Chapter Text
Soulmates in a world of changing sorcery, where life flickers and dances like fire, are rare. At least that’s what you would like to think as your fingers trail over the name etched into the back of your neck just along the bottom of your nape.
Geto Suguru - the kanji reads like magma rolling off your tongue. The cursed energy running through your body instinctively sends you into a frenzy and before you have a chance to swamp it you find yourself dunking your head further into the bathtub.
You hope when you resurface that the name would wash off, run down the drain with the rest of the grime on your body, give you the relief you so desperately craved. For good measure, you stay submerged until your lungs are searing and your ribcage is aching for air.
You gasp and rake in as much oxygen as you can before your hands scramble back to the spot on the back of your neck only to audibly huff when the pads of your fingertips dip back into the indents.
The bubble bath you sit in runs chillingly cold by the time you decide to drain it. The longer you think about the name the more anxious you get. More than anything you want to have a happy ending.
But fate is cruel, and the soulmate mark bestowed onto you was like the universe making a mockery of this.
Bending over the edge of the tub to watch the last bit of water drain, a small curse crawls up from the depths of the pipes. You swallow the sickness rising in your throat as it scurries past you into the darkness of your home.
___________________________
This must be some sort of sick joke, thinks Geto Suguru as he stares into the mirror with his hair pulled back to reveal the flat space connecting his neck to his collarbone. He leans in a little closer to look at the name - one that he’s never seen before - on his skin as if it was chiseled into it.
Gojo stands in the doorway with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face and Geto has half a mind to turn around and knock him out right then and there.
“Wow,” Gojo wolf-whistles quietly with his eyebrows raised. “Soulmate, huh?”
“Fuck off,” Geto bites back. “It’s probably a mistake.”
“A mistake?” Gojo pushes himself off the doorframe with an incredulous stare, “Yeah ‘cause the universe just does that sometimes! You know the planets must be aligned wrong or something,” he pesters sassily, pushing Geto to the side to stare at their reflections in the mirror. “Don’t be stupid,” the boy finishes.
“Don’t you have someone else to bother?” Geto hisses before shoving Gojo away roughly. The other sorcerer raises his hands defensively with a chuckle.
“I’m just messing around!” he adjusts his glasses, “What’s the mark say?”
Geto sighs irritably with a glare through the reflection before leaning back in slowly. His fingers run across the name again. His heartbeat pulses intensely the longer he stares, settling at the bottom of his legs and drumming heavily in the pit of his stomach. “(L/n)… (L/n) (F/n)...” he works out the kanji slowly.
“Any ideas who that could be?”
Geto grumbles. “Even if I did, who would go out of their way to meet their soulmate in our line of work?” He pulls back from the sink and turns to his smirking friend. The smug look quickly drops and the room feels suffocatingly serious with that mention.
“I guess so,” the white haired boy sighs and leans back against the bathroom wall with his arms crossed over his chest. “But you're not the least bit curious? I mean it’s like… super rare for Jujutsu Sorcerers to get soulmate marks since…” he trails off uncomfortably at the end.
Geto swallows thickly. Sure he would love to meet his soulmate, maybe test the universe and experience a soulmate for himself rather than just hearing it from people outside of school and work.
But he isn’t so naive.
___________________________
It’s late December when you get a letter confirming an interview to the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical School. And the anniversary of receiving your soulmate mark.
The snow in the countryside is constant this year, blanketing the crops and barn houses which sustained you and your neighbors all autumn. Even without the frost, yields were low this year and your family was struggling to keep up with the mortgage.
With a promise to find a solution, you hastily scour for anything that would pay through connections in the village. An old woman, one covered in wounds from a long time ago, smiles at you warmly before showing you old photographs of her and her friends in Tokyo.
The location in the photos is beautiful even in black and white, monochrome shades which accentuate their youthful faces. “This was our first day of enrollment,” the woman said. “I went there with two of the other girls from this village. I was the only one who came back.”
She goes through the album, showing you pictures of her with an assortment of weapons, photos of determination and hope. Still, the way the number of people dwindles in each successive picture fills you with dread. You can’t imagine growing with people one day and losing them the next.
“But that’s life,” the old woman smiles, crows feet wrinkles creasing at her eyes. “You lose people you love. You love people who you know you’ll lose. There’s no changing that.” Her wrinkled hands take yours. “The world needs people like me, and like you. Your gift can save lives,” she squeezes your hands tenderly. “So please think about it.”
You hike through the blizzarding snow to the highest shrine in the village before leaving for Tokyo. You pray, and pray, and pray that you don’t meet your soulmate.
___________________________
Yaga slams his book on the front desk when Geto and Gojo start bickering again. The loud noise resonates through the small classroom and the three students in front of him jump in surprise. Shoko, who was recording, hastily shoves her flip phone back into her uniform pocket.
“I want you on your best behaviour today. We just accepted a new student into the year below you three and you will be in charge of showing her around today.”
The trio blinks in unison before bursting out into laughter. Gojo kicks his feet up onto his desk and leans back until his chair is tipping. “Why doesn't one of the senseis show her around? It shouldn’t be the students doing your jobs.”
Yaga sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose at his insubordinate students. “As you know,” he begins with an irritated tone, “most of our other teachers are doing work outside of Tokyo today and a few are overseas supervising the third years who are surveilling the Americas.”
“Why don’t you do it then?” Shoko leans into her palm boredly.
“I have a mountain of paperwork to get through tonight regarding her funding and her family,” he gestures to the stack of papers beside him to emphasize. “So please, for once, be good.”
“Fine, fine, guess we won’t get to enjoy our Friday night,” Gojo drones sarcastically. “So when and where are we supposed to meet her?”
“The student you’ll be meeting should be here around 6:30pm depending on train delays from the snow. Her name is (L/n) (F/n) in case you can’t find her.”
___________________________
(“Hey, isn’t that the name of your soulma-”
“If you don’t stop talking in about 2 seconds I’m gonna unleash a curse on you in your sleep.”
“Wha-! Geto has a soulmate? Show me the mark!”
“Please just leave this alone-”
“So much for avoiding the whole soulmate thing, huh?”
“I will kill you.”)
___________________________
Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical School is nice, you think. The architecture is nice. The sensei is nice. The flora that has been meticulously kept is nice. Geto Suguru is nice, too, but you don’t bother saying anything when he introduces himself.
There’s a strong tug in your chest when he says hello at the train station, when he smiles and shakes your hand politely, when he gives it a tiny squeeze. You have an idea that he knows who you are but keeps it to himself. You swallow down the words that are trying to leap out of your throat and remember who you are, where you are, what you’ll be doing, and you understand why someone would want to stay quiet about things.
“(L/n)-san, right?” He takes your luggage like a gentleman and judging by the way the two people behind him have bulging stares, you can tell that he isn’t usually so polite.
“The honorifics feel so formal, you can just call me by my first name,” you laugh softly. Gojo and Shoko - the two other people who have said hello, test out your name and seem pleased.
Gojo swings his arm around your shoulder and gives Geto a victorious and challenging grin. “Well it’s nice to meet’cha, (F/n)!”
Geto glares daggers into his friend before lightly tugging him back. “Ever heard of personal space?”
You swoon over the protective gesture before shaking it away and waving your hand dismissively. “It’s no problem!” You reassure and Gojo instantly springs back to life.
Shoko, who was quietly waiting behind the two boys, pushes through them and takes your hands. You blink in confusion before she weeps tears of joy. “You have no clue how lucky I am that you’re here. I’ve been surrounded by idiots for so long without another woman!” She cries before engulfing you in a friendly hug.
You’re taken aback before you start to laugh. Shoko smells like cigarettes - she must smoke - and expensive perfume. You were not aware that it would be mostly boys, and knowing that Shoko would be around gave you some much needed relaxation.
___________________________
There are two other boys in your year, with you rounding it out to 3 people in total. Classes and training are brutal, taking toll after toll on your body and mental health, but you manage to stick it out until spring break.
Nanami Kento, who is around much more often than Yu Haibara, reluctantly befriends you despite his closeted personality. You wonder how it all happened so fast; between the shared bento boxes and vending machine breaks and copying each other’s homework, it all felt so natural.
The snow melts and the sun starts to beat down again by the time you show Nanami the name permanently grafted into your skin, and needless to say he is shocked.
You see Geto around sometimes, mostly when you pass his classroom when you head back to the dorms at noon or when the first years train with the second years. The third years are advanced enough that they can be sent away to do their own work, thus leaving the underclassmen to sort things out on their own on campus.
Geto is… different from when he introduced himself, to say the least. He’s much snarkier, and smirks more than smiles when he’s with his friends.
But to you, he smiles. Always smiling, always friendly. Nanami makes note of this and stays at least ten feet away from you whenever you make conversation with your soulmate.
He makes sure to tease you about it whenever you’re alone, because he’s your best friend and it’s his duty to even if he’s usually so reserved. You smack him upside the head when he brings it up while you’re showing him how to slick his hair back with gel.
___________________________
Geto notices that he’s often alone with you, and he doesn’t like it.
He doesn’t like being reminded that he’s talking to his soulmate. He doesn’t like seeing you so worn down compared to when you first met. He doesn’t like seeing you open up to the only guy who’s not out for work in your grade. He blames it all on the mark - the stupid, stupid mark - that feels like its burning whenever you’re around.
Maybe he is a little naive after all.
Geto sneaks out of his dorm one night even though training has been scheduled early the next morning and makes a beeline toward the garden. He needs to clear his head more than anything. The more he’s gotten to know you, the more distracted he’s been.
He figuratively curses the universe when he arrives to see you crouched down in front of the bushes of azalea blooming now that the snow is gone. Geto is halfway through the motion of turning on his heel and bolting away when his worst nightmare comes true --
“Oh, Suguru-san?” You call out softly. He debates whether or not he should pretend he didn’t hear you and keep walking, and against his better judgement turns back around and tries to smile.
“Hey,” he responds lamely.
“What’re you doing out here? Don’t the second years have training tomorrow?”
His heart does a double leap when you stare at him inquisitively in the distance, eyes wide and face bright against the moonlight. There’s something so distinctly beautiful he finds about you, but he can’t think of the words to describe it.
“Yeah, but I felt like going on a walk tonight,” he pauses to chew lightly on his tongue, and before he can stop the words - “do you want to come with me?”
He watches your eyes widen a little before you spring up in excitement. “Sure!” You grin at him and rush over to his side. There are little things about you that warm his heart; the bounce in your step as you walk by his side, the way you lightly bump your shoulder into his arm whenever he says something a little vulgar, that flitter in your tone when you talk about something you love.
You tell him lots of things, about your home and your childhood and the old granny who gave you a letter of recommendation. About her album and all the little stories hidden within those polaroids. About the rice fields you grew up tending and the hot summers filled with cicadas and your guardian coming home with ice cream whenever they went out to the grocery which was miles away. And he listens, sometimes gives input and shines a little light on the more serious topics.
(“Man, she sent you here so that I have to put up with you.”
“Rude,” You bump into him playfully.
“I’m kidding,” he lies through his teeth with a breathy laugh.)
Geto is almost achingly aware of the throbbing against his collarbone, thrumming and increasing in rhythm like a concert at its peak. He decides to do his best to ignore the call, the little devil sitting in the space just under his neck, and try to focus on whatever you’re talking about.
“I’m glad I’m here, y’know?” you stop in your tracks. “I’m happy that I could help my family. And I’m happy that one day I can use this gift I was born with to help others.”
The boy just blinks back at you. He gulps hard, adam's apple bobbing at the action, as he chews on your words. He mulls it over gazing into the innocence in your eyes. You’ve barely tasted despair and he knows it; the most the school lets new students exorcise is grade 3 curses or higher.
Suddenly Geto’s stomach is churning. The sins of humans swirl in his body, rushes through his veins, and he’s reminded that he is a curse user. Someone so tainted as him would never be able to live a long, happy life. There’s something tragic about it that makes his mouth go dry.
You anxiously wait for him to respond when he stops in front of you in silence, worried that you may have struck a sensitive topic. “Oh, I’m sorry if that came off as insensitive. I know that this work isn’t easy and that sometimes things have to be done that no normal human would ever want to-”
“It’s okay,” he turns to you with a gentle smile, and you feel yourself melting all over again. A smile so genuine, so reassuring, only for your eyes. “I know you didn’t mean it that way. You’re a good person,” he reaches out against his better judgment and gives the top of your head a soft pat.
The simple gesture whips up a hurricane of butterflies in your stomach. His palm stays on your head for longer than he means for it to, and he awkwardly pulls back and clears his throat. “So,” he gestures for you to continue walking, “I heard you passed your cursed objects test last week.”
As he talks, you stare up at the stars on this clear, warm spring night. You thank the Gods that they didn’t listen to your prayers, because you’re pretty sure there is nowhere in the universe that you would rather be. And perhaps the stars determined that long before you were born.
___________________________
You see Geto around a lot more frequently after that night. Stolen glances and shared smiles through classroom doors is all that fills your mind for the next few weeks. Spending evenings together walking around the campus and chatting about daily events becomes the norm for you.
Eventually you muster up enough courage to start taking his hand while walking side by side, and he doesn’t complain.
It’s late summer by the time Nanami shows up at your dorm one morning with fresh lemon poppyseed cake from the bakery he loves. He shoves you in the direction of the upper year classrooms.
When you show up at Geto’s morning class, no one is surprised that you have a gift for him. He thanks you, hands lingering on yours when he takes the tray, and gives you that smile that you’re sure was handcrafted for your very existence.
It’s the last time you see him or that smile for a long time.
___________________________
(“Nanami? Where is Suguru? Satoru?”
“They were both badly injured. But the news from Shoko-san is that they’ll live.”
“Oh… I see.”
You try to ignore the emptiness that seems to swallow up your chest, the familiar searing feeling at the nape of your neck, and the tears that won’t stop streaming down your face.)
___________________________
When the boys fully recover neither is the same.
You spend your days in the morgue with Shoko studying human and curse anatomy, slicing up whatever the school provided for the day. Nanami gets promoted to a grade 2 sorcerer and is sent away more often on missions by himself, leaving you to wallow on your own in your dorm.
You mindlessly tap out a message to your family letting them know you’re safe before tossing your phone to the end of your bed and covering your eyes with your arms. You, Nanami and Yu all graduate from first to second years and the workload has suddenly doubled.
The aching muscles all over your body nearly glue you to the bed. Flipping over onto your stomach, you find your fingers instinctively reaching up to brush along your soulmate mark. With your busier schedule you hardly have time to think about love, and soulmates, and Geto Suguru. You miss him - the old him, when he used to smile more.
He’s quieter now. More reserved. His righteousness and passion were extinguishing and it was agonizing to watch someone you cared about wither away.
You think it’s for the best; you came to Tokyo to be a jujutsu sorcerer and without any intentions of finding your soulmate in the first place. In the end you deduce it’s more important to work with the gift you were given rather than sink into a depression because a boy you like hasn’t talked to you in weeks.
There’s a knock at your dorm door, and as soon as you call out, “come in,” regret floods your system. Geto stands in your doorway in all his glory, shoulders slouched and a tiredness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. The universe just loves to have its way with me, you think bitterly.
He slowly walks into your room, with some kind of timidness, and for a moment your tense body relaxes. “Hey,” you say quietly. It’s awkward to have him here in your room. You haven’t been keeping up with cleaning, partly because of your schedule and partly because of your energy shortage.
He doesn’t respond. Just quietly regards you with a deep stare, as if he’s searching for something in your soul. Your heart screams silently to get up and rush into his arms but your body is like lead in water. Watching you stare up at him expectantly, Geto swallows down the words jamming in his throat and takes a seat on the edge of your bed.
“Hey,” he finally says. He is a little embarrassed to be showing up here unannounced, especially since you haven’t talked in a long time. He brushes a long strand of hair out of his eyes before finally matching your curious gaze.
“Is something wrong?” The simple question spurs something violent in Geto’s stomach. No, he wants to say. Nothing has felt right in weeks. But like they always do lately, the words dam up at the back of his mouth and pool under his tongue until he can’t breathe. “Suguru-san?”
“Yes,” he finally manages, “I just… needed to see you.”
His admission makes your heart flip. It had been a while since you fantasized about being with him, let alone have the chance to talk to him. You slowly inch toward him until your knees press against his thigh and take his hand into yours. He gives it a little squeeze in return.
It was a little more than a month ago since you last held his hand yet it all feels so nostalgic - memories so far away and out of reach. What once replayed as bright and clear nights felt muddy in your mind nowadays. Of course you had heard about what happened with Riko Amanai, the failed mission and lost hope. Of the applause and elders who gathered to celebrate the death of the Star Plasma Vessel.
Geto is thankful you don’t bring it up.
“Stay as long as you’d like,” you run your thumb along the top of his hand as if you need to remind him that you are real, and there, and with him. “Please.”
The man just nods. After the whole incident he had locked himself away for a few days following his recovery. Everything felt so dark and lonely, and watching you tiredly hurrying across the campus every day was making him feel even worse.
Most nights were spent thinking of you - he liked to remember those peaceful nights with you by his side surrounded by the summer cicadas and warm breeze.
Geto is snapped out of his thoughts when you fall forward and gently bury your nose into the crook of his neck. Your breath runs over the mark where your name is engraved into his skin and he shudders.
“I missed you,” your mouth moves across his skin as you speak. Wordlessly, he presses his lips to your temple.
It’s the first time that Geto ever considers that he might genuinely like you, that he fancies the idea or giving into his soulmate mark, that he might even love you. But then he feels that familiar sickness in his stomach, of cursed energy running through his veins, and reminds himself that you were never his to keep.
So he stays silent, opts for giving your hand another gentle squeeze, and cries into your shoulder. You don’t say anything after he’s finished, only regarding him with a reassuring smile.
Suddenly he wishes he had his phone on him so he could capture that smile on your face forever.
___________________________
There is something therapeutic about being near you again. Oftentimes Geto finds himself sneaking into your dorm at night where the two of you sit and talk until the sun starts rising. Other times he finds you sound asleep in his arms, soft snores reminding him that you are there, and alive.
Some days he feels like things are finally starting to go back to normal and others he’s hunched over his toilet with black bile dripping from his tongue. Each day is different from the last, he notices. Even with Gojo there seems to be a great divide that was never there before.
The moniker “the strongest” didn’t really suit him anymore, he thinks. Not because he lacked in physical ability, but because his passion was growing weaker and weaker with each passing moment.
He snaps out of his reverie when you place your hands on his cheeks and press a chaste kiss on the corner of his lips.
For a brief moment, Geto Suguru believes that everything will be alright.