Chapter Text
‘Take care of the farm.’
That was all that stood out on the letter that he got from a long lost grandfather. One that Satoru can’t even say he remembers.
But the letter is addressed to him – and him, alone.
His mother scoffs at it, his father shaking his head as the both of them dismiss the piece of paper as if it is little more than that. To them, it’s a piece of paper from a relative that may as well have not existed according to the Gojo estate – but to Satoru…
To Satoru, this is freedom.
He clutches the piece of paper to his chest and vows to go and make this his destiny.
The bus ride is one that starts off loud as he leaves the city – and then, as time and the stops go on, the quieter it gets. Satoru sits at the back of the bus with his luggage tucked up in the top crevices of the overhead compartment, some of them shoved under his legs and his seat, with another nestled on his lap. He watches how each stop leaves the bus with less and less passengers. Eventually, it’s just him and the bus driver. The sun has started to decline after high noon, and he moves everything up to the front of the bus at the bus driver’s advice.
“You’ll want to take as few trips as possible.” The kind man says, wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and a name tag that reads ‘Itadori’. He sits up at the front of the bus with his bag in his lap, leaning forwards to better talk to Mr. Itadori as he tells him about how he himself lives in the same town that Satoru is currently moving to.
“You’ll love it. Everyone knows everyone – it’s a real nice environment. Everyone’s kind to one another – as they should be! Real helpful bunch. Not like those kids from the city.” He mutters that last part to himself, and Satoru leans back in his chair so as to not let the man know that he, himself, is one of those city kids. Mr. Itadori tells Satoru about his son and daughter in law – about their son, his grandson, and Satoru tells him that it’s his own grandfather that wrote to him about this place. Mr. Itadori nods solemnly, a small smile on his features as he mumbles something about ‘leading the youth down the right path’. Satoru hopes that he’s right.
They reach the town a little bit before dusk, just enough time in the day for Satoru to pack all his bags on his person and thank Mr. Itadori for his kindness and the ride. The walk from the bus stop to the farm is not one for the faint hearted, and Satoru wheezes as he regrets bringing all of these bags… but the thought makes him stop dead in his tracks.
That’s the exact line of reasoning his mother would tell him in an effort to keep him from doing all of this.
‘It’s beneath you.’ She’d say.
He shakes his head, hefting his bags again to a more comfortable position on his back and on his arms, and keeps on marching. He reaches the opening gates at the twilight hour, the sun kissing the higher part of the horizon that spans across the mountain range in the far parts of the town’s valleys and hills. He looks out with stargazing eyes at the fiery oranges and mystical pinks and hues of purple that dance across the sky, dappled like finger paintings and smeared with a gentle touch that only a painter can have.
It’s breathtaking, and it almost distracts Satoru enough as he takes his first step across the threshold of the farm…
A mess is what greets him – Satoru’s luggage hits the ground with a soft ‘thump’ as he looks out over the field of weeds and stumps, littered with garbage and other random debris that definitely looks like it harbors some nasty things hidden in the tall grass. He looks over to his left, taking in the surprisingly sturdy barn that stands like a monolith amongst the high grass.
The barn is quiet as he comes up to it, pushing open the sliding doors and peeking inside of the large building. The smell of straw and stale air assaults his nostrils, but it’s cleaner than he originally thought it would be. There’s not the stench of animals and manure, and the floors do not carry the burden of such. He closes the door, leaving the silence to itself as he returns to his bags. In the far distance, there’s only what he can assume is a chicken coop, if the weather vane that rests atop it is any indicator of that. He assumes that the coop is just as the barn is – barren, lonely, wanting of a gentle, caring touch and the breath of life instilled in it. Begging for it.
It is a plea that Satoru fears he cannot answer.
He leans down to pick up one of his bags, a trail of ants starting to form in front of him, and Satoru watches them with a transfixed stare before he realizes that the water drops that fall from the sky and plop into the dirt in big, fat splashes are actually coming from him.
The tears come like a ravaging flood – tears of frustration, of not understanding, of thinking just how stupid he was to come out here after all these years and expect everything to be just as it must have been back when his grandfather took no doubt meticulous care of this little patch of heaven. He hiccups as he tries to push the ever encroaching bit of sadness that is a lump in his throat downwards, balling his fists around the bag that he holds in his grasp. There’s a silent moment as the wind blows and Satoru watches how the trees on the property sway and bow with the wind’s power. He sees that there’s a few apples that hang low from the branches – a small mercy as to the bleak reality of his current predicament.
Stupid. He’s so stupid.
Satoru chastises himself for his foolishness, and his shoulders shake as he tries to keep his crying to a minimum. He was always told that only children wail. And he’s not a child. He doesn’t need anyone to come save him. He doesn’t need his family to come –
He hears someone come up behind him, and it takes everything in Satoru to not turn around and demand to know what the meaning of all of this is.
“You the new kid?”
He wills the tears to stop, sniffling and rubbing at his nose as if it’s just allergies. He turns around to find a thick built man, one with sunglasses and a beard staring at him. He looks… familiar. Yet, Satoru knows he’s never met this man before in his life. He pushes the uneasy feeling to the back of his mind, and reaches out his hand to greet the man.
“I’m Satoru – Gojo Satoru.”
The man takes his hand with a stern look – one that never seems to change from its stoic expression even as he looks over Satoru.
“I’m Yaga. I’m the mayor of this town. I heard that the Gojo heir was going to grace our little slice of paradise with his presence – but I never actually expected you to come all the way out here!”
He laughs – though it’s more of a scoff, than anything – and Satoru realizes that the man named Yaga is still holding his hand, firmly. He tries to take it back, but Yaga holds him, staring into his eyes with that same familiarity that is only reserved for close family and those people that you swear you’ve seen in the supermarket before.
“So, have you gotten the chance to look over the place?” Yaga asks, and he finally lets go of Satoru’s hand. Satoru shoves his hands into his pockets, as if he expects Yaga to grab them both and hold him hostage.
“Not yet. Well, a little.” Satoru says, and motions towards the barn with a jerk of his chin. He must look the part of a spoiled brat – a few bags of overpacked luggage at his feet, his hands in his pockets, his lip pouting and his eyes covered by his own luxury sunglasses. They’ve got to be the most expensive thing that Satoru has on right now, and he wonders how that affects Yaga’s perception of him.
He wants to be more than his family’s name.
He can already hear his mother’s scoff – an ever present sound of disapproval that runs like a broken record, scratching and repeating in a warbled note through his consciousness. It haunts him – reminding him that he makes nothing but the wrong decisions.
But this will be different.
He decides right now to not listen to the scoffing, and turns back to Yaga.
“I plan on making this my home.” He says, and Yaga stares at him from behind his sunglasses, aghast, his mouth open a little bit. Something breaks out of him, and it takes Satoru a few seconds to realize that Yaga is laughing at him. Satoru’s cheeks burn, his tears threatening to make a resurgence.
“What’s so funny, old man?” He asks, practically demands, and that gets Yaga to shut up.
“Old man? I am not old! I’ll have you know that I’m only –” Yaga cuts himself off, coughing into a fist as he tries to regain his composure.
“Are you sure?” Yaga starts, again, and Satoru feels that flush across his cheeks, again. Only this time, it’s out of a sense of embarrassment, like he’s just been caught doing something he shouldn’t be. But why?
“This is a pretty run down farm – it’s been left alone by the villagers for quite some time, ever since the last owner grew old and could no longer maintain the property. Are you sure that you’re up to the task of taking care of it?” Yaga asks, his hands held behind him, his back straight and his heels together. It’s a question of Satoru’s own merit that he’s asking – and Satoru nods in acceptance of his task.
“I’ll do it. I’ll prove to everyone that I can do it. This is my grandfather’s farm – I can’t let it just go to waste.”
Yaga lets a small smile crack across his features, before he slaps Satoru on the back. It sends Satoru forwards a few feet, and he catches himself before he straightens up to stare at the mayor.
“I’ll obviously be here if you need help – the rest of the villagers, too. We’ll all be watching you, kid. Make your old man proud.”
Satoru nods, making a sound of acknowledgement, before turning to look at the small cottage that will be his new home. It’s small, smaller than he’s used to from his lavish upbringing, but it’s homey in its own way. Its roof is made of blue shingles, a few windows on each side hiding the interior with thick, fabric curtains. The door is sturdy, and the handle is old and made of bronze, aiding in a slightly aged look to the entire thing.
It’s perfect.
Yaga helps him bring in his bags, flicking the lights on to make sure the power still works. Satoru looks around as they finish up their trips – taking in the small space. There’s an old box tv in the corner next to the single bed that has been stripped down to the mattress, and Satoru is glad he brought his own sheets and pillow. He’ll have to see about ordering a few new ones, though – you can never have too many pillows. There’s also a chest in the opposing corner of the room, and Yaga notices Satoru’s interest in it.
“Oh, that. I remember your grandfather kept his tools there. You might find something useful in there, maybe a few packets of seeds. There’s also a shed outside with a few larger pieces of equipment, if you need it. And the general store usually has a few things in stock in case there’s something that you just have to have.”
Satoru nods at all the information, noting it all in the back of his memory for later. It’s late, and he yawns a bit as he sets about making his bed. Yaga bids him good night, and Satoru follows him to the door to lock it behind him.
Here, in the quiet of his new home, Satoru turns to look around – taking in his surroundings with new eyes. It’s a little underwhelming, the way the room seems to shrink in on him. He blinks away the sensation, rubbing at his tired eyes, and chalks it up to the exhaustion of moving. That’s why his limbs seem to drag behind him, why the edges of his vision seem to blur and fade into uncertainty. He yawns, stretching as he forces himself to make his bed for the first night in his new home.
The next morning, he’s greeted with the sun on his face and the birds outside his room chirping at an ungodly hour. It’s the first time that he’s been woken up by the sunrise – usually, he’d left the chore of waking him up to the maids, and even then they’d know better than to wake him up before he was good and ready to be up before serving him breakfast. Here, there’s no one to wake him up, much left to make him breakfast. Speaking of…
Satoru realizes that he doesn’t have a kitchen in this new place. It’s a stark reminder that he is, indeed, out on his own for this one. The rumbling in his belly tells him that he needs to figure this out, quickly. He gets out of bed with a lazy stretch that reveals a little bit of his tummy, arching his back ever so slightly as a sigh escapes him. He looks around at the house around him, as if realizing that all of this wasn’t just a dream from the night before. He stands next to his bed for a second before he realizes that if he doesn’t make his bed, then no one will, and he doesn’t want to come back to bed with messed up sheets. That’ll make his night even more lonely, and he never found it possible to have a good night's sleep with messy sheets. He even makes sure to tuck in his corners, spreading his hands out over the top of his blanket, smoothing out the wrinkles. He stares at his handiwork with a proud smile on his features, before he decides that he has to get ready if he’s going to leave for anywhere.
He leaves the house in a new set of overalls and a plaid shirt that he’d bought just for the occasion of moving out to the sticks – his boots new and freshly laced as he locks the door behind him. They may be out in the countryside, but Satoru decides that he’d much rather not risk anyone coming into his house when he’s not here. He takes a moment to walk around the property, pulling at the occasional weed and turning over a rock here and there. There’s a stream at the end of the farm, with a little wooden bridge that crosses over into the forest behind even that. He doesn’t want to check out there, just yet, and he returns to the front area of the farm where he saw the fruit trees from the previous day. There’s a few apples within arms reach, and a bee hive that hangs from one of the branches.
Satoru tells himself that if he can get something up there, maybe he can transfer the bees to a hive and he can harvest the honey on a semi-daily basis. He gets excited at the thought – he’s going to be a real farmer! With cows, and bees, and maybe the occasional chicken if he feels like it!
His stomach growls, and he’s brought back to his current predicament – food.
Satoru reaches up and takes one of the apples from the tree, biting into it and savoring the sweetness that erupts over his tongue. He makes a sound of excitement, one that’s high pitched and nasally as he hums with pleasure. He finishes the rest of the apple in a hurry, tossing the core into the weeds that grow rampant across the field that lays at his side. He’s sure that something will find nourishment out of it. For now, he needs to find something more substantial to fill his still growling belly.
It’s his first time out on the town – and the morning is still new as he walks down the avenues, peeking down lost crevices and alleyways that he finds lead to other parts of the town. One leads back to the farm, another leads to a park that seems to be overgrown with wilderness. It’s a little after nine when he finally makes his way to the center of town, his stomach growling and his legs a bit tired from the early morning exercise.
Satoru finds himself in front of a tall building, with the words ‘INN’ stamped right above the entrance. There’s a small sign off to the side of the building that also states there’s a restaurant inside, and that they have just opened for business.
‘What luck,’ Satoru thinks to himself, perusing the menu that has been meticulously drawn out in chalk – presumably the night before. Something sweet catches his eye – pancakes, hot and stacked high – and his stomach gives another flip as he takes the steps up two at a time just to get inside faster.
The inside of the inn is dark, and it takes a few seconds and a couple of blinks for Satoru’s eyes to get used to the dim interior. Once they do, though, Satoru is greeted by the earthy smells of cooking meats and a fire barely crackling in the corner, tucked away in a cozy fireplace that looks like it’s been burning since the night prior. Satoru’s boot heels click against the hardwood floors, signaling his presence. He gets all the way up to the front desk when a man comes out from the back, wiping his hands on the apron around his waist.
No, not a man – a boy. Probably younger than Satoru, himself.
With dark hair, and green eyes – the same shade as the bountiful forestry that surrounds the town and fills its park with lush shades of emerald. The boy looks at him with a slight twinge of annoyance, his lips pouting as he walks up to the front desk.
“What can I do for you?” he says, and his deep voice is a shock to Satoru, who expected him to have a slightly higher pitch. But everyone ages differently, he supposes.
“I was hoping for a hot meal.” Satoru replies, a small hint of a smile on his lips. The boy snorts, fishing out a small notepad and pencil even though Satoru is currently the only one in the inn. Must be for records, he thinks to himself.
“What’ll you have? I’m by myself right now, so it might take some time.”
Once again, Satoru looks around at the empty hall – taking in the stretches of tables and their benches tucked away neatly from the night before. He shrugs it off, as another wave of hunger washes over him.
“Uh, that’s fine. I’ll have the pancakes… with extra whipped cream.” Satoru finishes off with a smile, chirping excitedly at the mere thought. The boy gives him a look that tells Satoru he thinks a grown man shouldn’t be acting this way over a bit of whipped cream, and makes a note of his order down on his notepad.
“That’s going to take me a bit – have to make everything by hand. You know – something that you city slickers aren’t so used to.”
Satoru stops his tittering full stop – his mouth falling open and his eyes going wide.
“How’d you know I’m from the city?”
“Word travels fast around here.” The boy says, tucking his notepad into the pocket of his apron. He places his fists on his waist, cocking his hips and his head both to the side as he gauges Satoru’s expression, “You’re the new farmer. Allegedly.”
Satoru sits up from where he’d been leaning on the bar, sucking a breath back as he clenches his jaw. Who the hell is this kid that thinks he can just –
No. No, that’s the old Gojo Satoru.
That is not him – not anymore.
Now, he’s just Satoru – the resident farmer. No more Gojo name to hide behind.
“Yes…” Satoru croaks, thrumming up the courage to clear his throat, “Yes – I’m the new owner of the farm down the way. I’m Satoru – and you are?”
“Megumi. My dad and I own this inn,” he juts his thumb to the side of the building, where Satoru had noted another building stood, “And subsequently, the bar next door. But that’s only open when the old asshole decides for it to be.”
“Well, I’m not really a fan of drinking, anyway.” Satoru jokes, sniffing at the way the room’s heady scent continues to worm its way into between his ears and fill his head with smoke.
“Neither is he.” Megumi sighs, turning on his heel, “Sit anywhere. I’ll be right out with your food.”
Satoru takes a seat next to the fire, letting its warmth seep into his bones. He hardly realized just how cool it had been this morning, and he shivers as he rubs his arms to gain back circulation. He waits, looking around the inn, and as he does, more and more people file in after him. He thinks that he must have hit them at the perfect time, because Megumi rushes back out with his notepad in hand, furiously scribbling orders before dashing back into the back room.
A boy with pink hair eventually shows up, and walks into the back room after Megumi. Satoru thinks he must be the help – but he looked surprisingly familiar. Oh well, back to people watching.
Most of the people who come through must be travelers, Satoru thinks. Most of them have packs that they set at their feet, while some look to be more local as they carry themselves with an air of familiarity to the place. Waiting at their seats, they watch how Megumi and the new boy begin to file out with plates of fresh food and coffee, small smiles on the corners of their mouths. Satoru is the first one to receive his layers of pancakes, and it’s not by Megumi that it is delivered.
The boy with the pink hair gives him a radiant smile.
“Oh! You must be the new farmer!” He says, and the way he does makes Satoru’s heart surge with a longing to protect. It’s a different feeling from the one he got for Megumi, but not so much.
“Yes – I’m Satoru. I just moved in.” Satoru introduces himself, and he has a feeling he’ll be doing that a lot for the first few days.
“I’m Yuuji! You might have seen my granddad – he runs the bus in and out of town!” Yuuji beams, and it’s as if the full concentrated power of the sun has been unleashed up on Satoru’s eyes. He smiles weakly at Yuuji’s overfamiliar tone, and shuffles in his seat as his food is placed down in front of him.
“I did – he was a very nice man. Very helpful.”
They stare at each other for a hot minute, and Satoru coughs as he turns his attention back to the pancakes.
“Um… do you have syrup?” He asks, and Yuuji makes a gasping motion while smacking his palm with a fist.
“Oh! We do! It’s locally sourced from the apiary down the road! They also supply all the wine for the area!” Yuuji says, walking over to an empty table to grab a bottle of syrup. He places it down for Satoru to pick up, and watches for a second as Satoru practically dumps the entire bottle over his pancakes. Satoru stops and looks up at him, blinking blankly.
“Sorry – it’s just… Have we met before?” Yuuji asks, and Satoru can’t help but feel like he should be the one asking these questions. He does feel like he’s seen the two boys before, somewhere…
“You might be thinking of my own grandfather – I’m told we look pretty similar. White hair and all that.” Satoru teases, and Yuuji smiles warmly.
“That’s probably it. I’ve lived in this town my entire life, and I’ve seen so many people come and go – all the faces start to melt together, I guess.” He says it with such a soft sadness that Satoru can practically feel it ooze into the edges of his psyche, just as the syrup is doing to his now almost forgotten pancakes. He clears his throat to break the tension, and Yuuji snaps back to reality as Megumi yells for him from the back room.
“That’s my cue! Enjoy your food, Satoru!” Yuuji calls back, waving as he rushes back to help carry another bundle of food out to waiting guests. Satoru watches him go, before slowly working his way through his stack of pancakes, the feeling of fullness eluding him as he thinks over what has just been said.
Once he’s done, Satoru gets up, leaving behind a bit of cash for the food. He catches Yuuji’s eyes on the way out, and they wave to each other in silence before Satoru makes his way back out into the bright sunlight. He blinks a few times as he brings himself back to the present, and now with a belly full of food, he’s on the look out for a market. He takes a few avenues down, finding a row of houses. They all look uniform – all except for the color of the doors and the random assortments of decorations on the pathways to said doors. Their mailboxes are all overgrown with wildflowers, and bees hum and buzz happily amongst the foliage, adding to the serene atmosphere that the entire town seems to carry.
Satoru breathes in deeply, as he walks past the houses, noting that one of them also doubles as a library, as a secondary pathway leads to the side of one of the houses. He finds a doctor’s office first, and Satoru makes a mental note of his surroundings and what avenue leads to which when he finds what he’s looking for.
The market is a small building – with a wooden sign outside that states their hours and little else. The name of the market is plastered in big, wooden letters above the door.
‘Zen’in Groceries’
Satoru smiles, putting on his bravest face as he crosses the threshold, ready for whatever or whoever awaits him. If the rest of the town is anything like Yuuji, he’s going to have to be ready for a whole lot of familiarity. He opens the door to the sound of a jingling bell, and is pleasantly surprised to be greeted by the fresh, earthy smell of root vegetables and a clean scent of freshly washed linen table cloths. There’s a man at the counter, his hair tied in two knots at either side of his head, and he’s looking down – reading a paper, Satoru finds. It must be the morning news. He walks up to the counter, glancing down at everything that he passes in the meantime.
The man looks up at him, and there’s a small look of confusion and shock on his face as he tries to place a name to the face.
“You’re new.” The man says, and Satoru sighs inwardly.
“Yes – I’m Satoru – I just moved in.”
“Hmm – I see.” The man hums, returning his attention back to the paper, marking his place with a crease in the corner, before sliding it shut with a definitive yet soft clap. He leans against the counter on bowed arms, a serious look on his features as he scrutinizes Satoru with those serious eyes.
“You don’t look the sort of man to want to run a farm.”
That hurts a little bit deeper than Satoru would like to admit, and he clenches his fists at his sides as he walks forward to inspect a display of seeds.
“I guess I just haven’t really grown into the role.”
“Hmm.” The man says again, watching Satoru in mindful silence. They both seem at a standstill, the pregnant pause between them maddening as Satoru reads and re-reads the labels of the seeds before him – not wanting to make eye contact with the storekeeper currently holding him in a steely, unwavering gaze.
“Jeez, Kamo – can you not scare off potential buyers?” A female voice breaks through the silence, and Satoru looks up thankfully to see another person walk through the front door. She is tanned, sleeves rolled up over her shoulders, with a neat pair of glasses on her sweat stained face. There’s a boy behind her, too – real quiet type, doesn’t look like he’s much interested in the conversation at hand as he starts to dutifully look around the shop. Satoru watches them both walk up to the front desk – to Kamo – and begin to lay out a veritable grocery list on the counter.
“I need all of this – preferably before the end of the month. How fast do you think you can get this in?”
“Maki! You should know better than ordering things last minute! The frost will get to your crops before half of this can come in!”
Maki snorts, waving her hand in the air flippantly, “That’s not what I asked. I asked how fast you can get me these. If it’s not possible, just say that.”
“I’m not –”
“What are you trying to buy?” Satoru interjects, and the three of the other people in the store turn and stare at him as if they had forgotten that he was even there not five minutes ago. The girl – Maki – stares at him from behind the thick frames of her glasses. It’s an intimidating stare, one that Satoru feels he’s seen one time too many today, and Satoru almost wonders if she and the boy from the inn are related…
“I’m sorry – I’m the new –”
“New farmer? Yeah, I heard about you. I run the ranch across the mountain. Technically my family runs this beat down place, but the current one in charge is a lazy lout that’s probably off drinking himself into an early grave.”
“Now, Maki – you shouldn’t speak of your uncle that way. I’m doing you a favor being here.” Kamo says, and the boy beside Maki nods, knowingly. Satoru thinks that he’ll have to come back to get seeds and some better gardening tools – but he needs money, first.
“Well – I’ll… let you get back to it, then. It was nice to meet you.” Satoru says, but he feels as if the three have already once again forgotten about him, lost in Maki’s list of neverending needs and Kamo’s complaints that he has his own work to worry about. Satoru wonders what he does, but those thoughts are lost to the wayside as he closes the door behind him with a cheery jingle of the door bell.
Satoru sets off towards the east side of town, taking note of the doctor’s office, which he notices says ‘Kamo’s Clinic’ and the dots begin to click into place. Kamo must be the doctor, but because they are right next to each other, he must do some favors for the owner of the Zen’in ran grocery store. Now to find out where that quiet boy falls into all of this… his thoughts wander as he walks past a flower nursery, passing next to a small town church as he rounds a corner to head towards the town square. The signs at each avenue keep him in check as he walks, letting him know where he’s headed and where he’s come from.
The town square is large, a billboard stationed in one corner and a few benches littering the outside ring of the square. He chances a glance at the billboard – reading a few requests of the various townsfolk, the current month’s specials at the stores and the notices for the festivals coming up that month.
One request in particular stands out to him.
“Apples – about a dozen – needed ASAP”
He thinks about the multiple apples on his farm, and is hit with sudden inspiration. He can do this! The reward isn’t much, but if all he has to do is bring a few handfuls of apples to the restaurant and he gets some cash for it? Sign him up!
With newfound strength in his weary legs and a determination building up inside of him, Satoru turns on his heel to march down the avenue that leads back to his farm.
He sees everything around the bottom half of town, but meets no one new as the lights in people’s houses start to turn on and the sun begins to set. From the farmer’s market, down to the local family that breeds chickens and their neighbors that sell cows. He looks out over the fields that house the animals, breathing in the encroaching dusk.
One of the houses that he passes is different from the others – it’s not like the inn, which is three stories tall with a restaurant on the first floor and filled with the scent of freshly made food. It’s a different kind of building – a two story that has a light on, but has no sign to show if it is ever open. Satoru wonders about knocking one of these days, but tonight he needs to get back before the night fully encroaches in. He feels as if he’s missing something, even now, and he hurries on his way back home with his thoughts of the day in tow.