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The girl's forehead burned, her vision thick and blurry. She blinked slowly, each tremor an effort. Her thoughts felt like they were soaked in glue, each thought taking a long time to form.
"Why... why..." Her voice was stagnant, the tip of her tongue pressing dully against her teeth, even articulating words became difficult. The high fever had burned away her patience, and also burned away those roundabout attempts, leaving only the most direct questioning -
"Still keeping...my book?"
"It's very dangerous."
She didn't answer his question, now she just stared at him stubbornly, wanting an answer.
Do you feel sick?
The boy's brows furrowed slightly, shadows covering the emotions surging in his eyes, and his fingertips unconsciously stroked Hipper's skin.
"If you keep this book," he said in a low voice, sighing softly, "you will come to me."
——Will come to confirm whether he has destroyed it as promised, will come to question why he did not obey, and may stand in front of him again with anger or confusion.
Even if it is just a moment of confrontation, even if it is just a brief meeting.
"Stupid Satoru."
Idiot, idiot.
Her eyelashes fluttered, then slowly closed. She tilted her head slightly and pressed her burning cheek into his palm. A satisfied sigh escaped her at the moment their skin touched. Her breath, warm and moist with the distinct warmth of a high fever, brushed against his knuckles.
"I'm so tired..." She drew out the words, her voice soft and languid, sinking into the lines of his palm like a sated cat. The ending lingered, a hint of coquettishness, and seemed especially soft due to her weakness.
"I'm so hungry..." she mumbled vaguely, "I'm so sleepy..." The last syllable was almost a whisper, and before it completely fell, her weight sank down little by little, and her whole body seemed to melt in his hands.
He was stunned, his fingertips slightly stiff, as if he was holding a piece of snow that would disappear at any time.
She had always been stubborn and always held her head high, but at this moment, she curled up in his palm without any defense, her messy hair rubbing against his wrist, and her breathing was as soft as the down of a baby bird.
——It’s too hot.
He subconsciously tried to pull his hand back to touch her forehead, but she unconsciously rubbed it back. She wrinkled her nose and muttered something, as if complaining about his restlessness, burying her cheek deeper into his palm. The heat burned up along his blood vessels, burning his heart.
It turns out that she can also show weakness without any defense like this.
It turns out that she also... needs him.
This realization made his throat feel dry, and he even breathed very lightly, for fear of shattering this dream that was easy to wake from.
His Adam's apple moved slightly, and his fingertips gently brushed against her burning forehead—the strands of hair, damp with sweat, clung to her skin. The girl's gentleness at that moment was so precious that he almost wanted to imprint it in his mind. Her curled-up posture was like a cat with its claws retracted, and every ragged breath tugged at his nerves.
(But no.)
The warmth from his palms was alarmingly high. Even a man who could easily catch a cold now had a sickly flush on his fingertips. He knew this kind of constitution all too well—if it fell, it was often a serious illness.
“…I need to take medicine.”
The words were spoken softly, like a verdict addressed to himself. He carefully pulled back her hand from where it rested, only to be met with a whimper of discontent. The fever-stricken woman instinctively grasped his sleeve, forcing him to lean over and rub the back of his fingers against her burning cheek. "Let go! You're burning too badly."
The night outside the window was endless, and her body temperature burned a dangerous crimson in the cool night.
The girl's fingertips trembled slightly, as if she understood, or perhaps just caught the concern in his words through the chaos. She slowly loosened her grip on the cuff of her sleeve, letting the fabric slip from her reddened fingers, uncharacteristically obedient. When Gojo Satoru leaned over and picked her up, she subconsciously curled up in his arms, resting her hot forehead against the crook of his neck, like a cub that had finally found its nest.
The moment the quilt sank in, she suddenly woke up and grabbed the corner of his clothes. Gojo Satoru was about to stand up when he felt a faint resistance from his sleeves - her fingers hooked into his clothes, the force was as light as spider silk, but surprisingly stubborn.
“Don’t go…”
Her voice was husky, almost inaudible, caught in her breath. Moisture spread across the corners of her burning eyes, and her eyelashes fluttered, casting a delicate shadow. She had clearly let go to let him get the medicine, but her body was more honest than her mind. The knuckles of her fingers clutching the corner of his shirt were white, as if she feared that if she let go, the warmth of this moment would fade like light.
The high fever made her dizzy, but she subconsciously remembered - every time she was sick, she curled up alone in the cold, and the empty room when she woke up.
"Don't leave me alone."
“…”
So cute.
I really want to kiss you, kiss you a few more times.
No, take medicine first!
It had been so long since his last fever—so long that he'd almost forgotten the disorienting feeling of a high fever. Since gradually adjusting to the burden of these eyes, he no longer suffered from the frequent fevers of overexertion he'd experienced as a child. Those days and nights filled with thermometers and fever-reducing patches were long since buried deep in his memory.
He frowned in thought, his fingers unconsciously pressing against his temples. A first aid kit...?
He did have one in his room, but it probably only contained a few rolls of leftover bandages and some cold medicine he never took. After all, in recent years, not to mention fevers, even the most common headaches and fevers had rarely come. He was used to overspending, used to burdens, but the only thing he wasn't used to was keeping medicine in his drawer for minor ailments like the average person.
(……unwise.)
His fingertips paused for a moment on the medicine box. Should he go out and buy some now? But a subtle movement behind him made him turn back—the girl was curled up in the quilt, her cheeks flushed, her breathing rapid and disordered.
She had a high fever and kept calling out her own name.
The voice was very soft, and the words were hard to distinguish, but he kept repeating, "Enlightenment, enlightenment, enlightenment."
His heart suddenly sank.
Rather than relying on something, it seems like a habit ingrained in one's bones, or an obsession that even a high fever cannot burn away.
We can't delay any longer.
"I'm here." He replied in a low voice, gently wiping the sweat from her forehead with his fingertips, "I'll be back soon."
When she tried to get up, her brows immediately furrowed even tighter, and a few uneasy sobs escaped from her dry lips.
(...I was truly defeated by her.)
(I've never seen her so clingy before.)
"Don't move, don't act coquettish, and don't take off your clothes!"
The sound squeezed out through her teeth, a hint of annoyance, yet helpless. She was feverish and dazed, but her fingers restlessly tugged at her collar, the buttons tugged precariously, revealing a sliver of reddened collarbone. Gojo Satoru grabbed her wrist, his palm pressed against her scorching skin, causing his brow to twitch.
"Don't move," he scolded, his tone fierce, but his movements were gentle as he unbuttoned the remaining buttons for her and slowly peeled off her coat. She groaned in discomfort as the fabric rubbed against her, subconsciously rubbing against his hand, her hair clinging to the side of her sweaty neck.
He closed his eyes, suppressed the inexplicable restlessness in his heart, pulled the quilt over her and wrapped her tightly. Before leaving, he poked her forehead worriedly.
"Behave yourself," he warned in a harsh tone, "I'll tie you up if you move again."
These words had no deterrent effect at all. She just mumbled "hmm", her cheek sunk into the quilt, her breathing heavy and hot, obviously not listening at all.
He turned and strode towards the door, then heard a rustling sound behind him. Looking back, he saw that she had indeed kicked half of the quilt away again, her arms hanging limply over the edge of the bed, her fingertips still hooked on the sleeve of his coat that he had just thrown on the bed.
(...It's really annoying.)
Resigned to his fate, he turned back and stuffed her back into the bed. This time, he simply rolled up the quilt, wrapping her up like a cocoon that made her unable to move.
She finally calmed down and just glanced at him with her eyes that were blurred by burning water, looking extremely aggrieved.
He took a deep breath, slammed the door and left without looking back - if he stayed any longer, he would have to worry about himself first.
Go to Jay's room, he should be the most likely person to prepare medicine.
*
No one spoke, all of them were immersed in the rare and fragile look of the genius.
Too cute, no, too weak!
Bah, you can’t offend the little genius like that.
They also want to take care of such a cute and squishy genius! It’s definitely not out of envy!
"Very strange, right? You've never seen that before?" Primordial Celestial Body boasted with pride, a subtle hint of smugness revealing the truth. "When Hipper was little, he often had fevers, and whenever he became unconscious, he would talk nonsense."
Those are the true words, hidden in the deepest part of my heart and unable to be told to anyone.
"She's not lonely at all. I've always been with her."
I always pretend to be reserved and keep a distance from others, but stick to them tightly when I am sick.
"It's just that I'm not the one accompanying her this time."
There is someone watching you in every vulnerable moment, and there is someone responding to your every call.
The Primordial Celestial Being will respond to any of your desires, your complaints, your anger, your joy, and it knows everything.
The only thing it couldn't do was to physically embrace Hipper in the world she was born into.
The world rejects it and resists its approach.
I wanted to hug her so much, every time she cried, every time she counted her last days. Each time, the longing was stronger than the last.
"Ten thousand tears in exchange for a smile." It shook its head, a moment of helplessness on its face that couldn't express its emotions. "Hippo, you've always been easy to coax."
Super easy to please.
"Just hug her."
Just a hug and she will stop crying.
So many times, the way to comfort Hipper when she had a fever was actually very simple - just hug her.
Even if she couldn't touch the primordial celestial body, even if she was hugging only air.
As long as it says: "Okay, hug me and you won't cry anymore."
She became quiet.
"But now Gojo Satoru should worry about himself."
Its voice was soft, yet held an undeniable certainty, as if stating a predetermined outcome. Those inhuman eyes gazed calmly, yet a dark obsession surged deep within their pupils.
"Once you hold Hipper, it's hard to let her go."
Isn’t that great?
Lovers will eventually get married.
"She might take Gojo Satoru away."
The air seemed to freeze at this moment. It tilted its head slightly, as if imagining the scene.
As these words fell, the corners of its mouth curved up, and a dark hue of joy appeared in its eyes. Death could not make Hipper let go, despair would only make her hold on tighter - like a drowning person grasping at the last piece of driftwood, like a moth flying into a burning flame.
"Like a moth, it flies into the flame until it dies."
It paused, then added: "Crazy and nostalgic."
The last syllable dissipated in the air, leaving behind a chilling imagination: that genius would still be holding Gojo Satoru's wrist tightly on the other side of the underworld, even trying to entangle his soul.
“…”
Such a deadly love.
In the solemn silence, the man's cheerful voice suddenly interrupted, like a ray of heartless sunshine that abruptly split the haze.
"Romance lasts until death—" He dragged out the tone, and exaggeratedly drew a heart in the air with his fingers, "This is clearly pure love!"
The atmosphere was instantly shattered.
While the others were still lost in their repressed imaginations, he had already pulled out a handful of candies wrapped in colorful cellophane from his pocket and pretended they were fairy lights. "Hey, wouldn't it be better if we just replaced the flames with light bulbs?"
The candies rustled in his hands and shone brightly in the sunlight, as if they were really flashing colored lights.
"Moths flying into flames—" He wiped his neck, "That's too unlucky. How much better to try flying into light bulbs instead? It's brighter, safer, and you can even adjust the brightness!"
Everyone: “…”
Wild Rose couldn't stand it any longer, so she snatched the candy from his hand, opened it, and stuffed it into her mouth: "Do you think this is Christmas?!"
"Eh—so fierce!" He suddenly smiled brightly again. "But if it were Hipper, she would be happy even if she was entangled by a light bulb, right? After all—"
"This is pure love that glows!"
He stretched out his hand and pointed at the students' heads one by one, muttering to himself.
"red."
Click on Yuji Itadori.
"orange color."
Click on Kugisaki Nobara.
"green."
He quickly tapped Maki and Megumi twice.
"Purple."
Click on the dog curl thorn.
"Hmm..." He hesitated a bit when he pointed at Panda, "White?"
He pointed to himself, "Blue."
"Forget it." He waved his hand at Geto Suguru in disgust, and made a hateful expression on his face.
“…”
I guess you can't say anything good.
"Phototactic organisms..." the man dragged out the last line of his words, his gaze returning to the screen. The playful expression on his face faded like the tide, and a hint of tenderness appeared in his eyes.
The girl in the camera was curled up in the quilt, her hair scattered messily on the bed, like a weak young bird. His fingertips unconsciously caressed her, as if wanting to penetrate the cold electronic signal and touch her burning forehead.
"If it's not brighter..." Gojo Satoru's voice softened, with a faint sigh, "It won't attract moths."
There is something else behind his words.
The air fell silent for a moment, the only sound being the girl's breathing. The others exchanged glances, but no one dared to speak. His gaze remained fixed on the screen, watching the woman's flushed face, listening to her unconsciously calling out someone's name in her sleep.
Be a little greedier, Hipper.
You can ask Gojo Satoru for everything you desire without hesitation.
It is difficult for him to refuse a request from you.
"So," he said, seemingly to himself, "it has to be more dazzling."
It was so bright that she had nowhere to escape, so bright that she could only pounce on this one and only——
The second half of the sentence lingered on his lips, turning into a meaningful smile.
Do you like Six Eyes?
——Those eyes that seemed to be able to see through everything were like a bottomless ice abyss and a deep sea that could drown people.
Do you like blue?
——Clearer than the sky, colder than gems, but when I look at you, almost gentle ripples will appear.
Then just keep watching.
——Until the sight burns the retina, until the pupils are imprinted with his outline, until even the bone marrow is permeated with his color.
(Can't look away, right?)
(Then don't move away.)
Looking at him——
Let the iris be the mirror that reflects him.
Follow him—
Even if he walks on the edge of a cliff, even if he steps on a sea of corpses and blood, he will still chase that dazzling blue like a shadow.
Trust Him——
Expose your trembling throat to his fingertips and offer your beating lifeline to his palm.
Accept him——
Swallow it all, along with the trembling and pain he brought, along with the pleasure and suffocation he gave.
(It’s painful, right?)
(But it’s also very happy, right?)
Your mad desire—
Like blood-thirsty thorns entwining the heart, like greedy maggots gnawing at the mind.
You will also get corresponding rewards -
When he finally turns to gaze at you, only your image is reflected in his six eyes.
A look back from Gojo Satoru.
——Sweeter than death, more eternal than curse.
(Until, you finally become the only moth in his eyes.)
*
“Breathe! Breathe!!”
When I got the fever-reducing medicine, all I saw was a bulging blanket, not even a hair visible. I quickly walked to the bedside and pulled back the corner of the blanket.
"Stupid?"
The person under the quilt shrank back, her flushed cheeks still stained with sweat, her hair plastered to her forehead. She drowsily opened her eyes, and her misty pupils reflected his condescending face.
The girl opened her mouth, but only a hoarse sound came out. Gojo Satoru made a "tsk" sound and clasped her hand by the back of her neck, helping her to her feet. Her hot skin pressed against his slightly cool palm, and she instinctively rubbed against it, like a cat seeking comfort.
Acting coquettishly again.
"...You're so slow." She complained vaguely.
"Then it's OK, Geez."
Taking advantage of her fever, her unconsciousness, and her inability to discern her words, Gojo Satoru shifted the blame onto Geto Suguru. "Who told him to leave the fever-reducing medicine in such a remote place?"
It took a while to find the medicine.
"It's all Jay's fault."
But I never expected her answer to be: "Don't bully Jay."
"Don't bully Jay."
She repeated it.
"Jay's been working hard too."
She squinted her eyes and slumped on Gojo Satoru's shoulder, speaking in a slow and long tone.
Off-camera, Geto Suguru's breathing suddenly hitched. The girl's soft, weak words slowly and profoundly filled his chest. He subconsciously clenched his fists, the sting of his nails digging into his palms unable to mask the bitterness surging in his heart—a mixture of the sweetness of being cherished and the pain of powerlessness, causing his Adam's apple to roll unconsciously.
He suddenly realized that those eye contact that he had regarded as accidental, those perfect brushes against each other at the corners of the corridor, and even the drink that always happened to appear on his desk, which he liked - were all her attention.
The girl's gaze was like the gentlest vine, silently entangling him in every moment he wasn't paying attention. This realization made his heart skip a beat; it turned out he had never left her sight, not even for a moment.
At this moment, my love is overflowing.
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