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In a world where people’s lives have already been planned out, you are among the few who have yet to meet the one who has been chosen for you. All children were told stories about their soulmates, and how there were different way of meeting or knowing who your soulmate was. It depends on the family, was what they said. As a child, you’ve been exposed to music and the arts—so you thought perhaps an inked type of soulmate would meet you? Or maybe the first words they utter would send a sharp zap to the area where the inked words were located?
You were told that by the time you turn 12, you’d have the chance to at least meet your soulmate—if you were inked. Like they said, it depended on your family. Your soulmate was supposed to be a blessing to your life; that’s what your mother told you. But at the tender age of 6, you had already seen how that ended up to be a lie. Fate might be strong with her red strings—but the humans’ capriciousness would always seem to be stronger. Your father, despite having been your mother’s soulmate, had left her for another woman.
You were born with such good hearing—sometimes you retained things in your memory just by hearing them. With that being said, you remembered the song that played before he had left you and your mother. You remember the way their laughter would ring through the living room as they held each other in a warm embrace, and your young self would watch and wish that you would have that same happiness in the future. You also remembered the song that played when they fought about the woman—the song of the skies that thundered the city of Tokyo that night. You remember the way your mother cried when your father had left you—and you remember your young self, wishing you would never have to meet your soulmate.
It wasn’t an odd occurrence. There were some whose human feelings overpowered the strength of Fate’s red strings, and managed to stay with someone who wasn’t their soulmate. But those who were left behind by their partners will forever be waiting for their loved one to come back to them. That is the cruel punishment of Fate, while others can go with who they truly love—the ones who loved them first continue to wait for them, until the end of their lifetime, and they will continue to yearn for this lost love in the next.
Thankful that you found no marks on your body when you were 12, you made up your mind that you were never going to end up with anyone. That made you feel happy and contented. While the rest of the girls fawned over the ink in their body, or the colors they had first seen, or the zap they felt when they met their soulmates—you covered your ears and prayed you wouldn’t hear anything. At 17, you were sent to a new school—just right after your mother’s passing. It was a boarding school, and it was strictly for females only. You’d been thankful—no males here, you’d think to yourself. No chances of meeting your soulmate, if ever you had one—or if ever they were male.
You had a girl in your class, Amanai Riko, and she was one of the few who had taken a liking to you—despite you being quiet and somehow intimidating. She came from a wealthy family, living only with her caretaker, you felt like you two would become good friends. You were raised by your grandmother soon after your mother’s death, placing you in a boarding school to shape you to become a respectable woman, and find your place in the world. She says that was your mother’s last wish for you.
No mentions of soulmates or none of that silly red string bullshit, you were thankful. At least they weren’t expecting you to get married and have children. Goodness, that was the last thing you wanted. You thought Fate had finally stopped pestering you with this silly string, but you were proven wrong one day. You were having choir practice with the rest of your class in the chapel, when the door suddenly burst open. Everyone turned to see who it was—a handsome intruder, they said—and out of curiosity, you turned too.
Familiar notes of the piano suddenly played, a song you knew all too well. You looked back at your teacher—perhaps she was playing the piano? But no, she wasn’t. You turned around to see most of your classmates gawking and fawning over Riko’s alleged cousin, eyes wide and heart beating fast.
Please. Please. Give me something else, curse me, it doesn’t matter—take this cursed feeling away, please.
You looked straight ahead, shutting your eyes tightly as you tried your best to ignore the song that was playing oh so clearly in the chapel. No one else could hear it, only you. This was you finally meeting your soulmate.
“(y/n), are you alright?” One of them asked, and you turned around, cheeks flushed.
As if sensing something, she covered her mouth as she gasps, a look of surprise and happiness clouding her eyes.
“You’ve finally met your soulmate!”
That must have caught the attention of the rest of the girls, something clicking and they flock around you, asking you questions you didn’t want to answer. The red on your cheeks wasn’t from anything but pure anger that Fate had finally pulled your string.
“Where’s your ink?”
“Did you feel a zap?”
“What’s the first color you saw?”
Sounds of trumpets playing and the harp—
No, no. please don’t say it. Don’t say it, please…
The final piece of that song, the one even your own mother sang to you as she cradled you in her arms on nights you were weary, was finally placed by Fate.
An angelic voice singing—
So they sprinkled moon dust in your hair of gold
And starlight in your eyes of blue.
You hear your mother’s voice in the song, urging you to turn around, that perhaps you wouldn’t regret this. Your heart yearned for something, but your mind was stopping you—and though you taught yourself to put mind over matter, it seemed your own humanistic capriciousness was no match to Fate’s red string.
It glowed as you looked at your pinky finger, that damned string, and your eyes traced its glowing strand to a tall male with silver hair and black sunglasses. A gust of the early summer breeze brushed past you; bottom lip between your teeth as you stopped yourself from saying anything—calling out a name whispered to you in a thousand dreams.
“His name is…”
“Gojo Satoru.”
You held in a breath, looking over his boyish features, and his style of all black clothes. Then those blue eyes of his finally met yours. They widened slightly at the sight of you, a look of recognition forming in his handsome features, and you clenched your fists tightly. Fate was a cruel, cruel being—and how dare she submit you to this life you never wanted a part of—
“You!”
You flinched when he points at you, Riko also turning to look at you.
“(y/n)-chan, you know him?” She asks, and you fervently shake your head, stuttering out an answer, only to have the silver haired male stand in front of you soon.
He towered over you, looking down at your smaller stature with a wide grin on his face. What a child.
“It’s you.” He says, voice softer this time, and you want to take a step back if it wasn’t for your classmates crowding you.
Squeals erupted in the chapel, as if not giving respect to the place, and your teacher urges you all to settle down. His eyes never left yours, and it felt like you were drowning in the deep blue— harsh waves pushing you underwater, frightening you, but at the same time urging you to relax and let go—let the flow carry you to where he is.
Cold hands hold onto your warm ones, and you flinch as memories of days that have yet to arrive flood your mind.
A clear summer day by the beach. Slow dancing by the bonfire as this song played. Cradling him in your arms when he was vulnerable. Stroking silver strands of hair. Black blindfold being removed. Beautiful blue eyes with silver lashes looking at you. Lips kissing yours. Warmth flooding your body. Wedding rings.
He pulled away and you felt like you’ve been resurfaced from the water—facing the calm blue sky that were his eyes. All-knowing, all-seeing—yet at that moment, all he could see was you, and all he knew was that you were the one.
“Did you see something?” His question was soft, the earlier mission almost forgotten.
Wordlessly, you pursed your lips close, nodding your head. Cold palms cup your face perfectly, the blue rushing in, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, and a smile forming on his lips again.
“Who knew I’d meet you here. Fate really is something.”
Fate really is something. A foreign feeling washed over you, and you found yourself holding his hands—like it was etched in your body to react to his every touch. This stranger you had just met, never knew the name of—your soulmate.
“Were we happy?”
His question caught you off guard, and in the hazed state you were, all you could do was look into his blue irises. A voice from the distant future urging you to nod your head, and you did. A name you never knew bubbled in your chest, rushing up the tip of your tongue, and finally leaving your lips.
“Satoru.”
The smile on his face became wider—almost feral—it terrified you. Forehead pressed to yours, the rest of the world was forgotten. He breathes deeply, closing those eyes of his.
“Yes, yes, yes. Say it again…”
Tears formed in your eyes.
Please. Fate—mom—please I—this isn’t what I wanted.
“Satoru…”
A chuckle leaves his lips, eyes opening once again. They were close—so, so close.
“Yes. Mine. All mine. My little sweet. All mine.”
You fate was sealed—with a man soon to be seen as a monster in a world you’ll be harshly pushed in. He’ll treat you like his queen, kept away safely from the rest of the world once he realizes that death was an envious lover of his—known to take away ones he loved most.
Your freedom is sealed—that future band on your finger, chaining you to him and him alone, even if your heart will beat for another. In this cruel world you were birthed in, you would have preferred to be cursed than to meet him.
But perhaps you are cursed, and Gojo Satoru is your curse.