Chapter Text
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Kibune Village, Kyoto - April 2018
Satoru plops into the forest unceremoniously. He staggers forward, glasses slipping off his face as his head lurches with the most sickening surge of nausea he's ever felt in his sixteen year old life.
Ugh.
He mutters a colorful string of swears, picking his glasses up from the dirt, wiping them on his uniform.
Where is he? And where is that shit curse?
A quick assessment tells him that he's landed himself in some sort of clearing, with a ground mottled with leaves, and a dotted glimpse of the sky filtering through the green canopies of the forest he's landed in. Is he too far from the city?
There's a noise in the distance. A loud, splintering crack that echoes around him and a strong pulse of cursed energy follows.
Now that is where he should be.
Satoru rushes through the golden green, the dappled sunlight whizzing past him in a blur. He catches the familiar cry of his curse in the near distance. A long-winded and treacherous wail, as if ripped from the throats of the deceased. The sound lingers for a long moment, an audible trail for him to follow before it wanes into an empty silence. The residuals he's chasing are vanishing too. He is intent on pinning the curse down to finally finish the damned thing off. If only it hadn't caught him blindsided for that single moment before he struck that final blow. Satoru would be done and sorted by now.
He keeps going, focusing his senses outward into the forest. For a moment he senses nothing until the scent of something burning reaches him, and with it, a sound that has him stopping in his tracks.
Bells.
He hears bells. Loud and sonorous against the twisted reverberations of something else.The chiming is sharp and crystal clear as it echoes and Satoru finds himself honing in on the sound, guessing that it will lead him to where he needs to be.
It leads him to another clearing, where the grass is scorched dry. Splintered shreds of wood crackle under his feet as he approaches the remains of a small corrupted shrine, embedded into the the wall of the mountain side.
Satoru scans the area, his sharp, clever eyes take in the scene. He will not be blamed for damages thank you very much, because his curse seems to have disappeared completely.
Some trees are bent and splintered. Broken and singed at the trunks as if struck by a lightning axe. The canopies curl towards the earth, bowed and broken. The residuals in the area however, are unlike that of the curse he was chasing. He can tell that the cursed energy is entirely different, belonging to a recently exorcised, weaker curse.
There is no one here, except a woman — no, a shrine maiden — with her back turned to him, looking into a well further away from the tattered shrine. Her hakama stands out in the earthy hues surrounding her. The white bow tying half of her hair up flutters in the breeze. It is stark against the inky strands of her long, silken hair. Satoru can't help but think it looks like a butterfly.
He can tell that the woman isn't just a shrine maiden because there's an aura engulfing her. A sharp, flickering blue flame that wraps itself around her figure. It feels well regulated, deliberate and under control. It seems like one of solid, firm strength — maybe a first or second grade — and its movements well practiced, intentional. This woman must be a sorcerer Satoru decides. She has to be.
Satoru plans on approaching the woman, but he only takes a few steps forward before she starts talking.
"I don't think the missions so serious that they'd have to send you."
She sounds annoyed, and somewhere deep he feels an unbidden surge of surprise. So she's heard of him. Would she know about his mission? The curse he's been seeking?
"I was perfectly fine handling it on my own you know. It was a tricky one but..." The woman is adjusting her sleeve with her back to him, but addresses him nevertheless.
"I did it didn't I? Honestly Gojo, you really ought to mind your own—"
"You've heard of me?" he asks amicably, wanting to know whether she's been informed of his arrival or or something.
The shrine maiden turns abruptly, a frown etched into her face. A breeze blows between them, and Satoru notices how it bares the womans face to him. Her features are elegant and fine, she has big dark eyes and a delicate point to her chin and he can see for a clear moment, with the gentle sway of her hair — it is like the parting of a curtain — the jarring scar that takes up her face.
The moment he takes in the sight of her - poised, scarred, familiar? - and their eyes meet, he watches her dark eyes widen. She lets out an audible gasp as she staggers back, startled at once.
What's with that reaction?
Does this woman not like him or somethin'?
"Y-you," she begins, lifting her hand off of the well she staggered back to. Her arm rises and her fingers twitch as if she wants to reach out but is thinking better of it. "You must be— no you can't be a curse... Your cursed energy is the same..." She trails off muttering, her body seems tense, high strung and cautious as she keeps her sharp gaze fixed on him. "I must be... Hallucinating or something ..."
"Okay, listen here lady," Satoru begins testily, approaching her carefully. Maybe this woman is starstruck by his aura. Maybe she's not in her senses. Maybe a curse struck her and she's having trouble. Either way it's bad manners not to introduce oneself, even if the stranger knows your name.
He stops a few feet shy of where she is.
"I was sent here by the Jujutsu Technical College, My name is—"
"I know who you are, Gojo Satoru." The woman says, her gaze on him has not wavered. Sharp like cutting glass, Satoru would be lying if he said he didn't find it intimidating. There are two other things that strike him when she speaks.
The first of which is (again) her face. He doesn't think he's staring at her, because she is talking to him isn't she? So technically it doesn't count, but this woman looks, seriously, ridiculously cool (or is badass looking, he hasn't decided because she looks like she hates him most of all, like she has serious beef with him for some reason.)
The second thing, which is more concerning is the curious way she says his name. It is so weird. It sends a peculiar tingle up his brain, that tries to scratch at the sudden itch in his memory. It throws him off, she says it so... so personally, and it feels like he already knew the inflections of it in his mind, what it would sound like in her voice even before she said it.
How odd.
She shifts her weight, as if she might fight him. "The school sent you right? Show me your ID."
"Huh?"
"You heard me. Show me your ID. If you're a sorcerer sent from the school, prove it."
"Why're you askin'? You're a sorcerer too aren't you? I can tell by your cursed energy. You just exorcised a curse here, I can see the residuals." He says. "I was on a mission, same as you."
"ID please." The woman repeats as if she hasn't heard him. "Then I'll answer your questions and help you."
"Don't need it." He mutters, clicking his tongue irritably, but reaches into his pocket nevertheless. Who is this woman? The sorcery police?
He holds it out to her, and for a moment the tense hardness in her expression eases, mouth quirking up as her gaze fitters over his picture. Satoru feels his ears redden, and bites his tongue as he yanks it away before she can read it.
"I'll give you mine if you give me yours." He tells her. "I don't even know your name but you seem to know exactly who I am."
The woman frowns at him, and sighs very judgmentally ( yes, judgmentally) before relenting.
"You may refer to me as Miko-san," she says flatly, as if she's aware of the irony of being a miko named Miko. She straightens and crosses her arms, regarding him as if his cautious distrust is beneath her. He can't tell if that's better than her fighting stance.
"You're the Gojo clan heir are you not? This is fairly common knowledge among jujutsu sorcerers. I cannot give you my ID since I don't have it with me but... here," The woman gracefully pulls out from her sleeve, a sleek blue glass rectangle that that fits in her palm. She taps it and it lights up. She turns it towards him. "This is a scan of a staff announcement for the Jujutsu High Technical College in Kyoto. See the letterhead and stamp?" The woman pinches the screen and the image zooms in. "This is my place of employment."
Satoru regards the picture, it is addressed to staff at the Kyoto school and seems legit. Why would she even have this ready if she was a fraud anyway? Everything about her screams stuck up and uptight. She definitely looks like she'd be from that snooty ass branch. Was she rich too? What kind of tech was that?
"Your turn." She says, and Satoru hands over his ID again, shoving his hands into his pockets as her eyes scrutinize the card.
"Special Grade sorcerer..." Miko mumbles, brows furrowing as her face flushes, looking concerned like she can't believe it. "This is impossible."
Satoru feels a wave of pride in his chest. This must be her first time meeting one.
The woman reaches into her sleeve to pull out her screen again, she holds his card up, right next to his face. "Please excuse me while I take your picture for my report. The Kyoto school requires photographic evidence where possible. Thank you for your co-operation."
Is that a camera? How'd Kyoto get so high tech?
She points her screen device at him, and before he can blink she's already shoved it back into her pocket.
"One last thing." Miko tells him, and before he can respond she extends her hand toward him. "Now that we've introduced ourselves, and since we're sorcerers, let's help each other out."
He stares at it over the rim of his glasses, uncertain. "Uh..."
"You're supposed to shake it Gojo." she urges him -albeit gently - and Satoru feels his cheeks flare again, at the over-familiarity with which she addresses him.
"I knew that." He mutters, feeling embarrassed as he puts her hand in hers. Her hand is warm, and soft, and smaller than his but her handshake is firm. He tries not to meet her eyes for some reason and for the brief moment he does her stern expression seems to have eased. There's something far-away about the look in her eyes, as if she is holding back some thoughts about him. Before he can say anything, she lets go of his hand.
"Now," she begins, her voice losing its tight strictness as she clasps her hands in front of her. "What brings you here?"
"I... I'm not sure." Satoru admits.
"What?"
"I'm not sure where I am actually. If you'd like to know, I was chasing a curse for my mission, back in Tokyo," He tells her, trying not too sound like too much of an idiot. Not that he needed to prove anything.
"What kind?"
"Special grade. I nearly killed it too, but it came at me like it was going to eat me, isn't that crazy? The next moment I landed here, and I—" he scratches his head. "I haven't figured out where here even is. Do you know?"
"Kibune cho, Kyoto," The miko tells him. "My mission was here in this forest. The Kibune shrine is a few ways away, and so is civilization."
"Kibune!? Seriously?" He exclaims. "Ahh what the hell maaan," he hangs his head. "I'm so far off. I need to get back. Yagas gonna —"
"What was the date of your mission?"
"You mean today? It's the 7th of April I think."
"What year is it?"
Satoru gapes at her. "Don't you know?"
"Just tell me," She says impatiently, Satoru thinks he catches a trace of worry in her face.
"Two thousand and six." Satoru says.
"Same as your ID."
"Well, yeah. We got new ones for our second year."
This miko woman begins to look worried, like really worried. She rubs at her forehead, disorganizing her bangs. "Have you ever seen something like this before? She pulls out the device from her sleeve again, and swipes over it, and the screen flickers to life, clear as crystal.
"Only in movies I guess, or on TV. Not as good as this though." He leans over to marvel at it closely. "Man, that is sick. Where can I get one?"
She pulls back her device putting it back into her sleeve silently, the look on her face is of serious concern.
"Gojo Satoru," the woman says gravely. "I think you may have just been cursed."
--
Utahime Iori is not a liar.
She really really isn't but right now she can list at least four lies she has told in a single breath and in the wildest of panics. She would argue that it is warranted of course, considering that she is talking to a manifestation of the younger, past self of the most stressful person she has ever had the pleasure of meeting.
She hadn't believed it, since his presence defied all logic and good sense. How could she? When the world she existed in was sneaky and insidious and unpredictable. Time curses weren't unique. They had their own dedicated pages in Jujutsu academia. But a curse that could bridge time, or even transport a whole person through was rare, if not completely unheard of. Safe to say her anxiety was through the roof.
Not to mention that this person is a literal child. To her anyway, a young man some might say, but a boy all the same.
The mark of wild youth on him is unmistakable. He is lean and skinnier than she remembers, but his shoulders are set in confidence, that careless, haughty tilt to his head to express his prodigy.
His windswept hair is the same as she remembers, set like a wild halo on his head. His sunglasses are round and a translucent black, and from the sloping tilt of them she can see his eyes as he regards her.
They are so bright, so blue. Confident with an ease, and free of restraint that she cannot find in the present. The corner of of his mouth is downturned, probably in irritation at the inconvenience of his mission. It makes her chest ache for some reason, the sight of him.
It raises something protective within her — maybe it's the instinct from her profession as a teacher—but she knows she cannot get ahead of herself. She knew this face once. She knows this face now.
And it belongs to her friend.
So far the lies she has told this young boy are:
1- That her name may or may not be Miko.
She could not have associated herself with young Gojo at all. He did not recognize her, and as it stood she needed to discern whether this really was him in the flesh, instead of of some cursed apparition which seemed less likely the more he spoke. No curse was this sentient. No curse would ask for her ID. Which led to her second lie:
2- That she forgot her ID
This situation never ever happened. Utahime had her ID safe in the folds of her sleeve, but she couldn't expose her name so soon after lying about it. The good thing was that she remembered that college memo sent to the staff last week, which was addressed to staff, but it was legitimate enough and added enough truth to her lie to make it seem believable. Luckily young Gojo had no qualms about it. If anything she's sure she gained his trust a little, even if he was inquisitive and brash.
3- That she only knows Gojo because of his clans reputation (if only.) She had known him for at least and it was nothing to brag about.
4- That the Kyoto school needs photographic evidence in their reports (rarely, and that's the auxiliary's job)
This. This was a risk. She had taken this picture as proof for herself, and despite her hand shaking when she took it, young Gojo did not seem to notice.
It takes her a good fifteen to twenty minutes to convince him that he's landed into the future. He doesn't believe her, and Utahime, not wanting to reveal anything too particular ( in case of potential timeline upheavals as the textbooks mention) has a very hard time doing so. Especially because they're in the middle of nowhere and there are no newspapers around.
Her phone is the biggest example she has, the boy already seems impressed by it. So she pulls out a photograph on her phone from her gallery ( it is inconsequential, of a plate of food she took on an outing with Shoko. She has a series of them in her gallery.)
"Look at the time stamp here," she points to the photo information on the screen. "Look at the year." She shows him multiple photo time stamps.
"Two thousand and sixteen!?" Gojo exclaims. "There's no way."
"Technically not twenty sixteen. I'm refraining from showing you what the actual year is."
"What? Why?"
"Do you think that knowledge would be wise? The less you know the better. You're a smart kid," She tells him. "We don't know what's at stake, it could be your entire future, or your entire past and if we're lucky, nothing at all. I'm sure you understand these implications. Surely you studied the concept in the Urashima Taro folktale analysis for first years? "
The boy waves a blithe hand. "Yeah well I'm not too pressed. It makes sense. 'S not like I have any options being stuck in the middle of nowhere with you anyways."
Utahime refrains from rolling her eyes. He's as uncouth as she remembers.
"Yes well, consider yourself lucky." She tells him.
Gojo tells her that the curse was suspected to have a time manipulation technique. That its victims were always from the past. It had taken years to identify the curse and the victims, it was only that a passing sorcerer called it out in a single incident case. In postmortems the rate of decay and the aging of the flesh didn't match up, and since the time jumps were less than five years apart it had been hard to believe such a thing had been happening at all. However, all victims had the same talisman on their person: an old, frayed and bloody omomori with a distinct and indecipherable inscription upon it.
He tells her about the curse in great detail, a fluid and dripping monstrosity of a thing that would spill out of the cursed object if you looked into it. Everyone knew that was bad luck, but they did it anyway. As if compelled.
Gojo also mentions that it couldn't have gotten far, that it was as good as dead before it cursed him, the little shit.
They search for his curse for what feels like an hour, and when Utahime checks her phone she finds that it's actually been two hours, and that their search seems pretty fruitless. She proposes a break to Gojo, to go back to her accommodation and plan their search better and maybe eat. Thankfully he agrees, and that's how they wind up on the Kifune hiking trail, where they can hear the Kamo river gurgling somewhere beyond in the distance.
"You know," Gojo begins randomly, as if he's feeling chatty. "I happen to know a shrine maiden myself. She comes to the Kyoto branch often and dresses exactly like you."
Utahime exhales.
"Yes well, miko attire isn't so rare here, we are a more traditional school after all. Is this person a friend of yours?"
"Yeah, but she doesn't talk to me much," Gojo tells her, maybe she imagines the complaint in his voice. "Bosses me around though."
"You should respect your elders," Utahime says instinctively. "Maybe she'll talk to you more if you're nicer, or maybe don't call her bossy."
"How'd you know she's older than me?"
"I don't." Utahime lies, kicking herself mentally as they walk. "You said she visits often, so I'm assuming she graduated."
Gojo doesn't say anything to that. "Do you think you've met? "
"No," she lies yet again. "I don't think I know her. I'm visiting faculty so I don't think I've had the chance. She's a sorcerer right?"
Gojo nods.
"She any good?"
"Yeah, she's not the strongest but... she's pretty hardworking."
Utahime hums in response, not sure what to make of his answer. Not that there was anything to make of it really, but her eighteen year old self would've tried to. She would have scoffed and tried to puzzle it out what he really meant before giving it up as a careless sentiment of a dumb teenager.
"Her names Iori Utahime." Gojo tells her.
She flinches mentally and decides to acknowledge his remark with a nod.
She keeps going, and there is a small pocket of silence before she hears him speak again.
"It's the same as yours isn't it?"
Utahimes chest clenches tight. She turns to look at him, and Gojo seems to have stopped in his tracks, he's a few paces from her and has removed his sunglasses. The look in his eyes is firm and certain.
"It's you isn't it." He asks "Utahime?"
She stands still on the path, speechless, regarding him, trying to gauge his mood, thinking about what response would be the best to placate him. He looks more serious than angry, and for teenage Gojo she knows that's practically the same thing. She also needs him to trust her.
"You know I had to try." She says.
"You lied to me." he accuses.
"I'm being cautious."
"But I'm not an idiot." He tells her. His eyes wander over her face, searching. She can tell he's looking at her differently now, he must be. "How'd you think I wouldn't figure it out? We hang out all the time! I mean— with- with Shoko anyway."
"I know," She says softly, feeling exposed now that he knows her as herself. The guilt of her lies pricks a little too, and a certain self-consciousness rears its head that wasn't there before. How will he perceive her now that he knew who she was?
Would this endanger him somehow? Would it make him judge who she'd become?
"What gave it away?" Utahime asks.
"Your vocabulary." He answers. "You use the same archaic, country bumpkin expressions she does, that no ones heard about. You tuck your hair behind your ears the same way, the way you talk is the the same, and the way you say my n—" Gojo stops abruptly, blinking rapidly as he catches himself. He coughs into his fist and it sounds forced, even though his ears have taken on a tint. He puts his glasses back on.
"I mean, you still wear the same clothes Utahime, boring much?" Gojo shoots her that mischievous, classic smart-ass grin. Utahime doesn't respond, she only stares him down, bemused. (She's an adult, and an experienced teacher. So she has no trouble staring down misbehaving ruffians, especially this one.)
She feels a great deal of satisfaction when Gojo squirms under her gaze awkwardly, and coughs into his fist again. "I mean, it was also the way you were mean to me when you saw me. You were pretty harsh y'know."
"I didn't mean to be, I was only being cautious." Utahime tells him sincerely. "For all I knew you could've been a curse, a nightmare from my past come to life. I was right to be wary don't you think?"
"I could still be a curse." Gojo claims. "How do you know I won't kill you at any moment? That this isn't a hallucination or dream?"
Utahime observes him really carefully then.
"You think a curse would say all that?" She deadpans. "Ask me questions, shake my hand and leave me standing alive?"
"Well...what's stopping me from running away from you huh?" He demands. "You lied to me. I can just walk away and see the world and the future for myself can't I?"
"Of course you can Gojo." Utahime replies coolly, quirking a brow at him. Unsurprisingly, his temper is quick. "You think I'll waste my time trying to stop you?"
The young Gojo blinks at her, disbelieving.
"I know better, but I also trust you're not stupid enough to endanger yourself like that. Mind you we are as good as in your hometown. Your clan still exists here and so do the same rules if not... worse. Time is not a tool to be played with, we don't know what your curse is taking from you or what it has left in your stead, in your time. I don't doubt you're smart enough to figure it out eventually, but I'm not sure we have that luxury." Utahime tells him honestly. "Please just let me help you."
"How?"
"We can go back to my temporary residence, and figure it out from there okay? Together."
He stares at her, still for a moment before angling his head. That ever familiar, thoughtful pout of his makes itself known and Utahime finds herself taking in the defensive posture of his shoulders, the furrow between his brows. He taps his chin, like he's really considering it. Like it's a difficult choice. He is such an open book, was he really that easy to read back then?
"Fine." Gojo announces with a huff. "That speech was so corny so now I feel obliged. I'll come with you."
Utahime nods and tries not to smile too much. Now all she will have to do is get her Gojo here. She doesn't dwell too much on how she will manage that exactly, but- baby steps. She shouldn't get ahead of herself.
"You seriously thought I was a nightmare from your past?" Gojo asks her later, unprompted, when they are on their way up the trail.
Utahime shrugs, and gives him a teasing grin. "No need to be upset now. We have bigger things to worry about. I didn't mean to mislead you but you know it's probably safer that way. I will still keep things from you Gojo, you know it isn't personal. Knowledge comes with time, it's best not to chase it beyond our years."
Gojo sags his shoulders in defeat. "Ugh. Now you sound old too."
"Watch it." Utahime warns, but she makes sure it sounds more playful than angry. She doesn't want him to think her too harsh.
Gojo pouts again and it's as boyish and petulant as she remembers.
"The ribbons new, and your hair." He observes, and Utahime wonders if he's going to say anything about her scar, if at all.
"I had to change something." Utahime remarks lightly. "It's been a few years after all."
"But you won't tell me how many."
"Nope."
Silence falls between them again. Their footfalls are soft on the worn trail, crunching leaves and branches.
"How'd you get the scar?" Gojo asks after a while, in that straight forward manner of his, free of any malice and mockery. If she were his age she would have definitely suspected something sinister and mocking behind his tone but she knows better. She knows him better and she's come to appreciate that habit of his with time, it turned out to be more tactful than it seemed.
"Mission." She replies.
"It looks painful."
"It used to be." Utahime keeps her voice light and finds that it is easy to do so. "Now it's just a mark. Same as any other."
"Looks badass."
"Yeah?" She laughs, delighted. "Well, thank you. You know, when I got it, I was afraid that you'd make fun of me for it."
She hears Gojo stop in his tracks, and she turns to look at him.
"Well, did I?" he demands, eyes blown wide with an appalled curiosity. "Was I a dick to you about this?"
Utahime can't help but find herself endeared to his wild reaction. It's sweet, she has the instinct to pat his head, like she does to Todo or Miwa sometimes. She laughs again. "I think deep down you kind of know already."
There's that pout again.
Utahime ignores the dissatisfaction on his face at her answer, turning back to continue on their way. After a while heir path clears to a neat, paved clearing and grey slabs of rock make up the steps going upwards on the slope.
"There." Utahime points in the distance at a pale line of boxy structures. "That's where we're headed. Let's recuperate there and compare notes. I'll see what I can do to track your curse down. Or call someone that can."
"Who?"
"Who do you think, Gojo?" Utahime gives him a look.
The realization dawns on his face. "You guys still know each other? We're still friends?"
"You've known me for more than half your life." She answers lightly. Its the most neutral answer she can give him. Gojo says nothing, but its like she can see him make a mental note to file away for later.
Their path upwards is edged with red kasuga lanterns and what seems to be an endless overhanging canopy of trees. A few more hours to dusk and they'll be glowing soon.
"That's eighty seven steps in case you didn't know. So brace yourself." Utahime speaks over his irritated groan. "Come on."
--
Harajuku, Tokyo - April 2018
Gojo Satoru is at a dessert kiosk in Harajuku when his phone goes off. He is trying to get the caramel in his teeth unstuck, balancing two sweet sticks between his knuckles when his phone chimes in his pocket. It's from his emergency number.
"Hello?"
"Gojo—"
"Oh Utahime! What's up?"
"Hi, Gojo. You free?"
"Yeah...why?"
"Because I need you to trust me and listen to me very carefully. The thing is... I've been invited to a party."
Codespeak.
Gojo tenses. What kind of mission did she get that had her using codespeak even on the encrypted line?
"Okay. Is your invitation red or blue?" Are you in danger?
"It's looking blue for now. I'm not sure when they'll give me the red one, but I'm hoping to arrive before they switch."
Gojo scratches the back of his head, relieved, even though danger is imminent.
"When are you going?"
"I mean it is quite sudden, I was wondering if you wanted to join me? I don't think I can go without you honestly. I need a plus one."
"Is anyone we know coming?"
"No, it's an entirely new guest list. I heard there's going to be a special guest of honor attending or something."
"I see. Is the food any good?"
"The menu is great, I don't think we've ever had it before."
Gojo nods, listening carefully. What's this about?
"Can you come now? I really don't want to risk looking bad in front of everyone by being late. You're my plus one but... I've read the menu. You need to be on time. I'm—" Utahime hesitates, taking a breath. "I'm afraid you'll get the red invitation if you don't."
You think I'm in danger? He wants to ask outright. She's said as much, but every sentence has been more cryptic than the next.
"Alright. I'll be there. Gimme ten yeah? "
"Of course. I'll see you soon."
Utahime hangs up and Gojo finds himself trying to rationalize what she's asked of him. What could could possibly be this urgent but not urgent at the same time?
He shakes his head, it doesn't matter. He'll find out anyway.
--
Utahime brings him to a humble little guesthouse a few ways away from the shrine. It is hidden away behind a bramble of foliage facing the sloping landscape, she tells him it is lucky that she requested a fully functioning and independent unit for her mission and research. It was always tourists that were stopping to engage with her, she tells him, and communal spaces weren't the most productive when you had talismans to craft and cursed objects to analyze.
The room they enter smells like ink and washi, with hints of jasmine. Satoru spots the sheets and materials set haphazardly on the chabudai set near the far wall to his left. There's a sage green sofa in front of the wall that faces him, and to his right, there's a small island counter and a makeshift kitchen space, with a sink, a mini fridge and a kettle in the corner. There are piles of books on the table next to the couch, half open and inserted with ribbons and pens.
"So you're still a nerd." Satoru observes, and catches Utahime rolling her eyes at him.
"Research is still important to some of us with meticulous cursed techniques, Gojo." She remarks pointedly, walking over to the short-legged table to grab a sheet of paper. She grabs a pen too. "I think it would be wise to map your movements up to this moment. Before and after your time jump. We need as much information as we can, maybe there's a pattern in the way the curse times itself. Or how it happened to vanish into thin air."
Satoru groans. "I just told you all that didn't I? That's all the information I had."
"Can you recall other information about your curse? Something the auxiliary manager or somebody might have given you?"
Satoru shrugs. "Didn't pay attention, I guessed I'd figure it out when I got there."
The shrine maiden rolls her eyes so far back into her head that he feels the deep condescending sting of it. The back of his neck heats from embarrassment as if he were being scolded by someone like Yaga except this was much, much worse.
So what if he skimmed over some stuff? How bad could it have been? He was the strongest wasn't he? Why was this woman so judgy?
"How irresponsible." She mutters, narrowing her eyes at him before she catches herself.
"Hey—"
"No, I mustn't," She says to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You are so— You're still, exactly like him..." she trails off, shaking her head.
She lets out a breath as if to gather herself. Then throws him a soft, incredibly disarming smile. Satoru blinks.
"You're here, and you're safe, so that's good isn't it? It's best to be thankful. We don't know what we're dealing with, but we'll figure it out."
With the kind of expression this lady makes, Satoru feels like he'd believe anything she told him in the moment. As if she'd handle everything and make sure things were properly sorted which was a weird sentiment to have about someone he didn't really know yet. Weird.
Utahime offers him that paper and pen again with a no-nonsense look. "Consider it homework." She says.
--
There's a darkness emanating from the mountain against the pink split sky. It is both a magnanimous cloud and a flickering flame. It crackles and flows, the noise of it is as familiar as the bloodrush through his heart.
Gojo doesn't pause to call Utahime. He doesn't doubt for a second that this is why she called him. There are no curses around he can sense, despite the vast wave of cursed energy in the area. Perhaps it is because of the shrine he reasons, but this foreboding sense of dread in his chest is new.
An eerie discomfort slithers into his mind when he approaches the stone steps, eyes fixed on the smokeless flame that crackles at the sky. Gojo takes a few steps forward in that direction, until he is leaping in big strides and the higher up he goes the more resistance he feels. Feeling thick and viscous, the air around him pushes against his body, resisting against his face and arms and legs every time he moves. What the hell?
The more steps he takes the more he feels like he's pushing through a current. Soon he feels like he's wading through an invisible ocean. What shitty nuisance.
But it's not a challenge.
It doesn't take him very long to reach the solitary guesthouse. He spots it amongst the foliage and he can sense Utahimes cursed energy inside the quaint little building, a small flame amongst the wild thrush of the other source. The eerie feeling of which curls tightly in his gut. Alarmingly, here it takes effort to push through the oppressive miasma. In front of the door, this is where the current against him is the strongest, and feels like it is trying to separate all the sinew from his bones.
Gojo can't help but slip a tendril of his cursed energy forward right then, to unlock the door a few seconds right before he steps through it.
It's the knowing part of it that strikes him the most. The answer to his impossible suspicion he's been cradling in the back of his mind from the second he showed up here. He didn't really think it'd be true, how could it? But the cursed energy had been the first sign. This weird repulsion he felt on his way here was the second. And now this, this was it.
With one foot through the door, Gojos eyes flitter quickly from Utahime to the kid. The sharp absurdity of it all is not lost on him, it is an acrid cut through all his senses. He knows it like he knows the pull of gravity. He feels it too, a twist in his gut, a sinking in his chest.
From the slight fray on the cuff of his sleeve to the rims of the glasses on his face. That kid is Gojo Satoru. That used to be him.
It is him.
Gojo watches his younger self turn his head his way. His glasses slip downwards as he angles his head to eye him, Gojo catches the tension pulling shoulders taut as he sizes him up.
Gojo rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, jerking a thumb at the kid, turning to where Utahime has moved towards him with a surprised look on her face.
"Isn't he kinda skinny? " He says.
--
"This is Gojo Satoru, Jujutsu sorcerer. Special Grade. He will be helping us with your mission."
Is what Utahime says quickly when the door unlocks itself and opens. She moves towards him, towards the sorcerer that has just shown up without so much as a knock.
The man that enters the room is tall and broad shouldered, a lax black pillar amidst the tornado of the cursed energy he senses. The shock of his white hair is set upwards, bound so by the blindfold that covers his eyes. If Satoru didn't know better he'd say the man looked vaguely familiar, like someone from his dad's side of the family, a distant cousin who has dumb opinions on how skinny he is.
You don't need to tell me twice. Is what Satoru wants to say to Utahime, but the words don't leave his mouth. He shudders violently, the electricity of it leaving goosebumps in its wake. He feels a sliver of cold beneath his sternum, a hook slipping into the cavity of his chest. Satoru would have paid more attention to it if his senses weren't suddenly engulfed in a thick violent flame.
The sorcerer tilts his head at him curiously, moving towards him in a slow, slinking step. The blindfolded gaze of his feels like an impenetrable wall, setting him on edge, telling him to run.
"No way." Satoru says despite himself, eyes locked cautiously to the man. "I don't believe you."
"Gojo," He hears Utahime say gently. "What's there not to believe?"
The shadowed sorcerer shifts forward again, just the slightest, and the hook in his chest twists and sinks into his stomach. He feels sick. The air crackles, a force envelopes itself around him, intent on sinking into his body like a boulder. Like it will knock him right off of his feet. Satoru steels himself against it, manipulating his own energy to resist. It takes effort, and soon he is panting. He feels hot and cold all over.
"Prove it." He chokes out. He feels warm, and his voice is uneven when he speaks. "If he's me then prove it."
"Gojo..." Utahime looks between them, panicked. "I don't—"
"Don't worry, he knows it's me." The man interjects coolly. "My cursed energy is trying to crush his into a pulp as we speak. Look at him," he tells Utahime. "Doesn't he look a little green?"
"Gojo what's wrong? " Utahime gives him a panicked look. His vision sways and an ache blooms at the sides of his temples.
"Somethings off." The sorcerer says simply. "Looks like my energy is trying to override his, or kill him. I don't think we're supposed to meet like this." He turns to him. "I'm not evil, if that's what you're thinking."
Satoru manages to frown at him right before he collapses to the floor. His knees give beneath him, and it feels like he's been struck with with hammer on either sides of his head while a rubberband grows tighter and tighter around it. He can't help the pained grunt that escapes him.
"Gojo!" Utahime exclaims, Satoru can't tell who its for. His eyes are shut tight, he is trying not to throw up.
"Asshole." The boy hisses, shuddering on the floor, breathless. Utahime rushes to his side, holding his shoulders as he clutches his head in obvious pain.
"Whoops," Gojo remarks, "Let's fix this up."
Satoru doesn't know what he does, but the air returns to his lungs with an alarming celerity. The crushing force however, only dulls itself. He can feel it slightly suffocating him like a faint fog, but it doesn't paralyze his limbs anymore. It doesn't really hurt.
"Let's move you away. Gojo, why don't you lie down," Utahime says, ushering him to the couch as his older self takes a few calculated steps backwards until he is near the door, but not outside it. "Hold this against your chest, I'll make a ward around you." Utahime tells him, pressing an ofuda against his jacket. He feels her move away for a few moments. Chanting and humming.
Satoru is aware of the eerie silence from the man, so cold and void compared to Utahimes warmth and hums.
"Hey," Utahimes voice makes it past the ringing in his ears after a few moments. "You feeling okay?" His vision is blurry and teary eyed. Satoru tries to blink it clear and through the wet mist of it as he looks at her, she actually looks like his own. The one in his timeline, soft voiced and worrying. The scrunch of the eyebrows is the same, the dissatisfaction that shapes her expression is the same. Only now her scar comes into focus, and her dark whispy bangs that fall into those same eyes. He feels a brush against his forehead and a cool palm settles over his skin. He manages a nod. " 'M better." He mumbles pathetically.
"Oh no." she whispers, "You're so warm." and the coolness from his forehead is gone. "I'll get you some water."
So she's still a worry wart.
Huh.
Utahime frets over him for a few more minutes, asking him whether he's hurt, or if he feels strange or if he needs food. Satoru tells her that his head hurts like crazy, and when he tries to sit up — much to her protests — he feels a sickening wave of nausea overtake his senses. His knees still feel weak, his legs shaky. (Satoru does not mention this.)
What the hell is happening?
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought him here. I didn't know."
" S' alright." They say in unison. Satoru throws that man a wary look.
"What?" Gojo asks, and Satoru doesn't respond.
"Leave him be," Utahime straightens. "We should let him rest for a moment."
The sorcerer seems to consider it.
"In that case, let's talk Utahime. A word, alone." He jerks his head towards the door, and points to him. "You better not move, I'll know if you do."
Satoru almost swears at the guy but Utahime touches his shoulder at the same moment. She passes him a reassuring glance. "We'll be outside Gojo, rest. Please call if you need anything."
Satoru nods with little resistance, if only to reel back his thoughts. He'd like to be alone for a while too.
--
The light outside is blinding.
He feels the pricks of it even through the blindfold. Everything is too oversaturated, colored in the fluorescence of a sun that's just beginning to set. Gojo finds respite under a plum colored shadow, shaped like the corner of the engawa, stretched out on the floor.
It takes a while for the blood to stop rushing to his ears, for his head to stop feeling like its pulsating against he bones of his skull. The spring air is cool against his skin, soothing and silky as it murmurs across the trees. The view in front of him is hushed and serene, unlike the blood rush in his system, the mountain side slopes toward him in a green and grey slant.
The ache behind his eyes persists, and Gojo thinks he really should've taken a moment to himself before prompting Utahime to join him outside. He presses his fingers to his temples, willing the headache to go away, for the nausea to subside.
"Gojo," Utahime calls as she follows him. "You okay?"
"M'fine." He mumbles.
He almost tried to kill himself is all.
"I'm sorry," Utahime begins, apologetic again. "I didn't know that would happen. I should have been more cautious. Or given you a heads up."
"Not your fault. I didn't bother to call did I?"
Utahime doesn't say anything to that but her mouth parts to speak and she stops, seeming to think better of it. That, and he catches the expression on her face.
"What?"
"Are you seriously okay? You look pale."
And he feels like shit too. Its like he just walked into a fever dream and the feeling is stuck to his insides like hot tar.
"Do I?" Gojo returns, pressing a hand to his cheek. "Huh."
Utahime gives him a disbelieving look. "He really is real you know." She says, folding her arms primly into the sleeves of her kimono. "I would have told you over the phone but I didn't want to risk anything."
"Don't worry about it."
"Yeah?" Utahime asks, something inexplicable glimmering in her face. For a moment she looks like she will burst into tears, but she only rubs her forehead, releasing an exhale. "I was so worried, I didn't want to lose him and I wanted to be sure before I called and I wanted to make sure he'd be safe but I don't know what's at stake here really and the curse hasn't been spotted yet because we couldn't find it and-"
"Utahime." Gojo says gently, raising a hand to break her out of her thoughts. "Don't worry. We'll figure it out."
"Y-yes. Right." She sniffs, catching herself. "Of course.... But Gojo are you... Is it... Alright? Seeing him?" She asks. "It must be quite jarring. I was so shocked to see him when I did, I thought he was a curse."
Gojo makes a non-committal noise, as if he is less bothered than he actually is. He feels rattled and unnerved. His infinity had sensed his younger self to be an active threat to him, and had activated viciously to the crush the boy completely. Gojo had to deliberately override that action, even though when he did, a wave of sickness overcame him. There was also that odd tugging in his chest, cold and relentless, pulling at him the longer Gojo reversed the force of his technique. It was difficult to see the kid struggle so much, he had felt him resist, he was good (of-course he was) which made it all the more harder. The protective ward Utahime put around him was a perfect cushion against the force of his cursed energy.
It made sense in the grand of scheme of things, he supposed. Two sorcerers with six eyes and limitless existing in the same time was like knocking the sun out of its orbit. What would the supernatural forces do to create equilibrium again?
"How did you know he wasn't a curse?" Gojo finds himself asking.
"Well... He was entirely sentient for one thing, and I asked for his ID and he gave it to me."
Gojo laughs despite himself. "Smart. You got lucky."
She nods in agreement. "Right? I remember you being so careless about carrying it around. I shook his hand too by the way. Just to be sure."
"Risky." Gojo remarks. Utahime was too smart to go around shaking hands with curses, he didn't doubt her judgement — but was the sight of his younger self that disarming? Or did she go with her instincts?
Then again, all curses had that cold, dead feel to them. They didn't have that vibrant flush of life, and the thrumming coils of blood, bone and soul. No matter how human like they could be, despite all their mimicries and manifestations with their dripping, grotesque flesh and teeth. Any curse with intelligence was still a curse, but pallid and rotten to the core all the same.
"Utahime... Why don't you tell me exactly how you came across this kid? From the beginning."
So Utahime does. She reports it to him as if he's the blank report document himself. From the time of contact to plausible outcomes and potential liabilities. All of which may or may not contain disrupting chain of events, changing the future and past forever or not, which is typical of those shitty time-curses. It was all pretty textbook. Except...
"So... I'm trying to understand why you brought him with you instead of leaving him alone."
Utahime blinks at him. "Are you seriously asking me that?"
"I'm just curious as to why you didn't let events fold naturally." Gojo turns to her, waiting for her to continue.
"I just told you. He approached me, I never revealed my identity until he figured it out. How could I have left him? I needed to verify if he was a curse, or an apparition. It turned out he wasn't, so I felt responsible."
"Responsible?"
"He's a child." She defends. "He has no one he can reach out to here, not without messing up the timeline surely? Meeting us has been risky enough as it is. He's on his own. He didn't even know he had landed himself into the future, thank goodness I found him." The relief in her voice is as apparent as her concern.
Gojo finds himself struggling to accept that this is him she's talking about so fondly, with such great care. She had been fretting over him back in the room too, flitting about him like a mother hen. Did the kid really need it though?
Gojo scoffs.
"Did you consider that engaging with him messes things up? Maybe we should leave him to his own devices. Hanging around with me isn't going to do him any favors, I nearly killed him didn't I?"
Utahime gives him a cold look. "Since you've never had the pleasure of dealing with yourself, I know you don't like being told what to do. I've kept his curiosity at bay by keeping him company and being deliberate with the information I give him. Wouldn't it make sense to control as many variables as I could? While helping him until you got here?"
"Shouldn't matter." He retorts begrudgingly. She was utterly and completely right. "He can handle it can't he? He's the strongest of his time remember?"
"You're the strongest of this time, that role is not his. So of course it matters." Utahime frowns, as if he can't believe he's saying such a thing. "And he shouldn't have to handle it. He's a child. We should take some responsibility, we're sorcerers aren't we? Teachers?"
"You were never this nice to me." He says after a moment.
"That's because you were never nice to me either, Gojo Satoru." Utahime returns with a shrug. "This is... different."
"How?"
"Because we're adults. Because we're sorcerers? We know him? I'm friends with—"
"Are you?" Gojo scoffs. "Are you friends with him?"
"I'm friends with you." Utahime tells him, frustrated. "No— I meant we— We have a responsibility."
"And if that responsibility is not to interfere at all then? What if we've doomed ourselves by meeting him?"
"He landed right into my mission Gojo. How could I have not?"
"It's not so hard actually. Just leave him alone."
"You seriously can't be in favor of that? Don't you care? I mean this is, this you we're talking about."
Right. This was him they were talking about. Not some normal kid from the past. Why couldn't Utahime see that? The kid would be smart enough to get home if he tracked the curse down. Her arguments were valid, and Gojo cannot, in the depths of all his thinking find a single fault in her handling the matter so far, which was obviously annoying since he didn't have enough grounds to tell her why he felt sticking around might be a bad idea. But she was seriously underestimating his younger self. If he got himself into the situation, he could get himself out.
And how can he explain to her that he really, truly does not want anything to do with this whole case? That its insane to perceive a version of himself he's long since outgrown? That it is so, so tempting to never want to look at the kid. Or maybe do the opposite and warn the boy of everything. What it took to become this kind of sorcerer. Everything he's gained. Everything he's lost.
But no. These are not thoughts to be had at a time like this. These are not thoughts to be had at all.
This kind of thinking is dangerous. The kind that's rearing its dormant, ugly and regretful head. So nightmarish that Gojo can't mention the kind of possibilities his younger self presents to him. Would it be possible to warn him? His thoughts beckon. Would it let him change the things he wanted? Undo the tangled twists of fate that gave him this? Would it even be possible?
"He can handle it." Gojo says instead. "Maybe we shouldn't overthink it. Wouldn't that be the natural course of things? Plop him back where you found him?"
"Gojo," Utahime begins. "I want to help him okay? I can do it without sabotaging everything. I can do it without your help."
"I'd like to see you try." Gojo remarks, "Ironic isn't it? You'll help someone who's explicitly asking you not to."
"That's because it's dangerous for him here!" Utahime exclaims seethingly. "Don't you get it? You don't think the higher ups would be interested in a time bending curse or rather, a younger, less stronger version of you? Even if they weren't they would certainly look into it, and if word got around the other clans would definitely be interested. I can only do so much Gojo, and honestly I'd like to spare your younger self the misfortune of it."
Gojo almost scoffs at that, it would be one less mishap in his life anyway. Misfortune. Only Utahime would use the word with his name in the same sentence. Would it even end up making a difference?
"Mind you," She continues, "he's met both of us already. I don't think there's much else left to do, unless you can undo that as well." Utahime points out. "We don't have to interfere, but we can assist can't we? I'm sure his presence must've tilted some sort of balance. The repulsion of your cursed energies is proof. We need to send him back as soon as possible. We can hunt the curse, or you can and I can keep watch. Just let me take care of y—" she stops abruptly, a stutter on her tongue that has her tripping on her words, but she begins again, calmer and softer this time even though she averts her gaze. "Let m— Let us take care of him."
A bell rings in his head right then. A clear good thought that cuts through the bizarre noise of today's events. Gojo looks at her curiously, an odd, hopeful suspicion rising somewhere in the rippling pond of his thoughts. She's using interesting words today. Friends. Care. We.
Us.
He has the odd impulse to reach for her wrist and ask her what she really means. Then again, he should pay better attention.
Utahime also makes a valid point. This was too sensitive to be left unsupervised, he'd definitely need to do something. Gojos mutual repulsion from his younger self definitely felt like a fail safe for something. He'd have to figure it out.
"You talk to your students like that?" Gojo mutters.
"Yes actually," Utahime huffs. "They're not as insufferable as you though, it's always you I end up helping."
"You don't have to, Utahime."
Utahime releases a long exasperated sigh.
"Like it or not Gojo," she begins tiredly, rolling her eyes before she pins him with her straightforward gaze, the usual one she has that suggests that he's the biggest idiot on the planet. "I will always choose to help you."
She turns before he can say anything. "I'll do the same for him. He needs to know he has allies. That he is wanted for more than what he can offer to the world, especially in the future."
What's that supposed to mean? The bell rings again, sonorous and bright.
"You think that's true?"
She stops in her tracks, her fingers curling tightly by her side. She doesn't look back, but he hears the cutting disappointment in her voice, and it echoes in his chest.
"You really have to ask?"
And with that she leaves him alone to ponder.