Work Text:
Sometimes, you wonder what crime you’d committed in your past life to deserve having Gojo Satoru be a fixture in your current one.
It’s not like you couldn’t work with Gojo at all. Despite his carefree attitude, habitual lateness, and tendency to slack off, Gojo always got the job done well. But he’d be a lot easier to cooperate with if he wasn’t so insufferable.
On every mission you’ve been assigned on, Gojo would inevitably turn up with the same cocky attitude he’d had when you were students. Always late and carrying a bag of sweets he’d mockingly devour in front of you. Brush past you with a flick of his hand as you’d tried to update him with what was happening. In the end, he’d push you and you alone to the sidelines at critical moments, all the while your other coworkers acted as his backup.
“You’re too weak,” Gojo had bluntly stated when you’d confronted him. “You’d only hold us back.”
And in the jujutsu world, Gojo's word was as good as the law. So you’d swallowed your pride and stayed on the sidelines, trying to salvage the situation by reflecting on what you could’ve done better, and what you could train harder on. You suppose you were lucky to have never needed to work directly with Gojo. Your patience wouldn’t last at all.
Though by now, you should’ve known better than to tempt fate.
Your latest mission had sounded simple enough: investigate and exorcise the cursed spirit killing tourists at Mount Tanigawa. The place was no stranger to high rates of accidental deaths in the past, but the sudden spike in casualties had warranted an investigation. You'd been about to head out of the office when Principal Gakuganji’s words stopped you dead in your tracks.
“Gojo Satoru will be accompanying you on this mission.”
You’d nearly tripped over nothing, your mind refusing to register what he'd just said.
“Uh—Principal,” you’d half-spluttered out. “Wouldn’t one or two Grade One sorcerers like myself be enough?”
“Normally, yes.” Principal Gakuganji had replied with a long-suffering sigh. “But the reports suggest that the deaths occurred under highly suspicious circumstances, and none of the Grade Two sorcerers we sent in to investigate have returned.”
“If that's the case, why wasn't a Grade One like myself sent in earlier?” you'd countered.
“Their reasoning is not something I am privy to, nor is it your place to know. The higher ups have decided they will not risk any more losses” —he'd held up a wizened hand when you'd started to protest again— “You leave tomorrow morning; Gojo will meet you in Minakami.”
So that’s how you found yourself waiting in the lobby of your ryokan with a glare strong enough to instantly kill a special grade curse.
Gojo is late. Again. Any excitement you’d had about staying at a resort town had quickly evaporated as the minutes ticked by with no sign of his white hair and lanky body sticking out from the groups of tourists coming and going from the building. And he was the one who'd asked you to meet him here instead of the train station. He’d left you waiting for thirty minutes now and your calls and texts had gone unanswered.
Inconsiderate ass.
Until today, you’d been having a good month. Easy missions, lunch in Kamigyō with Utahime, and one of the games on your wishlist finally went on sale. Best of all, you’d hardly crossed paths with Gojo while on the field, so you were spared his teasing.
But now? You’d have to spend several days in close proximity with a man whose antics could drive even a bodhisattva to violence. And you couldn’t push even back, unless you wanted to destroy the career you’d work so hard to build up.
Sighing, you slip your phone out of your windbreaker to read through the mission briefing again. You want to be able to hit the ground running when Gojo finally decides to spare some time for this mission.
The more you read, the more everything felt off. Every initial report mis-classified the curse and insisted that even a Grade Two sorcerer would be overkill, only to be followed by updates frantically requesting backup. Then there’s the sudden drop in the number of curses in the area. If this curse was powerful enough to drive away others, even a Grade One sorcerer would find it difficult to exorcise.
Well, it wouldn’t surprise you if the higher-ups had dismissed the warning signs and continued sending lower ranked sorcerers to die pointlessly until it started to threaten their power. And dealing with them is like pulling teeth, and you pity anyone who has to deal with them on a daily basis…even Gojo. Selfish old geezers, the lot of—
You yelp and nearly drop your phone when something presses into the back of your neck, metal and bitingly cold. The room blurs; your cursed energy flares up as you whip around, arms raised in a defensive stance and—
—Gojo Satoru is behind you, doubled over with laughter. His voice echoes, causing several people to stop and stare at the two of you. One of his hands clutches the offending can of soda, while the other’s weighed down by bags stuffed with specialty sweets, some of them stamped with logos from shops in Minakami.
Your face burns as you feel everyone’s eyes on you. You hastily avoid their prying gazes, instead staring at a nearby arrangement of yellow flowers.
“Maybe you’re not so hopeless,” Gojo gasps, straightening up. “You’re quick to react.”
You ball your hand into fists and force yourself to take in deep breaths. Think about your career. Breathe in, then out. If you lose control now, you’ll lose everything.
“You’re late,” you snap through gritted teeth, forcing yourself to look him in the eye. “Why?”
“Actually, I was early, sweetheart,” Gojo says condescendingly. He slips the can back into a bag, pointedly ignoring the death glare you were shooting at him. “I arrived in Minakami this morning. And since there was so much time to kill” —he smirks and waves a box of manju in your face— “I decided to have some fun before you come to suck all the joy out of staying in a resort town. An accomplishment, really.”
“How generous of you to donate your precious time to the mission we’re both assigned to,” you reply flatly. “I’m surprised they haven’t banished your gluttonous ass from town for driving everyone out of business.”
“Why should they, when I’m supporting the local economy?” Gojo sighs melodramatically. “If anything, you're the late one here. I spent ages waiting for you, you know!”
Oh, now he’s blaming you? Even with his blindfold on, you just know Gojo’s rolling his eyes at you. Had this been anyone else, you’d already be drafting up an argument in your post mission report for why you shouldn’t be paired with them on future missions.
“Well, maybe if someone bothered answering my texts, they wouldn’t have to wander the streets like an idiot,” you counter, fighting to keep your voice level. “And remember how last month’s inter-school meeting was delayed by an hour because someone disappeared at the last minute? I was stuck there with both principals for ages, you know.”
“Now you’re just being petty.” Gojo pouts, puffing out his cheeks like a chipmunk. For a second, it makes him look almost tolerable, even cute. Was last night’s lack of sleep starting to get to you? “And for your information, I had a good reason for being late.”
“Speedrunning a stamp rally doesn’t count,” you deadpan. With a sigh, you reach down to pick up your backpack. Knowing Gojo, he could have you arguing with him about nonsense all day if he wanted to. “Whatever, let’s just head to the mountain so we can start investigating. It’s already noon.”
For once, Gojo doesn’t argue with you, and has the front desk call for a taxi before dropping his bags off in his room. Unsurprisingly, that’s where his generosity ends. He hogs most of the backseat as he lounges there with his backpack and legs spread out, leaving you to squish yourself against the door to avoid his gangly limbs.
It’s only for twenty minutes, you tell yourself as the taxi starts. It can’t be that bad.
A dull pain suddenly shoots up your leg. You glance sideways to see Gojo looking at you, his arms crossed and right leg suspiciously stretched out across the floor.
“My bad,” he says, grinning. “Didn't see ya there.”
This is going to be a long mission.
There’s something wrong with the mountain.
You can feel it in your bones the moment you arrive at the ropeway station. After being forced to listen to Gojo play I spy with himself in the longest car ride of your life, you now have to endure an equally irritating cable car ride with him. At least now you can ignore Gojo to admire the autumn colours blanketing the rugged slopes like a brocade. The sea of dark green trees burst into clusters of golden yellows and rich oranges as far as the eye can see, as though the whole mountain has been set alight by autumn itself.
Distant memories of visiting Kiyomizu-dera with Utahime to admire its autumn foliage as students suddenly drift into your mind. With a fond smile, you snap a photo of the view and send it to Utahime. Come to think of it, when was the last time the two of you had been on a mission together? She’d be much better company than Gojo too.
But all good things must come to an end. Your brief moment of peace is swept away with the chilly autumn wind as you and Gojo disembark at Tenjindaira Pass, and the uneasiness floods you again. Given the number of accidental deaths Mount Tanigawa has witnessed, the air should be thick with curses and cursed energy. Instead, you feel almost…nothing. The familiar, weighted feeling of cursed energy that’s all but a second skin to you is gone, replaced by a constant prickling sensation, like ants are crawling over your body.
The lack of cursed energy is also as noticeable as the lack of tourists on the mountain. It’s still supposed to be the peak season, but the trail is virtually deserted, save for a lone worker at the station and few hikers walking around.
You rub your hands and look over at Gojo. He’s pulled down his blindfold to survey the hilly trailhead, and in spite of yourself, you let your gaze linger on him for a second longer than you should. Though you’ve (technically) known Gojo for over ten years, it’s the first time you’ve actually seen him with his hair down and eyes uncovered. Even from where you’re standing, you can see the vivid cerulean of his eyes veiled by wisps of cloud white hair, the same shade as the sky above you.
A second passes before you blink and shake your head, bringing yourself back to the present. Where that sudden attempt at waxing poetry about Gojo Satoru’s eyes of all things came from, you have no idea. Not that it matters. You’re on a mission, and that’s what you should be focusing on right now.
You look at Gojo again. He’s pulled his blindfold back up. Judging by his pursed lips, he’s likely come to the same conclusion as you.
“It’s too quiet,” you state hesitantly. “There should be more curses present.”
“Obviously,” Gojo scoffs, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. A pause, then he slowly adds, “But there’s a faint residue over there.”
As expected of his Six Eyes, you suppose. You follow his gaze towards the rocky path, flanked by shrubby plants and tall grass, and concentrate your cursed energy on the trailhead. A minute passes before you’re able to make out a faint residual, barely detectable, leading deeper into the trail.
“Any luck?” you ask, and brace yourself for the inevitable flick of his hand that’d have him take care of everything while you watched on the sidelines. With Gojo here, you’re pretty much redundant. Then again, any sorcerer would pale in comparison to the Six Eyes.
“A rough idea. But isn’t this a job for your cursed technique?” he replies, giving you a pointed look.
You do a double take.
“I thought—”
“—that my Six Eyes would be enough?” Gojo finishes. He lets out a childish huff and shakes his head. “They’re the full package, sure, but they’re not everything.”
You raise an eyebrow. Gojo was quick to admit that. Logically speaking, you shouldn’t be surprised, but it’s still news to you. With how everyone goes on about Gojo winning the jujutsu jackpot by having both the Six Eyes and Limitless, it’s easy to forget that they might have limits too.
Seeing your blank expression, Gojo continues on. His voice takes on a more authoritative tone, like you’re one of his students, and a new one to boot. “The thing with the Six Eyes is that I can see everything,” he explains, tapping his temple. “Yeah, I can see that spirit’s residuals. And the cursed energy of every other living being and curse on this mountain range and the surrounding towns, so trying to track one curse would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. I can do it if you're really not up to the task” —he sighs, and there’s a split second where he looks so, so tired— “but it’s such a pain to pull off properly.”
“...I see,” is all you manage to say. You wonder how many other people he’s shared this with.
“So that’s where you come in!” Gojo suddenly claps his hands twice and beams at you. “Okay, do your thing!”
“Saying ‘please’ would go a long way,” you sigh. Well, it’s not like saying that would make a huge difference with the likes of him.
Still, anticipation floods you. It’s not every day that Gojo considers you an asset to a mission. This is your chance; all those hours you spent back in Kyoto training and refining your cursed technique wouldn’t be for nothing. You’d show him your rank as a Grade One sorcerer isn’t just for show.
You turn your attention back on the trailhead as you gather your cursed energy around you. There’s at least one good thing that came out of the mountain being unsettlingly deserted—it makes it easier for you to concentrate on using your cursed technique. It’s becoming a rarity these days.
You close your eyes. Stretch out your hand. Breathe in the stinging autumn air whipping against your face and clothes. Remember what you’ve gleaned from training. The susurrus of the leaves and grass fade away as you close in on the scant residual winding along the trail, picking it out from the other cursed energy webbing the pass. In your mind's eye, you slowly coax it into being, beads of sweat doting your brow as you shape the stubborn specks into a thin thread in the palm of your hand.
Your fingers twitch, anticipating. Everything stills.
“Divining Web.”
—your world explodes in a riot of colour as a hundred thousand tendrils spring out of the thread, briefly revealing a faint dot before disappearing. Sweat dots your brow as you will the web to push past its usual radius and cover more of the pass. Black-ringed streams of cursed energy burst into sight all across Tenjindaira like fireworks, from faint pinpricks along the trail to the shifting forms of the few people still near the ropeway station, ebbing and flowing around you like ocean currents. Every movement, every new flicker of emotion floods your brain with information while static crackles across your skin, the familiar rush of power sinking into your bones, and you remember—
This is how Gojo’s always seen the universe.
It’s also little wonder why Gojo insists on keeping his eyes covered. No matter how many times you use your technique, the way your senses are being stretched thin processing the new information is a perpetually uncomfortable feeling. And you’re only seeing a tiny fraction of what he sees with the Six Eyes, and temporarily.
“Well?” Gojo asks, impatiently tapping his foot. “What do you see?”
You grit your teeth and look down at the translucent thread coiling around your hand like an agitated snake. It’s settled into its usual form, being the length of your forearm and knotted at the end, with ghostly tendrils stretching out of the swaying knot. The thread thrums with jagged, twin beats, its shape swelling and splitting as you try to keep it together. It’s…unusual. The residuals of curses you’re tracking always put up some form of resistance, but for this one to threaten even the thread’s shape gives you a bad feeling. You're not even sure if it's only one anymore.
“The spirit’s probably somewhere on this ridge, or close to it, since the thread’s moving a bit,” you explain quietly. The thread flickers dangerously in your hand, overwhelmed by your growing irritation. “The closer we get, the more it’ll sway and solidify.”
“Haaah, and I thought this’d be an open and shut case,” Gojo groans, dramatically bringing his hand up to his forehead. He kicks at the dirt, sending up a puff of dust. “Shouldn’t you be able to track the curse down directly?”
Your molars nearly crack from how hard you bite down on them. Shame washes over you, tense and heavy. Not even an hour in and he’s already beginning to slide back into his usual unsolicited commentary about your abilities. You already know you’re lacking in a lot of areas, he doesn’t need to drive the point home any further.
“No. It traces a residual of my choosing like a dowsing rod,” you answer. It comes out more coldly than you expect. “I’ve used it on other missions before, remember? But if it’s not up to task, then—”
“Look, it slipped my mind this time,” Gojo cuts you off, throwing his hands up in surrender. He pauses before grinning unevenly. “You’re fine. We should get moving—that curse isn’t going to exorcise itself!”
You feel a sudden twinge of embarrassment and you don’t know why.
“...right. Let’s go,” you say, taking a step towards the trail. The knot sways and points lazily in the same direction, becoming slightly more opaque. “Looks like we’ll have to continue further down the trail.”
You brace yourself for Gojo to reply with a snarky comment or a counter to your snappy answer earlier. But he just nods and gestures to the path.
“Lead the way.”
“Maaan, and I thought we'd finally found it! What a huge drag.”
You sigh heavily at Gojo’s words, trying to resist the urge to lay down in the sea of yellowing bamboo grass surrounding Katanokoya Hut and never get up. It’s been over two hours since the two of you had started your investigation, combing through the trail’s forests and steep, rocky paths for any signs of the curse. You’d gotten your hopes up when the thread began to solidify as the two of you climbed the ridgeline, but it’d led to…nothing. Just the hut and the steps leading up to the first peak, no curse in sight. And then Gojo had started pestering you about stopping for lunch until you’d agreed to shut him up.
Even more embarrassing is how Divining Web has revealed nothing new about this curse—you’re not even sure if it’s functioning properly anymore. Before you’d made it to the ridge, the thread’s form and energy had begun to fluctuate violently. There’d been moments where it’d thrummed with such violent energy that it’d made you uneasy, and even Gojo had had to look again. Then a second later, it’d become so faint you’d thought it’d disappear. Were you starting to forget even the basics of jujutsu?
You’re surprised it was even able to lead you to anything at all, considering you couldn’t really sense anything from the curse anyways. Could it have camouflaging properties then? Maybe it could suppress its own cursed energy, like the colony of moth curses you’d exorcised in Fukuoka last month.
Ah, it’s enough for your head to start throbbing. You furrow your brows and frown. If only you could get Divining Web to even a fraction of what the Six Eyes are without getting overstimulated, you wouldn’t be so useless and Gojo wouldn’t—
“With that expression, we’ll never find the cursed spirit at this rate.”
Gojo’s comment cuts through your train of thought like a knife. Must be nice being him, you think, squeezing the thread in your hand until it's squirming, being able to say and do whatever he wants. Perks of being the most powerful sorcerer in centuries, you suppose.
“Shut up, Gojo,” you scowl. All you want to do right now is eat lunch and not have to deal with his shit.
“Hey, come on now. Keep wearing that expression, and we won’t even need to exorcise the curse once we see it.” Gojo stuffs his hands in his pockets and laughs. “Try not to show it around town though. You know how the higher ups hate collateral damage.”
Oh, that’s it.
“I don’t think it’ll come to that.” You plaster a painfully sweet smile onto your face. “See, your overwhelming stupidity will kill it instantly.”
“I’ll have you know I’m overwhelmingly intelligent,” Gojo says with mock hurt. “It takes brains and brawn to be the strongest, you know.”
And winning the genetic lottery, you think bitterly. You’d come to terms with the cold, heart truth years ago. It doesn’t matter how hard you train or how much you sacrifice in the name of jujutsu. Your worth and potential had been set in stone at birth.
“Right, because you totally act like it,” you say, forcing out a neutral tone. “I'm going to eat lunch.”
You dispel Divining Web, and your world returns to normal as you sit at one of the benches next to the red-roofed hut. Gojo follows suit, taking up half of the bench with his long legs and backpack as usual. The ache in your head dies down a little, but the silence that follows is palpable, as though you’d simultaneously gone blind and deaf. It makes you slightly nauseous as you take out your lunch. If you don’t feel like throwing up after eating this, you’ll eat your dessert too.
Gojo down at your spread of konbini buns and snickers. “So boring! What are you, a retiree?”
Then, as if to prove a point, he lays out his own “lunch,” though it looks more like a snack hoard. You spot a teriyaki sandwich somewhere, but it’s lost among the squished tarts, manju, and pastries scattered across the bench. A triangular pie, golden brown and fogging up its bag, catches your eye. It looks invitingly warm and buttery, and you can’t help but to wonder what fillings would spill out of the first bite.
“Some of us understand that we can’t live off sugar alone,” you fire back, pushing the pie out of your mind. “Surprising discovery, I know.”
“Sounds like a you problem,” Gojo states. Without skipping a beat, he picks up the bag with the pie and looks you dead in the eye as he takes a massive bite. “Ah, apple pies are the best! It’s a shame you didn’t wanna explore the town first, huh?”
The idea of throwing him off the mountain is becoming more appealing by the second. Huffing, you look away as Gojo continues to eat with annoyingly exaggerated noises. If you’d continued to watch him, you’re sure you’d lose your appetite.
As you eat, you admire the vista before you. The mountain range stretches out before you like a dragon’s snaking back, curving into valleys and back up into peaks that reach up into the vast cloud-covered sky. Sunlight shines down on the valley, dappling the slopes in verdant greens and golden oranges until it resembles a sea of autumn colours. As the afternoon sun shines down on your face and the wind sweeps through your hair, you think you’re on top of the world, unfettered by the stresses of being a sorcerer.
Your heart’s feeling lighter when you decide to pull out your dessert: three Gion Pocchiri daifuku from Ninigi. You’d bought it yesterday as a treat for the upcoming mission, but somehow you’d end up taking it with you to Minakami. Though it’s been nearly a day, the daifuku still looks appetizing.
Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Gojo pouting as you eat one of the daifuku, smiling at the taste of a medley of fruits and bean paste, mixed with the chewy mochi skin. You can’t resist giving a loud, pleased sigh as you eat the other two quickly, licking your lips for good measure. Sweet, sweet revenge.
“You have daifuku?” Gojo abruptly asks, almost sullenly. Strangely enough, a faint blush dusts his cheeks. “Where’d you get it?”
“...at Ninigi,” you answer, hesitant. Why’s he so curious all of a sudden?
Gojo’s expression goes from sulky to excited so fast you almost get whiplash. He turns towards you with both eyebrows raised, his eyes practically glowing behind his blindfold.
“Oh, you go there too?” he asks eagerly, and you instinctively scoot back. Who’s this guy, and what’d he do with the Gojo you knew? “What’s the seasonal flavour now?”
“Uh, sometimes,” you answer nervously. Why he’s suddenly willing to ask you about non-jujutsu related things, you don’t know, nor do you want to. “And it’s apple, I think?”
Gojo deflates at this, going back to his pouty, almost cute expression. “Aaah, I’ve missed my chance again,” he sighs, propping up his chin with his palm. “I’m never around Kyoto long enough to try their mango daifuku…”
“I prefer their Gion Potchiri,” you remark with a shrug. You’re not surprised Gojo would be in high demand as a sorcerer, but now you’re wondering just how much free time he actually has. “Don’t think I know any other places that stuff multiple fruits into one daifuku.”
“Oh, you’ve clearly never tried the ones in Tokyo then.” Gojo chuckles. “You’ll be spoiled for choice there.”
“Even compared to Kyoto?” You cock your head, your lips curling up. “We’ve got heavy hitters like Demachi too.”
“Too traditional,” Gojo says lazily. He begins to clean up the remains of his lunch. “Sounds like something that gramps would like. Keep hanging around him and you'll start forgetting it's the twenty-first century too.”
You snort at his statement. Gojo’s not wrong in his assessment, admittedly.
“I know perfectly well what century I'm living in,” you scoff, feeling emboldened. “Well, unlike a certain group of seniors who haven’t even made it out of the Meiji era…”
Gojo throws his head back and laughs, his face lighting up in a way that has your breath hitching in your throat. His laughter is clear and strong, and soon you’re laughing along in spite of yourself. A foreign warmth bubbles up in your chest, settling over your heart a hot coal. Sitting here, bantering with Gojo like you’re old friends and he hadn’t been looking down on you just minutes ago—it feels wrong. How long would it last before he gets bored and goes back to taunting you?
The sudden sound of footfalls and a spike of new cursed energy snaps the two of you back to the present. You look over your shoulder to see a lone hiker coming back down from Tomanomimi Peak, an old man from the looks of it. His cursed energy output suggests he’s a non-sorcerer but you remain on guard all the same. Curse users have an annoying habit of popping up when you least expect them to.
The hiker passes by the two of you, then stops and turns around. You still gather your cursed energy around as a precaution, ready to spring into action if needed. In contrast, Gojo relaxes and watches the man with mild interest.
“Ah, good afternoon!” the hiker suddenly calls out, bowing slightly. “Didn’t expect to see other hikers here.”
“...good afternoon to you too.” You hastily return his bow. “Yeah, it’s very quiet up here.”
“I’ve never seen the mountain so deserted before,” the hiker remarks, leaning on his walking stick. “But with all the disappearances that have been happening lately, it’s understandable.”
You and Gojo exchange glances. The eye witness accounts in your report had been too vague to be of any use. Maybe this could provide you with more clues.
“What, have there been yokai sightings or something?” Gojo pipes up with a small smile.
You suppress a groan. Typical Gojo and his disregard for tact. But to your surprise, the hiker's expression becomes solemn.
“If you'd said that to me three days ago, I'd have laughed.” He looks around, as if something might’ve been listening to the three of you talk. “But now I'm starting to think it's a possibility.”
“A possibility…?” you repeat. “Did you see something weird?”
“I was hiking through Ichinokurasawa yesterday,” the hiker begins. His voice is low and shaky, like he's confessing something shameful. “when I swear someone was calling out to me from the mountainside. But when I tried to look for them, they got further away, and I heard a loud scratching noise, like a wild animal.” The man shakes his head. “I got sick to my stomach and ended up turning back. If I’d continued following them, who knows what could’ve happened…”
A pregnant pause fills the air as you the hiker's words sink in. A chill runs down your spine as the exhausting hits you all at once. You almost want to kick yourself; you'd been so focused on the places mentioned in the reports that'd you'd overlooked what had given birth to the curse in the first place. You sneak a glance at Gojo. The pensive expression on his face is a clear giveaway that he’s come to the same conclusion.
“That sounds scary,” you say, giving the hiker a strained, sympathetic smile. So this confirms that the cursed spirit’s hunting grounds were elsewhere, among other things. It explains too much, and now you’re back at square one.
“Yes—I'd skip that trail if I were you.” He straightens up and smiles. “Well, thank you for listening to this old man’s nervous ramblings. Enjoy your hike.”
The hiker casts a long glance at the two of you before walking off. Once he disappears from view, Gojo leans over, a toothy grin on his face.
“He totally thinks we’re a couple.”
You almost fall off the bench as Gojo lets out a bark of laughter. Where the hell did this come from? Working with him is already stretching your patience and sanity thin, but dating? No way. You’re not his type, he’s not yours, and Gojo just views this all as a joke anyways…right?
“You’re nuts,” you snap, scrambling to regain your composure. Your face is practically on fire at this point from how hard you’re blushing. “Newsflash, not everything revolves around you, Gojo.”
“Mhm, kinda hard to believe when I’m such a catch,” Gojo says, waggling his eyebrows at you. “Even someone like you can see that, right?”
“After being stuck with you for a whole day, I doubt it. Maybe in your dreams,” you mutter as you check the time. It’s only three, but the day seems to have slipped by and stretched on forever. “Ah, there’s two hours until sunset. Don’t think we have enough time to investigate the other trails today.”
“That's tomorrow's problem then,” Gojo says simply. He gets up and stretches like a cat that'd just woken up from a midday nap. “So, you comin’? If you don't hurry up, I'll go without you.”
“Go without me to where?” you echo, instinctively balling your fists. “I swear, if you’re gonna ditch—”
“Learn to loosen up a bit, would ya? It’d do wonders for that stick up your ass too,” Gojo says, cutting you off abruptly. His lips twitch, like he’s disappointed. A strange combination of guilt and indignation bubbles up in your chest.
“I know how to have fun and when to focus on work.” You narrow your eyes. “What are you suggesting then?”
Gojo looks at you like the answer’s obvious.
“Hey, you said so yourself. It’s too late to continue investigating. But since we’ve already made it this far…” He skips over to the steps leading up to Tomanomi peak and throws his arms up in the air like he’s in The Sound of Music.
“Let’s go sight-seeing!”
Despite having a long soak in the ryokan’s onsen and getting a full night of sleep, you still wake up exhausted the next day.
In the end, Gojo had dragged you up with him to see both of Mount Tanigawa’s peaks. The view had been breathtaking, waves of autumn tinged peaks veiled by wispy clouds. The two of you had admired the view in silence for a while, until Gojo had broken it by loudly taking a selfie (“Gotta show Shoko and Nanami what they’re missing!”). He’d rapidly struck a number of cheesy poses as he tried to find one with the “best angle” and you’d even found yourself smiling a little when he’d turned to you to “help a guy out.”
It’d been a nice distraction from losing a day chasing after a red herring.
You sigh, thinking about the mission as you get ready. Nothing’s adding up with this damn curse, and what you do know is disjointed, like a dozen puzzle pieces that you know should fit together but won’t. It’s like you’re on the verge of making a useful discovery, only to realise you’re missing a crucial piece at the last second.
Hell, you don’t even know if you’re needed on this mission anymore. Gojo had trusted you with one job on this mission, and you couldn’t deliver. If you’d just pushed past the strain and pushed your technique a little more, you could’ve found something of use. If Gojo could do it, surely you’re smart enough to find a similar work around. You have to be.
You’ve just left your room when your phone buzzes with a new notification. It’s a text from Gojo.
Outside. Taxi’s coming. Hurry or I’ll leave u behind ~ (ゝз╹) ~
You immediately pick up the pace. Knowing Gojo, he’d tease you non-stop for being late even if he doesn’t end up leaving you behind, and it’s too early to be dealing with his bullshit. Looks like you’ll be having a store-bought breakfast again.
Gojo’s still standing under the covered walkway by the time you rush outside with breakfast in hand, ready for the inevitable onslaught of teasing. But you stop dead in your tracks when you notice he’s on a call, a deep frown etched on his face.
“Another mission? I’m not even done with this one—I see,” Gojo runs a hand through hair. His blindfold hitches up slightly, revealing heavy shadows under his eyes, and you wonder if he’s even slept at all. “Goddamn fools. All that over a petty grudge?”
For a moment, Gojo looks far older than he should, more weary. An invisible force seems to sit on his slumped shoulders, as if the full weight of Limitless is bearing down on him. It dawns on you then that maybe you're wrong, that Gojo is a walking contradiction, both the freest and the most constrained sorcerer you’ve ever known. No wonder why the higher-ups were so unfazed about the high number of losses. If the lower grade sorcerers couldn’t exorcise the curse on Mount Tanigawa, just throw Gojo at it and call it a day. Easy.
You suddenly feel sick to your stomach.
“Haaah… I’ll be there then. Tell him to hold out for just a little longer.” And just like that, this other side of Gojo disappears in the blink of an eye. His frown morphs into a defeated pout as he hangs up, grumbling under his breath.
You hesitate, wondering if you should give Gojo a minute more to himself before approaching him. But your internal debate turns out to be for nothing when he turns around and waves at you.
“Hey, about time you showed up!” Gojo exclaims with a strained smile. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d no-showed.”
“You wish,” you say, annoyance unwittingly creeping up before you catch yourself. “...is everything alright?”
Gojo pauses, his eyes widening underneath his blindfold. His lips twitch.
“Some last minute stuff that came up.” His voice is light, almost casual, but it’s still thick with tension. “But it’s all good. Nothing you need to worry about.”
You involuntarily tense up at his tone. He’s right, it isn’t any of your business, but it’s strangely grating all the same. A heavy, awkward silence settles over the two of you as you wait for the taxi. You feel like you should do something, say something, but the words keep dying in your throat.
Forget it, you tell yourself as the taxi pulls up. Your thoughts sound eerily like Principal Gakuganji. Gojo’s right. And you only need to know enough to do your job anyways.
Two hours into investigating Ichinokurasawa and you’re about to tear your hair out from frustration. Divining Web had eventually led the two of you straight to a narrow gorge with scraggly pines and shrubby, browning plants along its ledges...and nothing else. No disembodied voices calling out for help, like that hiker had mentioned. You couldn’t even detect any curses nearby with your technique.
To be honest, you’re surprised Gojo even let you try and track down the curse again after yesterday’s attempt instead of stepping in himself. You can almost hear his reasoning in your head, about how you’d only hold him back, and that the mission would be completed much faster if he stepped in.
The thought of it annoys you enough that Divining Web begins to protest, the semi-translucent thread thrumming and flickering in your hand. Like it or not, you have been partnered up with him for this mission, and you are going to pull your own weight on it. Though you can’t be losing it if both you and Gojo had detected the same residuals that’d been on Tenjindaira after arriving here. Unless this curse is also somehow capable of deceiving Gojo as well.
“Haaaah…and I thought the second time’s the charm.” Gojo’s comments snaps you out of your rumination. He’s looking at you intently, clearly disappointed.
Blood rushes to your cheeks and ears as you will yourself to not squirm under his gaze. It’s fine. All you have to do is keep calm and approach this logically.
“I used the same residuals we sensed in Tenjindaira. So either this is where the curse has been hiding, or we’ve gotten the wrong residuals this whole time.” You wrap the thread up back in your hand again. It’s then that you notice the knot hasn’t completely stilled. Instead, it sways feebly towards a pile of rocks near the foot of the slope.
You furrow your brows. Why’s it still trying to trace something?
Gojo lets out a tired sigh. “I guess I can—”
“Wait a second,” you blurt out. You hold up the thread to show Gojo the swaying knot— “Sorry, it’s still moving. Let me check it out first.”
Before Gojo can say anything else, you turn to steadily make your way towards the pile of rocks near the edge. The knot starts swaying more the closer you get, a familiar sign that you were getting close to whatever it’s tracked. Your breath catches in your throat when you roll several dirt-covered rocks out of the way.
A bird-like curse lies in a hole before you, its twisted body and wings dashed against the ground, but still moving feebly. Its cursed energy is weak, but it’s a near perfect match to the same energy your thread is currently humming with. The knot itself stills for a second, normally a signal that you’ve found what you’re looking for, but begins moving again.
The pieces fall into place. How could you be so stupid as to not consider this possibility?
So it’s intelligent enough to create decoys to mask its own cursed energy. No wonder why every other sorcerer was having trouble tracking this cursed spirit down. It's as slick as an eel with the ability to strategize. What a pain.
“So that explains that.”
You yelp and spin around to see Gojo right behind you, snickering. Goddammit, does he have to insist on sneaking up on you every time?
“Sorry, sorry,” he chuckles, waving his hand at you like a maneki-neko. “Your reactions are just waaay too funny.”
“Haha very funny,” you grumble, feeling another headache forming. “What if I’d actually hit you?”
You instantly regret saying that when Gojo clutches his stomachs, wheezing with laughter. You hate how your heart skips a beat at the way his face lights up when he laughs, even when it’s at your expense.
“Good luck with that,” he smirks, straightening up. Your eye twitches. “You’ll need it.”
“Oh, piss off.” You pray that Gojo doesn’t notice the way your cheeks are heating up and turn your attention back to the dying curse. “It matches the findings in the reports.”
“Yeah, I can see that much.” Gojo yawns and looks around, bored. “Looks like this curse is smarter than we thought. Want me to take over now?”
You don’t answer; the gears in your mind are too busy turning. Even though the curse had had you fooled, you weren’t left without a lead. Divining Web had still been able to pick up on its residuals after all. If you could draw out a residual from the world to create a thread, perhaps the reverse was possible too…
You close your eyes, and block out the rest of the world again. Webs of cursed energy surround your vision once more, bright blue against black, but you focus on the thread in front of you. Two thin lines of energy are intertwined with each other to form the thread. They beat in sync, one stronger than the other. You tighten your hand around the thread as you draw out the line with the stronger energy, willing the weaker one to dissipate. It takes a bit of coaxing, but when you open your eyes again, you’re holding an opaque, hairlike thread in the palm of your hand.
Gojo looks at you curiously. “You sure this one’s the real deal?”
“Yeah. Its residuals aren't the same as the curse we found.” You glance down at the thread, its knot pointing to a spot further down the gorge as it vibrates violently. “In fact, it looks like we’re pretty close.”
Gojo looks skeptical as he inspects the thread, then shrugs, and casually exorcises the bird-like curse.
“It checks out,” he says. “Alright then, let’s follow it.”
The two of you trudge on, going deeper into the gorge as the slopes grow taller and more barren, and clouds cover their peaks. You’ve lost track of the time when you finally hear the distant sound of a waterfall and—
“sOomeoNee…aNyonE…”
A suffocating amount of cursed energy suddenly bursts into your vision, forcing its way into your head until you’re staggering back, your head pounding. A chill runs down your spine at the screechy, high-pitched voice echoing throughout the whole mountain, as though a whole legion of curses have suddenly sprung into being. Divining Web is going into overdrive too, the thread and knot crackling as it sends static shocks down your arm.
Still, you carry on until you reach a steep, narrow path next to a fast flowing waterfall that thunders down in tandem with the curse’s cries. Icy winds whips at your skin as the two of you approach it—you, trying your best not to trip over the grass covered rocks while Gojo makes it look annoyingly easy, practically skipping on air with childlike glee.
Once you reach the climbing path dotted with rusty anchors, the thread in your hand finally goes limp in your hand, signalling a finished job. You turn to Gojo, who’s examining it with mild curiosity.
“We’ve arrived.” Your words ring out ominously in the air, intermingling with the distant cries.
Gojo lets out a low whistle.
“Good work,” he says with a grin, and you think he means it this time. “Pretty impressive you could track all that with that little residual.”
“All in a day’s work.” You preen a little in spite of yourself. It’s not every day that Gojo actually acknowledges your effort to your face. “Once we find it, we’re home free.”
However, Gojo’s already turned his attention back to the mountainside. You’re not even sure if he’d listened to you at all.
“Keep a lookout for me then, would ya?” he says idly. “I’d hate for us to get ambushed.”
“Two pairs of eyes are better than one,” you push back, tensing up. “We’d get the job done faster that way.”
And just like that, it's gone.
Gojo sighs and shakes his head. “Sure, you’re a capable tracker. I’ll give you that,” he says, like it’s a pain to admit. “But you should also know your limits.”
“Oh, believe me, I’m well aware,” you snap. Memories of all the times he’d dismissively sidelined you on missions and called you weak flood your mind. You bite down on your tongue and try to remain professional. “At least let me help you find it first.”
Gojo’s opening his mouth to reply, but whatever he’s about to say is drowned out by a loud scrabbling noise above the two of you. An ear-piercing screech rings out. Your vision goes white as the rocks above you explode with a profusion of cursed energy. A crushing malaise fills you until you’re dry heaving, choking on the despair that’s filling the air.
Years of muscle memory take over as you kick into autopilot, diving out of the way just as a massive boulder crushes the spot you’d just stood, sending up a cloud of dust. You dispel Divining Web and look up to see the curse you’d spent so long trying to find clinging to the rocks above.
“sOomeOnE…aNyoNe…”
Multiple spindly limbs stretch out of its skeletal body, its claws gouging deep holes in the rocks as it anchors itself into the mountainside. Leathery grey skin is stretched taut over its body and elongated spine, occasionally tears revealing shrivelled innards and bleached, broken bones. The cursed energy radiating off of it is an oily shade of black, rank and rotting—barely useable, but you can’t afford to be picky right now.
You manage to get a curtain up just as a red sphere of energy collides with the curse’s lower limbs, sending a rockslide tumbling towards you. Shit, Gojo’s already going in for the kill—where’d he go? Ah, there’s no time to think; you raise your arms over your face as you activate another technique.
“Entwine!”
Strings of cursed energy shoot out from your hand, combining with the curse’s residuals to form a rope. It knots itself around an anchor and you jump up, leaping meters into the air just as the rocks are dashed against the spot you were just standing in. Red-hot pain shoots through your muscles when your feet slam into the mountainside at full force, clinging onto the buzzing rope for dear life. Thank god you’d remember to blanket your body with cursed energy first.
Gojo suddenly materializes next to you, scowling as he hovers in the air. And you’re fifteen again, dangling from a tree as Gojo hovers over you with an arrogant smirk, your punch having just been mistimed and repelled by Infinity.
“Aw, callin’ it quits now? After all you said about not going down without a fight, I'm disappointed. Guess you really are just weak.”
“Why the hell are you still here?” Gojo demands, glaring at you. His voice is unusually cold and rough, like you’re a misbehaving student that needs to be disciplined, not an experienced sorcerer. “Stay out of the way; you’ll only get hurt.”
“A little warning next time would be nice,” you say tersely. You adjust your grip on your rope so that you can rappel up or down as needed. “I’m not a mind reader.”
Gojo groans, tilting his head upwards. “You should know this by now. I’ve always done this on other missions, remember?”
It would’ve hurt less if he’d slapped you in the face. Throwing your own words back at you like that—it stings. Your nails dig into your palms as you clench fist, trying to keep calm. Logically, you should do as Gojo says. You gain nothing from arguing with him while there’s a curse on the loose. Yet the idea of letting him do the heavy lifting again while you stand by and reap the benefits leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, especially after what you’d seen this morning.
But in the end, he still sees you as deadweight.
“Alright,” you choke out. Keep your ego out of this, you try to tell yourself. Shame weighs on your chest, suffocatingly heavy.
The curse has a different plan.
With a loud scream, it lunges at you, claws poised to tear you apart. You ignore Gojo’s shouts and hastily leap upwards, your feet dislodging loose rocks as you scrabble onto a sloping, grass covered ridge, the curse hot on your heels. Despite having its lower half blown clean off by Red, it’s still quite agile. And irritatingly resilient too.
Gojo lands next to you with an annoyed expression.
“What a drag,” he sighs. “Again, stay out of the way.”
You reluctantly obey, climbing off to the side. Gojo raises his hand to blast it away when the curse lunges, and time all but stops. It happens all at once—the curse changes trajectory mid-leap, landing on the rocks behind him with a sickening crunch before leaping at him until its claws are just inches away. Your heart stops—he’s going to die—and you’re foolishly jumping into the fray to push Gojo aside as you pull in the curse’s residuals because you can’t just sit there and let a fellow sorcerer die—
“Aegis!”
Something in your left arm audibly cracks as the curse slams into the forcefield at full force with a surprised screech. It ripples and flickers before breaking, and you’re entangled in the curse’s rotting, bony limbs as it scrambles towards a large rock, half-maddened from pain. Dark spots dance across your vision when one of its limbs hits you across the head, and your muscles scream in protest as you reach out your hand and activate Entwine once more.
Ropes shoot out of your hand, binding the curse to the rock until it’s a writhing, bounded mess. Your vision blurs, the mountain fading in and out of focus as you disentangle yourself from its limbs and stand up. Shit, it must’ve hit you harder than you’d expected.
Gojo comes swiftly after you. You can vaguely see him exorcising what’s left of the curse before turning to face you.
“What did I say?” he snaps, but you’re in too much pain to defend yourself. Your head feels like it’s going to split open.
“Ah fuck.” Your voice cracks. “Hurts so bad—”
Just before you black out, you think he might’ve called out your name.
You wake up heavily bandaged and in a hospital bed.
It takes you a few minutes to adjust to the smell of antiseptic and the fluorescent lights before you look around your room. The window next to you opens up to a familiar view of Tokyo Jujutsu High.
You furrow your brows. When did you get here?
Then memories of your mission on Mount Tanigawa come flooding back to you and you groan. What were you thinking, jumping in to protect Gojo Satoru of all people? If there’s one person who’d never need help, it was him. He’d all but said that much when he told you to stay out of his way.
Shit, you didn’t just mess up your chance to prove to Gojo that you’re a competent sorcerer, you actually showed him why you were the exact opposite. Everything he’d said about you on all those past missions have been proven correct. No matter how hard you’d train, no matter what you did, you’d never measure up to him. Never stop being deadweight.
The door creaks open, and you sit up straight. It’s probably someone coming in to check on your vitals—
Your blood runs cold when Gojo strolls in, looking unusually serious.
Of all the people who could’ve visited you, why him? He’d already fulfilled his obligation by bringing you to the hospital. Unless he’d also come to debrief you on the mission. This could only go one of two ways: he keeps it professional and the two of you go your separate ways, or he painstakingly points out every blunder you’d made on this mission. You’re not sure which would be worse.
“Oh, you’re already up.”
For a split second, you swear you can see Gojo’s eyes widen in relief.
You eye him warily. “How long was I out?”
“Two days.” Gojo takes a seat next to your bed and crosses his legs. “You're in Tokyo right now.”
That catches your attention. You look up sharply at him.
“Tokyo?”
“You got some nasty injuries from that curse,” Gojo explains, annoyed. “Shoko was the closest available doctor, so we brought you here.”
You sigh and lean against your pillow. It makes sense that they’d want you to be examined by a doctor who specialized in treating sorcerers. Looks like you wouldn’t be returning home for a while. You’d have to let everyone back in Kyoto know—Utahime would be beside herself with worry otherwise.
“Speaking of the curse,” he says, his tone turning serious. “You’re lucky you got off with only a concussion and broken bones.”
You mentally wince, your stomach tying itself into knots. Even though you’d anticipated this, it still stings to hear, especially from Gojo.
“I know.” Your mouth feels dry. “I acted recklessly.”
“So why didn’t you listen to me?” Gojo leans forward, cocking his head. “I thought you were smarter than that. Thought that you recognized your limits.”
You’re too weak. You’d only hold us back. His words loop through your mind repeatedly. Before this mission, you would’ve gritted your teeth and brushed it off, telling yourself that he knew nothing about your abilities. But now? You’re not sure if you can trust yourself anymore.
“I thought you were about to die.”
“Don’t tell me you forgot who I am,” he snorts, the edges of his lips curling. “If anything, you got in my way. I had it all under control when you just had to jump in.”
“I’m well aware now.”
Just how long was he going to tell you that you’d messed up on this goddamn mission? You supposed he wasn’t content with laying out the facts—he also had to twist the knife in deeper, like he always did with you.
“So why then?” Gojo presses on. “What did you possibly have to prove by doing that?”
Shame crystallizes into anger, and the dam bursts. Before you know it, you’re looking at Gojo with narrowed eyes.
“So is there anything else about the mission that I should know, or are you just here to criticize?”
“Hey, I'm not—”
“I was stupid, I know.” You cut him off with a venomous glare, years of anger bubbling up to the surface as you continue talking. “I thought you were going to die and I just reacted” —and you hate how your voice breaks— “I always thought I was capable, but now I know otherwise. I should've just listened to you.”
You're lightheaded when you finish, face flushed and heart pounding wildly. Catharsis rushes through you, cool and light, and it's like finally being able to breathe again. It's so freeing to be able to just say everything you've been holding onto for ages, as selfish as it is.
“So if that’s all you wanted to say, Gojo, you can leave now.”
But it leaves as fast as it comes, leaving shame to fill the void again. You look down at your hands, knuckles white from how hard you're clutching your bed sheets. Shameful tears threaten to spill from your eyes, stingingly hot. You'd lost your temper at him, and no doubt what little respect he still had for you would disappear too.
A suffocating silence settles over the room, each passing second like an eternity in itself. Gojo remains steadily fixated on you, mouth slightly parted in surprise. His attention is damning and you wish he’d just go away already.
Gojo breaks the silence first.
“I didn’t mean for it to come off like that,” he says quietly. “Just—why didn’t you just let me take care of it?”
“Is it so hard to believe that I didn’t want my partner to get hurt?” you counter. “I’m capable of pulling my own weight too.”
“And you already did by tracking down the curse.” Gojo’s voice grows soft, uncertainty lacing his words. He speaks to you with more gentleness than he ever has. “Not everyone’s techniques are suited for combat. But they’re still important to the mission.”
“You have a funny way of expressing it.” Your heart feels like a well that’s nearly run dry. “People don’t like being called weak or told that they’re holding others back, you know.”
“I know. I just—” Melancholy creeps into his expression, his pursed lips twitching into a frown. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs heavily. “I’ve forgotten the last time I actually worked with someone on a mission.”
You furrow your brows, thinking back to previous missions. His arrival had always been the signal for everyone else to let him take centre stage. But those were only on the missions you saw him on. There are other missions he’s gone on that you wouldn’t be aware of.
“Sure, I’ve helped other sorcerers, but I’ve always fought alone.” Gojo continues, as if sensing your confusion. “If you tried to help, you’d only get hurt. You’re better off just letting me handle it.” He lets out a high, bitter laugh. “Besides, it’s not like anyone can actually hurt me. Not anymore.”
It’s logical. Pragmatic. It doesn’t allow for a margin of error, but there’s no need to consider that when you’ve got a living god on your side. You think of the call you’d overheard outside the ryokan, of the missions Gojo had been shuffled onto even while on the field. Doing that day after day after day, as the lives of others depend on you and perfection is a requirement.
A living hell if there ever was one.
“And who takes over for you?”
The question falls from your lips automatically, unthinkingly. Embarrassment fills your brain soon after.
Gojo raises his head, one eyebrow arched.
“There’s no need to,” he counters, insulted. “I’m the strongest.”
“And even you can’t keep going on forever.”
“Like it’d ever come to that.”
Silence fills the room once more. You pick at the gauze on your left arm as the minutes tick by. The both of you have already said your parts, so why isn’t he leaving?
Gojo suddenly uncrosses his legs and looks at you. Even through his blindfold, you can feel the strength of his gaze on you, blindingly intense like the sun. It seems to pierce your very soul.
“Listen, I—” he begins, then draws a breath. “I haven’t been fair to you all, have I?”
Your eyes are wide as you let his words sink in. You don’t miss the reluctance that stains his words, as though he were choking on the bitterness of his own pride too.
You wonder how many apologies Gojo has wanted to give in his life.
“You haven't,” you agree hollowly. You've longed for a moment like this for years, but there's no relief to be felt. Rage, shame, pity; they whirl through your mind in a violent, confusing tangle.
“I can't say I’ll completely stop asking you to step aside when things get difficult,” Gojo continues. You brace yourself for the catch. “But I'll stop underestimating you. Stop calling you weak. And…I’ll try to put more faith in your abilities.”
An offer for a fresh start in everything but name. The prospect is tempting.
Seconds drag on like minutes before you find your voice again.
“Will you really?”
The prospect is tempting, yes, but you’ve grown more selective with your risk taking as the years go by. Perhaps you’ve grown too jaded, but guilt is an excellent catalyst for rash vows. A part of you also expects Gojo to pull away laughing at the last second, this to all be some cruel joke of his, because wow, I can’t believe you’re weak and stupid.
“Tough sell, huh? Can’t blame you for that.” Gojo chuckles nervously. He looks you in the eye and his expression grows serious again. “I know you’ll have to put some faith in me as well, but I wouldn’t promise this if I didn’t intend to follow through with it.”
He couldn’t have put it any better. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, you suppose. And, if you’re being honest with yourself, you want to believe him too.
“Alright.”
Trepidation seizes you when Gojo doesn’t react. You think you might’ve even heard his breath catch. Then—
“Thank you. Really, I am.” He gives a wistful sigh and looks at you, his expression the softest you’ve ever seen. “You know, it’s been a while since anyone’s watched my back in a fight. It’s…nice.”
“Of course.” There’s no need to think of an answer. It comes to you like it’s always been a given. “We were in it together, right?”
The smile Gojo gives you is all the answer you need, sun-bright and pure happiness contained in a split second action. It suits him well. He looks more carefree than you’ve ever seen him be in all the years you’ve known him.
Warmth blossoms in your chest. Your heart stutters.
“I’ll leave you to rest up then.” He gets up, then pauses. “I’ll come by to see you soon?”
“That’d be nice,” you say, and you find that you truly mean it.
True to his word, Gojo stops by to visit after a day or so.
Ieiri had healed you quickly, but she’d asked you to stay at Jujutsu High's clinic for a little longer so she could monitor your recovery. A precaution because of how unpredictable curses and concussions are, she’d explained. You’d also be put on medical leave until she gave you the all clear.
It's jarring, going from having no free time to all the time in the world to yourself. Time you'll soon have to figure out how to fill. Ieiri had asked you to limit your screen time, and you don't know many sorcerers from Tokyo. At least they’d let you freely walk around the school grounds.
One of the managers brings you your luggage—thank Gojo for that, Ieiri had said—before leaving you to your own devices. You’ve just taken another painkiller for your concussion when Gojo comes skipping in, grinning ear to ear. He's weirdly cheerful, badly humming Digimon songs and swinging a sleek gift bag back and forth. You don't need three guesses to figure out what it likely holds.
“I’m back!” His face seems to light up when he sees you. “How's my junior holding up?”
You gulp down the rest of your water. “...I wasn't expecting you to come so soon.”
“The mission I was on finished ahead of schedule. Lucky me.” His gaze falls on the luggage next to your bed. “Did Shoko discharge you?”
“I wish. Ieiri wants to keep an eye on me for a little longer.” You sit up, suddenly feeling a little self conscious. “Uh, thanks for bringing my stuff here.”
“Don’t mention it. Sucks that you’re gonna be stuck here for a while.” Gojo pauses, then flashes you a peace sign and a silly grin. “Luckily for you, the great Gojo Satoru is here to help!”
You don’t know whether you should laugh or stare. The Gojo you’re talking to now is a far cry from the one you’d known and tolerated; they might as well be completely different people. His presence is warm and bright, like being in the summer sun, and feels truer to himself.
You think you could grow to like this side of him.
You clasp your hands in mock-supplication. “Well then, O Great One, what’s your plan?”
“Snacks, of course!” Gojo exclaims, holding the bag up proudly. “Carefully curated from the countless hours I’ve spent exploring the different snack shops in Tokyo and beyond.”
“…and surely not while avoiding work?”
“Hey!” Gojo splutters, puffing up his cheeks once more. Cute. “I’ll have you know I’m very hardworking!”
“You are—more than anyone I know.” You can’t stop yourself from smiling like a fool. “So, what are we starting with?”
“Something a little different.”
Gojo grabs something out of the bag and tosses it at you. The plastic packaging crinkles as you effortlessly catch it and turn it over, revealing a familiar triangular pie. Your eyes widen.
“Consider it a peace offering of sorts,” Gojo says, almost sheepishly. A faint blush dusts his cheeks. “You didn’t get to try the local cuisine during the mission, right? Minakami was one of the stops on my way back, so uh, I hope you don’t mind…”
A lump forms in your throat. You hadn’t expected him to remember what had happened at Katanokoya. Nor had you expected him to go out of his way for a peace offering like this. In the end, he was right, you think. He wasn’t the sort to make promises he didn’t intend to keep.
This time, you don’t mind being wrong.
“No, I appreciate it,” you stammer out, your ears growing hot. “And thank you.”
The look of relief and joy that Gojo gives you has your heart skipping a beat.
“I’m glad,” he says softly. “Now, c'mon. You’ve also got to try this daifuku from Ginkado—it’s better than anything in Kyoto, I promise!”
Gojo continues to visit you after that, each time with something new to do. From movie marathons (always either something cheesy or pants-shittingly terrifying) to random games (he'd sulked for an hour after you and Ieiri had teamed up against him in Uno), and even an “insider's” tour of the school grounds (read: spots perfect for pranks and avoiding work), the hours fly by whenever he’s around. The two of you end up becoming a common sight around the school, walking side by side, hands tantalizingly close together. He becomes easier to read too, his thoughts and actions shifting from nonsensical to having a strange, but discernible logic to them.
Strange, how the two of you could shorten years worth of distance in a handful of days, and you actually look forward to seeing him.
Before you know it, Ieiri’s discharging you, and Gojo comes to see you on your last day in Tokyo. He’d been the second person you’d told of the news, after Utahime.
“How do you feel?"
You look up from your packing to see Gojo staring intently at you. He hasn’t moved from his seat since he’d come in, his enthusiasm lacking its usual energy.
“About going home?” You pause, tilting your head as you shrug. “Looking forward to it, I guess.”
If you’re completely honest with yourself, the prospect of going back to Kyoto hadn’t filled you with as much relief as you thought it would. You’d been happy you’d finally get to go home, yes, but it’d also left a strange ache in your heart. Your time in Tokyo has grown on you, and you realise as you’re packing up that you’d miss it—miss everyone you’ve met here.
Most of all, you’d miss Gojo’s visits. His enthusiasm, his roundabout signs of care, even his stupid jokes. They’d become part of your daily routine here, adding a splash of colour to your life that you didn’t even know you’d needed until now.
“Bet you’ll like the peace and quiet again.” Gojo forces a laugh. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Since I won’t be there.”
You freeze in place, your heart lurching a little.
“I wouldn’t say that,” you mumble, straightening up. “I enjoyed talking to you these past few days. And…I still do.”
Gojo doesn’t say anything, his eyes widening in a rare show of surprise. Without warning, he leans in until the two of you are a hand’s length apart. His breathing is steady, a sharp contrast to the blush spreading down his ears.
“Changed your mind about me, huh? Are you saying you’ll miss me now?”
He studies your face intently. His gaze is unyielding, a silent extension of a challenge.
What do you think of me?
“If I said yes, what then?”
Gojo wordlessly pulls down his blindfold and your world slows to a stop. Sky blue eyes meet yours, containing galaxies around pitch black irises that swirl with untold amounts of power. If you were to become lost in his eyes forever right now, you’d gladly accept your fate.
The distance between the two of you vanishes, centimeter by centimeter, as Gojo draws closer and only a hair's breadth remains.
“Then I’d want to change something about us.” His voice wavers, but not his gaze. “...if you’ll have me.”
Your heart beats in your chest, each thump echoing through your mind. Sweat prickles at your skin, the sensation burning hot. Retorts and excuses run through your mind, labelling Gojo a liar, an idiot, a petty and cruel prankster. But they all melt away when you take in his expression: the softness of his eyes on you; the nervous smile on his lips; the way his hands are half outstretched, a cautious request to close the final gap between the two of you.
So you do it.
Gojo’s lips are warm against your own, soft and candy-sweet. He stiffens, his muffled sound of surprise swallowed by your lips, and soon he's kissing you back hard. Adrenaline tingling at your fingertips when you reach out to him and feel fabric, your hands clasping onto his arms and holding on tight. You're floating, feeling a high that even Divining Web can't give you. The pieces fall in place, like the two of you are finally attuned to the same wavelength. A gentle warmth unfurls across your body and you think you've tasted happiness.
The whole time, his eyes never leave yours, even when the two of you pull away for air.
“There's my answer,” you say, breathless, meeting his gaze again. “So?”
The look that Gojo gives you, full of love and anticipation of a brighter future, is all the answer you need.