⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀blessing.
@zeninheir.bsky.social
𝖴𝖭𝖡𝖤𝖠𝖱𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 ♱ 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑡ℎ ——— of a
CHILD BUILT FROM 𝗔̵𝗚̵𝗢̵𝗡̵𝗬̵.
CHILD BUILT FROM 𝗔̵𝗚̵𝗢̵𝗡̵𝗬̵.
Reposted by ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀blessing.
… presence meant. Purification, realization, and tantric visualization.
“ 𝗢𝗡 𝗦𝗔𝗡 𝗠𝗔𝗬𝗔 𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗕𝗔𝗡. 𝗩𝗔𝗝𝗥𝗔 𝗔𝗥𝗬𝗔 𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗚𝗔𝗧𝗔 𝗛𝗨𝗠. ”
“ Listen. ” —— Gojo demanded to speak in hushed tones of clan history …
“ 𝗢𝗡 𝗦𝗔𝗡 𝗠𝗔𝗬𝗔 𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗕𝗔𝗡. 𝗩𝗔𝗝𝗥𝗔 𝗔𝗥𝗬𝗔 𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗚𝗔𝗧𝗔 𝗛𝗨𝗠. ”
“ Listen. ” —— Gojo demanded to speak in hushed tones of clan history …
July 2, 2025 at 1:15 AM
… presence meant. Purification, realization, and tantric visualization.
“ 𝗢𝗡 𝗦𝗔𝗡 𝗠𝗔𝗬𝗔 𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗕𝗔𝗡. 𝗩𝗔𝗝𝗥𝗔 𝗔𝗥𝗬𝗔 𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗚𝗔𝗧𝗔 𝗛𝗨𝗠. ”
“ Listen. ” —— Gojo demanded to speak in hushed tones of clan history …
“ 𝗢𝗡 𝗦𝗔𝗡 𝗠𝗔𝗬𝗔 𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗕𝗔𝗡. 𝗩𝗔𝗝𝗥𝗔 𝗔𝗥𝗬𝗔 𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗚𝗔𝗧𝗔 𝗛𝗨𝗠. ”
“ Listen. ” —— Gojo demanded to speak in hushed tones of clan history …
Reposted by ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀blessing.
…. The human mind? It needs silence. It needs something not to know. ” Gojo could tell, megumi’s breath was still caught on whatever reverberation the third bell rung.
“ Fushiguro— voice iron-threaded. Don’t answer. It doesn’t want conversation. It wants an opening. ”
“ Fushiguro— voice iron-threaded. Don’t answer. It doesn’t want conversation. It wants an opening. ”
July 2, 2025 at 1:15 AM
…. The human mind? It needs silence. It needs something not to know. ” Gojo could tell, megumi’s breath was still caught on whatever reverberation the third bell rung.
“ Fushiguro— voice iron-threaded. Don’t answer. It doesn’t want conversation. It wants an opening. ”
“ Fushiguro— voice iron-threaded. Don’t answer. It doesn’t want conversation. It wants an opening. ”
—— But the grave was already
open. And they were standing in
it.
open. And they were standing in
it.
July 1, 2025 at 10:18 PM
—— But the grave was already
open. And they were standing in
it.
open. And they were standing in
it.
—— The shrine, without creaking, rather inhaled. Something beneath the floor shifted, just once, just enough. Like it had rolled over in sleep. He kept his voice inside his throat, where it was safer.
‘ 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥
𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥. ‘ ——
‘ 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥
𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥. ‘ ——
July 1, 2025 at 10:18 PM
—— The shrine, without creaking, rather inhaled. Something beneath the floor shifted, just once, just enough. Like it had rolled over in sleep. He kept his voice inside his throat, where it was safer.
‘ 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥
𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥. ‘ ——
‘ 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥
𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥. ‘ ——
—— Megumi felt he couldn't speak, not here. Even breath felt like a sacrilege. Every step forward felt like betrayal, like stepping on the backs of monks who had knelt too long, prayed too deeply, until the knowledge they begged for answered them. ——
July 1, 2025 at 10:18 PM
—— Megumi felt he couldn't speak, not here. Even breath felt like a sacrilege. Every step forward felt like betrayal, like stepping on the backs of monks who had knelt too long, prayed too deeply, until the knowledge they begged for answered them. ——
—— But there was something unsettling about how his teacher moved through this place. Not that he feared it. That he didn't. As if he belonged here more than he should.
As if the shrine, in all its rot and ruin, recognized Gojo Satoru. And smiled. ——
As if the shrine, in all its rot and ruin, recognized Gojo Satoru. And smiled. ——
July 1, 2025 at 10:18 PM
—— But there was something unsettling about how his teacher moved through this place. Not that he feared it. That he didn't. As if he belonged here more than he should.
As if the shrine, in all its rot and ruin, recognized Gojo Satoru. And smiled. ——
As if the shrine, in all its rot and ruin, recognized Gojo Satoru. And smiled. ——
—— Worship that rotted until it wore madness like a robe. He stepped forward, and it was subtle-how the shadows shifted around him. In intent, they watched and
remembered. He kept his eyes on Gojo's back - bright, solid, arrogant. ——
remembered. He kept his eyes on Gojo's back - bright, solid, arrogant. ——
July 1, 2025 at 10:18 PM
—— Worship that rotted until it wore madness like a robe. He stepped forward, and it was subtle-how the shadows shifted around him. In intent, they watched and
remembered. He kept his eyes on Gojo's back - bright, solid, arrogant. ——
remembered. He kept his eyes on Gojo's back - bright, solid, arrogant. ——
—— The third toll felt like it would come whether he stayed or not.
Whether he believed or not. This shrine, this thing pretending to be a place, it wasn't abandoned. It had been sealed away. Forgotten by choice. Reverence that soured into horror. ——
Whether he believed or not. This shrine, this thing pretending to be a place, it wasn't abandoned. It had been sealed away. Forgotten by choice. Reverence that soured into horror. ——
July 1, 2025 at 10:18 PM
—— The third toll felt like it would come whether he stayed or not.
Whether he believed or not. This shrine, this thing pretending to be a place, it wasn't abandoned. It had been sealed away. Forgotten by choice. Reverence that soured into horror. ——
Whether he believed or not. This shrine, this thing pretending to be a place, it wasn't abandoned. It had been sealed away. Forgotten by choice. Reverence that soured into horror. ——
—— There was no blinking nor breathing from Megumi. Because, it wasn't a warning ... but memory. One the wood couldn't forget. He could almost hear it. The bell tolling once, twice ... low, heavy, like the cry of a throat that had forgotten how to scream. ——
July 1, 2025 at 10:18 PM
—— There was no blinking nor breathing from Megumi. Because, it wasn't a warning ... but memory. One the wood couldn't forget. He could almost hear it. The bell tolling once, twice ... low, heavy, like the cry of a throat that had forgotten how to scream. ——
—— But, it was still bearing a faint inscription clawed deep into its grain.
It wasn't carved by tool. It was scratched - with desperation.
( When the shrine bell tolls twice, run. When it tolls thrice ... do not look behind you.) ——
It wasn't carved by tool. It was scratched - with desperation.
( When the shrine bell tolls twice, run. When it tolls thrice ... do not look behind you.) ——
July 1, 2025 at 10:18 PM
—— But, it was still bearing a faint inscription clawed deep into its grain.
It wasn't carved by tool. It was scratched - with desperation.
( When the shrine bell tolls twice, run. When it tolls thrice ... do not look behind you.) ——
It wasn't carved by tool. It was scratched - with desperation.
( When the shrine bell tolls twice, run. When it tolls thrice ... do not look behind you.) ——
—— Gojo walked ahead, untouched by dread, posture regal in that arrogant way of his. Like the earth should be grateful to bear his weight.
But Megumi refused step forward immediately. He stared at the pillar.
Old wood warped from rot, black with age. ——
But Megumi refused step forward immediately. He stared at the pillar.
Old wood warped from rot, black with age. ——
July 1, 2025 at 10:18 PM
—— Gojo walked ahead, untouched by dread, posture regal in that arrogant way of his. Like the earth should be grateful to bear his weight.
But Megumi refused step forward immediately. He stared at the pillar.
Old wood warped from rot, black with age. ——
But Megumi refused step forward immediately. He stared at the pillar.
Old wood warped from rot, black with age. ——
—— Though, it still hissed faintly in the distance, beyond the trees. Like the world itself was warning them to turn back. Water no longer touched his skin, and wind no longer moved the leaves. Something had paused the forest. ——
July 1, 2025 at 10:18 PM
—— Though, it still hissed faintly in the distance, beyond the trees. Like the world itself was warning them to turn back. Water no longer touched his skin, and wind no longer moved the leaves. Something had paused the forest. ——
Megumi's silence was not born from awe, nor reverence. It was instinct— the kind that hums from the base of the spine when something older than language starts watching. The rain had died against his shoulders the moment they passed beneath the cedar arch. ——
July 1, 2025 at 10:18 PM
Megumi's silence was not born from awe, nor reverence. It was instinct— the kind that hums from the base of the spine when something older than language starts watching. The rain had died against his shoulders the moment they passed beneath the cedar arch. ——
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
𝗔 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗻𝗼 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗲.
𝗔 𝗹𝗲𝗴𝗮𝗰𝘆 𝗺𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗱𝗼𝘄.
𝗔 𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄 𝗰𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗻, 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗻 𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗲.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
𝗔 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗻𝗼 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗲.
𝗔 𝗹𝗲𝗴𝗮𝗰𝘆 𝗺𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗱𝗼𝘄.
𝗔 𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄 𝗰𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗻, 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗻 𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗲.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
June 30, 2025 at 9:24 PM
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
𝗔 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗻𝗼 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗲.
𝗔 𝗹𝗲𝗴𝗮𝗰𝘆 𝗺𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗱𝗼𝘄.
𝗔 𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄 𝗰𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗻, 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗻 𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗲.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
𝗔 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗻𝗼 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗲.
𝗔 𝗹𝗲𝗴𝗮𝗰𝘆 𝗺𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗱𝗼𝘄.
𝗔 𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄 𝗰𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗻, 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗻 𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗲.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
—— And Megumi walked forward, but it wasn’t toward light or peace, it was toward the next inevitable death that needed to be carried—and he would carry it, same as he always had, until his own name was forgotten and only his silence remained. ——
June 30, 2025 at 9:24 PM
—— And Megumi walked forward, but it wasn’t toward light or peace, it was toward the next inevitable death that needed to be carried—and he would carry it, same as he always had, until his own name was forgotten and only his silence remained. ——
—— He rose then, slow as the death of a star … quiet and inevitable. The wolves followed, obedient, broken, and familiar all together. This wasn’t redemption, healing, but persistence ————— 𝘶𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. ——
June 30, 2025 at 9:24 PM
—— He rose then, slow as the death of a star … quiet and inevitable. The wolves followed, obedient, broken, and familiar all together. This wasn’t redemption, healing, but persistence ————— 𝘶𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. ——
—— Grief had calcified in him. It lingered, sharpening behind the eyes, setting its teeth into the marrow of who he used to be.
“ I don’t want to be saved … “ he whispered, and the shadows listened, devouring the confession like they knew it already. ——
“ I don’t want to be saved … “ he whispered, and the shadows listened, devouring the confession like they knew it already. ——
June 30, 2025 at 9:24 PM
—— Grief had calcified in him. It lingered, sharpening behind the eyes, setting its teeth into the marrow of who he used to be.
“ I don’t want to be saved … “ he whispered, and the shadows listened, devouring the confession like they knew it already. ——
“ I don’t want to be saved … “ he whispered, and the shadows listened, devouring the confession like they knew it already. ——
—— 𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗁 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝖻𝗎𝗂𝗅𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝖻𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 — 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾’𝗌 𝗌𝖺𝖼𝗋𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖾𝗌 ?
He exhaled slow, deliberate, as if even breath had to be earned. He did not cry since hadn’t in years. Not because he was strong, but because he no longer knew how. ——
He exhaled slow, deliberate, as if even breath had to be earned. He did not cry since hadn’t in years. Not because he was strong, but because he no longer knew how. ——
June 30, 2025 at 9:24 PM
—— 𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗁 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝖻𝗎𝗂𝗅𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝖻𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 — 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾’𝗌 𝗌𝖺𝖼𝗋𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖾𝗌 ?
He exhaled slow, deliberate, as if even breath had to be earned. He did not cry since hadn’t in years. Not because he was strong, but because he no longer knew how. ——
He exhaled slow, deliberate, as if even breath had to be earned. He did not cry since hadn’t in years. Not because he was strong, but because he no longer knew how. ——
—— The ground beneath him darkened, slick with cursed energy that no longer lashed outward. It dripped, slow and patient, like the bleed of something vital. And in that spreading stain, he saw himself. As a question that had never been answered properly. ——
June 30, 2025 at 9:24 PM
—— The ground beneath him darkened, slick with cursed energy that no longer lashed outward. It dripped, slow and patient, like the bleed of something vital. And in that spreading stain, he saw himself. As a question that had never been answered properly. ——
—— Just the echo of a boy who couldn’t quite let go of anything, even if it was already rotting in his grip. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? He remembered too much and held too tightly … although he chose to survive, but not to live. ——
June 30, 2025 at 9:24 PM
—— Just the echo of a boy who couldn’t quite let go of anything, even if it was already rotting in his grip. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? He remembered too much and held too tightly … although he chose to survive, but not to live. ——
—— His hands shook as he summoned a shadow, and out crawled a shikigami malformed and cracked—its body stitched from the remnants of his fractured will. He watched it writhe, its eyes hollow sockets reflecting his own expressionless ache. No roar / power. ——
June 30, 2025 at 9:24 PM
—— His hands shook as he summoned a shadow, and out crawled a shikigami malformed and cracked—its body stitched from the remnants of his fractured will. He watched it writhe, its eyes hollow sockets reflecting his own expressionless ache. No roar / power. ——
—— He spoke not for ears, but for memory —— for the lingering phantoms that walked two steps behind him, never enough to be embraced, never far enough to be forgotten. Tsumiki’s smile was a ruin now, her warmth a relic. Even she, in the end, had become another wound he dared not touch. ——
June 30, 2025 at 9:24 PM
—— He spoke not for ears, but for memory —— for the lingering phantoms that walked two steps behind him, never enough to be embraced, never far enough to be forgotten. Tsumiki’s smile was a ruin now, her warmth a relic. Even she, in the end, had become another wound he dared not touch. ——
—— The kind that festers inside the spine and bends the body before it breaks the soul. “ 𝑀𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑖𝑠𝑛’𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 ... 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 / 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒔 / ? They’re all mine to hold. “ Megumi’s voice was a rasp that didn’t stir the trees. ——
June 30, 2025 at 9:24 PM
—— The kind that festers inside the spine and bends the body before it breaks the soul. “ 𝑀𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑖𝑠𝑛’𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 ... 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 / 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒔 / ? They’re all mine to hold. “ Megumi’s voice was a rasp that didn’t stir the trees. ——