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The mission was meant to be one and done. Suguru hadn’t needed to come along, but Satoru had insisted on the fact, and really the higher-ups were too afraid of his tantrums to say no. One First Grade spirit located in a shopping arcade that had fallen into disrepair. Either one of them could have gone in, blasted the thing into oblivion and been done by the time the other had collected their boba order. That wasn’t how it went.
Both teens, in the second semester of their first year, and freshly granted Special Grade status on Suguru’s part, stepped into the arcade, and both of them froze. A pulse of energy throbbed through their cores, enshrouding them in a thick miasma of enough cursed energy to knock anyone else to their knees. Satoru was the first to recover. He would have worried about the shakiness of his legs if he hadn’t realised it was no doubt a symptom of instinctive fear. One day he was going to be the strongest, already more powerful than any sorcerer, and yet every fibre of his being was telling him to run. Turn tail and run. Gojo Satoru wasn’t allowed to feel fear. Glancing back at Suguru, he knew that burden didn’t weigh the same on his best friend.
Suguru had gone pale, his eyes wide. He looked the picture of someone startled, and Satoru had the strangest urge to reach out and comfort him. Suguru didn’t need his comfort. He’d probably think it was pity. “Come on,” he said instead, grinning bright. If he wasn’t scared, then Suguru really had nothing to worry about. Together they were the strongest. “I want boba, so let’s get this done quick, yeah?”
It succeeded in drawing out the half laugh Suguru was known for, more of a breathy snort than anything. Satoru wanted to taste it. He looked away and sauntered ahead. He needed to get his head in the game. “Oh, are you offering to pay then?” Satoru chortled at the question, only grinning wider as he continued deeper into the arcade.
“Only if you beat the curse before me,” he said, his words taking up the tune of a jingle. Stealing a quick look over his shoulder, he thought he saw something fond in Suguru’s eyes before it hardened into determination.
“You’re on.”
The two split off from there. Under normal circumstances it would have been unfair, Satoru and his Six-Eyes giving him a clear path to whatever cursed spirit they were hunting. That wasn’t the case here. As much as he could see, it was like being blinded by too many blacklights. The amount of cursed energy filling the entire place settled in his vision like a thick fog, so he’d have to use his other senses to find the spirit.
If anything, this time, it was Suguru at the advantage. He had more than a few spirits in his arsenal that were good for tracking, and Satoru could guess he had more he hadn't had the chance to see yet. Still, he wasn’t about to be a loser. He practically skipped through the promenade. All of the shops had been shut down, signs and banners losing their colour, heavy metal doors pulled down to keep out delinquents. Graffiti had made a home for itself across many of the surfaces, slogans and nametags marked with bright colours between murals of cartoon characters. Satoru could stop and admire the art for hours, if he had the time, but he didn’t. Not with boba on the line.
It had been nearly a whole five minutes of nothing, and Satoru was on the edge of admitting to himself that he’d picked the wrong direction. He hadn’t sniffed out a single curse, not even something tiny he could squash under-foot. “Ah man. How boring,” he pouted. He shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling for his phone. Suguru hadn’t found him yet to claim victory, and he hadn’t heard the sounds of a fight, but the arcade was big enough he probably wouldn’t hear it anyway. He’d barely pulled the flip-phone from his pocket before glass shattered above his head.
Satoru snapped his gaze to the ceiling, activating Infinity in the next split second as shards of glass came raining down around him, falling uselessly away from his body. Sunlight spilled through the broken skylight, bouncing off broken glass that flashed across his face, blinding him for a moment. It wasn’t enough that his Six-Eyes couldn’t pick out the shape of a curse trailing behind the slicing rain. Satoru grinned. He wouldn’t be paying for boba after all.
One second to the next, Satoru had the curse melting into oblivion before it had even reached the floor, just as his phone started to ring. That First Grade was pretty weak. It was probably closer to a Second Grade, if he was being honest with himself. When it hit the ground, body half blown to pieces, Satoru answered the call, and kicked the bug-like curse away for good measure.
“I win,” What? Satoru blinked slowly, opening and closing his mouth as he processed the words from Suguru at the pace of a slug.
“Huh?” He flicked his gaze back to the curse he’d just defeated. Had there been more than one? Why hadn’t the thick pressure of overwhelming cursed energy not dissipated? He didn’t hear Suguru’s response, although he was sure it was teasing.
More glass smashing, metal creaking. What had before been a sort of silence that bordered on unsettling, was suddenly replaced with the cacophonous noise of destruction.
Oh fuck.
“Oh fuck.” Suguru’s voice crackled through the line, accompanied by matching sounds of crumbling infrastructure. Neither of them needed to say it, both hanging up at the same time. They’d meet back in the middle and deal with this swarm of curses together. They didn’t need words to know that.
More insect-like curses were pushing through their own carnage, peeling back metal doors, climbing over shattered glass. Satoru dropped into a defensive stance, lifting his fists ready for a fight. Looking at them closer, as indistinct as the form of a curse tended to be, these ones resembled bees rather closely. He hadn’t bothered with the report, although he remembered Suguru mentioning the curse manifesting because of some infestation in the arcade.
The familiar rhythm of fighting washed over Satoru. It was as natural as breathing for him; punch, kick, Blue. His Infinity was working overtime to keep the returning attacks away, and he could already feel a headache starting to form. Each curse had to at least be a First Grade, and he couldn’t focus enough on forming Red to blast them in one hit. With each attack he threw and thwarted he backed up a little more. He needed to get out of the middle of them so he could make a break for Suguru.
The opening presented itself as he threw another Blue, wincing at the burst of pain behind his eyes. The effect of the lapse smashed two of the curses together, their bodies slamming so hard he watched their forms merge for a moment before turning into purple mush. It took two seconds to focus his mind enough, then another to run the calculation. Space collapsed between himself and the gap he’d created. Teleportation. It knocked the air clean out of his lungs, but he wheezed through it, breaking into a run.
The incessant buzzing of wings followed Satoru as he ducked through archways and sprinted back along the path he’d taken. It took him less time than he thought to crash into Suguru in the middle of the arcade. The space opened up into a courtyard of shop-fronts with a dried up fountain sitting in the centre. Satoru curled his fingers around Suguru’s arm, wrapping Infinity around him just in time to block an attack aimed at his back. He eyed the stinger with a frown, watching acid ooze from the tip. That would have been nasty if it had hit Suguru.
He turned his gaze to his best friend, frowning when he saw how green the other teen looked. His hair was half falling out of its bun, and his eyes had a glazed look of sickness that Satoru was all too familiar with on his friend. His fingers tightened instinctively, flicking his eyes over Suguru’s form, trying to spot the injury. “You’re hurt?” He made sure Infinity stayed around both of them, ignoring the strain against his mind.
“No.” Suguru croaked out the word, sounding no more reassuring than if he’d just said yes. “I think I’ve absorbed five— no seven… I don’t know anymore.” He looked close to vomiting, and Satoru wouldn’t be surprised if he did soon.
“Are you insane?” He could feel his sunglasses sliding down his nose, but made no move to push them back up. He didn’t want to loosen his hold for even a second, worried that if he did Suguru would collapse.
“They seem to work better in a swarm. The more of them there are the more disorienting their cursed energy is, and the more attacks they can land. It would be stupid for me to only grab one or two.” While Satoru couldn’t fault the logic, he’d seen how sick absorbing too many curses made Suguru. He also knew how stubborn the other was.
Satoru reached up with his other hand, stroking back the loose locks of black hair from clammy skin. “You’re going to get so sick from this.” He meant it to sound teasing, but he heard his own voice crack with worry. Suguru just smiled, that warm one that filled Satoru with butterflies whenever he received it.
“Get me five more, and then I’ll let you blow the rest of them up.” Suguru straightened himself, that brilliant flash of determination shining in his feverish eyes. Satoru could kiss him. He didn’t.
“Five more? Alright.” He trusted his best friend to know his limits. The swarm had grown around them, nearing thirty. It had to be some unnatural phenomenon that such strong curses had swarmed like they were lower grade. Still, he needed to let go of Suguru to fight back against the swarm, and he was reluctant to do that when Suguru looked like he’d fold the moment he was let go.
Despite that nagging worry, Suguru steadied himself, taking a few deep breaths, washing down the waves of nausea with nothing but stubbornness, and then flicked his wrist to direct one of his curses in for an attack. The motions were so familiar, so easy, that Satoru knew immediately what to do next.
For all that he preferred to fight alone, to not have to hold back for the sake of avoiding allies, there was something so perfect about moulding his attacks around Suguru’s curses. It was like his own Limitless knew not to touch the curses held by Suguru’s technique.
Satoru lifted his hands, trusting Suguru to stand on his own, and dragged a Blue into existence. He could feel the essence of it pulling on his mind, dragging out his energy and zapping through every neuron. He could practically see it, Six-Eyes just as effective on himself as on others. He aimed the void space between the spirits, focusing on not dragging them in, but the foundations of the building around them. Cement and bricks crumbled under the gravity, ripping from their places and tearing through the air. He yanked the central point, tugging it back towards and around them. A wide circle, far enough out to avoid them, close enough to rip through the wall of curses that had formed around them. All while Suguru had his curses ducking and weaving between rubble, sharp things ripping through insectoids.
To Satoru, the curses that had been absorbed into Surugu gained his colours, vibrant purples and golds that rippled and blended but never quite merged, like watching oil in water. His Blue was like ice over the warmth, a balm to calm a burn. It blended into Suguru’s colours perfectly, melting between the shades as it tore apart the fabric of their world at his discretion.
Between the two of them, Satoru rounding the curses into a pen, and Suguru tearing them apart, it wasn’t long before they were left standing in a ring of aubergine blood. Something wet and warm rolled over Satoru’s top lip, and he wiped it away with his sleeve, only for more to come right back. Glancing down, sunglasses falling to the floor where they’d slipped right off, he saw his sleeve stained with bright red. Nosebleed. He’d need to see Shoko once they got back. “Hey,” he started, looking up again.
Suguru was shaking, hand clamped over his mouth and shoulders hunched. Satoru could see the way his throat was bobbing, desperate to swallow back the sickness bubbling up. “Hey,” Satoru tried again, reaching out slowly. He didn’t want to make it worse. He knew he could be too much at times. His foot hit something as he moved, the sound of clinking glass reaching his ears. He didn’t need to look down to know what it was. Suguru had wanted only five more, but they’d turned all of them into orbs. He was sure they could destroy some of them, but he wasn’t so sure Suguru would want that. “You don’t have to swallow them now.”
Suguru swallowed heavier, taking a few shaky breaths before feeling brave enough to lower his hand. “It’s okay. I can handle it.” He really couldn’t and they both knew it. Satoru couldn’t say no to those pleading eyes, though, so he just nodded.
“Sit over on the fountain.” He bent down to grab his sunglasses, wiping more blood away and screwing his eyes shut behind the frames, using his Six-Eyes to find the orbs and stuff them into his pockets. He heard Suguru stumbling but knew he couldn’t move to help. Stubborn, stubborn fool. Satoru wasn’t any better.
The last orb stayed in his hand, pockets too full to carry any more. He reached out with his senses, feeling for the purple and gold that was Suguru, and making his way over. Forcing his eyes back open felt like a mountainous hike, dragging his lids upwards, squinting against the input.
Satoru felt sick as he looked up at Suguru from where he’d slumped against the fountain next to him. Dark hair had been pulled out of his usual bun, cascading down his back where he’d been letting it grow out recently. His skin was slick, shimmering in sunlight and sweat, both flushed pink and paling close to green. He’d opened his jacket, letting it hang off his shoulders, his white shirt wrinkled. Satoru should not have found the sight of Suguru flushed, feverish and nauseous as attractive as he did. That didn’t mean he wasn’t sure his face was bright red.
“Pass them up.” Suguru’s voice rasped, heaved out of his mouth like it was a chore. Satoru took far too long to remember how to move, fumbling before lifting the orb still sitting in his hand. It wasn’t any particular texture, there but not, the only sensation his fingers truly picking up on was the cold it emanated. Suguru’s lithe fingers were trembling as he reached down and took the orb, bringing it up to his mouth and forcing it in before he could back down. Satoru heard the sound of him gagging and knew it wasn’t from the orb being too big to swallow.
One by one Satoru passed them up, forced to watch Suguru choke them down, his expression growing progressively pale. He bit his tongue, holding back the demand that they stop. Suguru didn’t need to do this, but Satoru knew too well that he would anyway.
Until finally Satoru reached into his pocket and found no more orbs. “You’re done.” His tone was too soft, even to himself. “You’re okay,” he said again, ending up sounding even softer than before. His words were no more than a whisper.
Suguru was shaking.
He could see the moment it got too much, the second Suguru went from sickly pale to positively green. Satoru knew he didn’t have the strength for it. He’d rupture his brain in more places than one, but he still snapped forward, grabbed Suguru, and crushed space around them. There was no way he was getting them back to school like this. He’d have to text Shoko to come get them. Instead, he aimed for the toilets he’d passed before. At the very least he could get Suguru somewhere sanitary before he puked up his guts.
Tangled into each other's limbs, they crashed into one of the cubicles that was thankfully clean. The moment Suguru set his eyes on the bowl, Satoru saw the moment he couldn't hold himself together anymore. It was like watching in slow motion as Suguru fumbled to get out from underneath Satoru, barely twisting himself around in time before he was retching into the toilet. Satoru winced at the sound of vomit splattering into water, slumping back against the cubicle wall and wiping his bloody nose again. Fresh blood was still trickling down his face, having dribbled past his chin and into the collar of his shirt.
It took an insurmountable amount of effort to reach into his pocket and pull his phone out, squinting at the bright screen and typing what was probably an incoherent message to who he hoped was Shoko. She would understand.
Looking back over to Suguru, Satoru’s heart clenched. The dark-haired teen looked worse for wear, his gut emptied too quickly and left him choking up bile. Slowly, painfully, he lifted himself halfway off the floor, dragging himself over and sinking down behind Suguru. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”
He dragged his hands up, one settling on the back of Suguru’s head, scraping his hair back and out of his face, while the other rubbed his back. Satoru had never been good at comfort, but he’d heard enough of the girls complaining about their hair when they got sick. “Satoru,” Suguru whispered, syllables dragging along his tongue as he spat out a last bit of bile before slowly slumping back. He was shaking like a leaf, cheeks flushed red and temples wet with sweat. He rested his forehead against the seat, panting for breath.
“Yeah? Do you need something?”
Suguru didn’t respond for a long minute. It was just long enough for Satoru to start worrying he’d passed out, his breath evening into something more steady. “In my bag; I’ve got mouthwash.” His bag. Satoru glanced around, glad to find that the item had come along with them, sprawled with its contents scattered across the ground. The mouthwash was sitting out in the open on its side, thankfully the cap still firmly on. It was smaller than a standard bottle, having only a few mouthfuls of liquid inside at most, but Satoru knew that was so Suguru could carry it around even without a bag.
It took a few seconds for Satoru to remember how to move, reluctantly letting go of Suguru’s hair and shifting away, sliding himself across the floor. He stretched out as far as he could, not wanting to move too far, grasping the bottle and tugging it closer. He slid back along the floor to Suguru’s side just as the dark-haired teen let out a sharp pained noise, hunching over the toilet bowl again. Satoru frowned at the sight, concerning pinching into his brow and making his head throb worse. Maybe he was going insane from the brain-bleed, but all he could think was that Suguru looked pretty.
He slid behind Suguru again, using both hands this time to pull back silky black locks of hair, keeping it out of his face through another round of nauseating vomiting. He found his fingers absentmindedly massaging Suguru’s scalp, aiming to ease the pressure headache he knew the other would be getting from the force of his retching. There was nothing coming out, just dry heaving that had tears rolling down Suguru’s cheeks. Satoru should not find it so pretty. He knew he shouldn’t, but it was all he could think.
It took a few more minutes before Suguru finally slumped backwards again, this time aiming for the wall. His back hit it with a dull thud, head tipping back as he blindly fumbled for the mouthwash, plucking it from Satoru’s lap without offering him a glance. He took a long swig, swirling the liquid around his mouth, cheeks puffing out with the motion, before swallowing it. Satoru should have reprimanded him for it, and reminded him that drinking mouthwash would only upset his stomach more. He couldn’t get his mouth to work. He was caught up staring at the way Suguru’s adams-apple shifted under the skin of his throat with the motion. He knew he was staring, but he couldn’t help himself.
He wanted to kiss Suguru.
“Do curses really taste that bad?” That was not the question he meant to ask. He didn’t even need the answer to it. Suguru had described it to him before, how curses tasted like vomit and dirty rags. It wasn’t curiosity for the answer that hung in the air between them, the tension suddenly electric as Suguru shifted to meet his gaze. That feverish glaze was still there, but it was the most lucid he’d looked since they’d been swarmed. It was an entirely different curiosity that tingled the corners of Satoru’s mouth into moving, asking the question with an unspoken meaning.
He saw something shift in Suguru’s expression, a shimmer in his purple eyes that made them positively glow. Mirth, or maybe adoration, Satoru wouldn’t dare to guess. “Why don’t you kiss me and find out?”
Satoru froze, breath stuttering to a halt in his chest. He found himself leaning forward despite himself. It was a bad idea. Suguru couldn’t be lucid enough running a high fever, and he had to be delirious from blood in all the wrong places. Still he blinked and found himself less than an inch away. “Suguru,” he choked out, tasting his own blood on his tongue. He could smell Suguru, faded aftershave under layers of sweat and sticky vomit, but Satoru was far from put off. Maybe he was the one sick for it. “Tell me to stop,” he pleaded, the tips of their noses brushing together. Suguru was radiating warmth, flustered heat, and yet he looked so put together. Satoru could feel himself falling apart.
It was slow, the brush of their lips. Tentative in a way neither of them would normally be. “Satoru,” he felt, breathing against his mouth, and he couldn’t take it any more. His fingers reached up to cup Suguru’s face, tracing along his jaw as their lips finally connected. There was no rush, no skill. Both of them could admit it was their first, lingering and uncertain. Suguru was the one who started to move first, shifting his lips gently against Satoru’s. There was a fire burning in his gut. The kiss was good, more than that. He couldn’t imagine accepting the taste of anyone else, even when that tongue caught on his own and he tasted mouthwash and dirty rags.
Something about it all, the absurdity of the situation, had Satoru laughing. It was a quiet sound at first, then grew as he pressed closer, teeth clacking, refusing to move back even as they lost their rhythm devolving into giggles.
“Oh my god. You two are idiots.” Satoru jolted back. He was breathless, and looking at Suguru, so was he. They both turned towards Shoko at the same time. She was standing in the doorway of the cubicle with her arms crossed and a lollipop hanging from between her lips. “What the fuck happened to you two?”