Work Text:
I made a promise
To distance myself
Took a flight, through aurora skies
Honestly, I didn't think about
How we didn't say goodbye
Just see you very soon
Shoko was selfish. This was never something she tried to hide. When you grow up between two talented geniuses, you get used to getting the short end of the stick, and the constant deprivation makes you greedy. She was the teammate who felt more like an afterthought because Yaga had to put her somewhere; always expected to share, to help, to do things the geniuses wanted, when they wanted. Her selfishness was a defence mechanism, borne out of defiance. By the end of first year, when it became clear to her that being agreeable wasn’t going to get her any respect, she decided to go the other way. Piece by piece, she claimed it all back; the time, her effort, only granting favours when they were beneficial for her, too. So when Satoru comes knocking to ask a favour of her, she responds with her usual sass.
“Why should I?” A smirk tugs at her lips. She loves not automatically giving Gojo what he wants, especially when he’s oh so used to people being submissive. It’s the game they play. It’s the only time he’s forced to say please instead of throwing his weight around.
But Gojo’s usual childish response of pouting and begging is replaced by an uncharacteristic sombreness. Shoko feels an unpleasant chill at the sight of it. It’s never a comfort when Gojo gets serious, as much as everyone would like him to be.
“Because it's about Megumi,” he says.
Oh, she thinks.
She turns away from Gojo and goes back to flipping through the report she’s supposed to double check today. A silence follows that makes her wonder if Gojo was going to drop it. She was certainly not following up on his request. Favours were for people who could afford being emotionally invested in things, for people who were selfless. Shoko decided a long time ago that this wouldn’t be her anymore. Now, saying ‘no’ and putting herself first feels as natural as cutting open a body.
But then Gojo speaks again, and Shokos fingers halt in the middle of flipping over a page:
“Tell him about Toji.”
Shoko’s shoulders drop and her head whips around to look at Gojo, searching his face for any of that boyish cheekiness she’s used to, but there’s none. And it makes her blood boil.
“Why?”
“I need you to.”
"Why are you asking me? You wouldn't unless you were sure you weren’t—"
"Shoko," he says, softly.
"No. Tell him yourself. You owe him that."
The words leaving her mouth taste bitter. Bitter like the cigarettes she smokes. Bitter like the feelings in her chest.
Gojo idles in the silence, fiddling with the blindfolds he’s stopped wearing since they got him out of Prison Ream, trying to get her to look at him while she hides behind her report. She has to leave now. If she doesn’t, she knows she’ll soften up and listen to him, and he’ll start to make enough sense to not say ‘no’. He made sense when he told her he was taking in the sorcerer-killer’s kids. He made sense when he told her to lie about Yuji’s autopsy. He made sense when he gave her his glasses to hang onto and said he was going into Shibuya alone. He made sense when he said he’d be ‘right back.’
She refuses to let him make sense of why she needs to tell Megumi about his father instead of him. She can’t let him make sense. If he does, she also has to entertain the notion that it’s because he won’t be around to do it himself.
She leaves. Gojo doesn’t stop her.
That night she drinks more than she can handle. Maybe she’s drinking for the both of them; right under the night sky on her balcony, with the cold air pulling at her skin. She hopes the cold will be enough to distract her from these feelings she hasn’t allowed herself to feel. It isn’t. She succumbs to hope.
Because Shoko Ieiri is a selfish person, and the only thing on her mind before she drifts to sleep is that he’ll be back. For her. Because she needs him. They can talk about his favor being stupid later.
It hurts to be something
It's worse to be nothing with you
It was on a day where they went out drinking together when something clicked in her brain. The whole crew was there with them too, at an izakaya that Satoru had suggested. Obviously because they served ice cream floats but he insisted it’s because the bartender is “high quality material.” They’ve been trying to figure out who would win if they joined Takeshi's Castle, no powers and all, and Utahime tried desperately to convince everybody that the prize money at the end of the show would motivate Mei Mei to pull out some insane moves.
“No way Mei Mei would put on that costume”, Satoru said with a pout. Him insisting that it would obviously be him had been collectively ignored for the last ten minutes so he was sulking.
“He’s right”, Mei Mei said, her whiskey-sour lifted to her lips. “But I’d seduce somebody to win it for me.”
A groan made the rounds and Shoko decided that it was a good time to go to the restroom. She sat up on the tatami mat and used Satoru’s shoulder to push herself into a standing position. She halted when his fingers brushed up her calf, thumb rubbing circles into her jeans and she saw him looking at her.
“Everything good?” he asked quietly.
It took Shoko a bit off guard. It wasn't the first time he’d been doing this… These little gestures. A touch here. A reassuring question there.
“Yeah uh… I’m just-”
“Ah Shoko, are you perhaps going to the restroom? Let me join you.”
The group went quiet.
It was Mei Mei who spoke across the table and rose from her seat. There was the faintest flick of her gaze down to Shoko’s legs but she immediately followed it up with a smile. That typical smile Shoko recognized Mei Mei doing when things went her way. Whether Gojo noticed or not, he dropped his hand and proceeded to steal some tempura from Utahime’s plate, earning him loud protests. And with that the life of the party was restored and the short interruption Mei Mei caused was forgotten.
A few minutes later, Shoko left her stall and walked over to the sink. Mei Mei was bent towards the mirror next to her, carefully applying her deep red shade of lipstick.
“I didn’t know there was something going on between the two of you” she remarked without averting her gaze from her reflection.
Shoko turned off the faucet and shook her hands. She didn’t bother to dry them, just wiped them on her pants.
“There isn't,” she answered, head tilted to observe Mei Mei.
Shoko knew how the sorceress ticked. Spreading gossip, banking in on it with an innocent bet here and there. She loved insider information. But even if that was the case, there was nothing for Shoko to lie about anyway. It was true that Gojo was super clingy with her, that's just how he is, and sometimes they flirted because it made everybody uncomfortable and they both found that funny. But Gojo always backed off when Shoko started to second guess his intention.
“Hmm.” Mei Mei smiled. She pushed her lipstick into its cylinder and cleaned up an edge with her nail. “There could be.”
She leaned away from the mirror to look at Shoko.
“Shall we?”
So I didn't call you
For sixteen long days
And I should get a cigarette
For so much restraint
No matter how long I resist temptation
I will always lose
Shoko still owns a flip phone. Not for the infirmary but for personal use. Call it nostalgia or growing up in the 2000s but the flick of the wrist to open the old thing sends a dopamine rush through her body. Even now, at 29, it's a habit she can’t let go of. So she wonders, while leaning at the wall that separates her from the others in the hall, when the hinge will finally give out by the repeated motion. She flips it open one more time, the clicks drowning out the whispers in the background. The display flashes on and shows the menu Shoko has been opening so often the last few days. Her thumb pushes the down button and her eyes flicker over the names that called her the last few days. Ijichi called her 5 times yesterday and Utahime’s name regularly pops up, usually giving Shoko a ring about once a day.
The small red of the face down phone icon next to the names blurs together as the Docomo tries to keep up with her thumb pressing down the list as fast as possible. Then it halts as the red icons turn green and the numerous caller ID’s get replaced by his name. Gojo loves calling her. And it doesn't even have to be long, evident by some of the calls rocking a nice 0:21 next to the green phone symbol.
It was always him calling, never her. She avoids having to hear that annoying voicemail that plays since he’s horrible at picking up calls. The world revolves around Gojo's schedule. He calls, because he has time and you pick up, because it's Gojo. That’s just how it works with him.
Her eyes scan the list for his most recent call. The only one from him that has a red symbol next to his name. That one call he made after she told him to tell Megumi himself two weeks ago. She refused to pick up that evening and refused even more to call him back after. She’d only reach his voicemail anyway. But her finger is hovering, wanting to press the call button, wanting to see if he picks up.
Shoko flicks her phone closed, the top part tilting to the side dangerously far, almost falling off the hinges. Her head meets the concrete wall and she stuffs the phone into the pocket of her black dress. The back of her hands connects with the Marlboro carton. It’s unopened. The red plastic string was already torn halfway through. Shoko thumbs her head against the wall again, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.
“Shoko, the others are waiting for you”
It’s Utahime. Her traditional kimono is beautiful but it loses all its charm if you see her in it every other day. She had to attend so many ceremonies, Shoko had barely seen her wearing anything else. Utahime’s fingers are pulling at Shoko's arm slightly. Instinctively Shoko pulls away, digging her hand fully into her pocket and bringing out the carton.
“Be right there, just wanna have another smoke”
And with that she breaks the seal and puts a cigarette between her lips.
“You really should stop smoking”
Shoko laughs.
“Gojo always says that too”
Utahime’s frown grows deeper but she lets loose. Her mouth opens to say something but whatever it was, she decides to let it be and turns around to join the others.
Shoko doesn’t. Once Utahime is out of sight she pushes herself off the wall and goes home, smoking the whole pack before she reaches her apartment.
It hurts to be something
It's worse to be nothing with you
“If this isn't the school’s competent doctor I see”
Shoko was on her way to the carpark, her shift just having ended 15 minutes ago. He caught up with her, long legs covering the distance in no time.
“You here to annoy me?” She looked at Gojo sceptically as he came closer.
“Excuse me, can’t an innocent, good looking, genuinely funny man want to have a nice chat with his childhood friend?”
Shoko scoffed.
“Pff childhood friends” she put her hands on her hips and Satoru responded with a tilt of his head, a mischievous grin plastered across his face. She couldn’t see his eyes but she felt the glint behind the blindfold.
“Oh, isn’t that what we are?”
“I’d say faint acquaintances”
“Ouch, that hurts Shoko. Come onnn”
“What about associates”
She leaned against the wall, ready for this kind of game they have played many times before. He followed with a step closer to her.
“Hmm nope, what about best pals”
“I can call you buddy if you want”
“I prefer darling”
Satoru placed his forearm on the concrete above Shokos head, shit eating grin spreading wider and wider.
“Ha we work together, if you don’t want a HR complaint hurled your way you should be happy if I let you call me ally”
“Let's meet in the middle: colleagues”, Gojo said in a low voice leaning in close.
“Colleagues would have drinks together, all you do is eat spoonfuls of vanilla floats”
Her finger slipped underneath his chin, raising it slightly and she felt his breathy laugh on her face. His free hand closed around hers, thumb pressed into her palm, raising it dangerously close to his lips.
“I’d have a drink with you”
“Got some at home right now”
It slipped out before she thought of what it implies. But she realised it the moment Satoru didn't hit back with a snarky comment. Instead he let it hang in the air. He was still leaning against the wall, trapping her there, bent down slightly to make up for the height difference. It took all the selfcontrol Shoko could muster up to not let her eyes flick down, to keep staring into the nothingness of his blindfold.
“Can’t. Have to go see some people'' he said with a sugary sweet voice and, if Shoko didn't know any better, a hint of regret.
“You’re that popular?” Her voice was mocking, it does a good job hiding the sourness she was feeling.
“What can I say, everybody wants a piece of Gojo Satoru”, a smug expression accompanying the comment. And with that he pushed himself off the wall.
As quick as he appeared he was going down the hallway again. And Shoko felt pathetic, because it hurt. It hurt because it was true. Nobody can have Satoru Gojo for themselves. It’s always been obnoxious flirting and intimate touches followed by cheeky comments to keep him in check. But never more.
I've done the math
There's no solution
We'll never last
Why can't I let go of this?
Who would have thought that rebuilding a totally flattened Tokyo could happen so fast. The school had various priorities, the treasuries for example or the tombs where new barriers would be set up. The infirmary fell on the bottom of that list, this being because the makeshift hospital that was still left over from the attack seemed to do the job fairly well. 4 months into the repair efforts it was finally ordered to create a new space for Shoko and her work. She was glad to get away from the field hospital, not being able to flee the memories that are tied to it.
The new infirmary smells of freshly poured concrete and it was a good clean slate to build up a new repertoire that fit Shoko's needs. Back in High School she took over the infirmary from an old sorcerer and she has always complained about the random junk hidden away in the small nooks and crannies.
The students decided to help her move boxes and put their contents in the cubicles and shelves. It was nice having them around, seeing Nobara full of energy messing around with Yuji and Megumi again. The latter had made a full recovery. It was proof to Shoko that she did make a difference, that she was able to help.
Yuta and Maki enter the room, followed by Panda who is carrying double the boxes he should. It was no surprise when he put them down that half the contents tumbled out and rolled on the floor.
“Idiot” Maki comments, kneeing Panda from behind and getting shouted at in return.
“I got it” Yuta says, ever the mediator. He picks up the bandages that spilled on the floor.
“Ha, they remind me of Gojo’s”, he comments and the first years give him a look. His fingers slowly wrap the white cotton back into place.
“Shake” Inumaki stands in the doorframe, rolling in a model skeleton.
“No way he had bandages on before the blindfolds?!” Yuji shouts, responding to what Inumaki said.
“It must have looked so dumb” Nobara laughs.
“It did, he looked like an inverted racoon”, Shoko joins in from her desk, head on hand, looking at the kids fondly. The room erupts in laughter and Shoko swears even Megumi lets out a few chuckles, his face relaxed, wrinkles forming around his mouth corners. They’ve been getting deeper lately. It makes Shoko's heart ache. She didn't know how she never realised it, maybe because Megumi rarely laughs, but standing between his friends and with the sun in his back brightening up his hair, he looks awfully similar to Gojo.
The school doctor blinks a few times, realization hitting her between the eyes, but she finally leans on her hand again, a grin spreading across her face.
It doesn't take long for the kids to turn the skeleton into a cheap recreation of Gojo with a cleaning mop draped over the skull, bandages wrapped around and to Megumi's resistance, his uniform jacked pulled over it.
“Ieiri-san, can we keep him?” Yuji begs, arms swung around the skeleton Gojo.
“You guys”, she chuckles, leaning back in her chair, folding her arms.
“Pleeeeasssseee”
“Come on doc”
“Tuna”
And she nods, because she’s scared of opening her mouth and hearing her voice cracking. She couldn’t have Gojo for herself. The kids need him as much as she does. And she thinks back to what he said to her in front of the car park.
Gojo Satoru is not someone who can be claimed. Maybe that’s why he never crossed the line. Because he knew that the only bet Meimei could never cash in on was the one that concerned the both of them.
Meimei’s words echo in Shoko’s head as she watches the young Jujutsu Sorcerers in her infirmary pick out more junk to decorate the skeleton.
“Everyone wants a piece of you huh…” she whispers and curses herself for not being able to think of anything else.
So I broke my promise
I called you last night
I shouldn't have, I wouldn't have
If it weren't for the sight of a boy
Who looked just like you
Standing out on Melrose Avenue
Megumi was the last one to leave. After janking his jacket off the skeleton he turned to her.
“Should I take this down?” he points at the bandages on the skeleton. There was an understanding in his eyes that made Shoko nauseous.
“It’s fine, I’ll do it”.
She’s smiling but her voice just sounds tired. It was a long day. Honestly, it’s been a long 4 months.
Megumi hesitates but ultimately complies.
“Okay, goodnight then”
“Ah, Megumi?”
It came automatically. He turned around, eyebrows raised.
Shoko parts her lips. There are a million thoughts racing through her head and at the same time none. She just looks at the boy's face and all the words she wanted to say get stuck in her throat.
It's good to see him smiling again, with the others. It took a while, but he got there. It took a lot of accepting that his life doesn’t belong to himself anymore, that he has to live for the people he loves now. Like Yuji.
And Tsumiki.
And Nobara.
And Gojo.
That and a few fists to his gut by Yuji.
“You’re really handsome when you laugh,” she says instead.
He looks at her confused before commenting how random that was and mumbling “but thank you.. I guess”.
‘Some things never change’, Shoko thinks, but she swears she sees a slight blush creep up the boy’s cheeks when he leaves the infirmary.
The doctor pushes herself off the desk and slumps back in her chair, staring at the newly painted ceiling. Her hands find the pockets of her lab coat and her eyes close with the exhaustion of the day.
‘Maybe I should call him.’
Her pulse quickens without her realising as her fingers brush against the flip phone in her coat. It’s automatic at this point to pull it out, to busy her fingers in doing something other than shake with unresolved feelings. She flips it open and it soothes her body the same way the hit of nicotine does. Her fingers fly over the buttons to scroll down to Gojo’s last call she left unanswered. But instead of flipping the phone close and repeating the action, this time she halts. Her thumb is mid press, paralysed in its movement by the fear of what comes next.
She doesn’t know what makes her press the button.
The dial sound is loud enough for her to hear without having to hold the device to her ear. She waits like always when she calls him, phone on her lap. Gojo never picks up her calls, always calls back and expects her to pick up. So the call rings out and Shoko closes her eyes in anticipation.
“Yoooo it’s meee”
Gojo’s voice pierces through the silence of the infirmary and Shoko’s chest tightens up. Her hand rises, leading the flip phone to her ear.
"You've reached the Master of the Universe's phone. I’m currently busy with stuff that I'm sure is more important than whatever you’ve got going on. Feel free to leave it with Ichji tho, nobody calls him anyway. Although this might be important? Call Shoko then, she’ll handle it. But you’re here for me right? Came here to speak to the king? Of course. Guess you’ll have to leave a message. Right after the beep. Which is coming………….now haha just kidding okay now.
…
Haha ok for real this time.
…
Nah gotcha again okay- BEEEEEEP"
A breath escapes Shoko's chest she didn't know she was holding. She raises the phone, display lighting up and showing the duration of the call ticking up by the second.
0:38
0:39
0:40
Fourty fucking seconds. That's how long his voice message lasts. Shoko clenches her jaw, anger bubbling up within her. She presses the recall button, more aggressive than intended, but not being able to control her shaking hand.
"Yooo It’s me. You've reached the Master of the Universe's phone. I’m currently busy -”
She presses the recall button again.
"Yooo It’s me. You've reached -”
AGAIN.
“Yoo-”
Shoko throws her phone across the infirmary. She screams at it too. The phone cracks against the wall and lands on the floor. The top half splits apart, the hinges finally giving away to the abuse. But the voice message still plays, faintly in the background.
“Although this might be important? Call Shoko then, she’ll handle it. “
4 Months, 5 days. The kids got over it. Megumi started smiling again. And a stupid voice message was all it took for Shoko to finally break.
She's weeping. The sobs are ripping through her body and are leaving her throat sore. Her chest is hurting so much she might throw up. Her lungs aching with the lack of oxygen, hyperventilating.
“So selfish” she chokes out the words. She couldn't even do the one thing he asked her to do. Pathetic.
She can’t let go, she can’t move on, she can’t do the one thing that might help her to move on.
Her arms wrap around her head, shielding her from the world and she coughs up the spit and snot getting caught in her throat. She sits until the automatic sensors don't register any movement anymore and the lights go off.
It hurts to be something
It's worse to be nothing with you, mmm
It hurts to be something
It's worse to be nothing with you