Chapter Text
“Why Tokyo?”
You didn’t so much as flinch when the tall man beside you, Yaga Masamichi, asked. He knew as well as you did Tokyo hadn’t been your only offer.
The principal of Tokyo Jujutsu High was someone who appreciated honesty, and who was giving you a tour of the school himself, but it was humor you answered with as your eyes met his dark sunglasses. “Would you believe me if I said I just needed a change of scenery?”
A different city, different school, different people.
Among them, none with the weathered face and wooden cane of a man you wanted to forget.
As if you could.
Yaga didn’t laugh at your silly question, making you wish you’d been more serious. “It would if it were true, but I imagine Gakuganji-san was more surprised than anyone about your decision.”
Oh, Yaga had no idea. You doubted you had a home to return to. “He… wasn’t pleased.” You swallowed. “I apologize for any trouble I’ve caused by coming here.”
The last thing you wanted to do was bring your personal problems to your new workplace, but when you’d left Kyoto, so had they, following you right to Tokyo. Your goodbye to Gakuganji had been little more than a courtesy.
He had no warmth for one who’d abandoned family.
Yaga was silent for a moment. The sunglasses he was rarely seen without concealed his eyes, but you remembered their brown.
You felt them on you as he said, “Don’t turn this into a regret, (Name).”
You already had too many regrets. What was another?
Stop. You couldn’t think like that. Even one less regret was a mercy.
“I won’t,” you said. If you had to live with more regrets, then this wouldn’t be one of them. “Thank you, Yaga-san.”
You wanted to say more words of gratitude to the man who’d done you a great kindness, but you didn’t want to risk being excessive. Yaga’s attention shifted to the school buildings around you, and he sighed and adjusted his glasses. You didn’t glimpse his eyes.
“Sometimes I forget how large this school is.”
He wouldn’t speak further of your circumstances. Not now, at least. You were glad for it, though you knew the subject would come up again. If not by Yaga, then by someone else. For now, you were happy just to be the newly arrived, newly hired teacher you were.
“It’s been years for me.” You followed Yaga’s eyes to the buildings and smiled. “I completely forgot about the size of this school.”
But not about its appearance. With the exception of a few new buildings, Tokyo Jujutsu High was outwardly the same as it’d been when you were last here: traditional and quietly elegant. The school’s mountain and forest views were unforgettable.
“It’ll return to you in time.” Yaga’s tone had a touch of reassurance in it. “We’re almost finished with the tour and you’ve met the other teachers, but I’m afraid Satoru hasn’t returned yet.”
“On a mission?” you guessed.
Yaga grimaced. “Buying sweets.”
You’d already yawned twice shortly after your tour with Yaga ended, but as luck would have it, finding your way home on campus brought you to your first student.
He was a boy dressed casually in clothes almost as dark as his hair. His eyes were dark as well.
Fushiguro Megumi, you presumed, but you wouldn’t reveal his own name to him. If you were Fushiguro and a woman you didn’t know said she knew who you were, you wouldn’t like it. You’d rather not explain anyway how you knew.
Fushiguro bowed as soon as he saw you. “Good evening.”
Polite, that was good. Of course you’d yet to learn his true personality, but even exhausted, you’d never scold a student for their politeness.
You perked and introduced yourself. “Good evening. I’m (Surname) (Name), your new history teacher, starting… well, today!” You punctuated this with a laugh, taking no offense when Fushiguro didn’t join in.
“(Surname)-sensei, I’m Fushiguro Megumi, a first-year.” He furrowed his brows. “Uyemura-sensei… no, never mind.”
You knew what he was wondering and wanted to put his mind at ease. “Uyemura-san will still be teaching you here.” You tried a smile. “Only not history.”
Fushiguro, seeming to accept your answer, nodded. “I see. That’s good to know.” A beat passed before he asked, “What kind of history will you teach us?”
Your smile widened at his interest. “Nothing Uyemura-san wouldn’t have taught you herself. Jujutsu, sorcerers, curses, and anything in between.” You shrugged. “Or just Japan.”
You could only imagine what Uyemura or any other longtime teacher would think of you right now: too casual, inexperienced, and clearly a first-timer. Not to mention unqualified.
You had no business being a teacher here or in Kyoto.
Or anywhere.
Yet you’d decided to become one and had accepted Yaga’s offer anyway. Even if he’d never confirmed it, your presence, now employment in his school, was an inconvenience, if not a problem. For all the trouble of… you… slacking wasn’t an option. The minimum you had to do was try being a decent teacher, and if you weren’t, you’d resign. Then Gakuganji couldn’t accuse Yaga of firing you.
How awkward it was, though, when Fushiguro said nothing. He didn’t ask you any questions, jujutsu or otherwise, nor did he return your smile. But you weren’t surprised by either. It was evening, you both had other things to do, and forcing a teacher-student relationship now would be futile.
Still, Fushiguro had made an effort to talk earlier, and that wasn’t something to brush off so easily. You could celebrate the little victories.
“I’m told another first-year will be arriving later this week,” you said. “I hope being the only one in class hasn’t been too weird for you.”
Too weird? You scolded yourself for implying Fushiguro was weird at all.
His expression didn’t change. “Not really. I’m busy with classes and missions.”
The ease with which he replied reminded you how lonely a sorcerer’s life could be. Of course, Fushiguro might’ve been one of those sorcerers who preferred solitude, but even if he didn’t, he was used to it. Used to the combat, the sense of danger, the inability to save everyone.
Like you’d wanted to do, once.
“What about you?”
It took you a second to realize that Fushiguro had asked you a question and that it was about your missions. “Oh, not anymore, but before I became a teacher, I did.”
“Did you have a specialty?”
You heard the note of curiosity in his voice and wished your answer were different. “No, I went on whatever I was assigned. Are you—”
Trying to specialize in something? you wanted to ask when you were cut off.
“Yo, Megumi! Ready for your mission tomorrow?”
That voice.
You’d never mistake it.
Why did this have to happen now? Why not when you were more presentable and better prepared?
But there wasn’t enough time in the world to prepare you for Gojo Satoru.
You didn’t have to turn around. He was at your side in an instant, and you hadn’t even heard him approach. Silencing footsteps was child’s play to a special grade sorcerer like him, as were many things any sorcerer, window, or ordinary person would struggle with.
If the strongest jujutsu sorcerer didn’t make a sound, it was because he didn’t want to.
You tensed at his surprise appearance but forced yourself to relax, if just to get a better look at the man who was now your co-worker and fellow teacher. Fellow sorcerer, too, though you never wanted to see the field again.
The Gojo Satoru beside you was in some ways no different from the one you remembered. He was still only a year older than you, tall and white-haired and, you assumed, blue-eyed. But hiding those eyes was a dark blindfold instead of glasses like Yaga’s, or like the pair Gojo had worn when you last met.
He’d been younger then but was more of a striking sight now, completely confident and comfortable as ever with his full height and long limbs.
Whereas time had eaten away at you, it’d embraced him.
But then, Gojo had always been better suited to this kind of life than you. Standing next to any other working sorcerer, especially one such as him, you’d always pale in so many ways.
Fushiguro stared at Gojo in annoyance. “You’re late again, Gojo-sensei.”
“Scary, you’re starting to sound like the principal.”
You credited Yaga and your time touring the school with not feeling as uneasy as you could’ve around Gojo. Both men were tall with hidden eyes. They were similar enough.
Gojo turned to you with a smile. “So you’re the new teacher, huh?”
“Yes, that’s correct.” As you’d done before with Fushiguro, you introduced yourself. “I’m (Surname) (Name). I’ll be teaching history here in Jujutsu High.”
“Welcome aboard!” Gojo laughed. “I bet old Uyemura’s relieved she has more free time now.”
“She’ll still be teaching as well,” you said primly.
“Oh, of course!” Another laugh. “She hates the idea of retiring.”
You didn’t understand what was so funny to Gojo, finding his behavior off-putting. You’d heard he’d changed since his student days, but to have changed this much… You supposed even he wasn’t immune to personal tragedy. But you had to try to let go of your old memories of him. You were two different people now.
“Gojo Satoru,” he said by way of an introduction, though he’d never need one with you.
He’d forgotten you, though.
If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t be introducing himself again, never saying you’d met before. That was probably a good thing. Easier to be a new face than an old.
Gojo’s hand reached into a paper bag he was carrying. “Catch!”
Reflexively, you caught a box he tossed to you. It was pastel blue, and a label with the maker’s name was wrapped around it. Everything about it was pretty.
Yaga was right. Gojo had been buying sweets.
“What’s this for?” you asked, confused by the box’s weight in your hands. That hadn’t been just a game of catch.
“Call it a welcome gift for the newbie.”
It was much too nice and costly a gift. You didn’t think it was meant to be one either, considering Gojo’s apparent sweet tooth (another thing you’d heard about him) and the other items in his bag. Likely more boxes of sweets.
“Thank you, Gojo-san.” His name tasted strange on your tongue, but you’d have to get used to it—and to many things—in order to work here. It’d also be rude not to thank him or, even worse, to return your gift.
“Be sure to try them! As for you—” Gojo tossed another box to Fushiguro, but it was tossed right back to him.
“Not hungry.”
“After all the trouble I went through to buy that for you? Cold, Megumi.”
“You bought it for yourself.”
“Nope, it was for you.”
“Then return it if it’s expensive.” Fushiguro looked away from Gojo to give you a respectful nod. “Sorry, (Surname)-sensei, but I should be getting back to my dorm.”
“Yes, go ahead.” In Fushiguro’s shoes, you’d want to get away from you and Gojo, too. “Have a good night, Fushiguro.”
“You too.” He pointedly didn’t say anything to Gojo and didn’t look at him either before he left.
“You’ll regret not taking that box when you had the chance. Don’t blame me if you’re hungry later!” Gojo called after him, but Fushiguro never responded or turned around.
Regret? Over a tiny thing like sweets?
You knew Gojo hadn’t been serious—not truly serious, anyway—but regret was a word you’d heard twice now. First from Yaga, now from Gojo. It felt like hitting a needle already stuck under your nail.
Why couldn’t you have done more when you still could’ve?
“Finally got rid of him. Chatty, isn’t he?”
“Hm?”
Gojo’s voice snapped you awake and your mind played catch-up. He was joking about Fushiguro. “Oh no, he wasn’t, but I’m not really chatty myself.”
Gojo smiled coyly, and you hoped it meant he didn’t think anything of your inattentiveness. “Heard you arrived today. Tokyo still feel familiar?”
“Not as much as Kyoto does, but it’s a nice change.”
“It might not seem like it, but Yaga was pretty thrilled when you took the job. That said, I bet the geezer had the complete opposite reaction. Have you been banned from Kyoto yet?”
You didn’t detect an implication from Gojo. He spoke of Gakuganji in a general sense. Not like he was your grandfather with a different surname, different blood in his veins.
“If I have, then nobody’s told me yet,” you said, inwardly eager to drop all talk of Gakuganji. “So is that how you and Fushiguro normally talk?”
“Depends on what normal is to you.” This cryptic answer was followed by an exaggerated sigh and shake of the head. “Kinda hard to be strict when the kid’s the only first-year here right now. You’ve seen how he is. Could learn to loosen up.”
Considering how Gojo himself was, you could see why Fushiguro hadn’t loosened up. You’d be a tight knot daily if you had to interact with Gojo often and every day, but then, that was practically what the job entailed.
It’d been only a few minutes since Gojo had shown up, but you were already feeling extra tired just talking to him. Maybe those sweets he’d gifted you would help with that. A long day like this one made you want to sit, eat, and sleep—in that exact order, too.
“It’s your first year teaching, right?” Gojo asked, pulling you out of your thoughts of home. Your new home. “You nervous?”
“More than I want to be.” It surprised you how easily the words came out, even with Gojo. “I haven’t even taught anything yet.”
“You’ll be fine,” he said sincerely. “The hardest class is always the first, but then everything after that will be a piece of cake.”
“Cake.” The idiom was perfect for Gojo. “I hope you’re right.”
“I am.” Somehow, it sounded like he was winking at you, but you didn’t dislike it.
Compared to the past, this was worlds better. Being on friendly terms with Gojo would be… good. You couldn’t bear another person’s anger at you. Gojo had been joking about Gakuganji banning you from Kyoto, but that was a real possibility. When Gakuganji was angry, as he’d been when you’d said goodbye, you never knew what action he’d take, if any. Best to leave him be to calm down. Until the Goodwill Event if necessary.
“Gojo-san, do you— No, never mind.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, it’s unimportant.” You forced a laugh, realizing you’d just done to Gojo what Fushiguro had done to you, changing your mind before you could ask what you wanted to. “I ended up answering myself.”
Gojo’s laughter was natural, unlike yours. “If you hadn’t, I would’ve been glad to.” He pointed to the bag still in his hand. “Well, I gotta stop by Yaga’s and give him one of these.” He gave you a wave. “Night, (Name)!”
You should’ve reacted with more than surprise at your own name, should’ve asked Gojo why he was using it already, but all you said was, “Good night,” without his name at all.
Gojo-san, do you remember me? you’d almost asked him earlier, but you didn’t want to know anymore. Or to embarrass yourself and have to remind him how, when, or where you’d first met. Despite his earlier words, you couldn’t quite believe he would’ve been glad to answer you.
Some things should stay forgotten.
You watched Gojo go before looking down at the box of sweets in your hand, like it would jump and bite you at any second.
So that’s what Gojo-san is like now, you thought.
Yeah… it’d been a long day.