Their First Year As Tōkyō Jujutsu Tech Students Had Come And Gone.

FOUND family??? you think i just found them like this??? babes this is FORGED family. Me & the bros were scrap metal in a junkyard (very valuable, very sharp, very dangerous, uncared for) and we GOT IN THE FUCKING FIRE TOGETHER. WE did this. we said I AM NOT LEAVING YOU and melted into each other for better or for worse (it’s for better) and we are A FUNCTIONAL UNIT now. DO NOT SEPARATE. BATTERIES FUCKING INCLUDED. FOUND family my ass, we built this non-nuclear family unit from the ground up, don’t devalue this!!! it was is and will be a labour of love!!!

憶ー　memory

glitter for scars

I uploaded this painting to my print store here!

I also made a phone wallpaper version (1440x3200). Feel free to DM me if you'd like me to send it to you!

It started as a normal shitpost and got out of control FAST

👥👥👥

when nobara was called in to study at tokyo tech and her grandma was against it, akari travelled all the way to their village to talk with them and find a compromise. she's not sure it helped at all but she's glad nobara managed to attend school

just like she does with arata, akari takes nobara out once a month for brunch and shopping for various necessities. she's very aware that the younger sorcerer shopping habits continue even after that but let's say in that one specific day she's usually off duty and can approach the situation more as a friend than the person who has to make sure nothing bad happens on the field

after shibuya, nobara is lowkey one of the family to both akari and arata. they've spent so much time together during the convalescence period that it would just feel weird not to think of her as such

this ramadan we pray for peace and aid for the people of palestine. this ramadan we remember the previous ramadans, where thousands of palestinians were massacred. this ramadan we honour palestine, and may we see a free palestine next ramadan

a doctor's visit to ieiri shōko. 웃 starter.

here she was:⠀⠀laying down in a medical bed assigned to her by ieri-san and slightly battered. no one could ever say that she didn't put up a good fight, no one could ever say that she never puts up a good fight. being sidelined sometimes wasn't necessarily a defeat or a loss, it was simply part of the job. as long as one still had their life to live and give insofar as long as they had the strength to get up to fight another day, who's to say they suffered defeat if their foe was felled anyways? she'd long stopped feeling a bit irritated at the fact that she only slightly still felt like a liability to itadori and fushiguro, the reminder of how she got her current injury a nasty gash in her side caught from a curse that swiped her with extremely sharp claws still fresh in her mind.

luckily, that curse had been not so tough as to fatally wound her. it had been weak. luckily, it's only a gash wound. nobara can't ever forget that she's considered one of the 'lucky ones' given her current state of still having her life, that the existence of a jujutsu sorcerer is a ruinous one and that physical wounds are the bare minimum of what you could walk away with. bandaged hand fiddles with her blanket, cautiously, as her mind wanders to just how long she'd be in here, when she'd get out ... because the truth was that she couldn't stay long. her portion of the amount of yen pooled into her, itadori's, and fushiguro's stipend was begging to be spent. they were practically a team. less of a student body accounted for meant less money and less money meant she'd have to shop frugally this coming weekend. nobara didn't want to shop frugally.

an impatient huff can't help but escape her as eyes find themselves idly looking around the room before they land on a photograph of a young ieiri-san, gojō-sensei, and geto suguru ( ' the worst curse user in existence, ' gojō-sensei had proclaimed one day! ). she can't help but study all of their faces, their demeanors, their youth. especially ieiri-san's. she was so very reminiscent, bore an uncanny resemblance.

“ say, ieiri-san, ” she starts when peripheral catches the older woman's coming into her room, clipboard out, tongue clicking. nobara promised that this year would be different, that she wouldn't be as much of a frequent visitor to the infirmary wing of tōkyō jujutsu tech. idle conversation can't help but be made, if not only to distract herself from the annoying sting of her wound. “ being responsible for the medical infrastructure of our school has got to be definitely unrewarding, right? what teacher taught you, anyway, how to hone your technique? i mean, reverse cursed technique is so complex — you've had to have a sensei of your own at some point, right? ”

♡'d. 웃 feat. ieiri shōko!

午後2時,  平成30年8月17日,  tōkyō jujutsu tech. 

the smell of antiseptic is what greets her as heels turn to walk her down the halls of the infirmary wing of tōkyō jujutsu tech while well on her way to ieiri-san. in dainty hands is a hall pass clutched, as well as a hand written note, given to her by gojō-sensei.

she's been down these halls more times than her pride allows her to admit, muscle memory leading her swiftly. in no time, nobara is poking her head inside one of many rooms: one of which ieiri-san just happened to be working in diligently,  sat hunched over a work desk, reading something rather intently. 

intuition and the material reality of being part of jujutsu society  —  i mean really being part of it!  — tells her that the older sorcerer is reading a death report.

perhaps one of many that she's shuffled viewing throughout the day. it comes with the job, of course, and nobara particularly feels no way. well, that was a half a lie. she had cared once, about death reports, when itadori was killed on their retrival mission to the eishu detention center in west tōkyō.

she'd been put out of commission early in during and cursed her own shortsightedness in not being properly prepared, concerned more about sightseeing and stuffing her face with new foods rather than making sure that she was properly equipped to fight against the thrall of curses tōkyō threw  — and would continue to throw  —  in her path. 

what is she, being tested yet again?  just who knew, really?  she passed the initial that reaffirmed her place among her peers as a student and that was all that mattered in the end. she passed the one that marked her crazy enough to fit snugly in this shadow society with flying colors. 

a few dyed strands of ginger are tucked behind an ear as she hands over the note. her individualized assignment this day had been fairly simple, to him at least: she was to sit in,  listen to ieiri-san explain the theoretical framework of using reverse cursed technique, watch her demonstrate such, and jot down notes. truly, though, this was easier said than done:

reversed curse technique is extremely complex and even healing  — something ieiri-san was one of few people known to be adept at — was a concept it'd take years to learn. nobara supposes that that's why her sensei has her trying to get a hang of it now while she was still a second-year, blooming still with so much promise.

still though, nobara finds a chair in the nearest corner of the room, plops down in it to sling her bookbag off her back, rummage around for a sparkly blue gel pen and a notebook, and she flips it open to find a page to prepare to write on. should be easy enough, right? hah, fat chance of that!

either way, she's attentive as she can be while eyes track ieiri-san's rise from her desk, to her shuffle over to pulling open a drawer full of manilla folders and neatly tucking the latest report into that folder, to her eventual walk over to the table she'd prepared for nobara's professed lesson: pulling the drawsheet back to reveal the immobile cursed corpse underneath.

gross ... technically speaking: it was distinct from the cutesy creature type of cursed corpses nobara knew principal yaga to fashion. this was more human-like in appearance, probably meant specifically crafted to invoke anatomic familiarity. deliberate lacerations were made on its body: deep gashes in its arms, legs, and hands meant to simulate grievous injuries but they pale in comparison to the reality of a sorcerer doomed to a curse. there's usually not much to recover and an intact body is a blessing.

The bitter taste of defeat, Megumi remembered that. A belly full of blood and guilt. A heart which wanted to tear itself apart upon seeing Yuuji die with a hollow chest cavity, Megumi remembered every detail. What he could not recall however, was carrying the limp and macabre body of their fallen friend to their driver nor the gruesome drive back to Tokyo's Jujutsu Technical campus . . nor the couple of days proceeding the death — a mess of regrets and mourning which could not take full shape. Was Nobara as broken up about it as he? Megumi suffered on three levels having lost Orochi, Shiro, and, most grievous, failing to protect Yuuji.

With gloom clinging into every pore of his body, the onyx haired teenager emerged from the hermit-like dormancy of his room and attempted to move through the shared living area as stealthily as a shadow. Reclusive plans were shattered the instant eye contact was accidentally initiated from across the room. He didn't know how to feel, he didn't know how to react; he always guarded his feelings from the outside world and even from his own self. Gaze dropped to the wooden floor, and the teenager shuffled his feet with uncomfortable energy. ❛ How are . . you . . Kugisaki? ❜

just how long had it been since she allowed herself to feel so utterly saddened by something well out of her control? only twice: this was one time, a bygone happening in her past ... when saori's parents saw it fit to move her out of the village and away from nobara because of all the harrassment received due to them not being from there, them being gossipped about, them sticking out as much as she in their little non-jujutsushi way. them being outsiders.

she had been age seven then and at age seven, saori and her family were gone.

at an age that young, being the jujutsushi child that she was, emotional regulation was something that she was taught with a more refined finesse. it'd had spell disastrous if she ended up cursing the villagers for their act of transgession against her childhood friend, so she did what all children did when their hearts were broken and she cried in front of saori's abandoned home instead, hand holding fumi's.

the seat she reserved for saori became empty, vacant, and the pain twisting her heart like a knife stab turned into resolve over the years. sure, fumi was still seated at her table but it wasn't the same. it wasn't like saori died or anything, and she promised to meet up with both her and fumi when she got to tōkyō, but still — —

it's been near a week or so following itadori's demise and sleep doesn't find nobara any easier than it did a few days ago. put out early in their mission, she had to learn of its aftermath through a visit from fushiguro while recovering in the hospital from injuries sustained on their mission in eishu.

just how long had it been since she allowed herself to feel so utterly saddened by something well out of her control? only twice: this was the one other time. only more recent and the stakes raised were higher, the probability of meeting again lesser because death was always hot on your heels.

itadori had died and left their group down to just them two, only her and fushiguro. but the seat itadori dragged to her table of his own volition was one decidedly bolted to the floor by none other than nobara herself. she puts up a good front, attends classes with as straight a face she could manage, but at night instead of scrolling social media she'd sometimes find herself poring over the text thread in the groupchat she shared with fushiguro and itadori.

instead of reading messages over and over that equally made you cry or laugh, any sane person would have just left, however nobara is crazy and honestly? it'd feel a little wrong leaving. kinda like an unspoken betrayal, so no: she wouldn't. still groggy with sleep and emerged from her room, palms knead her eyes in an attempt to further wake herself up. a pick-me-up was so needed and she moves, a young woman with purpose, only to pause when:

she sees that familiar dark haired mop of spikes. fushiguro, he'd been there when itadori had ... they both felt his loss, were kindred in that. isn't it tragicomic how history repeats itself? fushiguro's more visibly shaken up about it than she is and she doesn't blame him. after all, he witnessed the ordeal and it'd been the first time he'd lost a classmate in the way he did. the way they both did.

“ i'm ... okay, but jeez, you look like you haven't slept a wink. wanna go get coffee with me? it'll be my treat just this one time. ”