Cursed || Gojo Satoru x Reader

VII. Grave

POV: (Y/N)

    My fingers clutch at the withered finger. The deep red taint and painted lines seep into my thoughts like an evil omen. But not wishing to appear weak, I grimace and shove the cursed object into my mouth and swallow it. The sharp fingernail scratches my throat and a bitter taste fills my mouth.

    Confusion ripples throughout my body, as though I'd hoped to manufacture a reaction to the cursed energy I'd consumed, but there was none. It is a peculiarity, a 'rarity that should be impossible,' as Shoko had called it, my compatibility to the energy.

    My other hand holds the fingers of an elderly woman. She'd come to the cemetery to pay her respects to a loved one, but upon casting the veil and exorcising the curses, she was unable to enter. After the finality of the battle, we did not want the possibility 0f another curse spawning, should her family's grave be one of the ruined ones after the effects of combat. So Gojo had suggested, his first words to me since our fight, that we escort her home until someone was sent to alleviate the damage.

    Gojo glances at me from the corner of his eye and his lips part as though he wished to make a remark, but no sound came from his mouth. For the almost the entirety of the day, we had walked in silence. Our paces never lingered too close to the other, but neither strides forward nor falls behind. As though the old woman senses this, she says,

    "It's a shame that the cemetery is closed today. Never before in the last few decades have they closed it before."

     Quick to reply, Gojo assures her, "I heard that a few tombstones are being redone. No need to worry at all, ma'am," he smiles kindly and waves his hand in the air as though he were dispelling any suspicious thoughts the woman has.

     "Hmm, I'd come to visit my husband today, you know," she replies in a haughty tone. Though I am not directly looking at her, I can sense that one of her brows is arched extremely high. "My husband's grave was buried in the center of the cemetery, a place I had chosen so that he would never be alone." Her frail voice that was once steady, quilted down a bit, and I see Gojo's eyes move toward her's respectfully.

    The elderly lady continues, "Well, I suppose he wasn't really my husband if we weren't married, but we were in love. This bounded us together, so that we can face the hardships of life as one." Her eyes lifted to the sky's, the grey overcast dimming the light and creating a shadow over her face.

    "But it was twenty three years ago when he passed. They told me it was was a tragic accident, when he was out walking, somebody's car hit him, but they hid the body," her voice begins to shake, but she takes a breath and resumes. "I remember they told me when I was making breakfast, waiting for him to come home. I was so shocked by the news, I dropped his favorite cup."

    I frown, confused. It did not make any sense for them to have hidden the body if the death was a simple accident. But what's done is done, my solving of the mystery would not heal the injustice and loss the woman has endured. The only thing I can do is listen.

    The woman laughs bitterly, "Oh, and coffee spilled all over the floor that we'd chosen for the house. Oak flooring, you know, it's considered one of the best woods for floors. When they gave us the book with the samples for our house, he had held my hand and closed my eyes so that I would randomly choose the perfect one. He was like that: trusting and kind. I only wish that I could feel his hand on mine again," the lady's hand slip from mine and she stops walking. Her fingers outstretched, her eyes stay on her hand wistfully.

    "We are ran out of time. If only I could-" The woman stops, her breaths racking her body and tears flow freely from her eyes. They are glazed over, grey clouds that cast shadows on the dim moonlit sky. I know her words are nothing but an old woman's ramble. Still, I pat her back soothingly, hoping I could share some of her burden. I feel the seizing emotion coming from her, both physically and in the form of cursed energy.

    I remember then, the grave that the special grade curse had kneeled before. The tombstone that sat alone on the top of the hill, untouched by the others in the cemetery. I remember the flowers that had bloomed, despite the withered plants that crawled along the others. The special grade had left, needing only comfort from a loss, not wishing harm on me.

    Whether the curse was created from the woman or her husband, it is now long gone. There is no bitterness that exists between them anymore, just a longing for the other's embrace.

    When we reach the elderly lady's home, she nods her head and thanks us. She disappears behind the double doors, and the faint glimmer of clean oak wood shines beneath her feet.

    As we turn away, Gojo asks, "Why do you protect them? The weak?" Unable to hide my surprise, my head quickly turns to face him, and I recognize a faint amusement from my reaction. His bright blue eyes are distant, isolated by the darkening clouds that hide the sky.

    This question again. I wonder if he was raised as I was, but only in opposite ideal. We are parallels, but not really, not when our ideals are the exact opposite of the other. In truth, we are only made to oppose the other.

    "Those who can should protect the weak, and be wary of the strong. There should be a balance in this world, because in the end we die as humans, people made of flesh and blood. Nothing more, nothing less." I remember the old woman's husband, who had died so simply, but left such an impact on the lady's heart. He was weak for dying so easily, and she was weak for having let him affect her for so long. I paused and realized for a second that perhaps this weakness was simply a matter of perspective. Still, it had taken her many years until she finally made peace and let go of the words burrowed deep in her soul.

     I glance at Gojo's gaze to see if he is yet satisfied with an answer I've given him. And it seems that he is. For the first time as we walk among the crowds of people, I feel as though we are in unison, rather than simply walking side-by-side.

    We pass a woman with fair hair, gripping the hands of two small children, shrieking and laughing as the beginning of rain drops on their heads. I see a man holding the handle of his umbrella over his long, dark hair. There is an elderly couple who walk side by side, their voices deep but laughter bright.

    I look up to the sky and remember the last rainfall, from before I had met Gojo Satoru. But I do not think of him, instead I recall the woman's husband, and I wish him well.

    Every soul that walks on the earth has the ability to impact another's. But to teach them to love is another rarity, one far more uncommon than my cursed energy, and it should be held in an honor above all else. This honor is a strength held by the common people and keeps jujutsu sorcerers in balance with humanity.

Author's note: Hi everyone! If you liked this chapter please remember to vote and comment; I love reading your reactions to the story (and feel free to comment any requests for future ones or for the ending of this one). Just wanted to add a quick note, I changed my Wattpad user again, so the initial is going to be 'H' now! See you again soon :)
~H