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Namo Amitabha Buddha.
Namo Amitabha Buddha.
Namo Amitabha Buddha.
He’s sitting on the airport seats, watching the planes fly by.
He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, but he thought it’s been long enough to say at least a day had passed. That never really said much though, because the days never changed from its perfect blue skies with soft fluffy clouds.
The time spent sitting at the airport were boring, vending machine snacks and sugary sodas could only entertain a man like Gojo for so long before they became obsolete and one could only listen to that same goddamn song on repeat for so long before the song either became white noise or they went insane.
But he has a consolidate, one who still stayed here with him even when the others passed on.
“What are you thinking so hard about, Satoru?” Suguru asked, knocking his knuckle on Gojo's head like he's knocking on doors. “I didn't think you were even capable of thinking.”
“Hey!” Gojo immediately protested, throwing his arms around Suguru then heaving him over the seat so the both of them sprawled across the airport chair. “I can think very well, ok?! I'm not Yuji Itadori, I can think smart things and normal things!”
Suguru chuckled, upturned eyes looking at Gojo with that emotion they both don't name, hand reaching out to give Gojo a packet of Kikufuku mochi.
Gojo eagerly took the packet, ripping it open and stuffing the mochi into his mouth while Suguru laughed lightly in the background before kissing his stuffed cheeks. “What were you thinking about anyway?” Suguru eventually asked, unmoving from his spot atop Gojo.
“This place.” Gojo shrugged. “I just think that this place is a bit weird, you know? Whenever I hear about going to higher places I always think of a place that's all fluffy clouds and angels and pretty sights. Not an airport terminal of all things.”
Not to mention the song playing on loop. The song itself could be described as simplistic, with the same three words strung together making a song and an accompanying clack clack intersped every three lyrics.
Suguru just smiled, kind and patient and so utterly Suguru Gojo wondered how he lived without him for 11 years. “Expectations and reality are truly different things, aren’t they?” He mused. “Here we were, thinking of angels singing their hymns and flying around Heaven when really we should have gotten used to airport seating and vending machines.”
Gojo snorted, finishing his pack of mochi and glancing at the terminal doors. “You said that those doors over there are where our souls would be laid to rest right? If we went through them?”
Suguru hummed and nodded. “That’s my hypothesis, but you and I haven’t passed through yet, only Nanami and Haibara. But it is a safe bet, no? We’re still sitting here, still talking, so that means we’re still alive in some way. If we go through that terminal there, that would mean we’ll be officially put to rest.”
What a terrifying thought.
Namo Amitabha Buddha.
Namo Amitabha Buddha.
Namo Amitabha Buddha.
Something must have shown on Gojo’s face (or maybe Suguru has a Gojo signal) because Suguru smiled something inscrutable and asked. “You’re scared?”
“… yeah.” Gojo reluctantly admitted. “I know the statistics, but I never realized it could come to me so soon. I always thought I’d outlive most sorcerers.” I went out with a bang though, so dying at 28 instead of 56 is a pretty good trade off.
Suguru looked heartbroken at the admission, but even then his smile stayed on. “I don’t blame you. I always thought you’d live longer than most of us as well.” He admitted quietly. “It would’ve been nice, if sorcerers could at least reach their thirties.”
Clack clack.
Gojo looked away.
It’s nice, he thought. Sitting at the airport and talking to people he never had the chance to see before they passed. It was a good chance to catch up, to talk and laugh and enjoy themselves for as long as they could before they all moved towards a new life.
A new life where they’d have a chance of seeing each other again, alive and whole.
“I’m glad Shoko’s not here!” Haibara smiled, sad but still positive all the same. “I hope she’s living her life out there.”
Gojo had smiled, remembered her as he knew her, and told Haibara. “She’s living her life the way she wants to, so don’t worry about her, okay?”
It's still hard, he mused, to think of his students and the people he's left behind on the battlefield, the people he failed and couldn't save, left to fend for themselves against curses stronger than them.
But it was always for the best. He has faith in his students and the sorcerers left from the carnage, has hope that they'll create a better future than the one he'd been given at 16, the same one that ruined their lives and the same ones that snuffed out good people too soon.
“Satoru.” He looked back at Suguru. “Are you going to the terminal any time soon?”
The terminal? Where their souls would pass on to the next life?
“Depends on what you actually mean by that, like do you mean just hanging around it? Or actually passing through? Cause last I checked my soul hasn’t fully stabilized yet and I still need to wait a while before I leave for whatever is behind there.”
Suguru seemed to take a moment to sort out his thoughts, then continued. “I've been thinking about it, you know? When I first came here, I was only planning to stay for a short period of time, catch up with Haibara, hang out and watch the planes for a bit before I left or something because I didn't think you'd be dying any time soon and no offense to you Satoru, but I thought that you'd live for a long time, far longer than 30 and far longer than Yaga as well.”
Namo Amitabha Buddha.
Namo Amitabha Buddha.
“But when I finally tried to pass through the terminal I-” He seemed unsure, his soft eyes turning into half-mooned frowns. “I couldn't. I was stuck here.”
Gojo didn't think he was breathing, his hand a vice grip on Suguru. “And I didn’t know why, and then Nanami and Yaga were here and he told me someone took control of my body and they were using it to get to you and-” He sighed.
“I decided to stay here, for however long it took, so I could see you again.”
“Suguru…”
“Don't say my name like that.” Suguru chuckled, smiling oh so softly, the kind he wished he saw more when they had been alive. “I just wanted you to know, and extend the offer to you. It's fine if you don't accept, hell I wish I could stay here until Shoko comes as well but…”
“I'm tired, I think I've stayed here for a long enough time. I'm not like Haibara, I’d never be able to stay here for the 10 years he did and even if I could, I don't have anyone aside from Shoko to wait for. I only had you and her, and now that you're here, I think I can leave, you know?”
Clack clack.
Gojo stared up at Suguru. What a horrible choice to give him. On one hand, he could just leave with Suguru, come with him to the terminal and bid farewell to the life they lived and move on to the next one and pray they come across one another in another life or something like that.
On the other hand, he had people that were still alive. He had Yuuji who was still fighting on the front lines of a war he should have never been involved in, he had headstrong Maki to congratulate, he had kind-hearted Okkotsu to tell him he did well, he had Megumi to comfort, he had Toge and Panda to tease and he had more than them to greet and catch up with.
And he couldn't leave them, he couldn't leave them to fend for themselves in the airport where none of them knew what's going on, he had to be there for them, to be the familiar face they needed in a scary new situation after they left the war and hopefully lived long lives. He had to be what Nanami, Haibara and Suguru had been for him when he first came here
An anchor.
“I'm… sorry, Suguru.” He said softly. “But I can't leave without looking at my students and Shoko first.”
And Suguru laughed, laughed like the breeze on a summer day on the beach, laughed like the sounds of a crowd in front of a taiyaki stand, laughed like the childhood joy that had been snuffed out too soon in the both of them. “I knew you were gonna say that.” He said when he stopped laughing. “I never expected anything else from you.”
Namo Amitabha Buddha.
Namo Amitabha Buddha.
Namo Amitabha Buddha.
Was the song growing louder?
“But I think this is where we say goodbye, Satoru.” He smiled kindly, that same exact smile he'd only ever directed at him. “I'll go to the terminal first, okay? Let's meet again in our next life, let’s do everything we couldn’t next time we meet.”
Gojo stared for a long while, then smirked. “What am I gonna tell Shoko, now? That you're abandoning her?”
Suguru cackled, then waved his hand as he turned his back on Gojo. “Tell her I'm sorry for the trouble, and that I hope she didn't die from cancer.”
“I'll see you soon, Satoru.”
Gojo smiled, and before he could say much of anything, a white light enveloped him.
Clack clack.
Gojo Satoru is 5 when he thinks that his life is empty.
Well, not quite him, but more the people around him.
“My seeker.” His mother once cooed when he was three, sitting in her lap as her gentle hands guided him through writing his name. “That’s what you are, my seeking boy. Always looking around corners, always watching the people, what do you see, my dear?”
“My son.” His father said, patting his hair and smiling brighter than the summer. “Why do you always look disappointed when there are guests here? Are you looking for something?”
Gojo had pouted then, but now his little 5 year old self thinks that’s true.
Gojo has always been an odd child. The kind of odd that made strangers laugh in amusement, the kind of odd that made guests wary, the kind of odd that made parents worried.
He’s 6 when his parents take him to a quirk doctor.
“I’m sorry to say this.” The doctor had said, his voice soft with pity and his eyes empty of genuine platitude. “Your son is quirkless.”
His parents grieved, but Gojo stared, something unamused in his eyes.
(Little Gojo thinks of black hair and slanted eyes and a snake oil salesman smile and thinks of ‘Satoru’, and wants to cry.)
Gojo Satoru is 15 when he realizes that if God exists, then he is one unfair motherfucker.
He’s no more than a child, a simple, quirkless child with simple aspirations and simpler wishes.
To get out of his childhood alive.
Since the day he'd been declared quirkless, his life turned upside down.
His parents were in denial of it, scheduling appointment after appointment after appointment to confirm if what the first doctor said was true.
It was always a resounding yes.
After that, it was fear. Fear that their child would grow to be ostracized by his peers, fear that he'll never hit his 20th birthday, fear that his life would never be normal ever again.
Their fears were founded, when they greeted Gojo at the gates and found his knee scraped and his bright little eyes almost saddened.
Now, all those years later, his situation hasn’t changed, he just grew better at hiding.
It's a humbling experience, Gojo thinks to himself as he curls up in a locker his bullies shoved him into. To be so normal you're abnormal.
He stares into the darkness of the locker, imagines himself grasping at obsidian hair and weaving it into short little braids, imagines worn eyes and cigarettes and the dichotomic smell of antiseptic and rot, imagines squabbles and spiky hair and confident smiles and rough love and everything yet nothing at all.
Imagines and imagines and never understands where they came from, where his mind conjured them from then suddenly it’s a torrent of frustration, of tears and grief that he doesn’t know the origins of or why he’s crying and sobbing in a goddamn locker room of all places-
Until he does.
And then his technique hits him like a truck.
(Later, 15-year-old Gojo Satoru is found by faculty members passed out in a boys’ locker room, with tear marks on his face and obvious bruises on his body.
When he wakes up, he’ll find out that his bullies have been suspended, and when the faculty comes to apologize to him he’ll laugh in the principal's face and ask “If you knew what was happening, why didn’t you stop it?”
Gojo Satoru would be removed from school altogether the next day.)
What a curse it is to remember.
It took several weeks of tossing and turning, of reading into the song playing on airport speakers, of analyzing his talk with Suguru and coming up to the conclusion that no, Suguru leaving him didn’t mean his soul also left with Suguru and no, Suguru leaving would not have made everything white because he was barely halfway to the terminal doors.
So something happened, but what? What happened? Did Suguru see what happened? What if he never comes back to that airport and never sees his loved ones again? What if he’s stuck here and won’t be able to go home?
(Is he in the future? Or is he in another world entirely?)
He thought he could rest, he thought he could finally just stay in one place and wait for as long as it took to see those he cared about again then join Suguru wherever he was.
But no, no. Men like him are cursed to never be left alone, cursed to grieve and weep for what he wants and doesn’t know how to get back. Men like him will never be at peace, because the world itself demands his attention every day, because he’ll never be more than a plaything for the world.
But men like him can do anything as long as they put their mind to it, and Gojo Satoru will always be that man.
Suguru, have you moved on yet? I hope you’ll be there when I’m back.
“Mom?” Satoru asked, turning 16 and now out of his highschool for several months. “Do you think I’d be able to take the hero school entrance exams?”
His mother jerked her head up, saddened eyes turning to look at him. “You’re interested in becoming a hero? Why?”
Gojo takes a moment to look at her. Gojo Murasaki is a woman who loved kids and dreamed of having a large family, but tragedy forced her into only having one child. To compensate for her grief, she poured all her time and energy into the family she already had and did her best to spoil her son even when he turned out different from the rest of the world.
But then her husband and Gojo’s father, Gojo Mirata, died, and now all she has left is him, Gojo Satoru.
(Gojo loves the current mother he has. She’s kind, so so kind. She’s nothing like the mother that birthed him originally and she’s nowhere close to being as horrible as the Gojo clan.
If he didn’t know what he did, he’d stay in this world if only to keep her company. But he does, and it’s easier than he wished it was to go South.)
“Because people like us need heroes mom, and I wanna be that for us and them.” Gojo lied, seamless and aching because of it.
His mother smiled, kind and loving and hurtful because Gojo’s a terrible son. “But dear, you’re quirkless. What happens if you go into situations that need quirks? What will you do?” What will you do if the school turns their back to you because you’re quirkless? Could you live with the pain?
Gojo smiled back, that same careless smile that once made Yaga’s blood boil. “Don’t worry mom. I’d win.”
His mother smiled wider.
(Murasaki thinks her son has been different, ever since the locker room incident. He’s more careless with his words, he’s more cheerful where he used to be silent and ever watchful, he smiles more, but she knows he’s never truly happy.
And she knows, more intuitively than anyone else, that her son has somehow gained a quirk.
It’s in his eyes, where it had once been a cerulean blue, now she thinks she can see the universe in them, she can see the world and all its darkest secrets in them.
She can see the shape of a boy in them, a beating heart in his eyes that drives him.
Murasaki’s worried, of course she is. What mother wouldn’t be worried when their formerly quirkless son suddenly has a quirk and acts differently?
But her son doesn’t have a quirk, no one in this day and age manifests a quirk at age 16.
But she doesn’t think it’s a quirk, and she has never heard her son say anything about a new quirk.
Then that means whatever this new power is, it’s not a quirk. Then that means her son is special.
And she’s always known that he’s a special boy. She’s known it since the day she held him in her arms for the first time, known it the day he opened his eyes and ocean blue spilled out like paint on paper. She knows he’ll change the world as they knew it one day.
So she’ll trust her son, trust that he’ll be okay despite everything, trust and hopes that he’ll be happy even when the world beats him down and tries to destroy him for something he couldn’t control.
She’s his mother after all, what mother wouldn’t believe in her child?)
Gojo has 2 plans: he either becomes a hero, or he dies.
Becoming a hero is the more annoying plan. He’s been in this world for 16 years, after all. What person doesn’t know what it takes to be a hero when they’ve seen hero news every day of their lives?
Gojo doesn’t like the idea of heroes, he doesn’t like a single thing about them. But becoming a hero opens new doors for him. As long as he has a foot inside the door, he’ll have more connections, and more connections means more information on how to get back to the airport.
But it’s a long road, the easy one, but could potentially take several years in the making. Gojo doesn’t want to stay here for longer than he had lived in his original world.
His second plan is the riskiest, but has a chance of working.
This is Gojo’s hypothesis: Gojo Satoru of the current world is not an anomaly, but a boy that belongs in this world.
His body had been extensively checked as a child for any chance of gaining a quirk, therefore Gojo knows that his body undoubtedly belongs to this world, with no anomalies of other Satorus’ (Satori? Wait, why is he suddenly a species?) in sight. With his most recent check up due to the locker room incident, Gojo’s hypothesis holds true.
That means that whatever sent Gojo to this world has established a connection between his reality and the reality he now lives in. Which could theoretically mean that the afterlife here could also be connected to the afterlife he was in.
Which means that if he dies, he could potentially travel the connection to the afterlife in his world, and he could finally just sit down and wait for his students to arrive.
At the same time, the theory could be a lie.
The soul is the body and the body is the soul, so when the body is dead the soul has nothing to attach itself to. Therefore it stays in limbo until it is ready to move to the next life.
Which means that there is only one connection between his reality and the world he now lives in. His soul.
And that makes it very difficult to determine the chances of his plan working out.
The soul is the accumulation of everything that makes up Gojo Satoru the jujutsu sorcerer, so does this mean that there’s a strong connection between his soul and his world, or are souls the type to latch onto the closest body match, meaning that souls are unconnected to worlds?
But when the soul has connected itself to a new body, why haven’t his memories been destroyed to fit in with this new world? Would this mean that his soul didn’t completely erase everything about him?
Would that mean that if he dies, he wouldn’t be able to find his way back?
There’s too little information on souls and their connections to jujutsu, too little research on anything soul related. That is why Gojo’s second plan is too risky to go through with.
(If being a hero doesn’t give him the results he needs, he’ll try the second plan anyway.)
Suguru is not panicking and whoever says he is is a dirty liar subject to death.
So what if Satoru fucking disappeared in front of his eyes? He’s not panicking, he’s not worried at all, he’s just hungry and that’s why he’s ransacking the entire airport.
Okay, so maybe he’s panicking.
Could anyone blame him? His best friend disappeared in a place where he should be incapable of disappearing, where his soul is unlatched from the body and is being stabilized in the airport before it is ready to move on.
So yeah, he’s panicking because Satoru’s soul has still not stabilized and for some reason his heart is saying that he moved on to another world.
So he needs to get Satoru back, and his soul is pumping and screaming and crying and leading him somewhere he doesn’t know but the airport is both finite and infinite cause where does the airport end and where does it begin and where the hell is Satoru?
Finally, he takes a deep breath. Panic won’t help, he needs to be calm so he can find Satoru and might as well stay to make sure Satoru doesn’t get fucked over by the universe because even the universe doesn’t leave Satoru alone.
“Wait for me Satoru.” He said quietly, his body thrumming with energy. “I’m coming.”
(This is what Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru don’t know:
The soul does not connect to the body, the soul connects to the soul.
And Gojo Satoru will, forever and always, be staring at the shape of Suguru’s soul.
And Geto Suguru will, forever and always, be staring back.
And they will always, always be connected.)
Aizawa is being followed.
Whoever it is, they’re good. He can barely feel their presence behind him even if he stands still, if he were a less cautious man he’d think it was a shift in the winds.
But winds don’t shift that often, and men like him are much too cautious.
“Who’s there?” He asks eventually, turning around and shifting his stance.
“I was hoping you’d notice!” The stalker’s voice cheered as he stepped out of the dark, younger than Aizawa thought it was. The stalker was no older than 18, with angel white hair and a black blindfold shielding his eyes from the world. He’s a kid, why was he staying out stalking Aizawa? And why is he so egregiously tall?
“Are you running away from something, kid?"
The child seemed surprised, before laughing and shaking his head. “Nah, what makes you say that?! Just cause I’m out late doesn’t mean I’m running away from my family!”
He looks like he does. Aizawa mused. Really, what kind of child dresses himself in complete black? If he’d been the type who was interested in alt fashion, he’d have some earrings or wore something more fashionable than a plain black hoodie and jeans. “Why are you out late then?”
The kid casually walked up next to him, at ease like Aizawa wouldn’t hesitate to apprehend him if he committed a crime. Absently, Aizawa thought his confidence looked like that of veterans. “Well, I’m only out cause I wanted to catch some criminals and all that, but seeing as you were around I also wanted to ask a little thing.”
“Can you help me get a hero license?”
Aizawa blinked, taken aback by the request. Really, when someone wanted to be a hero, they’d apply to hero schools and do it that way. He doesn’t think there’s ever been anyone who walked up to a hero to ask something as ludicrous as this.
“No. If you wanna be a hero, take the hero school entrance exams, kid.”
“Awe, I knew you were gonna give that stupid answer.” The kid made a blegh! and kept moving, turning his body a perfect 180 degrees to stare at Aizawa. How does he even do that?
“Hero-san, I’m 16 years old, I think I’m too old to even apply for hero schools ya know? And who’d wanna be sitting and studying in a classroom full of little 14-to-16 year olds?! I’m getting hives from just the thought.” Dramatically, the kid shivered in front of him before laughing and looking away from him, like he was ashamed.
“ ‘sides, I’m quirkless. Can’t even apply for a hero school if I wanted to.”
That singular statement made it feel like an anvil had been dropped on Aizawa’s head. A quirkless kid who wanted to be a hero? That was a sentiment Aizawa only heard in little kids with bright eyes, not teenagers who knew the ways of their unfair world.
It was almost impressive, but it was really incredibly naive. “I know people have told you this before, kid, you can’t be a hero when you’re quirkless.” Aizawa spat out, “You’re 16, so you must be a second-year student in one of the schools around here, right? Go back to that school kid, live your life. Being a quirkless hero wouldn’t bring you any good.”
At once, the boy stops. Then, he turns around. “You’re harsh, Eraserhead-san. Then again, what can I expect from a guy who has a quirk like that? I told you I’ve been out at night cause I’ve been catching criminals, no?” The kid smirked, his posture easy and cocky and Aizawa felt a little irritated by him.
How did he know my name?
“Don’t try things like that, kid. Acting like a vigilante doesn’t just put you in jail, you could die.” Like a particularly stubborn child, the kid laughs. Loud and defiant and amused in the face of Aizawa’s reason.
Suddenly, the kid shifts his stance, easy as breathing and smiling like Aizawa was the one making the mistake, not him. “I’ll set a challenge, yeah? Eraserhead, if you can land a single hit on me, I’ll stop asking to be a hero altogether. But if I can get you in a deadlock, you’ll have to help me become a hero.”
That’s too easy of a deal, is there some kind of catch? “You serious about this, kid?”
The kid gave him an impossibly cocky smirk. “What, don’t tell me you’re goin’ to lose against a kid.”
This brat. “Deal.”
Without much hesitation, Aizawa initiates.
He’s quirkless, so if he’s planning on being a hero he at least knows martial arts, which means that as soon as I try to kick him he’ll-
Aizawa heaves when the wind is suddenly knocked out of him. In a flash of movement that Aizawa couldn’t perceive, he had been knocked to the ground by the kid, his arms held tight against his back and a surprisingly large hand on his neck. “What?” The kid crooned, chuckling. “You think being quirkless meant that I just didn’t know martial arts or something?”
Aizawa groaned. “How’s a gangly little brat like you so quick on your toes?” He muttered into the pavement. It was kind of comfortable, he wished he could sleep here.
“Trade secret, homeless man!” The kid laughed, easily letting go and bouncing back on his heels. “So are you helping me or not?”
Aizawa stared at the kid. Now that he thinks about it, the kid is awe-striking, even with his blindfold on he knew where Aizawa was coming from and effectively dodged him, then in a great show of speed had knocked him to the ground before Aizawa could retaliate.
To think that he thought the little kid was just a cocky brat, Aizawa actually thinks the kid could follow through with being a hero.
“Don’t think that just because you defeated someone with a passive quirk means you’ll defeat someone with an offensive quirk kid.” He said, groaning as he got up. Did the kid perform impromptu chiropractic? “You’re quirkless, if you’re gonna be working in the hero industry you’ll need more than just martial arts.”
The kid laughed, standing tall and proud. Aizawa thinks he can see the kids’ destiny from his posture alone. “Don’t worry too hard about it old man! Even if everyone in this world fought me at the exact same time, I’d still win.”
It’s amazing how cocky this damn kid is. “If I’m going to teach you how to be a hero, you’re gonna have to fix that attitude. What’s your name, kid?”
“Gojo Satoru! I’ll be in your care, Eraserhead!”
It surprised him, perhaps more than anyone else, when Aizawa had come into his office to talk about a boy he picked up.
(“You want me to authorize his access to the school?” Nedzu had asked, something like surprise slipping out beneath his cheerful demeanor. Of course, he'd been aware that Aizawa had been a little different lately, more often than not staring into the distance like he'd been thinking of something particularly annoying and more tolerant than usual when it came to his class’ own rowdy behavior.
Nedzu thought that it was due to him getting used to his own role as a teacher, though that must have been wishful thinking. But the point stands, Aizawa Shouta, his most reluctant teacher to date, willingly taking in a hero student means that the boy is very special.
“If it's possible, yes.” Aizawa said, taking a sip of his tea. “His name is Gojo Satoru, and I think he'll blossom better under the school faculties’ guidance better than he would under mine alone. Normally I wouldn't request this of you, but he's a… special case.”
That's practically synonymous with someone interesting.
“And why is he special, Aizawa?”
“Well, he's quirkless, for one.” Aizawa started. “When we first met, he challenged me to a fight and told me that if he could get me in a deadlock, I'd have to teach him how to bee a hero. If you can believe it, he won.”
"But outside of that, he has proven to be rather remarkable at hand-to-hand combat. He's quick on his feet and seems to have a good awareness of his surroundings while also being aware of civilians and heroes alike. From what I could observe from the few weeks we spent together, he's very intelligent, as well. Gojo is the kind of boy who could achieve just about anything he puts his mind to, the kind of boy who could be on par with All Might when it comes to strength alone.”
Aizawa then sighed and looked at Nedzu. “I also wanted to give the boy a better learning environment.” He said, a sympathetic look in his eyes. “He's 16, and when I ran a background check on him after we met, I found that his parents have had to pull him out of school constantly due to extensive bullying from his peers. The straw that broke the camel's back happened over 7 months ago, when he had to be sent to hospital after a teacher found him nearly dead from suffocation in a locker. He's been homeschooled ever since.”
“This, more than anything, is why I am asking you, principal. Gojo is the brightest boy I’ve ever encountered, and to lose him just because of his lack of quirk is the worst waste of potential I'll ever see. He doesn't even need to be put in a class with any of the students, I just want to grant him a chance to learn and thrive under our guidance. He deserves it. He's not even destined to do great things in the future because I know he'll do amazing things in the future.”
Nedzu sipped at his tea, his mind running a mile a minute as he thought out his response. “Do you truly believe that the boy would excel under UA's learning environment?” He asked.
Wordlessly, Aizawa nodded.
“Then I'll grant what you wish on two conditions. One, Gojo Satoru needs to take a placement test, and he needs to meet me for some tea.”)
“Ah.” Nedzu had remarked when they met. “I can see why Aizawa took you in.”
Indeed, from the moment Nedzu laid his eyes on Gojo Satoru, he knew that something was off with him. The boy, newly 17, did not seem to belong to this world. It seemed to be instinctive, natural, the way he held himself with the airs and graces of a god looking down upon mortals, the way his eyes gleamed like a snakes’ when he finally sat down like he held the universe in his eyes and one look at them could drive you mad.
No, no. Gojo Satoru does not belong in their world.
“Heya, mister principal!” Gojo laughed, a mischievous grin stretching across his face. “Was there a reason as to why you wanted to meet me?”
If Nedzu had been anyone else, he'd have called his previous assessment wrong. “Hello, Gojo-kun, my name is Nedzu. As for your question, I simply wanted to see the student that will be transferring here under Aizawa's recommendation. To assess how much you will fit in here at UA, I simply wanted to ask you some questions!”
Those marble blue eyes gleamed. “Ask away, principal Nedzu!”
“First question then, why did you decide to approach a hero?”
“Ohhh, so it's gonna be like that then?” Gojo smiled, then put his hands on his chin as if to think about it. “Well, I guess you'd know if I was lying, so I'll tell you the truth! I wanted to get the hero license!”
“What a fascinating reason! May I ask why?”
Gojo looks at Nedzu for a moment before smiling. “Well, a hero license is the start to a hero career right? And I was kinda hoping to avoid the education system seeing as I'm 16 and I didn't want to sit in class with kids younger than me for 3 years just to become a hero, so why not just got on site experience and ask to get a hero license later?”
“Then this is my next question.” Nedzu said, staring at the boy. He wonders why Gojo wears such dark sunglasses, does he think it fashionable? Or does it have to do with his eyes?
“Why did you become a hero?”
Gojo laughs, kicking back on the chair and nearly toppling over. “This is a good one!”
“I guess the reason why I’m doing this is because people like me need someone to look up to. I’m quirkless, yeah? At my last school, I was shoved in a locker and had a panic attack, then the teacher found me. I sustained brain damage from the lack of oxygen in the lockers and doctors said that I was lucky I only sustained damage in my eyes.”
“And like, sure what happened to me was pretty traumatic, but can you imagine what other kids like me go through every day?” Gojo smiled, bright and young and the epitome of youth. “I’m lucky that I got the parents I have, it could have been worse out there for me, and I wanna be a hero kids like me can look up to, so like… that’s the reason!”
(What a liar.)
Nedzu smiled. “Well, I think that’s all I need to know. Congratulations, Gojo Satoru. You have made it into UA.”
Gojo seemed surprisingly happy.
“Based on your previous academic records, it is safe to assume that you are far smarter than your peers Gojo. So to make sure you’re properly stimulated as a student, you will be studying with class 3A until their graduation, and when class 2A start taking their hero license exams you’ll take the test alongside them.”
Nedzu smiled kindly. What an odd boy Aizawa saddled himself with. “Don’t squander your chances, Gojo-kun. Welcome to UA.”
True to Aizawa’s predictions, Gojo was far too smart not to excel in school.
In less than a month, he has somehow cemented himself as a prodigy of his class, always able to say the right answers, always sleeping but always aware, always the smartest person in the room, always winning every single field exercise his class does.
“That kid really is a prodigy.” Hizashi laughed, leaning up next to Aizawa. “You sure he even needs a hero school when he knows practically everything?”
Aizawa groaned. “At the rate he goes, he could achieve all his dreams if he decided to cram a bit. But as it stands, I thought the kid deserved to have a normal school life. I already heard his complaints when he found out I enrolled him in.”
Hizashi laughed. “Well, I think he’s making the best of it. I’m surprised none of the kids in class have found out about his quirklessness, though.”
"That’s because he’s a problem child.” Aizawa groaned. “No normal student wears glasses in doors, so they all assumed that it had something to do with his eyes and left it alone.”
That sent his friend into a long bout of laughter. “That’s just rich! You really do like the kid, don’t you Shouta? I can see why.”
Aizawa hummed. “You see it too, huh? That kid will change the world one day.”
Gojo is 18 when he finally becomes a hero.
To him, it was just a pebble on a long mountain hike to his goal of coming home. To others, it was something worth celebrating.
“Sweetheart, look at you!” His mother cooed, the ocean in her eyes bright like that day in Okinawa. “You’re a hero! The first quirkless hero in history! Oh, we have to celebrate!”
“Mom, it’s fine!” Gojo said, bumbling and awkward in the face of her excitement. No one ever tried to throw a party celebrating his achievements before, mostly because his achievements were nothing remarkable in his eyes.
But his mother seemed to digress. “Oh, honey. You must celebrate!” His mother cheered, “How about you invite your teacher or your friends here? I’ll make a meal for all of you and we can celebrate!”
“Mom!” Gojo guffawed, unable to tell her that he made no friends in his school and only made connections. “It’s fine! How about it be just you and me, mom? I only want to celebrate with you! No one else!”
His mother’s smile softened, her worn hands reaching up to touch his cheek. “If you say so, my seeker.”
Gojo looks at her, takes in her visage and wonders where he got his mom from. Ever since the death of his dad, mom had been taking more shifts at work to cover the egregious hero school expenses and coming home later every day.
He doubts she wanted Gojo to notice, but Gojo was aware of everything. He was aware that they were edging poverty lines, that the moment something broke his mother went gray at the thought of hiring a handyman to fix it. He was aware that hero school expenses were too much for their family, that she was awake deep into the night working so his expenses could be covered.
He’s aware of how his dark his mother’s eyes have become, he’s aware of the dark bags under her eyes and the tired contours of her face, he’s aware of her laughter lines and the way she’s say “I just didn’t sleep enough hun” and how she’d kiss his forehead and tell him “Your mama isn’t hungry” and he’s aware of how slowly she breaks down and thinks of Suguru, of limp hair and tired smiles and “Oh it’s the summer heat.” and smiles at his mother.
“Of course I do, mom, whaddya take me for?!”
I’m sorry everyone, I think I’m going to be staying here longer than I planned.
In Gojo’s mind, being a hero was the most obvious way to set his plan into motion.
From what he’s gathered of this world, being a hero means being more like a celebrity than an actual comic book hero. Being a hero means knowing how to pose, knowing how to speak and look and act, knowing everything but how to save a life when it matters.
But Gojo doesn’t care about the limelight, he has had enough of it for more than a few lifetimes now. No, what he’s really looking at are the opportunities being a hero presents him with.
Being a hero means traveling, being a hero means that if you’re high enough on the ranking you’ll be able to meet important people, being a hero means he’ll have a wide network of connections to help him return home.
But how?
Now that Gojo actually thinks about it, the easiest way would be to contact those who research the theory of multiverses, contact people whose quirks are related to space and time and wormholes and everything in between.
The easiest way would have been applying to universities and becoming a mathematician, the easiest way would have been becoming any one of those people because his cursed technique is math and everything related to it meaning all those fields would be a breeze for him.
But just because Gojo understands math and knows math like one would know the back of their hand doesn’t mean he likes doing it for anything other than his cursed technique.
So being a hero was the most obvious.
Being a hero means that if you’re handsome enough and you know how to act, you don’t need to save people to get a comfortable spot on the rankings, you don’t even need a high place on hero charts as long as you get offers and sell merchandise.
(And maybe, just maybe, provide support for his mother as well.)
So yay to over-glorified police officers with superiority complexes and their hypocrisies!
Just as Gojo thinks so, he blinks out of staring soulfully into his drink and back to the present, where a robber had come into the coffee shop he’s sitting in.
Right. Gojo thought as he finally stood. Being a hero means I also get to have more fun than if I sat around doing math.
Gojo Satoru is 20 years old and making waves in the world when he comes across All Might.
Though he fights to keep himself at lower than 300 on the Hero Billboard Charts, the people seem to adore his face. Meaning that while he appreciates the sudden modeling offers and the money rolling in, it doesn’t help in his goals of staying below 300.
Which means that though he didn’t want to, his mother urged him to go see the yearly Hero Billboard Charts, because he had been invited.
Gojo groaned, pulling at his suit and tie. He’d been keeping his cursed technique a secret since it manifested again, but it’s taking everything he has to not teleport out of here and continue on with his life. Damn him for choosing sunglasses instead of blindfolds!
Suguru save meeee there’s too many people here and I have a migraine!
(In a certain afterlife, Suguru feels another tug on his soul. It’s been happening a lot lately, and he knows that it’s related to Satoru.
He just hasn’t figured out what that means yet.)
“Are you alright? You don’t seem to be having fun.” A voice said next to Gojo. If Gojo had not been dealing with an information overload, he would have noticed someone sneaking up on him. But he was, so before Gojo realized it he had swung his fist and nearly punched his stomach if not for the man blocking.
When he realized what he’s almost done, Gojo grimaced and put his best impression of Suguru’s Cult Leader Smile on. “Sorry ‘bout that!” He turned around.
Then turned his head up to realize All Might was standing there, and realized that every hero at the party seemed intent on gawking at Gojo.
All Might boomed in laughter. “It’s okay young man! You seemed to be having a hard time, I apologize for startling you.” His voice was loud, strong and proud and it sounds like the Todo kid is speaking to him and that’s weird and Gojo really can’t handle this right now.
“Ah, sorry All Might!” Gojo laughed, pushing him again and walking to the exit. “I’m gonna go outside a little, see ya at the ceremony!”
Without hearing All Might’s reply, Gojo leaves.
Outside, Gojo sighed and sat down on the steps, putting his head in his hands and tried to imagine it was Suguru’s hands rather than his own. As he silently wills his headache to recede, he feels All Might’s cursed energy approach.
“Are you alright, young man?” All Might said, his voice much quieter than it had been inside. “I apologize for startling you inside, I didn’t mean to put any pressure on you.”
“Nah, it’s alright old man!” He said casually, slowly opening his eyes when he feels his headache recede. “Sorry for punching you back there, I got sensitive eyes, ya know? It wasn't because of you that I'm sitting out here.”
“I see.” All Might said, his boisterous bravado stripped away to show the man Gojo knew he's always been. “May I ask for your hero name?”
“Me? I guess my hero name is Raven.” Gojo remarked. He honestly wanted something like ‘Honored One’, but Midnight had rejected it, citing something about it being too controversial amongst the religious public. Gojo didn't actually care but he settled for Raven anyway.
“Ah, you're the hero that doesn't use his quirk?” All Might smiled, kind of like those dogs Megumi adored and compared Yuji to. “You're amazing, the kind of work you do.”
“Awe shucks!” Gojo laughed, “You're a flatterer aren't you All Might? Luckily for you I love compliments! But I gotta ask you something.” Gojo took out a cigarette and lit up the end because it turns out that damn headache has not left. “What’s wrong with you?”
All Might sputtered. “Wha-what’s wrong with me?! Isn’t that a rude question young man? And for your answer nothing is wrong with me! Why would there be anything wrong with me?!”
“First off, you really need to lie better.” Gojo groaned. “When someone asks something like that you need to keep your composure in check. Besides, nothing’s obviously wrong with you, I just know something is.”
All Might sputtered, before he practically deflated. “Ah, you’re very observant aren’t you, young man?”
“Mmm, you could say that. It’s my eyes, ya know?” Gojo laughed and breathed in the smell of second-hand smoke. “I got sensitive eyes, so I could tell something was off with you!”
All Might processed that for a moment, then nodded. “I see.”
“Okay, well.” Gojo started, because All Might kind of looked like a kicked puppy and Gojo only laughed when it was a kicked baby. “I think the top 10 Hero Charts are starting soon, you should head inside.”
All Might started, then seemed to nod and laugh, his bright persona returning to his large frame. “Yes, you’re right! I’ll see you around, Raven!”
Gojo hummed, holding his wasted cigarette and thinking of his youth.
“Hah?! You want me to become an assistant teacher just to find a mole?!”
Why did Aizawa ever think Gojo would change after only 2 years of being a hero.
Gojo himself was munching on some odd abomination of waffles drenched in chocolate syrup, whipped cream piled so high it looked ready to topple over, and some strawberries to give it a resemblance of health. Hell, scattered all across their little table were Gojo’s desserts: mochi, Neapolitan ice cream that still hadn’t melted, cakes, Dorayaki and more.
He looked the same as the day Aizawa met him. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.
“Don’t say it so loudly. I thought I told you to find us a quiet and secure location?” Aizawa remarked, sardonic. “Last I checked, a cafe is the least quiet and secure location around.”
“Don’t you know the best way to hide is to hide in plain sight?” Gojo laughed, tongue in cheek. “Doesn’t it make some sense? This place is so loud it’s even hard for even neighboring tables to hear each other. Plus we are sitting in a secure place, we’re sitting in a corner and the entrance is over there!” Gojo gestured wildly, ever the least obvious person in the room.
Why did Nedzu think of hiring Gojo of all people?
“And I wanted to try out their new specials! They got all the types of sweets I want here, Shouta!” Of course that was why he chose the cafe.
“Whatever.” Aizawa sighed, used to Gojo’s rascal energy since the young man’s student days. “We only have suspicions of a mole, but Nedzu’s suspicions are usually correct. While I also hate the idea that someone in my own class is a traitor, hiring you as a teaching assistant is still a good idea.”
“Really?” Gojo mused, stuffing his face with some sugary drink abomination then diving into his ice cream. “Do you actually adore having me around, Shouta?”
“No I don’t.” Aizawa retorted, ignoring Gojo’s weepy ‘How mean!’ Aizawa continued. “But I’d be remiss if I didn’t extend this offer to you. You’re young, but you’re smart beyond your years. You’re quirkless and no one knows that, you’re the most proficient fighter I know and you’re able to achieve everything a hero can without a quirk. That’s impressive, and I think you have a lot you could reach the students on that alone.”
Gojo laughed, somehow inhaling all his food while still ordering more. “But what you think isn’t important, is it Shouta? At the end of the day I’m still being hired to find your traitor. Nedzu put you up to this didn’t he? He knows I wouldn’t rat anything to anyone.”
Aizawa sighed, a headache coming on. Why did he decide to meet Gojo immediately after he taught his class? His current students were all problem children, why did he go and meet the original problem child? “Unfortunately, yes.”
“Then let me ask you this, Shouta. If there was a traitor in your mist, what would you do when you catch them?”
“Shouldn’t it be obvious? They will be banned from school and if worse comes to worst, the public will find out they were an accomplice to villain activity and they’ll have to go to jail.” Aizawa said slowly, his hand tight against the table. It’s hard enough to think one of the students could be a traitor, but to think about what they’d experience later in life? Even worse.
Gojo’s face turned complicated at that. “You heroes and your absolutes.” He muttered, then looked back at Aizawa. “Shouta, you know as well as I do that the traitor’s a kid, what do you think will happen when you ruin their future? Because they won't have a future left, they'll become what your institute wore to fight if you kick them out the moment they get found.”
“Then what do you suppose we do?” Aizawa snapped, frustration like a dam holding his words in his throat. “It’s one student, I can't risk the safety of the rest for only one, I need to prioritize the majority.”
Gojo didn't reply for a long time, his silence draping their table in contemplation as Aizawa sipped away at his drink, cold but still a reprieve from his emotions. When Gojo finally replied, Aizawa couldn't help but think he aged several years. “Shouta, you’re a hero. I know you don't subscribe to your work’s naive philosophies, so why are you acting like that now? You're a logical man, haven't you thought about why the kid is playing informant for villains instead of focusing on his future?”
Gojo casually cracked his neck, young and old and worn at the same time. “I had a friend who was going through the same thing you did. Her class had a traitor in them and by process of elimination she found out who it was. Yet before she could even do anything for him he'd been killed in a fight against the same people he was playing traitor for. Later one of her students confessed that the boy himself was a traitor because they offered to fix his broken body so he could join his classmates in the sun and fight with them.”
“Don’t you see it, Shouta? This same traitor could be going through what that student is. Save them before it becomes too late for them. Take a chance on them the same way you and Nedzu took a chance on me. Fight the stigmas this profession brings and be better.”
“I'll take the job, but only if you and Nedzu listen and consider what I say.”
At Aizawa’s silence, Gojo stood up. “Man, all that talking made me sick, I'm gonna go fetch some kikufuku mochi, see ya! Tell Nedzu that if he wants me to work he better do me a few favors too!”
They were in front of Aizawa’s class when Aizawa finally turned to him.
“Even if we only hired you to root out the traitor, you still need to be a teacher, got it?” Aizawa murmured to him lowly. “It’ll be suspicious if you’re a teaching assistant and all you do is play games and bother me.”
Gojo laughed. “It'd be weirder if I didn't do all that! Just tell me whenever combat training comes around, I'll be a good and honest TA then, yeah?”
“When have you ever been good and honest?” Aizawa muttered before he went into class.
Gojo guffawed.
In the back of his mind, he thinks and thinks about his decision, thinks about why he chose to agree when he has so much to do, thinks about why he chose to spend time outside of finding a way home like he’s supposed to just to play around and talk to students.
He wonders if being here and being a teacher is a betrayal to them, if having fun and living in a world like this for just a little longer is desecrating the memories he held of his past and if they'd be angry at him for staying a little longer rather than return home immediately.
Because that’s what he’s doing, isn’t it? Playing hero, taking such a long way around when there could be a million easier avenues, when he could do all those less fun things if it means he’ll come home sooner.
But there’s only Suguru at the airport now, if Suguru had left already Gojo would be sitting there alone for however long until the first person comes to him, which could mean he’d be waiting for over 20 years and as much as he loves his students and his friends Gojo is not a patient man.
So he might as well put his plans on the back burner for a while! He’s left everything in the hands of the people he can trust (no matter how much he despises old man Gakuganji) and he believes that no matter how badly they’ll stumble, his kids will still hold each other up and create a better world for jujutsu sorcerers.
And when Gojo finally has his fill and comes back to the airport, he’ll be able to stay and greet his kids with open arms and laughter as they regale him with stories of their achievements.
Besides, he’s died twice now! Excuse him for having a little fun before he has to go back to the afterlife.
“Gojo?” Aizawa said, knocking Gojo out of his thoughts. “Are you alright?”
Gojo made a noise then walked into the classroom, ignoring the squeals of the students as he replied. “Just fine, Shouta!”
“It’s Aizawa-sensei when we’re on school grounds, brat."
Izuku knows everything and nothing about the schools’ new teaching assistant.
He knows Gojo's hero name is Raven, he knows the man is the only hero to have never used his quirk in battles, he knows the man is very good at what he does when he bothered to try, he knows Sightless hero: Raven models more than he fights crime, he knows that Raven has a 0 casualty rate and 0 property damage occurs when he fights villains and he knows that Raven supposedly has a quirk related to his eyes.
Yet he also knows that Raven is notoriously secretive, able to evade every single question thrown his way by way of charming smiles and answers that aren't answers at all. He knows that Raven doesn’t have a confirmed quirk, with the closest confirmation being “something like that” when an interviewer had asked him if his eyes were related to his quirk. He knows that Gojo Satoru is both a jokester and a charmer, even if the charming aspects of him seem to be borrowed from someone else.
Izuku also knows that despite fighting without a quirk, Gojo Satoru is ridiculously agile and his fist feels like a boulder against the gut. Seriously, he has a blindfold on how does he fight so well?!
(When All Might heard that Gojo was going to be an assistant teacher at UA, he had gone pale as a sheet.
When Izuku asked why his mentor seemed so scared of Gojo, All Might had said “That boy knew my secret even though I've never told anyone a thing.”
It made Izuku wonder what kind of man Gojo was.)
“Like seriously, you guys all fought with your quirks against me, how are you all so weak?” Gojo said in a voice so genuinely surprised, Izuku could feel a knife being stabbed into all of his classmates’ hearts.
“Have you considered that you're just obscenely strong, Snowball?” Kacchan spouts, getting up on his feet with angry fists and bloodseeking eyes. “Come at me again! I'll win this time!”
“Awe, such passion!” Gojo laughed, unwavering in his relaxed stance and casual outfit. Really he makes Izuku's own self-esteem plummet in those clothes, doesn't he realize how he comes off when he's wearing jeans and a shirt while everyone else is in their hero costumes?! “You sure you can handle it? You're shaking all over.”
In typical Kacchan fashion, he spits out “Die!” and runs straight at Gojo, quick like lightning as sparks bellow like fireworks.
As soon as he’s close to Gojo, quick hands block and divert Kacchan’s explosions, then all Izuku hears is choking before Kacchan is back on the ground. “Woah! You got pretty close to hitting me there!” Gojo said, not even breaking a sweat.
Close how?!
“Sensei, is your quirk some kind of strength enhancement?” Kirishima asks somewhere behind Izuku, likely heaving himself up to go at their teacher again.
“Nope!” Gojo had laughed like the thought was especially funny. “I'm quirkless actually!”
And that stopped everyone in their tracks.
“QUIRKLESS?!” The whole class shouted, putting an effort to stop lying down and sit up instead.
“Stop yelling.” Aizawa grumbled somewhere. “And it’s true, Satoru is quirkless.”
“You finally called me Satoru!”
“Shut it, problem child. It will not happen again.”
“That’s what they all say!”
“B-but Gojo-sensei!” Izuku blurted, his mind a warring mix of questions and disbelief. “I thought quirkless people can’t become heroes?!”
“That’s cause hero schools can’t admit a quirkless student into the hero course!” Gojo complained. “Hero Department applications require you to write your quirk in, so it’s impossible for a quirkless student to get into the hero course directly. However, the school offers chances for students to get into the hero course through the year, you just gotta make sure you get in through those avenues!”
“Is that how you got in them, Gojo-sensei?” Mina asked, eager to learn. Izuku was still frozen, but he tried to pay attention anyways.
Next to Gojo, Kacchan was staring at the man with a complicated look in his eyes.
“Mm, nope!” Gojo smiled carelessly. “I actually stalked your teacher and pestered him into teaching me!”
“Why did you say that, brat?”
And so class 1A listens to the story of how one Gojo Satoru became a hero.
Suguru finally realizes what he needs to do when his body feels tugged in multiple directions.
Of course, this can’t be true. Suguru doesn’t have a body anymore, that body is hopefully decapitated and staying inside Shoko’s morgue, where it may one day be buried with Satoru.
What he is is the accumulation of his soul, borne from everything that makes him him and forming a body that comprises his best years.
Which gave him an idea, an idea he cursed to have not thought about before.
What if there was a way for him to transport his soul to where Satoru is?
His soul itself is not as wayward as Satoru’s is. When people die, their souls sit in the afterlife to gather itself and stabilize, a way for souls to get used to living outside the body before it moves on to start a new cycle. Adding to that, the soul would be forming a connection to the afterlife housing it during the stabilizing phase.
Meaning Suguru’s soul would be connected to this afterlife more than Satorus’ is, which might mean that if Suguru manipulated his soul to where Satoru was, he could get his and Satoru back.
Which also means Suguru needs to learn soul manipulation.
And then he has an idea.
Satoru, can you hear me?
Gojo practically jolts from his chair when he hears Suguru’s voice.
All these years, all this time, and while he’s imagined Suguru with him he’s never thought he’d hear Suguru’s voice in his head.
“You alright, Gojo?” Aizawa asked, concern rolled into a gruff tone of voice. He was halfway through writing something on the chalkboard when Gojo suddenly moved, now the class was more focused on him than the lesson.
“Ahah! Fine!” Gojo laughed. “Sorry, I just remembered something super duper important that I gotta do! See ya!” Without seeing any of their expressions, Gojo bolts.
Suguru!! Are you there?! He asks, practically slamming himself into a goddamn janitor's closet for privacy. Can you hear me?!
Satoru, I just felt something so you’re probably responding to me right now, but I can’t hear what you say.
Any excitement he had nearly disappeared from that reply alone, but Gojo was still too excited to care. He could hear Suguru, he still had a connection to that afterlife, he could still go home.
I’m here! I can hear you! Satoru tried to scream back, channeling as much emotion as he could into those words.
Okay, well I heard you that time. Satoru practically melted against the obscenely clean wall of the janitors closet. I think that’ll take too much effort on your end, so maybe tone it down? I’m not looking to destroy your soul now.
What do you mean by that? Satoru tried his best to send over.
I’m just going to assume you don’t know what I’m talking about. No surprise. You’ve been sending a lot of pings my way, but I’ve only just realized that it might have been you talking to me, which I do have to say, you talk to me a lot more than I thought.
No I don’t. Gojo replied petulantly.
I just know that was a denial, but sure Sa-to-ru. Suguru teased, and Gojo hated the way he melted. Sue him, it’s been a long time since he talked to someone his own age. Before he’d gotten his memories he was a bullied quirkless kid with no friends. After that he’d been too busy focusing on his goals to spend time making friends with people, he forgot how nice it was to have someone say ‘Satoru’ so affectionately. Back to what I was saying. When I found out all those pings on my soul were from you, I realized that it meant we have a connection to each other. Therefore, if I theoretically send my soul over to you, it might just work.
Stop that, I can hear your worry from all the way over here. Gojo pouted and stopped trying to reply. My connection to the afterlife might be stronger than yours is, maybe that’s why I can talk to you but you can’t talk to me. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?
Yes, but Gojo doesn’t like it.
I can’t see you or hear you, but I just know you’re pouting right now. Don’t worry about me, because Kenjaku absorbed that soul manipulation curse, I now know more than enough about souls to do this safely. Just keep doing what you’re doing and I’ll come to you eventually. Besides, I’m already dead, how am I going to die a second time?
A lot, but Gojo could push away those worries and put his faith in Suguru. This is his best friend, his one and only, he’ll always trust Suguru.
Now that I think about it, I should make a welcome party for Suguru.
(When Satoru came back into the class, his steps were lighter and his smiles were brighter. No one knows what happened or why their assistant teacher was smiling so much, but if it made Gojo happy they weren’t going to pry.)
Later that night, when Satoru is writing into his notebook about what he should do when Suguru comes to his current world, a thought occurs to him. What if Suguru comes here and he dies because he doesn’t have a body to latch onto?
He then pushes those thoughts away. If Suguru needs a body, I’m happy to share mine with him.)
The day before his kids leave for their workplace experiences, a meteor lands in Musutafu.
They called it the biggest anomaly since the beginning of quirks. NASA and other space specialists deny ever seeing a meteor predicted to land on Earth, heroes and civilians alike try their best to take a look at the supposed meteorite, but all they see is an empty crater with no space rock in sight.
Gojo, with nothing but whimsy to his name and a man whose presence makes his own soul scream, practically runs out of his agency to see for himself.
It’s easy, Gojo himself had never left his cursed technique behind when he started his hero career, he just began to hide it better. Red and blue blasts in the middle of nowhere, Infinity a constant barrier between him and the world, teleportation when he’s sure no one is looking.
It’s all easy, which is why Gojo is quick to throw on an oversized All Might hoodie, zip it as high as possible, and teleport to the newest attraction for as long as modern society remains standing.
And there, instead of the empty spot he predicted, sits a void.
Well, it’s not quite a void, it’s an amalgamation. Something made of shadows and lights and fur and colors and seems to make its’ home seeping out of the crater jr out itself in. If Gojo were anyone else, he’d look at the thing and see 3 limbs and 8 eyes and 10 arms and 1 leg and everything and nothing all at once.
But he is Gojo Satoru, and when he looks at the amalgamation that laid in front of him, looks at the potent, twisting cursed energy and the unpredictable folds it creates like it’s trying to eat itself, he knows exactly who he’s looking at.
Geto Suguru, his one and only.
Without thinking, Gojo teleported into the crater itself, ignoring the sudden shouts and noise around him Gojo tried to scoop Suguru into hands, only for Gojo to phase through.
Damn it! Gojo tried to think of what he could do to pick up a soul and came up empty. Could he use his technique? Does he need a body? What can he do? Is Suguru going to die?
And Gojo thinks of his absent thought days before and comes up with a solution.
Suguru is just a soul right now, isn’t he? Maybe he could convince Suguru’s soul to stick in his body until they could find a solution.
And without a second’s thought, without paying any mind to the heroes now scrambling to subdue the trespasser, Gojo says Suguru, I’m here and suddenly it’s a blinding pain and his body is too small and too big and everything’s too tight and he might be screaming but he most likely isn’t and his mind is suddenly too loud and-
Gojo teleports, but he doesn’t know where.
When he wakes up, it’s to the sight of a voidless being staring down at him.
“Satoru!” Suguru said, something almost deafening about his voice, all static and uneven pitches. Yet if Gojo listened closely, he’d hear Suguru’s familiar cadence, soft and lilting and that’s enough for Gojo.
“Suguru!” Gojo replied, pulling the mass of black that is Suguru into a hug. Surprisingly, Gojo arms didn’t go past Suguru and instead touched him, his being cold and warm and off in his arms. But it’s Suguru, and Satoru will never be put off by Suguru.
Suguru laughed, off and weird but still leaning in, something resembling the shape of arms encasing Satoru. “It worked!” Suguru cheered, the sound akin to a burst of radio static “It fucking worked! I found you!”
“Suguru you were so cool!” Satoru laughed, the relief hitting him like Nobara’s hammer. He hadn’t realized how alone he felt in the world until Suguru was here and for does he feel glad his best friend is here. “People are calling you the biggest anomaly since the beginning of quirks, you know! Everyone is wondering what was happening but it’s just you!”
Suguru seemed to be taking a laugh out of that, though it’s most likely the both of them being too relieved to do anything else.
When they finally stopped laughing, Satoru focused on his surroundings. His skin felt oddly tight, like he was a closet ready to burst, did Suguru actually get into his body as well?
“Are you stuck to me, Suguru?”
Suguru huffed, flicking Satoru’s head and somehow bypassing his Infinity like always. “Yes, I am. Why did you do that anyway? There could have been horrible repercussions!”
“But there isn’t!” Satoru said, not petulantly. “Besides, what was I supposed to do?! Leave you there? I had an idea and it worked out! No repercussions at all!”
“That doesn’t change the fact that something could’ve happened!” Suguru huffed, bonking Satoru’s head and ignoring his plaintive cries. “You’re just lucky that whatever half-baked plan you made up in your head worked out, don’t try something like that again!”
“You’re so mean, Suguru.” Satoru huffed. “I saved you and this is how you repay me?”
Suguru seemed to say something before he huffed and cut himself off.
“Why do you look like this, Suguru?”
“Oh, this form?” Suguru hummed, then shrugged. “I tried sending over all of my soul to you, but I think our connection was too weak to sustain that, so I had to split my soul in and send it to you. Also why do you feel different, what happened- why are you looking at me like that?”
Gojo was barely processing his words. “I’m gonna need you to explain more about the soul splitting thing.”
“Heyyy, ‘Zawa!” Satoru waved enthusiastically at the man.
Aizawa seemed content to share at him for a long moment, clutching his capture scarf to his chest. Then, he slowly asked. “Gojo, do you know what’s on your shoulder right now?”
“Hm?” Satoru frowned, then realized that Suguru was sitting on his shoulder, in all his eldritch glory. “Oh, this is Suguru!”
“You named it?” Aizawa said incredulously, but slowly relaxed his grip on the capture scarf.
“That’s rude.” Suguru huffed, drawing a shocked look from Aizawa. “I’m sentient, you know. Satoru wouldn’t be able to năm anything for the life of him.”
“Mean! Mean!” Satoru declared, taking Suguru’s offer of a lollipop. “But yeah, Aizawa, Suguru. Suguru, Aizawa. He’s the hero I told you about!”
“Ah, nice to meet you then, Aizawa-san.” Suguru said, and if he had his body he'd be smiling that familiar polite-and-distant-but-not-really smile. As it stands, Satoru’s face is suddenly pulled into a cheap imitation of Suguru’s desired smile. “Thank you for taking care of Satoru for all this time.”
“Uh- ah… it’s nothing.” Aizawa said, not awkwardly at all, totally not glancing back and forth between him and Suguru. “If it’s not rude, can I ask what you are?”
“Satoru’s best friend.” Suguru remarked, calm as the water of a lake. “I don’t have a body to go to, you see. That’s why I’m sharing this one with Satoru.”
“Ah… I see.” Aizawa said, confused but unwilling to pry deeper. The guy was always so nice like that, Satoru wonders why his class never learned the ‘mind your own business’ lesson from Aizawa. “Well, all the kids have left for their work studies now, so there’s no point in hanging out on campus today, Gojo.”
“I’m just showing Suguru around!” Satoru said, chipper as he’d always been and brimming with an energy he didn’t realize went missing. He’s been moving around this whole day! Without a break! He feels like he could do hero work and feel great!
Aizawa nodded, oddly hesitant before he moved away. “I’ll leave you two to it, then.”
If Satoru had listened closer, he could have heard Aizawa mutter. “Why didn’t I realize the kid was just weird?”
(“Hey, Suguru.” Satoru said that night, bristling with all the energy he shouldn’t have. “Can we… stay here a little longer?”
“Why?” Suguru would reply, his form an impossibility on the bed.
“Well…” Gojo trailed off. “It’s fun here! There’s so much stuff I still wanna show you and it can’t be condensed into a few days, you know? And I wanna show you around the festival that’s gonna happen here in a few months, I think you’ll love it! Plus the kids I’ve been teaching! They’re currently on their works studies so they won’t be in class for a while, but you gotta meet them too they’re super cute and one time little Baku-“
Satoru was broken out of his rambling by Suguru’s chuckle, soft and melodic and adoring. “Alright, you convinced me, we can stay.”
“Really?!” Satoru gasped, then sat up in bed and started rambling about everything he wanted to show Suguru.
Really, Suguru mused, they’ll be back eventually, but if Satoru was going to feel lonely at the airport, then he might as well let Satoru have his fun before they come back.)