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In Hanakotoba the Japanese form of the language of flowers, rice lily symbolizes cursed love

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(y/n) ) (l/n) did not have a family, rather she was given a temple fit for a king and loyal followers who hail the young child as the reborn goddess from a thousand years ago.

The winter of her birth was marked in history: to the shamans of a prophesied evil, to the church as divinity's coming, and none more so to the Gojo household as her breath gave life to the beloved child of heaven, Satoru.

Your blessed birth mother, ascended the position of the holy retainer, she was the nurturer who like the assistant mikos, your blood relatives, that have never left your side.

While your father, granted the position as the head of family and church, took to your much too early education and has stood as the substitute to a position that you would someday fill.

Both having acted more as a servant, than the parents that they were originally designed to be.

Even as young as you were, you knew that their touch was only of praise and awe. There was a foreign sense of emptiness within you as the child, their arms were devoid of love as your mother carried you to the ceremonial rooms and your father only spoke of praise to the goddess that was your title.

Not even the mikos, who assist your ceremonial clothes and have prepared all your items, the priest who teaches you of the rituals and prayers, nor temple children in training have looked at you as another child, as another human, who had need for affections.

To them you are a reborn goddess, it is your place to give rather than take.

Maybe that's why, no soul could console your cries, when the demon who haunts your bed comes to visit at night..

Maybe that's why, there was something that has urged you, since the day you took your first steps, to run. Because this throne you are seated on is built upon lies and lost stories of the past; that the people who will kiss the ground you may step on are delusional men and you are nothing more but a mere puppet controlled by their perverse sense of religion.

Maybe that's why you close your mouth and eat the words you choke on. You sit and stare, as they cry and confess the troubles of their soul without thought that it is but a mere child, who does not understand their woes.

They beg for deliverance on their knees and clasp their hands like chains that slowly tangle this small feeble body

You cry when you have come to realize that they are pitiful souls, eternally lost to the suffering of this world. Wretched are these men who cling to hope like a dog to a bone, to a point that they have mistaken your heart break as salvation of receiving your love.

To them you are the goddess beloved by every faction of the jujutsu society and even more, so you accept the script that is given and play it as they want.

The day you met Gojo Satoru, the beloved child of heaven that you have come to save from the grasp of death and gave life to, was like any other day in December.

The difference was simply made by him, specifically his blatant audacity to stare at your (e/c) ones.

With eyes that of a cloudless blue day when birds that sing, it is an oasis within a vast desert; he peers into your soul like no other has dared before. You don't understand why your father has let this happen idly bowing like he is supposed to beside the child, the incense that you have long accompanied with calming herbs and the winds chimes ringing like bells singing that this spring would be different, like no other, as long as there is a child with clouds in his head.

It is a miracle that you welcome with open arms because for the first time in your life, you have felt what it was like to find a kindred in suffering.

To be seen, not for the title nor the throne but for the soul that you carry.

They tell you that engagement was purely religious, what is there to explain when they are blessed with a goddess and a holy child at the same time? Have the heavens declare it for any other meaning?

While these elders might not have said it, you both knew that it was extremely political too. While the temple and the (l/n)s are the pillar for belief, the shamans are the warriors of heaven who has come to fight the holy war of cleansing and protecting the world of curses; and the elders, those of noble blood from the long line of shamans of the golden age, serve as the government who brings order to this hidden society.

A marriage between a noble shaman and the goddess, was not only a match made in heaven but also of power like no other. But that's okay, no matter how many hidden agendas and falsehoods that these sinful people have, you are simply happy with the piece of comfort that you have been permitted with the reclusive child, Satoru.

To you, a child, there is a simple haven in finding someone who is neither above nor below and see you for yourself.

Yet it was too much to ask that he would change your dull routine of morning prayers, noon of broken confessions and terror filled nights, still he has become a splash of color to the tiresome regime of the church that you have come to strictly follow.

It began with mornings during breakfast, that was solely dedicated to him to eat with you.

They say that he has taken residence within the temple grounds, as to train and be kept close, so you wonder if you'll one day be able to run and play alongside him like the children that you have seen. The reeking incense made the atmosphere calm, yet sitting beside him was to be beside a contained winter.

The priest observes like a hawk as they sit on your right, barely even able to talk to the one you share food with.

Like before, Satoru does not speak, barely moves, and glances when he looks up from the food.

His fingers are precise as they hold the chopsticks to eat the food, you don't know how to begin describing how a child can be so graceful when he is only eating.

Often would you see him with a healing bruise or bandage, hidden under the covers of his pretty kimonos, from the training the day before. You don't ask, as he pulls at the fabric when you stare if you think that he doesn't notice, as if meaning to hide from the reality that they are indeed blooming on his skin like the flowers of the garden that you have both been permitted to visit in the afternoon.

You know he doesn't want to talk about these growing pains that have come with the expectant eyes and controlling hands of the adults who rush maturity, it is something that is understood without words.

The first time you see him smile was after 3 years of your meeting, on a summer day drinking tea under your beloved cherry blossom.

The mikos have begun to give you privacy when you are with Satoru as they whisper that he has been trained in assisting you, with his insistence. He might not show it with that impassive face, but you are thankful for the thoughtfulness when he reaches out his hand or fills your cup of tea with stunning elegance and control, so he may show that you are in capable hands.

It is then he sneaks you a small treat where you ask, out of plain curiosity, what is a dessert. The strict diet that he has observed was to make sure that you are never sick, only the most qualified of chefs was to touch the food that goes into your mouth. So he patiently explains, what a mochi is, under his breath that fans your blushing face like a secret just between you two.

It might be odd that a child, like you have never been given a treat, not even by a miko who has pitied your childhood if there were any, yet he takes a small pride in presenting you a silly rice treat that has become your first. Satoru finds your happiness, delighting as you shed that longing that has constantly been in your (e/c) eyes, as you stare into the birds before you turn to him with those warm smiles, for the sense of wonder with your first bite.

It gives him unimaginable happiness, when he knows that he is the cause of it.

"You should smile more. Your smile is that warmth of a fire on a cold winter night."

You tell him, cupping those blushing cheeks and wiping his unshed tears. You stand on the tip of your toes, as he has gained significant height in the mere 3 years that you have spent together, yet this is the first that you have seen such surprise in an expression that he was not aware he sports.

They say that a goddess is to never love one more than the other, that her heart is fair and equal for the loved and the damned, yet in this moment you are as sure that as the as the sun will rise in the east, your heart have come to love this smile, above all else that was in your life. That those unshed tears that pool in his clear blues eyes, maybe the only ones you will wipe with a bleeding heart.

You are not a goddess and this moment would be ingrained in (y/n) (l/n)'s heart for as long as you shall breathe.

Afternoons are now spent with Satoru's warm smiles like that of a blooming flower, when it begins with a simple tug on the corner of his lips and he leaves, waving goodbye with an open grin.

He would, usually, talk about his mother, who has left him with love; Kiku, who has stood in his mother's place when she has gone; and his daily life, like that of training or his father's visits. When he thinks that no one has come to spy, he whispers of sweets that helps him with thinking and studies late into the night and the flowers that he might someday come to show you.

There is a certain comfort to be by his side, now more than before, when his atmosphere has become of warm spring rather than what was an age old winter - cold and alone.

The first night that he holds your hand, is when he is ushered to your room by the panicked priest and mikos. You have collapsed from a week of not being able to sleep, as the moment you close your eyes these horrible dreams of a demon by your bed, waiting to drag you into the night like a hunter on prowl for its prey, come like prophecies.

Cold sweat runs down your skin, as you feel the heavenly fire spark and burn, trying to reduce your soul into cinders, the wind howls into your ears that this devil will come for its prey.

Not even the incense could calm your trembling hands, that he has clasped unto. He brushes your tears with cold fingers, as your erratic eyes search for the dark crevices of your room trying to spot a shadow of where the monster once stood.

The first comfort that you have known is when he holds you into his arms, racking with sobs and mumbling about death. You cling to him like a child clinging to her favorite blanket.

It's when you have been finally reduced to small quivering hiccups, your head on his small shoulders and hands rubbing your back, when he asks. "What did the finger say to the thumb?"

Through bleary red eyes, you look at him in confusion. You wanted to ask what it meant but your throat was sore from all the screaming and you've lost all strength to fear.

"I'm in glove with you." He continues with a completely straight face and voice, still it has lost your muddled thoughts, barely able to supply the connection between a finger and glove.

You wonder if this was a code for comforting someone.

From your lack of reaction and clear confusion, he turns his head away and tries to hide the embarrassed blush that stains his cheeks. "Yaga sensei said this is supposed to be funny" he mutters under his breath, when he thinks that you can't hear his cool voice, that has changed tones with your growing age.

It was much later, when silence has once again descended and he still holds you in his warm arms when you realize that he meant those words as a joke yet in his way to comfort or lighten the mood, yet his awkward demeanor and straight faced execution made it so hard to distinguish it as such. To begin with, when did Satoru learn how to joke? You giggle thinking about it, shoulders once more shaking that he panics thinking that you are crying once more. It has come to a full blown beautiful laughter like the wind chimes and the bird's songs, when he finally calms.

He wipes those gathering tears from the corner of your eyes, with a smile.

He likes this. Satoru would rather have your laughter than your terror filled screams.

If his goofy smiles and these odd jokes were what brought them to you, then he would happily oblige.

The first time you hold his hand is when you are 13 years old standing beside Satoru as he stares at the former head of the Gojo household lay in a coffin with cold dead eyes, that of the likes when he was 7 year old in the ceremonial room drinking tea.

He doesn't smile nor joke. There are no tears, nor words of goodbye when he is asked for a speech. He does not look your way, when you touch his cold skin and unmoving hand the way he comforts you at night.

He is empty, cold yet calm like an oncoming storm.

The first time you pray is when you are informed that Satoru has assumed the position of the head of his family, further adding to the workload of training for his first mission and studies. Even a prodigy gets burnt like a moth to a flame when it flies too close to the lamp. You pray that as Satoru may be an angel, may he not be like Icarus whose wings are gone when he needs it the most.

You pray with your heart, when you hold his hand in the afternoon walks that he has recently developed of coming much too early for. You wish with your soul, even more for his safety, when he continuously laughs and jokes like nothing has changed, fully knowing that there is even greater unsaid pain with the growing callousness in his hands.

"Of course I am, I'm the strongest and funniest shaman there is." He boasts proudly, making the world hear, more towards you not to worry.

The first time you breathe, full of relief and life, without the help of those damned incense that have muddled your thoughts is when he greets you after his first mission.

He tells you the tale of how, like a superhero, he has come to exorcise the curses that dared exist in his presence and of the world outside the temple without breaking a sweat or walking through the gardens.

The first time you confess, is when you walk through the gardens as he boasts that he is the child of the heavens and your knight in shining armor, after returning from the first mission.

"I don't think that I'm really a goddess" You whisper to his ears, low and breath fanning his cheeks, and eyes looking around dare anyone actually hear you, except Satoru.

You tell him that there is something that you are missing. You, as a whole person, is incomplete and it is you who is the piece that is missing. You feel the small spark of fire in your feet and the tug in your soul when they speak of the outside. Outside this temple. Outside the secret garden.

You have always wondered what it is that you have lost and where does it hide?

He pats your head, his height even at this age letting him tower over you, with a smile.

"Then next time let's sneak outside, so we can find you." I am your beloved, ready to offer whatever it is you might need.

Author's Note