Chapter Text
If asked, those who knew Ijichi Kiyotaka would describe the harried Assistant Manager as one of the hardest-working employees at Tokyo Jujutsu High. A little high-strung, sure, but he more than made up for it through his loyalty and dependability.
Ijichi would never agree, at least not without shyly downplaying the compliments, but it was true that he took his work incredibly seriously. Always the first one in the office and the last to leave, he held himself to the highest of standards as a matter of course, regardless of the personal costs.
Usually Ijichi was resigned to living with this arrangement - it came with the territory when one was an Assistant Manager and it wasn’t going to change anytime soon. But on this particular day he was sicker than he could remember feeling in a long time, and he’d long put aside the hope that he could sneak out of work a little early to get some much-needed rest.
His illness had started the previous day when Ijichi was more exhausted than usual after another late night spent working. At first, he figured he was just a little overtired, but by the end of the day his appetite had also vanished to the point where he couldn’t even force himself to eat a few bites of dinner. He was sound asleep in bed not long after, energy drained and limbs heavy like he’d just climbed a mountain.
He didn’t feel any better the next day. If anything, he felt far worse. He’d woken up later than normal with a persistent headache and a lingering weariness that he couldn’t seem to shake despite tossing back some cold medication as soon as he woke up.
By that point, he knew something wasn’t right. But since he didn’t have a fever he scrambled to get ready for work anyways, assuming it was just a minor cold.
The thought of staying home didn’t cross his mind. Who could afford a sick day when there was always so much work to do? It would have been unfair to the rest of his colleagues. They didn’t have nearly enough sorcerers in rotation for the number of curses that needed to be exorcised in a city the size of Tokyo, and it was the same story for the rest of the supporting staff and assistant managers. And what would his superiors think? There was just no way he could justify a surprise day off.
And so Ijichi reported for work early in his crisply pressed suit and tie, ready to diligently perform the many duties required of him as an Assistant Manager.
What awaited him at the office that day was an ever-growing pile of paperwork and financials to sort through, several phone calls to various government and city officials who put constant demands on his time, briefings to prepare, and an escort of one of the newer Grade 2 sorcerers into Tokyo-proper to exorcise a cursed spirit at a former restaurant slated to be re-opened.
The demands of his job were endless. Relentless requests. Constant demands. A never-ending list of important tasks that everyone wanted finished as soon as possible. And no time to rest between the next thing that needed doing.
It would have been a long and difficult day even if he was perfectly healthy. As it was, Ijichi only felt worse and worse as the afternoon wore on. By mid-afternoon, his headache had grown from a dull ache to a relentless pounding that impeded his ability to concentrate, and he could no longer ignore the overwhelming exhaustion and the occasional shakiness of his hands. And yet Ijichi was still completely swept up in the bustling pace of his work because he knew it was expected of him to work through difficult times.
Unfortunately, Ijichi had to put aside any hopes of an early night. It was shaping up to be yet another late day at the office. His fate was sealed when Yaga called Ijichi in the late afternoon to demand a last-minute meeting: a late dinner with his most unruly staff member and special grade sorcerer, Gojo Satoru.
Which meant that Gojo Satoru needed a driver. And that responsibility had landed squarely on Ijichi’s shoulders. Just as it always did.
And with the meeting due to begin in less than an hour, Gojo was still nowhere to be seen.
Ijichi leaned over the steering wheel and groaned miserably, tossing his phone on the passenger seat beside him in defeat. For once - once! - it would be nice if Gojo was on time. He’d texted Gojo over twenty minutes ago, right after he’d parked the car in front of the school grounds, exactly where Gojo had requested Ijichi meet him, but as usual, Gojo didn’t feel any particular urgency on his part to show up at the agreed-upon time.
It was a mystery how one person could be so consistently late for everything and not feel the least bit apologetic about it. Ijichi, who felt stressed if he didn’t arrive at least five minutes early for a meeting, would never understand.
As the minutes added up, Ijichi closed his eyes, nodding in and out of an exhausted doze. He was starting to seriously doubt that he would be able to get through the rest of the evening.
Except it wasn’t like he had much of a choice. Duty came first.
He was just so, so tired.
Finally, his phone lit up with an incoming text, and he reached over to grab for it desperately. It was Gojo, responding to Ijichi’s multiple pleading texts for updates with an incomprehensible string of emojis that Ijichi didn’t have the brain power to decipher. He hoped they meant Gojo was on his way, but it was hard to be sure. The man was an enigma that Ijichi wasn’t keen on figuring out.
Ijichi winced as his headache flared up again, now a constant, painful throb. The cold medication really hadn’t helped at all. He took a quick look at himself in the rear-view window and winced again at the thin sheen of sweat that had taken up residence across his forehead. He was barely presentable in his current state. His pale skin was ashen and coloured only by flushed cheeks, and his whole body was starting to ache in a way that was quite unpleasant.
Frankly, he looked terrible – almost as bad as he felt. And, somehow, he had to make it through the next few hours in close proximity with the most stress-inducing person that he’d ever met in his life when all he wanted at that moment was to return home for another long marathon of sleep.
Distracted, Ijichi jumped when the rear car door opened and Gojo Satoru boisterously slid into the back seat behind Ijichi, slamming the door behind him so loudly that Ijichi clenched his eyes shut at the stabbing flare of pain it provoked in his head.
“I’m here!” Gojo practically shouted as he buckled himself in. He brought up one arm to lean against the back of Ijichi’s seat, leaning his face in near the back of Ijichi’s neck. “No time for napping, Ijichi, we don’t want to be late for my meeting. You know how Yaga gets when I don’t show up on time – I’ll never hear the end of it – so you’ll have to drive fast to make up for lost time.” He rapped his knuckles against the back of Ijichi’s car seat. “Let’s get to it!”
Ijichi opened his eyes, sighed, and wondered what crime he’d committed in a past life to deserve being at the perpetual beck-and-call of Gojo Satoru.
He didn’t bother with one of his usual polite greetings, instead he started the car engine and put his foot on the gas, hoping if he didn’t say anything that the drive would be a silent one. He barely made it even a few meters before Gojo’s hand suddenly reached over Ijichi’s car seat to grip his upper arm firmly.
“Ijichi, stop the car.”
Ijichi nearly jumped out of his skin while driving, and it took him a moment to fully process Gojo’s clipped instruction. He slowed the car down though didn’t stop, dismayed that Gojo was cutting into the precious little time that they had left to make it to Yaga’s home in time for their meeting. Had Gojo forgotten something at the school? He wondered how long this delay would take, and whether he could talk Gojo out of it.
“What? Why? You said yourself that you’re going to be late. Shouldn’t we keep going?”
Gojo’s grip tightened briefly before he let go of Ijichi’s arm. “Stop the car and turn around for a second.”
Gojo’s tone brokered no argument, not that Ijichi had the energy to resist anyways. It was almost impossible to win an argument against Gojo Satoru on a good day. With care, he pulled the car over to the side of the road and switched off the engine. Slowly, he re-adjusted his glasses before twisting around in his seat, his sore body protesting against the awkward movement.
“What’s the problem, Go—”
“Whoa - you look horrible!” Gojo interrupted, his face scrunched up in wonder as he looked Ijichi over. If his eyes hadn’t been covered by bandages, Ijichi was sure they would’ve been open wide in feigned shock. “I’m serious. I’ve never seen anyone look as bad as you do right now – and I’m including people I’ve seen beat up after a few rounds with a cursed spirit. This is pretty impressive for a non-sorcerer.”
Ugh.
Ijichi turned back around and collapsed into his car seat bonelessly with a heavy sigh, rubbing his temples. He didn’t have the patience to deal with Gojo’s antics tonight. He felt bad enough already.
“I’m fine, Gojo-san. I can drive you to Principal Yaga without any issue. There’s no need to be concerned about that.”
Gojo was already vigorously shaking his head before Ijichi had finished speaking.
“No, no, no. No way. Not looking the way you do. Look at you, you’re all sweaty. Yech.”
“Of course I’m taking you to Yaga. You have a meeting with him,” Ijichi checked his watch, his heart sinking, “in less than twenty minutes…”
Well, there went any hope of making it to Yaga’s house on time. And that definitely meant he was going to receive yet another stern reprimand for Gojo’s tardiness. As if there was anything Ijichi could ever do to get Gojo to be punctual for anything. He’d been trying for years.
Gojo only scoffed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “You look like death and your first priority is to drive me to Yaga? Have you seen yourself in a mirror lately?”
“He said on the phone it was very important you be there tonight.”
“Oh, is that all? I can solve that problem,” Gojo replied, his casual response spiking Ijichi’s heart rate.
“Oh no, you really don’t…” Ijichi trialled off when it became clear Gojo was ignoring him. Helpless, Ijichi watched Gojo from the rear-view window as Gojo pulled out his phone, quickly keyed in a text, and hit the send button with a firm press of the finger, looking incredibly proud of himself as he shoved his phone back into the pocket of his baggy uniform.
He grinned up at Ijichi, smiling wide. “There. I’ve cancelled the meeting with Yaga. Told him I won’t actually be able to make it after all – said I was too busy – so you’re officially off the hook.”
“Gojo!” Ijichi cried out in alarm, jolting upright and ignoring his protesting muscles. “Why would you do that?!”
This was the worst possible outcome. Yaga was going to be furious with him.
“Because the only place we’re going is to see Shoko to get you checked out.” Gojo dropped the joking lilt to his voice and looked Ijichi over as though genuinely worried. “Seriously, you look like shit, Ijichi. Have you been working all day while looking like this?”
“What? No, no. I’m not going to see Ieiri-san.”
Going to see Shoko was out of the question – the very idea made him cringe. He couldn’t bear the thought of Shoko – who Ijichi respected more than anyone else and who he harboured a not-so-secret crush on – seeing him in this condition: his suit sweaty and crumpled, hair in disarray, and with a chatty Gojo Satoru in tow. Ijichi had a feeling that Gojo would just make fun of him the whole time.
Gojo didn’t seem to care much for Ijichi’s thoughts on the matter. “Are you serious?” Gojo chastised him like he thought Ijichi was being ridiculous. “It’s not up for debate, Ijichi-kun. You look like you might be on the verge of collapse and – honestly – it’s not a great look on you.”
“But I really don’t feel that bad. And we can still make it to your meeting if—”
“Listen, I didn’t really have carrying you around bridal style because you won’t cooperate as part of my plans for tonight,” Gojo interrupted, “but we can if you don’t stop arguing about it. You’re going to see Shoko tonight.” His voice had an edge of finality to it as if daring Ijichi to push his luck.
Ijichi’s eyes fell shut and his shoulders slumped in defeat. He wished more than ever that he was anywhere else but here.
Still, this was important enough that he wasn’t going to back down from this without a fight. Even if he had no hope of winning this argument, he had to try.
“Please. I just…I just want to go home. That’s all I want.”
Ijichi grimaced, hoping the ground would open up and swallow him up. He sounded pathetic, his raspy plea unsteady and shaky to his ear – but in its wake Gojo was silent. The older man crossed his arms and considered Ijichi for a long, torturous moment, serious and unsure.
Then, to Ijichi’s surprise, Gojo let out an annoyed sigh and gave in.
“Fine, if that’s what you’re so set on,” Gojo said in reluctant agreement. “But I’m taking you straight home and you’re going to see Shoko in the morning if you’re not feeling any better. And I refuse to be held responsible if you pass out on the way home.”
“Agreed,” Ijichi said quickly. “Whatever you want.”
He wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Gojo following him home, but it was an arrangement that he could live with. It was actually shocking that Gojo even offered a compromise instead of steamrolling Ijichi into doing what he thought was best, which was Gojo’s usual way of doing things. He’d be a fool not to take this deal.
“Alright, don’t make me regret this,” Gojo said gruffly, as though he was now incredibly annoyed by the whole situation. “Now, where do you live?” Gojo asked as he pushed the car door open and stepped out of the vehicle. He walked over to the driver side door and opened it for Ijichi. “Normally, I’d ask one of your underlings to bring you home, but I think they’ve all left by this point. So much for staff loyalty, eh?”
Ijichi slowly unbuckled his seatbelt and placed one foot outside of the car unsteadily. He wobbled as he stepped out of the car, overcome by a sudden wave of dizziness that he felt deep in the pit of his stomach, and then all of a sudden his legs were giving out and he started to slide towards the ground.
Luckily for him, Gojo was already beside him and managed to catch him by the arms and hold him upright, saving him from the embarrassment of becoming a crumpled heap on the ground. Ijichi hissed as he brought his hand to his throbbing head as he struggled upright.
“You’re not making me feel like I’ve made the right decision by letting you go home,” Gojo grumbled, his grip tightening on Ijichi’s arm until he was sure Ijichi was solid on his own two feet. “You need to get to bed. Look at you, you can barely walk.”
“No, we can’t leave yet – I still have to bring the car back,” Ijichi said weakly, though he had no idea how he’d accomplish such a thing.
Gojo clearly didn’t share his concern about the car, looking it over like some annoying afterthought. “Hm? Oh, just leave it here overnight. It’s not like anyone’s going to steal it, and one of the other managers can come collect it in the morning.” Ijichi was too tired to argue, which was just as well because Gojo cracked his knuckles and put a firm hand on Ijichi’s shoulder. “Any landmarks close to your place that I should know about? I’m going to teleport us as close as I can get us to your apartment, though fair warning, you’re definitely going to hate it.”
Gojo was right. Teleportation was not a pleasant feeling when one was already sick.
His stomach felt like it had been turned inside out and then back again. And for the second time in the space of five minutes he almost humiliated himself by falling to the ground as he struggled to get his bearings while the world slowly came back into focus.
Gojo hadn’t loosened his grip on Ijichi’s arms, as if he’d guessed this exact outcome, and he lightly pulled Ijichi against his chest when the younger man started to pitch forward dangerously. Ijichi slumped further backwards into Gojo’s shoulder, momentarily dazed, and Gojo chuckled.
“Do you need me to carry you home after all? I was kidding about the bridal-style thing you know,” Gojo teased in his ear, giving Ijichi’s shoulder a condescending pat, to which all Ijichi could manage in response was a tired groan.
He shakily pulled himself away from Gojo’s grasp and took a staggering step forward and then another, determined to walk on his own until they emerged from a tiny alleyway where Gojo had teleported them away from civilian eyes. To his credit, Gojo had landed them close to his apartment – it was only a ten-minute walk away.
But even that seemed so far.
Gojo remained in relatively close proximity to the struggling Assistant Manager like he fully expected Ijichi to fall over again. Ijichi was dead set on not letting that happen – his pride had taken enough damage tonight already – and so he trudged along as best he could. While the energetic bounce in Gojo’s step irritated him to no end, at least the other man wasn’t talking his ear off about random nonsense like he usually did. It was a minor miracle.
It came as a huge relief when they finally arrived at his apartment. Ijichi fumbled with his keys to open the door, stumbled in, and toed of his shoes in quick succession. He exhaled, comforted to be around familiar surroundings where he didn’t have to pretend like he didn’t feel like death anymore. All he had to do was see Gojo out the door and he could get to bed.
Out of necessity, he abandoned his usual high standard of politeness and self-effacement – bowing to Gojo to convey his thanks seemed like far too difficult a manoeuvre to pull off in his present state – so Ijichi hoped he looked appropriately thankful instead.
“Thank you for bringing me home, Gojo-san. I know it took you out of your way tonight and I am sorry for disrupting your meeting. But I can take care of myself from here.”
Gojo snorted in disbelief and raised an eyebrow and without first asking for permission he stepped around Ijichi to enter his apartment, making his way over to Ijichi’s kitchen.
Oh no.
Stunned and disconcerted, Ijichi watched from his hallway as Gojo began opening Ijichi’s kitchen cabinets one-by-one until he found a shelf containing a row of drinking glasses. He plucked one out of the cabinet so he could fill it nearly to the brim with water, walked back to Ijichi, and handed it over with strict instructions.
“Drink all of this with cold medication. I’d say better to skip the shower tonight – neither of us wants me to get involved if you pass out in there – and then go straight to bed. No work tomorrow either.”
Okay. Well. That sounded somewhat sensible. Grateful, Ijichi took the glass from Gojo without a word, clutching it tightly in his hand, and headed to his bathroom to retrieve his cold medication. Once he had swallowed the pills and the rest of his glass of water with an unsteady hand, he shuffled to his bedroom, closed the door behind him, and shucked off his suit, leaving himself a messy pile of clothes on the ground to clean up in the morning. It was a testament to how badly he felt that he couldn’t care less about the mess.
And then finally, finally, he was in his bed. He burrowed under the covers, pulling the blanket nearly over his head, grateful to finally rest his sore, aching body. He could’ve cried it was such a relief. This is what he’d been dreaming of all day.
But he didn’t have the good fortune to fall asleep immediately as not even a minute later his bedroom door creaked open and a soft, warm light intruded into the room from the hallway.
Right, he’d forgotten to wish Gojo a good night. He was probably coming in to tease Ijichi for his poor manners.
Ijichi was too tired to open his heavy eyes as Gojo’s footsteps approached the bed. He kept his eyes tightly closed, hoping that pretending to be asleep would be enough to avoid conversation. He twitched when he heard a soft clunk on his bedside table. For a brief moment, Gojo stood motionless beside Ijichi, his broad form casting a long shadow over Ijichi’s face. Ijichi waited in anticipation, wondering if he was going to say something.
But no, in the end, Gojo didn’t say anything. He left the room without a word. And he didn’t stick around. A few moments later the thudding sound of his apartment door latching shut confirmed that Gojo was gone.
With the last reserves of strength he had, Ijichi opened his eyes. His vision was blurry without his glasses on, but he could just make out another full glass of water and pill bottle of cold medication carefully situated on his bedside table. His glasses, which he’d abandoned without thought in the bathroom, had also been folded up neatly and left within arm’s reach.
Gojo must have brought them in for him.
That was…surprising.
It was an unusual display of consideration from Gojo, though Ijichi didn’t have the energy to dwell on it for long. But in the last few moments before Ijichi fell into a deep sleep, he smiled.