Mirror Eyes & Bright Blue Skies | Jujutsu Kaisen

ⅩⅩⅠⅠⅠ. Apathy

Death led the somber procession. It was a blackened casket, resting on the shoulders of black-clad people, silent as they walked, backs bent beneath the weight. Time bowed its head; Heaven wept; and Ikuko watched as the tears fell as rain, slowly, striking the casket like thunder, rolling off of its glossed surface like drops of molasses.

Deep breaths, counting steps... heavy steps, heavy breaths...

In, out, in, out, left, right, left, right...

Sixty-three, sixty-four, sixty-five, sixty-five...

Stop. A hand on her arm squeezed tightly, and so she glanced over.

Though her chin quivered, her mother's eyes were hard even as they looked past Ikuko, fixing themselves on the blackened casket, reflecting death, hating it, longing for it...

Ikuko looked away.

Words drifted between the black-clad figures, who were still silent, and the drops of rain, which still fell slowly, heavily, and although Ikuko tried her best to listen, it seemed the words drifted between her ears as well; in the days to follow, she would try, but fail, to remember what was said.

How different this was to that day before disaster, when her mother and father cooed at each other as they teased Ikuko about her love life or asked her about her new classes or talked about a new friend they'd made in the hospital, when her biggest worry was what to do about Gojo.

We were getting better. We were laughing together, smiling together as a family again. Things were supposed to be fine.

Now she wished, more than anything, that she had gone to stay with her father that night. Would he still be alive, if she had? Was there really no way for her to have broken out of her restraints before her father was killed? She'd done it afterward. Blown up an entire warehouse to boot. So why couldn't she have done that before it was too late? Surely, there was some choice, somewhere, some timeline where her father lived.

If I had died, that day... If Gojo never showed up and that snake had killed me, Dad would still be alive...

"Ikuko..."

She looked up to see Gojo standing next to her, holding an umbrella over both their heads. It was only at that moment that Ikuko noticed her own umbrella pointed down, tip piercing the sodden ground, her hand clutching its handle tightly, though her arm was slack at her side. Raindrops rolled across her skin. Her soaked clothes dripped.

Gojo gave her a small smile and a chuckle, "Careful, I think your arm forgot how to function."

Ikuko just shivered, cold, and looked away.

After a moment of silence, a hand rested on her shoulder and squeezed, "How can I..."

But Ikuko wasn't listening. She was in her own world, watching the casket lower into the ground, wondering, questioning, imagining.

"It's all my fault," she murmured.

"No-"

Ikuko shrugged off Gojo's hand and stepped away, gaze turning to fix on the sky behind them, "I'm gonna go..."

And Gojo let her go, watching as her figure retreated into the distance, her umbrella still clutched loosely at her side.

He'll never walk me down the aisle, Ikuko's thoughts screamed, He'll never get to grow old with Mom. He'll never call me Baby-girl again...

---

It was the next day.

Or had it already been three days?

Ikuko couldn't remember. She couldn't remember when she'd gotten out of bed last, but here she was, in line at a grocery store to check out a box of snacks. Looking down at the box in her hand, she numbly realized that it was her father's favorite brand of crackers.

"I can serve you now," the cashier stated, breaking her from her reverie as he took the box out of her hands.

Now without something to hold her attention, Ikuko's gaze roamed across the store, noting the faces of people who passed by. Smiling, laughing, serious concentration, boredom.

Did they not care?

Could they not see that her heart was broken, shattered, her chest torn open and bleeding?

Why was the world still turning when her father was dead?

As if she were the only one who remembered him.

As if he'd never been alive in the first place.

Alone.

Ikuko was alone like she'd never been before. Alone in her grief in a place where no one knew. No one knew how she hurt.

Anger, unlike grief, burned hot in her chest.

She didn't know why, at first, until she saw the curse sitting on a row of shelving to her left.

Until that moment, she hadn't realized how numb she'd become. This anger... it bit, it hurt... but it felt freeing. It wasn't grief.

She wanted it, nursed it, needed to feel its heat. She needed to feel anything else, really.

---

Another day passed.

Or so she supposed.

But Ikuko now found herself standing at the end of an alleyway, hatchet stuck into the body of a curse, her face blank even as its claws sank into her forearm, desperate to escape its death.

Fear.

She dug the hatchet further into the thing's squirming body.

More. Even more. Please. I want it all to go away. I want to feel again, like I did when Dad was still here...

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Why must the world continue to turn and leave me behind?

[A/N: Hey everyone! Since I know that most people who read this story don't see the announcements I make on my profile page, I just wanted to let y'all know here why I didn't update last week. While I was in the middle of writing this chapter, I found out that one of my favorite YouTubers passed away. Especially considering the content of this chapter, I was in no state to continue writing after that. I intended to finish writing it in the next few days, but other, unrelated issues popped up and stole all of my free time.

Also, I know this chapter is short, but it's intentional!

Anyway, that's about it ^^; Thanks for reading, and please consider voting and/or commenting if you're enjoying the story so far!]