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Don't let the mainstream media fool you. Baseball IS a dangerous sport. Or, at least, that's what Gojo Satoru has been saying to anyone who'd listen for the last week – along with glaring at Haibara whenever the younger boy would be even remotely in the vicinity.
It was an accident apparently and Gojo had been too busy taunting the opposition to notice the ball coming until it had already hit his face and by then he was clutching his jaw cussing up a storm while Haibara flittered around trying to help.
If you've ruined my face I'll kill you Haibara Yu, Gojo said around a mouth of blood while Shoko was dragging him off to the infirmary. He was completely serious about the threat so it's probably a blessing that Gojo's face didn't suffer too much of a battering other than a split lip which was quickly eased with the help of RCT.
Gojo's teeth are a different matter entirely. It baffles his mind that getting hit once could completely misalign a tooth, leaving his right incisor snaggled in a way that ruins seventeen years of perfect dental health. It almost makes him want to leave Infinity running permanently, just in case Haibara is tempted to take him out again.
If the Higher-Ups sent him as an assassin it wouldn't be a half-bad move, he'd considered for a brief moment before he remembered just how much Haibara'd looked like he was going to bawl, like he was the one in pain.
Anyway, that whole debacle leads here, with Gojo sulking in the common room, his mouth sore from his appointment this morning. It was originally not scheduled until next month but flashing the Clan's funds got rid of the waitlist – an abuse of power which made him feel only marginal guilt. His tooth is crooked, goddammit. And as if the unexpected orthodontic procedure isn't bad enough, Gojo's also got Shoko trying to get him to smile just so she can take a shitty pic and send it over to the Kyoto idiots.
"Fuck off," Gojo hisses, the sound coming out muffled since he's refusing to open his mouth wide enough for her to sneak a candid. Shoko just smiles, serene as she nestles into his side, buttering him up.
"C'mon, you don't look that bad."
"I look like an idiot." Gojo holds up his index and then his middle as he makes the points. "And it hurts more than getting hit did."
Suguru's been channel surfing for the last twenty minutes, his feet managing to sprawl across both Gojo's and Shoko's laps no matter how many times he's pushed off. At the talk of Gojo's pain, his ears perk up. "Just wait until you have to get the wires tightened," he warns in delight, his teeth sparkling. Suguru has had braces too, though it was in middle school and Gojo may not know much about regular life but he's sure that's a way better time to get them. He's interrupted from deciding how best to curse Suguru out when the lounge door creaks open.
If it's Haibara, Gojo's already come to the begrudging conclusion that he'll forgive the younger boy. After all, Haibara had been the first to see him today, waiting at the bus stop like an anxious puppy even as Gojo's been giving him the cold shoulder since Saturday. It's hard to stay mad when the person you're mad at is Haibara Yu.
It's not Haibara, though. It's Nanami, stood solitary just beyond the door, still in his uniform despite the fact that First Year classes ended at least an hour ago. "Nanami-kun," Suguru calls, finally sitting up properly as he waves Nanami over. "Come take a look."
There's no question about what Nanami should look at. It's insulting, actually, that Gojo's braces are like a sudden new exhibition at the zoo. Blue buzzes behind his eyes, a coiled serpent just waiting for the next spar in which he can beat Suguru's ass. The feeling diminishes when Nanami does trail in, his socked steps against the hardwood like the ticking of a clock. He walks over and stands in front of Gojo, bending a tiny bit to get level.
"You gonna show me or what?" Nanami asks, no-nonsense as per usual. This entire thing embarrasses Gojo but he can't help rising to a challenge, especially one posed by Nanami – the First Year so rarely plays along that it's a miracle he's asked at all. Gojo bares his teeth, his lips pulling over the metal. He feels on the wrong side of tamed to be under close inspection like this. What might make it worse is Nanami doesn't react, his face flat without any indication of his thoughts; he just hums and straightens back up.
"How do you feel?"
"Like shit." Gojo's back to a sullen whine, letting his bangs fall in his face. The childishness doesn't matter. There's nobody around that would make him seem lesser for it.
Nanami smiles a little at the answer, a sadist. "You're so dramatic."
"That's what I've been saying," Shoko pipes up, her phone now tossed aside which presumably means she got what she wanted when Gojo wasn't paying attention. He groans, elbowing her in retaliation and then quickly standing up to get away from her claws.
"Whatever. I'm taking a nap. Tell Haibara not to bother me." He hates that his words slur together, the opposite of intimidating. It doesn't stop him from walking out to the sound of subdued giggles.
***
There's a weight on Gojo's bed which doesn't belong there. He's willing to ignore it just to keep clinging onto the whisps of sleep behind his eyelids. This is made harder to do when the weight is accompanied by a hand at his elbow, the touch bordering on tentative. Gojo blinks beneath his blanket, irritated. He'd had a feeling Haibara might bother him out of some misguided concern. The expectation doesn't help to quell the irritation.
"Haibara, I'm fine," Gojo says, managing to keep his voice clear of any ill will.
"I'm not Haibara," a dry voice replies, cutting through the fog of sleep in an instant. Gojo pops his head out from under the covers and squints at the sight of Nanami. He's all put together, out of his uniform now and in loose lounge clothes. There's no light from behind the curtains. It doesn't take much for Gojo to realise he's taken a longer nap than intended.
"Nanami?"
Nanami folds his arms, his patience thin from the start even though he's the one who's in Gojo's room. "Do you know any other blondes?"
"Good point." Gojo shuffles to sit up, clearing his throat as he does so to get rid of the hoarseness behind each syllable. "What's up? Do you need something?"
Nanami nods, emphatic. "Yeah, I need your help with this thing."
The Six Eyes aren't necessary to sense that this is strange, too vague considering Nanami is always exact. "What thing?"
Nanami does an impressive eyeroll, the whites flashing for a long second until his hazels return. He grabs onto the curve of Gojo's forearm. "Just follow me." Then Gojo's being dragged up out of the comfort of bed; he's bedraggled, semi-certain he may have drooled onto his t-shirt and hopes it's not noticeable. Nanami's focus is laser focused elsewhere, his grip remaining steady while he leads the way to the...kitchen?
It's close to midnight. Gojo doesn't think even a foodie like Nanami would think snacking is the most important task right now.
Not that I've eaten.
Only when Gojo is firmly seated does Nanami deign to talk. "Geto-senpai said you were complaining about the pain like a baby."
"I'm not a baby!" Gojo replies in a voice that is definitely very mature and reasonable.
"I didn't say that you are one." Nanami raises a brow, perpetual smart aleck. "You've not eaten all day though." Nanami turns, busying himself with a pot just long enough that Gojo wonders if he's being pranked. Then Nanami turns back around. "I made some porridge. It should be easier for you to eat."
Gojo malfunctions, gripping onto the underside of the table for stability. "You– for me?"
Nanami watches him carefully, as if he's concerned that the baseball did more damage than previously realised. In the overwhelming twilight silence, he must find an answer because he nods slow. "Yes, Gojo-san, the porridge is for you. Though I made enough for everyone if they'd like. Honey, dried fruit and cinnamon if you're interested in the specifics."
It's a thoughtful gesture. Gojo grins, forgetting to hide his braces in the process. "Thank you." Then he pauses. "Why am I Gojo-san and Suguru is senpai?"
Nanami shrugs. "He's not as annoying." Gojo splutters, offended, trying to figure out how Suguru of all people could be less annoying. "Eat your porridge and I'll think about changing it." Nanami slides the bowl across the table, careful to not spill anything.
It's as good a motivation as anything else so Gojo doesn’t bother negotiating; he just takes a spoonful, feeling warmed up from the inside by more than just the food.