Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He’s special. Infinitely rarer than finding a four leaf clover on the first try or mining a natural blue diamond or the blooming of the agave. That’s how special he is. Really extraordinary, destined for greatness, a God among men.

Blah blah blah blah blah. 

It all sounds the same. Everyone panders. Everyone wants something. Everyone falls behind while he alone stands at the frontlines. Everyone bleeds into everyone! What an utter bore.

“Gojo-sama, any special requests for your birthday?” One of the house staff asks with a slight lilt in her voice. A characteristic hesitance that everyone seems to have around him, with growing severity. 

“Sweets.” He responds in auto-pilot. Every year it’s always the exact same anyways.

“Hai, hai. We’ve prepared all your favorites. What color should your - “

But he’s already gone. He doesn’t have time to waste on the weak.

Massive floral arrangements and hand-crafted lanterns shuffle in through the main entrance in a blur, hurrying in before the gloomy gray sky turns to rain. He listlessly thinks maybe it would be better if it did rain. To watch everyone fret about under the waterworks, drenching all their hard work which amounts to nothing. The other prominent members of the elite sorcerer families would tsk under their breath in disdain, disappointment, contempt! ‘How could one of the great sorcerer families allow guests to get wet? Have they no shame?’ He snickers, thinking of what the cranky, rat-faced bastard Naobito would say. 

For now though, it’s merely a bustle of unimportant people he’d rather avoid until the time he’s needed. His usual protocol was to nod when needed, eat the food he wanted, and generally tune everyone out. Nothing interesting happened during the first seven, why should this be any different? It was less a celebration of him and more a political flex to the community anyways. 

He meanders slowly toward the training field. “Maybe Sensei will be there.” Though if anything, he’d probably be helping prepare the grounds for the incoming herd. Private tutors for his sorcery training came daily, though none lasted more than a couple months before he outgrew them. 

Feet scurry across well-manicured paths and the sound of hurried shouts drift over the large stone wall that wraps around the main house. He stills, listening to the shrill tones of anxiety - 

“You lost her?!” Screams a voice he recognizes as Gojo Hikaru, one of the guards of the outer estate. A distant lineage with moderate cursed energy. A grade 2 sorcerer with a little potential for higher. 

“I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” The other sorcerer’s frantic apologies hinge close to tears. 

“She could be dangerous - make sure to keep her away from the young master. Are you SURE she didn’t make it over the wall?” At that, his ears perk up. Danger? In his estate? He can’t think of anything more exciting.

“H-hai! I - I think. I’m pretty sure!” he responds, completely unsure. 

“You THINK??” Hikaru’s voice takes on a rasping edge, clearly in emotional duress. 

“W-we’ll find her right away!”

“I knew we shouldn’t have kept her! Kill her if you need to.” Well THAT is interesting.

His thumb comes to his chin as he ponders the best course of action. Well, he is the backbone of the family. Tons of responsibility! And wouldn’t the responsible thing be to help them in their search? Who better to get the job done than the man of the hour! 

A tingle of excitement, of actual adventure, crawls up his spine. He smirks, running off toward the highest vantage point - the rooftop of the main house. 

His Six Eyes pinpoint three unfamiliar cursed-energy marks. A middle aged woman with minor cursed energy helps sweep the garden. A low-ranking Zenin member delivers a letter. And a little girl scales the rooftop of one of the pantries. Cursed energy seeps from around your neck, wrists, and ankles - all points that are bound with talisman. “Hmmmmmm~ Who could you be?”

He hops down behind you. On your stomach, head dangling over the side of the rooftop as you try to peek into the building. 

“Neh, neh, what’re you doing?”

“SHHHHHH.” You quickly turn toward him, large green eyes staring straight at his equally blue ones. Light brown hair frames your face as your bound hands come up to your lips, ushering for him to shut up as soon as possible. He chuffs slightly at your audacity to quiet him, of all people.

Your eyes widen as you take in his appearance with obvious scrutiny. He does the same back, as eyes scan up and down your form. He’s certainly never seen you before - he would know if he had. And the bindings are terribly oversized for your small frame. 

You suddenly point at him (well the best you can with your hands bound together). “Small!”

“You’re one to talk.” A slight red stains his cheeks. You’re at least three inches shorter!

You tilt your head to the side, confused. You’re not from around here, at least that much he’s ascertained. If you were, you would’ve known him the moment your eyes landed on him. It’s not like he had subtle features. Not in the slightest. 

“Why are your hands bound like that anyway?” He leans in closely, not worried at all about your potential ‘threat’. What harm could you really do to HIM?

“Ummm… good.” You respond with an abnormal, unnatural inflection to your voice. 

“…” Are you an idiot? Probably. Though he could toy with you a little longer. It’s better than returning to the estate to wait for something, anything to happen!

You lift up your hands, shaking the wood shackles. “Good!” Burnt into the cuffs are rows of intricate, overlapping symbols. Some familiar, but most he’d have to consult the old archives to truly glean their meaning. Below the cuffs are paper talismans wrapped tightly around your arms, covering from your fingertips to your elbows. A matching set of cuffs and talisman on your legs and neck altogether make up a relatively ridiculous ensemble for a kid. They seem quite overkill, but the jujutsu world does like to fret over small things. Every small piece of unknown seems to make them want to jump at the opportunity to cage and then destroy, so that the unknown may never become known. 

It makes him want to burst into laughter.

How fearful they all are. How weak.

He doesn’t fear anything. 

“I see.” He doesn’t. He doesn’t really care what you have to say anyway.

You nod resolutely, proud to get across your point.  

“Stay!” You bark out an order to him.

“You can’t order me around.” He deadpans.

But you push up into a crouch on all fours, then swing down from the shingles into the slightly ajar window. It reminds him of an animal, deftly moving through the forest. Your movements seamless despite the shackles that should make acrobatics near-impossible. If you have cursed energy restricted from five major points then certainly there must be more to you than meets the eye. 

It isn’t even a full minute and you hop back up onto the roof with an armful of sweets - mochi, chocolate, cake, cookies. The very sweets meant for his birthday that they’ve been keeping in the storehouse. 

You hum happily, distributing the haul. Blissfully unaware.

He sighs. “Those are mine you know?”

You place four treats on his side, and four on yours, contemplating the last one. The tiebreaker.

“You must have heard about me. Everyone has. Six Eyes? Limitless?”

You place the last treat in his pile, ignoring his questioning. Well, mostly it probably just goes in one ear and out the other. 

“Sucking up won’t do ya any good either.” 

“Yes, good.” You respond, affirmatively. 

“Is good the only word you know?” He shakes his head with a little scoff. 

“Good?” You utter, now more unsure of the flow of conversation.

He can’t help but laugh. If this imbecile is able to sneak into the main house then security really needs to tighten up around here. 

You smile in response to his mirth, opening your mouth wide for the first bite into the cookie.

“Wowwwww~” Eyes lit up with pure joy. 

“It can’t be that good…” he mumbles, but follows suit. “Eh?” His eyes widen and you catch his glance, nodding exuberantly. It IS that good - better than it has been, richer in flavor and texture. A taste so vibrant and perfect that it lingers, long after, ushering in cravings from the mere memory of it.

“Good!”

“Have you ever had these before?”

You shake your head. 

“If you come to my birthday there will be a lot more. A feast with at least six courses.”

You gasp, followed up by relentless clapping. He can’t help but swell with a little pride. 

“I mean I am THE Gojo Satoru.”

He watches you for acknowledgement but you just nod and smile again .

“THE Kurumi.” You point at yourself, though stumble awkwardly through your own name. It makes no sense, but even something so simple is unfamiliar to you. Where did you come from? 

He sighs, “”No THE. Just Kurumi.”

Your eyes twinkle. A pleasant trill escapes your lips.

“What was that?” He laughs.

You do it again. A strange, bird-like noise, that he finds rather endearing. 

Both grab your last dessert - a fluffy white mochi. He holds up his in a little cheer before devouring in sync. The verdict is obvious.

“This one!” “Good!” You shout together.

“By far the best - the chewiness of the dough, the perfect sweetness of the filling!” Satoru analyzes.

“Mm! Umm - … Ahh…” Your mouth opens and closes as you try to find the words.

“It’s the perfect ratio of filling to mochi.” Satoru fills in.

“You.” You point to the white of his hair and the white of the mochi. “Me.” You points to the hazelnut center and your brown hair. It’s a stretch, most definitely. 

He blinks at you. “I’m not sure I would say it’s anything like us.” 

“Us.” You say the words in awe. “Us.” Familiarizing with the sound.

A high-pitched WHISTLE suddenly cuts through the air. More shouting, this time from inside the walls. You stand up, guiltily looking toward the direction of the noise.

He pulls your sleeve, “C’mon, I know all the best hiding spots.” He hasn’t even seen what you can do yet. It’s bound to be disappointing, but even he is a little curious. And he didn’t share his sweets to have nothing to show for it!

You shake your head slightly in disappointment. “No.”

“You want to go to them? They fear you, you know.” He doesn’t care one way or another. 

You catch his gaze straight on. “Yes.”

“You want to go to them, even if they’ll hurt you?” You can do whatever you want, it has nothing to do with him at the end of it all. 

“Yes.”

“Then you’re an idiot.” He doesn’t have time for those that can’t fight for themselves. It’s a sign of weakness. Giving in at the moment of adversity. 

You bristle at this, shoulders tensing. “You idiot!”

“No, you.” His eyes narrow. 

You shake your head viciously. “No! Idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot!” You point at him, accusatory.

“I don’t have time for idiots like you!“ 

Then your little frame bulldozes into his side. He easily catches his footing, pushing you off. He smirks - maybe you do have some fight in you.

It feels unfair to go full power, considering your restraints, but his cursed energy flares. He runs toward you, leaping up as his kick descends. Your eyes widen, but you react quickly. You crouch to the ground, bracing for impact. Your hands lift to protect yourself and -

Andddddd he swung right at the shackles.

And now they’re falling to the floor…

“Ah.” “Eh.” You say in unison as the other shackles instantly break as well.

His eyes widen as the world around you comes alive in cursed energy. 

Warm like summer in the tall grass, cool like the breeze under the maple tree. Heavy like the base of the mountain, light like the clouds. Dark like the deep blue night sky, bright like the stars amidst it. He could picture the cursed energy like a scene from nature, ebbing and flowing through the seasons. Empty like the beginning of everything, full like the end of it all. He’d never seen anything like it. A flow of cursed energy shattering, rebuilding, and continuing in repetition. 

“GOJO-SAMA GET AWAY FROM HER!” The panicked cries.

But he can’t get away.

Oh why would he possibly get away.

You look at him - an expression of wonder on your face. He can see it in your eyes - that you can see him. 

He’d been indoctrinated in fate since his birth. FATE . Fated to wield the Six Eyes, fated to master all the techniques of the Gojo clan, fated to change the balance of the world. 

He hates fate.

Fate which seems to have its firm hold on him.

Fate which seems more powerful than any curse.

Fate which seems to have no sense of humor. 

So why does it feel as if even the heavens have secrets? Gray skies begin to bleed. A sudden downpour of rain, but the sun peeks out in golden daggers.

A blessing.

Or destruction.

One of the two. He doesn’t really care which. He is strong enough to handle either. 

So he offers his hand out to you. 

There was a time even the great Gojo Satoru was merely Gojo Satoru. When he came out of the womb, knowing nothing of the world. He could see the bristle of the trees in the courtyard, the spike of a few heartbeats when he opened his eyes, the flutter of wings from the birds in the sky. He could see every little thing. And he truly believed that that was what everyone saw. If only for a moment, he was just like everyone else. 

He couldn’t remember anymore what it felt like, to know, intrinsically that he was living in the same world. He’d been alone since the moment he knew how different he was.

“What do you see?”

He wants to know. 

He needs to know.

You reach for his out-stretched hand. And as your little fingers curl around him, time slows, stretching on for infinity. Water droplets glitter in suspension. The guards are still as stone in mid-run. An utter quiet, save the breath shared between the two.

Messy brown hair, doe-like green eyes and a carefree smile. “You.”

It’s only a matter of time, until even you will lose your wonder.

Until this feeling is forgotten altogether. 

…

Right? 

Now though… even the air tastes sweet.

He wouldn’t know it - not yet. Not for a long time. That this memory would prove to be the first that truly withstood the test of time. How fitting, considering all things...

Chapter Text

"He's serious."

"He's intimidating."

"He's strong."

"He's chosen."

The house staff would gossip amongst themselves, describing the young master as they caught glimpses here and there. They were taught not to interact with him unless needed. Nothing frivolous - couldn't be wasting the time of the chosen one!

But… something had changed.

Because Gojo Satoru was behaving in a way they never expected.

He was behaving like a child.

"RUN - NO NOT THERE, HAHAHA WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" He shouts, pure adrenaline, as he sprints through the halls of the estate, jumping off the walls and furniture at a speed they can't comprehend.

"AHHH! I'M GUNNA DIEEEE! HYAHH!" You scream-laugh your way after him.

You balance on the tip of the drawer, until face planting dramatically on the ground. "NOOOooo THE LAVA!"

He grins, hopping down beside you. "You died AGAIN."

"She is reborn!" You jump up with both arms above your head.

"G-Gojo-sama, Kurumi-chan, p-please be careful on the furniture." one of the housemaids quickly picks up the fallen ornament. The walls are adorned with an array of antique scrolls and fine pottery, probably worth the sum of a small nation island. And here the kids are, wiping dirt-laden hands on the scrolls and shattering more than one fine pot on their way to surviving their volcanic eruption. No big deal. Definitely everyone is cool, calm, and collected about this and the housemaids aren't on the verge of mini heart attacks every five minutes.

"It's fine." Satoru waves his hand dismissively, a bored look taking over at the intrusion.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" You bow deeply at the waist, then scramble to pick up a tipped over vase.

Satoru grabs your hand, pulling you up and away before you can help with the rest. "Let's play outside." 

He’s annoyed. Your brows furrow at his sudden chill, before you bolt in front of him, hands still locked together. “C’mon! The lava’s catching up to us!!” 

He grins as you both slam through the sliding shoji doors. An explosion of ripped paper and wood chips float through the wind. The gasps of terror from the housemaids are drowned out by giddy screams as you two jump over the entire stairwell to the grassy hill beyond.

Your hold on one another loosens as you let your body tumble down the hill.

When you reach the bottom you unfold onto your back, peering up through the tall grass at the bright blue sky. A windy day where you can track the speed of the clouds as they shift through the sky. Hundreds of little fluffy puffs, adventuring through the skies on their way across the world. Cumulus clouds. That’s what your teacher had said. You didn’t like these ones as much. Among all their friends, but still alone.

“Did we make it?” 

“Of course. As if lava could outrun me.”

You turn to him - hands folded behind his head as he watches the same little puffs. You pluck a dandelion from the grass, obstructing both your views with the thing.

“It’s got your white hair and my green eyes.” You point out the fragile ball of white seeds and the green stem.

“It’s a weed.” He scoffs. “I’m not a weed.”

“Not just any weed! Sensei told me that if you blow on it, it'll grant your wish.” You chirp back, unperturbed. 

“That stuff is stupid.”

“I like it.” You huff. 

“What’s a weed going to do about your wish?”

“Probably work an office job.”

He snorts, “What are you wishing for?”

“A steady paycheck.”

He blinks, “That’s easy. I have money.”

“Hmmmmm then…”

Money, the economy, supply and demand… You’d just gained a grasp on it. This society was run by two things it seemed: money and power. It made you painfully aware of how little you had in regards to those things. You had no things of your own. A bed that didn’t belong to you and limited meals that came in exchange for the chores you did around the estate. And you’d come to realize pretty quickly that you liked things, though you had no means of your own to get them. 

Regardless, you felt rich in the ways that mattered. You scoot yourself up, swinging yourself on top of him. Legs at either side of him, one of your palms at his chest.

“Oi.” He grunts, feigning getting crushed by your weight. Still, he lets you linger, plucking the dandelion from your grip. 

You smile down at him. Perfect white lashes framing perfect baby blues. Your favorite color. Was it always that way? “I wish that in this life… the next… until the end of time itself…” Both your hands gently rest against his cheeks. “That you’ll be here.”

The wind picks up, sending a twirl of little white seeds floating through the air around you. Your eyes flit over to them, watching them swirl dancing through the skies. “Wahhhh, how pretty!”

If you were paying attention, you’d notice his gaze. Still stuck to you. 

“You - that’s - you’re so embarrassing.” He responds, voice dipping a little lower.

“What? Why?” You laugh.

“It’s just so sentimental .” He groans as if the word itself will bring further embarrassment.

“Hahahahahahah the great Gojo-sama! He fears no curse, no man, no calamity! But oh boy if he has to face sentimentali -” He attacks your sides and you squeal in laughter. “- w-wait TORU, HAHa WAIT!”

But he doesn’t relent, tickling you more. “I’ll give you one more chance.”

“HAHA - TORU OKAY OKAY -” He pauses for a moment, letting you catch your breath, “The great Gojo-sama fears nothing, no one and certainly not sentimentality. He’s so strong and cool.”

He grins, “That’s right.”

You lean down toward him, “So then, what does the great Gojo Satoru want?”

You don’t believe in wishes either, but that someone out there came up with this idea that blowing dandelion seeds through the air could make wishes come true - you love that. The whimsy, the oddity of it all. Funny little things that make being human so interesting. 

“I want -”

“Gojo-sama!” Katai yells across the hallway, with an authority only a few people hold over Satoru. 

Besides, you don’t need things like wishes. Nothing would stop you from making yours come true. 

“Bleghhh.” Satoru whines beneath you. You run your thumb across his cheek, pinching it lightly. 

“Look at these cheeks.” You mutter more to yourself than him.

The quick crunch of Katai’s footsteps across grass makes its way into your ears. Just as Katai rounds the corner, Satoru pulls you both up to stand.

“Gojo-sama, you are an hour late for your training!” Katai fumes, treading the distance in record speed for his age.

“I’d hardly call it training.” Satoru flippantly responds. 

“It is important that you are diligent in your practice. Regardless of your talents, you still have much to learn. Please, Gojo-sama.”

He stretches out languidly, “I’m going, I’m going.”

Katai bows deeply at his departure, a gloved hand at your back to force you into one as well.

Satoru looks back, glaring at the place where Katai’s hand meets your back. He softens as you smile at him from your bow. ‘I'll see you later!’ you mouth silently. 

Katai finally rights his posture when he knows Satoru is long gone.

“Come.” His voice is firmer, deeper. No room for negotiation. He looks worse than usual - deep wrinkles adorn his under eyes and forehead and you’re sure it’s as much a symptom of his age as his stress. You can see it even in the quiet hurry of his movements that today he’s in no mood for anything besides obedience. Despite the quick friendship that had bloomed between you and Satoru, he’d never relented in his sharp watch over you. Well, he could be wary all he wanted, it doesn’t matter to you. In the end, he put Satoru’s safety first and foremost, and it’s what you wanted as well. 

The stone path slowly turns to unkempt dirt as you tread further into the restricted areas. You’ve been here before. Rather, you think you must be the most frequent guest. You hope you never have to come here again. Its seclusion is a sign of its wrongness… a place where only those who are scorned in some way need go for reparation. You could feel in its bones, the moment you stepped foot inside, that this was a place where many souls had met the end of their time. It spoke to you, so strongly, of centuries before. Hope, only to be crushed in its confines. Despair spun deeper into insanity. 

You were locked here for 59 hrs 12 minutes 36 seconds. Even without sunlight, you’d somehow known that. The ticking of time. 

Now you voluntarily step down into the same wooden staircase leading below ground. Dark, save the lantern Katai pulls from the wall. Layers of seals across all sides. From the fraying and discoloration, some of them are hundreds of years old, while some are new even since the last time you entered.

Katai places the lantern on another rusted hook on the wall. He leans over the table, where a set of four wooden bracelets rests neatly amongst the chaotic disarray of the room. Deeply imbued with cursed energy. They feel heavy even from afar. 

He roughly pulls you toward him. 

He snaps on the wooden bracelet to your left ankle, removing the older, clunkier ones in its wake. A new place. One filled with people, buildings, gardens, delicious food. Certainly a severe change from your reclusive upbringing. You could barely recall seeing another human until you were captured. Curses were far more familiar. Even out there, they always seemed to be milling about. Maybe lingering, clinging to the land as trauma does, no matter how much time has passed.

He snaps on another to your right ankle, following the same steps. A new language. There were so many complex words and meanings to glean. Understanding others and in return, having others understand you. You’d learn them all if you could. 

One more on your right wrist. A new promise. There were rules to follow, being at the Gojo estate. Even before you had words, you knew of such things. For where curses linger, so does fear. Fear of death… of regret… of unrealized potential… of change… of the unknown… of loneliness… of judgment… there is nothing more human than to fear. 

He hesitates, before the last comes on. “You will never remove the seals without express instruction from the Gojo clan. It will help you… moderate your cursed energy, control it. You should be thankful that we will be taking your growth into our own hands.” And the last on your left wrist. A new life. You could feel it, the moment your cursed energy touched Satoru’s. A sense of deep purpose - a reason for being right then and right there. A belonging that could swallow with it the entire weight of the world. An endless well of curiosity for what would be. You knew that this was truly the beginning. This is where the story unfolds. 

“You shall not speak of this to anyone. You understand, right?”

You nod. Sure, the clan had always been very hush-hush with anything regarding… well, anything. Knowledge being the key to dismantling many techniques. You had no one else outside of the clan anyways. This is all you had, and on very uncertain terms. 

“Hai!” You shout back.

“You must vow it.”

Your brows furrow, confused. “Vow?”

He swallows thickly, a tautness in his back. “It’s like a promise. You would not want to break a promise with the clan that has shown you such great generosity - that has welcomed you in as one of our own… right?”

Your eyes widen, alarmed. Of course you would never want to hurt the Gojo clan, and in turn Satoru. You didn’t want to hurt anyone for that matter, most of all your best friend. It was a promise you’d already made to yourself. “Of course.”

“Say it, child.”

“I vow it!” You chirp out, happy to. 

He lets out a sigh of relief. “He is the most important sorcerer of our generation. You must understand that.”

Your mind continues to drift to the many questions it leads to. Even as you take a seat in class - well, you're the only person in it, but it still counts - your mind wonders. 

Do all the great sorcerer clans believe that of their heirs? Satoru had briefly prattled away about the Zenin and Kamo family. Do members of potential get regaled around in all the clans? Were their estates as grand as the Gojo estate? Grander even?

And what were the expectations placed on the talented members? Strength for the sake of strength? What did it all mean in the end? You want to meet them. If only to understand more of his world. 

"Nghhh" You stretch out, exiting your language class on the outskirts of the estate. Tiny, barely enough desks for three, though there’s never more than just you. You'd read - recently, considering you didn't know how until now - that the Gojo estate had expanded three times since the birth of Gojo Satoru. This building must be one of the random additions judging by its newness.

You squat down into a familiar stance on all fours. As quickly as you could learn new habits, this was something you couldn't yet leave behind. On all fours you pounce through the trees. Agile and flexible, though it really freaked out the gardeners. The other day someone had even shouted 'SPIDER-BEAR!’ at you. Satoru had drawn you a picture of what that could possibly look like. A strange amalgam of spider legs with a bear head. You’d pocketed the doodle into the tin box below your bed of things that were yours . 

“Kurumi-chan you’re finally back! Can you sweep the pathway from the entrance to the second ring? And then Akira-san needs help with the leak on the side of his house!” Considering you weren't even blood-related to the outermost families, you were basically an assistant to anyone who needed it in order to earn your keep. Though most kept their distance, having heard of ‘the pre-birthday debacle’ which already felt like a lifetime ago. 

“Right away Oba-san!” You grab the broom and a trash bag, pausing a moment. Your steps divert to the kitchen. The refrigerator is spotless, save a picture of the aforementioned Oba-san and two young girls in pigtails. Classic Gojo fair complexion on all of them and light hair. Though not all had the perfectly white hair that Satoru sported. You pull out an insulated bottle from the inside, strapping it around yourself. 

You sweep the pathway on your swift walk to the front gates, humming a light tune - a random mash of songs you’d heard on the radio. 

“Isn’t this boring?” Satoru casually sits on a high tree branch, legs swinging back and forth. “Neh, neh, why don’t we ditch? Let’s go to the arcade!”

“I like it!” You nod, serious. “Besides, if I ditch then Oba-san will have to do it later.”

“So what?” You giggle, he’s so spoiled. “Hurry up at least. I’m hungry.”. 

“Here, this will hold you over for a bit, kay?” You place an open bottle just below him, “I told Oba-san to save me some! Doesn’t it look like us?”

He hops down with an inhuman lightness of foot. Pastel green fluid swirls around with milk and tapioca balls. “How?” You scoff - he might have the Six Eyes, but there are still some things that escape him!

“It’s got my green eyes and your white hair.” You roll your eyes because it’s obvious. 

He blinks at you.

You pout, pursing your lips back.

“You’re insane.” It’s his favorite flavor. You know that of course. It would be hard to forget considering he had a weeklong obsession where he had to try every boba shop within a 5 kilometer radius. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. This one though is different - hand made by Oba-san. Irreplicable.

“Yes, but I balance it out with how fricken adorable I am.” And the corner of his mouth twitches again. Until he can’t help but laugh so hard that his chest shakes and he almost spills some of his precious boba to the ground. 

“Who told you that?” he says between laughs.

“Just look at me!” You beam at him and he rolls into another fit of laughter. 

He’s quick to complain, fickle, and so terribly spoiled, but he downs the boba in two big gulps then grabs another broom. He silently sweeps up at your side as he always does. 

You like sweeping the old stone of the Gojo estate, because Satoru visits without fail as if he knows precisely where to expect you. 

You like the fluttering of the Ginkgo leaves through the wind, because Satoru’s vibrant blues stand out in perfect contrast as they fall around him.

You like the way Satoru holds the broom with expertise, because you know he’s been watching you so that he may do the same.

Chapter Text

There’s a light smell of old paper, dust, and incense that has likely permeated the space for centuries. A shuffle of silent feet across well-worn, wood floors. The entire building feels like a relic from another time. Deep into the furthest shelves of the library, you hide amongst layers of bed sheets tossed over stacks of books. A makeshift fort made of the priceless history of jujutsu.

Plenty of librarians have already attempted to persuade Satoru to treat the books with more delicacy. Begged, really. You were sure one even had tears running down his cheeks. It had nearly broken you to acquiesce - the poor soul! - while it had only strengthened Toru’s resolve.

You glance over at him - a mess of white hair, legs in the air as he dangles upside down in the mess of pillows. His eyes barely flit off the screen of his Nintendo DS, “Oh. You’re at a good part.”

Your index finger taps at the spine of the book in your hands. A good part. 

You close the book with a thump. Toru’s eyes focus on you, his DS hanging limp in one hand. “You’re not going to finish it?”

“By good… what do you mean?”

“Don’t you trust me?” A teasing in his voice. 

You eye him, wary. “I fear we might use the word very differently.”

He smiles, “Wasn’t that the only word you used to use?”

“Absolute slander.” You scooch yourself closer to him as he pulls himself upright, tilting the screen in your direction. 

You were a sucker for a good story - well, a good story with a happy ending. You wanted so badly for the hero to triumph over evil, for the struggling working mom to get her big break, and for the star-crossed lovers to rise above the times. Is that too much to ask for??

Satoru certainly thought so. During your movie marathon he had forced you to watch Sophie’s Choice. You’d cried all through the second half. And then he’d assured you the next one was even better. So he proceeded to play Grave of the Fireflies and you’d cried the entire night.

“You can finish later.” he says. 

You nod as your chin rests against his shoulder. “Yeah, after we go to that thing.”

“Hmm what thing?” He responds absently, fingers dexterously executing on a fight combo. 

“The celebration?” 

“The head chef’s third wedding anniversary?”

“Eh? No, not that.” You pause, “Really, three years?”

“Yeah, he’s been off since last week. That’s why the food’s been so bleghhhh .” He sticks out his tongue.

You push away from him, crawling out the entrance of the fort with the book tucked under your arm. 

“You’re going?” He calls after you, a hint of annoyance in his voice. 

“I have to get ready!” You shout back. 

“Really?”

“Yes really!” You flip open your phone - as simple as it gets with a number pad and left right arrow buttons. The bare minimum, truly, but you’d jumped up and down in delight when Katai had placed it in your hands.  He’d said it was strictly for professional purposes, since you could always be counted on to know where their precious master was. 

What started as ‘We need to be careful how she influences the chosen one’ started to shift toward ‘Oh thank god Kurumi is here’ very quickly. Even Katai had stopped protesting.

You divulged his every selfish request with joy. An antic that wore on his caretakers quickly was something you thrived in. Any sudden hunger pang that took them across the city in search of a specific food stall he couldn't remember the name of - you were game! A wave of cabin fever during a heavy storm - you would crawl through the houses with him finding new trails and hidden places amidst the cobwebs. You reveled in it. Finding new ways to draw out a smile, a laugh, and most of all… the little spark in his eyes when he discovered something that lay secret to even his Six Eyes.

You slowly scan the messages from Katai –

Gramps: Meet the seamstress at 2.

Gramps: The seamstress will be waiting.

Gramps: Do not be late. 

Gramps: Is Gojo-sama ready?

Gramps: Make sure that he is.

You glance over at Satoru, smiling to himself as he completes the level he’s on. He looks ready enough. Ready being very subjective - ready could be anything! 

You: Sir, yes, sir

And for good measure –

You: :D 

You flip the phone closed as a barrage of dings follow. 

“Coming?” You call once more to Satoru. 

“Mm.” Still engrossed in his DS, he walks quietly at your side. 

It’s only as you approach the main house that his attention starts to sway from his game. A tenseness to his shoulders at the realization that each step takes him closer to some responsibility he's managed to avoid until now.

Katai ushers you over from the front steps towards an elderly woman waiting beside him. She has a three person entourage of assistants beside her, all dressed in the same dreary black robe as Katai. She smiles warmly at you as you approach.

“Come, come.” He hurries you AGAIN. 

“Aren’t I early?” You hold back a chuckle. 

He levels you with a stern glare.

“Hai, hai, I’m coming~” You skip up the stairs towards the woman. Her hand reaches out to your own and you take it in surprise. As your skin brushes hers, you’re overtaken by the feeling of color. Love growing stronger through the ages. Heartier, more welcoming, warm. Passion that ebbs and flows like the waves of the sea, but always thrumming across all of time. Ah, satisfaction. With life and what it brought. What it continues to sow. An artist who has perfected her craft and reaps its rewards. A mother who has loved and seen that love bud into more life. Choices, more choices, a little regret, but time does that wonders. 

“I’m Michiko. You must be our little muse for today.” She squeezes your hand gently. 

You blush, “I’m Kurumi.” Your eyes shift away from hers, “ I’ve never been anyone’s muse though…” 

Sometimes it felt like a whisper of thought, a secret spoken in quiet tones to a thunderous sea. In others, it was clawing, screeching, like metal against concrete. A single image or a conviction or a rhythm. No two were ever the same, though neither were they ever wholly different. People were like that… varied and strange and yet, somehow, history always had a way of repeating itself. A different flame lit for the same candle. 

“How could that be? You have such a wonderful eye color and the loveliest complexion.”

“Right?? That’s exactly what I’ve been saying!” You grumble.

She chuckles, “Confident, too. I like that in a young lady.”

It had never scared you, no matter what it showed you. You’d always taken it to be some sort of instinct, some glimpse into a truth that had yet to make itself whole. Satoru had been the first to explain that it was a part of your innate technique. He didn’t know exactly what it was - which of course meant, neither did you. All you knew was that the moment your skin touched another, if you wished it, you could know a piece of them.

She turns suddenly to Satoru, “We have something for you too, Gojo-sama.”

“I’m not going.” Satoru says flippantly.

Katai sighs so deeply you worry he might just slump over onto the ground and never get back up. “Satoru, it’s not something you can refuse. The Kamo family are celebrating the birth of another son. It would be impolite to refuse. They were there at your ceremony and we already accepted their invitation.”

“That’s what this is for?” Satoru says. 

“We discussed this, at length, at dinner a week ago.” Katai pleads. 

“Must’ve slipped my mind.” More like, tuned out completely. A habit of his at the prospect of something so wholly uninteresting. “Besides, I’m busy.” He holds up his DS, shaking it lightly. At the least, you applaud him for his dedication to the grind. 

“Gojo-sama… they would take it as an insult for you to cancel at the last minute.” Katai massages his temples. 

“I guess you should have never accepted in the first place -”

Both heads swivel at the loud squeal that erupts from your mouth. “IT’S - IT’S BEAUTIFUL.” Your jaw drops as Michiko unwraps the kimono. It’s a gorgeous blue, with the bottom faded to white. A pattern of little blue flowers are sewn across - a mirage of a large bloom of flowers that fades into the distance. Even from the packaging alone you can tell it’s worth a fortune. 

“These flowers are called Nemophila. Better known as Baby Blue Eyes.” She explains with a quick glance at Satoru.

Your eyes shine with excitement as you turn to him. “TORU, TORU, OH MY GOD TORU -”

His eyes widen at your freak-out.  

“IT’S LITERALLY YOUR FLOWER. AHHH. It’s gorgeous, I love it, I love it, I love it!!” You squeal once more. 

Michiko’s laugh fills the room, “I wish all my clients responded this way. Come on, we’ll help you into it. Have you ever worn one before?”

You shake your head vigorously. 

The three assistants pull you to a side room for privacy. You quickly strip out of the hand-me-down cargo shorts and long-sleeve tee that Oba-san had given you. You hated them - god, they were atrocious. But she gifted them to you with such generosity how could you say anything back? Besides, it’s not like you had anything better. You’d snuck a glance at her daughter’s closets, long left forgotten after her move to university, gazing in awe at the modern clothes within. Lots of patterns in red and pink. High-quality cashmere and leather. You restrained yourself from reaching out to run your hands through the clothes. It wasn’t your place. 

Yet here you are, with an outfit worth ten times that. It’s a dream. The softness of the silk as it slides on. The precise tucking and tying from the team as they wrap the fabric around you firmly. The moment she ties the last one, you burst through the doors back into the room.

You twirl in front of the large mirrors, hands at your cheeks, in complete awe. 

“D-do I get to keep this?” You ask, though you know it sounds more like begging. You’d grovel if you needed to.

“Of course. It’s made just for your measurements.” She seems almost as happy as you at your outburst. 

Something for you. Yours. 

“It’s so perfect. Toru has one, too?”

Michiko pulls out his kimono - little green dragonflies sewn in a repeating pattern over a black kimono. “If the young master is inclined to attend, we have this one prepared. More simple, elegant, befitting the young master of a great clan.”

“Uwahhhhhhhh~ You need to try it on Toru.” You gush at him. 

His DS hangs limply at his side. You’re not even sure when he stopped playing, but he patters over, throwing off his sweats without care for his audience. He quickly wraps the kimono himself, shooting death glares at any assistants that try to assist him. 

A little gasp leaves your lips as he turns to face you with an unenthusiastic gesture.

You pull your gaze away to face Michiko. “You’re so damn good at this.”

“Kurumi, language.” Katai scolds. 

She laughs, “Thank you.” Her hands reach to unbox one more item. 

Inside is the most beautiful bundle of blue flowers dangling from a comb. You don’t know what to do with yourself and simply freeze on the spot, like a deer in headlights. 

“I can tie your hair for you, if you’d like?” An assistant smiles at you. “I think a braided bun would look so lovely on you. What do you think?” 

“Yes, yes, yes!” You take the seat in front of her.

She laughs, fingers deftly making work of your hair. “Just one moment then.”

Satoru stares intently at your hair and you wonder, “Do you want her to do your hair, too, Toru?”

“This perfection?” He fakes a hair flip as best he can. “It doesn’t get better than this.”

You scoff, “Fine, but don’t regret it later.”

You’ve never had anyone do your hair before. She moves quickly, but always with a light touch. There’s something comforting to it and you close your eyes. She smells of a dab of perfume and clean linen. If she were your mother, would she braid your hair every morning? As her skin meets yours, you can feel it in her very being that she would. The type of mother with wells of patience, but a firm hand. It was the way she was raised by her own mother. Soon. Maybe. Please. This year. This is the year, right? She hasn’t met the right person yet. The one. Anguish. Longing. Hope. 

Once she finishes your braids, you continue to marvel at yourself in the mirror. You barely register a scoff from Satoru and the crinkle of his Kimono as he approaches. Pale hands reach toward your head, delicately sliding the hair piece into the top. 

Tears prick at the corner of your eyes and you fight the urge to cry. “Urgh…” 

“It’s just a kimono.” He whispers close to you.

You suck in a sudden breath, “It’s not just any kimono.” 

“Are you going to look in the mirror all day?” He drawls.

“I kinda want to.” You admit, quietly.  “Doesn’t it look just like us?”

He tilts his head, “A little bit.”

You gasp. It’s the first time he’s admitted it. The hairpiece, a perfect blue flower with green dangling beneath it. 

You can’t help but jump up, hugging him suddenly, “Right? Right??” 

“Kurumi-chan, you’ll ruin your hair if you move around so much.” Michiko warns with a little chuckle.

“Ah!” You jump back from him and he frowns. You fix your posture, standing still as stone. “I’ll be super careful! Did you finish your game?”

“Yeah, I did.” He says quietly.

“Even the suuuuper hard boss at the end? You kept dying.”

“Too easy.” he throws the DS onto the ground, “I don’t even want to play anymore, it was such a let down!”

“Oh! Then let’s go then.” The sleeves of your kimonos brush against one another as you grab his hand in yours. “We’ll buy you a new game tomorrow!”

When Katai pulls open the car door at the entrance of the Kamo estate you’re still basking in the newness of it all. A new outfit, in a new place, doing new things. The estate isn’t nearly as grand as the Gojo estate, but it’s still remarkably beautiful. A very classic, traditional style (which you’re now under the impression all jujutsu families like) with red paper lanterns lining the walkways for the celebration. 

“You know the Kamo family specializes in blood techniques, but the last two failed to inherit it. One of them couldn’t even see cursed spirits.” Satoru leans down to whisper into your ear. 

“Ehhh~ What happens then?” You wonder. 

“Hmm, who knows.” He responds, flippantly. He never seems to linger on what happens to the weak, letting them merely disappear into obscurity. 

“Maybe they pursued other things! Like… medical school or something!”

“Booooring. Who cares anyway? They were weak.”

The strong versus the weak. You weren’t even sure where you fit into it all. Surenly, the Gojo family had seen some sort of value in you. Some sort of strength to merit you staying. But you were barely able to control your cursed energy. You wiggle the bangles on your wrists and ankles - the proof of your own weakness.

“I guess so - WOAH, TORU LOOK!”  You tug on Satoru’s kimono, pleading. With hurried steps you approach the ornate cradle. “Look at his tiny legs!!”

Satoru leans over, a look of curiosity despite his complaints. “And fat face!” 

“And his squishy potato torso!”

“... He’s an ugly thing isn’t he?”

“He really is.” Your index finger reaches toward him, letting him meet you part way. His grip wraps around the digit. Curiosity. Hunger. Warmth. Simple emotions, clearly spoken. Your heart warms at how clear he is, knowing that only at this point in time will he be like this. “We were like this once.” 

“Useless blobs?” Satoru pokes and prods at the child with his finger. 

You chuckle, “More like… simple. Clear - maybe that’s the right word. Like, how do I explain…”

“Like all you had to do was live.” He says, fists tight as if he knows exactly what you mean. As he always does.

“Like all you had to do was live.” You mutter back, grateful to have the words. 

Beyond the row of finely dressed men, you spot a woman, peeking through the crack of a door. She’s not watching you… rather, all her attention is fully on the cradle beside you. 

“That’s the mother.” Toru whispers into your ear, having observed the same. You both resume your walk of the premises, leaving the cradle and the baby behind. 

“Why is she so far away then?”

“She’s a non-sorcerer. She doesn’t belong here. They'll just spit her out once they’ve made use of her. This baby is the result of that.”

You still.

What?

“That’s cruel.” You can’t help the flare of anger within you. You glance once more at the door, but she’s no longer there. 

He’s quiet, watching you. 

“It’s always been like that.” He finally supplies. “The strong control the weak. They decide how this world should be.”

“...” You chew on your cheek, mulling it over. That’s the truth. You’ve seen it time and time again across all the people you’ve encountered. Strangers exploiting unsuspecting victims for money, bosses screaming at their employees, and even parents hurting their children. “We just need to be stronger than them right?”

His eyes widen, “Something like that.”

“Good.” You take out your fury on the snack selection, eating without remorse. Satoru is just as bad - worse, definitely worse, you’d say - eating all the mochi and sushi, while leaving the sliced fruit and soup untouched. Katai pales when he approaches, grabbing both of you at once. The damage is done and you and Satoru grin, successful in your pillage. 

The rest of the night is filled with distraction while the head of the Kamo clan begins a lengthy speech about the honor and pride of the clan. He sends a prayer to the heavens for thick Kamo blood to be passed to this child, while you and Satoru attempt to pilfer the guests' pockets. 

“10,000 yen definitely beats a pen.” You flap the bill around in your fingers. 

“This is a novelty pen.” He argues. 

“It’s hideous, Toru.” You nearly gag looking at the gaudy thing.

“It’s expensive - this is real gold!” He waves the gold point at you with a toothy grin.

You glower, “Fine! What about this fan? It looks like real silk.”

“It looks like it’s been a feast for an army of moths.”

“Vintage, Toru. That’s even more expensive!”

“It’s just OLD.”

“VINTAGE - Ow!” You hold the back of your head, turning to glare at Katai. A low growl escapes you, “What was that for?!”

“I told you to behave. Come, we’re heading back.” He turns to Satoru, “Make sure to bid farewell to Kamo-sama with a bow.”

Satoru barely glances at the old man, with the shallowest, most disrespectful bow you’ve ever seen attempted. You, on the other hand, are forced into a 90 degree angle. He barely glances at you, though his gaze lands on the exposed bangles on your wrist. He doesn’t say a word as you all leave. 

“Let’s go home.” Satoru says, stretching out on the pathway to the car.

Home. It's the first time you’ve thought about it like that. Is it home? What constitutes a home? There are a million definitions, but none seem quite so right to your situation. You don’t really live there. Camp out in a guest room sort of situation. Charity-case, maybe. Or live-in labor. But is that what home is? I guess you didn’t belong anywhere else. If they kicked you out of the estate…. Where would you go? Maybe just wander your way back to some quiet forest. Maybe try to get a job in town - though weren’t there age limits for that? Maybe another jujutsu family would find you. That seemed to be most probable.

“What was his name?” You wonder aloud. 

“Noritoshi.” Katai fills in.

“Noritoshi huh?” Satoru levels Katai with an unimpressed glare.

Noritoshi. A man known for great evil and yet they’d gifted the name to a child as if it were a great honor. An omen of good will to come from such terrible deeds. You’re glad you went. You don’t want Toru to go to these alone.

You finish the book late into the night, as you promised. The pages splotch under the weight of your falling tears during the final 10 pages. A story of war, greed, desire, sacrifice, tragedy and triumph. “Toru… he just beheaded the clan leader.”

He finally lifts his gaze from the TV screen to watch you. “It was a good fight.”

He grins as you sniffle again.

“Crying again?”

You wipe your eyes, “N-no.”

You already knew it was going to be brutal. All of the histories seem to be. Your eyes skim quietly over the final few lines. Everyone is led by their own morals, who's to say who was right and who was wrong? Each the hero to their own story, each the villain to the other. In the end, it destroyed them. Two clans ravaged by war and power and at some point, love. A reminder that when you’ve gone to war, there’s another raging in the place you’ve left behind. 

When war slowly faded into peace and fields had turned gray as the seasons changed, he deemed it time to return home. 

He could feel the thirst for blood like a cloak across the hearth he once found warm. 

Long gone were the children he’d left behind. The sickly sound of his lover's voice, shredded and frayed, croaks at the entrance.

The fight that burned through him through war, turned dull.

A curse of torment, and torture. She was not at peace, she was only alone. 

It was his final slaughter, which he followed into the darkness.

The earth, stained, in the sanctuary of once was. 

Your frame shakes as the tears flow freely again.

“T-Toru - he - he never got to see his family again.”

He pats the spot on the bed beside him and you crawl into it.

“A-and he never got to say goodbye.”

“That does go hand-in-hand with your first point.” He chuckles.

You feel another wave of tears bloom, “Urghh..”

“You’re such a crybaby~” You feel him pat your head. 

“Do you think he regretted leaving them?”

“No - no, he had to leave.” He furrows his brow, “You can’t regret the things you have to do.”

“Maybe he didn’t want to have to do it. Maybe it wasn’t worth it?” You question, weakly.

“Don’t be stuuupid. Worth it? He wasn’t even thinking about that. The point of the story is he had a duty to fulfill. He went off to war and became a renowned general on the front lines!”

“Duty? It was about love.” 

Satoru nearly barks out a laugh, “Love?! Where did you get that? We barely heard about his wife after the first 5 pages!”

You, suddenly clear of tears and ready to fight, “BECAUSE! Because it wasn’t just the end and the beginning, it was his reason why, for the whole thing.”

“You’re such a sap! Love is pointless.”

“No it’s not!” You shout.

“Yes it is!” He shouts back. 

“NO!” You grab his pillow, slapping his face as hard as you can with it.

He falls back into the mattress, dramatically. He jumps up, grabbing his own weapon. 

“KyaAAH~” You scream, ducking as he charges. Your hands up to protect your hair, still braided with the ornate pin. “NOT MY HAIR! TORU, SERIOUSLY!”

He whacks you with his pillow, unrelenting even as feathers burst from the seams, sprinkling the room in white fluff. One second you're crying, the next you can’t help but burst into joyous screams. 

Deep into the night.

Tangled in his bed.

Snacks dangling from one hand.

As you drift to sleep, all you can think is that you hope things would never change between you.

He shames you every time for your weak sentimentality. How openly you show your emotions. How easily you cry. 

Though he demands you sleep over, saying your cries would keep the whole estate up otherwise. It’s not the first time you curl up into his sheets. But it is the first time he fends off the house staff with a glare, before they try and usher you away. He calls it a matter of great importance that you stay. And he holds your hands as you fall asleep.

Chapter Text

Things were changing. Or he was changing. You were changing, too. How could he miss it? With the way that your middle school uniform fits across your chest. The gentle dip of your back. Long legs. It doesn’t mean anything. 

He gently grazes the tips of his fingers across your cheek. Your hair has grown out, twisting across your upper back easily. Even in the weak light of his bedside lamp, it’s a warm, golden, brown. He’s suddenly craving roasted chestnuts. It doesn’t mean anything. 

He watches the gentle cadence of your heart, as he does every time you fall asleep in his bed. It’s the rhythm he sets his own beat to, he realizes. It doesn’t mean anything. 

But he’s busier now. That’s what it’s like, entering high school, fulfilling his own potential. He’s already better than all his upperclassmen, though that’s no surprise. What IS a surprise is his pretentious classmate. Always on his high horse about ‘protecting the weak’ this, ‘responsibility’ that - what a bore! Why is it always the strong who must protect the weak? Why is it always the duty of the gifted to bend to those with no gifts of their own? Selfish, isn’t it? Well, at least Suguru is strong. 

An equal, even. 

“Satoru! PAY ATTENTION!” Yaga slams his hand against the board.

“Hai, Yaga-sensei~~” He yells out, leaning deeply back into his chair, legs on his desk, with absolutely no intention of paying attention.

He feels a slight buzz from his pocket, quickly flipping open his phone. 

Princess: Did you know that Aomori gets the most snow in the entire world

Princess: Should we go?

Princess: Nvm, it’s kind of far?!?!

He can’t help but grin. You’re always like this. Another buzz as a photo of you eating a cookie appears in the chat. Ugh, you’re so adorable. 

Princess: Bunta-kun brought me these cookies from Hokkaido! I’ll save you some eheh

His smile falls. Bunta-kun? Who the fuck is that? Satoru could’ve bought you cookies from Hokkaido. Why do you need Bunta? He’s probably lame, dumb as rocks, certainly ugly, horribly unathletic. Why should he think that someone like him can give someone like you anything? That he would waste your time is -

He starts typing his response when, “SATORU! WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT PAYING ATTENTION! PHONE OFF - NOW.”

“Sensei~ I’m taking notes~”

Yaga stomps over, grabbing the phone from Satoru’s hand. “You’ll get this back after class.”

“But -” Another excuse is already on the tip of his tongue. 

Yaga glares, daring him to respond. The two gremlins at his side snicker at his misfortune. 

“Wow, notes.” Shoko deadpans. 

Suguru just smirks, saying nothing, but saying everything in his bemused expression.

“You’re supposed to be on my side!” Satoru whines.

“If you were listening we’d already be out of class.” Suguru reprimands.

“He’s right. Like I was saying, you have another mission. There have been reports of disappearances along the Ono river. Only men, it seems, walking the path home from work at night. Grade 2. You should all prepare to depart on the next train in an hour.”

Even Shoko glances up at that one, “All of us?”

“Isn’t that overkill?” Suguru questions. 

“Awww a field trip with the whole gang!” Satoru smiles. 

Yaga sighs, “It’ll be good for Shoko to get some hands-on experience when there is no real risk to her. Regardless, prioritize her safety and complete the mission quickly. Do not mess around. I expect you all to return, in one piece, on the first train out tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, Sensei!” Everyone responds in unison. 

It’s a typical mission, save the addition of Shoko who is a rare sight on trips outside of Tokyo. She is certainly no fighter, but she’s remarkable in other ways. She knew her strengths well and her weaknesses better. And somehow, despite hardly ever throwing a punch of her own, she could read the outcome of a technique as if it were another page in her biology textbook. Her brain could work in ways that the average person - even the average sorcerer - could not. On the other hand, that brain of hers could be frustratingly impenetrable. 

“Just fwoosh, fwish, fwoosh, fwish. That’s how reverse cursed technique works.” She’d said, exasperated, moving her hands in sync.

“What is that even supposed to mean??” He’d cried out.

She’d groaned - so had he - in deep annoyance. “FWISH FWOOSH FWISH!” Her hands moving even faster, eyes narrowing at him “Got it? Pretty easy, right?” She’d told him as if he were a complete idiot. Him! The strongest! Well, no matter, he’d understand it in no time. 

He takes a precautionary closer step toward her along the dark river path. It’s a popular walkway (well, for the small town that it is), though at this time of night it’s mostly just drunkards and salarymen making their way back home. Gnats buzz loudly, flocking to the flickering street lamps. 

“You're crowding me.” Shoko exclaims.

He throws an arm around her, “Aw, Shoko-chan, you’re so shy standing next to someone as handsome as me huh? Finally noticed how pretty I am under the moonlight ehehehehe~”

The cigarette falls from her mouth, a look of utter disgust on her face. “You’re an idiot.” 

“You saw that?” Suguru replies with a smile, also taking a protective step toward her. 

It had been this easy since the start. The first time someone could anticipate his moves, and in turn, move with him without having to say a word. Like clockwork, when Satoru moved left, Suguru moved right. When Satoru dove, Suguru caught. When Satoru fell into the darkness, Suguru shone bright enough to lead the way. 

“Yeah.” Satoru smirks. 

It’s been approaching, slowly, slithering through the water. 

Shoko sniffs at the air, caught up on the gist of it, “I can smell it, too.”

A putrid smell of stagnant, toxic water wafts through the air. Thick, as if a sludge, turning their lungs heavy. “Bleghhhh!” Satoru gags. 

“Come here.” Suguru ushers to Shoko and she climbs onto his back just as pieces of the walkway morph into viscous watery stone. Satoru watches the same unfold beneath him. 

“Don’t let the water touch you! It’s toxic.” Shoko shouts to them. 

It could be as easy as forcing the curse toward him, using pressure to crush its limbs into itself. He wouldn’t even have to think to finish the job in a streak of blue. But it’s weak, hardly a thing to worry about and he’s wanted to practice another technique. Maybe that’s what’s been stopping his mastery. Merely a matter of repetition. 

Red cackles at his fingertips, swirling rapidly as the cursed spirit rises from the muck, a grotesque, blackened, worm of a thing with sharp teeth and no eyes. He could feel it - like a barren desert becoming a vast ocean. It felt like the answer to a long lost question. As if he’d known it all along and yet the moment he swings toward it -

It’s gone.

As if he’s let the answer slip away once again.

“Eh. Whoops.” He deadpans. 

Suguru blurs to his side, “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH -” The shrill cry of the curse as Suguru unleashes his own into the world. Bird-like, encased in flame, his curse dives toward the other.

It’s barely a fight that Satoru needs to intervene in, but he can’t help feeling a touch annoyed that once more, he can’t yet grasp his reversed cursed technique. He hides it well enough with a smile. 

“What was that?” Suguru laughs as he tosses back the curse, ingesting it. 

Satoru huffs, “Almosttttt.”

“Still can’t figure it out, huh?” Shoko teases.

“Egh, if only I had a better teacher.” He kicks a pebble into the water, pouting. 

“Fwoosh, fwish! I told you already.” She counters.

Suguru adds. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to save you the next time.” He knows it’s true. A luxury that as long as Suguru is there, he can make mistake after mistake.

They walk in comfortable silence as the first rays of sunlight warm the pavement. They’ve barely slept, though every cell is buzzing with energy. He glances at his two classmates - Shoko casually slumped across Suguru’s back as he holds her firmly in place. He can’t help the smile that stretches across his face at the sight of them. Suguru lifts the lighter to Shoko’s cigarette while she leans in just the slightest to meet him. It’s a sight that reminds him… they’re in this together, the three of them.

He’d been alone a long time. 

Until he met you.

But… the easy camaraderie that you had as children is harder now.

Maybe it had all started with a white lie.

“What’re you looking at?” Shoko turns to him suddenly.

He grins, wider. “There’s this bakery -”

“No more sweets.” She whines. “Not all of us have your metabolism.”

“Wah - it has the best Castella cakes in the entire country!”

“What about udon?” Suguru asks Shoko, ignoring his plea.

“Maybe tempura? There was a stall at the station.”

“But the bakery is ALSO next to the station! Two blocks over. Michelin star! Voted best bakery in the world! Doctor’s rave about it!” (lies)

“Oh what about that unagi restaurant?” Suguru asks again.

“I could do unagi.” Shoko nods, serious.

“I’LL PAY!” He attempts.

“A bakery sounds great.” Suguru suddenly acquiesces.

“I’m getting snacks too for the train.” Shoko agrees.

Those rascals… but that’s how he ends up with a cake on his arm and a bag full of bread for the trip back. 

“Satoru! Hurry up or we’ll miss the last train!” Shoko walks ahead onto the platform. 

“Coming~~” He sings out. 

Something sitting on the lone kiosk catches his eye. This - what the fuck?

He’d know that face anywhere.

Even with the makeup and the hairstyle and the clothes. God, the makeup and the hairstyle and the clothes. Should you really be dressed like this for others to see? Flaunting your beauty to all the lecherous fucking boys who probably jerk off to this? It’s nowhere near an X-rated magazine - really, it’s just a docile fashion magazine for teens… but he knows what middle school boys get up to.

You’re the perfect little doll in all the white frills and white ribbons braided through loose curls. Squeezed beside a stack of newspapers and books and old hard candy for purchase. It’s dated, already a month old, just collecting dust on this small platform in this small town. 

And you would tell him.

You would most certainly tell him if you were going to be on a magazine cover.

Why even would you be?

Maybe it’s your long lost twin! Or someone got plastic surgery to look just like you because you’re perfect, so of course they would! No no no wait, what about your clone! Technology and science have come pretty far, right? Someone plucked a hair off your head and made an exact copy of you and now they’re wandering the streets wreaking havoc under your good name!

He grabs the magazine off the shelf, depositing the coins in the vendor’s hands. His index finger traces your visage on the page.

He knows you you you . How many hours days months years has he spent at your side? How many times has he committed you to memory. It’s the small mole along your right jawline. The particular pattern of green and brown flecks in your eyes. The shape of your lips.

The moment he finds his seat, he flips through the magazine page by page. There’s a few more spreads of you, donning the same brand, but slightly different clothes. He’s never seen this expression on you before… serene, innocent, studied. 

He hates secrets (the ones you keep from him at least). 

His fingers clack clack clack across the train table in rapid succession. 

“Is this your type or something?” Suguru leans over Satoru’s shoulder. 

Satoru waves his hand, nonchalantly, “Just passing the time.”

Suguru smiles, “She’s cute.” 

Satoru swivels toward him, aghast, “Cute?? Don’t ya think that’s a bit rude? Look at her!” His palm slams onto the table beside your picture. Cute is so mild . 

Suguru barks out a laugh, throwing his head back.

“Ehhhhhhh so this is what she looks like.” Shoko leans over, inspecting the magazine spread. Her eyes meet his. “That girl you’re always texting, right?”

“Ah so this is your little Princess. The Gojo girl who isn’t a Gojo.” Suguru states. Satoru’s heard it before. Other clan children loved to whisper those words around you, poking and prodding as if you were a display in a storefront window.

“She is a Gojo.” He says, protective, arms crossing over his chest in a pout. 

He can’t remember the last time he’s stayed at the main estate instead of his dorm room. Was it last month? No… maybe it was the month before that even. 

He eyes the cake again. He’ll wait to try it with you. This weekend, no matter what. 

And maybe you just forgot to tell him about the magazine. Maybe there’s nothing more to it than that. 

Saturday rolls around and he finds that there IS more to it.

Because he’s given you every opportunity and more to mention it.

“I aced my math test! But then I forgot to do the homework… Oh and then Kisa-chan confessed to Genki-kun! He looked so shy, he went red as a tomato hahahaha. He said yes, so they’ve been walking home from school together every day.” You fill him in on all your class drama. 

“Oh? I didn’t think she’d ever confess.” He grabs another large slice of the castella cake.

“She surprised me too! I think she got worried since he’s been spending so much time with the girls in the tennis club. They adore him there. Anyway, I quit the tennis club.”

“You joined last week.” He smiles, expecting it.

“Yes, but then I passed the baseball field and they were short a player for practice so… you know how it goes! Our team is terrible though - no, really, awful! Literally second to last in the league. I heard that the last place team also defaulted on two matches because a cold spread to all their players! So, really it’s even lucky that we’re not dead last as it is. Anyway, it’s the perfect chance for me to give it my most mediocre effort.”

He laughs, happily watching you stuff your face with cake between stories. You never talk about the same group of friends - thankfully - always shuffling between friends as often as you dabble in different sports. You work moderately hard in class, always doing well on tests yet frequently ‘forgetting’ about assignments. Overall, you’re living a perfectly normal middle school life and you seem to love it.

Coincidentally, he hates middle school. 

He hates the flies always buzzing around you. 

He hates that you have a hundred contacts in your phone.

He hates that your stories don’t involve him anymore.

“But what have I missed? Tell me all about the mysterious life of a high-schooler!”

“Yaga won’t let up with the missions! We had to do two overnight missions last month! Suguru and I had to share a room in Sendai -

“A sleepover? Without me?” You yell, aghast. “What! Don’t tell me you had a movie marathon with him as well!”

He can’t help the grin that spreads across his face, “Well…We watched re-runs on TV, ordered every item from room service, and cuddled.” They did no such thing. Well, they did order room service - a terribly overcooked steak and bland pasta. And Suguru did turn on the TV to watch the news (and to drown out Satoru’s rambling - his words). The closest thing to cuddling was Suguru’s alarm clock going off in the morning, wrapping them both in its feral noise. 

“Ugh!” You push the cake away from you in disgust, moving away from him quickly, “Is nothing sacred?”

He drapes his arm over your shoulders. “HAHAHAhaha I’ll make it up to you this weekend, neh?”

“You should just rest.” You say with a sigh.

“Hm?” He blinks, surprised by your quick dismissal. 

“You’re tired aren’t you? You haven’t had a break in months and you have another mission tomorrow.” You frown.

“It’s fine, we’re the strongest ya know?” He pinches your cheek. 

“As long as you’re having fun.” You finally smile.

“Ehhh, how could I have fun? Suguru bullies me and Shoko thinks I’m an idiot!”

“Hahaha should I beat some sense into him? No one talks to my Toru that way!”

“You’ll protect me princess?” He leans down, nuzzling your nose softly.

“With my life~” You laugh, “Should I visit? I’ll give him a stern talking to.”

“I’ll be busy for a bit.” He wants you all to himself still, as much as he can. Why should he share you with Suguru? With Shoko even? It doesn't mean anything. “You know how it is. Mission this, practice that, blah blah blah. Besides…” Now is his chance - “aren’t you busy after school?”

You tilt your head, “Like with the baseball team? I’m certainly half-assing it.”

Like with modeling, for a magazine.

“Oh!” Your eyes light up.

Alright, here it is. Some obvious explanation for it all -

“We are starting to prepare for the cultural festival. Our class is doing a Maid Cafe!” 

Fuck. Maid Cafe? Are all those horny fucks going to be ogling you the whole time? “Really?” Is all he manages.

“Yeah! I’m on kitchen duty. We all voted for the guys to be the maids ehe.”

“I love that idea.” He really does. “Anything else?” He presses, once more.

“Anything else…” You wonder aloud. “Well, I have been feeding these two cats about a block from school. Here I took a picture!” 

It’s a siamese with vibrant blue eyes walking beside a brown tabby with green eyes. 

“Just like us.” You smile.

“Yeah. Just like us.” He nods, tired.

Maybe you’re right - he has been more tired lately. Nothing he can’t handle, of course. This is what’s expected of him, in the end.

Chapter Text

“Hmmm what does it say about my future?” 

Satoru’s ears perk as he catches Suguru’s voice from the courtyard. He’s about to shout at him, call his attention as he always does, but he stops short. Freezes mid-step as blue irises spot his old hoodie, draping loosely over a much smaller figure. Your long hair is pulled back into a high pony, though tendrils of light brown dance around your face. You don’t pay any notice with your eyes closed in complete concentration. You’re seated between his two classmates, holding Suguru’s hand in your own. He shouldn’t care. He absolutely doesn’t care. 

You’ve held his hand so many times before - and this is Suguru . Well, maybe it’s because it’s Suguru that his chest tightens. Why should those worthless, powerless teenage boys in your middle school bother him? They’re nothing compared to you. They’ll never be anything compared to you. They shouldn’t even try existing in your same world. But Suguru? Would you look at Suguru with the same admiration you save for him? Would you adore him the same way you do him? 

“There are many paths, but all of them are driven by strong conviction.” Your voice calmly rings out. 

“You could say that about anyone, couldn’t you?” Suguru goads you. “Everyone has goals, of some sort, that they work toward.”

You smile, eyes still closed, unphased, “Not at all. There aren’t many who are willing to sacrifice the world for a new one. You could do that.”

“Could I?” He wonders without any real depth. He’s just playing your fun little parlor trick. Entertaining you for the afternoon. 

“Yes.” You respond without hesitation. 

When you were children, it had taken Satoru a month to catch on to the fact that you knew things you shouldn’t. He’d like to think he would have known sooner, but your limited language and the fact that you were kept under lock-and-key made it difficult to know anything about you with certainty. 

“What about his love life?” Shoko asks with a smirk as she takes a puff of her cigarette. 

“Ummm... His great love is his cause.” You say.

Shoko bursts out into rambunctious laughter and you open your eyes. “That sounds just like him!”

You weren’t hiding your technique from him, it was more like… so instinctual that you knew nothing else. Like explaining how his Six Eyes worked without ever experiencing what it was like to not have them. It showed itself in small ways. Talking in whispers when the cranky night guard was on duty. Avoiding granny’s house when her daughter was visiting. You could sense how others felt without having to hear it. 

“Are you sure you’re reading that correctly?” He frowns, though his voice remains teasing. Satoru tenses as Suguru’s finger traces across the back of your hand.

“Ah, well, on a more casual level, you’re quite popular in bed.” You declare. 

He sputters, choking on his soda can as his hand pulls away from yours and Shoko is thrown into another fit of laughter. Even Satoru, hiding (when did that happen?) behind the dorms, flushes red. He knows it to be true. He shares the dorm right next to his after all and he’s been an excellent wingman to a handful of hookups on out-of-town missions. 

“That’s…” He tries to defend himself.

“Ehhhhh, no need to be shy~ You certainly aren’t when you’re with them.” You wink.

“HAHAhaha you really are related to Satoru.” Shoko slaps you on the back. 

You grin widely in response.

“Alright, your turn.” Suguru grabs her arm, sticking it toward you. 

Satoru often wonders… What did you see when you peered into his own soul? If you looked now, would you see the same thing? Or has the piece of him that’s kept you around this whole time changed too much to be recognizable? Certainly if you knew his thoughts now you… 

Whatever. 

His fist tightens at his side.

You don’t know.

And you never look twice.

So, it’s fine. 

“What do you want to know?” You smile.

“Will I ever quit smoking?” Shoko says, seriously. 

Suguru scoffs from the side.

There’s no need for you to close your eyes for such a simple question. “You will… “ Shoko smiles brightly - “For a few years, but it’s a habit that will last a lifetime.”

She tsk s under her breath, “Damnit. Will I at least be rich?”

“Money will be no issue for you, but it isn’t something you crave, so it will have little impact on your life.”

She blinks, “You ARE good.” She leans toward you, “What’s my favorite cigarette brand?” 

“That’s hardly fortune-telling, but Mevius Light.” You quickly counter. It isn’t fortune-telling at all, Satoru knows. It’s merely a guess. A very educated guess, but a guess all the same. If you knew a person, you could presume their choices, but… you were always firm about this - nothing is ever certain. 

“Favorite color?”

Without missing a beat, “Black.” 

“Least favorite color?

“Blue.” You laugh as Shoko continues to grill you.

“What about her love life then?” Suguru pokes at her.

“Hmmm… Never quite all-in on your end. You always tell yourself you don’t have the time.” And this time you do close your eyes, searching, “But the truth is, you find that sort of connection tiresome. There’s nothing that could really change your mind - or no one, I suppose.”

Suguru smirks, “Now that sounds just like you.” He throws back to her. 

She snorts, “What’s his least favorite food?” She points her finger at Suguru

“Curses.” You say and Satoru sucks in a breath. 

Suguru laughs, “What’s that supposed to mean?” Satoru can see the instant Suguru’s demeanor shifts from play to potential threat. As his back straightens and eyes flicker to your hands. Your technique. 

His spine tingles as Suguru leans toward you, predatory. 

CLAP CLAP CLAP.

All eyes flicker toward Satoru as he makes his presence known. He claps, strolling toward them, “Hehe, isn’t she so talented?” 

“TORU!!” You bolt up, pure excitement. You’re running and he can’t help the reflex to open his arms for you, to twirl you in the sky until you're laughing, giddy. You smell good - the scent of the soap he gifted you from his last trip lingers in your hair. He’d bury himself in it if he didn’t have those two annoying audience members. His fingers tighten around your waist. He loves loves loves seeing you in his old clothes, wrapped up in him.

“You didn’t say you were coming.” He tries to keep his voice light. 

You still, a guilty look on your face, “Are you mad?” He is. Just a little bit.

“Of course not! I’ll show you around!” He sets you on the ground, but keeps your hand in his. 

You pout, “Ehhhhh, but I was getting to know Sugu-kun and Sho-chan.” Sugu-kun? Scratch that. He’s fucking furious.

Satoru smiles, “Is that right?”

“Yeah, c’mon Toru , why don’t we all go?” Suguru smiles at him. “It’ll be so much more fun together. Besides -” Suguru leans down in front of you, his hand gently petting at your head, fingers running through your pony. “I want to know more about that little trick of yours, Princess .” 

Satoru pales. That’s his nickname for you. Suguru’s eyes meet his. A challenge. 

He should tear Suguru’s hand from you, pull you closer into his chest, and keep you chained up all for himself. It would be easy enough to remove you from that god-awful middle school you go to. He’d get you any number of homeschool teachers. He’d scroll through your phone, deleting every image of anyone else and every contact besides his own. Better yet, you wouldn’t even need a phone! He’s strong enough anyway, to keep you with him at all times. But would that be any better? You’d still be around Jujutsu sorcerers, constantly hovered by weak insects looking to latch onto you for any little scraps of attention you’d spare them. 

He knows it isn’t love. How could love be like this? He’d never let you be happy in another man’s arms. Even if you screamed and begged and cried and - 

What the fuck is wrong with him?

He doesn’t mean that. Fuck, he really doesn’t mean that. 

He’d do anything to see you warm, smiling, happy.

It isn’t even desire. Because why should he want for anything? He’s the strongest. The chosen one. To want is so outside the realm of possibility for someone like himself. Everything is thrown at him, provided, a given. That’s the natural order of it all when you sit at the top of the pyramid. 

This power belongs to only him.

(You belong to only him.)

“No wayyyyyyy!” You pull away though you don’t rebut the name he calls you.

“Playing hard to get?” Suguru smirks. 

“You haven’t even made me an offer.” You deadpan. “Make it worth my while and we’ll see!” You stick your tongue out at him. 

Suguru laughs, surprised, “I’ll think of something then.”

Shoko butts in between you two, “Ignore these idiots, c’mon I’ll show you around.”

“Hai, Sho-chan!” You let go of Satoru’s hand, chasing after her up the stairs.

His gaze follows you, though he lingers at a slower pace, walking beside Suguru. 

He can hear the light trail of your voice as Shoko treats you to an apple juice from the vending machine. You’ve always loved fruit juices, though in summer you’d rather go for a milk tea. He makes sure Katai stocks up on all your favorites in his mini-fridge at home. 

“When did she get here?” He stuffs his hands in his pocket, nonchalant.

“An hour ago. Shoko spotted her wandering around. Recognized her from those magazines.”

Oh, fuck. He freezes. Shoko would be the kind of idiot with no tact. To let it slip he had your magazine. 

Suguru smirks, “Don’t worry, I covered for you.” 

He sighs. “Thanks.” You’re his best friend. You always have been, but… with Suguru there’s an ease that’s different from what he has with you. A brotherhood that he never knew he could have. Leaning on one another through everything. Even moments like these. Though he abhors secrets you keep from him, he has those he must always keep from you. For your own good.

Shadows dance across your skin as you walk under rows of trees in front of the classroom. Knee-high black socks and high-waisted black skirt, hidden mostly by his hoodie. It’s the little leather choker wrapped around your neck that forces a swallow. He wants to run his hands along it, pull it tighter, force you toward him. 

“I didn’t think you could look like that.” Suguru finally says in the peaceful silence.

He tears his gaze from your retreating form, turning to Suguru. “Like what? Handsome? Super cool? Sexy?” 

Suguru swings at his head, which Satoru easily dodges, “Idiot.”

He senses them even from outside the building (and why else would you have run out with Shoko instead of him), but he lets his face morph into shock as he pulls open the classroom door and confetti flies out from all corners. The room is decorated with blue and white streamers, thrown haphazardly in no real pattern. It looks like a last-minute, on-a-budget, gender-reveal party. He loves it. Obviously. 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TORU!” You shout the loudest while throwing, extremely aggressively, more confetti at his face. Shoko, in almost comical contrast, unenthusiastically blows a party horn. A few of his upperclassmen cheer and whoop alongside her. 

“Happy birthday old man.” Suguru claps him on the shoulder with a grin, of course in on the surprise from the beginning. There’s a one-tier cake on Yaga’s desk. Plain white frosting and two number candles, spelling 16’. 

“Oi, I heard it’s Gojo’s birthday!” Another upperclassman pops his head in.

“Share some of that cake with us Gojo!” Another group rushes into the room, all bearing other treats to share. 

“Yaga brought the cake.” Shoko says. “We brought the drinks.”

“Ehh I thought he’d still be mad about the last report.” Utahime wonders. 

“Of course he is, but he said ‘Have your fun, but be ready to work tomorrow.’” Shoko mimics his deep voice. 

“Wahhhh, so he does care~” Satoru smiles. 

He hadn’t mentioned his birthday to Suguru or Shoko. He was rather excited not to have the traditional celebration thrown at his estate. Well, he’d forced that to stop by the time he was twelve and old enough to command more authority. The whole charade disgusted him - worst of all, it absolutely bored him. So spending it here…quietly letting the day pass without any mention of it… he was more than fine with that. 

This though… It’s nothing extravagant - certainly just a convenience store cake (he can still see the label, shoddily scraped off) and drinks from the vending machine - but it’s the perfect birthday. Watching his classmates all together, enjoying cake in his name - he’s so wildly happy. 

Plus, you’re here. Maybe it’s because you’re here. 

In the far corner of the classroom Suguru leans in, secretly, to your ear. He can’t make out what words you’re exchanging, but you flush, doing that cute little jump whenever you’re excited. You nod vigorously, and Suguru laughs. His eyes widen as the air around you bends to your will. Even from here, he can see every detail with his Six Eyes. Your cursed energy is different from most - it seems to stretch, bend, compress, in a way unlike any he’d ever seen. He’d explained it to you once before, though you tilted your head in confusion. 

In less than a millisecond you’ve stolen Suguru’s plate. You hold the fork up to your lips with a snicker, happily devouring the last of his cake. Suguru smirks and hands you his cell phone, which you quickly grab to type something in. 

“Aren’t you going to shower the birthday boy with praise?” Satoru yells across the room to you. What does Suguru want with you? Why should you be exchanging numbers? If he wants to talk to you he can just go through - no. No. Why should Suguru talk to you at all? It irks him, even though it’s probably harmless. Maybe it’s even for the best - finally introducing you to his friends. They’ll be good to you. 

You look up, suddenly, closing Suguru’s phone without a second thought and skipping over. “I’ll do you one better, birthday boy.” You smile, “What about a gift? You know I wanted to bring you all your favorites… cake, mochi, cookies, ice cream, chocolate, but I ran out of money eheh.” You confess. 

“Don’t you have my credit card, Princess?” He teases. He’d given it to you your second year at the estate. He had plenty of his own, all set up to seemingly limitless accounts. He’d tested the theory one afternoon, buying the most expensive game console, a day at the theme park, and a helicopter ride through the city. You’d accompanied him through it all with eyes full of wonder. Days passed, then weeks, and soon he figured it must’ve been such a small amount of the whole that no one thought to bring it up to him. Still, you never seemed to have more. You wore the same clothes that granny gave you, even though you religiously flipped through every fashion magazine. Even your school books were handed down from your upperclassmen. 

“I wanted to get it all on my own.” You smile proudly, pulling out a delicately wrapped box. 

“Hmm.” He smiles. His fingers brush yours as he takes the box. He’s careful not to even tear the paper. It doesn’t matter what it is anyways. It could be a scribbled doodle on a scrap of paper or a diamond-encrusted sword - he’d treasure it with equal value.

Instead, he finds sunglasses. Round black frames with a silver temple. 

“Your eyes have been hurting, right?”

You grab the sunglasses, showing them off, modeling them in your hand. “I thought if you had something to cover them a bit, maybe it would help with the headaches.” You explain, looking at him expectantly.

He’s uncharacteristically quiet. He never told you about the headaches. 

You nudge him, “Okay, but aren’t they sooo amazing?” 

He hasn’t told anyone. “Yeah.”

“Just YEAH?” Your hands drop to his shoulder, shaking him roughly, impatient, “They’re DESIGNER . The first designer item I’ve ever bought! Don’t just yeah me!”

They’re high quality, heavy weighted, not those dinky plastic ones you can get from any corner shop. It’s probably the most you’ve spent on anything. He smiles, perking up, “Designer? You’re spoiling me rotten, Rumi-chan.”

You beam with pride, “Right? I even picked up a part-time job all super secret hehe.” So that explains the magazine. “Besides, I knew the moment I saw these that they were the one for you. Because like, not everyone can pull these off, ya know?”

He leans forward, and you gently slide them onto his face, grinning widely. “Handsome, huh?” He manages.

“Just like a movie star! Or a lawyer on vacation in the bahamas. Or the rich son of the CEO of a billion dollar company.”

He pouts, “Ehh why aren’t I the CEO?”

“You can’t be the CEO! You’d be better as the child who revolts against his father’s wishes to inherit the company. You don’t want the position, but everyone can see that you’re too smart not to take over. Oh! But you’re step-sibling from your father’s affair suddenly comes into the picture! And he wants to bring down not only you, but the whole company! He’s also super hot and brooding.”

He leans down, blue eyes sparkling boldly over the dark rims of his glasses, “What about this then? You are the rich, successful, brilliant CEO of a billion dollar company and I’m your loyal bodyguard who would do anything to protect you. I’d take down the world’s most dangerous crime syndicate that your step-sibling has employed to hunt you down so that he can usurp your position.”

You clap your hands together. “Ohhhhhhhoho, that’s good. That’s really good. Let’s go with that one!” 

He keeps you close, all through the night. As faces trickle in and out of the classroom and soon the boisterous afternoon turns to yawns and dragged feet. He isn’t the last to leave - Suguru lingers, chatting up an upperclassman with ease. He shoos Satoru out the door behind his back, leaving them to solitude. 

You’re wide awake, but opting for your perch, wrapped around his back with your arms dangling in front of him. A light shiver racks your frame as you exit into the outside. 

“Cold?” He asks, with a glance back.

“A little.” You admit.

“Here.” He grabs your hands in his, blowing pockets of hot air onto them.

You fade quickly, once your head meets his pillow. He bought the comforter set on a trip to the mall with Shoko. An elegant, minimal pattern - thin white stripes against forest green. He knows what you’ll say before you say it. 

“Pretty… Looks like us.” You push your face further into it and he can’t help himself. 

He joins you on the bed, straddling you with ease. 

You splayed beneath him, all defenses down. You don’t even know what he could do. His heart hammers at the sight. God, he wants you to want that. He wants you to beg him to do those things.

His breath catches in his throat as your hand stretches toward him.

It’s too slow in his eyes. Hurry, hurry, hurry, touch me, touch me, touch me. 

His eyes widen as your hand runs through his hair. A little pet. Hardly wanting. 

There it is. Your indifference.

He tests the waters again. Leaning down so his lips barely ghost over yours. Close enough to feel the breath tickle at your lips. Far enough to feel the depth of the distance at what isn’t. 

And all you do is nuzzle your nose cutely against his own. Without a care in the world. Without reservation. Without the fucking terror he feels at every move.

“What’s wrong Toru? Miss me too much, neh?”

You have no fucking clue.

His hold on your waist tightens. He lets himself fall to the side, pulling you with him. You wiggle in his hold, trying to turn to face him, but he doesn't budge. He doesn't want you to see the flush on his cheeks. The way his brow furrows and his lips pull into a frown. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself~” He says, empty, joking.

You, who have always worn your emotions openly. Who have never hidden a single feeling from him. 

And he, who must always hide, even from himself. 

It doesn’t mean anything. 

He just fucking hates middle school.

Chapter Text

You love middle school.

It’s so much better than you’d read about. A bit less dramatic than TV had made it out to be… but for the very first time since you’d been brought into the Gojo family, you spent more time outside of the estate than in it. You got a part time job and spent your earnings without any stipulations. You made friends and hurriedly crammed through homework with them in the halls before class. You ate cafeteria food - surprisingly good, though quite simple in comparison to what Satoru ate on a daily basis. You played sports and were even titled the ‘School Ace’ during Sports Day. And though middle school was just two four-story buildings, the field, and a gymnasium… it felt like your world opened up ten fold. 

Well, maybe part of it was necessity. When Satoru went off to Jujutsu Tech, days that were once filled with adventure, laughter, and warmth turned quiet. It felt like you had effectively disappeared, fading so much into the background that even Katai’s daily check-ins ceased. 

I miss him. 

I miss his easy whining, seeking my undivided attention. 

I miss his sharp gaze, always attune to every movement and every sound.

I miss his tender touch, soft across my cheek despite his overwhelming strength.

Away from the self-importance of Jujutsu, you push yourself further into the easy joy of middle school life. Where you find warmth without obligation and depth in simplicity. Where you can forget that Satoru has little time for you. (Where you can pretend that he isn’t pushing you away. That you don’t notice him leaving you behind.)

“Mgherrggghh.” Kimi stretches out her arms above her, followed by a loud yawn. “It’s way too early to be doing this.” Dark bags rest below her eyes and her usually perfectly kept pigtails are misaligned. 

“I’m kind of into it.” You respond, chirpy, nibbling on the eraser end of your pencil. 

She glares at you, “God, you’re such a masochist.” 

“I swear both of you have been on literally the same problem for the past 15 minutes.” Hana chimes in without looking up from her worksheet. “If you want to pass you should at least get through the next three practice problems before class starts.”

Kimi groans, head plopping onto the page with a soft bang , further mussing her hair, “Why? Why is this worth half our grade?”

You shift to twirling your pencil in your fingers, completely uncommitted to finishing any more problems, “That means you only have to be in the 53rd percentile to pass.”

Hana looks up sharply, “NOW you decide to do math.” She sighs quietly, gently, but with a look of determination. “You do know that YOU need to be in the 98th percentile to pass.” 

You pause, “Oh that’s right, isn’t it?”

Kimi’s head shoots up from the desk, “Y-you! Are you serious? What have you been doing all semester?! Did you take too many baseballs to the head or something???”

“I should’ve been better about turning in assignments on time.” You scratch at your chin, “And maybe I shouldn’t have skipped school on our last exam day.”

They both look at you, mortified. 

“Please study.” Hana instructs you.

Kimi puts her hand on yours, a soft, regretful smile, “Just…do your best.”

You laugh as they continue to grind out the practice questions. High school entrance exams are nearing and even the resident slackers of the class pour over books in the library after school. You join in every study session that doesn't overlap with work, if only to bask in the shared sense of camaraderie. Hana is cut out for studies and suitably ranked first in the entire year. She’d certainly find herself at a good high school and then an even better university. Kimi, though pretty middle-of-the-pack in grades, has a quick wit and charisma that you were sure she’d employ to great success in any career. 

They were closer to one another than to you, though you slotted easily into the mix at the start of the year. It’s not like you could reveal anything about the world of jujutsu - not like they’d believe you. But you’d treasure the friendship that had grown over class secrets, school crushes, and starry-eyed dreams. You’d even do your best for a perfect score on your exam just to ease their worries.

That’s the plan at least - 

“Hm?” Your head tilts up. The teacher looms over you, tapping once more at your desk. 

“There’s been an emergency.” She whispers curtly, stuffing your pencil and eraser back in your bag. Sparse eyes follow as you pack up, while most can’t spare a second of concentration away from the exam.

As she pushes you out the door, she assures you, “You can make the test up later. Your father is waiting for you out front.”

“Ah, okay.” Your brows furrow. You check your phone. No messages. No calls.

An emergency? If Satoru needed you he would be the first to reach out. Unless - your heart beat spikes suddenly - unless the situation is so dire he can’t even manage a call. Unless he’s deeply wounded, unconscious, bleeding out and - You sprint past the front gates and all but dive into the black luxury car parked out front. 

“What’s wrong?” You demand before you can even shut the car door.

Two men, both whom you recognize, sit up front in the driver’s seat and passenger seat. They’re hardly frantic - a slowness to their movements akin to sipping coffee on a late Sunday morning. Even the pace as the driver pulls out into the road helps cool your frayed nerves. 

“You’ve been summoned to the Zenin estate.” Bosha Gojo smiles, glancing back at you as he flips through paperwork on his lap. He’s one of the only clan elders that voted for your release from imprisonment and allegedly was the one to suggest educating you. Even Satoru described him as ‘ahead of his time’ and ‘less of a stick up his ass than most’. His curly hair drapes past his shoulder, half up in a messy bun. Unlike the typical black robes of most elders, he wears a vivid red, loosely wrapped.

“Is Satoru already -” 

“Oh, Satoru is fine.” He reassures you with a lazy wave. “Off on another mission somewhere up north. A special grade, I believe” He looks at you again, “He didn’t mention it?”

“No, he didn’t.” You shake your head, slouching into the seat to catch your breath. 

“You know how busy he is. I’m sure he’ll update you if he can.” He smiles. If , not when. A recurring trend as of late. 

“Of course.” You return his smile. As long as Satoru is okay. “Then the Zenins…” you trail off, unsure what to even ask. 

One of his brows quirks up and he leans over his seat toward you. “I’m sure Gojo-sama has told you about our history with the Zenin Clan, hasn’t he?” 

Satoru always talked about them with a very clear air of revulsion, though it’s not like he was particularly fond of any of the other ones. He never let you accompany him to gatherings held at their estate either - ‘too boring’, ‘snooze fest’, ‘hideous to look at’ being a few of his responses through the years. Regardless, the histories weren’t hard to find. The great clans seemed to be the protagonists of all the prominent texts and you were an avid reader.

“A bit.” you answer, slowly, carefully measuring his expectant gaze. It’s always a test when clan elders are involved. Always more trouble than it seems. “I would say our relations are sub-optimal.”

He barks out a laugh, “BAGH! That’s putting it lightly! All the great clans are at each other’s necks in continual stalemate.” He huffs, “Even within the Gojo Clan, one decision can take months.” His hands gesture grandly at his point, “So imagine when the great clans all collectively must decide on anything! Locked in debate with the most foul-tempered, cranky, old men - don’t look at me like that!” He winks. 

You laugh, ease seeping in at his easy temper. 

“- for over a decade for the change of a single rule presiding over jujutsu sorcery! Terribly inefficient, don’t you think so?”

You nod, viciously in agreement. “How does anything get done?”

“It doesn’t.” He sighs, “Well, if the tides were to shift, I believe the world of Jujutsu sorcery could be ushered into its brightest era. It only makes sense, considering the birth of someone like Gojo-sama, that we bring forth new rules and new beliefs to this dusty old world.” There’s a youthful passion, despite his age, that you can’t help but warm to. If there are enough people like Bosha working behind the scenes… maybe the burden resting on Satoru’s shoulder would lift. Maybe the worry that lingers in his sarcastic apathy would ease.

“I think so, too.” You beam at him. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.”

He smiles back, “Then this should be easy. It’s rare that the Zenin’s request an audience with any members of any clan, but… how should I put this… their recent offspring have been somewhat of a talking point amongst the clans. Twin girls. Of course, barely able to even see cursed spirits.” His voice takes on a new edge.

He doesn’t mean anything by it , you remind yourself. 

“A terrible, terrible omen. Even the great Zenins know to fear what twins might signal for their lineage.” His expression sours.

He’s just being honest, you remind yourself.

“And the eldest son didn’t even inherit his father’s technique! That blood they are so proud of has surely thinned out. Everyone can see it!” 

He’s…sympathetic to their situation, you remind yourself. 

He pauses, as if waiting for you to understand his meaning. 

Do they want to train with you? Satoru had been invited to a number of forced play-dates to compete with the other clan children and you were somewhat of a talking point amongst the clans when you were first brought in. Maybe they wanted to sate their curiosity - see if the Zenin heirs could beat a no-name like yourself. “Do they want to practice?” You ask, more unsure as the question tumbles out of your mouth. 

His gaze falls back to the road in front of him. He’s disappointed, you ascertain, that unlike himself - radical and clever - you can’t find the great gift you’ve been given in this opportunity. 

“I shouldn’t think so. They are particularly strict on traditional customs. It’s not uncommon for Zenin wives to refrain from practicing Jujutsu at all. Though - ” He glances at you again. “- maybe that is where they went wrong.”

The car drives through the front gates of the estate. Your mouth drops open at the sight of giant red maple trees along the roadside. It’s no coincidence that most great clans settled in places of unnatural beauty. Something rich in the earth, abuzz of energy and thick with power. The land itself grows stronger with the years, seeped with all the knowledge of life and death and everything in between. 

“You have an opportunity to swing the balance of power in our favor.” He continues as the car rounds the corner to the main estate. “Show them how amicable an alliance would be. That we are willing to take the first step toward repairing our relations.”

That’s what he wants - to shift the scale of power to alienate the Kamo clan. The Zenin clan doesn’t seem like they’d be willing to cave in any regards… but if Bosha thinks I can do anything to help I should try. 

“Hai!”

“Do not speak out of turn.” He leaves you with. You want to ask more, but the car door opens and your escort ushers you out.

An ugly face with thick black side-burns and hair slicked into a single point leads you down a stone pathway. The sounds of blades clashing and fierce competition ring out across the pathway. You sense at least a handful of sorcerers in the courtyard to your left, though the training remains out-of-sight behind a great stone wall.

You openly grimace as your escort's eyes scan your chest. He’s at least a decade older, leering at you with a boldness that sets you on edge. 

Something is off . You’re not naive enough to believe you’re invited here as an equal. Not when every clan has treated your presence with derision in the past. You wield no great influence in the Gojo clan nor mastery of your own innate technique. 

But… you steel your resolve -

If this is what the clan needs from me… then I should face it head on.

I promised as much to Satoru. 

Your escort slides open the shoji doors and you step past him onto the tatami. 

“So this is what Gojo money can buy.” Naobito, whom you recognize instantly from photos, speaks out with laxity. There’s a woman beside him, dressed in an ornate kimono, pouring him another cup of sake. There’s nothing new in his remark - nothing you haven’t heard before - and you fight the urge to roll your eyes at his predictable ego.

Instead, you bow low, as Katai taught you many years ago. “I’m Kurumi -”

“A little young, isn’t she?” The middle-aged man beside him grunts out, cutting you off. Long, spiky hair and a yukata that barely covers his chest. So they live up to all the rumors. 

“She’s the same age as Naoya.” Ogi responds, curt. 

You notice another woman, maybe early 20s, with long black hair down to her lower back. She sits at the back of the room, gaze planted on the ground, never lifting to meet yours. Her kimono is in a state of disarray, slightly bunching off her shoulder, but she makes no attempt to fix it let alone move at all. 

Your eyes flicker back to the members gathered at the wabisabi table in the center of the room - all the most powerful, high-ranked members of the Zenin clan. You move toward the one open spot beside Naoya. 

“What are you doing?” Naoya sneers.

“Eh?” You let out without thinking. All eyes lock onto you. 

Naoya smiles, handsome despite the words that tumble from his mouth, “Stand there.”

Your brows furrow. Seriously? 

He laughs, “Unless you want to come sit on my lap, pet.”

The two women flinch, barely perceptible. Their reaction is all you need to know.

This isn’t a negotiation. It certainly is not a discussion between equals. 

This is a perusal of goods offered. 

You feel, suddenly, the cage that’s been wrapped around you since you stepped into the compound. Don’t. Don’t react. Don’t do anything. You smile, take a step back, and straighten up. You can stand for as long as you need to. 

Naoya huffs, turning back to the table in disregard. 

“She’ll need to leave school.” Ogi resumes the conversation.

Are you being sold to the Zenin clan?

What had Bosha said? Strict on tradition. He meant women do not speak, do not question, do not retaliate. They survive by obeying. 

Alcohol spews from Naobito’s lips as he barks out a laugh, “Ha! Already want him breeding some new talent? Worried yours won’t amount to anything?”

Ogi grimaces, “They’ll make fine wives.” A sore spot, you clock, remembering Bosha’s remark about twin girls. 

“She has stronger cursed energy than most women.” Your fist clenches as Jinichi pipes up. “And she comes from a powerful clan without having any Gojo blood. Her children won’t be up for question, but she might be able to sway the Gojo heir’s votes.”

Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t -

You fight a panicked breath, pushing down the tremors that threaten to make themselves known. How could they offer me to the Zenins of all people? Bosha, who felt like an ally for change - well, he’d be willing to sacrifice you entirely to make that change happen. Of course he would. How could you have thought differently?

You want to hate him. You want to scream. You want Satoru. 

But all you can feel is the chokehold of terror, crawling up your spine. Like a rip current pulling you under and you're suffocating, clawing for air, but any sounds are swallowed by the greater clashes of the current and there’s no escape and - 

Naoya snorts, “Why would he care? He’s willing to sell her off.”

“I hear he’s quite fond of her.” Naobito grins, gauging your reaction. Show them nothing. Be nothing. Keep your indifference and then you can leave. You’ll call Satoru first-thing, you’ll let him pamper you and coddle you as he takes care of it all. 

“Then he’s already had his fun with her. I don’t want to be served anyone’s seconds.” Naoya says, lazily pushing up from his seat.

Satoru would kill him if he heard that.

He meanders toward you, towering. His hand reaches for one of your braids, pulling it.

Satoru would kill him if he touched you. 

“Did you hear me?”

Satoru would kill him if you gave the word. 

You suck in a sharp breath, more reflex than anything else - How long have you been watching Satoru’s back? When did the hand you held so tightly pull out of your grip? When did your resolve falter? 

You lift your gaze from the floor, leveling him a glare.

His smile widens. “So you did hear me.”

If you do nothing. If you say nothing. If you leave everything to him then… he’ll be alone, again.

“I heard you. You just weren’t saying anything important.” You spit out. Fuck Bosha’s stupid fucking plan. Change? What, by catering to the most sexist, vile tendencies that the jujutsu world has to offer? If that’s what it takes, then you’ll find another way. There will always be another way. 

In a split second his hand circles your neck. “Fucking bitch.”

His grip tightens and you feel waves of fury and envy and ego swirling endlessly. Violence without restraint, sanctuary only in victory, the crushing weight of legacy. Claws, deeply rooted, unwilling to let go without struggle, persistence, fight. 

“If you beg for me, I’ll forgive you.” He sneers, cruelly, as your own hands tear at his grip.

“Ha-ghh -” It’s a pain you’ve never known, the fracturing of bones under just a single one of his hands. 

He pulls you in, roughly, “What do you say, pet?” He wants you to submit. He wants to use you, thoroughly, before tossing you aside. He wants to teach you how thankful you should be to be granted a position like his wife. Maybe he’ll just make you his whore. Maybe he’ll taint you, dangling you in front of that bratty Gojo kid who everyone praises. You’re pretty enough. He likes how you look - if only you’d wipe that defiance from your eyes. 

“If you filled out a bit more you’d be just my type.” His other hand grabs your butt. 

You wish you could crush the hand at your throat.

You wish you never agreed to walk in here alone.

You wish you had the strength not to think that. 

His memories blend with your own, as you battle to stay conscious. Four years old and his technique manifests. It’s the first time his father spares him any attention. He beams with pride - he knows he’s done something right. The moment he understands his own greatness. Ten years old, he surpasses his brothers. He pities them. Then he hates them. While he slaves away in the training grounds, spending night and day for just the smallest of improvements, they waste away. They whine over their lack of a strong innate technique, lacking the resolve to claw for more. They disgust him. He’d rather die than be that useless. 

“STO-ERGGHHH-” You choke out, light-headed. Your legs kick out, catching on his knees, but he merely grasps your leg and throws you to the ground. 

Like… destruction, creation, birth, death, all of it again and again, cyclical, all around, all encompassing, enriching, draining. Four years old and it feels like instinct - as simple as a feral animal that hunts its prey, knowing, deeply, that it is meant to do so. Ten years old, it muddlies, seeped in other’s memories and hearts. Twelve years old and you lose yourself in a long, sorrowful dream that isn’t yours. “Kurumi.” Satoru wakes you, annoyed at the glassy look in your eyes when he wants to play. He doesn’t like your technique anymore, he says. He doesn’t know where you go and when you’ll come back. But his voice is your memory and your heart. You remember that above everything else. 

“You’ll kill her.” You hear Naobita’s nonchalant voice  break through your fog. 

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. 24 frames. 

24 frames of Naoya’s technique feels slow when you see each frame stretch for thousands more, splitting those into thousands more past that, again and again and again until a single frame stretches on through infinity, continuously stretching time time time time time. 

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. 

“You think so?” Naoya laughs, slamming your cheek to the ground in another ferocious swing. There isn’t an ounce of you that can retaliate physically, despite being able to perceive his every movement. 

His grip loosens, suddenly, and you collapse further into the mat. A wheezing you barely recognize as your own voice. Hands pull at your school uniform, dragging you roughly from the room. Your eyes barely open enough to see the final images of them, already turned away. Even Naoya, bored of what’s transpired. 

It’s ironic, really. Naoya, for all his arrogance, had gifted you three things. 

You were shown your own weakness. You had grown soft, letting the comforts of Satoru’s strength spoil you. 

You were shown everything that his life had yielded. Where talent and determination and ego and hate mixed together. 

You were shown the key to your own powers. It was never about memories or feelings at all. It was never about instinct. It was only ever about time. The thread that wove through everyone and everything. You want to laugh.

Why does time look just like the rain, glittering, as millions of beautiful blue eyes?

Chapter Text

“CRAAGHHHHHH” The curse barrels through the wall, sending wood and debris hurling in your direction. A grotesque, slimy thing oozing a dark purple, puss-like substance. As it moves it’s acidic surface scorches the earth around it - a thick, putrid smell hangs heavy over the area. You sport a similar streak up your ankle, spreading like wildfire across your skin, blistering and blooming in vibrant red and purple. 

Gritting your teeth, you brace yourself for the splintering of glass and shallow cuts across your exposed legs as you barrel through the window into the next building. An abandoned hospital wing, still sporting a few rusted hospital beds, stripped machinery, and sparse graffiti. 

You swivel to face it, “Alright, come here.” You’d misjudged it from a glance… its thick mucus coating able to mask some of its latent cursed energy. The chase it’s given to has revealed enough for you to lure it closer. To corner it within the realm of your technique. 

Cursed energy whirls around, adrift in a 2 meter radius. And just as its arm stretches into your territory, everything slows. Green eyes  wide, vibrantly coursing with cursed energy. You can see every strain of muscle, every fleck of dirt falling, the sparkle of light as it reflects off a shard of glass on the ground, every inch of everything. Time stretching at your whim. You move to match it, a sliver to your right and the droplets of acid flung through the air just miss. Spinning through the air, you dig your heels into its shoulders as you land. Your palm slams into its face and the scent of burning flesh wafts through the air. 

Time is constant.

Perception is varied.

Always give and take in equal measure. 

“GRARGHHHACKKK -” Another deafening streak -

It feels of fear and blistering pain - writhing libs, tangled amongst crisp white sheets. Putrid smells and incessant, whirring noises. Of hate and regret and deep envy - Why should others live so freely while I rot away? Wasn’t I good? Didn’t I work hard? Only to end up here, as no one and nothing and it hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts - why won’t it just end end end end end END END END - 

And then it does end.

Dust settles amongst eerie silence, with only the remnants of falling wreckage disrupting the new-found peace. 

There’s a soft click as you start the timer on your phone. Sweat beads across your forehead as singed, red flesh slowly heals. Cursed energy clinging to you with great effort, until it too burns away into nothingness. 

You let out a tense breath. Another click as your timer stops. 

“12 seconds.” You nearly tsk under your breath. 

It’s not quite right - not yet. The absorption of cursed energy should be one-to-one. It should be permanent, healing your wounds and renewing your energy. But something about the nature of foreign energy you can’t quite figure out how to naturally intermingle with your own. Instead it flows through you, a conduit, until it drifts just as easily away. 12 seconds is better than the 4 seconds from the last curse! Though that’s hardly a consolation with what you’re aiming for.

“Ahh I need to get faster.” You remind yourself, the burns across your hands and legs now merely red, swollen skin, shallow as a surface scrape across concrete. You’re not fast enough yet to compete with what you can see. You’re not experienced enough to turn the tides of a losing fight. You’re not strong enough to guarantee victory. Not yet.

You stretch out, dusting off your pants as you hop through the window to the ground floor. You must look like you’ve crawled through rubble twice over - which would be accurate - because two grandma’s and a police officer stop you on the street to ask if you’re okay. Were it not for the remnants of mud and rain from the week, you’d be in a much better state… a little less caked in debris. 

Unfortunately, it’s even worse when you show up for the job you are already late for looking as such.

“Kurumi-chan - OH MY LORD, W-WHAT HAPPENED? Were you in an accident on your way here?? Should we send for the doctor or -”

“No, no, I’m so sorry I’m late.” You bow deeply again and again to the production staff. “I had a small tumble on my bike - I’m totally fine though! Young bones and all ahahaha…”

It’s a mixed bag of responses and no one laughs to meet your awkward chuckle. The hair and makeup team looks many-layers of traumatized by your appearance. In fact, all of them repeat (multiple times) that no model has ever shown up in this state in all their careers. The production staff easily accept the apology, happy to at least know the shoot is moving forward, though delayed. Your agent hasn’t muttered a word to you, keeping his countenance until the director calls out a loud, “THAT’S A WRAP!”

“Kurumi-chan. I’ll walk you home.” You cringe at his quiet tone. I’m in trouble. Your gut wrings in guilt. He even hands you the jacket off his back with a, “And wear this.”

“Kota-san.” You don’t dare refuse - not when he looks so many layers of stress. 

He pulls off his glasses, rubbing aggressively at his temples with one hand. As the crowd slowly dissipates when you turn the corner into a more residential area, he looks up. 

“Showing up like this? Really, Kurumi? You’ve been late to the last four shoots - of course everyone has started to notice. The brand is considering dropping you for your next shoot and - ” He groans, trying to work himself back down. “You know I’m saying this for your sake, right? What’s going on with you? Are you - are you being bullied at school or -” His pitch takes on a higher, more frantic tone. 

“Sorry. I know it’s bad -” You’ve been lacking in every department but your own self-practice. At school, tardy every day this week and skipping all the homework you can’t finish right before class. At least you passed all your make-up exams, but you’re nearing the lowest quarter of rankings in the school. At work, so tired you’re nearly asleep at your feet and sporting countless bruises that the makeup team has to fret over. At home, well that’s the worst of it. You didn’t think ‘home’ would become so elusive so quickly, but you haven't been back since that. 

“I’ve just been really busy.” You answer vaguely. 

His nose crinkles and the flood gates open. “Do you know how worried I was today? How worried I’ve been all month? I don’t know whether to appease the production staff or barge through the doors of the police station to start a search for you!” 

“I - well - not the latter -” It’s not like they could even do anything. You struggle to keep up with his escalating anxiety, though in truth, you think it’s a little cute. His frazzled care for you. 

“I know things might seem -” He pauses for a moment, “- overwhelming - at your age, but I don’t want you turning down a dark path. I-is it drugs?” Kota is old enough to know something is amiss and that it can’t be overlooked. Though he’s young enough still to stumble over the words he needs to say. 

“No! It’s nothing like that!” You quickly bark out. 

“I’ve never once seen your mother and father at one of your shoots! I thought they were off, busy on some jet-setting, lavish work trip, but look at how you’re dressed!” He points to your ripped jeans and his own jacket that covers up your stained shirt. (You should really change when picking a fight with curses…).

“I’ll have you know ripped jeans are totally in style!” You counter. 

“Kurumi, please -”

“And I swear, my jacket is - was - QUALITY material. Double-lined! Goose down padding - and ethically sourced materials! If I hadn’t taken that tumble… and then that other one… Well then, you’d be asking me where I got it so you could pick one up for yourself!” You counter with enthusiasm.

“Kurumi, that’s not the point.” He groans. In the two years you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him as distressed. “You need to know what’s important.” 

That’s exactly it.

It feels like the first time I've grasped what it means to put those things first. What it costs.

It’s uncomfortably silent between the two of you for the next block. 

He’s right though… I need to make it clear. I’ve already made up my mind anyway. 

“I’m quitting once I enter high school.” You admit, meeting his eyes confidently. 

His own widen as he mulls over your words, “That’s not what I wanted.”

“I know. I’m thankful for your guidance and it has been fun, I just have other things I need to do. I don’t want to fully quit - honestly, I need the money so…I’ll make sure I show up on time next time. Really, I’ll be better, but I also need to cut down on the hours.”

“Don’t you have an allowance from your parents?” He asks, worried. 

You clench your jaw, “They just want to teach me some independence. A life lesson, ya know.”

He sighs and after a long pause - “If you’re sure, of course I will support your decision.”

You relax, “Thanks, Kota-san. For everything.”

Kota may be strict, but you’re certain his intentions are good. It’s easy to be certain when you can glimpse into his past decisions, his goals, his growth, his upbringing . He’s wildly ambitious to climb the ranks at his agency, but never enough to do so at the expense of anyone else. He’s close to his mother and sister, but has never forgiven his father for his affair. He was well-liked through college, but can only seem to maintain his childhood friendships. He believes in you. In others. That’s why he chose a career like this…to help people realize their own potential. 

“What is it then, that’s taken your full commitment?” He nearly mumbles.

“Hmm…” Your eyes drift to a large puddle at the intersection. A vivid blue-gold gradient reflects on the surface. Lines of clouds on the horizon, though not enough to expect another bout of showers. The sudden splash of two pairs ( of course they’d be white and green) of little rain boots disrupt its tranquility. “A promise to my best friend.” You answer and you can’t help the fond smile that lifts your mood. 

“It’s hard, you know, to live for the sake of someone else.”

You laugh, openly, warmly, because “Maybe it sounds like that. But I think choosing someone… that’s my own desire.” They all just lead back to him. “Besides, it’s something I decided on a long time ago.” 

“That’s right.” He pats you on the head affectionately as you walk up to the little apartment complex. It’s a bit dingy - only a single street light on the corner and a paint coat at least 30 years old. It’s in need of an upgrade, but the 150 square foot room is surprisingly comfy. It’s got a little skylight, a fridge, a bed and honestly that’s more than you expected to find considering it’s not even legal for you to rent an apartment under your name.

The source of your good luck waves to you from the second floor, the door next to yours. “KURUMI!”

“Kimi!” Your head snaps up and to your surprise, there’s a mop of white hair and vibrant blue eyes standing beside her. He’s leaning carelessly over the railing, smiling in a way that has you bristling at the shoulders. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what’s he doing here? Wasn’t he supposed to be on some mission?!

“Toru!” You cringe at the pitch of your voice. The stutter of your heart as his head tilts. 

His gaze flickers from you to the hand at your head.

Even from here, you can see his displeasure. Made even more obvious by the fake smile he plasters on as he follows Kimi to meet you. You’re not sure if you imagine it, but he forces himself into the small, certainly not person-sized gap between you and Kota. 

“You two look nothing alike for cousins.” She deadpans. You chuckle, mirthlessly.

“My mother’s sister’s husband’s ex-wife’s brother’s daughter~” Satoru sings out without a hitch. 

“Y-you’re mother’s sister’s - brother’s - wait, what?” Kimi’s brow furrows, attempting to piece together the connection.

“Very distant, but very close cousins. Only kids in the whole family, you know how it goes!” You simplify for her. “Can’t keep us apart even if you tried!” You offer an appeasing grin to Satoru. 

He throws an arm over you, “That’s right! You didn’t tell me your landlord was so beautiful!” He winks at Kimi who instantly blushes ten shades of red. “I would have visited sooner if I’d known.”

“You mean my landlord, Mr. Satoshi, Kimi’s father ?” You raise your eyebrow with a hint of a smile at your lips.

“The very one~ Even made me a home-cooked meal~”

“M-my dad loves to cook.” Kimi supplies. “And we thought you’d be back earlier!”

Kato-san cuts in with a deep bow, a sudden reminder of his presence, “Apologies for keeping you waiting. Our schedule went over.”

You poke him sheepishly, whispering under your breath, “That was my fault.”

He smiles, “It’s my responsibility.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous!” You laugh.

“I guess you’ll just need to show up on time next week.” He teases. 

“Hai, hai~”

He smiles, “I’ll be taking my leave.”

You quickly move to shed his jacket, but he stops you with a shake of his head. “Keep it.” 

“Thanks Kota-san.” He bows to the group once more before taking his leave.

It’s not the first time Satoru has met Kota, though it is the first time he’s let his distaste show so clearly across his face. The way his eyes don’t even hide their path, burning holes in the jacket that still drapes across your form. And how he moves to cut off your view of Kota’s retreating form. Satoru’s anger has always been like this - vivid and scorching and unbridled. 

“We should get going as well.” Satoru says with a smile. His sunglasses pushed back up all the way.

“Oh, of course! Go, go! You shouldn’t keep your Aunt waiting on her birthday, Kurumi.”

“Of course.” You say, overly sweet. “Though I might need a change of clothes -” 

“Ta-da!” Satoru dangles a duffle bag.

“My school books -”

“What would we do if we had a little flunky on our hands?” Satoru slaps at the bag again.

“I can’t come empty handed -”

“She’s been looking forward to the encore of last year’s interpretative birthday dance choreography!”

You sigh, “Perfect, I’ve been working on something really special.” You wave back to Kimi, “I’ll see you tomorrow then. ”

Satoru’s already turned away, leading the way with long strides down the street. 

Even as he leans over you to grab your other bag, he doesn’t say a thing. His darned sunglasses (yes, your gift, but still) hiding his most telling feature. His fingers clench and unclench incessantly. A slight hum under his breath - the one that keeps his tongue busy so he might not say anything unwittingly.

“How did your mission go?” You chirp. In the end, you always cave first. You never were able to resist tempering his rage. Soothing his annoyance. Giving him peace over yours. 

“Same old~” Still smiling, still strolling ahead of you as you quicken your pace to meet him.

There are too many things that could be at the heart of his anger. Not telling him you moved out? Not telling him why? He hasn’t heard from Katai yet, right? Or has he? Is that why he’s here? No - Fuck, no at the least you could tell if he knew. Was it the text you didn’t respond to? You didn’t realize that curse would take so long to track. Or maybe when you missed his call? 

“Were you able to figure out the reverse technique?” You try again.

“Soon.” He says so flippantly, so horribly nonchalant. As if he doesn't have a single care for this conversation. For you. For anything. It's the worst part of his anger - the side that punishes . 

No one knows.

He doesn’t know. 

He can’t know.

It’s not like the Zenin Clan would go out of their way to bring it up.

You don’t want to think about it anymore, but you oscillate between every extreme in the few moments of quiet -

I should go back and apologize to the clan. I should have swallowed my pride and done what was asked of me. I should have simpered and smiled and played the perfect little pet! What would it have mattered? I could have done that. 

I hate them, all of them. The Zenins, The Gojos, all the clans and their stupid fucking politics. But I’m the worst of them all - too weak to do anything, all I do is complain about things I can’t change. I hate myself. I should have just fought - let them kill me, what would it have mattered in the end? 

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no - 

Stop it. 

I’ll be stronger. 

That’s all there is to it. 

Only think of that. 

“How was the food on your trip?” You ask, already prepared for his -

“Ok!” He chirps again. 

“Hey.” You stop. “Are you determined to be like this?”

“Like what?” He responds, bratty. 

You exhale a deep breath into the sky. A little cloud forms as the harsh bite of night edges closer. There’s still a warm, rosy tint to the sky, though the heat of sunlight has dipped too low to feel.

“Like a brat.” You lay out flatly. 

“Better than a liar~” Your eyes snap to him, finally an opening. He turns away in an instant, a haughty, cruel little smile at his lips. Still…you like the view of his profile. White bangs hanging lower across his face than he’s ever had it. The perfect slope to his nose and his signature sharp jawline. He’s still so so so pretty and it captivates you even after so many years. 

“Not a lie, I just wasn’t ready to say anything yet.” You defend yourself, still trying to pull a bit more from him.

He scoffs, the cracks of his facade leaking through, “Came back home to surprise ya, only to find your room empty. Even had a little layer of dust collecting.” He doesn’t know. 

“It’s only until I graduate -”

His smile wipes from his face completely, “You’re not supposed to be here at all. None of them even matter. This place doesn’t matter. You should be home .”

It must be the quiet silence and the shift of your eyes that suddenly plunges his mood into clear antagonism. Because suddenly he’s dumping both your bags to the ground, hand pawing roughly through his hair -

“Do you want your own place? Is that it? I told you to stay in my room. I said you could ask for whatever you wanted! What is it then?? I can move you into whatever apartment you want! I own a few buildings - the penthouse, with a view and everything! Better than this dump you’re in now.” You can hear the tremor in his voice and it hurts to hear him. Your gut twists uncontrollably at the anger, confusion, desperation convoluting across his face. 

“That’s not what I want, Toru. I’m fine here, even if it is run down. And I was going to tell you, seriously. I promise!”  You assure him with a hand on his arm. It always felt on the tip of your tongue. As if any second the news would spill from your throat unbidden and finally finally finally he could see all of you. As you’d always let him see you before.

You want to tell him everything.

(And then you would give anything for him to never know.)

“You just left .” He says, icily, pulling out of your hold. “So do you want to tell me what’s going on? Because I’m going to fucking lose it. ”

“It’s lonely there.” You settle on. Not a lie. A sentiment you’ve felt, deeply, since his move. 

“I’ll visit more.” His brows furrow, and he looks at you, softer than before. “I’m taking you home.”

“NO!” Confusion flashes in his eyes. He’s too tired to deal with this. He’s exhausted enough as it is from countless missions to return to whatever tantrum it is that you’re throwing. Why can’t you just stay where he wants you? If you just do that then he could make sure you’re safe. “No, I - I just don’t belong there.” Not when he isn't there.

“Why not?” He doesn’t look at you as he says it. 

Because all I can think about is Naoya’s hand on my throat. If it was Satoru in my place, he would have crushed Naoya’s skull without batting an eye. If it was Satoru, he would have fought off every Zenin in that place, all at once. If it was Satoru, it wouldn’t have meant anything at all because he has the strength to protect himself. 

“It’s not home.” You finally relent in a quiet whisper. It’s the first time you’ve said it aloud. It scares you how much power the words, spoken into existence, have. 

He bristles and there’s a look on his face you can’t place. Whatever it is, he wipes it away in an instant. He pushes past you. “That’s right isn’t it?”

“Toru.” You try to grab his hand, but he quickly moves out of the way.

“The Gojo girl who isn’t a Gojo.” He repeats.

It’s true. Your eyes narrow. “Stop it.” 

“You’re not denying it.” He accuses, sharply. 

“Why does it even matter?” You argue back. 

And then he laughs - head thrown back, chest out, a full bellied laugh. Loud and cruel and you’ll remember it for as long as you live. 

“HAHAHAHAHAHA so that IS what it is!” 

The smile is back and he shrugs, “You know, you don’t need to enroll in Jujutsu Tech. You don’t always have to follow me around everywhere I go.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Your own voice takes on an equal edge to his.

“I have to explain it to you?” He looks bored, turning away with a shrug that says how troublesome this whole thing is. “You’ve never actually wanted to be a sorcerer.” He states. “Bought by my clan because you showed some talent. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”  I don’t have to mean anything. I can fade away from him, is that what he wants? Is that what he’s trying to tell me? 

You shake your head. Your mouth moves to respond, but no words come out. Don’t cry. Your jaw clenches and you steady yourself with another deep breath. Don’t fucking cry.

“You’re being mean.”

He’s changed, in ways you can’t understand. How could you? The source of his change is so wholly unconnected to you. His classmates, his training, his purpose, his power. You’re hardly a part of anything anymore. 

He doesn’t wipe your tears as they start to pool. “You should just do what you want. You’re not a Gojo anyway, right?” 

You’ve always been weak for him. For his affection… his tenderness… his love.

So you cry for what you’ve lost.

You cry until streetlights turn bright and the world dims. As the world reflects back in hazy smears of color. 

And even when you think they’ve all dried up, you’ll chance a glance up and cry all over again. 

“Princess.” His voice cracks as he finally crosses the distance between you two. “Kurumi. I’ll take care of it all. Whatever it is, just tell me. I’m the strongest, you know.” 

You’d replay this moment, again and again and again in your head. When he says the only thing that makes it impossible to rely on him. 

The strongest? He claims it like a badge of victory, but why does it sound more like a curse? 

“Just tell me what’s wrong.” He commands, again. 

You love him with every fiber of the time you weave.

You love him without hesitation.

You love him without ceremony.

You love him with the innocence of youth.

You love him with the significance of age.

You love him with everything that makes up being Gojo Satoru. 

You love him without everything that makes up being Gojo Satoru.

Above everything, you love him for all the things that make him yours.

You gaze up at him with puffy eyes, “I just want to stay by your side.” 

“Haaaa…” A shaky breath leaves him as he lets his forehead fall to yours. His finger lightly grazes your cheek, catching the lingering tears. “Alright then, Princess.” 

Maybe he’s just as soft as you.

Chapter Text

“Weren’t you supposed to be gone for another day?” Suguru’s brow lifts questioningly as he enters through the double doors to Yaga’s office. A drab, utilitarian sort of room with a large mahogany desk and books neatly stacked across the back shelving. It looks so unbearably dull he knows he’ll never want to be sitting there as some cog in the machine, so much under the thumb of the higher-ups that even his office decor doesn’t veer far from what it was fifty years ago. 

“You’re early.” Yaga says, “For once.” 

“Well I am the strongest~” Satoru waves his hands. “What can’t he do, right?”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the new first year’s showing up?” Suguru smiles. 

“Wow! Is that today? What a coincidence!” He smiles, overly cheery. He takes a seat in one of the deep leather chairs, feet up on the desk, which Yaga instantly swats at. “But now that you mention it! Wouldn’t they love it if the famed Gojo Satoru showed them around campus?”

“No.” Yaga responds with a sigh, resuming his talk with Suguru, “Everything you need to know about the curse is in here. It’s in a populated area. Your train leaves tomorrow morning.”

Satoru whines, head falling back loosely across the chair, “Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy? You know, anyone else would beg for the opportunity to have me as a tour guide.”

There’s a visible tick in Yaga’s forehead. “You can get a head start on submitting the paperwork for your mission instead.”

Suguru laughs at Satoru’s puppy dog eyes, hardly enticing considering his antics. 

“Still no.” Yaga flits through the paperwork on his desk, handing Suguru the stack for his mission. Satoru’s eyes scan the mess that still lingers. A photo of a sullen, blonde-haired boy sits at the top. His eyes twinkle as he moves up from his seat, grabbing the loose papers from off Yaga’s desk. “SATORU!” Yaga flies toward him.

“Too slow, sensei~~” He snickers.

“Nanami Kento.” Suguru reads aloud from over his shoulder. “Enrolled by scouting. No familial affiliation to Jujutsu. Weapon user. Grade 3.” 

“Ehhh, impressive for a first-year~”

“YOU TWO -” Yaga fails in another attempt to retrieve the papers. 

He sidesteps easily, flipping to the next page. The boy in the next photo is a near opposite from the first. Large smile, vibrant eyes, and a general boyishness to his rounded features. 

“Haibara Yu. Enrolled by scouting. No familial affiliation to Jujutsu. One sibling who can see curses. Prefers hand-to-hand combat. Grade 4.” Suguru continues. 

Satoru pouts, sending Yaga a disapproving look, “Really? Two boys?” He hates that. He really really really really hates that. 

Yaga clenches his fist, too annoyed to even grant them another response. 

Suguru reaches over his shoulder, throwing off the top page to reveal an image they both are well-acquainted with.

Ah. Your school photo.

A thrum of excitement wracks his chest as he remembers you’ll be here. In my uniform. At my school. Right within reach. 

“Gojo Kurumi. Enrolled by family lineage - ah, no blood relation .” Suguru tsk s lightly. 

“Is that really necessary?” He asks. 

“You know it is.” Yaga says plainly. 

It’s the next sentence that forces them to pause. Suguru glances at Satoru who has yet to tear his gaze from the page. A tautness to his lips. 

“Really?” Suguru wonders. 

“This is wrong.” Satoru says with a shrug, tossing the papers haphazardly back onto Yaga’s desk.

“We’re expecting her to fully promote by the end of the year.” Yaga explains.

“Don’t be silly~ She has plenty of time to go on solo missions.” He sings out in disagreement.

“It was a unanimous decision.” Yaga holds his ground. “Besides, the Principal saw to her evaluation himself.”

“Well, that explains it! Old man is getting a bit senile, ya know? Always said he took one too many hits to the head!”

“SATORU. Show some respect. Besides, you should be proud -”

“ HAHAHAHA !” Satoru laughs wildly, hand slapping at Yaga’s desk relentlessly. “Proud? You’ll get her killed . Maybe the higher ups like seeing their precious students driven to an early grave! Doesn’t the thought just get ‘em off -”

“Satoru.” Suguru places a hand on his shoulder with a slight shake of his head.

“You’re underestimating her.” Yaga levels him with a stern look. “And you’re out of line.”

“First-years don’t receive this type of rank.” He says flippantly. 

Yaga raises a brow, looking between them as if it were obvious. 

“That’s different.” Satoru shrugs. 

“Is it?” Yaga pushes back. 

He bristles. ‘ Semi-grade 1. Awaiting further promotion based on mission results.’

You shouldn’t be more than Grade 3. Maybe Grade 2 he could justify by the uniqueness of your innate technique - the raw talent that you no doubt possess. What brought you to the Gojo clan to begin with. But Semi-Grade 1? How stupid are they? You can barely block any of my punches at a tenth my normal speed. Sure it’s been awhile since the last time we’ve trained together, but it’s not as if you have the ambition for more. Besides, I would know if you were Semi-Grade 1.

“Why don’t you go see for yourself?” Yaga snaps. 

“Great, I WILL!” Satoru smiles widely again, “I’ll be so busy seeing for myself that that paperwork will have to wait!”

“Satoru, no wait -”

Out the door and already deep into the courtyard. He knows where you are - he’s known since he set foot through the gates. Your cursed energy is as familiar to him as his own blue eyes. Even if he wants to ignore you, fuck if his eyes don’t just move on their own, pin-pointing your exact location. 

“And then it ran at me and I saw it had SIX arms! My sister screamed and before I knew it, I had blasted a hole through its stomach!” Yu gestures enthusiastically as he launches further into his story. “Just when I thought it was over, a two-headed snake crawled out of it! It was huugee! At least two feet thick and bright purple! I thought we were done for, until a sorcerer suddenly jumped down from the sky and SHHEEEEKKK with his sword he cut through the whole thing in a second!! He was so fast - I couldn’t even see anything!”

“Ooooh he saved you just in time.” You nod vigorously, chiming in to meet his enthusiasm. Nanami sits quietly, though his general countenance says he’s listening. The three of you are deep in conversation at a table just outside the dining hall. 

You’re so pretty in your cropped tee that shows off that little bit of skin on your stomach. You’re so pretty with your hair pulled back into twin braids and those baby hairs framing your face. You’re so pretty as you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. A dainty wooden bangle on your wrist - the same he’s seen you wear since childhood. A means to control the uncontrollable. To safeguard you from your own technique, as Katai had explained it. And yet Semi-Grade 1?

“He did! I’d be dead if it weren’t for him. That’s when I decided I’d become a sorcerer too! I should do as much as I can.” 

You give him a supportive thumbs up. “Hehe, of course! That’s really cool of you.” Yu blushes, rubbing the back of his head. Don’t even think about it, kid. 

“T-thanks!” He says, eyes glancing to your lips a little too long.

“If it isn’t our cute little kohai.” Suguru smiles, waving to them all as they emerge from the treeline. 

“G-Gojo-san! Getou-san!” Yu shoots up, bowing rapidly to the two.

Even Nanami stands from his chair, bowing in equal respect. “I look forward to your guidance.”

“Yes, yes, it’s me - THE Gojo Satoru~”

“Ehhhh~” You slowly move from your seat and  you’re so fucking pretty when you stare up at me with wide, green-flecked eyes that beg beg beg beg beg for my attention. Your arms slide in place around his waist and your eyes close as you lean deeper into his chest. Where you’re meant to be. “You said your flight was tomorrow!” You mumble into him.

How many times has he thought of you, waving to him from the field? Or staying up late, sneaking into his dorm room to gossip. Meeting him at the gates after a long mission or kissing his cheek as you send him off. His eyes committing every piece of you to memory. Every version of you. The one from yesterday, today, tomorrow. He’ll take all of them.

How many times did he wish you wouldn’t? That you’d decide to forgo the dangers of Jujutsu for something simple. Something that would keep you safe, happy, his. Where no one like Yu or Suguru would set eyes on you. Where there is no temptation, no lure away from him. Where you want him and only him and - 

His chin rests on the top of your head as he takes the time to stare at your two wide-eyed classmates while you’re turned into him. He grins at them, a threat emanating as he softly strokes your hair. “Ah, I must’ve gotten the dates mixed up~”

“K-Kurumi-chan how do you know Gojo?!” Yu exclaims. 

You pull back suddenly, leaving Satoru’s grasp. “Ah! We grew up together.”

“We know each other so well.” He smiles.

Nanami sighs, muttering softly, “How troublesome…”

“Wow! So you’re like, from a real Jujutsu clan.” Yu looks at you in wonder, mouth gaping and big eyes even wider than before. “You must be super strong!”

“Pfffft.” Your eyes sparkle with the same easy warmth you’ve kept since childhood. You fit right in. Of course, you do. He doesn’t mind the ease at which you find friends. He’ll outlast all of them anyways. But what he finds particularly bothersome is the way there’s always some red-cheeked boy who thinks he can win you over. It was easy enough to threaten your non-sorcerer classmates from crowding your space. Even if they didn’t know the threat, there is some intrinsic ability for non-sorcerers to feel dread from the leaching of intense cursed energy. “Well, something like that! But I’m adopted, so it’s a bit of a -” You purse your lips, searching for the word, “...different story, I suppose.”

“Mmm well whatever the story, we’re all in this together now, right?” Yu says easily. 

Nanami’s eyes slide over to you, “That seems to be the case.”

You blink at them both before throwing your arms over both of them. A bundle of chaos as they maneuver to support the weight barreling toward them. “Right? Right?? It’s like we’re The Three Musketeers! Oh, oh! Or, we’re like Nirvana - you know because they have three members in the band?”

Yu fists up into the air, “We’re Team 7! I’m obviously Naruto,” He points his thumb over to Nanami’s scowl, “you’re Sasuke, and” His eyes meet yours, “you’re Sakura!”

You frown, “You should have said The Legendary Sannin, they’re so much cooler.”

“DAMMIT you’re right!”

Both of you turn to Nanami, waiting for his chime in. He sighs, relenting, “The Three Graces.”

Yu’s smile falters, “The three what?”

You let out a laugh, “Wow, what an obscure reference Nami-kun. They’re three goddesses, super beautiful and charming and all that.” Nanami perks up in surprise. He doesn’t know how much you love reading, learning, and history. How smart you are and always have been. It had only taken you a year to read through every scroll in the Gojo library (the not-so-secret one, at least) - even the ones in forgotten and foreign languages. 

“Doesn’t that sound more like me?” He pipes up, pulling your attention back to him. 

“Obviously!” You quickly agree. He knows how he looks - he sees it enough in the glances of others to know he must be attractive in a way so unconventional that everyone’s eyes flock to him. Not that any of that matters - he’s been praised for far greater things than appearance and none of it means anything anymore.

Buttttttttt he loves how much you like how he looks. How open you are with your praise. 

“You, Sugu and Sho!”

“I made the cut, too?” Suguru teases, a gentle hand suddenly on your head. 

“Oh please, you’re even more handsome with your hair grown out like this.” You flick a tendril for good measure.

Satoru tenses - When did you two get so close? Why are you touching Suguru as if you’re familiar with his closeness? As if you like it.

“Hahahahahaha, is that so? I’ll need to wear it like this more often then.” He flirts with an ease that sets him on alert. No…he wouldn't go for you. You’re not his type - he likes tall, sharp features, a little clingy, and definitely not in his actual circle of friends. Though there was that one time, last year… but never since then. He doesn’t mix friends and hookups.

And he wouldn’t dare . 

Nanami is the first to move from his seat, “I have a few more boxes to unpack. If you’ll excuse me.” He turns to Suguru and Satoru, bowing respectfully, “I have much to learn, I’ll be in your care.”

Suguru blinks then breaks out into a smile, “I’ll see you on the training field then.”

Yu scrambles up quickly after him, “I’m coming, too!” He jolts, remembering to turn back to his seniors, “I - um - I LOOK FORWARD TO WORKING WITH YOU BOTH! THANK YOU!”

Suguru bursts into a laugh and even Satoru can’t help the grin that stretches across his face. 

“We won’t go easy on ya~” He teases.

“HAI!!” Yu’s eyes gleam. 

You move to follow after him. You’re leaving just like that? Without saying goodbye, without looking back? 

How annoying. 

He doesn’t mean to.

But the tips of his fingers find your own.

“Toru?” Your brow lifts in question. 

“You have boxes to unpack?” He whines because he knows you don’t. He made sure you’d moved everything that mattered into his dorm last year.

“I told Yu I would help him decorate!” You’re bubbling over with excitement.

“I-if you’re busy, we could always next time -” Yu holds his hands up appeasingly. 

That’s right, kid. Just stay out of my way. 

You swivel on him quickly, a slight pout to your lips, “Ehhh, but it’s the first day. It’s important to do this stuff at the start!” You demand with fierce conviction. “Besides, then we’ll know what to shop for this weekend.” 

Are you fucking kidding me? Or you could spend the weekend with me. We could go into the city, or maybe I’ll plan a whole day trip and we can stay overnight at that onsen you like. You’ll wear that blue yukata I gave you from my last trip and we’ll wander the streets until we find a little shop serving fresh sea urchin. Then when we’re completely stuffed, laying on the tatami with the breeze cooling us through the open window, you’ll curl into my side. It’ll be so natural - you in the heat of my body as I hold you closer. I won’t share you. I can’t, I -

You squeeze his hand once more in that way that fucking kills him. Always taking your time, letting your fingers knead into his palm. He can feel the blood pumping through your flesh. He wants to be closer, to take your other hand in his as well. To pull you in before you let go. 

“I’ll come to your room later, kay? Don’t you dare fall asleep!”

How could he fall asleep knowing you’ll be in his room, in his bed, saying his name - “But I need my beauty sleep.” He shrugs.

“Eh?? Seriously? I’ll hurry! If you fall asleep I’m waking you up.” You poke his forehead.

“No promises~” He hums.

You actually growl under your breath as you swivel away from him, dashing to catch up with Yu. “I’LL BE THERE. IT’LL BE QUICK.”

Suguru laughs beside him, “Come on, Shoko ordered food to the clinic.” 

“You let her choose the place again?” Satoru asks. 

Suguru scoffs, “She’s been better since the ramen.”

Satoru throws his head back, arms crossed behind his head as he gazes up at the light fluttering through the trees. “They’re so well behaved.” He says suddenly, exasperated.

Yu seems like just the kind of person you’d like. Warm, hopeful, righteous . So good and whole. Someone whose existence could simply be that. 

Suguru barks out a laugh, “I think you’re just particularly deviant.”

Satoru mocks shock, “Me?? Didn’t you destroy two stores in Ginza?”

“A necessary evil.” Suguru combats. “Weren’t there strange reports that civilians were running around with no pants?” 

“Ha! An unfortunate set of circumstances.” Satoru claps. 

Nanami seems like the kind of person who would stick around. Steady, loyal, hard-working. Straightforward and earnest in a way so intrinsic to his person that you might come to trust Nanami over anyone else. 

Suguru chuckles, shaking his head softly.

No, he won’t let them worry him. What could they have that he didn’t? He’s the strongest. He’s the heir to the Gojo name. He’s the most important person in your life. 

At first he thought with space, being off at Tokyo Jujutsu High, things would settle down. He would settle down, more precisely. He wouldn’t think of you as much - he’d be too busy for that! And hopefully that would be enough to quiet the urges he’d long felt. The deep, clawing, consuming fucking need . And it was good, for awhile. He’d miss a night or two of texting. He wouldn’t come home. He didn’t need anything. He is Satoru Gojo, after all. 

And then…. He hadn’t missed you or anything. He hadn’t planned to see you. It was just a convenience, stopping by to see you when he was only a block away on another mission. Just a quick rendezvous in the hallways of your middle school. And didn’t he deserve a reward for all the missions he’d successfully completed? Couldn’t he have a moment or two with you? It doesn’t have to mean anything - it doesn’t . But when he follows your cursed energy to the school lockers where a boy has his hands in yours and he’s claiming he loves you….

Worse than that you look happy to be receiving such affection. 

He might just kill him. 

You turn him down with a generic, “I don’t have time to date.” that you probably learned from one of your classmates. 

He waits until the boy is alone… cornering him with a smile and hand to his shoulder. Whispering threats as he lets his cursed energy, heavy and thick, seep into every corner. The poor little thing is so fragile, shivering and wetting himself in the bathroom stall. 

Whatever. 

Just a fly.

A small nuisance.

Such a weak human could never come close to you. 

There’s such a vast distance between you and them. 

Ironic, really, maybe it’s the same distance between me and you.

It made sense for him to try to distance himself. He had a target on his back and enemies just from his birth alone. He was destined to be the strongest sorcerer. 

Still… 

You LOVE him - you must love him. You’ve always always always always always loved him. 

You still do.

You must. 

It’s the mantra he repeats to himself every time he sneaks into your room, watching you rest, aglow in the soft orange hues of morning light before he leaves on another mission. 

The first few months pass much the same. You, dawdling after your new little trio while he barely has time to see you. Even Suguru manages to spend more time with you for fuck’s sake. 

“It’s not my fault you’re so irresponsible that no one wants you to mentor the first-years.” Suguru shrugs, sipping on a cold cola on the training field.

“And you hate teaching anyone anything.” Shoko adds, taking another puff of her cigarette.

“I DO teach! They just don’t learn fast enough!” Satoru defends.

“You called Miya-san stupid and weak when she couldn’t counter your attack.” Shoko says.

“And you told Akano-san you’d abandon him if he didn’t hurry up.” Suguru adds. “While he was being chased by a Grade 2 curse.”

“It’s not my fault they’re so talentless! Ugh, do they really want me to baby them in the middle of a fight? I’m doing them a favor, if you really think about it.”

“...” Suguru looks at him disdainfully. “They have plenty of talent, Satoru.”

“Just leave her alone. Aren’t you busy enough with your missions?” Shoko taps the head of her cigarette in his direction.

Satoru shrugs, “I have plenty of time on my hands.” He doesn’t. He hardly has time to wash his uniform in between missions and he’s been putting off responding to Katai’s nearly daily texts about finally taking over the clan affairs upon graduation. Even thinking about it sets him off in another bad mood. 

“Really?” Suguru folds his sleeves up and Satoru instinctively follows him to the center of the field. “You haven’t gotten any stronger with all that time.” 

“Ehhhh?” Satoru cracks his neck, “Is that right?”

Shoko merely finishes her cigarette with a soft sigh.

She’s long gone by the time Suguru throws the first punch. There’s a way that Suguru fights that has always stood out… no it’s more than that. It’s the very way he chooses to exist in this life - a balancing act of two extremes. On one side - carefree, agile, and free, head thrown back laughing easily as the wind whips around him. And on the other, always strict control, restraint, and order. Maybe he needs that to maintain peace with the curses he’s conquered .

It’s nowhere near Suguru’s full power, but it’s enough to draw his attention. 

He grins, evading with a swift turn of his heels, “A little slow today, aren’t ya?”

Suguru dives in once more, grabbing hold of his arm and pulling him in roughly, “Isn’t that what I should be saying?”

Blow for blow, they meet one another in the air. Each exchange, feeling something like belonging. I haven’t let loose in awhile. 

Suguru smiles as he dodges another punch. “Feelin’ better?” 

Before he can respond, his blue eyes flicker to the edge of the clearing. “Seems like we have an audience.”

“THAT WAS AMAZING!” Yu shouts from the steps.

“TORU! SUGU!” You wave enthusiastically. 

Even Nanami looks enraptured, eyes sharp. 

He’s so unequivocally strong that he should have nothing to prove to anyone, but he can’t help the challenge that ushers from him unbidden - “You wanna join?” Satoru asks.

“C-can I?! Yu quickly sprints over, first to the clearing. 

“We won’t go easy on you~” Satoru sings. 

“... That wouldn’t make this much of a spar then.” Nanami says.

“Ehhh, giving up already??” Satoru shuffles to his side, poking at him. Nanami heaves a deep sigh, annoyed already at his antics. “Tell ya what~ If you land even a single hit on me or Suguru… we’ll treat you to any meal ya want~” 

Suguru scoffs, “Don’t go deciding things on your own…” He smirks, ruthlessly, “Just one hit and you can order a full three courses.”

All three of you glance at one another, eyes glistening with hope. 

“I want steak.” You smile sweetly, licking at your lips. 

“At the top of Tokyo Sky Tree!” Yu nods vigorously. 

“Saving money on this week’s food allowance.” Nanami agrees.

Satoru waves with his hand, “Who wants to go first?”

Yu, as everyone predicts, raises his hand without hesitation. 

“C’mere~” Satoru waves him over. 

He does intend to go easy on him, despite his early taunts. He has enough restraint to hold back on first-years - he is the strongest after all, no need to crush them too soon. But then… when Yu takes the final step into the middle of the clearing, he hears your voice - cheeky and vibrant and meant for him - call out,

“You got this, Yu!” 

That’s going too far, isn’t it?

You barely know him.

It’s even more infuriating when Yu sends a quick peace over his shoulder. 

So he can’t be blamed when he knocks Yu to the ground in less than a second, even with his own hands arrogantly, disrespectfully still in his pockets.

“That all you got?” Satoru asks, eyes wide, glistening brightly.

“S-so fast…” Yu remarks with awe from the ground. You’re at his right, while Nanami flanks his left, pulling Yu off the ground.

Your eyes meet his, a question at the tip of your tongue as you look at him curiously.

“Satoru, was that necessary?” Suguru whispers into his ear.

He shrugs, “I said I wasn’t going easy.”

Suguru sighs, “I’ll take the next one.”

“Stay focused, ‘kay? Just watch me.” You say to your two classmates. He can see it in their body language… how they actually think you can win this. Neither particularly worried for you. It’s the same treatment he receives from all his peers, even his teachers.  

Yu nods, serious, “You got this.”

“Be careful.” Nanami adds with a firm squeeze to your shoulder. 

You jump up and down, then stretch out left and right. “Just one punch?” You smile, eyes wide with taunt.

“Just one.” Suguru grins in amusement.

“Make it a little hard won’t ya?” You wink, cheeky.

Suguru laughs in amusement, “The little Princess has become so brazen.” You smirk, taking your position across from him.

Suguru will start slow, methodical, letting you show your cards first. He’ll use the chance to measure your ability, rather than crush your spirit. So you’ll be fine… he won’t hurt you. He’ll just play a little. 

“Annnnnnnnnndddddddddd -” Satoru calls out, watching as your form drops low. He hasn’t seen that stance since your first year at the estate. When you could barely communicate, though you were more agile than any of his guards. “- START!” His hand slices through the air. 

You let Suguru move first, appearing quickly mere inches from your face. A blur of motion though the flicker of your eyes tells him you can follow. 

You evade left, shifting the slightest amount on the balls of your feet as his fist meets air. Suguru’s eyes glimmer with amusement as you spare a fraction of a moment to stick your tongue out at him.  

It’s so wildly precise the way your body weaves to each blow.

As if you own the space. 

Since when could you look like that?

Harsh steel in your gaze - the kind that only comes from experience on the battlefield, when you’ve weathered the unexpected and the overpowering and still knowing that you have the strength to win. No fear, no hesitation, just ferocity. And you’re enjoying it - reveling in it, even. He’s holding his breath, soaking you in.

You’re so alive . 

It’s a distant memory now, but…  that’s right isn’t it? You’ve looked like that before. When you first took his hand in yours, a whisper of promise in that single touch. And time itself wrapped around him, staking claim to him.

His Six Eyes watches, anxious anticipation as you flatten your palm to the ground.  You use your hold to shift direction without losing speed, sacrificing the flesh off your hand and staining the dirt red. You’re ruthless in your onslaught as every punch follows with a faster, stronger one. You grit your teeth as coarse rock digs into now-open wounds and despite it, your speed evolves in the midst of the fight. The split second where your pace overtakes Suguru’s. His eyes widen as you land a clean blow to his stomach, sending him sliding back a foot. 

“YESSSSSS!” Yu cries out, jumping over and glomping you immediately. You’re giggling as even Nanami sends you a proud high-five. “I knew you could do it!!” 

“Right?? Wasn’t I so fast?” You beam. 

Suguru openly marvels at you, curiously and intently as if he never knew you to begin with. “You’re quite fast. I’m impressed, Princess.” His hand pats at your head affectionately.

“Hehe, I know. I’ll steal Naobito’s title from him in no time.” 

Satoru blinks, fastest sorcerer, huh? Since when have you aspired to that? And why? “Really?” The words slip from his lips before he can think better of it. 

Nanami pipes up suddenly, shooting him a withering glare. “She can do that much.” 

He schools whatever expression he’s wearing into cool nonchalance, “Of course, of course~”

“Has Satoru been training you?” Suguru questions further. 

You huff. “He hasn’t even sparred with me for the last five years.”

Suguru raises a brow, “Satoru?”

“Welllllllll look at her! She doesn’t need me, right?” He answers, too quick. 

“I always need you.” You say without a thought, a slight roll of the eye. As if it doesn’t send his heart spiraling wildly. 

He replays those words as he faces Nanami and this time he goes a little easier because he wants your elated smile to stay for the rest of the night.

He replays those words as he grabs you from your room, all dressed up for the promised dinner. 

He replays those words as the sun dips and he drapes his jacket over your frame, ushering you into the seat with the best view.

He replays those words as you order him the sweetest drink on the menu. 

“One melon cream soda.” The waiter slides a vibrant, green concoction onto the table. It’s topped with a generous two scoops of icecream and two maraschino cherries. “And one blue cream soda for the lady.” A near-identical drink, save the change in color to a vibrant blue, slides in front of you. 

“Ugh.” Shoko cringes, “Not you too.”

“You want to try some first?” You laugh.

“No way.” She turns away, not even daring to look at the sweet drink.

“Hehe, more for us then~” You wink at Satoru. “Can you take a picture of me with it?”

You turn your head to the side, positioning your body in a way that accentuates the view out the window. One of your hands rests at your collar, while the other holds up the drink. A graceful pose, save the new bandages wrapped around both your hands. 

“How do they look?” You ask as if you aren’t the prettiest woman alive. As if any camera could make you look less than beautiful. As if he isn’t so totally, terribly obsessed with you.

“You could do better,” He says instead.

Suguru coughs, loudly, from the side. Shoko merely snorts in amusement. 

“Ehhhh it must be the lighting!” You take his phone from him, skimming through the photos. You’re still so small compared to him. “Oh this is cute. I’m sending myself this one.”

“Are they famous for this drink or something?” Yu asks while he downs his own soda in two large gulps.

“Hm? No, I think they’re known for their wagyu.” You smile while adjusting the two sodas for a snap on your own phone.

Yu blinks, “Oh, I just thought - with the picture -” He blushes, “NOT that you can only take pictures if something is famous, because obviously you look great a-and um I mean, e-everyone looks great!”

“Hahahaha, I know right?” You say, finally sliding the soda in front of Satoru’s waiting hands. “I just want to remember these, since they look just like us!” You smile happily, letting your head rest in the crook of his shoulder. 

Yeah. This is enough.

Chapter Text

Fuck, this isn’t enough. 

Your hands thread through his hair, pulling gently, methodically, a rhythm that is just your own. He stifles a soft groan and uses every ounce of self-restraint to will the blood away from his groin. You mean to relax him, lull him slowly into a nap, let tired eyes close… but every fucking cell thrums with energy. He’s so awake to the sway of your chest, the thump of your heart, the twitch of your lips, the gentle sweep of your fingers. 

It certainly doesn’t help when you lean over him to whisper into his ear… lips ghosting his skin, “Feel good?”

It’s so natural when the words tumble out of his mouth in response, “Yes, bab -”

You jolt and his eyes shoot open.

Fuck.

There’s no way you didn’t hear that. 

“Baby? Were you about to say baby??” There’s an incredulous smile on your face, laughing openly. “WHO are you calling that for that to slip out?”

He chuckles, forcing tense shoulders to relax, “Suguru, you know how he is~”

“Wow, pet names between you two, huh.” You slide his sunglasses back over his eyes. A new pair you’d gifted him, blowing the entire earnings from your first mission. More elegant and refined and just what he needed to be taken seriously now that graduation is coming, as you’d put it.

“Yeah, baby , why don’t you come over here and actually do your job?” Suguru drolls, voice honey sweet. Though even he is barely contributing to the clean-up of the battlegrounds, with feigned movements here and there. The tree lines along the northern and eastern edge of campus are both in disarray. Mounds of loose dirt and twisted roots left where thick woods used to be. 

“Awww already tired, baby ?” Satoru grins, moving from your lap.

“Will you call me that if I’m a good girl?” A sultry voice purrs out to him. 

Mei Mei waves, sauntering closer. She hasn’t changed one bit in the past year. She’s always been pretty, though maybe her real allure comes from her strengths. An embodiment of self-preservation and quick wit, a remarkable talent amongst all the Grade 1 sorcerers he’d crossed paths with. 

And he’s considered it… biting into the temptation she always dangles at him. 

He is no stranger to want. Even today - especially today - he’d felt his cock stiffen at the thought of tight, wet, warmth enveloping him. He’d fuck you so well, relentlessly thrusting as you moan so sweetly around him. As you call out for him, begging him to keep going, to pour his seed into you and claim you. There’s no way it would be anything but bruising with his strength. You can take it, you can take every piece of him. You’d give him everything - 

“You’d like that?” Satoru grins, meeting Mei Mei’s teasing.

“Only if it’s you, sweetheart.” She flirts, red lips curving into a sharp smirk. 

You look between the two, open curiosity. Aren’t you jealous? Seeing how everyone flocks to me? How I could have my pick of the litter if I just wanted it. 

“I didn't think you’d still be here. Waiting for me?” Satoru tilts his head.

“Oh?” She’s surprised by his reception, but barely misses a beat, stepping closer, “Collecting a little overtime. Care to join me?”

But before he can see anything more than a questioning glance, Yu has dragged you away in a flurry. “We’ve been looking EVERYWHERE for you! Sora-chan wants to celebrate a-and the special is about to AIR - LIKE NOW! HURRY, HURRY! In - oh my god - in 5 minutes, Kurumi-chan I swear -”

“Hahahahaha, I’m coming~” You snicker, calling over your shoulder at Satoru. “I’ll see you later, senpaiiiiii~!”  You linger for a second more, before politely bowing your head to Mei Mei.

He stores that nickname away, with all the others, a secret little gift from your lips. The one you use, taunting, only in front of your two classmates. You use them like tokens of camaraderie, as if willing some affection. You’ve always welcomed people too readily. It never made sense to him. You who could feel the deceit so intrinsic to human nature. 

Maybe you’re just not ready to admit to yourself how ugly and pathetic people really are, even if you can see it. Or maybe you don’t want to make those tough decisions at all. You never were the type to cut people off. Even that granny from the estate… always making you take on her chores while she pampered her daughter every time she visited. She didn’t ask for you on her deathbed and she didn’t leave you anything in farewell. Yet you called her ‘good’. Simply, confidently, as if being good were so easy. 

That sympathy… he’d seen it plenty of times. The entire year beneath him had been wiped out for that very reason. Stepping in front of non-sorcerers that were already a lost cause, only to be swiftly killed themselves. It had only taken one mistake, on one mission, for those familiar faces to be lost forever.

“Kurumi.” Mei Mei says into the air. Her words sober him quickly and he leans away. There’s something in the sound of your name on her tongue that unsettles him. “She’s quite special isn’t she?” You don’t know the half of it.

Suguru smiles, hands in his pockets. “The Kyoto second-years aren’t too bad either.”

“One of them.” She smiles, “They might have won if they’d listened to him.”

Satoru stops, quickly lifting the prior veil and replenishing it with another. “Bleghhhhh, I don’t think he has a knack for inspiring his own teammates.” 

They’d all born witness to the unbridled strife that had torn through the Kyoto camp in the midst of battle. Their third and second-years had more brute strength to them than Tokyo’s younger students… well, on paper at least. The group event was a relatively straightforward game of capture the flag - a battle to test both sides' prowess in offense and defense. Kyoto, knowing their own advantage, had launched a strategic full offensive move from the get-go. Abandoning their own base and flags, to quickly and efficiently overpower the Tokyo side. And if they hadn’t hesitated - if everyone had fully committed to the plan without losing faith the moment they encountered a tougher fight than they anticipated… they could have won. TIme was on their side, even if they lost their own flags, they’d surely be able to steal Tokyo’s first. 

A restless sigh leaves Suguru’s lips .

“You’ve been busy.” Satoru whistles. 

Suguru sends him a thumbs-up, “That’s my cue.” He saunters off to the tall, blonde-haired woman that’s been following them for the past half hour. There’s no need to commit her to memory - just a passing fling he always partakes in during events like these.

“Have fun~” He waves.

He had his fair share of numbers exchanged and eager hands running across his chest. In his first-year, when he’d left every Kyoto student in the dirt in mere seconds (a record, of course), he had every intention of letting loose. So he chose the Kyoto third-year that had been boldly eyeing him the whole night. She’d followed him to his room, doting and cooing praise in his ear: ‘ the strongest, the genius of jujutsu, destined for greatness’. A trophy to gain for the night. But she had an annoyingly high-pitched little whimper when he sunk his fingers into her cunt. And when her hands trailed lower and lower, finally resting at his cock, he couldn't stop the physical recoil - the complete rejection that thrashed in his gut.  She continued her pursuit, purring sweet little assurances. As he looked into her eyes, flecked with little spots of familiar green, it felt more like disgust than anything else. He knew, more than the average person, the power of trusting instinct alone. 

So he’d muttered a callous, “Get out.” That had been the end of it, though she’d hurtled an ample amount of curse words as she slammed the door.

It was only a couple months after that when he let a non-sorcerer in some seedy club pull him in for a kiss. She was all harsh features with high-set cheekbones and a distinctive pair of pouty lips. An obvious foreigner with her stuttered Japanese, naturally blonde-hair, and even state of attire. Something very different from his previous rendezvous - because maybe that would do the trick. He’d lifted her to the wall of a second-floor booth, grinding and thrusting as the loud music drowned out any pointless conversation between them. Good. He’d rather fuck then get to know her. 

His phone had buzzed, positioned half-hazardly across the glass table in the midst of cigarette buds, Suntory Hibiki 21-year-old whiskey bottles, and little white pills with unassuming smiley faces etched on the back. He didn’t mean to check, fuck he really shouldn’t have checked because of course it was a slew of messages from Katai, incessantly probing about whether he was planning on attending - and ideally leading - the Gojo clan’s obon festivities. More importantly, his phone screen had lit with that picture, a couple months before when he’d thrown you over his shoulder and you’d laughed and screamed as he’d flown higher into the air. Cherry blossoms had danced around the two of you, wrapping you in sweetness and magic. He’d flown higher and higher, the sounds of the city disappearing, until it was only the open, airy reverberating of the clouds in the endless sky. 

Your eyes had widened and you’d marveled at the wisps of clouds as they hugged the steep hills of Mount Fuji.  “Even up here…” your voice trails as you hug him tighter, “... It looks just like us.”

Suguru had sent him the photo and he’d had it set as his home screen since. And what a quick way to dispel any lingering desires for the night, seeing your happy face gazing at him while he’s close to fucking a stranger against a wall, for any wandering eyes to see. He’d set her down on the red leather seat, waved goodbye and promptly disappeared. 

“This is where I’m staying.” Mei-Mei slides a key card into his hand. 

He smirks, “I’ll think about it.”

He does consider it, sliding the offered piece of plastic onto the top of his desk. It wouldn’t be so bad, right? He knows her - knows how she sees the world and what drives her. Even if he couldn’t completely trust her - because that’s reserved for his closest few - he could trust her way of existing in the world. 

And maybe it would help. His hands cover his eyes as he groans into his bed. Maybe he’d finally be sated - a quick fuck to just rid him, for once, of unwelcome thoughts. How long has it been… since he’s been able to sleep without gripping his cock, green eyes dancing in his vision and sweet little pants filling all his senses. 

His skin is on fire as he throws off his shirt and undoes the tie around his pants. 

God, he feels so fucking sick, “Just like that… ”

Tomorrow. 

He tosses his head back into the pillows, thumb teasing the slick across the tip of his cock. “Fuck…”

It’s not enough, not enough, not enough, not enough, not enough -

He swallows a moan, as his pace quickens. “Princess…”

He’ll take up Mei-Mei’s offer tomorrow. Then he’ll know it doesn’t mean anything.

Chapter Text

Tomorrow comes in a flurry of last-minute preparations doused in the exasperated yells from every teacher (unfairly aimed at himself). A hundred gaudy, red welcome banners line the entrance stairwell - it’s the only time of year that anyone allows any flashiness of the modern age to permeate the campus. The final ode to Kyoto comes in the form of dainty wind chimes, each hand-painted by Tokyo students with a weeping cherry blossom across its glass bulb. That was the assignment, at least. The majority had decided to venture far past the rules, painting them with abstract patterns or anime fanart or self-portraits. 

God, they were absolutely atrocious up close.

Yours, however, was something special. Messy, abstract strokes, lacking any particular technique but you’ve given it your best shot, as you do with everything. The image is clear enough despite it - a white waterlily resting on a vivid blue lake.

“We lived like this once, you know. You and me. I saw it in a dream~” You’d spoken it in a whisper, sly and teasing and utterly intoxicating.

He’d teased you back, “You dream about me?” nipping at the corners of your ears as you giggle. 

That night he drifted to sleep with an ease that he thought he’d left behind in his youth. He dreamt of floating on an endless blue lake, arms swaying slightly across the surface. The water felt neither warm nor cool, slipping across his skin like liquid silver, glistening in a way that could only be imagined. And beneath his palm, nestled close to his body, was a delicate little water lily. 

“As you all know, the individual battles are meant to showcase the height of what jujutsu sorcery can be. This has been a long-standing tradition amongst our two schools and will remain so, for many years to come.” Yoshinobu drones on loudly.  He’s already gone full-gray with a receding hairline as deep as the Ryusendo caves. At his own Goodwill Event as a first-year, he’d made quick enemies of the elder sorcerer by ignoring a few rules here and there. Tradition - there it is again, that inescapable pull of jujutsu history.

“Bravery… guile… style… honor… pride… everything is insignificant on this battlefield, as it is when you have your lives on the line. A win is a win, no matter how it is achieved, so I advise you all to use every tactic you have to show what you’ve learned. Our faculty and our Grade 1 guests -” His hands sway over to the bleachers, pointing out the line of sorcerers filling both rows, “will be using these battles to determine your rank promotions at the end of the year.” Yoshinobu loudly claps, jolting everyone back to attention. Even you quickly blink out the sleep from your eyes. How cute, as always, when you’re half-asleep on your feet.

“Now as Tokyo won the group event yesterday, we will begin today with the Kyoto student that managed to score the most points for his team. Second-year, Semi-Grade 1 Sorcerer Naoya Zenin.”

Naoya looks every bit as arrogant as he did as a child. Maybe the only real difference now is the bleached hair and piercings across his earlobes, as if a new look could truly separate him from the mediocrity of the pack. He saunters the couple of steps toward the microphone. 

“It is your turn to select your opponent.” Yoshinobu instructs.

Naoya doesn’t even look at the assembly of Tokyo students when he announces, “I don’t care which of you - just give me your strongest.”

Satoru can’t help the sigh that leaves his lips - how predictable of the arrogant little prick. He’d heard Naoya was finally the child that the Zenin clan needed in this new generation. Well, let’s see what he has to offer. 

Everyone’s eyes slide to you - even Yu going as far as to nudge you excitedly from beside him.

“You're up!” Yu mouths.

You glance to the second years, a silent ask if any of them want to claim the stage. It’s Sora’s thumbs up in your direction that finally motivates you to stand, smiling and laughing as Yu pushes energetically.

You’re not worried. He can see it in the easy way you take the stage across from Naoya. 

“First-year, Semi-Grade 1 Sorcerer Gojo Kurumi.” Yoshinobu’s voice rings out across the speakers. “The rules are simple. There are three ways to win: force your opponent outside of the barrier, hold your opponent to the ground for ten seconds, or surrender. There will be no killing. Is that understood?”

Your head bobs, nodding along to the instruction.

“I just can’t kill her, but anything else goes right?” Naoya questions boldly, goading on everyone that watches. Sora’s gaze narrows onto him while Yu’s excitement quickly turns toward disgust. And within himself… the question incites something dark and unbidden. That irrepressible greed that strains and claws for those who’d carved out a piece of his soul. But he knows to protect those thoughts, letting his own smile grow with the taunt. His Six Eyes can see every hidden glance sent his way from the stands - it’s not like they’re being particularly subtle in their disdain. It’s been made ever clearer as graduation nears that they don’t know if they even want him on the field once he’s graduated. He’s an invaluable asset to be sure, but they don’t know if they can control him. 

“That’s what he just said. Do you need him to repeat the whole speech, too?” Your eyes, which you’ve kept impassively away from Naoya’s, finally slide to meet him.

A wry grin stretches across Naoya’s face, mouth opening to respond when Yoshinobu’s voice cuts through, “Now, now, save it for the field.”

You’re quickly dismissed as the rest of the pairings are made. Nanami’s fight against the stocky third-year should prove interesting as well, but -

“What an opening match, huh?” Suguru remarks as they amble over to the rest of the Tokyo students. 

“Zenin versus Gojo, how original!” Because of course it would end up like this. It’s fascinating, really, how set in stone it all felt, all the time. 

“Yesterday, he -” Sora cradles her arm - long-healed, though still remembering the vicious tear as Naoya had ripped her arm backward. “I think he enjoys the violence. I know you can handle yourself, but just be extra careful this time. Please Kurumi-chan?” Sora has always doted on you, finding easy kinship as the only woman amongst the second-years and an elder sibling herself. She’s not particularly remarkable, though her level-headedness is certainly advantageous. Knowing her own strengths, she’d focused most of her growth in this past year to developing as a strategic planner for the team rather than the first line of offense. 

You lean into her enveloping warmth as she hugs you, “Don’t worry, Sozo-chan~” Another nickname that she smiles fondly at, though worry still shadows her face at your ease. He used to be the only one you turned to - the only arms that could hold you, comfort you, love you. It’s fine. You’ll call for him again soon. When he’s so far above everyone else that even you will accept only he can protect you. For now though, he’ll let the weak hold you, pretending as if they can offer you any ounce of security. 

Nanami steps in front of you, his gaze over his shoulder clocks the way Naoya’s eyes haven’t left you. “I don’t like him.” 

“Even his classmates seem to… avoid him.” Yu can even tell that much. 

Sora cringes, shivering as she sneaks a glance at Naoya as well. “Ugh, he just wants to intimidate you. What a prick.” She huffs, turning back to you. Her hands gently fix the tie on your ponytail. You giggle lightly as she fusses over you. 

“I’ll win.” You say with a soft smile.

“That’s my girl.” Satoru says. 

“Of course~” You beam while you stretch out your arms.

You shouldn’t know Naoya. He made sure you never set foot anywhere near a Zenin member, so… why does Naoya look like he has any claim to you? Why is he stalking over with that look on his face?

“You’ve filled out well.” Naoya’s mocking voice calls out to you. 

There’s no way he means that like it sounds - like he knows your body. He’s just trying to provoke you. 

“Don’t talk to her like that.” Nanami scolds, voice cold, shoulders squared up.

“You’re such a creep.” Sora bites out.

It’s the way you pause. No - no, don’t read into it. You probably saw his picture in one of the history books. He does look a bit like Naobito when he was younger. 

“Don’t tell me you forgot…” Naoya’s tongue clicks, annoyed, “Didn’t I show you a good time, Pet?”

Fuck, he can’t help the quick retort that spills from his lips. He can’t help moving to stand between you two, glaring down at Naoya’s smug face. He can’t help the ripple of cursed energy that must flicker at the tips of his fingers. “Should I show you a better time?” Satoru smiles, wicked. 

It’s suddenly dead quiet between them. 

The Tokyo students know, instinctively, to step back. Only you and Suguru hold fast, though he can see the spike in both your heartbeats.  

And then…

Naoya laughs, “HAHAHAHAHA! What an expression! So you haven’t fucked het yet!” His hand clutches his stomach, doubled over, “HAHAHAHA!”

Ah.

It’s chaos .

Naoya’s head, crushed within my palms, blood coating my forearm and splattering the ground. There’s not even a fraction of a second for him to react, leaving that ugly, conceited smirk across his lips. My fist tightens, feeling the bone breaking under my knuckles.

He’s nothing. Just a weak, worthless offspring with no legacy and nothing to show for his wretched life.

No, that’s too easy.

My thumb digs into Naoya’s eye, slow and crushing and merciless. I’ll take my time as each impact bruises and breaks, but does not kill. I can’t hear anything - not the sound of my own fists, not the screams of onlookers, not you. 

It burns.

It yields nothing.

It consumes everything.

He sucks in a sudden breath as your hand finds its way into his. As your cursed energy seeps into his. It’s the only fucking thing that grounds him. 

You tilt your head to the side, “You sure are proud, for someone who can only hide behind daddy’s power.”

The realization throttles him - You’ve done more than meet Naoya, you’ve met the whole fucking clan. 

“We’ll see now won’t we, Pet?” He licks his lips, gazing openly over your chest. “You know what, I’ll even take care of you tonight, for old time’s sake.”

“Sure.” You say, as if he’d ever let you. He’d kill Naoya before he ever got the chance. 

“If you can beat me.” You add. “And if I win… you’ll be my pet. That’s only fair, don’t you think?” You grin.

Naoya’s eyes shine with promise.  “Alright.”

And that flippant promise would torment him…

If it isn’t even a second into the match and you have Naoya’s head crushed to the dirt. 

You pull back his arm, mimicking the exact movement when he’d tripped Sora’s shoulder from its socket and cracked the bone in four places. There’s a sick snapping noise that echoes across the courtyard.

The ref blinks slowly, not believing his eyes. “T-ten… nine… eight…”

You grin as Naoya, to everyone’s surprise, barely even struggles. His eyes are wide, not even blinking, as if… as if frozen there un-seeing to the hold that you have on him. He doesn’t look panicked, his gaze still facing where you stood at the start of the match.

“Three…”

You release your hold, jumping back three feet. 

“Two -”

The movement, the life, comes back to him in an instant. Naoya’s eyes flit to the announcer, shock across his face. He’s experienced enough not to let his confusion show for long as he takes up position again, this time charging in first.

“Were you always this weak?” You’re so much faster than him - so unbelievably fast. You evade Naoya’s hand that reaches out for you, waiting to ensnare you in his technique, but your fist is at his stomach and he flies across the field. 

Naoya laughs, feral, spitting up blood across the mangled pathway. “You fucking bitch, I’ll -”

Again and again and again you push him to the ground and let the timer start.

“Four… Three.. Two -”

And again and again and again you release him, with just a second to spare.

It’s cruel, the way you taunt him. Every onlooker can feel the humiliation, the indignity as you play with Naoya, as if he isn’t anything more than a little toy. You make his Semi-Grade 1 status laughable. You know he can't surrender. Not in front of his clan. 

“What about this?” You lean down to his ears, voice hushed, though he can easily read your lips, “Why don’t you bark for me? Then It will all be over, Pet.”

“ARGHGHHHHHH I’LL KILL YOU - “

“You’re too weak to kill me.” You say simply, crushing his skull into the ground. “I said bark.”

The ref looks completely out of his station, glancing between the professor’s for any sign that he should put an end to it. Everyone can see, so completely, there isn’t any reason to continue. You have nothing more to prove - you were able to do that at the start of the match.

You’ve always been soft, surely you’ll let it end soon -

You toss Naoya to the side. “C’mon, you still have some fight in ya don’t you?”

When did you get so strong? Why doesn’t he know this piece of you?

“They’ll stop her soon.” Suguru says, though his eyes glow with rapture, “She’ll make Special Grade at this rate.”

“Call me if anything happens~” Satoru responds with a tight smile. “I have a few family matters to take care of.”

“I’ll keep him in the infirmary until tomorrow.” Shoko promises. 

“We’ll keep an eye out.” Suguru nods. 

He doesn’t have it in him to face you with a smile without you seeing right through it. So he leaves, teleporting out of the school in an instant. He’s followed this same path enough to let instinct carry him here. 

There was a time when your growing power would have pleased him. He’d be able to drag you to his own sessions. The most boring part of his day was always the time spent apart. When it was just him and his teachers or him and the clan elders. They all needed something from him. Looked at him as if he held all the answers in the world. But your powers didn’t grow - not like his - and so he’d trek off, on his own, to practice. 

There was a time when he would have rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders at the idea of taking over the clan. It had been pushed on him since his birth as some great responsibility, some world-changing decision (that wasn’t even his decision), and an honor to be coveted. He knew it was inevitable, but to say he had been taking his duties lightly would be an understatement. 

There was a time when the idea of love was enough to make him gag. You spouted it incessantly - as if some great purpose could be derived from that love. What sway could love have over someone destined to be the strongest? He thought it was ironic - funny even - that you glorified it so much based on those silly little movies you watched together. It’s not like those were even close to the truth anyways.

The door slams open with a snap sending little wooden shards flying through the foyer. 

“Gojo-sama, we weren’t expecting you.” Katai quickly bows, a swift motion of his arm sends the other attendants from the room sensing Satoru’s obvious mood. 

He feels cold, as if his body isn’t his own, as he holds destruction within his gaze.

“I guess I just missed home ~” His words drip with spite. 

“Isn’t today the final day of The Goodwill Event? I thought you wouldn’t want to miss it, since Kurumi is competing.” He wants to rip his tongue out.

“And what makes you say that?” He presses.

Katai blinks, a nervous shift of his gaze, “I… you grew up together. Moments like these are important amongst… friends.” 

“So wise, sooo discerning, aren’t ya? Of course I’d want to watch her! My best friend.” He says loosely while every inch of him tenses. 

“Yes, well…” He trails off, tension thick in the air. 

“Yup!” His hands clasp behind his head. “You know what else I love to know about when it comes to my best friend? Can you guess it? Can you?”

“I’m unsure.” Katai nervously responds. 

He frowns, exaggeratedly, “Oh how boring! I thought you were better than that. Didn’t you say you had everything handled? You could take care of all the little things until I graduated? Didn’t you say that?”

“I - I did. I have been, I -”

“Really?” Suddenly, he’s holding Katai by the neck, “Then why is my Rumi-chan acquainted with the Zenin brat?”

Katai’s eyes widen in terror, though he puts up no fight. A slight strangled whimper is all that leaves his lips. 

“Before you say anything, I’ll say this just once. Don’t lie to me - I’ll know. If you were involved, I’ll kill you right now. I’ll be quick though, for old time’s sake.”

Satoru can see every bead of cold sweat that starts to form. Every hitch of breath and strangled heart beat.  

“Ergh…” He grunts out a response with Satoru’s grip on his neck remaining firm, “T-two years ago there was a push to unite the Zenin and Gojo clans to remove the Kamo clan from any influence. It has been over a decade since any talent has stirred in their bloodline. We… The majority voted against any such alliance, but Bosha… he thought it could be easily achieved with little expense to you. A marriage between -”

“Marriage.” He repeats, quietly. 

“I’m sorry, he acted on his -”

“ Marriage .”

“Bosha - he meant well, he -”

Satoru releases his hold, letting Katai crumble to the ground. 

Katai scrambles to his knees, head bowed so deeply his forehead touches the ground. “Gojo-sama… please - he - he’s done so much for the clan. Just… spare him, this once. I’ll handle it - tell him to leave - make him vow it. That he won’t return.”

His eyes close. He’s supposed to be the strongest, for fuck’s sake. And here he is… finding out through the grapevine that he can’t even control his own fucking clan. He’ll take over the clan. No one will dare touch you. He can do that much. He’ll do anything it takes. 

“Touch her and I’ll kill everyone. I’ll end this bloodline. I’ll curse this world to rot.”

Chapter Text

“W-what does Gojo want?”

“He looks scary. ”

“Didn’t you see the way he and Naoya were looking at each other -”

“SHHH, he can hear you!”

“What? No he can’t -”

No shit he can hear them. It’s a party in a classroom meant to fit twelve people, not Disneyland on a Saturday afternoon. And are they even really trying to hide it? He lets his gaze finally slide to the group of curious Kyoto 1st years and that’s all it takes for them to freeze, stomachs lurching into knots. 

“L-l-let’s just.. Um, get some more f-food inside.”

They nod along nervously. 

Are 1st years usually this pathetic? He certainly wasn’t. And you and Nanami are leagues above these weaklings. Haibara isn’t as sharp, but… well, he has time to unlock his potential.  

His eyes slide back to the corner of the room that consumes all his attention. He knows you know - he’s purposefully announcing his attention to the room - but he gives you space to enjoy the celebration as Kyoto students continue to encircle you. He doesn’t need to be able to hear to follow the flow of conversation across their lips. 

“The little Gojo girl, right?” A tan woman with short purple hair approaches you. Quite a distinctive style with about 20 hair clips and three layers of skirts in all different lengths. You light up immediately, fond of flashy styles, “ Another genius in the family, a little insufferable don’t you think?”

“Tell me about it~” You smile good naturedly. 

“You looked good out there.” She smiles back, leaning against the wall beside you.  “I’m Michelle. You can call me Mika though.”

“I’m ‘the little Gojo girl’, but you can call me Kurumi.” You mimic. 

She extends a hand out which you quickly meet. You can see a myriad of things in that single touch, he knows, but you’ve learned to school any reaction long ago. What did you see when my soul was laid bare to you? What was it that’s kept you all this time? 

“You know, I thought you’d be more stuck-up. Most people are from the ‘Big Three’” She puts in air-quotes. “And I’ve been Naoya’s upperclassman for two years and he never lets us forget about his ‘superior upbringing’ and ‘pure blood’.” More air-quotes. “And - no offense - Gojo is the cockiest man I’ve ever met…” She shivers, recalling some distant, harrowing annoyance.

“Are we talking shit about Gojo?” A hand pops in front of your view, handing you a perfectly grilled skewer of meat. 

“Sho!” You snatch it up happily, munching away innocently as Shoko joins the conversation.

“You know what he said to me last year?” Mika grits her teeth remembering the slight, “Ahem! - ‘Oh! You’re still here, surprised ya haven’t dropped out yet! Or died!’” She recounts in a comically deep voice.

“HAHAHAHA! He’s so funny!” You mumble through bites.

Shoko lights her cigarette, taking a deep inhale followed by a serious exhale. He braces himself for whatever bomb she’s about to drop, “He once ate the entire pizza I ordered on an all-nighter fixing up him and Getou.”

“Well that’s - um, not quite the same - but definitely selfish!” Mika agrees.

“Heh, he has such a good appetite.” You chime in, finishing off the skewer with a lick of the lips. Mika and Shoko both turn to you, waiting for you to add to the dogpile.  “Last week he spent 1,000,000 yen on a long-sleeve black shirt! Terrible saver and everything. Sooooo bad at finding good deals, ya know?” 

“...” Mika and Shoko appraise you blankly. 

“He looked so handsome, too! Plain shirts like that are universally appealing, but to really stand out in them ya gotta have a natural coolness. ” You nod vigorously and he can’t help but nod along with you in earnest agreement from his corner of the room.

“...Wow. You actually get along with him.” Mika wonders, openly bewildered. 

“What an idiot.” Shoko says, “He tore through the first one the same day he bought it. He cried the whole way back.” Well, he may have complained - a teensy tiny, infinitesimal bit.

“Mika-san.” 

You peek up, locking eyes with Nanami’s opponent from the day. Buzzed auburn hair and sharp black eyes peer down at you. He hands Mika one of the water bottles in his hold, before reaching out for you with the second.

Mika’s eyes nearly bulge out of her head as she follows the gesture with rapt interest. 

“You did well in your match today.” He compliments with a half-hearted shrug - as if he could hardly care whether you hear him or not. Satoru can see the bob of his Adam's apple as you take the water bottle from his hands. 

Don’t even think about it.

“Thanks! I’m a Nami supporter through-and-through, but it was my first time seeing black flash in person. You looked cool when you bent that tree with your technique - you can manipulate inanimate matter within a certain amount of pre-conditions right?”

“You catch on fast.” He hesitates, “If you’d like I could give you some pointers. I’ve done it before, only a handful of times, but…”

Black flash? That’s it? He acts like he invented the damn thing.

Your eyes widen eagerly and you lean in toward him - “Yeah! Should we head to the training field now and-”

“I was thinking next week - I’ll be back in Tokyo for a weekend. Maybe we could train and then, um, dinner?” He suggests.

“Oh! Sure, sure. I guess as long as I’m not on a mission.”

He smiles, “Alright, I’ll text you. What’s your number?”

How annoying.

“It’s -” A hand suddenly covers your mouth as you mumble the indecipherable words. 

“No.” Satoru says simply, suddenly by your side, close enough for his shoulder to brush yours. 

“Gojo.” Kosuke says, tense, “That’s not up to you.” 

“I’ll teach her.” He responds. “I can do it better, don’t ya think?” He smiles.

Kosuke turns away from Satoru, pointedly facing you, “Then dinner. I’d still like to see you for dinner.”

You blink, “Sure!”

“As a date. ” He pushes.

“Oh what - really? ” You blurt out in complete surprise.

Kosuke nods.

You look giddy - unreasonably so - nearly jumping in place, 

 “Yes!” “ Nope. ” You and Satoru respond in tandem. Your head swivels back to him, tilting in question.

“She ain’t interested! Bother someone else, won’t ya?” He taunts.

“Gojo, that’s her decision.” Kosuke rebukes.

“Sure is! And she’s decided - no.”

“H-hey, c’mon you two…” Mika chimes in hesitantly, looking back at Shoko for support - who of course, has made a swift departure long ago. “Fuck, whatever, Gojo you’re being a prick!” She crosses her arms across her chest. “What? You think you own her or something?”

That strikes a fucking nerve. 

Why shouldn’t he think that?

You’ve always always always been his. 

Satoru pulls his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, eyes wide and vivid as he hovers over the little fly, “And who are ya? I don’t remember weaklings~”

She pushes off the wall, while Kosuke pulls her arm back, “Easy there, he’s doing it on purpose.” He turns to Satoru, unimpressed - “Grow up.”

It’s easy for him to shrug off such weaklings when you take his side so easily, without question, not even a sliver of doubt within your countenance. It’s always been this way. 

“Hey.” You cut in, “Shut up, kay?”

Kosuke and Mika flinch at the sudden coldness while Satoru barely conceals his grin.

Kosuke has the nerve to take an appeasing step toward you, which you meet with a quick turn of your head in the other direction. You won’t entertain him anymore - as it should be. His shoulders slouch as he relents, “... Sorry.”

“Kosuke -” Mika starts.

“No, that’s my bad.” He stands down and Satoru can’t help the swell of his chest. The fucking pleasure at putting him in his place.

“Well! As long as you know now, right?” Satoru takes your hand in his, waving the gesture in their faces, “We’re leaving, see ya.”

Ah, just the two of you, finally finally finally alone. Any other day and that would be enough to bring him relief… to let his shoulders relax and his overworked eyes flutter shut. Today though, he's been on the precipice since that first glance from Naoya. 

“Do you not like him?” You nearly laugh, though he’s not in the mood for it. He doesn’t want to hear anymore about anyone else from your lips.

“I’m stronger than him.” He states. 

“Of course.” You nod. 

There’s no one better than me.

“I’m more handsome.” 

“That doesn’t make him not handsome.” You rebuff. 

I need you to know that. 

“He’s sooo boring.” He whines.

“He’s reliable - ugh, why am I defending him? I don’t know him - it’s just not everyday someone asks me out.”

Everyone else knows it. I’m the strongest. There isn’t anything anyone has over me.

“Forget him then, he doesn’t matter.” 

You sigh, wistful, “You wouldn’t understand.” You click your tongue in fake annoyance, “You haaaate love and marriage and that whole ‘happily-ever-after’ thing.”

Forget everyone but me. No one else matters.

“I don’t mind it.” He drops as if he’s just reminding you of a routine doctor’s appointment and not completely upending his entire life’s philosophy up until this very moment. 

You blink, “Really?” just as casually as the two of you step foot outside the grounds.

“Really.” And he’s not sure since when he’s truly meant it. Love and marriage and that whole ‘happily-ever-after’ thing. It doesn’t sound so horribly, utterly boring - that fake little fairy tale that is constantly stuffed down everyone’s throat. That white picket-fence dream, a kid or two, you to envelop him on his return from a mission. 

He could do it for you if you asked. 

“Satoru Gojo.” You swivel on him quickly, hand on your hip. “Mr. too-tough for love and captain of the ‘love-is-for-the-weak’ club, is open to dating and love and happily ever after? ”

He rolls his eyes playfully, crouching to the ground, ushering you onto his back with a lazy wave. “No, I just said I don’t mind it.”

You crawl onto his back without question, looping your arms around his neck. “You’re being very suspicious, ya know.”

He leaps into the sky, easily moving above dense forestry, the night wind whipping around him, “Hmm, aren’t you going to ask where we’re going?”

You shake your head, “No, no, let’s go back to the earth-shattering change in your values.”

He chuckles lowly. If only you knew. 

“When did you change your mind? Was it someone? Something? A mission? A sorcerer? Are you actually dating that silver-haired woman from yesterday? Mei-mei, right? She was definitely flirting with you when -”

“Do you want it to be her?” He asks as casually as he can muster.

“If you do.” He hates your honest answer. How easy it is for you to support him when he knows he can’t do the same. It makes that biting anger, that need to punish come out -

“Then maybe I’ll date her.” He says, annoyed. 

“Well, if you do date anyone, I’m still your best friend.” You hug him tighter, “Right?”

He softens, “What if I get married?”

“You?” You laugh at how ridiculous the notion still sounds from his mouth, “Even then.”

“And if I continue the Gojo line?” 

“ Especially then.” You say with certainty.

“How so?” 

“Because that’s for your clan.” You pull at his ear roughly, “And I’m just for you.”

If you had never met… where would you be now? Going to a normal high school? Would you have a boyfriend? Friends? Would you be confused by your own powers? Would they have scared you?

He could imagine it. A perfectly normal high school life. Maybe you would have kept modeling. Of course you’d be popular with the boys and girls alike - in that way that humans craved and crawled toward beauty. You wouldn’t have been scared, no, you weren’t like that. Regardless of him or anyone else, you didn’t fear those things that couldn’t be explained. You’d seen enough of that in the people you touched… you were tired of that fear that so needlessly controlled everyone. You would have embraced that power, eventually landing within the arms of the jujutsu world. Just like Suguru or Shoko, you wouldn’t have to deal with clan politics and the birthright of generations of succession. He’d meet you again, in school or some mission or another.

He wouldn’t think twice about you - why would he - and you’d be just another face in passing. He’d graduate without speaking so much as a few greetings your way, then he’d be jetting off on Special-Grade missions one after the other. You’d be an upstanding First-Grade Sorcerer - smart, diligent, and so so good. You’d stay in your lane and he’d stay in his.

But in this timeline… in this version of his life and yours, well, “That’s right, isn’t it?”

You lean your head onto his shoulder, cheek pressed against his. And as watchful as you were during the exchange event, all you do now is let long lashes flutter closed lazily. Aren’t you a pretty little thing?

When his feet finally still, touching down into a dark overgrown piece of forest, he holds back a whine as you untangle yourself from his form. You crouch to the earth, fingers pawing at the loose dirt.

“What do you see?” He leans over you. It’s dense with trees in every direction only a few feet away and brush up to your thighs. Even taking a single step forward has twigs and leaves tangled in the loose strands of hair framing your face. The sound of cicadas and owls ring loudly without any hint of the city left behind. 

“An old curse… A little strange though.” You muse. 

He grins, “Isn’t it?”

“A curse that seals itself.” You purse your lips in wonder. 

“Yup!” Of course you’d get it on first glance. 

You swivel, “Wait, this isn’t -”

He grins as the pieces click, “Shouldn’t we see for ourselves?”

Excitement blooms across your face, “Have you been inside yet?”

“Nope, saved it for us.” He says proudly. 

Your eyes widen, “Wahhh! This will be so fun! C’mon let’s find the entrance. How did you even find this place?”

There’s a thick moisture hanging in the air and with each step, shoes press deeper into sodden mud. “I flew past on the special grade mission last week.”

“Flew past and saw what ?” You laugh.

“Vibrations of cursed energy from underground.” He shrugs.

“Oh, that’s amazing.” You blink, remembering his capabilities stretch far beyond the average sorcerer.

“I am the strongest.” He slides his hand into yours, easy, natural, his whole heart in his throat. 

“Soooooo strong, so tough.” You snicker, squeezing his hand gleefully, “Still needs to hold my hand in the dark~”

“Terrified.” He mutters with sincerity, thumb brushing your knuckles. 

He watches you as you forcefully push through the treeline until you reach a much more open clearing that hugs the mountainside. While more open, the slick surface of the moss-laden stones make it even trickier to move across. 

You must be exhausted from the full day of festivities, but you laugh and accept his mission as if it’s the only thing that matters. He pulls you toward the right side, away from the more obvious cave entrance, walking along the outside wall. 

“It was in one of those old travel journals - kind of a boring read though.” You admit.

“Hmmm.” Satoru smiles, recalling the exact same one. 

“ A strange mountain that glistens in the shroud of darkness,
Yet hides in the call of day.
A curse that seals as quickly as it creates,
A song of shadow and of light.
So Six Eyes wanders past,
The cycle continues etched in old stone. ”

Satoru whistles, impressed. You’ve always had a memory for things like this, as if you could feel those times and places as clearly as your own. “Well, aren't you a little nerd.”

“Heh, I could be the Gojo historian! If something ever happened to those precious scrolls of theirs, I -”

“Of ours.”

“Eh?” You blink. 

“Scrolls of ours .” He repeats with force.

He knows it’s coming.

He needs to hear it as much as you need to say it.

It’s only right that he knows everything about you.

But there’s a sudden, methodic trickling sound as the both of you pull away from one another, suddenly alert. It takes each of you a moment to unravel the sound as pebbles, falling in tandem, rhythmic as if there are millions upon millions cascading around you. 

You look up at the same time, facing seemingly pitch black. Too black to be the night sky so far out, where moonlight and stars would be abundant.

“Finders keepers~” He taunts before jumping up first, disappearing into darkness.

The cave itself lay on the other side. Vast, endless, a constant mirror reflecting back his visage in an endless train into infinity. The walls that surround him are all obsidian black, with an almost iridescent sheen across the surface that casts a dull light throughout. Even the little whistle that he lets out seems to buzz across the world again and again.

You appear beside him soon after, of course following him as you always do.

“Straight into its domain.” You note with a stretch, curiously watching your own reflection mirroring your movement. 

“Hmmm~” Satoru walks closer to the black walls, lifting his fingers and flicking at the surface. 

“Ow!” You cry out suddenly, holding your shoulder.

“Ohoho, interesting. A domain that reflects back any damage to anyone trapped within. 

You pout, “That much was obvious, wasn’t it?” You twist your arm back and forth, examining the little bruise. 

“Hahahaha, so you can do this much now?”

It’s bittersweet, you analyzing the curse on second-nature, as if you were born to do this (just like him). He’d wanted this for a long time - someone who could match his pace and strength and wit out on the field. He’d wanted it to be you when you were children and you were the only interesting thing about the whole clan. He’d been annoyed, for a brief moment, when he saw you could barely control your own technique. When those childhood dreams of camaraderie had withered as quickly as they’d come. Of course, you never knew of that internal battle and he’d forgiven you soon enough. 

In fact, with each new year he became more and more pleased at your weakness. He would never have to worry about you leaving him - no! In fact, you’d beg him to stay! You’d need him, just as the world needed him. And anyway, he’d met his equal in Suguru. 

Jagged claws suddenly strike from the black obsidian. In the reflection, the claw appears from every angle, a full barrage surrounding the two of you. It attacks indiscriminately, slashing at where you two were standing and at its own limbs. 

The walls shift from you instantly as another spike impales the area he was just standing.

“I’ve got it!” You shout over to him as you blur away from the next claw.

He smirks, dodging as well, “Alright, Princess~”

“If the domain adheres to the physical rules of the world, then everything that reflects is done so at the speed of light.” You point out, “So all I need to do is to be faster than that.”

He lifts up his finger, “Bingo!”

You move both hands straight out from your chest, then in quick motion slice to the left and right in a half circle. Blue cursed energy courses through the air, thick and pliant, coating your whole body.

If it weren’t for his Six Eyes he’d miss the moment you disappear, fist colliding with the curse just as it resurfaces. 

He grins, blue cursed energy cackling at his fingertips as well.

You lock eyes as you tear through the curse and he shatters the facade of its domain. Millions of stone shards crumble and glisten around you both. A cacophony of the entire mountainside collapsing on itself awakens the forest. 

Six Eyes laser focus into the cascade of rocks. There it is.

He teleports himself into the center of destruction, grabbing two pieces of stone before teleporting himself back out.

“Got it!” He calls out to you.

You brighten, intrigued, appearing in front of him.

“A souvenir?” 

He nods, “Deeper in the archives - in the texts that are only meant for those possessing the Six Eyes - there’s a story about a curse that inhabits the cave of Heaven. Thousands of years ago, villagers believed the cave to be inhabited by a goddess. The Goddess of Light, to be exact.” He loves how enraptured you are by his story, nodding along viciously. 

“But really what lived within that cave was a curse built on the self loathing of humanity. It grew to loathe even its own existence with a hatred so deep that it could no longer leave the confines of its domain. Stuck in an endless cycle of self torment, it sealed itself from the world. A powerful seal that was constantly imbued with its own energy into the form of two stones.” He holds up two translucent black stones. Each seeming carbon copies of the other, in perfect symmetry. 

“One within its heart and one at the gate. Two stones bound together, a reflection of the other.”

You clap enthusiastically, “Sooo cool. What grade do you think this is?”

“A cursed object that is a direct reflection of its owner. So in our hands, pretty special~”

He casts a quick barrier upon each object to hide the presence of its cursed energy into that of a normal stone. “You keep this one.” He places one in your palm. “And I’ll keep this.” He holds up the other.

You gaze into it and suddenly it reflects the blue color of his eyes, while his stone reflects the green color of yours. “Heaven’s Mirror.”

“I’ll treasure it!” You leap into his arms for a hug.

You’re covered in dust and dirt and he can’t help but burst out laughing, “You’re such a mess!”

“Not as bad as that time we fell into the rice paddies. AND it was the middle of summer, we tracked so much mud into the house.”

“If only you’d kept your balance~”

“If only you hadn’t flung a handful of snakes at me.”

He shrugs, “You said you liked snakes.”

“Thoughtful.”

“As always.”

“I’ve missed those days.” You admit.

So have I.

It’s already long past midnight, the remnants of deep night slowly fading to that soft bluish haze of early morning. He holds your gaze as you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. He shimmies you up, firmly holding you to him as you hold his gaze.

“You know…I wanted to tell you about Naoya.” You say evenly.

“Why didn’t you?” He responds immediately. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” You lift up a brow. “I was ashamed, Toru.”

“ Why ?” He asks, bewildered. Why should you feel that way when you should hate Naoya, the whole fucking Zenin clan, and even… even his clan. Why should you bear that shame when everyone else is to blame?

Why wouldn’t you tell him?

You smile, tender and open, “Because I was weak.”

He beats down that urge to kill someone, to decimate each and every one of them that put you in that position. He can’t help the clenching of his fists around your thighs. It’s still fresh. It was just a few hours ago when he turned the clan inside out. When his rage simmered over and all that was left was cold.

“I would have killed them all.” He admits. He doesn’t know who he means anymore. Naoya? The Zenin Clan? His own clan? Maybe it doesn’t matter.

“If I wanted that…” You pinch at his cheeks, tugging lightly, “Then it would be ‘we’, no?”

Ah.

How cute. 

He sighs, resting his head against your shoulder, “Okay.”

“Okay? That’s it?” You scoff, eyebrows raised. 

He closes his eyes “Whatever the princess wants.” 

You giggle, leaning into him as well, “That sounds good to me.” You run a hand through his hair, “You aren’t mad?” Oh, he is. He will be for a long time.

“Of course not.” He lies.

“I don’t want us to hide things from one another.” You say with determination. 

“I don’t want that either.” He lies again, holding you tighter. He’s the strongest and he’ll always have to keep things from you - to protect you. “Where did he touch you?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” You say.

“I thought we weren’t hiding anything from one another?” He debates, suddenly teleporting the both of you. Once into the night sky. Another to an empty field. And a third onto the top-floor balcony of a skyrise. 

“Where is this?” You ask in amazement, though there’s hardly time for you to take in any of the furnishings or details as he hurries past the balcony door and down the hall.

“My loft.” 

“Ah, rich kid things, huh?” You tease, though there’s no fucking way he can respond coherently. He’s barely coherent, barely making sense of up and down and all that exists is you.

He sets you down on the bed, hovering above you on his knees. You sink into the comforter, smiling up at him, innocent and loving, with all your defenses long set to the wayside. Fuck, he wants to devour you.

“ Where. ” He’s barely holding on to sanity. 

“...” You hesitate for only a second, until your hand slowly rests at your upper thigh. “Here.”

He swallows thickly as his own hand traces the same path, featherlight.

You trace up to your stomach and his own hands follow suit. “Here.”

You lift up both of your hands, showing your wrists. “Here.” So delicately, he traces the delicate little bangle you always wear before bringing your wrists to his mouth, lips ghosting over each one.

You turn your head to the side, the expanse of your neck open to him. “Here.”

He dips his head toward your skin, tongue licking a little stripe from your collarbone to the cut of your jaw. He can feel the pulse of your blood as he slowly laps you up. Your body, your heart, the very blood pumping through your veins, all of it, everything, it’s his. 

You let a ticklish little whine under him. “Toru…”

And it’s his name that undoes every last bit of control.

“Mine.” He whispers into your lips. 

Why does it feel so different? When his hand cradles your waist and he closes the distance between your lips and his own. Kissing you feels like drowning and being reborn. It feels like belonging and possession and need. It’s soft and chaste - barely a touch - but fuck if his chest doesn’t feel like it’s bursting. 

He silently promises to reach such unquestionable heights that no one can challenge him.

You’ll be his forever.

Chapter Text

He tastes like strawberry cake.

It’s not like you’d never kissed him. Satoru at twelve was so cute, gagging each time you’d smother him with pecks on the cheek. 

You giggle to yourself at the memory of pudgy cheeks and the annoyed drawl of his voice as he’d say your name in faux admonishment. He’d grown out of that phase quick enough, though eye rolling at the gesture would last two years. Then, at some point, when his height had far surpassed yours, he’d lean down in anticipation. 

“Kurumi?” 

He’s always been so soft with you - ironic really, considering his reputation. Every time he carried your books after school or held your hands in winter or pressed his lips to yours… it had always been soft and sweet and lingering. 

My first kiss. Even the thought of it sends a flutter down your spine. You’d had foolish little daydreams when you were younger, imagining what it might be like. You’d shed that naivety with the more people you peered into. Lust and betrayal belying even the most perfect, doting marriages. Maybe fickleness is part of human nature - it seems to plague every age. Children’s curiosity lingering in toys for a mere few seconds before moving to the next. Teenagers switching between crushes like a change of clothes. It makes sense then that adults kept that trait - though somehow lack the ability to see their own nature. Maybe that’s also human nature… self-understanding remaining evasive for a lifetime. 

You know that a first kiss doesn’t mean forever , but wouldn’t that be sweet if it did?

Wouldn’t that be everything you’ve ever envisioned for yourself?

“Are you ready, Kurumi?”

But Satoru has never been romantic.

Never idealistic.

Never attached to anything at all.

Still… 

The kiss had meant something. 

You’d felt that, even as he commanded you to sleep, curling you into his chest.

Or did I just want it to mean something?

A hand suddenly waves in front of you. “Kurumi!” Yu laughs as you finally give him your attention. “Is the menu really that interesting?”

“It’s 10 pages written in 5 point font!” You exaggerate, pointing at the endless list of options.

The izakaya is beyond packed with your group sitting shoulder to shoulder just to be able to squeeze into the booth right by the front door. It’s a popular restaurant according to Mika, who picked it off one of those ‘Must Visit Izakayas in Tokyo’ Lists. Each swing of the door lets in a gust of damp, sweltering summer heat that’s exacerbated by the plumes of smoke coming from the kitchen. Sora, at the furthest end of the table from you, had complained about it being the worst table in the restaurant, though you rather liked it. A little reprieve from the cacophony toward the deeper parts of the building.

“We can share.” Nanami suggests from the seat to your left. “Order as much as you want.”

You smile at him fondly, “I want the hiyayakko tofu and then let’s try one of each type of chicken skewer!”

“Alright.” Nanami says, folding up his sleeves neatly then waving over the waiter to place the order for your side of the booth. 

Maybe all classes felt this way, but… we really have a perfect trio. Yu has an easy charisma that you’re sure made him popular throughout all his school years prior to Tokyo Jujutsu High. And unsurprisingly, he kept up the most with all of his old classmates, even introducing you and Nanami to them over a game of basketball and a visit to the arcade. Nanami is an obvious foil - a stickler for punctuality with an introspective nature. You tease him endlessly for his incessant need to check his watch, but you find the habit cute and you’ve been saving up to buy him a luxury watch for his birthday. More than anything, his every action is rooted in kindness - quick to give up his seat for elders, slowing his long stride so you can keep up, and giving his umbrella to strangers on rainy days (you’ve seen him purchase a replacement at least twelve times from the convenience store).

“I’m surprised you made First Grade so quickly.” Kosuke suddenly says, tilting a little over Yu’s shoulder to meet your glance. He’s been stealing those obvious glances all night, though it’s best I just ignore it. If Toru doesn’t like him then there’s no real place for him in my life. 

“Why wouldn’t she?” Yu asks innocently.

Kosuke blinks, surprised, “You really haven’t heard?”

Even you had expected more push back - or really, any push back. Instead, you’d been fast-tracked to First Grade and quickly pushed to the frontlines. Toru hasn’t mentioned anything of the sort and there’s no way he wouldn’t know if something were happening behind the scenes. And it’s a good thing, considering that Satoru and Suguru’s absence protecting the Star Plasma Vessel has taken them off campus for a few weeks already, leaving anyone who could take on First Grade missions in pretty high demand. 

“Heard of what?” Yu says, completely clueless. 

Kosuke scratches at his head, “I guess news travels differently in Tokyo. It’s pretty… openly talked of in Kyoto. Rumors that the rise of another Special Grade in the Gojo Clan could off-set the balance between the three major clans. It’s just mumblings for now, but - ”

Yu’s eyes sparkle with excitement, turning to you with a slap on the back, “Did ya hear that?! Special Grade is coming up!”

You laugh, “It’s so like them to worry about something that hasn’t even happened yet.”

Nanami sighs, “Are they really so petty? More sorcerers at a higher grade should be better for Jujutsu as a whole.”

You swirl your iced tea in your hands - the ice already long melted in the heat. “They care more about their own standing than that of the whole. It’s all quite messy, but maybe they're letting it slide since I don’t really have any blood relation to the Gojo Clan.”

“How foolish.” Nanami concludes. “Is blood really all that matters?”

“It’s no coincidence that there has been no significant change to the status of the three great sorcerer clans since the Heian area.” Kosuke says. “The Goodwill Event isn’t only used to test the skill level of students, it’s also a means for the old clans to see if there are any familiar techniques in use today. It’s not uncommon for latent bloodlines to be intermixed in the general populace, considering the majority of people born to sorcerer families end up with more watered down techniques over time, eventually becoming non-sorcerers.” 

Nanami listens intently, “How destructive.” 

“Oh wow! So even I could have Kamo blood in my veins?” Yu wonders.

“It’s possible… distantly .” Kosuke reminds.

“So cool!” Yu exclaims.

“Which clan are you related to?” You ask.

Kosuke’s eyes widen.

You smile, “Unless you’re part of the big three or even amongst the second tier of clans, there isn’t any need to be involved in clan politics. In fact, most sorcerers would actively avoid that aspect of Jujutsu. There isn’t anything to gain and a lot to lose. Besides, it’s usually a pretty tightly closed door to outsiders.”

“There’s some Tachibana blood in me. Not enough to make me privy to any confidential information, but enough to have other clans keeping tabs here and there.” Kosuke admits.

“Oh? I didn’t think I’d hear that name in this generation.”

“Were they important?” Yu asks.

“Yes, though a lot of the major clans were greatly diminished by the end of the Heian period. A lot of turmoil, and of course, among everyone, Sukuna stood at the top of it all. Those who more actively challenged him were quicker to be wiped off the map, despite being the most powerful. And then of course, there are long-standing feuds that have persisted across the centuries between those great clans.”

You catch Kosuke chuckling to the side. 

You fight to keep the flush off your cheeks, “I read a lot.”

“ Cute. ” Kosuke says, easily. His full attention is on you. “I like that about you.”

It’s just the summer heat that causes red to tinge your cheeks. And it’s just the unique grain of the table wood that suddenly keeps your interest. Nothing else. 

Yu nearly spits out his tea while Nanami just stares at the ceiling, sighing.  

There’s a sudden buzz at your side. Bestie is calling. You shoot up instantly, “Ah - I’ll be right back! Start without me if the food comes!”

“Really, Kosuke?” You hear Yu question as you dart out the door.

“Toru!” You say, brightly smiling into the phone.

“Princess~” You’ve missed the sound of his voice. “I swam in the ocean today~”

“Ehh did you wear the red jacket I gave you?” You ask. 

DING. Bestie sent a photo. You giggle, quickly opening it to see a selfie of him in the red jacket, unzipped, smiling as Suguru gives him the middle finger in the background.

“Very stylish.” You compliment. “Wow, Suguru has like, a ten pack.”

Bestie sent a photo. It’s the same photo, zoomed into his own abs, also showing a very defined ten pack.

“Suguru’s gained a ton of weight. Suuuppperrr out of shape. Nothing compared to me.” He argues.

“Oh? I’ll need to fact check that~” You tease.

“I might even have a twelve pack, so make sure to really check.”

“That’s not humanly possible.” You laugh.

“It’s a good thing then that I’m special~”

You smile to yourself - it’s true. Maybe not in the way he means it, but he’s more special than anything else in this world. My blue-eyed, spoiled, sweet, handsome best friend. The soft sheet of snow atop bristled green pine. A vibrant blue moon dancing amongst the fireflies. Shelter amongst chaos. 

“Satoru -” You hear Suguru’s voice in the background.

“You should go.” You hurry him, fighting back your own disappointment. His calls have been few and far between, lasting only a minute or two at odd hours of the day. Though there’s been no shortage of pictures, with him sending you over 30 at 2am last night. Things ranging from a half-eaten sandwich and a turtle trudging through the sandy beach to blurry shots of Suguru and selfies zoomed in to just his eye. Photography isn’t his calling, that’s for certain. 

“Say it.” He commands, greedy and needy.

You oblige, readily. “I miss you.” 

It’s quiet for a moment. There’s a heavy trickle of water dancing across the rooftops that seems to mirror the quick pitter-patter of your heart. You were towing that line with him. He could flirt with anything - god, you’d even seen him flirt with Katai. But this was… you were both letting tension seep into places it usually wouldn’t be. Silences that spoke louder than words and tender touches, more hesitant than strangers. 

“I’ll see you soon, Princess.” He finally says, voice deep and drawling, taking its time with his goodbye.

The phone stays at your ear even after the little blip as he hangs up. The beginning of something new fills you with that little flutter at the promise of what’s to come. He knows everything now. I’ve put that weakness behind me… he knows I have the strength to stand beside him. I’ll catch up, no matter what it takes. 

There’s nothing to worry about anymore… we promised to be fully open with one another. As long as it’s me and Toru then nothing else matters. 

“Love is so strange.” You mumble to yourself, just a whisper, quickly drowned out by the life around you.

Love. 

You always thought that the strongest love was that which stood unchanged, even amidst the greatest hardship. The kind that never wavered - staying true to its original promise. You believed you had that love. 

You catch your reflection in the restaurant window - the little twinkling blue stone now pierced through your earlobe glitters back. But that can’t be true. Maybe love needs to grow and change, just like you’re allowing it to now. 

Just as you reach to push the thin hanging fabric out of your way at the door, you pause hearing Satoru’s name.

Kosuke looks at Nanami and Yu in frustration, “How do you put up with it?”

Yu laughs, “We call it the Gojo barrier.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

Kosuke groans, “Do you think he’s all bark?” 

“I’m not sure…” Yu says sheepishly. “He’s just worried about her, is all. All they had was each other, you know, as kids. I wouldn’t take it personally! He might be intimidating, but he always does what’s right. If you don’t cross that line then you’ll be fine!”

“And they’ve never… crossed that line? Surely she’s had boyfriends -”

“You should ask her directly.” Nanami cuts off, never one to enjoy gossip or pointless conjecture. 

He sighs, “Yeah. Man, she sure is pretty.”

“If you’re serious, don’t mind Gojo.” Nanami sips his tea. “Don’t expect him to play fair.”

Your brow furrows. Coming from anyone else you wouldn’t pay any attention, but Nanami is, in all ways, a fair judge of character. Never speaking out of turn and holding in judgment until he’s certain of his own regard. So why does it sound as if he dislikes Satoru? 

It must just be a natural clash of personalities. Besides, I know Toru best. 

The rest of the night is spent immersed in comfortable chatter and easy friendship. You’re thankful for the distraction - every day without Satoru has felt so slow, as if your time is just waiting for his return to resume.

I miss him so much. 

You’re consumed by him.

The kiss.

Every memory, every period of time had a certain beat. Of course, it thrummed to the same drum of all time, but it always felt more alive to you than that. This one, your first year spent with Yu and Nanami, when Satoru kissed you and you made First Grade felt like the beat of your own heart.

Even after everything to come.

Chapter Text

“You keep leaving your left side open. If you tried quickly switching your technique from your dominant hand to your feet, I think your offense would be more versatile.” You list off to Yu as you make the climb up the long, winding stairs into campus on Mount Mushiro. “You’ve improved a lot in casting your simple domain, though I think you could still employ it at least 2 seconds quicker.” 

Yu hums thoughtfully, “Right now I can’t get it to switch to different parts instantaneously, but it’s definitely possible.” He smiles, a full grin stretched across his face, “One more month of grinding and I’ll get it.”

“I’ll help you practice today.” Nanami adds. 

Your eyes shine brightly, widening as you sense the strange shift in the air, “Something’s changed.”

Yu and Nanami instantly move closer to your side, a sudden, practiced alertness. 

The cause of your concern reveals itself as you turn the corner: a giant slash through a cluster of red torii just within the barrier. Entire pieces of the mountainside blown apart and splatters of blood coating the old stone.  

It’s obvious the moment you step foot within the barrier that a great disruption has occurred recently within otherwise peaceful walls. You move quicker through the remnants of carnage. There are traces of Toru here .

“This is - but this is in Tengen’s barrier!” Yu exclaims, surprised.

“Whatever or whoever it was… they’re gone now.” Nanami says, surveying the area raptly.

 “It’s probably been taken care of - it’s too quiet otherwise.” Your eyes flicker back to the blood. “I’ll go ahead first.”

“Be careful!” Yu calls after you as you sprint into full speed. 

They’ll catch up, but I should figure out what’s going on.

A few damages to the school isn’t unheard of, though it is a rare sight outside of The Goodwill Event. Any attacks on school premises would require a certain type of technique to bypass Tengen’s barrier. And even if they made it past there are plenty of teachers and students to face them. Besides the countless cursed tools sealed away on campus… the only other reason for an intruder is to enter the Tombs of the Star Corridor and prevent the Star Plasma Vessel from merging. 

You send cursed energy into the space underneath you - a precise isolation of the dimension below. Weightless and massless, existing only as time itself, outside of any relative function. The shift sends you flying through the air and from your vantage point you scour the campus for any flares of cursed energy. 

In the courtyard of the classrooms you see three familiar signals - Still no Satoru… 

Your fingers brush across the gleaming blue earring.

I would know.

If anything were to happen to him…

If he needed me.

Your fist tightens as you move quickly toward them. I would feel it in my very soul and in the threads of time. 

Shoko is the first to acknowledge you, though certainly not the first to sense you. She sends you a quick nod before continuing her discussion with Dai, one of the auxiliary managers no doubt filling her in on the case. She isn’t one to get overworked about anything, but seeing her usual countenance helps relax you the slightest bit. Everything is fine. 

As you dispel your technique, you lightly touch down on the grass in front of Suguru. He’s slunk down onto one of the wood benches, hair covering part of his face and shoulders steeped in exhaustion. There’s no witty little remark or playful tease he always greets you with. He doesn’t even lift his eyes to meet yours.

“Sugu.” You say, an edge of worry tainting your own voice. 

“We failed.” He says in answer. Deep slashes marr the entire chest area of his uniform and shallow nicks litter his face and hands, Shoko must have treated his larger wounds already. 

You know that look - you’ve seen the same expression, etched so deeply within the heart of many curses. Loss that drives one into madness. Pain that stops time itself, leading to an empty chasm that won’t ever be filled again. It’s best not to linger in that sadness, though it’s not something you can command easily.

You’ve certainly never seen it on Suguru.

“You’re alive and that’s enough for now.” You extend your hand, gently resting atop his head.

He peeks up at you through those messy bangs you’ve grown fond of. “I should have protected her.” He says, dull eyes searching for solace in your gaze. “I told her I would.”

Despair rips through your own chest, tightening and crushing all at once at the self-loathing coating his own words. There’s nothing you can say - no comfort you can offer that can ease his burden.

“Sugu…” You throw your arms around him. 

He welcomes it readily, wrapping around you just as quickly. 

It had hurt, of course, to see Satoru take to someone so quickly (whether he admits it or not). Then you met him, and took to him just the same. Though he kept a bantering dynamic with Satoru, Suguru had always coddled you, a self-assigned elder brother. He could be instructive to your training in ways that Satoru couldn’t and he’d happily let you braid his hair before a date. 

So you hold him tightly, without restraint. 

“He’s fine.” Suguru says into your shoulder.

“I know.” You pat him gently across the back, “You would have told me.” if he were hurt.

You listen to the slow beat of his heart as Yu and Nanami’s voices trickle in, mingling with Shoko’s. 

Suguru’s arms slacken at his side, hair fanning across your cheek as he shifts.

“Am I interrupting?” Satoru’s voice cuts straight to you.

Your whole presence shifts to him, eyes raking over his form. He wears an unfamiliar loose-fitted red shirt - clean of any damage - and even the loose gray sweats are pristine. He must be exhausted as well and yet… even the healthy flush of his skin and the resonance of the world around him show him to be in exceptional condition. His eyes bore into the place where Suguru’s hand used to be.

You climb off, making your way toward Satoru without a second thought, “I was looking for you.”

“Were you?” He says. You blink, surprise flickering across your face at the obvious bite in his tone.

“Don’t do that, Satoru.” Suguru says, squeezing Satoru’s shoulder as he walks past, leaving the two of you alone. There’s something in the exchange that unnerves you, but… it’s been a long day, I’m sure they’re just letting it get to them.

It’s not the reunion you expect. Maybe your expectations have built up too much in his absence, but…no, even before the kiss he would have already enveloped you in his arms. He’d be beside you, lifting you up effortlessly while spewing every mindless detail of his day. He would have, at the very least, texted you before thinking of changing clothes.

“Are you still busy?” You ask.

“Nah.” He grabs your hand, pulling you along at a leisurely pace toward the direction of the dorms. 

“Are you okay? I heard she -”

He responds coolly. “Tengen’s fine, already evolved.”

“Oh, that’s good news, right?” He’s prickly.

“What were you and Suguru talking about?” He blatantly ignores your question. 

“Nothing really.” You answer honestly. 

“That’s what you call that? You were all over him.” He spits out.

“What? That was just a hug.” You bristle.

“A hug?” Satoru scoffs. “You were practically straddling him.”

“We’re talking about Sugu, right?” You say, miffed. “It’s not like he’s some random person! I’ve hugged him plenty of times. And it’s not about me - He’s obviously torn up about the mission. I’M torn up about the mission.” You admit, turning to him. You roughly yank your hand from his, crossing your arms, “Do you know how worried I’ve been all day? You haven’t texted me at all since last night - which, fine , you’re busy, I get it! But what did you think I was going to say, coming back to see the front grates demolished? I thought, I don’t know, maybe you got HURT -”

He’s in front of you suddenly, leaning in “I won’t lose to anyone.” His thumb lightly traces the outline of your lips. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

You puff one of your cheeks, sensing a shift in his mood, “Even the strongest can lose.” Maybe you’re imagining it, that distance. 

His eyes shine brightly, “Is that a curse?”

“Don’t be silly, it’s just the truth.” You roll your eyes.

“Not for me.” He says, meaning it so definitely. 

You want to know every detail of what happened during his fight.

What did you think of the Star Plasma Vessel?

How did she die?

Why does everything about you feel different?

Why won’t you rely on me?

He hoists you into his arms and your legs wrap around his waist. “Don’t look at me like that.” He says quietly, forehead touching yours as he walks the rest of the length to his room.

“Like what?” You respond.

“Worried.” He places you gently on his bed. “It was easy, anyways. I told you it would be.”

“Who did you fight at the gates then?” You rebuff. 

He stills for a moment, before stripping off his sweatpants, tossing it messily onto one of the chairs in the corner. “Toji Zenin. Though he’d shed that name.” He rifles through his closet, grabbing a black cotton tee. 

“ Toji? The Sorcerer Killer?” You ask, incredulous.

“Yup!” He tosses you the shirt. “You can sleep in this.”

“The only known case of a sorcerer without any cursed energy.” You mutter to yourself, reciting the information you’d read on a database for free agents. “I’m going back to my room though.” You add, holding up the tee.

“I told ya, it was easy.” He grabs the shirt, trying to force it on your head, “Just stay.” He orders.

“Hey!” You laugh, wiggling your head through the hole, “Fine, fine, let me change.” You hop up, running into the bathroom. You leave the door open, but stand out of his eyeline as you throw off your uniform jacket.  “I heard he killed three First Grade Sorcerers in Yokohama without drawing his katana.”

“Hmm, well they weren’t me.” You hear him call to you from the other side of the door.

You shimmy your pants down and unclasp your bra, leaving everything in a neat little pile on his hamper. His black shirt hangs to your lower thigh, with even the sleeves covering up to your elbows. You poke your head out, leaning past the door frame to find his gaze affixed to you.

“Come here.” He says softly, eyes already drooping tiredly.

You pad over quietly, smiling as he wraps you in his arms, greedily pulling you close and under the covers. His eyes close almost instantly - “Stay” he says one last time as slumber takes him without much of a fight. 

It’s just like when he was a kid. When he would use up too much cursed energy on some frivolous task like carving a tunnel through an entire mountain because he flipped through a Batman comic book or putting on a cursed energy light show for the estate staff (and nearly blowing up three rooms in the process). And after washing up, you’d always wander into his room to say goodnight, only to find him fighting sleep as if the fate of the world depended on it. Eyes blinking bleary and jaw clenched tight, an annoyed bite to his tone as he’d pat the space next to him. It was like clockwork, the moment those covers tucked tightly around you, he’d drift off. Heavy and relaxed, a deep sleep you didn’t even know the Gojo heir was possible of.

But now… on most nights he’d pet your hair or paw at the edge of your sleep shirt, whispering sweet words until you fell asleep first. He could be as flippant as demanding, never in between. So you spoil him, letting his new habits take hold however he likes. 

You’re restless though, lingering in the conscious world for far longer than you desire. Something feels off, or maybe it’s just lingering ones from the stresses of not knowing where or how he was. Whatever it is, your whole body feels abuzz with an unnatural anxiety that can’t be pinned to any one clear thing. 

You’ve always been one to trust your instinct, but… 

I have Toru. No matter what it is, we’ll deal with it together, right? As long as we do that then there’s nothing to regret. 

“That’s right.” You mutter to yourself.

You’re not sure when restless sleep finally finds you, though it feels as if your eyes have only just closed when Satoru’s lips tease your ear. “Princesssssss, I have to go.”

“Mnnnhhh…” You moan, turning to wrap your arms around his neck. He’s already dressed in his uniform, sitting on the edge of your side of the bed. “Where are you going?” His hand rests at your lower back, careful not to jostle you as you snuggle closer.

Fingertips gently ghost across the bags under your eyes, “Go back to sleep, it’s still early.”

You kiss him on the cheek, nearly toppling off the bed and out of the blankets in the process, still groggy, “I’ll go with you…”

The hand at your cheek suddenly moves to your thigh, fingers digging into your flesh. You like his warm touch, barely cognizant of how your shirt has risen, leaving you bare in your underwear. He pushes you back into the mattress, knees spread at either side, caging you in. “... Maybe I’ll just stay here.” He teases, voice tight.

Now you’re wide awake.

Aware of the roughness of his hands, slowly inching up your thigh. His index finger curls tightly before he can move even higher. 

You’re even more aware of the presence just outside the door - definitely close enough to hear any loud noise and certainly trained enough to discern what it would mean.

“I’m coming in there in five seconds if you’re not out by then.” Suguru’s voice calls from outside the door.

Satoru sucks in a breath. “I’ll be back tonight.”

“Fiiiine.” You smile, stretching out as he shuffles out the door with an annoyed string of exclamations for Suguru’s ears. 

Besides the mild mess, Satoru keeps a pretty clean room - mostly attributed to his lack of stuff. It’s kept in the traditional style, a normal amount of clothes in the closet and a desk purely for show. There’s a couple pictures of you mixed in with other classmates on the wall. No frame, just taped on haphazardly. 

“Ahh so cute.” You say toward a 12-year-old Satoru, messy hair, gliding down a skateboard ramp on a top-of-the-line skateboard he’d chosen purely for its lofty price tag. You can see a blurry outline on the edge - courtesy of your finger blocking a bit of the camera as you snapped it in a flurry. It had been a fun activity forrrrr about a week. He’d landed a YoYo Plant on his first attempt and every boy in the skatepark had flocked to him, screaming, completely insane, as if they’d just witnessed Shohei Otani run a game-winning homerun. And like everything else, he stopped cold-turkey one afternoon, tossing both your skateboards into a pile of useless toys in his closet. 

You debate internally whether you should steal the cute little artifact from childhood, but let it be for now. I should practice before class starts anyway, Yu and Nanami are probably already on the training field. And maybe I can figure out how to mitigate the pain I’ve been feeling every time I try to activate too large a distortion. 

Quickly changing back into your uniform and brushing your teeth, you slide out of Satoru’s room and beeline to your own room for a change of undergarments.

Shoko waves, lazy and noncommittal from right outside your door.

“Sho?”

“Were you with Satoru?” She glances around, a watchful wariness to the movement.

“Yeah, but he left campus with Sugu already.” You say, quickly entering your room and changing in a matter of minutes. 

She’s still there, ushering for you to flank her the moment you reemerge. 

“What’s the extent of what you can see? Is it limited to living things?” She dives right in.

“The greatest limitation is what I can store up here.” You poke at your head. “I’m not sure myself what exactly fits within the bounds of my technique, but I can sense something even walking into a room. We are all subject to time in some way or another.”

She starts walking, questions quick off her tongue, “How much control do you have on what you can see? And will that information change, depending on when you see it?”

You’re surprised by how much she’s already gleaned - the questions you asked yourself when you first learned about cursed energy. She’s certainly a natural in every way. “Think of it like a database of sorts. I can search for key terms, in a sense, and as long as the memory is distinct enough then it will yield something. The weaker the impression of that memory, the more hazy the image. And even if it is clear, sometimes it won’t be clear to me. More like… an instinct. Like I know the answer, but I can’t summon the exact image of it. This is mostly because we all experience memories - even just thoughts - in pretty uniquely different ways. Most people aren’t actively aware of this though - that others think, in an abstract sense, in a way that could be unfamiliar to them.”

“Hmm…” She scribbles something quickly in her notebook, leading you further from the classrooms. 

“And yes, it can change - it has changed, from my experience. But… it’s not worth it to look often into the same person. Even if they experience new memories, even one look is enough to know what decisions they might make. Of course, there are always exceptions…” You trail off thoughtfully. That’s the thing about being human - there is always the chance of doing something completely outside of expectation. Each individual holds the power to become someone so wholly different from the person they were the day before. That’s a key component to humanity. 

She nods along at your side, though nonchalant you can tell she’s understanding everything with clarity. “I want to try something.” She says firmly, though her glance to you is an open question.

You smirk, “Then let’s get going.”

She smiles lazily, tucking away the notebook in order to unlock the doors to the morgue. “Have you ever used your technique on a dead body?”

Your eyes widen, “I haven’t. Whose is it?” How does the body itself recall life? Is it still the moments in between? Or merely a flicker of that last memory, standing before death?

She flicks off the tip of her cigarette, taking one last drag before depositing it into the ashtray she keeps outside the main operating room. 

“Toji Fushiguro. His body is impossible to even cut through without the application of cursed energy, even in death.” He looks well-preserved, courtesy of Shoko’s abilities. A giant hole in his side, but otherwise even in death you can feel the power radiating from him. As if he’ll come to life, gripping your arm and crushing your throat in one movement. 

No, even if memories linger in death, attached to their corpse, none of these rules would apply in the same way to Toji. Someone whose entire body lacks any cursed energy. Even non-sorcerers have a little, so will I be able to see anything at all? 

Well, it doesn’t matter. I want to know my own limits. And if anything… maybe it will just be…emptiness? Just nothing of anything. That’s definitely a possibility.

“What do you think?” Shoko’s voice pulls you out of your own hypothesizing.

“Well, nothing to lose. I have a lot of ideas, but nothing quite like seeing for myself.” You roll up your sleeves with a smile, moving to the side of the table by his head. Both of your hands over his head, before you slowly, gently, activate your technique as you make contact. 

…

It’s soft.

And warm.

A slight trickle of water.

Green grass, tall and wild.

Easy laughter.

Her fingers poke at my cheek, full of mirth.

“Toji.”

Ah, I haven’t heard that voice in a long time.

“Tooojiiiii. Are you going to sleep in again?”

This…isn’t a memory. Memories - even ones captured through something like the Six Eyes - can only be held in subjective detail. The primary, core pieces of them are more vibrant and alive than the small details that fade into obscurity. Like how you’ll recall the pain of a stomach ache as hurting, but can’t pinpoint exactly what it had felt like. But this… this has every single detail as vividly as the next. Every blade of grass and drip of water. What is this…?

“Tsk. I know you’re awake now.” She scolds. “You broke your promise, you know.” 

A smile tugs at my lips, “What kind of promise?”

“Ehhhh, really? You said you’d stop drinking so much at dinner. And you didn’t take out the trash! You know that it stacks up if you forget!” 

The sound of my own laughter is foreign. “Hahahaha, Is that it?” I’ve broken more than that. All the important ones, over and over and over again.

She brushes my bangs to the side. “That’s it.” She’s always gone easy on me. Forgiven me, even until the end. “Was it hard?” She whispers.

“No.” I memorize her features. Pretty. The only face I want to remember.  “It was alright.”

The scene before you turns white, washing away as if the little stream has bubbled over and soft ripples of water carry it under its current. What was that?

I can feel it, the hollowness in my gut as I glance down at the newly formed, gaping hole. 

I know it’s the end. That shitty Gojo kid standing across from me, gloating. As if any of this even matters. It hasn’t mattered for a long time. What else is there to think of besides survival. Food to fill my stomach and money to buy one more day, just the same as the next.

“So… any last words?” Gojo asks, arrogant and proud and reeking of victory.

“Nah.” I say, meaning it.

Last words are for those that have something they’ve left behind.

What do I have left here?

I never had anything but -

His face, so much like hers…

That’s right, isn’t it?

My son.

Our son.

Maybe it wasn’t worthless, all along.

No, go further, go back, keep going -

I won’t kill him, can’t risk his cursed spirits leaking into the world, wreaking havoc for me to clean up before the job is done. Lucky brat.

I stare down at the bloodied body of Getou.

I shouldn’t linger here, I should go back to the beginning. Find the heavenly pact -

It’s just a matter of waiting now. For that Gojo kid to arrive. If he’s gone, then it’s easy. 

I tense, preparing for the lunge. 

Satoru’s back, his shoulders, the tiredness that lingers in his posture as he passes through the red gates.

My blade glides easily through skin and bone, straight out the other side. 

It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay. He won. He said it was easy, it was nothing -

He’s slow - so obviously exhausted just as I’d planned for.

I’ve won.

I know it as I draw my cursed tool.

As it impales his neck and slices his chest.

As I impale his legs again and again and again and again and again. Gojo blood rains down as I smirk. 

Stop, stop, stop, stop -

My sword, dripping with his blood as I slice clean through his bones. Those bright, useless blue eyes wide in shock.

I like the look of those famed Six Eyes as they are now. As I rip the light out of them and -

FUCK, GET ME OUT - STOP, STOP, STOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP

Reveling in the wet, crunching noise as I pull out his guts. As even more blood paints the world red. As the Gojo brat crumbles at my mercy.

“KURUMI!!” Nanami’s hand is on your arm and you can feel the pump of cursed energy pulsing from him into you. The jolt that pulled you out. 

You can feel the rawness in your throat - since when have you been screaming?

‘Easy.’ He said it had been easy.

You lean to the side, instantly puking across the sterile, gray floors.

He almost fucking died. 

You want to throw up again, but even as you heave into the air, it’s empty and dry and you grip at your chest relentlessly. You feel so fucking sick. Your throat burns and blood splatters across the floor as you scream once more. 

Has he always looked down on me?

Telling you fake encouragement, pretending as if he viewed you as his equal.

How fucking stupid have I been this whole time. 

You have never even been in the same race as him. 

He is never going to be anything more than Satoru Gojo.

Chapter Text

Bestie: I bought a cake! I’ll share it with ya

Bestie: I won’t waittt

You: I won’t be back :((((! 

Bestie: Booooo booooooooo!!!!

Bestie: Lame

It’ll get easier.

You quickly pocket your phone with a taut smile, adjusting the strap of the duffle bag across your shoulder. It’s only one night, but you’ve learned to pack for three in case you pick up another mission on the way. Well, maybe that’s what you’ve been aiming for.

The less time I spend here, then the less I need to pretend. 

“You’re leaving again? You just got back.” Yu says between mouthfuls of hirata buns. A bag full of convenience store snacks hangs from his wrist before he forcefully shoves it into your duffle bag. 

“In my jet-setter era~” You say, “Don’t you think this is overkill?” You glance at the now bulging side of the bag. 

Nanami sips at his hot tea, “You should take better care of yourself. When’s the last time you’ve even been inside the cafeteria?”

They’re worried about me. “You know, I think I’m actually getting more rest than before.”

Nanami and Yu look at you in disbelief.

“What? At least when I go on missions I don’t have to wake up for Sensei’s lectures.”

Yu groans, “You know last week he made us train at 4am? Every. Day.”

“Yesterday he knocked on my dorm at 11pm because of a spelling error in my mission report.” Nanami says with clear annoyance. “It’s hard enough having to work so many weekends. Why can’t we stick to a normal schedule? Most students would be done with after school activities by 7pm. We haven’t had a full day off -” He turns to you sharply, “you especially - in the past two months.” He pushes up his glasses with a huff. “It’s inhumane.”

It’s the longest rant Nanami has ever gone on, though he makes his disdain of the overtime clear on almost every away mission. “Sensei has been particularly overbearing recently.” You concede, patting Nanami on the back. “Should we revolt? Oh! Let’s host an intervention! Or we could protest outside the classroom - should we make signs!!!” You ask, meaning it for no other reason than the chaos. 

“Don’t say that so loudly!!” Yu hushes, looking over his shoulder, frantic, as if the devil himself would appear. “Remember when we punched a hole through the wall?” He shivers.

“When YOU punched a hole through the wall.” You and Nanami say in conjunction. 

“We’re a team!” He counters.

“Hahahaha you’re such a baby~” You tease.

Yu laughs, “Well Miss Golden Girl - First-Grade in your first year and member of the famous Gojo clan - you wouldn’t understand the plight of us common folk.” 

He means it sarcastically, but you can’t help the burn in your chest at the irony of it all. How meaningless your position is in the clan. And how, no matter what grade you reach, you’ll never reach the one person you want.

“Then get stronger.” Nanami cuts in. He’s been watching you closely these past few weeks. He’s never asked - never spoken another word about what he saw. You love him for it. For all the other ways he silently stands by you. He doesn’t have to say anything and you know it in a glance. 

It doesn’t fill that piece of you that has long seen only one person, though, maybe that’s what it means to be human. To desperately grasp at the things that are meant to slip away. It makes the existence of curses seem completely inevitable. 

“Exactly what I was thinking!” You snicker. 

“So cheeky!” Yu tries to wrestle you, throwing an arm over you which you easily duck to evade. You quickly skirt through the station ticket gate, swiping your prepaid card.

“Hehe, see you tomorrow!” You stick your tongue out at them. 

“Be careful, Kurumi.” Nanami sends you off with a wave.  “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I’m more worried about you two dummies!!!” You energetically shout over your shoulder. The smile drops from your face the moment you’re out of view.

Just do as you’ve always done.

You aren’t tired, you’re just… keeping busy. Better to keep going than stall for too long, thinking of the implications of what you learned. The wait until the train departs, the ride there, and the walk the rest of the way feels endlessly slow. Like the quiet lull of a song, too long and unchanging to hold interest. 

But by the time it’s over, it’s just a single blink.

Insignificant and forgettable. 

Act as you’ve always acted. Just get through this and…

“And then what?” You mutter to the loud flutter of the wind, whipping wildly through the thick steel beams of the bridge. It’s sturdy, but the metal groans incessantly as cars drive over. With a lean over the edge you whistle at the 300 foot drop to the sea. 

Bestie: Yaga took all my snacks away :(((((

Bestie: He probably wants em all to himself

Bestie: Bring me back something yummy?

You rest the box of chocolates on the sidewalk.

Why can’t I stop myself? 

But you thought of him when you passed the shop window. The cutest, quaintest little confectionary shop. It’s been there for over a hundred years, crafting each delicacy by hand according to their ad. A true artisanal experience. ‘Toru would love this’ is the only thought you’d had before buying one of each of their best sellers. Those delicate matcha nama chocolates dusted in the lightest, fluffiest white powdered sugar had looked just like… us. 

You: Hehe already acquired~

Bestie: You’re the bestest~

You close your eyes, letting the cold numb you, draping your arms over the railing as the wind musses your hair. 

What comes after this? Would you continue to play sorcerer, only for him to leave you behind, as he’d always intended? You could keep it going though, couldn’t you? What had you wanted to do before all of this?

Who were you before Satoru?

Your reason -

Your heart -

Your joy -

Your everything - it always began with him.

“AHHHHHH!!! SOMEONE HELP! PLEASE, SOMEONE SAVE ME!” 

You jolt to attention, sliding past the safety rails along the edge of the bridge. You swing yourself below deck where it’s noticeably colder - a wet slick coating the surface of the metal. 

“STOP, PLEASE -”

There he is - a middle-aged man dressed in a tight cycling suit and a helmet, still-buckled, swinging across his neck. His leg dangles helplessly at his side where a dozen thick, eel-like curses chew at his flesh. Their weight slowly drags him lower across the beam and if he tips even an inch more he’ll barrel to his death. 

His eyes meet yours, complete disbelief, “Y-you! YOU PLEASE - I’LL DO ANYTHING - JUST HURRY, HELP!!”

Anything? Are humans really aware of the consequences of that one word? Were you even?

Dexterously jumping from one beam to the next, you grab hold of him while simultaneously slicing through each of the parasites. The curses fly through the air, their jaws latching suddenly onto the cross beam that you’re stationed on, crushing the metal. A loud, whiny creak echoes out across the water. A jolt as the entire bridge shifts an inch. 

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE THOSE THINGS?!”

Hundreds more curses suddenly appear from the surface of the ocean, aiming straight for you. “Stay still.” You mutter quickly, trying to maintain a grip on his waist and the beam. But he’s panicking, screaming, tearing at your clothes in his hasty retreat.

“Shit -” You curl yourself against him, breaking his fall as you crash into one of the lower support beams, the crack of your elbow tearing out of its socket. “Erghh.” You hiss out, hooking your foot around the edge, barely preventing the fall. 

“M-my leg! WHAT’S WRONG WITH MY LEG?!”

Black rot crawls up, slowly spreading like the burn of incense. 

“I need to remove it.”

“N-NO, I - I CAN’T, PLEASE SAVE ME.”

It’s pitiful - that desire to cling onto everything , despite everything being long gone. 

“Your leg or everything.” You say again, quietly, firmly. 

His grief shrieks into the air. 

You don’t have time for soft comforts, but at least this you can give him. You can save him. “I’ll be quick, but you must decide now.” 

In shaking, trembling breaths, he acquiesces, “ Please .” 

And so you watch as red coats your blade. He passes out before he can see his leg fall into the depths of the ocean.. 

Why are non-sorcerers born so weak to a world that harbors such darkness? Why must they face troubles that they have no hope of defeating on their sheer will alone?

You dive toward the ocean from your perch.

The curses swarm you in the air.

Cursed energy surrounds the space around you.

Everything slows.

Eyes wide.

And within a fraction of a second you crush every last remnant of the curse. 

The dimension bends, constricting beautifully, a mesmerizing glint around you.

You’re gone in an instant, not even a single lingering sliver of your cursed energy left behind. 

You carefully drop the man into a hospital cot, warping out just as quickly before even the cameras can pick up your figure. It’s far too late for you to even attempt to check in to the hotel, so you spend the last few hours of twilight wandering empty streets, until pavement turns to dirt and the sounds of the city fall to the wayside. 

We’ve never been equals. Even now he hasn’t said anything about his fight with Toji, acting as if he has to protect me ? As if I’m too weak to handle the truth. Stupid. How much has been a lie? How far has he always kept me? That’s not love. That will never ever ever be love. 

Everything feels so heavy, yet it’s easier to keep moving. Just the earth and the heavens above. You lived like this once… a long time ago. Where the time of the world ticked alongside you and whispered in your ear. Where curses, long-forgotten and newly-fleshed, spoke greater truths of humanity than the history books. 

Were you lonely then?

But back then, when you held nothing in regard… maybe if you let that instinct take you, that loneliness washes away, gently like rolling fog over grassy plains. 

You’re not lonely, not tired, not anything at all.

Becoming everything and nothing.

Today. Tomorrow. A hundred years. A thousand years. Until the end of time…

He’ll never belong to me.

It feels like goodbye.

Chapter Text

You break his heart on a Tuesday morning at 11:27 am. 11:23 am actually, because the shitty cafe clock is behind. Of course it is. The music is too loud - some Akina Nakimori song that he hates . Even the ice cream is terrible. Too icy and not enough vanilla extract and who even fucks up vanilla ice cream? The waitress is annoying, hovering around him like a fly to sliced fruit. The table is sticky - half cleaned from the last customers - and there’s a single light bulb back near the door to the kitchen that won’t turn on. Why is this tacky place rated so highly? He hates hates hates it. 

How did it start? Ah, that’s right, some stupid comment he can hardly remember about something he hardly cares for - 

“I’ve been doing a little reorganizing of the cursed warehouse~~ Yaga almost had two heart attacks looking for the Seven Star Sword he swore he just put back. A good cure for boredom don’t ya think?” 

“Mhm!” You smile, “Like when we kiss, right?”

He must have misheard you. “Hm?” He answers, without thinking. Surely you don’t mean anything by it -

“We’ve been friends for sooooo long, don’t you think it’s, I don’t know, like kissing your sibling or something?” You say, so casual as if describing the changing seasons. “But it was fun and all!” You add on as if it makes it at all better.

He can make a decision in the field in a fraction of a second.

He can heal himself in less than that.

But he can’t, for the life of him, comprehend your unmistakable rejection. 

At least he has his sunglasses on, to hide the moment of bitter fucking hurt before he’s able to school his nonchalance back in place. The ones you got him. The ones he cherishes over the lives of everyone in Tokyo combined.

He spoons a giant heaping of ice cream from your shared bowl with forced slow, lazy movements. As if you aren’t absolutely tearing his fucking heart out over breakfast (yes, ice cream counts). He’s always been able to read you. That squeamish way you get when you hate the food, but don’t want to be rude. The happy scrunch of your nose when he showers you with hugs on his return. The sharpness of your gaze and shoulders when you’re angry. The way your tongue darts quickly across the edge of your teeth when you’re bristling with excitement. Today though… you’re just relaxed… happy even. There’s no sign of deceit or worry, the type you show easily. 

You mean it.

You really fucking mean it.

He forces a smile, “Right? It’s weird, ain’t it?” What the fuck is he saying? It isn’t weird at all. It’s everything he wants and why can’t he just fucking say that? 

You don’t seem nervous - you don’t seem to really care at all. As if it’s so natural that you both feel that way. “Here. The best for you~.” You plop the last strawberries onto his spoonful, always doting and extra generous (only for him). He hates that side of you. If you had just - if you had never shown him that side then maybe you wouldn’t mean so goddamn much to him. If you had stayed away. If you had minded your own fucking business.

There’s that little pout across your lips as you look up at him with wide, lovely, beautiful green eyes. He hates those eyes. Your hand pushes the scoop toward his mouth. Sensing his hesitation, “It’s not very good.” You admit with a sigh. 

“Like our kiss, right?” He says. Cruel, even to himself. 

Without missing a beat you roll your eyes, “It was my first. I’ll get better.”

Your first kiss.

I was your first kiss.

(Let me be your last)

It had felt as if every cell of his body screamed for you. Even now he could lean over the table, pull you in and forget everything the moment his lips touch yours. Please let me.

“I could show you.” He smirks. “I’ll teach you anything you want to know.”

You giggle, cutely. He used to like that noise on you - used to find it the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. “I think it’s time I figured things out on my own.” You think you don’t need me anymore. His fists curl at his side. 

You lean in, all secretive. “You know, I think I even figured out the secret to Black Flash.” So that’s it, is it? A five minute conversation in a third-rate cafe. 

He leans in deeply, “I’m all ears, Princess.” God, he’s barely listening. Mind running in every direction and all he can do is force a smile on his face.

“There are only two conditions for Black Flash: timing and movement. There have been attempts, of course, to master it in the past - all of which deemed it impossible. Because to control both would be to play God’s hand.” You explain. 

You’re so sure, so confident, so far away, “And with your technique, you think you can replicate that instinct?” He asks.

“Can’t I? If there were ever a sorcerer that could achieve it, it would be me.”

You’re serious, as if you’ve already tapped into some level of that power. How far will you go if you really master black flash? Is it even possible? His doting Princess, always waiting for him, watching him, loving only him.

I can’t let that happen.

“Of course, Princess~” He smiles, a familiar dance of lies and pretty words.

There’s a little twitch in your jaw that you smother just as quickly as it comes. “There’s someone that I think can help me. A sorcerer in America.” America? 

“How are you liking the food?” The waitress, for the millionth fucking time, interrupts. 

“Oh, it’s okay! I like the tea~” You respond, chipper “A little bitter though.”

“It’s sweet with the right company.” She answers briskly.

You blink, before hiding a smile, “Is that right?”

“How about yours?” She turns to Satoru, doe-eyed, nervous, as if you don’t exist. He can see the beads of sweat burgeoning across shaky palms. Dusty, dull eyes that flit to his lips and chest and thighs, openly ogling. Disgusting.

“Perfect, sweet thing.” The words slip out. Maybe on purpose, maybe he wants to see your reaction. 

She’s giddy at his response, “I-I’m happy to hear that. Umm..” She glances between the two of you.

“Oh! We’re just friends.” You laugh. Fuck, fuck, fuck he fucking hates this place. “And I was just heading out anyways~” You wink at him, not even hiding it. As if you’re doing him a huge fucking favor. 

I can’t let you go.

“U-um, can I get your number then?” She pulls out her phone. More annoying buzzing around him. 

He pulls out his own phone, “Type it in here ‘kay? I’ll call ya.” 

She types it in so slowly, rambling about this or that or whatever. He doesn’t care. His eyes are trained on you, walking out the door.

“Are you free tonight? Maybe we could -”

The moment the phone enters his grasp, he clicks twice to confirm delete. 

He pushes out of his seat without glancing back, “Busy! But I’ll definitely call. Definitely~”

He’s not proud of what he does next, though he can’t stop himself. 

Weren’t you the one who promised that you’d stay by my side?

Maybe it’s weeks - maybe only hours - feeling that dark, familiar little pull. It’s clearer now than it’s ever been. Like little roots, sprawled across his chest, digging deeper into flesh as they hook onto him. A web of char and rot, heavy and thick. Like an infection, spreading rapidly underneath glistening skin. 

What did any of it even mean to you? A stroll in the park? Dinner once a week? A phone call between missions? Isn’t it your fault for letting me believe that you’d stay? 

You’re just like everyone else.

And I’m alone again.

“Take her off the roster for any missions outside of Tokyo” He mutters casually to Yaga in his office.

Yaga halts the report he’s been writing through Satoru’s incessant, usually meaningless, poking. “That’s not possible.”

“Why? She’s a Gojo isn’t she?” He rebuts. 

“Technically, yes. But she should still follow the decrees of Jujutsu Tech.”

“Those don’t matter. ‘sides, I own her .”

Yaga sets down his pen carefully, eyes meeting his, “Are you sure about this? She won’t be pleased.”

“Then don’t let her find out!” Satoru grins, slapping his hand onto Yaga’s shoulder. 

They hold each other’s gaze in terse silence. There’s a dangerous edge to the little fiddling tap of Satoru’s finger across the desk. There’s always been some level of respect between the two, despite Satoru’s incorrigible nature. But this is something else. An oozing of strength that can’t be conquered, making itself known. It’s why all the higher-ups want to leash him. 

“Ya wanna say something?” Satoru digs one last time, cheeky.

Yaga contemplates, but ends the conversation with a decisive “No.”

He doesn’t want to go this far.

He really doesn’t.

It’s a damn shame it’s too late to come back from that line.

Dexterously he pulls the simple wood drawer on your bedroom desk. It’s neat, a lot of little scribbles and cute knick-knacks from your middle school days. Notes on stores you like and your bank account book. In a simple blue leather pouch he finds your passport. He’d gotten it for you in elementary school so you could fly with him to Singapore over the summer. You’d stayed at one of his family’s vacation homes, accompanied of course by Katai and even a First-Grade Sorcerer from the clan. 

He’d dragged you to a photobooth after a full morning of practicing cursed energy reinforcement. What had started as a relatively tame bout of controlled punches at dummies had devolved into seeing who could pick up the heaviest object across an innocent suburban neighborhood. A vending machine… moving van… telephone pole… just those completely average, everyday things. So your hair and clothes were a mess by the time you made it to the photobooth. He’d dusted out your hair while you flipped your shirt inside-out. 

Copies of the photos still sit in his bedroom at home. But he doesn’t have time for useless sentiment, quickly swiping it from the drawer. He leaves no trace of himself in the room, not even disturbing the little layer of dust across the surface.  

He teleports off campus, quickly burning it into dust, letting the ashy remains flit into the breeze. 

He should stop himself.

Who is he kidding?

Even this feels good.

There’s a harsh crack of Kosuke’s ribs against his fist. Blood splatters across the pavement. “You can’t -”

“Ah, ah. I can do anything I want. You want to tattle to the old man? He can try to stop me himself then.” He smiles. “Or maybe you want to stop me? You want to try, huh?”

He kicks Kosuke again, sending him barreling across the street straight into a bus stop. Glass shatters to the ground and there's a loud, high-pitched whine as the metal casing bends from impact. 

“Yer too weak.” he drawls, bored. 

He knows it, too. Kosuke is no different from any other over-confident, lackluster sorcerer that has dared get close. It’s such a boring little song and dance. 

Fear plays across his face in shaky breaths and downcast eyes. “What do you want?” Kosuke manages without stuttering.

“What do I want?” Satoru barks out a laugh. The audacity to ask such a stupid fucking question. “It's you who dares to want something from my Rumi-chan~.”

Leaning down to grab hold of his arm, his grip crushes another two bones. “Grghh!” Kosuke grits out, not even attempting to fight back. 

“Want me to tear this off? I’ll make sure you can’t practice Jujutsu again. Or should I go play with your little friend instead? Mika, was it?”

There isn’t more that needs to be said. He can see the telltale signs of utter defeat across his figure. “I won’t… see her again.”

Satoru’s shoe stomps down on Kosuke’s phone.

He walks away with his hands in his pockets, humming a happy little melody.

How pathetic. 

“Toru! Where’s everyone else?” You say, waving him over to the table. He can tell you’ve been waiting awhile already - your chopsticks wrapper sits on the side, folded into a paper crane and you’re spinning a lotus-shaped napkin with your index finger. 

You’re so pretty today. Tiny plaid skirt and one of his nicest black button-ups you’ve stolen and rolled up to your elbows. So so cute.

He pouts, “Suguru’s still in Seoul and Shoko has been locked up with the body from the amusement park.”

You lean over left and right, glancing around the empty restaurant. “Mika texted me two hours ago that she was on her way…”

“I’m soooo hungry. Haven’t eaten all day.” He pouts pathetically. “And I ran out of snacks last week. Completely famished, on the brink of death, probably going to pass away at any moment.” He exaggerates, chin slouching on your shoulder to support his weight. 

“Hehe, I already ordered two ohba shiso onigiri to start. If you think you could possibly survive one more minute.” 

“They don’t call me the strongest for nothing~” 

Just in time, the waiter places the dish at your table. 

He knows why you ordered it.

Vibrant green shiso leaf wrapped around fluffy white rice.

“It’s us.” You mumble quietly.

Those black roots bloom.

Chapter Text

I’ve done everything I needed to right?

“She said, ‘Are you serious right now?’ You don’t think she’s really upset right? Like, not really?” 

You look at him sympathetically, “Oh Yu…”

“It’s not that bad.”

A glance at your face tells him it really is that bad.

Hands muss his hair anxiously, “We JUST started dating! What am I supposed to do?”

“Not forgetting the date you invited her on would be a start.” You supply, sipping on your strawberry milk and sending him into his fifth spiral of the morning.

“I-it’s not my fault!” He scrambles to correct himself as your mouth opens to refute the obvious, “I mean - I mean it IS, but I didn’t think the mission would go until 2am last night and I didn’t think my phone would die overnight! URGHHH if I had just plugged it in then my alarm would have gone off and I would have made it and -” He slams his head onto the cheap plastic tray table between you two.

A few elementary students glance in your direction from a corner booth, snickering quietly under their breath. 

You prop your elbow up, leaning your cheek into it as you purse your lips, “I don’t want to say it’s a lost cause, but…” you trail off unhelpfully.

“Kurummiiiiiiiii, help me, please!” He begs, tears at the edge of his vision. You’ve never seen him this overwhelmed by anything - sure, overworked and stretched thin, but always with an ability to adjust to the situation. He must really like her.

Ah, he’s too fun to tease~  “Hand it here.” You signal with your hand.

His phone drops into your palm, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he bows effusively. 

You clear your throat as fingers deftly move across his phone screen. “We’ll start with… ‘Let me make it up to you tonight! I’ll pick you up from cram school. No-limit shopping spree and I’ve made reservations for Aragawa next week. Please, baby <3.’ Something like that should do.”

He blanches, “Aragawa?? Kurumi, that’s - that’s half my salary, I can’t -”

You sigh, exaggerating, “Oooookayyy if you want to break up just say so -”

“NO - that’s fine! I’ll give them a call right after we’re done!” He snatches back his phone, quickly adding in an excessive amount of emojis before hitting send. 

“THE NEXT STATION IS OSHIAGE.” The PA system calls out inside the train.

“That’s us. Tell ya what~” You hop up, winking at Yu. “I’ll give you my commission from this mission if you land the final blow, hehe~”

“Really?!! ” Yu shouts, a hopeful, wildly exuberant grin across his face. 

You continue to run across the platform, “Yup! So hurry up! If you want to make it in time we gotta wrap this up.”

“Hahahahaha alright, alright!” 

It comes as no surprise to anyone that Yu is the first of your trio to date - and a non-sorcerer at that. He has a natural charisma and warmth that could befriend almost anyone. While Nanami prefers routine (down to the second), Yu thrives on the excitement of new connections and experiences. He is currently a member of two neighborhood athletic clubs and is considering joining another.

She is, of course, in the dark about anything jujutsu related… though you wonder at what point even that comes to light. Lies can’t build a relationship after all. You’d only seen her through pictures - a pretty girl with bangs and long hair to her back. A shy posture as Yu holds her hand and a backpack full of books at her side. He’d bragged, incessantly, to you and Nanami that she was preparing to take the university entrance exams a year early at the urging of her teachers.  

“She responded. Omg, she responded.” He freaks out as he quickly flips open his phone. He slows his pace behind you, barely attentive to the change of scenery as you step through the shrine gates. It’s well-cared for, judging from the neatly-trimmed hedges, dirt-free stones and the shiny coat of new paint on a few of the buildings. 

“She said ‘ok.’ - with a period.” He pales. 

Your hand glides across the old stone statue in the shape of a fox. Inari Okami. Over a thousand years of belief, handed down, changing in each era. A curse worshipped in fear or a god worshipped in hope. “She’s not really mad about the date, you know.” You say absently.

We’re getting closer to the barrier… A Grade 2 born of the grief of infertility. 

“If it’s not the date then what is it?” He asks innocently. 

“She’s worried that she’ll get her hopes up for every date only for this to happen again and again. That the faith she had in you was a lie - that’s what loving someone is. It’s faith. Because how can anyone really ever know someone fully? So at the end of it all she’ll realize maybe she didn’t mean anything to you at all. Not enough for you to want to spend the rest of your life with her. Not enough for her to be your truth. Not even enough for you to show up on time for a date. And then, even those wonderful, warm memories she holds dear will spoil, rotting further as time passes. She’ll look back on them and wonder if all that sweetness was a lie. You made her a fool from that love .”

His footsteps still.

Ah.

Why did I say that?

Haven’t I let it all go already?

An arm slings itself across your shoulder.

“You’re right.” Yu says softly. You turn to look at the soft smile across his face, a light flush, sparkling eyes. “You’re always right. Always strong.” His head taps yours lightly, sweet and playful. “Whatever it is - we’re here, you know that right?”

You do know. You’ve always known, but… everything is different. You’re different. There’s a voice to your cursed energy now - a sound so clear it’s like hearing yourself for the first time. A guide, steady and loyal and luring. 

"I know." You pinch his cheek, delighted at the cute little squeal he lets out, “C’mon then, I see the barrier.” 

“Let’s see here…” Yu flips through his other texts, “Dai’s last update was the sighting in the east corridor. He evacuated all non-sorcerers from the area over an hour ago.’” Yu closes his phone with a snap , ready to step through the translucent sphere surrounding the three main buildings of the shrine. 

You grab his sleeve, pulling him back.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, brows raised.

It’s close. No… you know it is Dai’s barrier. The same hue, strength, even spun with the same anxious wave that mirrors his personality. You’ve seen it - felt it - over a dozen times. So what is that strange, steady low-pitched hum? So imperceptible you wonder if it’s just the ringing of your own ears. 

“I hear something.” You explain, eyes narrowing. 

Yu turns suddenly, reacting to a completely different sound. A loud crackle of footsteps across dried leaves erupts as a woman appears, sprinting past without a glance at either of you. Black hair, matted and mangled, thick with grease and grime even the smell stings as she passes. Wild eyes, dilated and locked onto something within the barrier, though it’s obvious she’s no sorcerer with her level of cursed energy. At most, you imagine, an ability to sense curses rather than fully perceive them. 

This isn’t right. 

“Wait - Miss! Don’t go over there - HEY!” Yu pulls from your grasp, dashing after her. Always the hero, ready to save someone without a second-thought. It’s too late to usher him back (and he wouldn’t stop even if you did). You wouldn’t, anyways. His eyes flicker to yours as you watch his figure disappear into the barrier.

“I guess that’s my cue.” You click your tongue. 

… 

Like little shards of glass to your skin, everything burns as your fist slides right through it. It swallows and scrapes, pulling you further into its grasp. Even as you succumb to it, its hold tightens, until every cell screams. It soaks beneath the skin, singing as far as it can and all you can do is grit your teeth as you emerge on the other side. 

There is no barrier capable of killing on contact and yet, it’s disarming to scan your body and see nothing is amiss. 

I’ve never seen anything like it - four barriers, each layered one on top of the other, barely perceivable even by my eyes. This isn’t Dai’s, so the first layer must be to mimic the appearance of another. One of the barriers is meant to pull in, which means there are two others whose purpose I don’t know. This is bad -

Jagged claws strike the delicate skin around your neck in shallow cuts as you dodge. Your body feels wholly unfamiliar, eyes widening in realization - I can’t use my technique. I can’t use any cursed energy whatsoever. A barrier strong enough to nullify cursed techniques? There are only two people in the world right now who can cast something as intricate as this.

Bright red skin, eyes bulging from its chest, and skin like stone. If it weren’t for its towering size it could be considered human-like in its physique. There’s a weightiness to the sudden, overwhelming pressure of cursed energy as it titters in a deep, echo-y frequency. An incomplete domain.

It’s easy to stay calm, let your mind relax and watch it all unfold like a mere spectator. 

Crimson pillars split the earth open, shooting toward the skies. Your eyes flit to a cluster of pillars to your right - Yu. He’s alive, I just need to get him out. Then this barrier prioritizes immobilization, but it can’t kill immediately. His technique flares beneath the surface, fully encased, dimming in the curse’s domain.

You unsheathe the two twin, black blades holstered to your thigh as more pillars shoot toward you, emerging from every surface in every direction, closing in. I’ll deal with this quickly.

One. You leap toward the direction of Yu’s cursed energy. The small patch of ground beneath your feet shatters in your wake. Meeting in the air, the cold black steel of your blade clashes against the coarse skin of the curse. A chorus of loud clangs in the exchange and even without your technique, you see so clearly every step you must take. 

Two. Your blade violently descends - a gruesome burst of inky purple blood spews from the gash in its chest. With a final kick, further cementing the blade into its chest, you send the curse crashing through dozens of rows of pillars. 

Three. More pillars shoot out in front of you, disrupting your straight path. You throw the second sword toward his direction, embedding in the stone until it too is overtaken. The Swords of Spring and Autumn. Twin swords able to distinguish between friend and foe based on the will of its wielder.

Four. “Purify.” You command. Cracks splitter across the stone until blinding light swarms the space. Protecting from one end while expelling a powerful burst of cursed energy from the other. 

Five. Yu bursts through the rest of the pillars, cursed energy enveloping his fist. He’s at your side as the domain shatters around you. Through heavy breaths he voices his relief, “I thought I’d suffocate in there! Even a few seconds more and I would have lost consciousness. What is going on here?”

The world feels clearer, while your own reality dims. 

“Listen carefully, there isn’t time.” You quickly command, no room for conversation.

He nods, serious, still catching his breath.

“That woman is on the far end toward your right, near the edge of the barrier. There’s another curse lingering on that side. It’s strong, so once you get to her just run. We need to get in touch with -” Gojo would be best, but - “the school. If there are any available First Grades we’ll need help securing this area.”

He nods again. “What about you?” His eyes flicker to the three figures, lingering in the shadows. 

Your eyes stare straight ahead at the familiar face, “I’ll take care of things here first.” Maybe it’s cruel to play on that side of him that can’t let an innocent be harmed, pulling all his focus to the woman he needs to save. It’s better that at least one of us makes it .

He hesitates and you use the moment to memorize the sincerity of his gaze - steadfast and never shying away.

“I’m strong, remember?” You tilt your head with a little smile, “‘Sides, you promised her you wouldn’t be late.”

He reaches out his fist with a smile. You meet it halfway in a gentle bump. “Then I better get going. See ya on the other side.”

You don’t respond as he dashes off and you slide on your last cursed tool - a pair of brass knuckles.  Lion’s Paw. 

“Kill him.” Bosha commands the two men at his side. 

Their eyes widen as you appear before him, stopping their pursuit before it can begin.

“Watch out, Yasushi!” The wider-set man calls out in warning.

“Kerghh!” Blood spews from the gaping hole in Yasushi’s chest. 

If I can just pick them off one by one -

Silver cursed chains emerge, tightening suddenly across your arms and legs. “I’ve got ya, sweet little dove.” He grits out, mouth full of blood. The hole in his own stomach cascades, his entrails splattering across the floor. Even as the life fades from his eyes, the chains tighten their grip, bruising and biting into flesh. 

There isn’t any time to waste as the other man dives straight for you. The long spear follows your path with surprising accuracy. You twist rapidly - the sound of one of the chains snapping under pressure echoes in your ears.

There’s nothing you can do as you feel the familiar bite of metal pierce your flesh. 

There’s no time for last words as his head thuds onto the ground.

Only a second later, your left arm meets the same fate. 

You don’t need to glance down to see the spear embedded through your stomach, pinning you to the wall. Your left arm twisted off amongst the chains and one leg still ensnared. 

I’ve done everything I needed to right?

You understand it now.

That dream of Toji’s.

Though his feelings were so muddled and washed, as if that last memory was life itself and death had taken him long ago.

“You stupid girl.” Bosha cackles, hardly even sparing a glance at his two fallen comrades. “Letting your only chance run away! What can you do without any cursed energy at your disposal? A lamb for the slaughter!” He looks different than you remember - somehow weaker than you imagined, even considering his age. White curls falling loosely around him and a slight hunch to his back. No longer sporting the distinctive robes he was allowed at his height of power, he looks like any other man. A shadow of the figure that sold you. 

You smile, a quiet fatigue settling in as the words fall from your mouth slowly, “All of this for some stupid girl, huh?”

Of course you figured it out. The barrier doesn’t nullify cursed techniques - it nullifies only the wielder of one specific seal. The only one of its kind. A seal you can never remove, bound by a child’s vow. The final barrier, if you guess correctly, can only then be for one purpose: to keep you locked within. 

Blood spews from your mouth as you gaze at the silver jutting through your chest. Your wrist burns as the spear reacts to your seal. How detailed - even a cursed tool specially crafted to meet its mark.

“You never could understand the bigger picture, child. You have that same stench about you now as when I found you. Surrounded by death. A deep hole in the earth, black as the abyss and reeking of filth. A curse upon the greatest jujutsu clan of this era! I’d hoped you were the missing piece to an old legend… well” He scoffs, “I should have killed you then. Before weakness had set in - a weakness that only a woman can carve from a man.” He spits out with disgust. 

“How ironic.” You chuckle. “You speak of greatness, yet here you are, forced to employ the help of cursed users.”

“Expendable and easy to obtain.” He explains, hardly burdened. 

“Oh? Then what about grovelling to the Zenins for help?” That woman - black hair, black eyes. A pawn of the Zenin clan to lure you in. You’d recognize those subtle hints of lingering cursed energy. Probably just as innocent as most of the women birthed into large clans. Overlooked, exploited, and tossed aside at convenience.

Rage burns at the edge of his vision. He grabs the spear, piercing it deeper into your gut. Another wave of blood gushes from your mouth. The pain has dimmed - or maybe it’s your mind allowing you a merciful reprieve. “I’ve protected this clan for far longer than you could ever understand. Before there was a Satoru Gojo! We were always strong - and now we have that power which we’ve long awaited. Sacrifice is indispensable.”

He’ll be fine without me.

“It won’t work. You don’t know him. He’ll kill you. Then he’ll kill everyone that’s left.” You mutter slowly, vision blurring to blotched grays and reds and darkness. Even his response feels miles away. Or is it all merely a figment of your imagination? Maybe you’re home, in the comforts of your bed, warm and slow and sleepy. Satoru will wake you soon in a flurry of odd requests and new adventures. Nanami and Yu will meet you for dinner after their mission. Suguru will let you pick out his outfit with Shoko needlessly adding a million accessories because she can. And maybe, in the sleepless night that follows you’ll let Satoru’s lips brush your own once more. You’ll let his pretty lies become truths. 

He sneers, conceited, “You think you’re the only one who can control him? Why do you think I was chosen to look after the young master?”

I’ve done everything I needed to right?

“What’s that look?” Bosha barks out, “You think the clan doesn’t have a fail safe? Who do you think planned this whole thing?” 

Hate feels so trying, living even more so, and love might be the cruelest of it all.

… 

You feel Yu’s cursed energy move beyond the barrier, a bright little blip in your mind that you’ve long grown familiar with watching -  “What perfect timing.” you mumble.

“What -” 

Your hand quickly moves to your ear lobe. That familiar, twinkling blue stone, splotched in tiny beads of blood. Heaven’s Mirror.

“I really am a fool.” You smile. 

It activates in the palm of your hand - a rush of your favorite blue and a power that only one can wield. Everything swarms toward you, crushing itself in a powerful, invisible pull with you at its core. And in that one moment, where space and time collide, you feel at home.

“Domain Expansion: Chrono Weave.”

Chapter Text

“What’s this thing?” Satoru pokes every single tool on the surgical tray.

“A hemostat.” Shoko deadpans.

“What about this one?” He juggles a few, tossing them into the air. 

“A frazier suction tube.” She moves around him, inspecting a jar of fluid in one hand and scribbling on her notepad with the other.

“And this? Oh wait wait wait - Suguru look at this hehehehe -” Satoru sticks the flat piece of metal in his mouth, held between his index and middle finger. He pulls back, blowing a fake ring of smoke. “I’m Shoko!!”

Suguru’s hand shoots to the back of Satoru’s head to give him a firm slap, “You’re being a nuisance.” 

“I have to disinfect all of these again.” She hums out, not really complaining. It’s been awhile since we’ve all been together. 

“Still not used to that.” Suguru gazes down at his hand, unable to make contact through Satoru’s Limitless. 

A light buzz rings out, echoing in the small room. Shoko glances down at Satoru’s phone, making no move to pick it up herself.

“It’s ‘Bowlcut Kohai’.” She reads. Ah, that’s one of yours. 

“Ehhh..” Satoru twirls in Shoko’s chair, flipping through her recently abandoned clipboard.

Suguru sighs, shoulders tensed, a tired far-away look in his gaze that’s been more and more present. “Be nice to the kids, Satoru.”

“Don’t wanna.” He responds, whiny and selfish. He expects the same scolding that Suguru has laid on him all throughout high school, but…

“I see.” Suguru responds half-heartedly.

Shoko and Satoru trade glances.

The background buzzing continues, one call after the other. His phone lights up with the message: ‘YOU HAVE A NEW VOICEMAIL.’

“Have you been sleeping enough?” Satoru pipes up, feigning playfulness. “You look really ugly today.”

Suguru chuckles, cracking his neck lightly, “I’m fine, just messed up my sleep schedule.”

“Want some sleeping pills? I have the strong stuff.” Shoko adds. 

Buzz buzz buzz buzz buzz.

“Ugh, what is it?” Satoru ambles over, hand nearing his phone when -

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

A shrill alarm blares out across campus, projecting through all the rooms. His ears tingle with the light reverberation of a cursed technique. A call that can only be heard by those at a Grade 1 or Semi-Grade 1 level.

Shoko’s hands cover her ears, a painful scrunch to her features. “What the hell?” So even she can hear it.

Whatever relief they have from the silence that follows vanishes as quickly as it comes. Each of their phones erupt in a volley of notifications.

Suguru’s thumb swipes across his screen.

His eyes immediately flick to Satoru’s.

Oh. So that’s what it feels like.

As if the force of his own Blue turns against him, a crushing pressure in his chest.

“Hey.” Satoru blinks, frozen, eyes glued to his phone screen.  “Did she leave with Yu this morning?”

He knows the answer, even before Yu’s voice comes through the other end.

He knows he should calm down, even as he bends space to his will, transporting the distance and tearing himself apart. 

He knows what they’ll ask of him, even as he forsakes the world with every breath.

God, he can see it, feel it, the moment he leaves the barrier. Even on the other side of the city it’s strong enough to draw his attention. To any sorcerer, it’s like a bomb being dropped one after the other, continuously detonating. It’s pure destruction, growing with each second. To him… it’s you you you you you you you you . It’s the taste of sweetness in the air. It’s the steady of the earth and the trees. It’s the blood that courses through his veins. 

And it’s complete chaos.

It’s every bit of you turned upon itself, scorned and scorched and screaming. 

As his feet touch down in front of the carnage, sorcerers swarm him at every side.

“Gojo is here, thank god.”

“What the hell even happened? How could she be so reckless in the middle of the city!”

“She needs to be dealt with before more of the city is destroyed.”

“She doesn’t have long anyways.”

“G-Gojo-san, wait -”

“ Shut up. ” He bristles, eyes never leaving your domain.

Everything else is just a distraction, until he sees you you you you .

It’s raining - some semblance of it, at least. A downpour in some areas, while he watches raindrops float back toward the sky in others, reversing their paths. If it weren’t so terrifying - watching the flicker that jolts through space and time, ready to rip the very fabric of life apart at the seams - he might think of the beginning. When that first rain fell upon him as he gazed at curious green eyes. 

He wants to see that look across your face and that particular shade of green that he calls his own. That must have been created just for him.

The shrine and the grounds surrounding it are gone - wiped clear from the hill. Another building crackles within the open domain, glistening under the soft patterns of rainfall. It fades away as a new wave of raindrops takes it. Easy and weightless, withering away from the world. 

Why is he shaking?

Hands that, even as a child, stayed calm when he was hunted by Cursed Users across Tokyo.

Eyes that never blinked when he ripped them apart, letting blood splatter across the pavement.

Ears that, no matter how desperate the cry, never budged. 

But he can feel the quake in his body, the shake that racks him, sometimes lurching and sometimes just a hum at his fingertips. 

Calm down.

Calm down.

Calm down.

Calm down.

Calm down.

Six Eyes. A birthright. A gift from the Gods. Venerated in each generation.

It’s the only time he’s ever wanted to tear them from his skull. 

“I’m here.” He says, in a voice he hardly recognizes. His voice, weak and stuttered. 

It’s so fucking wrong. Everything is wrong.

Your leg, bent so far backward as if there’s no bone left in it to crush. Your left arm is just a stub of mangled flesh, raw and bloody. There isn’t any piece of you clean of blood. The eyes that he’s gazed upon all his life are swollen shut, and fuck it’s the least of his problems. It’s the spear, lodged firmly into the wall, god he wants to rip it out but it - 

(it might fucking kill you)

He can’t take it he can’t he can’t he needs to be next to you.

I’m no God.

I’m not Chosen.

I’m not even The Strongest.

If I were, then why can’t I move?

What is this fear that controls me?

The same fear that controls all those I deemed unworthy.

I can’t even protect what’s mine.

I’m nothing at all.

“SATORU!” Yaga’s voice cuts through the turmoil.

“Her domain will collapse any minute now! We need to contain it.” Yaga continues.

It’s pointless, this conversation. There’s nothing he can do and everyone is buzzing around him as if they can possibly be anything other than a fucking nuisance. The city? What a fucking joke to mention when you’re bleeding out on a fucking spear and all anyone can talk about is the fucking city full of no one who matters. No one understands what you mean.

“What are you asking of me?” He hisses back.

“The whole city will be destroyed, Satoru! Hundreds of thousands of innocent people!” He says as if it’s so obvious what needs to be prioritized. “She wouldn’t want this - she’d be the first to ask this of you.”

“No.” He answers. You, who I would give the world, would never ask that of me. You, who has gone along with every trivial request I’ve ever made. You, who has smiled at me, even at my cruelest. You, who has never put your needs before mine.

“Satoru, please, there’s no time!” A desperate tremor to Yaga’s normally strict countenance. 

“She wouldn’t ask that of me.” He feels the need to say, again and again. He wants the world to know you - to see the you that has him, in every way of the word. “She would die before she asked that of me.” You have the strength for that - to choose him over the world.

I’ve been patient.

I’ve been good.

I’ve been the tool they always wanted.

I won’t let them take you from me. 

I’ll kill them all.

Yes, that’s it. 

If they’re all gone it will be just you and I.

As it was always meant to be.

He turns, pure conviction across his face, ready to destroy anything and anyone in his path. His knuckles crack as he lets that one decision numb the fear pulsing through him.

“You’ll save her, right?” Yu’s voice, frayed and frantic, calls out to him. He’s tear-streaked and littered with cuts. With the state of his cursed energy, even standing must be excruciating. But here he is, dragging himself across the wall.

And maybe it’s the one thing that can stop him… because Yu’s next words break him and build him in one breath. “ She’s waiting for you. ”

Blue eyes shine as a full-bodied jolt racks him. 

“Get everyone within a 10km radius as far as you can.” Satoru orders, leaving no room for debate. He quickly turns his back on them.

Yaga sighs, calling out an order, “Everyone back up, work on clearing the neighborhood!” He glances once more at Satoru, “No matter what happens, if she loses control, we’re relying on you.”

“What are you waiting for?” Satoru mocks in response. “Go.” He commands. 

And when it’s just the two of you left - 

“Kurumi.” He utters in a whisper. Distance wasn’t an explosive fight.

“I need you to get up, Princess.” It wasn’t hurtful words in raised voices.

“Hey, hey.” It creeped upon him, slow-drawn and poisoning.

“I’ll take care of the rest, kay?” He assures you in that way he was never brave enough to as children. A soft smile at his lips to assure you.

“It’s okay. Everything will be okay.” There’s a twitch at the dimple of his eye.

“Why won’t you say anything?” His smile fades. 

“Is it the seal?” A final admission. It helped control cursed energy that you never could quite reign in. It was true until it wasn’t. Until he liked that little safeguard that kept you tied to him. 

“Take it off then.” He commands, as if it isn’t too late. You’ve always belonged to me . It’s sick, isn’t it? That he’s been the deepest chains binding you. 

“Are you upset with me? Is that what it is?” He could see everything with his Six Eyes, but he failed to see the changes taking root in the one he treasured the most.

“I’ll make it up to you.” He promises, meaning it for the first time.

Life and death turn in an endless cycle. An active domain absorbing everything. He can see how dangerous it is to be near it - once your control lapses he doesn’t know what will happen. Most likely though, it’ll destroy everything nearby and take you with it.  

He grits his teeth, fists clenching, slipping into that darkness, “Is this what you want? To just - just disappear?!”

“Then why did you take my hand?” Why did you have such a sweet tooth to rival my own? Why did you sneak out with me to watch all the midnight movie showings? Why did you plant all those sunflower seeds in spring, so now all I can think about in summer is you, walking through their shade? Why did you wait at the gates of my middle school every day? Why did you carve out that piece of me that can only be filled by you?

“I was born to be the strongest. I didn’t need you - I didn’t need anything at all. You were just meant to be a distraction.” I only need you.

“So why did you take my hand?” Tears pool, sparkling amongst blue gems. “Why did you stay by my side all this time if you were going to leave just like this?”

He doesn’t know when he’s moved to the edge of your domain. One more measly step and he’ll be with you. Maybe he could survive it with his limitless or activate his own barrier to counter yours. Maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe. It doesn’t matter. All he knows is he needs to be at your side. 

“Then should I come to you?” He mutters once more to you, not expecting a response.

So he takes that step. He’s running toward you, he can’t stop himself, he lets his limitless melt away. He won’t need it where he’s going. He’ll embrace you one last time -

“Idiot.” Your tired voice mutters, warning, stops him in his tracks just before his fingers enter the limits of your domain. And if he weren’t so attune to you, he’d miss it. Your eyes don’t lift to his, your body doesn’t pulse with any new signs of life, but he has your voice. 

You’re still there.

So he pours every last truth into it: “I’m not ready to let you go.” He wants to save you, so why is it, that it feels like you’re here to save him. 

And there it is.

Those green eyes. 

Clawing at his stomach as if a curse were tearing him up from the inside, heart hammering through his chest, numbing across the tips of his arms and legs. 

He’s so fucking afraid.

“Please.” He begs, for the first time in his life.

“Stay with me.”

“In this life… the next life… until the end of time itself.” He mimics the words that you said to him as a child. The words he’d mocked, while they’d lingered in his memory like the song that his life played to.

You smile - that same smile you’ve always held toward him. Doting, as if he could ask the world of you. 

As the seal slips off you and your domain bends and bristles. 

And in moments, it’s all gone.

Everything and everyone and all there is is… nothingness.

So different from his own technique filled with all there is to the world and everything in between that and deeper still.

He can’t lose it - not now.

He tethers his last bits of sanity to the operating room, entrusting you to Shoko.

It slims as he fields the onslaught of sorcerers from every jurisdiction.

And it stabilizes, as you do.

Chapter Text

Let it be a dream.

It’s like a long, endless nightmare. He hopes - deliriously expects - you to run through those double doors, jumping into his embrace with his name tumbling from your lips. But the pain is too visceral for that to be true. He’s too tired to move even an inch, not willing to slink further into the wood chair nor right his posture to something more dignified. The anxious hovering at the operating room doors has long given way to his current state, frozen in time. Unable to drift into slumber and unable to function in consciousness. 

It doesn’t help that time passes in that slow, nonsensical way, stretching far past its comfort. You’d explained it to him once and of course he’d nodded dumbly along, latched to your every word. 

“As long as you hold your humanity, time will always feel like that.” You smile, sitting forward in the chair across from him. 

Isn’t that too cruel?

“It is.” You turn slowly toward the window in Shoko’s office. Your skin glows, basking in moonlight as if you were born in its magic. “Though it’s just as sweet.” The corner of your lip turns up, a smile full of only truths that you know. 

It doesn’t feel like that.

“Hmmm.” A finger at your lips, a slight crinkle at your eyes and a playful rock of your body as you openly ponder a response. Suddenly, you blink, eyes sparkling as your jaw hangs open. You jump up, running to get a closer look out her window, “It’s a full moon tonight! Wahhh how pretty…Remember to eat tsukimi dango!”

Is that really what you’re worried about?

You pout, swiveling to meet him. “We always eat it together… and remember to make -”

Green tea. 

You laugh, a quick nod, “Yeah. It’ll be just like us.”

His eyes flutter at that. You’re killing him. 

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” You snicker, “You used to get so fussy when I said things like that.”

Say it again.

“Just like us~” You say, acquiescing immediately, though it can’t warm him like it did before. He knows the look you give him all too well.

Stay a little longer.

You hold his eyes softly, letting him heal in your attention. “Satoru.” There’s that determination, the steel in your voice. “It’s sweeter, even. Time with you has always been like that.” He’ll never tire of it, he’ll keep you forever. 

“You’re right.” His voice echoes into the empty hallway. “You’re always right.” He admits.

He sits in that room, still and silent, until moonlight fades into a prism of color. As soft purple dusts his white locks and the bitter cold at his fingertips warms. There’s the shuffle of footsteps and light chatter of students that drifts through the walls. How strange it is that the world carries on, time moving forward as it must, despite the wrongness in the act.

His heart beat spikes as he feels the reverberation in the ground and hears the metallic click on the other side of the door. He knows within the first second that you must be okay (he knows it in his soul as well, though maybe that’s wishful thinking). Shoko merely offers him a blink and stern wave of her hand, ushering him to stay in his seat. The bags under her eyes are deep, but she holds steady on her feet.

“I’ll start with the good news.” Shoko says without sugar-coating, instantly lighting a cigarette. 

He braces - that means there’s bad news as well. No, it’s fine. I expected this. As long as she’s okay, nothing else matters. I’ll figure everything else out.

“She’s alive. The worst of her wounds are no longer critical and I've replenished most of her blood loss. So on a physical level, I believe she will recover - that alone is… ” She trails off, a quick look in his direction before continuing.

He doesn’t react, he can’t, not until he’s heard it all.

“Well then, I’ll tell you the bad news. You saw her technique.”

He saw it heal you and he saw it devour the earth in equal measure. 

“She was able to reverse some of the damage herself without using a reverse cursed technique, relying on her domain instead. It was amateur at best - possibly even the first time she deployed it.” Shoko says flatly, though he knows her enough to recognize that contemplative twitch in her brow. The moment her brain churns in overtime, trying to connect the dots of some great puzzle before her. 

“I don’t believe in luck. I’ve seen enough bodies to know that even the strongest can be killed with enough skillful planning. So when I say it’s a miracle that she survived and a miracle she didn’t level the entire city in the process… what I mean is that there’s something more. About her, her technique, or the circumstances around her.”

“She’s not special.” He says sardonically, a fool’s hope. Maybe he’s known for a while. Maybe he’s known his whole life. Your technique, even now, turns the earth black and scorches even the air. Some natural instinct to survive. Your body feasts on the world, slowly devouring the time of all others to breathe new life unto yourself. It’s what’s kept every higher-up knocking at the door morning and night. 

Shoko closes her eyes, a deep inhale of smoke, “Sure. Have it your way then.”

Because if you’re not special, then you might move through the world, weightless like those clouds you could never tear your eyes from. If you’re not special, then your name will hold only one meaning, formed from your own breath. And if you’re not special, then you’re only special to me. Only my eyes will follow you and only my lust will find you.

Shoko plops down into the seat next to him, “Half the trouble is just protecting against her technique - no one else can touch her without risking their life, but we can’t nullify her technique either, which is instinctively working to heal her. And who knows what she saw in there, looking into time itself. She might not be the same when she wakes up.” 

When. 

“She’ll still be mine.” A prayer, a promise, an admission all wrapped in a soft mutterance. He lets out a shaky breath into the air, head leaned back fully, a light tap against the sterile white walls. That’s all I need.

Shoko blinks.

A pause as she seems to weigh her words. 

“Put her in the Tomb.” 

His fist clenches, fighting that instinct to steal you away, “To become a part of Tengen?” Anything involving Tengen is bound to get complicated - more so than that, sacrifice of some sort is always involved. Even last time.. 

“Tengen doesn’t need a Vessel anymore.” Shoko reminds him. 

“We don’t know that for certain.” He says harshly, hand running through his hair. I can’t entrust your life to anyone else. 

“She’s not a Vessel to begin with.” Shoko counters, shrugging.

“It’s too risky.” He glares.

“Everything is risky.” She scoffs. 

Exhaustion and despair and anger seep into his words, muddled in every ounce of him, “Think of something else.”

Shoko hardly even lifts a brow, as she gently taps the ash off the tip of her cigarette. “Don’t be stupid. Besides, we all get a say.”

He knows who she means. Everyone who - just like him - hasn’t got a moment's rest since your domain deployed. Everyone who cares for you in that way that scares him. Shoko who has monitored your condition without interruption, pushing the limits of her own Reversed Cursed Technique. Suguru who has protected the gates of Jujutsu Tech, organizing the shifts across the entire perimeter. Nanami and Yu who have spread the truth to every corner of jujutsu, rallying allies to your side, clearing you of blame. His eyes squeeze tightly together as he fights back that thought.

“Think about it - She’s a beacon for curses and cursed users. Not to mention every jujutsu sorcerer with a brain now has her on the map. Do you really want to coop her up in the Gojo compound after the shit they pulled? Or what’s your big idea? Keep her on my operating table while bodies move in and out right next to her? And then what about her technique? Not even you can pacify it around the clock without rest.” 

The brutal truth in those words is in the sluggishness of his own body, the stutter of his technique and the fog in his mind. If Shoko notices, she merely takes another drag of her cigarette. 

He pouts, “You’re acting like I don’t think of tons of good ideas every day.”

“You consistently have the dumbest ideas.” She says, an easier, familiar mood settling between them. 

“That’s a given.” Suguru chimes in suddenly, wandering through the door with a blood stain across his shirt. The hollow of his cheeks sunken in and a layer of grease coating his usually manicured hair. “Whatever Shoko said, let’s do that.” He agrees without hesitation.

Satoru huffs lightly, a comfort in his gut settling for the first time since that call. 

Shoko taps him in a light fist bump as Suguru slumps into the chair next to her. She clocks the blood.

“Want me to heal that?” She pokes.

“Nah. Save your energy, it’s just a nick anyway. Matsuo will take the next shift and Mei Mei’s crows are just outside if there’s any update.” Suguru glances at Satoru.

It floors him in an instant.

How terrible each of them looks and yet -

Without question, without doubt, they’re here with me.

He could do it alone - he could - he… he could do it. But…

“Have they found her yet?” Satoru manages.

“Yu has already tracked down the Zenin woman and Utahime has a lead on who made the mission request. She’s in contact with Nanami if she finds anything else.” Suguru says with certainty. “We’re closing in.”

Satoru pushes up from his seat, “You two should get some rest. I can watch over her.”

Suguru cracks his neck, “I’ll catch up with Naobito, see if he has anything to say about the Zenin woman we found.”

“I’ll work with Yaga on preparing the Tomb.” Shoko says, getting up as well.

Both ignoring his words for rest. 

“I’ll take care of everything soon.” He utters. 

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Shoko smiles.

Suguru stuffs his hands in his pocket, a mirrored grin at his lips, “We’ve got this covered, Satoru.”

And that’s all he needs to push himself through those double doors, freeing himself from any thoughts but you for the time being. 

When you wake up, he’ll have already slaughtered all those responsible for your pain.

When you wake up, he’ll pay any price to keep you free.

When you wake up, he’ll leave his pride behind. 

Winter is heavier than it has been in years. Snow piled up day after day. It reminds him of the trip you took to Aomori when he was a first-year and you were still in middle school. You went together on a rare weekend he had off. You in a light blue puffer and fuzzy white earmuffs, while he wraps his scarf around your neck. You aren’t made for the cold and shiver even with five layers of clothes on and heat packs in every pocket. You sneak into a tourist bus, joining the masses to the famous Snow Wall, where you snap the cutest selfies. He sets it to his phone screen when you get back to the hotel. It’s the nicest one in the area, in the largest suite. He can do that, for you. He’ll shower you with the best things. You dip your toes into the hot tub that overlooks the city. A happy smile as you warm up as the snow falls outside. It had ended too soon, with a call from Yaga to return as soon as possible. Another mission that couldn’t wait. So you pack up a day early, still smiling, laughing, loving. 

Spring is too perfect. The cherry blossoms bloom for longer, pink lacing the streets as if in celebration. He hardly registers graduation, though Shoko and Suguru drag him out to a celebration dinner. He can’t recall the name of the restaurant nor the food he ate nor the other faces there. Because all he can think of is that his favorite magazine spread is from spring. You’re laughing as the wind wraps around you, hand at your ear brushing a loose tendril from your visage. Golden sun streaks illuminate your face, a cascade from heaven as if even they seek you. It’s the spread he teased you about endlessly. He was ruthless, at that age, pointing out every little freckle and the size of your ankles and the scar on your hand. He’d hated how far that spread had taken you, your classmates calling you the ‘it girl of spring’. He’d wanted to kill them for having bought it, but instead he’d shrugged his shoulders feigning nonchalance. As if he doesn’t love every little freckle and the size of your ankles and the scar on your hand. 

Summer feels out of place. The Tomb is too cold, living up to its name in a way that enrages him. It’s no place for someone like you. You loved summer - enjoying the sun every day, staying out late, ice cream after every meal. You never minded the sweltering humidity, while he would yap your ear off in complaints. You were alive in summer, so sometimes all he can manage is standing outside the tomb, letting the summer envelop him in its warmth or letting the rain sing to him of you. When he does see you, it breaks him. Unmoving, unchanging, so unlike the you of his dreams. He throws himself back into work, which everyone is more than happy about. He thinks of you too often. 

Fall is terrifying. He doesn’t let it show, he thinks. Not when Utahime pesters him with over fifty calls (threats), each increasingly more violent, to fill out his mission reports more diligently. Not when Yu and Nanami stop by his and Suguru’s new penthouse with the worst assortment of 100 yen housewarming gifts he’s ever seen. Not when Shoko out-drinks every single Kyoto graduate at the fancy lounge bar that takes up their Friday nights. Fall reflects the color of your hair in its leaves. He decorates the penthouse, thinking of you, though Suguru has the knack for it and forbids him from making any more purchases after seeing the giant bear statue in the entryway that he swore you’d love. Fall is the season where he resolves to change everything (for you). It gives him strength, seeing that same resolve reflected in Suguru.

When winter comes again, he realizes the ‘one day’ he’s been waiting for could never come. 

Even after all the seasons pass by, he whispers sweetly in your ear. “I would destroy the world, I would slaughter every last person on this earth, I would let the fate of jujutsu crumble, rather than be without you.” 

I love you.

Chapter Text

It is only a dream.

Slow, heavy, and meaningless.

The thaw of snow across gentle peaks…

The stretch of strong roots through the earth…

The swell of water coursing through the valleys… 

You call out, though there’s no sound. There’s nothing at all.

Eh?

Who am I calling for?

What am I doing here?

Where is this?

As one question presents itself, so do two answers slip away. You find you don’t mind the feeling. Like silver water, perpetually adrift, a mere shimmer in the abyss.

It’s been a long time since you’ve heard anything - the wind through the trees or even just your name. How would it sound, from soft lips painted across pale skin? In that deep, playful drawl? Or a hushed whisper, still teasing, only for your ears? You must have known a voice like that, though it’s so long ago that you can’t wish to remember it. You can’t wish for anything at all.

Maybe I never had one.

There’s power in names, so maybe there’s just as much meaning in not having one. Without a name, there will be none to call upon you. Without a name, there will be none to answer to. Without a name, there will be no burden of birthright. Without a name, there will be no desire for legacy. Without a name… without my name… will I be free? 

Or will I simply cease to exist? 

There’s a pang, intrusive in its arrival and unwelcome in its discomfort. It sours that easy and endless comfort you’ve grown accustomed to. 

It hurts.

It’s funny, in that way. The moment you recognize it - name it for what it is - it latches onto you, sinking beneath your skin. But the pain, overwhelming every sense to the end of your fingertips is more familiar to you than this endless void. 

Time, you think ironically, is just like that. A paradox of each extreme. It exists in one state, so devoid of feeling and care, it can only move as it must. But the moment it's perceived, it’s with a great fullness, like past and present intertwine, a seamless dance between them. And though you’ve always known it, it seems clearer now. As if what you’d seen before were merely hazy shapes and a patchwork of colors seen through a foggy car window on a cold, rainy day. 

Ah.

There was a doggy car window on a cold, rainy day.

Two little scratch marks on the left backseat door. So small you’d hardly notice, but they mean something to you. The only marks on an otherwise spotless car, freshly waxed and deep-cleaned with religious fervor. 

Whose car is this?

From your periphery, you can see a leather-padded divider separating the backseats from the front. There’s a warmth emanating from the smooth, black leather beneath your fingers, wrapping you in luxurious comfort. Your head rests against the cool glass of the window, watching every color glide past.

It’s raining - pouring really - and it sounds just like at breakfast yesterday when all the cereal spilled out of a hole at the bottom, clattering onto the floor. 

“I found like five pieces in my sweatshirt this morning.” A voice says to you, as if you’d said the words aloud. 

Who is that? You want to turn, but your eyes stay firmly on the streaks of water and refraction of colors rushing past your window. 

“That’s nothing.” Oh. Is that me? “Ten fell out of my hair during morning meditation.” 

“PWAHAHA, how did it even get there?” The voice says again. 

“I have my suspicions…” You muse, playful.

He laughs again, “How much longer are you going to stare out the window?”

“Probably forever~” 

“Boooring.” The voice says, with a light thump against the seat cushion.

“Ah!” You cry out, both hands slap against the window. “I knew it would happen today!” 

The grey veil splits itself, a giant chasm in the sky revealing golden, glistening sun streaks. Raindrops illuminated by the heavens, a sanctuary in a shroud of gloom.

You want to disappear in that beautiful, golden glimmer. 

There’s a click as your hand pulls the door handle, welcoming the torrential rain through the crack. It’s only a matter of seconds and the loose shirt you’re wearing and half the seat are drenched. 

Two arms wrap around your waist from behind, pulling you back. Warm breath fans your cheek, “I’m not ready to let you go.” The voice says, tender and frayed and full of everything that the world is made of. 

Everything at the edge of your vision turns black, like locusts devouring the fields, until even the door is lost to the darkness.

You’ve traveled this path many times before.

It strips the soul bare, free of torment and ignorance and memories and names.

Then why… 

Though you’ve lost your name, it calls for you. It tempts with every cruel little manipulation and it kindles something fierce within you.

I’m not ready to let you go.

I’m not ready to let you go.

I’m not ready to let you go.

Repeated like a mantra and felt like a plea.

That pain sears through your chest. 

So you claim your resolve, your future, and your fate.

You inhale sharply, eyes jolting open to endless blue skies stretching far past any horizon. A shade of blue so effervescent it challenges reality with its existence. Pure white clouds, fluffy and sweet, full of comfort as if they’ve known you a lifetime. 

“Pretty.” My voice. As if it had never been forgotten. “Pretty.” You test the word on your lips once more.

You smile, a hand stretching out toward the sky, as if you could take it for yourself. You would do that, if you could, even at the cost of the world. As your hand falls back to your side, you feel the warmth of the water you float in. Like a placid lake on a summer’s day. The sun is neither too hot, nor is the water too cold. As if there’s a perfect balance of comfort, as if it were made for you. It swirls around you, its ripples fawning further and further, glowing like millions of golden threads. 

“You're finally awake.” A voice, steady and barren, enters the quiet. 

Your eyes shift toward the noise, surprised to find a woman with long, untamed hair. Narrow eyes, though not severe, and a rather messy attempt at a robe wrapped across her thin body. 

“I know you.” You respond on instinct. 

A subtle crinkle along her eyes gives away her own surprise. “You remember?” She asks.

“More like a feeling - that we’ve met before.” You elaborate. 

She walks toward you - toes floating across the tranquil waters, movement so seamless she manages to approach without disrupting a single petal on the water lilies dotting the surface. “In many lives.”

“In this one, too?” You wonder. 

“Yes. In this one as well.” She answers simply. 

There’s a comfortable silence as you both regard the other. 

“We are two sides of the same moon. You knew me as well as I could be known by another. Though I have changed wholly from how I was before. I do not believe that you would know me as I am now.” She offers. 

You smile, “I recognize your soul even now. Surely, I shall recognize it far into the future.” 

“You seem quite certain.” There’s humor in her eyes as she says it, as if some semblance of what lies between is still there.

You stretch, languid. “Well, if we even still exist in that future.” You add. 

“I will continue to exist in this world eternally. You will continue to be reborn. As I slowly lose my humanity, so too shall you grow closer to it. A counterbalance to the other that must exist to maintain the harmony of the world.”

“Hmm, is that so?~” You say in a tone, obviously trivializing.

She blinks, “You’ve been on this earth for a long time. Before the Great Three took form and before the birth of The Six Eyes. A child gifted the understanding of time. Our fates, inextricably bound, tethered to one another, the heavens, the earth, and the time that weaves between it all.” 

You laugh, soft at first, and then head back and belly full of butterflies. “HAHAHAHA - S-Sorry - hahahaha -” You grip your stomach as another bout racks your body.

She stands there, completely still, as you calm. “Sorry, sorry.” You wave with your hand, hardly meaning it. “It’s just, heh, you sound so serious. ”

“... There is significance.” She says.

Your eyes light up with some twinkle that even she must wonder at, after all these years. “I don’t think that’s true. There is no must. There is never a must. You think there’s some great, cosmic importance to your existence - to our existence. I think… there’s no inherent meaning to anything. All that we do, every path laid out before us… there is freedom in those choices.”

“You don’t believe that would contradict centuries of existence?” She counters. 

“Centuries? That’s not so long, when there’s all of time to think of~” Voice teasing, feet splashing lightly at the water. 

“Ah.” She closes her eyes, mulling on it.

“Besides, isn’t that what makes life interesting?” Your hand wraps gently around a single lily, smaller than the rest. 

A soft smile, peaceful, plays on her lips. “In all your lives, you chose to serve humanity. Without hesitation, you mourned, hoped, and struggled beside them. As if your fate called the world unto your palms. This time, you’re very different.” 

There is nothing more human than choosing oneself. Your gaze holds upon endless blue skies above.

To hold my own dreams and chase my own desires. It’s something akin to home. 

To love. You’re sure of it.

“I need the strength to make my own fate.” You say, resolute.

“Then you will need greater strength than you have now.”

“Well then, I’m in luck.” You grin. “Neh, Sensei?”

Her eyes widen, “Well, I suppose it has been a long time. You may call me Tengen.”

“Tengen Sensei~” You hum, “What about me? Do you know my name?”

She pauses, before continuing, “I believe you must find that on your own.” 

And so in that slow, heavy, and meaningless dream, you find meaning. As the earth shifts beneath your feet and as the rivers grow, so does your technique. In tired moments, you drift deeper, a dream within your endless dream. An absurd abstraction that you can’t place. 

Sometimes, it’s livid and fierce, like a scalding fire burning its way through a dry field abandoned by the rain. Other times, it’s vibrant and tender, full of soft comforts and laughter that echoes like wind chimes in spring. 

Each time, there is only one constant. 

Little hands, scratched and calloused, pull at a head full of blonde, curly hair. “Ow!!” The boy grabs your shirt, trying to wrestle you forward, but your grip holds firm as you rip out small patches of hair. “AGHH!” Tears stream thickly down his cheeks - the sight of it shocks you into letting go with a gasp.

“You - you didn’t say ‘stop’!” You cry out, in equal angst. 

“I khan dhew i-iht!” The swollen-mouthed boy yells back. The skin around his left eye is a rough patch of red-purple, and though you know he can take it, your brows furrow anxiously. He somehow looks so much worse than you expected - it’s not like you were going thatttt hard on him! I mean, you pulled at least three punches. 

Two other boys, a pile of snacks between them, leisurely sit under the shade of a nearby tree. Both laugh, openly and loudly. “You said that the past 24 times, Kenji!” and “Way to get your ass-whooped by a girl!” 

“You two aren’t any better!” You growl at them, protectiveness bubbling up from some confusing mixture of concern and alarm and guilt. 

“One m-ghor shime.” Kenji grunts out. God, he looks terrible. 

You hesitate, taking one last look at his (bloodied face) determination. “Fine!” You roll up your sleeves. “Use more strength from your hip and grip firmly. Do NOT let go! No matter what!” 

“Dohn go eeshee!” He says, wiping snot and tears off his face.

And you don’t, as your right arm wraps around his neck and your left hand grips his hair from behind. 

He’s weaker than you - barely any cursed energy flowing through blood that has long filtered out. But you can see the moment it flares, his grip coursing blue. It’s hardly overwhelming, but it’s greater than the potential he should have. 

And maybe you let him, or maybe the surprise is enough to catch you off guard, but he twists you through the air, freeing himself from your hold while spinning you through the air.

You blink.

A quick spin and you’ve skidded back without losing your balance.

Silence. 

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! YOU DID IT!!” The two boys run over to him, full of amazement and awe, pure serendipity.

Head pulled back, he screams to the heavens, “I DID IHHHHTTTTTT!!”

The group of boys all tackle you. You’re laughing, crying, everything at once as they lift you into the air. 

“SHANKYOUU SHENSHEII!” Kenji screams.

“O-ow!” THe boys suddenly shout as a foot lands on their head. “What the -”

Soon, an arm wraps itself around your waist, quickly scurrying off before the group of boys can see what happened.

“Why are you crying, too?” His voice cuts through their screams. You’d spotted him - as you always can - watching from the rooftops. 

“I - hiccup - I’m just - I knew he could do it.” You say between sobs. 

“That’s enough of that.” He sighs, annoyance edging in.

You wipe at your tears as he continues hopping from one rooftop to the next, steps light enough to go without detection even from the trained guards. “I think I’m like, a really good teacher.” You state suddenly.

He scoffs, “That’s so lame.”

“Why?!” You fist slams against one of his legs -

“Stop moving around!” He orders.

“Teacher’s are the coolest.” You say, wistful. 

“Ugh, it’s even worse that you think that! You little nerd.” He ruffles your hair with his other hand.

“What’s wrong with that??”

“Everything! Don’t care about those losers! So what if he finally figured out that stupid flip?? It was soooo boring watching him try so hard to do something so easy.”

“That’s the POINT!”

“No more. He’s weak and useless.” He means it.

You shift, purposefully now, breaking out of his hold without real effort. You step from him, two sassy hands at your hips. “No. He’s. Not.”

You can see the flicker across his face. The way he shifts, as if he knows he has to do it. It’s cute, how he relaxes his gaze, acting as if it’s no big deal at all. Like, whatever, he really couldn’t care less. He doesn’t even hold your gaze as he mumbles to the side, “I figured out how to amplify my blue technique today.”

You drop your arms, “Really?”

“Yeah, if you had come to see me after practice -”

Your arms around his neck in a second, “Really??? I read that it’s basically like a mini black hole!! Isn’t that crazy? You really did it??” You hug him tightly, “You’re amazing! Why didn’t you say that??”

He grins, ear to ear, “Aren’t I?” His arms wrap around you, carrying the weight of your little frame as he spins around. 

“Let’s go celebrate!!!” You cheer. 

“Well, if you reallyyyy want to -”

“OF COURSE!” You pound his chest, “We MUST.”

“Hehehe, where to then?” 

“Hmmmm… - OH! Oh!!! Let’s hop on the first bus we find?”

He smiles, “And we’ll get off once we spot a shiba.”

“With a cute little necktie!”

“That’s obvious.” He responds, still carrying you as he makes his way to the gate.

“And did you know that black holes - or supermassive ones - are the center of all galaxies? Even in the 60s there were scientists who theorized it. It’s way way way bigger than the sun, but it was originally detected based on the orbit of other stars around it. Isn’t that interesting?”

“Hahahahaha, when did you start reading about this? Did You find an astronomy book in the library?”

“Well, you said you were working on amplifying your technique.” You say happily. “And I read in one of your family journals that it works similar to a black hole - a cute, hand-held one. So I did some research - the internet is so handy, ya know?”

There’s a twitch at his finger, before he tightens his grip, “What other things did you learn?”

You list a long spiel - a textbook's worth of facts.

He’s happy, nodding along. 

So happy that you can’t help your own serendipity. 

You want him to always be that happy.

And when your eyes open, Tengen is beside you, waiting.

“Don’t stay there too long.” She cautions.

You laugh, warm and happy. 

“Strange child.” She says.

You finally remember. 

You find truth in the form of two bright blue eyes.

Soft tufts of white hair.

A wicked grin.

A strong embrace.

Why is it that while your own name drifts across time, this one returns to your tongue, sweet as honey.

“Satoru.”

Satoru. I won’t let you go.

Chapter Text

Nanami sips quietly at his first drink of the night. The lounge is somewhat of a well-known industry secret - run by a wealthy sorcerer hailing from one of the largest real estate families in Japan. Clean, simple wood textures and a large wisteria tree sprouting from the center, intertwining with the different floors seamlessly. There are a few discreet talismans decorating the wall, providing some level of silence and privacy despite the trendy dance club on the first floor. The conversation, which he sits on the fringes of, has suddenly turned back to the one topic of either everyone’s perpetual curiosity, revulsion, praise, or worry…

“Utahimeee, you said he’d be here!” The girl, Sakura, beside Utahime whines. Her pink hair is styled into two twin buns, topped off with giant pink bows. Even her attire - a pink mini dress and pink tights. On Utahime’s other side is Manami, who he assumes is a close relation to Sakura. Pink hair, though a decidedly more mature and glamorous appearance. High-heels, a bold red lip, and cocktail dress with a long slit up one leg.

A stunted laugh later, “He’s always late!” Knowing Utahime, she probably means to stop there.

Nanami nods in reflex, quiet as the conversation continues. Neither a part of it nor far enough to be fully excluded. He doesn’t mind the dynamic. He was never the one who excelled at things like this. On the other hand, Yu could befriend anyone who breathed in his direction and you couldn’t seem to help the way others flocked to your circle. When it was the three of you… you’d each take a seat at either side of him, letting him linger in the quiet reprieve. I was very fortunate. 

“Awww! Everyone has met him, but meeee.” She cries. “I guess he isss super busy.” She says, stars in her eyes and a wistful little sigh.  

“Busy, huh?” Utahime snorts, not able to stop as the innocent beer can folds in her fist, “He can’t take anything seriously - that’s the problem! Off galavanting, doing whatever he wants without any regard for how it impacts us! We had to send a clean-up crew to fix his mess the last three times!” She slams the crumpled metal onto the table. Sakugra giggles, brushing off Utahime’s comments like a broom to dust. “He probably won’t even show up!” She huffs, folding her arms across her chest.

Sakura turns to him, a slight tilt of her head, “Nanami-kun, right?”

“Ah, yes.” He responds, robotic.

“You went to school with him, too, right? What do you think? Is he still coming?” Her hand brushes his arm as she leans closer. Close in that way that pries for what she wants.

Truthfully, he never knows what to think of Gojo. 

Or more accurately, he doesn’t know who the real Gojo is.

He disliked him from the moment they met. It wasn’t just the arrogance - though that did grate on him, because did he need to show off at every moment? He couldn’t just be strong, he had to let everyone know their place (far below him). Gojo held his strength with a disgusting lack of class - a spoiled child that had talent to back it up. 

He had the withering thought: What misfortune, that the fate of Jujutsu is left in Gojo’s care. That was it, as far as first impressions. He could accept that - what does he have to do with someone like the great Gojo Satoru? Why would someone like that dwell within his sphere? So Nanami would be courteous - certainly respectful on his own end toward that of an esteemed colleague - and that would be that. 

But then… there was you. You, whose strength was the pillar of their little trio. He’d never seen you turn down anyone reaching out a hand. It was in the smallest of things, when you’d pay for someone else’s meal at the restaurant because, ‘Ehh, it’s so bothersome to get change anyway~”. And in the big things, when you’d pick up your upperclassmen’s missions so that they could go home for the new year. 

Absurdly (he’d thought at the time), you adored Gojo to far past the ends of the earth, beyond heaven itself. And so, he’d tried - really really tried - to keep an open mind about the man. 

“I believe he will show up - if it is to celebrate Shoko-san, he probably will not want to miss it. Though, there is the chance that something work-related arises.” Nanami responds after some thought. 

“Ehhhhh~ So it’s a yes, a maybe, and a no? That’s hardly an answer.” Sakura slinks back into her seat, bored of Nanami already. There are always sorcerers like this - Grade 4 or Grade 3 at most who have yet to glimpse the All-Mighty Gojo in action. Whose entire image of him is built upon the widespread rumblings of his unbelievable strength. More a God than a man. 

“If you raise your expectations so high, Sakura, they can’t help but shatter under all that weight.” Manami chimes in, a smirk on her lips, as if she’s read his mind. 

Sakura means to retort, her mouth open, when the building literally shakes. The giant double doors slam open, drawing the eyes of everyone in the VIP section. Suguru and Gojo walk through the door, lively, as always, and loud . “Yes, yes, we’re here~~” Gojo sings, waving exaggeratedly to all the other patrons and staff.

Right behind them, “Yo!” Yu’s voice calls out, flanked by Shoko and Kusakabe. Shoko is actually dressed up for a change - a matching, loose suit set. Yu holds all her gifts in both arms, two bouquets and three boxes that he sets down on the booth table. It’s strange still, to see the glint of metal at his right shoulder where flesh used to be. It had taken him only a month to regain everyday use in that arm, though a full year of practice for combat.

“Shoko!” Utahime bolts from her seat. “Our official, full-fledged doctor. ”

Shoko holds up a peace sign, nonchalant, “Piece of cake.”

“Finally pulling your weight around here!” Gojo pats Shoko on the head.

Utahime chucks her drink in his direction, though it merely clatters to the ground as he dodges with a snicker. 

“Awww, did you get that just for me?” Gojo asks, eyes hidden by his sunglasses, “I mean, if you wanted to buy me a drink you could have just said so~~” He grins.

Utahime’s eyes narrow, sleeves rolling up as she grabs a vase off the table, chasing after him.

“Don’t let him rile you up.” Shoko shouts, taking the black bag Nanami offers her. Her eyes sparkle as she pulls out the bottle of Dom Perignon from the bag. “That’s why you’re my favorite kohai.” She instantly uncorks the thing, taking a deep swig.

“Congratulations.” Nanami bows. 

Suguru throws an arm around her, “Pour me some, Doc.”

She leans back into him, an easy comfort, “Trade?”

“Shouldn’t you know better by now?” Suguru laughs, but nonetheless pulls out her favorite pack - the only type he carries - and lights one up. 

“You said you were quitting!” Utahime sets down the vase, rushing over. 

Shoko takes another drag, “I’m quitting soon. I can’t let Getou’s gift go to waste.”

Utahime turns toward Suguru, wrath in her face, “Seriously?! Are you hoping to send her to an early grave?”

Suguru throws his hands in the air appeasingly, turning to Satoru with a suspicious glint in his eye, “So what gift did you bring again?”

He gasps, “You’re in the presence of The Strongest Sorcerer isn’t that the greatest gift of all?”

“You didn’t bring anything?!” Utahime reels, attention successfully thwarted. 

“My sex appeal -”

“Says who?” Shoko responds, smirking as she holds out her hand expectantly. 

“Fine, fine.” Gojo pulls out a sleek black card, no number, not even his name. “Go crazy.”

Shoko bends the card back and forth, examining it with a smile, “When will this thing run out?”

Satoru shrugs, “Infinite~”

It’s the largest turnout the lounge has seen from their colleagues in months, with more trickling in and out over the next hour. It’s also the highest tab they’ve ever run, courtesy of Gojo’s (surprising) generosity. Even Nanami has only made it once in the past month, with missions piling up one after the other, especially after his official rise to Grade 1. And of course, there are plenty of faces he’ll never see again. 

As the night wears on, tables intermingle and words begin to slur. Half the group descends to the first floor to dance, while the rest linger in conversation. He finds connection in Kusakabe, who, now on his fifth drink, clinks glasses with Nanami before downing it in one go.

He isn’t surprised as Gojo slides in across from him, throwing a lazy arm across the back of the booth as if he owns the place. A grin stretches across his face as he barks out an irritating greeting, “Na~ na-na~ na-na-na-na-min~” He sings. “You scared everyone away with that serious look on your face~~”

“I see. I shall try to keep that in mind.” Nanami responds, seriously.

Pink slides into the booth, cozying up toward Gojo. “I’m Sakura! I’ve heard sooo much about you from Shoko-chan!!” 

Gojo blinks, “Ah, she’s never mentioned you though~”

“Well, now's the perfect time to get acquainted!” Sakura continues, bright and cheery. “I’m from the Suda Family you knowwww.” She says, as if it means something.

“Oh, yeah, the Suda Family~” Gojo says, nodding absently. He even pulls out his phone, typing away without a care. 

Nanami can see the recalibration across her face, the way she shifts, body leaned in closer to him, “I knew you’d heard of us!” She grins. “My Grand Uncle fought beside the previous Gojo Head in the Hanshin Disaster! It wasn’t added to official records - clan politics and all that, but we’re closer than you think!” 

“Is that so?” Gojo dismisses. 

“That sounds tiring.” Kusakabe adds. “All that clan politics stuff. I mean, it’s already hard enough as it is, right?” 

Everything that happened with you is proof enough of how corrupt and inefficient it all is. You were branded a curse user for causing ‘The Ruin of Oshiage’, as it was labeled. Clearing your name, though there were multiple witnesses and physical proof of the plot against you, had been a grueling trial.

I don’t know what Gojo had to do to procure your protection, but through it all only five people have been granted access to the Tomb. 

Nanami nods, “Yes, it seems quite overbearing. There are no off days and barely any considerations given when there are injuries that prevent us from working at full capacity.”

Sakura pouts, “At least you guys get paid well! All of us Grade 3s are barely scraping by - I mean, I only work part-time anyway since I have family matters, but I wouldn’t even be able to afford this dress after three years of work!”

Kusakabe squints, eyeing the dress skeptically, “What’s it even made of?”

She rolls her eyes, obvious disappointment, “Organic silk and it took four months just for Rei-san to finish hand stitching the pearls into it! Pleeeeease tell me you know who Rei-san is?”

Kusakabe and Nanami shake their heads in tandem, while Gojo doesn’t even respond.

“Nanami-kunnn, you too?” She glances at his watch. The one you’d gifted him all those years ago. “I would think you’d know - I mean, you are wearing The Imperial VFA.”

“A gift from a good friend.” He responds. 

Surprise is clear across her face, “Are you serious?” Those go for over 20 million… What kind of friend is that?”

A sudden SNAP as Gojo’s phone shuts suddenly, a scoff at his lips, “20 million? That doesn’t mean anything .” A warning, directed at Nanami. He leans into his palm, elbow on the table. 

“How immature.” Nanami responds. 

Kusakabe looks between the two, wary, sinking further into his seat while he nurses his drink in his grasp.

“I guess 20 million is nothing for the Gojo clan.” Sakura laughs, “Is that a real green diamond? It must have cost a fortune.”

Her hand reaches for the dangling gem hanging from Gojo’s neck.

She can’t touch it - of course no one can through his infinity, but there’s something heavy, ominous that permeates the space. It coils and crushes, untamed. She can’t see it, though even her body reacts in fear. Her fingers recoil suddenly, a sharp intake.

There’s nothing new to it. Gojo’s always been unabashedly cruel. He’s all the things you aren’t and every interaction is a reminder of that.

Nanami glances over at Kusakabe, back straight and alert. His hand tightens over his katana. 

It’s quiet between them - unnerving and suffocating.

Sakura winces, awkwardly grabbing a drink from the table, eager to cut through the tension she can’t place - “What about a toast! To.. new friends!”

She holds the glass out for Gojo to take.

He makes no move to grab it, smiling “I won’t be able to stomach it.”

“Oh, you don’t drink?” She asks.

“No, I just hate ugly girls.”

Kusakabe’s eyes widen, mouth at the floor.

“Wh-what did you just say?” Sakura stutters, a look of disbelief across her face as well. 

“You know why there’s no record?”.

Her face falls as she bites down onto her lip. 

“You shouldn’t pay him any attention.” Nanami advises.

“It’s because the Suda family is like all the hundreds of other weak clans that latch themselves to the Gojo name. Flies buzzing around in my ear, crying to be heard but with the same boring, useless buzz~” He grins.

“You -” She sniffles, demeanor completely changed, “You’re a real jerk, you know that?” She gets up, not even heading to the dance floor but merely walking straight out the entrance.

“Was that necessary?” Nanami says into the silence between them.

“What’s wrong with what I said?” Gojo responds, grinning. 

“You thought she was ugly?” Kusakabe says openly in complete bewilderment. “Her?!” He repeats, again.

“Isn’t that obvious?” Gojo scoffs, “Hideous~”

And over the edge of his sunglasses, Gojo’s eyes gaze at the ceiling of the club. Where the blue wisteria twists and turns, green vines curling gently across wood beams, alive in a way that can only be sustained by some cursed technique. There was always a moment when his cruel and cold and mean eyes would turn. When that sharpness softened the moment you spared him any attention. His great Six Eyes never relenting, stuck to you like darkness searches for light. How annoying it had been, when Gojo - who claimed the space in every room - looked upon you as if you too, were one of his many possessions.  

It wasn’t like that though, was it?

“I-it isn’t!!” Kusakabe shouts. 

“Don’t overthink it, he just has a very specific type.” Suguru supplies, leaning over Gojo’s shoulder to down a quick shot from the table. He spares a questioning glance at Gojo, who merely shrugs. “Watch your hand.” Suguru winks toward Kusakabe. 

Scratching at the back of his head, Kusakabe eases his grip on his katana, “Yeah, yeah. Not all of us can be Gojo, I know.”

Nanami suddenly can’t stomach it.

Not all of us can be Gojo.

Everyone speaks of Gojo in that way, so decidedly above all the rest. So irrefutably at the top - and to such a high degree - that it can’t be contradicted. Because to contradict his strength is to contradict your own reality. 

That must be true, and yet, against that reality… You come to mind.

He’d felt it, fighting alongside you. Like you could hold that lofty strength that changes the world. Strength that spreads, filling him with his own. Beside you, there was no fight that could not be overturned and no wall that couldn’t be shattered. ’Just watch me.’ You’d say, a smile on your face. 

“There will be others.” Nanami says.

Amusement flickers across Gojo’s face.

“It’s true we can’t all be Gojo, but there will be those who rise to meet him. There will even be those who surpass him.”

“Hmmmm~ You think you can do it?” Gojo goads. 

“No.” Nanami answers easily. “But she can.”

For a second Nanami wonders if he’s overstepped. If that quiet, sulking grief has a stranglehold on the space around Gojo.

But Gojo smiles, as if he can see it now in those famed Six Eyes of his. “Yeah.” He says.

Even Suguru chuckles.

“I’ll be chasing after her in no time.” Gojo says, as if there’s nothing so wonderful as that.

He hates Gojo for making you cry. But… 

It’s the way that Gojo, gazing at the Wisteria, makes it so obvious that you’re the only one on his mind. 

It’s the way that Gojo, the center of the world’s praise, quiets and listens at the mention of your name.

It's the way that Gojo, who hates clan politics, has been seen at every clan meeting for the past three years.

It’s the way he changes the world, so that you might come back to a better one.

And months later, when he finds himself deep in the cold of the tomb, it’s only one number he calls. 

Gojo’s voice comes through instantly - “Nanami~ Missed me already -”. Gojo, who is famously busy, never lets the phone ring twice. 

“She’s awake.” Nanami says softly. 

A man, born a God.

“I’m coming.”

Brought to his knees by one woman.

Chapter Text

He’s wondered, often and incessantly, what he would say when you wake.

Some days, he’s sure - it doesn’t matter what I’ll say, you’ll accept me. 

He’ll simply pull you into his arms, wrap you in every little feeling he’s kept at bay and whisper all the words he never thought he’d say. You’ll giggle and he’ll know that you feel the same. He’ll kiss you - and this time, it will mark the beginning of that romantic little dream you’ve always wanted (he wants it, too). 

Other days, he’s sure - it doesn’t matter what I’ll say, it will never be enough. 

He’ll beg if he needs to, for that forgiveness he doesn’t deserve. He’ll take all your disappointment and your anger, he’ll cherish even those harsh words because he can easily do that much. He’ll be there, letting time take its toll on that anger, for as long as it might take (even if it’s forever). As long as your green eyes glance his way, he can do anything. But if you tell him to go… If you refuse to look at him… It’s those thoughts that keep him up. 

You’ve been gone long enough that those little seeds of doubt fill the cracks of your memory. Of who you might be in the future. Shoko’s warning echoes, ‘She might not be the same.’

Right now though, all he can focus on is answering one question: Where are you? 

Nanami and Yu search the school, even old cobwebs in the armory and deeper into The Tomb than allowed. 

Suguru patrols Oshiage, thinking you might return to where your last memories linger. 

Satoru visits that restaurant you went to for your twelfth birthday. He flashes across town, visiting your old manager’s officer. Even that one loop on the train that you used to ride instead of going to class at thirteen. He visits them all, eyes wide and scanning for any lingering remnants of your cursed energy. He hasn’t had to traverse this distance, this quickly, in a long time. Sweat drips from his forehead and he feels the twitch of muscles at the edge of his eyes. I can’t slow down, not yet, not until I find you.

He flashes again, until he’s floating above that ugly, little apartment complex. Except now, it’s only a two-story house and a yard. Even still, he hates the sight of it.

I shouldn’t have argued with you that day. At the bus stop on the corner, where you cried and he didn’t comfort you. What was I thinking? Ah, that’s right, I just wanted to hurt you.

He hates himself - that version of him that stood there, watching tears form at the edges of your eyes, then pushing you further. I should have moved in - I could have done that. Why did I want to force you back to that fucking hell when I could have just stayed here, with you?

God, his heart aches .

There’s only one place he hasn’t checked, but…

You wouldn’t go back there.

It must have started long before the plot to kill you, even before everything with Naoya. It was probably the beginning, wasn’t it? When you sat in that sealed room, staying because… you had nowhere else to go. 

When he was a child, he’d told himself, well of course you’d want to be here. You were lucky to be allowed here, where the strongest lives. The greatest clan of this generation, full of everything you could want! 

But he knew - of course, he knew - the truth he’d let stay buried under his selfish desires, the ones he’d confused with your own.

You stayed because you had nowhere else to go.

He who had everything -  the gifts of his clan, the favor of the gods, all the luxuries of wealth - had never stopped to think what it might be like for you. He never had to think about anyone else at all, really.

So why would you go back to that wretched place? 

The ache grows, as he steps quietly onto the grounds. There’s the bustle of staff from the kitchen and the steady pace of other members moving across stone. It’s familiar in a way that can never be forgotten. He knows where to turn and the smell of autumn in its leaves and the sound of cicadas on summer solstice. Even when he slaughtered all the elders and burned that little prison to the ground, it's still the same place it's always been. 

This isn’t home.

But it’s the only place he can think of.

The last stone unturned. 

He feels weak with each step.

What if you’re not here?

What if you’ve really left him behind?

What if you’ve forgotten everything?

What if what if what if what if what if what if - it drives him fucking insane. 

His hand jumps to his chest, clawing at his shirt. 

He can hardly breathe.

That feeling he can never mistake - maybe it’s instinct or some ingrained reaction from years at your side, but… his fingers flex and his heart thunders at the tendrils of familiar cursed energy lingering in the shingles. 

He follows it, as if he were born to do so. 

He wonders if you know what your cursed energy looks like to him. As a child, he thought you had terrible control over your cursed energy, letting it glow and glisten, like the glint of sun across the ocean. For his eyes that could see anything, your cursed energy was like a firefly in the shadow of night. You wouldn’t be able to hide from him even if you tried, an enchanting little distraction. Now though, he knows better than to trivialize it. He thanks the heavens that his soul was granted that power, that noble pursuit, to be able to find you across all the stars. He wonders what his cursed energy looks like to you.

In the shade of a great red maple tree, at the edge of a moss-laden rooftop, brown hair billows in the wind. He swallows a lump in his throat, watching the gentle sway of your back as you kick your legs back and forth. 

The rooftop where we first met.

At your side is a ceramic vase he bought you three years ago - the one that’s lived at your bedside since your first night in The Tomb. A cluster of baby blue eyes peek out of it. Even from here, he can feel the beat of your heart, steady and slow while his own skitters out of control. And he swears, even from across the rooftop, he can even smell you. That faint sweetness that permeates the air - the one that he’s been searching for for three years. 

He’ll remember it for a lifetime.

It’s when you turn, glistening green eyes meeting his own, that he knows it’s real. Because not even his sharpest memory or his wildest dream could conjure up the perfect shade. No, I need you for that. I need you for a lot.

I’m sorry for everything. I'll be good - I’ll be the best. I’ll give you whatever you need. A new house? That’s not enough - what about an entire building in your name? Tokyo? The world, it’s yours. Everything, anything, just stay by my side. I was wrong I was weak I was nothing at all. There was that trip to Takamatsu we never got to take, right? We’ll go tomorrow. We’ll do all the things we never got to do just don’t leave me don’t leave me don’t leave me don’t leave me -

It’s as if you can see every mind-numbing thought running through his brain, because you call out to him, unwavering words carried across the breeze, “I was waiting, Toru~”

He loves his name on your lips. He loves everything about you.

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out, meaning it more than you could know.

You blink, surprise in your eyes. “The Great Satoru Gojo, apologizing ? What has the world come to!” You joke, as if no time has passed.

He tries to smile - failing miserably, because too much time has passed . In the mind numbing deluge he finally admits that weakness, for only you and the maple leaves above. “I don’t want to be The Great Satoru Gojo.” 

“Ahhhh.” You say, eyes lit with that playfulness that has teased him since childhood. “Then you can just be mine.” 

He startles, the words awakening him from the fear that has kept his feet locked in place. He takes the first step, and the next and the next - “That’s much better - I’ll do that. I’ll be really good at it - I’m a genius, amazing at everything, ya know? You won’t be able to get rid of me, even. I”ll be latched to your side, forever.” He says with desperation dripping from his lips that he doesn’t attempt to hide.

You throw your head back, laughing, like honey, “It doesn’t pay well!” 

“Good. I have too much money.” He advances.

“You can never quit!” You challenge with a smirk.

“Better make it a lifetime contract~”

“Work-life balance will be abysmallll~” You drawl, as if anything could deter him.

“’ll be on-call around the clock, anywhere, anytime, just say the word Princess. I’ll give you the world - I can do that much. I just want to be yours.” He means to tease, to send that playful little bit back to you, but even he can hear the truth behind it. A seriousness so unlike him and oh god, you can see it too. Your laughter eases, smile wiped from your face in an instant. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck -

“Toru.” You sound like his past, his present, and his future. You sound like his first friend, trading inside jokes in once cold hallways. You sound like his first taste of happiness, the kind that illuminates sadness. You sound like his first love, more twisted than any curse. You open your arms, “C’mere already~” 

He’s a mess.

His arms wrap around you, his entire existence defined by the breath that you share. You’re warm, sweet, and the prettiest little thing.

“Kurumi.” He says, burying his face into your neck.

“Kurumi.” You wrap your legs around his waist as his hands grip the back of your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer.

“Kurumi.” It feels like heaven, as your hand weaves through his hair. 

“Kurumi.” He spins you around on that rooftop amongst the leaves and sun and memories. 

“Kurumi.” Arms still tightly wrapped around you, he pulls back just slightly to study every little thing that he’s missed.

“Satoru.” Your voice fills the space. The way it always does whenever you speak. 

He can’t take it.

His forehead rests against yours.

“You’re so beautiful.”

You giggle, and he falls in love all over again. 

“Have I told you that already?” He grins. 

“Yes, but keep going.” You encourage, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He shifts your weight easily into one arm, while one hand gently traces up your jaw. “You look like heaven. I think you must be -” His thumb ghosts over your bottom lift. His eyes flit to gaze at them - lips he’s tasted. God, the thought of it sends him further into a frenzy. 

You smile sweetly against his fingertips. “Prettiest smile - just for me - fuck, I’ve missed you so much.” He leans in, lips inches from yours, eyes boring into your own. “And your eyes - I’ve never seen anything like it.” He’s a nervous wreck, blubbering over his own words in a way he’s ever known. It should embarrass him, but he’s so overwhelmed by how absolutely fucking elated he is to be touching you.

You pout, “That’s a lie!”

“Have you seen yourself?” He counters, miffed.

“Have YOU?” You push, appalled. “I didn’t even know blue could look like that. Trust me, I’m an expert on the matter.”

“An expert on me?” He asks.

“Of course! That’s how I knew you’d find me.” It’s your turn to pinch his cheek.

He sighs, long and exaggeratedly, “How could you come back here after everything that they did?” After everything I did.

“You took care of it though.” You say, sure of him in that way that makes his heart clench. 

He doesn’t expect you to forgive him, but he needs it all the same.  “I killed them all.” All the council that had raised him, sparing no one, he had wiped them off the board. It hadn’t been quick - he’d made sure it was slow and painful and full of hope. It was cruel, but even then, it wasn’t enough. 

“I know.” You hum, as if you watched the whole thing.

“I made it hurt.” You don’t get it, you just don’t know the extent of the horrible things I’ve done. What horrible things the clan has done. If you knew, then you’d hate me, you’d tear me apart and I’d deserve every bit of it. I’ve forced your hand, cornered you into staying. I’ve beaten and tortured and killed countless people without any remorse. 

“Of course~” You nod. Your brows furrow, a little smile on your lips as you poke the crease in his forehead. “What’s with this look?” 

He wants to lie - to whisper those same sweet nothings. It’s nothing he can’t handle. Just a long day. Too many missions. Annoying buzzing in his ear. He wants to say that, like he would have before. But nothing can ever be the same. I can’t make the same mistakes. I won’t waste this chance. 

There’s a tremble in his voice, “I’ve done a lot of things while you’ve been away - no, even before that. I’ve always been like this, I -” Your arms wrap around him again, cradling him close.

“You don’t have to worry about things like that. You won’t ever have to.”

He knows you mean it, but he won’t blame you when you change your mind later. God, it will kill him, but - once you see him - everything about him - even you won’t be able to hold to those words. But now isn’t the time to confess everything - where would he even start anyways? You’ll have all his time anyways, and he’ll be ready to answer you. 

Chapter Text

The world is so loud, while dreams are always quiet. Living in that space between dreams and reality, you’d nearly forgotten the way that details breathe life into the world. You want to bask in the way that sound layers, the fading rumble of passing cars, the endless rustling of branches, and the voices weaving between it all.

The world has changed, as it's always meant to do. Tengen told you many times of the consistencies of humanity - how at its core, there is nothing new the world has to offer. Rebellion, in some form or another, will always arise. Innovation and evolution will grow alongside the need to survive. People love, struggle, hope, endlessly again and again. You can’t help but feel, despite that, as if everything changes, all the time. 

The world is endlessly vast, but its existence can be felt in a single gaze. Heat colors your cheeks as Satoru’s eyes bore into your own, with every intention of making himself known. It’s the kind of intensity that entices you to look away, fearing what it might behold, yet forcing you to keep its company. Even as he smiles that familiar, beautiful, careless smile, you think that there’s something different in it now.

He’s certainly never looked at you like that before. 

Maybe it’s just the taste of sweetness after a long wait.

“- Alright, alright, give her some space.” Shoko rips Yu and Nanami from your side as she continues her scan for damage. They retreat quickly under her command and it floors you that she really is a doctor now. She’s long past that point in her life - the one that had once only been words and dreams. 

It’s a bitter little feeling. A shadow to the great joy you feel as you bask in the smiles of your friends. 

Yu wipes the tear streaks from his cheeks, taking another look at your appearance. “You’re really alright?” 

You nod. You feel different. Like a new power courses through your blood, prickling your senses. There’s a new clarity to your mind, a crispness to the sound of time speaking of the world. 

Nanami holds his composure, though there’s a slight waver as he mumbles a reserved “Welcome back.”

They’re everything like you remember them. That perpetual crease at Nanami’s brows and frown that he can’t seem to get rid of. The readiness at which Yu speaks his feelings aloud. 

They’re nothing like you remember them. Nanami’s gaze, often shifty and low, no longer wavers from its target. Yu’s usual eagerness, restrained, with tired bags lining once vibrant eyes. Both are more than a couple inches taller and all taught muscles. They’ve moved forward, as you knew they would - it's a path that all sorcerers must walk. 

“You both got so buff .” You blurt.

Nanami coughs, shy. “Thank you.”

Yu preens under the compliment, “We’ve had a lot of training! Nanami made First Grade last year! And I made Semi First Grade as well, but I’ve had to - um, re-calibrate a bit.” Yu rubs the metal where his arm should be.

“Ohhh~” You lean in, touching the metal. It’s surprisingly soft to the touch, as if the coating of cursed energy that flows across it replicates the exact cellular structure of skin. You don’t need to search, as the memories play clear as day.

A young heart beating through metal bones and metal flesh, where decay has long taken the original form. A quick mind, made quicker now. They sing his name fondly - Daiji Kuronaka. Merely a child. Alone among people and crowded among machine. His body both a curse and a gift, though he holds no malice. He’s lost touch of such things.

“Kuronaka-san…” You mumble his name.

Yu’s eyes widen, shifting back and forth between you and the group.

He knows every vein and vessel and the arm quickly molds under his touch. No hesitation and no attachment, he leaves the arm to beat to the will of its new master. He sends it off without farewell and without instruction. That is all he knows. He holds no further ambitions.

At night it burns, tendrils burrowing into recent wounds without regard. It feeds and feeds and feeds, as power whispers a new name. It can’t hear it, not yet, so it continues its feast. 

“It hurt you.” You mutter as the burn courses through your own senses. 

It latches deeper now, bending and bristling as I command. I want to - no, I need to overcome this. If I can’t do this much, then how can I call myself a sorcerer? Just endure it - even I can do that much. I’m nothing special, always lagging behind everyone else. Is it the price I must pay? Or is it rejecting me still? 

“It still hurts you.” You mutter, still adrift in the memory. 

Yu doesn’t pull away. Though time has spread between you, he has nothing to fear from your touch. “Yeah, but it’s alright.” He smiles, soft and long-accepted.

Your fingers drag lightly against the metal, “It’s not rejecting you - it’s feeding on your cursed energy. Once it’s had its fill, it’ll be more a part of you than not. The pain will ease and it will serve you well, don’t worry.” You lean in gently, “Trust me?” 

“Of course.”  Yu says fondly without hesitation.

You grin, hand gripping the metal firmly, “Then let’s see what all that training is worth.”

“I’ve got this.” Suguru says with a sigh, quickly casting a barrier around you. Just in time - 

“Domain Expansion.” You say under your breath as power surges. It’s different this time, no longer the chaos of a power you couldn’t quite grasp. It lives in perfect balance, the space around you looking just as it had seconds before, thick with dense cursed energy. At this level, it’s merely a buzz across your skin. 

There’s nothing more sincere than time. 

“Grhh!” Yu grits, eyes slamming shut as his fist clenches. His arm shakes with the spiking pain and his knees weaken under the pressure of your domain.

“It’ll pass.” You say softly, "Activate your technique.”

“K-Kurumi -” He starts, and you wonder if he’ll pass out soon. He’s capable of much more than this. People are always bound to exceed their own self-imposed limits.

“Give it everything.” You command.

It lives by one simple rule. 

The grass beneath your feet withers and stone crumbles into dust. You see every breath and weigh every change within your domain. Time has no master and no favor, but here, it bends to your dreams as easily as a blade of grass in the wind. It speaks in a language only for you, and you listen in a way only you can. 

“You can do better than that.” You smirk.

“ARGHHHH!” Yu screams, letting his own power surge. 

Always give and take in equal measure.

You don’t need to turn to see who stands at your side, hovering between you and everyone. It makes sense - the precaution - considering what happened the last time around. Your eyes slowly shift to his, hoping to communicate in a glance that this time, you have it under control and -

There’s a nervous little squeeze that goes straight through your stomach and into your throat.

Because he’s smiling at you, doting and warm, as if he doesn’t care whether you take the world with you. It’s not the raucous teasing smirk after deciding on something completely insane. It’s not even the sweet, vibrant joy of the first bite of a new treat. Satoru, who could find fault in the sun and the moon and stars, whose presence dulled all others in his glow, and who doesn’t believe in anything besides himself.

So why is he looking at you like that? 

Stop that.

He chuffs, eyes light. 

Ah - did I say that out loud? You turn away swiftly, pink dusting your cheeks.

You suddenly let go of Yu’s arm, releasing your domain. Nanami swoops into Yu’s side, holding him up. 

His hair is matted in sweat, eyes gaunt in exhaustion. Even with Nanami’s support, he slowly slumps to the ground.

“Wh…at did you -” He wheezes, “- do?”

“See for yourself.” You eye his arm.

He flexes slowly, fingers stretching one by one. His mouth hangs open, “It feels -” Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes again. “Damnit.” He wipes a sleeve against his eyes, “It feels real. ” He turns up to gaze at you. 

“You couldn’t do that before.” Shoko pushes past Satoru, “How many days?” She asks with a smile.

She’s even sharper now. Shoko has never been anything less than brilliant, though her gifts are understated in that way that’s allowed her reputation to go less pronounced than her other two comrades. 

“There are limits to how much cursed energy it can consume in any given moment. It would’ve taken something like 1034 days to fully sate its appetite. Though if you account for the lower output of cursed energy during sleep and other extenuating factors, maybe closer to 1461 days. I thought it would be better to overshoot than undershoot. I didn’t have to do much though - It’s quite well-made, you know.”

“Didn’t do much, huh?” She smiles, “Try to take it easy until we can do a full check-up.”

“Our Princess got even stronger.”  An arm wraps around your shoulders, long strands of black hair brushing against your cheek. There’s a confident power beneath every movement. Whatever strength he had before, he’s long surpassed. 

You lean back sweetly, hand to his ear as you whisper a little secret, “Thanks for looking after him.”

He smiles, hands resting at your hips as you shift closer. 

“But I'm still the best friend.” You whisper, fiercely.

Suguru throws his head back, a sudden, loud, “HAHAHAhahaha, whatever you want, Princess.”

You pull back, smiling proudly. “Exactly.”

“I’m hungry, Rumi-channn~” The man in question suddenly whines.. Satoru’s hand snakes around your wrist, pulling you away from Suguru’s hold. 

Satoru leads the group to a little hole-in-the-wall tonkatsu bar that he’s been saving. The first he wants to show you on a list of at least two hundred that he keeps tucked away in a page on his phone. He whines, of course, “We’ll have to go every day - no! Twice - no, five times a day to get through it in time!”

“In time for what?” Yu mumbles through a giant bite of tonkatsu.

You laugh, answering before Satoru can get the words out, “His birthday!”

“What’s that got to do with it?” Nanami asks.

“We’ll start a new list, of course!. It’s more fun that way. You know in 4th grade we went through 300 ramen shops in 2 months and then Toru banned ramen at the estate for the rest of the year. Oh! And that summer we made a list of 100 horror films - I thought our eyes would pop out by the end!” You see the look on Satoru’s face. Another laugh, free and clear, “Oh pleaseeeeee. I may have been gone awhile, but I still know everything about you, Satoru Gojo~” 

You smile, waiting expectantly for him to tease you back.

“Toru?”

Ah. 

There’s that look again.

His pretty white lashes flutter. “Yeah.” He says, breathless. 

The rest of the day blurs in a flurry of new stories that you soak in.

Yu is a year deep into a serious relationship - recently having moved in together, though they’re working through the challenges of cohabitation. You laugh at his expense, as he recounts leaving the milk in the laundry room and the detergent in the fridge just this morning. 

Nanami is planning a month-long trip abroad - no idea where or when, but he knows that he needs a change of pace. The work has been grueling, long hours and long commutes, with hardly any time in between. You make plans to pick up a cooking class together in the meantime. 

Shoko is busy, having already taken in at least one patient from every prefecture across Japan in the past two years. Her reputation even crossing the seas, with some sorcerers from Europe and Africa traveling all the way to Tokyo to study under her. She’s declined them all, though it’s obvious to the whole table she might come around to it soon.

Suguru has his hands busy reforming all of Jujutusu - by the year’s end, he’ll have provided two seats for non-clan members at the table of Elders, heavily relying on Satoru’s power in the political sphere. Though he has plenty of other ideas in motion: a recovery program for sorcerers facing severe physical or mental trauma, greater financial aid to sorcerers in the lower ranks, more resources put toward early detection of cursed-sensitive individuals. It gives you the beginnings of an idea.

The only one who seems reluctant to talk about anything is Satoru. 

“Text us when you get your phone back.” Nanami reminds you as he waves goodbye.

Yu yawns loudly, impressively still going late into the night, “See you!”

Shoko, “Remember to stop by my office when you come to campus.”

“Hai, hai!” You wave them off.

You turn to Suguru with a tilt of your head, “Aren’t you coming?” You ask. 

Suguru glances at Satoru, a relaxed shrug, “I have plans already.”

“At 11pm at night?… Really?” You laugh, “Suguuuu, you sly dog~”

“I just can’t help myself.” He smirks. “Satoru, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Satoru pouts, “Can’t you just -”

“No.”

Suguru and Satoru glare at one another.

You glance between them, “Ohhohooo, it sounds important. What’s happening in the morning? Should I tag along?”

“Yes -” Suguru starts.

“No.” Satoru cuts off. 

Suguru and Satoru glare at one another, again.

“You know you need to be there. If you weren’t going to see this through then you shouldn’t have even started. Didn’t think you’d be someone to do things so half-assed, especially when it concerns her.”

“Don’t.” Satoru bristles, “It doesn’t concern her. And I have more important things to do right now.”

You nudge Satoru, hard, with your elbow. So hard in fact, that with his infinity down, he can’t help the startled grunt that leaves his mouth on impact. You follow it up with a hard shove, moving him out of the way so you’re facing Suguru.

“What time does he need to be there and where?” You say, serious.

“8:30am at Headquarters, and if he could come looking somewhat respectable.” Suguru says.

“Got it, So, I’ll throw out that horrible pair of ripped jeans and that t-shirt with Yaga’s face printed on it. We’ll be there.” You say with a quick nod.

Satoru gasps, “What’s wrong with my jeans?” He dramatically holds a hand to his heart, “And you know I love that shirt.”

You blanch, “There are more holes than jean. Last time you wore them, a door handle got caught in one of the rips and you almost flashed an entire bus of American tourists. It looks as if Sugu’s Dragon used it as a chew toy.”

“They have that sexy vibe going for them~.”

You look at him sympathetically, “Yeah, yeah of course they do.” You say in the least convincing manner. 

You’re so deep into bickering you don’t notice the moment Suguru slips away, leaving you two deep into debate about the pros and cons of ripped jeans even as you board the next train. The train is nowhere near empty, yet just as far from packed. You grab hold of the hand rail, swaying lightly on your feet with the motion of the train car. 

“Okay, like see that guy over there?” You point to a college student reading a textbook on the far end. “That’s the ideal ripped jeans ratio. Anything more is pure anarchy.”

“Ugh, what’s so good about him?” Satoru rolls his eyes, disgust thick in his voice.

“No, Toru, I was talking about his jeans.” You laugh, breathy, disbelieving, “You’re such a psycho -”

The doors open at the next stop, and a line of businessmen pile in one after the other. The train car fills quickly, and you scoot closer to the window, hand falling from the rail.

Satoru’s hand moves to your stomach, pulling you closer to him as the throngs push. Your back hits his chest gently as the train resumes.

You missed even the busy commuting traffic. You missed the waft of cool air as the train car opens. You miss the hurried steps of late students on Monday morning. You miss the little ads sprinkled on the walls. 

You double-take at the poster slipping away from your view from the last station.

“Season 3 of Love’s Kiss is out already??” You lean back, turning up to look at him. 

“Yup! Want to watch it tonight?”

“Did you already watch Season 2?”

He feigns offence, “I wouldn’t dare watch without you.”

“Good. Should we pick up snacks on the way home?”

“Ah, I already ordered us dessert.”

“Oh! Did you get -”

“Kikufuku Mochi, yes yes.”

“And -”

“Cheescake. You underestimate me.”

“Even Taiyaki?”

“Is that even a question?”

“Wow, you’re good.” Your eyes glisten in awe. 

He leads you on what must be the slow, meandering path back to his apartment. He points out the cafes he likes, the vending machine with the most unique snack options, the clothing store he wants to take you to, the scratch on the pavement he accidentally made the first time he teleported here two years ago, his neighbor’s dog that gets walked at exactly 8am and 8pm, the bus stop that is always 1 minute late, the tree stump of the tree that nearly killed an elderly couple when it fell over in the typhoon, the restaurant where a group of elementary kids mistook him for a famous actor…

He keeps his hand on your waist through every turn.

He keeps it on you when he introduces you to all the staff working the lobby (though they all seem to already know you).

He keeps it on you when he shows off his penthouse decor (he’s particularly proud of the giant bear statue).

He keeps it on you when he turns the TV on and you relax on the couch (you mutually agree it’s the worst season 2 ever).

And when you wake, you wonder if he’s gotten any sleep at all. His arms wound tightly around your waist.

“What’s wrong?” You whisper into the early morning chill, fingers ghosting across the bags at his eyes. The soft blues from the window are so pretty against his lips.

“Ah, nothing…” He freezes.

There it is - that same song and dance you’ve lived in for a lifetime. A sweet little harmless lie that keeps him ten steps ahead and you chasing a shadow. Maybe it will always be the same. 

It’s silent between you two, save the heavy heartbeat in his chest. Quicker than it should be and you wonder what thoughts must be racing through his mind.

“You should get some rest. There’s still a couple of hours before we need to leave.”

“Don’t -” He swallows, thick.

And you blink in surprise at the tremors in his arm as he pulls you closer.

“Don’t go.” His voice shakes, frayed and tired.

And he gives you the one thing you need. A simple, little truth - “I thought you might not wake up again. It’s not like this is the only time it's happened.” He admits.

You’re surprised he remembers.

“I’m terrified that you’ll leave me behind, lost in those dreams, memories, places I can’t reach. Even with my power, I can’t follow you there. I’ve tried, I thought I could tear it open, I -” He laughs, mirthless. “Fuck, this is fucking pathetic. Strongest Sorcerer and I can’t even protect you. I couldn’t even wake you up. What would I do if you never did? I couldn’t even wait without losing my fucking mind. I can’t live like that - I won’t - I - I only want you.”

Oh, Satoru Gojo. Don’t you know -

You grin. “I’m strong enough.

I’m strong enough to protect you.

I’m strong enough to stick by your side.

I’m strong enough to give you everything you want, Satoru Gojo.”

Chapter Text

“I’m not going.” Satoru says, nonchalant. 

You and Suguru groan in unison outside of the obsidian-colored building. Unmarked, angled architecture, windowless - it’s not particularly foreboding though it is strange. To the average passerby though, it simply appears as any run-down office space on the outskirts of some middle-class neighborhood

“We’re already here.” You pout and he finds you so enchantingly beautiful, even when you’re annoyed. It hits in waves, staring at you, that sort of bewilderment that this is real. You are real. 

“I’d rather be wherever you’re going.” Satoru matches your pout with an even more exaggerated one.

He sees you bite back a smile, while Suguru doubles down with a thread, “I’ll show her the video.”

What video -

Oh. Oh, shit.

“You said you deleted that?”

“I did say that.” Suguru smirks. 

“You -”

“This video sounds really interesting…” You muse to yourself, reaching for Suguru’s phone.

Satoru’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you further from the offensive device. “Toruuu, let me go~ I want to be in on all the inside jokes, too. All the memories I missed out on…” You say forlornly, eyes large and pleading.

Satoru means to fight back. He’s a man who has gotten his way his entire life.

“I’ll show you later, Princess.”

Then you lean in and his body responds as it always has. Your lips graze his cheek sweetly, a light peck. 

Fuck, fine, whatever you want.

“Good! Then I’ll see you later. “

You’d spent a lovely morning, despite arriving early of all things. You’d proudly picked out an outfit for him (which matched the one you were wearing), then headed to a nearby cafe to enjoy a hot chocolate (with two extra packs of sugar and whipped cream) and curry bun, split between the two of you. It’s a life he’s wanted for so fucking long - laughing as you practically inhale the thing, leaning down to steal a bite, and the sweet drink warming your cheeks in the early morning briskness. He wants to keep it, every day, always.

This time, it's him who bridges the gap, placing a gentle kiss on your temple. “Text me when your test is over.” Satoru whispers. “I’ll pick you up.”

You pull away, tentatively, a slight flush to your cheeks. 

His entire body feels inundated with anxiety, watching the last bits of your hair disappear from view as the door shuts. An intrusive panic like the world has lost all sense. Shouldn’t he be with you? Always at your side - or at the very least, always within view. Because he’s still not so sure that this is real yet.

He knows even if word gets out - it always will - that you’re back. It won’t matter. He’ll make sure you can live as you want. He’ll make sure they know who they threaten if they touch you. He’ll make sure that whatever he does, you’ll be in it with him. I won’t make those decisions for you anymore.

“What, did last night not go well?” Suguru instantly pries as they move through the dark hallway, Ijichi guiding them at the front.

Satoru rubs the back of his head, “I’ve put her through enough. It’s a miracle she even lets me near her.”

It’s a surprise, to both of them, when it’s Ijichi who steps in on your behalf. “She isn’t like that.” 

A pushover, too weak to make active field duty, babysitter for Special Grades. There were plenty of nicknames that made the rounds. If it bothered Ijichi, he never showed it. A man of little ego, though they’d be wrong to assume he didn’t have his own pride. “She wouldn’t blame anyone for how things turned out. Even if it’s been awhile, please don’t remember her like that.”

Ijichi has always had a soft spot for you - it’s clear in the way he meticulously went through all your outstanding expenses (discreetly paying off your last credit card statement - a feat in itself with how you tend to spend) and the way his slouch straightens in your presence. He holds your gaze, like a fond, old friend.

Suguru laughs, throwing an arm around Ijichi. Satoru flanks him, an arm around the other side. 

“Alright, alright, I got it.” Satoru says, happier now. 

It’s easier said than done. Ijichi has never loved you. He has no idea what it’s like to love you. You, who loves everyone and everything. To wonder if the love between you is different - to hope and beg and let jealousy seep into all the open wounds it creates. To doubt and fear and show the worst he has to offer. 

To want to do it all again, over and over and over and over because in your gaze is the only way he can live.

“Let’s not take too long though, I’m in a rush~” He kicks open the final door, as the three of them stroll in together.

The meeting stretches from one hour to two to twelve. 

There isn’t a moment he doesn’t think of you.

It’s exhausting, as it always is, the same out-dated reasons repeated in slightly varied words.

“Change will come, whether you’re a part of it or not.” Suguru, at his last bit of patience, states.

“HAA! You’re already threatening us?!” An Elder shouts.

Ijichi coughs, bringing the attention back to him. “It’s not a threat, but we plan to roll out these changes at the end of the month. All other parties have agreed to it. There will be three representatives assigned to Kyoto. Three representatives to Tokyo. One global ambassador. And finally, one seat to represent the Higher-Ups in the interim.”

A loud wave of dissent clamors through the room.

“So you just want the power all to yourselves? Your plan is to take all the Tokyo seats isn’t it?!” Another Elder shouts, pointing directly at Satoru.

Satoru grins, “Why should I want such a boring role? I have much more important things to do! You know, I’m thinking about getting a cat -”

“How disrespectful!”

“Is this what Jujutsu will become?!”

“You’ll burn all of Jujutsu to the ground!”

“It’ll be up for election.” Suguru cuts in. “Any active sorcerer - and even inactive sorcerers as long as they were in active duty within the past 5 years - can place a vote for the representative they want for their district. Transcripts of all meetings will be available to all sorcerers. And there will be no Grade requirement.”

An Elder scoffs, “So the weakest - those most likely to die a year after graduation - will be the ones to lead this new age?”

“So you do know.” Satoru bites.

“What?” The Elder seethes.

“You know that many of our sorcerers will die a year after graduation.” Satoru says.

The room falls silent. 

“Besides…” Satoru smiles, “That’s not so different from now is it? You’re all weak. So should I strip you of your power right now?”

Satoru walks the faded line that exists between revolution and domination. Where one becomes the other and the ideals of change dissolve into brutality. He doesn’t want the new world - the one he envisions for you - to be built on that. The forced eradication of the old is no more than a slaughter justified by a naive hope for a brighter future. 

“Satoru, don’t be hasty.” Suguru chimes in, a smirk on his face. “It would be tiresome to have to clean up in here after.”

Satoru laughs at the joke, well, a little threat will go a long way. 

He feels the buzz of his phone in his pocket, followed by an alert out to every person in the room. He hears Suguru mumble a quiet, “Finally.”

He smiles to himself. The world I build with you will take time. 

He pulls out his phone, ignoring all the gasps and curses let out around him. There’s a picture of you, holding up your new License. Special Grade. Seeing the pride on your face, I should have cheered you on from the beginning. What a fool.

Him: Why does your photo look so much better than mine??

Princess: Do you want to see the other options?? 

You immediately send a series of 14 similar photos.

Him: You got options?!

Princess: You didn’t?? Yaga also gave me celebratory chocolate~

Him: :(((( Aren’t I his favorite student :(((( 

Princess: You're definitely close!! Just behind Suguru!!

Princess: Who is probably behind Reiji and Utahime, and then there’s Shoko, who is tied with Haruki and Toma

Princess: I’m missing a few but you get it! Suuuper close

He laughs, louder than he intends, and all eyes turn toward him.

Satoru holds up the petition he had you sign last night. “Every registered Special Grade wants to move forward with these changes. If you don’t want to be a part of it that’s fine. You’ll be left here to rot in this chamber and you can make your rules to each other.”

Suguru adds, “If even half of you were risking your lives on missions, you would know that things need to change. 80% of graduates are killed within the first two years. If you think it’s merely because they aren’t strong enough, then the whole system isn’t strong enough. Our sorcerers have always been stretched thin and under supported. That is a certainty to anyone who partakes in this path.” 

Ijichi steps in as well, “That’s not even accounting for the rise of Cursed Users. It’s easy for them to turn their backs on a system that has forsaken them. It won’t be perfect and I’m sure there will be plenty of difficult adjustments, but we hope to usher in a new era of sorcery. We’re offering you a hand to join us, please.”

By the time Satoru has left, the mood has shifted in the room. The constant rabble has dissolved into more organized discussion. There are still those Higher Ups that will never be appeased by the changes, but there are those one or two or three who see not only its inevitability, but its value. It isn’t an agreement, but a change in thought is the first step to a change in action.

Suguru cracks his neck as they finally exit. Ijichi rubs at tired eyes, dead on his feet. Satoru smiles to himself as he returns their tired waves goodbye. 

“Hayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy~” You say, drawling and playful, the moment you pick up.

The smile is easy, instant. “I’ll come pick ya up - where are ya now?” 

“Okay, don’t be mad -”

He holds back a sigh, stopping mid-step. I don’t have any right to be disappointed. Even thinking about those last few months before Oshiage… your life had widened far past his arms. It was my fault from the start, wasn’t it? He’s had too much time to think of it.

When the way you looked at him changed and when you built walls to rival his own. Will you let me back in?

“- I won’t be back tonight. We’re doing an impromptu graduating class trip! Did you do one with Shoko and Suguru?”

He didn’t - how could he when you were in The Tomb? It was hard enough leaving Tokyo for any missions at all. It would have been impossible if Suguru and Shoko, the two he trusted the most, weren’t there. It was an alternating funnel - at least one had to be near The Tomb at all times. If it were Shoko, then that included Nanami and Yu. He wasn’t willing to risk any slip-ups, any cracks in their defense. Not again.

“Ah, we didn’t get the chance. Besides, who would want to be stuck with Suguru for that long~”

“Didn’t you and Sugu share a sleeping bag for 18 hours? I heard it was your idea.” You point out.

“That’s what he wants you to think, Princess.”

You laugh, uninhibited, and he feels like soaring. Until the service cuts, your voice dragging robotically across the line. 

He can barely make out your next words, “We’re going through a tunnel! I’ll see you Friday - at the lounge!”

Two whole fucking days. 

“Of course~ It wouldn’t be much of a party without me.” He really wouldn’t have gone. He’d much rather keep you hidden away, just for a little longer. 

You hang up with a quick goodbye, unceremoniously. 

That darkness lingers through the next day and the one after that. It’s nothing he’s unaccustomed to, not anymore. It’s even worse when he can still smell you in his bed. He refills the little vase you’ve left behind. He moves slowly, admiring the space that you walked through just this morning.

And when Friday rolls around, he’s tidied up his room more than twice and moisturized more than he has in a full month. He almost wishes he took the last two missions, so he’d at least have something to occupy your absence. Then again, there’s no way he could, just in case it takes even an hour too long. He closes his eyes, letting his thoughts drift as he leans back into the black leather of the booth. 

“Wow, you’re early for once.” Shoko slides in beside Suguru, at their quiet table in the corner. As quiet as it can be with their reputations, at least.

“His fault.” Suguru points at Satoru.

Shoko scoffs, “A little desperate.”

“A lot.” Suguru adds. 

From one table over, loud gossip trickles to their table: “I hear the new Special Grade is coming today!”

“Really? And a girl at that.” 

“Jesus, please don’t say it like that.” 

“I heard she was behind Oshiage.” 

“Shit, really? So is she like, fucked up looking or what? I heard the sorcerer behind the attack had their head nearly clawed off.”

“Wait, I thought Oshiage was because of some Cursed User.” 

“I thought so too, but… I don’t know, my cousin heard a rumor that she’s some sort of big deal. It would make sense since her last name was redacted from the database.” 

“Let it rest, guys.” Sora, who he hasn’t seen for over a year, cuts in. “It doesn't matter what she looks like.” 

“So her face is fucked up -” 

Sora must level an intimidating glare, because the table goes silent.

“As if you’re anything to look at. Whatever you think from the rumors going around, I can tell you she’s stronger than that. Kinder, too, she wouldn’t let jealous little whispers dictate her opinion of anyone. More than that, she’s my friend, so shut the fuck up.”

The table is a mixture of awkward laughter and rough apologies. He tunes them out as well, instead living in the heaviness of those black roots that have yet to let him go. That have buried so thoroughly that to strip himself of them would kill him. There were times, they felt so real that he wondered if any sorcerers could see them on him. If one day, they’d sprout life into the physical world.

Even with the strong barrier around the lounge, he feels those roots crawl, calling to what lies just beyond. There isn’t any barrier in the world that could hide you. Maybe it’s the stone he’s kept close to his chest all these years. Or maybe it’s just his Six Eyes. All he knows is that your cursed energy has always been a beacon. 

He jolts forward, leaned over the booth table, peeling the sunglasses from his face. He wants to take you in, in every way he can.

You walk in, full of laughter, arms linked with Yu’s girlfriend. You look like you’ve lived carefree, without burdens. Bright complexion and easy movements. So you haven’t missed me at all.

Satoru’s eyes widen, dilated, latched to your figure. Suguru whistles and Shoko slaps his shoulder in reprimand.

This isn’t your usual - it’s sexy and it’s not even subtle. It’s a tiny, ruffled skirt that barely covers your ass and a halter top with an opening cut at your chest. Fuck he can see the curve of your breasts, the mole you have on the left one. Then there’s the heels, delicate bowties wrapped up your calf. It’s so feminine and he’s no better than any of the other men whose eyes leer in your direction. 

You make eye contact across the room and give him a shy little wave as you're bombarded by either reunions or too curious introductions. He barely processes the clank of glass, as remnants of the cup he was just holding drops to the table.

You haven’t thought of me once, have you?

“Ugh, Gojo, seriously? You spilled on me.” Shoko complains. 

Suguru chuckles, “He can’t hear you.”

Maybe it's seconds.

Maybe it’s hours. 

He watches everything.

I suppose these two days have been easy for you. 

Your constants begin to thin - Yu and his girlfriend departing to the dancefloor. And even Nanami, after a quick whisper in your ear, follows after them. There are about eight sorcerers (eight too many) who linger at your side. So close, their stench mixes with your own sweetness. Too close, that their beady eyes see too much of the skin on your thighs and neck. 

“I’ll be back.” Satoru says, absently, as he crosses the distance. The crowd parts for him, instinctual, obvious. He is still The Strongest. 

“Come here.” Satoru ushers, as if your refusal wouldn’t shatter him. 

You throw your arms around his neck and he spins you in turn. His hands on your waist, thumb gliding against the soft skin. “Toruuuu!”

You’re wearing perfume - he startles. If it were anyone else… but no, this is his perfect little Kurumi. Sweet, innocent, his.

“D-do you two know each other?” Someone he couldn’t care less about asks.

Those black roots fill the room, they fill every last crevice left. They have nowhere left to go anymore, only searching to devour. “As much as you can know someone~” Satoru exclaims.

He can see the surprise flicker across all the no-names crowding. Even as you turn back around, he stands too close to be mistaken as anything else but intimate.

As their mouths open, ready for the next slew of questions, it’s you who interrupts this time, “We’ve gotta gooo~” You grab his hand, pulling him away, no real explanation. You hum quietly as you explore the lounge with open curiosity. He’ll go anywhere you take him, anyway.

“I heard Mei-Mei runs this place.” You say.

He doesn’t respond - he thinks it's better not to. Not with what he wants to say.

“Nami said it’s way overpriced, though it is the only one of its kind in Japan.” 

Your eyes land on the stage area in the corner. It’s small, framed in sheer black fabric. 

“Do you think there will be a show tonight?” You ask.

He glares at the server that looks a little too long. Whose heartbeat speeds a little when you pass. Even then, he’s good. He holds it in. You’re none the wiser to how cruel he can be, how perverse his thoughts are, how absolutely terribly in love he is with you. 

“He’d fuck you if you gave him the chance.” 

“...” You blink, stunned.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, what did I just say - Pink fills his cheeks.

“PWAHAHAHA -” You burst out. “Is that what you’re thinking so deeply about?”

“It’s not just him.” He grumbles, embarrassed.

“Okay, enlighten me.” You tease. 

“The sorcerer with the green glasses who followed you through the door. Definitely the bartender with the terrible haircut. And all of those flies asking you for your name.”

You laugh again, “Wow, my name. Scandalous, Toru.”

He doesn’t laugh. He just pulls you into him, hand gripping your waist hard. 

Your smile falls, “You must be joking.” You wiggle in his grasp, teasing, and it’s so fucking stupid that even that throws him over the edge. He’s so hard, desperately trying to keep you far enough not to notice and close enough that everyone knows you're his.

“Is that what it seems like to you?” He whispers fiercely, "You're driving me crazy. You show up looking like -” He bites his lip, as if that’ll stop the words from spewing out, “- like you want someone to take you home.” 

“- SO?” Your hands push against his chest. “What’s wrong with that?” You defend. 

“Haaaaa.. So this is what you want to do now that you’re back?” His hands drop from your waist. He wants to touch more of you, but he’s already barely holding on. “You’re gunna let some third-rate sorcerer that can barely set a proper domain fuck you? You know, you’ll tire of them sooner or later. Why not just skip the whole fucking thing. Are you that desperate for a good fuck?”

Your hands rest on your hips, and he can tell your rearing to debate. “Desperate, really? But it’s okay if Sugu fucks around? Even you -” You turn away. He must’ve mistaken the hint of pink at your own cheeks. It must be the light. “What a double standard… ”

The last thing he can take right now is hearing another man’s name on your lips. “Don’t say his name like that.”

“Like WHAT?”

“Like you want him. Like you’d let him between your legs. He won’t love you, you know? It doesn’t matter how endlessly beautiful you are. Men are all the same. They’ll take what they want and leave you.”

“Why does it have to be like that? Just cause you say so?” You press.

He rolls his eyes, “Don’t start with that heart-eyed bullshit.”

There’s a slight shuffle of movement around the corner, a light twang of strings. 

You drop your voice to a whisper, “YOU said you wouldn’t mind that stuff!” 

“That’s not the point. All those useless flies that are always buzzing around you are different. How could they give you all that? They don’t know anything about you. You love everyone and everything and it’s fucking infuriating. You are infuriating. You’re the worst part of it all. Walking around like this - in this skimpy little thing? Ass out on display and fuck don’t pout like that - don’t do that.” His other hand moves to the edge of your little skirt, playing with the fabric. He’s breathless, exasperated, at his fucking end.

I shouldn’t have said that.

I shouldn’t have - 

He doesn't know what to expect, but it isn’t the shy way you nibble on your lip, hands dipping to pull your skirt lower, “Is it really too much?” You say, missing the whole fucking point. He can feel the nervous beat of your heart, the hesitation as you glance down at your outfit.

There’s a sudden melody that plays through the air as fingers move across silk strings. The stage, now occupied by a single performer.  

You don’t seem upset, rather…

“I thought you’d like it.” You admit, eyes still downcast, disappointment clear in the furrow of your brows. 

He feels dizzy, so completely out of sorts, because you can’t mean that. You can’t possibly know how that sounds. As if you wanted him to like it, over anyone else. As if all of this is for him.

You glance at the performer, shikigami dancing around her, an enchanting spectacle. The amber wood of the koto glows blue with cursed energy. “It looks just like us.” You say, as if you can’t quite help yourself.

It’s ridiculous, how easy it is for you.

It shouldn’t matter - a fucking instrument. 

He can’t help it either.

His hand, suddenly at the back of your head as his lips take yours. Fuck he loves the little squeak of surprise you let out, before kissing him back with equal fervor. He loves the moan that slips from your lips as he firmly presses you into the wall, hips grinding into your own. His control wavers as you slide your tongue into his mouth. 

You’re suddenly transported to his living room, before he unleashes a wave of cursed energy. He groans unbidden as he holds you and gives you every feeling he can in the act. His hands snake beneath your dress, hoisting you up to straddle his hips. 

He never breaks the kiss as he carries you through the halls, kicking open his door with a loud bang. He drops you onto his bed and in the quiet, between soft, panting breaths, he begins. Without a care for all his useless pride.

“I do like it - ” He pulls off his shirt, heart hammering through his chest. 

“I love it.” he kisses you softly, smitten with the way your lashes flutter. 

“I love the way you see us, in every little thing.” His forehead hits yours, fingers trailing up your thigh until he feels the lace of your underwear. The image of you, so much more real than the dreams he’s imagined, whining beneath him. Breathless, flushed, so so pretty. You’ve chosen to wear the sexiest set of blue lingerie.

“I’ve only ever loved you.” 

You have him - his Blue Eyes, his heart, and his soul.

He watches as the words soak into the air between you. As your eyes, glazed over and needy, hold his. God, he wants to kiss you again. There’s a slight pant to his voice, a shake as he exhales deeply.

“Let me be clear. I want you. Under me, screaming my name. I want you to beg for me as I fuck you. I want to taste you, run my tongue up your sweet cunt. I won’t let anyone else touch you. I’ll just kill every one of ‘em anyway. Even if you beg me to stop, I won’t. I’m not so generous. I never have been. So forget about all of them. I can’t let you be happy with someone else - even if you could do that for me. Even if you hate me for it - even if you hate me now for what I’ve done. It would kill me. It’s killing me now, Princess.” 

Droplets splatter across your cheek, he sees it before he can process the fact that those are his tears. 

“Can’t you just love me?”

And then there’s hope.

In that soft smile - the one only for him.

“You should have just said so from the beginning.” You say, before you capture his lips in another searing kiss.

Chapter Text

You thought you knew exactly how it would feel - you’ve watched a thousand love stories and felt a thousand more. Maybe it would be like a touch of magic - perfect and sweet and enchanting, like those rare moments when the moon perfectly covers the sun. Maybe it would be more like a myth - its truth lost to imaginations long past horizons. Maybe it would be somewhere in between - simple and buttoned-up, a natural next step and an equation that adds up just right. 

You’d steeled yourself to the nerves of what could be, eagerly awaiting his eyes.

None of it could have prepared you for his lips slotting to yours. 

It isn’t anything like the kiss you shared all those years ago. The Satoru then had been unreachable - one or two or ten steps ahead. He’d kissed you and a thousand questions had bloomed in your mind. 

Now…

Kissing him felt like the answer to everything.

The way he loses control, roughly slotting you around his waist. You can still taste the lingering remnants of cherry syrup as his tongue dances with yours. And as he begs - a sinful, depraved whine, as his hips thrust into you without inhibition - you know that there isn’t anything you wouldn’t give him. Though you suppose that hasn’t changed at all.

“Am I doing this right?” It slips out, stupidly, in that second where you both lean back for a breath.  You wanted to show him that you too could be what he wanted - flirty and sexy and alluring, like all the women that seemed to catch his gaze. Still, your fingertips numb as they slide up his chest.

Maybe he can sense the flutter in your chest. “Princess…” His forehead touches yours again, a sense of wonder in his voice, “Doing this right..?” He asks, miffed. “I’m hard just lookin’ at ya.”

You blush, tender under his doting stare, “I’ve never - I just want you to feel good -”

“I do.” He breathes, heavy. You feel the firmness of his length grow, thrusting slowly against your clothed core. It’s overwhelming, the pure want you feel for him and the want you see reflected back in his visage. “I’ve never felt anything like it, Princess.”

You kiss him, slowly, letting his love wash over you. Your whole body feels hot, heady, and all you can think of is him. So so pretty, so needy, and just for you. That thought guides your lips to his neck. He moans as you bite down roughly. 

“Careful, Princess, or I won’t be able to go easy on ya -”

“Don’t.” You mumble into his lips. “I can take it, Toru. I want to have all of you - just as you are.”

His hand suddenly trails up your thigh, shredding your underwear in an instant. “That’s right, isn’t it? You’re perfect for me. Made for me, aren’t ya? Mine ta fuck whenever I want. All mine - only mine.”

He pulls back, intake sharp, as his finger glides against your slick. You rock into him, desperate for more friction.

“T-Toru..” You whine, breathless, as you feel the curve of his finger. Your eyes shut and you bite your lip hard, fighting to hold back a moan. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck - you’re so warm, so wet. Such a tight little pussy.” He strains, reverent.

His fingers continue to slide slowly along your slit, teasingly, as he kisses down your neck. It’s sloppy and rough, the trail he makes down to your chest. His teeth latch onto your breast, sucking and nipping as your hips meet his fingers. 

“Tell me what you want.” He slurs.

“Inside, please Toru.” You respond without any hesitation. 

You both moan as he inserts his first finger. Blue eyes are blown wide and you feel the ripple of his cursed energy and you swear the space between you too starts to constrict. 

You whimper as he pumps his fingers into you, the sound of your slick filling the room. “You like that don’t ya, Princess? Like when I touch you. Fuck, look at you, makin’ such a mess.”

He’s absolutely shameless as he brings those same fingers into his mouth, tasting you. He makes a show of it, so unabashedly drinking you in. His tongue slides up his index finger, before he sucks on both the fingers, a low moan in the back of his throat. 

It drives you absolutely wild.

You reach for the button on his pants and he impatiently helps kick to the ground. You play with the band of his boxers next, ghosting along the top.

“Haaaa…” He breathes at the first slight glide of your hand across his bare cock. There’s no basis for your comparison, but even still, he’s so big. So achingly thick in your grasp, leaking at the tip. Your fingers wrap around him, stroking him in slow, languid movements. Your thumb drags along the tip, smearing his cum across it.

“Fuck, fuck!” He groans, collapsing into you more. 

It’s so thick in your hand and the thought of it inside of you makes your thighs clench tighter together. His hips thrust into your hand in tandem. 

“I won’t last if you keep that up.” He mutters, full of adoration. His lips capture yours in another brutal kiss, “I want the first to be inside you.”

“Me too.” 

Rough hands suddenly grab at your knees, spreading your legs apart. He looks wild, like any sanity has long abandoned him and all he can rely on is instinct. He lines himself up, the head of his cock catching on your entrance.

He kisses you once more, before pushing in.

“Y-youre so big.” You groan. The stretch of him burning through you.

You squeeze your eyes shut, the pain becoming too much as he inches forward.

“Relax, baby, I’ve got you.” He mutters, though it sounds as if he’s just as lost in the feeling. 

You let out a little whine.

He stills, lips peppering your cheeks softly. “Is it too much? I - I can stop -” He says, feverish, somehow bigger inside of you. 

Your crack your eyes open, watching the desperate way his own eyes stay rooted below. You follow his gaze to where you two are joined. His cock, barely even the head in, splitting you apart, mesmerized by the way your slick accepts him. How sopping wet you are, dripping into his bed sheets. 

Deep breath in, and you push your hips into his in response, taking him even further. 

He hisses out, one fist bunching at the sheets, while the other bruises harshly into your waist.

“Don’t you dare stop.” You command.

That’s all he needs before his hips stutter forward again. “Fuckkk, you feel so good. Yer so tight -”

Your head tips backward, moaning desperately. You feel so full. 

“I love you.” He repeats, as if the words are the only thing keeping him lucid. 

“I love you so much.” Again, he pushes in deeper.

“I love you more than you could possibly know.” He admits, a tremor running up his body as you take him.

Though you think he must be wrong. You mean to correct him, but the thought is lost when he bottoms out. 

You wrap your arms around his neck as he slowly, tenderly, pulls out only to thrust back in again. Your back arches as he fucks you in a pace you didn’t think someone like Satoru could possibly tolerate with his patience. His chatty, incoherent ramblings have long since dissolved into loud, unrestrained moans. 

“Toru…” You whisper, fingers digging into his shoulder as you cling to him. He must like the sound of his name on your tongue, because his hand harshly grips your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him with each thrust. His new angle pulls another moan out of you.

It’s too much. Everything is too much - you’ve never known this kind of pleasure before.

“You’re doing so well, Princess. So perfect.” You whimper, core tightening around his cock at his praise.

“F-fuck! You like that, Princess? Fuck, Im gunna -” He’s a mess as he crashes his lips to yours, hips rolling into yours. His other hand moves to your clit.

His thrusts grow erratic and he buries his face in your neck, “I want you to cum, baby. Cum for me, kay?”

You throw your head back, moaning loudly, as your orgasm takes you. It’s enough to send him over the edge as well, hips stuttering as he releases thick white streams into you. He thrusts into you a few more times, making sure his seed reaches as deep as possible. 

His forehead rests on yours as you both pant, letting the aftermath sink in. You love him like this. Sweat pooled at his brow, skin flushed, eyes only for you.

He looks at you, like the words that slip from your mouth must be gospel. 

“I love you.” You say.

“Again.” He demands quickly.

“I love you, Satoru Gojo.”

“Again.” He smiles.

“I love you, for as long as the earth turns and the wind blows.”

“Again.” He can’t help the purr at the edge of his voice.

You laugh, swinging yourself on top of him. “I love you, baakkaaaa~”

“Again.” He says, softer this time, as you slowly rub yourself against his still-hard cock. His fingers dig into the plush of your thighs, bruising. 

“I love you more than you could possibly know.” You admit, as you slide down onto him.

He blissfully watches as you ride him through another round. Though he’s impatient to have you underneath him again right after. 

You rouse, in the early morning, while he’s still deep in sleep. Maybe it’s the first deep sleep he’s had in a long time. You watch the rise and fall of his chest. The flutter of white flashes. He looks so innocent like this. 

You snuggle closer, kissing the tip of his nose, then the hollow of his cheek, then sucking lightly at the deep of his neck. 

“Ah!” You startle, as you’re suddenly flipped onto your back.

He kisses you sweetly, cock, already hard, pressed against your bare core. 

It isn’t gentle, it isn’t sweet, it isn’t anything soft. 

The way he fucks you at the break of dawn is brutal. His pace is unrelenting. 

“You’re mine, Princess.” He holds your gaze, fucking into you. His eyes still hold a little of that fog from slumber, one foot still in the land of dreams. 

“You’ve always been mine.” His pace quickens, as if staking that claim.

“Say it.” He grits out, pace stuttering.

“I’m yours.” You admit, breathless, meaning it with your whole heart. 

He groans, “F-fuck -” His seed spills into you, marketing its territory again.

He startles at your little flinch as he pulls out of you. He’s up before you can protest, “Did I hurt you? Shit, I -”

“No, I’m just sore.” You pull him in closer, kissing him softly on the lips, “I promise, kay?” You kiss him again. 

His cheeks heat again, nervous as he tucks a tendril of messy hair behind your ear.

The sheet falls from your shoulder and you mumble a heated, “One more time, Toruuu.”

That’s all the convincing he needs as he hoists you up, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Yeah, of course, just one more.” He smiles. “We’ll stop after one more.”

You laugh as he playfully nips at your cheek, “Exactly~” 

To his credit, he does manage to unlatch himself from you after one more round. He sets the bath - full of bubbles and scents and petals. It’s insanely excessive compared to the five minute speedrun shower he takes. He carries you into the tub with a quick kiss on the cheek before shutting the door. 

“Take your time~” He winks.

You giggle. “Haiiii~”

The hot water eases some of the newfound aches. You admire the marks across your breasts and up your thighs. 

You want him again. He’s all you can think of - the tone of his muscle, the roughness of his hands, and the girth of his cock pushing into you.

What am I even thinking?

You shimmy lower into the water, eyes closing. 

You breathe in deeply - you know this smell. Saccharine strawberries - the kind of smell that can only be manufactured, but still, it brings back memories. 11-years-old, when you and Satoru had filled the pool with thirty bottles of bubble bath fluid. It had been your idea - you’d saved up enough coins from odd favors to your classmates - and bought the entire shelf out at the market. 

One entire week of cleaning later, and there’s no way you’d ever forget this scent.

It had been worth it, of course, with every kid in the estate cannon-balling in at least ten times. 

Maybe it’s just a coincidence - not like it’s particularly hard to find. Some cheap convenience store brand that he picked up on a grocery run.

Yeah.

A coincidence.

Your eyes flicker to the neatly stacked towel and the slippers right beside it. The same ones you wore all throughout middle school. Plush blue fur in the shape of a seal, vibrant blue eyes. 

The more surprising thing is the matching pair, slightly larger, beside it. You can tell by the indent inside that they’re well-worn. 

The whole room feels like it’s been catered toward the two of you. A toothbrush beside his at the sink, his and hers robes, all your favorite skincare. 

Your heart aches. Has he been living like this the whole time? 

You slip on one of his loose shirts, sliding up a modest pair of panties underneath. 

The room smells divine - sweet and buttery, with Satoru’s humming carrying across the doorway. You lean into the door, eyes peeking out into the kitchen. His back, flexing, as he stirs something in the pan. Shirtless, of course, and simple gray sweats hung low around his hips. 

Satoru, who might be the opposite of domestic, looks strangely the part. It’s a simple scene - sleeping in late on the weekend and your lover flipping pancakes at the stove. Your hands come to your face, as you squash your face into it, a flurry of heat. 

Lover.

Is that what he is now?

A soft touch, his hand pulling your own from your face. 

“What are ya hiding here for?”

He brings those hands to his lips, kissing each finger.

“I wasn’t hiding.” You retaliate, skirting around him to the table, “I was admiring. When did you learn to cook?”

“I’ve always known.” He patters after you.

“You’ve never cooked. Not even toast. Or like, a hard-boiled egg.”

“That you’ve seen.” He snickers, hand at your back to usher you into the counter barstool. “Ta-daaaa!” he sings as you enter the kitchen. “Blueberry pancakes, extra crispy bacon, AND fresh OJ!” 

You giggle at the way he watches, tail-wagging and eyes bright.

You stab the first bite, “Toru, this is amazing. Aren’t you a man of many talents?”

You eye his plate, loaded with three giant swirls of whipped cream and a generous dollop of syrup dripping down the sides. 

He slips into the seat beside you, “Exactly. A perfectly curated breakfast platter. This could be every weekend, ya know? If ya stay here.”

You perk up between bites. “Stay here?”

“...” He buys some time digging into a healthy spoonful. “There’s four empty rooms - this place is huge, it would be helping us out. You know Suguru gets all scared at night, thinks it's haunted when he’s all alone. We even started piling random pillows in one room just so it wasn’t empty. And the landlord is really sexy, very generous, and has impeccable taste!”

“Ohhh? But Nami-kun already offered me his spare room while I look for my own place.” You say, chewing innocently on the bacon.

Satoru sucks in a sudden breath, “Hahahahahaha!! But that would be his spare room, ya know? If you move in here, you’d get to own the whole place! It’d be doing me a huge favor - taking it off my plate, honestly, there is such a thing as owning too many buildings!”

“Wow, what a difficult situation you are in.” You tease.

“I knoooooooowwwww~” He whines, “You said you’d always help me out, right? That’s what friends are for, right right right?”

“Buuut I already have plans to see two places today - it would be rude to cancel at the last minute.” You lie through a mouthful of pancake. 

He scoffs, “Plans? Today? With anyone but me?” He looks completely offended. “Do either of those places have a view like this -” He ushers wildly to the expansive, full-wall windows. A view probably worth a billion yen. 

“No, but it has a cute little skylight by the kitchen - a homey, cozy little vibe.”

“We have that here. Look at our little reading nook - and there’s even a succulent -”

You eye the two stories worth of books. “It’s hardly little - little is more like my old apartment -”

He rolls his eyes, not even attempting to hide his disdain, “That stupid apartment -”

“It wasn’t stupid!” You defend. “It had rustic charm - and it was really affordable.”

“THIS is affordable - it’s free! It will even make you money!”

“Satoru Gojo, are you that desperate for me to move in with you?” 

“Can’t you?” He asks, pouting. He leans toward you, finger sliding through wet tendrils. “I’ll dry your hair whenever ya need.” His other hand grabs the leg of your stool, pulling you in closer, “I’ll even throw a kiss in every day.” He kisses you sweetly.

“Just a kiss?” It’s you who slips your tongue in, a little nip at his lip. 

“Watch it, Princess.” He huffs, a shiver up his whole frame, leaning in for another deep kiss. “Is that a yes?” He whispers into your lips.

You smile into the kiss, “Four empty rooms, Toru? Really? I can’t help with any of that since I’ll be moving straight into yours.”

He’s silent.

“Is that too soon?” You ask, smile dropping.

“- No.” He huffs, “No, it’s not. I - I moved in all your stuff already.” He admits. “And there’s tons of new clothes in the closet. And the place is already in your name -”

You throw your head back, laughing. “Is that all? Any more surprises?”

“I -” He stills, before bursting out of his seat. He grabs a giant stack of paper from the cabinet, along with a passport. “I had your passport renewed - you’ll be needing it.”

“Oh! Thank you, I was planning to get to that this week. Though it is your fault for my first one going missing in the first place.” You smirk.

“How did you - no, nevermind, of course you knew.” 

“I don’t need Six Eyes to see what you’re up to, Toru~”

“Of course you don’t.” He leans in, kissing you again. “Then it’s settled, you live here now. With me.”

The stack of papers he drops onto the counter, one simple line written across it: “Jujutsu - Reform”. It seems awfully important. You’ll get to it soon, today for sure.

After you’re done watching the vein in his arm as he thrusts against you, pushing your back against the wall.