Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Break me off some of that KitKat
One moment - certain victory.
SLASH
Next - total defeat.
Satoru Gojo lay sprawled out, eyes hazy against the grey, rain-soaked sky. He could hear him — Sukuna, King of Curses — yapping about something. Probably nonsense.
"₥₳₲₦ł₣ł₵Ɇ₦₮, ɎØɄ Ⱨ₳VɆ ₵ⱠɆⱫ₳Ɏ ₥Ɏ ₴₭Ɏ'₴ ₴₳₮ØⱤɄ ₲ØJØ. ł ₩Ø₦'₮ ₣ØⱤ₲ɆⱤ₮ ɎØɄ ₳₴ ⱠØ₦₲ ₳₴ ł ⱠłVɆ"
'It was WRONG. So, so WRONG, it was nearly as wrong as Utahime's pathetic attempts at karaoke'
In a flash of clarity, he reached forward or thought he did. He couldn’t actually see his hand, couldn’t even feel more than the vague shape of it, but still he reached toward something, anything. And then — resistance, a ripple, suddenly he was dragged as if caught in a whirlpool of dark inky death. Light. Sound. A rush of wet air, cold against his skin.
'I wonder if this is what Sukuna felt, incarnating inside Yuji, before blank nothingness took him again'
He woke with a cough, pain blooming in his midsection so sharply he nearly screamed. His body burned and stretched like it had just been kneaded by hell itself. Rain soaked him, dripping from his hair, flowing over every one of his bruises, scratches and scars he felt even if they weren't there.
"I'm awake… yep. Getting up. C’mon, I’m the strongest—"
He paused. No one. Aside from a bird perched nearby, fussing over a nest, feathers slick with rain. In a rare moment of calm (rare even for him), Gojo reached out to pet it. His sluggish body disagreed, tipping him forward instead. He tumbled from the branch, smacked his face into cold, wet, muddy ground — rocks, more rocks, rocks pretending not to be rocks, water probably filled with rocks— and one very unimpressive flower, its small, round face grinning at him as if it could actually see him, its golden petals sat dim as it swayed in the breeze.
=]
'I hate Mondays (It was Friday). Every bad day of his life has been a Monday (It was Friday.)'
Gojo sighed, dusting himself off — only to freeze. He wasn’t wearing anything. Not even his blindfold, not even pants! His precious “strongest” was out to the elements, drenched and exposed to the harsh rain.
"Oh, great."
He scrambled for something to cover himself with but found nothing. And then — horses. The unmistakable rhythm of hooves splashing through puddles. He dove headfirst into the nearest [CONVENIENTLY PLACED BUSH™ est. 1987]
Across a… pond? Lake? He didn’t care enough to tell. The small body of water, rippling in the rain, separated him from a decently travelled road. A carriage rolled by, steady but ordinary.
A woman leaned out the window — blond hair in perfect spiraling drill-like curls, purple dress glinting in the wet sunlight. Next to her, a man with greying curls read something without looking up. Husband, probably.
Gojo held his breath until they passed. Slowly, he exhaled, running a hand over his face.
"Oh, how the mighty have fallen. No clothes. Middle of nowhere. Hiding in a bush. Utahime would love this… after yelling at me for it."
A small smile flickered across his face before he stood, stretching.
"First things first… I need to get out of here."
He spoke to himself as he eyed a nearby tree, smacking it with one hand. Sap oozed forth in sticky grandeur, mixing with rainwater in sticky little streams.
"Perfect. I truly am a genius."
With a flick of cursed energy, he pulled bark and leaves free, chatting with himself as he slowly began layering sap between them. In minutes he’d crafted the ugliest blindfold of today — bark bent just enough to fit, leaves blocking his sight, secured around his head in a surprisingly comfortable fit. He probably looked like an escapee from an asylum. He didn’t care.
Adjusting the makeshift blindfold, Gojo stepped onto the small path the carriage had just cruised down leading up the hill, towards an overlook of… wherever the hell he actually was.
"Welp… time to find out what kind of fresh hell I've been dropped into, hopefully people aren't horribly evil here… who am I kidding this place is gonna suck more than- actually I'll keep that to myself".
Gojo scrambled up the slick rocks until he reached a perch high above the valley. The rain parted just enough for him to get a clear look — and his Six Eyes lit up.
“Oh, wow,” he murmured, pushing his sap-and-bark blindfold up slightly. “Somebody copy-pasted every history book illustration of ‘generic medieval Europe’ and called it a day.”
The city stretched below, wrapped in pristine stone walls so clean they looked polished. Towers rose at intervals, banners sagging in the downpour, while narrow streets cut between tightly packed homes with steep roofs and tall chimneys. The marketplace bustled even in the storm — glowing sparks of life flickered in Gojo’s vision, each person trailing wisps of energy.
Except… it wasn’t cursed energy. Not exactly. Softer, brighter, it didn’t crawl like curses did — it flowed.
“Huh,” Gojo tilted his head. “Not curses. Not cursed energy. Something diet, maybe? Cursed Energy Zero™ — now with fewer calories and curses for your pleasure.”
He let his eyes adjust, zooming in on details. In the marketplace, he caught a woman hawking herbs, her energy coiling faintly green around her. A scholar gesturing with a book burned with sharp blue threads. A cluster of children chasing each other pulsed warm yellow like fireflies.
It was… structured. Harmonized. In Japan, cursed energy was noise, static bleeding off every human soul. But here? It was a chorus.
“Yikes. This place might actually be functional. Boring.”
He leaned back on his hands, scanning the city walls. Stonework too smooth, too unweathered. Either they’d just been built, or some kind of reinforcement kept them spotless. His lips curled in a grin.
“Yep. Renaissance Europe with cheat codes. Bet half of them still think bathing is optional though.”
The rain slicked his hair flat, dripping past his jaw. He took a deep breath, letting the clean, untainted air fill his lungs. For a moment, it was almost peaceful.
Then he sighed, shoving himself upright. “Welp. Time to find out what flavour of hell this is. Hopefully not discount Sukuna running around, or worse—nobles.”
He adjusted the makeshift blindfold, squared his shoulders, and began striding down the path toward the walls. Infinity carried him like stepping stones from the rocks, a stairway from heaven only he could see.
Once Gojo disappeared the flower that had been watching him pulled its vine from under the rock as its smile morphed into a devilish grin.
"Why that's a wonderful idea," it cackled to itself as it raised itself, its roots forming makeshift arms as it rubbed its newly formed hands together before burrowing into the ground disappearing and leaving no trace of its existence save for a small hole.
Satoru Gojo slowly touched down amongst the brush and trees, he paused for a moment and stretched letting his muscles truly flex as the clean air filled his lungs while he strolled leisurely through the greenery, his six eyes limited and relaxed by his blindfold letting him truly take in the world around him, it was so quiet and soft compared to his usual days, a far cry from battling curses and dragging himself through the day with nothing but 3 hours of sleep and sweets, hell he didn't even need to use reverse curse technique on his brain… it was heaven, a very rainy heaven but hey he was having this parade whether it rained or not thank you very much.
As Gojo enjoyed his Sunday morning walk (it's fucking Friday Gojo) like the blue eyed 6,3 king he is, nothing could possibly ruin his life at the moment asides from the sound of the universe spinning to a halt because it hadn't properly kicked him in balls today, just as he made his way to the outer wall his six eyes burned with a sudden expulsion of cursed energy as he whipped his head round before putting his hands together instinctively, cursed energy shifting and flowing behind him before he reappeared back at the pond where he started before sprinting in the direction of the fluctuating cursed energy.
Gojo ran, veering off the dirt path and climbing a small hill to get a better view. As he ran, he made a mental note that this was indeed the way the carriage he'd seen earlier had been going, so it was a good chance that whatever had happened was to do with them.
Below, the scene was chaos. A small girl lay unconscious, one leg trapped beneath the wrecked carriage. Her long, slightly unkempt blond hair was plastered to her face, and her pale dress clung to her soaked, muddy frame. She looked about five or six years old, fragile and defenseless in the rain.
Nearby, a man sprawled on the ground, unconscious but mostly uninjured. His greying curls were plastered to his forehead, and his dark coat, elegant even in the mud, made him look like someone who had just stepped out of a formal portrait before disaster struck.
The woman was the worst off — struggling faintly, half of the carriage door embedded in her chest. Her long blond hair plastered across her face, and her elegant purple dress, soaked and torn, clung to her frame. She barely moved, but the weight of her injuries radiated through the scene.
The horses had fled, leaving the wreckage eerily silent except for the rain and the occasional creak of twisted wood.
Gojo assessed the scene, summoning Blue. The carriage was on fire, but there didn’t seem to be anything flammable nearby to explain it — no overturned lanterns, no nearby brush catching spark. A cursed technique going off in response to stress? Or foul play?
With a flick of cursed energy, he lifted the burning carriage into the air and hurled it away from the group. Carefully, he scooped up the small girl and the man, placing them both over his shoulders like a double load, then cradled the woman in his arms, careful not to worsen the damage caused by the embedded wood.
Immediately, he activated Infinity, creating a translucent barrier around himself and the three victims. The rain hit the barrier and flowed harmlessly around them, leaving them dry despite the storm. Using Blue, he gently lifted away the mud and splinters clinging to the woman’s torso, while Red pushed the dirt and grime off the small girl’s legs and the man’s coat, keeping their wounds from worsening.
From the corner of the wreckage, a golden face peeked from a slick vine. Its unblinking eyes followed the white-haired figure moving the wounded, every subtle motion noted. A thin vine flicked across a puddle, then vanished into the mud as if it had never existed. Nothing more. No sound. No trace except the faint prickle in the back of the air.
Gojo moved methodically, focusing entirely on the rescue, unaware that tiny movements in the surrounding brush tracked every step he took. A leaf quivered where a vine had curled around it moments before, and a glint of golden petals flashed for an instant near the carriage wheel before disappearing again.
Again, a vine briefly stretched toward his hand as he passed a muddy bank — subtle, almost invisible, retreating into the dirt as soon as he looked elsewhere. Nothing more.
Gojo adjusted his stance, balancing the small girl and man on his shoulders while keeping the woman cradled in his arms, and began moving toward the city walls, Infinity still active, Blue and Red subtly clearing debris from their bodies as he went. The golden-eyed observer followed silently, slipping through shadows and leaving only tiny traces for a careful eye to notice.
Gojo flickered back into existence near the city walls, steadying the unconscious bodies with Blue as rain drummed against his shoulders. The woman in his arms shuddered with each breath, the wood jutting through her chest creaking ominously if he shifted her even a fraction.
“Okay, Satoru,” he muttered, “don’t sneeze, don’t trip, don’t spontaneously decide juggling is a good idea. You’ve got this.”
The looming walls rose above him — slick grey stone, wide enough for two carriages to ride along the top. Torchlight flickered in iron braziers, smoke curling into the storm. At the gate stood two armoured guards, halberds gleaming with rain, red plumes sagging miserably on their helmets.
“Oi! Who goes there?” one barked. His onyx-and-red eyes narrowed. “Don’t lurk in the shadows, step forward.”
Gojo sighed. Here we go.
He stepped out into the open. Even with the rain, his white hair and towering frame caught their attention immediately. Their suspicion only deepened when they saw the bodies hanging off him like laundry.
“By the gods!” The taller guard ran forward, nearly slipping in the mud. “What in all hells happened?”
“The usual,” Gojo said lightly, handing the little girl over. “Carriage accident. Fire. A couple of corpses. Not my fault. Promise.”
The shorter guard, stockier and broad-shouldered, hefted the unconscious man onto his shoulder. He squinted at Gojo’s leaf-and-sap blindfold. “You’re… blind?”
Gojo smirked. “Fashion statement.”
“Not a good one.”
“Eh, you should’ve seen the pants situation. Trust me, this is an upgrade.”
The woman in his arms convulsed, drawing a sharp cry from the taller guard. “Robin! Open the damn gate! We need healers now!”
Up on the wall, chains rattled, and the heavy gate creaked open inch by inch. Shouts echoed from inside, boots pounding on stone.
A cluster of guards hurried out with stretchers. The taller one carefully laid the girl across, while the shorter one helped secure the man. Gojo crouched low, gently easing the impaled woman onto another stretcher, holding Blue steady so the wood didn’t shift and shred her further.
“Easy, easy,” one of the healers hissed, pale and wide-eyed. “Saints above…”
Gojo straightened, rolling his shoulders. “Don’t envy you guys. Good luck.”
The guards shot him wary glances as the wounded were rushed inside. Finally, the taller one turned back to him, rain dripping from his chin. “We’ll send a team to the wreck. You—what’s your name?”
“Gojo. Satoru Gojo. Over the hill that way.” He gestured lazily. “Carriages crashed. One was on fire, but I didn’t see anything that could’ve started it.”
The guard grimaced but nodded. “Understood. I’m Samson Gallows, Captain of the Eastern Gate. And you… Looks like hell.”
“Thanks, Captain. You should see the other guy. Actually, no, you can’t. He’s dead.”
Samson pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right. Get inside before someone else starts asking questions. There’s a changing room in the barracks — undershirts, trousers, boots. For saints’ sake, cover yourself.”
Gojo grinned. “You’re a lifesaver, Captain. And trust me, nobody appreciates pants more than me right now.”
He strolled off toward the barracks, dripping rainwater and mud across the polished stone floor as he went. Inside, the changing room was lined with neatly labelled lockers, rows of plain guard uniforms stacked in tidy piles. Gojo dug through them, unimpressed.
“Black. Grey. More grey. Do these people hate joy?” He pulled on the trousers and undershirt anyway, flexing as if modelling for a mirror. “Hmph. Not my best look, but hey—pants.”
By the time he stepped back out, a carriage laden with guards was already rolling through the rain toward the hills, bound for the wreckage. A younger soldier with violet hair pointed him toward the larger building across the courtyard.
“Captain Gallows is waiting for you. Third floor, down the corridor, right turn, door on your left.”
Gojo gave him a lazy salute. “Roger that. Try not to stare too hard at the new guy.”
He adjusted the too-tight guard boots as he climbed the stairs, muttering under his breath. “Seriously, what size do they think I am? Hobbit?” His footsteps echoed softly up the stone corridor as he made his way toward Captain Gallows’ office.
For the first time since arriving, he almost felt… normal. Not battling curses, not bleeding out in the rain, not naked in a bush. Just a guy in pants, about to get yelled at by some authority figure. “Ahh. Brings me back to high school,” he snorted.
He reached the landing, stretched his arms behind his head, and whistled.
Across the courtyard, rain streamed down the side of a tall stone house. Ivy clung to its wall, slick and heavy, leaves swaying in the storm. Slowly, too slowly, one of the vines twisted upward and bloomed into a familiar golden flower. Its round face turned toward the barracks where Gojo had vanished.
The grin widened, jagged and unnatural, stretching across its petaled face. It lingered for a moment, watching. Then, with a rustle of leaves, it pulled itself back into the ivy, vanishing into the wall as though it had never been there at all.
Gojo knocked on the captain’s door, humming. “Alright. Time to charm the locals.”