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fraudkuna · 8 months

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your phone buzzes on the couch.

you barely spare it a glance before picking it up, fingers habitually swiping across to answer. your other hand flips through the book you were reading languidly, something about interior design. the images of couches and lamps does little to draw your attention, but your mind remains barely focused on the call when you say a lazy, “hello?”

"hey." getou says on the other end.

you almost drop the book in shock.

"getou?" you switch your phone to your dominant hand, leaning into the screen. "getou? you, why are you calling? i mean, how are you calling? i mean, where are you? tell me where you are and i'll come see you—"

he has the audacity to laugh through the phone. "i have a surprise for you."

last time getou surprised you, he had massacred an entire village and some. panic makes your blood run still and you freeze in your chair. "you're... coming back?"

"i said surprise, not miracle."

it's almost funny. you almost laugh. almost. instead, you swear at him. "fuck getou, where are you? i've been trying to find you, we all have! listen, you know i don't give a shit if you're a murderer just, let me see you? please?"

getou chuckles again, he takes his sweet time doing so. "sorry, you're just so easy to tease. i'm not coming back, i've found my place already and i'm not leaving it a second time."

hurt makes your heart ache. his voice was so soft, so at peace that you believe he was right. in his own, twisted way, he was right.

"okay." you mumble instead, drowning out your rebellious thoughts with spoken word. "okay. then, why did you call?"

"i told you, didn't i? i have a surprise."

"is it a good one?"

"what do you consider good?"

"not murdering a small town's worth of people." you say.

"then you'll like this." he continues onwards despite your targeted words. "because there's no killing people this time around. i found gojo hanging around shibuya."

"uh." your eyes sweep to the clock hanging in your dorm. it reads early afternoon.

you hadn't seen gojo all school day, but then again, that was the typical nowadays. yaga had gained the habit of flinging him out into mission after mission following getou's disappearance, whilst you yourself remained at the academy. you could only watch as he was wretched further and further away.

these day, it wasn't an understatement to say the pair of you barely talked.

still, you understood gojo well enough to know that he'd typically walk the streets of busy cities after each mission's success, letting the bustling atmosphere overwhelm his brain and muddle his thoughts.

"okay? fork in kitchen?" after another thought, you stand from your chair. "wait, you're with gojo? the two of you? together? and you're still alive?"

"not together, i'm watching him from a distance. you didn't tell me he ditched the glasses for a blindfold. i think he looked better wearing the conventional eyewear."

there is so much wrong with his sentences that it takes a few seconds for you to conjure up a response. "first of all, gojo didn't abandon his sunglasses. second of all, how would i let you know? you, you changed phone numbers! i couldn't contact you even if i tried! and i did! so much!"

getou winces at your loud volume. "okay, my bad. but i'm telling you, gojo is walking around shibuya with a blindfold on. and he seems taller now."

"are you sure that's gojo?"

a pause. "do you know another white haired sorcerer who'd walk into an otaku cafe without hesitation?"

"mei mei." you answer. "if the otaku cafe paid enough."

"i think i know what mei mei looks like to confidently say i am not stalking after her right now."

"if you were, i think people would call the cops on you."

"they'd realise this would be the least of my crimes." he laughs into the phone but stops after you don't join him. "too soon?"

"never again." you mutter, then wince. "should i, should i come meet you?"

this time, it's his turn to fall silent. then, softly, "yeah."

"okay." you nod at nothing, fumbling to grab your dorm keys on the way out. it doesn't matter though, because you forget to lock the door as you run out of your room. "okay, okay. i'm coming right now, okay? don't move please?"

again, getou laughs. "i'm not going anywhere this time."

getou has lied to you many times before. he would say things like, "i didn't eat your icecream!" or "i wasn't the one that drew that on your report" or even "i won't leave you" with a smile on his face. you'd eat up every word that left his mouth even if you noticed his grin would never reach his eyes. it was like a circus act, one clear, obvious lie and one desperate acceptance. it was dramatic irony and it was pitiful.

getou leans against the railing in the middle of shibuya.

he didn't lie this time.

"getou!" your legs hurry you over to him. though he turns his head and looks at you, something you once believed would be enough to settle the void in your heart, you realise it simply wasn't. you throw your arms around his neck and bury your nose into his shoulder. "oh my god."

he smells a little different, perhaps he changed cologne along with changing his moral compass, but with a little imagination and effort, he almost smells like your getou, the one you knew.

his arms snake around your back and he holds you close. "hey. i missed you." he says into your hair.

you choke. "then you, you should have let me come with you."

he pulls back first and doesn't reply. anger and something else makes you grasp at the fabric of his sleeve but he eases himself out of your grasp. "i saw gojo over there."

sniffling, you look in the direction of his finger. "huh?"

"we're here to see gojo, remember?"

no, he was here to see gojo. you were here to see him. regardless, you squint your eyes and survey the packed streets. "i don't see him."

getou leans in, voice closer to your ears. his finger sweeps the crowd before pausing on a very familiar figure.

yeah, that was definitely gojo.

"wow, you're right. he is wearing a blindfold."

"you didn't know about this?"

"he and i, uh, haven't really been talking."

getou just hums. "what is he doing?"

"did he, did he get a new phone?" you wonder, observing the sleek shiny device in his hands. you watch as gojo lifts the device up in the air, an universal gesture for getting signal. it seems to bear no fruit and he slumps down, pocketing the phone.

"that's what you're focused on? look at him! he's so much taller now!"

"i hear boys get their growth spurt around that age."

getou looks down at you. "i haven't yet."

you make a face, finding it difficult to look at him. "um, look! he's moving. should we tail him?"

"are you kidding, of course we should."

he grabs your hand and you jolt at the contact before he drags you into the crowds. people bump into you from all sides but getou guides you through.

"he's entering a library." getou tells you because you're too short to peer from above. "i didn't know gojo could read."

you snort, then apologise to the stranger you ran into. "of course he can. he's still a student after all.”

"barely. what's he doing going into a library though?"

"maybe he picked up reading?"

you both laugh at the ridiculous idea.

soon, the two of you find yourselves at the steps of the library. tall windows surround the building on all four sides, perfect for peering into its contents. getou ducks behind the bushes that ran around the library's exterior, pulling you down into a crouch beside him.

he glances over at you before reaching around, pulling you flushed up against his side. you look up with a start, warmth heating up your cheeks as stray strands of his hair tickles your face.

"look, he's actually picking out a book."

you spin around and refocus.

"time travel and its consequences." narrowing your eyes, you state the title. "that's what he's reading? isn't that too hefty for a starting point?"

getou jerks his head towards the door. "let's get a closer look."

you hiss, yanking your interconnected hand back down. "he'll see us!"

"then we can just confront him head on."

you stare at him like he'd just told you he killed another small village on the outskirts of japan. "do you have a death wish? is this what this is all about?"

"i still have things i want to do so no, this isn't a death wish."

"right." you say, disbelieving. "that's what i thought. but what other reason could you have to see gojo again? if you tell me you miss him i will stab you."

his voice turns low. "of course i miss him. i miss everyone at the academy."

his confession leaves you temporarily stunned. "you don't get to say that after you left us."

"i didn't have a choice." he finally says, and the fake smile he's been wearing this whole day melts away. there's that scary look in his eyes, the one you've never seen before up until the moment he left.

"you had a choice. you could have chosen to not leave us."

pain twists getou's features into something ugly. "it wasn't that simple."

"no? then explain it to me using baby terms. i'm sure i'll get it then."

he says your name like it might stop you. it doesn't.

“getou.”

he sighs and lets go of your hand, using it to pinch the brim of his nose. "i don't owe you an explanation."

heat rushes to your face once more, but it isn't overflowing love that surges through you. "are you serious? i'm your friend, isn't that enough?" then, quietly, when he doesn't reply. "i am, right?"

getou looks at you and whatever he sees breaks his heart. his eyes fall from yours, staring instead at your shoes. "i've never once considered you anything but."

"me too." you rush to grab onto his hesitance. "even now, i still think you're my friend. that sounded bad, i mean, no matter what. you'll always be my friend no matter what you choose to do."

when he looks up, he isn't as defeated as he sounds. there's a resolve that lines his eyes and hardens his gaze.

you've lost him, really and truly.

"getou—"

"getou?"

shock renders your body useless as gojo peeks around the bush. he looms over the two of you, the height of his hair making you peer upwards, bending your neck all the way back to hold him in one single frame. most notably, black fabric covers the top half of his face in place of a pair of glasses, and you suddenly miss seeing the weird blueness of his eyes.

"i didn't think i'd see little you today." he says.

getou's eye twitches. "little?"

"he's from the future." you deduce, remembering the book gojo had picked out earlier. "it's okay, i think you're pretty tall already."

gojo’s eyes falls on you. “you’re also shorter.”

“yeah? well, you grew up into a creep.”

“you wouldn’t say that if you knew what you look like in the future.”

“what? what do you mean? hey, don’t ignore me, answer my question!” you reach forward and grab onto gojo’s collar, hoping to shake an answer out of him when his lips remain sealed.

“what about me?”

you look back at getou.

“huh?”

“what do i look like in the future?”

no one says anything.

you place a delicate hand over your mouth at the silence.

it doesn’t look like gojo will answer, so getou drops the topic, shoving his hands into his pockets. “how long are you here for?”

“i don’t know.”

“how are you here?”

“a curse’s technique.”

getou looks at him sideways. "is this all you're going to say to me?"

gojo thinks for a second. “want to stop by an arcade whilst i’m still here?”

the idea appeals to you so you nod. you look over at getou and he shrugs too. “sure.”

“alright.”

the hazy atmosphere of the arcade embraces you in nostalgia. the slot machines lining the left wall, the neon lights blinking from the dance dance revolution device, the aggravated scream from losers and the cheers from winners, that was you once.

you don’t visit the arcade that much anymore.

gojo slides himself into one of those first person shooter games and jerks his head to signal getou into the opposing seat.

“you can’t beat me at psychological warfare so at least try and beat me at this.”

disbelief scrunches getou's face. "i always beat you in psychological warfare."

“what do you think?” gojo asks you. “who will you side with?”

you look between them, caught in the middle. with a sigh, you walk to stand behind getou’s seat. your fingers grip his shoulders to give him a massage. “don’t let me down.” you threaten.

he nods, solemn. “understood.”

of course, things never go in the direction you wish. your failures pile up one by one as the three of you rotate around game after game. you receive no wins, none of them, but with every attempt, gojo’s shoulders raise higher and higher in pride.

you stand behind a ping pong arcade machine.

“addicted to losing?” gojo taunts.

“my parents didn’t raise a quitter.”

“sometimes it’s better to cut your losses before they happen, you know.”

you ignore his smug words and hit start.

gojo starts and he slams his paddle into the moving object, momentum shooting it across the board in under a second. your eyes catch the movement, instincts jerking your hand to the right to block the incoming attempt.

getou leans over your shoulder to watch. “to your left.” he says, and you obey. the ball enters your goal from the right.

he laughs nervously as you glare at him. “my bad.”

“you shouldn’t take advice from someone who still hasn’t won against me once.” gojo says.

“show off.” you mutter, receiving the pong as it slides to your half of the table.

“im just giving you an example on how you can be better.”

getou watches as you lose again. frustration narrows your eyes and tenses your shoulders in a way he thinks is endearing. a smile would look better on your face, though. so he clears his throat. “am i dead in the future, gojo?”

gojo’s paddle shakes, narrowly missing the pong by millimeters. “you—” it slams against the back of the goal slot and breaks in two.

“i won!” you scream. your hands fly up in the air in a physical cheer, palms out to receive a high-five from getou. when the sense of victory fades, your arms droop down to your side.

getou catches them, a grin on his face. “yay!”

“yay.” you repeat, sparing gojo a glance. uncertainty shakes your voice.

“that’s playing dirty.” he says.

“what are you going to do about it?”

a fierce grin cuts across his face. “round two.”

round two never comes because the three of you are effectively kicked out of the arcade, something about ‘breaking the pong’ being ‘disastrous’ and their behaviour ‘was scaring away customers’. instead, you all settle for dropping by the nearest convenience store and buying icecream.

gojo hands getou the red one but the other boy only shakes his head. “i like the purple one now.”

it’s an easy switch so you take the red icepole from gojo’s hand and trade it for the purple one you had taken.

gojo opens his blue one wordlessly.

“so, when are you going back?” you ask him.

“the technique should run out in 24 hours.”

you check your watch. “it’s only been five and a bit hours, you still have ages to go.”

“no, i’ve been here since yesterday evening.”

“oh.”

getou kicks a rock on the ground and it flies uncontrollably from the tip of his shoe. “today was nice.”

“yeah.” gojo says with a grin and he offers out his popsicle. you lightly tap yours against his and wait for getou to do the same.

a pause, and then getou's smiling too. he holds out his icepole. "no hard feelings?"

gojo bumps his against it. "so many."

his expression falls, eye locked with something behind you.

you turn.

gojo, your gojo, stands isolated amongst workers returning from their nine to five jobs. there’s a bag hanging off his arm and your eyes notice the brand belongs to getou’s favourite bakery just down the road from here. the bag slides down his sleeve as he stands there.

time for round two, you think.

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