Chapter Text
"
I CAN'T SEEM TO FACE
UP TO THE FACTS. I'M TENSE
AND NERVOUS AND I CAN'T
RELAX. I CAN'T SLEEP 'CAUSE
MY BED'S ON FIRE. DON'T TOUCH
ME, I'M A REAL LIVE WIRE.
PSYCHO KILLER
."
— TALKING HEADS . | PSYCHO KILLER
___________________________
With her head spinning on its axis, eyes darting around the expanse of her small apartment bedroom, (Y/N) slowly began to rise from the sheets of her bed she once tossed and turned in every night. Her fingers reached up to scratch her head, eyes attempting to adjust to the sunlight making way through her window blinds. She cracked her neck to the side, followed by her arms stretching in the air.
Everything was sore.
Even her mind had been sore. She couldn't so much as conjure up a single thought in the abyss of her head. Instead, she opted to perform her morning ritual of stretching and getting ready for classes. However, after hopping in the shower to turn the water on, she realized she couldn't attend class like this.
This...feeling, it pooled in her heart and weighed down on the very soul she had bet to the demon that took her virginity just last night.
Her breaths became staggered, looking down at her feet.
Shame.
That was what she felt.
Shame—especially after so cockily thinking she could win the game with no plan set. This was a demon they were talking about, who was probably hundreds of years old and had plenty of trickster experience to use against her unsuspecting mind. (Y/N) wanted nothing more than to cower away, to keep running until she couldn't anymore, and find a new place to set her life up. However, she's already done that. Twice. And they've found her every time. Built a new identity and all, just for his tall, intimidating, blonde stature with tattoos littering his chest to approach her in search of his money.
Money.
She threw her body wash at the shower wall, crushing the bottle and causing a flow of soap to soar through every corner of her tiny shower.
"Fuck!!"
She continued for a couple more seconds, finding whatever she could find in her shower walls to throw and break, even putting a hole in the drywall just next to the wet tiled wall. Her heart thumped in her chest, with a rush of adrenaline surging through her body that only wanted to see more violence. More barbarity.
She, however, quickly dispersed that feeling in her chest.
Instead, she came to a grim realization she had been attempting to avoid for a long time now. A fate she's been dodging that she knew was long overdue—simply living on borrowed time.
"I'm going to die."
She grit her teeth, pressing her forehead to the wet tiles of her shower.
"I can't run from this..."
She slowly dropped to her knees, anger and frustration clouding her vision. Her arms wrapped around her knees as she sat on the shower floor, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm herself down from her recent revelation.
She breathed out one last time, rising from the floor before turning off the running water.
"If I'm going to die, there's something I'm going to find out."
Quickly, she dried herself and trying not to irritate her sore core, dressed herself in a basic outfit with a black fleece jacket. She took one last look at her living room as she tied her shoes, stepped out of her apartment, and descended its stairs before retreating from an alleyway to reach New York's bustling streets.
Her hair blew in the grating, crisp winds of December's climate. Her skin began to flush in an attempt to keep itself warm, but the fiery spirit in her for-sale soul assisted her to keep going and keep marching towards her safe place—the only place she trusted herself to be fully indulged in something other than her apartment. Everywhere else, she had to watch her back.
After several more minutes of walking, she approached the library and opened one of its double doors, immediately feeling the warm air rush to her face and warm up her hands. She sighed in relief, waving 'hello' to the barista at the built-in coffee shop and trekking upstairs to her usual spot in the back of the library where nobody bothered her. After freeing herself from her jacket which began to grow hot, she placed it on the loveseat as a way to signal that someone was sitting there before going over to the mythological section.
Her hands trailed each book and noted the dust that some of them collected. She quickly wiped any accumulated dust from her finger and continued her search for something, anything pertaining to the men—no, demons—whom she couldn't remove from the forefront of her mind.
One book, she found. All the way at the edge of the shelf, with more dust accumulated than a haunted house could ever manage. It sat in front of her in all of its glory on the table in front of her loveseat.
She grew comfortable and decided to swing herself to the side, now lying down on the couch with the book above her head as she read through the first couple of sentences.
It was about him. The Man from the East. Geto Suguru.
He experienced a happy childhood with a plethora of friends, strong supernatural powers, and a formidable sense of justice to serve the general public. Old sightings from dated Japanese scrolls, later to be translated into other Asian languages, concluded he was a virtuous man with a handsome face that'd make any man or woman drop to their knees in pure ecstasy. Well, that part (Y/N) can certainly speak for, unfortunately.
In the book, it says he truly had it all—until he lost it.
(Y/N) read through the text speedily, afraid someone might interrupt her if she didn't finish it. Her eyes trailed over each word carefully yet quickly. She didn't want to miss a thing that might give her clues as to who Suguru was and how she might be able to beat him.
In the book, it says he was cursed. He died with that curse on him, which simply grew stronger through the years, and now is a being many bad people worship or ask for favors when they're in a pickle.
He was cursed by the love of his friend, who couldn't let go of his death. The friend put a curse on them both, later killing himself and causing them both to become powerful demons from the pure power of their curse.
(Y/N) put the book down, sliding it across the table. Although it was short, it was so informative.
Geto and the snow-haired man were friends. So, why does he want to 'save' (Y/N)? No, this is bigger than her. This is demon business she had no responsibility to be involved in. This trailed back to a time way before she was even thought of, 800 A.D.
They were as old as dirt, but retained that youthful look and feeling to them.
Their eyes told a different story. They told tales of the centuries they've lived, loved, conquered, died, and more than (Y/N) could ever think of.
How could she possibly outsmart any of them?!
No...
The way Geto was cursed...
A light went off in (Y/N)'s head. It detailed life, one where she wouldn't have to live six feet underground or as a slave to a demon. She couldn't believe it, but it was the only thing that could possibly work in her eyes to free her from this hell. There was no other option. It was either this or death.
And (Y/N) had never been the type to just lay down and die.
She already began conjuring a plan in her head, trekking down the stairs with the book in hand. She didn't check out many books, so when the librarian noticed which book she checked out, she quirked an eyebrow.
"Getting into Eastern mythology?"
(Y/N) simply nodded, handing over her library card.
"Hope you enjoy, Ms.! See you later!"
She waved goodbye to the kind librarian and strutted outside of the library, now with her fleece jacket back on and her hoodie up. She began to speed walk towards her apartment—with the initial shock of Geto's win that wore off, she was sure she could attend class.
She made several turns, as she always did in case anyone had been following her wherever she went. Was it paranoia? No, with the deep fuck she got herself into, it was a smarter idea than anything.
Her book had been tucked into her armpit as she pulled her hoodie farther down her face.
That, however, didn't help her as someone still recognized her crossing the street.
"You."
Wide (E/C) eyes looked up to meet with charcoal ones, scanning over the man's severely malnourished face in search of a clue as to who he could be. Her eyes continued to search, until she found a small branding tattoo on the side of his neck, barely noticeable to anyone who stood in front of him.
Then, more men came.
Before she knew it, she had been surrounded.
"The boss still needs his money. It's almost Christmas."
(Y/N) clenched her teeth, holding the book closer to her armpit as she stared each tall, muscular man down like they were prey.
In reality, she was the prey.
"He told me New Year's."
"We're here to do a bit of interrogation before then. To see how much you've built up."
They stepped closer.
"Well, I got nothing," (Y/N) shrugged.
"So, it's safe to assume you won't have it on New Year's, right? Which means..."
The glint of something silver began to reveal itself from the malnourished man's pockets, making (Y/N)'s eyes grow wide as she held her hands up in defense.
She still had time! She literally just created a plan that might guarantee her the money Geto promised her if she won the games! She couldn't die now! It was too soon—everything happened too soon. Christmas was fast approaching, then it would be New Year's eve. She had to get these games over with. She couldn't avoid calling on him out of shame.
No, she had to fight for her life until the bitter end.
She opened her mouth to call out to Geto, planning to summon him in this moment and use Nanami's goons as the sacrificial price. She couldn't even get the first letter out before gurgling noises reverberated in her ears, coming from the men in front of her who choked on their own blood. Something white and sharp had been lodged in the middle of their necks, quickly retracting back to the owner's...hand?
One particular man, the malnourished one with the gun, had been held up by the throat with sharp claws piercing through the skin and ultimately cutting off access to his lungs. Blood gushed everywhere, from the walls of the alleyway to the man's arms that crushed the human's neck like a piece of bread.
It seemed someone had beat Geto to it.
"We meet again, princess."
He threw the body onto the ground with a thud, its limps twitching like a freshly crushed bug. Blood seeped from the neck onto the alleyway ground as (Y/N) looked down at the bodies, then the victorious figure who stood in the middle of it all.
He held his bloody hand up to his fingers, licking the blood off of them with a long stripe.
A cold chill ran down (Y/N)'s spine. He could easily kill her, turn her into a kabob like he did them, but he chose not to. Why?
"You'll wish you came with me."
She remembered those words he spoke to her before hell befell her, before she had her tragic loss to Geto that resulted in more shame than she thought she could ever amount in one day. Did she wish she would've taken him up on his offer?
"What's your name?" she asked sternly.
He smiled, tilting his head before flicking some blood clots off of him.
"Gojo Satoru."
The name she read in the book. Geto's friend. It was him.
"Why did you save me?"
"I can't see a beauty like you mauled to death, now, can I?"
She grimaced, leaning back.
"Why did you want to help me from Suguru?"
"Oh? Finally experience your first loss? Everyone feels a type of way after losing that first game to him."
Her breath hitched at the fact that he'd done this to countless others. Well, that was to be expected. After all, he lived a legion of years and probably consumed innumerable souls. He knows these wicked games better than anyone else. And he played these wicked mind games on the people involved, making them slowly lose their minds as they prolonged their contracts.
"You can still win."
She stared at him incredulously. Was she planning on taking help from...him?
"The next game will be a game of pool."
Judging by the bodies on the ground and the information he so willingly gave up, this...was also her best bet at staying alive.
"
DID YOU THINK I'D CRUMBLE?
DID YOU THINK I'D BREAK
DOWN AND DIE? OH NO, NOT I!
I WILL SURVIVE!
"
— GLORIA GAYNOR . | I WILL SURVIVE
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CHAPTER INSPO:
