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English
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Published:
2023-12-21
Updated:
2024-01-01
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2,222
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2/9
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someday, somewhere

Summary:

When Satoru imagined his entry into jujutsu society proper, he could not have predicted the conundrum that is Itadori Yuuji.

But really, who could have?

Notes:

Title taken from Itadori's character song as supplied by Gege. It's sweet and hurts my heart just a little. ♥ Link to song here along with lyrics in Japanese.

Chapter 1: tanabata

Chapter Text

Gojou Satoru is no ordinary sorcerer.

Though, to describe any sorcerer as “ordinary” is a bit objectionable.

Regardless, since the dawn of Heisei it has become a truth acknowledged in their society that Gojou Satoru sits a cut above the rest—a simple name-drop is typically enough to strike fear into the hearts of opportunistic curse users and some sorcerers besides.

This is fortunate, since career sorcerers have become busier than ever responding to surging curse manifestation. If the simultaneous reappearance of the Six Eyes and Limitless means triple the curses, at least rumors of their bearer’s birth and great power discourage unsavories from taking advantage of the chaos.

All this to say, Gojou Satoru is quite used to feeling as if the world revolves around him—a bastion of hope to some, a cosmic inconvenience to others.

That reality begins to crumble, bit by bit, after Satoru first learns his name.

Though, maybe—it begins even earlier.

Maybe it begins that warm Wednesday evening, July 7th, 2004.

Satoru sits on the engawa, flapping the loosened collar of his yukata in a fairly fruitless attempt to generate some airflow. The sun has nearly set, but it still feels hot as anything. A girl brings a tray with tea, setting it down next to him with a quiet clack before excusing herself.

Satoru huffs and leans back on his elbows, gazing out across the manicured inner courtyard and through open screens into one of many sitting rooms. His cousins sit together there, folding paper and writing wishes. He watches as they take turns, rising from their crafting table, each to affix their colorful tanzaku to the prepared tree.

Thanks for the invite. He has only recently returned from an outing with one of his more practical tutors anyhow—exorcising a grade one curse. A bulbous sweating thing, with heat rolling off it in waves, and whenever one of its many pustules popped—that stench.

Still, it had been a bit boring, and here he was now, still bored and feeling unpleasantly sticky even after a shower.

Satoru slips further back until he is supine, flush with the cool of the floor. He closes his eyes and lets the chatter of his cousins become background noise as he drifts.

He thinks of next spring, when he will begin his studies at Tokyo’s technical college for sorcerers. His family has mostly kept him from mingling with others of their world thus far, preparing him with specialized training, likely hoping for some grand debut to strengthen the clan image. However, he outstripped them all years ago, and his sulkiness probably has them wanting him out just as much as he would like to leave.

Maybe some of the students will be interesting. More interesting than his peers here, anyway.

He is not sure how much time has passed when a strange and sudden sense of foreboding jolts him back to awareness. He shivers and sits up, straight-backed and tense. He feels a sort of phantom impression, that someone has just called him by name from inside his own skull, leaving in its wake a tingling sensation.

Before a minute more can pass, the air changes, and a crackling blue wall of cursed energy sweeps through the Gojou complex like a tidal wave. As it washes over him, Satoru feels every hair stand on end, his own energy stirring in response to the electrifying force. Across the way, cousin Naoki gasps and his older sister pulls him to her lap as if to shield him from whatever threat may follow. At the same time, his eldest cousin Masao stands abruptly from the low table and strides out of sight, presumably to find his father.

Satoru can’t help it—he presses his hand to his chest, feels the quickened beating of his own heart—and laughs long and loud.

“Awesome!”

Chapter 2: september ↠ april

Notes:

✧ happy new year! ✧

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

He's late.

Satoru idly chips at the glaze on his empty teacup, wondering how much longer it will be this time. How much more of his time wasted will satisfy his uncle.

He is fairly sure it is done to humble him. While Satoru may hold the title of clan head, it is primarily his stuffy uncle—Gojou Masanobu—who facilitates the day-in, day-out running of things. He figures Uncle relishes opportunities like these. He is probably meant to stew, and to recognize the man's seniority and busy schedule managing adult affairs. 

Fat chance of that. Uncle can squeeze him for respect however he likes. Won't change a thing.

Satoru's mother had made the man sweat too. Both inherited Limitless, but even the weakest Window could tell you who among the siblings wielded the technique to greater effect. It was probably even more embarrassing for Uncle when that same younger sister married a perfectly normal human doctor and proceeded to birth into the world the true hope and future of the Gojou clan. 

Still, not like either parent has done much for him beyond birth. At least Uncle sticks close enough to be a thorn in his side.

"Satoru. It's good you're here." 

His uncle slides the door shut behind him as he enters. Satoru rolls his head on his shoulders, feeling the satisfying pop of vertebrae as he continues to sit in an improper heap at the low table.

"Where else would I be? I was summoned," his lips quirk along the word. "Certainly took your time showing up, though. Must've been one important meeting."

Uncle sweeps his sleeves behind him as he sits and makes to pour himself some tea from the pot. When no liquid is forthcoming, he sighs and eyes Satoru shrewdly from across the table.

"It was. It's actually why I called you here today."

Satoru blinks in some surprise before gesturing at his uncle to Continue, please. Masanobu frowns at the insolent gesture, but carries on nonetheless.

"I've just come from a meeting with Zen'in Naobito. What have you heard of the new special grade?"

Satoru puzzles at the seeming non-sequitur and taps his chin.

"Special grade sorcerer? You mean Tsukumo Yuki?"

Tsukumo is a recent graduate of the Kyoto school, a fact he has learned from one of his tutors, a former senior to the young woman. However, after being promoted to special grade this spring, she allegedly abandoned her duties to travel the world pursuing independent research. He wonders if she will still be getting that special grade paycheck.

Uncle shakes his head, "Newer," then pauses a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts. "Recently, there have been murmurs of a strange young sorcerer entering the scene. The higher-ups in Tokyo have been sending him out on all of their most dangerous errands."

His uncle shifts curiously before resuming, "Earlier this week, Zen'in Naobito and his grandson Naoya reported to an incident in-progress when this newcomer arrived to assist. Naobito says the boy wiped out a special grade curse with nothing more than unmediated cursed energy."

Satoru leans forward, elbows on the table. "Really? No technique application at all? Even for that level?"

"None. And when Zen'in Naoya made it his mission to discover more—"

"You mean snoop for more? Seriously, that guy's the worst—"

Uncle interrupts his grumbling with a nod and hand-wave, "Zen'in learned from one of Tokyo's adjunct instructors that the boy transferred in as a first-year earlier this summer. The class had been empty before that, so they called in a Grade One last-minute to act as his sorcery mentor. Even so, they say the boy's hardly ever on campus, considering how often the higher-ups have him out on assignment. HQ is allegedly waiting for the new year to make his rank—and general existence—official."

"Huh." Satoru considers all this, "Does the mysterious newcomer have a name?"

"Itadori Yuuji."

His uncle's stare is unwavering. Satoru huffs a laugh before pushing away from the table. Away from that vaguely unnerving eye contact, too.

He blows a raspberry with his lips, "And what, exactly, am I to do with this information? What's your motive in telling me all this?"

He looks down his nose at his uncle, who continues to stare at him quite seriously, consternation beginning to color his features now. He passing a kidney stone or something? 

"This coming spring...you should learn from him what you can."

Satoru freezes, then gapes, "Ha!" The laugh bursts out on its own. He continues, in disbelief, "Learn from him? Do you know something I don't, Uncle? Am I going to walk in the first day of classes to find this Itadori Yuuji behind the teacher's desk?"

Uncle closes his eyes as if in pain. "You may find yourself relating to him in ways you cannot others."

Satoru snickers, "Good lord, it's like you're trying to plan a playdate. How am I supposed to feel in this situation? Hasn't anyone ever warned you to handle teenagers with care? We're self-conscious creatures!"

"You are anything but." Uncle exhales long and loud, "Forget I said anything. Or give it some thought. You'll do as you like no matter what I say."

After a little more needling (to his uncle's exasperation), a round of halting inquiry begins. First, into Satoru's studies. Then, his progress with the applications of Limitless. Finally, whether his wing is feeling sufficiently insulated against progressively cooler evenings. 

Eventually, Uncle rises and excuses himself, stressing the need for young people to get plenty of sleep if they want to study their best, and then he's gone.

The sun has hardly set. Higurashi warble their mournful tune as a pleasant breeze passes through the room.

Satoru goes back to fiddling with his teacup, more pensively this time.

Uncle had been strange. Clearly, the situation with this Itadori character had unsettled him. He seemed less threatened by another special grade his nephew's age, and more concerned by the boy's involvement with Tokyo HQ's higher-ups. 

Satoru smirks, Surprisingly paternal. 

Or, could Uncle's mind have travelled along the same track as his own?

A boy appears in the summer, lacking any obvious clan attachment, and is immediately tasked with missions befitting special rank. 

Satoru thinks back to that strange day in July and wonders if there is any connection.

While the shockwave that travelled through most of the country that day was explained away as the exorcism of some ancient evil, carried out by a specially selected team, Satoru had largely written off the excuse as just that. An excuse intended to keep sorcerer society running as usual, and its cogs from thinking too hard on the strange and somewhat bleak nature of their curse-riddled reality.

However, knowing that the seedy old bastards at HQ actually had a special grade sorcerer up their collective sleeve—one capable of exorcising the strongest of curses with only unrefined energy—well. That does lend a little more credence to their supposed involvement in whatever did happen that day.

Uncle Masanobu should not sell himself too short, as their little talk does spur Satoru to double down on his studies. He dedicates special attention to those texts detailing the cursed techniques of sorcerers throughout history—of special abilities gained through lineage as well as by chance. He wonders what his classmates will bring to the table, and how soon he might get to witness Itadori's technique.

At some point, he begins to amuse himself by concocting theories. Maybe Itadori avoids using his technique in combat situations because it embarrasses him. Maybe it requires his full nudity to function. Or perhaps it's an ability that gets him half-off produce at participating locations. Maybe he can draw a perfect circle every time he tries, no matter the circumference.

He could even have a technique like the Kamo, except he's too squeamish to use it. He could be their dirty little secret—a stain on the family—and "Itadori" could be an alias he took on after they disowned him for his unfortunate blood phobia.

Regardless, Satoru's preparations leave him feeling ready to counter as well as collaborate with his peers. There is also the secondary benefit that is an enhanced understanding of his own technique, thanks to a broadened theoretical perspective.

His anticipation mounts higher as the months wear on, and before he knows it, leaves have changed, fallen, and grown anew. It is April and his uncle's driver is helping him move into his dorm ahead of first term. After they finish unloading Satoru's belongings, the man hands him a small case ("From your uncle") before departing.

A glasses case, Satoru realizes, as he removes the pair from within. He holds them up, closes one eye, and notices with surprise that hardly any light passes through the lens. A person with normal vision would hardly be able to see through these at all. A few years back, he might have struggled a little too. He removes the glasses he is currently wearing and puts the new pair on properly.

He steps back and angles his his head up, letting the sun warm his face while he soaks in the more muted tones of the blossoms lining the dorm building. He smiles as a gust of wind sends petals swirling, their dance slightly less riotous now to Satoru's eyes. He can already feel his ever-present migraine receding a bit.

Much better.

You do some pretty unexpected things sometimes, Uncle.

 

Notes:

hope everyone has enjoyed their holidays! this is actually just the first half of the original chapter 2, but i wanted to update sooner rather than later (i spent longer away than planned, and i didn't exactly want to open my fic files with siblings and cousins around, haha)

second half should arrive sooner (where i can guarantee 5u's meeting) ♡

if you like, please share any holiday stories, thoughts, or feelings below! i would love to read them ✿