Archive of Our Own ^beta

There were a lot of things Nanami hated. Working extra hours. Not getting enough sleep. Slow drivers. Tepid coffee. Loud, obnoxious voices. The list could have gone on, but all five of those things had converged into one hellish morning. A phone call from Yaga when the sun hadn’t even risen yet on his day off had dragged him from bed and to the school. Gojo had been there when he arrived, far too chipper for the time of day. The only coffee left in the pot had cooled, as if made hours earlier, probably left over from the previous day with his luck, when he had managed to get to the kitchen after the debrief with Yaga, which ended with a quick apology for calling him in, but that Gojo himself had asked for Nanami. To make matters worse, Ijichi had decided to drive under the speed limit for half the trip, blaming the unfamiliar roads, but the glances he kept shooting Gojo in the back seat made Nanami’s mood worsen since the slow driving must’ve been his fault. And of course, the white-haired man would never apologize.

His eye twitched as Gojo chattered on in the back seat of the car. He’d been nursing a headache ever since he woke up and had decided to sit in the passenger seat in a vain attempt to get some space from the white-haired man.

“And then, get this, she had only been asking for directions to the station!” Gojo laughed, completely ignoring Nanami’s obvious annoyance. “We got in formation B for nothing! But at least it wasn’t formation A.” He shuddered dramatically. “That wouldn't have been good.”

Nanami rubbed his temples. “Did you insist on my presence simply so that you could tell me that?”

Gojo pouted. “I thought it might be nice to spend some time together. It's been a while, Nanami, and I thought it could be fun.”

“What about this situation seems fun? We’re going to fight a curse, and I’m stuck in the car with you.” Nanami couldn’t help the disgust in his voice. “There are more important things I could be doing than babysitting you, because who even knows why you wanted me here. Are you bored? Is that why? You want me to see the strongest in action so you can brag about it?"

The silence in the back seat was almost enough for Nanami to turn around before Gojo broke it.

“Ah, you got me.” Gojo’s voice was still just as overly cheerful as before. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it quickly so you can go back to sleep. Maybe this time you’ll wake up on the right side of the bed.”

Nanami crossed his arms, staring out the window, and ignoring how the strain in Gojo's voice became clearer as his words played over in his head.

The rest of the drive passed quickly, Ijichi leaving them at the edge of the abandoned hospital. Gojo gave the assistant a faint nod as they walked away from the car, and Ijichi raised a veil. Under the tinted darkness of the veil, the silence felt stifling, sinking into his bones.

“Two grade ones and an undetermined, so most likely a special grade.” Nanami rolled up his sleeves as they neared the entrance, finding himself trying to break the quiet. “I’ll leave the special grade to you. I’ll keep the grade ones out of your fight.”

Gojo tucked his hands into his pockets, bouncing on the balls of his feet lightly. “No need to be considerate, Nanami. I can take them all.”

“The plan is you take the special grade, I’ll take the grade ones.” Nanami's voice left no room for negotiation. “You dragged me here, so I’m going to be a part of the fight.”

“Fine, fine, if you insist." Gojo’s voice was light, teasing as he took the lead, walking into the hospital. “Try not to get too distracted watching my fight.”

Nanami massaged his temples, no end to the headache in sight.

He followed Gojo through the halls as the white-haired sorcerer traced the curses’ energies to their source. He'd never admit it, but the white-haired sorcerer’s humming was a somewhat welcome break to the oppressive silence of the hospital. Glancing around, it was easy to believe that high-grade curses resided here. The faint greenish glow of emergency lighting. Doors hanging off hinges, exposing dark openings to cramped patient rooms. Nurses’ stations that still had papers scattered over them. As they made their way deeper into the hospital, the despair became almost palpable. An open operating room with blood still staining the table and floor.

It was the stopping of Gojo’s humming that brought Nanami to an immediate halt, head jerking towards the other man.

“Yours are in there.” The older sorcerer gestured towards the end of the door at the end of the hall with his chin. “Keep your guard up, they’re strong.”

Nanami pulled his cleaver from its strap, flexing his fingers against the handle. “And the special grade?”

Gojo tilted his head, almost like he was listening rather than looking. “It’ll be around soon. I’ll make sure it doesn't interrupt you.”

Nanami gave the other sorcerer a hard look. “Do you not even know where it is?"

The white-haired sorcerer looked at Nanami for the first time since entering the hospital. “Don’t be scared, Nanami, I’ve done this before. It’s on the upper levels. As soon as your fight starts, it’ll draw it down here, and I don’t feel like taking the stairs if I don’t have to.”

“You don’t feel like taking the stairs?” Nanami blinked in disbelief. “A special grade curse, and you just don’t feel like taking the stairs.”

Gojo tucked his hands deeper into his pockets and shrugged.

Nanami fought to control his annoyance. It was never a good idea to go into a fight distracted. He turned on his heel, leaving the other sorcerer in the hall. An urge he couldn’t quite explain made him glance back over his shoulder before opening the door. Gojo still stood in the middle of the hall, posture rigid, head still tilted to the side.

As soon as Nanami was through the door, it immediately swung closed behind him. It was locked when he tried to open it, seemed like Gojo or the special grade interrupting wouldn’t be a problem right now anyway. He turned his focus to the large operating room he had entered. Medical tools were scattered around the floor. A sheet hung off the side of the table. Somewhere, a clock was ticking. Nanami’s forehead creased. The only clock in the room was shattered.

He dove to the side just in time to avoid a blow from a curse. It had three arms, three times as many eyes, and a mouth that was more of an open wound. Its skin all but dripped off, the smell of necrosis thick in the air.

“Time of death?” A voice like gargling marbles had Nanami pushing himself to his feet quickly.

His skin prickled. There was definitely another curse lurking in the shadows, but he couldn’t afford to look away from the curse in front of him. The curse swiped at him again, knife-like claws whistling in the air. Nanami dodged, lining up a hit with his cleaver. The curse wailed as the sorcerer cut its arm from its body, flailing as it fell back into the darker corners of the room. Fighting back a gag at the stench coming from the curse's blood that splattered around the room, Nanami was careful to keep the curse in his line of sight. A huge bang somewhere else in the hospital had both jerking their heads towards the door to the room. Nanami recovered first, taking a step to capitalize on the curse's distraction. In the small moment of shifting weight from one foot to the other, the other grade one struck. It barreled into Nanami’s side, using his lack of stability against him. Nanami hit the wall with a crunch, pain immediately lighting up his arm, his cleaver falling from his grasp as his hand spasmed, unable to hold on. The blond sorcerer scrambled to his feet, vision swimming as he clutched his arm close to his side.

Another explosion sounded in the distance. The two curses stood side by side. The one that had hit him was shorter than the first, but wider, built more like a brick wall than a corpse. It exposed rotting teeth. “Scalpel.”

Nanami was forced to stumble back as the corpse-like curse swung its claws at him again, breath sticking in his throat as something in his injured arm caught during his movement. The shorter curse ran at him again, it took all his focus just to manage to get the operating table between them. He struggled to catch his breath, trying to plan his next move as the explosions got louder. His cleaver was abandoned on the other side of the room, still where he had dropped it. The two curses were on the other side of the operating table and didn't seem like they were in a hurry to move. The reason was revealed a moment later when something wrapped around Nanami's ankle, dragging him to the floor. On reflex, he stuck his arms out to break his fall, but as soon as his weight hit his broken arm, it buckled, sending him to the ground. His vision whited out, the buzzing in his ears muffling all sound. He blinked rapidly, he needed to be able to see. The severed arm of the first curse had wrapped its hand around his ankle, nails digging into his skin. His head jerked back up as the curses stopped in front of him.

Nanami's blood ran cold as the first curse wrapped a hand around his neck, hauling him up until his feet barely brushed the floor, rancid breath in his face. “Time of death?"

Before the curse could tighten its hold, the far wall was blown in. Debris exploded into the room, chunks of the wall and concrete dust filling the room. If he’d been able to breathe better, Nanami would have released a relieved breath. This is the kind of entrance Gojo would make. But as his vision cleared, there was no smug bastard of a sorcerer standing amidst the destruction. Just another curse. Bigger and uglier than the other two. Half of its body decayed, head at an unnatural angle, milky white eyes. But no cocky sorcerer. Nanami's position, still being held by the throat, was precarious, but the panic that was rising now had to do with Gojo.

The hand tightened. Nanami's eyes widened. He clawed at the hand with his good arm, his broken arm limp and useless at his side. A familiar cursed energy rose, smothering that of the two curses that he had been fighting. A red flash obliterated the two curses. Nanami dropped into a heap on the floor, throat burning, arm sending waves of pain into his shoulder. His head whipped around to where the red flash had come from. There was the missing sorcerer, a crumbled heap, clothing coated in dust and blood. His head was up, shaking arm still raised, hair more red than white, creating trails down his face. The blindfold was gone, and his eyes were dull, the glow of cursed energy missing.

Gojo's eyes darted towards the cleaver, then back to Nanami, then to the remaining special grade curse that was stalking towards them. Nanami spared a glance at the curse, its focus firmly on Gojo. Nanami inched his way across the floor, pain in his ankle making it difficult to push his way across, until he was able to close his hand around the cleaver handle. He used the wall for support as he stood, moving behind the curse. Gojo was focused on the curse as it neared him. The only sound was the curse's feet dragging on the floor. Gojo spared Nanami a glance over the curse’s shoulder. The curse swiped down at Gojo at the same time the sorcerer released a red, forcing it back and into Nanami's range. The swing was clumsy but landed cleanly, severing the curse's legs.

“Move!” The yell ripped from Gojo's throat.

Nanami dove to the side, pain be damned, as a flash of purple filled the room. A screech filled the room, and then nothing. Cement still crumbled, and the building creaked its protest to the destruction. But it was blissfully free of the sound of curses. Nanami grabbed the edge of the operating table, forcing himself to his feet. Stumbling, he made it to the other sorcerer. Gojo's head was down, arm on the ground now still outstretched. He half knelt, half collapsed next to the older sorcerer and put his uninjured hand on his shoulder. Gojo was shaking, breath rattling in his chest.

“I’m going to turn you.” Nanami winced as his voice rasped through his damaged throat.

When Gojo didn't protest, he slid his arm under the other sorcerer, flipping him onto his back as gently as he could manage. He breathed out a curse as he saw the damage. Gojo had three jagged slashes down his face caused by the curse’s final swipe. It was most likely only due to the red that he had released that the damage to his face wasn’t worse, hadn't taken an eye. Nanami bit back the bile that rose in his throat at the thought of how close Gojo had come to losing part of his technique. He dragged his eyes away from his face and took note of the other injuries. Gojo's arm was twisted, his shoulder out of place, his leg looked just as shredded as his pant leg, and there was blood all over the torso of his jacket, which probably meant damage there too. His eyes were inadvertently drawn back up to his face, the red dyeing the white.

Gojo's eyes fluttered open, the blue daker, duller. “You look like shit.”

Nanami nearly sobbed in relief, but buried it, he still had to get them out. “You look worse.”

“You sound like shit." Gojo's eyes started drifting.

Nanami couldn’t disagree there. Talking hurt, but he needed Gojo to stay awake, he didn’t have the strength to carry him. The younger sorcerer shivered, he wanted to get out of this room that had almost killed them both. “Gojo, I need you to help me get you up.”

Gojo didn't say anything, but he shifted as much as he could so that Nanami could get his arm around him and help haul him to his feet. They swayed together for a moment, trying to catch their breath.

Nanami tightened his hold on the other sorcerer's waist as he slumped against him. “You have to stay with me until we’re out.”

Gojo's chin tipped down against his chest. “Just getting some beauty sleep.”

“Wake up.” The demand was accompanied by jostling him awake.

The broken noise that came from Gojo was one that Nanami never wanted to hear again. Even when his face had been cut during the fight, Gojo had never made a sound, but now, half draped on Nanami, the strongest whimpered as his body was moved.

“I'm sorry,” Nanami breathed, eyes wide.

“Let's ju-just go.” Gojo’s voice shook with the effort of holding himself together.

The walk back to the front of the hospital was arduous. Nanami insisted on stopping periodically, his own body aching but painfully aware of how close to unconsciousness Gojo was and terrified that if he did slip into unconsciousness, he'd never wake back up.

“Nanami?” Gojo's voice was faint.

The first words the other sorcerer had spoken since they left the operating almost caused Nanami to lose his hold, but he recovered quickly, relieved to hear his voice. “Yes?”

“Are you ok? It‘s my fault you’re here.” Gojo's words slurred as more of his weight fell onto the other man.

“I’ll be ok when you tell me you’re ok.” He couldn’t be sure if his voice shook from the pain in his throat and from Gojo's weight on his aching body or from the emotions trapped in his chest.

“Did you know this would happen? That's why you asked for me?”

“ ‘m tired, ‘nami.” The white-haired man mumbled. “I asked 'cause ‘m tired.”

Nanami blinked a few times as everything clicked into perspective. Gojo, who had already been at the school before he arrived. The cold coffee that had been made hours earlier, probably by Gojo, trying to stay awake. Gojo asking for his assistance, Gojo never asked for anyone to accompany him on his own missions, his only team-ups occurring when he tagged along on others’ missions. The way Ijichi had been almost stalling for time on the drive, as if to give Gojo more time to rest. The look the two had shared before putting up the veil. Gojo rarely put up veils, unless this time he wasn't sure of himself and didn’t want anyone to see what happened. All the signs point to Gojo needing help and not even knowing how to ask for it. And Nanami had been blind to all of it because he had been annoyed to be woken up early.

“Gojo?” Nanami’s voice was soft, or as soft as it could be, feeling like he'd gargled glass.

The other sorcerer hummed in response.

“I can help you. Don't let it get this bad.” Nanami wasn't one to beg, he wasn't one to plead, but the ache in his chest wasn’t from the pain in his arm. He needed Gojo to understand with a frantic desire that twisted in his chest. “You can take a break, you just have to tell me it hurts.”

“ ‘m the strongest, don't need help.” Gojo's voice was distant despite being right next to Nanami's ear. "Can't get help."

"You'll die if you keep pushing like this. I won't let you.” Nanami's throat tightened even more, desperation sitting heavily under his ribs.

" 'ats ok, least 'm useful 'til the end." There was no emotion in Gojo's voice, just a dullness that matched his eyes. " 'm supposed to be useful."

Nanami's voice cracked, shattered with emotions and from talking when he shouldn't with a damaged throat, as he tightened his hold on the white-haired sorcerer. “Just ask. I’ll be there. Please.”

Gojo only hummed, a faint acknowledgment of the request as they neared the entrance, morning light catching the dust floating through the air.

There were a lot of things Nanami hated. Working extra hours. Not getting enough sleep. Slow drivers. Tepid coffee. However, when he fumbled for his phone, the ringtone blaring as he squinted at the caller ID, loud, obnoxious voices were not on that list. He answered the phone right away.

“Gojo?” Nanami’s voice was thick with sleep.

“I thought it might be fun to fight a curse together." Gojo’s voice on the other end of the line was far too chipper for this early in the morning.

Nanami rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “I’m on my way."

The line was quiet for a moment. Nanami braved the brightness of his screen to see if the call had been ended. It hadn't.

A voice so quiet it almost got lost in his still half-asleep mind whispered. “Thanks.” Before the call disconnected.

Nanami absent-mindedly rubbed his neck. The bruises had faded, all that remained was the memory, the flash of fear, and the promise to be there.