Chapter 55: Jealousy Is Not a Weed You Can Pull

The hug incident ended.

Technically.

Physically.

Emotionally, the house was still on fire.

Gojo sat on the floor, back against the sofa, staring into space like a man who had seen too much. Hiyori was resting on the other side of the room, wrapped in a blanket, unconscious but smiling faintly. The flowers had calmed down, though a few vines still twitched like they were eavesdropping.

No one spoke.

Which was worse.

Hikami Arisawa broke the silence by standing up.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Her flames were low, not flaring wildly like before. That alone made everyone tense.

She cracked her neck once and looked straight at Anzu.

“Hey. Flower girl.”

Anzu flinched. “Y-yes?”

“Come outside.”

Gojo’s head snapped up. “Hikami, don’t—”

“This doesn’t concern you,” Hikami said without looking at him. “Stay out of it.”

Raika immediately stood. “If this is a duel—”

“It’s not,” Hikami cut in.

That somehow made it worse.

Anzu hesitated, fingers clutching the hem of her dress. “I-I don’t want to fight.”

Hikami smiled.

Not teasing.

Not smug.

Sharp.

“Good. Because I don’t want to fight you.”

The backyard was scorched from previous arguments, but today it felt strangely quiet. The sky was clear. The wind gentle. Too calm for what everyone expected.

Hikami stopped a few steps away from Anzu.

“So,” she said, arms crossed. “You didn’t come here to steal him.”

Anzu shook her head immediately. “No. I just wanted to help.”

“And you didn’t mean to mess with his emotions.”

“No! I swear!”

“And you didn’t mean to make him hug her.”

Anzu’s face burned. “I-I really didn’t!”

Hikami clicked her tongue and looked away.

“…Damn it.”

Gojo blinked. That word had never come out of her mouth like that before.

Anzu bowed deeply. “I’m sorry.”

Hikami scoffed. “Stop apologizing.”

“I can’t,” Anzu said quietly. “I hurt everyone. I hurt you.”

That made Hikami pause.

Anzu straightened, hands trembling but eyes honest. “I know how it looks. I arrived late. I caused accidents. And now it seems like I pushed things in a direction I didn’t deserve to touch.”

She took a breath.

“But I don’t want to fight for him.”

The flames around Hikami flickered.

“I don’t want to steal him,” Anzu continued. “And I don’t want to win.”

“…Then why are you here?” Hikami asked.

Anzu looked toward the house. Toward Gojo.

“Because he’s breaking,” she said softly. “And everyone keeps pulling.”

Silence fell heavy.

Hikami clenched her fists.

“Don’t say it like that,” she snapped. “We’re not hurting him.”

Anzu didn’t argue.

She just bowed again.

“I’m sorry if my presence made things worse.”

Something twisted in Hikami’s chest.

That was the problem.

She expected fear. Excuses. Tears.

Not this.

“…You’re annoying,” Hikami muttered.

“I know,” Anzu replied honestly.

That was it.

That was the moment.

The fire around Hikami sputtered out completely.

She turned away sharply, face tense. “Tch. I picked a fight with the wrong person.”

Anzu blinked. “H-huh?”

“I can punch lightning. Burn wind. Outshout anyone in this house,” Hikami said. “But you?”

She laughed quietly. “You’re not even holding a weapon.”

Anzu fidgeted. “I have scissors?”

“That’s worse.”

Hikami exhaled slowly.

“…I wanted to hate you.”

Anzu looked up.

“But you didn’t come for him like a prize,” Hikami continued. “You came because you were worried.”

She glanced back, eyes sharp but conflicted. “That pisses me off more than if you were selfish.”

Anzu bowed again. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” Hikami snapped. Then paused. “…Please.”

Anzu nodded quickly. “Okay.”

From the porch, Raika watched in silence. Arashi leaned against the wall, arms crossed, unusually quiet. Mizuki observed everything, eyes narrowed slightly.

Gojo stood halfway out the door, heart pounding.

This wasn’t a fight.

This was worse.

Hikami walked past Anzu toward the house. As she passed, she stopped.

“…If you hurt him,” she said quietly, “even by accident, I won’t forgive you.”

Anzu met her gaze and nodded. “That’s fair.”

Hikami scoffed and walked inside.

The flames didn’t return.

Anzu let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding and slumped slightly.

Gojo stepped forward. “Anzu.”

She turned, startled. “G-Gojo! I’m sorry you heard that—”

“I did,” he said. “And… thank you.”

She blinked. “For what?”

“For not fighting.”

Gojo looked back at the house, at the girls inside, the tension thick enough to taste.

“I thought the danger was powers. Or enemies. Or fairy wars.”

He clenched his hands.

“But it’s this too, isn’t it?”

Anzu nodded slowly. “Feelings grow faster than flowers. And they’re harder to control.”

Gojo swallowed.

“…Yeah.”

Behind them, unnoticed, a flower bloomed and then wilted instantly, petals turning dark at the edges.

Far away, something laughed.

Not loud.

Not dramatic.

Just patient.

And Gojo realized, with a chill in his spine, that battles weren’t always fought with magic.

Sometimes, they were fought in the heart.

And those left deeper scars.