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On the bench outside the crematorium, Yuuji chooses his hell. It's not so much a choice as the unfolding of fate's plan for him, the range of options limited. Green grass brushes at his ankles, birdsong cheerful despite the lingering smell of smoke. He doesn't want to die, so that's that, really. He likes the song.
When Yuuji looks over, Gojo's still lingering, sitting an arm's length away. If Yuuji were to reach out to touch him, he would feel the bloom of the connection between their souls, so different from the mold spore that is Sukuna's presence. And what a mess that is—Yuuji's still reeling at it all, the existence of curses in general and the one that it looks like he'll be coming to know more and more in the time to come. However long that ends up being, anyway.
Gojo slides over the box of sweets resting between them. "Living in Sendai, I'm sure you've had more than your fill of kikufuku."
"Still good," Yuuji says, picking one up without complaint. He opens the individual package and bites in. Edamame and cream, almost too sweet. "Hey, Gojo-sensei?"
"I suppose it is sensei now, isn't it," Gojo hums. "What a monumental decision you've made today."
"Yeah. Anyway, uh, is that execution still on?"
Maybe the question's already been answered in a way that went over Yuuji's head; it wouldn't be the first time. Or maybe the answer's as straightforward as it was in that sealed room, his hands bound behind his back, staring across at the accusing face of the man who touched his finger to Yuuji's forehead and changed his life. And maybe, just maybe, his soulmate puts more stock in souls than in curses.
Gojo rests his cheek on his palm, elbow upright on his crossed leg, peering at Yuuji through a blindfold that doesn't seem to be doing much considering the mastery of his fight with Sukuna. "If anyone asks? Yes. My formerly-only student convinced me to argue for your suspended sentence. I have to honor his request, you know. He has trouble making friends."
"Yeah, Fushiguro's cool. We're going to be friends, I just know it." He waits a bit, but Gojo doesn't continue, so Yuuji figures it's up to him. It's whatever; he's used to men who don't use their words. So far, Gojo's been the opposite of his grandfather, saying a lot without saying it straight. "And when no one's asking?"
That curl at the edge of Gojo's lips doesn't look like a smile. "I'm half convinced to cocoon you in bubble wrap. You wouldn't like that, would you?"
"It sounds like it would be hard to breathe," Yuuji figures. The mental image almost makes him laugh. Would have if not for the location. "Also I can't take my morning runs in bubble wrap. I'd fly away in the wind like a marshmallow."
"Then I'll find other ways to keep you. You'll live." Gojo's expression is scarily intent. "I will make you live. I lied. That's the only choice you have, in truth, Yuuji."
Ah, Yuuji thinks. You lost someone, too. He's not sure how he missed it. Maybe he wasn't looking for it, was too busy thinking of himself. It's there in the set of Gojo's jaw outside a crematorium, the way his shoulders shift from tight to deliberately loose, the way he meets his soulmate and holds on too firmly. Hard to tell who made such an impact on this mysterious man; for all of Gojo's playfulness, Yuuji's not sure how easy it is to truly get close to him, aside from with a punch via the curse lodged inside him.
Yuuji nods. He's hardly going to argue with a soulmate who wants him alive. "Mm. You're kind of a soft touch, aren't you, sensei?"
"Yuuji!" No anger, even if Gojo still looks a little too sharp. Cheeky in a way that makes Yuuji want to poke at him and be poked at in turn.
"Honoring Fushiguro's request. Deciding not to kill me. I won't tell." Yuuji spreads his legs, knocking his knee against Gojo's. Fabric to fabric, so there's nothing echoed between their souls. "I didn't expect to gain and lose this much on the same day."
It eases a knot in Yuuji's chest to know that his soulmate isn't the type to lead him to slaughter. He thinks he might have liked him anyway—that's what you do with soulmates, isn't it, look at them with helpless hope, never mind that human fallibility provides no guarantees—but he likes him more this way. Likes him angry on Yuuji's behalf and derelict in his duties, likes the indominable force of will. The strongest, Gojo said yesterday, and with time Yuuji might just believe it.
"I didn't expect you at all," Gojo says. His spiky hair doesn't move in the breeze. "You certainly took your time. I was convinced this soulmate business had nothing to do with me."
"Are you disappointed to have one?"
"Hm. It's been entertaining so far. No complaints. Well, maybe one," Gojo says, slipping a shriveled finger out of his pocket and twirling it between his fingers, so fast that Yuuji almost loses track of which is which.
When Gojo throws the finger up into the air, Yuuji snakes his hand out to catch it. He would have liked to come to his soulmate with a pure soul and not a monster in his chest, but then without the monster, Gojo would have had no reason to come to Sendai. Yuuji doesn't know yet if the tradeoff is worth it. First impressions aren't enough to build a lifetime on, provided Gojo gets his way and Yuuji gets to live that lifetime. His soulmate's pretty cute, but he's trouble, too. Yuuji can hear it in his every word. It probably shouldn't be so appealing.
Without giving it too much thought, Yuuji pops the finger in his mouth. Its claw scratches the whole way down his throat, then moments later, the pain is gone.
Gojo's looking at him again in that overly intent way. It would be easier if it were sexual; it's not. He doesn't look like he's about to cry or anything, which is for the best because then Yuuji would have to join him and he's already done his crying yesterday. His grandfather wouldn't care for any more.
"Can I kiss you?" Yuuji asks, the taste of Sukuna's finger still lingering.
There's movement below the blindfold, a deliberate emphasis; Gojo's eyebrows rise. "How bold! Has that been on your mind?"
"Not really," slips out before Yuuji thinks better of it. "Not that I don't want to! And not that you're not very pretty! The prettiest man I've ever seen! Wait, stop laughing, I'm just…"
He trails off there. Gauche to use someone's death as a reason to not be thinking about it, even if it's true. Grandpa didn't put much stock in soulmates; said Yuuji's parents were soulmates and look where it got them? Yuuji's always privately assumed his opinions had more to do with Wasuke's divorce than anything else, long before Yuuji was even born. It's been weighty in Yuuji's chest, the grief, the fear over his friends' lives, the shock of this stranger carrying the other half of his soul. All spinning around in his head with no outlet.
Amusement curls through Gojo's expression, even with his face half-hidden. "Ah, do you deserve it, with an answer like that?"
"Probably not. You're like—however many years—older than me, you have your own life. I know what I'm asking. I'll work hard to deserve it." He wasn’t thinking about it earlier, it’s true. He’s thinking about it now. He’s going to be thinking about it for a while. Maybe for the rest of his life.
"Cute," Gojo says, not quite nicely. But Yuuji doesn’t need nice. Just nice doesn’t plant itself between Yuuji and the council.
Yuuji's not overly bothered. He's only met two jujutsu sorcerers and both of them have been weird. The whole lot of them's probably this way. "So, can I?"
"I'll allow it." Gojo waves him closer with his other hand.
Yuuji knocks his knee harder against Gojo's thigh. The muscle is solid through the fabric. "But do you want it?"
"You're very forward toward your poor sensei."
"Satoru-san," Yuuji tries. It's not bad. Kind of nice, actually.
Gojo grips him by the front of his hoodie and pulls him in, straightening from his slouched-over pose. He's taller than Yuuji, and Yuuji's never kissed anyone who's taller than him, but that's not bad, either.
The first touch opens the soulmate connection; the first kiss seals it. Their souls flow from one to the other; Yuuji's hanger-on yells in his head, but it's easy to ignore him in favor of the sweet taste of Gojo's lips, kikufuku cream more palatable than a finger down his throat. He grasps desperately for that connection and it opens freely in turn on Gojo's end, heedless of Sukuna's presence, wild with it. It would be the best kiss Yuuji's ever had even without the sparks flying between their souls; with it, Yuuji knows he's lost. Gojo's more indulgent than Yuuji expected; it's not a short kiss, not a pretty, closed press of lips.
Eventually, the kiss breaks, and Yuuji opens his eyes, gaze intent and obvious on Gojo's lips.
Gojo's finger wags under his gaze. "My eyes are up here, Yuuji."
Yuuji drags his gaze back up to the blindfold. The connection between them stays open now that they've kissed. Yuuji can traverse half the planet and the bond between their souls won't wane. Having come to terms yesterday with how fragile human life is, it's a comfort to experience such a thing.
"I'm doing that again someday," Yuuji tells him very seriously. "When I've proven myself to you."
"My standards aren't very high. It seems my type is cute pink-haired vessels half my age."
Yuuji probably shouldn't feel so charmed. "You said I'm a one in a thousand-year occurrence."
"You're more valuable as my soulmate than his vessel," Gojo tells him. He leans in again, only a breath away, and he doesn't kiss him. "Remember it: your soul was mine even before you ate his finger."
And it's enough for Yuuji to square it away in his head. He wasn't able to at first, not knowing how it's going to work, himself and this man who might as well be from outer space. But now, now. He's going to kiss this man again one day and it won't be to establish a bond.
When the two hours are up, Yuuji returns to the crematorium to finish the job. He doesn't ask Gojo to hold the second pair of chopsticks, even if as Yuuji's soulmate, it would have been appropriate. It's Yuuji's grandfather here on the table, Yuuji's grief. He doesn't ask Gojo to join him at the Itadori family plot, just reaches for him and finds him already there. It's where his father's ashes rest, where his mother—her urn appearing in the mail one day—rests, and it's his grandfather's resting place now too.
Make sure you're surrounded by others, his grandfather's words echo. When it's Yuuji's time to go, Gojo will be here. Yuuji trusts him not to die before he does. He needs someone at his funeral. Gojo's hands would hold his bones steadily.
"You'll get through it," Gojo says quietly. "Not quickly or easily, but you will. You're a resilient kid."
It's not Yuuji's business. He asks it anyway. "Did you get through it?"
Gojo's silent for a long moment. "I'm working on it. It's easier with company."
Yuuji leans into Gojo's side, just a touch of shoulder to arm, and exhales a breath when Gojo's arm settles around his shoulders. He leans more fully into his soulmate, lets him bear the weight. The bond hums between them, too bright for such a solemn place. It's a distraction, but it's a very pretty distraction.
In his final prayer before he leaves for Jujutsu High, Yuuji doesn't say much. He figures his grandpa understands anyway. It's a long distance from Sendai to Tokyo, but Gojo's company makes the trip fast.