Chapter Text
Tokyo Jujutsu High was quiet.
In the same way a forest or a lake is considered so. It does seem quiet, if you’ve just come from a bustling city, your ears still ringing with the constant chatter of passersby and the endless drone of traffic. When your mind is so used to feeling trapped in a cacophony of annoying voices and screeching sounds that it falls instantly into awe the moment the hammering stops. It feels surreal at first. But then you start hearing again. Slowly. As if something that was stolen from you long ago is sheepishly returning to where it belongs. Weak and broken, but yours. You hear the rustle of leaves. You hear the flow of water. And it’s calming. The “quiet” suddenly shifts, giving way to something else. Then you start noticing even more. The creaking of old wood, which sounds like an exhausted groan. The chirping of distant birds, which reminds you of children playing games. The flapping wings of a dragonfly, so eager and energetic. And it’s not quiet at all anymore. It’s just different.
That feeling hits Suguru every time he enters the campus of Jujutsu High. He follows the same path he always does. Steps on the same floorboards. Smiles when he hears them creak, unchanged since the time he was still a student within these walls. Careless. Hopeful. His mind drifts to his classmates. Shoko. Gojo. Both are somewhere in this building right now. Or rather, in this chain of buildings. With the size of the school, you never know where to search.
“Yaga-sama,” he calls softly, knocking on one of those unnecessarily tall doors. “May I come in?”
He doesn’t really need to hear the reply; he would step in regardless. But completely ignoring all standards of politeness isn’t really his style. It sounds more like what one white-haired upstart he knows so well would do. Suguru opens the door and walks inside, hiding his hands in his pockets as he does so. The director’s room is smaller than he recalls from his memory as a student. Probably because of the huge mountains of plushies covering every horizontal surface in sight.
“Geto-kun.” Yaga nods and sets aside his knitting utensils. “How was the meeting with the higher-ups?”
“Same old.” Suguru shrugs. “Only this time they tried to file a report on me for being a representative without actually working at Jujutsu High.”
Yaga raises his eyebrows and folds his arms, interlacing his fingers. Anyone else might tense at that image. But after so many years, Geto has learned to read through those stony walls. And he catches a glimpse of amusement behind the dark shades Yaga always wears.
“They didn’t even check that I’m legally registered here as a mentor and an admission representative.” Suguru shakes his head with a sigh. “Honestly, it feels like they’ve finally stopped trying to deem me ‘too dangerous because of mental instability’ and instead turned to bureaucracy. And at this point, I don’t even know which is worse.” He chuckles dryly, no real humor behind the sound.
Yaga hums in agreement, keeping his thoughts to himself.
“And what of the latest first-year student mission?” Masamichi finally asks after a few long seconds.
“That I took care of.” Suguru nods, unenthusiastic. “Had to dig through files to prove there truly were no other sorcerers in the area at that moment. Ijichi certainly helped with it. Other than that, they couldn’t provide any valid arguments as to why the students shouldn’t have been sent.”
Suguru’s gaze drifts to the window, easily settling on the benches barely visible below the lush trees. And there he sees them. Three students. The first-years he just defended from the higher-ups. Laughing over something mundane, if he had to guess. He could almost hear them. Or rather, imagine hearing them. Still free from adult worries. Although they’ve already experienced far too much to be called kids, as they should be. Suguru presses his lips together, remembering how gruesome many of the missions they were sent to were, both according to the files and others’ words. Not that his or Satoru’s teenage years were any better. Which doesn’t make it any less horrible to think about, if he’s being honest.
“You haven’t met them yet, have you?” comes Yaga’s direct question.
Suguru realizes he probably zoned out for too long and has to blink a few times before he understands what the director is talking about. Yaga follows his line of sight and now also looks at the students through the window.
“Haven’t had the chance to. Yet.” Suguru’s eyes trail to the spiky black hair on one of the first-years’ heads, and his lips tug upward slightly. “Aside from Megumi, of course. No idea whether he or Satoru told the others anything about me, though.”
“I don’t think they did.” Yaga replies, crossing his arms over his chest. “At least, not from what I know.”
Suguru hums in response, unsure what to make of that. On one hand, he should probably be offended that his best friend didn’t even mention him once. But on the other, he’s not really the best example for students — unless you’re teaching them how to fall into the abyss of dangerous philosophical beliefs and become a target for every existing sorcerer for about two years or so. With that in mind, even after all this time, it’s still hard to defend him. Truth be told, he’s glad neither Megumi nor Satoru tried to bring up his name with the other two.
“Today seems like a perfect opportunity to introduce yourself.”
Suguru frowns slightly at Yaga’s suggestion and tilts his head.
“You think so?”
“I do. Besides, your position as a ‘mentor’ has yet to prove itself. I don’t think the second-years count, since their first instinct was to fight you and then report to either authorities or Gojo.” Yaga trails off, a shadow of a smile appearing on his lips.
Geto groans and winces at the reminder.
“To be fair, at least two of them come from the great families, so it wasn’t that surprising they knew of the incident but not what became of it.” Suguru huffs. “Though I believe Maki still holds a grudge against me.”
Yaga nods lightly with a tired smile, and a comfortable silence settles between them. Suguru steps closer to the window and looks down again, tapping his finger on the windowsill in thought. He might actually go and meet them. There’s really nothing stopping him. He has no missions today, his work for Jujutsu High finished earlier than expected, and both Nanako and Mimiko went out to hang out until dusk.
While his mind is fogged with these mundane thoughts, he doesn’t even notice the white-haired mess of a man stepping into view beside the other three. What he does notice is a stare fixed on him, one he can clearly feel even though Gojo hasn’t removed his blindfold. Suguru meets his gaze for several moments. Then he sighs and steps back from the window.
“I guess I don’t have a choice not to show up there now.” He mutters more to himself than to Yaga, before smiling lightly and turning on his heel to leave the office. “Wish me luck!”
Suguru.
Long black hair, half-up in a small bun. Baggy clothes hanging loosely over his shoulders. Broad shoulders, sharp collarbones… His line of sight only carries him so far. But he could go on. He has seen that man so many times, across so many different circumstances, that even without his Six Eyes, he would still remember Suguru perfectly.
He tries to catch Geto’s gaze. It’s difficult when there’s a distance of two full floors between them, a tangle of leafy branches and a window pane standing in the way. Nonetheless, he can still clearly make out the dark brown of Suguru’s eyes, and the thoughtful way they look down at him.
“Gojo-sensei!”
Yuji’s loud voice yanks him back to reality.
“What’cha looking at?”
He’s smiling broadly, as per usual — joy never quite leaving the boy’s face. He even rises from the bench to try and peer in the same direction Gojo was just looking. But Suguru’s figure has already vanished, as if it was never there at all.
Sometimes Satoru feels like Geto is a living ghost.
He wishes he didn’t.
“How do you know he’s looking at anything? You can’t even see his eyes, dumbass!”
Nobara chimes in, jabbing Itadori in the stomach with her elbow. Yuji lets out a pained yelp.
Satoru chuckles and crosses his arms. The scene reminds him so much of his own youth. Well, keep in mind — he’s still every bit as youthful and dashing as he was ten years ago. He and Suguru used to bicker over nothing just like this. And Shoko would pointedly pretend not to know them at moments like those. Kind of the same way Fushiguro is doing right now.
“Nah, I was daydreaming,” he says with a grin.
The three of them turn their heads to Gojo simultaneously, all narrowing their eyes in suspicion as one. Megumi even raises an eyebrow, pure distrust radiating from him. If Gojo didn’t know any better, he might actually be offended.
“Really?” comes Nobara’s doubtful voice.
“Hmmmmm…” Gojo pretends to think for a moment, then spreads his arms in an exaggerated shrug. “I don’t know. You tell me!”
“Is that a no?” Nobara frowns and turns to Megumi. “Fushiguro, you speak Gojonese or whatever — was that a no?”
“That’s definitely a no.” Megumi nods with all the authority of a professional translator.
Gojo huffs, but his lips tug upward involuntarily. Fondly. He hasn’t seen Megumi this comfortable around other people in a long time. Satoru knows — around these two, he’s slowly opening up. Not yet. But soon.
“So he was looking at something!” Yuji points at Satoru accusingly. “Lying is not cool!”
“You sound like a dork,” Nobara comments dryly.
“Alright, alright, you caught me!” Gojo smiles, slipping his hands into his pockets. “The director’s office is in that window.” He nods upward. “And I just saw your mentor there.”
“Eh? Aren’t you our mentor?” Yuji asks, a slightly doltish expression on his face.
“Well, technically, I’m your teacher,” Gojo corrects. “I’m supposed to explain things, lecture you, and generally train you all to become properly polished sorcerers.”
“You’re not really doing any of that, though-”
“Shh! Don’t interrupt when your teacher is talking!” Gojo raises his palm with overly dramatic seriousness. “So, as I was saying… the teacher, me, is teaching. And the mentor is there to guide you, to have those personal talks that prepare you before you set off on the journey of adult life in the world of sorcery, where cursed spirits are actually the least of your concerns!”
Satoru fakes a sarcastically dreamy expression, spreading his hands above his head as if summoning a sparkling rainbow. In reality, the truth is much less rainbow-y and far less sparkly. The higher-ups are degenerates, the great families are shitheads, the bureaucracy is something he’s always dumped on literally anyone else, but he still knows it’s downright trash. So in conclusion: it’s all very, very uncool.
“And since I’m a responsible adult-” A collective huff from each of his students. “-who understands the struggle you’ll be facing, I personally demanded Director Yaga ask the school’s mentor to take you lot under his wing!”
A pause. Satoru can see the gears turning inside his students’ heads. Kugisaki’s eyebrow twitches as she probably starts imagining all the possible ways this could become another infuriating annoyance in her life. Itadori just looks like he’s still processing the difference between the roles of this supposed mentor and Gojo. And only Megumi seems to understand everything, but is now genuinely trying to make sense of one single thing that bothers him. Satoru is almost certain this is because, among the three of them, Megumi is the only one who already knows who this mentor is. At some point, he and Suguru drifted past that awkward ‘so you’re the past-not-really-enemy-newly-reformed-best-friend of my parental figure’ phase. Satoru can’t exactly pinpoint when or how it happened. But it did, and that’s the important part.
“Uh-huh.” Nobara deadpans after a moment, pulling everyone from their thoughts. “I already don’t like where this is going.”
“Huh? Why?” Yuji frowns.
“Well, what if he’s a creep?!” She throws her hands out, her voice rising in fury.
“He’s not.”
The answer comes unanimously from both Satoru and Megumi.
Nobara stills. Then crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. Gojo usually never speaks this seriously about anything. He wouldn’t have now, either, but he couldn’t catch himself. The words just slipped out in a way he hadn’t anticipated from himself.
“Well, if you both say so.” Kugisaki grumbles but seems to relax a bit at the reassurance.
“He’s very likeable, that I can assure you.” Gojo says with a smile and a wink. (Nobody sees it, but everyone feels it and cringes internally.) “Speaking of which… That’s him right there!”
Satoru nods to the side, and indeed—there he is. Suguru, walking slowly toward them. When Geto notices their glances, he smiles softly and waves, his other hand resting lazily in his pocket. Gojo tilts his head and mirrors the expression. A warm, fuzzy feeling fills him from head to toe, reminiscent of his student days, when Suguru used to greet him just like that.
“You mean to tell me that’s our mentor?” Nobara’s suspicious voice cuts through, and everyone tenses, knowing exactly where this is going.
Nobara drills Geto with her glare the moment she can properly see him. She squints, presses her lips together, furrows her brows—concentrating all her brainpower on… basically judging the book by its cover. Or rather, in this case, their new mentor by his looks.
A minute passes. Everyone silently watches as Geto slowly closes the distance. With each step, Kugisaki’s stare only grows more intense. Nobody dares interrupt Nobara’s thought process. The consequences would be terrifying even by Gojo’s standards. Finally, she huffs, leans back in a relaxed manner, and declares her final verdict:
“He’s okay, I guess.”
A beat of silence.
“HUH?!”
Both Yuji and Satoru stare wide-eyed. First at Nobara. Then at Suguru. Then back at Nobara. And Megumi is also there, looking like he’s contemplating all of his life’s choices.
Suguru, now standing among them, tilts his head. A polite smile still lingers on his lips, though it’s tinged with confusion, thanks to everyone’s reaction.
“You just received the highest possible praise from Kugisaki, Geto-sensei…” Megumi finally manages after a long pause.
“Thanks…?” Suguru says, slightly unsure, not looking particularly reassured by that statement.
Satoru straightens, a fond chuckle escaping his lips. This slightly unhinged atmosphere — it used to be theirs, back in their shared student years. He still remembers how some of the adults would walk in on their weird shenanigans and be just as confused as Suguru is now. How time flies. And he can’t really say whether that’s such a bad thing. Sure, they’re both actually adults now. And with that comes a ton of responsibility, a whole lot of problems, and a dash of complexity to… whatever there was. But now there’s also a certain amount of… space. If Gojo had to form an analogy, he’d probably say it feels a bit like his Infinity. They’re still close, undeniably so. All three of them, actually. And if you had to somehow measure that metaphorical scale of closeness, you’d end up with a surprisingly small number. The only difference from their past selves is that… now they won’t crash into each other if one falls. They slow down as much as needed to help each other back up.
“Nice to see you, Suguru.” He smiles. Genuinely.
“You too, Satoru.” Comes the soft reply.
And this is enough.