ONE UNLOVED / UNLOVABLE

🪦

       DEATH HUNG IN THE AIR, the stench of rotten flesh invading her nostrils. Jun thought she would be used to the smell by now, what with being exposed to it every other day, but she still felt the urge to hurl. At least her eyes had stopped watering every time. Cautiously, she entered the dark room where she could feel the cursed spirit. A single lamp hung from the ceiling, flickering in an irregular rhythm, making the scene even more eerie.

       She let her cursed energy flow through her body, down her arm, into her hand, and called the shadows to it. Darkness swirled at her fingertips before materializing into a solid weapon — a scythe.

       The black metal (if it was metal, Jun actually wasn't sure about that — could shadows transform into metal?) was cool in her hand, but the familiarity of it eased her nerves. The further she walked into the room, the more her shadow on the floor in front of her grew. The scythe towered over her head, and in the mirage, with its unnaturally elongated proportions, it made her look like Death itself, the Grim Reaper coming to claim another soul.

       Or, in this case, another curse.

       Jun's eyes scanned the room, the dusty furniture, the abandoned files strewn around on the desk and the floor. She could feel the curse in this room, but where was it hiding? "Come out, come out, wherever you are," she spoke into the room, her voice strangely distorted in the silence. In a whisper, she added, "I wanna get this over and done with."

       A spark of energy tickled her spine. Jun whirled around — but could see nothing. She narrowed her eyes and tightened her grip on the scythe. A gurgling sound reached her ears, and Jun could feel its presence behind her, looming over her. Seems like it's done hiding. She turned around, swinging her scythe around her in practiced motions, and before the curse could react, the blade dug into its side. The curse — it looked like a half-melted... thing, like a wax figure that had gotten too close to the fire, and that had warped its proportions beyond recognition — let out a shriek, but didn't disintegrate.

       Jun hadn't expected it to. Not yet. Grade 2 curse and all that.

       She pulled the scythe out of the curse's body, slicing it open in the process. Blood spilled out of the slash, forming a little puddle on the floor that also reached Jun's black platform boots before she could sidestep it. Ew. "Asshole. I gotta clean them now. Again," she spat, then quickly ducked as the curse reached for her with its deformed hand, long claws protruding from it. In a crouch, she spun around, kicking out her foot, swiping the curse's wobbly legs from under him. It stumbled, letting out a nightmare-inducing cry.

       It leaped back onto its feet faster than Jun expected, though, its face now even more contorted. "You're angry," Jun mused. The curse started attacking her with rapid movements, but Jun dodged easily — until his claws caught her arm, leaving five scratch marks and a torn uniform behind. She hissed in pain. Anger raced through her body, making her blood simmer underneath her skin. "That makes two of us."

       With that, she twirled her scythe around her and slashed the curse. It stumbled back. Jun twirled it again, slashed the curse again, this time on its other side. And then, the final strike. She swung the scythe over her head — and brought it down on the curse's head, the arched blade piercing through its skull, the tip emerging from its neck.

       Jun tore the blade out. Blood spattered all over her. The cursed spirit vanished, successfully exorcised.

       Mission accomplished.

       She let the scythe dissolve into shadows and looked down at herself, at the flecks of blood on her school uniform, on the pale skin of her legs beneath her fishnet tights. She brushed her hand over her cheek, not surprised when it came away stained red. She made a face, wiping her hand on her jacket. This was disgusting. She couldn't wait to take a shower.

       Jun turned to leave the room, but right as she made a step forward, the building shuddered violently. Debris started raining down on her, clouds of dust swirling through the air, making her throat itch. Jun started coughing. Another rumble shook the concrete; Jun lost her balance, stumbling to the floor (thankfully not into the puddle of blood the curse had left behind). "Fuck!" she shouted, getting annoyed. She knew exactly who was responsible for this. "I'm going to kill them."

       Gojo and Geto were evidently having a bit too much fun with their curses, obviously not thinking about the consequences of their actions. Like they never do, her brain added bitterly.

       Jun struggled to unsteady feet while spitting out every curse her vocabulary offered (a lot), and hurried out of the room into the hallway. As soon as she was out, another shock wave rattled the building, and Jun had to use the wall to hold herself upright. And then the ceiling of the room she had been in just a second ago crashed down. Jun, her breathing ragged, stared back at the rubble, at the place where she would have been buried alive if she had taken a moment longer to get out. She flexed her hands in anger. "Oh, I am so going to kill them."

       Outside, Jun inhaled a deep breath, finally free of the stench of death and the dust in the air. The veil she lowered earlier was still up, turning day into night. She scoured the area, trying to see where Gojo and Geto were causing chaos, but it was difficult to see anything in the darkness (a cursed technique like night vision would be useful). Squinting her eyes, she looked up the side of the abandoned building, trying to spot them, but couldn't — the only thing she could make out was that one corner of the concrete structure was gone, blasted off. Jun made an unimpressed face. They had been up there, then... But where were they now—?

       "There you are!"

       As soon as she heard the voice, she felt her patience dwindling. She turned to the voice, laying eyes on the only person who had this effect on her. Gojo Satoru was strutting toward her, a shit-eating grin on his face, his round pitch-black sunglasses low on his nose so she could see his shining blue eyes gleaming in the dark. And even after fighting who knew how many curses, he looked as fresh as always, his white hair in its usual sea urchin shape, and his uniform still neatly pressed and clean. He lifted his hand to wave at her, way too enthusiastically for her liking. Jun's annoyance rose.

       "Where's Geto?" she asked as soon as he came to stand before her.

       He turned and looked to the top of the building. "Uhh... There!" He pointed to the sky, to a flying cursed spirit that looked like a stingray, with Geto Suguru riding on its back. His bangs, which weren't secured in a bun like the rest of his black hair, flew in the wind, and his lips formed a content smile as he landed next to Jun and Gojo, making the curse disappear again. He could manipulate and control cursed spirits after consuming them — it freaked Jun out a little, if she was being honest.

       "Hey, you—"

       But Jun cut Geto off immediately, his unbothered demeanor, along with Gojo's arrogant expression, pissing her off, "What the actual fuck was that?"

       Geto's eyes widened.

       Gojo smiled innocently. "What was what?"

       Jun narrowed her eyes at him. She was so close to throttling him. "You almost killed me, you arrogant bastard." Her gaze snapped from Gojo to Geto. "Whatever you two did, it made the building collapse while I was still inside. We were sent here to get rid of the curses." She pointed at the destroyed part of the building, the silver details on her long black pointed nail glistening in the dark. Both their eyes followed her hand. "Not the building." Their mission had been simple: get in, exorcise the curses, get out, with as little collateral damage as possible.

       "Well, those curses up there were really powerful, that needed some serious firepower," Gojo replied, still grinning.

       "It wasn't ideal," Geto said, looking back at her apologetically.

       But Jun wasn't ready to calm down yet. Adrenaline was buzzing through her bloodstream, and that manifested in anger. "Not ideal?! I almost got buried alive." She rubbed her temples.

       She couldn't understand how these two were the most sought-after sorcerers. They were irresponsible and didn't care for the damage they left behind. But they were the strongest, and that, apparently, mattered most in the higher-ups' eyes. It made Jun sick. The strongest, my ass. Annoying idiots they were — Gojo more than Geto. Maybe that was why she got sent on missions along with them, to keep them in line. Jun scoffed internally, thinking, works splendidly.

       "Oh, come on, you look perfectly fine to me," Gojo said, looking her up and down. Then he pulled a face. "Maybe a little disgusting, you know, with all the blood."

       Jun crossed her arms. "Not everyone can have an invisible shield that protects them from everything."

       Gojo grinned happily. "I know, I'm special. I'm glad you finally recognize that."

       (Geto rolled his eyes.)

       "I'm going to kill you."

       Gojo's grin morphed into a smirk. He leaned down, positioning his face in front of hers so they were at eye level. Gojo was a giant, a beanpole in human form, but Jun wasn't short by any means. In fact, she reached his nose without platform boots — right now, with platform boots, the top of her head reached his eyes. Yet the gesture was still demeaning and made her blood boil with rage. Looking over the rim of his sunglasses, his eyes roamed her face, challenging. "You can certainly try," he said.

       Jun was about to throw an insult in his face when Geto asked, "Are you hurt?"

       She turned to him, seeing that he was focused on her arm, on the wounds the curse had left behind. Jun immediately softened and shrugged. "I'm fine. Nothing Ieiri can't fix." Gently, Geto took her arm in his hands, causing her to uncross them. His forehead creased, obviously worried. She wanted to twist her arm out of his grip. "Seriously. It's fine." He gave her a firm look. Jun sighed and stopped struggling, letting him inspect the five scratches.

       Gojo frowned at their interaction, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

       "They're not deep, it shouldn't even leave a scar," Geto said.

       "Like I said — it's fine," Jun said.

       He gave her a small smile. "I just wanted to see for myself that it's not poisoned or anything."

       Jun reciprocated his smile with a cold expression. Being cared for made her uncomfortable; she wasn't a person people cared for. She was all sharp edges and poisonous words, with a heart as black as tar. Unloved, even by her own mother. Unlovable, for everyone. But Geto was searching for the cracks in the armor she had built around herself — and she was afraid he would find them. "We should go, our job here is done."

       With that, she turned her back on the boys.

🪦

       YAGA SENSEI WAS NOT HAPPY to hear they destroyed a building on their mission. But Gojo got most of the blame, so Jun wasn't all that bothered by it. Right now, she just wanted to take a shower and wash off the cursed spirit's blood that covered her from head to toe; she felt filthy. She got fresh clothes from her room — an army-green cropped tanktop with a ribcage printed on the front and black sweatpants — along with a different pair of boots since she needed to wash the ones she was currently wearing.

       After getting dressed, blow-drying her long black hair, and getting her fringe to look right, she returned to her room. On the windowsill next to her bed, Jun's sketchbook sat, waiting for her to finish the motif she started last night beneath the moon's light. There was something mystical about spending nighttime with solely the moon as your company; Jun's mind was the clearest in those hours. She grabbed the sketchbook and put on her black fingerless gloves that barely reached her elbows — they prevented her palms from getting smudged with a pencil's graphite or a fineliner's ink. And they were comfy, so that was also a plus.

       Jun left the dorm building, twirling a fineliner between her fingers. The air was warm, but not smotheringly so. Summer was slowly dying, the sun losing its edge, but Jun still settled down in the shade of a large tree, not a fan of the leftover heat. She flipped open her sketchbook to the page where she left her bookmark (a coffin-shaped black plate with simplistic white spiderwebs and spiders drawn on it — Jun had designed it and had gotten it professionally printed), her eyes falling onto the sketch of a ribcage, flowers — chrysanthemums, carnations, and lilies — sprouting through gaps between bones. She considered the drawing for a moment, then set to polish it.

       Using the fineliner, she traced the feathery pencil lines, giving it a clean finish. Drawing, dragging the tip of a pen over the rough surface of paper, creating something... It had a meditating quality about it. Jun found peace in it. It let her forget the world around her, the loneliness and self-hatred within her.

       "Found you!"

       Jun snapped the pen away from the page so she wouldn't ruin the design, then looked up to see Ieiri approaching. Her short brown hair moved in the breeze, and a cigarette rested between her lips. The tights she wore under her school uniform-blue skirt had a ladder reaching from her black chunky loafers up to her thigh, but she didn't seem bothered by it — if she had even noticed it.

       "I was wondering where you disappeared to," Ieiri mused, a dry smile on her lips, and sat down on the grass next to Jun. She offered her cigarette to her. "Geto told me you're hurt."

       Jun put her sketchbook aside and accepted the cigarette, taking a drag. She showed Ieiri the five scratches on her arm — if she was being honest, she had almost forgotten they were there. "It's not that bad." Smoke accompanied her words.

       Ieiri gave her a reproving look. "You should've come to me right away."

       "Yeah, yeah, whatever." Jun leaned back against the tree trunk, bark pressing into her back.

       Ieiri let her hands hover over Jun's arm and let her cursed energy flow into her injuries. There was a tingling sensation as the wounds were stitched back together. Then the cuts were gone. Jun moved her arm around, testing it — it was like she had never been hurt at all. It wasn't the first time Ieiri had to heal Jun, but it amazed her every single time. Applying reverse cursed technique to others was a rare talent among jujutsu sorcerers, Ieiri Shoko being the only one Jun knew to be capable of it.

       "Thanks, Ieiri."

       Ieiri took her cigarette back. "I told you to call me Shoko." 

       "Right — Shoko."

       Using her given name left a bitter taste in Jun's mouth. The intimacy burned her tongue. Surnames created a distance between Jun and other people, an invisible wall that could not be broken down, and that was how she liked it. That way, no one would smell how rotten she was on the inside — a creature so ugly and repulsing that she sent her own mother running for the hills. But Shoko insisted, and Jun didn't know what to do with that. She wondered why, too. But she wouldn't ask — that was too personal a question for Jun's liking.

       The two girls weren't friends, per se — Jun didn't really do friends —, but they had built something of a companionship over the past year; spending almost every day together didn't allow them to stay strangers, even if Jun would've preferred it that way. But Shoko had accepted Jun's dark humor, her unexplainable fascination with death, and Jun had not shied away from Shoko's more morbid side, how she took pleasure in taking apart animal cadavers to understand their anatomy. It was an unlikely thing to bond over, but it had worked. (And the best part? It creeped Gojo out.)

       "What were you working on?" Shoko asked, gesturing to Jun's sketchbook.

       Jun handed it to her, in exchange for the cigarette.

       Shoko's eyebrows moved up on her forehead. "This is really good," she said, awe lacing her tone. "Anatomically correct, too. Do the flowers have a meaning?"

       "Death," Jun deadpanned. "They all mean death."

       Shoko cracked a smile. "Nice. Pretty and creepy."

       Jun took the sketchbook back, closing it on her lap. Shoko took her cigarette back, finished it, and extinguished it in the cool earth. "Oh, I almost forgot," Shoko spoke up. " Your father was here, while you were gone."

       The words failed to elicit a reaction from Jun — her dad being here wasn't anything out of the ordinary. He was a jujutsu sorcerer, going on missions like the rest of them did. He was the reason Jun was doing this in the first place — if he hadn't shown her that helping people is the highest form of service any person could perform, especially a jujutsu sorcerer, she wouldn't be here. He was the best person Jun knew. Following in his footsteps was her way of showing him that she loved and respected him.

       "He handed in a mission report, but then he was looking for you. He wanted to talk to you."

       That made her perk up. "Why?"

       Shoko shook her head. "Don't know, he didn't tell me. But he said he would just tell you next Sunday, when you see him."

       "In that case..." Jun trailed off. If it could wait until Sunday, then it couldn't be anything too important. Or anything bad. Ever since Jun had started going to school at Tokyo Jujutsu High, moving out of her home and into a dorm here, she and her dad met up every Sunday for lunch, always in the same restaurant — a small sushi place in Shinjuku where the owner knew them by now and they always got a small discount. She liked this little tradition; it showed that her father still cared about her, that he hadn't abandoned her yet, like every other person in her life.

       "It's cute that you really do this every week without fail." Shoko folded her legs underneath her.

       Jun shrugged but didn't say anything. The silence didn't last for long, though, because someone came up behind Jun and plopped down beside her with an obnoxiously loud sigh. Jun tensed, annoyance and blood mixing together in her veins. Gojo grinned at them. "Hello, ladies! You're not having fun without me, are you?"

       "We wouldn't dream of it," Shoko replied, a smirk on her lips.

       "The world doesn't only revolve around you, Satoru." Geto appeared behind Gojo and sat down across from them, his elbows resting on his knees. The smile painted on his lips seemed genuine but it had a crookedness to it that conveyed the opposite — a line out of place that didn't ruin the drawing but added depth to it, allowing for more than just a single possible interpretation.

       Gojo theatrically tapped his chin, an exaggerated look of confusion on his face. "Are you sure? I could've sworn it did."

       Jun rolled her eyes. "Yeah, because you're self-absorbed."

       Gojo put his hand over his heart in mock hurt. "What did I ever do to you?"

       Jun turned to him and was faced with her own reflection mirrored in his sunglasses — her pale complexion, her mauve heart-shaped lips, and her coffee-colored eyes that were blazing with something akin to murder. She didn't know why he had that effect on her, but keeping her composure around him was an impossible thing. Gojo Satoru had a way of triggering her wrath like no one else did by just saying a few words. Jun opened her mouth to spit out something venomous, but Gojo's attention was on something else already: her sketchbook.

       "Were you drawing? Can I see?" He reached for the sketchbook without waiting for an answer, but Jun snatched it away before he could grab it.

       "No."

       His voice took on a whining quality, his nose scrunching. "Why not?"

       "Because I don't want you to," Jun stated.

       "Loser," Shoko remarked.

       "But—"

       "I said no—!"

       "Jun, how's your arm?" Geto stepped in, just in time to prevent certain escalation.

       Jun's gaze snapped to him and she immediately calmed. Another thing she couldn't explain — whenever Geto's purple-tinged eyes landed on her, an endless serenity rushed through her, warming all cold-heartedness, softening all her edges. She didn't like it; it made her feel vulnerable and that was dangerous — it meant that she could get hurt. Jun wrestled her body back under control. "It's—"

       "God, you act like she was fatally wounded," Gojo cut her off. "It was just a scratch!"

       "Five scratches, actually," Shoko threw in, "that I healed."

       "See? She's fine!" Gojo threw his arm around Jun's shoulders, his cheek now dangerously close to her own, his white hair tickling her temple. Every muscle in Jun's body tightened. "Right?" From the corner of her eye, she saw him turn his head toward her; Jun didn't move an inch, remaining rigid like a statue made of marble. Anger infused her bloodstream, and all she wanted to do right now was summon her scythe and cut off Gojo's arm.

       "Get off me," she said through gritted teeth, her voice cold as ice.

       "I don't think so."

       A click! made both of them look to Shoko, who lowered her flip phone, her expression amused. She had taken a photo of them. "So lovely, you two."

       Geto leaned over to take a look and he grinned. "I can feel the love."

       Shoko snickered. Jun sent her a glare. Shoko wasn't bothered by it.

       "I'm gonna go," Jun said. She'd had enough of this. She had just wanted to draw in peace, but that peace was now gone — time to erase herself from the situation. She grabbed her sketchbook and was about to get up when Gojo — his arm still firmly draped across her shoulders — held her in place. Irritation caused the brown of her eyes to turn a shade darker as she looked at him. "Let go, asshole."

       Gojo didn't move. "Actually, I wanted to ask you if you wanted to train with me. The mission really didn't do it for me, you know — way too easy."

       "Not interested." As if she were to touch something repulsing, Jun grasped Gojo's hand with her thumb and index finger and peeled his arm off her. For once, Gojo didn't resist. Then, Jun pushed herself to her feet and started to walk away.

       "Oh, well. I was gonna give you the chance to kick my ass, but if you don't want to..."

       Jun halted in her movements.

       The prospect of kicking Gojo's ass was tempting. (She was also really fucking competitive, and when someone challenged her — especially Gojo —, she couldn't just walk away.) Jun crossed her arms and turned around, her chin raised, a new determination chiseled into her features. Gojo's grin grew, smug; Jun ignored how well he seemed to know her to get her to do what he wanted. "No cursed techniques," she declared.

       "OK." He quirked up an eyebrow. "No scratching."

       Jun let out an indignant noise. "I don't scratch."

       "Maybe not on purpose" — he pointed at her hands — "but your nails are weapons."

       She looked at her nails. At her long and pointy nails. He had a point. She nodded. "Deal."

       Gojo jumped to his feet. "Deal. Let's go."

       A rush of excitement coursed through Jun's body. She handed her sketchbook to Geto, who took it with a shadow of surprise crossing his face.

       "Can I take a look inside?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

       Jun shrugged. "Sure."

       At that, Gojo looked scandalized. "Why is he allowed to look, but I'm not?"

       Jun didn't respond and simply walked away, toward the training grounds. Gojo followed her, still complaining, but she didn't react to any of it — his voice went in through one year and then out the other, without lingering in her brain for even a moment.

       Neither of them noticed how Shoko and Geto exchanged meaningful — knowing — glances as they watched them go off together.

🪦

       THERE WAS SOMETHING FREEING about losing yourself to a fight, letting your instincts take over. It shut up her mind and made her forget herself in a way that not even drawing could.

       Jun had always been good at hand-to-hand combat. With a cursed technique that forced you to get close to your opponent, she had no choice but to know her way around a good punch. Gojo's innate technique, on the other hand, was all about keeping a distance between himself and whoever or whatever he was fighting — when he had his infinity on, no one and nothing could touch him. But that didn't mean he wasn't good at close combat — just that Jun trained it more than he did.

       With ease, she blocked one of Gojo's punches and moved to use the momentum of his attack to her advantage. She pulled at his arm, turned around, and swung her elbow back. It was about to connect with Gojo's nose, but he ducked just in time. He kicked the back of her knee, which made Jun lose her balance for a fraction of a second. Her leg folded away beneath her — but she didn't let that stop her. She swung out her other leg and swiped Gojo's legs away from under him. He fell on his back, letting out a groan.

       She heard Shoko and Geto let out an "Ohh."

       Gojo sat up with a groan and looked at her with a half-impressed expression, his blue eyes bright (he had taken off his sunglasses so Jun wouldn't break them). "Not bad."

       Jun shook out her arms. "I know." She sounded more annoyed than proud — every compliment of his felt somehow backhanded to her, like he was actually saying wow, I didn't expect you to be that good, I thought you were weaker than that. That could be just her imagination, though — the voice in her head that always reminded her of her wretchedness.

       Gojo got up, and, without warning, attacked her once more. Jun countered the attack. They danced around each other for quite some time, snide remarks accompanying the sound of their punches and kicks and breaths, only making them more motivated to beat the other. If there was one thing Jun and Gojo had in common, it was that they both liked to win — and despised losing.

       "Y'know," Gojo said after parrying a kick to his side, "you never smile. Or laugh."

       Jun huffed in irritation, sending another punch his way. "And?"

       "Just wondering why— Ow!" His hand went to his nose, coming away with droplets of blood on it. "You broke my nose!"

       "Pay more attention, then."

       Gojo started another attack, getting a hold of her and pressing her back to his front. She felt the breath of his voice at her ear, and when he spoke, she could hear his smirk, "You don't even smile when you beat me."

       Jun threw him over her shoulder, but he landed on his feet. "Why do you care?"

       Gojo shrugged before dodging another attack. "Maybe I want to see you smile." He gave her a grin, one that he probably hoped to be flirtatious or seductive, but all it did was piss Jun off more.

       "Too bad for yo—"

       A chill whispered over her spine. Jun froze in her movements, her breath getting trapped in her throat. She knew that feeling; she'd gotten it quite a few times in the past few weeks. Someone was watching her. Her panic manifested in her sternum in the form of a thousand needles, piercing her lungs, making her breathing come in painful puffs. She looked around, trying to find the source of the feeling — but she couldn't spot anything. Or anyone. Fear — paralyzing fear — crept into her bones—

       A punch to her jaw sent her crashing to the ground.

       "Oh shit, Jun!" Gojo rushed to her side and helped her sit up. She slapped his hand away. "I thought you'd dodge it."

       Jun was only half-listening. The icy terror was still there, undeterred by Gojo fucking decking her.

       Gojo frowned at her. "Are you OK? You look a little... spooked."

       Her widened gaze snapped to him, seeing his blue eyes studying her, looking for any sign that something was wrong with her — apart from the throbbing pain on the side of her face. Quickly, Jun scrambled to her feet. Dizzyness made her feel light for a moment, but she shook it off. "I'm fine." She winced; talking hurt.

       Gojo followed suit. "Are you sure?" He reached for her as she swayed, but she stepped back. His face tightened.

       Footsteps rushed toward them, and Geto and Shoko skidded to a halt next to them. "Jun, are you alright—?"

       "I said I'm fine!"

       Geto snapped his mouth shut.

       With that, she stormed off, trying to ignore the goosebumps crawling over her skin like ants. Her thoughts were racing as she made her way through empty halls of the school. The silence seemed to be more eerie than usual, suffocating. She walked faster; she just wanted to get back to her room and lock the door behind her. She was dead certain that someone had been there, watching her, stalking her. It had happened more times than she'd like to admit (to others or herself) recently, and in the most random places too — the subway, the book store, the coffee shop she sometimes visited with Shoko (they had a mean Matcha Latte). But she could never see anyone. It unsettled her. It scared her.

       She reached her room and locked herself in, then closed the shutters of her window for good measure. Only then did she allow herself to breathe freely, and she slumped down on the floor, her back leaning against the side of her bed. She let her head fall back onto the mattress, and Jun closed her eyes.

       What was going on here?

well this was a disaster to write. finding jun's voice was so much harder than i expected and creating the dynamic with the others was even harder. but we're there now and i hope you love jun!! she's a little rough around the edges but she has her reasons.

i really hope i write gojo, geto, and shoko well, i'm never sure when i start a new fanfic if i write the characters in character.

sooo i hope you enjoyed and let me know what you thought!!