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Rich Boy and Bangs
It had been a couple of days since Geto Suguru had arrived to Jujutsu High, located in the middle of the mountains in the eastern skirts of Tokyo. He hadn't met anyone yet, and he was already bored. He assumed that the upperclassmen were already settled, so they would arrive right before the classes started. As for his year-mates, he hadn't met any of them. Teacher Yaga had said that there would be at least another kid joining the first year for sure and that he expected at least one more student, but he hadn't explained more. So far, none of those students had appeared on campus.
Suguru had spent the first days of his stay in Jujutsu High in his new room, unboxing his belongings, cleaning and making the spacious room his. But being a Saturday evening, he was tired and in want of some fresh air. So, he decided to go for a stroll around the school grounds. He was fascinated by the school; he had never imagined such a school existed in Japan, or in the world, to be honest. He never thought that seeing the things he saw, or as Teacher Yaga had named, “curses”, was something that he could actually learn to fight and eliminate.
When little Suguru started seeing things, he didn’t tell his parents, at first, because he only had rapid glimpses of them; he couldn’t say exactly what he was seeing, or sometimes he couldn’t even say where they were. At the beginning, it was more like a feeling of being observed than a vision. He thought that it would pass; those things would disappear as unexpectedly as they had started to appear. When they passed some dark places with some of those monsters, because they were mostly in grim places, little Suguru would tighten his grip on his mom’s hand and walk faster, but he did not mention the creatures he saw. They would stop appearing at some point, right? He would stop feeling chased, right? One day, he would open his eyes and see the world without those things in it, as he had been seeing it for the first seven years of his life, right?
Right?
Wrong.
It all got worse one summer day while he and his mom were passing an abandoned, neglected house. One of those creatures, gooey and pestilent, tried to reach Suguru, and he couldn’t cope with it. He screamed, frightened of the viscous sticky thing that extended what seemed to be their arms towards him. He felt an inexplicable and nauseous disgust. He tried to run, but his mom stopped him and asked him what was going on, completely oblivious to the creature trying to reach her kid. Suguru tried to explain, but no words were enough to explain something that his mom could not see or feel. She didn’t take it seriously and thought it was just the bright imagination of a seven-year-old child. She told him that there was nothing to fear, that nothing was going to hurt him. Suguru tried to believe her, but the thing was trying to reach him, and now, also his mom, and little Suguru was not so sure that the thing was not going to hurt them, though the creature never actually touched them. Days, or maybe weeks passed, and he thought that among his classmates, maybe one or two could understand him, so he asked around. Soon, he also realised that the other kids at school couldn’t see things as he described, just like his mom. The more he tried to explain, the less his classmates wanted to hear about it, and they began to call him a liar or say that he was crazy. Kids kept their distance from him and never again invited him to play or to their birthday parties, making him feel unwelcome and out of place. He felt terrified and lonely.
As time passed, more creatures appeared, bigger and scarier, or perhaps little Suguru was getting better at spotting them. They also turned bolder, and more of them tried to reach Suguru and touch him, and it felt menacing and violent. He started looking for excuses not to go through dark or abandoned places. At school, he was mocked for being a coward and for being afraid of the dark (though many of his classmates were also afraid of dark places, and they didn’t even see the things Suguru saw). He felt excluded and yet, he avoided being alone for too long. His mom realised that his beloved boy was terrified of invisible things, but she didn’t know what to do or who to ask. She realised his boy didn’t have friends and she worried about him, day and night. She saw his bright features darken at unexpected times, sometimes just for some seconds, others for whole hours, but she had no answer to Suguru’s problem; she couldn’t see or feel what her boy described and that broke her heart. She took him to the doctor, but he dismissed the case; he said it was just little Suguru’s imagination and that he would overcome as he grew older. His dad, for his part, said it was just a very vivid imagination due to excess energy that Suguru had to use up, and he signed up his little boy for a Martial Arts School.
Seeing his mom almost sick with worry, made little Suguru very anxious; he wanted his mom to smile at him instead of giving him that apprehensive and sad look. He decided to be brave and to keep quiet about the things he saw and felt. It wasn’t easy, it took so much energy from him, but if he wanted his mom to be at peace, he had to try. The martial arts classes didn’t stop the things little Suguru saw from appearing, of course, but fortunately, they offered an excuse for him to lie and say that, in fact, they had stopped the visions. His parents could finally stop worrying about him and be the happy family they were supposed to be. After a couple of years, his classmates almost forgot how weird Suguru could be and he was invited to their homes and birthday parties again. That didn’t stop him from seeing those monsters, from being chased when the lights were out and from being terrified. He just learnt how to mask his fear.
He was strolling around the grounds, lost in these nostalgic thoughts of years ago, when he found an elegant annexe. It was a little bit apart from the main buildings, hidden behind old trees, as if to keep it from unwanted prying eyes like his. Then, he noted that there was some movement at the entrance of the building.
There was a teen, tall and lanky, with the whitest hair Suguru had ever seen. He was wearing sunglasses even though the sun was about to set and was no longer very intense. The teen was standing close to the door, keeping an eye on the transport of boxes, but without lifting a finger. He had a bored expression. By his side, there seemed to be some kind of assistant holding a board with some papers and talking to the teen, who was clearly not listening.
Suguru got curious; he wondered if that was a new student (probably) and if he was one of his classmates. However, he didn't get closer; he was probably not allowed there, as the annexe seemed to be private rooms for wealthy students. He sighed. If the white-haired teen were to be his classmate, they would meet later, when classes started. He continued his stroll, thinking about his previous years in and how different this new school felt. In elementary school, after he learnt to keep his secrets to himself and his classmates had forgotten about any weird thing he had said, he started to make some friends and felt better. Then, in secondary school, he changed schools and environments. That was a new beginning for Suguru, and he thought he could forget all about the ghosts he saw and just be a normal kid. He joined the basketball club and found out he was pretty good at it. He enjoyed playing in a team, and the best part was that he got to be a very popular kid, due to his talent for basketball and his good nature. Kids from different classes and courses knew his name and invited him to play video games; some girls gave him sweets and blushed when he smiled; there was always a seat saved for him at lunchtime. It was as if he belonged… almost. Although in secondary school no one knew about the things Suguru could see, of course, he hadn’t stopped seeing them. They were everywhere, in the dark places in school, in the forgotten corners of the town, hidden in the underpasses, waiting patiently in the dirty alleys. He saw them but pretended not to. He tried to ignore them, but they were always there. He even felt they had changed; they were larger, darker and more vicious. Sometimes, Suguru saw these ghosts hugging people so tightly that he wondered how they could even breathe. But he didn’t fear them as much as when he was a little kid. Surprisingly, the martial art classes indeed taught him something useful, how to control his reactions towards fear, but that came a couple of years after he decided to take the martial arts seriously. He wasn’t that scared of them anymore, but still felt repulsed by those creatures that only he seemed to perceive, and sometimes, he felt revolted by himself because he was able to see them. Some days, Suguru felt his secret weighed too much for him to bear alone and felt a heavy oppression on his chest, but still he wanted to be invited to birthday parties, be cheered on at basketball games and be surrounded by his friends during lunchtime, so he kept it hidden. It had been a happy time, but also a lonely one.
Suguru breathed in the mountain air, fresh and carrying the smell of blooming Sakura trees. In this new high school, Suguru didn’t need to hide any secrets anymore. In fact, he enrolled precisely to explore his abilities; he would learn to control them and get stronger. When Teacher Yaga explained that he would get specialised training and even get paid to fight curses, Suguru couldn’t believe his words. There was a place where he could, in fact, be of some use, where his existence was meaningful, and he didn’t need to keep his secret anymore. Suguru was so curious to know more about other people with abilities like his; he wanted to learn everything he could about this new world, the history, the philosophies, the politics and the economy behind it. He also wanted to know about the mundane, what the life of a regular sorcerer, what kind of abilities existed, who were the strongest sorcerers, what was needed to be considered a pro. He hadn’t met anyone yet, and strangely, he already felt like he belonged. Something told him that here, he could make real friends; he felt so optimistic that he saw the world shine brighter and more intensely. He had never felt like that and smiled.
After a while, Suguru got hungry, but being a Saturday evening in the break between terms, there were no cooks in the kitchens. He debated between going out of the school, which meant he had to walk and wait for the bus to take him to an inhabited area, or cooking for himself. He was feeling too lazy to cook, but the mere thought of having to wait another hour to eat was unbearable. He remembered he still had some leftovers from what his mom had packed for him, perhaps the last bits, so with some rice and some veggies, he could make do. Then, he walked towards the communal kitchen, which he expected to be empty, just as in the past days. To his surprise, when he entered the kitchen, he found the white-haired guy in front of the fridge, inspecting Suguru’s leftovers (the only ones in the fridge these days). He was still wearing the sunglasses.
“Hey! That's mine!” exclaimed Suguru, perhaps a bit too fast and too harshly and felt a bit of remorse, but just a tiny bit.
The white-haired guy, barely surprised, looked at him unbothered.
“Hey, don't you have something sweet? I'm starving!” asked the white-haired teen, which irritated Suguru even more. The guy hadn't even apologised for peeking at his food. Perhaps Suguru would have to be aware of this guy and his abilities to steal food during the term.
“Didn't your mom pack some food for you?” replied Suguru dryly.
The other guy made a scowl. “Mother?” and huffed dismissively, as if the thought was a joke. “Haven't seen the woman in months.” And opened the recipient to smell the food there.
Suguru stepped closer and put his hand over the lid, clearly telling the white-haired guy to stop inspecting his food. Still, the guy didn’t seem impressed.
Suddenly, and as if on cue to make Suguru feel ashamed of his attitude, a growl coming from the white-haired teen’s belly broke the silence. A slight flush crept to the cheeks of the lanky teen, but he pretended it hadn’t happened.
“Well, I'll go and get something to eat, then. I’ll see you around, I guess,” and walked towards the door.
Suguru sighed because he could listen to his mom in his head: “Be kind to your new schoolmates. You’re a smart kid, share whatever you can with them, time, food or knowledge.” Suguru felt he could do better, although right now he would do it a bit reluctantly.
“Hey, wait! We can share, I’ll cook something easy and make do with this,” suggested Suguru.
The white-haired guy had stopped as soon as Suguru had asked him to wait. Maybe he was expecting Suguru to share his food, the bastard.
“Can you make something sweet?” he asked shamelessly.
Unbelievable! He was even getting picky, thought Suguru.
“What are you? Five years old?” replied Suguru.
“I like sweets” offered the other guy, as if it was answer enough.
“I have some beef leftovers, as you already saw. I'll cook some rice and stir-fry some veggies,” explained Suguru, he didn’t even know why. The white-haired guy looked at him, or so thought Suguru, because he couldn’t see past those damned sunglasses.
“Okay,” the other guy replied in a low voice, as if Suguru had scolded him for misbehaving.
Suguru rolled his eyes. He didn’t have siblings, lest younger ones, but he thought it should feel like this.
“And I have some chocolate as dessert,” he added in a fake unwilling tone.
The face of the white-haired guy brightened, and he nodded effusively. So that was what he was expecting, just some sweets. Really, he seemed to have the brains of a five-year-old.
“Go and get the drinks while I get everything ready. Barley tea for me, please. There's a vending machine in the next building,” ordered Suguru.
“What, me?” asked the guy, as if he couldn’t believe he was being ordered.
“Yeah, you?! Who else?” replied Suguru, looking dramatically around to make his point.
“O-okay,” replied the white-haired teen. What Suguru didn’t know was that the white-haired guy was not used to receiving orders from anyone, except from his tutors or parents, and in the late years, he didn’t even care to follow if he was not in the mood.
After twenty minutes or so, the guy came back to the kitchen, empty-handed.
“The thing didn't accept cards, just coins and bills,” he offered as an explanation for the lack of drinks.
“And you don’t have coins or bills with you,” replied Suguru, not as a question. It was a statement of disbelief. He couldn’t believe his luck. It was starting to be ridiculous.
The lanky teen didn't answer. Suguru also didn’t know that he was used to just stating what he wanted and someone handed it over. He never cared where or how things were paid for.
Suguru sighed. He loved his mom, and he was doing this for her, to follow her teachings away from home. He had wanted to start with the right attitude, but next time he would think it twice before offering to share his food with this guy.
“It's okay, I'll brew some tea.” And he filled the kettle. Suguru busied himself with what was left to do for the dinner, with practised ease. At 15, he was already a good cook; all he had learnt from his mom and his two grandmothers. He was used to working in silence, but if he was sharing his food, it was good manners to at least know the name of the other guy.
“So, what’s your name?” asked Suguru to the lanky teen who was doing nothing for the dinner.
The white-haired kid made a face of scandalised incredulity. Suguru was sure that if he had not been wearing those sunglasses, he would’ve seen him blink twice dramatically.
“You... don't know who I am?”
Suguru made a face. “No? Why should I? Are you someone famous? an idol?” And looked the guy up and down, judging openly.
“Eh?” exclaimed the white-haired kid, but he immediately recovered the control of the conversation “No! I mean, with my looks and my talent, I could be, for sure, right?” he said as he smiled smugly.
Suguru rolled his eyes, for the nth time in the evening. Ridiculous. That was the only word to describe that guy. He wondered if all his schoolmates would turn out to be like him. He expected not.
“I'm Gojo Satoru,” offered the guy, not as introducing himself, but as if it was enough explanation.
Suguru just nodded and made a gesture, waiting for more explanation on why he should know who Gojo Satoru was.
“From... The Gojo Clan, you know?” offered Gojo Satoru.
“Oh! I see now!” said Suguru, faking his realisation.
“Yeah, powerf...” started saying the Gojo kid, but Suguru was faster.
“… spoiled brat from a wealthy family!” Suguru smiled devilishly. He tried to make his words sound hard, but with the obvious tone of teasing, because that was just what he wanted to do. He felt the guy could take it.
“Eh?!” Gojo sounded outraged. Suguru didn’t know that he had never been teased like this before, in equal terms, as with a friend, and of course, Gojo was not going to inform him of that.
“What, aren't you?” teased Suguru just a bit more.
“Yeah, whatever,” huffed Gojo.
And as if Suguru had known Gojo his whole life, he knew exactly what to say to make fun of him even more, and he added, “It's okay, nobody's perfect, Rich Boy,” and smiled unabashedly.
“I… I am perfect, Bangs,” replied Gojo, a bit sore.
Suguru laughed openly, enjoying the banter.
“Bangs?!” he laughed more. He had been called worse while growing up. “Is that all that you've got?” and he put the strands of hair framing his handsome face behind his ear, as if acknowledging that the nickname didn't bother him at all.
Gojo huffed again, but he wasn’t actually mad, and Suguru could tell due to the slight smile that the white-haired kid was trying to hide.
“You can set the table as I serve the food, Rich Boy. I’m sure you know the proper way of doing it,” ordered Suguru, smiling and pointing at a cupboard where Gojo would find placemats, chopsticks and napkins.
“I am Geto Suguru, by the way” offered Suguru while Gojo was setting the table.
“Geto… Geto… Geto…” repeated Gojo, as if looking for some information in his head. “No way! You are a clan-less sorcerer!” he exclaimed when he couldn’t place the family name.
“Uh… yeah, I guess so? There are no sorcerers in my family, if that’s what you mean. Is that surprising?” Suguru had asked if that was surprising, but what he really meant was whether there was a problem with that. He realised that there should be some kind of social structure within sorcerers that he didn’t know about; to come from a non-sorcerer family surely had its disadvantages. Perhaps teasing one of the wealthy guys was not that smart, in the end.
“Oh, no, not really. It’s not that common, but also it isn’t very rare. It’s just…” Gojo answered, but he didn’t know how to explain that he knew people like Geto existed but that he had, in fact, never met one. That he, the Gojo Satoru, had spent all his life surrounded by just a handful of people, each of them tightly tied to the sorcery society. And every one of them could be traced several generations back in the most prominent jujutsu families. “I grew up in a very protected environment, so I do not get to know many people, that’s it. Surprising for me, but not for most of the other sorcerers, I guess,” he added.
“Is that why you will be staying in that posh building, instead of the student dorms? To keep your protected environment?” asked Suguru while he served the plates, intrigued by the different lives the Gojo kid and he had lived.
Gojo was done setting the table, not that it was much work. He had taken the plates as Suguru had served them and set them in their proper place. And now with nothing to do with his hands, he fidgeted, slightly uncomfortable with the question.
“Yeah, the clan wants me protected,” admitted Gojo, a bit ashamed, maybe? Suguru couldn’t tell. But then the rich boy recovered and added: “But I don't think that's necessary anymore. I can take care of myself pretty well. I'm not planning on staying there. I'll move as soon as I can. I just want a regular dorm.”
Suguru nodded.
“Sorry, it was not my intention to pry,” said the black-haired boy sincerely and handed Gojo the last plate. “Let’s eat!”
They sat in front of each other. The table was, in fact, nicely set, to Suguru’s surprise. The food was good, warm and with a homey flavour.
“You’re a first-year student, then,” said Gojo as they dug in.
“Yep, I just got here on Thursday. I’ve been unpacking and familiarising myself with the grounds. You’re the first student that I bump into, also a first-year?” explained Suguru, and it occurred to him that maybe he had been inadvertently teasing one of his senpai and panicked a little.
“I am! As you can see, there aren’t many students in this school.”
Suguru only nodded.
“I can see that you have a great deal of cursed energy, and that you can control it fairly well, for not being trained on that yet. What about your cursed technique? You already know what it is?” asked Gojo curiously. Suguru blinked, not knowing exactly what to answer to that. Then Gojo added, “you don’t have to tell me. Some sorcerers prefer not to disclose that information.”
“Uh… I don’t know much about it yet. It seems I can turn these curses into small black orbs. Teacher Yaga said that I had to consume the orbs to complete the technique. He said it was… umm… Cursed Spirit…”
“Manipulation,” completed Gojo. “That is surprising. It’s an impressive technique!”
Suguru felt weirdly exposed, as if the Gojo kid knowing more about his own skills was a breach of his intimacy.
“I think at least a couple of powerful sorcerers possessed this technique in the past. All dead now.” Said Gojo seriously, and realising what he had just said, feeling like a complete idiot he added: “not that you will die, of course not. I mean, at some point in the future, right? We all die but that’s not what I meant… uh… sorry!” added Gojo definitely ashamed of how that had turned out.
So many words left Gojo’s lips at such a great speed that Suguru couldn’t help but laugh; he had barely understood any of what the other guy had said. For all the confidence the Gojo kid seemed to exude, he was at times awkward and clumsy.
“It’s okay, I get it,” offered Suguru. “Still, I don’t know how to consume them. Teacher Yaga said that it was better if the first times, I was at school, under surveillance, in case I don’t feel alright after that, or during, perhaps?”
“Yeah, I suppose it’s not pleasant. I wonder how they taste, if they do,” wondered Gojo and then made a face of disgust. “Don’t think they taste like chocolate.”
“Guess they don’t. I’ll find out soon. Anyway, I don’t know how to control it yet. I must work on that.”
“You’re in the best place! Teacher Yaga is very experienced, and there are some other important sorcerers as teachers too. You will see, you’ll have so much fun!” assured Gojo. If Suguru could have seen the eyes behind the sunglasses, he guessed they would be glinting with excitement.
“That’s inspiring! Thank you! What about you? It seems you’re already an expert.”
“Well, because I am,” said Gojo without shame. “I’ve been training since I can remember. You, Geto Suguru, are talking with the Strongest sorcerer of Modern Times, of History if I can perfect my skills.”
Suguru laughed warmly at Gojo’s childish excitement and said, “Really? I think you will find some tough competition, you know, Rich Boy?”
“Eh?!” exclaimed Gojo.
“I will work hard for a place at the top!” said Suguru, not bragging, just knowing he could do it, with effort and hard work, he just knew a place at the top was within his grasp.
“We will see, Bangs! Sorcery is not a children’s game,” replied Gojo, smiling, realising that having someone to directly compete with would make school days so much more fun.
They spent the dinner talking about many other things related to school. Suguru had so many questions and Gojo seemed to know a lot about this new world Suguru was stepping into. Time went by with all that new information. For every fact Gojo said, Suguru had tens of questions. It would take so much time for Suguru to catch up, but he was willing to put in the effort. That would come later, with time. Now was the time for chocolate.
“Before dessert, you need to clean the table and do the dishes, Rich Boy.”
“Eh?!” exclaimed Gojo, horrified. The Gojo Satoru cleaning tables and doing the dishes? Unthinkable. That’s what servants do.
“You’re so spoiled! That’s just good manners, you know? Someone cooks for you; you do the dishes,” explained Suguru, and Gojo was about to argue, but then Suguru added: “It’s an unwritten law of friendship, I don’t make the rules,” and smiled as if nothing.
Friendship.
That seemed to short-circuit Gojo’s brain.
Friendship.
Gojo pouted. He did not want to do the dishes because never in his life had he done that. But to be the Strongest, he had to overcome unforeseen obstacles such as doing the dishes. He sighed and put hands to work.
When he finished, Suguru offered him a chocolate bar from a box and Gojo thanked him.
“It was not that hard, right?” teased Suguru and Gojo shook his head.
When they finished their chocolates (Suguru actually just ate a third of the bar), and they checked everything was in place in the kitchen, they headed to their respective dorms.
“The beef was so good! Thank you, Bangs,” said Gojo appreciatively.
“You’re welcome. It was the last thing I got from home. From now on, I'll have to do with what I can find here at school, or what I can cook whenever there’s time,” answered Suguru, already missing his mom’s food.
Gojo didn't know that people who lived far from home were usually sent back with some home-made food whenever they visited, because he had never been packed with such provisions. He had a personal chef, who would use the freshest ingredients and premium meat and who would prepare the most balanced menus tailored to his pickiness. Gojo Satoru didn't know that sharing homemade food was an act of kindness and friendship. He had never shared his food with anyone because he had never sat with friends his age, but in Tokyo Jujutsu High, that was going to change.
“Next one’s on me,” offered Gojo.
“I’ll take that, Rich Boy,” accepted Suguru.
They parted their ways for that night. Tomorrow they would meet again by chance, and the next day, again. And perhaps for the following weeks, they would continue to meet by mere chance or at the same class, but as time passed, they would stop meeting like that, and they would start doing it on purpose. Suguru would cook so many more lunches and dinners for them and other good friends to celebrate good grades, successful missions and birthdays. He would never be annoyed to be called Bangs, because it would turn into an endearment term, only said in private moments to make him smile. One day he would stop addressing Rich Boy as that and would start calling him Satoru, trust and affection uniting their lives in unimaginable and unfathomable ways. Gojo would start calling Bangs, Suguru, and he would find that something inside him would flutter when Suguru called him sweetly by his first name.