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In Hanakotoba the Japanese form of the language of flowers, Forget me not symbolizes true love

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since everyone is confused, this is directly tied to Sukuna's story (in y/n's past lives Sukuna is obsessed with y/n) resulting to present y/n having nightmares about him but Sukuna's image is being replaced by Gojo. The recent event that y/n doesn't even remember because of trauma + confusion on why Gojo suddenly abandoned her + the monotonous days are making it hard to discern which is a dream and which is real. Y/n is slowly losing her sanity.

Since the readers(you) are reading in y/n's perspective, the approach I took was purposely done to confuse everyone.

Close your eyes, you'll be here soon.

You wake up to all the world's fretting. The whole temple like a raging storm and you, the eye of it, have slept through all the wind and rain that brought upon the chaos of pitter patter from all the running that they make with the wooden floor.

So you close your eyes. Blink. Will the headache away.

And like magic, all the world was quiet as the winter night. Like all the people in your small world, that is only the temple, have vanished through thin air and all that is left is the shine of the moon from the open Shinden-zukuri that lights your spacious room that has suddenly become bare.

The shadows dance in the corner of your eye, a part of you knows better not to look into the dark, when you see Satoru sit like a holy statue basking in the cold air. You have no words, not even dare question the oddity of the situation, these odd jokes and noises were reserved to his presence so you sit quietly next to him.

You idly notice that he is taller, 'when did Satoru become a man?' you ask yourself, wondering how much time has passed since you last saw him.

He turns to you, smiling as usual, but he doesn't speak too. It's like the whole world has suddenly become a mute, and all he does is caress your silky (h/c) through long delicate fingers. You don't understand why you flinch or why this hurts, but you do wonder why he wears a black cloth that hides his pretty four eyes.

You don't remember when you fell asleep or who it was that redecorated your room to what it once was before; but you are certainly aware that a young maiko hides in the corner of your ajar door whispering how you've been gone for a long long time.

When you stand up, and she finally takes notice, the girl is quick on her feet to be by your side and assisting with the ceremonial robes that you're wearing for the day. She ties it meticulously, not even looking up to meet your eye when most of them did when it was their first time doing so. She was the shadow of your day, serving breakfast that is now without Satoru as he has become quite busy with special grade missions.

During prayer, you note that the incense smelled oddly today, like raw meat or something that you couldn't point your finger to and makes your nose wrinkle akin to a sneeze. The maiko is by your side when you take a walk by the garden that smelled a bit too fragrant, all the flower's fragrance overpowering one another, like a cacophony of perfumes.

As the day ends, she once more assists in preparations for sleep that you know would only bring nightmares as the curse waits beside your bed. A miko hides in the corner of your ajar door, staring so you close your eyes and leave this dream.

The temple is quite empty again today, in fact it felt more like the world has melted to nothingness and you were the only one who has been left.

"That would be quite lonely." You whisper to yourself, staring at the clear blue sky as the birds continue to sing, like everything is not out of place at all.

Everything was oh so lonely in this solitary place, that you began to wonder if you'd prefer the ceremonial room with all the sobs of the broken men as they ask for deliverance from a sin that they willingly commit.

You sit in the engawa, contemplating if you would rather have a world that was so full of noise that it drowns you out or the ringing silence broadcasted through your ears, when Satoru comes into view.

He smiles. Fingers that you've counted as a child, holding it within your own as an excuse to make contact because you long for his warmth now holds your neck in a vice grip.

"Why is he always smiling in my dreams?' you thought, listening to the mikos, whisper in low voices how you've been gone for months. Two mikos have come to assist you today.

There was peace in routine, as they serve your first meal without Satoru once more, to be honest with yourself like the question in that vivid dream, you don't know if you prefer him to be with you now or not at all. Yet you don't notice how their eyes stare, when your back is turned as if waiting for your (length) to just suddenly make a run for it, what you do take note of was the stronger scent of the burning incense spewing smoke that reminds you too much of a house fire. They follow you dutifully into the garden that has finally lost its smell, pouring tea that you can't taste no matter how many honey you've added.

And then they escort you to bed, like a sacrificial lamb to the devil who waits by it. Two mikos hide in the corner of your ajar door, staring as you fall asleep.

"Yesterday, the day, the week and the months there was a missing girl."

You don't quite understand what the children have begun talking about as they play, running across the temple grounds before a priest comes out scolding them for being in the same space that you will soon be. The three mikos follow behind in your morning walk, opting to forgo breakfast with once again the absent Satoru; you're still quite unsure if you can look at him when you could still remember those warm hands wrapped around your neck.

Today, the elders have paid a visit.

It wasn't odd, by far it has become a routine that they would see the goddess by their lonesome to shed crocodile tears, when they confess about the horrible acts that they do, stating that it was for the greater good or it was the lesser of evils.

Like all the men that beg on their knees, you cry because know in their hearts that they are just cowards who would do it again in a heartbeat.

They pray by your side, crowding the room, but do not shed tears as they are with each other. Like wolves they are a pack, yet waiting to tear each other's throat for the position of the alpha. The incense smelled oddly more repulsive, that it makes your dizzy and the world spin because you swore you've seen Satoru barely glance your way among the bodies of the aging.

You don't know if you collapsed from the repugnant smell, but you knew of waking to a slaughter. Satoru standing atop the carnage of his own making, turning to you with a smile and saying, "Don't worry, (y/n). I'll protect you" with a cherry voice.

He steps through the ripped arms and bloodied bodies, standing before your small form with towering height.

"You don't have to worry about anything anymore." Those warm hands caress the face, and you want to blink think of this as nothing as sort of another bizarre nightmare.

Breathe. You close your eyes. Heave.

There is a ringing in your ear when you wake in complete darkness, within an infinite void of having no idea where is heaven and hell. In here, you sit on a throne made of cold hard marble that shines with delicate polish that has become akin to glass, and situated under mountains of bone. You chuckle to yourself the sound of your broken laugh reverberating in this bottomless emptiness, think of how fitting this image is if only the truth could be reflected in reality.

Maybe you're right, this is just another one of your nightmares, soon enough when you die you'll wake from your soft futon and the routine continues, but you're too tired to even scream now.

These weary eyes stare at his ever blue ones filled with so much pity, love and promise, as he caresses your pale face with his blood soaked fingers, and thinks that maybe being with people is better than being alone with yourself.

"You're no fool," he whispers. Ahh, it figures that even now you're the one to save me, you thought before closing your eyes and waking up to four mikos hiding in the corner of your ajar door, staring.

They move about frantically, foot making a thump. Thump. Thump. As they prepare breakfast that was served in bed, before even having you dressed in proper robes. You thought that being surrounded by people would have saved you from this loneliness, and yet you are empty as you eat your fill. The mikos watch like a hawk as the priest babbles on about the happenings of the church that you aren't even allowed to control, much less handle who is in the position of power within it or not, in the end you are just another figurehead. Frankly you don't understand his words, yet the world rings and blurs as you're informed that your engagement to Satoru is somehow broken and he has met another girl.

The world is gray.

Ahh you thought, preparing for bed for once in your life welcoming the devil who waits there like a long lost friend because if all the world was to fall only the nightmares will stay till your grave then the next life, then coming to a realization that Satoru might be the only one capable of saving you from loneliness like in all the dreams.

The temple becomes quiet the cicadas singing as they welcome summer, like it has heard of your rejection to its comfort.

You welcome this too with open arms, even when the ringing chokes you more than his arms ever did. Eyes growing frantic as you search for his presence even when you know that he won't come, because you're not dreaming.

You're laying on your futon. Here and now. Waiting for impossible things to happen so just you can be comforted from the fear of being alone, by someone you have already lost to fate and circumstance.

The reality of this sinking that you are alone in this bustling temple. Truly, irrevocably and painfully alone.

Maybe if you actually tried to sleep, you'll forget about this. So you close your eyes despite the chance of a nightmare just to see him and say good night.

Hands. Hands. Hands, so many hands Of time will wring my neck. You feel like choking as the ringing silence with the empty of the halls continue, but that's okay. You'd give anything for some sort of privacy with Satoru, knowing that it might as well be the last time that you see him at all.

Maybe the world is with empathy, afterall, giving you time and peace for a final goodbye.

You have so many things to say, you even think of begging on your hands and knees for him to stay. He was the head of the Gojo household, the blessed child of heaven and the strongest shaman, the world cannot ignore even that of his presence much less what he wants to say.

Whatever it is that Gojo Satoru may want will be handed by the world to his open palms.

Yet you don't speak, you've gotten so used to the silence that you've forgotten words. You pour him a cup of sake, and it's not until he puts it in his lips when you start to wonder when did Satoru start to drink?

You're unsure if you want this day to end as soon as it may, or you never want it too.

If all is there at the setting of the sun is heartbreak, then let me be comforted by the dreams of death that I've become so used to, you thought laying in your futon, exhausted to even shed tears.

When morning comes, five mikos wait for your hand.

They assist, coordinately with skill from years of training, with fastening the ties in your holy robes that was an unblemished white like the color of his hair. They serve you breakfast, without Satoru and are by your side, walking in line like ducklings behind your back.

"Six little ducks that I once knew," you sing in your head as you look at the pond in the garden, starring as the ripples in your reflection that mouth at you to wake up.

Her image plays in your mind, as you sneeze at the burning incense in the ceremonial room, smoke polluting the air and turning your mind to mush. Maybe they were putting a higher dose of those calming herbs, because you're sure that it's smell has permeated your soft skin.

Your thoughts, go in and out and are lost as it blows with the wind and you drift to the route of night preparations, that you know would only bring nightmares. Five miko hides in the corner of your ajar door, staring.

The next day or week or has it been months, the world has blended to a monotone and you take comfort in this routine. Six mikos assist you as per the beginning of the day, they tie your robes and secure your obi without bumping into each other or crowding the space.

Today they serve you the healthiest of breakfast, prescribed only by the well bred dietician of your kin.

They are by your side, in the incense filled room, when you pray for the crime that they tell you have committed but have no recollection of committing. You sneeze, before going out unsure why so when you've become so accustomed to the smell that even the very fabric that cling to your skin has been permeated by it. They follow like shadows and linger a bit too long as they pour tea for your guest who sits beside you in the engawa.

If there was anything notable about this guest, it was surely the hair that of the finest tendrils of pure white silk and those immaculate gray eyes that are a bit too much like the cloudy days before rain. They could only be described as immaculate and timeless, you somehow connect that blessed children of heaven must have pure hair and the sky in their eyes.

The guest doesn't speak, they merely sit and sip the hot tea. Looking at the garden with unreadable eyes. This person certainly reminds you of a white lily by a quant hidden garden, undisturbed by the outside like you are right now. You bask in the presence of each other and know the comfort of silence.

You're unaware when your guests left, or were they even your guest but you come to yourself at dinner eating onigiri and thinking about mochis. Soon, the mikos will come to prepare you for bed and you'll wake to another morning to repeat yesterday like a broken disk waiting for a jump so you at least entertain a momentary illusion that everything: the nightmares, dreams, realities and thoughts have been hard to discern as of late. Like they've all melted and have become one reality.

One...two...three...infinity. Close your eyes.

Where is Satoru? You thought as you lay in bed, exhausted.

No worries you'll probably see him tomorrow.

Goodnight, Gojo.