Chapter Text
June, 2005.
Yuuta fiddled with the collar of his standard uniform. It was tight, tighter than he’s ever had to wear since becoming a sorcerer, and under the sweltering heat of the summer sun, it felt particularly like a snake’s vice around his neck.
Being assigned as a Special Grade the moment the higher-ups had clocked him on their radar had its benefits, he supposed, as he lamented the comfy wide-neck collar of his customised uniform. When he was cold, he could just tuck his chin in for warmth, and when he was too hot, he could just unbutton the collar to air out the trapped heat. And despite the protests of his classmates (maybe he should be referring to them as his former classmates now, but he truly can’t bring himself to, he doesn’t think he ever will be able to), he thinks that the whole making-his-uniform-white-so-he-can-be-monitored-easily thing wasn’t that big of a deal. It didn’t really affect him that much, not after his execution was nullified.
He let out a small exhale, which drew the attention of Yaga-sensei.
“Hot?”
Yaga-sensei had always been a man of few words, huh? Yuuta nodded and tacked on a small smile, “Mhm.”
“He should be here soon, and then we can head back,” Yaga said gruffly, checking his watch.
Yuuta looked at the man’s wristwatch despite being too far away to parse the numbers the needles were pointing at, idly watching the second hand tick by. He glanced away when Yaga folded his arm away back into what seemed to be his default standing position - arms crossed and legs shoulder-width apart. Yaga, currently only a teacher, felt so familiar in all the little things. Objectively, this was the Principal Yaga he knew, just a version from the past.
Despite all that, he still felt like a stranger sometimes.
Yuuta picked at a stray thread on his collar that had unfurled a while ago from his incessant poking.
“If you’re not a fan of the collar, you can file for a uniform adjustment request later,” Yaga had turned his head towards Yuuta slightly, gesturing with his chin towards Yuuta’s bullying of the loose thread.
Yuuta blinked. He looked down at his hand, and dropped it quickly. “Oh.” He laced his fingers together. “Yeah, um, okay. I think I’ll do that.”
Yaga’s eyes lingered on him before he turned away, facing the street again. Yuuta did the same, and leaned back on the railing behind him.
I wonder if it will be Gojo-sensei or Geto Suguru-san I’ll be meeting today. He thumbed at his ring, smoothing over the same spot over and over. Rika’s presence hung heavily in the back of his mind, a comforting weight curling around him.
He rotated his ring around his finger restlessly.
He already knew what he was getting into this year, after some calculations and mentally mapping out the ages of everyone he knew if they were in 2005 (which, he is, and technically they all were too). He deduced, quite easily, that he and his friends would be small children toddling around. With a little more thinking, he finalised that Gojo-sensei and the others would be around teenagers, and thereby enrolled at the school.
But, he had thought to himself, Gojo-sensei wouldn’t be… in Yuuta’s year, right? Even if Yuuta had gotten placed in first year instead of second year (to arouse as little suspicion from third-parties as possible, Yaga-sensei had told him) that would be too big of a coincidence. Surely he would just be a senior that Yuuta would occasionally pass by, right?
So, after a little poking around in the student files of his classmates this year, (sorry, Yaga-sensei!) he had come to the mind-numbing conclusion that. Oh.
It was 2005, and Yuuta would be a first year along with a young Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, and Ieri Shoko.
Away from prying eyes in his room that Yaga-sensei graciously let him stay in, he had stifled the urge to bury his face in his hands, until he decided the effort wasn’t worth it, and promptly muttered muffled self-reassurances that he himself didn’t fully believe into his hands.
‘It’s okay,’ always gets tiring after the twentieth time, really.
Because, really… out of everyone?
That was him a couple days ago. He’s had more than 48 hours to steel himself, and a whole year’s worth of improvements on calming his anxiety disorder. He liked to think he was a lot calmer now, outwardly at least. Or, maybe it was just because he threw himself into missions one after another. He didn’t really know. Maki would be able to tell him. If she were here.
He felt a pang in his chest.
Still, a small part of him – scratch that – a big part of him hoped it wouldn’t be Geto Suguru today. He could trust himself to put on a normal act at least, but… well, he just hoped that Ieri-san would be somewhat of a regular teenage girl, at least next to her two classmates. He couldn’t exactly extend the same wish to Gojo-sensei and Geto Suguru.
Come face to face with the young, probably-not-evil version of a mass-murderer and cult leader, who tried to kill you for your dead childhood fiance whom you cursed yourself, nearly killing your friends in the process… who then became the vessel of one of the most infamously cruel sorcerers in history…
Mhm. Yuuta decided he was going to not think about it. He closed his eyes.
In any case, he’s gotten quite good at putting on a mask. If he’s careful, they won’t suspect a thing.
Distantly, he heard his teacher call out and say something. “Ah…–to-kun. It’s good to see you...” He really should be paying more attention right now.
Yuuta must have been moping around for longer than he thought, because when he came back to reality, a soft, smooth voice reached his ears. His eyes snapped open.
“Yes, good afternoon, Yaga-sensei. Apologies for being late,” Geto Suguru greeted politely.
Yuuta slowly looked up. Yaga-sensei was facing away from him, exchanging greetings with Geto.
His first thought was that–
He looked young.
Yuuta frowned. A year younger than himself, the same age as Fushiguro-kun, as Itadori-kun. Geto was a first year student, fresh out of middle school.
In all, sixteen year old Geto Suguru looked to be a perfectly civil boy. His inky hair was slicked back into a bun, loose strands hanging by the side of his face. He wore the standardised uniform top along with rather, no, very baggy pants, and had black studs in, smaller than the gauges Yuuta saw him adorned in when he was an adult. Geto Suguru, just a teenage boy, met Yaga’s extended hand in a firm handshake.
The bloodthirsty image he had of Geto Suguru crumbled ever so slightly.
However, Yuuta couldn’t help the stutter of his heartbeat and his pulse picking up, and he couldn’t help it as his fight-or-flight instincts kicked in.
This is not the man behind the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons. This is not the puppeted man behind the Shibuya Incident.
Please, he begged his nervous system, stop registering him as a threat, I don’t think my heart can take any more. Yuuta absentmindedly rubbed his chest.
“It happens,” Yaga nodded. “Though, you were only tardy by five minutes. Anyway, this is your classmate.”
He gestured behind him, to where Yuuta was standing, and Yuuta had a single moment to feel selfishly betrayed by his new teacher before plastering a welcoming smile on his face, which felt very much like carelessly covering a small crack in the road with a barrel of smoldering tar. Consciously, curled his cursed energy further into himself so it wouldn’t spike and cause alarm.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Yuuta began after a pause he hoped wasn’t long enough to be unnatural. He walked forward and came to a stop in front of Geto. He offered forward an inviting hand. “I’m Okkotsu Yuuta, and I’ll be your classmate starting this year.”
After subtly looking him up and down, Geto’s eyes met his. His gaze lingered on the silver band glimmering in the sunlight on Yuuta’s left hand. Geto looked up, and with a silent smile, he reached out to clasp his outstretched hand. In hindsight, Yuuta may have subsequently ended the handshake a bit prematurely.
Geto graced him with only a slight raise of an eyebrow, his empty hand hovering in mid-air, before he dropped it.
“It’s a pleasure, Okkotsu-san,” Geto replied placidly, and Yuuta felt as if that wasn’t very true. “My name is Geto Suguru.”
“Geto-san,” Yuuta returned. He wasn’t being very truthful either when he then said, “I hope we can get along.”
A lie for a lie. Geto dipped his head in acknowledgement.
The car ride back to Jujutsu Tech was one of silence. Yuuta wasn’t feeling too inclined to strike up a conversation with Geto, at least not currently, and Geto seemed content to gaze out the window with his chin propped up on a hand. It was like he was completely absorbed by the view. Yuuta stopped for a moment, and peered at what he could see of Geto’s reflection in the window – and saw quiet awe written across the planes of his face.
Yuuta was conflicted.
As for Yaga, well, Yaga was just focused on driving, with two teenage boys in the backseat who appeared to have gotten off the wrong foot already for no particular reason. Yuuta felt a twinge of sympathy for him. He would have a lot on his hands with Gojo-sensei coming soon.
Ah, Gojo… san? He shouldn’t slip up and call him sensei, that would make things weird.
Arriving at the school, they clambered up the stairs.
Trepidation and uncertainty weighed over curiosity of seeing his teacher and the school’s doctor as young teenagers. It was weird. Well, his whole situation was weird in general, though.
He just had to get used to it.
Save as many people as you can and protect your loved ones.
Even if they will never know you the same.
He didn’t have any other choice, really. He had to do this.
Yuuta failed to notice Geto glancing over at him pensively as he began to tug anxiously at his collar once more.
They arrived at the dormitories with little fanfare. In the hallway of the boy’s dormitory wing, Geto and Yuuta stood. Yaga had left them – moreso Geto – to settle in for the rest of the day. Yuuta saw a few boxes at the end of the hall that weren’t there this morning. Geto’s things, possibly?
Yuuta felt a little bad for making absolutely zero attempt to socialise with Geto, but all he really wanted currently was to retreat to his own room. Before he could do so, though, Geto turned to him.
“Do you not like how tight your collar is?” Geto asked. It was rather out of the blue, if you asked Yuuta.
“Uh, huh?”
“I noticed that it seemed to make you uncomfortable. You can get your uniform adjusted, if you want to. It’s what I did,” Geto suggested mildly. He pointed at his pants.
“Oh,” Yuuta blinked. He didn’t realise Geto was even paying him any attention. “Yeah. You know, Yaga-sensei actually said the same thing earlier. You’re right, haha… I’m just not used to how tight it is. I’ll probably get an adjustment soon.”
He pulled at it again unconsciously.
Geto hummed ambiguously. His face betrayed nothing but impassiveness, and Yuuta realised that there was not a hint of this version of Geto present when Yuuta had met him back in his first year.
The worst curse user was a man not above using petty tricks, who had tried to coerce Yuuta into joining his side, who had nearly killed his friends with nothing but a slightly aggrieved sigh like they were just collateral. He had smiled mockingly at Yuuta as he brought wreckage onto the school, as he killed hundreds in his terrorist attack.
Yuuta couldn’t exactly equate the boy in front of him with that same man in his mind. Was it his polite mannerisms? How he had stared out of the window in the car at the moving scenery of Tokyo with wide eyes, as if trying to take everything in as much as he could? The way he seemed to keep everything and everyone at arms length, like he simply felt on guard in this new place?
To Yuuta, this Geto Suguru seemed like a lonely person. And Yuuta knew how it felt to be lonely – it was a feeling that was so deeply ingrained into him that he had, at one point, thought he wouldn’t be anything, anyone without it. It brought a hollowness that made your skin crawl with helpless heartache. He wasn’t sure if this was what Geto felt, really, he had just met him an hour prior.
Despite that, a wave of sympathy welled up from within, full and loving with nowhere to go, and for a brief moment, it enveloped his suspicions and misgivings in a blanket of compassion.
“Are those your things down the hall?” Yuuta smiled at Geto, for the first time without falsities. “Would you like some help moving them into your room?”
Geto nodded after a pause, blinking at Yuuta. “...That would be helpful, thank you.”
“It’s nothing,” Yuuta replied, closing his eyes.
They made quick work of moving the boxes into Geto’s new room. Yuuta had offhandedly mentioned which one of the rooms was his own, the one at the very end of the hall, and Geto had answered with a soft noncommittal, “yeah?” before silently choosing the room to the right of Yuuta’s as his own.
“Okkotsu-san,” Geto spoke as they brought the last box in. “Are you originally from Tokyo?”
“Just Okkotsu is fine,” Yuuta waved a hand. “And no, I moved here like you did! I’m from up north.”
He hadn’t been back to his hometown in years, really. He didn’t keep in contact with his parents, and his little sister… Yuuta found himself lying awake at night sometimes, fighting the urge to text her and let her know he was alright – to send a long and convoluted message of I’m alive and okay now I’m sorry for everything I’m sorry for failing you as your older brother and I hope you’re doing well.
He never brought himself to do it, though.
Yuuta cleared his throat. “What about you, Geto-san?”
“Just Geto is alright,” Geto mirrored with a quirk of his lips.
“Geto… kun.”
Geto laughed, a silky mellow sound. He looked to have gradually relaxed over the course of their conversation. “I suppose that’s as far as I’ll get with you? Anyways, my hometown is to the north as well.”
“Is that so? Are you from a non-sorcerer family, Geto-kun?”
Geto hesitated.
Yuuta blinked at this reaction, and rushed to clarify, “Oh, you don’t have to answer that if you’re uncomfortable. I didn’t mean anything by it, I was from a family of non-sorcerers, myself.”
“No, no, you didn’t do anything,” Geto shook his head. He said slowly, “You were right.”
Yuuta smiled and tried to direct away from the topic, “Yeah? It looks like we have a lot in common.”
“We do,” Geto replied softly as ever, though now his mind seemed elsewhere.
Did Yuuta cross the line by asking that question?
As he fretted, he didn’t notice Geto’s gaze flitting over him.
“Okkotsu,” Geto grabbed his attention. “Can I ask a question? It’s okay if you don’t want to answer.”
Yuuta glanced up to look at Geto. He nodded encouragingly, “Go ahead.”
“Earlier, you said you were from a non-sorcerer family,” Geto gently prompted. It wasn’t phrased like a question. It was as if he was trying to not scare him off.
“Ah,” Yuuta looked away with a small smile, “oh, that. It’s just because I’m… emancipated now, and I’m not in contact with my family anymore. That’s all, really.”
Small white lies. His family thought he was dead, and it had been that way for the past two years. In his own timeline, at least.
“I see,” Geto said quietly. “I’m sorry for bringing it up, then.”
“It’s alright, it’s in the past now,” Yuuta brushed it off, as he played with his ring.
Geto studied the action, looking contemplatively at his ring finger, but kept silent.
“Do you,” Geto asked delicately, “wish you were in contact, still?”
It might have been the hushed atmosphere, or maybe Geto’s low, soothing voice. Yuuta wasn’t quite sure what compelled him to reveal more than he should have, to a person he was never supposed to meet in a time that was all wrong.
“I do,” Yuuta replied sadly. He looked into Geto’s dark purple eyes, and said, “But it’s for the best this way.”
Geto didn’t respond, not with words at least, and that probably was for the better. He nodded, not fully comprehending, but didn’t ask any more.
They said goodbyes to each other soon after that, and Yuuta let the door to his room click closed behind him. He leaned back heavily, and sighed. He didn’t mean for the mood to get so heavy there, especially to Geto.
“Rika,” he whispered, “we’ll be okay.”
“The hell? What’s up with your cursed energy? You possessed or something?”
Unearthly blue eyes bored into Yuuta from behind a pair of blackout shades.
He should have known that Gojo-sensei as a teenager wouldn’t be anything but a hellion, mean and nosey. Yuuta allowed Gojo to invade his personal space with nothing but a faint smile as the other hunched down to loom inches from Yuuta’s face. From the corner of his eye, he saw Geto frown at Gojo, and Yaga sigh.
It was the day after Yuuta had met Geto, and so of course Gojo-sensei would make his miraculous appearance. They were all standing by the base of the steps up to Jujutsu Tech, waiting for the young master of the Gojo clan. And. There he was. With notably shorter, scruffier hair than Yuuta had ever seen him with.
“Hmm?” Yuuta tipped his head to the side consideringly, and then laughed softly, “Aha, nothing like that. Not anymore, at least.”
Gojo blinked at him. He mouthed ‘not anymore,’ to himself incredulously. His gaze ran across Yuuta’s body, like he was trying to identify something, and he must have found the something since his eyes darted back to Yuuta’s with a gaze so intense that it looked like he wanted to pin Yuuta to a board and dissect him.
Scary, Gojo-sensei, your younger self is scary…
“You’re a weirdo,” Gojo grumbled. He finally blinked, breaking the atmosphere and ending the impromptu staring contest, nudging his glasses up at the same time. However, still unsatisfied, he probed, “So? What does that even mean? You used to be?”
“Well, some stuff happened, and then some more stuff happened,” Yuuta answered cryptically. “It’s resolved now, though.”
It was quite fun to see the confusion on Gojo’s face, although it quickly melted into cool indifference. He raised an eyebrow and suddenly grabbed his wrist, though his palm never made full contact due to Infinity. It was intrusive, and Yuuta barely contained a flinch, but he could only just let Gojo-sensei do as he wanted like always.
With squinted eyes, Gojo inspected the silver band on his ring finger with what Yuuta assumed to be curiosity behind his thinly hidden disdain.
“Gojo,” Yaga warned.
Gojo looked back up at Yuuta. “Yeah? Then what’s all this about? What’s up with this creepy ass ring of yours? You engaged? I doubt it. Not with the insane amount of cursed energy coming out from this thing.”
Those words, blunt and incisive, hit Yuuta like a sledgehammer. His mouth tightened slightly, and Gojo’s eyes tracked the miniscule motion like Yuuta was simply a puzzle to solve. Even if it was Gojo-sensei…
…No, this wasn’t Gojo-sensei yet, Yuuta realised.
This was a young, immature version of his teacher, who needed a decade more to grow into the man Yuuta knew. The man who brought him into the light the day after Yuuta had tried to end his life, the man who helped him settle into his new school, his new home. Yuuta’s heart sank.
“Gojo, that’s enough,” Yaga grunted, sounding closer than before.
“Hm,” Gojo hummed to himself with a twist of his lips. And then, he leaned away from Yuuta after letting his wrist go. He took a step back and Yuuta felt as if he could finally breathe. Gojo put his hands up in surrender and sang, “Yes, yes, Yaga-sensei.”
“Excuse me, what’s your deal?” Geto spoke sharply. He sounded… defensive? Irritated?
Geto swept between them, wedging his shoulder in between to face Gojo. He was… shielding Yuuta from Gojo.
Yuuta felt both simultaneously touched that Geto was coming to Yuuta’s defense, and a little bad for Gojo, who was now being treated like some one-dimensional high school bully. Wait, maybe he kind of was?
Gojo looked unphased at both Geto’s interference and prickly tone. He simply looked Geto up and down, and then scoffed, “You… seriously? They really know how to pick them.”
Geto tensed, narrowing his eyes. “My name is Geto Suguru. If you’ve got a problem with me or Okkotsu, then you should just spit it out.”
Yuuta backed away from the two, placing himself on the sidelines where Yaga was massaging his temples.
Gojo observed Geto for a good moment, and then chuckled in his face.
Yuuta winced, feeling awfully like a disapproving parent (or, very very distant cousin, he supposes).
Sensei. That’s really mean.
Momentarily displaced by the other’s blatant disrespect, Geto stilled. “What—”
“My problem is,” Gojo interrupted loudly, and pushed into Geto’s space. He jabbed a finger into Geto’s chest with Infinity on. “That you’re more curse than human. And that other dude is a hundred-percent cursed or possessed or whatever he’s got going on. Aren’t we here to learn how to exorcise curses, not learn aside them? If that’s really the case, then I’m sure that Yaga wouldn’t mind if I just purged the both of you right now.”
Over the course of Gojo’s tirade, Geto’s face had gradually contorted into an angry scowl. He took a menacing step forward, pushing against Gojo’s Infinity, and hissed, “You can certainly try. With all that talk, it’d sure be embarrassing if you lost.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry your pretty little head,” Gojo grinned, baring his teeth, “Do you know who I am? I know I’ll win.”
Sparks flew as the two of them glared at each other. Yuuta couldn’t help but feel like he was witnessing a spat between two children (despite the fact they were both inches taller than him), and solemnly wished he had been placed in second year so he didn’t have to deal with this.
Yaga wiped a hand down his face and made his way over to them.
In the midst of their posturing, they hadn’t spotted Yaga towering over them. Effortlessly, Yaga tore the two apart and held them by their collars like they were a pair of misbehaving cats.
Aw, Gojo must have turned off Infinity so that Yaga could grab him.
“You two.” Yaga-sensei gave them a shake, and Gojo made a disgruntled noise while Geto lowered his head deferentially. “Gojo Satoru. Geto Suguru. What do you have to say for yourselves?”
“I apologise for my misconduct, Yaga-sensei.”
“Sorry, sensei.”
Yaga dropped the two of them abruptly, letting them smooth over the creases in their clothes.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh. “We are going to head up to the campus now, and none of you are going to even try to fight, or so help me. Do you hear me, Gojo?”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Gojo dismissed, crossing his arms. He side-eyed Yuuta and looked between him and Geto. “Stay out of my way, ‘kay? Don’t wanna accidentally squash either of you like a bug. Splat.”
Geto’s hands clenched into tight fists, and Yuuta tried to practice mindful meditation from those government sanctioned information sheets that Ieri-san handed him for his anxiety.
“Gojo, what did I just say,” Yaga said long-sufferingly. “Behave. Now, let’s go. Introduce yourselves properly while we walk up.”
Gojo rolled his eyes. Geto and Yuuta shared a glance.
All of them said in unison, “Yes, sensei.”
This was wonderful. Not only was Gojo-sensei an utter brat as a teenager, but he was definitely not getting along with Geto. Oh, or Yuuta. Could this be a side effect of his presence? He wasn’t going to ruin the future, was he? Like those time paradox problems in movies which he heard about from Inumaki… no, maybe they just never liked each other at first?
They all began the trek up the stairs, led by Yaga. Other than Yaga immediately shutting down Gojo’s complaints about having to walk all the way instead of using a shortcut, it was silent. Yuuta lagged behind in the middle, while in front of him, Gojo and Geto walked on opposite sides and seemed set to ignore the other entirely. Seeing how neither of them were going to say anything, Yuuta steeled himself against the rigid atmosphere and decided to take the initiative.
“Um, I’m Okkotsu Yuuta,” He smiled in Gojo’s direction. “It’s nice to meet you, Gojo-san.”
Geto looked behind him at the same time Gojo did, though after Gojo caught Yuuta’s eye, he turned away from him. Yuuta decidedly felt somewhat rejected, and his smile faltered.
After a few seconds, Gojo made a sound of acknowledgement. Yuuta perked up.
With a light frown marring his features, Geto asked, “Okkotsu, aren’t you a bit too… nice, sometimes?”
Yuuta tilted his head. “Am I?”
Geto shook his head. “No, nevermind.”
“Oh, okay?”
Yuuta eyed the weathered stone stairs for lack of anything better to do. It was a minute or so of more painstaking silence before it was broken by Geto.
“So?” Geto said sharply to Gojo in a bit of a reluctant manner that drew his words out longer, “We’re waiting for you to introduce yourself. I already did earlier.”
“Okay, and why should I do that?”
Geto huffed, “For one, I’ve practically forgotten your name already. Also, we haven’t heard it from your own mouth. Just why are you acting so high and mighty when we don’t even know who you are?”
Gojo’s steps stuttered. He snapped his head towards Geto and leveled him with a disbelieving look. “Huh? You’re telling me you actually don’t know who I am?”
Geto raised an eyebrow. “Am I supposed to?”
“Yes?”
Gojo’s sincerely bewildered response seemed to stun Geto too. As the two of them stared at each other, Yuuta took it upon himself to clear it up.
“Geto-san and I are from non-sorcerer families,” Yuuta explained gingerly. “He wouldn’t have heard of you until entering the sorcerer world, Gojo-san.”
“Enough with the san. You sound like the geezers back in the clan.”
“Sorry, Gojo-s– kun…”
“You seem like the type to annoyingly apologise all the time,” Gojo muttered.
Wasn’t he just trying to nitpick anything at this point?
“Ignore him, Okkotsu,” Geto interjected before Yuuta could blurt out another apology. Gojo stuck his tongue out.
“I should have guessed you were an outsider,” Gojo sneered haughtily. It sounded less like he meant it, and more like he was trying to get a rise out of Geto. “It’s pretty obvious now that I think about it.”
Sensei, this isn’t how you make friends.
“What does it matter if I am?” Geto’s eye twitched like Gojo had struck a nerve. He doubled down, “You must be used to people throwing themselves at your feet if you’re acting this insecure. Not used to being treated like a regular person? Unfortunately, you don’t seem particularly special to me.”
Gojo growled, “Oi-”
“Guys,” Yuuta did not plead. He felt the beginnings of a headache spreading across his forehead. “Can we just… get along? Please?”
“Please don’t ask for too much,” Geto replied sagely.
Gojo sniffed, turning his nose up.
Yuuta wanted to cry. Just how exactly did these two become best friends?
When they reached the dorms, the three of them were swiftly left all alone. Wordlessly, Gojo had turned around and disappeared off to who-knows-where the second Yaga had left the building. Geto went to his room, probably to calm down after experiencing, for the first time, the whirlwind that was Gojo Satoru.
Yuuta proceeded to do some of those breathing exercises right there in the middle of the hall.
“Woah,” Ieri intoned flatly with a furrow of her eyebrows. She was looking at Yuuta like he had personally done something to offend her.
Ieri Shoko had casually walked up to the base of the stairs to Jujutsu Tech with all the grace and suaveness of how Yuuta expected a younger Ieri-san to, one hand in her skirt pocket and the other tucking her hair behind an ear. After she exchanged hellos with Yaga, she had glanced over to scrutinise her new classmates with nothing but an air of boredom and a blank look on her face. Yuuta wasn’t sure if the three of them made a very good impression, especially in the weird formation they were in – Yuuta was stuck playing both a mediator and a barrier between Gojo and Geto, who were ignoring each other to the best of their abilities.
Ieri had languidly enlightened the three teenage boys, who were standing around like plankton, of her name. They then all went around saying their names, Geto, politely as usual, then Gojo.
Ieri didn’t show any outward signs of recognition when Gojo presented his identity, which probably irked him, and was probably why he was sulking petulantly to the side in silence.
With the number of times Yuuta has had to say his own name and hear his classmates’ over and over the past three days, it felt a little like he was back in middle school, when they would put the chairs in a circle and get everybody to say their name and one fun fact about themselves. Which was, arguably, in the realm of the top five worst experiences in his entire life. He never had a fun fact about himself.
When it was Yuuta’s turn, he waved at her and then introduced himself like a normal person. She stared at him like he was not a normal person.
“Huh?” Yuuta hitched his shoulders up self-consciously. “What? I’m sorry, did I do something?”
Before he could work himself into a panic, Ieri shook her head thoughtfully.
“You’re good,” Ieri dismissed.
He felt like that wasn’t completely true. Gojo snorted at him.
She rubbed her arm, and tilted her head while studying Yuuta. Her short hair followed the motion, falling across her face. Yuuta kept her gaze and pitched his head sideways as well. Her undereyes were clear of any shadows, Yuuta noticed with some surprise. He had never seen Ieri-san without any kind of eyebags before.
Yuuta felt bad for how much she would be wrung out for her advanced grasp on reverse curse technique over the next decade.
He had wisely kept his mouth shut about the extent to his capabilities in using reverse curse technique when he had met with the higher ups last week. Not even Yaga was aware about it, not that he could heal other people with it, at least. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Yaga, perse, but he felt that it would be good to keep this card of his close to his chest.
“You’ve just got a lot going on with your whole,” she waved a hand vaguely, “aura. It caught me off guard for a sec.”
That was far from the first time someone had said something like that to him. In fact, his friends had constantly teased him about the oppressive atmosphere he sometimes unintentionally let loose until Yuuta’s face went cherry red from embarrassment.
Yuuta hesitantly smiled, chagrined, “Don’t worry, I’ve gotten that a lot.”
She hummed monotonously as she seemed to toy with something in her pocket. It was kind of difficult to tell if she was actually interested or not. “Really?”
“Not surprised, considering you’re possessed,” Gojo gave his input as he stared off into the distance, even though it looked like he had been tuning the whole conversation out.
“What?” Ieri looked confused.
“I am not possessed,” Yuuta let out a controlled breath.
“Say that to me like you mean it, and maybe I’ll believe you,” Gojo goaded. He poked Yuuta’s arm repeatedly, Infinity active of course, and Yuuta tried to lean away from him to escape his ministrations.
“That’s just how I talk all the time, Gojo-kun.”
“Actually, drop the kun too.”
Geto stepped in, and Yuuta began to notice a consistent factor leading to their fights. Maybe it really was all Yuuta’s fault that they were at each other's necks.
“Would you just leave him alone? Jesus, you act so annoying towards Okkotsu,” Geto whacked Gojo’s hand away from Yuuta. “It’s like you want attention from him or something. Is that it? Do you like him?”
Gojo sputtered, taking offense at Geto even minutely insinuating he could be attracted to men. Yuuta had to remind himself that it was 2005. Or something. Maybe it had to do with being clan-born on Gojo’s end? Well, he hoped the reaction wasn’t because of Yuuta individually, that would kind of hurt his feelings…
Anywho, in Yuuta’s humble opinion, you loved who you loved. Nothing could get in the way of the purity of heartfelt love.
As Gojo and Geto got into yet another argument, Yuuta inched away so he wouldn’t be sandwiched in the middle. He stood next to Ieri.
Yuuta was getting deja-vu.
“Are they always like this?” Ieri asked, her attention moving between the two of them raptly like she was watching a tennis match.
“As far as I’ve seen of them,” Yuuta assented remorsefully.
Ieri didn’t seem to share his regretful sentiment, as she huffed out an amused laugh. She turned to eye him with a mischievous glint in her previously bored eyes. “They’ll be keeping things busy.”
Yuuta paused at the sight of muted delight on her face. He smiled, happy to see her happy, even at the expense of his own sanity. “That’s one way to see it, I guess.”
As Yuuta relished in the lifting mood, he failed to account for one crucial variable. Yuuta and Ieri stared helplessly as Yaga loomed, ominously silent, over their two classmates across them.
Gojo and Geto were too late to notice Yaga’s rising fists.
…Ouch. That was bound to leave a bump.
Yaga dusted his hands off, turning to head up the stairs wordlessly. His students followed behind like obedient ducklings, two of them nursing matching sores on the top of their heads.
Behind Yaga, Ieri seemed to decide she was in a safe zone as she flicked out the object she had been playing with in her pocket. It was a lighter. She flipped it around, catching it between her fingers easily, over and over.
Yuuta stared, bewildered. He thought that Ieri-san made a point to not smoke..? He sent a belated congratulations, to wherever his own Ieri-san was, on quitting in the future.
・
・
・
“Another dead end, huh,” Yuuta murmured to himself. He eyed the purple blood and the remains of the curse splattered on the concrete with indifference.
His goal tonight was only to follow a trail on the Prison Realm that he received from Yaga, really, but he stumbled upon a curse lurking around on his way back. So, he exorcised it before it could cause any harm.
He sheathed his katana after flicking the blood off with practiced ease, the moonlight reflecting off the blade. “Rika-chan?”
“Ye-es, Yuuta?”
“Would you put this away for me?” Yuuta asked gently, holding up the katana next to him.
“Hee-hee… of course, Yuuta.”
“Thank you, Rika.”
Rika’s hand materialised and delicately took the weapon from his grasp, storing it away for safekeeping.
The crescent moon hung high at its peak, bathing everything in a dusky ivory glow. Twinkling stars were spattered scarcely across the expanse of the night sky like flicks of paint on a dark canvas. It was probably approaching midnight, if Yuuta had to guess.
“Let’s go back, shall we?”
