two.
an ocean between your teeth.

▬▬

Compliments to the people for making their messes so intricate! Leeway like this is something normal folk can't afford and you find it glorious how these－ sorcerers (you snicker a little) manage to make themselves loopholes to go along with. Magical things. They take their gaite and drown monsters made of that same downfall. Watching the world－this world－crash will be a pleasant affair. 

You should have brought popcorn, but it doesn't mingle with the blood. So you've heard.

You've moved to Kyoto. It's been two weeks since you started out here, Himiwara-san checks on you every other day － Setsuna-chan (he said to call him by just first name, you said you prefer your last name over your given one－as such, Setsuna-chan. Yorumiya-chan) calls you whenever he's free. Which is often.

Also, as Himiwara-san informed, your coworkers all had a bet that you and Setsuna were fucking. You kindly explained that sex appeals to you in the same way hair in food does.

It does not.

Setsuna said that he only saw you as a friend and the little brother he never had. You said friendly was kind of pushing it and he laughed. People are so strange, it's delightful!

(You slit your throat on thorns and smiled bright, you pieced yourself together in harmony and hell. Sunshine burns through your stomach, glorious!)

You have three students! They're all boys and they're all biting! All scratched skin and bleeding gums like pickled plums. They fight curses with rage spilling from their skin, noses crooked from being broken one too many times. You wink and the stars blink with you. Something like exhaust makes it's way into your self-made bones and you love it! It makes addiction pleasant.

Coffee is your very own cocaine.

You guzzle it like anything you can, you love the way it tastes and you find yourself feeling a buzz under your skin that you adore. You get all jittery and erratic－how wonderful! Dying moons, you're living it up! People circle around here like they're on the bottle cusp of death, your sister mouthing a lullaby at them, hands held sweetly. She giggles at you in your dreams, you giggle with her.

Cherry wine and satire videos are mostly what you do when you aren't at a bar. You're at a bar often enough to know the ones to avoid.

Izayaki's crow over Kyoto, and you familiarize yourself with all of them. The bartenders are so nice! You make sure to slip them the money they were hoping for and get on your day with a wink and a vanishing hangover. They say their greetings and you stumble to the next one, your favorite are the ones with company. The bartender laughs with you about your job, you say that your patients always get into fights. That your boss is a traditional bastard. That you're freshly away from your family, living your life as best you can. You love the good bars and avoid the bad ones.

The worse ones reek of your eldest brother, after all.

You leave those.

Hour four strikes the clock and you grin, wide. You've ended the night and you need a shower before you start work. The train station is so bright!

"Hello world!" You yell at the arrival of the train. "You really are adorable!"

"Haa?" A voice cuts beside you. There's a little boy with a girl around a year or two older than him. She holds unto him tight but he still asks. "What's that?"

"Megumi." She hisses. Then, to you, "I'm sorry."

"Adorable." You repeat, and the boy tilts his head. "It means cute. Like you." You add on.

He glares at you! How cute! This little boy thinks he's scary, you want to pat him on the head! You giggle.

"Sorry, I'm a bit drunk, Fushiguro-san, right?" You say, grinning loudly.

"Yeah." She says, clutching her brother tighter. "How do you know me..?"

"Yorumiya," you introduce. "though, I do look different without the coat, yeah? How are you?"

"Oh－I'm okay－" she looks at you, panicked. "－acctually uh, Yorumiya-sensei, do you know how to get to.. " She mumbles out an address and you smile, satire.

You nod off the liquor. The air clears, on the fritz. "I live around there, actually—you're looking for an apartment, yeah?"

She nods, telling an apartment name  and number and—

"That's..right next to mine."

You grin, then, wide and unnervingly. As one does. The earth will shatter under your feet. "Don' worry." The kid murmurs. "Megumi will save you from the monsters." He says.

"Well," you say in that patronizing voice your brothers and sisters use on you. "If Megumi-chan is saving me, who'll save Megumi-chan?"

"Tsumiki!" He says, brightly. "Tsumiki-nēsan  will help me! She's the second strongest!"

"And you're the first?"

He tilts his face down and glares at nothing. "No, Satoru is the strongest." He says. 

You grin, a little wider, more god less human, a blinking star fades out completely and a supernova burns pleasant against the night. "Hm, is he there?"

"Yes." Fushiguro Tsumiki answers for you, she's so small, you could fit her in the palm of your hand. "He should be. He said so."

The train rushes into the station. The sound echoes like the hollow of a bone. You close your eyes, shift everything off and open them—the train will skip the next station, as it always does—you'll be home, soon enough. You turn to them as the train stops and you wonder if they know that they're looking divinity right in the eye.

Can people sense that kind of thing?

Whatever.

You're here anyway. Something sour in your mouth, like a lemon drop—if lemon drops were acidic, too. Burning through your outer skin. The train stops and you leave—dry-rot and hallowed ground slip under your flesh; holy ones long buried, you are a walking calamity—you are a god in the purest form. Maybe you should take pity, wasn't that what this was all about?

You wanted to be human. A god made man, you shifted. You shift. 

"We're here!" The train stops. "C'mon Fushiguro-san."

Bright lights are your very essence, and though Tokyo doesn't even approach the stars, it's a damn good mockery. You turn to Fushiguro Tsumiki and tell her to grab onto your coat so she doesn't get lost in the sea of people, and she hesitates immensely before giving in. You meander for a while, going through alleys and nodding at familiar faces—the old is new and the new is old and you are ancient. A relic of a time that had never existed. 

Your apartment is on the wrong side of a memory that isn't real.

This isn't the shitty part of Tokyo by any means, yet still—curses are attracted like wasps. You lull your way in and greet the cursed spirit that never leaves the lobby. It always comes back—far too well fed to go anywhere else. It skitters away from you, like it always does. 

Fushiguro Megumi looks at you with narrowed eyes. You smile in turn, something sweet. Something heaven sent! You are god, after all. Insignificant as you are in the grand scheme. How strange!

How bitter! You can taste the back daft of bike in your mouth and you swallow it. It's awful! How lovely! Ate your soul out－ you— you became sick for this life. A rot that eats your bones inside and out; you'd call it pleasant if someone asked. Broken bones are your revelry. Cut your finger on the loose piece of metal on the rail, like you always do, but it never scars. You are god—

You are not— not anymore. You shifted your skin to hold your godhood like a poorly maintained vessel, how sour of you! Lemon drops stick under your tongue at the thought! You wanted this—how terrible and unexpected for the boredom to waver so pitifully between first glances!

The apartment you live in is messy. Only you can find everything and you prefer it this way. 

Your sisters would say it's a disaster—but you don't really mind, how could you? You're made of these little messes on a much grander scale. Scattered across the infinite night. Time slows down haphazardly when you sink into your own original sin. Oh how you love it! 

(The dissection of the human body must be done in order to understand it—when you first found yourself here you decided to become a surgeon of some sort so you could pick people apart. Clocks open on the table for you!)

"Are you a— "

"You remind me of my students, Fushiguro-kun." You say. She turns to you with a raised eyebrow. You think you ought to explain, but — it's much more fun this way. You look at your phone, as if you aren't already aware of the time, "Ah— see you both, I need to get ready! I hope you stay away from hospitals, Fushiguro-san."

_

The human body is a curious thing.

You turn on the water in the shower.

You cut your fingers off to watch them come back. How fascinating! This form of yours is never ending! How plentiful! How tragic! To live an eternity and never drown! You could cry!

You don't, of course.

_

"A sister-school exchange event?" You tilt your head. "It's kinda rude to spring that on me without at least a week of prep-time."

"Yeah," Utahime says. "higher ups are like that, keeping us on our toes. Oh—" she says, quickly. "—it's common curtesy to warn you about Gojō Satoru, though." She picks her bow apart. "He's a jackass without any care of the rules—he's the strongest jujutsu sorcerer." She tacks on. "Also, you'll meet Ieiri-chan."

"And Ieiri-chan is..?"

"Kyoto's doctor." She hums. "You could go drinking together or something－she probably has you beat though."

You grin. "Don't think anyone can drink me under the table, but alright." You tack on.

She snorts. "Nē－Yorumiya, do you smoke?"

"Sometimes." You say. "Only when I'm really craving it, cigarettes are expensive and I gotta fuel my alcohol addiction somehow." You sigh. "Curse these mortal temptations!"

"Say that and I might think you're a curse." She says, but there's nothing suspicious behind it.

"I'm worse, though." You say. "I got my reputation from somewhere, you know?"

"Yorumiya-sensei is a little too excited to open people up, Yorumiya-sensei is inhumane, Yorumiya-sensei is a little crazy, Yorumiya-sensei－" She mocks.

"I get it, I get it." You say. "Reputation isn't that great, but y'know. I just wanna see what's making people tick."

"Anyway." Utahime says. "Anyway. Important, Gojō－he's really fucking annoying and he will ask about your cursed energy."

You squint a little, you wonder if her scars ever itch. You don't scar, so you'd like to know. "Right, again, what's wrong with my cursed energy－ Utahime-chan never told me."

"Don't patronize me!" She says, then cleats her throat. "It's－like staring into a black hole. Normal people have cursed energy but you have like－I don't know. A void where it should be. Completely gone."

"Maybe I'm a curse after all, nē?"

"As if," she sneers softly, like it's a game; it is, "you're something way worse."

You laugh. You don't stop laughing for a while.

_

The sky is dark.

You blink, you hum.

A star explodes in the disance.

You blink, laughing.

_

You're not expecting the kid you met at a train station two days ago to ram into your leg and promptly hide behind them. Fushiguro-san's little brother is so small!

"Iori-chan!" You're also not expecting that.

You turn to Utahime in confusion and with the way her eyebrows crease your question has been answered with a yes  that is Gojō. You squint at him, he has white hair gelled up and, strikingly, a blindfold. What the fuck.

"Nē, who are you?" He asks, voice childish.

"Yorumiya," you say simply, tilting your head in a mock bow. "you're Gojō, yeah?"

"Call me Satoru!"

"I'd rather not." You hum. "You're the strongest, huh." You look down at the kid－ you're grinning something a tad too sharp. That tinge of insanity made for, ah, sorcerers.

"Yeah! So you've heard about me?" He sounds delighted, actually.

You wonder what he's made out of. If you break his bones will they reform? You want to ask－ is his blood red? How human of you! To crave that knowledge! How mortal.

"Nē－you haven't heard about me－ I'm a doctor!"

"A doctor, nē, sorry, Yorumiya- sensei－" he starts, mockingly. It's absolutely fascinating! You want to pick him a part, bone by bone. Slit his mouth into something inhumane－ carve him like a pumpkin. "－do you know Shoko-chan?"

"Shoko-chan?" You tilt your head. "That's Ieiri-senpai, right?"

"Please," cuts in a tired voice. "don't call me senpai. I finished school ages ago."

(She's the most fascinating human you've ever seen, she looks so boring, so average. You look like a shoddy offshoot of her, in all her glory. Envy! Your skin buzzes! Envy!)

"Ieiri-san." You correct politely. "I'm Yorumiya."

"I heard."

You grin. She reads you like a book! How interesting!

"Yorumiya stop being formal it's creepy." Utahime shudders a little from where she's standing. "I know you can act, but geez. I prefer you get that lab-rat look."

So, the grin splits your face in half, wider than before. You cackle a little bit. "Aww, but I was having fun, Hime-chan."

"You dick."

"Nothing special." You respond with a sigh. "Tragically enough."

"Wow," Ieiri says with an eye roll. "you're an only child."

"I'm one of the youngest in my family." You assure. "Only three younger than me! I don't know how many are older."

"Middle child syndrome then?" She throws, unconventionally. "You're the type."

"Thanks, I'm really mid everything." You say, wiggling your hands like a seesaw. You don't think too hard on what you're saying, sometimes unbecoming might happen. "Anyway, this exchange shtick－hows it work?"

Gojō grins, wider than you, twisting on godhood himself, you wonder if he's ever looked at a mirror and shifted something. How splendid! You could do this all day!

"They compete－opposing school picks the first event, host school picks the second event."

"Ah." You say. "What about this kid?" You point at Fushiguro-san's kid brother, who is hiding behind your legs.

Gojō says, voice wavering cheerfully, "Megumi-chan, don't hide behind Yorumiya-sensei's energy. It's difficult to see you, but I still can!"

(A void, she said, a black hole, dying star darling you are a sun brighter than all these mortals－)

You are the cold night, buzzing summer air, something still. Something burning! How awful! 

You turn and bend down, "Nē— where's your sister, kid?"

You don't have to turn to see the way Gojō is staring at you; you can feel it, see it through a third pair of eyes. The sun is blinding but you are a star—something far brighter than any measly sun! Something darker than the night. A void, dying star, supernova— the collapse of a hydrogen core! Something atomic— you'll go boom! and fill their heads with something greater than— 

"Tsumiki-nēchan is sick." He says, like you didn't see her recently—like you didn't watch her smile with white teeth. You wonder if they're red now.  What sickness can be so cruel! Oh how tragic! How awful! You wonder what god has cursed her to live life so pitifully—perhaps she's not but a pawn. Would that not be tragedy? "She couldn't wake up—she's in the hospital again." 

(Encore! Encore! You hear him, didn't you? Again!)

Your smile drops. "She's always sick, nē?"

He nods. You blink. 

"Well, I'm a doctor."

"There's nothing you can do." Ieiri says. "I checked."

"Oh." You say. "She wasn't sick when—" you close your eyes, and— you remember that you are everything and nothing a hope and the lack of it; desperation and sloth. You are god.

(A contradiction in skin you flexed over dry rot and fresh dirt—a graveyard without any headstones is no burial but the bodies don't lie. You know where all the skeletons are, but you prefer not to say. )

"The city is bad for Tsumiki-nēsan." The kid whispers. 

"Hm. Well," you tilts your head to pull the crack out. It snaps awkwardly, pops. Like you're too old, you are. "that's unfortunate."

"Yorumiya-san." The kid starts. You dig into your memory.

"Fushikuro-kun?"

"Fushiguro!" He shouts. "Fushiguro!"

"Fushiguro-kun." You correct. 

"Uhu— Yorumiya-san, are you a sorcerer like Satoru?"

"No," you say, you turn your head to Ieiri and she pulls out a cigarette—that Utahime makes a distressed noise at. "I'm a doctor, my cursed energy's natural ability lets me perform a reverse curse technique, do you know what that means, kid."

He nods, awkwardly, then shies back! He's so small, you want to scream a little! Pick him apart too! 

"Yeah." His voice wavers, something sick is twisted around the end. "You can fix Nēsan—can't you?"

I could, but I like watching you humans pushed to your limit— the breaks in a façade are far more imperative than happiness, you are not kind you are bored. You are a god of something, of nothing, a horrible balance to maintain. You cannot be benevolent nor malevolent, only watching you are one of the weakest in your family. If he wants a god, he should pray your sister ignores his. This is the way things work. You only protect the things you care about.

He isn't in that description unfortunately. For him, anyway.

"No." You say, teeth sharp. "I can't."

You're a liar.

_

"Himiwara!" You shout. "How are you?"

"Yorumiya, you know the answer." They sigh through the phone.

"Well, is Katsuma-kun behaving?"

"Little fuckers' finally talking, so proud, except it's only curse words."

You laugh at their pain. "Is Katsuma-san giving you trouble again?"

"No一I don't know what you did but you put the fear of God into her. Damn, she also got custody一which I'm eighty percent sure was the reason she was bitchy at all, anyway!" They cut in. "Our resident chain smoker has a一"

"Aww, Setsuna has a girlfriend? How sweet!" You take out a cigarette. "What's her name?"

"Yoshino Nagi." Himiwara responds. "They only went on like, one date."

"Mores the pity." You take a lungful of smoke in. "Bully for him. She cute?"

"You gonna steal her?" Himiwara says without seriousness. The joke in his voice is evident.

"Well, first I gotta know if she's hot." You murmur, with no intention on doing so. "Is she, Himiwara- sensei?"

"Sure, I don't shink she's your type though. You like the eccentric ones."

You laugh at that, "Aww!"

"But they have to look boring. Like Aishu一the serial killer. Who you liked, by the way."

"Ah, shuddup."

"Also, four years ago, when you found that one unconscious dude? With the long hair?" Himiwara hums. "Didn't he kill the nurse?"

"Jirō-san was fine." You say emphatically. "Just a little knocked up. I made it before anything serious happened."

"Don't know how Jirō-san didn't scar. Whatever." Himiwara says, very un-whatever. "You almost got used as a murder meter, Setsuna was the one who said that's kinda rude."

"Aww, tell Setsuna-nī I send my regards."

"Don't you two literally talk?"

"It'd embarrass him more." You argue.

"It would." They agree. "How's this fancy new job been treating you?"

"It was一hn." You make a human sound. "Kay, y'know how it's a school?"

"Nē." Himiwara grouses. "What about it?"

"It has this weird ass festival一it's a four year by the way! Like America! How strange, right? Anyway." You release the smoke. "There's this one really powerful guy一basically has the whole place under his thumb, old money, yeah? So he adopted this kid and一you remember Fushiguro-san? Yeah. That family, batshit, right?" You taste the poison and it burns－

"Yeah, isn't their pseudo-dad like, nineteen? He's like year younger than you－you're a baby!"

"Nē! I'm basically on my way to a mid-life crisis!" You bemoan. "Setsuna-nī is almost fourty and you're old!"

"Fifty isn't old, Yorumiya, when you're my age－"

(You're well aware that fifty is basically nothing. A blip. But it's so much fun to pretend－)

"－you're barely twenty!"

"I'm not even that old! I'm twenty next month!"

"You say that－it's like you cheated your way through med school, Yorumiya-kōhai!"

"I'm just built different." You say.

"Hah!"

The edge of your cigarette burns at your finger. "Anyway! It's getting late and I have a izayaki to get to!"

"Without me? How disrespectful, kōhai-chan."

You blow a raspberry through the phone. You hang up. You put out the cigarette. You head out the door, coatless despite the terrorible weather.