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Shoko goes to Satoru the night before his fight with Sukuna.
“Oh, Shoko,” Satoru greets when he opens the door to Shoko standing with her hands in the pockets of her white doctor’s coat. “What brings you—”
“Hey.” She bodies her way inside and stands in the middle of his room, illuminated by the late afternoon sun filtering through the window. “I have a bone to pick with you.”
Satoru scratches at his head, hair still a little wet from the shower he just took. “This couldn’t wait until after I kill Sukuna and save the world?”
So cocky. Shoko really hates him sometimes.
“Nah. I might not get a chance to. Might be too busy doing your autopsy and studying the Six Eyes. You promised I get to do that when you kick the bucket, remember? Donate it to science and whatnot. You cleared that up with your clan or will I have to fight them for it?”
“Appreciate your vote of confidence,” Satoru scoffs with a roll of his eyes. “So, what’s the bone picking for? I’ve been sealed for nineteen days. I literally just got out hours ago. What could I have possibly done in that time for you to have beef with me?”
Oh, if only you knew, Shoko thinks. He’s got an innate talent of pissing her off in less. The record used to be twenty-two minutes and thirty-eight seconds, before that brief five-minute talk they had after his unsealing which is the very reason she is here right now.
There are so many things Shoko is angry at Satoru for, in fact, she has a list. A very long list that has been accumulating since they were fifteen and for which Shoko has generously and magnanimously let a lot of things slide; because with time, she realized that it’s pointless to hold grudges for most of them and being angry at Satoru when he is one of the only remaining people she cares about isn’t worth it.
So, Shoko often forgives and forgets. Let things go because seeing and being constantly around death and loss for so long has made her realize it is infinitely better to grant amnesty than harbor regret. She can even count the things and people she cannot bring herself to forgive on one hand.
Suguru for leaving and making her pick up the pieces he broke, herself for not seeing the cracks and not doing anything until the shards had already scattered, and Satoru for not destroying Suguru’s body—while Shoko was complicit in that mistake and she understands why they couldn’t do it, she can never forgive the two of them for the catastrophe that weakness they allowed themselves to indulge in have caused.
And Shoko has pardoned and excused Satoru for many things since then, but there is one thing that she has never been able to let go of.
“It’s just—” she takes a deep steadying breath, and when she looks up, Satoru is surprised to see the sheer anger in her eyes. “When you said you’re gonna teach these kids to be strong and clever allies so that nobody will ever need to be alone again, that was really shitty of you.”
Because Shoko was there as both arbiter and buffer when Satoru and Suguru still couldn’t stand each other. She was there to heal every injury, every minor cut and bruise, before Satoru got his RCT and Suguru decided to lock himself in his room and tend to himself instead. She was there when Suguru left and Satoru threw himself to exorcising curse after curse and returning to the school half-dead on his feet. She was the one who did all their children’s check-ups, did house calls, and wrote prescriptions when they were sick against the other’s knowledge. Shoko was the first one Satoru called to say ‘It’s done’ and she was there waiting for him as he carried Suguru’s corpse to the Morgue. Satoru sat lifelessly in one of the plastic chairs while Shoko took care of the body and they squeezed each other’s hands when they both couldn’t bring themselves to fire up the incinerator.
She was there, damn it. For all of Satoru throwing his grief around and wearing his loneliness so openly, he failed to see that she was hurt and lonely too. Shoko was there. All along. She was there and Satoru still insisted on being alone all this time.
“What am I, chopped liver? I was there wasn’t I?” Shoko hits Satoru on the chest. It lands with a dull thump because he’s so fucking jacked, damn him, but the shocked look on his face and the way it made him stumble back was enough to give her slight satisfaction. “So, what do you mean ‘alone’, you idiot! Fucking edge lord. I swear to god you’re so far up your ass you can’t even see what’s always been right in front of you!”
Satoru lets Shoko hit him a couple more times, enunciating her points with each hit before he gently takes her wrists and holds them steady.
“And what pray-tell exactly is it that’s always been in front of me, Shoko?”
He’s so calm and good-natured about her outbursts that it’s so very obvious he’s humoring her. But Satoru is looking at her so fondly and there’s a soft easy smile on his shiny lips (vain motherfucker) that she couldn’t help but—
Shoko glares at Satoru. Fucking smug bastard. She wrenches her wrist free from his loose hold, grabs either side of his face, and kisses him.
‘Stupid,’ she thinks as she licks across the seam of Satoru’s lips. He opens his mouth easily and Shoko takes that as an opportunity to shove her tongue inside to meet his. ‘Whatever happened to hell freezing over before falling in love with either of them?’
Shoko feels Satoru melt into against her and his arms snake around her waist, pulling her closer to him. One of his hands goes to cradle her face, tilting it at an angle to take control of the kiss and all thoughts of never falling for the likes of Gojo Satoru evaporates like mist.
Ah, well. Who the hell is she kidding anyway? Gojo Satoru has always been the exception to a lot of things. Shoko has never had a chance against the odds.
Her arms move to rest on his shoulder, hands playing with his hair and the cloth of his blindfold. Shoko tugs it up and off, letting the silk cloth fall somewhere at their feet and allowing her to freely run her hands across soft white locks. The wanton moan Satoru lets out does wonders to her ego and she boldly pushes a leg in between his. She nips and sucks at his bottom lip before pushing away and breaking the kiss with a sigh.
“Me, you idiot.” Shoko lightly tugs at the hair on the back of Satoru’s head as they pull apart and relishes in the groan it elicits from him. “I’ve always been here for you.”
A breathless Satoru opens dazed unfocused blue eyes to smug purple ones and a smirking Shoko. She slowly disentangle from him, allowing herself one last caress of his face before stepping out from his loose hold.
“Alright. Now that I’ve gotten that off my chest, I’ll be going then.” Shoko turns to the door and raises a hand to wave goodbye. “Good luck tomorrow. Don’t die and come back in one piece or whatever.”
“Wait. What? Wait.” The sight of Shoko’s back walking away from him finally manages to get Satoru’s brain back online. “W-w-wait! What the he—Shoko, wait!” Shoko is still going for the door. Her hand is already twisting the doorknob when Satoru finally wills his body to move and turn her back towards him. “Dammit, Shoko! Will you stop for a sec!”
“What?” Shoko asks, annoyingly back to her impressively impassive self as if she didn’t just set fire and turned Satoru’s world upside down literally seconds ago. “I have to get back to the Infirmary.”
“You have to ge—oh my god,” Satoru says evenly before quickly going into hysteria. “Oh my god! ”
Shoko rolls her eyes. So dramatic.
“You can’t just say all that, kiss me within an inch of my life, and then leave!”
“Why not?”
“Why no—” Satoru looks at Shoko in full incredulity before turning his head upwards as if praying to the heavens for patience. This makes Shoko smile. A frustrated and speechless Satoru has always been a fun thing to witness. “I swear to god, woman. You are going to be the death of me.”
“Pretty sure that’s Sukuna.”
“You—!” Satoru is visibly ruffled as he points a finger at her as one would to someone who’s getting on their last nerve and Shoko now has to bite her lip to maintain a straight face. Satoru sees this and glares at her. “Can you take this seriously for one second!”
“Fine,” Shoko sighs, rolling her eyes and shoving her hands in the pockets of her doctor’s coat petulantly, like doing as Satoru asks is some massive imposition on her part, but Satoru could see the humor in her eyes. “Out with it then.”
“First of all,” he sniffs, holding out a finger. “What the fucking hell was that?”
“A kiss.” Shoko shrugs. Like it was obvious. Like it was nothing. Typical. Meanwhile, Satoru’s brain is going a mile a minute. “You’ve had one before, right? Or has it been too long since your last that you forgot what it was?”
“Shoko!”
“Fine, fine.” She raises her hands in a placating gesture. Seriously. For someone who claims to be the strongest, Satoru is all too easy to rile up. She could see why Suguru liked doing it so much. And how it ultimately got him sealed up. Sheesh. “I’ll be serious.”
“Thank you,” Satoru huffs, crossing his arms. “So?”
“I don’t know.” Another shrug and Satoru’s eye twitches. “Always wanted to kiss you. Know what it feels like.”
“Okay. Alright. Cool. Valid,” Satoru nods along. He can’t say he’s never thought about kissing Shoko either after all. “And?”
“And what?”
“What do you think? Did it live up to your expectations?”
Shoko looks thoughtful for a moment as if really contemplating. “It’s alright. I’ve kissed better and I’ve definitely kissed worse. You’re for sure on my top five, I’ll give you that.”
“Top five? Just your top five??” Satoru can’t even begin to describe how insulted he feels. “Not your best??”
“You want me to lie to you?”
“Who’s your top one?”
“I’m not gonna tell you. But I will say this though, Geto was better at it when we were teenagers.”
Satoru narrows his eyes. “Now you’re just being hurtful.”
“No, I’m being honest.” Shoko shakes her head, eyes wide and innocent. She’s too good at affecting the look that Satoru doesn’t know if she’s bluffing or not. “We got drunk at the end of second year and kissed once.”
Satoru clicks his tongue before abruptly snaking an arm around Shoko’s waist to pull her in a long searing and lingering kiss. Slower and much more sensual than the one they had just minutes ago and decidedly wetter. He does a neat little trick with his tongue that has Shoko gasping, nibbling on her bottom lip before letting it go with one last suck. There’s a string of saliva connecting their lips when they part and Satoru leans in for a quick peck just because.
“How’s that?”
“Hmm,” Shoko hums, and when she opens her eyes, they’re a darker shade of purple and a little glassy. Satoru counts that as a win. “Better than the last. Puts you on the top three.”
“Top three, huh?” Shoko feels so soft against him and Satoru can’t keep his eyes away from her shiny kiss swollen lips. They were so soft too. Everything about Shoko is deceptively soft on the surface when Satoru knows, because he has seen her grow into it, that she’s all hard steel and sharp edges. The juxtaposition of her makes the dormant hunger in Satoru sing now that it seems he’s being allowed to feel it. “How are you for time, doc? Anything urgent you need to get back at the Infirmary for?”
“Why?” The look Satoru gives Shoko makes her feel hot under her doctor’s coat, his arm a sturdy thing anchoring her against his solid frame and the hand on her hip almost searing a brand through the layers of fabric. There’s a glint in his eyes that she knows from experience spells trouble but she can’t find it in herself to be wary. Not when she has a very good idea of what it has in store for her. “There are some who still need monitoring, but no one who needs to grow a new limb. Everyone’s stable. The other healers are working around the clock and Yuta’s there too.”
“Great. Perfect. How’s about I take a shot for your top one?”
Shoko tilts her chin and cocks her brow in challenge. Satoru pulls her impossibly closer in answer, clear blue eyes as smug as the smirk on his lips, and proceeds to kiss her once more.
“Hey.” Satoru is the first to speak after hours of lazily making out. He waits for Shoko to hum in acknowledgment before he asks, “When did you start liking me?”
They’re lying on his couch in the dark Shoko is resting her whole weight on top of Satoru, soft and pliant with an ear to his chest, slowly being lulled to a shallow sleep by the steady staccato of his heart. He's got one hand on the small of her back while his other has its fingers absently carding through her hair, reveling in the solid weight of her (alive and warm and soft and here), and letting the smell of lilac mixed with her light perfume wash over him.
Like this, Satoru wishes his cursed technique has the ability to stop time.
“I’ve always liked you,” she says, placing a kiss right where Satoru’s heart rests.
“Liar.”
Shoko snickers and finally lifts her head up to look at him. Her eyes are half-lidded, the bags under them a testament to her exhaustion, and Satoru wonders when was the last time she had a decent sleep. Probably not since high school. But then again, with her rare technique and the school’s medical department having always been severely understaffed, probably not even then.
“You’re right. Hated your guts. Thought you were really pretty until you opened your mouth.”
“Aww, you thought I was pretty?”
Of course, that’s his takeaway from all of that.
“Everyone does,” Shoko replies matter-of-factly, and she firmly believes this, too. Objectively, Satoru is very attractive, almost otherworldly. Only the blind would think otherwise. That is, “Until you open your trap.”
“Buuut?” Satoru prods.
“What do you mean ‘buuut’? There is no ‘buuut’,” Shoko says dragging out the word as he did and shrugs. “Just really hated your guts.”
“Shokooo!”
“Fine, fine,” she sighs and relents her teasing at the whine of her name. Satoru is warm under her, solid and steady, all lean build and hard muscles. The arm slung around her waist keeping her snug against him is a heavy but welcomed weight and the hand lazily stroking her hair makes it hard for Shoko to fight the pull of sleep. She lets out a yawn and smiles when she feels lips press featherlight on top of her head. “I thought you were annoying and obnoxious. Cocky as all hell. An absolute spoiled brat with a rotten attitude and overly mouthy—”
“Yes, by all means, please take your time listing my many winning qualities.”
“If you would just let me finish,” Shoko huffs out a soft laugh. “But you’re also…fun. And witty and smart. Thought you were cool when you played piano during the Kyoto Goodwill Event’s acquaintance dinner in our first year. And really cool when you picked up Geto's guitar and played a full song on the first try after just half an hour of plucking a couple of strings.”
“There we go.” Satoru gives Shoko’s ass a light slap and squeezes her against him as he revels in the sound of her laugh. “How pissed was Suguru about that?”
“Oh, very pissed. I think he didn’t touch his guitar for at least a week.”
“What a petty guy!” Satoru cackles, remembering his best friend fondly and only regretting a little that he just found out about this and didn’t get to lord it over him. “And? What else do you like about me? C’mon, don’t be shy!”
“I like that you’re very athletic,” Shoko continues, humoring him. She lifts herself up a little, arms resting over Satoru’s chest as she peers down at him. “Never cared for sports, but I liked watching you play hoops with the guys. And I always liked watching you and Geto spar on the training grounds. Especially during summer.” She whistles and makes a show of fanning herself. “Total smoke show.”
“Knew you were perving on us!”
“Oh, like you weren’t perving on me that time we got caught in the rain in our summer uniforms and my blouse was sticking to me like a second skin?”
“Suguru was staring too!”
“Unlike you, he had the decency to look away when I caught him. Even blushed a little. Meanwhile,” she pokes at his chest and resolutely does not think too much about how her finger barely pushed against Satoru’s solid pecs. Wow. “Pretty sure all six of your eyes were glued to my tits and I heard you say ‘nice’.”
“Well, that was a compliment! You had very nice tits!” Satoru rises to his defense, not at all perturbed by Shoko’s unimpressed stare and smiling wide at the tight line of her mouth. “And you had a cute bra on. Didn’t peg you for a polka dots kind of girl.”
“If you thought they were nice then, wait ‘til you see them now.”
The smirk on her face is devastating, making Satoru swallow against a sudden lump in his throat.
“Is…that in the cards for me?”
“If you win tomorrow, sure why not.” Shoko shrugs, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I’ll even let you squeeze them.”
“Oh, you tease.” He kisses her, smiling against her lips when he feels her do the same. “You mean when I win.”
“Confident, are ya?”
Satoru shrugs and twirls a lock of her hair on his finger. “To be honest I was feeling pretty meh about the whole thing but now I’m definitely going to win.”
“Just so you could squeeze my tits?”
“Whaddya know? Turns out that’s the only motivation I need actually.”
“You’re so romantic. I’m swooning.”
“That’s me.” He peppers kisses along Shoko’s face, traveling to the side of her jaw and down to her neck. “What else do you like about me? My eyes? My charming dazzling smile?”
“Tch. Narcissist.” Shoko turns her head to bite at Satoru’s ear and smirks when she feels him shiver. “I like that you make me laugh.”
“There’s a dig coming I can feel it.” Satoru rolls his eyes but has to fight against closing them as he lets out a moan when Shoko runs her fingers through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp with blunt nails. “Let me guess. Because I’m a clown?”
“No, of course not. Don’t sell yourself short like that.” Shoko smiles, kissing him tenderly on the nose. “You’re the whole fucking circus.”
“There it is.”
“Kidding aside. You do make me laugh. You’re silly and goofy in the best of ways and I like that you get my humor.” Not a lot of people appreciate its dryness, but Satoru does. One of the few crazy and twisted enough to actually laugh when her jokes take a turn for the gallows instead of being horrified because he has the same sick sense of humor. “And…”
“And?”
“I like that you care so much. Maybe even to a fault, but I think that’s okay. Sometimes it pays to be nosy.”
“Yeah?” The smile on Satoru’s face is a wry little thing. “Should’ve been this nosy when we were teenagers, huh?”
“Yeah, well. You didn’t know any better. None of us did. You’re nosy enough now.” Shoko’s hands move to cradle his cheek. Satoru leans to the touch, clutching her wrist gently, and Shoko smiles when he lets out a soft contented sigh as she kisses him on the nose. “Wish you’d let others be as nosy about your business, too.”
The thing with being the first sorcerer to wield both the Six-Eyes and Limitless in over a century is that Gojo Satoru got used to working and living by his rules. He carries the burden alone because he’s the Strongest and for a long time being the strongest meant being Atlas. For all his life, Satoru has been told that the safety of mankind rests on him because he’s the reason it’s currently balancing on a tightrope in the first place. His birth shifted the world and tilted the power scale between sorcerers and curses thus, maintaining the balance falls solely on him.
Don’t get him wrong. It’s great being the Strongest. The best fucking thing ever even. The pros far outweigh the cons for sure. The heady feeling of being the most powerful being, untouchable as he holds the world in his hands, is intoxicating. A veritable god walking among men. Truly the one and only Honored One.
But they were right when they said it’s lonely at the top.
There was a time when it wasn’t, a time when Satoru wasn’t the only one hailed as the Strongest; when someone else sat at the top of the world beside him deciding when the world gets to receive its due benevolence and he was so sure he would never know loneliness ever again.
But there is a price to pay for his hubris and that is the universe deciding that it will only yield to one master.
So now Satoru sits on his throne at the top of the world, alone once again—the price to pay for being the Strongest and the one and truly Honored One.
He’s not a complete idiot. Satoru knows he’s responsible for his loneliness.
Suguru is a lesson and the reason Satoru keeps tabs on everyone and always getting all up in their business. To this day and perhaps for as long as he lives, Satoru will forever hold that as one of his greatest failures and he’s damned if he’s gonna repeat that same mistake again. His oversight cost him his best friend so now he’s going to make sure none of the people he holds close will ever go off the deep end, not if he can help it even if it kills him, and to do that he has to appear invincible and untouchable.
But Shoko says, ‘Let us in, let us share in your burdens too’ and the idea sure sounds tempting coming from her. Satoru would love nothing more than the sweet mercy of shedding some of the weight he was born with off his shoulders if only he could let go. But letting others share the burden when he’s always been told it’s his to bear alone gives way to fear. Fear of failure and casualties—things he can prevent if he just does things on his own.
But Shoko says, ‘Wish you’d let others be as nosy about your business, too’ and Satoru hears the words for what they really mean.
I wish you’d let me help. I wish you’d lean on me more. I was there after all. All this time I was there and I’m still here now.
And Satoru thinks maybe…maybe there is merit in letting himself rely on others. Maybe there’s no harm in letting them peek beneath the veneer of the Strongest. Maybe they won’t be horrified to see that underneath that perceived godhood, Gojo Satoru is still just human.
Shoko sure wasn’t fazed. Never was even when they were fifteen and she’s just been told that the other two people in their class are special-grade sorcerers—a clan heir with his clan’s legendary techniques and a boy who can absorb and wield curses at his will. Shoko never looked at them other than annoying classmates and eventually friends. Comrades-in-arms in a society where people of their kind flirt with death at every turn.
Shoko has seen Satoru through most phases of his life. She’s seen him at his most awkward, his best, his worst, his most self-destructive, and has never flinched. Grounded him when Suguru left and Satoru let himself spiral into oblivion. Shook him by the shoulders and told him to ‘get a fucking grip, pick yourself up, and get your shit together’ because he has Tsumiki and Megumi now and they needed him. Always the same, cool, no-nonsense attitude. Always a calm and steady presence opposite Satoru’s impulsive and unhinged disposition. When everyone else yields to his whimsies and bows to the will of the Strongest, Shoko has always been an outlier in that she is an unbendable force against the maelstrom that is Satoru. The only one that the Strongest is powerless against.
Ieiri Shoko, as Satoru has long since realized, will always be an exception to a lot of things.
“I’ll work on it,” Satoru says and it’s a promise, but right now, he’s content to only be seen by her. The only other person he knows who looks at him and just sees ‘Satoru’ separate from the Six Eyes, Limitless, the Gojo name, and all that entails. “But can I ask you something?”
“So many questions,” Shoko sighs as she shakes her head, but indulges him anyway. “Shoot.”
“Why just tell me this now?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “I didn’t think there was ever a good time to bring it up, especially after everything that’s happened with Geto back then. And now.”
“What, and you thought the night before the fight of my life against the King of Curses was the perfect time to drop the bomb that you, Ieiri Shoko, have always had the hots for me since forever?”
“A good time as any.” It was mostly a spur-of-the-moment thing and Shoko’s always been the kind of person who rolls with the punches. “And it wasn’t since forever. Don’t flatter yourself. Hated your guts remember?”
“Tragic high school and adolescent years aside,” Satoru rolls his eyes, choosing to ignore her last jab. “We literally had years in between! Why didn’t you say anything then?” He sighs, shaking his head to emphasize his disappointment and because he’s dramatic like that. “And to think I’ve always had a crush on you.”
“Okay, then right back at ya. Why didn’t you tell me you’ve always had the hots for me since forever?”
“...It wasn’t since forever,” Satoru parrots, mumbling as he looks at anywhere but her. “Now who’s flattering themselves.”
Truth is, on some level, Shoko has always known Satoru might have had a crush on her. Subtlety has never been his strong suit after all, even now, but she’s also always thought it was just because he was a sheltered clan kid and had never interacted with other people his age until he went to Jujutsu Tech. And with Shoko being the only female of their cohort, she figured being around a girl who wasn’t a relative or from any of the jujutsu clans was a novelty and merely a passing fancy.
“That’s not what you said. Or are you saying you suddenly just liked me because I kissed and made out with you? That’s some cheap player shit you got going on there.”
“Hey. Don’t insult my feelings. They’re very sincere and innocent.”
“Uh-huh.” Innocent her foot. Tell that to the eyes that can’t seem to decide whether to look at her lips or her exposed cleavage pushed against his chest and the hands currently kneading her ass. “Well?”
“...Touché.”
“Really? Always? So you still do?”
“Yep. Never really went away. I think it actually just got worse through the years.”
“That’s embarrassing.”
Shoko couldn’t help but smile at the confession. Easy and uncomplicated and very matter-of-fact. The sky is blue, water is wet, and Gojo Satoru has always had a crush on Ieiri Shoko. It makes her so unbelievably giddy for some reason. Like a fucking schoolgirl. Good god. Talk about embarrassing. This man is going to ruin her street cred if she’s not careful.
“Tell me about it.” Satoru rolls his eyes and snickers when they eventually meet Shoko’s mischievous gaze. “Well, what about now?”
“Still hate your guts.” She’s mostly joking, but there are still days when she wants to punt him out the window. To be fair though, she also thinks he’s come a long way from being that bratty spoiled clan heir when they were fifteen.
“Ah, but not so much apparently. Recall that you were the one who kissed me after all. There’s a very thin line between love and hate, you know. In fact! I would even say you hate my guts very fondly.”
“Oh my god. What are you even saying? Stop talking already,” Shoko laughs, unable to keep a straight face at his absurdity and pushing a hand against his face because he’s looking far too smug for her and yet she couldn’t find it in her to be annoyed. Fuck. Why is she so endeared by this idiot? “Honestly, I wasn’t really going to. Say anything, that is. Or do any of…this. Just had to finally say my peace about your stupid ‘being alone’ comment. And then I got sidetracked.”
“Into giving me the hottest, filthiest, most intense kiss of my life so far?”
“So far?”
“I’m counting on many more similar kisses and steamy make-out sessions to come in the future. Then move on to some under-the-clothes action when the dust finally settles over everything.”
“Presumptuous,” Shoko says against the suggestive waggling of his brows.
“Nah. Hopeful,” Satoru corrects her with a wink.
Alright. So Shoko also may or may not have had a crush on him since first year. Well, what can she say? He really is so pretty and nice to look at. A veritable sight for sore eyes. Shoko used to think and seriously consider the idea of dating him…until he starts yapping or gets with Suguru and then she’s reminded why nothing ever happened between any of them beyond objective appreciation.
‘Truth is hell would freeze over before I would fall in love with one of you two.’
Shoko thinks about that now and how she and Satoru have been intermittently making out for the past couple of hours. She is very aware of how much she’s eating her words; it would choke her if she thinks about it any more than she is doing now. Oh, if her past self could see her now, perched atop Gojo Satoru with her lips kissed bruised, she would gag.
“Well, your lips were conveniently there and looking very glossy and kissable. What was I gonna do? Not kiss you?” Satoru laughs, the action jostling her a bit, and Shoko has the urge to kiss him again. His lips are so shiny. And soft. Something she now has firsthand experience of. “Nice lip balm, by the way. Cherry?”
“Yeah. My lips were very dry when I came outta the box. You like?”
“I’m more of a strawberry and passion fruit enthusiast, but it’s okay. Sweet.”
“Duly noted,” he says and punctuates his words with a kiss. “Were you ever going to tell me?”
“Honestly? I don’t know.” Shoko seems to consider it for a second and then, “Maybe if you asked.”
“Damn. So that’s on me, huh?”
“I guess so, yeah.”
They’re silent then, content to just lay with each other and bask in their closeness. The staff house is far enough from the main buildings that it’s relatively quiet save for the low hum of the cicadas and the noises from the forest outside. Like this, in Satoru’s couch half shrouded in darkness with nothing but the warm glow of a single lamp and moonlight spilling through the window to illuminate them, they can pretend a war isn't raging outside. That the world isn’t burning and tomorrow is just another day. Shoko doesn’t have a mountain of wounded to heal or bodies piled up in the Morgue for autopsies before sliding them into the incinerator. Satoru isn’t going out to fight the King of Curses in the body of his adoptive son with the fate of the world resting on his shoulder.
Like this, for a moment, Satoru and Shoko pretend they’re two people who are finally right where they should be. Tonight, they spent the better part of the night kissing and lost in each other’s affection, and then tomorrow, they’ll wake up and it’ll either be the most awkward thing ever or the start of something great, of something a long time coming, that they’ll have the rest of their lives figuring out together.
There’s a war going on and the world is burning, but right now, like this, they pretend they’re not on borrowed time.
“You can ask me, you know,” Satoru says at length. “About my crush on you.”
“Have a feeling you’re gonna tell me anyway even if I don’t.”
“Of course I am! Ah, you know me so well.” Satoru squeezes her against him, nuzzling his cheek to hers, and ignoring her squeals of protest. “Always thought you were cool. The coolest chick I’ve ever met. Still is.”
“Nice,” is all Shoko says much to Satoru’s dismay.
“What?” He frowns at her. “That’s it? You don’t want to know what else I like about you?”
“Nah. I’m good with you thinking I’m cool. I’m not a narcissist. Unlike you.” Shoko finishes with a pinch to his side.
“Tch. So mean.” He pouts but yelps when she pinches him again, squirming when she switches tactics and pokes his sides, because she knows he’s ticklish there, and only relenting when he starts whining annoyingly for her to stop. “I like that about you too, by the way. I like that you’re not always nice to me.”
As the sole heir who carried the ancient cursed technique of a prestigious and old clan, Satoru grew up always getting what he wanted. While Suguru didn’t always take his bullshit, even Satoru can admit he got spoiled by his best friend a little by always going along with his shenanigans. Shoko, on the other hand, always made him work for things and had no qualms about having harmless fun at his expense.
“Ehh. An M, huh? I could work with that.”
“Shoko!” A delighted gasp. She really is his dream girl. God. What a woman. How did he get so lucky? “We’re definitely revisiting this conversation later but now I still need you to answer my question.”
“What question?”
“When did you start liking me like…you know…like-like me?”
“Like-like. What are you, in high school?” Shoko smirks at him. He sounds like he’d be poking his fingers together and twiddling his thumbs like a shy schoolgirl confessing to her crush. Tch. What a dork. He’s so cute it’s annoying. She leans down to kiss his pout away and there’s a secret to her smile when she says, “Story for another time.”
“Shoko, please. I might quite literally die tomorrow. I mean, I won’t, but like, if I do—and that’s a big if—you’ll be so sorry you never told me.”
“Nah.” A beep sounds to where she discarded her doctor’s coat and Shoko moves to finally push herself up. She stretches her arms over her head, fully aware of Satoru eyeing the bit of skin that got exposed when her shirt rode up (the pervert), before looking back down at him with a teasing smile. “Pretty sure I won’t.”
“Shokooo!”
“Just gotta win tomorrow then, don’tcha?” Shoko saunters to where her phone has been buzzing nonstop and doesn’t spare him back a glance.
“Hey.” Satoru gets up with a grunt and watches as she swipes at her screen. “This isn’t over, you know.”
“Hm?” Shoko hums distractedly, typing up a response to whoever just texted her. “Pretty sure it is.”
“What, you saying this is a one-time thing?”
Shoko shrugs as she dons back her doctor’s coat. “It can be if you want.”
If he wants? If he wants? What the hell does that mean ‘if he wants’? Satoru just told her he’s had a crush on her since forever and spent that past couple of hours making sure to bag her number one spot for best kisser of all time and she says this can all just be a one-time thing if Satoru wants it to be? Is this woman daft or what?
Good god. Does he really have to spell it out for her? Is that what she wants? Fuck. This woman really is a massive S.
“What if…I don’t want it to be? What if I—How about we—What if we—”
Satoru rubs the back of his head and looks anywhere but at her. From where she’s standing, Shoko can see the tell-tale sign of a blush creeping up his neck and his ears start to redden. The blush finally reaches his cheeks and the pink is an adorably stark contrast against his naturally milky white skin.
“Look. What I’m trying to say is that—Well, I mean, maybe we could, you know…if you—I mean, if we—”
“Take your time.” Shoko, ever the one to thoroughly enjoy whenever Satoru is in a flustered state, smirks as he continues to fumble his words. Where did all his earlier bravado go, huh? “It’s not like I’ve got a hundred patients in various states of injured and dying waiting back at the Infirmary.”
“Jeez! Have some mercy, lady!” Of course she’s gonna taunt and make him say it even after a night of confessions and making out. The little minx. “After all that you still want me to work for it?”
Shoko’s grin is nothing short of wicked. Well, he did say he likes it when she’s mean to him.
“Fine!” Satoru throws his hands up and glares at her. He’s so red he feels like smoke is gonna come out of his ears, but he still makes himself get the words out at Shoko’s expectant look. That glint in her eyes and that smirk—truly a sadistic minx. God. He likes her so much. “Can this…whatever this is between us right now…be something…more?” And then as if an afterthought, “Please?”
“You had me at please,” Shoko acquiesced magnanimously.
“That was literally the last thing I said.”
“Tell you what.” Shoko goes to straighten out his shirt and kisses him chastely on the corner of his lips. “First, win your fight with Sukuna, come back alive and in one piece, then after I patch you up, we’ll talk about, and I quote, ‘whatever this is between us’.”
“Bold of you to assume I’ll need patching up.”
“I’m hoping I won’t have to but best to expect the worst.”
“I’m definitely coming back unscathed and kiss you so hard your knees will fold. You won’t even remember your name.”
“Threaten me with a good time, will you?”
“And you still owe me that boob squeeze.”
“Romantic.”
“Oh, I’ll show you true romance when I get back. The Gojo Satoru Boyfriend Special. Guaranteed you’ll be swooning for days.”
“Boyfriend, huh?”
“That’s what you’re gonna be referring to me as when I get back.”
“Again,” Shoko yanks him down for another kiss, soft and sweet and perfect, and the very obvious answer to Satoru’s declaration. “Presumptuous.”
“Again,” Satoru pulls her to him, tucking her under his chin with his arms around her in a lover’s embrace, content to just stay like this forever if only they could. “Hopeful.”
CODA
“Hey, Shoko.”
“Yeah?”
Satoru contemplates if he should say it. He suspects she already knows. It’s not like he’s ever held himself back from her anyway, not even when they were kids. And even if she wasn’t aware, after tonight, surely there’s no way she still hasn’t figured it out.
Well, they made it this far. Here he goes. All or nothing. Go big or go home.
“I love you.”
“Oh? Moving a little too fast there aren't ya?” Shoko has that knowing glint in her eyes. Ah, she really knows him too well. And then she hits him with, “You cursing me or something?”
“Wha—That's not—! It's not a—! I'm not cu—!"
"Would you relax? I was just kidding. Don't give yourself a conniption before Sukuna does."
"Ah, whatever. Now you know. Big deal. As if you didn’t know already.” At any rate, there’s no sense in keeping from her something that’s always been true. Now that he knows Shoko at least finds him attractive and reciprocates to some degree, what’s stopping Satoru from going all out? “Anyway, you don’t have to say it back or anything. I’m just…finally putting it out there. The words, I mean. Take your time or whatever.”
“Tch. Idiot.” Shoko rolls her eyes at him. What is he acting all cool for? “Doesn’t it already go without saying? Besides, twisted a curse that may be,” she reaches up to the hand awkwardly scratching at his nape, a habit he does when he’s nervous, and pulls him down for a quick kiss. "I don't mind it at all."