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Sometimes Yuuji dreams about returning to the Itadori family plot. He would say hello to his parents, then turn to Wasuke, whose urn is rightmost, toward the front. It's to his grandfather that he wants to say: I dropped out of the school clubs you were always on about!
Actually, he might have dropped out of school in general. Yuuji hopes that he'll get enrolled back in properly upon his official return to life. His grandpa's bones would turn to ash from shame otherwise. This aside, Yuuji would tell his grandpa about Fushiguro and Kugisaki, who he wishes he knew longer, and Gojo, who he wishes he knew better.
You'd like him, Yuuji would say. He's very funny.
Grandpa would call Gojo a clown, all huffy-like, and he'd enjoy complaining about him until the complaining grows fond over time.
Yuuji can almost imagine a mouth forming on the tombstone like Sukuna's formed on his cheek, but in the shape of his grandfather's rare smile. What's so funny about him?
At this, Yuuji would settle in, dirtying his knees. Even in his fantasies, he can't imagine he's visited often enough to keep the family plot perfectly clean. Well, you see he has a great personality. You know how so many adults are boring, like you, gramps? Ow, hey! It is here that he imagines his grandpa's tongue flicking him like a frog. Maybe ghosts can do that, who knows! If curses are real then anything's possible. He barely teaches, throws us into battles, takes pictures of Fushiguro when he's beat up for blackmail material, jokes around all the time.
And you think I'd like this man? It's the loud, booming voice from Yuuji's youth that he imagines, a decade gone to his grandfather's poor health. Are you out of your mind?
Come on, Yuuji would say, laughing. You've always liked interesting people, even if you wouldn't admit it. Well, me, too. He's the most interesting of them all. You know that moment when you're getting to know someone and you think to yourself, wow, I'm glad we met, this is going to be fun, whatever it is?
I've only felt the opposite, his grandfather might grumble. A get-the-hell-outta-here feeling.
Nah, I want him around. Like, all the time. Did you know I'm living in his home?
What?!
That's right, Yuuji's one single complaint about the original basement—prefaced by saying he wasn't complaining! that he's happy to be alive! it's only that he kind of misses fresh air!—got him spirited away to Gojo's home on the Jujutsu High grounds. It's private enough, tucked as far away from the main school grounds as possible, with rear-facing windows Yuuji can discreetly lean out of at night when he thinks he might go entirely stir-crazy. The television is bigger here, as is the DVD collection, and Yuuji gets used to sleeping in a fourth place in as many weeks.
The couch is bigger, too, but it feels smaller, especially when Gojo seems to forget that personal space exists. Yuuji's never minded a cuddle. It feels like a slumber party: lights out, the glow of the television, sweet and salty snacks on the coffee table that Gojo makes Yuuji pass to him because he claims to not want to move.
Yuuji's in the middle of telling Gojo about the fifty thousand gallons of fake blood used during the filming of Basin of Blood III: His Return. It's rumored online that the high cost of practical effects were what caused the production company to go bankrupt. Yuuji's of two minds about it.
Gojo's hand creeps up Yuuji's chest while Yuuji contemplates what it would be like to swim in that much fake blood. Sukuna could probably help him out with that understanding.
Given that Gojo's already sprawled over him, it's barely a footnote except for that it gives Yuuji pause. It's that feeling right before a good fight. Nothing to do with cursed energy, or at least he doesn't think so. It's physical, instinctual, except they're not about to fight.
Oh right, Yuuji thinks. "That's a bad idea."
He moves Gojo's hand away from his chest and onto the cursed doll. If Gojo wants to be helpful, he can throw some cursed energy into the doll instead. He does nothing about the way Gojo is otherwise draped over him, arm around his shoulders, their sides flush against each other. Yuuji's feet rest on the coffee table, while Gojo's overly long legs rest on top of his at an angle. Now that he thinks about it, Yuuji can see why someone might get the wrong idea. Even still, he can't really see why Gojo would get the wrong idea. Maybe horror movies just get him hot.
Gojo accepts the correction cheerily. "Your call. Although—"
"Sensei," Yuuji says, dragging out the final syllable.
"Fine, fine." Gojo manages one beat of silence before continuing. "Are you not the type to develop a crush on your teacher?"
"Not really," Yuuji admits. He mutes the TV, letting the movie continue playing. It's not a loss; the middle of the movie drags in a way that is unbecoming of a horror movie. He wriggles around on the couch until he's facing Gojo. His teacher doesn't make it easy, but he accepts the prodding, Yuuji's bent knee landing on his thigh as he shifts his position. "I've never had a crush like that. Did you?"
He tries to imagine a mini Gojo with hearts in his eyes, following a taller, blurry figure. It's pretty cute.
Gojo refines Yuuji's imagination, saying, "I didn't. Truly, what a waste of potential. I had private tutors during childhood. Old, wrinkly Gojo clan elders who didn't inspire much of anything in me. When I arrived to Jujutsu High, your Principal Yaga taught second years. My first and third year teachers are long gone, tragic deaths of the sort that usually happen to sorcerers, not particularly attractive. One did have good hair."
Yuuji nods. He tugs absently at the cursed doll's ears. Private tutors, huh? Gojo does seem like the type. "Principal Yaga is pretty cool for an older guy."
"Mm. You're not wrong. You should have seen him shirtless on the summer runs he used to take, but I was too distracted by my cute classmate. In retrospect, becoming hot for teacher would have been easier." Gojo shakes his head. "I'd tell you not to follow in my example, but Kugisaki and Fushiguro are good kids. You could do worse."
"You're not very good at arguing your case."
"Are you saying I have a case?"
Yuuji can't help the huff of laughter. It's just that Gojo's larger than life, even in this.
"I never really got it, the teacher thing. Mine were all… very nice? Not a sexy kind of nice, more maternal than anything else."
Raised by his grandpa, with his mom and grandmothers out of the picture a long time, Yuuji's never had a woman in his life, but he figures he's also never gotten a complex about it. In middle school, students considered themselves lucky to be in Sato-sensei's class, and the line between some students' crushes and wishes for her to be their mom were weirdly blurry. Yuuji was more interested in the pretty girl in the row in front of his.
Gojo hums, leaning in a fraction. "Yuuji, it's not a secret: I'm not very nice."
Yuuji pokes him in the side. "I wouldn't be alive if you weren't nice."
"I stayed your execution because I had sinister plans for you."
"Huh. Even then?"
Gojo's huff of laughter is warm against his skin. "Maybe not quite then. Soon after. I liked how you handled Sukuna."
"And you thought, what, you'd like how I handle you?" Yuuji asks, curious.
The blindfold feels especially like a taunt. He wants to see Gojo's eyes now as he looks at Yuuji, wants to know what his gaze would say. With the blindfold, he only has half the picture.
Gojo's lips curl up as though Yuuji is flirting with him. "You might be capable of it. Too soon to tell."
Yuuji can't even help it. He looks, and he knows Gojo's seeing him look, and that makes it better and worse. It's not like he hasn't seen him before. It's only that you don't go around looking at your teachers the way Yuuji is now, the long slide of his gaze. It's not that he hasn't noticed that Gojo is attractive. You'd have to be blind, and you'd have to be deaf, too, not to enjoy the personality that comes with the looks. Yuuji figures some of that personality's for show, but it's a good show. He likes returning Gojo's energy, likes the buzz underneath his skin near him, likes eating meals with him even if he has to intercept Gojo in the kitchen from adding sugar to every recipe. Maybe he'd like the way the way Gojo's pants shape his ass if they were a little tighter. It's a shame that this wasn't a priority for Gojo when he was modifying his own uniform. And maybe that moment drags on a bit too long.
"I can pop a button for you, if it's helpful," Gojo offers.
"Right," Yuuji without really processing the words. He doesn't have much brainpower left. He nods decisively and shoves a throw pillow between his face and Gojo's so that there's no more looking in any direction.
"Yuuji!"
Yuuji only unmutes the television and raises the volume by a few notches. "We're getting to the good part. One of the actors said he nearly drowned during this scene!"
"I've nearly drowned in blood," Gojo says, all mournfully.
Yuuji lowers the throw pillow only enough to peer over it. "Are you going to tell me the story or only tease me with it?"
Gojo smiles. "Just tease."
"Back to the movie, then!"
For a brief moment, Yuuji thinks that maybe the mood's gone all weird, that they won't be able to pick up the movie again, but then Gojo asks him if that much fake blood isn't overkill and Yuuji gets to tell him about how actually, there should have been even more fake blood. Another swimming pool's worth at least and ideally in that boring middle section of the movie.
The night goes on. Gojo shuffles him off to bed in the evening with a pat on his head and a warning about how training starts bright and early the next day. Yuuji watches sleepily as Gojo turns in to his room down the hall. Yuuji's never been inside. He wonders, now.
Training is normal the next day.
Yuuji's relieved.
He's also decided that it's a rite of passage or whatever to jerk off to thoughts of your teacher. Which means that Yuuji is following in the footsteps of many students before him, and thus it is nothing new or novel, and thus he can put it past him. Right after he jerks off about it again.
It's different, that's all. He's liked girls a couple years older than him before, nothing near the decade plus that Gojo has on him. Never found a teacher all that hot; when he was very young, he thought teachers lived at school, and even after being disabused of this notion it's about the most he's given his teachers thought. Abstract respect aside, he's still a tiny bit convinced that maybe they do live at school. Gojo certainly does!
And it's not a turn-on that Gojo is his future executioner. Sometimes Yuuji still feels like he's in that room, arms bound behind him, Gojo's finger guns marking his fate. Only it doesn't make his body cool down, either.
The problem is, threaded through the things that Yuuji wouldn't usually find attractive, Gojo is just so interesting. Like an anime character come to life, like he'll pull out Rasengan any minute now, like the secrets of the universe are held behind that blindfold. Yuuji wants to grab at it and tug, and not because he cares about the secrets of the universe. Just to see more of Gojo.
Soon, Gojo brings Yuuji to the woods to a fight against a curse with the head of Mount Fuji, holding Yuuji by his sweatshirt like a mother cat scruffing her kitten. Yuuji cheers from the sidelines for the first part of the battle—"Wow, sensei, you're so cool! Ten out of ten!"—before he gets up close and personal with the curse's domain. Gojo's explanations only halfway make sense, as usual, but Infinite Void might just be cooler than Rasengan. Yuuji's biased, maybe.
When both curses have fled, Yuuji can't help but ask, "Were you holding hands with that curse?"
Gojo's gaze meets his, a novelty that has Yuuji's heart in palpitations. "Why, were you jealous?"
The very idea is outlandish. Jealousy's all about containment; Yuuji can't imagine the strongest sorcerer alive in any way contained. "You were explaining your technique to him. He couldn't touch you."
"I wouldn't have let a weak curse like that touch me." Gojo steps closer, hand outstretched.
Yuuji rolls his eyes, brushing his hand against Gojo's and briefly threading their fingers together. What must it be like to have no equals? "Can you turn it on again?"
He's barely finished asking the question when he feels Gojo's power activate. He pushes against it with no expectation; it doesn't budge, that strange nothingness. Yuuji recalls feeling the same layer of power during Gojo's fight with Sukuna the first day they met. He can't recall having felt it since.
It must really be something, to be this powerful. Intense, euphoric, alone. Yuuji's happy to learn from Gojo and to be trained by him, in large part because he really is the strongest. To hear others tell it, Gojo won the genetic lottery, then expanded on it. In truth, Yuuji feels a million miles away from him.
And then Infinity drops and their hands connect. Yuuji holds tight, a million miles crossed in an instant. Gojo's hand is warm, his eyes blazing. Yuuji's lost in blue.
Gojo's thumb rubs against his knuckle. "You're so principled, Yuuji. Why is that?"
"I don't know how to respect you and disrespect you at the same time," Yuuji blurts out. "You're my teacher."
His smirk is devastating without the blindfold. "You've never disrespected a teacher before?"
A few times, sure, and for reasons Yuuji will uphold to this day. "I've never disrespected you," Yuuji corrects. It's an important distinction. A blue-eyed distinction.
"I could teach you. You'd be very good at it."
Yuuji swallows. I could be. When Gojo lets him have his hand back, it drops like a stone. Yuuji's no academic, but he could write a paper on why this is a bad idea, and any draft would end in the same way: that Yuuji's track record with bad ideas shows a clear pattern. Could this be worse than consuming Sukuna's finger, really?
Gojo's tone lightens even if his gaze doesn't. "I had better get you home. I have a meeting that I'm—" a check of Gojo's cell phone, screen alight with missed calls "—an exciting half an hour late for. Who knows, maybe by the time Masamichi finishes lecturing me, I won't even be your teacher."
"No way. You're staying my teacher."
Gojo pinches Yuuji's cheek. "You really are my cutest student." The pinch turns into a stroke, warm against the brief sting.
"And since I'm your cutest student…"
"Go on."
"I could stay here while you're at your meeting. You could come back for me." If he had a tail, it would be wagging. "Come on, sensei. I haven't been outside in forever. There's no one here. I could hike a while."
"Fine, fine." Gojo takes him by the shoulders, positioning him westward. A warp, and suddenly they're in a different stretch of forest. Yuuji doesn't know where they are, but that isn't new. "Go that way. If you get far enough along, I'll bring you back a treat."
"A new disc of Human Earthworm 2?" His previous one reached an unfortunate demise by way of a surprise punch from the doll throwing Yuuji off the couch and into a pile of discs.
"And some ice cream."
"Yes, sensei!" Yuuji yells as he sprints off, determined to get that prize.
It's all forest, interspersed with the occasional clearing. Yuuji isn't bothered by the darkness, making good time on his impromptu hike. It feels good to use his muscles for something as innocent as this, like opening a window into the past. He would hike with his grandfather often when he was very young, being shown which berries are edible and which plants will bloom a rash over Yuuji's skin. It sends a pang through him that he doesn't remember all of what his grandfather taught him. But it's too dark for any berries to be identifiable and Yuuji's not chancing an upset stomach, not today.
After the initial rush of movement, his pace slows, his walk becoming languid. It's enough to enjoy the silence of nature and to walk with his thoughts. As they often are these days, his thoughts are consumed with bad ideas.
Yuuji hears the stream before he sees it, then he sees Gojo on its bank. Absurdly, he's stretched out on a picnic blanket, already eating a popsicle. He hands Yuuji an ice cream sandwich when Yuuji plops down next to him. There's a plastic bag to the side with a stack inside that looks like several DVDs.
"You made it," Gojo says, like he never had any doubt. And then he takes the popsicle back into his mouth.
"Wow, you're really shameless," Yuuji says, appreciatively. Unfortunately for his sanity, Gojo's whole deal under the moonlight is a sight Yuuji will probably never forget, a part of him as permanently as the curse rotting in his stomach.
Gojo's lips are tinged blue from the ice cream. "I gave subtlety a try first."
Yuuji has his doubts. Gojo's definition of subtle can't be anywhere near a normal person's. But then, Yuuji's not bothering with subtlety, either. He chucked it out with his sense of propriety somewhere in the forest. "You should take your blindfold off again. It'll help your case."
Gojo doesn't waste time in doing so. "Oh? Changed your mind already? Was it the ice cream?"
"You're much worse on my self-control than Sukuna is," Yuuji tells him. He finishes off his own ice cream, then presses his cold hand to his own skin. The hike got his blood pumping, but it's Gojo that's doing it now. "It's still a bad idea. Let's do it."
"I've never had a bad idea," Gojo assures him, and then he leans in.
Gojo's mouth isn't tentative like one of his former classmates', so Yuuji forgets to be cautious. He likes kissing in general and he finds he likes kissing Gojo specifically, likes the tangible proof that there's nothing but spit between their bodies, Infinity nowhere in sight, likes the way Gojo tastes him, as though he's trying to lick the last taste of ice cream out of Yuuji's mouth.
It's a cool summer evening, but Yuuji's hot from collar to sole, most of the heat centered at his middle. He keeps opening his eyes during the kiss, charmed down to the bone by Gojo's white eyelashes. He hadn't expected those, somehow. Yuuji gives a push and it's enough to bring Gojo down to the picnic blanket, Yuuji following him helplessly down, pressing against the solid mass of him.
Later, Yuuji says, "I think I died again." He's back to laying on the blanket again, just his head in Gojo's lap now, his teacher looking down at him with those eyes. It's probably not the time for it, but the thought slips into Yuuji's head. "So what were those sinister plans, the ones you mentioned?"
"Oh, the usual. Taking over jujutsu society one student at a time." Despite his light tone, the words sound serious.
Yuuji hums. "You didn't have to seduce me for that one."
"No, I just wanted to." Gojo's hand trails through Yuuji's hair.
Yuuji can feel his ears growing red. After everything, it's this that does it. "Can I seduce you back?"
A burst of laughter from Gojo, sweet, a bit incredulous. "You'll have no problem with that."
"Good," Yuuji says, tugging Gojo down by the front of his uniform. Gojo lets him, hunching over to meet Yuuji's lips in a kiss. It's mostly chaste, the position too awkward for more. When Yuuji lets go, Gojo stays like that for a while. It's something, to have the strongest sorcerer looking at him like that. It's something more to have Gojo doing so.
Anyway, all that to say, there will be parts that Yuuji leaves out when he next visits his grandfather's remains. He'll still mention Gojo. All the other stuff aside, he really is funny.