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Yuuji struggled to stand as he fought the aftershocks of Sukuna’s attack that shook their ‘sort-of’ base. Someone pushed him when the attack happened, and the next thing he knew, white smoke from debris was all around them, his face planted to the ground.
And Gojo Satoru– the holder of Six Eyes, the world’s strongest sorcerer– was cut in half.
Yuuji stood, trembling, he cannot believe his eyes. Satoru was just winning against Sukuna earlier. He saw his signature smirk, the one Yuuji relates to Satoru knowing he already won, the one he’s very familiar with, that one smirk he’s very fond of.
He saw.
Yuuji saw.
So why—
Why is Ieri-sensei currently barking orders to Uiui about the next steps of their plans? There are no next step in their plans. Satoru was supposed to win and everything would turn back to normal after.
There’s no next step.
Satoru was winning. He was.
He should.
So why is Ieri-sensei currently performing this godforsaken surgery?
Why…?
Why? WHy? WHY?
“Yuuji-kun,” someone says from behind him, firm hands on his shoulder. “We’re gonna need you and Todou-san to keep Sukuna busy as Yuuta-kun–” Yuuji wasn’t able to hear the rest of what was said.
There was something loud ringing in his ears. There was an ache inside of him, clawing at his heart; it like he’s being torn apart, shred to pieces. He was probably having a panic attack, but he couldn’t care less.
Gojo Satoru cannot die.
He. Can't.
He shouldn’t.
He was– is the strongest, he wouldn’t lose just like that.
He said– he promised Yuuji– and Yuuji believed in him.
But then—
But then, Yuuji made the mistake of looking down at Gojo Satoru’s face: his worn, bruised and cut, and bloodied face, but is still Satoru’s.
Ah, Yuuji can't see his eyes; Eyes vast as the sky, a deep cerulean that knows everything.
Something breaks inside of Yuuji when he realizes something.
Gojo Satoru’s face is smiling.
The strongest sorcerer was smiling as he died, at peace at finally leaving this godforsaken world— the world where he meet Yuuji; the world where he fell in love with Yuuji; the world where Satoru is with Yuuji.
Ah, Yuuji realizes something…
「My six eyes tell me you're Suguru Geto. But my soul knows otherwise!」
「Suguru Geto, one of the special grade sorcerers of their time, and sensei’s one and only best friend.」
This is also the godforsaken world that took his best friend from him.
So that was why Gojo Satoru was smiling when he left them–
When he left Yuuji.
It’s like it didn’t even hurt him to leave them; Like he didn't even fought to stay alive.
It's like he welcomed death with open arms, eager to be within its grasp.
It's like Gojo Satoru didn’t even think about what he's leaving behind, but is already looking forward to what's gonna welcome him at the other side.
Yuuji can't help but be spiteful, thinking, ‘Did he even think of me as he took his last breath? Or– or was he just relieved? That finally– finally he’ll be with–’
Oh, great teacher Gojo Satoru, what a fucking liar you are.
But you, Itadori Yuuji, are a fucking idiot, for still loving him despite that.
“One last…” Yuuji says, after everything is done; after Sukuna is defeated, and everyone is slowly healing. His voice was flat, void of emotions. His eyes met the Angel’s, “Hana.” he calls. Yuuji didn’t even let the Angel voice out a response, and says, “A binding vow…” he murmurs, “Let’s do a binding vow.”
Itadori Yuuji, you fucking idiot.
Falling in love with Gojo Satoru is easy.
Gojo-sensei isn't a good person, he's probably a bit— no, more than crazy. Everyone seems to hate his childish side, especially when he does what he wants without thinking of other people, but everyone also believes in his strength.
He was, most people thinks, is a contradictory.
But for Yuuji, he's just sensei.
The one person who never forgets to bring Yuuji souvenirs whenever he leaves for a mission. The one who always, always appreciates Yuuji's homemade food, looks forward to it even. The one who gives time, not just for Yuuji, but for all his students, shaping their strength, protecting their youth.
The one who gave Yuuji another chance to experience that youth.
The one who believed in Yuuji, more than Yuuji believed in himself.
So of course, one morning, when Yuuji opened his eyes, Itadori Yuuji longed to see the sky.
「Ah, I can’t wait see sensei…」
After that, it was easy for Yuuji to see—
It was easy to see Gojo Satoru’s guarded heart, his childish behavior all but a wall he built around himself, much thicker than his infinity; His sensei’s tiredness: from missions, from the higher ups, from being the strongest, from everything. Satoru’s longing, for a youth that was taken from him that he wouldn’t let anyone take from his students.
It was easy to want to be that person for Gojo Satoru: the person who the infinity will deactivates automatically, the person who can break Gojo Satoru’s wall; to be the person where the strongest can rest, and be just Satoru.
It was also easy to see the curse that enveloped Itadori Yuuji, from deep within his heart, to his whole being.
Love is, afterall, the most twisted curse of all.
“Is this seat taken?” Itadori Yuuji hears him first, the voice of his beloved, youthful now, carefree. He looks up, his honeydew eyes settling on an unfamiliar rounded shades, the vast cerulean sky he longs to see blocked by a black wall.
Gods, how much he wanted to punch that face.
Yuuji blinks at him before shaking his head as he says, “You can take it,” he says, voice a little cold.
Teen Gojo Satoru took the seat in front of Yuuji, there was a carefree smirk on his face, probably looking forward to his stop already.
Yuuji can’t look away.
He wanted to shake this man right now, demand long overdue answers, any explanation at all. He wanted to give Gojo Satoru the benefit of the doubt. That maybe he thought of his students for even a second before he died, that maybe an image of Yuuji haunted him as he took his last breath.
The ghost of the conversation he overheard from the station echoes in Yuuji’s mind.
Yuuji cannot help himself, bitter as he says, “You look like you’re having fun,”
「I had fun. Sukuna wasn’t able to give me his all though. And I think it’s a damn shame.」
「Į̵̈́s̸̼̐ ̴͔̔h̷̘͠e̴̗̍ ̶̊͜s̵̬̕t̵̗̓r̸͍̐ọ̶̌n̶͍͂g̸̰̑e̷͈͘r̶̕ͅ ̶̼̾t̴̬̂ḣ̴͜à̸͚n̵̲̑ ̵̩̑y̴͈̾o̸̲̎u̸̟̓,̴͚͂ ̶̜̇S̸̡̀ē̶̹ṋ̸͊s̸̛͖ȅ̵̟í̸̜?̴̝͒ ̷̊ͅW̴̡̎ö̶̢́u̴͓̍l̵͍̐d̴̲̆ ̴̝̍y̶̞͑o̵̙͂u̸͉͊ ̶̨̋l̸͓̊ö̶͎s̵͖͌e̶̦͝?̸͉̐」
「Ń̴̨̝͓̽̃̑̈́̂̄͘a̸̛̙̫̥̬͍͙̪̰͖͒̊̈͐̂̑̑̈́̕͠͝h̷̲̤̱̠̗̩̠̳̭̪̤̠̜̠͇̓́͂̈́̇͋̀̚,̸͔̗̱̬͈̟͙̥̪͉͈͂̈̉̔ ̵̢̢̹̝͎̩̱̜̻̺͙̘̦̥̦̊͑̈́̃̇̑̾̏I̴̠̙͊͊͌́̅̾̏̈́̀͠͝’̷̛̛̰͌̉̄̾̊͗̄͒́̄͝d̴͈͍̰̣̰̲͖̞̦͌̿̂̓̌ ̸̧̢̥̦͔̲̦͗͗ͅw̶̠̜̎͑͛͐̈́͒̔͒ȋ̵͉͈̳̱̫̲̺̭̣̼̞̯̳̹́͐̓́́̉̏̀̈͆̇̈̋n̶̢̛̙̫̟̬̱̆͌͗̆͑̅͆̈́̈́̒̒.̵̨̰̥̱̩̦̙̓͆͌͂̉̔̆̈́͒͆͝」
Satoru, the teenager version of his sensei, tilts his head to look at him, smirking as he says, voice as carefree as he looks, “I’m looking forward to my stop. I was promised a slap on back when I arrive, you see.”
「I guess my only disappointment… is that you weren’t there to give me a slap on the back.」
「S̶̟̍e̸̛̩n̷̢̈́s̷̐ͅĕ̴̦i̵̲͛,̴̫͝ ̵͎̄y̵̬̓õ̴̲u̴̢̎r̵͓͑ ̸̪̂I̴͕͒n̵̞̽f̷̖̋i̷͓̐n̸̘̆i̶̼̐t̷̗͛y̵͍̽ ̵̳͠ĩ̸͉s̷͍̕ ̴̧͋i̶̝͝ǹ̸̠ ̶̖̍t̷͓͠h̴͆͜e̶̮͋ ̴͍̓w̸͍͘à̸͔y̸̝͝.」
He just had to punch him where it hurts, huh…
‘Was it easy?’ Yuuji chides Satoru in his mind. ‘Was it relieving to leave us? Were you peaceful when you choose to leave me? Did you even thought of me?’
Yuuji cannot say it, because more than the anger that Yuuji held onto for more than eighty long years, he misses his sensei.
He misses that damn familiar smile, a little unhinged and a little conceited. He misses those deep cerulean eyes, the six eyes that know of everything, even Yuuji’s simplest quirks.
More than the anger, Itadori Yuuji, an idiot, misses Gojo Satoru.
Yuuji smiles a sad smile, “Wh-Where is your stop, then?” He asks, pushing through, swallowing the lump on his throat, blinking away the tears that’s already threatening to spill.
Will it be okay, Yuuji wonders, to enjoy this short respite?
“South,” Satoru easily answers, still smiling that youthful smile of his. “It’s a familiar place,” he added wistfully. “And you, oniichan, where is your stop?” He added after a second.
Yuuji turns to the window, greens and blues blurring through the speed of the train, “I’m still not sure.” He says slowly, honestly, “I’m afraid to go North, but I don’t think anything is waiting for me down South.”
“You’re too gloomy for the North, oniichan.” Satoru chides, chuckling.
“Maybe, but going South is much scarier than going North for me,” Yuuji says, turning to Satoru, their eyes meeting, despite the thick round black shades Satoru is wearing.
Satoru frowns at Yuuji, his shades being replaced by a white bandage. He shook his head lightly, as if trying to release something, “We can get off South together,” Satoru says, voice a little deeper, height a little taller, tone less carefree, more pensive. “You can come with me,” he added.
Yuuji sends him a smile, his usual response to anything sensei asks of him slipping from his lips. “Should I?”
Satoru shook his head again, harder this time, releasing something as his white bandages turns into his black shades again. “I’m sure you’d like to return to who you once were, too, oniichan.”
A pause.
“Is that why you’re getting off South?” Yuuji asks, voice a little rougher again, bitter.
“You can only have one blue spring youth, after all.” He chuckles, a little shy, tone boyish and full of mirth and adoration. “We would go to the beach, enjoy the water, and play under the sun. Just, you know, experience our youth to the fullest.”
Yuuji falters as something inside him breaks, like a glass breaking into pieces, sharp edges digging through his heart.
Yuuji wonders when did we and our became Satoru and Suguru again? Because he’s certain that before it became Satoru and Yuuji, it means Satoru and Suguru.
How mean, it seems everything is circling back to Getou Suguru.
Was there ever a chance it was Itadori Yuuji’s? Or was it always from Suguru’s to Yuujis?
Because Yuuji realizes, all this time, since the moment he first met Satoru, his sensei’s approach to experience youth to the fullest was rooted from his youth with Getou Suguru.
Of his blue spring.
Yuuji’s heart tugs at him, weary. It seems Yuuji was fighting a losing battle all along.
“I thought you’d like the summer, at least,” Yuuji cannot help himself, his voice cold, sharp and blaming.
“Because of my six eyes?” Satoru says, chuckling once more.
“Maybe,” Yuuji shrugs.
Satoru shooks his head a little fondly, “Summers come with movies and summer rains, no?” He tilts his head to the right, “Not so much a fan of that.” He says dismissively.
Something pierces Yuuji’s heart, “You must love Springs whole-heartedly, then.”
“You could say that,” Satoru admitted, red-faced and shy.
There was another pause.
Ah, he can’t.
He shouldn’t.
He must not.
But Yuuji’s heart keeps tugging at him, lonely and broken.
“If you give all the space in your heart for Spring, where will you find in yourself the chance to let Summer in?” Yuuji asks, meeting Satoru’s eyes again. “Where would Summer find the space to make you feel him, too?”
Satoru frowns at Yuuji, and Yuuji can already see his mind racing, his smile vanishing. “Oniichan, do I know you?”
Ah, Yuuji mourns the loss of that smile.
Why is it that the moment his sensei, albeit his teenage version, lost his smile, Yuuji is ready to let everything go?
If it meant to keep Satoru his boyish smiles, his light chuckles, and his shining blue eyes, Yuuji is ready to forget his questions, he’s ready to keep them all unanswered, and he’s ready to forget everything.
After all that he had to experienced to arrived to this very carriage to meet his Sensei; After the years of loneliness and unending battles; After all the the words Gojo Satoru made him hear; After making Yuuji watch him choose his Spring over their Summer.
If it means that Sensei can keep that smile, that happiness, Yuuji is ready to bear it all.
Love is really the most twisted curse of all.
“I don’t think so,” Yuuji says, voice soft this time, smiling at Satoru.
The trains chimes with a sound, a mechanical voice following, reminding them that they reached South.
The train stops.
“Oh, we’re here,” Satoru says, and it’s so like him to assume that their little conversation earlier meant that Yuuji had accepted getting off with him.
Yuuji nodded lightly and stood with Satoru. And together, they walked to the door, Yuuji feeling the excitement his sensei is radiating.
“It wasn’t so bad,” Yuuji started, making the taller teen turn to him, tilting his head in query. “Eighty long years to fulfill a vow wasn’t so bad, since I was able to meet you here.” He says, smiling genuinely this time, looking up to Satoru. “At least now, I know, you will keep your Spring,”
“What do you mean?” Satoru inquires, turning to him. But before he could do so, Yuuji gently places both his hands on Satoru’s back, pushing him forward.
“Nothing, I just wish you will keep that smile and happiness,” the words ‘even if not beside me’ stalled inside Yuuji’s lips, never to be uttered.
“Huh, what— wait—“ Satoru tries to argue, trying to turn back to Yuuji, but Yuuji’s pushing him with more force now.
The electronic ringing of the train chimes again, “Don’t miss your stop, Sensei.” Yuuji says, finally pushing Satoru off the train.
“Huh— What—” Satoru asks, frowning, as he’s finally able to turn to Yuuji, only to see the train’s doors closing, with Yuuji still inside the train. “Wait— Yuuji?“ Satoru asks, voice but a gasp, eyes wide.
“I love you, Satoru.” Yuuji whispers to no one, the train doors already closed, and speeding away.
Yuuji wakes up, tears streaming down his face. He groans, sitting up.
Yuuji’s head is throbbing and his heart feels heavy, but no matter how hard he tries to remember the dream that made him like this, he can’t remember a thing.
Is there some sort of God that hates him?
He hates feeling this heavy, it’s like he’s missing piece of himself that he cannot find. And it’s so unlike him to be unsure of himself. He’s been waking up from his dreams crying or sobbing for months now. He tried all sort of stuff from the internet to remember it, but he can’t.
Todou even said he must go get exorcised or something and at this point, he’s pretty sure he’s actually cursed.
He started getting ready for school with a frown, shaking off his dream, letting his muscle memory guide him through his morning routine.
But then—
His routine was broken when as he took a step to enter his usual train, a hand enveloped his free hand, the force making him turn around to meet deep, deep blue, wide eyes.
“Yuuji!” The owner of the blue eyes says, panting as if he ran a marathon. “You’re— I finally—“
Yuuji sheepishly smiles up the taller man, “Sorry, oniichan, but do I know you?”