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It starts when Gojo comes across the Death Painting in the bathroom, grimacing at a mirror. Gojo finishes washing his hands, pauses, backs up a couple of paces. Choso has his fingers under his upper lip and his neck bent at a slightly awkward angle, examining his teeth with single-minded focus.
‘Worried about dental hygiene?’ Gojo asks because he doesn’t have to like Choso to make conversation. Gojo saw the Death Painting kill a dozen people without thought or effort in Shibuya. That Choso is Itadori Yuuji’s brother is neither here nor there. The Curse is dangerous.
Choso doesn’t reply. Possibly he can’t, on account of having fingers in his mouth.
‘If you’re really that worried about gum disease, the best thing you can do is get a good flossing routine down,’ Gojo adds helpfully.
Choso’s frown, if anything, deepens. Figuring that he has done his community service for the day and made nice with Itadori’s furious duckling, Gojo turns to leave. He sees Choso in the mirror extracting his fingers from his mouth and carefully starting to wash his hands.
‘I am not worried about gum disease,’ Choso tells him. His voice seems to naturally pitch low and homicidal. Gojo doesn’t take it personally. He gives the Death Painting a thumbs up and continues on his way. Choso says, ‘Though my teeth were very sharp earlier. Is that one of the symptoms?’
Gojo has a hand on the door. ‘Of..’
‘Gum disease.’
‘Oh, uh. Not that I know of.’
‘I was sparring with Yuuji,’ Choso says furiously to the hand dryer. ‘My little brother is so strong, but he still has so much to learn, especially with cursed tools…’
‘Uh-huh,’ Gojo is very slowly opening the bathroom door.
‘He tried to restrain my arms to counter my technique. It is a clever move, but I have told him before that Piercing Blood requires Convergence and that it is better to disrupt the Convergence using distraction or hit and run tactics-’
Gojo is very slowly sliding one foot out of the door.
‘-and I am so proud of him-’
Gojo is inching his knee out of the door.
‘-so I don’t know why I felt the need to show my teeth,’ Choso’s forehead is creased with distress. ‘I was not angry with him, but my teeth were still sharp. I have no wish to frighten my little brother just because I have gum disease.’
Gojo pauses again with half his thigh out of the door. Processes. ‘You snarled at Yuuji-kun during sparring?’ He surmises.
Choso’s face crumples further. ‘I do not know what happened,’ he says. He sounds as though he is one bad day away from committing a mass homicide, but Gojo has never heard his voice so sad and small. ‘My teeth are not so sharp now.’
‘Yuuji-kun knows you’re an Alpha, he won’t take it personally,’ Gojo says. Is he being reassuring? Is that what he is doing?
Choso stands with his hands under the dryer, having still not triggered the automatic sensor, water dripping onto the tiles. He has his eyes narrowed. ‘I do not know what you mean,’ he says eventually. ‘I am a Curse.’
‘You’re half a human, bud,’ Gojo says. He thinks the conversation is over. He opens the door properly so that he can stop looking like he is about to perform some kind of burlesque routine in the hall. ‘Instincts are instincts.’
‘What instincts,’ Choso cuts him off, voice murderously low.
*
Of all the things Gojo wanted to do with his Thursday evening, delivering basic sex ed to a Special Grade Curse was not among them.
He sits Choso in his classroom and texts Geto because he always offloads this responsibility to Geto. He’s amazing at anything he chooses to do, but it’s a sensitive topic and teenagers always seem to respond better to Suguru’s zen-like matter-of-factness than Gojo’s enthusiasm for diagrams. He’s mature enough to acknowledge this, even if he doesn’t necessarily understand it.
Choso sits in the front row, crammed into one of the desks. Gojo starts drawing a diagram on the board because Suguru hasn’t replied to his text.
‘So humans have two basic genders, right? Or, actually no, it’s more like-’ He pauses and stares at the stick person and the stick person wearing a skirt he has drawn. ‘Okay so when humans are born they have a penis or a vagina,’ He draws a little penis next to the figure not wearing a skirt and a kind of pointy oval beside the one wearing a skirt. ‘Except for people who are intersex. Who might have either. Or both. Or- it doesn’t matter. You’ve got a dick, right?’
Choso looks as though he is being held at gunpoint.
Geto slides the classroom door open and looks from Choso to Gojo to the diagram on the board and says, ‘Wow.’
‘Just in time,’ Gojo waves the pointer he is holding at Geto. ‘Choso-kun, this is Geto-sensei, please show him proper respect.’
‘I am one hundred and fifty years old,’ Choso informs Gojo, even as he awkwardly slides himself out of the desk and bows a very proper forty five degrees to Geto.
‘Please don’t let me interrupt,’ Geto says, sitting against one of the desks, a few rows back from Choso. ‘I’m fascinated to hear where this is going.’
‘Suguru,’ Gojo says. ‘I was going to let you take over-’
‘I’m off the clock,’ Suguru says unapologetically. ‘Sorry.’
‘I do have a penis,’ Choso states.
‘Great,’ Gojo says. ‘Wonderful. All right. So that doesn’t necessarily mean that your basic gender is male, unless you want it to be. But generally speaking we call people with penises men and people without, women. Unless they would rather not be called that.’
‘You’re doing great, Satoru,’ Geto puts in.
Gojo smacks the board with the pointer. ‘We call this primary gender. Male, female, non-binary. Any questions?’ Choso looks as though he has many, but Gojo starts scribbling on the board again so he can pretend not to notice. ‘There are three secondary genders. Alpha, beta, omega. Primary gender,’ he slaps the board again for emphasis. ‘Does not influence secondary gender. You can be a woman and an Alpha or non binary and an omega,’ he starts drawing arrows between the words and the stick figures so that he can continue not turning around.
‘Question,’ Choso says.
‘In the front row, yes,’ Gojo says, gesturing toward the Death Painting with his pointer.
‘So I am a male Alpha,’ Choso says, not asking a question.
‘Correct,’ Gojo beams. ‘Great, glad you understand. Let’s go grab some dinner, I’m starving.’
‘You said I have instincts and that it is because I am an Alpha,’ Choso says venomously. Still not asking a question.
‘Uh-huh,’ Gojo says. ‘Good question. Secondary gender,’ he thwaps the pointer against the board, ‘Is linked to both reproduction,’ thwap to point at the drawing of a penis, ‘but also social hierarchy,’ thwap to point at the stick figure wearing a skirt. The chalk dust creates little plumes in the air. ‘Whereas primary gender is a social construct about genital differences, secondary gender is a term given to broad physiological and psychological differences.’
‘Big words,’ Suguru puts in.
Gojo ignores him. ‘Alphas,’ Gojo does not look at Geto who seems to be enjoying himself far too much. ‘Are generally but not always physically bigger and more aggressive than betas or omegas.’
‘I do not think I want to be an Alpha,’ Choso says.
‘Tough shit,’ Gojo says.
‘Satoru is talking broadly,’ Geto says, his tone soft. ‘It’s a stereotype. During human evolution Alphas were born to protect their families, but that doesn’t dictate what kind of a person you will be.’
Choso nods at this. ‘So what I did was aggressive,’ he says slowly. ‘Because I have instincts.’
‘Eh,’ Gojo says. ‘You popped fangs because someone tried to hold you down. It’s more defensive than aggressive. I think you’re fine.’
‘Wait, who did he show fangs to?’ Gojo can feel Suguru’s eyes burning holes in the side of his head. He starts scribbling on the board again so he doesn’t have to look at either of them.
‘I showed my teeth to my younger brother, Itadori Yuuji,’ Choso says dejectedly. ‘Gojo-sensei told me that I did not have gum disease but that I was demonstrating Alpha instincts.’
Gojo writes the words fight! and protect! and biting! next to where he was written Alpha. Beside the word Beta he writes boring! ‘Satoru,’ Geto says flatly. Gojo rubs it out and writes comfort! and support! and boring!
‘Betas don’t really have many instincts,’ Gojo tells Choso. ‘They’re kind of null.’
‘Satoru,’ Geto says again.
He writes strongest! best! nests! amazing! Next to the word Omega.
Suguru sighs loudly.
‘Everyone tends to present with a secondary gender in their mid teens,’ Gojo says. ‘Usually with a preliminary Heat or Rut cycle.’
‘What’s that,’ Choso says flatly. Gojo wonders if he can create a lesson plan around the high rising terminal.
‘Reproductive cycle. Facilitates babymaking,’ Gojo says briskly. ‘Focus. Alphas Rut for on average four days every six months. Omegas on the other hand will only go into Heat once a year. And that demonstrates why omegas are the superior second gender.’
Choso blinks uncertainly at him.
‘You’re an Alpha, and you’ve had a body for- what, three months? Four?’
‘My brothers and I were incarnated nearly half a year ago,’ Choso tells him.
‘You’ll probably Rut soon then,’ Gojo says blithely. ‘Hormones are a real bitch, and they tend to bring a lot of instincts to the surface. It’s why working with teenagers can be such a pain in the-’
‘What does that mean,’ Choso has his palms flat on the desk as he stares furiously at the board.
‘Oh boy,’ Gojo rubs his temples. ‘Eh, you should probably talk to another Alpha about this. Suguru, wanna step in?’
‘You’re doing great,’ Suguru gives him a thumbs up.
‘Fuck you. Alright. You know what reproduction is, right? Sex?’
‘What,’ Choso says. Gojo wants to put his head on a table and cry. Instead he rubs out everything on the board and starts to draw more diagrams.
‘- and that is why you have a knot,’ Gojo finishes briskly, underlining the word breeding with a flourish. Choso looks horrified. Geto has his teeth buried in the side of one hand, shoulders shaking with the effort of keeping his laughter silent.
Kugisaki shoves the door open, ‘Gojo-sensei,’ she says. Looks up from her phone. Looks from Gojo poised with his chalk still hovering above the board, to Choso who looks as though he has just witnessed a war crime, to Geto who has slumped his head onto the desk and makes a small choking noise. Gojo hopes he suffocates.
There is a long moment, and then Kugisaki steps out of the room and closes the door behind her. Gojo can hear her walking away. He says, ‘Any questions?’
‘Can I leave?’ Choso asks.
*
‘Why does my younger brother keep offering food to the other sorcerer? The ten shadows is thin, but not malnourished.’
Gojo Satoru does not startle at the sudden appearance of the Death Painting. He has the six eyes, and the Death Painting is alight with cursed energy. Choso could not sneak up on him if he were unconscious. Gojo scratches the skin of his temple beneath his blindfold and turns his head slightly so that he is facing in the same direction as Choso. Yuuji and Megumi are taking a break from training with poles, Megumi’s expression set in a little moue of distaste as Yuuji proffers a container of apple slices.
‘Ah, young love,’ Gojo says, and keeps walking. Choso keeps pace, which surprises him. He had been absolutely certain that the Curse would stay by the training field to make sure Yuuji was protected from all possible threats, and possibly to rip Megumi’s legs off when he got a good hit in on Yuuji.
‘What do you mean,’ Choso says. He sounds as though he is one short straw away from a murder-suicide, which probably means he’s fairly calm.
‘Eh?’ Gojo is supposed to be attending a meeting with Yaga and the other teachers about the Exchange Event happening next year. He makes a point to take the most leisurely, circuitous route to Yaga’s office available. It also helps keep an eye or four on training, since Yuuta seems to have forgotten some basic sparring etiquette since he presented.
‘If my younger brother is offering the ten shadows food because he is in love,’ Choso says, as furious as though he is about to turn around and stuff the food down Megumi’s throat himself. ‘Then why will the ten shadows not eat.’
‘Megumi-kun is playing hard to get,’ Gojo says easily. ‘Leave them to it. They’ll figure it out on their own.’
‘He should not play like that,’ Choso says. He stops walking, and Gojo does actually worry then that the Curse will go and try to fight Megumi. ‘It is cruel if my younger brother is willing to offer food and love to act as though it is nothing.’
‘Humans are strange,’ Gojo agrees. ‘But it’s how most courtships start. Yuuji’s a good kid. Megumi-kun just needs a bit of time. Come on,’ he starts walking again. Putting distance between Choso and Yuuji’s first tentative attempts at romance seems like the kindest thing he can do for the boy. ‘This meeting’s going to be a drag, but you might learn something.’
‘Absolutely not,’ Yaga says when Gojo shows up with the Death Painting in tow. ‘This is a confidential meeting for staff and teachers at Jujutsu High only.’
‘Oh great,’ Gojo slumps into one of the armchairs. ‘Choso’s my new teaching assistant. I’ve been meaning to introduce him around. Say hi, Choso.’
‘The Cursed Womb Death Painting is not your TA, Gojo,’ Yaga says flatly.
‘I really feel like he adds a lot to the welcoming and inclusive atmosphere that I know we strive for,’ Gojo muses. ‘Oh, and I’m keeping him from ripping Fushiguro’s head off, so that’s a bonus.’
‘For the team battles this year, I think there is a lot of potential in utilising some of the cave systems in the mountains,’ Geto says. ‘It’s further from campus, but it would offer the challenge of unfamiliar terrain for both schools.’
*
Gojo Satoru is a turtle. He tells the truth and no one pays him the least mind other than to order him on another mission.
He reads the text from Suguru again and sighs very deeply over the messy remnants of a level two curse that is trying to heal itself beneath the weight of Gojo’s technique. ‘Do you see this shit?’ He demands of the mostly-torso half-arm some-head. ‘Training field evacuated. No casualties.’
He sends back a GIF of a cat and puts his phone back in his pocket. Crouches down. The curse explodes, reduced to pulp by the shifting of infinity. Gojo’s phone dings again. There are more curses. It’s an old hospital. Riddled with memories and miasma and all of the worst moments of people’s lives.
The text is from Yaga this time: rut DP in Dorm3
Gojo blinks at his phone. He very calmly takes a screenshot and sends it to Suguru. Then he puts his hands on his knees and wheezes until Suguru replies oh no and then he laughs some more. There’s a grade one in what was once the obstetrics wing, and another scuttling around near the roof. It’s a long day, and worse, it’s a boring one. There’s no fight, just pest control.
He sleeps on the plane back to Tokyo Haneda and in the car whilst Ijichi drives the couple of hours across the city and into the mountains. He’s not even that tired.
Suguru is waiting for him back at Jujutsu High. Casually leaning against one of the supports on the engawa pretending that he wasn’t just smoking, but Gojo has the six eyes and he knows.
‘How’s the DP going?’ is Gojo’s opening gambit.
Suguru pinches the bridge of his nose as if he has a migraine.
Choso’s rut burns itself out by the end of the week, and Itadori’s hulking, socially-uncomfortable shadow resumes his duties which, as far as Gojo can ascertain, involve reading cookery books, staring into the middle distance, and getting increasingly wrathful about Megumi’s indifference to his brother’s tentative overtures.
‘You said that my brother was attempting to court Fushiguro,’ Choso seethes whilst the two of them sit on a bench outside of a kindergarten doing their absolute best to not look like perverts. The first years – soon to be second years, which is a horrifying thought – are all inside, presumably battling heroically against a grade two Curse that has taken up residence. Gojo checks his watch. Itadori alone could have taken care of the thing in his sleep, so he’s honestly not sure what’s taking them so long.
He makes a vague noise of agreement in Choso’s direction and the Death Painting fumes for another few minutes. Gojo checks his phone and sends a meme to Utahime who unblocked his number recently.
‘Is courting another instinct?’ Choso asks as though it is being waterboarded out of him.
Gojo hums vaguely and tilts his head slightly up so that the Curse will assume he is looking at him. He sends the same meme to Suguru since Utahime isn’t giving him the satisfaction of a reply. Choso stares him down. ‘I guess?’ Gojo says eventually. ‘I hate to tell you, bud, but you might want to ask another Alpha about this.’
‘You are a good teacher,’ Choso says, apparently furious about that fact.
Gojo does not preen but it’s a near thing. ‘Courting behaviours are just Alpha instincts on steroids,’ he informs the Death Painting. ‘You meet a nice omega and so you want to demonstrate why you would be a good match for them. Lot of people have ideas about what courtship should look like, but it all comes down to instincts. I care for you, please eat well. That kind of thing.’
Choso seems to think about this, and Gojo starts to realise that he may have been manipulated. He is, reluctantly, impressed. The Death Painting sometimes seems like an attack dog holding his own leash, but there is a mind in there that is as clever as his own.
‘Get Yuuji to show you some movies,’ he says. ‘You’ll get the idea. Maybe invite Megumi. The kid could do with getting out more.’
Choso frowns at the dirt and then surprises Gojo by asking, ‘And you?’
‘Eh?’ Gojo blinks at him.
‘You are bonded to Geto Suguru,’ Choso’s tone is so coldly matter of fact that he could be discussing a natural disaster.
Gojo doesn’t know how he is supposed to reply, so he just nods and deflects. ‘I hear congratulations are in order. Your first rut. It only took, what, a couple of centuries?’
Choso levels him with a look. ‘I existed in stasis for a hundred and fifty years,’ he reminds Gojo. 'And this body I was incarnated to is nearing thirty.'
‘You're a late bloomer, it's okay,’ Gojo reassures him. He sighs, cracks his knuckles. ‘I suppose I should go and check on them. Are you coming?’
*
Gojo finds Itadori and his half-Curse in his basement raiding his collection of movies a couple of nights later.
‘I suppose I should have foreseen this,’ he laments. ‘Did you at least make popcorn?’
‘There’s soda too,’ Itadori beams. ‘Alright, which one do you want to watch first, Choso?’
Choso sits cross legged on the couch, holding a notebook and pen, his face set in an expression of grim determination.
‘You know,’ Geto says, between movies when Gojo is standing in front of the microwave waiting for the third bag of popcorn to finish. ‘When you said you had been thinking about kids, this isn’t what I imagined.’
‘Little baby DP,’ Gojo hums.
‘Please stop,’ Geto says.
‘It’s our family, Suguru,’ the microwave chimes and Gojo takes his popcorn, cracks open the bag and offers it to Geto. ‘If you see Megumi-kun on your way out, tell him there’s an emergency and he’s needed down here.’
‘Where am I going?’
‘Convenience store. We're going to need more soda.’
Twenty minutes later, Megumi busts through the door with Totality snarling out of his shadow.
‘You made it,’ Gojo says. ‘Yuuji-kun brought the chips you like.’