda? Like, consensual kidnapping.”
Shoko sighed. She shook her head, then looked back at the kid. “You sure there’s no one I can call?”
Satoru was right that he would be better than some clan head that purchased children. There was no telling what someone would do to him there. Even so, Shoko couldn’t imagine how Satoru could be responsible for a kid. He practically was one.
The boy watched Shoko just as calmly as she saw him. “It’s Tsumiki’s birthday,” he said. “I want to get her something.”
He sounded serious. It might have been, if Shoko had any clue what he meant. “Who?”
“My sister.”
Satoru raised his hands over his head. “I told him to summon a pony! Girls love ponies, right? Right!”
The boy’s stare didn’t change. It only turned, flat as ever. “I don’t have ponies.”
“Well, you should! Ponies are great!”
Shoko shook her head. She pointed towards Satoru. “Let me get this straight…”
“You can be straight?”
“When I’m desperate.” Shoko sighed. “You’d know.”
“Eh! I don’t count. I defy sexuality.”
“And common sense.”
“That, too!”
Shoko reset herself. She pointed towards the kid, first. “So, it’s your sister’s birthday. That right?”
The boy nodded. Shoko pointed towards Satoru, next.
“And you’re taking care of them. Somehow. And you don’t have a gift. That right?”
“Oh! Cake! We need cake! What kind of birthday won’t have cake?”
Shoko shook her head. “You have cake every day.”
“Birthdays are days.” Unfortunately, Satoru had a point with that.
The boy stood between them. His expression still hadn’t changed. He pointed towards the door. “Can I go? I’ll get Tsumiki from school.”
Satoru shook his head so fast, his sunglasses almost flew off his head. “Not without me, you won’t!” He put his hands on his hips, beaming with pride. “Without infinity plopping, you’re hours away! You’ll be late! Plus, you don’t know where you are!”
“It’s your school,” the boy said, seemingly unphased. He was so calm, Shoko almost didn’t notice what Satoru said.
“Plops? Shoko shook her head. “...You’ve got to get better at names.”
“Ugh. Fine! You name it,” Satoru groaned, in a tone that proved it very much wasn’t fine.
“Just call it teleportation.”
“It’s not teleporting! The mechanics are different! Teleporting is about changing the location of matter, to move something somewhere else. The infinity doesn’t move me, it moves stuff around me. That’s totally different.”
Shoko waved him off. “Whatever, nerd. This is why you don’t get girls.”
“No! I get girls!”
“Then what’re you texting me for, pony man?”
“Because, I don’t get little girls! Adult girls, I get fine!”
The way Satoru insisted on it made Shoko fold her arms across her chest. “You mean, women?”
Before Satoru could find a stupid answer to that question, Shoko reached into her pocket.
“Hey, kid.”
“Megumi.”
“Great. Hey, Megumi. Never do this.”
Before the boy could ask what she meant, Shoko placed her cigarette between her lips. She took out her lighter, and set a flame against the tip. Within seconds, the relief of smoke crossed through her. It might have been against school rules to light up inside, but pulling outsiders onto campus was worse. If Yaga caught everyone, he’d scold Satoru, first, no matter what she was doing.
Satoru led the way, in that he started walking without telling anyone where he was going. Shoko’s only choices were to leave him with a child, or follow along.
The sunshine wrapped around Shoko, an even warmth settling through her just enough to make her limbs feel like they were attached to the rest of her. She drowned out Satoru’s words with her thoughts, considering what she could do.
When Shoko was a little girl, her favorite toys were anatomical dolls. The plastic chests cracked open, to let her see the organs inside. That, and he liked bugs.
“Not every little girl’s the same…” Shoko said, her voice drifting with the smoke. “It’s not the age, it’s the person. You’ve gotta know them. Not like I’d get the same gifts for you and Ijichi.”
“You’d get gifts for Ijichi?” Satoru turned. The smoke drifted past him. Shoko couldn’t catch the look in his eye, but she saw something close. “What’s he like? Pocket protectors?”
“Gojo…”
“Yep! That’s me!” Satoru said proudly.
“You’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever met.”
“Then, you should meet taller idiots!”
Shoko pinched the bridge of her nose. “Not what I meant.”
“Then, you should’ve said what you meant! That’s way easier.”
Shoko ignored that. She focused on Megumi, instead. “What’s your sister like?”
Megumi stared up, blank as ever. At the end, he shrugged. “…Nice?”
Shoko shook her head. “Not that ‘like’. I mean, what’s she enjoy? A favorite show. Toy. That kind of thing.”
Megumi’s stare didn’t change. He looked down. “She cleans a lot.” He was serious.
Shoko strained not to snort. “What is she, Cinderella?”
Satoru snapped his fingers. “I got it! Cinderella… would like a washing machine!”
“No. That’s terrible.” If Tsumiki didn’t have a specific hobby, that would make this a lot harder. Shoko took a drag. She kept thinking. “…What about outside toys, then? Bikes. Skateboards. Roller blades. That kind of thing.”
Megumi shook his head. “We don’t do that.”
Shoko snapped her fingers. She pointed back at Satoru. “There. Bikes. Get bikes. Teach her bikes. That’s a present.”
It was the first suggestion Shoko felt confident in.
Satoru shook his head. “Nope. Can’t do it.”
“Why not? You allergic to good ideas, now?”
“Nope. I can’t teach her, cause I can’t do that, either! I never learned!” Satoru’s smile spread wider, as if this was something to be proud of.
“You don’t know how to ride a bike?” Shoko asked, baffled.
“Correct!” Satoru’s hand shot over his head. If he’d said anything else, it would have looked like a victory pose. As he was, Shoko could only shake hers.
“Fine,” Shoko relented. “You get the princess. I’ll handle the bikes.”
Satoru’s hand shot back down. There was no sign of his eyes, yet Shoko could tell they were wide. “Really?”
If Shoko had any common sense left, she would have said no. Any plan that left Satoru grinning like that was sure to end terribly.
“Gotta make this a day to remember, right?” Shoko asked, dismissing the common, and any sense that came with it.
Satoru’s smile grew that much more. He nodded to both of them. “Perfect! Be right back! I’ll just–”
“Not yet.” Shoko didn’t let him finish. She held out her hand, waiting.
With Satoru’s sunglasses in the way, Shoko couldn’t see him blink. She felt the beat pass, regardless.
“Oh! Right!” Satoru realized. “Card!”
Satoru reached into his pocket. He took out a card. Shoko didn’t bother to check the rest. Whatever he’d just given her, she could probably buy a townhouse with his credit limit. A few bikes would be nothing.
“Thanks.”
Satoru crouched down. His knees bent, his legs spreading in a decidedly un-princess-like sprawl. “You know the way back, right, Gumi?”
“Back where?” Megumi asked.
Satoru must not have been listening, because he popped right up. His hands clapped together. “Great! See you!”
From the way Megumi looked up, at once disgusted and completely indifferent, Shoko understood just how well these two knew each other. It was the kind of dismay only Satoru could cause.
Shoko looked down, too. She held in a sigh, and settled for understanding. “You know where you live? Like, an address?”
Megumi nodded. It was good enough for Shoko. She kept her hand in her pocket, and her understanding clear. Wherever Megumi was supposed to be, Shoko would get him back there when this was over–whatever ‘this’ happened to be.
“Megumi-kun,” Shoko called again. Megumi looked up. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. “You good with this?”
Megumi paused, still quiet. At the end, he shrugged.
Shoko put her hand on his shoulder. She pushed down. “You ever stop being good, you tell me, okay? I’m here, too.
Megumi nodded. The spikes of his hair squished into Shoko’s side. It wasn’t a loud agreement, but he seemed to understand. It wasn’t like Shoko would be able to do much on her own if a clan was involved, but she did know how to drag Yaga into it if she had to.
She would trust a stranger off the street more than she’d trust Satoru in this circumstance–but it wasn’t her call. It was Megumi’s. If Megumi was fine with it, this wasn’t even the lesser of two evils. Satoru wasn’t evil. He was childish, irresponsible, and possibly insane, but not evil.
“Better than a clan, at least,” Shoko muttered.
She hadn’t meant the kid to hear her. Megumi did anyway. The look in his eyes barely changed. The softness was hard to see. It happened, anyway.
“...Tsumiki likes pink,” Megumi added, a little softer than before.
It wasn’t much, but it was something. She could work with that.
“What about you? What colors do you like? Green? Blue?”
“Black.”
Shoko looked down. “Psh. Black’s not a color.”
“It is,” Megumi said, in the exact same tone he said everything.
“It’s not. It’s the absence of color.”
“No. That’s white.”
Shoko fixed her cigarette, pulling it closer. She took a drag. “In art class, maybe. With pigments and stuff. In everything else, it’s the other way.”
“That’s dumb.”
“Nah. It’s science. Science is for smart people. You’d learn that, if you stayed in school.”
They stopped outside the store.
It didn’t take long to pick out their bikes. Megumi chose black. Shoko found the perfect one. It was the right size for someone slightly taller than Megumi, with training wheels, and streamers on the handles. The pale, pearlescent pink frame glimmered like the first hint of a sunset, with subtle, white engravings of roses down the frame. It was girly, but not so overt that a seven year old would call it childish. Somehow, kids were always concerned with that.
Lacking magic teleportation skills, Shoko had to settle for taking them both the normal way. They walked on foot, with the presents at their sides. In the center of the pink bike, the shop had tied a bow. It was too big to wrap like a normal gift. Shoko assumed the act of bringing it at all would have to be a surprise.
Shoko knew that assumption was wrong the second Megumi found his house, and the people outside of it. No matter what gift they’d chosen, the birthday surprise was already there, and he was named Satoru Gojo.
Whatever Tsumiki wore to school, Shoko doubted it included the tiara and magic wand. More importantly, she knew Satoru had changed–if not by temperament, then at least outfits. In place of a uniform, he was wearing a gown. Where in the world he’d gone to get a crystal covered princess dress his size at this short notice, Shoko didn’t know. She also knew not to ask. She also knew, whatever ridiculous things Satoru was doing, Tsumiki was smiling.
Shoko raised her hand above her head, waving them over. “I’ve heard of party poopers, but party princesses? That’s new.”
Satoru shot up to attention. His sunglasses nearly popped off his eyes–and the tiara did. He caught it before it could fall. ‘There you are! Royal subjects!”
The accusation that Satoru was a royal pain in the butt stayed in Shoko’s head. Before she could think of a child friendly insult, Satoru bowed towards Tsumiki. He fixed the tiara around her ponytail.“Your highney. Your chariot awaits!” Satoru beckoned towards the bikes.
Shoko leaned against the handles, casually unimpressed. “You mean, highness.” she corrected, well aware he wouldn’t care. Sure enough, he didn’t. He just stood in place, taking up far too much room in the most enormous dress Shoko had seen in her life, and nudged Tsumiki towards them.
“It’s good,” Satoru said. “She’s a friend.”
“You have friends?” Megumi asked. His tone was so flat, Shoko barely kept from snorting.
The girl before Shoko was a stranger. The look on her face wasn’t strange at all. Tsumiki’s eyes caught a shimmer as she watched the bike in awe.
“It’s so pretty….” The bike’s bell jingled. Tsumiki’s brow creased. “But—“
“It’s yours.” Shoko rang the bell. She held the back of the bike on either side, to let the engravings of white roses show clearly.
“Don’t worry. We made sure he paid for it. It’s got training wheels. With those, it’s pretty easy,” Shoko explained. “Sit up, put your feet to the pedals, and push 'em. If you start to tip, we’ll catch you.”
Tsumiki looked between Shoko, then the bike, and back. She dropped into a bow. Whatever awe there’d been before, it vanished into courtesy.
“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” she said. “I’m Fushiguro Tsumiki.”
It would have been polite, if not for the title.
“Ma’am?” Shoko repeated. “Me?”
“Of course.”
“Of course, to who?”
“Are you not? You didn’t look like a sir to me.”
“Thats the options, huh? Ma’am or sir?” Shoko pointed to the side, to where Satoru was standing, complete in his tiara and ball gown. He and Megumi were still bickering. “Does that look like a ‘sir’ to you?”
“You mean, Gojo-san?”
Tsumiki popped back up. Her ponytail swayed behind her as she looked towards Shoko, confused.
At first, it looked to Shoko like she was pointing to Shoko in general. It took a second for Shoko to notice that Tsumiki was pointing at the cigarette in her mouth.
“You’ve got a lollipop?”
Shoko shook her head. “Nah.”
“Good. They’re bad for you.”
“Nah. Not good. This is worse.” Shoko struggled not to laugh. She took the cigarette out and tipped the end, flicking the ashes away. “Don’t start with these, kid.”
“Then, why do you have them?”
“Cause if I cared what’s good for me, I wouldn’t be here.”
The birthday girl watched Shoko with concern. Shoko didn’t worry about it much. It was true. If any sorcerer cared what was good for them, they would know better than to be a sorcerer at all.
Megumi stood beside his bike, as underwhelmed as ever. Princess Satoru leaned into his personal space. “Get on! I’ll push.”
“No.”
“Fine! Then, I’ll show you! Gimme, I’ll ride!”
“No, you won’t. You won’t fit.”
“Says you. A princess always fits!”
“What does that have to do with anything…?” Megumi’s stare stayed just as plain. He blinked, considering. “What princess wears sunglasses?”
“The ones who care about UV protection!” Satoru’s dress fluffed, his petticoat fluttering in every direction as he dove to grab the bike–or rather, pretended to. He moved just slowly enough that he let Megumi pull it away. “C’mon! Lemme!”
Tsumiki started to laugh. She stopped herself just as quickly. “Sorry—“
“Don’t be,” Shoko said. “Laugh. He’d want that.”
It could have been assuring. Tsumiki didn’t look like it was. “That doesn’t seem polite…”
“Not like he’s polite, either.” Shoko shrugged. “Besides, laughing’s not rude. It’s being happy. It’s your birthday. You should be happy all you want…”
Shoko was still speaking when she saw Satoru glide by. The fluff of Satoru’s ballgown shimmered under the sunset, the pale blue dress stained violet by the burning sky. Megumi ran three steps behind him, the distance spreading with each stride. How exactly Satoru managed to fit himself on a child’s bike wasn’t clear. All Shoko knew for sure was that each shimmer was a flash in a sign from the universe, blinking with a message too bright to miss.
The world outside Shoko’s dorm was full of disasters. There was no way to avoid that. However twisted her surroundings would become, or what catastrophes had brought them to today, there were still scraps of happiness to find, if only she stepped out the door.
Shoko let the boys pass by. She stepped behind Tsumiki, and took the bike by the handlebars.
“Put one hand on each side. Hold on, and stay in the middle. If you need to break, you can squeeze this.” Shoko pulled the metal lever under the bar. She let go, then tapped the pedal with her foot. “Feet here. Move them towards me, you start moving. Back, you’ll brake again.”
Tsumiki nodded along. The bob was so intense, her tiara tipped to one side. Shoko fixed it. She pushed the crown back in place with one hand. The other stayed on the bike.
“Tell me when, birthday girl.”
Tsumiki climbed on the bike. Her shoulders set firm, turning even with the bars. Even up close, it was hard to tell if her shifts were more of a shake or a shimmy. Whether it was nerves or excitement, the end result was the same. Tsumiki hadn’t told Shoko to let go.
The black bike rolled by. Megumi sat on top of it, pedaling with confidence as Satoru chased him down the street.
“Hey! Back, back! Give it back!” Satoru shouted after him. He nearly tripped on the hem of his petticoat until he picked it up mid-stride.
To anyone else, it looked like he was chasing Megumi. Shoko saw better. Every time Satoru took a step, he was deliberately one arm’s length behind Megumi. If at any point Megumi started to fall, Satoru could catch him. Satoru wasn’t throwing a fit for no reason. The reason was to let Megumi feel independent, and still stay close by.
“Strategic annoyance, huh,” Shoko muttered, understanding.
Tsumiki giggled. Shoko swallowed a snicker. She looked down.
“You ready?”
Tsumiki’s shoulders set back. “Ready.”
She didn’t look that way.
Tsumiki gripped the handlebars a little too tight, holding on until the color left her knuckles. Shoko pretended not to see. She leaned towards the same handles and held Tsumiki from behind.
The pedals squeaked. Tsumiki pushed slowly. The bike teetered, the wheels rolling along. Shoko kept her grip steady.
“You can go faster,” Shoko said. “Faster’s easier.”
In true little kid fashion, Tsumiki asked “why?”
“I dunno,” Shoko admitted. “Might be less time to think about it. Might be, it just is.”
It wasn’t a convincing answer. It was barely an answer at all. All the same, it was enough to keep going.
Tsumiki pedaled harder. The bike rolled along. She turned the handlebars to change from the sidewalk to the street. With the new burst of speed, the bump of the curve didn’t feel like one. \
Shoko picked up her pace, jogging along. She didn’t need to.
“Faster?” Tsumiki asked.
Shoko let go. She didn’t warn Tsumiki. She just did.]
The bike bounced. Tsumiki started to turn.
“Ieiri-san—!”
“You’re fine,” Shoko called back. “You’re doing it already.”
“I—“ Tsumiki stopped her sentence, and only the sentence. The rest of her kept going. She held onto the bars, and picked up speed as she rode after her brother. “Megumi! I’m coming! Slow down!”
He didn’t.
Shoko reached into her pocket. She took out a new cigarette. Before she could find a lighter, Satoru grabbed it. He put the end between his teeth.
“Happy birthday, right?”
Shoko’s shoulders fell. She looked up to the tower in a ball gown that was Satoru. His sunglasses tipped down his nose, the blackout lenses clashing with his dress. The unlit cigarette drooped to one side.
Shoko held out her hand. “Give that back.”\
“Give what back?”
“The cigarette, moron. What kind of princess are you, stealing my shit?”
Satoru took out the cigarette. He waved it over his head, far from Shoko’s reach. “This is shit, huh?”
“Yes.”
“So, you admit it? Cigarettes are shit?” Satoru grinned broadly, as if this was some big moral victory. Shoko stayed unimpressed.
“In this context, sure.”
Shoko held her hand up higher. Satoru waited. He looked down. At least, Shoko assumed he was looking. With his glasses in the way, she couldn’t tell. At the end of whatever he’d done, Satoru put the cigarette down. Shoko took the cigarette. She held the stick between her fingers, considering what, if anything, she could do.
A bike bell chimed. The Fushiguro kids rode past them. Shoko raised her hand and waved. However quickly they were riding, the speed couldn’t blur Tsumiki’s smile.
Shoko waited until the kids’ backs were facing her. She sighed. “It’s a terrible idea.”
“What idea?” Satoru asked, feigning obliviousness.
“Whatever you’re thinking.”
“What’s thinking?”
At the end of her next breath, Shoko let her stare fall. Her cigarette drooped with it. “…Thought so.” Of course Satoru wasn’t thinking. If he’d ever bothered to try, he would have known his choices were insane.
It wasn’t a birthday. It wasn’t even a full day. It had barely been half an afternoon. It was the first afternoon in weeks where Shoko had seen the sunlight, and she almost felt okay
Satoru leaned over her shoulder. “Hey, Ieiri? Wanna kiss a princess?”
Shoko shrugged. “Sure. You gonna call Utahime?”
“You got Utahime’s number?”
“Nope.”
Shoko took out her phone. She scrolled down, as if she was gonna call. Satoru leaned that much closer. She pulled the screen into her chest, hiding it. “Back up, princess. Not like I’m gonna show you.”
“If you can’t use the phone, you can’t call.”
“So?”
“So, if you want a princess, kiss me.”
“I’ll pass.”
Shoko looked up for a second. One second. Then, she ducked down. Satoru swayed that much closer. He wrapped his arms around Shoko, holding her tight. The fluff of his petticoat pressed against her, tangling between them too close to move. At least, the threat of falling made a good excuse not to push him away. Shoko told herself that.
“We’re gonna get through this,” Satoru told her, softer than she expected. “We already got to tomorrow, right?”
It almost would have seemed profound, if Shoko didn’t listen to the words.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shoko asked. “Who the hell gets to tomorrow? It’s always the next day.”
Satoru shrugged. “Eh. Yesterday, this was the next day. We got to this one without him.”
Satoru didn’t have to say the name. They both knew.
“Who?” Shoko asked anyway, as if she didn’t know. As if she hadn’t thought about it every day since Suguru left.
Satoru raised his hand higher. He let go of Shoko’s shoulder to ruffle her hair. At the end, he grinned.
“Some prince you are! You’re too small!”
Shoko’s shoulders fell. “Fae Prince,” she corrected. “We're compact.”
Satoru breathed in against her shoulder, like he was picturing someone else. Shoko couldn’t blame him. She was doing the same. No matter what way she imagined where they were, the version of this day they wanted to live in had someone else with them.
“But, we’re here,” Shoko told herself. Satoru nodded along.
“We’ll make due.”
From the way Satoru said it, Shoko was surprised he knew what due meant. She nodded. “Wise words, Princess.”
Satoru tipped his head. The bridge of his glasses trailed down his nose, the blackout lenses gleaming. His white eyelashes fluttered across the top, leaving the slightest, glowing crescent of his eyes to reach her own. If he kept his mouth shut, that glimmer was ethereal—the kind of subtle elegance that songs and sonnets were written for.
Satoru’s lips curled. His mouth opened. “Hey, Shoko. Wanna make out?”
She should have known.
Shoko’s shoulders sank. She let out her next sigh. “Your kids got a bedtime?”
Satoru nodded. “Sure. Your bedtime, or mine?”
It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t even smooth. It was just lame enough that there was something comforting about it—that no matter how Satoru looked, or whatever stupid things he had to say, he was stupid for her.
Shoko rolled her eyes. Her lips curled, too, holding back a smile as best she could. It didn’t work. It was nice to know she could laugh at all.
“Gojo,” Shoko called over.
Satoru looked up. “What?”
At the end of that laugh, Shoko shook her head. “You’ve gotta work on your timing.”
“Do I? You said yes.”
“Oh. Did I?”
“Yep.”
“When?”
Shoko tipped her head, and her focus. She waited for Satoru to say. His hand cupped under his chin.
“Well, you didn’t say no…”
“Not the same.”
Satoru took off his glasses. He stared at Shoko, as clear as could be. Shoko turned away. She grabbed his shoulder and shook it.
“Gojo.”
“Yeah?”
Shoko felt Gojo’s shoulder, solid, and there. Whatever barrier could have pushed her away was gone. She let her hand fall.
“Tell her happy birthday.”
Someone who should have been there was missing. In his place, other faces were there. Two kids Shoko didn’t know rode off towards the sunset, smiling.
It wasn’t the same. It might not have even been a good thing. Whatever it was, it would stick around to tomorrow.
If they could be more like this, Shoko wouldn’t mind tomorrow. She might even get out of bed.