Chapter Text
Gojo Satoru finds his current life as a new fifteen year old immensely boring.
He is a first year student in the Tokyo Metropolitan Prefecture at Jujutsu Technical High School, and certainly there are many curses to fight to keep him entertained, but still it’s all so boring.
Between dodging the random requests from the current, temporary head of the Gojo family for him to come back home and trying desperately to pretend he’s actually learning something at school so he can avoid becoming head of his clan for just a little longer, his days are filled with nothing but mundanity. He can’t really say he’s surprised. When you’re one half of your class’s student body all on your own, there’s not very much room for true entertainment.
And Jujutsu High’s current first-year class population stands at a solid two: him and one Ieri Shoko.
Not that he’s complaining about his classmate. Not at all. Shoko’s certainly a good friend – and really, his only friend considering the lack of contact with the outside world Jujutsu Tech adamantly retains. But she’s never been anywhere near Gojo’s level when it comes to sorcery, and without an equal Gojo can feel himself slowly rotting.
Though, being friends with Shoko certainly has its perks too.
Ieri Shoko cannot use regular cursed energy, and really, it should have kicked her out of the Jujutsu world for good.
Being raised within the world of Jujutsu sorcerers, born to one of the smaller clans tucked away somewhere in the mountains just beyond Tokyo, not being able to use cursed energy was grounds for execution. But the world was based on balance, and in return for robbing her of cursed energy, she had been blessed by the ability to use reversed curse energy more efficiently than any sorcerer before her. In all reality, probably after her as well.
It had made her an indispensable asset to the Jujutsu world, and perhaps best of all, she refused to let Yaga or any of the other higher ups forget it.
Gojo cannot count the number of times he had stumbled into the classroom late to see her threatening to withhold her incredible healing ability if they did not bend to her will. It certainly adds more excitement to his currently mundane days, even if it slowly fades away as time ebbs on.
But as much fun as she is, she can’t scratch the itch that lingers in the back of his mind to fight .
To the rest of the Jujutsu world, Limitless and the Six-Eyes is not an inherently violent technique. All documentation of it suggests quite the opposite in fact. All the past Six-Eyes had been, in some sense of the word, docile. Calm. Patient. Some may even say kind, if one was willing to ignore the excessive coldness that seemed to shroud all those gifted with such immense cursed energy.
All traits that, perhaps unfortunately, do not describe the freshly fifteen Gojo Satoru.
Where all the past Six-Eyes were a beacon of hope and comfort, Gojo is anxiety bitten nails scratching against a chalkboard. Every word to the higher ups is laced with sarcasm, he walks with contempt with all authority, and worst of all, he has an innate inability to listen.
If given a direct order from either Tengen-Sama or his Grandmother, the former matriarch of the Gojo Clan, Gojo will follow through – if not complaining tremendously first. But aside from those two no other orders grace his ears. There is not a single sorcerer who can control him or pin him down, not even Yaga or Shoko. Though, in all honesty, Shoko would never bother trying, more content to instigate him into collapsing Jujutsu society than controlling his every move. If it weren’t for his respect for the High School, and perhaps a little for Tengn-Sama,
It makes him dangerous.
And unfortunately the higher ups don’t like feeling afraid.
Gojo’s certainly no stranger to people wanting his head served to them on a silver platter. He can count the number of attempts to end his existence, whether from misguided curses who think killing him and eating his eyes will grant them the practically unlimited cursed energy of the Six-Eyes, or random Curse Users who want to eliminate the only real hindrance to their great plans of world domination.
They have been coming after him since he was an infant, and he’s become terrifyingly good at managing them. Hell, he thought he sent a message with that last group of three idiot curse users when they had tried cornering him in the alleyway behind the Taiyaki stand in the back streets of Tokyo, only to be sent away without any of their eyes.
But since his most recent stunt, which had unfortunately included him nearly blowing up a building near a certain Zen’in’s estate – an accident, he swears – the rate at which random idiots were showing up and trying to kill him at random times of the day have nearly multiplied by ten.
And, in all honesty, their assanation attempts are certainly cute. Really, they’re just free entertainment for him rather than anything else. And a convenient way to rid the streets of Tokyo of trash and filth curse users with nothing better to do but prey off of random civilians for a power trip. Because only that special brand of idiot who hadn’t been immersed in the Jujutsu world for a long time would think to take him on. Really, none of this is that problematic for him.
But Gojo is getting sick of having to discreetly dispose of bodies every other week, and Shoko is starting to have questions as to where he’s been disappearing to.
He can’t very well have her learn that he’s been wasting perfectly good autopsy bodies for the past three weeks, now can he. Not when she’d just been complaining about how all ‘ the good bodies were being stolen by the university ’. Maybe he should just stop getting rid of them and just give them to her.
He pauses mid step, face twisting into a bright grin as he slowly begins to laugh. Well, there’s certainly a thought -
It’s thoughts of her malevolent smile, the one she is sure to give him when he tells her his plan, that plague him as he resumes his walk and enters the classroom. He is, in true Gojo Satoru nature, a fashionable twenty minutes late, and he can feel Yaga’s glare on him as the door slides open with a loud bang.
But Gojo is used to being on the other end of his Sensei’s wrath, so he simply ignores him before turning to Shoko’s usual seat by the door with a wide grin.
“I might have some bodies for you to dissect -” he trails off, frowning as his glasses slide slightly off his nose as he senses unfamiliar cursed energy coiling in front of him. It’s strong, terrifyingly strong, and coiling inside this person like a snake about to strike at the slightest disturbance – and Gojo can’t help but be on guard about it.
In Shoko’s usual spot sits a boy, roughly around his age, with long black hair tied into a neat bun and sharp black eyes that look like the black holes Gojo has only ever seen in his dreams. All consuming and oddly magnetic as they draw you deep into a void where not even light can escape.
Gojo’s not sure why he finds immense comfort in them, but he’s never been one to dwell on such inconsequential things.
There’s an aurora around the boy that suggests he’s usually a good natured guy, but right now the look of utter horror on his face suggests Gojo is not to be on the receiving end of his civility.
The boy looks slightly terrified, deeming to pull back as far as his chair will allow him to while still being seated. He Doesn’t say a word as one hand comes up in front of him in instinctive defense, staring at Gojo for a few minutes longer before proclaiming with a horrified whisper, “What?”
Snow falls outside the window as silence settles between the stranger and him, wind whipping fallen snow into swirls that refuse to settle. Tension builds as Gojo can only stare dully at him, brows pinched in what he is sure is a look mixed with both contempt and confusion. He allows the Six-Eyes to pull every piece of information they can from this boy, adding more and more pressure to the air. There’s a cough, most likely from Shoko, as the two stare each other down, the stranger lifting his head in annoyance to meet Gojo’s gaze full on.
Not a single person speaks as Gojo slowly blinks, face twisting into a deep frown before he opens his mouth.
“You’re not Shoko-”
~
It turns out this boy’s name is Suguru Getou and he, perhaps like most normal people, does not like being propositioned to be an accomplice to murder upon the first meeting. Even when Gojo oh so helpfully points out that they’re corpses, not real people anymore, Getou had just looked more horrified and perhaps a little bit disgusted at Gojo’s flagrant disregard for life.
Gojo is not usually one to care for explaining himself, much preferring to keep those around him guessing and confused, but something about this boy’s reaction makes him turn to Yaga and explaining the sudden uptick in assassination attempts and Curse Users swarming – but choosing to keep the part about the damage to one of the Zen’in houses quiet.
Yaga doesn’t need to know everything , especially inconsequential details like the angry Zen’in clan!
Shoko, of course, finds the entire thing hilarious, doubling over in laughter from her new spot in the middle seat as Yaga starts yelling about proper disposal methods for corpses of curse users and sorcerers alike. Shoko snarks back, of course, saying they learnt this first week, which leads to Yaga storming out of the classroom to go complain to the principal about the uptick in attacks, and perhaps get some more security measures in place.
Gojo tunes all of it out to stare full on at Getou instead, more curious about the new student’s reaction than anything else.
He is unsurprisingly staring up at Gojo, eyes squinted and brows furrowed as cogs in his brain turn in a desperate attempt to understand the creature before him. He can almost see the puzzle pieces connecting and coming apart as the boy blinks.
And Gojo finds it hilarious. He has always reveled in the attention that comes from being an enigma.
“See? No need to worry about those Curse Users! Useless criminals is what I say-” Gojo grins, crossing his arms as he giggles. “And really, it would be better if their bodies could be devoted to science!”
“How can you be so uncaring about life?” Getou murmurs, arms crossing over his chest in a more defensive position. He’s not sitting so far away anymore, chair pulled back to its proper position as he leans over the desk and looks up at Gojo with a look of both wonder and pure confusion. “Who are you?”
“I’m not uncaring! Their lives just weren’t worth that much -” he huffed, rolling his eyes before giving Getou a bright grin, leaning forward onto the desk with one palm pressed against the cool wood. “And me? Well, I’m the strongest!”
The boy just looks up helplessly at him, shaking his head as he pulls back off the table to not be near Gojo. “What does that even mean?”
“He’s the Six-Eyes-” Shoko laughs, standing up from her desk and moving to stand beside Gojo with a lazy grin on her face. She’s not touching him, exactly, but she’s close enough that he can feel her presence next to him. Limitless prickles under his skin, threatening to activate and push the perceived threat away, but Gojo focuses on Shoko’s lazy grin and keeps his cursed technique at bay.
It has never been ‘out of control’, but still it activates at the most inconvenient times when he forgets to pay attention. One slight shift in his focus and Limitless is active, fueled by his Six-eyes, and threatening to fry his brain if he isn’t quick to shut it off. It really annoys him to no end, and he has been hard at work trying to make control of his technique as easy as breathing.
He knows it can be – the extensive documentation of the Limitless and Six-Eyes cursed technique all memorized and existing somewhere in the messed up organ he calls a brain – and so he works hard, flicking the most random things, suspending them in air before releasing them to fall back to the ground. He’s made progress, but nothing substantial enough to call his technique mastered.
So he concentrates on keeping it at bay until he no longer feels his cursed energy curling under his skin.
In his focus, he misses the lost look on Getou’s face as Shoko points at Gojo, probably calling him an over powered idiot. As the angry call of his energy fades, he finally turns his gaze away from Shoko’s face to Getou, about to interrupt her until he hears her say “You don’t know what any of that means, do you, Getou-kun?”
“No. I don’t. I’m not from one of the clans or a Jujutsu Family -” he hums quietly, those dark eyes fixed on Gojo’s face as he flicks his eyes up and down Gojo’s tall frame. “So he’s someone important then?”
Shoko shrugs, hopping up onto Getou’s desk between him and Gojo and crossing her legs. “Yeah something like that. I know he doesn’t look like much, but his birth changed the course of the Jujutsu world.”
“Seriously?” Suguru asks, raising a brow up as he turns to stare at Gojo.
Gojo, of course, glows under the attention, pulling his glasses down his face and winking at the boy before giving him a smug smirk. He’s used to being praised, there is nothing special
Getou looked unimpressed as he turned back to Shoko, shifting his hand to point at Gojo. “Him?”
“Seriously.” Shoko groaned, rolling her eyes as she jerked her thumb in Gojo’s general direction. “By all technicalities he’s the head sorcerer of the strongest clan in the entire Jujutsu World. Scary isn’t it?”
Gojo just preens at her explanation, feeling his back straighten as he stands tall despite the insults she had weaved into her statements. “That’s right! So you better be super nice to me alright? Otherwise, I won’t protect you from curses or evil spirits when we go out on missions -”
Getou leans back in his chair, lips slowly curling up into a smirk as he shakes his head. “Oh, I appreciate your sentiment, Gojo-san, but I don’t require your protection.”
“You must be a really high grade level sorcerer to say things like that, Suguru .” Gojo smirked, arms crossing over his chest as he raised a brow. “I’ve only known special grades to talk like that.”
Getou, Suguru , seems to grow more smug as he pulls his student ID out of his pocket and slides it over the table to Gojo. “Oh what a surprise! It seems I am a special grade sorcerer, Sa-to-ru~”
The way each syllable of his name falls past Getou’s lips is heavenly – sounding like it belongs to come out of his mouth, and only his mouth. His trembling hands take the card off the table as he stares at it, trying to ignore the burning in his cheeks as he glances down at the card.
Sure enough there, in typed out kanji, reads ‘Special Grade Sorcerer’.
Gojo’s mouth falls slightly open in shock as he looks between Getou and the card, rubbing his eyes with one hand before confirming that he wasn’t hallucinating. Shoko glances over his shoulder, eyes widening in shock before she doubles over with laughter, turning to look at Suguru with a bright grin. “Oh, I like you -”
Getou grins up at her, shaking his head playfully as he sticks his tongue out at Gojo with utter glee. “You know, I think I like you too.”
He pauses, face turning serious for a moment before he turns back to Shoko with a slightly worried look. “Though, I’m afraid to ask about the bodies -”
“Ah those?” Shoko laughs, shaking her head a little as she reaches down to pull the new student to his feet. “Those are for me to practice for my medical degree.”
She begins to tug him along as she shoots Gojo a look that says follow , which Gojo dutifully does, languidly standing to his feet and stretching before opening the door for her. She keeps talking as she walks, slowly leading the two of them down the hall as she prattles on about the temperature of the bodies and ‘how they’re probably ruined now-’. Gojo lets her voice fade to background static as he watches Suguru instead, processing the boy’s reactions.
Despite his aversion to murder, Getou Suguru seems alright to listen to Shoko talk, nodding along with her every word and even asking a few questions.
Shoko practically glows under his attention, and Gojo can’t help but hide a small smile. Perhaps this new addition to their little wouldn’t be too bad.
~
Gojo has decided he hates Suguru Getou and everything he stands for.
He hates Suguru’s perfect name and the way it reverberates in his brain; all consuming and refusing to dissipate from the edges of Gojo’s thoughts. He hates his perfect black hair, especially how it curls at the ends when it isn’t pulled up into that stupid, stupid bun – which has no right being as beautiful as it is. Gojo hates the horrible, stupid, terribly attractive smile Suguru gives him when their group missions are over, smiles that look slightly pained after Suguru has just swallowed down yet another curse and is now battling it for utter control. He hates Sugurus laughter, how it rings in the air after Shoko has made another one of her snarky comments about Jujutsu Sorcerers and how the society they live in is fucked.
And most of all, he hates the way Suguru says his name. Bright and vibrantly, as though the name itself is worth more than his family name. Each syllable rolls off Suguru’s tongue and hangs in the air as though Suguru had cast a spell.
Sa – to – ru ~
Or maybe it’s a curse.
The entire thing is utterly distracting and it makes it horribly difficult to pay attention when they’re sparring. To make matters so much worse it seems as though Getou has figured out the effect he had on Gojo too.
He’s a cheat, really, whispering the three syllables whenever Gojo gets close enough to land a finishing blow during their hand-to-hand combat training training sessions and causing Gojo to reel back mid swing, only to promptly kick the taller sorcerer onto his ass. Dust from the sparring grounds gets kicked up upon impact floating around the both of them as Gojo is left staring up at Suguru, who just twists his lips into his signature fox-like grin. Dark eyes sparkle in the late afternoon sun as he watches his classmate for a moment before he holds a hand out to help Gojo to his feet – because even in victory Getou Suguru is kind and moral and good. Everything Gojo is not.
Gojo Satoru hates Getou Suguru so much, he thinks he might love him. And that is just entirely unacceptable, especially when Suguru would never love him back.
He thinks about all of this as he sits on the roof of Jujutsu Tech examining the scattered bruises forming along his knuckles, waiting for class to be over. And if he avoids the lecture he is certain to be getting from Yaga for forgetting the veil again . . . Well, he isn’t complaining. Really, it’s not his fault that his babysitters are so easy to ditch.
He still can’t get used to being trailed by some random supervisor Jujutsu Sorcerer on his missions now, only being used to the comforting presence of Suguru or the biting feeling of Shoko by his side. They, at least, let him be himself as they worked, understanding his need for childish banter; or at least not questioning it. His new supervisors usually end up being nearly twice his age, with sticks up their asses and brimming with wisdom that Gojo is simply just not interested in.
Their annoying ramblings about the folly of his youth and the power in his hands have never interested him; not when the world was placed in his palms before he even knew how to walk. There’s no youth to cloud his judgment, as childish as he can act, that’s all it is. An act. A façade he loves to wear because not only does it annoy the hell out of every adult he hates in his vicinity, it’s also horribly fun to pretend his childhood was never his to have.
The Higher-ups loved taking things from him, it’s not his fault if he wants to take a few things back. Especially inconsequential things like his attitude. Proprietary is useless if it’s not meant, a thing of the past that Gojo refuses to follow.
His flippancy towards the world and all those who inhabit it has never been some horrid form of ignorance from a boy who has never known suffering. The disinterest he wears has always been a conscious choice, draped purposely over him as he watches the rest of the world scatter around his feet like ants he has chosen not to step on. His new ‘partners’ never seem to understand that, trying to explain to him how his attitude is going to get the people he cares about killed. They never listen when Gojo explains that the people he cares about will never be on the front lines. Not if he is there to stop it.
People like this used to come into class and talk to him and Shoko with the same message, taking their misguided views and trying to teach the two students about how horrible the world they existed in was. As though he and Shoko, born and raised in the very center of it all, didn’t already know it. Those days he would always find some clever way to escape, faking an illness or a call from the Gojo Matriarch. Yaga had stopped inviting those sorcerers after the seventh time Gojo had skipped, most likely feeling bad over leaving those poor naive adults to deal with Shoko alone. She was even more of a menace without Gojo’s presence – not that anyone but Yaga or those sorcerers would ever believe it.
He can’t avoid the older sorcerers any longer, however. Not when they have been hand-picked by the Higher-Ups as his partners on missions, and go provide progress reports on the Six-Eyes and his progress. Gojo subconsciously knows it’s the old-bags-of-bones’ way of asserting their dominance over him. Some cruel way of reminding him of his place: On his knees with the rest of Jujutsu Society’s feet pressed firmly against his back.
They always used to do this when he acted out of line. Assigning a random mission with a random trusted sorcerer acting as a chaperone and spy. Unfortunately, the number of missions had slowly begun to rise too now that he was steadily approaching sixteen, even though he’d actually been rather well behaved recently. Missions he cannot refuse, unless he wants some other inexperienced idiot to die.
That blood would be on his hands, and he’s never really been a fan of the color red.
“Old enough to be a weapon, but not old enough to make my own decisions -” he murmurs to no one in particular a bleak smile growing on his face as he brings his hands up to the sky, watching the blue sky through the cracks in his spread fingers. Light spills through them, and he squints his eyes before closing them completely and watching the golden cursed energy of Tengen’s barrier spark beneath his eyelids.
How Tengen has lived, devoting herself to these sham sorcerers is beyond him.
He is silent for a while after opening his eyes, picking at the calluses on his fingers before flopping back onto the tiles and watching the clouds pass overhead. Mauve she’ll tell him if he asks politely enough. Or maybe he should just stop thinking about any of it.
He has another mission tomorrow, and this time it’s near Shibuya. He likes going there, wandering the streets after completing his missions and sightseeing. Sticking his head into random shops, buying boxes upon boxes of sweets, and maybe even a few new boxes of cigarettes for Shoko. She has been asking for them. Besides, the city is close enough to make the trip in under an hour if he listens to his driver, but far enough away that he’ll miss his morning classes.
He hates his morning classes, spending most of his time ignoring Yaga talk his ear off about history and drawing random symbols into the back of his notebook. Sometimes, Gojo will even take a nap. The only good thing about them is -
“Yo, Sa-to-ru!” Speak of the devil – “Get down from there!”
Suguru stands on the steps to the main lecture hall, waving up at Gojo with a smile on his face. Gojo waves back grinning a little before slowly slipping off the roof and carefully floating down to the grass. He’s been working on infinity for a while now, and the strength at which he’s able to manipulate the small atoms of air all around him is increasing. The missions, as much as he hates to admit it, are helping.
He takes a few steps forward and Suguru meets him halfway, slowly reaching up to grab Gojo’s hand and squeeze.
“Summer’s approaching, so Shoko and I are going to sneak out later this afternoon to go to the mall” He grins softly, shaking his head. “She told me to invite you – something about you being loaded and paying?”
Gojo blinks mildly, a small smirk growing on his face as he leaned forward. “You want me to use Gojo-clan funds to help you and Shoko go on a shopping spree” He raised a brow, tutting a little as he pulled back again. “And sneaking out? That seems rather irresponsible -”
Gojo means it teasingly, expecting Suguru – bastion of morals and superiority that he is – to protest. Or at the very least try and defend his choices. Of course, Suguru also loves to be unpredictable and does neither.
“We have our own money, thank you very much. We want you to pay for the cab!” Suguru just smirks, slowly reaching up and tugging Gojo down by the collar. “You’ve been trapped here all week, it’ll be fun! Come on, you’ve never been one to follow the rules!”
Before Gojo can interrupt, Suguru is tugging him along towards the stairs, rambling about how Yaga’s been boring without Gojo to pester him and make him interesting and how Shoko has missed him. He’s so sincere it almost hurts, Gojo doesn’t have it in his heart to try and break away, letting Suguru tug him along as he slowly breaks into a smile.
“Yeah? I missed her idiot face too -” his thoughts dissipate when Suguru laughs, squeezing his hand tighter as they continue to bound down the steps to where Shoko is waiting below. He feels like the child he never was, his hand held firmly in Suguru’s and their laughter ringing out across the school grounds. And it feels amazing.
~
The world is never dark, even when he closes his eyes. Golden traces of cursed energy intertwine with cyan and purple streaks as they swirl through the dark world Gojo is forced to always be present in. Always alert; always aware. Sometimes he wishes he could turn off his Six-Eyes the same way he could turn off his infinity.
But he can’t. The Six-Eyes is an ever present part of him and is the very thing that makes him, ‘him’. Without it, he is nothing, just a wandering wisp of endless curse energy that has no purpose. But as important as the Six-Eyes is to his endless cursed energy, it is also a well of endless information. A never ending spring of constant input of every aspect of his surroundings.
Normally that isn’t an issue.
Save for the days he spends hidden under the fan-shaped leaves of the gingko trees surrounding the mountainside school, arm covering his eyes with his black glasses thrown half-hazardly to his side as the world overwhelms him with all its information. The sun filtering in through the leaves is impossibly bright, the usually dim greens seeming vibrant and alive. It would be beautiful if he didn’t have to think, didn’t have to exist in the world while simultaneously taking in every piece of information around him. Pause and smell the roses, Yuki used to say as she crossed her arms and laughed, watching him fall flat on his face during training.
Tsukumo Yuki, the only other special grade sorcerer save for him and Suguru. There was a time when he used to respect her. She never let the higher ups control her, even back then. But now he cannot help but hate her for leaving all the Special Grade missions to him.But as useless as she was, she had given good advice.
Take a break and go still; close your eyes and stop. What peace stagnation would be indeed.
But he is Gojo Satoru. He is the strongest. And he cannot be stagnant, the rest of the Jujutsu world would not survive if he were to stagnate. So he makes do with moments under the ginkgo trees, his sapphire eyes hidden behind the crook of his arm as he pretends the only thing he can see are the glimmering golden threads of energy in the blackness.
An odd comfort indeed, but one he refuses to let go of.
It helps that no one can ever find him, hidden amongst the grove of trees. Anywhere else on campus his cursed energy is like a beacon to all the other sorcerers nearby, but amongst the ancient leaves that Tengen herself had planted he dissipates into nothing but a wisp. It’s a blessing he is more than grateful for, to simply disappear and pretend he doesn’t exist.
He opens his eyes when he hears the shuffling of leaves, immediately sitting up and grabbing his glasses from his side. Even if no cursed spirits can enter anywhere near the grove, curse user assassins certainly can, and he has no desire to scrub any more blood out of his uniform. It took too much effort, and with the upped surveillance around him, the higher ups would notice if he came back with splattered blood across the white of his buttoned up shirt.
His entire body is tense as he gets ready to release his Cursed Technique, Blue humming in his veins and ready to suspend anything that came his way . . . when Suguru comes tumbling into the open space with a panicked look in his eyes, shaking his head angrily when he spotted Gojo sitting in the shade.
“Oi! You damn idiot! Where the fuck have you been?” Suguru’s voice is biting as he storms over, grabbing Gojo up by the collar and yanking him close. “Shoko and I have been looking for you all afternoon! Why haven’t you been picking up your phone?”
“Eh?” Gojo murmured dumbly, staring at Suguru with a confused expression as his glasses slipped down his nose. He winced a little as the light hit his eyes, squeezing them shut immediately as he groaned slightly. He had left his phone in his dorm room that morning when he’d woken up with the splitting headache of Six-Eyes overexerting itself again, knowing that the brightness of the screen would just make the growing headache worse. Maybe he should have explained his disappearance earlier, after all he wasn’t on his typical spot on the roof.
Shaking fingers make their way up to Getou’s wrist, clinging weakly as he sapphire Six-Eyes meets the Onyx abyss of Suguru’s eyes. “ ‘Guru, pleeeze be quied. I’ve gotta headashe -”
He winced at the sound of his own voice, looking away as he bit down on his tongue. He’d never tried talking when he was like this, not realizing just how disoriented he could be when his Six-Eyes was angry. He’d have to work on that as soon as possible. It would not do well for the strongest sorcerer of their generation to be incapacitated by such a simple thing as too much sun.
Suguru, however, immediately let go, falling to his knees beside Gojo immediately as he placed a hand against his forehead. “You’re sick? What the hell are you doing out here then?”
Suguru always spoke with such biting words, every statement laced with some subtle insult or jab. Whether intentional or not, Suguru had never been much for tact when it came to his friends. But recently, Gojo had noticed a subtler note of care behind every word. Every insult somehow centered around Gojo’s ‘inability’, as Shoko put it, to care for himself. Random insults about his horrible eating habits, questions about his sleeping schedule that lead into the worst of nicknames. Somewhere along the line of their friendship, Suguru Getou’s sharp cruelty changed into something far more tender.
It had been gradual at first, as all things with Suguru Getou were, but since noticing it Gojo still had yet to try and figure out exactly what this shift meant. And with his current handicap, he didn’t have much of a chance to parse it out now.
“ ‘s jus’ a headashe -” he mumbled, adjusting his glasses on his nose as he carefully pushed Suguru away, leaning back against the tree trunk and exhaling tiredly before adding “ ‘m fine. It'll gow away on is’ own.”
Suguru watched him with a calculating look, dark eyes scanning over Gojo’s face before he let out an annoyed sigh, taking a seat beside Gojo and nudging him in the side. “How often does this happen for you to be this nonchalant about it? You’re usually complaining non-stop when something even slightly inconveniences you -”
“ ‘s not an incon’ien’ce -” Gojo muttered, nudging Suguru back playfully before resting his head against his shoulder. Frustration bubbles in his chest as he crosses his arms and bites down on his tongue. Talking should not be this difficult, breathing should not be this difficult. “ ‘s jus’ th’ way thins’ go -”
It’s more placating for his aching chest cavity than it is for Suguru’s worry, and he knows it.
Suguru seems to know it too as he just sighs again, reaching up with an annoyed huff and tugging the blackout glasses of Gojo’s nose before throwing them to the side. Protests bubble on Gojo’s tongue as he opens his eyes, whirling his head over to Suguru, prepared to start yelling.
His fingers barely twitch before Suguru’s cool hand comes up to cover his eyes, blocking out all the light from the sun. Glasses lay forgotten in the grass as Suguru laughs softly at the dumbfounded expression he is certainly making, clearing his throat once his chuckles have faded. “Don’t bother talking, it’s a waste of your breath.”
“Mean -” Gojo huffs with no bite, a warm feeling blooming in his chest as he slowly lets the tension in his body fade away. Only Suguru can get this reaction out of him. Only he can make Gojo’s body lose all desire to fight and relax. Suguru’s fingers are gentle against his eyelids, the coolness seeping into his skin and slowly overpowering every other input the Six-Eyes give him. And Suguru is perfectly silent, the only sound his soft breaths as he leans back against the trunk with Gojo.
For a moment, the briefest of moments, Gojo can feel the world still.
Suguru’s eyes are fixated up at the sky, watching the clouds with disinterest, content to remain in the liminal space he has created for Gojo. Blue and red cursed energy roils under the surface Suguru’s skin, verberating like the notes of a harp every time he takes a slow breath.
“You -” Gojo murmurs, catching Suguru’s attention. Gojo doesn’t seem to realize he’s speaking, his eyes remaining shut under Suguru’s hand as he breathes softly. The wind sifts through the brief pause, carrying the smell of summertime flowers from the Tokyo streets. Windchimes from the temple ring, the peaceful melody intermixing with the crow’s songs as Gojo slowly brings his palm to cover the top of Suguru’s free hand. “You’re beautiful.”
The wind blows again as Suguru breathes out in surprise, blinking a little as he jerks back ever so slightly. The action is enough to pull Gojo back to reality as his eyes shoot open.
His breath seems to catch in his throat as he realizes what he’s said, immediately pushing Suguru’s hand away as he reels backwards on his palms, bowing his head. Before he can make it that far, before he can activate limitless, Suguru has him in a tight grip, on hand cupping Gojo’s cheek as the other falls right on his waist.
“Yeah?” His voice is soft, gentle, and lacks any of his usual bite as he leans closer, lips a hair’s width away from Gojo’s own. “You are too.”
Gojo’s eyes flutter shut before he’s closing the small distance between them with a soft tilt of his head, arms draping around Suguru’s shoulders as he melts. They break away only when they have both run out of breath, panting softly as onyx eyes once again meet the sapphire Six-eyes. Silent words whisper in the silence as Suguru softly brings one hand up to cup the side of Gojo’s face, eyes gleaming brightly as he laughs under his breath.
“Hey Satoru -” even now his name on Sugru’s lips sounds like a spell, as soft fingers dance across his skin. The earlier bleariness is gone, dissipated into the air and barely a memory as Gojo hums softly. His head tilts as he keeps the full force of Six-Eyes fixated on Suguru, the only person in the world who is unbothered by its weight. “You’re beautiful.”
“Yeah?” Satoru smiles softly. “You are too -”
~
Gojo’s disappearances have become more frequent these days, now he’s missing entire days at a time now and coming back with injuries unbefitting of him. With the uptake in curses, it’s no surprise he’s being sent on more missions.
He’s counting down the days, though, for Suguru to start joining him. No more stuck up, horrible old sorcerers lecturing him about the nature of their reality. No more horrible, anxious glances from Shoko during the rare times he makes it to class. No more drawn out silences and pauses whenever Suguru discovers a new bruise or cut forming against his skin when they’re laying in each other’s arms in only thin sleep shirts and boxers.
His fingers ghost over them, no words escaping as he frowns softly at the damage, before simply pulling Gojo into a tight hug and whispering sweet nothings against his ear. It’s a fine arrangement, and one Gojo would have been fine keeping until Suguru could join him on missions.
But nothing ever lasts forever.
Suguru starts asking more questions about the disappearances after Gojo comes back with a nasty bruise along his cheek and mismatched overlapping cuts across the knuckles of his right hand. It’s not entirely out of the question for him to be concerned. Nothing is supposed to be able to hurt the Six-Eyes, afterall. For him to come back bruised and bleeding means there is something that can tire him out long enough for infinity to come crashing down. Concern that can’t be brushed away with ‘training’ because both of them know Gojo has been conspicuously absent from all of Yaga’s training sessions.
“Missions for me,” Gojo finally answers when they’re laying in bed across from each other, his head resting on a stolen pillow as he slowly closes his eyes. “Special missions just for me. But you’ll be with me soon. After this exchange event.” The answer is half-baked at best and doesn’t satiate Suguru’s curiosity in the slightest.
The bed frame underneath them both creaks loudly in protest, sounding more like a sharp crack in the silence of the room, as Suguru shifts closer to Gojo’s taller frame.
He opens his mouth, wanting to prod, but thankfully he doesn’t question Gojo further. Instead he just sighs softly, bringing a hand to Gojo’s head and slowly weaving his fingers through the fluffy white strands, murmuring. “One day you’re going to be too far for me hold your hand-”
Gojo opens his eyes at that, tilting his head up to Suguru with an annoyed look plastered on his face as he shakes his head. “My hand is always yours to hold. Always.”
“Even if you’re floating somewhere in the damn clouds?” Suguru snarked, fingers curling hardly in Gojo’s hair before he tugs a little. His voice and actions are playful, but his dark eyes are serious.
Gojo keeps his face blank as he nods, watching the harshness leave Suguru’s eyes as the stench of reality gets washed away in the azure of the sky above them and Gojo’s eyes. “Especially then. Who else would keep me grounded?”
“Yeah?” Suguru murmurs softly, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to Gojo’s forehead with a quiet hum before smoothing out soft white strands underneath calloused fingers. “I’ll keep you grounded.”
“You’re the only one who can.” Gojo confesses softly, words carried away by the early summer winds and dissipating into the jingling of the windchimes Mei-Mei hung up the other day when she visited from Kyoto.
Gojo means it. He hopes Suguru does too.