Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You were never the type of child to have long term friendships.

It must be because of your inability to keep secrets. The will to express yourself, to say what you think and see. Especially what you see.

As long as you can remember, there have always been... things, around you. Monsters, horrible creatures that a child's mind shouldn't be able to simply imagine.

It is this inability to remain silent about the things you see that makes everyone turn away from you. The rumors say that you're a witch. The rumors say that you're crazy. That you see things, a total lunatic! Or that you like to lie for attention, where are this child's parents?

"Playing with her scares me."

Fear is a feeling of wich you are very familiar with. The chilling feeling of always being observed. Always being followed. A deep feeling of loneliness, with no one by your side to at least try and understand, but never truly alone, because in some corner there will always be one of those things.

Your parents always waited for you to grow out of this "imaginary friends" phase. But you would never describe those things as friends, nor as imaginary. Every time you tried to convince them it wasn't all in your head, they felt more and more concerned with your mental health.

But i'm not crazy! I swear i can see them...

You never dared to touch one of them. Out of pure fear of what would happen, if you aproached a creature with eyes that seem to look through you.

They are always different from one another, some can be as small as hamsters, or as tall as a giraffe, they can have many legs, they can crawl, they can even fly! There is not really a pattern, except the eery feeling they leave where they go, and those empty eyes. Sickening.

With adults worried for you mental state, and other kids afraid of you, it's just natural that you become extremely recluse. It's not in your nature, to be quiet or introverted, but the people around you simply force you to be like it.

With six years, you have a total of zero friends. But one of the monsters have followed you for a while, maybe it likes you. Maybe it likes your misery.

As soon as you step out of school, there are some kids laughing out loud at the gates. They seem to be older, at least eleven years old, and the height differente between you and them is noticeable. You try to slip behind one of them unnoticed, but soon your arm is grabbed and you let out a long, tired sigh.

How i would like to go straight to home, today.

"Hey, are you that weirdo that everyone talks about seeing things?" One of the boys ask you, mocking tone.

You simply look and raise an eyebrow. What does he expect you to awnser?

"But you have such a cute face, don't even look like you're crazy!" One of them say and the others laugh. "Hey, weirdo, is there one of your monsters around here?"

You stare at the place above his shoulder. There's nothing there, but if they're going to be scared of you either way, they should at least fear you enough to leave you alone for once.

He looks back, startled, and you use the chance to start running. It's the opposite side from where your home is, but you can't turn around now that you started and they are already behind you.

You look around for a place to hide or escape, and you see a park with a climbable fence, the perfect height to hide. Without thinking much you jump and crouch down, covering your mouth as you hear the hurried and clumsy steps of the other boys passing behind you.

Letting out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding, you stop to look at the park you've broken into. It's extremely well-tended, beautiful trees with rich green leaves, colorful flowers that look like they smell really good, bushes neatly trimmed, and if you squint there looks to be an artificial lake beyond.

There are some oriental-style decorations scattered around the garden, including several small lamp-posts that remind you of fairies. But more important than that is the absense of monsters. In the whole park you can't even feel the negative energy they exude, this feels like the most peaceful place you've ever been.

Still in some kind of trance, you get up, running you hand down your uniformed skirt - now ruined by the dirt - to unfold it, and begin to walk leisurely, as if expecting that at any moment one of the monsters will come out of a bush and attack you, but turns out it wasn't a monster that scared you.

“Who are you?”

“Eek!”

An undignified shriek escapes you before you process what's happening, and you turn around with reflexes you've never had before. Where did that come from?!

Behind you there is a boy, around nine years old, looking at you. He has white hair and blue eyes that seem to stare at the bottom of your soul.

He looks unsatisfied with the way you spend way too long looking at him, clicking his tongue and crossing his arms as if he's looking at a worm.

“I asked who are you!”

“M-Me!” You say your name to him posed as a question, and repeat it right after more soundly, fixing you posture so you don't seem like a scared bunny. Altough, in his eyes, there is no way for you to seem tall and much less intimidating.

“And what are you doing here?” He awnsers, tone as harsh as before. It doesn't suit his face at all, you think. He has plump cheeks and round eyes, the cute kind of face you would have a crush on if you saw it on television of in magazines. But right now, this cute boy is scolding you, focus!

“I-I'm looking, oras! I can enter the park if i want!” I stuff my cheeks and cross my arms, trying to mimic his behavior.

Somehow, alone with this boy who doesn't know who you are, in a place with no presence of monsters, you feel more free to say what you think and act like yourself. For a moment, the feeling of fear that has become a constant in your life is not there.

“... park?” The unfriendly aura surrounding him disapears, replaced by confusion. “It's not a park!”

The sudden chance in his behavior confuses you just as much as his question.

“It's not?” You ask, worried that you really ended up breaking into someone's yard unconsciously. You look around, considering the size of the garden, and the way it's too well-tended to look like a public space.

“... It's a backyard. My backyard, you're in my house.” He accuses.

“Ah... you live in a backyard?” You ask hesitant, confused with your own conclusion.

“No, idiot! It's my house's yard!” The boy stresses out.

Ah. Well, that makes more sense. What also means you really did break into somebody's house accidentally. It's better to just go away, wouldn't be the first time today that you avoid problems by running from them.

“... Alright then. My bad!” You bow and walk past him with quick steps, hoping he doesn't see your face heating up in embarrassment.

He doesn't say anything, but when you walk past him to jump the fence, you swear you see him smiling. Not a kind smile, more like the smile of someone who's laughing at your face. Annoying. But it's not like you can complain about anything, it was you that invaded his house.

While you leave, you wonder who exactly is he. Obviously, he is rich, based only on the fact you walked quite a lot in the garden, and didn't get to see a house. It's a great garden, too, with elegant flowers you've never seen before and decorations that seen to cost more than your clothes.

And there's something about that boy, his cocky aura, his tradicional clothes, that makes you sure he's rich. Rich, and insufferable.

Sighing, you prop your leg on the fence to grab and jump over it, only to look at the other side and... go back immediately.

“Hm? What's your problem?” The boy asks as soon as he sees you crouched down with you hands covering your mouth, instead of in the other side of the fence.

Your problem, at the moment, is the monster that seems to be waiting for you at the other side of the fence. It's the same one that has been following you for a while, and the worst immediately comes to mind.

He wants to kill me. He is going to kill me.

You open your mouth to say just that, but you find yourself without words. For the first time, you're interacting with other child that is not scared of you. Despite not being exactly polite or pleasant, he has no idea of what others speak about you out of this garden.

Somehow, you don't want this memory to end up the same way as every other does. When they find out you're crazy. So you force out a dull smile and look at him.

“I... saw a scary dog on the other side.” Technically, it's not a lie. The monster really is similar to a dog, and it is scary.

The boy - that's how you'll call him while you don't know his name - raises a brow and starts to slowly walk to the fence behind you. He doesn't need to do anything but stand on his tip toes to look at the other side, as he is taller than you.

"A dog?" he asks, still looking across the fence. You figure he must already think you're a liar, because there's nothing on the other side.

“Maybe he already left?” you try to say, voice weak. Already running through your head are different ways that maybe you can get out of this situation without looking crazy, and without running into the monster on the other side again. Not many possibilities.

"A dog?" He repeats, and pulls you by the arm hard to get you to your feet. How rude! Still holding your arm, he points his eyes across the fence, and you, too, try to look to see if the monster is still there.

As soon as your eyes meet the creature's, you crouch down again, releasing your arm from his grip.

“I better stay here for now, in case he comes back.” You say sitting on the floor, not looking at him.

“Can you see that thing over there?” The boy turns and asks looking directly at you.

...what?

You look at him in disbelief for a good minute. You don't care much for the way he grows more impatient by the second, your mind still trying to process what he just said.

Does he see it too?

“Are you going deaf??? I asked you if you can see the curse.” He says, stressing certain words annoyingly.

"... I can." You respond briefly. Curse, is that what these monsters are called? It's a worthy name, you feel truly cursed by the ability to see these things.

He narrows his eyes, still looking at you. You feel nervous both from the new fact that you're not the only one who sees this kind of thing, and from those outrageous blue eyes turned to your side. “Hold on.”

He jumps to the other side of the fence as soon as he's done talking, not giving you even a second to react. Your eyes widen exaggeratedly, and you cover your ears, squinting, imagining the worst happening on the other side of the fence.

Is he crazy?! And what if he...

Thoughts of him are interrupted with a flick to your forehead, causing you to look up to see the boy... completely unharmed. A quick look across the fence and you see the curse is gone.

"What did you do?" you ask, your voice a mixture of surprise and admiration.

"I got rid of it." Is the brief answer.

You stare at each other for a few seconds, and he places a hand on his chin and leans in close to your face, as if studying it. You lean back on impulse, creating a few inches of distance between your faces.

Up close, you can see that his eyelashes and eyebrows are also white, like his hair. It's an unusual color to find in Japan, anywhere in the world really. His vibrant blue eyes also help his almost godlike appearance, which now watches you so closely that you feel breathless.

“At first I thought you didn't have cursed energy at all, but now I see… you're just really weak.”

Unfortunately, every time he opens his mouth you realize that maybe his beauty is just to disguise the fact that he can't seem to get enough of being rude. It's annoying.

“What are you-?!”

“In fact, it's so weak that I don't think there's any saving for you!” still so close to your face, he reaches up to pet your hair teasingly, as if comforting a poor abandoned dog.

“Would you stop it?” you knock his hand away with a weak slap and cross your arms. “What do you mean weak! And what cursed energy?”

“Hm, you must not know any of this, right… ‘m too lazy to explain.” He suddenly pulls away from you and straightens up, as if he has no further interest in continuing this conversation.

“Oh now you are going to explain it to me.” You squint your eyes and lift your chin.

He gives you a smirk. “Don't even try. You're as scary as a squirrel." He mocks, sitting down on the floor with a relaxed posture. “Sit down, intruder, I’ll explain.”

You end up forgetting to respond to the tease, eager to finally get answers to questions you've had your whole - very short - life. You sit on the floor with your legs crossed, fixing your skirt which must already be ruined with dirt.

A long explanation of curses later, you're not sure you should feel satisfied with these explanations. Because that just means you were never crazy! You are wronged simply because you see more than others can see.

You decide to leave that for later, at the moment you still have questions.

“And how do you know all this?”

“It’s none of your business. And that won't change anything in your life either, you're too weak to be someone important in the jujutsu world.”

"And you think you're the most important of all, right!" Honestly, what's up with this boy calling you weak all the time?

“I am the most important of all! You have no idea who you're talking to."

“It's because you didn't tell me anything! I don't even know your name, brat."

“Brat?” the name seems to annoy him. “I am The Gojo Satoru, the strongest of them all!” He says in a snobby tone as if you'd recognize his name.

"Strongest? Doubt it!” You cross your arms, challenging him with your gaze.

He stares at you for a few seconds as if something you said is making him think hard. Whatever idea he had, he seems to dismiss it with an irritated sigh that escapes him.

“You can’t force me to do anything. Much less prove anything to a boring, weak, cocky, criminal brat!” He pauses dramatically between each accusation, in the voice of someone who knows all the world's secrets and couldn't bear to spend another second with a lesser creature.

“Stop calling me weak, idiot!” You grab a fist of dirt and raise it, threatening to throw it at him.

He just sticks his tongue out and throws a piece of dirt in your direction, then gets up and runs away. You run after him shortly after.

In that moment, fighting over silly things and running after each other with dirt in hand, you feel freer than you have in a long time. Not necessarily cheerful or happy – your company makes sure to piss you off as much as possible – but in this place, a beautiful garden with no presence of monsters, and a boy who, despite frequently offending you, didn't think you were crazy, much less is afraid of you, you feel as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

In the middle of the run, you trip over a rock and fall on your face. Ignoring the mocking chuckles of the boy behind you, you lie on your back and look up, holding your nose in your hand and staring into space as if he's personally offended you.

Only a short time passed, cursing each other and getting each other dirty, but in that short time the sky was already dark and the garden lights came on, reminding you even more of fairies. Gojo also seems to have noticed how much it has darkened, and he stops to stand beside you and kicks you in the ribs lightly.

"Look how much time you've made me lose." He clicks his tongue, wiping his hands just above your clothes, making the rest of the dirt fall on your ruined uniform.

“No, look how much time you made me lose!” You sit up as he tries to shove some more dirt into your hair, putting your hands above your head to protect it.

The two exchange a few more childish insults, and you only realize someone is approaching when Gojo stops talking abruptly to look in a specific corner.

"Young master! There you are." A woman rushes in, eyes frantically assessing Gojo's messy state. She wears modest traditional clothing, and her hair is discreetly pulled back into a low bun. Her headcloth reminds you of a maid. “Mr. Gojo was waiting for you, what are you- oh.”

She stops talking abruptly and ends on a dismissive note when she notices you sitting on the floor. Ever since you and Gojo started fighting with dirt, you've forgotten that you technically broke into his house, but right now, with this woman looking at you like a stain on the ground, you truly feel like you've been caught doing something wrong.

You get up and try to appear as inconspicuous as possible, practically hidden behind the taller boy. You don't even bother trying to run your hand through your clothes, after getting them so dirty, this uniform is probably beyond saving.

“My father want to see me? So take me to him." Gojo says, stern voice like when he first spoke to you, but suddenly he seems much bigger, commanding someone older than him.

"... right. Someone will escort you to your room to change, and then you will be taken to Mr. Gojo. As for the intruder—”

“Intruder, what intruder?” the boy cuts her off. “Are you talking about this girl? I let her stay here.”

The woman is speechless for a moment, eyes flickering between the two of you.

“Ideally, you would notify the head of household before inviting anyone.” She answers after a few seconds, insistent. “She still has to-”

“But you won’t tell anyone, will you?”

You feel smaller than ever, watching these two talk. Something in the way he says it feels like a threat, and you widen your eyes at his cool tone, even though you can't see his face. But still, for some reason he's defending you, when it would be so much easier to let them take you to whoever to do whatever.

"No big deal, she was only in the garden for a moment and is already on her way out." He looks at you when he's finished speaking, and you nod in agreement with his statement, not quite sure what to do.

“…yes, young master.” The maid – you assume that's what she is – hangs her head, giving up. Still, she stops to glare at you through her eyelashes.

“S-sorry for disturbing!” you finally step out from behind the boy to say something, though the words barely come out with how nervous you are. You bow and without further ado run to the fence, itching to get away.

You don't hear much else of the conversation, other than something about asking someone to accompany him to his room, before jumping over the fence and walking away.

You'll have to thank him later. For that, and for explaining to you about curses.

Ugh! How I hate being in debt. You regret.

Arriving home, you try to be as quiet as possible, but as soon as you open the door, you see your mother waiting for you, making you wonder what time it is.

"Girl! Are you crazy? Where were you? You fell? got hurt? What happened?" she immediately gets up from the couch, bombarding you with questions you can't keep up with as she scans you from head to toe.

“I… I was…” your mind spun thinking of something that wouldn't worry her mother. Or at least not that much. "I was with a friend."

She suddenly pauses, and you fear it wasn't the right thing to say.

She holds your shoulders gently and looks into your eyes with an expression you don't quite know how to describe.

"A friend? Were you with a friend?” she speaks calmly, reviewing your disheveled, earthy state. “What friend?”

“I met him today, he…helped me get away from some guys.” It's not a lie. Maybe the term 'friend' is too much, but technically you're not lying.

Your mother is silent for a while, thinking over what you just said, and suddenly her arms are around you, hugging you.

“You were with a friend?” she repeats. “This is so good, honey!” her voice sounds proud, and you don't know much else to do but hug her back. "What's his name?"

“G-Gojo...”

"And how old is he?"

“Oh, nine? I forgot to ask." You say, still confused.

She guides you into the bathroom to give you a shower, the whole way asking questions about your new “friend”. You don't have much to tell, if you exclude the parts where he explains to you about the monsters you've seen your whole life, and the parts where he was absolutely insufferable. She still seems interested, excited in a way you almost never see her.

Maybe it is a big deal that you talked to someone your age that's not scared of you. Maybe you shouldn't feel so weird for being so at ease in a place you've never been before.

It was kind of nice, but you doubt you'll get to see him again sometime. It's hard, considering he lives far away from you, and you know nothing about him, not even if he goes to school. And you dont feel particularly interested in finding out about that, either.

Still, on the following day, you show up a little late at school to stop by his house, and you throw a ball of paper over the fence, leaving soon after.

A sloppy drawing of yourself and a scribbled kanji saying "thank you!" should be thanks enough.

Chapter Text

It's easier to ignore them now that you know what they are.

Curses, as Gojo told you, are created from people's negative energy. Normal people - weak, as the idiot would tell you - release cursed energy all the time, and when too much of that energy is focused on one thing, a curse is created.

What makes sorcerers able to see and fight curses, is that unlike normal people, they are trained to store that cursed energy in their own body, to be able to convert it into attacks. Or something like this.

Gojo said that you had just the right amount of cursed energy to be able to see the curses without being in specific situations, but not be able to do anything with that energy at all, and it stays that way regardless of how much negativity you create or release. Which makes you, once again, ask yourself where did you get so much bad luck, because what were the chances?

It would be a thousand times better to just be like everyone else, and go about your normal life!

Since you had this enlightenment, you have thought several times about the possibility of training to be a sorceress. If you can see these terrible monsters, maybe it's the world telling you to do something about it? But despite believing in fate, you just...

You don't want to.

What you've always wanted, more than anything, is to have a normal life. And it may be selfish of you, not wanting to have anything to do with this world you know nothing about, but you're not going to change your mind because of fate or all this bullshit.

So, now that you know what's going on, and you're not in complete darkness about these ugly creatures, you're able to focus more on other normal things for your age, like... having a social life.

It's not very easy, given the reputation you already have at your school.

Nobody wants to talk to you. And even if someone talks, you can see that something is wrong. They are still afraid of you. It hurts you, but it's already an evolution that you are not completely alone, although nobody around you really likes you.

What really made you finally tell your mom you wanted to switch schools was that damn little group of boys. Ever since you ran away from them, they seem to have decided their purpose in life was to pester you.

You secretly wish a curse would steal their pens or something.

So here you are, in yet another unfortunate situation. You don't run out anymore, obviously, because what if you end up breaking into someone else's house? Gojo, while insufferable, was merciful in simply not handing you over to the police, and you'd rather not have a criminal record while you're so young and pretty.

You don't hear the boys around you chatter, not at all. Your eyes alternate between looking at the ground, or at the sky, or at the streets, or at that giant, ugly fly on top of a pole, at anything but them actually.

In this case of looking everywhere at once, a tuft of messy white hair grabs your attention, and automatically annoys you.

But why him!?

Regardless, it ends up giving you an idea.

“Gojo!” you yell, interrupting whatever the kid in front of you was saying. It was loud enough for him to hear you, and he took a moment to stop looking at you with a funny face. "My friend!"

He looks like he wants to just walk away and let you get screwed, but you take advantage of the fact he's still and duck between the boys surrounding you to run to him.

When you get close enough to him, he starts talking only for you to hear him.

“Are you crazy? Since when am I your friend?” he asks in a dismissive tone.

"You are not. Just collaborate and get rid of that bunch of losers!” you exclaim in a whisper, putting a hand over your mouth.

Said losers, who seem extremely confused. You raise your voice again.

"Didn't you say you were going to meet me at the school gate so we could... go get ice scream?" you tell him, your eyes practically begging him to help you. He seems to have understood, thank God.

“Ahh yeah… that's right. I hadn't seen you” He says with a suspicious look and terrible acting. He grabs your arm with one hand and points at you with the other, turning to the others. “You don’t mind if I take her, do you?”

They seem to be considering the option, as Gojo somehow towered over all of them. Again, it seems to have been something in his eyes that made them just give up. They decided to stick around, so you had to drag Gojo to another street.

As soon as you turn the corner, the two of you pull apart as quickly as possible, as if each other's touch scorches you.

“My! Bunch of stupid boys...” you start complaining before he opens his mouth to say anything.

“What gave you the bright idea that it was better to drag me into this than just run away?” he complains right away, clearly annoyed by his choice. You avoid his gaze and look down at the floor in embarrassment.

“Well… I ran away, the first time…, but then I broke into your backyard to hide and…” your voice gets lower with each sentence. "I'd rather not do that again." You finish, pouting.

Gojo spends a few seconds judging you with his eyes. They're horrible seconds.

“You decided to run off and…” He pauses, incredulous. “jumped over the first fence you saw… to hide?”

Speaking like that it seems like an absurd, it made total sense at the time! Still, you just nod your head.

Gojo shakes his head with a hand over his face, letting out an exasperated sigh, muttering something along the lines of "dumb girl".

“Hey but I already apologized! And I even thanked you for helping me.” You straighten your posture again and cross your arms, turning your nose up.

“Did you?”

“Yes… haven't you seen my drawing?” you look at him again, worried that your message didn't get through to him.

"No." He responds immediately.

How horrible! And you've worked so hard too! Not so much, actually. Very little.

“The maids clean the yard every day, if they saw something of yours, they probably threw it in the garbage.” He continues, mercilessly.

Now you'll have three things to thank him for. It really sucks being indebted to someone, so you decide to just say it all at once.

“Well, then thanks for explaining curses to me, not turning me in to the police, and for helping me get away from those guys.”

“Pfff- turn you in to the police?” he laughs in your face, and once again you're sorry that such a pretty face has such a lousy personality.

“Or to your parents. Whichever you think is worse.” Which, now that you think about it, was a much more likely alternative at the time. “By the way, what are you doing out on the streets? Are you coming back from school too?”

“I don't go to school. I'm running away from home."

"What?" you look at him in horror. It doesn't even cross your mind what your parents would do if you left home without telling them.

"There are some horrible visitors there now, I don't feel like talking to them at all." He starts walking, but keeps talking, so you follow along to hear the rest. "But I didn't bring any games, so now I have nothing to do."

“If you're bored, there's an arcade nearby.” You say. “I always go there when I want to play.”

"... Yeah, I know." he says, suddenly offended. You stare, trying to figure out what the problem is.

"Then why didn't you go there." You forget to make it sound like a question, amazed at how this boy can get on your nerves so easily.

“I don't go to those places. But I definitely already knew that it existed.”

“You didn't know.”

"Yes I knew."

“Didn't know.”

“And you think you can tell me what I know or not, right! Weird girl..."

“You suck at lying.”

“You are great at jumping stranger's fences.”

"What's your problem? You don't need to know everything in the world, boy!" You lose your temper, irritated.

He stands still for a long time after that, as if you've just told him the world's secret, but you run out of patience for him and start walking again, feet unconsciously guiding you to the arcade path instead of your home, as you intended.

You didn't expect Gojo to rush back to walk beside you. You didn't expect him to silently accompany you to the arcade, following your feet despite not even knowing where he's going. You definitely didn't expect him to drag you into the arcade when you tried to get back home, saying "It's too boring to play alone, and you're already here!"

You didn't expect to spend so much time playing with him, and you didn't expect that you would find his presence pleasant.

He's just as annoying and arrogant as ever. Laughing and bragging when he scored any points more than you in any game – which happened more than you'd like. Which made it even more satisfying when you beat him and could mock his horrible attitude by doing bad imitations that pissed him off.

Once again, it was late when the countless tickets he bought ran out and you had to leave the arcade. This time, however, your clothes aren't ruined, you're not having an existential crisis, and you're not in a tremendously bad mood after being chased away by a woman you don't know, so overall, we can say that the second time around that you found Gojo was much better than the first one.

You still don't like him.

“How do you always make me waste so much time?” You mourn, looking at the sunset.

“I'm good like that.” He replies, as if it's a compliment to waste people's time.

“Well, I have to go home! My mother was already worried the last time I was late.”

"I'll accompany you."

Wait.

What?

"... what?" You manage to reply after looking at him for a few seconds, deadpan.

"Are you deaf? At night it's more dangerous, with curses, weak people like you are in danger.” Again with this! “And since I didn't accompany you last time, I'll accompany you now. And your mother will want to know who you were with, too.”

He pauses for a few seconds, looking like he wants to say more, so you wait until he continues.

"And I don't want to go home right now."

Ugh.

You hate that his reasons make sense.

“Ack! Whatever!" you start walking, sulking, but this time you're not taken aback when he starts walking beside you. The walk home is longer this time, and you don't want to be silent the whole time, so you bring up the first subject that comes to mind.

“Why don't you want to go home anyway?” he did mention something about unwanted visitors, perhaps some annoying aunt?

"My family is trying to get me a fiancé."

“Oi!?”

“Told you I was super important, didn't I?” He turns up his nose, convinced. “Obviously someone strong like me would have girls begging for me!”

You are silent, speechless. The two of you continue walking, but you're not even looking straight ahead. That kind of thing, arranged marriage, sounds like something you'd see in a movie, but you never thought you'd meet someone who goes through that. You had already concluded that his family was rich, but if that kind of thing exists, maybe it's a lot more than you initially thought.

“But I don't want to get married.” He continues to speak, ignoring the gap of silence. “And all the time I have to meet with a different girl to decide which one is 'more appropriate', but I already know I won't be taking any, so these meetings are a waste of time. That's why I ran away."

It's a situation that seems to be bad for all sides, besides his family. Really, it's horrible. You yourself can't think about marriage so soon, imagine actually having to choose someone to be your bride. But you really don't know what to say, so...

“Damn, what a drag.”

He stops walking for a second, and you stop to look at him. He stares at you face for a long time, and... laughs. He starts laughing a lot, and you don't understand, because what you said may be insensitive, but not funny. Maybe his humor is weirder than you thought?

You stop thinking about why he's laughing real quick, though. It's much easier to focus on what's in front of you now. And he's... he's still annoyingly gorgeous.

His laugh is so loud and irritating, and it sounds so good in your ears, that you end up thinking you wish you could make him laugh like that more often. He's almost crouching in the middle of the street, clutching his stomach and laughing his head off, but you can still see his face.

His smile, this time genuine, not provocative, is so bright it seems surreal, and you can't stop looking at him, and how his white hair falls over his face perfectly, and how even in the unflattering yellow light from the streetlights , he can be so-

Before you know it, you're laughing along with him without even knowing exactly why. The laughter subsides, but the two of you are still giggling as you start to walk again. You're still confused, by the way.

“Why were you-?” laughing, that's what you were going to ask.

“Is your house far away?” that is, before he distracts you with his own question.

You look to try to recognize the street where you are, and you are surprised when you see that you are much closer to your house than you had thought. Time passed quickly.

“No, we’re almost there.” The two of you walk for a couple more minutes and stop in front of a simple one-story house, the front lights on, your mother no doubt waiting for you worriedly in the living room.

“So thanks for bringing me and...” you start to say and stop horrified when he starts walking towards your house and- rings the doorbell???

You thought he was going to walk you to the door and leave before you got inside. If your mom sees him, she'll definitely get emotional again and ask him to stay for dinner or something, and that would be awful!

There's nothing more you can do to avoid the loathsome fate when your mother opens the door and sees you both.

"Girl?! Where did you- oh?” she stops talking as soon as she processes the boy standing next to her, and her gaze turns judgmental for a moment. "Who is this boy?"

Gojo, much to your surprise, is super polite as he bows and introduces himself to your mother. You watch in horror as your mother recognizes his name as the 'friend' you told her before.

“Gojo? Ah, you are my daughter’s friend!” she exclaims, more excited than she should be. "She told me about you when she was late last time, it's so nice to meet you boy." She continues to talk, leaving the house to greet him better.

"Did she talk about me?"

“She said a lot less than I would have liked, but she mentioned that she was with you and that you helped her!” And she goes on... "Say, it's not too late, do you have a time to come home?"

"No." He says with an innocent smile, probably lying. You know he's not innocent at all.

You don't like where this conversation is going...

“So, would you like to stay a little longer and have dinner with us?”

"Mom!"

"I would love to!"

It's the worst day of your life. You look at Gojo as if he has committed an unforgivable act of betrayal.

Your mom, on the other hand, couldn't be happier. She invites you into the house, apologizes for the mess – which doesn't exist, your mother is super organized –, she says she's going to set the table and hurries you to go take a shower. You go without complaining even once, though you question whether dark clouds are visible over your head or if it's just your imagination.

When you come back from the shower, wearing one of your most passable pajamas for outerwear – because you're not going to dress up for him, no way – there's still time to help your mother set the table, and you join the two of them in the kitchen, listening to their conversation without saying a word.

She asks him his full name, his age – he's younger than you initially thought, eight years old despite being unusually tall – and any other trivia she wants to know. They talk about any kind of subject such as:

“Your daughter looks a lot like you.”

"Oh thanks! Everybody says that." She laughs flattered.

It's true, you've heard it from many different people. Despite your mother's hair being significantly lighter, and her eyes a different color, everyone says that looking at you two side by side is like seeing the same person at different ages. You think it's an exaggeration, but you wish you were pretty like her when you grow up.

“..., but that uniform is beyond saving! What did you do to make yourself so dirty?” she asks, slightly indignant.

“We were playing in the dirt, heh.” he answers, looking embarrassed.

“I know, that girl was always a troublemaker. You know, she had this one time...”

And there goes the shameful story.

You practically bury your face in your plate in embarrassment when your mom starts telling him about things you did in school. It's not your fault you stuck gum in another girl's hair because you overheard her saying she was going to cut your hair first. You didn't start it!

It also wasn't your fault for putting fake spiders in a boy's closet, because he was the one who first made fun of you for being afraid of things that "don't exist."

And it's not a big deal to have splashed water on someone's notebook, because the day before, they hid your bag in a horrible place for you to get back, because there were lots of little curses that looked like bugs in there, and you almost went home without taking the bag back.

It's not that you're vengeful, it's that...

Your mom stops telling the stories when she sees you seething with embarrassment as you finish eating, and goes back to normal topics like whether the food is good or not.

Dinner ends much later than usual, and when you're finally saying goodbye, Gojo says that...

“Between having to do those boring wedding interviews, and hanging out with you, I would a thousand times rather come here and bother you, so don't be surprised if you see me again.”

You look at him blankly for a few seconds.

“Then you already know where I live, feel free to come and pester me, oh all-important Gojo!” You say theatrically, and slam the door in his face harder than you'd intended to. You hear him laugh on the other end, either way.

So today you discovered a few things.

• It's not that bad spending time with him, and maybe it won't be the end of the world if you see each other more often.
• He has a beautiful smile. It doesn't matter, in fact, you already knew he was handsome, but it's something you found out anyway.
• Your mother likes to embarrass you.

Chapter Text

So it looks like Gojo ended up taking your offer too seriously.

Too much!!

He and your mother are already so close that you suspect her to be the real reason behind his visits.

At first, he avoided showing up at your house as much as possible, at least when he was going to accompany you, and preferred to wait for you in front of the gate of your school.

That routine, however, changed when you finally changed schools, and he didn't know where the new one was. So, obviously, he had to show up in front of your house at seven in the morning to accompany you (read, follow you) to your new school.

You blame your mother for things getting to this point, as she seems to think he's a gentleman. If it depended on you, he would never have been so relaxed, much less would you have seen each other every week.

Every week!!

But even though you complain so much, you've come to look forward to his horribly annoying visits. He has a pattern, it probably coincides with the days in which he is supposed to meet his potential bride – something you still don't fully understand – so you end up getting used to the new routine easily.

Today, he also decided to start pestering you early, so you haven't even finished getting ready for school yet when you hear your mother greeting him, excited as she always is to see him.

You open the door to your room so he can enter himself, and turn your attention to the mirror, fixing your hair. It didn't take long for you to hear his loud voice calling your name.

“Oh!” He appears at your bedroom door, and soon you see his reflection over your shoulder. “You’ve got braids.” Gojo takes the finished braid to play with the ends, meeting your gaze in the mirror.

“Aham,” you respond, unfocused. “Can I have an elastic band?” He looks for one on the next table as soon as you ask, and hands it to you.

As soon as you finish the other braid, you finally turn to face him, and take the opportunity to show them off, shaking your hair proudly.

“How did it turn out?”

"Ridiculous." He says without thinking twice, out of habit of insulting you. His voice comes out a little choked, but when you stop and try to look at his face properly, he turns back to his desk, avoiding your gaze. “Do you want to put ribbons on?”

His question distracts you, and you end up just nodding and letting him put the ribbons in your hair. When you were able to see his face again, whatever made him look strange just now had been forgotten and he was normal again.

Weird.

“Come on then! I should tell my mom not to let you come home early like this, don’t you have anything better to do?” you leave the room, already expecting him to walk behind you into the living room.

“Mhm, you know she would let me in anyway! And this time I came earlier because I wanted to let her know that you will be arriving later today.”

"I will?" Well, it's already a step forward that he actually warned her, instead of just dragging you somewhere after classes and leaving your mother to wait for you at home.

After a while, she stopped worrying so much and started expecting for you to be with him, but still reminds you that it would be better to let her know when you're coming later.

You two say goodbye to her and leave the house on your way to school. A familiar rhythm settles easily as the two of you walk side by side, and he's soon back to playing with the ends of your braids, looking strangely fascinated when you turn to him.

“Where are you going to take me this time?” you ask again when you realize he ignored you earlier. Not that it made any difference, because he ignored you this time too.

“I’ll tell you later.” He dismisses the question, and turns to you when you arrive at the school gate to say goodbye, although you just want to shake him until he speaks and drops being mysterious.

I'll tell to you later o cacete!

It infuriates you that you spend most of the class thinking about it. How you hate it when he doesn't tell you things, something he often does precisely because he knows it irritates you.

And for some reason Gojo loves to annoy you, you've noticed.

Luckily, this time you have friends at school, and they are great at distracting you when you show up upset.

The class passes quickly and soon you find yourself at the school gates again, looking for Gojo. When you see it, however, you immediately notice that something is different.

Because he seems uncertain, nervous. Something he never is. It worries you – worry? – enough for you to immediately go up to him, and as soon as he sees you his posture totally changes as if he was never nervous in the first place.

You don't believe it for a moment, but you know better than to ask him about it.

“You know, if you hadn’t come to me yourself, I don’t think I would have ever found you.” Gojo says as soon as you can hear him. He only continues to speak when he sees your look of confusion. “Because you're microscopic, it's easy to lose you.”, immediately followed by a kick to the shin that he easily dodges.

"Shut up!" You start walking together naturally, but this time to the opposite side of your house. “Where are we going again?” You try to hide the curiosity that has been killing you all morning, but from the way he looks at you mockingly, he knows very well.

"To my house." He says indifferently.

Being at Gojo's house again is just as stressful as you imagined it would be. As soon as you set foot in that place, you felt every eye in the place judging you. Even those who hadn't noticed your arrival yet. No one there seemed particularly important, but you felt intimidated nonetheless.

You resisted the urge to hide behind Gojo, like you did the last time you were here, probably for your own dignity. He ended up protecting you even unintentionally, and just one look from him was enough for them to immediately return to what they were doing.

It's better to be treated as if you weren't even there.

The house is as big and traditional as you imagined, and as Gojo guides you through the house, you pass countless rooms with the doors closed – you can't imagine why a house would have so many rooms – and the entrance to the backyard, and you're hit with a nostalgia you didn't expect to feel for something that happened so recently.

His room is... tidier than you expected. But you suppose the maids clean it every day, the mental image of Gojo doing something like that is enough to give you goosebumps.

“You want me to come to your house and play video games? But we always go to the arcade, anyway...”

“Yes, but there will be less annoying people at home.”

"Only you."

"Exactly! And I have some games that aren't available in the arcade...”

You give yourself the freedom to search his room while he looks for games for you. There's not a lot of personal stuff, from what you can see. Disappointing. You were hoping to find something worth blackmailing. Gojo didn't shut up about the dozen stuffed animals you have on your bed when he first saw them.

From the corner of your eye, something catches your attention.

“Is that a tamagotchi?” You pick up a small video game that was next to his bed, about the size of your hand.

“Hmm? No, it's a Digimon.” He goes next to you and takes the keychain from you, calling it to show you what it’s like. “It’s a tamagotchi, but with fights. You don’t have one?”

"Obviously not." You replied, slightly irritated, but more curious about Gojo's game.

Gojo looks at you for a few seconds, as if making a decision, but soon he just throws the Digimon back to you and turns back to look at the other games he has.

“You can take care of it today.”

And so you do, until Gojo finally decides on something for the two of you to play, and you spend the rest of the afternoon on it. Considering how nervous you were, it's just another ordinary day, similar to when you guys go to the arcade.

Gojo was right, the silence and privacy of his room could be more cozy than the arcade. What's definitely more comfortable is his bed and the amount of pillows he has, for some reason.

Overall, you feel great.

Until a match was interrupted by knocks on the bedroom door. The nervousness you saw earlier in Gojo returns, and you realize that was exactly what made him reluctant to invite you to his house.

He doesn't have any external reaction that shows what he feels, but you know. Gojo just looks at you with a slightly annoyed face, but he doesn't need to say anything for you to nod and let him answer the door.

When he gets up, in front of the entrance is a tall man – too tall – with brown hair and sharp features, both his jaw, the tip of his nose, his eyes, blue and striking, like Gojo's.

Well, like Satoru Gojo's.

He doesn't look at you, and you make a point of staring at the floor and only the floor.

Gojo- Satoru closes the door as soon as their eyes meet, leaving you alone in the room with your own thoughts.

Gojo must have taken after his mother's characteristics, then. You imagine a beautiful woman with white hair and a smile that is equally beautiful and infuriating, and you feel curious to know more about her.

You wonder how they must be reacting to him bringing home a girl despite vehemently refusing to choose a suitable bride. And then you immediately snap out of that train of thought, because you refuse to associate with someone who wants to marry Gojo.

You never find out what they talked about, but when Gojo – the smaller Gojo – comes back he seems more irritated than anxious, and you wait for him to sit next to you again to say something.

“So... are you in trouble?” is the first thing you ask. He seems surprised that this is your first concern.

"No. And you're not prohibited from coming, either. It’s not like I care about the superiors’ ridiculous rules…” he grumbles.

“...So, everything went well?” you question, uncertain.

“And what could have gone wrong? I am the most important in this house. I do whatever I want.” Said in that same arrogant tone you hate.

At the moment, not so much. You won't deny that there isn't a selfish part of you that is satisfied that he is important enough to do whatever he wants without consequences. It would be a shame to stop coming here after today.

It's weekend. Logically, there's no reason for Gojo to come visit you today, you already know exactly which days he has that type of meeting, but you assume he just wants to see you, because lately his excuses have been pretty lame.

“I don’t have to meet anyone, my family is just being unbearable again.”

"I was bored."

“The maids are cleaning my room.”

“My Digimon missed you!”

Either way, you no longer reject his presence. As previously stated, the presence of the boy at your side has become expected, and you find yourself even enjoying his company. As annoying as he still is.

Perhaps you are developing some type of long-term illness.

You're just wasting time in the park this time. Something about this environment reminds you of the day you met Gojo, and you don't know if you feels regret or longing.

But in general, you alternate between toys and topics, talking about whatever comes to mind. It's a pleasant afternoon.

“How do i get into this thing! This clearly wasn’t meant for me-” you hear him complain, having difficulty getting into some kind of…tube? A toy that is a tunnel that leads to the other side. Obviously, he can't, because besides being older than you, he's much taller than he should be at that age.

“It must be because of that giant head of yours.” You respond instead.

“If my head is big, it’s to accommodate the brilliant brain I have.” He says confidently.

“Or your ego.”

“My ego is completely acceptable for someone as good as me. But it doesn’t matter how big my head is, because I’m also buff, so in the end it’s proportionate.” Gojo says as if he's come to an incredible conclusion, lifting his chin.

“...it’s definitely for your ego.”

He gives up on entering the tunnel, mumbling something like 'stupid little children' and goes to the swing next to you, standing on it, instead of sitting like normal people – you – do.

“So if you're so small, you don't have room for a lot of important things, right? It makes sense, because you are...”

“Don’t you dare.”

“...Weak and foolish!”

“I’m not weak, what’s the matter with you?!” Foolish, perhaps.

Frankly, it's even more annoying to have to argue with him looking up – upper than usual – because your neck hurts. So you put the argument with Gojo aside for a moment, and try to stand on the swing as he is, so that you are on the same level.

There was no way an idea like this would work, with the way you were stressed at the moment. So obviously you end up putting too much weight on just one side of the swing, causing it to tip over, and you go along with it.

Luckily, you fell knee first, but-

Ouch...

The ground scrapes directly against your skin, and your hands prevent you from falling face down on the ground, taking the damage for it.

Your knees and hands burn so much that for a moment you can only focus on the pain, completely ignoring Gojo's high-pitched laugh behind you, something that when you realized it only served to make you feel even more humiliated.

So, like any 6 year old in this situation...

You saw the first tears before you felt them, and then several others followed, without making any noise. You'd worry more about the way Gojo immediately stopped laughing, but with the embarrassment you're feeling, it's better to just forget he's there.

You move into a sitting position, which doesn't support either your knees or your hands, but there's not much you can do from there. You can walk, of course, but... where, really?

Still looking at the ground, you see Gojo's sneakers in front of you and look up, meeting his gaze.

‘He looks beautiful against the sun, too.’ Your brain adds unnecessarily. You don't want to think about that kind of thing right now.

But what really catches your attention is the expression on his face – you've never seen Gojo so... worried.

Hmm.

To be honest, at no point did you consider the idea that Gojo cared about you. And he never expressed otherwise either. It's customary between the two of you to get on each other's nerves, and you've never questioned because deep down you like it too. It's liberating, in a way.

But you never dared to consider that he saw you as more than someone to escape his responsibilities, and therefore, you never dared to consider him anything more. He sees you as an interesting girl, maybe someone who has funny enough reactions to his teasing, someone worth seeing more than once. But not someone he cares about.

That is...

That's what you thought.

But at the moment he looks at you with so much concern that you can't help but wonder, through your tears, what does he think of you?

So you decide to take a test.

“Hey- eh, how are you?” he asks awkwardly, squatting down in front of you. He's almost never clumsy, so you imagine this isn't something he does often. Are you the first?

“...my knees hurt.” You respond, voice shaking and eyes shining with tears. Your pain has become something secondary at the moment, but your eyes have always refused to collaborate with what you feel. As soon as you're upset, you start crying, and only stop when your eyes decide it's time to stop, regardless of whether you're still upset or not. It was always something you hated, and it always irritated those around you, but now it's an advantage.

“Well- I figured that out.” Gojo doesn't seem to know very well what to do, and apparently not knowing what to do makes him irritated, if his tone of voice is anything to go by. You decide you're going to help him, telling him what to do, but really you just want to see if he's actually going to do something. “Are you… going home?”

You nod, quietly, and raise your hands to try to dry the tears because – honestly, it's hard to see. The moment your hands touch your face, however, you immediately take them away, feeling your pain again.

What happens next seems more like something you daydreamed about.

Gojo kneels in front of you and brings his hands to your face, wiping away the tears you failed to wipe away, and stressing over a spot on your cheeks. When he pulls away, you realize that your hands must have gotten dirt and blood on your face when you touched them.

Gojo Satoru, kneeling in front of your and cleaning your face.

He's muttering something to you, calling you a foolish girl again, saying that you must not think straight, and “what's gotten into you?!”, but his voice sounds so worried that you don't care about any of it, feeling your own face heat up as you look at his. Surprisingly, he doesn't call you weak.

Just one more time... what else would he do?

“Gojo…” your low voice was enough to make him shut up and pay attention to you again. The attention makes your face heat up more, the flush on your cheeks matching that of your wounds. “take me home?”

He stares at you for a few seconds, long enough for you to accept the disappointment that maybe this is a little too much to ask, and that he doesn't care that much, but-

Even you don't know exactly what happened, but he pulls you to your feet (By the wrist. You notice how he doesn't touch your hands.) and before you know it, you're on his back, your arms around Gojo's shoulders and his hands under your thighs.

He carries you as if you weigh nothing, but with such care that you're half-convinced that everything that happened in the last ten minutes was a figment of your imagination, and you actually passed out when you fell off the swing.

“Is that okay?” he asks, he actually asks you if you're comfortable. You don't believe your ears, but you still nod your head, hugging his shoulders a little more firmly so you don't fall.

“Why did you try to stand on the swing, stupid girl?” he asks, starting to walk normally towards your house as if he didn't have a girl on his back.

“My neck was hurting from looking up.” You respond, and lay your head on the joint between Gojo's neck and shoulder. It's comfortable, you feel like you could sleep here.

“Tch, now it’s not just your neck that hurts.” He says, but you practically hear the smile in his voice. You realize you're smiling, too, so much that your cheeks are almost aching.

You – just him, really – walk in silence, the air around you is calm and gives you a feeling of comfort. You start swinging your legs slowly where they are hanging.

“Aren’t your arms tired?” You ask after a while. The sun is starting to set, and you probably won't be getting home anytime soon, there weren't many parks nearby. You decide that next time, you'll just go to Gojo's house again.

“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m strong for you to believe me?” Gojo says, and makes a point of pulling you up a little more, to reaffirm that he's not even close to getting tired.

“You don’t need anyone else telling you that you are strong. Your head will get bigger again.”

You hear his laugh right next to you, but mostly, you feel it against your chest, and your face feels hot again. At this rate, you will be permanently red.

But despite how calm you are at the moment, there's still something bothering you. And you don’t want to be bothered, so you decide to just voice your curiosity and ask once and for all.

“Gojo...” You call, and hear him murmur when you don’t continue talking. “are we friends?”

After what happened today, you're pretty sure it is. It would also explain why he makes so many unnecessary excuses to see you, instead of simply saying: 'because you're my friend'. You imagine that's just how he is, though.

“Of course we are, are you stupid?” he responds, and despite adding the obligatory insult at the end, you feel his face heat up since you're so close. Or maybe it's still yours.

“So can I call you Satoru?” You try out his name out loud for the first time, and decide you like the way your voice says it.

His steps lose rhythm for a moment, and you laugh softly. But you don't say anything, still waiting for his answer.

“Yes, you can...” you rarely hear Gojo’s voice – no, Satoru’s voice so low, but it’s not at all unpleasant. Whatever, you like the way it sounds when you're this close.

“Great, call me by my first name too.”

He doesn't respond out loud, but you feel him nod. There's nothing more to say, and your doubts have been clarified, so you close your eyes and snuggle a little more against Gojo's back. You guys should be home soon.

The rest of the walk passes in pleasant silence, with neither of you interrupting it.

From that day, and for the rest of your lives, you and Gojo Satoru are best friends.