Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Kyoto Goodwill Event was supposed to be noisy, messy, and exhausting. What it was not supposed to be was… this.

A sudden flash of light swallowed everyone—students, teachers, even the ever-unflappable Nanami—and when it faded, they were no longer on the school grounds. The group stumbled, blinking, into a strange, unfamiliar room. Its walls were smooth and featureless, lit only by a faint glow from above.

“What the hell—?!” Nobara snapped, immediately on guard.

Maki’s hand flew to her weapon. “We’ve been transported.”

“By who?” Utahime demanded, scanning the room.

“Not a curse technique I recognize,” Nanami muttered grimly.

“Sensei, what’s happening?” Yuji turned wide eyes on Gojo, as if the strongest sorcerer alive would have an explanation.

But for once, Gojo Satoru didn’t have one. His blindfolded face turned toward the empty air, sharp beneath its usual laziness. “Tch. Doesn’t feel hostile… yet. Stay alert.”

Before anyone could say more, a soft crackle filled the room. A speaker hidden somewhere in the walls hissed to life.

“Welcome,” a voice said, light and teasing, echoing from above. “Don’t bother looking for me—you won’t find me. I just want you all to watch something together.”

Everyone stiffened as the far wall flared to life, a giant screen buzzing on.

The first image it showed froze them in place.

A boy. No—a teenager. Tall, lean, dressed in a Jujutsu High uniform with snow-white hair and a cocky grin. A boy who looked almost exactly like the man standing in their midst, only younger.

Gojo.

Utahime’s breath caught. “Is that…?”

“Oh my god—look at his face!” Nobara practically squealed. “He looks so smug even back then!”

“Doesn’t look that different,” Maki muttered, though her eyes lingered longer than she intended.

The voice spoke again, sing-song this time: “You’re about to watch your favorite Gojo-sensei’s past.”

Yuji’s eyes lit up like fireworks. “Wait, wait, we get to see Gojo-sensei’s past?! This is awesome!”

“Calm down, Itadori,” Megumi said, though his usually stoic gaze was fixed on the screen, betraying more curiosity than he’d admit.

“Why?” Gojo’s voice cut through, colder than usual. He tilted his head toward the speaker. “What’s the point of this little show?”

The unseen voice chuckled. “Simple. There are things about Gojo Satoru’s past that you all need to know. So sit back, relax… and watch.”

The screen flickered again, the image of teen Gojo sharpening, his grin widening as if daring them to look closer.

And for the first time, the strongest sorcerer seemed… unsettled.

---

The scene shows someone rather familiar walking ominously in a dimly lit street. He was musing about the nonstop curse activities this year and the one before.

Gojo was immediately stupefied in his place.

The Tokyo second-years, along with the adults, were instantly on guard. Despite having heard that voice earlier, something about it now felt wildly different… and much more familiar. The first-years felt the same, though they mostly noticed Gojo’s frozen posture.

Yuji and Nobara spoke up at the same time: “Who is that?”

“Hold on, that’s…” Maki started.

“Yeah,” Yuta and Shoko said almost in unison.

It quickly cut to reveal a certain Jujutsu sorcerer, Suguru Geto, wearing a grim expression, who turned to a creepy alleyway. There he found a curse that had already preyed on someone. He quickly absorbed it using his Technique.

“That’s him,” Yuta said blankly.

The full illumination of the man, surprisingly clad in the same school uniform as them, shocked the younger students. His face… had a look none of them associated with the Curse User they knew.

Yuji and Nobara still looked confused.

Maki answered for them, voice flat: “Geto Suguru. A curse user.”

---

“Exorcise. Absorb… over and over. No one else understands what cursed spirits taste like.”

Gojo was so gobsmacked he actually pulled his blindfold down, letting himself see his once-best friend’s misery directly.

“It’s like swallowing a dirty rag that’s been used to clean up shit and vomit,”

Geto muttered as he swallowed the spirit whole.

Those who understood his Cursed Technique winced mentally. Yuji in particular felt his stomach churn—he knew too well the foul taste of curses, and he could only grimly agree.

“What I witnessed isn’t common, because I understood the ugliness of the masses. But even then, I still chose to be a Jujutsu sorcerer that saves others.”

The screen shifted to show the feet of two girls before fading into a crowd where Geto vanished.

The moment hit the now blindfold-less Gojo like a freight train. That day.

Shoko’s expression darkened; she remembered finding Geto in that same area, the day he broke.

“That’s what I’ve been telling myself since then…”

The camera panned, revealing Gojo in the same crowd.

The adults exchanged uneasy looks—they already guessed what this episode would center on. It wouldn’t bode well for certain viewers. Gojo himself glanced briefly toward Megumi before quickly looking away, the familiarity of the street gnawing at him.

He knew. This wasn’t just a replay of his past—it was a warning.

“…ever since that day.”

Gojo stretched, hands behind his neck, as though trying to shrug off the tension. But his thoughts were sharp. If his guess was true, his intended talk with Megumi would take on a very different weight.

The students whispered, realizing for the first time that Suguru Geto had once been exactly like them—young, human, and not yet a monster.

---

The scene shifts to a nostalgic collection of images about a family. A voiceover, again familiar sounding, recounts the story of a company president who was driven to bankruptcy and ended up committing familicide before doing himself in. Earning his home a reputation for being haunted.

A younger Utahime and Mei Mei appeared near a car, discussing the rumors and casualties.

Utahime froze. “Wha—”

“Iori-sensei!?” Miwa pointed out in shock.

“Whoah, that’s you!” Mai exclaimed. “You look so cute!”

Nobara, Todo, Panda, and Miwa all agreed enthusiastically.

Utahime’s face burned red.

“It really is Utahime! Damn, you looked like such a cute kouhai!” Gojo added far too gleefully.

Utahime turned deadpan. “Shut up.”

“Isn’t that Mei-san in the back?” Maki asked.

“Yeah,” Utahime muttered.

Gojo smirked but said nothing. The sight of Mei Mei alongside Utahime, combined with the memory of their mission, sobered the adults. They already knew where this was going.

“Wait, isn’t that the mansion you…?” Shoko trailed off, unease creeping in.

Gojo’s reply was slower than usual. “…It is, I guess.”

“So we really are about to witness the past,” the adults thought silently. “But why?”

“Then that means…” Utahime’s voice trembled with anger. She remembered the mission all too well. It wasn’t just any job. It was the last time she had seen Gojo, Shoko, and Geto as carefree teens.

The voice spoke again, serious this time:

“Ready, now.”

Chapter Text

The room was still reeling after the strange voice’s announcement, when the light pulsed again.

“Before you watch this, I want to show you something else . I’m also going to add a person from a different time you all already know. But don’t tell him what happened to him in your time.”

A sudden flash of light split the room.

Suguru Geto appeared.

He looked around, clearly confused. His lips were parting into a familiar sneer—“Filthy monkeys can’t even—”—but he stopped mid-sentence. His eyes flicked across the room, pausing on familiar faces and some new ones.

Gojo stared at him silently, eyes unreadable behind his blindfold.

“...Long time no see everyone,” he said at last, his voice smoother now, though a fake smile clung to his lips. “Oh, I see new people too. But anyone can tell me where am I?”

No one answered. The air was too heavy.

“Suguru Geto,” the voice explained, unfazed. “I teleported you here. You’re going to watch your best friend’s life. Take a seat. No more questions.”

Geto’s brow twitched. He wanted to demand answers, but instead he exhaled slowly and walked toward the only familiar presence he trusted. He sat beside Gojo, his posture relaxed but his eyes calculating.

“Long time no see, Satoru. Changed your bandages to a blindfold, huh?”

Gojo didn’t reply. He didn’t even twitch.

For once, silence stretched between them.

The screen came to life.

---

Kyoto, December 7th, 1989.

A newborn rested in his mother’s arms, wrapped in white cloth. Slowly, he opened his eyes—brilliant cerulean, glowing faintly in the dim light. The Six Eyes.

The room watching erupted.

“AAAAWWW~!!”

Yuji, Nobara, Yuta, Miwa, Nishimiya, and Inumaki all fawned instantly.

“SENSEI’S SOOO CUTE!!” Nobara squealed.

“Only minutes old and he already looks like a painting,” Panda marveled.

Maki and Megumi frowned, chewing the inside of their cheeks. 

Yuji leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “He looks like a literal cherub!”

Even Miwa clasped her hands together. “I can’t… I can’t handle this…”

Inumaki chirped, “Takana!” which everyone knew meant angel.

Panda tilted his head. “Only minutes old and he already looks unreal.”

The students didn’t care. They had their phones out, snapping photos furiously.

Gojo groaned, dragging his blindfold down to cover most of his face. “D’aww, stop it you guys. I can’t handle this kind of praise—I mean, I can, but…” He laughed nervously, embarrassed warmth creeping up his neck.

Shoko snorted. “Karma. You never let us see your baby pictures. Now the universe delivered them instead.”

Utahime smirked beside her, already pulling her phone out.

Yaga rubbed his temples.

“Unfortunately, he was so loved that it spoiled him—and everyone else around him.”

“Now that’s hard to deny,” Nanami muttered.

Gojo puffed his cheeks.

“C’mon, don’t ruin it! Seeing my students go gaga over me for the first time is special!”

Geto’s brow twitched.

“For the first time?” he muttered, disbelieving.

But the laughter dimmed when the scene shifted. Clan elders loomed in the background, whispering sharply:

The strongest in centuries. The Gojo clan’s trump card.”

A toddler Satoru sat cross-legged, his glowing Six Eyes revealed as clan elders whispered in awe: “ Yes, The strongest in centuries.”

Megumi’s eyes narrowed. So they labeled him a weapon before he could even walk.

Nanami adjusted his glasses. He was burdened from birth. No wonder he grew into arrogance—it was armor.

Utahime folded her arms, bitterness in her chest. They praised power, not the child.

Yuji’s excitement faltered, guilt pinching at his heart. So… he never even had a choice.

Geto leaned back in his chair, eyes shadowed. They saw you as a tool the second you opened your eyes. Satoru…

Gojo smirked like he didn’t care, but his hand fisted tight in his lap.

---

A slightly older Gojo stood in a courtyard, tutors circling him like vultures. His posture was stiff, his eyes weary. Other children peeked in from afar, but an elder waved them away.They barked orders as he trained.

“Do not approach him. He’s not a child. He’s a weapon.”

The words echoed, heavy.

Maki’s fists clenched. Of course. Great clans always spit on humanity. He’s their prized tool, nothing more.

Utahime muttered aloud, voice low and bitter. “Monsters. All of them.”

Yuta lowered his gaze. I know this feeling. Being treated like a curse. Not human. I know.

Yuji’s chest hurt. Sukuna. That’s how people look at me too. Like I’m dangerous for existing.

Onscreen, young Gojo lifted his chin with a smirk, arrogance already forming like a shield. But the way his fingers curled told a different story.

In the room, he mirrored that same smile. “Look at me. Total prodigy, huh?”

Nobody missed how he avoided their eyes.

Geto’s lips pressed into a thin line. Even back then, you hid everything under laughter.

---

The screen showed little Satoru sneaking toward a group of children. His smile was hopeful, awkward.

“Don’t touch him,” an elder barked. “He carries what you can’t comprehend.”

The children scattered like frightened birds. The boy stood frozen, small hands dropping to his sides.

Later, another scene: him trudging back home, dirt smudged on his clothes from sneaking outside the estate. Alone. Always alone.

Yuji hugged his knees unconsciously. That’s me. That’s how people see me with Sukuna inside. Like I don’t belong.

Nanami muttered, voice clipped: “So this is where it began.”

Nobara’s brows furrowed. “He was just a kid. They didn’t even let him play?”

Megumi stayed quiet, but his eyes lingered on the lonely figure longer than anyone else.

In the room, Gojo chuckled hollowly. “Pfft, I was a rascal. Don’t pity me. I had fun sneaking out.”

But nobody missed the way he tilted his head, hiding his eyes.

Geto’s throat felt tight. You never told me how lonely it was. You smiled through it all.

---

The Ginpuku Ceremony.

The hall was filled with elders, clan heads, and representatives from Jujutsu HQ. At the center, stood 15-year-old Satoru Gojo, regal in ceremonial attire, his face set in grim determination.

A young Gojo, draped in white ceremonial robes, stood before the Jujutsu world.

Narration explained: He had demanded to attend Jujutsu Tech, nearly leaving the clan outright. The compromise: he must undergo the Ginpuku Ceremony first. A public show that, despite his defiance, he was still the Gojo clan’s property.

Naoya Zenin appeared onscreen, sneering. His younger self whispered venom about Gojo’s strength, comparing him to Toji Fushiguro.

Utahime’s lip curled. “They paraded him like a trophy.”

Maki’s glare sharpened. I hate them. I hate all these clans that choke children like this.

Nanami muttered, fists tightening: “Even his freedom was staged.”

Yuta’s voice was soft, sad. “He just wanted friends.”

Yuji’s heart twisted. He was my age. But he stood alone.

Onscreen, Gojo bowed his head for the ritual. The crowd watched in awe, reverence mixed with fear. Gojo’s lips twitched in a smile. But inside, he wanted to scream.

They’re not celebrating me. They’re chaining me.

In the room, Gojo only shrugged. “What can I say? I make a good showpiece.” He laughed lightly, but the sound rang hollow.

Geto stared, his hands clenching in his lap. “They caged you even when you thought you were free. Satoru…”

For once, Gojo didn’t joke back.

---

The screen dimmed, leaving the room steeped in silence.

For the first time, his students saw their invincible teacher not as an untouchable god, but as a boy who had clawed for scraps of freedom—lonely, caged, and smiling through it all.

And sitting beside him, Suguru Geto understood just how much was stolen from the best friend he had once loved.

--

First-Year Mission

The screen flickered.

Three teenagers walked down a dirt path—Gojo, Geto, and Shoko, returning from a mission.

Gojo suddenly glanced around, scratching his head.

“Hey, Suguru, did you see Shoko? Where’d she go?”

Geto raised an eyebrow.

“Nope. Haven’t seen her.”

A voice snapped between them.

“Idiots ! Stop teasing me! I know I’m short, but you two are just giraffes!”

Shoko stomped ahead, glaring.

The boys burst into laughter, their voices echoing down the road. For a moment, there was no weight of clans, no curses, no burdens—just three friends being kids.

The screen dimmed. The laughter lingered.

The students in the viewing room laughed quietly, charmed.

Yuji bounced in his seat.

“Aww! They’re so cute together! Look at them!”

Nobara snorted.

“Honestly, Gojo-sensei hasn’t changed a bit.”

Megumi, arms crossed, gave a small, rare smile.

Even back then… he could be normal… for a second.

Utahime’s eyes softened.

Maki shook her head, lips twitching.

“That Shoko… fierce as ever. No wonder she survived him and Suguru.”

Panda chuckled.

“It’s nice to see them actually enjoying themselves. Makes you forget the scary stuff for a second.”

In the back, Yuta and Inumaki quietly nodded, while Miwa whispered to Nishimiya,

“I didn’t expect to see him like… this. Laughing… relaxed.”

Shoko sighs, " Only I know how insufferable they're."

Gojo, beside Geto, exhaled softly. He didn’t comment—but his grip on his blindfold loosened slightly. The silent connection between him and Geto carried more weight than words.

The voice crackled again.

“Enjoy it while you can… because what comes next isn’t all laughter.”

All eyes returned to the screen, anticipation palpable.