​He was ten, he thinks, when he first heard the name.

​Zenin.

​The one clan he wasn't supposed to befriend, not that he could befriend anyone; he was too precious to have random friends.

​The wielder of six eyes and limitless simply cannot take these kinds of risks. He was taught that for as long as he could remember.

​Growing up alone, superior to anyone and everyone. He had a borderline God status, and still does—he just knows how to handle it better now.

​Love wasn't a concept he was very familiar with either. He was spoiled? Yes. Loved? He isn't so sure about it. He didn't even understand what exactly love was until that one summer.

​That one summer that changed him as a human—his thinking, his perspective of the world, of the other sorcerers, and, most importantly, his understanding of love.

​Even now as he sits in his chair, the evening glow spilling into his office as he swung back and forth, he remembers that spring like yesterday, not eleven years back.

​"Your stance isn't right." She adjusts his form herself, but all he can think is how close she is, so close... so... close... so....

​He physically flinched, clicking his tongue hard as he yanked his mind out of the flashback. His eyes burned under the blindfold suddenly and he had a hard time breathing.

​Satoru slammed back his head in the chair repeatedly as if to bring himself back to the present, trying to evade the memories that threatened to take over.

​The tears burned the corners of his eyes, his throat closing and forcing him to swallow repeatedly just to breathe.

​"This is so idiotic!"

​He groans at himself, and that's something considering he does a lot of shit people consider idiotic.

​He wants to cry but he knows he shouldn't. It's not fucking worth it. She doesn't deserve his tears, she doesn't value his tears, and yet.

​Yet here he was pinching the bridge of his nose, the soft material of his blindfold getting damp as tears ran down his cheeks.

​Damn that Zenin. All she did was break him beyond repair, and he's fucking crying at the memory of her.

​He hates her but he hates himself more, because he knows he'll always love her no matter what he tells himself.

​That's the curse he has given himself, carried it for years, and the curse he knows he'll carry till his very last breath.

​"Love really is the most twisted curse of them all."

​He mumbles, the whisper trembling in the blindness of the room. The blindfold now pulled down to rest around his neck as he lets out a trembling breath.

​"This is so stupid."

​He sounds defeated. Good thing no one is listening; he would hate his students to see him like this.

​He stares at the ceiling for what felt like eternity before his eyes drop close, his mind taking him back to that one year of his life he desperately wants to forget yet clings to it like his life depends on it.

​Eleven Years Ago.

​The sun is high in the sky, glaring down at the chill in the fairly early parts of the afternoon. The air still carried that chill from the winter that was just about gone, spring knocking their doors as the month of March approaches its midweek.

​"This is totally ridiculous," he groans as he, Shoko, and Suguru walked out of the gym. Yaga-sensei had just kicked them out - him and Suguru to be honest, Shoko walked out on her own - after he refused to babysit some first year.

​They are sorcerers, babysitting isn't in their job description, and yet their teacher wants one of them to be around the girl at all times. He stopped paying attention as soon as he heard the word 'sitter,' screw him.

​He whines and groans until they reach the main grounds of the school. Haibara and Nanami are already there, the latter of them having a glaring contest with a female.

​That must be her.

​He thinks as the trio comes to a stop a few steps away. He folds his arms behind his head, supporting his neck with them, pouting unconsciously as he looks at the new sorcerer.

​She's a tall figure, almost as tall as Nanami, probably standing at a 5'7. Her customized uniform jacket is more like a long coat with a hood that is pulled on, resting on top of her black hair, casting a shadow on her features.

​Her red eyes glaring at the blonde first-year male who glared back at her.

​What happened? Did Nanami say something rude? Was it her?

​He thinks, his eyes still looking over her. She seems to be wearing the usual uniform pants, just tucked into some heavy combat boots, and is that a katana resting horizontally on the back of her waist?

​Interesting.

​"You must be the new first year." Suguru's voice breaks his piece-by-piece analysis of the female, making him blink rapidly to come back to his own head.

​"That's me."

​Her voice is softer than he imagined, her lip ring piercing coming into view as she turns her head to look at the second-year trio.

​"I'm Suguru Geto, this is Ieiri Shoko, and he's—"

​"I'm Satoru Gojo." He gives a half-assed hand raise but doesn't miss the flash in her eyes. Like she was some kind of predator and he was the prey? What the hell.

​Weird.

​"I'm Zenin."

​He can feel his eyes widening as his posture straightened automatically. Now that look seems to make a little sense.

​"Mizuku Zenin."

​A Zenin? But he thought the clan didn't want to send the young ones to Jujutsu High, claiming to train them traditionally or some shit. He really didn't feel like hearing about it that day, but now as she looked right in his eyes, he wishes he did.

​---

To Be Continued!